#so I either stare at him and make him uncomfortable or pretend he doesn't exist | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fatecantstopme · 1 year

Text

Undercover

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Summary: You've gotta go undercover for a case...with the last person on earth you'd ever wanna go with.

Warnings: Angst. Cursing. Use of pet names. SMUT, dom/sub vibes, praise kink, sir kink, light choking kink. Mentions of murder. Little bit of fluffy fluff at the end.

A/N: Haley doesn't exist in this story, just FYI.

"So we need two people to go undercover," Rossi said.

"Count me out," Emily said, throwing her hands in the air. "This unsub creeps me out too much. I have no interest in playing his game."

Rossi looked at you and you groaned. "Oh come on."

"You're the only other option, (Y/N)," he insisted.

You looked over at JJ and she shrugged uncomfortably. "Don't look at me, I'm just the media liaison."

"Fine, I'll do it, but only if I can take Morgan with me."

Morgan grinned. "Hell, yeah. I'm in."

Garcia cut in, "Sorry, hot stuff--as much as I'd love to see you go undercover in a tux, you don't exactly fit the required profile."

You looked at Spence hopefully, but he shook his head. "Sorry, (Y/N/N), I'm too young for this one."

You groaned. "Well what's wrong with Morgan?"

"The group the unsub belongs to is very exclusive--if you're not white, you're not getting in," Hotch answered.

You bristled slightly at your boss's interjection. He wasn't wrong and you knew it, but every time he spoke you couldn't help but feel annoyed.

"Fine," you conceded. "Looks like I'm taking Rossi."

Rossi laughed. "Come on, (Y/N). You know I'm too old for this one."

The room fell silent as the realization dawned on every single person in the room, yourself included. Shit, shit, shit.

"It has to be Hotch," Rossi stated.

Even Hotch looked slightly surprised. "I haven't gone undercover in quite a while."

"Better figure it out because you're the only option," you grumbled.

Hotch sent you a glare, but didn't bother to reply to your statement. "When's this party happening?"

"Saturday night," Garcia answered.

"That's two days to prepare," Emily stated. "Should be plenty."

You sighed loudly, but nodded your agreement.

"Good. Let's get started," Hotch said.

The room immediately began to clear out, the rest of the team going back to their desks to work. You stayed behind, which didn't go unnoticed by Rossi.

"I know it's not ideal, but it's the best way to draw out the unsub," Rossi said gently as he sat down beside you.

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. "He hates me, Rossi, and to be honest, I'm not his biggest fan either. But you want us to pretend to love each other in front of a bunch of strangers? For hours on end?"

Rossi patted your arm. "I know, kiddo, but he's not that bad. It'll be okay."

You stared at him in silence for a moment. "The man never looks at me unless it's a glare. He looks annoyed every time I dare to speak in his presence, especially if it's directed at him. There's no way we're going to be able to pretend to even like each other, Rossi."

"I'll talk to him, okay? But you both need to be the professionals I know you are. It's not about either of you...it's about all the girls this man has murdered."

You sighed lightly. "You're right, you're right--as always. I'll behave, I promise."

Rossi smiled. "That'a girl. I'll talk to Hotch."

You nodded. "Be mean if you have to."

"(Y/N)," Rossi warned with a chuckle as he left the conference room.

It's not that you hated Hotch or anything like that. Hell, you actually found him incredibly attractive--it was his attitude you couldn't stand. He wasn't always rude to you, he was almost friendly when you'd joined the team a couple years prior. A couple months in and he started to act differently. You had no idea what you'd done to him to make him hate you, but it pissed you off to no end.

Hotch wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy with anyone, but he was downright hostile with you. He went out of his way to avoid you when he could, and acted like a sullen child when he couldn't. He always paired you up with someone else on cases, to the point where you'd actually never worked with him alone one-on-one.

You grabbed your notebook and headed back to your desk.

"Hey, you okay?" Emily asked you softly when you sat down in front of her.

"Yeah, it's fine. Just gotta figure out how to make sure we don't kill each other in public."

She chuckled. "You're not going to kill each other."

You raised your eyebrow. "Sure--it'll be great."

"You'll be fine," she insisted. "So you wanna go shopping later?"

You nodded. "I've gotta find something to wear to this damn thing. Invite JJ and Garcia too. I need opinions. If I've gotta dress up, I wanna at least look hot."

Emily laughed. "Girl please--you always look hot."

"Thank you, thank you," you said with a mock bow.

"(Y/L/N)," Hotch yelled from his office. "My office. Now."

You closed your eyes and sighed before getting up and heading to the office. You made eye contact with Rossi as he walked back to his own office. He gave you a soft smile and a subtle thumbs up...but you couldn't help but feel nervous as hell.

"Sir?" you asked as you entered his office.

"Close the door," he said without looking at you.

You closed the door and waited silently for him to speak.

"Are you going to sit or just stand there awkwardly?"

"Standing closer to the door gives me a better escape route," you said stubbornly.

Hotch huffed in annoyance. "You're being childish. Sit down."

"Is that an order, sir?"

His body tensed and he clenched his jaw as he gestured to the seat in front of him.

You sat down and crossed your arms, silence stretching out between you.

After an entire minute of silence, you couldn't take it anymore. "I'm assuming you called me in here for a reason?"

"I did." Hotch's gaze finally landed on you. "We need to discuss this op."

"What about it?"

Hotch raised his eyebrows. "How about your reaction when Rossi said we'd be going undercover together?"

"Can you blame me, Hotch? We have to pretend to be romantically involved--but we can barely be in each other's presence without animosity."

"We're professionals, (Y/L/N)."

"May I speak freely, sir?"

"As if you don't already."

"I'm going to take that as a yes," you began. "You don't act like a professional, Hotch. You act like I'm an actual burden to you--like you despise me so much that merely being in my presence makes you angry. You can't even look at me without glaring and you almost never speak to me unless you have to. Can you see why I wouldn't exactly be thrilled about going undercover with you?"

To your surprise, Hotch looked almost hurt by your words. But that quickly turned back to annoyance--maybe even anger. "Can you really blame me? You're not exactly pleasant to be around," he said harshly.

It was your turn to be hurt--and unlike him, you couldn't hide it. You stood up and walked to the door.

"I didn't dismiss you."

You didn't even bother to look back at him. "This conversation is definitely over." You walked out the office door and straight out to the bank of elevators in the hall. You ignored the voices of your teammates calling your name. You just needed to get out of there--you needed air.

Instead of going down, you went up, making your way out to the roof. It was your go-to place to think, and lord knew you needed to think in peace.

You were angry and you needed a moment away from everyone else to calm down--otherwise, you might say something you'll regret. This was one of those moments where you questioned your life choices...and how much you really wanted to keep working at the BAU.

It was your dream job and you loved your team more than anything, but working with Hotch was slowly killing you. You hated the way he made you feel, but more importantly you hated the side of you he brought out. You just didn't like yourself when you were around him.

It hadn't always been that way. When you'd first started, Hotch had actually been nice to you--you might even say he was sweet. You felt accepted by the entire team, your boss included. You just didn't know what had changed. Somehow he was getting even worse and that attitude was pushing you to your limits.

You knew you had to get through this case and deal with the undercover part--the lives of an untold number of girls relied on it. But after that, you really needed to think about what your future was going to look like.

**********

Somehow, you made it through the rest of the day without losing your mind. You and the girls were now out shopping for the perfect dress for this op.

"Okay so I grabbed 15 different dresses in your size," Garcia said with a massive grin when you, Emily, and JJ walked into the store.

"You only got here 10 minutes before us!" you exclaimed.

Garcia just kept smiling. "I excel at speed shopping."

You laughed as she dragged you to the back of the store, the other two following behind you. You went into the dressing room to try on the dresses. Garcia had pulled various styles and colors, some of which were absolutely not your style at all, so you avoided trying those on.

The first dress you put on was just a basic little black dress. You stepped out of the dressing room to let the girls see it.

"Ohh an LBD. Okay," Emily said. "Spin please."

You spun with a chuckle. "What do we think?"

"Hmm. We can do better," Garcia said. "Next!"

You switched into a different black dress, longer this time, but perhaps a little more revealing in the bodice than you'd prefer.

"Ow-ow!" JJ cat called you as you stepped out.

Emily clapped and Garcia let out a little gasp.

"I think it might be a little...much," you said lightly.

Emily laughed. "The girls are coming out to say hi."

"Yeah, I'm gonna try another one."

The next couple dresses you tried on just didn't really speak to you, despite the reactions of your friends. You finally reached a dress that you thought looked nice on the hanger, but you weren't quite sure how it would look on you.

It was a deep emerald green dress in a silky fabric. It was very simply designed, v-necked with thin straps, floor length, with a thigh-high split up one side.

When you put it on, you let out a little gasp as you looked in the mirror. Even with minimal makeup, messy hair, and no shoes, you thought you looked incredible.

"Was that a gasp I just heard?" Garcia asked.

"Maybe," you said with a chuckle as you stepped out of the dressing room.

"Holy shit," Emily mumbled.

"That's the one," JJ said, eyes wide.

"I second that," Garcia agreed.

"You think so?" you asked, timidly.

"Girl, please. You look hot as hell," Emily insisted. "Hotch is probably going to pass out when he sees you."

You laughed. "He won't even notice, Em. You know he doesn't look at me."

"He's a man, (Y/N). He'd have to be blind not to."

"She's right, ya know," JJ said.

"Well I can't say that I wouldn't love to see Hotch fall flat on his face," you said lightly.

"I don't know why you're always so mean to each other," Garcia said with a frown.

"Oh please--he started it," you insisted.

"Hmm," she hummed. "I suppose."

"Enough talk about Hotch. Go change so we can buy that sexy dress and get dinner," Emily cut in.

"Tacos?" you asked.

"Obviously," she agreed.

**********

The next day was spent in the office, preparing for the op the next night. As always, Hotch was moody and distant, but he did try not to snap at you very much.

He wouldn't admit it, but Rossi's words from the day before, as well as your rightful anger, had been weighing on him all night. He didn't mean to be an asshole--well, yes he did. But he didn't want to be. It was self-preservation. He knew what would happen if he was nice to you...the first few weeks of your time in the BAU had given insight into that.

"Hotch," your voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"What?" he asked.

You sighed. "You weren't listening, were you?"

He winced. "Sorry."

A look of surprise ghosted across your face. You were certain that was the first and only time he'd ever apologized to you. You shook your head to clear it and repeated your earlier statement. "Somehow these guys are rich enough to actually rent out an entire hotel for a weekend. The event itself is in the hotel ballroom and each of the 'couples' in attendance will have their own rooms, us included. Garcia managed to secure us a room."

"What do we need a hotel room for?" Hotch asked.

You sighed. "I'm not going to explain that one, Hotchner."

Before Hotch could snap at you, Rossi cut in. "The hotel rooms are used for the various interactions between the couples. Each couple is required to have a room in order to participate in the event."

"Besides," Reid continued, "we need the two of you to convince the unsub to come up to your room for (Y/N)."

You winced, a look of disgust covering your face.

"Sorry, (Y/N/N)," Reid said sheepishly.

"It's not your fault the unsub is so sick," you reassured him.

This particular unsub was part of an exclusive group of people who 'traded' women amongst each other for various fees dependent upon what the purchaser wanted the woman for. The unsub would purchase a girl to keep, and eventually murder in a horrifically sadistic and brutal manner.

Essentially, Hotch would be operating as your current 'owner', but once you'd identified the unsub, he'd offer you to him for a sordid fee. You didn't like the concept of any of this, but you wanted to catch this guy so badly.

After a few more hours of planning, it was time to wrap things up and get ready for tomorrow. You were meeting the team at a nearby hotel to get ready and it's where they would be setting up. You and Hotch would depart from there and go directly to the hotel with the event.

**********

At 4:30 the next day, you arrived at the hotel the team was setting up at. Most of the team was already there, the only one missing was Hotch.

"How you feeling, (Y/N)?" Emily asked softly. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be, Em."

"Thanks for showing up," Morgan teased as Hotch walked into the hotel room.

"Shut it, Morgan. I couldn't find my tux."

'Tux?' you mouthed at Emily.

She shrugged. "Guess he wanted to match your level of class," she whispered.

"Actually, tuxes are required," Reid interjected.

"Ahh," you said with a nod.

Emily chuckled lightly and grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the bathroom. She gestured to JJ and Garcia to come along. She shut the door behind you all and you jumped up on the bathroom counter.

"Make me pretty," you joked.

"Girl please. You're already gorgeous. We're just accentuating it," Garcia stated with a smile.

"I love you," you said warmly as you pulled her into a hug. "But seriously, who's gonna fix my hair? I look crazy."

JJ laughed. "I'll take the hair. Garcia's gonna handle your makeup and Emily is here for comic relief/emotional support."

The girls got to work on styling your hair and doing your makeup, chatting and laughing together as if you weren't about to go undercover in a freaking lion's den.

While you and the girls were getting ready in the bathroom, the guys were talking over things in the bedroom.

Hotch needed maybe 10 minutes to get changed, so he had some time to kill before he needed to get ready. That time wasn't really a beneficial thing. It allowed him time to think about all kinds of things he really shouldn't be thinking about.

The event was starting at 7, so you needed to be at the other hotel by 6:30 to check into your room. At 6, the girls popped out of the bathroom, leaving you on the other side of the door.

Garcia cleared her throat to get the rest of the team's attention. Everyone turned to face her and she dramatically gestured to the bathroom door. "Presenting the beautiful, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)."

Emily swung the door open and you stepped out into the main room. Everyone was silent as they took in your look. You felt slightly uncomfortable under their gazes, despite being a very confident woman.

"Damn, girl," Morgan breathed out, the first one to recover.

"She looks great, doesn't she?" Garcia said excitedly.

"She really does," Hotch said softly without realizing it.

Everyone turned to look at him in surprise, but none were as surprised as you. Your eyes met his and you inhaled sharply, breath catching in your chest.

Hotch realized he'd spoken out loud, only because of the look on your face. A dark blush crept into his cheeks and he averted his gaze.

"Thanks, guys," you said softly, taking the attention away from Hotch.

He lifted his gaze back up to you, completely unable to keep his eyes off of you. You looked even more beautiful than usual and you absolutely took his breath away.

You looked back over at Hotch while ignoring the chatter of the rest of the team as they gushed over your look. Your heart was racing so quickly, you were slightly worried someone would be able to hear the pounding.

You'd never seen Hotch look at you the way he was looking at you in this moment. You felt almost small under his gaze and if you didn't think it sounded insane, you would say he almost looked hungry as he gazed at you.

"I guess I should change too," Hotch said lightly, eyes not quite meeting yours.

"Oh, right." You stepped out of the way so he could go into the bathroom to change into his tux. You walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it, suddenly feeling a bit faint.

JJ noticed immediately and came over to sit beside you. "You okay?" she murmured.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just a little nervous," you lied smoothly.

It was obvious she didn't believe you, but she didn't say anything. She simply wrapped her arm around you and pulled you into a side hug. It was just what you needed to feel grounded.

After several minutes, Hotch came out of the bathroom wearing a very well-fitted black tux. Much in the same way he looked at you in shock when you came out, your eyes widened as you took him in.

"You clean up nice," Rossi teased.

"Yeah, yeah," Hotch muttered. He looked up at you, eyes not quite meeting yours. "Should we head out?"

You nodded and stood up, taking a deep breath to prepare yourself for the night ahead.

"We'll be close by if you need us," Rossi assured you both as you started out the door. "Garcia will be monitoring the cameras in the ballroom."

You nodded again as Hotch opened the door and gestured for you to go first. "We've got this," he said firmly.

The ride to the other hotel was silent...and not the comfortable kind. You hated it, but you couldn't think of a single thing to say, and apparently neither could he.

When you arrived at the hotel, Hotch handed the keys to the valet, took your arm as you got out of the car, and guided you into the hotel lobby.

"Good evening, sir," the front desk lady said. "May I have your last name please?"

"Carter," Hotch said smoothly.

The woman checked the computer and offered the two of you a smile. "Your room is on the 7th floor," she handed Hotch the room keys before continuing, "elevators are to your left. Please let us know if there's anything we can do to make your stay more pleasant."

"Thank you very much," Hotch responded.

Once the two of you made it to the room, you separated from each other as if your skin burned. You made quick work of searching the room for cameras and/or listening devices. Finding none, you finally relaxed a little and spoke to each other.

"Call Rossi," you said. "We're a go."

Hotch glared at you, clearly annoyed at your commands, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he simply called Rossi, told him the room number, and said he'd be in touch.

"We have 20 minutes until we need to be downstairs for the party," he said as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

You sat down in an arm chair on the opposite side of the room. "Shall we sit in silence until then?"

Hotch shot you another glare. "Perhaps we should discuss our plan?"

"What's to discuss? You know the plan as well as I do. Just pretend to actually like each other for long enough to find the unsub. Sound manageable?"

He winced as if you'd hit him, but quickly recovered. It did not, however, go unnoticed by you. "If you're silent, I think I can handle it," he snapped back.

You narrowed your eyes. "Don't worry, I'm excellent at faking sweetness."

10 minutes passed in complete silence. You felt bad for being so nasty to him, but it was all you ever did. You didn't banter...you fought, and neither of you knew how to pull a punch.

Much to your surprise, Hotch broke the silence first. "Have you always hated me so much?"

You turned to look at him. He actually looked wounded and it made your expression soften. "I don't hate you, Hotch."

"Coulda fooled me."

"Do you hate me?" you asked softly.

He looked surprised. "Of course not."

"Coulda fooled me," you said, echoing his response.

He looked down at the floor. "I know I'm an asshole, (Y/N), but I don't hate you."

You were silent for a moment. "That's the first time you've called me by my first name since I first joined the BAU."

His gaze met yours. "It is?"

You simply nodded.

He returned the nod thoughtfully. "I don't mean to be like this, you know."

"Well you're not like this with anyone else on the team, so I can only assume you have something against me specifically."

He shook his head. "I don't, but it's just--it's hard to explain." He fell silent, refusing to allow himself to elaborate further.

You sighed and stood up. "Come on. We might as well head downstairs."

He nodded again and joined you at the door.

"Remember," you said softly. "Pretend to like each other."

You opened the door and the op began.

**********

Hotch's hand rested firmly on your lower back as you walked into the hotel ballroom. You closed your eyes briefly, silently willing your body to not react to the feeling of his hand on you or the proximity of his body to yours.

Unfortunately, he felt the tension in your back against his palm. "Relax," he murmured in your ear, causing you to shiver.

You hated your body for reacting so intensely to him, and you cursed quietly under your breath, earning a deep chuckle from Hotch.

You wanted to glare at him for laughing at you, but you knew there were eyes on you both. You decided to lean into the role you were supposed to be playing, while also getting back at him.

You placed your hand on his chest and leaned your body into him, giving him a whiff of your perfume. You felt him tense against you and you grinned. "You okay there, handsome?" you teased.

He gave you a tight-lipped smile, but you noticed the slight flush in his cheeks. He knew what you were doing, but he was quite sure you weren't aware of what you were really doing to him.

He guided you farther into the large ballroom, eyes scanning the room for men that fit the profile. Unfortunately, almost every man in the room fit the profile almost perfectly.

"Are you paying attention?" he asked softly.

"Yes, Sir," you hissed in annoyance.

He bit back a groan, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "Don't," he mumbled.

"Don't what?" you asked teasingly, knowing exactly what got to him.

He shot you a look that sent a wave of heat straight to your core. Your eyes must have betrayed you, because his expression changed to an almost wolfish look that had your pulse racing.

"Behave," he snapped. The harshness in his voice surprised you, until you saw the couple watching you from the corner of your eye. Hotch had slid seamlessly into his role, so you slipped back into yours.

Your eyes looked down and your body language screamed 'submissive', which was what you knew the unsub would want to see. The man nodded at Hotch, clearly appreciating his dominant control over you. Hotch inclined his head at the man, signaling his respect.

Once the couple was out of earshot, you whispered, "One down."

Hotch nodded. "500 to go." It was an exaggeration, but it felt like he was right.

For the next hour, the two of you made it through the room several times, eliminating almost every man there. You were starting to lose hope that you were going to find the unsub, but Hotch was refusing to give up.

Your eyes were dancing around the room when they landed on a man several feet away from you. You hadn't noticed him before, but he was watching you, eyes taking in your appearance with a dangerous hunger.

You turned your head into Hotch's shoulder, so the man could no longer see your face. "Your 2 o'clock," you whispered.

Hotch glanced in that direction and his grip on your waist tightened almost possessively. You instantly knew he agreed with your instincts and his protective nature kicked into high gear.

You felt Hotch move his head, gesturing for the man to come over to you. He leaned down to murmur against your hair, "He's coming this way."

"Hello there," the man said as he reached you. "Who do we have here?"

He was clearly talking about you, so Hotch turned your body towards him, allowing the man to have a clearer view of you. "This is Anna," he lied smoothly. "My favorite girl."

You kept your head inclined to express a very submissive nature, but you allowed yourself to gaze up at the man through your lashes. He was looking at you with an intensity that made your skin crawl, but you didn't show it.

"Anna," he said softly. "Beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

"Thank you, sir," you murmured.

"And so well-behaved." The man looked up at Hotch. "You've trained her well."

Hotch smiled. "She's a very quick learner." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "A little violence goes a long way with this one."

The man hummed lightly, clearly pleased with that information. "Is she available?"

"What did you have in mind?" Hotch asked.

"I was thinking something permanent."

Hotch pretended to think about it, looking slightly disinterested.

"I can pay very well," the man insisted. "I pay extra for complete discretion."

"Discretion is obviously included," Hotch said simply.

The man shook his head slightly. "Complete discretion. After I make the purchase, I expect utter silence on your part, regardless of what may happen."

"Should I be concerned about 'what may happen'?" he asked lightly.

"I'll make it worth your while to not be concerned."

Hotch looked down at you. "How much?"

"$500,000."

Hotch laughed. "She's worth more than that."

"My apologies. I'll give you the 500,000 for discretion and 1 million for the girl."

Every single fiber of your being was telling you this man was the unsub you were looking for and you had a feeling Hotch felt the same way.

Hotch nodded. "You've got yourself a deal."

The man smiled. "I'll transfer the money to whatever account you wish."

Hotch gave him a government-controlled bank account to wire the money to.

Back at the other hotel, Garcia received a notification that the account had received 1.5 million dollars. "Alright, guys. It's go-time. I just got 1.5 million dollars for something...I'm assuming it's for (Y/N). Hotch is talking with a man now."

Rossi and Morgan leaned over her shoulder to look at the camera feed. "Let's roll," Morgan said.

Morgan, Rossi, Reid, and Emily headed out to the other hotel. The plan was to pick up the unsub once you were transferred to his possession.

Hotch's phone dinged with a notification from Garcia informing him the money had been transferred. He looked up at the other man with a smile. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you. She's all yours."

"Excellent. Come along, Anna. We have much to do," the man said firmly as he grabbed your arm to guide you away from Hotch.

You felt Hotch's tension as you were pulled away from him, but you didn't look back. You knew if you did, it would give you away.

The moment the man was out of earshot, Hotch called Garcia. "Don't lose her," he said firmly.

"On it, sir."

Garcia watched the man guide you through the ballroom towards the bank of elevators. The cameras in the elevator showed how clearly uncomfortable you were and it made Garcia upset to watch. The unsub's hands were all over you, but you didn't pull away--you couldn't.

The elevator doors opened and the cameras in the hallway showed the unsub leading you into room 456.

"They're in room 456," Garcia said over the phone.

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Hotch was running across the ballroom towards the elevators. As he waited for the elevator, the rest of the team came into the building.

Hotch held the elevator doors opened and the other four jumped inside and headed up to the 4th floor. When they reached room 456, Emily knocked on the door. "Housekeeping," she called.

A few moments later, the unsub opened the door, looking annoyed. His expression quickly turned to surprise as 5 FBI agents busted into his room.

Hotch looked around the room for you, ignoring what was happening with the unsub behind him. His gaze landed on you and he relaxed immediately. You shot him a small smile and waved your fingers at him from the bed.

He rushed over to you. "Are you okay?" he asked gently as he pulled out a knife and quickly cut the rope that bound your arms to the headboard.

"I am now," you said softly, rubbing your wrists slightly.

"You did good," he commented.

"So did you."

He helped you off the bed and you straightened your dress before making your way over to the unsub. "Gotcha," you said with a smile as you patted his cheek.

Hotch nodded to Rossi and Morgan and they escorted him out of the room. Emily and Reid followed, but Hotch grabbed your arm to keep you from following them. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked softly.

You smiled. "He didn't do anything other than tie me to the bed and awkwardly fondle me, Hotch. I promise I'm okay."

He looked angry for a moment. "I hate that he touched you."

You shrugged. "It wasn't great, but I'll live." You grabbed his arm. "Come on, let's go."

He followed you out of the room and downstairs. The team loaded up in their vehicles and headed back to the other hotel for Garcia and JJ, while Rossi and Morgan took the unsub back to the BAU for questioning.

Garcia and JJ were packing everything up when you walked into the room.

"You're okay!" Garcia squealed as she ran across the room to hug you.

You laughed. "I'm perfectly fine, Pen. I promise."

JJ gave you a hug too before helping Garcia carry stuff out to the car. Everyone else cleared out, but you and Hotch stayed behind to change.

"We'll meet you guys back at the office. Tell Rossi to get started without us," Hotch said firmly as he ushered Emily and Reid out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

"I was kind of looking forward to interrogating him," you complained.

"I'm not letting him anywhere near you again," Hotch growled.

"Little possessive aren't we?"

His eyes met yours and your breath caught in your chest. His pupils were blown wide and his gaze was incredibly intense. Your heart began to beat rapidly and your breathing became more shallow.

You'd never wanted him more badly than you wanted him in this moment, but you found you couldn't move. It was as if your feet had grown roots.

Hotch, on the other hand, began to slowly walk towards you, like a predator hunting his prey. He stopped mere inches from you, so close you could feel his breath against your lips.

He leaned forward, pinning you against the wall, his arms caging you in. "Tell me to stop," he whispered.

"No," you breathed out.

He groaned softly and you watched as the last remnants of his self-control faded away. Without warning, he slammed his lips against yours, taking your breath away.

You kissed him back, snaking your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you. His body collapsed against yours, pressing into you deliciously.

His lips began to move to your jaw and down to your neck, sucking your skin and leaving little bite marks as he went.

"Aaron," you whimpered softly.

He moaned against your skin, nipping at your pulse point. "Say my name again."

You gave the hair at the nape of his neck a tug and whispered his name again.

He looked up at you, eyes black with lust. "I wanna take my time with you," he murmured.

"We don't have time," you said softly. "The team's gonna wonder what's taking so long."

"I don't care," he growled. "I've been wanting to do this for years."

You groaned, the mere idea that he'd wanted you for so long was a massive turn on. You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots gently. "Then you can wait a little longer, baby."

"Fuck," he mumbled, hands tightening on your hips. "I'll take my time with you later. Lift that dress up, baby. Wanna touch you."

You didn't need to be told twice. You lifted up the skirt of the dress so it was around your waist, revealing your black lace thong.

He raised his eyebrows when he saw your underwear and you grinned. "Didn't want panty lines."

He grabbed the edge of the lace and ripped it with ease.

"Aaron!"

"What? You won't need them." He slipped a finger between your folds, effectively silencing your response. "So wet for me," he groaned.

Your head leaned back against the wall and you let out a soft moan. Your fingers reached for his belt, quickly removing it before fiddling with the button and zipper on his pants.

He grabbed your hand and pushed it away. You were about to protest, but he made much faster work of removing his pants than you would have. He pulled his boxers down just enough to release his hard cock, stroking it as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"Please," you whimpered.

"Please what, baby?"

"Fuck me, please," you begged.

"I can't say no when you beg so sweetly," he said softly.

You clutched at his shoulders and lifted your hips up to meet his hands. He chuckled lightly at your neediness, but he couldn't deny his own need any longer. In one swift movement, he sheathed himself inside of you completely.

You gasped as you dug your nails into him, trying to adjust to his size. His length and girth stretched you out almost painfully. You wrapped your right leg around his waist and begged him to move.

He started to thrust up into you, your moans mixing with the salacious sounds of your bodies meeting.

"You feel so good, (Y/N)," he moaned into your ear. "Could stay between these pretty legs forever."

"Faster," you begged.

He chuckled darkly and sped up his thrusts. You gasped loudly, pleasure overwhelming you.

"Squeezing me so tight, baby."

"So close," you gasped.

"Yeah? You wanna cum, pretty girl?"

"Please," you whimpered.

"Not yet," he growled.

You let out a soft whimper as he continued to thrust into you. He was struggling to keep his own orgasm at bay, but he wanted to make sure yours was as intense as he could make it before he came.

"Fuck, baby, you're so beautiful."

"Wanna cum," you cried softly.

He thrust into you as hard and fast as he could. "Cum for me, baby."

You cried out as your release hit you with overwhelming force. You clenched tightly around him as you came, drawing deep moans from his chest.

"Squeezing me so good...gonna cum, baby," he groaned out.

You felt him slow slightly and you worried he was going to pull out. "Inside me, please--Aaron, wanna feel you fill me up," you begged quickly.

"Baby, you sure?"

You nodded rapidly. "Please--need it."

He leaned into you, lips against your throat as he thrust into you a couple more times before he came inside of you, filling you with his seed. He groaned your name against your skin as he came down from his high.

You were both breathless as he slowly slid out of you. His hands didn't leave your hips, which you were thankful for. You were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to stand up without his support.

"You alright, (Y/N)?" he asked softly as he kissed your temple.

"More than alright."

He smiled. "Me too."

You chuckled as you looked up at him. "We--uh...we should probably clean up and get back to the office."

He nodded and pulled away from you a little. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry--"

"Nothing to be sorry for, Aaron. I wanted that as badly as you did."

He looked back up at you, eyes scanning your face for any hint of deception. The fact that you'd used his first name and the look of affection on your face solidified his belief that you were serious.

"For the record, I'd like to do this again later," you said softly as you took in his gentle expression.

He smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Oh really?"

You bit your lip and nodded.

He groaned softly. "Don't play coy now, (Y/N)."

You grinned and pulled him in for a deep kiss, one he returned happily. When you separated, you pulled yourself off the wall and went to adjust your dress. As soon as you stood up straight, his cum began to seep out onto your thighs.

"Shit," you mumbled.

"What?"

"Well, you ruined my underwear and now I'm going to get cum all over my dress."

He grinned. "Good thing you brought clothes to change into."

"I didn't bring another pair of underwear!"

"Sorry, gorgeous. Guess you'll have to just sit with your thighs clenched together."

You smacked him affectionately as he started to take off the rest of his tux so he could change.

"You're terrible," you grumbled lightly. You grabbed your clothes and went into the bathroom to change. When you came back out, he was dressed and ready to go.

He looked slightly uncomfortable, as if the realization of everything that had happened just dawned on him. "We, uh--we should probably talk about this..."

Your expression hardened slightly, unsure of what he was trying to say. Did he regret it? "We can talk about it later. Let's just get back to Quantico."

Hotch nodded, noticing the way you'd closed up when he'd mentioned talking. He couldn't deny that he was worried--and perhaps slightly ashamed that he'd given in to his primal desires. He just had to hope you didn't hate him.

You stayed quiet for the whole ride back to Quantico, leaving Hotch to wonder silently if he'd really and truly messed things up for good.

**********

After the interviews were completed and the unsub had confessed to all of the murders, it was almost 2am. You were beyond ready to go home, as was the rest of the team.

Everyone was leaving except for Hotch. He watched as you started to make your way towards the elevators. He knew he needed to make a decision...

The elevator doors closed with you inside and his decision was made for him. He figured he could talk to you on Monday...or maybe just never bring it up ever again. Maybe that's what you'd prefer.

You'd never admit it to anyone, but you went home that night and cried yourself to sleep. You should have known better--hell you did know better. Giving yourself over that easily was embarrassing...especially when you did it with your boss.

Hotch didn't call that night, nor the next day, and when you came to work on Monday, he tried to catch your eye, but you ignored him more harshly than you ever had before.

Two weeks went by in much the same way. You wouldn't even look in his direction and he desperately tried to think of something to say. The longer this went on, the harder it was for him to say something.

Friday night came and the team wanted to go out for drinks. You declined, opting instead to go home and curl up on your couch.

Hotch overheard your explanation to JJ, telling her you were too tired. He decided tonight would be the night when he would man up and actually talk to you.

A little before 6pm, there was a knock at your door. You were already in your pjs and you'd ordered Chinese food for dinner, so you assumed it was your delivery.

When you opened the door, you were shocked to see a soaking wet Aaron Hotchner standing at your door.

"Well you're not the Chinese delivery guy," you grumbled.

He held up the bag of Chinese food in his hand. "Caught him on the way in. He was more than happy to hand it to me so he could get out of the rain."

You sighed. "Come in then, before you get pneumonia."

He followed you into your townhouse, shutting the door behind him. He stopped in the entryway, clothes dripping all over the floor.

"I'll get you a couple towels."

"Thanks," he said sheepishly.

Even after toweling himself off, he was still soaking wet. He removed his coat and his suit jacket, leaving him in his white button down, which in its current state, did nothing to hide the body beneath it.

You swallowed thickly and averted your gaze. "So what brings you to my house in the pouring rain on a Friday night?"

"I...I thought we could talk," he mumbled.

You gestured to your dining table. "Pull up a seat. I got enough Chinese food for 4 people."

He sat down at the table across from you and you silently pulled out the different containers.

"Just don't touch the potstickers," you said lightly, the ghost of a smile playing across your lips.

He chuckled. "I learned my lesson on that one."

A couple years ago, the team had gotten Chinese food to sustain them on a late night of work. Hotch made the mistake of taking the last potsticker mere seconds before you came back for it. Every other person on the team knew better than to take the last one without asking you first and Hotch learned first-hand that night how aggressive you got about potstickers.

The two of you ate in silence for a little while. Since he'd come here without warning, you decided to simply wait him out. If he had something he wanted to say, he'd need to just come out and say it.

You were half-tempted to start humming the Jeopardy tune when Hotch finally spoke up.

"Sorry for stopping by unannounced."

"It's alright. I didn't have any exciting plans anyway," you said, gesturing to the containers on the table.

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. You could tell he was uncomfortable, but you weren't about to ease his pain. You were still annoyed with him.

"So I--I think I owe you an apology," he began.

You raised your eyebrows.

"I do owe you an apology," he corrected.

"Go on."

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "I shouldn't have done what I did that night at the hotel."

"In what sense?"

"I shouldn't have slept with you," he said softly.

You winced, but he wasn't looking at your face, so he missed your expression. "Right," you snapped, standing up. "Well if that's all--"

He finally looked up at you and you saw the pain in his eyes. It softened your heart and your expression. "Please," he whispered. "Just let me finish."

You sighed and sat back down.

"Can I start over?" he asked.

You nodded. "Please do."

"Do you remember when you first joined the team?"

"Of course."

"So do I. Better than I should, actually," he mumbled. "When you first started, I thought you were amazing. You were so incredibly smart, but so humble. You made me laugh, you brightened my day every single day...you made me feel something I wasn't sure I'd ever feel."

You inhaled softly, his words stirring something inside of you that you weren't sure you wanted to feel.

"Those first few weeks were incredible and I was so glad that you'd joined the team--not just because I enjoyed your company, but because of how good of a profiler you are. I realized there was a problem pretty early on and it changed everything for me." He sighed. "I started to treat you differently from the rest of the team and I'll admit I took it a little too far. I thought if I pushed you as far away as I could, then I wouldn't want you anymore."

He ran his fingers through his hair and stood up. He started pacing the length of the dinning room, eyes trained on the floor. "The thing is, you'd already managed to wedge yourself in my heart and nothing I did changed that. I kept telling myself that I'm your boss and I can't feel what I feel for you--that I can't have you. I was so angry at the whole situation that I started taking it out on you--and you didn't deserve that." He finally looked up at you. "You don't deserve that."

There were tears in your eyes, but you didn't say a word--you couldn't.

"The night of the op...I struggled to keep my composure from the moment you walked out in that dress. You looked so incredibly beautiful--you took my breath away. But when we walked into that ballroom and those men looked at you so hungrily...it disgusted me. The mere thought of any one of them touching you made me sick to my stomach, especially knowing what kind of people they were."

He looked angry even in that moment, as if talking about it was unbearable.

"My natural protective instincts kicked in and I almost forgot what we were there to do. I know I teased you a little and I'm sorry about that--it was unprofessional."

"You weren't the only one doing the teasing," you reminded him gently.

He smiled slowly. "True. But still. I shouldn't have done that." He clenched his jaw. "But when Andrew Connors looked at you, I saw red. I knew he was the unsub before he even came over to us. The way he looked at you...it terrified me. Then I had to watch him walk away with you and I couldn't breathe, (Y/N). The thought of something happening to you was overwhelming."

"I didn't know," you whispered.

"I've gotten very good at hiding what I'm feeling," he conceded. "When we busted into his hotel room and I didn't see you right away...my brain jumped to the worst conclusions. But then I saw you and you looked uncomfortable, but alive. I've never felt relief like that in my life."

You offered him a small smile and he continued.

"When you told me that he'd touched you, I almost lost it, but you were so calm. It didn't bother you the way it bothered me, and I realized that part of the reason I was so upset was because of how I thought of you--the possessiveness I felt--like you were mine. I couldn't stand the thought of him touching what belonged to me."

He paused. "I'm not saying you belong to me--that's just how it felt to me in that moment," he clarified. "By the time we got back to the hotel, I was so worked up I could hardly control myself. That sassy little attitude of yours was the last straw and I broke."

"You didn't actually break--I invited you in," you said softly.

"I literally caged you against a wall."

"And you asked me to tell you to stop. I didn't want you to."

His expression shifted slightly. "You didn't? Like even now looking back?"

You laughed mirthlessly. "Hotch, did you really think you forced yourself on me?"

He nodded slowly.

"You know me better than that. If I didn't want to do it, it wouldn't have happened."

"I just thought that maybe you were feeling confused and pent-up like I was and you just gave in because I was there."

"Do you know how terrible that sounds?"

"You're so out of my league it's not even funny--and I'm your boss! Are you really so surprised that's what I was thinking?!"

You inhaled sharply. "I'm not out of your league, Aaron Hotchner."

"Of course you are!" he insisted.

You groaned in annoyance. "How many men have I dated since I joined the BAU?"

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"How many?" you asked again.

"I...I don't know. You've never mentioned anyone."

You nodded. "That's because there hasn't been a single man. Not one."

"Not one? How is that possible?"

"Not a single one. Do you know why?"

He shook his head.

"You," you said simply.

"Me?"

"I wanted you from the moment we met and for some damn reason that's never changed, even with the way we treated each other."

His face was filled with complete and utter shock, which surprised you.

"You're a profiler, Aaron," you teased. "Did you really not know?"

He shook his head. "Maybe I just didn't want to believe it."

"Why not?"

"Because then I wouldn't have an excuse to keep us apart."

"And now?" you whispered.

He crossed the space between you and grabbed your hand, pulling you up out of your chair. "I can't take any of this back, (Y/N), and to be honest, I don't want to."

You gently caressed his face. "Something real?" you asked softly.

He turned his face into your hand and kissed your palm. "Something real," he confirmed.

You stood on your tiptoes and pulled him down to kiss you, his lips softly caressing yours. You moaned softly as you leaned into him, deepening the kiss. His arms snaked around your lower body, pulling you flush against him.

When you finally separated to breathe, Hotch leaned his forehead against yours. "I don't want to be presumptuous--" he began.

"Bedroom is the first room on the left," you murmured.

He chuckled. "You read my mind."

He slid his hands under your thighs and pulled you up with ease. You wrapped your legs around his waist with a giggle as he carried you to your bedroom.

"So strong, Agent Hotchner," you teased warmly.

"Hmm," he hummed. "I like these titles you use."

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed."

He tossed you down onto the bed and you laughed lightly.

"What are you gonna do to me, sir?"

He groaned softly. "You're going to be the death of me, beautiful."

You smiled and leaned back on your elbows. "I certainly hope not. I have plans for you."

"Sounds ominous," he teased.

You grinned. "You're going to love it, I promise. Now, why don't you lose those wet clothes?"

He smiled. "Only because you asked so sweetly." He started to unbutton his shirt tantalizingly slowly, eyes never leaving yours.

You bit your lip as you watched him, silently begging him to speed it up.

After what felt like an eternity he slid the shirt off his shoulders and onto the floor, but of course he was still wearing his undershirt. He started to very slowly lift it up, eliciting a groan from you.

"Aaron."

He chuckled. "Alright, alright." He pulled the shirt off over his head and tossed it onto the floor.

You let out a little hum of approval, which made him blush. He was a confident man, but he felt very exposed under your gaze.

He shed his pants quickly, leaving nothing on but his boxers. You eyed the bulge appreciatively, the memories of his size on the forefront of your mind.

"I think you're a little overdressed, baby," he teased lightly.

You looked down at your t-shirt and pj pants. "Hmm...you might be right." You yanked your shirt off in one smooth motion, tossing it to the side before looking back at him.

He practically pounced onto the bed, eyes glued to your torso. "No bra?" he whispered.

"I wasn't expecting company."

"I'm not complaining," he said almost reverently as he hovered over you, hands touching your sides.

He licked his lips before kissing you softly, moving down the column of your throat down towards your breasts. He swirled his tongue around your nipple before giving it a light nip as he took it into his mouth.

Your back arched towards him and a soft moan left your lips. Your hands immediately went to his broad shoulders, holding onto him as he toyed with you.

His hands slid down your sides, fingers digging into your skin as he went. He didn't want to let go of you, but he needed to remove your pants. He was dying to bury himself between your legs.

You wiggled your hips to help him as he tugged off your pjs. "Baby," he groaned, as you laid before him completely bare. "Never wear underwear ever again."

You laughed lightly. "If you promise to keep looking at me like that, I'll burn every pair I own."

He grinned wolfishly. "I'll make it worth your while."

He gripped your thighs and tugged your legs apart with gentle force. You gasped softly and his eyes flicked up to you to make sure you were okay. What he saw had him moaning with need of his own.

Your eyes were hooded and filled with lust, lips parted, a warm blush heating your face. You bit your lip when you caught him staring and shifted your hips slightly to get his attention back where you wanted it.

He gave you a little smirk before lowering himself comfortably between your legs. He nipped at the soft flesh of your inner thighs, hands massaging your hips gently.

"Aaron," you whined.

"Patience, sweetheart," he mumbled.

You whimpered softly, but you had a feeling he would make it worth the wait.

His lips slowly made their way towards your core, warming your body from the outside in. After what felt like an eternity, his tongue finally darted out sliding between your folds with ease.

You gasped in pleasure as he settled in, mouth moving against your core with expert precision. Every swipe of his tongue, movement of his lips, and vibration from his moans had you shivering with pleasure.

It didn't take him very long to work you into a heated frenzy. Within minutes, you were coming apart on his tongue, cries of his name reverberating through the bedroom. Your fingers clutched his dark hair, giving it a light tug when the pleasure became too much.

He lifted himself up, licking his lips as he eyed you with a dark look. His ministrations had only served to fuel his hunger and you could tell he was struggling to maintain his control.

"Can I taste you?" you asked sweetly.

Surprise lit up his features. "You--you don't have to."

You furrowed your brows. "I want to--badly."

He nodded hesitantly, rolling over to allow you access. He helped you remove his boxers and you inhaled sharply when his cock sprang free. You hadn't gotten a very good look at it the last time, but you'd known it was large. Now seeing it, all you wanted to do was feel the weight against your tongue.

You gripped the shaft firmly, pulling a soft moan from his throat. You licked your lips before pressing kisses to the head, the shaft, and his balls. You traced the large vein on the shaft with your tongue before slipping his large member into your mouth.

"Fuck," he groaned, hands immediately wrapping themselves in your hair.

Your mouth was so warm and wet, and the way you moved had him breathing heavily and making the sexiest sounds you'd ever heard. Each one spurred you on and your motions quickened.

"Just like that baby," he moaned. "Feels amazing."

You hummed appreciatively around his cock, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through his body. His hips jerked up to meet your mouth and you gagged slightly.

A look of panic crossed his face at the sound, but when he looked down at you, it was clear you didn't mind. You pushed yourself a little lower onto his cock, gagging again as you took him into your throat. You wanted to make sure he knew you were into it.

He was surprised by how much it turned him on, his moans becoming almost embarrassingly loud. "Gonna cum if you keep doing that," he said lowly.

You sped up slightly, the only signal you gave him that you wanted exactly that--his cum pouring down your throat.

Moments later, he gasped your name as he came, and you swallowed every drop he gave you. You paid special attention to the head of his cock as he came down from his high, making sure to prolong his pleasure as much as possible.

He tugged your hair gently, pulling you off of him and up to his face so he could kiss you. When you separated, he was completely breathless.

"Where--" he breathed deeply, trying to steady his heart rate. "Where did you learn...to do...that?"

You grinned. "A magician never reveals her secrets," you teased with a wink.

He chuckled. "Best I've ever had, hands down."

You blushed. "Thank you."

"Thank you," he countered. He flipped you onto your back and climbed on top of you again.

"Oh!" you gasped in surprise as your back hit the mattress. "We're not done?"

He looked surprised. "Do you wanna be?"

You shook your head rapidly, causing him to laugh. "It's just--in my experience, most men are one and done."

"Oh baby, you've been hanging out with all the wrong men," he teased. "Besides, you only came once."

Your brows knit together in confusion. "So...?"

"I need at least two more from you."

"Two more? I've never cum more than once during sex."

"Oh now that sounds like a challenge," he said devilishly. "And I love a good challenge."

You blushed a little and wiggled slightly under him.

"Hey," he said softly. "We don't have to do anything you don't wanna do. Tell me to stop and I will, no matter what."

You smiled warmly and touched his cheek. "I appreciate that. I want you...I'm just not used to the whole 'multiple orgasms' thing."

He kissed your palm. "May I try?"

You nodded slowly. "Please..."

"I'll go slow, baby."

In a split second, you decided you didn't want him to go slow. You wanted him to ruin you and you had a pretty good idea how to rile him up.

"I want you to fuck me until I can't walk, sir." You put a lot of emphasis on the title, hoping it would have the desired effect.

You weren't disappointed. His eyes darkened instantly and his grip on your hips tightened. "Is that what you want, huh? You want me to use this sweet little pussy for my own pleasure?"

You inhaled sharply, desire evident in your expression. "Make me scream," you begged.

Hotch shifted his body and thrust into you without any warning, earning a cry of pained pleasure from your lips. "I can't deny such a pretty little request," he growled before he began to pound into you, setting a brutal pace.

You cried out again as the pain faded away, leaving only white hot pleasure in its wake. Your nails clawed at his back, finding purchase anywhere they could.

"Shit, baby--this pussy was made for me," he mumbled against the shell of your ear.

"Oh god," you moaned loudly.

"Keep making those pretty little sounds for me, baby."

His thrusts were measured and precise, each one hitting your sweet spot and sending waves of pleasure through you. Every inch of your body was on fire, from the tips of your toes up to the roots of your hair. You had never in your life felt this incredible and you never wanted it to end.

"Aaron," you gasped. "I'm so--so close."

"Fuck--" he growled. "Say my name again."

"Aaron."

Somehow his pace increased and it sent you tumbling right over the edge. You came with surprising force, pussy pulsating around his cock. As badly as he would have liked to keep his pace, he had to slow down to avoid cumming too.

"That's it, baby," he murmured against your neck. "Doing so well for me. Gonna give me one more?"

You hadn't been sure it was possible for you to have two orgasms, let alone three, but you were 100% willing to try. You nodded, but it wasn't enough for him.

"Can you use those words for me, pretty girl?"

"Yes, sir," you murmured.

He groaned and began to pick up his pace again. "That's my good girl."

Your eyes widened and your nails dug into his flesh slightly. The burning sensation caught his attention and he smiled. "You like that don't you? You wanna be my good girl?"

You nodded hastily. "Yes, sir. Please. I'll be so good for you."

He grinned. "Of course you will, baby."

He shifted his weight and pulled your legs up to his chest, allowing him to thrust even more deeply inside of you. His thrusts never faltered, his pace remained steady.

You whimpered below him, the pleasure almost too much. Your body was so sensitive, but you didn't want him to stop. "Please," you whispered.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you need."

"More," you begged.

He kissed your leg softly before sliding a hand down between your thighs. He began to gently circle your clit as he continued pounding into you. Your moans grew in volume and your legs began to shake as the pleasure built.

"I know you're close, baby," he groaned. "I need you to cum for me."

You moaned as he increased the pressure on your clit. The feeling of his hands on you, his cock filling you up so thoroughly, and the gentle skill of his fingers combined to send you to the very edge.

You knew you needed something more--but you weren't sure if he would be comfortable with it. Neither of you had exactly had time to discuss what you were into in the bedroom.

You reached up and grabbed his hand from your leg, pulling it towards your face. He watched you, a look of confusion marring his handsome features. You placed his hand on the base of your neck, giving it a light squeeze to ensure he knew what you wanted.

His eyes widened, but he didn't move his hand. "Are you sure?" he whispered.

You nodded quickly. "Please, Aaron--I need it."

He groaned lowly and added a small amount of pressure to your throat, not enough to choke you, but enough for you to know he was there and he was in control.

You gasped in pleasure, the mixture of the various sensations threatening to overwhelm you. Within moments, you were crying out as you came, body shaking beneath his as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

"Shit--" he moaned loudly. "I'm gonna--gonna cum."

"Fill me up," you begged.

It was all he needed to hear to cum, a cry of your name falling from his lips. His cock filled with you with what felt like an endless amount of his seed, his orgasm lasting for several seconds.

Finally, he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily. He kissed whatever skin he could reach as he tried to catch his breath.

"That was pretty decent," you said breathily, a teasing tone lacing your voice.

"Just decent?" he asked, head lifting to glare at you affectionately.

"Sooooo decent."

He laughed and you shot him a grin.

"Seriously, Aaron. It was fucking amazing."

"I couldn't agree more. I can stay here forever." He kissed your jaw. "Unless I'm hurting you?"

You shook your head. "I kinda like your body weight on top of me. Feels nice."

"Good because I don't think I can move yet."

You laughed warmly and wrapped your arms around him to hold him tightly against you. "You're pretty cute like this."

"Did you just call me cute?" he mumbled against your skin.

"Mhmm."

"Thanks, baby," he said with a little chuckle. "You're pretty damn cute too."

"Just cute?" you teased.

He lifted his head to look at you and smiled warmly. "You are absolutely the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life. And right now? God...literal perfection."

You blushed, your entire face turning red. "Aaron..."

"I'm serious, (Y/N)."

"Thank you," you said softly.

He lifted himself up so he could look down at you better. "I'm going to tell you every second of every day so you don't forget."

You laughed lightly. "You're a dork."

"And you're sexy."

You laughed harder. "I kinda like this game."

He kissed you gently before sitting up entirely. "How 'bout I run a bath for you, hmm?"

"That sounds nice."

You watched him as he walked to your adjoining bathroom and began to fill up the tub. You smiled as you watched him, feeling incredibly happy. He was so handsome and sweet...just like you'd thought he was when you first met him.

You had never been thankful for an unsub or a case before...but you were thankful for this one. This case changed everything for you and you had a strong feeling the change was going to be permanent.

Hotch turned around to look at you with a warm smile and you felt it in your bones, this deep adoration for the man in front of you. You felt happy for the first time in years, really and truly happy--and you knew it was going to last forever.

#Aaron Hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader smut #hotch x reader #hotch x reader smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #hotch smut

2K notes · View notes

lakesbian · 5 months

Text

@simurghed ok here are some miscellaneous nothing thoughts ive had about undersiders team vacation for you. this is my purest form of autism theres literally nothing interesting under this post just a lot of words of me sticking undersiders into situations. thats not intended as self deprecation just fair warning

if they went in a cave where the tour guide is like "DO NOT TOUCH ANY CAVE FORMATIONS or they will BE DESTROYED, FOREVER, after THOUSANDS OF YEARS OF BEAUTIFUL EXISTENCE" brian would immediately proceed to spend the entire tour staring at aisha and alec instead of looking at the rocks and shit and preparing to grab them if either of them attempts to touch a cave formation. alec would accidentally set his hand on one w/o realizing while huffing and puffing his way up stairs or a steep incline but he would be walking behind the rest of the team so no one would notice and he would pretend it didn't happen

brian accidentally slams his forehead into top of low tunnel everyone is walking through and swears for like 20 continuous seconds and then has to go sit somewhere with an ice pack and the entire time hes like I bet aisha and alec are touching so many fucking cave formations right now.

if the undersiders went on a hike or something where there were like. Ledges. over Long Drops. aisha would without doubt go stand on them and dick around in a spry 13yo manner and it would freak brian out so much he would yell Aisha Middle Name Laborn Get Your Ass The FUCK Down From There!!!!! and then she would pretend to be startled like she was about to fall off for a moment and he would almost have a heart attack and he would be so mad for the entire rest of the day and not let her off the trail at all and keep glaring at her

if they went to a beach they could all wear cute little swimsuits...taylor would have a full bodysuit (dark gray) but mostly just spend time sitting in a chair reading. rachie wouldnt wear a swimsuit but she would just take her dogs up and down the beach on walks in normal clothes and maybe get a bit damp anyway. brian would wear swim trunks and a long-sleeved top because he also feels uncomfortable having too much skin exposed but, like, more quietly. aisha is wearing a purple tankini with one of brians giant t-shirts over top. voluntarily, to be clear, ifeel like someone might misinterpret this as "brian made her" but shes doing that on purpose. i also think she has at least one "nightgown" that is fully a massive shirt stolen from brian but thats besides the point. lisa is wearing a purple bikini with one of those like. flowy half-skirts tied around the bottom. and alec is wearing girls swim shorts and one of those sheer white swim cover tops youre supposed to take off before you get in the water except he's not taking it off

aisha keeps pestering alec to go swimming with her and he's like sure ok and lets her drag him in. and then almost drowns because he doesn't know how to swim and figured he could just "wing it." brian has to dredge him out and he spends several minutes coughing up seawater sopping wet style while brian takes the opportunity to lecture about how he's stupid. and then he spends the next half hour after that complaining about how there is Sand up his Buttcrack.

aisha and alec spend literally like over half an hour just standing next to taylors chair pestering her to make a crab rave happen. she tries to ask lisa for back-up but lisa says she also wants to see the crab rave. so it happens. very clandestinely with only a few crabs.

aisha demands a ride on brian's shoulders into the ocean. he obliges. alec demands to get to go next. he is denied, because brian thinks it would be kind of gay. he doesn't say that, but it's what he's thinking.

i think they should get to have the most miserable time on the planet all waiting for their turns to shower off in the hotel room after going swimming. reasonably they would have multiple rooms but i like to envision theres only one and everyone is shivering and holding malicious intent towards whoever is actively in the shower. they make alec go last because they know how he is with long showers and he just kind of sits tragically on the entry tile in a slowly collecting puddle of sandy water and stares into space looking haunted and intermittently shivering

undersiders trip to history museum. undersiders trip to preserved historical building. undersiders trip to preserved fancy mansion. ive posted about this one before but both alec and brian are enjoying it (for different reasons) while aisha HATES it and it's freaking all three of them out a little. alec is performatively trying to pretend he also thinks it's lame because he's (largely platonically) whipped but then he turns around and asks the tour guide an actual question and he and aisha both know that in this moment he has betrayed and abandoned her. they reconcile via shared advocacy for ice cream afterwards

alec vasil hot and tired of walking frow up incident, no deaths, intense injury to one boy's pride and also his shoes

brian laborns intense and immense joy over getting to organize and use the contents of his cargo shorts

the incredible drama of brian laborn trying to parallel park the van in a really tight spot while lisa and taylor both play unwanted spotter for him and he's like Please. just Let me Concentr-. Just let me do what i need to do just be quiet for a minute . they do stop talking for a minute, during which aisha takes the opportunity to start making fart noises

rachel lindt is fitting so many ouppie dogs in the van and theyre just kind of ferreting between everyones legs and climbing onto laps to stick their heads out the windows and shit. this starts off as something everyone but rachel is mad about but settles into a more amenable cuddle pile situation

undersiders go to aquarium or zoo....zoo would be more fun to witness because alec would complain about it being hot + smelling bad the whole time. lisa has the intelligent idea to quiet him with a blue raspberry slushie

speaking of lisa you know shes going into this entire thing like Taylor Specifically has to have the most funnest specialest time ever. shes always like "ok ill read some dinner options off the phone :)" and then all 5 of them are things taylor specifically would love. and so on and so forth.

alec vasil spotted wandering lost and ghostlike in the modern art gallery

i could go on

141 notes · View notes

mari-lair · 14 days

Note

Hello and good day! I'm sorry if this has already been asked before and you can totally just ignore this if you want, but I'm curious: can you imagine a world where somehow, Aoi likes someone else and not Akane? Cause I think that while the canon version of her is cute, I have recently read a what-if fanfic in her pov where she absolutely hates Akane the same way she does her other admirers and now I am hyperfixating on that. What habits would have been different compared to canon Aoi? Would Akane have grown more deperate since he (presumably) would know that Aoi genuinely does not like him in this scenario? What if he began noticing Aoi starting to like her dream boy in class? The possibilities are killing meeeeee!

Oh man, I'm the wrong person to ask this cause I genuinely can't imagine this scenario being possible without obliterating Akane's characterization.

Do you remember why Akane fell in love with Aoi? Because Aoi loved him so much that she broke her "cold and indifferent, hate dealing with people" mask for him. She TRIED so hard to hate him but still ended up crying cause she cared so much.

If the mask was real and she truly didn't care about him, I don't think Akane would fall for her.

If he did fall for her later on anyways, I can't see him trying to pursue her after being rejected/met with her discomfort/annoyance. Even in the timeline where she does like him and comes up with the silliest of excuses to keep him around without straight up accepting his confessions, he had admitted that he would keep keeping her safe while keeping a distance in case she doesn't want him.

He only pursues her so much cause she actively flirts and encourages him to.

The idea Aoi would encourage him if she didn't like him does make Akane pestering her believable but at the cost of Aoi's own character being obliterated. I don't think I'm being harsh when I say Aoi would be a bitch if she went "hehe try harder <3 Impress me Akane-kun!" consistently enough for him to buy it that she could date him while thinking "Tch, hate this guy, he keeps harassing me".

That would means she doesn't even consider him a friend, she doesn't care AT ALL about his feelings, which is nothing like the Aoi who tries to pretend the people she dislikes don't bother her/don't exist and loves her friends dearly, putting them above her.

The most I can picture is Aoi falling for someone else and Akane either not getting a crush on her and supporting her fully, or slowly putting some barrier between them cause he can see Aoi doesn't like him and being in pain, the classic 'i want her to be happy' and 'she won't be with me' conflict where he has a crisis but eventually learn to let her go, reach the point he can be comfortable by her side even when she is with someone else.

Or Aoi realizing Akane likes her romantically and being anxious that she has to reject a friend, whom she deeply values, but her growing unease and lack of encouragement wouldn't be able to fool Akane for long. Their whole thing is that they know each other well after all and Akane consistently asks 'are you okay?' when he senses anything may be wrong with Aoi.

Maybe it would take some months for Akane to understand without Aoi giving him a straight-up rejection, especially if they are small when he gets the crush, but Akane pays so much attention to her, he would pick up the signs she is uncomfortable, especially if it reaches a point of Aoi staring to resent him for it more than being scared of losing him. He either drop it silently or straight up confront her about it, probably.

#full disclosure i hate 'what ifs' that turn kind characters into very non complex mean people #so again. I am not the best person to ask this. I have negative bias T-T #but the base premise of 'aoi liking someone else' can be interesting #i just never saw it done without either aoi or akane becoming caricature of themselves #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #aoi akane #akane aoi #jshk

40 notes · View notes

freddieslater · 1 month

Note

Hope living with Jeremy? :O

Thank you bestie, you're so cool ily !! I know what I've written here doesn't actually have a lot of Hope living with Jeremy lmao but this scene actually follows on from an interaction between the two of them, and I swear there is a lot more of them throughout the rest of the fic, this just happens to be where I left off last time I was writing

"A football game?" Hope repeats, eyebrow raised.

Alaric nods but doesn't seem bothered about elaborating further.

"So, there's a troll on the loose right now - probably looking for me or already knocking on the school doors where your daughters live, and you... want me to play in a football game?"

"That's right," he says.

She stares at him. He stares back. They both know what's happening here. He thinks he's being smart by pretending this task he's giving her is crucial to the bigger plan, and she knows he's bullshitting so he can try to figure it all out himself.

"I'm not going to waste time playing football," she tells him plainly.

"You won't be wasting time," he insists. "If, like you said, the troll is going to the Salvatore School, then we both need to be there. This football game is the only way that can happen." He sighs. "Look, no one there remembers you."

"Well aware of that, thanks," she snaps.

His features soften. "I know. What I'm saying is that you can't just waltz onto the grounds. They won't let you, they'll think you're one of Malivore's monsters."

He has a point there. It would be her first thought. She shifts uncomfortably, her scowl deepening the more she considers his plan. There's a reason she never signed up for the Salvatore School's sports teams - she's not good at sports. Nor does she enjoy any part of them.

Alaric straightens. He shrugs. "So, either you play in the football game or you can go back to the house. Jeremy's got a strict training schedule, but I'm sure he'd be happy to let you join him, if that's what you want. Between the two of us, he doesn't have a lot of friends. In his words, it's not easy to make friends and keep them when we live in a world full of vampires, werewolves and witches. You know, you two might have more in common than you think."

She glares at him, refusing to let his low blow sting. "Fine. I'll play in the stupid game."

And because I appreciate you sending me a request, here is another little scene that was actually the sole reason I wanted to write this fic:

"You know," Jeremy huffs, stopping to catch his breath, "you remind me a lot of someone."

Hope takes another swing at him, forcing him to step back. He laughs in surprise, shakes his head, then motions for her to try again as he readies himself this time.

"I hear that a lot, funny enough," she says dryly. "Kind of comes with everyone who ever knew you having their memory wiped of your existence." She swings again, sinking her fist into the palm of his hand as he blocks the blow, to her frustration. "People don't actually remember you but they know there's some familiar about you."

Jeremy shakes his head again. "That's not what I mean."

"No?" She ducks his fist with ease and snaps back up to trap his arm in both her hands. She raises an eyebrow. "Then what did you mean?"

He escapes her grasp, though she's not entirely sure how. He's faster than she thought he would be for a human. Stronger, too. Not quite werewolf or vampire strong, but definitely stronger than he should be.

He puts a few feet between them and she lets him, taking the opportunity to catch her own breath as her heart furiously dents the inside of her ribcage.

"I knew this guy, long time ago," he says. "Bit of a dick."

"And I remind you of him? High praise. Thanks a lot."

Jeremy laughs and waves a hand at her pointedly. "He would've said the same thing." He tilts his head. "Or he'd have ripped my arm off. He had a bit of a temper. Tried to kill me a few times, actually."

"Sounds like a great guy," Hope says sarcastically, and grabs her water bottle off the ground, taking a drink.

"Not really," Jeremy agrees, "but he also wasn't the worst. He was actually my only friend for a while. I met him at college. Turned out, though, he was a vampire who was sent by his brother to keep an eye on me so he could kill me if my sister pissed him off too much. Which kinda sucked, because I actually liked him. I got a dog and we'd take it on walks together. So, yeah, he was a bit of a dick sometimes, but not all the time."

Hope pushes the lid back down on the bottle as she absorbs this. She tries to swallow the lump in her throat as a small smile fights its way onto her face.

"He sounds a bit like my uncle," she confesses. "Or at least, that's how my parents used to talk about him." She rolls her eyes, a chuckle escaping her now. "My mom told me my dad would complain about him all the time, but that, deep down, he would do anything for him."

Jeremy shrugs one shoulder, grabbing his own water bottle as he says, "That's just how families are. I know Elena and I have had our fair share of fights and haven't always had the best things to say about each other, but... at the end of the day, we understand each other better than most people ever will."

She nods slowly and bites down hard on her cheek. It doesn't stop the stinging in the back of her eyes no matter how much she wills it to. She swipes the back of her hand over her face under the pretence of wiping sweat out of her eyes.

"What was your friend's name?" she asks, trying to distract herself from the attack on her mind that thinking about her parents always seems to bring on. "Unless you made him up. Ric told me you don't exactly have many friends."

"Oh, did he?" Jeremy tosses his water bottle back to the ground with a grin, then says, "Well, he was definitely real, and if you don't believe me, you can ask Ric. Kol tried to kill him once or twice as well."

Hope freezes. "What?"

"Yeah, like I said. Bit of a dick. Then again, just about everyone in my life has tried to kill me at least once. Damon did kill me."

Her heart was beating too loud to hear anything he said.

"I... I need to go," she says.

She doesn't give any explanation; she walks back into the house and right out the front door. Though, where she's going, she has no idea. Her feet keep moving and she lets them carry her - all the way into the town square. She stops abruptly as her eyes are drawn to the Mystic Grill. Landon doesn't notice her, watching him as he clears one of the tables. He heads back inside without so much as glancing in her direction. The tears come freely now.

Send me the title/number of a wip and make me write it!

#mariedemedicis #ask away earthlings!#tvd #legacies #tvdu #hope mikaelson #jeremy gilbert #kol mikaelson #the vampire diaries #alaric saltzman #make me write #my wips

5 notes · View notes

the-possum-writes · 2 years

Note

Green Knight (Fern), prompt 12, full moon. Non-binary/gender-neutral reader goes for a walk with GK, it’s a full moon, and things get a lil risqué in a clearing. Everything else is up to you!

🍁[Halloween Prompts] 🎃

12. Full moon

A/n: Oh hey it's you! ☺️ Won't be needing to tag you in this one hehe, good day.

🔸Character: Green Knight (Fern)

🔸Fandom: Adventure Time

🔸Tags: Suggestive content, Gender neutral reader

🔸Wordcount: 708

🔸Taglist: @watchingfromthefloorboards

Small talk is non existent between you and this green knight. Your muddy boots on the other hand, chat with the forest soil as you stomp through crunchy leafs and twigs, the trees eventually thin out into a clearing, unraveling the full moon that was hiding behind tree foliage looming over your head for the past hour.

While GK carries most of the scavenged goods on his back it doesn't slow him down in the slightest, he walks past you with a grunt. "What's the hold up? Move it." he commands from under his helm, but you ignore him, in exchange for plopping down on the nocturnal grass.

"We've been going on at it since 8am, let me catch a break." you insist but the knight isn't persuaded.

"Gumbald wants this stuff by dawn," his tone reminds you of a pushy ex manager.

"If he wants it so bad he can come for it! even better just take my part and go on without me."

The crickets singing in the background is comically fitting when he doesn't snap back, eyeing your burlap bag with consideration before giving up with a sigh. Raising the visor from his helm like a sign of peace, "Ten minutes." he states, dropping his own share of scrap metals as he joins you on the ground. You stare upwards, admiring the celestial object floating in the night sky, its complete body bright enough to illuminate the clearing. When walking through the forest you could only see glimpses of its light, but now that it's in full view it's nothing but relaxing.

"9 minutes." your friendly knight interrupts your train of thought.

"Oh glob, what are you an alarm clock? Enjoy the scenery dumb dumb, you've been cooped up inside Gumbald's lab I thought you'd appreciate it.." you snap back, but the way he avoided your line of sight was a telling sign that you pinched a nerve. "...Sorry."

"No need, you're not the one who shredded me to pieces." his tone softens, leaning back as he preps up his upper body with his elbows. "He brought me back and gave me this cool armor, the least I could do is scavenge and deliver stuff on time." Green Knight stared at the bag he was carrying before redirecting his gaze at the moon.

He so pretty like this, the moonlight reflecting his armored body, so many spikes hiding a soft interior.

You scoot closer to him, not caring if it left grass stains on your bum. He's worth it. "Hey. How about we pretend nothing of that exists? just for the next 8 minutes." not only did your body get closer to him, but so did your hand. Gently encasing it over his, the pointy gear felt uncomfortable in your palm but he reshaped it so that it was his normal hand intertwined with yours. Gk wiggles his fingers for a bit, feeling your tender skin against his grassy one before gripping it tight. Oh how he would cherish the touch of those hands on him, so warm, so comforting. The moon remains as the only witness during the first kiss, soon followed by another, and many more after that. An ever growing want surfacing between the two of you with each lick and involuntary whine, your hands going up to his chest as if he were a life ring keeping you afloat from drowning further, if the moon could talk it would call you out for lying. I mean, you're already tipping on the edge here. Your knight in shining armor coaxed you onto of him, knees already on either side of him as you mount him like a trusty steed.

With a final breath you pull away from Fern while a trail of saliva glints in the night light, giving the young man a taunting smile as you remind him. "It's already been 10 minutes~"

GK makes an audible groan, sounding more annoyed than anything. "Forget about that." he pulls you in for another smooch but you lean away. "But what about Gumbald?" you continue to ruffle his grass blades.

Your Green Knight grabs a hold of your legs, pulling you closer to him as he states. "Gumbald can wait!"

That's the spirit.

#adventure time x reader #fern the human x reader #Adventure time green knight #halloween prompts

66 notes · View notes

wicked-whump · 1 year

Text

Careless

CWs: Fear, briefly discussed past noncon (discussed with abuser)

For @/soheavyaburden's 2023 Year of Whump challenge, February 26th: Trembling with fear

2.7k words

He’s not supposed to be out this late.

There’s no law or curfew imposed upon him, forcing him back to his apartment at a certain time, but still. He shouldn’t be out this late.

Soon enough, his friends will have to leave, and then he’ll be left alone in the cafe. And soon enough the cafe will close, and then he’ll be left alone. At night. In the dark. And nothing could save him. Especially not with this stupid fucking medical boot he has to wear for the next three weeks.

How could he have been so stupid? How did he let the time slip away from him like this? He shouldn’t be this careless. Can’t be this careless.

He’s nervous already. Of course he’s nervous, if Knox catches him alone…

He shoves the thoughts away. He’ll be fine. He has to believe he’ll be fine. Otherwise he’ll lose his composure in the middle of the cafe, in front of his friends and everyone else, and that will lead to questions he can’t answer.

“Sebastian?”

“Huh?” his eyes snap up to Emmett, who’s staring at him expectantly.

“I asked if you want to go see a movie on Saturday. Jess is already in.”

“Oh, um… Yea, sure, why not?” he shrugs. In truth he’d rather stay hidden away in his apartment pretending he doesn't exist, but he needs to be making some effort to appear normal.

“Cool, there’s this one that looks really good–” Emmett continues on, but Sebastian is distracted by the person he sees entering the cafe. He hunches over and lowers his eyes and head, hoping against hope that he won’t be noticed.

Obviously, he has no such luck.

“Hey, guys, fancy running into your three here!” Knox walks up to the table and claps Jess and Emmett on the back. Sebastian keeps staring at the table, avoiding Knox’s gaze. Emmett and Jess greet him enthusiastically, while Sebastian only mumbles a “hello.” Knox drags a chair up, joining their group. Sebastian exchanges a glance with Emmett.

Of course, Knox positions himself right next to Sebastian. Uncomfortably close. Though, he was already uncomfortably close the moment he walked into the cafe. Sebastian forces himself to sit still instead of shifting away like he desperately wants to. He leans against the back of his seat in an attempt to appear more relaxed, crossing his arms over his stomach.

“What are you guys up to?”

“We were just talking about plans for the weekend,” Jess replies.

He knows what comes next. Knox asks what those plans are, they tell him, he suggests he tags alone and Emmett and Jess readily agree, inserting himself into their gathering once again. Then Sebastian either forces himself to endure a few hours hanging around Knox, or he chickens out and later comes up with a flimsy excuse as to why he has to cancel. Then Emmett and Jess question why he continues to cancel plans, and Sebatian can’t answer, pushing them further away.

Fucking great.

“What plans were you thinking of?”

The conversation plays out, exactly as expected. And now he has a decision to make. Force himself to endure more time in Knox’s presence, or pretend he’s not feeling well to get out of it.

But he’s used that excuse too many times now, and his friends are undoubtedly growing suspicious. At least, more than they already are. He can’t bail too much, he has to keep up appearances.

He makes a shaky decision that he’ll go with them on Saturday, but who knows what will actually happen when the time comes. Chances are he’ll fail to acquire the courage to do this, and he’ll think of a feeble excuse to stay in his apartment.

This is so fucking frustrating. He knows the chances of Knox finding him alone during these activities are very low, but just being near him makes Sebastian almost nauseous with fear. And as long as they conclude their outing before dark, chances are even lower that he’ll be cornered.

But it’s still never zero. And he hates to take that chance.

…A movie theater. A place where it’s dark, and everyone’s attention is focused away from the people around you. Chances are, Knox will manage to position himself next to Sebastian, and who knows what kind of shit he’ll pull during the two hours they’re there.

He suddenly reverses his earlier decision. He doesn’t care what his friends think, he is not putting himself in that position.

“Aww,” Knox coos, shaking him out of his reverie, “you’re shaking like a leaf, am I that scary?” his tone is playful, but his face is smug.

“Seb, are you okay?” Emmett asks, oblivious to the meaning behind Knox’s expression.

“I’m fine.” Sebastian grits out, still staring at the table.

“You sure? You’re lookin’ a little pale, there.” Knox nudges him with his elbow, and it takes all of his willpower not to jump out of his skin.

“I’m fine, can we just drop it?”

“Is there anything we can do?” Emmett asks.

“Drop. It.”

“Emmett’s just trying to help, Sebastian,” Jess scolds.

“Yea, don’t be rude.” Knox jabs.

“Well maybe I don’t want help.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jess says, “if someone offers help, you’re allowed to accept.”

“Cool, I still don’t want it. Or need it.”

“Don’t lie, Knox is right, you’re pale and shaking. What’s going on? Are you sick? Is it your ankle?”

“No, it’s nothing, can we fucking forget about it already?”

Emmett interjects. “I think you–”

“Nobody cares what you think.” Sebastian interrupts.

Everyone falls silent at that. An uneasy air settles over them, and he immediately regrets what he said.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”

“Um. It’s okay, uhh…” he glances at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting kinda late though, I think I’m just gonna head home. Hope you feel better.” he stands up and grabs his jacket, tosses out his cup, and heads for the door.

Guilt twinges in his stomach, but all he can do is watch Emmett go.

“Emmett, wait up.” Jess calls to him, then turns back to face Sebastian.

“Okay, seriously dude, what was that?”

He sighs again and shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I said it. I didn’t mean it.”

“You’ve been in a bad mood recently, is something going on? At work or at home or something?” Knox asks. Jess nods, and Sebastian fights the urge to sneer at this.

He forces himself to wait a beat before answering, “Nothing’s happening.”

“Okay. Well if there is, you know you can talk to us, right?” Jess says.

He can’t though, can he. Not without putting them at risk. The only thing worse than what’s happening right now would be it happening to them as well.

He nods at the table. “I know.”

She stands. “I’m gonna go catch up with Emmett, make sure you talk with him later, okay?”

He nods again, moving to stand to join her.

“Knox, would you mind walking Sebastian home?”

“What?” his head snaps up.

A grin spreads across Knox’s face as panic overtakes Sebastian. “It would be my pleasure.”

“I can walk myself home.”

“You still don’t look well, I don’t want you passing out on the way there.”

“I’m seriously fine.” he says more forcefully.

“I seriously don’t believe you.”

“Holy shit, I’m not five. I don’t need a babysitter, I can deal on my own.”

Jess rolls her eyes very unsubtly, which adds a layer of anger over his rising dread. He stands, and Knox follows.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, why don’t you trust me?”

“Because you look like you’re about to collapse,” she says exasperatedly.

“What, you don’t wanna spend some time with me? Don’t think of me as your babysitter, I’m just a helping friend.”

Shut the fuck up you fucking creep, liar, asshole, the words burn on his tongue and he wants to scream and cry and run and he can’t do any of those things without raising more alarms. It’s so fucking ironic. Jess doesn’t even realize she’s asking the reason he’s unwell to walk him home. He falls silent, unsure of what he could possibly say to get them to change their minds. He shoves his hands into his hoodie and twists them together.

“Stay here, I’m gonna get you some water.” She walks away before he can say anything, and now he’s left alone with Knox.

Another grin spreads across his face as he stares at Sebastian. He shudders, turning away and forcing himself to take a deep breath.

Jess returns a few seconds later and hands a cup of water to him. “Go home, get some sleep. Just text me later to let me know you’re still alive. I’ll see you later.”

He nods and mumbles a “thanks,” and sips at the water to avoid saying anything else. Jess turns and heads for the door. No way is he getting any sleep after what happens tonight.

The second she’s out of the building, he sets the water cup down. “I’m not leaving.” he deadpans as he falls into his seat.

Knox chuckles and sits back down next to him. “We can’t stay here forever. The cafe has to close eventually.”

He’s right. Goddammit he’s right. The cafe closes in less than half an hour, and then he’ll be out at night alone with Knox.

He briefly considers refusing to leave the building anyway, but that might eventually get the cops involved, and that’s not in his best interest. Then again, it’s also not in his best interest to be alone with Knox.

But it’s a small town. If word travels and his friends find out, there will be questions he can’t answer. It’s safer for them if he just puts up with it.

Goddammit, he can’t even run this time. This dumbass medical boot makes sure of that. The boot he needs to wear for the sprain he suffered the last time he ran from Knox.

“I assume you’re not gonna wanna leave until the very last minute, what should we do to pass the time?”

Sebastian doesn’t respond, just resumes staring at the table and trying to keep his breathing steady.

“Playin’ the quiet game, huh? That’s okay, I can wait.”

He watches the clock on the wall. The seconds tick by, counting down towards another night of hell. At 9:50, the barista comes over to tell them they’re closing in ten minutes. The time drags on, but when it hits 10:00 and they’re the only two left in the cafe, it’s too soon. The barista will be coming over any minute now to tell them it’s time for them to go.

Knox takes initiative. “Alright, time’s up, let’s go.” he says, standing and clapping his hands once.

Sebastian stays sitting. The day he does anything as a result of Knox asking is the day he dies.

“Hey, did you hear me? It’s 10:00, the cafe is closing, let’s go.” Knox leans over the table to try to look Sebastian in the eye. All he does is curl his lip, the only indication that he heard what Knox said.

“Sirs, the cafe is closing now, I’m going to need you two to start heading out.” the barista comes up behind them, making Sebastian jump.

He sighs and tries to steel himself, then stands robotically and slowly pushes his chair in. He grabs his crutches and maneuvers towards the door as slowly as he can get away with without appearing too odd. It’s better to just get this over with and get back to his apartment.

Knox is already there, holding the door open. He ushers Sebastian out and follows, letting the door swing shut behind them and blocking out any semblance of safety.

He’s still shaking, harder now, if it’s possible, and it makes it difficult to move down the street. His shallow breaths come out in clouds in front of his face. He focuses his attention on the vapor and the cold air stinging his trachea, and he thinks if he weren’t actively moving he’d be lightheaded and about to pass out.

Which would absolutely not be ideal in these circumstances.

Knox begins to make small talk, but Sebastian is too distracted worrying about when Knox is going to shove him into an alleyway to pay attention.

How far away is far enough? When does Knox feel that they’re sufficiently isolated? There’s nobody around, it can’t be long now. His heart hammers in his chest and he finds his palms slipping on the grip of his crutches despite the temperature. His stomach twists every time they pass by an alley.

About two minutes pass. Then five. Nothing happens. It’s less than a ten minute walk to his apartment, it’s coming any second. Knox is still speaking to deaf ears, and the question that’s been bugging Sebastian surfaces in his mind.

Is it even safe to ask this? Will this set Knox off?

It’s going to happen either way, though.

“You’ve been quiet this whole time, how about you say something for a change?”

Well, here goes nothing.

He takes a deep breath, clears his throat, and tries to keep his voice steady. “If I hadn’t found those pictures, would you have– have left me alone?”

Knox throws his head back and barks out a laugh, “No,” he chuckles, “God, I’d been planning on having you since day one.” Sebastian flinches at those words, then glances around to make sure nobody is present to overhear. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

There’s nothing he could have done. It’s a relief, and also another weight on his chest.

It’s not his fault. He couldn’t have avoided it.

Nothing he did could have stopped it. He’s powerless.

They pass by another alleyway and Sebastian braces for impact, but it doesn’t come. They’re almost at his apartment complex, Knox is running out of time to make a move.

But it still doesn’t come. They reach the complex without incident.

Knox turns to him and speaks. “Well, here we are. It’s been a nice night, see you later.” before he can move, Knox reaches over and ruffles his hair, then turns and begins walking away.

For a second, he stands there frozen in shock and confusion. But it’s only for a second, before he hurries to the door and unlocks it, shuts himself inside and relocks it. Only then does the tension melt out of his body.

He makes his way over to the couch and falls onto it, ditching the crutches on the floor. There’s a lot to unpack tonight.

It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault.

Logically, he knows it wouldn’t have been his fault even if finding the pictures were the catalyst for all this. He couldn’t help but feel like he had some part in it, though.

Why did nothing happen tonight? Does Knox just– enjoy watching him squirm? He can’t think of any other reason.

And Emmett. Fuck, Emmett. He feels really lousy about what he said earlier. It just slipped out. They wouldn’t stop pressing about why he wasn’t feeling great and he was frustrated. It’s not an excuse, he knows. Still, hurting them a little bit in the short run saves them a lot of pain in the long run. He needs to remember that, otherwise the guilt will eat him alive.

He just needs to go to sleep right now. Enough thinking. He shoots a quick text to Jess to let her know he made it back alive, then to Emmett to apologize and request to meet up and talk. He’ll have to come up with a reason for his bad mood and sudden unwellness, but that can wait until morning.

He doesn’t even bother getting up to go to his room, it’s too much work. He just lays back on the couch and covers himself with a nearby blanket, and settles in for another restless night.

If you’ve read this far and enjoyed what I’ve written, please consider reblogging! It means a lot to artists :)

#2023 year of whump #year of whump #2023 year of whump february #whump #wump community #whumpblr #OC whump #whump writing #whump fic #creative writing #writeblr #implied past noncon #my writing #sebastian's story #sebastian #knox #emmett #jess

3 notes · View notes

traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 1 year

Note

tw landlords lol, mention of alcohol, smoking and porn (all very brief). Also really long and I use some swear words and am very angry in word choices so that might be a tw too

This is mostly a vent but if you have any advice please share :) <- after this the rest of the stuff is just anger and venting, sorry for the negativity

I am SO frustrated with my landlord, his existence just pisses me off so goddamn much. I was lowkey forced to move here (vs being homeless) and the landlord VERY MuCH pretended the place was better than it actually is.

First off he said that "everyone helps out" and "all spaces is for everyone" while also saying "he rents out to young college students because he knows they need a place to stay". We're all renting individual rooms here BUT. What he MADE SURE NOT TO SAY (and AVOIDED answering) was that he lived there too!

Which like sure okay I get it but also aelrgmkaelrkgm it pisses me off so much. All he does is drink and smoke and DRINK all day long. If I use the kitchen (which is so absolutely disgusting I actually refuse to use it. I have a minifridge and a small hot plate and that works for me.) or chill in the general area he stares at me. He's bigger than me and will make comments about not seeing me enough and paired with him straight up telling my aunt that he "reallly wanted me to live there" it makes me feel super super uncomfortable.

He used to text me demanding where I was and if I was home which like SURE maybe he's trying to be kind but FUCKING EW. He used to come to my room and knock and knock if I didn't answer his texts soon enough, and that SCREAMED red flags because why the fuck does it matter to him?? I pay my rent and clean the spaces I use (I share a bathroom with a guy that refuses to clean and it's so gross. I hate it.).

He's aLWAYS on the phone yelling and sometimes screaming and I can hear him listen to porn too. I work from home and all day I can hear him snoring (he has a WEIRD sleep schedule), drinking, yelling on the phone, farting, etc. He has no job and jacked up the prices here so that we all cover his ""lifestyle"". Everyone renting here either hides in their rooms or are gone because no one likes it here.

With the girl who may or may not be moving out he doesn't give her keys to the place and makes weird comments about her and is generally pretty creepy towards her and it's such a bizarre power dynamic that I don't blame her for being gone 5+ days a week. The other guy speaks basically no english, also yells on the phone alot, is a fucking pig (THEY LEAVE MOLDLY FOOD ALL OVER THE KITCHEN. I CLEANED THE COUNTERS AND THE LANDLORD MADE A JOKE ABOUT ""PICKING YOU WILL MAKE OUR LIVES BETTER"".)

AND NOW the landlord has started inviting groups of men over and drinking with them in the common area RIGHT outside my door. He's been inviting new people over to ""tour the place" and KEEPS standing right outside my door and talking about how "someone else lives here right now" and it makes me SO uncomfortable. All these people he's "touring" for HAPPEN to be fully grown adult men, like adult adult not college age which means he quite possibly LIED so i'd move in (not that I had much of a choice, my aunt forced me).

He doesn't speak much english which means "convineitly" whenever I try speaking to him he doesn't know what I'm talking about, but I try to just avoid him (pretty successfully) because he makes me so fucking mad. Each morning I am forced to listen to him wretching (not quite throwing up but some horrible terrible throat sounds) for 5 minutes straight and he keeps waking me up doing that. It's so stupidly loud and disgusting.

I'm not allowed any people over because of the contract and if I have someone over for the night he'll kick me out. Because we ""technically share a kitchen"" I'm not protected by certain renter's rights.

I'm polite to him when I see him because he has more power in this situation (has the key to my rooma nd could barge in if he wanted like the first few weeks) but HOLY FUCK his existence makes me want to strangle him (I would never do such a thing btw. I don't take my frustration out on people). I just want him to SHUT UP for a few days or even leave the fucking house so hey! it doesn't feel like he's constantly waiting for a moment to stare at people!

He doesn't even mow the fucking lawn or clean the house or do his own goddamn dishes. He makes the renters snow shovel the drive way (which he has, FOR SOME REASON, a car with 0 license plates on them parked there) and do everything else and because no one is home most of the time or people are hiding in their rooms NO ONE CLEANS UP. I keep my room and the common area outside it clean (and the bathroom but sometimes I don't clean it that week because the other guy is SUPPOSED to clean it but doesn't.).

I am so fucking sick and tired and disgusted by these people and I want to scream and tell the landlord to stop being such a stupid piece of shit and stop drinking and yelling and being so creepy all the fucking time. Like I get that there's cultural differences in what is polite but FUCK this guy is just so bad. I hate him so much. If I have to hear him gag which chugging more beer one more time I will scream.

When I moved here too there were NEW (NEW! THEY WEREN't THERE BEFORE I MOVED IN) HOLES IN THE WALLS. He sprayed the place down for UNKNOWN REASONS and kicked everyone out for an entire day. He put in in the contract that I'd have to pay 3 months rent if I broke the contract and I couldn't change it because my aunt forced me to sign. He acted all "nice and sweet" around her but it was all a fucking act. She thinks he's great and living with other people will be good for me, but I never wanted to live with some unknown, creepy, alcoholic guy who sometimes listens to the same 1 minute long clip of a child speaking for a solid hour straight <- I AM NOT MAKING IT UP. IT DROVE ME INSANE. I WAS OUTSIDE AT NIGhT IN -20C WEATHER JUST TO GET AWAY

She also thinks that I'm some sort of devil child (because I'm adopted) and doesn't really like me so even if I say something it's me "not acting human enough" <- she's lectured me on that multiple times.

The rent in the city is absurdly high and idk where I'd be able to move but I'd be willing to lose a few more hundreds a month if I can get away from this shitty landlord. I'm already paying 850 just to rent a stupid room that I have to sleep in AND WORK in with this drunk, smoking, disgusting old guy stomping around, slaming things, and throwing up upstiars. He'll yell on the phone until 3AM and I've lost SO much sleep because he can't shut up for ONE hour of his stupid miserable life. He never leaves the house and if you leave food in the kitchen he'll take it.

He's also really traditional, mysogynistic, and yuck and I'm nonbinary AFAB stealthing as a cis guy because I don't want to get kicked out or whatever the hell sort of relationship the landlord has with the girl who technically rents here. I've also had nightmares about him (the worst was during the first few weeks I'd have repeating nightmares of moving in, him slowly taking over the house and revealing he had multiple hidden cameras in my room that he's watching me with, showing off his collection of nude photos he's got of me and then showing a hiddden part of the contract showing that I "agreed to it all".)

I want him to just STOP. I can't wait until I can move out but I have to wait 8 more months until then. I'll be having surgery and staying with my parents for at least a month around april and even though I originally moved out to get away from my parents I'm honestly considering staying there for like 2 months because they're more than willing to let me stay there for as long as they can (kinda tooo willling if you catch my drift. They've made too many kidnapping/stalking/etc jokes to be comfy but whatever). I am so happy that the days will be longer soon because then at least there will be light out when work ends and I can go for long walks outside without possibly making other people uncomfortable (I have baggy clothes so I look like some guy which I know can be uncomfortable for some people and I don't wanna do that.)

AND TODAY HE'S HAD MULTIPLE PEOPLE OVER TO SHOW OFF THE HOUSE AND HE KEEPS TALKING TO THEM OUTSIDE MY DOOR BECAUSE IT'S THE CLEANEST AREA IN THE HOUSE SO HE WANTS TO MAKE IT SEEM LIKE A BETTER PLACE TO STAY THAN IT REALLY IS. And they'll probably like it here because they're all older cis men who share that same disgusting vibes as he does. And the idea of more men living here makes me so much more uncomfortable because at least the other two renters are close (unconfirmed since LITERALLY everyone avoids being in the house so I've only seen them twice after living here for several months) to my age.

I want to SCREAM. This is such a terrible christmas. I have no where to go and everything is closed and we had a huge storm and it's still -30C out so it's too cold to just wander outside. I can't hang out with friends because I don't really have any that'd just lemme go overand aELRKGMAELKRGM I've punched my pillow a few times to get the anger out but every noise he makes makes me more frustrated. Months living here with him makes his existence grate on my nerves more and more and more and I'm so sick and tired and mad because of it. can he just STOP.

If I didn't have a stay-at-home-job that required high speed internet I'd straight up just sleep on the fucking streets to get away but I have valuables here and I don't wanna risk anything happening to them. I also fixed the screen of my singular window and fixed the lock but he didn't tell me that it's fucking DRAFTY here so guess who has been bunking down under all my blankets and wearing multiple layers so I don't freeze with the increadibly cold weather out that literally freezes your eyelashes within just a few minutes being outside!

If I could punch him I could, he has such a hateable demeanour. He's so fucking easy to hate and I'm nto someone that believes that you can categorize people as "burdens on society" because that statement is SUPER ableist and capitalist driven. But this guy? this guy is a fucking PARASYTE. He's a wast of existence, he adds nothing to the world and only takes and takes and makes everyone elses lives worse. I don't think he should die of course but holy fuck I would love it for him to stop existing in my life, ya know? I want to punch him so badly just to get that horrible creepy smirk off his face when he leers at me. And I'm someone who hates confrontation so much I've slept in trees I've climbed just to stay away from my drunk and high other aunt who hates my guts!

TLDR: I hate his guts so much he makes me so mad I want him to shut up so so much. He's creepy and gross and loves to stare and make inappropriate comments and I just want to get OUT.

Hi anon,

I'm sorry about what you've been going through. You don't deserve to live that way.

This ask reminds me a lot of this ask where anon was essentially forced by their aunt to live with a creepy landlord. Like I said in that ask, you could consider gathering evidence of your landlord stalking you and potentially report him if you wanted to, because this definitely sounds illegal to me and nobody deserves to live like that. If anyone has any additional comments or suggestions you are welcome to do so.

I also hope that you are able to find a place to live on your own terms and without any weird landlords. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #abuse #trauma details #emotional abuse

3 notes · View notes

babydaddyleorio · 3 years

Text

How they would act on a plane

These are very much crack headcanons because I needed something to help me escape my writing plateau lmao

How they would act on a plane

Chrollo

-If he’s sitting next to a girl? Oh he’s flirting the whole plane ride.

-Literally won’t shut up and tells her this very extravagant story trying to woo her, the whole time eyeing the necklace that’s placed on her neck.

-Also did I mention that he’s in first class? Yeah he definitely tied up some guy in the bathroom and “borrowed” his ticket.

-He’ll order drinks for him and the girl and will secretly pay for them with her money.

-A true finesser.

-Even the flight attendants love him. He has so many numbers now.

-If he does happen to sit by himself, he’ll probably read a book while listening to classical music.

-He refuses to sleep because he feels like he has enemies everywhere watching him.

-like please you are not the main character Chrollo take the damn nap.

Shalnark

-He's on his phone the whole time but he’s so obnoxious with it. He purposefully has his volume all the way up just to annoy everyone around him.

-He’ll play games like candy crush and laughs super loudly If he makes a match and groans sadly If he runs out lives.

-The old man next to him wants to bang his head against the chair in front of him because he literally won’t shut up.

-Doesn’t put his phone on airplane mode.

-Probably hacks into the plane. Literally will make the bathroom have the occupied sign on the whole plane ride so no one could use It.

-Has a needle in the pilot’s neck just for fun.

-Also has the plane doing loopity loops in the sky and everyone is screaming for their lives while he’s just laughing evilly.

-Claps when the plane lands.

Feitan

-He just reads the whole ride.

-If you accidentally brush his arm he gives you a death glare.

-He has to jump to reach the overhead because it’s too high.

-He woke up way too early so he’s in a “I hate everyone” type of mood.

-Hisses when the person beside him tries to open up the window.

-He accidentally sits next to an escape exit and when the flight attendant asks him If he’s ready to save others just in case something happens he’s like “....No.”

-Refuses to change his answer too

-Listens to music on his playlist and silently pretends to be in a music video.

Franklin

-Takes up all of the space and squishes you.

-You wonder how the hell his earlobes got that long and he would say something smart to you like “It’s rude to stare.”

-Well excuse me...

-Someone in front him will lean back in their seat and their hair covers the movie he’s watching.

-Is scared to move it so he just sits there like “😐”.

-All the drinks are too small to fit in his hand so he awkwardly sips from the straw that’s poked in his apple juice box.

-Someone ends up leaning their head on his shoulder while they are sleeping.

-Doesn’t know what to do now and is frantically looking around for help.

Machi

-Knitting or sewing the whole time.

-Do not try to talk to her. She won’t respond.

-Has a window seat because she likes to peacefully look at the clouds and city lights as she’s sewing.

-Also to imagine Hisoka falling from the sky without a parachute.

-Ah, so tranquil.

-Doesn’t like riding on planes because they’re kind of scary. She would never tell anyone that though.

-Wanted to sit next to Pakunoda but instead got stuck sitting next to a chihuahua who won’t stop yapping at her the entire ride.

-Has to stop herself from yeeting it out the window.

-The dog will see he’s not getting through to her, so he’ll slowly raise his leg up and Machi will literally start screaming at what he’s trying to do.

-Yeah she hates her life.

Shizuku

-You can hear pierce the veil blasting from her headphones.

-Binky has its own seat for some reason.

-She goes to the bathroom and once she sees that It’s occupied (kudos to Shalnark) she will turn to go back to her seat but already forgot where she sits.

-The type to bring a book that she never reads.

-If the person next to her is watching a movie, she’ll change It simply because she doesn't like It.

-There’s one flight attendant constantly flirting with her and she gets a lot of free drinks because of them.

-Of course she never catches on and forgets who they are every time they try to talk to her.

Phinks

-Will argue with the flight attendant about how expensive the peanuts are.

-After like five minutes, he finally buys the peanuts and once he’s about to eat them the turbulence becomes so strong that It makes them fly everywhere.

-He has to resist the urge to punch the air.

-Phinks has to have an aisle seat because he gets paranoid easily.

-Phinks will try to go to sleep but there will be a kid constantly kicking the back of his chair.

-He will turn around and would be about to throat punch the kid when suddenly he sees how hot his mom is.

-Simp mode activated.

-He’ll try to flirt with the mom but the kid will notice and he ends up “accidentally” squirting his drink in Phinks face.

-Yeah It’s on sight when he gets off the plane.

Nobunaga

-Watches a movie, probably one dealing with samurai.

-Somehow got past security with his Katana?

-Most likely because of Shalnark

-Ate really bad airport food which messed up his stomach.

-Feels sick and tries to hold It in, but you can tell by his face that he’s struggling. The old lady beside him stares with wide eyes once she hears his stomach literally start beat boxing.

-He runs down the aisle clenching his cheeks and knocks harshly on the bathroom door, but he sees that sign says occupied.

-Nobunaga is shouting at the non-existent person in there to hurry up holding his stomach.

-Shalnark Is eating popcorn and laughing at Nobunaga as he watches him through the security camera.

-Goes to ask the flight attendant for hemorrhoid cream

Pakunoda

-Is really nice and will talk to you If you start a conversation with her

-Has earbuds packed for the altitudes and offers you some as well

-Turns her brightness down as she reads smut on her phone. Literally turned her whole body and everything so no one could see the words.

-Her face is so red as she stares at her phone and the flight attendant is so concerned that they ask if she’s okay. Pakunoda jumps so high and almost chucks her phone once she sees them standing over her, scared that they’ll see that she commented “😩💦” under the fanfic.

-Brings homemade snacks and sandwiches that no one wants

-Has a window seat because she wanted to look out the window and see how small the land is below her

-Unlike Machi, Pakunoda has a cat sitting next to her and the cat absolutely loves her.

-Will probably steal it

Uvogin

-sleeps the whole ride with a mask over his eyes and a neck pillow that he swiped from someone earlier.

-He snores sooo loudly and everyone around him is irritated because they can’t go to sleep because of It

-He would eat all the food on the plane

-Is the type to laugh very loudly at the movie playing or give commentary about each scene that’s happening

-Didn’t bring any luggage with him and… yeah...

-His head touches the ceiling of the plane and Its really uncomfortable

-Has no Idea where he’s going but got on the plane anyway

Hisoka (honorable mention)

-Somehow sits in first class with Chrollo and once Chrollo sees him he almost loses his shit

- “This seat is taken.” Chrollo would say while staring straight ahead but Hisoka ignores him and sits down anyway.

- “Do you not enjoy my company?” He’d tease while licking his lips.

-Chrollo immediately gets him kicked out.

-So now he’s stuck in economy with the rest of the troupe. None of them let him sit with them either.

-Finds an empty seat and sits down In it and starts laughing to himself because he’s plotting on how to get back to first class.

-The person sitting next to Hisoka is legit terrified and they side eye him the whole ride while clutching their bag to their chest.

-Will trip people walking down the aisle with his bungee gum.

-He would purposefully take his time to get his bag out, creating a long line for no reason.

-Whole time doesn’t even have a bag.

-Is banned from ever riding a plane again.

1K notes · View notes

jjkpls · 3 years

Text

the wishlist (m) - 6 (final)

“Was it worth it?”

> genre : smut, angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 15k (ugh sorry)

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, LOTS of pining; sextoys talk and use; explicit language; explicit description of sex; phonesex; masturbation (f); dirtytalk; alcohol drinking; dubcon exhibitionism; ambiguous infidelity

previous - masterlist

There's a lot of forgetting to get done. It wasn't the plan to get drunk. Maybe you should have known better than to confide the slightest about your heart and its aching to your two girlfriends. Because they don't have much of a solution to present you with. You meant to ask of them to divert your mind, make you laugh, feed you so much you'd fall into a food coma and wouldn't be able to think about anything else but sleep. Eventually, share their own dramas of the moment (they always have some) to get you so invested in their shits you wouldn't be thinking about your own.

You made the mistake of sharing, with probably too much preponderance in your tone, that Jungkook was back with his girlfriend.

Without any context clues -they didn't even know that he was single for approximately four days-, they knew. You're not that complicated to read when it comes to him. Only he seems to not get it.

You still remember the first time they found you out. They had a sense that something was up with this kid, that there couldn't just be a platonic, decade-old friendship based on nothing spicier than the tteokbokki you'd cook for him every now and then.

They only started believing, with utter incredulity, that it was true when they saw you, and him, and his girlfriend. All at the same time, sitting around the same table, there was no doubt left. No reason to believe that there's something unsaid existing. They saw your eyes though. The shine they gain whenever you'd be looking at him, laughing hard with all his teeth out, and the glassy look they took on whenever they'd catch a gesture, a touch that was meant only for Jiyeun.

You've never really gone into details. You've never ranted over the feelings, over him, everything that made him the one person for you. They saw you cry over him though, one drunken night, and it was enough to make them understand how deep you were in.

And perhaps it's your fault, that you wouldn't sort of train them to be the better friends they wish to be to you. They don't know what to say, what to do to console you. You don't even know what you need. Really, all you know, it's that you didn't feel able enough to take care of your tormented heart and mind alone tonight.

You are to blame if they dragged you to this bar, with the music too loud and the people too numerous, bumping their hips to yours attempting to coarse you into dancing. You hate every second of it. Every element that was supposed to distract you, help you forget, feel better, served as annoying distractions. You could picture yourself, dipped in a scorching hot bath, with a bowl of ice cream, weeping your eyes out like in the most cliche, most dramatic breaking down of your life. And it felt right, in your mind anyway, a thousand times better than this.

"Here!" Like the good girl that you are, you accept the shots. Min sets one in each of your hand and stares over the rim of her own glass, expecting. You roll your eyes. Swallow them down in one go and she yells, arms in the air, jumping like the night has just been made.

At least, she's entertained. Dancing her life away, kind of wilding out with too much energy, having to apologize every few seconds for knocking someone with an elbow or slapping another with her ponytail.

"Look, who's here!"

Your heart skips a beat then. Until you follow Mary's finger who's pointing rudely at Park Jimin. Park Jimin as in Jeon Jungkook's Park Jimin, one of his closest friends. He's dressed in all black, tight leather pants clawing to his legs, silk shirt half unbuttoned, perched on heeled Chelsea boots, dark black hair gelled back.

For a second, you worry, stupidly, if your friend is not going to appear, emerging from the thick crowd, carrying a drink, catching your eyes in the room. That's another thing you wouldn't need right now: seeing him. When you're in this weird state of sadness, guiltiness, of hopelessness and confusion. You'd probably be a mean bitch again. He doesn't deserve that.

For some time, you're just watching Jimin, being Jimin, dancing languorously, flashing smiles and winks so naturally; making everyone uncomfortable just because he's so attractive and so talented at catching people's attention and making them want him. It's just Jimin, hoeing out, as always. No Jungkook ever appears next to him. And while you sort of spy on him, there are the two dumb bitches next to you, drooling over him. Commenting about his ass, the way he moves his hips and how tight he seems to be in his pants.

"You should have fallen for him, dude!" It's the pinch to your arm that drags you back to the conversation, lets you know that you're the one Min is addressing. "What?" Your brain is already a bit slow. You haven't eaten much before leaving, drunk not much but too fast and forming intelligible sentences, translating your thoughts in their entirety is not a task easily doable at the moment. You meant to say something about how ridiculous they sound. About how it doesn't make any sense. About Jungkook and the things you feel for him, and the way you fell and how even when you suffer, like in this instance, you wouldn't change your heart because it's him, and only him, has been and might as well always be.

Why would you fall for Park Jimin?

"Jimin, you'd just ask him to fuck you and he'll do it."

"You can see he's a very generous slut."

It makes you wince. They're being fucking weird. Obnoxious, in their way of ogling him and quite disgusting talking about him. There's a smirk on the corner of Jimin's mouth and you wonder if maybe he's noticed them and is enjoying it. They don't mean to be offensive, you suppose, but they're still rude as hell.

"Useless Jungkook could never!"

Either you knock your friend out with your newly filled up glass or you drink it and attempt to swallow along your rage and that strange feeling that the open shirt Jimin is wearing has raised in you.

"Don't you wanna try him?" The question is absurd. You don't try people in general. But you'd never, ever, even think about trying someone as close as he is to Jungkook.

What the actual fuck?

"Fine! Don't give me those eyes!" Your brain and face connection is not that great at the moment that you'd know precisely what Mary is referring to. Soon after frowning and pouting through a sip of her drink, she's leaving, straight for the less crowded part of the bar, where people are dancing, where Jimin is showing off.

She needs less than thirty seconds to have him wrapped around her. Min is howling at your side like it's such an exploit. You don't want to bad mouth on your friend but it is, indeed, Jimin. Manwhore Jimin. And just like that, just because she walked in his vicinity, whispered something quickly to him, maybe just a simple greeting and a reminder of who she is, your friend, in case he couldn't make her out, and he's holding her tight, dancing, more like grinding against her, to her greatest pleasure, face buried in her hair, he seems to be uttering things directly in her ear. You catch her fingers reaching for the wide opening of his shirt, brushing against that tattoo you know to be there under his breast but have never gotten to really decipher, and he's leaving kisses on her shoulders. The next thing you see is his wide, wolf-like grin, now aiming straight at you.

You startle, almost let your glass shatter to the ground from the surprise. That seems to make him laugh. He waves a hand quickly your way and for some reasons, it sends a sudden flaming flush to your cheeks. That guy is such a cunt-tease, he's awful. No wonder people talk so crudely about him.

"I need to get plastered." You mumble, probably not loud enough for Min, whose arm you're dragging along on your way to the bar, to hear.

You may have thought, for a split second, of a fantasy. You may have reshaped the scene taking place in front of you to make it more suitable to you, to make it as self-indulgent as you could. With you replacing Mary, with Jungkook replacing Jimin. She made it seem so easy and for the briefest of moments, it felt like it was realisable. As if the only step missing, the only thing making it not real yet, is the first step, the one Mary took by just walking up to him and asking him to dance, maybe for you to be his for a while.

Then Jimin looked over, with his dark eyes and pretty luscious lips, his very sexy aura and everything that makes him him, and it all felt down to the ground. That's ridiculous.

That would never work.

Maybe hot men with the most endearing hearts that you really desire are not to be seduced by you. It just wouldn't happen. Jungkook would never, as she said. What a shame.

You should have fallen for someone easier like Jimin. He's not one person's man, that's for sure, but at least, he would have been great at pretending to be yours for a moment.

Now you really need to get drunk.

There's pure guilt boiling in the pit of your stomach. Because you've never denied your feelings for Jungkook. He deserves them. He deserves to be loved by everyone. Deeply and passionately. And no matter how true, how pure, how intense those feelings are, he never owes to reciprocate, does he? And here you are, greedy stupid little you, sad and angry because of course, he couldn't love you back like that. Not when there's fucking Jiyeun in the way. Jiyeun or any fucking one else, right?

He's not making it easy for you. Everything he does is making your life harder. As if it wasn't enough on its own already.

Everything he does.

Like buying you these fucking toys you need a science degree to operate.

Sort of.

Maybe you don't need a science degree. Maybe a sober head would be enough to make a toy you've never used before function.

You don't have that at the moment. You're in your favourite pyjamas - an extra-large, greyed by time tee-shirt you stole from Jungkook back in high school - and panties - because it sounded like way too much effort to find shorts or joggings and slip them on. You've managed, somehow, you don't even remember doing it, to make your bed all cosy and welcoming, a perfect backrest made of your fluffiest pillows.

The little toy, this orange thing, sort of shaped like a fat bunny, a big, rounded body with two straight little ears, pointed upwards. It's supposed to be fully charged. It's been disinfected. It's just waiting for you to use.

Except it's the last one Jungkook had bought for you, you didn't get to use it yet, to even turn it on once, nor read its instructions. And here you are, past two am, trying, with your sloppy brain, your blurry eyes, and your impatient cunt, to understand how it works. There's an app linked to it. This much you got from the big, unmissable QR code occupying the first page of the three-page long manual that your eyes won't read.

You picked up your phone, went through the violent burning of your eyes when the screen lit up too close to your face, scanned the code, installed the app and here you are, stuck.

The app won't let you turn the fucking toy on. There's a message that keeps coming up every time you try to link the app to the toy. But the message is written in grey, on white, and you can't see shit and you don't have the patience to decrypt it. Maybe if you close it, and try running it again, and try scanning the code again, and just click on the button that appears under the message, whatever it says, maybe it'll work.

Except it doesn't. After a certain number of times (keeping up with the counting is another thing you can't do well right now) the app keeps on being a bitch. Keeps being difficult and reluctant, and unwilling to let you fucking get off and go to sleep.

You're on the verge of tears.

Why would it be so fucking difficult to make a fucking sex toy work?

Why?

You're so annoyed and impatient and angry now and it's all Jungkook's fault anyway.

You can't try to go to sleep, no matter how tipsy you are, because your brain is filled up with this asshole and won't let you alone. You can't fuck yourself to sleep because the toy you've picked - and for totally irrational reasons you feel like you can not switch to another one - won't let you and it's his. His fucking present. Fucking poisoned gift.

He makes everything worse. Everything difficult. And the more your eyes fill up with frustration tears, the more you're reminded that he's also the answer. He's the worst and the best part of your existence.

Of course, you'd call him.

"I could be sleeping." His voice is light and clear. He wasn't any close to be asleep. He's probably gaming or something. You're so thankful for his voice, the lovely thing, the comforting thing, that you don't even get mad at his aforehand teasing.

"Jungkook-" It's not a call of his name. It's a whine, almost a lament at this point. Tiny high tone, overly dragged vowels. Something like Juunggooo, and he must recognize the tone straight away because he starts laughing in your ear. You bite on your bottom lip hard, almost draw blood, squeeze your fist over your heart, as if it could help it handle it better.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

"Went out with the girls?" You hum as an answer. "Had a little too much fun, sweatheart?"

"No fun at all."

He's laughing again. His sly, mocking chuckle. He's too himself for you to get mad at him. He's too cute when he sounds boyish and happy like that.

"No fun?" He's having fun, it's hearable. It might be because you sound like a dumb, whiny kid. "Why is that?"

"Just cause." He hums like he understands. You hear mockery in it. He sounds a bit distant. As if he's not totally paying attention, as if you're really a four-year-old kid rambling some non-sense after school and their parent just barely pretends to be interested. "Junggooo, I'm trying to have my fun now but your thing is being mean to me."

"What thing?" He's definitely doing something else. He speaks a bit slow, you can picture his gaze far from you. And of course, it'd be, he couldn't even see you even if he tried. It's still vexing. He really doesn't want you to have him all for yourself. Why not fucking Jimin?

"The orange bunny you got me." You explain patiently, pouting a bit. You try your best not to have your vexation be too loud but it's hard. "I tried the app but it won't let me."

"The orange-" You hear it when the gears click. He even gasps a bit. You kind of brought it up out of nowhere when you accommodated him with your constant complains and fights pretty much each time he wanted to talk about this subject. And here you are, opening up a conversation on one of them. You kind of get where the shock is coming from. "Oh, the Gala thing." He even knows its name. "What- How isn't it working?"

"The app says I'm too drunk to use it." You quetch, glaring at the toy laying flat on its back next to you. The asshole.

"The app says what?"

"Jeon Jungkook! Are you even listening to me?" Hysteria was to be expected. Because here you are sad and drunk and horny and highly frustrated and it seems he keeps making you repeat everything. And of course, he would because he can't give you his undivided attention now, can he? Because he's not a generous slut like Park Jimin, he's a useless prick. And if he keeps being one, and he keeps upsetting you, you promise to yourself, as an act of self-love and self-respect, you'll tell him he should be better, he should be more like Park Jimin.

"I am, baby, but I'm confused."

Except he doesn't need any bettering, does he?

It's like he's heard your thoughts. Like somehow, even with the distance separating your two apartments, he's been able to read them directly on the lines of your heart. He knows what you need, the soft and gentle and tender Jungkook who takes care of you, the one that doesn't show often, especially now that you don't really go out and get pissed off drunk together, now that you don't expose the sad episodes you might have to him in fear of being precisely confronted to this perfect torture. Maybe he heard your mind calling Park Jimin's name too many times and he tries to ensure his position. You almost tell him not to bother. That it was just a taunt, it's always him, just him, will ever be.

"What does the message say?"

"That I'm too drunk and stupid to use it."

"I don't think that's what's written, baby."

"But-" You're seriously going to cry in a second. You don't even know from what. The app really succeeded in hurting your feelings by not working for you and he keeps calling you baby, it makes your whole inside boil and scorch like a puddle of lava. "It's invisible letters, how am I supposed to read exactly?"

"If you can't read maybe you should just go to bed for now, hm? Figure it out tomorrow."

"No, now." Full brat mode is on. You know if only he was sitting next to you, you would have raised a hand to pinch him right on the back of his upper arm -where it really stings. It works usually. You don't hurt him, the guy is basically made of muscles, he's the kind of work out junkie that's enjoying the pain. He wouldn't fucking mind your tiny attempt of an attack, no matter the amount of anger and frustration powering it.

By telephone though, it's even harder to make him do something. Possibly undoable. The only weapon that you have is your annoying screeching voice. "You fix it! You bought this shitty thing so you fix it."

"I forgot how rude you get when you're drunk." He's still making fun of you. Not taking you that seriously.

"Jungkook, I'm seriously going to cry." The worst part is that you mean it. If regular menaces won't do, surely affection blackmailing should be more effective.

"Don't cry, it's fine. I'll check. Don't hang up."

As if. You did not plan on hanging up. Ever. You've decided.

It's too nice, cuddled up in your bed, with his voice, smooth and soft, saying words that you really like, like baby, in your ear. You've decided this moment won't ever stop.

"Junggoo-"

"One second, baby." You don't have one fucking second. You don't have any fucking second to spare him. When he's made you horny and lonely and longing for so fucking long. Why would you spare him any more? He takes too long. The time he takes, you prophet, will precisely be the time your vagina will need to dry out entirely.

Even his soft voice calling you baby won't serve to make you wet again.

That's a lie.

It makes you groan. Asshole, asshole, asshole.

"Oh." Your ears perk up. He's back with you, his voice closer than before, it seems, when he starts explaining, a hint of guilt shadowing his tone. "Sorry, it's my fault."

"Of course, it is." You mumble, face deep in your pillows. "Jungkook! Everything's your fault, always." You're probably being unfair. Or maybe not. Is he responsible for making you fall for him or are you to blame for doing so? Turns out, it doesn't really matter, because he doesn't even pay attention to the blatant, telling, honest truth you've just spurred.

"When I received the package I tried it once."

"Tried?" Did he really? The cute little bunny-shaped thing you'd dismissed earlier, cursed at and threw daggers at suddenly looks different to you. You want to pick it up and maybe place a kiss on the top.

"Wait- Not like that! I didn't actually try it! I don't have a fucking clit, what-"

"You just said that!"

"I meant, I tried turning it on and linking it with the app, just to see how it worked. Like the options on the app."

"Oh." Makes more sense.

"Anyway, it's not working for you because I used my email with it and you can only have one." So many words. God. "I have to invite you. Or delete my account and then you make one with your QR code."

You turn into the whiniest, most irritating little thing then. Just a jumble of dramatic cries, something almost sorrowful because your issue appears impossible to deal with. It's not that complicated. He explained it. Too many words, too much thinking, too much paying attention, too much to do and too much delay. How does he expect you to do it when you can't even read the invisible font of the app?

"Fucking invite me then."

"Watch your mouth." It makes you roll your eyes. It's not the first time he says that. He says with this menacing growl at the end. Like he means it. Like he's really threatening you. But no matter how far you go, no matter how many times you curse at him, he never acts on it. You want to tell him, you almost do, to stop promising you things he won't ever give you. There's a ping coming from your phone. With a bit of a struggle, you manage to put the speakers on, so that he doesn't leave too far whilst you take a look at the message. A link to click on. Not that hard, it's bright blue, unmissable. It leads you back to the bitchy app.

Now it's all nice to you. It lets you enter, presents even a picture of your own toy, congratulates you for being linked to it and to Jungkook's account. Of course, it would. Now that it knows you're friends, now that he's in the thing, this bitch of an app is being nice.

There are a lot of symbols, every-fucking-where. Some wavier than others. One is shaped like a music note. Some are just little constellations of dots. You click somewhere, just to try and see if anything happens and it does.

Suddenly, the bunny is brought to life and starts purring furiously on the bed. It startles you, looks a bit intimidating. It sounds angry and complicated with all of these fucking options. At least the other toys he's gotten for you had at most two buttons, one to turn it on and off, and the other one to regulate the three levels of intensity.

You might actually need a science degree to use that. Simply to adjust it so it's not attacking you when you turn it on.

You press another button. The setting changes instantly. It starts vibrating in a jerkier way instead of one straight line of frequency.

Tentatively, you grab it, sort of unimpressed and dubious as to the way this would feel good on you. You've already grown grudges against it. It needs to impress you, prove to you that it's worthy of the effort and of you even bringing it to your precious temple.

It sucks at convincing you. You've brought it to your panties and tee covered crotch, pressed it there, waiting, and it doesn't do much. It vibrates. Weirdly. It stops and goes again, in a pattern you don't understand and it doesn't do much for you. Doesn't turn you on, doesn't make you wet. Doesn't stimulate in any positive way.

You reach for your phone with one hand, trying to keep the other one holding it against you, and it's here that the whole thing fucks up for the last time you can tolerate.

How are you supposed to fucking do that?

Don't they understand that? The people that make those fucking things? That they're going to be used mostly by single people, with a single pair of hands? How are you supposed to manage holding it up where you need it, whilst simultaneously, hold your phone up (everyone fucking knows holding a phone up with one hand, and tap on the fucking screen, especially laid in bed, is impossible and the worst fucking idea one could have - except if getting a black eye is the project) and control the intricate dashboard.

"For fuck's sake!"

"What is it?" Jungkook is sighing heavily in your room. And for a second, you're startled almost off of your own bed. You managed to forget he was even still here, on the other line, apparently waiting patiently for- for what exactly? Maybe for you to wish him goodnight and hang up. You literally forgot he was here. You were about to get yourself off -if only this shitty thing wasn't so shitty- whilst he was still here on the phone.

Why doesn't it mortify you?

"How am I supposed to use my phone and the thing at the same time? Why- How? Jungkook!"

"Stop saying my name like that!" You don't ask because you know exactly how you're saying it. There's no proper balance in your tone tonight. Either you're whining his name like a desperate brat, either you're pestering it like a disappointed, aggravated mom.

"I'm going to cry." You say again, lying this time. You've already started. It's not a lot yet. Just a puddle of tears, in each of your eyes that are just about to spill, and the prickling sensation at the tip of your nose, the latter has already starting sniffling uncontrollably.

"Why?" He sighs again. This time, it's gentler. He might have just found the key to the secret safe holding the very last drops of indulgence he hides deep inside his kind heart. "Baby, the app is really for couples."

"But I'm not a couple, I just wanna cum."

"Y/N-" He chokes on your name. "There are buttons on the toy for you to use. You don't have to use your phone, okay?"

"You're lying."

"Why would I be lying? Look! There are fucking buttons."

There are, indeed. But they suck, you think. You do try them. Pressing on them while you stretch your arms out to keep the bunny's ears close to your covered clit. It's so much work. You don't get it. The buttons are hard to press on, when you manage to activate the little monster, it just jabs against your centre, falls over from your hand. You hate the jerking motion, try to change it because clearly, it won't do. It doesn't work. The buttons suck, the toy sucks and Jungkook is cursing at you instead of helping.

"What do you want me to do? Baby, I'm- Just go to bed."

You hate that he's telling you to go to bed, again. He's probably right. You're being a pain, an embarrassing one at that. You can't just go yet, though. First of all, the very reason you called in the first place, for him to make it so you can fuck yourself to sleep, has not been effectively resolved. And on top of that, the very resolution you took earlier, the one of never hanging up, of never drawing a period to this moment, won't let you.

"This one sucks ass."

"It doesn't." He sounds calm, a bit quiet, tone low and collected. You wonder if he'd dropped whatever he was doing, whatever distraction and laid in bed like you, to listen and talk to you only. That would be nice. You're annoying as hell, poor him, he deserves better, but you're thankful for him.

"It's stabbing, how can it be nice?"

"You just- I don't even know why I'm arguing with you. You're drunk."

"Am not, you are."

He scoffs, doesn't bother insisting. He exhales deeply. You sigh as deep. Your lids are heavy. Your brain is fuming too. Your head feels fuzzy. You could sleep right now. You might make a terrible night. You might have nightmares. You might wake up in a few hours, hot and very bothered, frustrated and on edge. There's a little ping messing with an edge of your eyebrow. You know it'll grow into a headache soon.

"Junggoo..." You whimper as if he could help you. As if he's the key to this headache, to lock it away, along with the rest of your tormented feelings.

"You're tired, baby." He comments. You would bite if you were in front of him. He really wants to send you to bed. "Just go to sleep."

You should. Given that you need a good five minutes to find the energy to open your mouth and mumble, "Don't wanna."

"Then what is it that you want?"

"Told you."

"Hm?" You're not saying it again. You could fall asleep right now. With his slow breathing in your ear. It sounds so lovely. Feels like you've never been this nicely enveloped. It's like those ASMR or lo-fi music compilation videos on YouTube. The ones with the short scene, often animated, playing on the screen. It's instant peace, instant chill, purely quiet, greatly pleasant. You love these sceneries. You even have a few printed on your wall. They are great to look at and try to project in, because it seems you could never create this feeling, this atmosphere in real life.

But you've reached it. Now. The perfect peaceful land. With the perfect soundtrack coming through your phone. You're comfy and warm, it's almost as if he was actually there with you, wrapped behind you, stroking your hair. God, you wish he was there stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head. But he's not here. And why? He should be here. If he can be on the phone with you, when he used to come over to make sure the blanket is nicely tucked under your chin, why can't he be here? Life's so unfair.

"What was that?" He's probably referring to the big loud thump, throwing his toy to the ground made. It's not its fault. Even if it hurt your feelings, it's not responsible for him not being yours. Or maybe it is. He wouldn't give you toys if he were yours. He wouldn't need them. That's probably why Jiyeun doesn't like them. Because she wants him to be all that's pleasuring her. The lucky lucky bitch.

"Your stupid toy."

"Don't- do you know how much it cost?"

"Never told you to buy it."

"Sure, but don't break it! I promise it's good. You can't-"

"It stabbed me!" You accuse, petty.

"You- are insufferable." He sounds about done. Except he's not because he seems to want to prove you wrong, still. The toy on the ground starts shaking back to life. Curiously, you roll on your belly, throw a glance to the ground. It's stirring, moving around slowly, getting closer to you as if it's trying to hop back up on the bed. "Pick it up."

You do as you're told. It's vrooming lightly, quieter than you expected. You can hardly feel it in your palm. The movement more noticeable from the timid sound than by the intensity.

"Oh. It's nice now." Maybe it does have a conscience. It's being all sweet and mellow because the remote is in Jeon Jungkook, international heartthrob's hands.

"See?"

It's really gentle. It turns cute. With its bright orangy-red shade, its two cute ears and its belly, a bit domed to allow a better grip.

Your hand has a mind of its own. If he were to ask about it, to demand an explanation, even when you'll come later, and wonder mad and revolted and half dying of embarrassment, what the fuck came over you, you'd blame it all on your hand. The appendix and its own personal free will are bringing the thing back to your crotch. "You can switch the intensity, it was just at the highest before." You're hardly aware of Jungkook still talking in your ear. The phone on speaker is still laying on the pillow next to you and he's selling it to you, while demonstrating, as if he's signed a sponsorship with the brand. It could be funny but you don't really care, more curious about The Gala and finally getting to know it.

Soon enough you realize that two layers of clothing, no matter how thin, are too much. You lift the hem of his tee, exposing your panties and the lines of your mound, showing through the tissue. It makes sense then, the shape of the thing. It has those two straight ears, or poles, with enough space in between, to tuck your clit comfortably. If you'd like. And you're not sure it won the privilege just yet.

For now, it'll have it but still over your panties. They're so flimsy that really the fitting isn't too far from its initial conceptualized use. "And the modes- see," It's jerky again. It goes for a couple of beats very quick short pulses and then there's a long, monotone one until the pulses come back again. You don't like that one. It's gentler than the one from earlier, that tried to attack your clit with an angry strong beating though. "You can just switch. If you don't like the fast pulses, you don't have to use it. You just try it out." You guess he's right. You just have to try it, tame it. Learn its functions and let it learn you. Probably. Sounds like a lot of work though. The other ones were really straight forward. Good, excellent for some - special shout out to the clit hoover, which is not actually vacuuming but blowing air, which made you cum so fast and so hard in the very first two minutes of trying it. You'd turn it on and it'd do the job. Next to your ear, rambling like a radio you'd forget to turn off in another room, Jungkook is explaining how there are dozens of preset patterns and an infinite amount of slots for personal creations.

It's okay. Sounds like it would do the job. You can already tell how you'll use it if you ever decide to give it a second chance after tonight. Pressed tight against your button, turned a bit higher, in a very basic, very classic constant monotone vibration.

He's switched it to another stabbing like pulsing, very fast and aggressive, you can tell they meant to imitate the pattern of a good pounding but it does little to nothing to your excitation. Really all it does is make your eyebrows frown and your premise of a headache is back. "Hate that one."

"Change it." Kindly, he complies. Another one. You can't really identify it. Maybe a slower thrusting. It's better than the last one simply because it doesn't nearly hurt. Doesn't do much good either. But maybe it's not doing much over your panties though therefore curiously, with eyebrows furrowed now in concentration, you lift the waistband up with a finger and slip the bunny under it. Tentatively, you try to set it nicely where it should be resting, your clit out in the open, hugged tightly by the two ears replacing your lips. It's kinda nice. Barely though.

"So is-"

"Wait, turn it up a bit. I can't even tell what that's doing." You mumble maybe a tiny bit petty, a bit bad faith remaining from the bad impression the toy gave you. It's not that you want to hate because you've decided you would. It's more intricate than that. You're too tipsy to even try and explain that though.

"That one is-" After a while, doesn't do much. The higher setting, you suspect he hasn't gotten up a lot, hardly helps. It does vibrate but it doesn't seem to reach enough, your clit hardly feels anything. Your electrical toothbrush from your horny teenage years used to do a better job at being a vibrator -and this even over your jeans.

You're this close to throwing it to the ground again and give up on it, once and for all. Jungkook would need to understand. It's not because he spent a lot on it, it's not because that strange lady he keeps mentioning insisted on its good, that you are forced to appreciate it. You don't see the fucking point of this one. It does look cute and expensive but is pretty much useless. No one needs a pretty, expensive but awful friend.

"It sucks."

For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything. You consider that he might have even hung up. But then, in the quiet, his voice too serious for him not to have taken what you said personally breaks out. "You're mean."

"I think- I think it's a good opportunity to decide- uh..." The toy is still active in your panties, under your palm. The realization slowed your process of thought for a second but the bigger conclusion that it brings is that really, it sucks. So bad you even forgot it was still on -and it's not you being too drunk to have a fully, 360 awareness of your body, honestly. "To decide collectively that you need, you have to stop buying me those."

"They're not all bad! You loved the other ones!" He accuses, apparently not up for the collective decision. You are probably made of confusion at this point. How many more does he feel the need to get you? Is it that great, that gigantic, that tragic of a frustration that he developed by his girlfriend not liking these that he feels the need to bury you alive with thousands of those? The secretive shelf at the bottom of your dresser already holds little to no place left for another pretty box. And as to the satin bag you use to store the toys themselves, in your bedside table's drawer, you can't even close it anymore.

"When have I ever said that? We talked about one, I said it's fine."

"That's not what you said." Honestly, right now, you have no idea what you said. You know that you didn't find great easiness in talking about them. You've never mentioned any and he never did either, apart from the very first one. You did say something positive about it, you think you can recall. "I don't listen to you anyway because I know how bad of a liar you are."

"Well great. Blatantly admitting you don't care about my feelings-"

He bursts out in laughter. You might be a little bit of a drama queen right now. The hand that is not holding the bunny against your mound -for reasons you don't care to address to yourself, probably for you being so lazy that it feels more like an effort to change your hand's doing, take out and put away the toy, rather than just leave it there quiet and not really bothering- did reach for your chest, in a very theatrical embodiment of an offence.

"That's not what I said, you brat."

"That's what I heard though."

"I said I don't trust your mouth when the rest of you is saying something else entirely." You roll your eyes. Hopefully loud enough for him to hear it on his side of the call. "It's my new passion." He starts, giggling like an idiot. "I won't stop for as long as orgasms will look this good on you."

Oh. My God.

Is he allowed to say that? Is he allowed to say shit like that with the most calm you've ever heard anyone speak with? Like it's normal. Like it's a simple fact. Like the word orgasm in itself isn't so foreign in his mouth. Somehow he makes it sound incredible, so delicious you feel the first proper impulse to your pussy.

"You've never seen it." You counter, uneasy, feeling somehow unbalanced and unprepared against what is probably a simple conversation to him but a real personal attack with too great of weapons to you.

"I've seen the aftermath. I told you already." You wish he'd be more explicit. His words are confusing. They're not telling enough. They can be so much, they might not mean anything. He speaks softly, tranquilly, almost whispers in your ear. It's simply late. It's more appropriate, it feels, to speak quietly like that. It's one of those midnight talks.

He wouldn't know whenever he is seducing you. He's doing it constantly without meaning to. It's just him being himself and you being too weak for him. How could you make out his intentions now?

"You really-" The toy twitches in your hand. He clicked on the switch button of his app again. You're not sure why. From the way he speaks, he might not even have realised. He might be playing with the thing, mindlessly, the way he does when he picks at the skin of his fingers when he talks. He must be because he's still in his own head, talking while the thing, the barely interesting thing, turns into something else. Entirely. It's a wave-like pattern. Growing from pure stillness to a slow, growing vibration that ends in an intense climax. You gasp. He doesn't seem to hear. "You really don't want me to get you any more?"

The second wave hits. "Oh- God."

"I mean- I thought, we were- that it was okay." The sensation is incredible. For some reasons, a technology you don't fucking understand, you wouldn't fucking understand now, every single build hits insanely hard. Each time as intense if not better. You're so close to moaning. If you haven't really taken a second to realize what you were doing, actually using the toy with him on the phone, without him even knowing, somehow you know you need to remain quiet. You can't moan out loud. You sigh loud though. You have to. "I swear with you it's so hard to tell-" It's so hard to keep quiet and the realization brings a grin to your face. You're not that vocal usually. Sometimes you are, with some of the surprisingly good sessions Jungkook's presents have been offering you. But it was conscious. It was you enjoying, wanting to build a bigger pleasure, make it more sensational, it turned you on a bit, you had to admit, to hear yourself. The pleasure the toy is bringing you right now is indescribable. The more you leave it pressed to your clit, the more you feel the heat grow. You know it's already too much. You hiss and sigh, and have to bite back moans each time the high top of the wave comes. It's too much and feels like not enough.

The greedy you would want the final hit of the wave to last longer than those very few seconds. Long enough to bring you there, make you fall over the top of the hill. But it's a teasing setting. Probably programmed specifically for overstimulation. You squirm and bite back whines each time it comes, flinch and have to fight to not tear the ears away because you know the sensation is a lot to handle, too much stimulation, yet you're already addicted, unable to act on the very fair, logical, and sensible decision you should make. You shouldn't even be pleasuring yourself with him on the fucking phone.

"Are you okay?"

Jungkook asks, after having stopped talking altogether for a minute too long but it's not like you were really in any state of mind to acknowledge it.

You don't think he's noticed yet. From the noise, hopefully little, that you were making, at most, he should be able to hear some sort of short breathing, for all you know, he might think nausea is visiting from all the alcohol you've consumed and you're heaving, on the verge of throwing up.

"You're not feeling well, Y/N?" It's his concerned tone. The serious one. The one he uses whenever there's no skip button to the conversation. Usually, it leads to him coming over to take care of you like he's your mother. Which sounds great in theory but doesn't always apply wonderfully in practice.

Sometimes you don't want him to see you looking green and gross from fever sweat; sometimes you just want to be alone and recover on your own without having him watching so dramatically concerned over your shoulder. And now, you wouldn't want him to burst in with your hand still in your panties, a sweaty, bothered, horny mess for him to be left shocked and possibly disgusted by. Maybe disgusted is a big word. Or maybe it's not. How inappropriate is it to masturbate with an unknowing friend on the other end of your phone? Is it even legal?

"I'm fi-fine, Jungkook." You lie through gritted teeth. You can't possibly be fine. You've put yourself in the worst situation and you still don't do shit to get out of it. Something is very much wrong with you.

The logical thing to do, the sensible one, would be to either end the conversation, hang up and then eventually finish yourself; or else, take the thing out of your panties, possibly throw it the further away from you and keep the conversation on if that's what you wish to do.

It would certainly not be to ask for him to turn up the setting because you now really much want to come.

"You don't sound fine."

"But I am."

"How much did you drink?"

"Not that much, Guk." He makes you frown, almost rips a curse out of you. Because all this serious talk is diverting you from your pleasure. It's not like you're going to have fucking alcohol poisoning. You didn't drink that much, honestly. The drinks were not even that heavy, except for the two disgusting shots your friend forced in your hands. "Seriously, I'm good." The building up pleasure has brought a new awareness to your brain, and honestly, you feel way more alert than before. You're far from drunk, no matter how much your behaviour seems to contradict that. You're good. You'd be perfect if he'd shut up or if he'd start half seducing you as he does. Maybe he could talk about your nipples again and what you should do with them.

He did say that. Now that you come to think of it. On top of buying you those toys, he did guide you as to what to do with some of them, how you could use them. They were not his direct advice, they were the lady's but still, he felt the importance to share them with you.

"If you are then just answer the question, how much?"

"Okay in a sec but can you turn up the toy's intensity, please?"

"Turn what?" You almost bark then. The whistling f of a very practical, very useful word you shouldn't yell at him rings to your own ear but you're strong enough to hold back. "Ah the thing, yeah, sure." What a sweetheart. A bit slow, but lovely. Your whole body contracts violently when the newly powered wave hits, the beginning of a moan escaping because it's so good, it's almost painful. "I had like two shots of-" Ah. "Something. I don't know what it was, just-" Fuck. "Gross as- uh." Holy shit, that's good.

You can't believe you've judged this intricate, revolutionary technology so bad before. "And then, like, a martini or two, barely and- and-" You're so fucking close. Each time feels like the final ascension except you get back to square one whenever the vibration drops back to stillness too quick to your liking. It's pure torture. And having to make a fucking list of your consumption that's so far back in your brain right now, especially when you know that it's pointless, is not helping.

"Wait-"

"Jungkook-" You don't know if you're begging him to stop thinking now, not get to the conclusion his logical train of thoughts is trying to lead him to, or if you're begging him to help you cum, maybe be nice to the bunny which only seems to be kind to him and make him make you cum.

"Why did you ask me to turn the thing up?" He already knows the answer. You can hear in his tone that he already knows. And frankly, he's a dumb ass for not realizing sooner. "No, you're joking. You wouldn't- not when I'm talking to you."

"When if not then?" Maybe frustration has brought you some bravery, or maybe pleasure has burned the very last remaining functioning cells of your brain.

"Uh?"

It's probably gone too far now. It still feels like he owns the key to the phenomenal orgasm you can smell coming. If you were to hang up now, you wouldn't even know how to make this shitty thing work. And it's not enough. Still.

Shit.

You're definitely wailing in a second now. The next sound you mean to conceal is a sob. Why can't you reach it? And how can you be so hyper-focused on it, it doesn't seem to matter what's going on with Jungkook.

You've gone crazy. Or perhaps you're drunker than you thought yourself to be. The last wave hits differently. It's straight-up overstimulation when you haven't even come once yet. Doesn't feel very nice but at least, it's the push you need to finally lift it up a bit, make a pause and eventually show some consideration to Jungkook.

"So you've been arguing with me, saying it sucks when really you were-"

"It did suck before you changed the setting." You assert again. Because nagging is the thing you're most talented at doing, apparently.

Silence ensues. In the defeating quiet you realize even the discreet humming of the toy has stopped. He's turned it off.

Something akin to shame is finally showing the tip of its nose. It's been fucking late to the party, you note with a growing, you know to become, devastating mortification. Exhaustion and tipsiness are keeping your conscience quite numb but you don't give a chance to sober-you who'll wake up tomorrow with this awful incident engraved in her memory.

Why can't he say something? Essentially, it's his fault. It's always his fault. He makes you feel things you shouldn't and make you do things you wouldn't. You can't think properly. You're being fucking chaotic and he's responsible for that. Even you know it's reaching. You're not that petty and mean.

In a whisper, dipped in sincerity and shame, you apologize. "Sorry, Jungkook."

"For what?" Because he can't let you off the hook that easily, can he?

"Are you seriously going to make me say it? You know why!" Here comes angry-you again. Getting mad and rude for no rational reasons, and here, awfully unfairly. He really deserves better.

"No, I-" You may have broken him. Jungkook has never been the most eloquent person. Between lisping and stuttering and stopping mid-sentence to let you complete for him his missing words, he's never been the best at talking. But even for him, even knowing his history, you find him pretty affected. Possibly all messed up. There's not even the hint of sensible thought. A void filled with "uh" and "tsk" and lips smacking and hums, it's like he's ceased to function. Maybe if you just hang up and from then on, just pretend it's never happened, both of you can get away with the situation. It's an option.

"Jungkook, seriously, I'm sorry. Let's say it was a fucking, uh, drunk lapse of judgment on my part and- yeah, never mention it again."

"Yeah, okay." He whispers after a while. He sounds really shaken up. "But it's fine, I'm not mad, I'm just-"

"Bamboozled?" You suggest, heart constricted, not ready to joke yet but so desperate to obtain at least a smile from him to prove yourself that it's okay and you didn't fuck it up too bad.

"Bamboozled, indeed." He chuckles, a bit breathless on the phone. You can't help the big sigh that escapes you when relief rushes through you. He doesn't sound too upset with you. "I'm really not mad, I just wouldn't have- I wouldn't have expected this, from you."

Of course not. It makes you cringe. You bury your face in your pillow and release the most intense quiet cry you could manage.

"Sorry." You say again, quiet. Your eyes are prickly. This night is such a mess. You can't make out how you're feeling. It's like your reactions and your reflections all come to their own rhythm, inappropriately, unmatching each other's and certainly unmatching the current situation.

"Stop. And don't-" If you're decomposing yourself progressively, at least, he seems to be getting back to his senses. Voice clearer and more present. "You sound so upset now. Are you embarrassed?" It's a smile you hear in his words. You don't have the right to be mad at him but honestly, you would have hit him in the ribs if he were in front of you.

"Is it even necessary to ask?" You grumble face half suffocating still in the pillow. Oh, here's another solution. Suffocating yourself to death.

"I think so. I mean I bought them and I turned it on for you, I should have- I couldn't have known but I should have. It's fine honestly."

"It's not."

Stop pretending, you fucking liar. Even if he acts quite calm, nonchalant, you can hear a very slight difference to his usual tone. He's not sincerely, honestly, a hundred per cent okay and chill with the situation. He's faking casualness but he's not entirely it.

"It is."

"It's not. I'm just gonna die, Jeon." That makes him laugh even though you're only half-joking. You don't know if it's possible to die from embarrassment. One thing is for sure, if it's possible, you won't survive the night.

"No, you're not, baby. It's fine." Jeon Jungkook is the sweetest, needless to say. You should hang up. Apologize again, hang up and pray for him to forgive you and eventually forget all about it. But you remain on the phone because you're so desperate for his approbation and his love and any sign of reassurance from him. And he's giving it to you. When he could probably have a little rest of his own. If it's awkward for you, you can't even imagine for him. But he accepts to stay and reassures you. What a cutie. "Did you cum?"

You choke on your own saliva. More than taken aback, actually shocked. How dares he?

Or can you say that? Can you act offended when you've just done what you did? In any case, how are you even supposed to answer that question?

"You- It's just that I turned it off and we- I was just wondering if you did..." That sounds about right. That sounds like Jungkook being curious and wording this curiosity without necessarily anticipating how you'd take it. It must be part of his plan, his 'let's be the closest, let's share everything' plan he mentioned a few months back. You're not ready, won't ever be if that's what it'll look like.

You are the problem. Apparently, you can get yourself off when the poor boy is on the phone with you unbeknownst, but you still have a hard time talking about sex with him. "...because it sounds awful if you did not."

And it is. It is horrible. You'd imagine that after getting caught, feeling so embarrassed and guilty, your cunt wouldn't still be quivering and begging for you to pay attention to it again. But you've taken it so far. Made it discover new incredible sensations of course it'd still be obsessed with it and with the climax the toy teased it with.

You groan in your pillow again. Not sure how he'll interpret it. Not sure how you want him to interpret it. Should you just talk to him? He could hang up too. If really he didn't want to partake in this mess he could hang up, he could talk about anything else.

"Listen, you don't ever have to be embarrassed with me, you know that." That's reaching. You want to tell him that he can't ever say that to someone, he can't ever become anyone's mat to wipe their dirty shoes on. He should be the one feeling awkward, being mad at you, except he reassures you again. "And when you just proceed on getting yourself off while I was talking- worrying about your fucking health..." He snorts before he can finish. "How dare you act coy with me!" He's just laughing too hard now, contributing wholeheartedly to the burning flush on your cheeks. Well, you deserved it.

"Is that it? You're going to bring this up each time you'd want something from me?" You sound so upset, even to your own ears. It results in his laughter dying down pretty quickly.

"I think so, yeah." You don't add anything. You don't want to be rude. Still hope for any kind of magic word you don't even know that he could mutter to you and that'll help cure your heart and soul. Therefore you can't tell him goodbye and hang up. You wait for him to do it. Except he doesn't. It's late as fuck too. He might be working later today. Why isn't he hanging up? "If I'm talking about it, you should know that it's fine. I don't mind." An asshole and a cutie. "You okay, babe?"

The simple hum you tried to aim for turns into half of a whimper half of a moan. You're not okay. Any part of your being won't let you lie and pretend.

"Do you want me to turn it on?" For fuck's sake. "I'll hang up and leave it on so you just- it'll turn itself off when there's no battery left anyway."

"Jungkook." Your stern voice is a threat. It doesn't have to be further explained, he gets it.

"What?" He sounds aggravated. You can imagine him raising his hands to the skies, upset and losing patience as he's only trying to make it better for you and oh women are so complicated. Something like that. "Oh my God. Just get yourself off and feel better after."

"You don't tell me what to do." Childish but there's not much left of your brain. "Well, you don't even fucking know what to do with yourself right now. Am I right or am I right?" He whisper-yells back at you. Very mean.

"Asshole." It's a tiny whisper under your breath but you're certain he hears it even if he completely ignores it.

"Listen, since you can't even- how old are you, seriously?"

"Fuck you." Barely louder. You definitely know he's heard this time, but still, he decides to dismiss it. He's always been more productive than you.

"I'll turn it on and hang up. You take care of yourself like a big girl, alright?" He probably believes that you can't get yourself to ask for what you want aka a wild night with the fucking toy you can't get to work yourself. But it's not actually the case. Honestly. Now all you can think about -besides the whole very humiliating moment when he caught you in the act- is the way it kept torturing you, bringing you very high but never enough. It started to hurt at the end, brought impatient frustrated tears to your eyes. You don't even think you could finish with it.

Maybe it's inappropriate to seriously consider it. Maybe you won't ever learn your lesson.

Before you even get to word your refusal, the thing is on. It's on the same devilish setting as earlier. The merciless wave. Fuck.

"Don't! It's not- it won't even make me cum, stop it!"

"What? Why not?"

"I don't know the setting is weird." You start explaining through the thicker pout to have ever existed. You're really considering having him solve your climax. You've gone crazy.

"What's wrong with it? Tell me, I'll put on one you like."

Fuck.

You are doomed.

What are you supposed to do with a guy like this?

"I don't think there is." You can hear the frustration from his end before he even says a word. It's written in the stars that in a second he's going to bring it all up, the part when you got off and pester that you can't still be complaining about the fucking toy. "No, I mean it's- the one I liked, the last one you clicked on, it's like-" Fuck, you're really doing this. "A wave. You know? It grows crescendo but it always stops right before- right when it's really good. And I just couldn't- because the good part doesn't last long enough and, yeah."

"Wait, let me look." He sounds a bit further away from you then. He's logged back into the app, you can tell. And with his tiny "hm" and his "so...", he sounds the way he does when your computer is being difficult and he's trying to fix it because you won't pay a professional to do it when you have this nerd populating your entourage. "Ah. You want the high moment to last longer?" "Yes." You can picture him nod to himself, frowning his eyebrows and sucking his lips in the way he does when he's super focused.

"Like that?" You wouldn't know because the toy is lost somewhere, you can hear it but not see it. You ask him to wait for a second and it stops altogether. Doesn't make it easier to find it but it wasn't lost that far. Once you have it in your hand, you gulp, ashamed, not sure if you could ever play with this thing again. But the other guy on the phone doesn't seem to have his motivation falters. You're not the one telling him to try again, on his own, he executes.

It's hard to tell in your hand, the vibrating ears hugged tightly in your palm, if it's going to be satisfactory enough. If it's precisely the thing that was missing from earlier. It follows the pattern you asked him though. Still to a growing intense high that lasts for approximately a good ten seconds rather than the lame 2 seconds from earlier.

"I think so..."

"Okay then. You... mute yourself and then- Uh, no. I should mute myself so- or we both mute ourselves?" He's not really with you anymore. Lost in his own head amongst those seemingly very difficult questions. You don't even get where he's trying to get at. Wasn't he supposed to hang up?

"Why would you stay?"

"It's just- it's me doing it. There's no setting for what you want, it's me doing it. I have to draw the frequency on my phone."

"There's an option for that?"

"Yes. There's even one to have it follow audio!" He points out with way too much enthusiasm. He might have really found a new passion.

"Sounds like high tech."

"Yep."

"Sounds expensive as hell."

He laughs in the mic, snorts even before he brushes it off. Quite frankly, no matter what you'd have to say to him, he'd always do as he wishes. If spending ridiculous amounts of money on ridiculous things for ridiculous you is what he wants to do, he won't let anyone, not even you, tell him not to.

You don't know what to say, he's not saying anything either. He suggested something quite insane: he'd stay. While his finger would be drawing shapes on his screen to actively give you your pleasure, he'd stay on the phone with you. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical or ironical, how it sounds crazy to you now while ten minutes ago, you had no problem doing it without him knowing. That's probably the main issue here, him knowing. That changes everything.

"But if you stay-"

"We can't both mute ourselves because I won't hear if you ask me to change something or- so you, you just stay like that and I'll mute myself."

"Jungkook, you muting yourself won't change my awareness of you being here."

"But maybe you'll forget about it?"

"Jungkook."

"What?" He sounds contrite then. Like an upset child who's being argued with. He's trying so hard but you make it so difficult, it seems.

There's just one thing holding you back. Until now you couldn't quite pinpoint it. And it's hard to resolve an issue you can't name.

But it just hit you. His way of insisting while making it seem like he does it for you only, to help you out and doesn't necessarily find his part in the cake.

"Do you want to?"

"Uh?"

"You sound like- I don't know what you sound like. You're confusing. If you're just trying to give me a hand and solely that then hang up and I'll just- whatever."

"Oh."

"Of course, it makes no sense for you to do this for me and stay if you don't want to, I mean." He takes forever to answer. For a second, you even peek at your screen wondering if he didn't simply quit the conversation.

It's really all you need to know. If somehow, to some extent, he wants you or at least, wants to partake in this genuinely. You don't want it if it's just a bro hand. You can hardly live with what you've done if he's utterly uninterested. But if he does want it, even a little bit, you might be wrong but you feel like everything would turn out to be fine.

"It's not that hard of a question." You try again because it almost feels like he's forgotten you from how long he's remained silent. He had put you on the spot, in this very conversation too, so many times, you have the right to do the same to him, at least once. "Do you want to stay?"

He cracks up. It's the very hard kind of laughter. With the boyish chuckles, mixed with the squeaky intakes of air. The one that always brings a smile to your face and usually drags you along the fit.

You have no idea what it means right now. It's probably the least appropriate time for it to show up. Therefore instead of making you smile it only reinforces the headache slowly growing at your temple.

"Aah." He starts by exhaling longly. You can hear the grin fixed on his face. "Yes." Your heart trips in your rib cage. You should have guessed it but you couldn't have imagined this answer. And him laughing to tears like a fucking deranged infant doesn't help. "Shit, sorry." He apologized when the remnant of what sounds definitely like a giggle resonates in through the phone.

"What's so funny, Guk?" Your words don't match your tone. You're high under pressure, unsure of what's actually going on. Jungkook is not cruel, you've known him long enough to know that he wouldn't deliberately hurt you, wouldn't mess with you so bad, for so long, even for a great laugh. Still, you can't be convinced that he's sincere. Seriously, how could you? The dude won't stop fucking laughing.

"Nothing, I'm just- I didn't realize until you asked me the question that I wanted to." Oh. "I'm an idiot."

"Welp." Could have told you sooner but I thought you knew.

"Mean. And, uh," It sounds like he's tossing and turning in bed again. You bet he's just gotten the exact same position as before. He's like those cats that turn around in circles again and again until they settle for the initial spot. When he starts talking again, his voice is hardly a whisper, you assume he's holding the mic very close to his mouth. "I should ask you too. Do you want to?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want it, moron." Patience has run thin. Now that you're reassured you don't have to be ashamed and embarrassed anymore, you can simply be annoyed as you get with him.

Honestly, you're still feeling abashed but he doesn't need to know that.

"Quit being mean. It's not my fault I'm slow." He says, faking deep pity and it does make you snort. "Okay, well..."

"Well, indeed."

"You're making this awkward!" You roll your eyes. Feels like you can sort this out. If you do take out the very blatant, scorching awkwardness, it's a very regular interaction between you. Sounds like any other day except in a second he's going to press a finger to his phone in hopes to make you cum.

"Your whole existence is awkward."

"Shut up. Let's just fucking start." He groans as if you're the one belating the initial step –you are but so is he.

"I don't have the fucking remote." He tells you to shut up again, and this time, when you hear him hum to himself when he's opening the app, there's a recognizable brushing noise falling directly in your ear.

"You put your earbuds on."

He doesn't answer but you're sure he's registered the question.

Fine.

If he doesn't want to give you an answer you'll just make up your own. Don't you put earbuds on to hear better? Just saying.

"Put the thing on."

"Oh my God, Jungkook-" You take back your own admission. He's the one, solely, all alone, making it painfully awkward. Sounding like a newly pubescent teen trying to initiate sex. "Could you be any smoother?"

"But-" He sighs. "Do you want me to?" How do you ask your best friend you've may have been in love with for officially a couple of months to please act like an ideal lover even if it's just very short-termed? He sounds willing. But asking is the most difficult part. "I can be- or do whatever you want, I just don't know-"

"I like it when you call me baby." Your whole face is scrunched up in a perfect picture of your intense embarrassment. Formalities need to get fucking out of the way and it's precisely what you've just tried to do. But holy shit, it's painfully embarrassing.

"Oh. Do you now?"

Here comes the smirk. Can't see it. Can hear it clearly. It's pretty much louder than his words even.

You want to tell him to forget it all. That it's not going to work if each fucking second he makes you feel like he's going to be using whatever you say or whatever you do against you later on. You decide to demonstrate exemplary patience, reminding yourself that he's not cruel. Admittedly.

Perhaps you're the idiot and it's all your fault. Because you've just admitted (without him even asking) that you like (and into these circumstances, that it turns you on) to have him call you baby. Thing that he does already every time he starts coddling you.

"Okay then." He startles you, clearing his throat. You wonder if he's as anxious as you are, or at least, a tiny bit nervous. For the most part, he doesn't seem like it. Then again, he's quite good at pretending.

It shows soon after when he starts again, this time with the gentle, soft voice he hardly ever uses with you. There's a tiny newcomer, a certain edge that gives it some firmness and that enchants you. That's exactly what you wanted him to be. "Put it on, babe."

You nod wordlessly, omitting that he can't see you and do as told. Slipping the toy under the waistband of your panties, guiding the ears aside your clit. There's a very faint buzzing coming from them. You barely feel it and you suppose it's just there to have you accommodate better.

"Are you still dressed?"

"It's just my panties and a big shirt." Your shirt you'd add if you had a bit more courage. You hope he's going to let you keep it.

"Take your panties off." The part of you who's his best friend wants to nag, tell him that maybe he should have asked that before demanding you place the toy on your cunt but you feel generous and merciful, and also desperate and tired of your orgasm being stalled for so long. "Are they soaked from earlier?" Okay, this shit's going to be hard. There's no coming back. Strangely, it's just now that it's really hitting you. Even if it's going well, there is no way, you'll ever forget his velvety smooth whisper saying those words. There's no way you're helpless cunt ever forgets.

They are, by the way. You don't even get how you've been able to keep them on and ignore the uncomfortable stickiness for this long. Just sliding them along your thighs feels disagreeable.

"Y/N." Sounds like you're getting scolded. And even if you particularly like the way he just said your name, with that same peculiar edge from earlier, a little sharper then, how are you supposed to answer that? "What did you say earlier? That it can't only be for you, is that right?"

"Yes." You admit sheepishly because now you're definitely getting scolded. It brings flush on your only newly temperate cheeks and you don't even hate it.

"Then I'll give you everything, I told you I would but I'll need you to give me some back. Can you do that?" He sounds so strict, how can you like it so much? You can literally feel the electricity along your spine, sliding down to go faint in the hot mess between your thighs and that's ridiculous. You hate being talked to that way, usually, probably because it's never him doing it. Jeon Jungkook might be your ultimate kink. And somehow, he figured it all out. That whatever he'd do would fit you perfectly well. Also, he might be turning like that because undeniably, you're a brat. "Can you?" He insists again because whilst you've been busy trying not to hyperventilate, he's been waiting for one answer.

"Yes. Yes, I can. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's fine." You should want to bite him. Why insist so much if it's to end up leaving you off the hook so easily? You know though, for a fact, awfully bothersome to your ego, that if he were in front of you presently, you'd give him puppy eyes and batting lashes, sad pouty lips and probably tend your neck to invite him to gently pat your hair. "Tell me, are your panties soaked?" "I think I ruined them..."

"You did, didn't you?" He's laughing a bit, kind of full of himself for some reasons. Maybe he knows that it's mainly his fault they ended up this way. Maybe he knows they are not the only pair fallen victim to simply the thought of him. "Was it worth it?"

"You're taking care of me so I'd say yes." A chortle. A purr that you interpret into something you like a lot. It sounds like he's taken your response for exactly what you wished him to. A tease. He makes your belly churns and twists, turns your nerves from your heart to your noggins haywire. The least he can allow you to do, the least you'd like to do, is for him to be affected by you.

It starts with a gentle buzzing. It's nothing much. Nothing at all, you'd say if you'd let your greediness and impatience talk. There's something else doing it for you, for now. Jungkook's breath, sort of heavy, slow, rocking you with warmth. Knowing he's here and here to please you; you're laid in bed, naked from the waist down, wet and about to make it all better thanks to him; the picture itself makes it all for you.

"How is it?" Jungkook asks after some time. It's been silent. You haven't said much, in fact, you haven't said anything yet. Not that ready to demand more, and not feeling enough for moans or whimpers or whatever to be stolen from you.

"Boring." You admit. "S'not what you were supposed to give me." Through a thick pout, you deplore.

It doesn't work. He doesn't care. He doesn't fucking care when he's playing exactly the role you've implicitly asked him to play. "Have you said please, even once?" You hate that he's virtually pinning you down with exactly what turns you on.

"I- Probably." You haven't said much. You haven't been so explicit, so telling simply because you couldn't, but surely, you said please. Didn't you?

"Not probably. You did not. And on top of that, you're complaining." He's figured out exactly what you wanted, what you needed. Therefore, as naturally as it came for him, you fit it your own role easily.

"I'm not complaining. I was just- pointing it out. Sorry."

"You can apologize a lot but you can't even say please. Not once." Well, fuck. You never thought that he could be mean. Awfully mean. You wished, when you let your mind wander there one too many time, a bit too deep, that he'd be like that. Sweet and soft and tender the way he is, always, but also, bad, kind of harsh. "Ask kindly, once."

"Jungkook-"

"I'll give you everything you want. Just once."

"Please, Jungkook." You know he's satisfied with what you offer him because you don't have to wait another second for him to give you precisely what you were waiting for. It's timid, follows the crescendo built you were looking for except it's not intense. It's the first step however it's incredibly effective. It feels as good as the first time. "Plea-please." Manifestly, it is the secret word, the passcode to your pleasure because the intensity you're craving for finally reaches you. It does in an electrifying peak, that lasts long, just like you asked, it's so good, the feeling so perfectly indulgent to your needs, maybe even too much, you squirm, part the little ears from your clit, hissing. "Shit, Jungkook!"

"Too much, baby?" The hypocrite, with his concerned tone, doesn't even take a break from activating the vibration, from keeping on building the intensiveness. You can tell it's he too, him really doing it live, as in it's not absolutely regular, the built sometimes takes longer, sometimes the volume stronger, other times weaker. It's undeniable, every minute of it feels different from the next, you can't even omit for a second that it's him doing it. And he's doing it so well.

"Per- fect, just- sensitive." You moan out. Back arching, right leg twitching. The next brush is particularly nice, goes so far you believe you might come on the spot. Now you definitely can't hold back even if you wanted to. The sounds that come out of your mouth, foreign to your own ears, are not even yours. They come straight from your body, straight from an excess of pleasure you try to deal with, to handle, when you clearly can't. You're alone, and it's you ultimately controlling the power on your own body, you can pull out, even slightly, every time it comes hard and strong and you ought to twitch uncomfortably. You wonder how it'd be if he were here with you. If he forgot just for a while that you were his best friend, the girl who used to be older and taller and has turned, with the years, into this tiny little thing because he just kept on growing and growing, sprouting like a fucking redwood, and now feels like he needs to protect and care for you. If he were there, and he could forget that, you bet, his present voice, heated, scorching, is telling you this, that probably, he'd hold you down, crush your body with his, hand pressing your thighs down and apart, and force you to take the pleasure in its entirety. You imagine him merciless, slipping sweet words in your ear, while he'd have you literally scream from overstimulation.

And then his voice, the perfectly alluring thing, concludes to let you know it won't happen like that. His voice will make you come.

"You sound so good." Especially, if he keeps saying shit like that, with this tone, soft yet strong and highly, terribly affected. He's breathing hot and heavy in your ears. Is he touching himself?

"Please, Jungkook." You implore, vainly, hips slowly grinding against the toy, pressed by your palm on your sensitive centre.

"Especially begging, 'sound so, so good." He's not touching himself. He sounds bothered, but not enough, he doesn't stutter like you do, his voice doesn't jump and dip, stops momentarily like yours does. Shit, you wished he would play with his cock. Fuck, you want to play with his cock. So fucking bad.

"Y-you like it?" You ask, not because you're curious to know, he's said it already, but because you won't ever get tired of hearing him say it, in all those different ways.

"I do, baby. I love hearing you." You can't help the curse that leaves your lips a bit harsh. You're so close. So so close. Eyes filled up to the brim, tip of your nose wet. How many times have you thought, already, that you were seriously going to fall over? "You gonna cum?"

"I can't-" You sob, whine. There's a tear spilling from your right eye. "It's too much." So attentive to your every word, the intensity drops drastically. It still buzzes, discreet, way more tolerable. Ironically, if you can now bear it, you know it's not enough to lead you to your climax either. "Help me, make me cum, Guk."

"Use your fingers." He's been nice, essentially, you can only be good to him. Without even having to think about it, you dip your fingers in the mess that is your cunt. Two fingers slip in between your lips too easily, you could add a third if only there wasn't the bunny taking a bit too much room, and your fingers were longer, and your hips not so twitchy. If Jungkook was here, if only he was here, he'd fit his two fingers and it'd be enough. You bet it'd be enough. You bet his pretty, long, tattooed fingers would stretch you so well and make you come in a heartbeat. "Fuck yourself with them."

It's so gratifying. Having him humming in your ear encouragements and compliments. He's sweet, sweet, sweet. Excellent with his voice. Fuck, he must be unreal with his fingers, with his mouth, with his fat cock.

Diligently, you drag your fingers in and out, it's only mildly agreeable when you're sopping wet, almost gaping. Until he draws on his phone the same magnificent pattern from before.

You wish it'd last longer. It's precisely what you needed, the ideal combination. Along with his words.

You know if you come he'd have to stop. He'll stop calling you baby, stop saying how sexy you are, use all those nasty words he never does and talking like that, with this voice, with this heat in his tone. It's a bothering thought at the back of your mind you have to actively push away.

There's nothing you can do when harshly, yet with a please, he demands you to cum.

You can feel your cunt, wide open from both your spread legs and the excitation, getting wet, growing soaked. You can actually feel it as it happens before you explode. Clenching violently around your fingers, spilling all over them, you might squeak and scream and moan his name continuously, you barely hear yourself through your ringing ears.

"Fuck, Jungkook..." You sigh. Laying there, boneless, hand dripping up to your wrist. He's chuckling. "Fuck."

"Feeling better?" You hmm in response. Words sound like too much effort right now. Your brain is working slow. Extremely slowly. There's a multitude of thoughts forming though, germinating from a strange ground.

One, in particular, does, enlarging ridiculously much next to the others. You could enjoy this luck. You could just bathe in the lovely, perfect haze. Accept that the sky is perfectly blue without a cloud, with even a rainbow somewhere. Maybe a double rainbow even.

There's a very, very dark, very, very large cloud invading your perfect sky though. And because tears, of another kind, have already located your eyes, the new ones fit in, mixing up with them and taking over them with utter ease. What the fuck have you done?

"Jungkook, I'm so sorry-" You start with a tremble in the voice. There's a fat lump in your throat.

"Why? What's going on, baby?" He's sweet as honey, back to his usual self, worried, and you're horrible.

"Your- I didn't even think about her and-" There's a sob bubbling out of your mouth. "It's not me. I didn't mean to-"

"What are you talking about?"

"Jiyeun." The taste in your mouth when you say her name, is unbearable. You know full fucking well you shouldn't say her name. You shouldn't be allowed to. How dare you. Spoil it when you spent way too long virtually getting in this guy's, who's someone else's boyfriend, pants.

"Dumbass." It makes you choke on your own sobs. "It's over. With her, I mean. We broke up." Ah. You want to ask a billion questions. Starting with "again?". Soon followed up by a "why didn't you say anything, dickhead?". You spent the whole fucking night, getting shit faced and spiritually crying in the club over a couple that does not even exist anymore. Then you'd ask for how long they are planning to be over. "For good, this time." You're barely drying up your fat crocodile tears when he calls you an idiot again, says something about how he's not that kind of guy and you should know it.

Feels better. The thunderstorm is gone.

Alcohol and horniness and hardcore loving are such a terrible combo you need to avoid.

"Cuddles." Tiredly, half-dead, but still alive enough to be greedy, to feel sensible, skinned and want him to give you more. "Come cuddle." He's late to answer, delays it as if you don't desperately need his response.

It's terribly quiet and still. The dark of the night seems even more sombre. He can fix everything if only he'd give you the answer you desire.

"You sure?"

"Always." You say, maybe too honest. He doesn't seem to mind, agrees with a snort.

"Alright."

He appears in front of you in the blink of an eye. Literally. That blink does last longer than usual. The orgasm may have crushed you. You close your eyes and when you open them back up, he's here. Standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, dressed in all black and oversized, as usual. You look up, eyes squinted, bothered by the light coming from the hallway. He's staring. Gaze brushing, from your head to your toes, seemingly slowing down when they reach your naked thighs.

"What?" You mumble, embarrassed, one hand sliding down just to make sure the hem of the shirt is covering your crotch. You didn't even put your panties back on. You may or may not have wiped yourself clean enough with the wet wipes wisely sitting on your bedside table -you thought about it really hard but you can’t remember if you actually did it.

"You never mentioned it was my t-shirt you were wearing." You shrug. You'd have a better come back if you weren't so tired and if it wasn't simply true. "Would have been nice to know." He says, kneeling down next to your bed. The latter is low, mattress barely raised from the ground and even when he's crouching down, he's hovering above you, looking down on you. "Easier to picture." He adds quieter the closest he comes to you. It's enough words to know who he is at the moment. In what form, what version of your Jeon Jungkook, has come to visit. It's the gentle one. The one whose voice doesn't raise, doesn't feel as animated as his usual one when he spends his time being a clown to make everyone laughs. The one that made you fall, the first time. Not exactly the one you had on the phone with you earlier and even if you like him, if you adore him in fact, you feel sort of uneasy, worried. He might be gone forever, this one.

Unless it is him. His hands reach forward, large and warm, they lie on your thighs. The fingers brush up a bit, to the hem of his shirt, and they stop there. He looks up from them, straight in your eyes, smiles, digs the tips in the meat of your thighs before he lifts you up, aiming for the border of your bed.

God. You hope it'll happen again. But differently. More in-depth. He'd be less dressed, he would manhandle you, before he'd do some unnamable things to you. But another day. One when you're not almost dead. When you feel hornier and less soft and desperate for direct comfort to your swollen heart. It could be tomorrow when you wake up. If he's up for it. Please God, make it so he's up for it.

Jungkook hops on the bed behind you, huffs comfortably, holding your cover by a corner to bring it up and over the two of you. He fits behind you too naturally for it to be the first time. He doesn't seem to mind that you're so underdressed, compared to the other times, that you still have some remnant of your orgasm on you, that it's different. His arm sliding around you, holding a bit too tight, pressing you a tiny bit too hard, you're still hot from earlier. It's perfect though. You don't want him to move an inch and you hope, the hand that's wrapped on his forearm, makes him understand.

"M'not too clingy?" His own cheek pressed hard to your own, he asks, which is weird. How could he still wonder? He's never ever been too clingy. Even when you were kids and he followed you around before even asking if he could, he wasn't too clingy. The closest, the better. You deny with a uh-uh. He calls out for your name when you're fighting to keep your eyelids open. It's the most comfortable, the warmest you've ever felt. Like a cocoon of pure love and adoration. On top of it, there's his hard arms around you, his hard thigh pushing against yours, his crotch -with the feel of his member, slightly stiff- glued to your butt, and his chest, as hard as the rest, holding your back up like a strong wall. "I promise I didn't plan the whole toys thingy for that."

"For what?" Sleepily, you wonder, actually confused from exhaustion. To cuddle with you? Like you haven't in so, so long. Why would he try to apologize for it? "To use them with you."

"What a shame." You don't think he can understand. Diction is not something you care for at the moment. The hard laugh bubbling in his chest, rumbling, shaking your whole, lets you know he did, in fact, get it.

"You're so-" He starts but the thought dies way too soon for you to even try and complete it yourself. "I'll have a billion questions for you tomorrow."

"No." You whine. Because he's fucking up everything. If he believes you'll say it all to him, there's no way you can. There's no way you will. He chuckles.

Doesn't seem to be taking you seriously.

"Yes. And you'll answer every single one of them." He gives a sweet but pressing kiss to your neck.

"No."

"I adore you." Fucking hell. "I broke up with Jiyeun because I adore you too much. I realized I want to spend all my time and energy on my best friend." You don't even know what he means. You can't even hold your eyelids open now, you can't even keep your hand on his arm, it being too heavy and sleep having taken over most of your body.

You bet he's saying that just because he's guessed it. He's figured you all out and the asshole doesn't mind playing with your soft heart. He knows he'll get anything from you if he's this good. Hopefully, tomorrow, he'll have forgotten about his little interrogation because you're not sure you'll be able to lie. For now, he's holding you way too close for you to care. Whatever. May it last forever, this feeling.

A/N: DON’T HATE ME OKAY?! i know i have an issue with angst and endings, for some reasons, i don’t want to hurt my characters but i can’t get myself to write an actual fully happy, non-ambiguous conclusion, and i’m really sorry for it lmao.

i sincerely hope you enjoyed the last part of The Wishlist! Thank you immensely for anyone who’s followed along, please let me know your thoughts, i really really want to know :)

for now, i’m sending you lots of love and kisses, take good care of yourself and others, see ya very very soon :]

tag list: @safi4x @kai-kai-bookshelf @somewhereinthestarss @hsinmyheart @moonchild1 @monvieesdaebak @pasteljoonie @fangirls94 @jinsalpaca @ggukkieland

#btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #ggukienet #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #my writing

472 notes · View notes

michael-aftons-nonbinary-lover · 2 years

Note

Hello :) I saw that your requests were open so i’m taking the chance now but if they aren’t feel free to ignore this by all means!!

William with a child who’s normally really quiet and shy that has been holding in everything and when they eventually can’t anymore they just scream and cry and break just a bunch of things and he kinda just lets them because he knows how much they need this? and he lets them take as much anger out that they need on him if they have to and when they finally pass out from exhaustion he just brings them to their bed?

Sorry if this is a weird as i just thought it was a nice idea :) if you’re uncomfortable with this ask due tell me.

That's it. You guys keep sending me painful asks so this is what you get>:(/lh

Smile for the Picture

-(Dad!William Afton and Afton kid!reader)-

-(Summary: the ask, eel oh eel)-

-(TW: mentions of child death and missing sibling, underaged drug use, divorce/split parents, slight religious mention)-

-(I know Crying Child doesn't have a canon name, so please pretend his name is Evan for sake of the fic. Also, sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes, I don't wanna fix that rn🤩)-

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Everything was getting to be too much.

Your younger brother, Evan, had died last year. The devastation of his death still haunted you daily, and you had frequent nightmares about the incident. Your sister Elizabeth was still missing, probably dead in a ditch on the side of the road in some place only God knew of. Your older brother Michael was constantly high, never making time for you. Any time he did try to, he smelled like weed and was completely out of it. His eyes were always red and watery, a tired, melancholy smile sometimes gracing his face.

You wanted to slap the shit out of him just thinking about it. It wasn't fair that he got to forget his problems all the time. It was his fault Evan was dead. His fault that you and your father went to see Evan's grave once a month instead of being able to see Evan whenever you wanted to.

Speaking of your father, it felt like he was never there either. He went to work early in the morning and came home late at night, sometimes completely forgetting that you and Michael even existed and spending days at his job instead of home with his children where he needed to be.

You both needed him. Of course, Michael had given up hope that your father would come back home and give two shits very early on.

"Eventually he'll turn out just like Mom and up and fucking leave us for some big city life in New York or some shit. Here, come take a hit, it'll make you feel better."

Michael was a dumb 16 year old, but maybe you were an even dumber 15 year old.

You were just so mad and so tired. You never let anyone know that you were mad or tired or anything. It would just cause more problems for everyone you knew.

Stomping down the stairs, you went to grab a glass of water. You let yourself fumble with the tap as you waited for the glass to fill. You had just woken up from a dream about your father leaving you and your brother. Just like your mother had. You didn't want him to leave, but he kept spending more and more time away from you. What if Michael was right?

Emptying the glass, you set it gingerly on the counter, debating on filling it again. You stared at it for a while, as if it would make all your problems go away. As if the glass could make your sister return home. The small 7-year-old, would have to be around the age of 10, by now. As if the glass could make your mother return to you, make her come home and return to smothering you all in her love and warm gestures, instead of modeling and drinking wine with strange men in New York. As if the glass could make your older brother stop going to bonfire parties with his friends, only to come home at the ass crack of dawn, smelling like weed, cheap beer, and cigarettes. As if the glass could make your father love his family more than his business.

The thoughts enraged you, causing you to raise the cup over your head and throw it to the ground as hard as you could. The tempered glass shaped into a cup shattered easily, scattering a million tiny shards all over the floor.

That wasn't enough. You were still so fucking mad. As you began to pull dishes of all types out of the cupboards in which they were stored, you didn't notice your father's mauve Mercedes pull into the driveway.

You continued your rampage of blind rage, knocking over end tables, chairs, coat racks, shoe racks, and anything else that was in your way. It wasn't until you had accidentally broken the picture frame of the last sibling photo with all of you in it that you came back to your senses.

The summer of '81, when your family had taken a trip down to California. The picture was taken at Santa Monica Pier by your father, and you vividly remember him and your mother making silly faces at the four of you to get you all to pay attention to the camera. The best part of it, though, were the contents of the photo itself. It featured Evan sitting on your hip, eyes watery from lightly crying about the roller coaster Michael had made him go on. He made a brave face for the camera, laughing at both the silly faces of your parents and the kisses you had bombarded his forehead with. The then 9-year-old was small for his age, very short and seemingly malnourished compared to the other kids in his class. But he was happy, usually playing by himself anyways. Michael, being the rambunctious 13-year-old he was, held your 7-year-old sister on his shoulders, was sticking his tongue out at the camera and crossing his eyes. Elizabeth laughed from her seat on Michael's growing bones, head thrown back, a large smile evident on her face.

She had gone missing three months later. Then Evan had died two years after that, and now everything was shit. Complete and utter shit.

"NO, no no! Please, please go back! GO BACK!" you yelled, trying in vain to fix the broken frame.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing with that?"

Your head snapped towards your father's booming voice, tear-streaked face looking up at him from your place on the ground.

"Let go of that, you've hurt yourself! What are you thinking?"

A new fit of rage stormed inside of your heart, a fresh wave of tears clouding your vision.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! All of this is your fault! Lizzie's gone, Evan's dead, Mom fucking left us, and it's all. YOUR. FAULT!"

Your father took light steps towards you, gently dropping to his knees and shrugging off his suit jacket.

He tore off the left sleeve, then ripped it in half, trying to quickly get his hands on a makeshift bandage.

"Come here, come here, you're all right, it's ok. Let me see your hand, please."

"NO! All of this happened because of you. I- I don't know why but it did, and it's all your fault, and it can't ever go back. WHY CAN'T WE JUST GO BACK TO HOW IT WAS? Everything hurts, Dad, I hate this. I hate this, and I hate Mom, and I hate Mike and I hate you too!"

William's felt his heart nearly stop at your words. Things like this were never supposed to happen. You were all supposed to grow, and live long, and be happy, but now his youngest two were dead, and his second eldest was crying themselves to near dehydration near the family sofa.

He pulled you into his arms, and you gave into your exhaustion quickly, loud sobs slowly turning into quiet sniffles. He rocked you gently, petting your head, and shushing you every so often.

Eventually, you passed out from crying. Michael had gotten home from tutoring in that time. Your head hurt and your hand was still bleeding. William carried you to the kitchen first, washing and bandaging your hand before it could be hurt more.

He trudged up the stairs lightly, softly opening the door to Michael's room. Mike had fallen asleep with his head on his desk, pencils digging into his cheek. William placed you gently onto Mike's bed for a moment, shaking Michael awake.

"Hm?" Michael zipped around, dazed.

"Go to sleep, grades can wait."

Mike nodded, flopping down onto the part of his bed not being occupied by you and instantly falling back asleep.

William lifted you again, carrying you back to your own room. Placing you down on your warm duvet, he tucked you in lightly, kissing your forehead and hugging you once again.

You softly hugged him back.

"Goodnight, Dad. I'm sorry I broke so much, and I'm sorry I said I hate you. I don't hate you, I-"

You cut yourself off with a sob, William patting your back once more.

"Just go to sleep for now, Sweet Pea, we'll work all this out in the morning."

You nod tiredly, laying back down and turning away.

William stood, flicking the light switch off and closing your door.

He had a lot of cleaning to do.

(sorry this is so long. Also, since I've gotten so many angsty requests, you guys finally get angst. This is my first time writing angst tho, so please be nice, ok bye!)

#michael afton #william afton #dave miller #mike schmidt #fnaf fanfiction #lol this hurt to write

76 notes · View notes

thebestpersonherelovesbucky · 2 years

Note

Hi there, I saw your post about being worried about running into a past bully and I just wanted to send some encouragement. You are a beautiful and wonderful person and their opinion of you does not define you in anyway. Somebody once told me, don't give your power to others. Show that person that their bad actions have no hold over you. It's not stupid to worry about it either, you are probably suffering from some form of PTSD. Hopefully you have many people who love you around to support you. You are amazing and so strong! I hope everything goes well for you. ❤

@ohhcalamities said: that's terrible, you have all the right to be upset about potentially seeing him. I hope you don't, and if he's there try not to let him ruin your day. You can always avoid him and pretend he doesn't exist. Hope it all goes well! 💖

@milarca said: oh jeez that sounds awful I'm so sorry 😰😰😰

@brendaonao3 said: It's not stupid at all - your trauma is your trauma, and this is dredging up some very deep-seated feelings <3 but just remember to take a deep breath and remind yourself where you are in life now, and all the beautiful things you have and how you *survived* and *thrived* in spite of him, and hopefully the will ease the knot (love you!!!)

@froidefille said: I don't think it's stupid, I think it's just how trauma works. Your feelings are valid, 100%! Im sorry you feel bad :( but you are awesome and you can do this. Try to have fun just to spite the douche :P Remember even some random person online thinks you're awesome not to mention you'll have your family there to support you💕 I hope you'll feel better and have fun at the wedding XOXO

First of all, you folks are 100% awesome. I actually hopped on right now to update what happened this weekend and found all these kind words. Thank you so much for all your support and encouragement! It's so greatly appreciated.

I made the post the night before we were leaving to head back home for the wedding so ya'll know how nervous I already was. Lemme tell you, yesterday afternoon before I even started getting ready I was feeling awful. At first, I thought it was normal me-not-feeling-well nonsense since I typically get that way before any sort of social event. Then I remembered again why i was so nervous and it made even more sense that I was actually trembling most of the day.

But!

I did what I could to calm myself down. Y'know, breathing exercises and taking a warm shower and drinking lots of water. Stuff like that. Then started to get ready, and when I was through I was positively thrilled with how I looked.

My dress fit and flattered my body perfectly. My sister outdid herself with my make-up and I couldn't believe how great it looked. My hair was fine even without getting it done for the day.

When we got there, we (me, my husband, and makeup-sister) were standing in the lobby talking for a bit and at some point, I happened to glance around and my heart/stomach fell to the floor. Sure enough, he was there. I s2g my blood ran cold and I panicked. On the inside, at least.

According to both my husband and sister, the only reason they knew that something happened was because of how well they know me. Which, I guess means, no one else could've been able to tell, including him. I did everything I could to keep my cool while he stared at me...so effing awkwardly.

It was painfully obvious that he felt uncomfortable. And I wasn't even the one to point that out. I was thinking it but wondered if it was hopeful thinking and then both my sisters said it. He was also there without anyone and when he went up to dance (horribly) he mostly danced...with his beer. At one point, my parents came back to the table and were like "Look at this, you're sitting here having fun with your husband and sisters, and he's up there...dancing by himself. I think you win."

While I was acutely aware of him the entire time and there were horrible knots in my stomach, it was like he didn't even exist to me. I cannot tell you how many times I walked by him on my way to the bar or something and went by like he was any other guest there that I didn't know. Make-up-sister said that he looked at me every time I was near him and every time he passed our table.

I can't even begin to describe how awesome it felt and how much fun we ended up having. It was like the most ideal outcome!

#anon love #kellsreplies #ohhcalamities #milarca #brendaonao3 #frodefille #thank you all so much #i cannot believe how well it went #it felt so good #personal #awesome people are awesome

12 notes · View notes

corrupt-fvcker · 4 years

Text

Obi-Wan Kenobi NSFW Alphabet

NSFW Alphabet ( Obi-Wan Kenobi x fem!Reader )

Warning: explicit content. this is absolute filth. don’t read if talking about doing the dirty makes you uncomfortable please.

Word Count: 2.4K

Author’s Note: i absolutely love obi-wan and i just can’t help myself. originally posted on my wattpad @ corruptfvcker.

A is for Aftercare (what they're like after sex): When it comes to taking care of you, Obi-Wan is extremely gentle. He'd be sure to help clean you up with a warm cloth and run his hands down your body in a soothing manner to make sure you're okay. Carefully, he'd pull you to rest in his embrace, kissing your forehead as he whispered words of pure adorating in your ear. He'd run his fingers through your hair if you're particularly exhausted, knowing that the gesture always lures you to sleep.

B is for Body Part (their favorite body part of their partner or themselves): Needless to say, Obi-Wan is in love with every curve of your body, and it certainly isn't easy for him to pick a favored feature of yours because you're just so beautiful to him. However, if he had to pick one, he'd admit that you're smile is his greatest weakness. He knows it sounds cheesy, but every single time you flash him a grin, he's intoxicated with love. You certainly have him wrapped around your finger, all you have to do is simply smile and he's done for. When it comes to himself, he doesn't truly have a preference, but he knows that his hair is a certain weakness of your own. You've always been keen to lace your fingers in his hair whenever the two of you kiss, using it as leverage to pull him impossibly closer.

C is for Cum (anything to do with cum... hehe, oops): When it comes to finishing, Obi-Wan isn't really particular on the issue of where. If you let him and there's no risk of pregnancy, he's more than happy to finish inside of you. Though besides inside of you, Obi-Wan does enjoy seeing his seed coating the insides of your thighs. He absolutely melts at the sight.

D is for Dirty Secret (a dirty dirty secret of theirs): Obi-Wan would never admit it -- being the oh-so respectable Jedi Master he is -- but he totally enamored the feeling of your fingers in his hair. But not just sweet little tugs to bring him closer, oh no. Obi-Wan loves it when you yank on his hair, pulling him closer when he's going down on you, tearing his lips away from your chest so that you can give him a proper kiss. As soon as your fingers skim the skin of his scalp, he loses all sense of rationality.

E is for Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?): Contrary to popular belief, Obi-Wan is no blushing virgin. Well, he is blushing but he's not a virgin. Over the years, Obi-Wan has slept with a few alluring strangers. Though it was nothing more than a one-night stand. The Code restricted intimacy, not sex. But Obi-Wan didn't indulge often out of fear of attachment as well as not wanting to form the habit of giving in to his desires. But it did surprise you during your first time with him because damn, it was clear that he knew what he was doing. It wasn't until you and Obi-Wan had slow, romantic sex did Obi-Wan find himself out of practice.

F is for Favorite Position (what's their go-to sex position?): Obi-Wan is a complete mess whenever you ride him. He can't help it, you're just too beautiful. He loves to gaze up at you, watching you pleasure yourself on his cock.

G is for Goofy (are they more serious in the moment or are they more humorous?): With Obi-Wan, he could go either way. If the two of you have been apart for far too long, he's more on the serious side. He knows that you miss him just as much as he misses you whenever he's gone on a mission. When it's his first night back home with you, he's nothing but loving and caring. But when the two of you are back in your usual routine on Coruscant, he tends to be a bit more humorous than usual. Teasing you with little comments and jokes, grinning when a huff of laughter breaks through an airy moan. What can he say? He lives to see you smile.

H is for Hair (how well-groomed are they?): Obi-Wan takes pride in his appearance, taking the time to look clean and presentable for you. The only time his hair wouldn't be groomed properly down there would be after long missions when he can't bear to wait long enough to get cleaned up before seeing you.

I is for Intimacy (how do they act during the moment?): When it comes to having a romantic moment, Obi-Wan is completely captivated by you. He cherishes you, treating you like you are the only person that ever truly held his heart (which is actually pretty likely). He'd be open to you, allowing his emotions to show without fear of judgment. He takes his time, wanting nothing more than to pleasure you and express how much he loves you.

J is for Jack off (masturbation): Obi-Wan isn't one to masturbate, it leaves him feeling a bit dissatisfied and a little dirty. Even when the two of you are away from each other, he suppresses his desires -- not that it's incredibly hard for him considering that he's ignored that side of himself for the majority of his life as a Jedi.

K is for Kink (one or more of their kinks): When it comes to his kinks, Obi-Wan is very stubborn to admit to their existence. Though it isn't hard for you to figure out what gets him riled up due to how responsive he is to you. You figured out his love of hair pulling early on in your relationship, using it to your every advantage. You also figure out that Obi-Wan is very much into overstimulation. He's such a tease, bring you to the edge as many times your able to before finally allowing you to finish. He also loses all control when he hears the soft moans and whimpers leaving your lips.

L is for Location (favorite places to get dirty): Although Obi-Wan has the desire to take you just about anywhere, the only place he truly feels comfortable doing the deed is in your shared bed. In your bed he can relax and let himself go without fear of being caught or jeopardizing either of your safety. On a few occasions, the two of you indulged outside of the bedroom, in the bathroom of a bar once and in a starship when only the two of you were present another time.

M is for Motivation (what gets them going): Obi-Wan is almost always in the mood when he's with you because he knows it's the only time he can actually be in the mood™. Any sign of you wanting him gets him going fast. Whenever you cling to him or playfully bite your lips when staring at him -- he's a goner. He loves seeing you blush and get riled up, always teasing you whether you be alone or not.

N is for No (something they wouldn't do in the bedroom, turn-offs): Anything that hurts you is an instant no for him, he just doesn't find pleasure in it. He isn't really into anything too violent, he's seen enough violence on the battlefield, he doesn't want to bring it into the bedroom. Even spanking nears the line of uncomfortable for him. Also anything that involves sharing you is a no for him. The two of you already have to pretend to be strictly platonic the majority of the time, he has to at least appear to tolerate the many advances you receive from both men and women. Obi-Wan wants to spend time with you alone in the bedroom.

O is for Oral (giving, receiving, skill... ): When it comes to oral, Obi-Wan is intensely focused on giving you as much pleasure as physically possible. And it surprised you when you found how good he was at giving oral, a man with his low-level of experience shouldn't be this good at giving oral. Obi-Wan loves the feeling of your thighs pulled over his shoulders and pressed against the sides of his head. And when you lace your fingers in his hair as sweet moans leave you, Obi-Wan nearly loses control of himself. He takes his time licking and lapping at you until you are a complete mess. When it comes to receiving, Obi-Wan can't help but be flustered. His face and ears burning a bright pinks, chests heaving up and down for air. Whenever you go down on him, Obi-Wan swears he's in heaven.

P is for Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?): Obi-Wan prefers taking his time with you when it comes to sex, knowing that the opportunity for the two of you are few and far apart. He always starts off slow and sensual, loving to hear the airy moans leave you as he draws in and out of you. Though if you ever ask him to go faster or harder, Obi-Wan will gladly oblige.

Q is for Quickie (their opinions on quickies versus proper sex): Again, Obi-Wan prefers to take his time with you when it comes to sex. He prefers taking you on your shared bed and making every movement count, but there have been times when neither of you can wait for the appropriate setting for sex. If the tension if dense enough and an opportunity presents itself, Obi-Wan will gladly seize it as long as it's ensured that both your safety is protected.

R is for Risk (do they like to take risks and experiment?): Obi-Wan isn't too risky when it comes to sex, wanting to make sure that you're always comfortable in the moment. Though if you want to try something, Obi-Wan will be more than open to it as long as it doesn't involve hurting you. When it comes to being in public, Obi-Wan does manage slip quite a few risky flirtatious comments into your conversations in front of others. He's an absolute tease, luckily he's able to play it off without others' suspicions growing.

S if for Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?): Due to his decades of training, Obi-Wan's stamina is nothing short of impressive. He is very in tune with his body and has great control over himself, knowing how to make himself last longer and bring you ultimate pleasure. Though as the Clone Wars drag on and his missions grow longer, neither of you last very long. You both just miss each other so much and are both equally tired. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan knows how to pleasure you even if you two can only last a round or two.

T is for Toy (do they own toys? Do they use them?): Obi-Wan does not own any sex toys and has never really found the appeal to them. However, if you owned any toys or wanted him to use them on you, Obi-Wan would do so. But be warned, Obi-Wan's teasing worsens by a thousand when he tortures you with your toys.

U is for Unfair (how much do they like to tease): Obi-Wan simply gets off on how flustered you get when he teases you. In the privacy of your own home, he's constantly touching you. Sliding his hands up and down your side as the two of you sit on the couch relaxing. Taunting you whenever you stare at him like a lovestruck fool. Walking around shirtless and winking at you when he catches you staring. And his teasing only worsens in public. Winking at you, gazing at you from across the room while smirking, whispers absolute filth in your ear when no one's looking, brushing against you and feigning innocence. In the bedroom he finds it too amusing to hear you beg and whimper for his touch. You're convinced he lives to drive you insane.

V is for Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?): Despite his usual reserved composure, Obi-Wan is a little bit of a mess in the bedroom. He'll moan like he hasn't been touched for ages when he grinds against you. He'll gasp when he feels your lips wrap around him and take him in your mouth. He groans when he finishes, his hips stuttering as you cling to him and let out your own moans. He loves every sound you make, he makes it his goal to draw them out of you.

W if for Wild Card (random dirty headcanon): Obi-Wan loves showering with you. He loves washing you, running his fingers through your hair and down your body. With your body on full display to him, he will not hide his obvious staring with absolutely zero shame. He adores it when you wash his hair, he'll lean down and kiss your collar as you scrub his scalp. The two of you have made a habit of showering together whenever he returns from a long mission.

X is for X-Ray (what they're packing): Lengthwise and girth wise, Obi-Wan is a bit larger than average, and he knows it. He likes to tease you and act smug about it, and you both know he knows how to use it.

Y is for Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): Although to everyone else's eyes his sex drive is non-existent, he'd quite forward with you. In public, Obi-Wan must keep it in his pants. But alone in your home, Obi-Wan is always making excuses to touch you and be with you -- and all his years of learning how to keep himself under control go flying out the window. He wants you after each mission, missing you so much and wanting to be as close to you as possible.

Z is for Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep after): Obi-Wan will often fall asleep not long after the two of you finish, relaxing as soon as he knows your cleaned up and comfortable. The two of you will sometimes chat and discuss your day with each other before drifting off, the war exhausting both of you to the bone. If he was particularly rough with you that night, he'll wait for you to fall asleep first just to be sure that you're okay. But as soon as you curl up against his side, Obi-Wan will quickly fall asleep after you, holding you close.

━ ━ ━ ━

thank you all for reading <33

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #star wars #tcw #fanfic #smut #obi-wan kenobi #reader insert #corrupt-fvcker #self insert #my writing #spicy

360 notes · View notes

theelliottsmiths · 4 years

Text

So anyway, Mein Herz Brennt Making of liveblog, one of my favourites

First of all, I do take any use of piano MHB as a slight towards my tiny hands. -1 point

I really would love to visit this place, it's beautiful

I love that Oli introduces it and then Till is straight in there talking about murder and stabbings. Trust that to be what intrigues him. I feel like 'smells like murder' isn't a direct translation but that's purely because I spent like ten minutes trying to work out what words he says. It rhymes, which is suspicious.

Oh this was before he let his chest piercing reject all the way out in the grossest way

When schneider says Krankenhaus it sounds very Geordie and I'm convinced that kind of thing is why Auf Wiedersehen, Pet was created

Richards eyes light up when he's talking about the room he's in and it's one of those looks where it's just. I would love to listen to anything anyone has to say when their eyes have that sparkle.

"the scavengers had already been here" cue Paul talking about his criminal past thieving from there. See, another example everyone forgets of him being the biggest bastard of them all. The smile is a front.

One of my favourite ever Rammstein things is the combined joy and mockery from Paul when Richard is revealed to be wearing the bird mask and it wiggles as he nods. He looks like a little black cockatoo. Richard looks embarrassed to be wearing it but Paul is having the time of his LIFE.

The way is echoes in his mask makes him sound like he's clucking

Flakes glasses perching in his cone make him look like that sesame Street doctor or scientist

They all suit this make up so much and I wish they'd consider it as a stage look

Peck. Not intimidated.

Considering the nightmares Till has/had, ouch

Richard looks so much like a little vampire prince but like, a character from what we do in the shadows. He makes his own smokescreen entry/exist and everything.

Melanie!!!

Richard has many tendons in his neck huh.

The sounddd. I used to always be curious as to whether or not people in music videos were making the sounds it looks like they're making and now I know and I'm uncomfortable. This and also later when till does the heart

His laugh is never what I expect it to be

That uh. That doesn't look like he's in pain the way the injection sounds implied. At all. Not that I'm complaining but it gives mixed messages.

I'm so sure Richard is the only one I've ever heard use the word quasi. It makes sense for him if true but maybe I only notice because of the tone he uses? His is quite a punchy nasal tone it might just be more noticeable.

Till with kids is always the most adorable wonderful thing. He's really helping to keep them relaxed despite the creepiness of the stuff they're shooting.

"if you look at the cover then you'll recognise a morbidity to the whole thing" till, my darling, do you think people don't already ~see the morbidity~?

I googled and the lady doesn't pronounce renaissance with a g like Till does and that interests me. In fairness I have to assume it's like in Norwegian how words like restaurant are pronounced with a g sound because it's closer to the French sounds? It's not like we in English donut the French way either but the Google translate lady does. This is why I always suspect that when I'm learning a language I'm learning the language wrong and at some point I'll find out there's a Real, For Adults version if the language that's totally different. This is irrelevant. Accents are fun and I like being able to notice them.

It feels so strange seeing this knowing what Eugenio did

Paul taking pictures because he knows better than them

Something about a child saying "ah yes, I know Till and Flake very well" is hysterical.

You can feel the dismay and disapproval radiating off till as he tries to be diplomatic about the Spanish understanding of linear time. He struggles to find a positive and only comes up with the fire walls. "It should have gone out before we filmed anything because they were fucking around with the playback so long but it didn't" is his only compliment.

The German word for French is wild.

Do they know they could have hired an interpreter? Interpreters existed in 2012 I know this

This whole thing with Melanie is beautiful you can't deny that the arm Eugenio made with then was lovely.

Till in the dress with Melanie in his lap. I don't off the top of my head remember seeing it in either video so I simply must assume that it was just what he was wearing that day when he showed up. She's so tiny on his knee I'm glad they're still friends.

"you're left in a state of trauma when everyone stares at you all the time" did this need to get so heavy? It's interesting that he focused more on her voice than her appearance there, though in fairness it's pretty high

They all love her so much and it's totally understandable.

Mit rock n roll und cola trinken

I have to skip the screaming the secondhand embarrassment is too much.

Part 2

Again, this liveblog is so long

Sometimes Oli speaks like his body isn't used to talking.

I want, so badly, to know if Richard was having memories of his dreadlocked youth The tiny cup in his elegant hand is so pleading and then you look left and. It sure is something.

Are they freckles or acne scars across Tills shoulders?...cute. The first set of arm/chest wounds, not so much. I do spy his lil tummy scar

Richard does look like he almost swooped in for a kiss and then changed his mind because of the camera. Paul turns his head that way and then Richard tries to save with a step back and face rub (his own). Just saying.

The fact that a few of them have taken pictures on their personal phones warms my soul it's such a nice reminder that they're good friends outside of work and My Heart

Schneider and Paul ready at a moment's notice to be Dumbasses. J'adore.

What if Zoran was more of a background character tho actually

God, schneider is beautiful. An ethereal, pure beauty that exists no matter how he's being styled.

See okay how is flake almost taller than Oli right now he's not even doing his standard open legs and swan spine thing

It must be so hard to find Oli sized clothes. Flake is also tall and slim but he's a lot more leg, whereas Olis height seems largely to be torso. I have to assume a lot of his stuff is tailored or custom made now.

I always forget about the marks on tills back when he's in the nightmare dress

The child staring with great confusion at a bright red flake reading. I would love to know what his favourite books are.

The childs plural poking and prodding at a very patient Oli, who gracefully bends his spine in ways I've never seen a human do before. I wonder if he's ever dressed up as Lurch from the Addams family.

The actress playing the woman in this half is so beautiful and has a power her younger counterpart lacked when she was threatening him with her weapon.

I am a dummy and was like weird why is Paul speaking Norwegian. I know full well he wasn't saying unnskyld because I've heard Germans say their equivalent before and I assume Entschuldigen either sounds like that fast or shortens so what the fuck, rhi

Till guiding people through him murdering them is truly one of life's greatest pleasures. They trust him so completely. I would like to watch them dance the elegance would be astounding.

Paul lurking watching with what I choose to see as pride as till slaughters an old woman.

Paul being critical (again, as always, rightly so) of the hallway mouthing the lyrics decision.

"for this in prepared to make compromises" he says, hating every bitter word of it

I would like to know what he wanted to say about till and then see him get into trouble over it.

I would like to see till in a bouncy castle. He's adorable jumping into the comfy pit I want to see him in a bouncy castle. Child, utter child.

Paul takes every opportunity to say how hot he thinks they all are and I love that about him. Sometimes your friends are all hot and everybody needs to understand that fact.

Their approaches to pretending to play cello are all so uniquely them. Flake and Richard are taking the time to try and understand what they're being told, whereas Paul just fucking. Lays into it, attracting the weirdest looks from Oli. Richard looks beautiful with that cello and I think he should learn to play. For fun not for work. It's not just that he looks so handsome, but I think that's the easiest way to convince him. I think he'd be good at it, and not being the lead at something might be good for him.

I appreciate that Oli is skeptical because yeah they do all look like they've never held a cello before.

They do, however, all look lovely in their dresses. I'm trying but actually I can't not say that Schneiders little sternum dip makes it seem like he has breasts in that dress and it's a good look for him.

Till singing it in such a high voice, more like his speaking voice, is both interesting and lovely. Oli is trying... So little compared to the others. Laughably incorrect

Why yes, I am laughing at the sheer length of the spikes. They're just... They're so fucking long. So long.

Paul is actually probably the best one there, ironically. They're all comically out of time. They're professional musicians. I know they aren't used to bowed instruments I do understand and I don't want to be uncharitable but also they are struggling. I want to see cellists react to this.

Pretty dresses! And the nightmare but with the most awful and worst fingers! Like the Grinch but goth.

Both Schneider and Richard had the same neverending shoot idea and I am Intrigued.

Till waiting for Schneider with the umbrella :)

Wir brennen! Paul is always so happy to play with fire.

#rammstein #liveblog #dont talk about richards neck this isn't the time or place #me rambling #The Nightmare #vaguely #complete liveblog

30 notes · View notes

damienthepious · 4 years

Note

also. also because. i am a gremlin. and i shall die of Emotions and take you with me apparently. ["From yourself?" Amaryllis says, her brow furrowed with worry. "Look, I- I know this is uncomfortable, Arum, but- but I know that you've tried to get Damien to- to-"] to ["If you had managed to convince Damien to do it, it'd be cruel, first of all. He doesn't deserve that kind of guilt weighing on him. And second, again, you would be dead, Arum.] please thank i am lov u

[Pick a short passage from any fanfic I’ve written and send it to me, and I’ll give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet]

you’re not a gremlin you are valid and i love you. that is a LONG PASSAGE THO, so BUCKLE UP. Also cw for discussion of depression, suicide, and suicidal thoughts below the cut. fun times with soft fic! or somethingggg

fun fact before we begin! Originally, this conversation was supposed to happen... before the i-love-you confessions. This was supposed to be broken down before they admitted that they cared for each other romantically, but i was having a shitton of trouble working out the trajectory and the ending of the scene, like, what the actual resolution was, and I couldn’t figure out how to make it work in time when all the other stuff in the chapter was good to go. And THEN it was supposed to happen right after the i-love-yous, but that felt SO busy and SO sloppy, so it kept getting shifted backward-

which wound up being kind of a blessing, i think? because here’s the thing- this scene is TENSE, here, and Rilla pushes pretty hard- but the older version was... kind of a FIGHT. Arum was much more aggressive about it, and there was a line in there for a long time- something like You will be gone this time tomorrow ANYWAY, Amaryllis. What does it matter? And then Rilla had this fucking heartbreaking- Missing you and MOURNING you are not the SAME THING, are you even LISTENING to yourself? and there was just... a lot more harshness to the whole thing. I’m glad it got to settle out, and I’m glad they were in a place to be softer with each other for this. It was too important to me that they addressed this, and i didn’t want it to get waysided.

obviously depression and suicidality aren’t things that have easy fixes, and love is not a Cure for mental illness, but i wanted it to be clear that a) rilla and damien are aware of arum’s non-physical hurts and care about them, too, and b) they are an expansion of Arum’s support network, which is SUPER important when coping with mental illness!

The Keep did the best it could, I think, but when it was just the two of them it was harder for the Keep to know what to do when Arum was deep in a depressive episode, and... well, they have a mental link, right? so I kind of assumed... they might share at least shades of this as well. Arum’s depression gets bad, the Keep is probably not having a good time just then either. Harder to take care of each other while you don’t even know how to take care of yourself. But! the initial point! expanding their collective support system is SO important to learning how to better cope with Arum’s mental illness, which has been running him pretty ragged while his physical injuries had him in traction.

Anyway. ANYWAY. the actual section you requested.

["From yourself?" Amaryllis says, her brow furrowed with worry. "Look, I- I know this is uncomfortable, Arum, but- but I know that you've tried to get Damien to- to-"] The reason why Rilla is leading this conversation is partially because Damien hasn’t fully discussed this with her, mostly out of a concern for... like... not betraying Arum’s trust? What happened between Damien and Arum was between them, and Damien wasn’t comfortable outright blurting that to Rilla. This was one of the ones that doesn’t get told. Not directly at least. Another reason why Damien takes a verbal backseat here is that... well.. he’s already said his piece to Arum on this front. The waters brought you here to live is a pretty definitive statement, yeah?

["What? Wh-what did you tell her?" Arum says, turning towards Damien, and he means to snap but his tone sounds more hurt than furious. Damien only sits, his hands clasped in his lap, his lips pressed tight together. "What did you say, knight?"] And, clearly, Damien’s instincts on that front were right. Arum is mortified by the idea that Damien would have aired his (as Arum thinks of it) weakness, and hopelessness. He’s hurt, that Damien might tell on him when it doesn’t matter because it didn’t happen, and he doesn’t feel that way now so clearly it doesn’t matter-

["He didn't tell me anything, Arum." She shakes her head, angling her body a bit more between them, leaning closer.] Rilla knows him too well by now. Tries to head off that hurt/anger and get them on track.

["Nothing specific, at least, but I'm not stupid. I heard you goading him plenty of times, and he said you told him about your- your work before we left, and he said that if he killed you then, it wouldn't have been a slaying and really there's only one way to interpret that evidence-" she pauses, cringes, bites her lip. "You tried to get Damien to kill you."] “it wouldn’t have been a slaying” was always a particular... phrasing that hurt me, i guess you could say.

[Arum freezes, his mouth going dry.] Arum does not like being confronted with his own weaknesses, as he sees them. He especially doesn’t want Amaryllis of all people to know about this- bad enough that Damien had to know.

["I don't know if it was because of guilt or- or depression or panic about the trip or what, but- but I already told you, Arum. I didn't put in all this hard work just for you to die. Just for you to throw all of it away-"] It was, in all honestly, a combination of these factors. Which is part of why Arum continues to panic. he’s still not really used to being seen, especially not in such a vulnerable way.

["I am home, Amaryllis," he manages in a whisper. "You brought me home. There will certainly be no reason for me to- to endanger myself now."] When you’re suicidal, it’s kind of hard to imagine what it’s like to not be suicidal. When you’re out of one of those valleys, it’s kind of hard to remember how deep they can feel. he doesn’t want to think about it. he’s happy right now. he has more than he could have ever dreamed possible, so it’s really hard for him to conceptualize that moment, right now. It’s hard, and it hurts.

["No?" she says weakly. "There wasn't any reason for you to try to goad Damien into killing you back in the hut, either, Arum, but you did it anyway."] no reasons that make sense outside of Depression Brain, at least.

["I-" Arum glances away again, his hand flexing, but she reaches out and takes one of his hands, squeezing tight. His eyes flick to Sir Damien, sitting quiet though his worried eyes are fixed on the pair of them. "I- that was- different-"] He has SUCH a hard time articulating this. Combine that with the fact that he really HATES talking about it. Lizard is having a panic.

["Different how, Arum?"] Rilla is pushing really hard, here, for good reason. She’s terrified that he might pull something after they leave. she hasn’t been away from him barely at ALL in MONTHS, and now she knows he’s suicidal, which is compounding the terror she already has about leaving him. She wants to protect him, from other monsters, from knights, from himself if she needs to. She loves him and she wants him to be safe and happy and if she needs to gently bully him through an uncomfortable conversation then by the fucking saints-

["I did not want you to endanger yourself for me, Amaryllis," he hisses, turning towards her with his tail thrashing. "You- you make the world less cruel, by your actions, your choices, your existence. The both of you. You try, if nothing else, and for you to leap to action and danger for my sake is- was-"] And he breaks. That was the real kicker of it, y’know? She found out that he needed to go home for his Keep and she buckled down, for him, after he had just been confronted with evidence of his former work and the ways it had directly harmed a human he loves. How could he possibly feel like he deserved that sort of care, that sort of consideration? How could he allow her to risk her own safety to get him home? He failed the Keep, he failed her, he failed himself-

in that moment, he was utterly certain that it was better for him to simply set them ALL back in their places. Amaryllis might be unhappy that he was gone, but it would be precisely the same hurt that she would have when she left him at home anyway, wouldn’t it? (pro-tip: No It Wouldn’t) Damien would simply return to being the knight he was always meant to be, and the Keep could grow a new familiar, unburdened by his distant, useless weight (pro-tip: No They Wouldn’t). And there would be no more risk to any of them for his sake.

[She stares up into his eyes, her hand clasped tight around his wrist, and he clenches his teeth and pretends that his throat is not aching.] It is so hard to explain this to her. Especially while he is... currently fairly distant from the feeling. He’s keyed up, emotionally, because of his renewed proximity to the keep, and because of the giddiness of newly-admitted love. Literally everything feels like A Lot, right now. but this? next level distress.

["If helping me destroyed you, it would be the worst of cruelties I have inflicted upon this world. And I, Amaryllis, have inflicted more than my share of cruelties already."] ouch. I feel like i’ve already unpacked this so just. ouch.

["So you try to take yourself out of the picture instead? Arum-"] She’s horrified. She understands the particularities of Damien’s anxiety by now, how bad that can get, but Arum’s been pretty internal with his own mental health stuff and whatever hints she’s been catching have been somewhat obscured as possibly just... responses to the physical trauma? Him being actively suicidal when he was basically out of the woods physically is... hard for her to cope with.

["The little knight did not bite when provoked regardless, so I hardly see how it matters," Arum growls, and in his periphery he sees Damien flinch, his head ducking.] oh poor Damien. Thinking about how close he actually did come, to ‘biting’

[Amaryllis' grip on his wrist tightens. "You do know that's not comforting, right?] It’s really not. Putting the onus on Damien like that- god, fuck. [It matters because I- because we love you, and because if you die, Arum, you'll be dead. Even if you were trying to protect us in some roundabout way-"] back when this scene was placed before the i-love-yous, that line was “It matters because I- because I care about you,” for... obvious reasons. Rilla, unsurprisingly, is about as bad as Damien is, at hiding her feelings once she admits to them the first time.

[Arum flinches, and she pauses, pressing her lips together for a moment as she visibly chooses a different phrasing.] She knows him well enough by now to understand that he’s flinching because saying that it was altruistic to want to protect him... she knows she shouldn’t push against that.

["If you had managed to convince Damien to do it, it'd be cruel, first of all. He doesn't deserve that kind of guilt weighing on him. And second, again, you would be dead, Arum.] It would be cruel. I think about Rilla’s assessment of Damien from Treacherous Heart sometimes, about the potential deadliness of real guilt for Damien... if he really broke in that moment and loosed that arrow- it would have destroyed him. Especially at that point, when he cared about Arum, even if he didn’t have any proper context to fit that care into, and when he knows how much this creature means to Rilla- RILLA’S heartbreak if she had to come back to that- to that? when she thinks she’s coming back to pack him up for home? when she knows that she loves Arum but is forcing herself to ignore it and push it down and away? Arum killing himself by Damien’s hand in that moment would have destroyed all of them, in a way. but! hey, that’s not the kind of fic i write, yeah? oof. I just think about what-if’s a lot and make myself sad.

Rilla’s emphasis on the kind of hyper-obvious here is... deliberate, also. if you died you’d be dead is something of a redundant statement, duh, but also like... the permanent consequences of a temporary state of mind are fucking important, and Rilla needs to make sure that he understands what he nearly did, and why it matters, and why she’s SCARED for him.

anyway this was a whole fuck of a lot. i hope any of this is interesting or enjoyable and not just. heavy. whoops.

#elle's fanfic meta #scattered meta #suicidal ideation cw #suicide discussion #depression cw #i dont' know if i need more tags argh #shorter-than-her-tbr-pile #asks

6 notes · View notes

caranfindel · 5 years

Text

Recap/review 15.02: “Raising Hell”

THEN: Sam shot God! Welcome to the end. Demon!Jack. Last week's non-scary ghosts or spirits or whatever. Strangely missing from the "Then:" Sam's godhole vision. It's actually a very short "Then." Maybe the episode itself is so good, so crammed full of wonderful things, that the "Then" had to be kept brief to make room for all of it.

Or then again, maybe not.

Now. We're still in Harlan, Kansas. A woman holding a scarf over her nose and mouth sneaks into the forbidden zone, and is startled by a neighbor. Or "neighbor." She's seen Close Encounters and knows the benzene story is fake (but if it was true, lady, I don't think that scarf would save you). And yet she's apparently never seen a horror movie, because the fact that her "neighbor" is silently and creepily staring at her doesn't raise any alarm bells. He stabs her a few times and then smokes out into an old-timey ghost who says "Disembowel. D-I-S-E-M-B-O-W-E-L. Disembowel." Well. Okay. She certainly doesn't look disemboweled, but I'll take your word for it. I mean, you spelled it and everything.

Title card. (BTW, you need to check out this very through breakdown of everything you're missing in the title card. It's fantastic.)

Nighttime. Harlan High School. Sam is large and in charge, but the people are restless. And apparently there are "hunters in the zone." Sam gets everyone's attention and tells them the EPA will be here tomorrow (a lie) and they need to stay out of the zone (the truth) and is adorably befuddled when he asks if there are any questions and everyone raises their hand. He's wearing a huge chain around his neck and, unfortunately, has gone back to the undershirt.

[[MORE]]

The zone. Dean and Belphagar. Dean's EMF meter is going crazy, and Belphagar says there are spirits about (are they ghosts? souls? spirits?) but they don't like him so they skedaddled. (Do we believe that?) Dean can't believe he's working with a demon again, and Belphagar can't believe he's working with a hunter, and it's the classic buddy comedy all over again. Except it's not a comedy and they're not buddies. (Do I miss Metatron?) He reminds us that his rationale for working with hunters is that he liked Hell the way it was. (Do we believe that?)

There's a fiery blast at the zone border, and even though Dean was facing it and Belphagar was facing in the other direction, Belphagar is the one who points it out and says "escape attempt, eleven o'clock." The bad guys can't cross the barrier, but rock salt can, which is convenient. Dean blasts a spirit away, who I believe is the same one from the "Then" but I can't be bothered to confirm and is relieved that the warding still works. Belphagar expositions that it won't last forever, and these ghosts/spirits/whatever are more dangerous than average. For example, the ghost Dean just shot was Francis Tumbelty, aka Jack the Ripper.

(Sidebar: Okay, I did actually rewind and use closed-captioning to confirm what Jack said, because what I heard was Francis Tomelty. And here's how my brain works: I can't remember my kid's phone number, I can't remember my license plate number, I can't remember to call the guy to fix the garage door opener, but I do remember that musician Sting's first wife was named Frances Tomelty. That's how useless my brain is. But Wikipedia confirms that Francis Tumbelty is, in fact, a Jack the Ripper suspect.)

I know, Dean, I feel the same way.

High school. It's daylight now. The citizens are still restless, someone's wife is "missing," the benzene story is wearing thin (sidebar: I'm still using captions, and they misspelled benzene,) and people are plotting an escape.

Zone. Ghosts/spirits/whatever are gathering in one of the houses. Francis Tumbelty, who does not have a British accent (but it turns out he was born in Ireland but raised in America so okay, I guess someone did their research), informs the group that they were released from Hell by God himself. And all of these spirits know what hunters are. And Belphegar's name is actually Belphegor. Well. So much to learn tonight. Tumbelty says they need to gather the spirits who are still in hiding. And they can break the warding because "Warding is a door, doors have locks, locks have keys." Actually, the analogy I would have used is that warding is a lock but WHATEVER. Their plan is to "make it as ugly as possible for those who stand guard." Well, the ineffective spooky makeup will help.

Outside. Hunters are patrolling the perimeter. Civilians sneak out of the bushes and then walk right down the middle of the dang street. And then meet a couple of very unscary ghosts. Oh no, what will happen?

I don't know, because we cut back to the high school. They found the first woman's body, and Cas thinks they need to tell her family, and Sam's all, can't do that yet, people are gonna panic. They're interrupted by the arrival of Rowena, which was a surprise to me because I covered the guest star credits. Although it shouldn't have been a surprise, since Dean called her for help in the previous episode. (See how useless my brain is?) She pretends to be more interested in Cas than Sam but I'm not fooled.

Sam says "Remember a couple of years ago when we were trying to get rid of Amara," as if that's how the conversation would go, as if that's anything either of them would need to be reminded of. What he really would have said was "You know the soul bomb you made for Amara? We need another one of those."

WHATEVER.

They don't want to use it as a bomb, they just want a way to capture the ghosts. Rowena thinks it would be too difficult, but they're interrupted by someone who tells Sam they have "a situation."

Zone. The situation is that the two civilians are facing down Dean and Belphegor. And apparently they've been standing there long enough for Sam to actually show up at the zone, which is miles away from where he was. WHATEVER. Dean explains that the guy is married to the woman who was D-I-S-E-M-B-O-W-E-L-E-D earlier and came to look for her. (BTW, we're almost 10 minutes in, and this is the first scene with Sam and Dean together.) Sam, in his kind way, tells them they need to go back to the school. Then black goo drips out of their eyes and Dean realizes they're possessed. The whole standing-and-staring part didn't clue him in (WHATEVER) but now he gets it.

Bowlegs! Hair blowing in the breeze! Something for everyone!

Tumbelty appears and tells them if they don't open the warding, the spirits are going to kill these two civilian vessels. The civilians drop to the ground, groaning in pain, and I remember back when the guys would have let the spirits out in order to save two innocent people. Or at least would have been conflicted about it. (WHATEVER.)

However, some unexpected shots ring out, sprinkling the possessed civilians with... confetti? How festive. Tumbelty zaps out and the Winchesters and Belphegor turn to see none other than Arthur Ketch. Who is also a surprise to me. I guess that gig as an insurance agent didn't work out. Dean seems ridiculously annoyed to see him. Ridiculous considering that they were working together fairly recently. (WHATEVER.)

And now, since none of my regular download sources worked out and I'm forced to rewatch on the CW app, I'm sitting through commercials. Like a goddamn animal.

Back at the school. Ketch says he just happened to be in the area when they sent out the call for hunters. Dean's still not pleased. What is his problem? Am I forgetting something? Did they leave on bad terms? His gun, stolen from the BMoL, shoots iron flakes. Which somehow expels the spirit without hurting the vessel. He and Rowena reacquaint themselves, and she holds no hard feelings against him regarding the whole prisoner thing, since he let her escape. Well, you actually bought that escape, Rowena, but okay. There is an uncomfortable level of eyefucking, as least as far as the Winchesters are concerned.

Belphegor shows up and they have to explain to Ketch that Jack is dead and oh, Sam's face, when he says "dead." This is the first time this episode has made me feel anything. Well, anything good. And it turns out Ketch was actually contracted by "an attractive female demon" (seriously, that just means a demon in an attractive female vessel but WHATEVER) to kill Belphegor. Her name is Ardat and I guess she's gonna show up later. Yawn.

At least sad Sammy is good.

Reno? I laughed and said ha ha, I wonder if Amara is here and it turns out she is! (Because, again, I covered the guest stars.) She's getting a massage. Her maseusse is replaced by Chuck, who looks about 10-20 years younger than he did the last time we saw him. (Just for Men. Find it in the men's section.) She's annoyed with his presence. He's rambling. He liked the Game of Thrones ending, which I guess is supposed to signal what an awful hack of a storyteller he is. Or to warn us that we won't like the ending of our own Show. Or both.

High school. Poor Cas has to lie to Restless Citizen #3 that they're looking for the other missing citizens. "You said you'd keep us safe!" the guys says. That cuts deep, man. Meanwhile, Rowena has given Dean a shopping list. She asks him about Ketch, even though, as Dean points out, they've obviously met. "That was more of a torturer-torturee relationship. Fun, but I didn't really get to know him." But Dean doesn't want to play matchmaker, and says she shouldn't get involved with Ketch. "I mean, Sam is right here," he says. "Why don't you guys get off high center and do it?" (No, not really.)

Cas comes up behind Dean, all rumpled and sad and wanting a hug, and he apologizes for "dropping the puck." Dean doesn't want to hear it. He's so very angry, at Cas and at Chuck and at his life being one giant rat maze. Cas doesn't think their whole existence has been a lie, because even though they were in a maze, they were still living their lives in that maze. That's what life is. Chuck sets up the obstacles, but they still run their own obstacle course. Dean doesn't accept this.

It's interesting that Dean is the one who's taking the truth about Chuck so hard. Sam and Cas were the ones who had faith, and you'd think they'd be knocked harder by the realization that there was never a benevolent God. But on the other hand, Sam's so used to being manipulated by outside forces; this is nothing new to him. And Cas has already seen how the sausage is made. So they're both just, yeah, this is how it is, let's deal with it.

However. I'm not feeling the Dean-Cas conflict at all. I don't really care. And I suspect it's going to be a Big Deal. {sigh}

I’m definitely feeling angry Dean. So much.

Zone. Nighttime. Dean and Ketch are on patrol. I mean, I guess it makes sense to leave Chief Sam in charge at the school, but I'm tired of the guys being split up. Dean gives Ketch one of the giant chains they've been wearing, and says it's iron, to prevent possession. Wow, that would be a heavy chain. They talk about God and Rowena, and then Dean gets a text message. "Trouble. Two hunters haven't checked in." Uh oh!

Meat packing plant. Seriously? There is a meat packing plant in the middle of this residential area? So many chains hanging from the ceiling. I wonder what kind of cage flashbacks Sam would have in here. (And if you fic that, I'd like to be notified, please and thank you.) Dean and Ketch search the place and then it gets cold and then Ketch is hurled against a wall. Hard. Lizzie Borden appears, prepared to take an ax to Dean's head, but an electronically altered voice says "Stop! Get out!" She zaps out and we see the voice belongs to... Kevin???

Turns out when Chuck said he was sending Kevin to Heaven, he lied. Um. Why? What's the rationale for this? I mean, he did things to make a good story, but what was the purpose of sending Kevin to Hell and not letting the Winchesters (or anybody else) know? Dean promises they'll get him to Heaven, and Kevin accept this happily, because Kevin knows that Dean always takes care of him, as promised. (Ha.) Kevin can feel the wards weakening, but he doesn't know if the other spirits can detect it. And the other spirits are afraid of Kevin because he was personally cast down by God. Um. Okay. WHATEVER. But this tells Dean they can use him as a spy.

Reno. Chuck is flipping through channels, and he spends a couple of seconds watching a cooking show where the recipe involves tripe. Which is so meta, isn't it?

He's whiny. I'm over it. So is Amara. And she suddenly detects (WHATEVER) that he needs her for some reason. She can feel his own version of the godhole? She pokes at it and it hurts. "Something happened. You're not complete. You're not at full strength."

Zone. Sam doesn't think using Kevin is safe. Well, he's already dead, so. Belphegor shows up and they're all, your wards are failing and he's all, duh, I told you that was happening, I thought you heroes would have this wrapped up by now. (Are they really fading due to the nature of wards, or is this deliberate? Discuss.) And this spell was a one-time thing - he can't do it again. Because...? We'll never know, because neither brother asks. WHATEVER.

This conversation is like some people. Stupid but pretty.

Belphegor knows Kevin and calls him a "whiny millenial" and my goodness, he gets around a lot for a low-level grunt, doesn't he? He tells the guys that Kevin can't get into Heaven because once a soul is cast into Hell, Heaven can't take it. I am quite sure that Show has forgotten about John and Bobby, who both accomplished that very thing, and I'm shocked to find Show actually address this. Belphegor says God made an exception, and that isn't likely to happen again, since God doesn't like them any more. Oh no! The only way to fix this is if someone else takes over for God!

Reno. Chuck checks out his own godhole, which looks just like Sam's. He pokes at it and winces in pain.

Zone. Sam feels pain in his own godhole. Because they're connected! He lies that he's okay and it's getting better and Dean's all yeah, right.

Sam, for a professional liar, you are so bad at it.

Zone. Spirit meeting. They know the wards are fading. Tumbelty thinks they should attack at a weak point, rather than waiting for the whole thing to collapse. Kevin shows up. They all know him, and some fear him. But Tumbelty knows he's buds with the Winchesters. Because all these spirits know the Winchesters. You know, I can understand all the demons knowing who they are. That's justified. But every resident of Hell? I'm not feeling it. WHATEVER.

High school. More heavy flirting between Rowena and Ketch. Somehow Ketch knows something she doesn't know - that a jolt of electricity will fast-forward her spell. Can we just skip this part? It makes as much sense as the Rowena/Gabriel detour when they were trying to open the rift. They're interrupted by a call from Dean, who demands she hurry. Yes, please.

Zone. Rowena shows up with a bag and runs right into Tumbelty. Who knows her. Because they used to date. All this romance for Rowena, and Sam's still sitting alone at the high school. Come on, Ro. Climb that mountain. Tumbelty tells her they've got Kevin, and sends a message for the Winchesters to meet them at their spirit house. Ketch shows up behind him, with his iron confetti gun, and blasts him, but Tumbelty whacks him with a rock. However, Rowena escapes.

{Commercial time. Zombieland 2 looks good.}

TFW is finally all together. Rowena tells them about Kevin. Dean asks if she has the soulcatcher, and for some reason, Sam has a problem with the name soulcatcher. I suppose this was supposed to be humorous. She does, but she doesn't know if it will work.

Spirit house. Winchesters show up. Tumbelty says if they shut down the warding, he won't devour Kevin. They say no. Tumbelty sticks his hand into Kevin, and this takes a really really long time, but Rowena finally shows up with the crystal and catches all of their souls. Boy, it's a good time devouring Kevin's soul took so very, very long. Rowena tells them this crystal isn't as powerful as the earlier version, and can only gather a few souls at a time. In fact, some of the souls here got away. Oooh, I wonder who.

Kevin tells them about the plan to break through the warding at the weakest point. Jump to the weakest point. There are at least 100 spirits there, according to Belphegor, and more are coming. Dean brings his gun up when someone approaches, but it's only Ketch. Oh, good, he escaped safely from Tumbelty's clutches! How fortunate. It's odd that he's no longer wearing that huge iron chain, though.

Dean tries shooting at the spirits they can't see, but Belphegor tells him there are too many. So Rowena goes forth with her soulcatcher. She still seems to be on this side of the warding, which means she's able to drag the souls through the barrier. I wonder if it would have worked better if she'd gone past the barrier. Then Ketch backhands her because, SURPRISE SURPRISE, he's actually possessed. He drips black goo from his eyes, just to confirm, and picks up the soulcatcher. Dean tries to shoot him, but is conveniently out of ammo. Tumbelty!Ketch monologues and then Dean pulls out his handgun and shoots him and he... tosses the soulcatcher to Dean? Drops it horizontally? Somehow, the thing ends up flying into Dean's hand.

WHATEVER.

(Or did Ketch toss it to him once he was depossessed? Discuss.)

Rowena takes it back and sucks up the few visible souls, including Tumbelty's. Yay! Success! Is Ketch alive? Dunno!

Time jump. Ketch is alive, with only a wounded shoulder, and is being loaded into an ambulance. Cas tells Sam that he tried to heal him, but couldn't. "You're just tired," Sam says. "We all are." Oh, I don't think so, Sam. Dean apologizes to Ketch, and lets us know it was an iron bullet, which is why it expelled Tumbelty. Ketch and Rowena exchange a longing glance. Dean stares. Angrily, maybe? Angry that Mary's ex dared to look for love again? Angry that Rowena is flirting with someone else right in front of Sam? Angry that Ketch is such a wuss that he actually needs an ambulance, and medical treatment, for a mere bullet to the shoulder? Angry that he's stuck inside a Buckleming episode? All of the above? He and Rowena exchange an uncomfortable look.

Aftermath! Kevin doesn't want to stay in the zone and hang out with the guys. He knows he can't get into Heaven, so he's just gonna ghost around and wander the earth. Sam tells him this is a terrible way to exist, and Kevin points out that it's better than Hell. And Kevin and Sam give us what might be the motto for just this episode, or maybe for the entire season:

I'm sorry, Kevin. I wish there was some way to make this right.

Me too. But there isn't. And sometimes, you just gotta accept that.

Kevin tells the Winchesters he loves them (d'aw) and they don't say it back (aw) and Belphegor quite easily makes a little opening in the barrier. So easily, that it really makes you wonder why he has so little power to keep it going. Yep, it sure does. Kevin is gone. Sad waves.

Reno. Amara is hitting the road. Chuck isn't invited. And she knows he's too weak to do anything about it. He can't leave this world without her help, and she ain't helping.

Zone. We see dozens of glowing souls flitting about. The warding won't last long. We need a plan B. "How," asks Dean. How indeed.

So. When I watched this for the first time last night, I desperately wanted to fast forward through the scenes with the spirits in the house. And the Ketch/Rowena stuff. It wasn't any better on rewatch. Some of this episode was just the usual Buckleming nonsense - badly written, stupid things happen for stupid reasons, yada yada yada. But the Kevin plot... can we blame that on the Buckleming? Or was that a showrunner master plan? Either way, it's annoying. And probably pointless. The only good thing about this episode was the confirmation of the connection between Sam and Chuck. I noticed a distinct lack of excitement on my Tumblr feed, so maybe a lot of us feel the same way. If you haven't watched this one yet, my vote is: don't bother.

Please help me stay unspoiled, thanks!

#spn #recap #tv recaps #15.02 #spoilers

21 notes · View notes