#damage and i hate that the damage is over the STUPIDEST fucking shit in the whole world that is literaly nothing compared to some of the
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like . omg i know i need to stop POSTINGGGG but god thinking abt the argument w my parents last night and all the implications of it hurts so bad it’s unreal it hurts literally so bad. and it is ruining my life in so many ways and ive been fighting back tears all day bc of it. Lol
#purrs#i think im a burden to everyone and that everyone thinks im stupid and young and naïve entitled selfish annoying etc etc but really it’s#just my parents who think that and the fact that they do means that there is something fundamentally wrong with me so i carry that into#every relationship im in and isolate myself and hold back from saying how i feel and setting boundaries and i am so sad and tired all the#time that i never talk to anyone and i beat myself up for making mistakes and for having thoughts and feelings and i hurt the people who#love me by denying myself to them and not believing in their love and it fucking sucks and i hate that i will never fully recover from the#damage and i hate that the damage is over the STUPIDEST fucking shit in the whole world that is literaly nothing compared to some of the#horrors in the human experience like it’s just 2 bad fights with my mom and my brother being born and my grandma dying and how my mom did or#did not parent me 100% to her best ability during all of those moments and suddenly im fucked in the head for life over DUST BUNNIES. over#DRYER LINT. CRUMBS! specks of dirt. like are you kidding me. catapulting myself into the nearest viper pit rn i think. but also it’s 1:30 am#and i am working tomorrow and ive had an exhausting soul crushing week and i need to go to bed and i am running away from everyone and#everything in my life and it just is a hard time to be a person right now anyway so like maybe i need to just go to sleep and reblog some#posts and play animal crossing in all my free time and throw my phone into the river and be normal for 2 seconds. ok.#* 3 bad fights w my mom. but also a lot more but especially those 3 ♥️
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Taken: Part 8
“Tell me again,” Peter frowned, following you around May’s place as you set out a series of plates and silverware, “how you managed not only to convince May to have the two men she hates above everyone else over for dinner but how you managed to think it was a good idea?”
“Peter,” you set the last plate down and sighed, “May hates them. They’ll meet her; she’ll meet them. They’ll hate each other, May will scare them off, and I’ll never have to see them again.”
“That’s a shit plan. You don’t think that’s going to work, do you?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” You rolled your eyes and turned back to the counter where five wine glasses sat, and started placing them around the table by the plates.
“Y/N, this is a bad plan; this is a shit plan.” Peter followed you, running his hands through his deep brown curls. “I mean, you can’t think this is going to work. May is not that threatening or frightening.”
“Peter!” You smacked your hand on the table, “I have tried everything! I mean everything to get them to leave me the fuck alone. I’ve tried being a bitch, like the biggest BITCH I can be, and they think I’m some kind of-“
“How is this different from any other day?”
“Oh, don’t start with me, asshole. You may be my brother, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass.”
“-feisty kitten.” Peter finished your sentence and narrowly missed your hand swinging toward him.
“I am no one’s kitten.” You sneered at him.
“So you choose the stupidest fucking plan I’ve ever heard of?” You whipped your head around and glared at him, your jaw clenching the more you stewed over his words.
Was this plan good? No.
Was it going to work? Probably not.
“This is my saving grace. May is terrifying when she settles into those protective instincts, and I’m hoping that’ll scare them off, and I can live in peace.”
“What about me?”
“Not my problem.” You shrugged. “You’re the one who wanted to be a big bad mafioso.”
Peter’s eyes narrowed as yours had, and while he was undoubtedly looking for a quick-fired rebuttal that would pull the both of you into an argument, he settled for a low blow. “Make sure you invite May to the wedding.”
“Excuse me?” You faced him head-on, your hands crossed over your chest.
“You know when you officially become Mrs. Barnes-Rogers.”
“You are going to get your ass kicked.” You dart around the table toward him, your fingertips barely grazing the back of his shirt when the door opened and slammed shut, and May’s voice cut through the chaos.
“Enough, you two!” May yelled and banged her fist against the wall, bringing the two of you to a dead stop. “You’re both acting like children.”
“One of us is a child-“
“-I’ve been legal since I’ve turned 18.”
“And yet you still can’t vote or drink so….”
-for two months. I turn 21 in two months.”
“Not legal yet.” You threw him a dirty look and briefly debated whether or not you could’ve gotten away with flinging one of the glasses at his head, not to do significant damage, but enough to knock a little sense into him.
“Since you’ve insisted on inviting Barnes and Rogers,” you felt a little spark of hope when your aunt curled her lip, “then, at the very least, we’re going to put in some effort.”
“Why? You don’t like them?”
“I’m not going to make an enemy out of them either. I may hate them, but at the very least, I can be a good host.” Aunt May set a few bags on the kitchen counter before addressing the two of you with a few scrutinizing looks. “What are you wearing?”
“Jeans,” you frowned, “what am I supposed to be wearing?”
“Not to this dinner you’re not. Go change.” May turned her attention to Peter, tilting her head as she studied him next.
“I don’t live here, and I doubt you’d like me walking around in my underwear.”
“I’d rip my eyes out.”
“Will you eat them too?”
“Y/N!” May yelled. “There’s a dress on the spare bed. And a pair of heels. Go put them on and then brush your hair! Peter, you’re not wearing that ragged sweater. Go put on a dress shirt and a tie.”
“May-“
“I wasn’t asking.” She spoke with finality, waving her hand to dismiss you both.
“Great plan,” Peter hissed toward you, his brown eyes narrowed into a glare. “Oh, this will be so much fun.”
“Shut the fuck up.” You stepped into the spare room and slammed the door, groaning once it was locked.
When you turned to face the bed, the dress in question was lying across the white comforter. The dress was pretty, and you liked it more than you wanted to admit. You begrudgingly picked up the dress and studied the mesh fabric, and the tie-up straps that would allude to you have cleavage without baring your tits to the world. The skirt was layered and ruffled, with some of the same mesh on the straps on the dress, giving a peek of the flesh of your thighs.
“Damn,” you cursed, “why do you have to be so cute?”
You frowned and set the dress back down before you began the process of ripping your shirt off your head and tossing it behind you. As it fell to the floor, you undid the button of your jeans and unzipped your fly. You pushed your jeans down your thighs and your legs, kicking them behind you to meet your discarded shirt.
With your ‘disapproved’ clothes gone, you started re-dressing yourself in the approved dress your aunt got. You yanked the dress over your head and situated it over your hips, and rearranged it over the curve of your breasts before you tied the mesh straps and turned yourself in front of the mirror.
“Damn,” you cursed again, “it looks even better on.”
You were dejected by the idea that you would be making this enjoyable for Steve and Bucky by looking good in a dress that flattered your figure, yet you were drawn to the concept of teasing them via the dress if things went south. It was a double-edged sword, or it felt like one anyway, that bled into a damned-if-you-do and damned-if-you-don’t kind of situation that irritated you below your skin.
As much as you would’ve liked to think about it, think about the idea that you were trying to one-up them after they’d been one-upping you, you sparsely had a chance. You just finished brushing your hair and pinning pieces at the back of your head when Peter poked his head in and showed you a funny look, eyeing the dress May had chosen for you.
“Are you having the wedding today?”
“Do you ever shut up?” You snapped, whipping around to glare at him.
“Your boyfriends are here.”
“Your bosses are here.” You snipped and slipped the heels on your feet and took that first step, wobbling until you got your balance.
“Are you drunk?”
“Are you stupid?” You elbowed him out of the way, leaving the guest room and closing the door behind you and Peter with a click. “How’s it looking?”
“Just wait and see,” Peter shoved his hands in his pockets, his brown eyes trained on a photograph hanging on the wall.
“Oh,” you stepped into the living room and felt that natural, deeply disappointed groan ripping from your mouth the moment you saw the three of them laughing, “you’ve got to be shitting me! It’s been five damn minutes!”
“Y/N M/N Parker!” Your aunt scolded you, “mind your manners.”
“Manners,” you were incredulous, “May! You said you hated them….”
“I judged them too quickly. Did you know Steve went to art school?” May preened, actually preened for them.
“Way to go, Einstein. Brilliant plan.” Peter mumbled, passing you to move toward the table. “Any other brilliant ideas?”
“You are one comment away,” you held your forefinger and thumb inches away from each other, “from me taking my high heel and stabbing you in the eye with it.”
Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes. “As if you could reach.”
“You-“ an arm slipped around your waist, and two pouty lips brushed against your temple.
“You look lovely, darling.” Bucky cooed in your ear, his kisses moving down toward your neck. “Did you get dressed up for Steve and me?”
“Didn’t we have a conversation about consent?” You elbowed him. “Don’t touch me.”
“Y/N please,” your aunt May plead, “can you stop the sarcasm? Bucky’s right though-“
“Bucky? An hour ago, it was that-“
“-you should wear more dresses. You have lovely legs.”
“You do, princess.”
“May,” you inhaled and exhaled slowly, “I’m a bartender. If I wear a dress to work, I’ll have hands up my ass, and I don’t-“
“Y/N!” She hissed. “Your mother-“
“You’d have to find someone who wants to touch your ass first,” Peter mumbled.
“It’s not hard.” Steve winked at you, and May giggled, finding his topic of conversation funny and flirty, and yours was inappropriate.
“Kill me,” you groaned, screwing your eyes closed, “this is a nightmare.”
“This is your fault.”
“Dinner should be here soon. Do you want to sit?” May, ever the excellent host, offered to move everyone to the living room; her eagerness to impress them both was being translated into commanding looks aimed at you and Peter.
“Would you like to sit by me, honey?” Bucky asked, his fingers dancing along your waist.
You feigned interest for the sake of keeping May calm and exaggerated your glee. You turned your head toward him and batted your eyes lashes, attempting to ignore the heat that surged through you when he flexed his fingers and squeezed your waist.
“Why stop there? Why don’t I crawl into your lap?”
“If you’re offering,” he smirked, “it’s open for you.”
“You’re so cute!” May preened, again, her attitude doing a whole 180 from what seemed like moments before. “You three make such a cute couple.”
“They do, don’t they?” Peter took a jab, tucking his hand under his chin. “The three of them-“
“You!” You stepped away from Bucky and pointed your finger at your brother, your jaw clenched. “And I need to talk. Now.”
Peter rolled his eyes and stood up, pushing the chair back into the table. As he stood and moved around the wooden table, you stepped around Bucky and met him, grabbing his wrist and yanking him out of the kitchen and dining area.
You yanked Peter to a closet you knew would be far enough away not to draw attention to yourselves yet would allow you privacy. You pulled open the door and shoved him inside, stepping in after him. When the door was shut, you yanked on the metal chain to turn on the light, allowing the two of you to see each other.
“Why’d you drag me away? I was having fun.”
“Help me!”
“You brought them here!” Peter hissed, the two of you tucked into a small closet, having a hushed conversation.
“I thought May would hate them and scare them off-“
“May loves them! That was a brilliant idea, wasn’t it?” Peter screeched and then winced when you smacked him across the back of the head. “Ow!”
“How was I supposed to know that those two suave motherfuckers could’ve charmed her in 5 minutes!”
“Shit, I don’t know, maybe because they can talk themselves out of almost anything.”
“Sarcastic comments aren’t helpful, Peter!” You hissed, not just resorting to smacking him on the back of the head, but shoving his shoulder.
“Well, get rid of them!”
“You get rid of them! They’re your boyfriends-“
“They aren’t-“ you stopped when the closet door was ripped open, and the two of us were face to face with your aunt and her look of displeasure.
“Get out here!” Aunt May reached for your wrist and dragged you out. “You’re rude.”
You whipped your head back to look at Peter with narrowed eyes. You raised your hand and dragged it across your neck, giving him the message he received and reacting by rolling his eyes.
“You okay, honey?” Steve tilt his head and smirked so coyly and seductively; you felt weak.
“Sure.” You pressed.
“Y/N.” your aunt shot you a look of her own.
“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” You spoke with half-seriousness, taking your place back between Bucky and Steve, much to your aunt’s delight.
“Good.” Bucky leaned close to you, “can I put my arm around you?”
“You want me to snap it off?” You hissed and yelped when May reached out and kicked you. “Fuck! Sorry!”
“Don’t worry, baby,” Bucky was lapping it up; they both were, “I forgive you.”
#mob!stucky x reader imagines#mob!stucky x reader imagine#mob!stucky x reader smut#mob!steve x reader#mob!stucky x reader fluff#steve rogers imagines fluff#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers x reader smut#steve rogers x reader fluff#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers#bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky barnes x reader#taken series#taken masterlist#taken part 8
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Everytime that queer post comes up its got even more stupidity and projection on it lol "wah but I misinterpreted your point and you didn't handhold me through it so my hurt feelings are your fault somehow" is the stupidest rebuttal I've seen by somebody who thought it was actually is a good response to "have you tried reading the post with your brain not your feelings"
Like guys, if the very mention of someone being like "fuck you I'm queer and I hope that makes you uncomfortable since you hate the term I love for myself" sends you into a frothing state of *have to have a tantrum about it on OPs post* them the problem isn't people who want to be called queer, it's you for being a lil baby and making it weird lol. Hello I'm a queer dyke, will you have a go at me for saying I love my identity and hate anyone who thinks my identity is a fucking problem?
I grew up being called a dyke, lesbo, lezza, homo, fag, but I'm not going to go up to people who identify with and own those terms and be like "but... but that word hurted me. You love that word but it's a meany mean word uwu. You're bad for using it and hate me specifically STOP OPRESSING ME WITH THE MEAN WORD"
Bitch, they hate all of us and all our words, stupid argument get some real prioritites!! Especially those of you in the USA like you have other shit to deal with besides what fucking words are good and which are Bad™️. Are you gonna stand with your queer siblings or fracture into dumb subgroups, throw others under the bus in hopes of saving yourselves and then be surprised when identifying with a "good" sexuality gets you just as persecuted?
Queer as in fuck you, and queer as in "oh so you don't want us? We're here anyway". Get over yourselves all of you, I thought it was just teens but the most braindead response was from someone in their late 20s so *sigh*
As always sexy cannibal, effective post was too effective, millions killed, psychic damage inflicted lol ily
Couldn't have said it better myself
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I literally hate sharing my goals and dreams with anyone because whenever I did with someone in my family, they always questioned it. “And how are you going to do this? When are you going to do this? It costs money, how are you going to get the money?” rather than support me like any decent person would, they instead punctured holes in it and made it seem like I was doing something wrong for dreaming. Idiots.
My point, though, is that today was Portfolio Day. I did not want to share because I just figured I won't keep goals anymore. I won't keep goals anymore if this is how people are going to treat me, they're just going to question me rather than get behind me and encourage me (I think this is actually why I don't have a Patreon or a tip jar when I think about it; I just know for a fact I won't get backers of any kind. “People could pay a lot of money to support you”, you don't know that, no one does—plus I've often felt that if someone paid me 1 dollar, they paid 2 dollars too many. What is there to support here? Nothing? Okay, well what do I have that could make it worth while supporting me? Oh, also nothing besides the same bullshit over and over again). I partook in Portfolio Day back in January and no one bat an eye—I did it just kind of to see what would happen, not because I expect someone to be enamored with my work. i never expect anything to come out of it.
Is it self defeating? Maybe. in fact, i’ll admit it. I did it but i have no goals or dreams or desires for my art, though. But I can't help it, especially when I was growing up, I would say something like “i want to do this some day!” and my dad or someone else would be like, “well, honey, it's hard work blah blah blah” rather than be supportive of me. I think that's why I don't buy his facebook likes for me, either: it's like the bare minimum of support, you're not actually doing anything by merely “liking” things. GOD DAMN IT, TUMBLR, STOP IT. STOP WITH THE LIKES. JUST STOP. STOP.
“You need plans,” I always hear. Well, no fucking shit, Sherlock. I'm telling you this because it's something I want to do: I'll think of a plan later. But he never understood that. Never. Not once. In fact, nobody understood that.
It kills me to think about because there have been things i have felt very passionately over, that I was certain of doing and that I really wanted to try out and see come to life, but those fucking idiots, those wastes of flesh and oxygen who call themselves family to me, always shot it down with their simple questions without realizing just how damaging it is; in fact, i don’t think they cared, either, like “hey, maybe your daughter has some high hopes for herself, maybe you should stop questioning her for once and actually give a fuck as much as she does about it; maybe you should stop questioning her desires and instead help her with it because that’s what family does”. They didn't care about what I wanted to do, and they never will. the day they do is going to be the day that it’s too late.
i think that dtiys I did the other day is really going to be my last facebook post because they really didn't give a shit about that (in fact, I got a stupid comment from an old “family friend”, who leaves just the stupidest comments on my art anyways, i really don’t know why this guy is still in my life because i have no emotional connection to him anymore, and that was about it). In fact, you know what? I hate those people, they’re not my family. I wish I had a family that didn't make me hate myself all the time. Hate is a strong word, but there's no way around it: I hate those fucking bullies. my mom has been more family towards me, and most of my memories of her consist of her going to work and arguing with my dad.
It's another reason why I don't call myself a “creative”, either (aside from it just sounding like another one of those bland words that don't really tell you anything): I'm just... not. I'm not a creative person. Creative people have goals and dreams and wishes, and I don't have any of those things.
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when you’re doing your cyberpunk thing and you see a hot intimidating punk guy and youre like well fuck now i gotta find a way to make my character hate him so we can push those emotions out of the way and your gm (conveniently also your best friend) decides to have the guy come over to your gay ass and suddenly oh by the way we know each other, were part of some weird johnny silverhand centered anarcho-punk gang (i mean vibes) but also hey guess what my character also apparently has some really weird commitment issues surrounding getting a cybernetic arm like literally everyone else and also they just have this quite fascinating dynamic that’s like confusing but in a hold on a second is this man a comrade or a lover or......perhaps...........both
#my first thought was it was a mentor vibe but it's like. lmao marky already has a different guy who's their mentor so???#the baggage!!!!! the drama!!!!!!!!!!! the supplies for molotov cocktails readily available in their bag at all times!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3#i love our campaign bc we all hate cops and love dogs (hey like that one song) and like#instead of actually fighting we just spend an hour of me laying on a sad man's couch while everybody fights over dogs#and who gets to sleep on the floor. (but like wanting to sleep on the floor)#also they just really like food especially breakfast food bc i'm good at ~projecting~ but also they're kinda broke and can't cook for shit#it's funny bc the silverhand gang thing.. i was originally like damn ok what if i gave them a-- and i was like#no ok lets not do that bc that'd be too obvious and i don't like making obvious characters!!!1!!!11!!!!#but like if THEY bring it up ok i can work with that let's unpack what the fuck happened!!!!!!!!!#seriously though the bar scene where we're talking is sooo fucking funny#bc theres the description and everyone even the lesbians are like HoLd On NoW a SeCoNd HeLlO????#and then he makes his way to my gay ass who was totally being gay with some random ass stranger i guess#hm. it doesnt help that im automatically flustered when roleplaying especially w them so like that.. theory could make sense#but honestly who tf knows at this point. my friend's mind.. it's a vast expanse of holy shit hello???#i suck at most rpg stuff but i reallyyyyyyy wanna do a combat thing bc i have the coolest weaponssss#like ok beyond my character's namesake there's also this cool as FUCK transparent katana type thing that kinda retracts like a lightsaber#and also this gun type thing like small flashlight size that's closer range but holy fuck it does some damage. phenomenal. incredible#i am so glad my friend has patience with me damn#also i always do the stupidest gayest makeup and this is the second time i am wearing the leopard pants. this may just be my tradition#i love it here idk.
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I fuckign hate modern beauty standards and how shitty they make me feel all the fucking time
#I haven't work makeup in months#idek could be a year now#it's been a long time#nc I relaise I was spending way too fucking much money were talking hundreds of dolalrs#literally all my money was spent on beauty products#and that was so fucking damaging to my self esteem so I threw everything away#and for a while it was fine I didn't really care#sometimes I wanted to put some foundation on but it wasn't like a big deal#and then summer came and I never wear makeup in the summar anyway bc its too hot and I get sweaty#but lately I've started getting really self-conscious again and I just#wanted to start wearing makeup#but its not fun this time like it was before#its like my whole mindset changed from wehre I was last year that makeup isn't fun#its something I feel like I HAVE to do just to be able to look at myself in the mirror without hating myself#so I finally went out and bought some new foundation today and ended up spending way too much fucking money#came home and got done up#and I didn't even get to enjoy it for an HOUR before my parents immediately noticed and said how they didn't like it#so now im just in my room fucking crying over the stupidest shit and I fucking hate it#I NEVER cared before#I know its not personal my parents just don't like makeup in general and never have#but I feel iike my self-esteem is hanging on by a thread and this is the one thing I could immediately change#the one thing I could ***fix*** today to make myself feel better#but I cant even have that much apparently#I just want to not hate my reflection#but even once I put on the makeup I didn't even recognize myself#bc that's just not me anymore#I don't even know what to do#I used to be so confident#last year I loved myself and I don't know what happened but now I just feel so unattractive and gross and I hate myself and I don't know why#or how to fix it
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twin flame iii // gw x reader
words: 2.2k
warnings: angst, breakup, mention of bruising, crying, angelina slander kinda (it’s just for the story i love her sm!), yn is sorta a pick me if you squint sry, cringey mediocre writing at very best
an: i used song lyrics for some of the argument and the ending :) i hope you like it besties!
part one | part two | part four
you george! i want you!
the words had been running through his mind since the night you left. he had been going over the days leading up to your explosion in his mind for weeks. your words were in his mind day and night. your pained expression, your anger, your hurt. you consumed him. more than you usually did.
george weasley knew he fucked up. he knew without anyone telling him. but they did anyway. every waking second they did. first it was fred, calling him a jerk. then ron, who called him a “bloody idiot.” then ginny, who told him it was his own fault. and then his mum. of course his mum, who said in exact words: “george fabian weasley, this is nobody’s fault but your own. quit moping around and do something to fix it! i didn’t raise you to treat women this way!”
his last straw, however, was his older brother percy. percy of all people. who looked at him with a disappointed shake of his head. receiving a disappointed head shake from percy was nothing out of the ordinary, especially for george. it was his words that stung. percy spoke ten simple words to him that truly set george off. percy spoke “you lost the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” at his sentence, george lost it.
“i know that percy! you don’t think i fucking know that i lost the best thing that ever happened to me! and fred i know i’m a jerk and ron i know i’m an idiot and ginny i know it’s my fault and mum i’m sorry okay! i know you didn’t raise me like this i don’t know what’s wrong with me but i don’t think she’s coming back!” he fell back onto the couch as he tugged frustratedly at his roots.
“george… do you love her?” molly asked him.
“yes mum,” a whimper escaped the fiery-haired boy’s throat. “i love her more than i’ve ever loved anyone before. she’s my world,” he revealed.
“then go, george. go get her,” his dad said. “for your sake and her’s,” he told him.
“and our’s!” fred called distantly from the kitchen.
“shove off fred!” george called back before apparating to your front door. he knocked three times and waited for someone to answer it. when you opened the door, he was shocked at your state.
makeup streaked down your cheeks with your shoulder bruised and your arm in a splint. your eyes were red and puffy, but they were furthermore accompanied by dark bags as if you hadn’t slept in weeks. the truth is; you hadn’t. “hi george,” you mumbled half heartedly.
“hi butterfl-“ you cut him off.
“yn. my name is yn,” you spoke sternly.
“i’ve called you butterfly since you were three…” he murmured.
“not anymore. hurts too bad to hear it. did you need something?” you quickly changed the subject.
“i want to talk to you,” he said. you nodded and walked in, telling him to follow you. george said hello to your brother and then followed you into the lounge where you two sat on the loveseat and you turned to face him.
you sat in a long silence as your eyes traced each other’s features. you memorized him. every line, every freckle, every bump, bruise, and blemish. the silence was deafening. untill he finally broke it. “what happened to your arm?” he murmured softly.
“it splinched when i apparated home. then i apparated again and made it worse,” you bit your lip softly.
“always so reckless,” he tutted softly, causing you to shrug.
“what’d you wanna talk about? know you didn’t come to talk about my arm…” you attempted to get to the point of his visit.
“right,” he murmured softly. “yn i…” he took a deep breath. “the day that i let you walk out of my life is the day that i made the worst mistake in the history of mistakes. i’ve done some stupid things in my life, but letting you walk away has by far been the stupidest. i’m so so sorry that i hurt you the way i did, i cannot express to you how sorry i am, i truly cannot. i love you, yn. with all of me i do, you have to believe me when i say that.”
“i do believe you george. i just don’t believe that you love me the way that i love you. and carrying around that pain is killing me. i mean absolutely destroying me. you live in my mind rent free. you’ve infested it,” you told him. “you with your stupid pretty smile and your god awful jokes and your ridiculous pranks that you somehow always rope me into and your perfect hair and your pretty eyes and just. you. george. stupid you. oblivious you. godric george,” you roughly shoved his chest. “i’ve loved you for years and you’ve always looked past me!” tears rimmed your bottom lash line and your voice cracked as you lashed out on him.
“for years george, i mean years! i’ve watched you fall in love with countless girls just to have your heart broken by them. i stuck by you through everything. even when you stopped being being my friend because it made angelina uncomfortable i waited for you george! and you just pushed me to the side. i did everything for you. i executed pranks for you. i planned pranks for you. i took the fall for you. i got detention for you! i did it all for you. i mean the countless amount of things i did just to be able to call you mine and i just… you didn’t care! you’ve never cared! you’ll never love me the way that i love you and that hurts. so. fucking. bad.” you wiped your eyes.
“it kills me george. it eats at me, every single day it does. i stood by your side and i took the blame with you even when i had nothing to do with the stupid shit you pulled at hogwarts because yeah i was going down, but hey, at least i was doing it with you, right? we made so much trouble and-and we used to laugh. and be happy. we were genuinely happy and i don’t know where we went wrong but we did, but i still say that i hate you with a smile on my face! i don’t get it george why don’t you love me!” a whimper tore itself from the depths of your chest as you let out a silent sob.
“now look what we’ve became…” he murmured, tears falling from your eyes.
“all the things i did just to call you mine… and… and all the things you said but… somehow, i still hope i was your favorite crime. cause merlin knows you were mine.” you sniffled as you wiped your eyes.
“you were mine. you’ll always be my favorite crime.” he leaned over and kissed your head as another silent sob racked your body. “now it’s bittersweet to think about the damage that we did,” he smiled over at you sadly. “i love you butterfly. just as much as you love me, if not more,” he whispered as he stood from his place.
you rolled your eyes water-logged eyes, but still managed to smile. “i wish you thought about that before,” you whispered.
“i do too… i guess i’ll have to just call you the one that got away then?” he asked.
“in another life georgie… i’d be your girl. and we’d keep every promise that we made,” you told him.
“and i wouldn’t have to say you were the one that got away,” you nodded as he kissed your head again. “i love you, butterfly. i always have.”
“i love you too, georgie. i always will,” you sniffled as you watched him walk out the door. you didn’t want this. you wanted to stop him. everything in your body screamed at you to stop him. but your brain wouldn’t work. your heart said no. you were scared of being hurt again.
you wanted to do something. yell at him. tell him to come back. to hug you. to never leave you. to never let you go. but your heart wouldn’t let you. you were frozen in time.
~~
it’ll all get better in time.
you’d heard the saying time and time again. especially after your parents passed away. it was people’s favorite line to use when they saw you. the truth is… you didn’t stop hurting. the pain didn’t go away. you just got used to it. but the pain you were feeling now… you didn’t know if it would ever go away. at least it didn’t feel like it.
two months. it had been two months since george walked out of your house that night. it was nobody’s fault but your own, and somehow you couldn’t help wishing he would’ve stayed.
you saw him everywhere. in the stars in the night sky. in the sunrise and the sunset. in coffee shops and store windows. even in your dreams when you slept. so logically, you decided to stop. if you didn’t sleep you couldn’t dream. and if you didn’t dream, you couldn’t see him.
you dutifully ignored the pain in your chest like an annoying bug on a picnic. you pretended that you were fine, but the reality was; you weren’t. but you played it off. and you were able to keep up your facade. untill one day… that one fateful day tucked in the corner at ninety three diagon alley. your brother asked you to pick up ten second pimple vanisher because he had a date tonight and just received a pimple the size of jupiter on his nose, causing him to look like “the muggle myth rudolph the red-nosed reindeer” as he put it.
you walked into the shop and kept your head down as you searched the aisles. it wasn’t where it usually was. you knew this shop like the back of your hand, of course you had… you’d worked there for nearly three years. you furrowed your brows as you looked around. the shop had completely transformed. nothing was in the place it usually was. that’s when your eyes landed there. on her. right at the front, behind the till at the register you worked, in the uniform you wore was angelina johnson.
you sighed deeply as you extended your neck around the corner to where the office was. you smiled triumphantly as you saw fred sitting at his desk and began your trek. you gently knocked twice on the opened door and fred called, “come in,” distractedly.
you walked in and sat on the desk, right in front of him, forcing him to look up at you. “yn!” fred exclaimed.
“hi freddie!” you smiled as a giggle escaped your lips and you returned the death-grip hug he had enveloped you in.
“what brings you by? not that i don’t love seeing your pretty face, of course,” he shot you a playfully flirtatious wink.
“ybn needs ten second pimple vanisher because he has a date tonight and he woke up with a pimple the size of jupiter on his nose,” fred laughed loudly at your remark. “i tried to look for it, but the stores completely turned around,” you pouted slightly.
“oh yeah, we changed some things up because we needed room for our new products. they’re still in the making, but george disappeared,” he hummed.
“george what?” you asked.
“you didn’t know…?” he asked you.
“no. i… i had no idea,” you stuttered.
“yeah. after the night he went to talk to you, he left a note on our kitchen counter and all his things were packed and he just… left. we haven’t seen or heard from him since. ‘s just been angie and i running the shop now. couldn’t do it alone,” fred explained as he picked up the box. “here you are l-“ before he could finish, you were halfway out the door. “YN WAIT!” he called. “YOU FORGOT YOUR PRODUCT!”
“SORRY FRED! YBN WILL BE OKAY I HAVE TO GO!” you called as you ran out the door as fast as your feet would carry you. if you knew george weasley… and you did… there was only one place he could be. and you prayed to any and every god that would listen that he was there. you prayed like your life depended on it that he was okay. you needed to fix this. to fix him. to make it alright.
in this moment you knew that he needed you. he needed you like peanut butter needs jelly. the way left needs right. like the sun needs the moon. he needed you like you needed him. you ran and ran and ran for miles untill you got to a secluded area. then you took a breath. and you apparated.
it was exactly the way you left it. a dingy old wooden box house sitting at the highest branch of a sycamore tree. you groaned softly as you began to climb the many branches. “george i swear to godric you better be in here,” you grumbled to yourself as you climbed.
it felt like hours—truly it was ten grueling minutes at most—untill you got to the door of the house. you whispered the password and it creaked open. “georgie,” you breathed when you saw him.
there he was. laying on the floor of the treehouse wrapped in blankets and a sleeping bag with a small pillow under his head. the apple to your pie. the straw to your berry. the smoke to your high. the one you knew you’d marry.
the one that got away. your twin flame.
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#twin flame#george weasley#harry potter#harry potter x reader#charlie weasley x reader#charlie weasley#george weasley x reader#best friends to lovers#harry potter angst#harry potter smut#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fluff#george weasley smut#george weasly angst#george weasley fluff#twin flame series#twin flame part three
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not to get into the Great Name Debate again but whenever someone suggests people harry could have named albus severus after instead of dumbledore and snape, it's always like. so obvious WHY he didn't pick those particular names. "he could have named him after remus!" teddy's middle name is literally remus. already taken. "what about fred?" i'm pretty sure it was an unspoken agreement amongst the weasleys that george would get to name any potential kid of his after fred, which he did. "what about sirius?" james sirius is harry's firstborn son. try again. "regulus?" why would harry name his child after some guy he didn't even know? regulus helped them out that ONE time.
hthe arguments about this is are the stupidest bullshit i've ever seen and i say that as a longtime snape fan lmao. it's like some of these people have never seen a narrative arc in their fucking lives and have chosen to actively forget that hp is a there's a book.
there's a REASON harry names his kid after dumbledore and snape. these are people who arguably committed some pretty heinous damage against him in different ways - dumbledore literally raised him as a sacrifice. snape was cruel to him many times over. choosing to name his kid after them is an act of forgivness so in line with harry's values and character it's honestly fucking wild to me that people still complain about it to this day. yes, of course harry would name his child after people who hated or used him. harry forgiving them anyway, loving them anyway - that's the core of his character. he's the one who still shakes hands with dudley even after all the shit he put harry through, the one who goes back to save draco, the one who gives narcissa hope about her son, who sees snape being bullied as a teenager and sympathizes. harry recognizing that these are two very flawed men who nonetheless changed him - harry choosing to honor them because he knows no one else will - god how is that a surprise to anyone?
and, even setting that aside, it's not somehow being "ungrateful" for harry to name his kid albus severus instead of, say, regulus. (a dead man harry never fucking met!!!!! who did nothing for him!!!! what the fuck is that argument!!!! HE'S A DEAD MAN HARRY NEVER MET!!!!) i see that argument a lot when people want to say harry should have named his kid after remus or hagrid or something but like you say - remus has his namesake!!! harry wouldn't step on that!!!! and the same goes for fred - of course he's giving that to george's kid!!!! what the fuck!!!!
more to the point... less so for dumbledore (who i imagine inspired at least some albus babies) but who is going to name their kid after snape? who is going to honor snape? snape did so much for the war and for harry - and no one was going to even remember him, not as he should have been remembered. i think harry's choice partly comes from that; remus and fred have people who loved and remember them. hell, so do regulus and hagrid. but snape? if harry doesn't honor his memory, who will?
it's just stupid. people didn't like the name and then they decided to be absolutely insufferable about it. but albus severus was a perfect choice for a name for harry's kid and it IS the hill i will die on.
#we can never get in the Great Name Debate too much on this blog lmao#snape and harry#this whole snide attitude toward albus severus' name makes me incoherently furious lmao#it's a good name and a PERFECT choice from harry specifically and that's the that on that
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curtain call, m | myg
pairing(s): yoongi x reader
summary: You know that TikTok trend where girls would drop their towels in front of their gamer boyfriends? As expected, Min Yoongi didn’t until he was informed by his six troublemaking friends. In this case, his girlfriend was the pro streamer and he was the guy in the towel... so what’s the result?
warnings: rated M (18+) for language, tiny bit of crack; sexually explicit thoughts; smut (fem reader, handjob, cowgirl); very fluffy; non-idol!AU - established relationship, music producer!Yoongi x LoL streamer!reader
-
“Hahaha, oh my god, chat, did you see that? He bounced so many times from the CC, he literally went sky, holy shit!”
Min Yoongi opened the front door of his apartment to the jovial, laughing voice of his girlfriend. He shut the door, smiling to himself. Her streaming room was in the extra bedroom. The door was open, and he could see the bright RGB lights of her computer tower reflecting off the walls. He took off his black coat, placing it on the hanger in the hall closet.
“Stop cursing because it’s not ladylike?” He heard her scoff. “No, fuck you.”
Yoongi smirked. That’s my girl.
He pulled out his phone from his pocket, scrolling through social media. His friends always told him to reply to their posts, but Yoongi was a lurker. The only reason he even had any social media was because his friends set it up for him. He literally only followed six people – his six friends. Everyone else he just stalked from memory, even his own girlfriend. Mostly because he didn’t want random people following him for no reason, because they most certainly would with how popular she was.
When she had asked him what he thought of her full-time video game streaming, Yoongi told her to go for it. She had been obsessed with League of Legends for over nine years, even before she met him. At their first date, she first question was if he knew what League of Legends was.
“Uh… I got to Gold in season 2?”
Later, she told him his answer had seriously tilted her and she even considered not going on a second date.
“But you did. Because of this face.”
She had laughed and nodded.
She had been playing solo queue for a long time. When she finally started streaming her games, her channel grew slowly. She would immediately start playing after she got home from work. Hours and hours, growing a fanbase. Yoongi later learned she was startlingly good – “I was Master for a long time, got Grandmaster this season” – and when she asked him if she could quit her job, he pointed to her bank statements.
“Do you even need to ask? You might make more than me at one point and I’m Big Hit’s top music producer.”
And she did end up making more than him, at least some months, because the team that picked her up as a content creator this year was none other than T1, the most beloved (and hated) organization in Korea. Had she ever met Faker? No, but it was cool to say she was under the same umbrella as him.
Yoongi rounded the corner, knocking his knuckles on the doorframe.
“Hey.”
-
You looked up from your game, grinning. Twitch chat had just said some dumb shit, but your eyes were on Min Yoongi now. The love of your life, standing in the doorframe, looking amused at your antics and dressed sharply in a white dress shirt and black slacks with a matching black tie. Very different to your black T1 hoodie and sweats.
“Whoa, fancy, fancy,” you teased, eyes going back to the game. You pushed back one of your headset’s earcups to hear him better. You clicked rapidly, autoattacking the towers swiftly. You were about to win after a hectic Baron fight. “Why are you dressed like that, Yoongi?”
Your chat was exploding with cat emojis. They had only seen Yoongi a few times and someone had compared him to a cat once. It stuck and now every time Yoongi spoke, your chat was spammed with cats. You even had a custom white cat emote made with Yoongi’s signature black hair.
Yoongi appeared next to you on the cam, only his slacks and bottom of his shirt visible next to you. He patted your head.
“Meeting today,” he said simply in his lovely deep voice. The chat was exploding due to Yoongi’s appearance. Everyone was thirsty for him. You couldn’t blame them. You too. “Looks like T1 Curtain Call is kicking ass.”
You fired the last shot at the Nexus, earning fifty gold. Was it necessary since that was the end of the game? Absolutely not, but it gave you bragging rights. You sat back, smirking. You were in your promos to Challenger, the highest rank in the ladder. It would be really exciting if you could make it to Challenger this season.
You turned to Yoongi as you honored your support Nami. “Chat wants you to say hi.”
Yoongi stuck his large hand out in front of the camera and waved it once. “Hey everyone.”
You chuckled as Yoongi retreated his hand. You clicked on the stats for the chat to read before reentering the lobby. T1 Curtain Call. That was your in-game name, or IGN. It was named after your favorite champion, Jhin, the Virtuoso, mercenary gunman with a sniper ultimate and an obsession with the number four. Your IGN was Jhin’s ultimate ability name. You were an attack-damage carry main, also known as ADC.
You felt Yoongi ruffle your hair, messing it up under your headset.
“Going to take a shower before making dinner. Bye, chat.”
Yoongi stuck his hand in the screen again, right in front of your face.
You leaned forward to read the chat as you queued up. It was going to be a long queue, so you answered questions in the meantime.
“Ask Yoongi to play with you?” You chuckled. “Trust me guys, I’ve tried, even if it was just normals. He’s confused as shit.”
-
Yoongi worked the shampoo in his hair, feeling the hot water hit his back. Before getting into the shower, Yoongi had gotten multiple texts from the group chat. Normally he would ignore them, because he always ignored the group chat. This time, however, he saw his girlfriend’s name pop up in the texts, along with his name with multiple exclamation points. He frowned at it, opening the chat. He did not like his friends typing her name heedlessly.
It was some dumb TikTok trend.
“Hyung, you gotta do this to noona,” Jeon Jungkook had typed with multiple ‘kekekeke’ behind it. The youngest was an idiot for even suggesting this.
“Please do it,” Kim Taehyung typed with multiple laughing emojis.
“I want to know her reaction,” Park Jimin typed with a bunch of winking faces.
“The fuck is this?” Kim Seokjin had typed. “Oh my god, you have to do it, Yoongi.”
“But don’t film it,” Kim Namjoon warned. “Don’t want to make her look bad or anything.”
Jung Hoseok had just typed multiple laughing symbols. Yoongi could hear him laughing through the phone even if he wasn’t here.
It was a stupid trend where girls wrapped themselves in towels after a shower and then dropped said towels in front of their gamer boyfriends while they were playing, with varying reactions. Yoongi had sighed, putting his phone down. He shouldn’t have clicked on the chat. Those guys were loons. Besides, his role was reversed in his situation. A guy’s flaccid dick was a thousand times less interesting than his girlfriend’s perky tits and round ass. And her squeezable thighs. And her glistening pussy.
Yoongi rinsed his hair off, muttering to himself.
Why would he even consider distracting her like that anyway? He rubbed soap on his arms and legs. She took her games seriously and Yoongi wanted her to win them. It would just be dumb to be the reason that she dies in game. It was her job, after all. It was true they had less sex, but that was also partially his fault. He had been working on an album and it ran long hours. He had to finish before the deadline after all. Yes, sometimes Yoongi woke up late at night with a massive hard-on and her warm body next to him, only in her underwear. Sometimes he took her hand and wrapped it around him, considering on waking her up to do it.
But her peaceful, sleepy face was too cute to wake up, so he never did.
Yoongi puffed his cheeks as he rinsed off, thinning his mouth and eyes into lines. They used to mess around, right here in the shower, where he would jerk off on her face and chest, just to watch it drip down her body. He could see her pretty face in his mind, cum sprayed across her cheeks and chin, mischievous smile on her lips. They had different schedules now, so she always showered before her stream, while he was at work.
Yoongi clicked his tongue and turned the water off, body still hot. He grabbed the white towel from the rack and dried his hair, making it stick up in every direction. He rubbed himself down, wicking the water away. It made him remember how her hair used to stick to her body after their shared showers and how he would lift it away to play with her nipples.
He huffed, seeing his phone on the bathroom sink. His friends needed help. How could they even suggest such nonsen–
Yoongi tried to wrap his towel around his waist. He could feel a draft. He looked down, raising his eyebrows.
His dick was pitching a music-festival, VIP-member-only sized tent.
Well.
He pursed his lips. He shouldn’t be that surprised. He had literally been thinking about his girlfriend’s naked body the entire time. His eyes glanced to his phone once again before he opened the bathroom door. He heard her sigh loudly.
“Noooo, that’s the third dodge! Am I ever going to play a game, chat?” she whined.
Yoongi padded out into the hallway. Technically he was already halfway there. Might as well. Was this the stupidest shit he was ever going to do? Maybe. But she wasn’t going to expect it, that’s for sure. The thought made Yoongi smirk.
“When is Jungkook going to duo with me again? I don’t know guys; he said he has finals soon so he has to focus on school.” He heard her click her tongue. “Get him on cam again? Oh, I see, that’s what you all wanted... At least let him get through university.”
Yoongi stopped at the doorframe. Her hands were on her chin and she was sighing, looking depressed at her long queue time.
“Ah, so unlucky. It must be everyone’s dinnertime.”
He called her name in the same tone he usually used.
Her head lifted and her eyes floated in his direction.
Yoongi dropped the towel.
In less than a second, her eyes grew three sizes, jaw dropping. His wet hair stuck to his forehead, shading his eyes a bit. He cocked an eyebrow, slow smirk on his lips.
“Anything you want for dinner?”
-
What.
The.
FUCK?
You heard your queue pop, but you were frozen in place, gawking open-mouthed at your boyfriend standing in the doorframe of your streaming room, butt-ass naked, cock hard as a rock, towel on the ground. Did he just..? What the…? This was Min Yoongi. Your mild-mannered, somewhat-lazy, preferred-to-be-asleep boyfriend. Not suddenly-trying-to-send-you-to-horny-jail-in-front-of-three-thousand viewers boyfriend! You blinked at him, stuttering.
“Y-Yoongi…?”
Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. Your voice was a little too breathless, a little too shocked. And slightly too needy for Twitch chat. Your face was heating up fast. You whipped your head back to the screen, realizing you missed the queue. At this point, you didn’t give a single shit.
“You know what, guys,” you said shakily, laughing awkwardly. “I better help Yoongi with dinner and be a good girlfriend.” You rose, feeling the wetness between your legs. “See you tomorrow!”
And you immediately turned off the stream, fuck, you turned off your whole damn computer, mashing the power button, and throwing one of your spare hoodies over the webcam. You exploded from your T1 gaming chair, literally shooting it back three feet into the League plushes behind you, ripping your headset off, tossing it onto the keyboard. Yoongi looked surprised, as if he expected you to be demurer about it.
Yeah, that’s not kind of woman you were.
“Min Yoon-gi,” you hissed, stressing every syllable of his name. “How the fuck do you think you can just show up naked and not expect me to want to immediately fuck you?”
Yoongi chuckled. “I wanted to see your reaction.”
You narrowed your eyes, pressing him against the door with your body. “You don’t watch TikTok. Who put you up to this? Jimin? Taehyung? Jungkook?”
His voice was low and husky. “You know the mankae line are trouble.”
Your hand snaked up into his damp hair and you pulled him down for a sensual kiss. His soft, pink lips parted and you nipped at his lower lip, grinding deliciously into his hard cock. Your sweatpants and underwear were in the way, but you moaned into his mouth, tongue grazing against his lips.
Mentally, you thanked the three mankaes for giving Yoongi this wonderful idea.
He breathed against your lips, smirking.
“How many pieces of clothing are you wearing?” he purred.
You grinned into his kiss, tongue between your teeth. “Four.”
“On brand for you.”
And then you two stumbled into the hallway, Yoongi’s hands on the hem of your hoodie, pushing it up as you kissed him over and over, whispering his name, telling him how handsome he was, how perfectly sexy he was with his wet hair and soft skin. His lips curved upwards under yours, basking in your compliments, drinking them up.
“Count for me,” he drawled, pulling the black T1 hoodie up.
You slipped out of it, sliding down, hands splaying over Yoongi’s chest.
“One.”
He tossed it aside as your hand wrapped around his cock. A sharp gasp left his lips feeling you stroke him slowly, your hand snaking around his neck and bringing his face close to yours, lips on lips. His hands curled around your waist, moving up, grasping the hook-and-eye of your black bra. All the while slowly making your way to the bedroom, nipping at his lips, sucking on his tongue.
Yoongi pinched, releasing your bra. You released his cock, letting it slide off your shoulders.
“Two,” you moaned, feeling his hands on your breasts, rolling your nipples in between his fingers.
“Hah, your body is so fucking hot,” Yoongi murmured. “Missed fucking you.”
You snickered, licking his lips. “Why don’t you actually try to wake me up for once instead of using my hand to jack yourself off at two in the morning?”
His dark brown eyes went wide, shock creeping into his voice. “W-what? How did you…?”
You pushed him through the doorframe of the bedroom. “You think I don’t notice your dick in my hands?” You reached down now, gripping it again, sighing softly at his hardness. “I’m a light sleeper.”
He sputtered at you, fingers curling under the waistband of your sweatpants. “No, you’re not.”
You grinned. “Yeah, you’re right, but this your cock we’re talking about, and I love your cock, Yoongi, fuck,” you continued, pumping him slowly as you felt his length twitch in your hands, his hands pushing down your pants, sliding down your legs.
“Three,” he breathed softly.
You took his larger hand and wrapped it around yours, stepping out of your pants.
“Go on, Yoongi. Show me what you do when you think I’m asleep,” you said softly, nudging him to the bed and laying him down, down, crawling over him, staring into his beautiful dark eyes, falling more and more in love with him every second. Yoongi bit his lip, looking back at you, shifting your hand up and down his cock, whimpering as he jacked himself off, but with your hand and your eyes on him.
“Fuck, you look so pretty,” he mumbled. “Such perfectly shaped eyes.”
You leaned down, squeezing him a little harder, a tiny gasp brushing against your lips. “That’s you, my love.”
He smirked, his free hand hooking on the side of your panties.
“Hit me with the fourth shot,” Yoongi teased, grinning.
You kissed him lightly, smiling. “That’s going to be a critical hit.”
“Better be a critical hit all over my dick.”
You laughed, reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out the drawer, taking out a condom. The two of you pulled down your black panties, Yoongi completing the final number.
“Four,” he exhaled, nearly moaning at the sight of your juices snapping against your thigh.
“Me on top?” you asked, ripping the condom open.
Yoongi’s naughty smirk grew. “You do love me.”
You slid the condom down his length, both of you gasping as his cock throbbed in your hands. You slid up, holding him with two fingers as you sank down on him, tipping your head back at the feeling of Yoongi’s cock buried deep inside.
“I’ve determined we don’t fuck enough,” you muttered, rolling your hips at the delicious sensation of being stretched out by your lover.
“I should wake up earlier,” Yoongi hissed, hands twisting in the sheets. “So we can shower together again.”
“You miss that?” You began to move, riding him deliberately slow but rough, slapping your hips together. You were leaking all over his crotch and balls, adding to the sound. “Miss me on my knees for you, wet from head to toe?”
“Hah… I was thinking about it in the shower,” he panted, feeling you lean down to change the angle, rolling the entire lower half of your body to fuck him hard, fast, intensely squeezing his cock at every descent. “You look so good covered in my cum, my love.”
You smirked, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah? Take some pictures. Show your friends.”
Yoongi laughed, that attractive raspy laugh that showed his pink gums and his pretty white teeth as you rode him, chasing your orgasm and determined to get him to his. “They fucking wish they could see this body,” he growled, a touch of possessiveness in his voice that made your spine shiver deliciously. “Bet they wish they could see you riding my dick right now, your perfect tits and ass bouncing on top of me.”
You clenched him harder and he moaned, head pressed into the pillows, eyes closing, drowning in the feeling of you.
“Ask them,” you snickered. “I already know Jimin’s answer.”
Yoongi gave you an open-mouthed smirk. “That fucking pervert.”
You slammed your hips together tightening your jaw and your core, sucking in his entire length, every contour imprinted into you, every vein pulsing into your walls, Yoongi so fucked out and gone under you, the best image in the entire fucking world. You leaned your head back, gasping triumphantly as the pleasure finally dropped, showering over you, your hips shaking, pussy throbbing all around him, splattering onto his crotch. Yoongi groaned, smacking his fists against the sheets as he shot up into you, cock swelling against your walls, choking out your name due to the strength of your orgasm. You felt your pussy milking him for every drop, draining him. Yoongi’s hips jerked involuntarily up towards you, squelching loudly and lewdly.
Fuck, you loved him.
You bent down, hand between your bodies, holding the condom down as you kissed his open mouth, tongue sliding in to stroke his, murmuring to him how much you loved him. Yoongi panted into your lips, hot erotic breaths that made you moan as you slowly removed yourself from his softening cock. He opened his eyes, half-lidded, drunk with pleasure. His voice was breathless, content.
“I love you.”
You smirked.
“Drop your towel some more, but maybe when I’m not live streaming.”
Yoongi laughed and you laughed too, because in the end it was still hilarious.
-
masterpost
#yoongi x reader#min yoongi x reader#yoongi smut#bts smut#yoongi x you#min yoongi x you#min yoongi smut
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Star Wars AU #20: MacenJar AU
Inspired by this meme and with permission from @simpskywalker
This au is dedicated to everyone who told me that this concept ‘gave them a headache’ or ‘psychic damage’. Especially that special someone who begged me to ‘please stop’ because ‘i hate this, i hate this so much’ and told me ‘please don’t say more words about this.’
Crack Lies Ahead, enough to consume a man. I have spoken.
“Ani. Ani. Anakin Skywalker.”
“Hmm?” The dulcet sounds of Padme calling his name dragged Anakin from sleep against his will.
“Anakin, you have to get up.”
He groaned, rolling over. “...here’s my face...I’ll...be awake in a second...just sit down...I’m awake...”
“No, Anakin you have to leave, remember. You have a 5 AM take-off scheduled, and you made me promise I would get you up early this time, come on.”
She cruelly yanked the covers away. He gasped in betrayal.
“My own wife...how could you.”
“Anakin if you’re not out of bed in the next 30 seconds the next time you beg to stay the night because ‘you can get up early, you swear’ I am kicking you out before anyone sits anywhere near anyone’s face, do you understand.”
He sat bolt upright and stumbled out of bed. “Ok, Ok, I’m up I- Padme!”
“Yes?” She asked sweetly, brushing her hair at the vanity.
“It’s 3 AM!”
“Yes I know, you were going to stop at that bakery I recommended, remember?”
“You woke me up an hour and half early so I could stop at a bakery,” he asked, disbelieving.
“Yes, Anakin, it was your idea. It was going to be your cover, in case anyone wondered what you were doing in the building.”
“That is-” before he could call it the stupidest idea he had ever heard, the memory of promising Padme that staying the night was a good idea because it would facilitate his cunning ruse (he was distracted, ok? Padme was wearing a lot of layers) came rushing back.
“-right,” he finished lamely.
Padme just hummed and began braiding in her cosmetic forcefields.
Anakin managed to stretch, complete his morning refresher run, and arrange his robes in a suitably decorous fashion by the time Padme had established the base layer of her hairstyle for the day.
A quick kiss- no goodbye, it hurt too much to say goodbyes in war - and Anakin was out the door.
He idly scratched his chin, vacantly looking out the lift and vaguely considering growing a beard. The pre-dawn view was quickly replaced by metal walls as the ride dropped below the skyline.
The transparisteel pod began to slow scarcely one third of the way down. Anakin suppressed a groan and tried to arrange his expression in Jedi-stoic manner, hoping that whoever got in the lift with him would be too intimidated by seeing a Jedi close-up to think about what they were doing in a Senatorial Apartment building at 3:15 in the morning. If they ask, I’m visiting the famous Bebbisun Bakery. Bennison? BELLASAN. I’m visiting the Bellasan Bakery.
Actually, anyone getting into the elevator this early was probably also doing the walk of shame so it’s probably fi-KRIFFING SITH SPIT THAT’S
“Master Windu!” Anakin cleared his throat, trying to lower his voice an octave. “Good- Good Morning!”
Windu’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Ah. Knight Skywalker. Good morning to you as well,” he replied, stepping in the elevator, doors closing behind.
The lift descended as Anakin’s heart rate skyrocketed. This was it. Windu had to be here for Anakin. What other possible explanation could there be? WHY WASN’T HE SAYING ANYTHING?
Wait.
What other possible explanation...could...why wasn’t he saying ANYTHING?
Anakin scrutinized Master Windu out of the corner of his eye. Were those...the same robes he was wearing yesterday? They looked like the same robes but then again...pretty much all robes looked the same so this was probably a stupid way to figure things out. Fuck, it was too early for this.
Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t get a sense of the Master’s surface emotions. But his underlying aura seemed...happy? Typically Windu's serene presence had a tinge of righteous fury (something that had frightened him back when he was a child). But now that ever present vaapad edge was... softened? Anakin wracked his tired brain for a more reasonable explanation than- than the obvious but obviously impossible. He had to projecting. Right? Then again...couplings weren’t forbidden (even if Anakin couldn’t quite understand how people enjoyed just- having sex without any attachment).
The corners of Anakin’s lips twitched. The Master of the Order. Getting laid. Master Windu. In the Senatorial apartments. Mace Windu. What level had he gotten on? Above aides...diplomats probably. Should he ask? Force, this was too good- he couldn’t not ask.
Windu stared at him cooly and the knight instantly sobered. What was he thinking? Windu was obviously trying to trick him! If he said anything, Windu would turn it against him! Well, he wouldn’t be fooled so easily. Anakin spent the next several levels of descent staring forward, determined not to be the one to break the silence.
He was so focused that he didn’t notice the lift slowing prematurely again until the doors opened; an elderly Rodian hobbled in. The two Jedi moved even further apart to allow the man some space. The lift closed and newcomer glanced at the humans curiously.
“Aren’t you Jedi? What are two Jedi doing here so early?”
“Bakery,” Mace and Anakin responded in unison, heads snapping to stare at the other in surprise.
The Rodian chuckled. “Oh, that Bellasan place, right?”
“Yes,” Windu replied smoothly. “They have a famously unique caf blend.”
“And you can’t get Sweesonberry rolls anywhere else,” Anakin added quickly, not letting the opportunity to firm up his cover go to waste.
“You mammals and your carbohydrates,” The elderly reptilian clucked, bemused.
Knight Skywalker and Master Windu exchanged wary looks. The door pinged open on level 4848.
“Enjoy!” the overly entertained Rodian called out as they stepped out from the closing doors.
Anakin cleared his throat. “After you, Master Windu,” he said politely. CHECKMATE FUCKER.
But Windu just nodded serenely, striding confidently ahead, past the checkpoints and into the attached upper-crust market. After a very short walk, Anakin found himself in line behind Mace Windu at a pastry shop in the basement of his wife’s apartment building.
Anakin blearily thought that sentence through again, then subtly pinched the inside of his arm.
Nope, he was awake.
Every second that passed Anakin had to fight the steadily increasing urge to blurt out something stupid, and possibly incriminating, if not both. Just say something bland! Nothing about why they’re both here so early. Nothing about coming here before. Something casual.
“Smells good,” Anakin said.
Nailed it!
“Indeed,” Mace replied.
I’m a genius! He actually thinks I’m here for the bakery! He’s never going to suspect a thing! He was probably here for some boring pre-dawn meeting, and now I’ve got the perfect excuse to come visit Padme whenever! I can probably start sneaking off more often, I’ve just got to remember to bring back a pasty or something. And he can’t even say shit about un-Jedi like consumption!
“Skywalker-”
Oh no. Please be about the bakery. Pleasebeaboutthe
“Believe me when I tell you that I’d rather not ask-”
Oh NO. THIS ISN’T GOING TO BE ABOUT THE BAKERY. I’M AN IDIOT.
“-But did you fly here in a temple speeder?”
Cold sweat started to trickle down Anakin’s back as they shuffled forward automatically in the surprisingly long queue. Guess that’s why Padme woke me up so early.
“Knight Skywalker? Did you hear me?”
“Yes, Master Windu, sorry- I was, uh, distracted by the specials board. I, um, have my own hoverbike. Built it myself. No temple resources involved.”
“Sounds...distinctive.” Windu’s tone seemed neutral, but the way he pinched the bridge of his nose was obviously irritated. They stepped forward again. Why are so many people at this bakery so early? Guess we’re far enough down that day/night cycles don’t matter so much. Oh kriff, he’s massaging his temples now. Why is he mad about the bike? Is he going to ask where I landed it? Fuck.
Anakin swallowed the lump in his throat. “I- I thought it would be better to take personal property. Since this isn’t exactly order business.”
“That’s very responsible of you. Such...separation of personal from professional is an important skill for a Jedi.”
The trickle of sweat down his spine increased. The Chosen One discretely wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his sleeves and prayed that his outer robe was hiding any growing pit stains.
Are we...actually talking about this? Is he going to admit to having an affair? Is he going to tell me to keep this quiet? I CAN BARELY KEEP MY OWN RELATIONSHIP SECRET! Does he know about Padme? Does he know we’re married? Is this conversation still about the bakery visit? Is HE married?
“However...such a vehicle might not be the most discrete. And discretion is also an important skill.”
Is he giving me permission to use the temple landspeeders to visit padme? Is he telling me to take the bus? WAIT! IS THIS A METAPHOR? Is he telling me to come here less? Is this still about the bakery? Did I actually check that I wasn’t still asleep or did I just dream that I checked?
“Do you understand, Knight Skywalker”
“I- uhh. I mean- well, ummm- OH look, it’s your turn to order!”
Master Windu stepped up to the counter.
“Hello, again! Same as last time?”
OH FORCE GODS HE’S A REGULAR. THIS IS IT. I’M NEVER GOING TO GET TO SEE OBI-WAN OR ASHOKA AGAIN AND PADME’S CAREER IS GOING TO BE RUINED AND
“The same blend please, but please add on one of your Sweesonberry rolls- a friend recommended them.”
...Did Mace Windu just call me his friend?
“Excellent choice! Your friend has good taste!”
Mace Windu stepped to the side and Anakin Skywalker stepped up. “...I’ll have what he had.”
A minute or two later, they were walking back to the lift, matching disposamugs and flimsibags in hand.
To try and delay the inevitable, the pale and now very sweaty young Jedi took a sip of caf. He raised both brows involuntary. “This is...really good. Holy kriff. I don’t usually drink caf for the flavor but...wow.”
“Worth the trip?” Windu asked. Anakin choked a little but successfully managed to swallow. He took another sip to avoid answering.
Windu took a bite of his roll, making a small noise of appreciation, “The pastry is also excellent. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth but this is remarkably smooth...I can’t say I’ve ever had anything quite like it.”
“Floral, right?” Anakin said, grinning into his cup.
“Yes, that’s a good description.” Ha! I told Padme I was paying attention.
They drank companionably as the lift indicator dinged closer.
“Skywalker...you’re parked on 4970, right?”
The knight nodded, too afraid to speak. The force seemed to swirl at the precipice of something.
The Master sighed. “Look- I’ve got an unregistered van- this one time only, stow the speeder, and I’ll give you a ride back. If you’re visiting the bakery in the future- please take something with a closed cab. Last thing we need is the tabloids wondering where you’re going...”
Anakin nodded again, more eagerly again. He was practically being given permission to visit Padme! That was totally worth an excruciatingly awkward flight back to the temple! He just had to chew slowly so he couldn’t blurt out anything marriage related! He was a genius!
The lift opened.
“Jar-Jar!” Anakin said, surprised and pleased. “Wow, are you also here for the bakery? This place really is popular!”
“Ani! Little Ani! Wassa you doin here?” Jar-Jar looked around wildly, then stumbled out, foot catching at the gap. Windu darted forward and effortlessly saved the Gungan before he hit the floor, while Anakin stuck his arm forward to catch the closing door.
“Bakery, Jar Jar!” he said as he stepped inside. “I’d love to talk, but we’ve actually got to get back to the temple!”
Windu struggled to untangle himself from Jar-Jar, who was being particularly unhelpful about it, even for him. Wow he’s even clingier than usual this early in the morning. It’s nice how patient Master Windu is being; I feel like even Obi-Wan can be too hard on Jar-Jar sometimes.
“Actually Skywalker, why don’t you go on ahead and stow the bike- I just remembered I meant to pick something up for Council; I won’t take long.”
“Uh. Alright,” Anakin said, catching the keys. I guess I can’t really be late if I arrive with Master Windu.
“Ossa no!” Jar-Jar exclaimed sadly. “I was justa saying to Macey lassa night thatsa I missed talkin wit little Ani!”
Anakin smiled reassuringly as the lift began to close. “Don’t worry Jar-Jar! We’ll- catch uh-HOLD ON did you say LAST NIGHT?!”
Mace’s eyes closed in resignation as the door shut on the pair, Jar-Jar still tangled around the Jedi.
AND MACE WASN’T EVEN TRYING TO PUT HIM BACK UPRIGHT ANYMORE HOLY KRIFF JUST PUT THAT TOGETHER.
Anakin stared blankly at the metal walls as they rushed past. The lone Jedi Knight took a long sip of caff, then carefully placed the pastry bag and drink on the floor. He systematically wadded up the sleeve of his robe and shoved in his mouth. He then spent the next few minutes squealing with unholy glee while literally bouncing off the walls in a manner only accessible to a force sensitive in an elevator. He was still panting slightly when the lift opened on the primary parking level.
We can double date! Padme and I can host! I can help Mace and Jar-Jar plan their wedding! We can reform the order to allow for romantic love! I can be Jar-Jar’s best man! Padme and I can have another ceremony and Obi-Wan can give me away while Mace officiates and and then we’ll all have sweesonbury cake and Jar-Jar can help teach our kids how to swim!
With those dreamy thoughts running through his mind, it was child’s work to follow the the force to the unremarkable hovervan. He was humming to himself when Master Windu opened the door.
He beamed at the older Jedi. Windu scowled in reply. Anakin smiled wider, unintimidated. He genuinely liked the Gungan, but anyone who could spend hours with Jar-Jar had to have a soft side.
“You know, Jar-Jar is a long time friend of Senator-”
“No.” Windu cut the eager words brusquely.
Anakin shrank back, a little hurt.
(Maybe a lot hurt.)
Mace glanced over at the obviously crestfallen young General and sighed before amending his words.
“Not- Not right now, alright? Maybe if you’re miraculously more discrete about this than you are about your affection for Senator Amidala, then we can talk, understood?”
Anakin nodded with absolute determination, glimmering images of fairytale weddings visible once more. Distant, perhaps- but the chance was worth any amount of tongue biting. Now that there was a real, possible future where he could have it all, now that he knew Windu had a heart somewhere under his robes- he could be patient.
He could be very patient.
Anakin calmed his grin down to a smaller, more Jedi-like smile, taking a sip of the cool but still really good caf. He channeled Obi-Wan’s most neutral diplomatic grace.
“Thank you for the ride, Master Windu. I appreciate it.”
Windu gave him an approving glance. “You’re more than welcome, Knight Skywalker.”
Feeling bold, he continued on with his best non-mocking impression of Obi-Wan.
"Have you had a chance to read the latest report on helmet redesigns? I think they might really improve peripheral vision without compromising concussive resistance.”
Mace hummed thoughtfully. “I have. I’m somewhat concerned about deploying such a radical change mid-campaign. Even better gear requires an adjustment period, and I’d rather minimize needless deaths while the troops readjust to hud flow.”
“Yes, that’s a reasonable concern, I was talking to Captain Rex-”
They spent the remainder of the flight chatting comfortably about troop safety and absentmindedly eating (or possibly stress eating in response to the prolonged absence of interpersonal conflict) the box of pastries Mace had picked up. When they arrived at the temple, they divvied up the remainder between them, quietly agreeing that there weren’t enough to share anyway.
They continued their conversation, Master Windu accompanying him to the orbital loading bay.
Obi-Wan rushed over in alarm at the sight of them approaching. “Anakin, there you are- I was starting to wonder if you’d make it. Terribly sorry Master Windu- I hope he wasn’t too much of a bother-”
“He’s not your padawan anymore, you don’t have to apologize for him. Though I do appreciate the reflex.”
“I suppose the concern isn’t completely baseless.” Anakin said, tone deliberately mildly. Mace chuckled slightly and Obi-Wan took a step back, slightly frightened by the sudden camaraderie. Anakin pretended to take a sip from his now empty disposamug to avoid fist pumping the air or cheering.
“I- Yes well- the important thing is you’re here in time for departure. What- what is that in the bag.”
Moment of Truth. Don’t freak out. Focus. Prove you can be discrete, THEN double dates, THEN Jedi Wedding Ceremony.
“Sweesonbury Roll,” Anakin answered placidly. He pretended to take another sip of caf. “Master Windu was kind enough to give me a ride from the bakery.”
“That’s- I’m sorry, what?” Anakin bit the inside of cheek to keep himself from reacting to Obi-Wan’s palpable bewilderment.
“I had to double back and get more, but we came straight here after,” Mace added helpfully, with zero hint of intentional mischief. “Oh and Skywalker- you can call me Mace if we’re not discussing temple business.”
Anakin SCREAMED (internally, of course). Outwardly, he simply bowed politely. “And you’re welcome to call me Anakin, of course.”
He deliberately avoided looking directly at Obi-Wan, his former Master’s bug-eyed reaction already pushing him to the edge, even just visible as it was out of the corner of his eye.
Windu nodded in return. “Safe travels you two. May the force with you.”
“And with you.” Anakin replied.
“May the force be with you,” Obi-Wan rushed to say, after a short delay.
Master Windu turned and exited the cargo bay doors. Anakin threw out the mug in a nearby bin, pulling out a roll and biting into it before turning to face Obi-Wan. They made eye-contact, each waiting for the other to break first. Usually that would be Anakin, but he had goals now. The Knight chewed. His Master’s eyes narrowed. The older man (who may have aged significantly in the last 5 minutes) finally broke.
“Who are you?”
Anakin just sighed, maintaining the Kenobi impression. “Come on Master, we don’t want to keep the troops waiting.” With that, he walked forward, hiding his smile as Obi-Wan followed closely at his heels.
“Since when does my apprentice visit bakeries with Mace Windu?” Obi-Wan asked, almost desperately.
“You’re making it sound like a bigger deal than it is.”
Master Kenobi sputtered as the pair opened the airlock for the short-range shuttle.
Anakin mustered up an earnest smile. “Master? Would you mind flying- I’m still eating and-”
Obi-Wan made an incoherent noise of horrified outrage before fumbling for his communicator.
“What are you doing?”
“NOTHING IS MAKING SENSE RIGHT NOW. EITHER YOU AND MACE NEED TO GO TO THE HEALING HALLS OR I DO!”
Anakin burst out laughing. “Relax Obi-Wan, I’m messing with you, holy shit. Obviously I’m flying.”
Obi-Wan slumped into the co-pilot seat, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t do that Anakin! My nerves are stretched thin enough by the war as it is-”
“Sorry, Sorry!”
They strapped in and took off, Anakin still chuckling occasionally, Obi-Wan scowling in irritation each time.
They ascended above the towering skyline alongside the first rays of sunlight.
“So you didn’t go to a bakery with Master Windu this morning?”
“Uhh-”
#star wars#my au#macenjar au#star wars au no 20#crack treated seriously#mace windu#macenjar#ok i KNOW this is crack but i actually worked really hard on it and im very proud#so i would appreciate if you gave it a chance before forming judgements#NOTHING GRAPHIC OH MY GOD#star wars au#crack#crackship#anakin and padme wake up in bed together and have a married couple anidala conversation and then its PG after that i SWEAR#G RATED EVEN#Mace Windu and Anakin Skywalker#becoming friends is my comfort trope ok
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if you need more asks.. may i suggest pining + jealous bakugou🥺 when he has no right to be jealous bc you’re not together but he still wants to prove that hes better than whoever has your attention
i- just wow what a perfect ask. truly delicious tysm
alsoooo ik this isn’t exactly what u asked for but it just fit super well with the rest of the ask so how bout sum secret-relationship!bakugou ???
—/—
Bakugou hated liars.
He hated people who would bend the truth and skew stories and give people false hope. He wasn’t a liar, obviously, and you weren’t a liar either. That’s why he even liked you so much in the first place. Or was. Until now.
It’s just- in Bakugou’s humble, yet self-decreed correct opinion, Denki was a idiot. Not just an idiot either, no, Denki Kaminari was a certifiable moron. An absolute blockhead who fried his own brain on the daily, for entertainment, and only had half a brain cell when Kirishima lent him one. This was Bakugou’s personal theory from the day he met the blonde, and so by that logic, obviously it was correct. Especially because Bakugou was never wrong, has never been wrong, not once in his-
That’s not the argument here. What is the argument here- what is the nagging, disgusting little problem digging away at Bakugou’s side, is how you’re currently breaking all his trust in you and lying and telling blatant fibs all over the common room.
He was currently sitting in the kitchen, scowling and muttering expletives into the table as he finished up assignments. You were supposed to be sitting across from Bakugou, where he could see you and talk to you and get started on schoolwork with you. In peace. But then the idiot walked in, loud and shouting, showing off a new ‘trick’ with all the grace of a legless deer. But it worked! Somehow Denki stole you away into the common room, far away from Bakugou, and instead tricked you into spending your time goofing off. Instead of studying like you promised!
You broke a promise, which meant you lied, in Bakugou’s eyes, and that was just plain unacceptable. What made it even worse though, what really put a giant stain all over Bakugou’s perfect afternoon, was that you did it with Denki Kaminari! Of all fucking people.
“Denki!” You cheer, cheeks red and ruddy from smiling all afternoon. “That was so cool! Do it again!”
Bakugou rolled his eyes. Another lie. You were obviously lying, because it, Denki- was not cool. He was not cool whatsoever, not even when he hung around Bakugou, so you were obviously lying. All the idiot was doing was making his hair stand on end- using his quirk to create static hair-dos like a dunce and you were laughing at it? Impressed by it?
No. No- clearly, clearly you were lying, or suffering from brain damage because someone hit you over the head which seemed unlikely because Bakugou’s been watching you all day and he’s fast, so fast and so strong and so capable, way more capable than fucking Denki, and cool too, so cool and he would’ve stopped that before it-
Again. Not the point.
“Look! Y/n,” Denki suddenly yells and Bakugou thinks he sounds like screeching hellspawn. “Guess who I am? Look! Guess!”
Oh.
Oh, okay. So Denki wasn’t just stupid- he must’ve been brain-dead and asking to be real dead because there he was, smiling like an idiot with his hair spiked up like Bakugou’s! Ruining Bakugou’s carefully-crafted and cool style- clouding it and smothering it in utter incompetence and a complete lack of higher brain function.
This just wouldn’t stand- not in Bakugou’s fucking common room.
“Dunce face! Better say your goddamn prayers, bitch!” Bakugou roars, tearing through the kitchen and into common room. “Swear to fucking god I’m gonna murder you!”
“Heyyyy, b-buddy.” Denki’s up and running, hiding around the opposite end of the couch as he holds up a placating hand. “I was just- it’s a joke! A joke, you know?”
“No I fucking don’t know, you absolute idiot!” Bakugou screams, chasing him down with explosions igniting. “It’s not fuckin’ funny! You havin’ the fuckin’ nerve to mock me like you’re not the single stupidest organism on the entire fucking planet! You’re a fuckin’ stain, you imbecile!”
Bakugou’s feeling good- feeling alive and fiery and carnivorous as he rounds on Denki. As he backs Denki into a corner, like he knew he would, since the blonde is quite literally the stupidest person Bakugou can think of. Bakugou raises his hand, nitroglycerin gathering in his palms. Denki screams. Like an absolute bitch.
“Y/n!” Denki wails. “Help me! Call somebody! Get Aizawa- I’m gonna die! I’m gonna die and get blown up and get-“
Bakugou ignites the gel waiting in his palms. Noise and chaos and Denki’s girlish screams fill the room. It smells like burning and soot and fire and then? The smoke clears- the smoke clears and Denki is still fucking talking.
“Y-you, you burnt my hair off! Bakugou!” He screeches, grabbing at fistfuls of his charred hair. “How- I- why, man?”
“Because I’m sick of your fuckin’ idiotic tricks!” Bakugou screams from above him, his spit covering nearly every surface of surrounding area, “And now you look as fuckin’ stupid as you act, idiot. Serves you fuckin’ right!”
Denki wails again. He’s beside himself and skitters away, tail between his foolish legs, towards the nearest bathroom to check the damage. He’s out of the room in seconds. Out of Bakugou’s sight- good.
Bakugou walks away triumphant, leaving behind a crime scene of fried hair and Denki’s soot-backed, cowering, outline on the wall. All is suddenly right in the world of Katsuki, and he takes a victory lap back towards the kitchen.
“You didn’t have to do all that, you know.” You say, leaning against the kitchen door frame. “I would’ve come back eventually.”
“I-I didn’t- he fuckin’ deserved it for makin’ fun of me!” Bakugou yells, turning his face away to hide his blush. “It was for me, you shitty woman! Why the fuck would I have-“
“Mhm.” You nod, before giving a quick sign. “See that’s kind of a shame though, because if it was for me, I would be super proud of the winner. I have a real thing for winners, you know, an-“
“I won!”
“What’s that, blasty?”
“I said- I said I fuckin’ won! You were there! You fuckin’ saw it with your own shitty eyes!” Bakugou is red in face now, hands clenched into fists. “I won- I killed him! Just like I said!”
“You fried his hair.”
“Whatever- who fuckin’ cares! He still lost! I won!”
“Yeah, I guess you did.” You walk closer to him, taking his clenched fists into your hands. “Now stop being so pouty and mad, will you? You won, and it’s over, and you’re still the one who wanted to keep us a secret, remember?”
“Yeah! Because of idiot’s like him- always fuckin’ runnin’ his mouth and sayin’ shit! I don’t wanna deal with it!”
“Alright then, Katsu. I get it. Calm down.” You soothe, running your finger through his hair. He leans into your touch. “Besides, I like you and your hair better, so no need to get so jealou-“
“Who said I was fuckin’ jealous, hah?” Bakugou screams. “I didn’t! I wasn’t! I’ve never been jealous, that’s fucking stupid, something stupid people do, and I’m not stupid! I don’t do it and-“
You just laugh, pressing a kiss into his hair as he screams.
#bnha bakugou#bakugou x y/n#bnha bakugo katsuki#mha bakugou#bakugou x reader#bnha fic#katsuki bakugou#bakugou katsuki#mha fic#bakugou imagine#bakugou scenarios#bakugou fic
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Tangled (Javier Peña x reader)
Pairing: Javier Peña x gn!reader
Word count: over
Warnings: lots of cursing (reader has the mouth of a sailor), a little ~steaminess~, mentions of canon typical violence/getting shot, sexual tension
Summary: You and Peña were no strangers to being at each others throats but this argument went a little different than any other had.
Notes: This was cliche and self indulgent but I loved it and I hope you do too. Let me know your thoughts and opinions!! (also probably not going to turn this into a series but it isn't impossible ig)
________________
You charged towards the file room, feeling every ounce of your body flooded with anger as Murphy trailed after you, pitifully trying the stop the damage that was just about to occur.
"It didn't come from a bad place!"
You sporadically came to a halt, turning on your heels and pointing a finger right in Murphy's face, who had nearly crashed into you at your sudden movement. "Don't you dare try to justify this!"
Murphy's face was crumpled into a hesitant type of acceptance, still following you as you continued walking towards the file room, your anger radiating even in each harsh step you took. Once you reached the door, you slammed it open and nearly crashed it into Murphy as you threw it shut again, your eyes trained on the man you were directing every angry, foul thought at.
"Javier Peña, you fucking asshole!" you yelled, your pointer finger now directed at him as he turned to face you. You felt even angrier when he appeared to look at you tiredly at first, face twisted into an expression that perfectly read 'What now?' It didn't change until he registered your rigid body language and the way your face was a shade darker and your brows that were scrunched up.
Then his face dropped slightly and he looked over your shoulder at Murphy, who looked like a kicked puppy with the way he seemed to cower behind you. "You told her?"
Murphy winced slightly, trying to shrug away his concerns but his voice coming out empathetic. "She kind of interrogated me."
"Yeah. Y'know, because interrogations are part of the job!" you spat, eyes shooting venom at the brown-eyed DEA agent that stood in front of you.
He dropped the file he had held in his hand back in a box, placing his newly unoccupied hands on his hips and sending you a plain look. "Listen, it was nothing-"
"You know what else is part of my job, Peña?" you interrupted, allowing him no room to throw around pitiful remarks and false explanations of why what he did was okay. "Let me tell you since you have clearly forgotten: part of my job is catching the bad guys. Meaning I am fully capable of being on the field and getting my hands dirty!"
You took in a deep breath, your whole body feeling like it was on fire from the rage coursing through your veins. Peña let out a small sigh, rubbing at his face and his mustache as he looked at you through half-lidded eyes. "I know."
You let out an agitated huff, throwing your hands up and looking over at Murphy, as if saying 'get a load of this guy'. You turned back to the DEA agent, clasping your hands together. "Let me get this clear then. You are aware that is part of my job. And that this fucking case has become my whole entire life. Yet you neglect to notify me that tomorrow you are going to arrest one of these motherfuckers and don't put me on the God damn team!"
You probably should of quieted down. Surely people could hear you outside the thin walls of the room you were in but you paid no attention to that. Hell, let them gather outside the door and listen to how much of an asshole Javier fucking Peña was. It wasn't like they hadn't heard you two bicker and yell at each other before - it was practically a daily occurrence. You were always at each others throats and the smallest thing could tick you guys off but today was different. Today your anger was completely justified and directed at the exact right person.
"Why don't we all calm down and talk this over calmly?" Steve gently tried to suggest, always the voice of reason during times like these. Sometimes you would entertain his ideas but today was not one of those days.
"Fuck off, Murphy!" you snapped.
Peña redirected his attention to the blond-haired agent. "Give me a minute."
"Oh, you are going to try to magically explain this one away?" you ridiculed as Murphy left the room quietly, shutting the door gently and leaving you two alone.
Javier looked back at you, looking calm as ever and unaffected in every way. It only made your blood bubble even more and as he spoke, you felt your whole body clench up. "You need to calm down."
You hissed at that comment, literally hissed. "Oh, fuck off! You have no right to tell me to calm down. If somebody did this to you, you'd be tearing into their ass and acting like a bitch."
Javier couldn't argue that point, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that not only was it true, but there was no way he could convince you it wasn't. It also was probably the worst thing to say in this given situation, always was something that tipped you off.
"I mean, the fucking audacity you have is unbelievable. Truly impressive." you started to ramble, still sending a deadly glare his way. "You think you are hot shit because you are Javier Peña and you are a DEA agent and the fucking man whore of Columbia. But I am just as good as you, Peña. Hell, I am probably fucking better!"
"You are right."
You froze as you heard his agreement, biting your lip as you tried to detect whether or not that was meant to be some sarcastic play to rile you up. But it appeared genuine which only confused you further. "Then why am I being excluded from extremely important events?"
"It's dangerous." Peña answered plainly, adding no additional details as if that was enough.
You scoffed, tilting your head at him. "No shit, Peña. No offense but no one becomes a DEA agent because it is a safe, secure job. So that doesn't explain why I wasn't included in this."
Peña shook his head, leaning against the rack of files as he looked back at you. You wanted to force him to look away, his stare making you uncomfortable but there was no way you were backing down. "It does. This one is particularly dangerous and I don't want you involved."
Your eyes widened as you took in this new information. "Oh, so you think I can't handle myself?"
"I never said that-"
"I can handle myself, Peña. I am a fucking adult and not to sound cocky, but a hell of a fucking agent. I am capable and I am strong!"
"I know."
"And I can handle this mission."
"I know."
"Then why the fuck did I have to find out from Murphy that I am not joining you guys tomorrow?" you yelled, feeling your body become slightly fatigued from all the anger but you still stood straight and tall.
"Because you care too much and you'll get yourself killed if that means nailing these guys." Peña said plainly. No hint of emotion or manipulation. Just an honest answer to an honest question.
You found yourself for the first time not feeling angry but slight bamboozled. It felt like the rug had been pulled under your feet. You were standing across fucking Javier Peña, who you were pretty sure had never seen take a single day off. "That is the most hypocritical thing I've ever heard."
Peña nodded. "Okay."
You rolled your eyes, feeling once again angry by the dismissal. "Well fuck off because I spoke to everybody and I am on the team tomorrow."
You began to turn towards the exit when the man firmly stated, "No."
You turned back around, an eyebrow raised. "Excuse the fuck outta me?"
"I'm in charge tomorrow and you aren't on." Peña said, a sliver of annoyance eeking out of his words as he looked back at you with a stern glare.
"Fuck off. If I want to go, I'll go." you fired back, arms crossing over your chest defiantly.
Peña stepped closer to you until he was a couple feet away, his voice lowering to a menacingly deep level. "I don't want you on tomorrow."
Your eyes were practically shooting bullets in his direction. "I know you don't fucking like me Peña, but stop acting like a school boy and get your head out of your ass."
"Maybe you are the one with your head up your ass, agent." Peña cooly said.
You tried to ignore the way he was looking at you (and the way you could smell his aftershave from here) and put your hands on your hips. "Fuck you, Peña. You don't want me on tomorrow because I am a better agent than you, you selfish prick."
"That isn't it." Peña said with a chuckle, shaking his head as if you were saying the stupidest thing he had ever heard.
"It fucking is, isn't it? You don't want me strolling into your operation and doing the job better than you. Can't have your huge fucking ego tarnished by me!"
"That is not the reason why!" Peña shouted back, feeling himself lose his temper slightly.
This was the Peña you were used to, the one you egged on and led into a battle of cruel words and hateful glares. "Oh, fuck off. That is absolutely why!"
"Maybe, just fucking maybe-" Peña cut himself off, his chest now heaving as he copied your pose, hands on his hips and body stood straight.
You couldn't help the small grin that grew on your face. "What is it, Peña? Say it. Don't punk out now when things were just getting interesting."
"You are a child." Peña spat back.
You chuckled harshly. "Look in the mirror before you start throwing insults around, Peña. Now what were you going to say?"
Peña stared back at you, your eyes locked together in a visceral manner. "I don't want you to fucking die."
You couldn't help the throaty laugh that erupted from your very core, your head thrown back as you looked away from him for the first time to try to gather your composure. "Oh, fucking please! Spare me. You have never given a shit for me!"
Peña shook his head, looking slightly deflated as he looked away from you. "Fuck off."
"Oh, don't act like that. I am just supposed to stand here and believe that this whole time you've secretly cared about my safety and you don't have me on the operation tomorrow in order to keep me safe?"
Peña looked back up at you and you nearly wavered from the look in his eyes. You couldn't handle it if it were the truth, which the look he gave you said it was, so you continued on doing what you did best. "I don't need anybody to protect me. Certainly not you, Javier Peña."
"I'm not trying to protect you."
You lifted up a hand emphatically. "So you didn't not put me on this because you don't want me to die?"
"Fucking hell, you are so frustrating." Peña yelled back, face red and eyes throwing daggers as he stepped even closer to you.
You didn't dare take a single step back. You would show no fear or weakness. "And you are such a walk in the park? I forgot about how the man-whore of Columbia was always just a pleasant-"
You were cut off by Peña lunging forward and for a split second you thought 'Oh, shit. I'm gonna have to kick Peña's ass.' That was until you felt a pair of rough, chapped lips press into yours mercilessly and a pair of calloused hands grab at the side of your face.
You stood still for a solid few seconds, your brain seeming to short-circuit until it slowly registered the undeniable truth of the situation: Javier Peña was fucking kissing you.
Well then push him off of you!
Except you didn't. For all intents and purposes, you should have. You should of shoved him off of you, yelled at him for trying to pull his 'sex god' card on you, and maybe even delivered a striking slap to his face, just for dramatic effect. But you didn't. You stood there completely still until eventually your hands reached for the collar of his jacket, roughly pulling him in until he was pressed so tightly to you that you didn't think there was an centimeter of distance between the two of you.
You felt him turn you, pushing you back until your back hit the same file cabinet he had been leaning against earlier. Your lips finally caught up with the rest of you, lips fighting dominantly against each other in a frantic battle. It probably wasn't the prettiest kiss but holy shit, you couldn't think of a time you had been kissed like this. The kiss was so striking but also so passionate, both of you fighting each other in the most deliriously addictive way. You couldn't ignore the smallest voice in the back of your brain asking you why you hadn't done this way earlier.
Eventually your tongues danced against each other, begging for even the smallest taste of each other like you were both addicts craving even the slightest taste from the bottle. His hands drifted away from your face to your hips, clutching them roughly and tightly but not hurting you in any way. Just gripping hard enough for you to feel them and feel the emotion.
Eventually, after what felt simultaneously likes hours but also mere seconds, Peña pulled away and holy fuck, how did he look so good? His lips were puffed and red, slightly wet from the sloppiness of the kiss. His eyes were hooded and looking at you in a way he had before but you had never been able to place, always mistaking the lustiness for hatred (and hold up, had it just been lust this whole time?). His jacket was still clutched tightly in your hands and you should of let go. Anyone could walk in and see him standing up against you on a shelf with your faces red and chests heaving but you couldn't even bother to care, your brain still reeling and your body betraying you, yearning for more.
"I'm going tomorrow." you said, still slightly out of breath.
Peña sighed, his warm breath fanning over you and smelling slightly of mint gum and stale cigarettes. "I know you are."
You nodded, glad to see his slow acceptance creep in. You slowly released the jacket, looking at how it had crinkled from how tightly you had pulled him to you. He backed up slowly, one small step at a time as his eyes still traced each others faces.
Part of you wanted to reach out and kiss him again, fight with him again in the most delicious way but the door opened and you both turned to see the tall, blond-haired agent you had both become closer with than you initially thought possible.
"Have you guys killed each other?" he asked, trying to joke but also hesitant to with how foul your mood had been.
You desperately pulled away from the shelf and shook your head, though not to answer him but in some desperate attempt to try to shake away the evidence of what just happened (despite the fact that it was imprinted on your mind). "No. I'm going tomorrow."
Murphy shared a weary look with Peña who just gave a short nod and began to walk towards the exit. "She comes. If she gets shot, its not my problem."
You and Murphy both watched him slip past, moving out of the room and down the hall, away from you. Murphy twisted his head to look back at you, shaking his head. "Based off his behavior, I'd say that went well." he sarcastically mumbled.
You tried to chuckle but it sounded fake and hollow, your mind too preoccupied. "Yeah. Super well."
Murphy gave a roll of the eyes, used to the two of you being frustrated with the other as he slipped away from the doorway. You followed him as you made your way out of the room, the room where you still comprehend what exactly had happened in it. "You must of really went after each other this time."
You nearly choked at Murphy's quip, your mind taking a moment to realize he was speaking rhetorically about your arguing. He had no way to know the violent dance your lips had done or the way you both had perfectly expressed arousal and hatred with your tongues alone.
You just hummed, pushing past Murphy to head to your desk so you could work and just forget what had happened. Forget it because it meant nothing.
#javier peña#javier pena#narcos#narcos netflix#javier peña x reader#javier pena x reader#javier peña x gn!reader#javier pena x gn!reader#javier peña x f!reader#javier pena x f!reader#javier peña imagine#javier pena imagine#javier peña one shot#javier pena one shot#javier peña blurb#javier pena blurb#narcos imagine#javier peña fanfiction
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PROMPT LIST
Listed below are angst, fluff, smut, and some random/general prompts so please specify which genre(s) you would like me to write. Some of these prompts were found on Pinterest, but the majority of them are mine, as well as @babyboy-cody ‘s. Also, please, please, please ask me before using this prompt list, seeing as not all belong to me.
Angst:
“I never loved you!”
“Just leave.”
“You did this to yourself.”
“Get out of my fucking life!”
“There was no other way.”
“When were you going to tell me.”
“Get away from me.”
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”
“I’m fine - stop asking.”
“I’m done trying to help you.”
“Sorry doesn’t fix everything.”
“You’re just a piece of shit who cares about no one!”
“When are you gonna learn to stop lying?”
“Are you happy now? This makes you really fucking happy, doesn’t it?”
“You said you’d always be there for me...how come you weren’t there when I fucking needed you?”
“Is this how little you think of me?”
“Just pack your shit and go. It’s the least you can do after all the pain you’ve caused me.”
“I’m never gonna love you, get that through your head.”
“Why do you hate me so much?”
“I don’t need you and I most certainly do not need this.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“Thanks for nothing.”
“I can’t forgive you.”
“Why can’t you love me back?”
“What did I ever do to you?”/“What have I ever done to you?”
“Can’t you see that I’m trying?”
“Do not judge my story by the chapter you walked in on.”
“I’m tired of this.”
“You’re breaking me.”
“No, I understand. Go. Leave. They always leave, it’s fine.”/”Just leave like the rest of them do.”
“You never loved me, have you?”
“What makes you think that I truly care about you or any of this?”
“Can you please be happy for me for five minutes?”
“Walk out that fucking door and we’re over.”
“I’m giving you to the count of ten. If you don’t come after me, we’re through.” (Beck and Jade vibes lmao)
“You can’t win if someone has nothing to lose.”
“Don’t come running back to me when you find your little heart broken again. Got it?”
“I’m not your goddamn babysitter.”
“All I want to do is forget. Forget that I ever met you, forget that I ever fell in love with you, forget how easy it is to get addicted to you. I just want to forget you as a whole.”
“You will never be anything.”
“You have to choose.”
“I miss your smile, your laugh, your eyes. I just...I miss you.”
“Don’t you remember?”
“I never want to see you again.”
“I can never look at you the same after that.”
“You were my everything.”
“You keep doing this and I-I carry on like we’re fine!”
“We’re not okay, stop telling yourself that we are!”
“You did this to me.”
“I’ve never hated a person any more than I do you.”
Fluff:
“I think I’m falling in love with you.”
“Shhh, it was just a bad dream. It’s okay, baby.”
“I’m here for you.”
“Your lips are so soft, I could kiss ‘em all day.”
“‘Us’...I like the sound of that.”
“You’re my sunshine, my world...I want to be with you for an eternity.”
“Am I your wallpaper?” “You weren’t supposed to see that!”
“Stay with me, please.”
“Maybe we should be more than friends.”
“I know you want me just as much as I want you.”
“My heart beats for nothing except you.”
“I couldn’t have asked for anything greater than you.”
“I don’t care if I don’t sleep tonight as long as I’m with you.”
“It just breaks my heart to see how mean people are towards you.”
“You want to try that again, asshole? That’s my boyfriend/girlfriend you’re messing with.”
“I would do anything it takes to make you feel happy and safe, I don’t care the cost.”
“I don’t care what anyone says about me, you...us.”
“I love you with all of my heart.”
“I’m never gonna let you go, don’t worry.”
“Go to sleep, you haven’t got any rest in the past few days.”
“Cuddle me?”
“Could you hold my hand?”
“You’re not leaving without giving me a hug first.”
“You’re so warm - share it with me!”
“Mom/Dad, please don’t tell him/her what I said about him/her.”
“Isn’t that my sweater?” “No, it’s our sweater.”
“I’m having your child.”
“I hate you.” “Oh, you love me.”
“Aw, did I make you blush, darling?”
“My friends get annoyed as to how much I talk about you sometimes.”
“It’s fine if you’re busy...but, would you want to get lunch with me? Even brunch is fine...of course, if you aren’t busy.”
“Have you gone soft on me?”
“Stop smiling at me. I can’t keep stuttering and messing up my sentences.”
“It’s like our hands were made to fit each other’s.”
“Lemme kiss your booboo.”
“‘S too early, can you stay in bed a little longer?!”
“Are you done yet? I’m bored out of my mind?” “C’mere, you can sit on my lap ‘til I’m done working.”
“After everything that we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”
“We were meant for each other.”
“I’ve been excited to see you all day.”
“Can I at least shut the door before you decide to pounce on me the moment I come home?”
“Kiss me again, like you mean it.”
“Are you my secret admirer, the one that’s been sending me all the flowers and notes?”
“Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we’d end up together.”
“You make me happy.”
“You’re more than that.”
“I’ve lost everything, I’d be stupid enough to lose you.”
“I fell in love with you, not them.”
“What I am craving a nice, sloppy kiss. You think you can get me that?”
“You’re the only one I wanna wake up next to.”
Random:
(Prompts that are bolded belong to @babyboy-cody - their prompt list is amazing 🥲✋)
“When the world comes crashing down, who’s ready to party?”
“I hope you die out there.”
“I love sarcasm. It’s like punching people in the face, but with words.”
“Just remember, if we get in trouble, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.”
“Life is not a fairytale. If you lose your shoe at midnight, you’re drunk.”
“I’m shy at first, but I do the stupidest things when I get comfortable with someone.”
“Some people just need a high-five. In the face. With a chair.”
“Chocolate comes from cocoa which is a tree. A tree is a plant. Therefore, chocolate is a salad.”
“That’s a horrible idea…let’s do it.”
“If you ran like your mouth, you’d be in good shape.”
“If you ran like your mouth, you’d be in good shape.”
“Everything is funny as long as it’s happening to someone else.”
“You know how you can smack something to get it to work? I wish I can do that to people.”
“I drink to forget, but I always remember.”
“You can roll it into a tightwad and shove your dick into it.”
“I am the type of person that will sit in the bathroom and cry, but then walk out like nothing ever happened.”
“Technically, I'm single. But my heart is taken by someone I can't have.”
“I look like I shouldn’t even be standing next to you.”
“Better to have an enemy that slaps you in the face than a friend who stabs you in the back.”
“I thought you were dead.”
“Wakey, wakey, sunshine.”
“Fucking dweeb.”
“Hit me with your best shot.”
“You’re pissing me off again.”
“I’ve been waiting to kick your ass all week.”
“If you do that again, I’m going to throw you out the fucking window.”
“Don’t touch that!”
“How did you do so much damage?” “Well after I dropped it the first time-” “You dropped it more than once?” “I panicked!”
“You’re an idiot, I’m an idiot. We’re the CEOs of Club Idiot.”
“The world is going to end in seconds.” “Then I’d like to spend the last moment on Earth kissing you.”
Smut:
“Bite me.”
“Keep running that pretty little mouth of yours, it won’t get you anywhere.”
“Prove it.”
“Bite your lip one more time and I won’t hesitate to bend you over that [surface] and fuck you silly.”
“Do it then.”
“Oh, just fuck me would you?”
“Yell at me again and I’ll give you a justifiable reason to scream.”
“Fuck me like it’s your last day on Earth.”
“You want to keep going or you want me to start railing you?”
“Keep up that little attitude of yours and let’s see where it gets you.”
“Make me.”
“Let the neighbors know my name, baby.”
“Am I fucking you too good?”
“Stupid little cunt, you can’t even form proper words.”
“Tell me what you want.”
“Show me how you play with yourself.”
“Wait on the bed for me like the good little boy/girl you are.”
“Does he/she make you feel as good as I do?”
“You taste so sweet, baby.”
“Whose [body part] is this?”
“Let me finish this and I promise to go down on you ‘til you cry.”
“If you make me stop what I’m doing, I’ll have your legs wobbling for the next week.”
“You make a sound and it’s game over, got it, pup?”
“The only way you’re getting off is with my [body part], don’t even think about anything else.”
“Were you just masturbating?” “I- uh- no?”
“Lemme help you with that, baby.”
“I haven’t touched you yet and you’re soaked.”
“All of this for me?”
“You like my hand around your neck, don’t you.”
“Such a nasty little slut.”
“Always down for anything, huh baby?”
“One more time - what’s the safeword?” “[Safeword].”
“Shut your mouth, would you?”
“Stop whining and take it.”
“Keep those pretty eyes open for me.”
“I’m gonna mess you up, my love.”
“I’m sure we can put those pretty lips to better use.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“You belong to me.”
“This is all mine.”
“You’re so cute - begging like that would get you out of this.”
“Hold. Still.”
“Beg for me, baby.”
“Aw, repping [person] now, are you?”
“Let me take care of you.”
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Here are some mini fics I have but lack the stability to create into full fics ( @clockedstar idea tasteuflly thrown in, as well) Warning for language (I have a potty mouth)
The Perfect Match
He’d promised and like everything good in his life he’d messed that up too.
He’d promised and alone she had gone to her mother’s gala in Washington D.C. With him nowhere by her side, she spends hours rejecting the advances of too many men to count. Some, she knows, are sent by her mother. Aaron Hotchner is a good man but her mother suspects she can do better-- more political, is what she means. A man who is there more and a man whose face isn’t constantly decorated with bruises and cuts from his dangerous job.
A man likely to survive long enough to retire.
And, what she loves most about him, is that he’s hours late and the gala is really over but he still comes.
He’s in a dirty suit and a white t-shirt that will never come clean in the wash. None of that matters. The men around him are in their best tuxedos and his hair hasn’t been combed in days. Still, the moment he sees her he cracks the biggest smile and buries his face in her bare shoulder.
“You look stunning,” he compliments, shaking his head. Red is her color. So is green and blue and he'll remind her this tell the day he dies, because every color is her color.
The crimson of her dress matches the blood caked to his skin. The blood staining his t-shirt. He’ll tell her later that it’s nothing too serious and when her fingers tear down his shield, and unbutton his shirt, she’ll find a cut right over his heart.
For now, she runs her hand up the back of his neck, further messing up his hair. She likes this look. Not the bruises and the exhaustion she can read across his shoulders but the way he makes her feel home. The way his skin melts into hers and they’re just one person tangled in this impossible mess.
She kisses his jaw, “you look like shit.” Just over his shoulder is a ballroom of younger men. Men who have more money and more time and who don’t smell like they haven’t showered in days. Men who have skin unmarked by serial killers and minds that don’t trick them at night. In her arms, though, is the only man she wants. The only man she has eyes for.
He chuckles, withdrawing himself from her hold enough to be able to look into her eyes.
She knows his body better than he does. The glint in his eyes that says he loves her and he’s sorry and fuck, he wants to go home and curl into bed and forget this week he’s had. So she wraps her arm around his hips and pulls him close, whispering temptation into his ear about what she might do to him later. Knowing damn well that he’ll fall asleep the moment his head hits the pillow but it makes him blush and that’s all she wanted anyways.
Arms circling one another, they walk out side-by-side.
He looks like he’s been run over by car. Covered in bruises and dried blood and a suit that’s ruined. While her hair bounces in it’s perfect curls and each step she takes is measured by her ballgown’s soft whoosh and her heels tapping along the marble floor.
The perfect match.
Habits
Stoic, cold, and removed.
Everyday she hears the office throw these words at his back. She won’t waste her breath denying that he’s anything but. Because everyday he comes home and she undoes those web of lies. And how could they know any better? His coping mechanism is to shut down and it’s always worked… well, mostly.
If only they could see him in the depths of one of his many rants. Walking about their kitchen in nothing but his boxers, that character defining scowl slapping inplace as he tells her about social injustice. As he rants and raves until his heart is content. It’s into her arms that he tucks himself when he’s cooled off and resigned to the fact that no matter what they do, it will never be enough.
Aaron Hotchner wants to save the world but what can you do for a world unwilling to save itself?
He likes to spend Saturdays tucked away. In those early mornings he’s nearly successfully hiding himself from the whole world, only coming out for snacks and the need to be hugged every once in a while. Because he’s so tactile in his love.
She doesn’t know what it’s like to cook without him standing over her. Hovering and talking and touching her shoulders or her hips because she can spend a whole day doing nothing but holding him and the moment she pulls away he’ll come with her, seeking more.
And people will ask her about their love.
Mistaking him as cruel and cold-- even their friends. It’s so hard to conceive him as anything but Agent Hotchner.
But she loves him as Agent Hotchner and as Hotch and as Aaron.
It breaks her heart to know that others don’t get to see him ranting like a nut in the middle of the night. His latest infatuation clutched in his hand. He’s loving and stark raving mad. But she wouldn’t trade those midnight rants for anything in the world.
They won’t know that he sleeps on his stomach, half-rolled overtop her. That he likes to be held and he’s much to big for that but she holds him anyways. There is so much that they just don’t know.
He likes it when she scratches his back and if she rocks her body, it’ll put him to sleep right where he stands. That he has an entire library filled with books he’s collected and read over and over since he was in middle school. He gives her book recommendations-- just a simple book on her nightstand and a stick-note giving his own description of the book.
He’s thoughtful and he’s kind and he’s so fucking aggravating.
He loves winter and she loves summer.
He hates laying in a blanket but is always cold.
He likes to go walking in the snow and always forgets a hat.
He’s prone to ear infections but refuses to take medicine for them.
He’s the most aggravating man she’s ever met. It’s unnecessary to die on the hills he’s firmly plants himself on and yet she finds herself crawling back for more. She loves nothing as much as she loves when he presses his face to her neck and wraps his body around her. She loves that he’s able to cry in the safety of her arms and that he laughs without abandon about the stupidest things.
But, God, she loves him.
Mirror
With all the gentleness she can manage, she brushes a tear away from his eyes. “Look at me,” she commands, softly. For years, and days, and cases, and excruciating long hours--- God, she just wants him to look at her. To be seen in that way he analyzes the whole world. For his soft eyes to see her as she is and trust her. To let her be this person. The person who puts him back together and takes him apart and reads him like her favoirte book.
Because he’s her favorite person.
“I can’t,” his voice breaks and he pushes his head back against her skin.
He’s horrible. Mangled. The world has picked him up and damaged him so many times that he.... He fucks her in the dark with a shirt on. He only looks in the mirror if it’s fogged from the shower. He’s learned to shave by touch and not sight. Because he can’t-- he can’t look at himself. He can’t stand the sight of his own face so how is he supposed to expect her to?
Her lips find his and no matter how tightly he squeezes his eyes shut, the tears still fall. Because she could do better. Emily Prentiss has seduced men around the world. She could have a dictator or a millionaire and here she sits, instead. With him.
“I love you,” she whispers against his lips. “I love you.” And it doesn’t matter how many times she has to say it. She’ll remind him until spring and until his hair has grown white and with her dying breath-- “I love you.”
And one day, he’ll realize she means it.
The Chains
There’s a single terrified scream that rings out through the room. For a moment, she mistakes it as her own plagued dreams. Sitting up she combs her fingers through her hair. Pushing flyaway strands of hair back out of her face. It takes her too long to realize it has nothing to do with her own dreams.
“Aaron!”
He’s crying out, thrashing in his panic to get untangled from the sheets.
“Shh,” she has to dodge his quick, uncoordinated blows. If he hits her, she doesn’t feel it because what she’s worried about is the terrified screams leaving his mouth as he keeps trying to push away whatever he’s imagining. “Aaron,” she calls out. “Aaron wake up!”
He falls to the floor, moving himself until he hits the wall behind him.
She tries to follow.
“No!” His shaking hands are raised between them. “No, please.” His chest is heaving, his face flushed. “Don’t touch me,” he pleads. “I don’t want to hurt you too.”
He’d done it. Snapped. Broken like his father had always said. Good for nothing--- and he’d found them all. Hunched over and begging and pleading and please stop, Hotch. Don’t! He’d held Jack’s broken body in his arms. Wilted and limp. He’d taken the life of his own son and then he’d turned and done it again and again---
“Please,” he sobs, blood still warm and wet on his hands. He forces himself to his feet, shaking so bad he falls back to his knees. “I’ll-- I’ll sleep on the couch.” He can still hear Morgan’s shout, the other man trying to pull him off of Dave. He can feel his split knuckles and the blood on his wrist, the look of horror on JJ’s face.
He’d killed them.
“Aaron,” Emily breathes, moving swiftly to palace herself between the door and him. “Stop--” she doesn’t touch him. She’s afraid of the noise that might tear out of his mouth if she does. “Stop,” she says, this time voice unwavering and calm.
He’s not here. Not well or centered. “Get out,” he whispers, rubbing his hands down his pants. “Get out!” He throws his body forward and she’d be more afraid if she actually thought he might hit her. But the anger he means to throw at her is just fear. “Get out! Get out, please!”
So, she leaves. She caves.
As she shuts their bedroom door, she sits herself down on the floor. “I’ll be right here,” she says. “I’ll be here if you need me Aaron.”
She can hear him pacing in the room. He sobs brokenly.
“Just breathe, baby.” She places her hand against the door, wishing she could be in there. He’d calm down if she could hold him. To reign him back down. “You’re okay,” she reminds him. “It was just a dream. No matter how real it seemed. You’re okay. I’m okay.” It’s a stream of conscious thoughts that she just lets fall out of her mouth. “It was just a dream, Aaron.”
But he can’t wash their blood off his hands.
“-- there's no way you could forget but do you remember when we tried to do it in the hammock?” She hasn’t stopped talking in… whenever it was that they parted ways. Her soft voice has been trickling through the room the whole time. The only real thing he can identify. “To be fair,” she says, “I didn’t think we’d end up in the hospital because of that.”
His first ever sex injury. She’d been a mix of embarrassed, so very sorry, and proud. They were trying something new! No reason to be ashamed of that!
“I just remember looking at you in that hospital bed and thinking about how totally in love I was.” She leans her head back against the door. “Well, I was also thinking about how if we just lowered it a little more, you could hold the hammock steady and I could be on top--” she shakes her head. “Not the point.”
He wipes his nose with the back of his hand, lowering himself to the floor. He slowly inches closer to the door until his head is leaning against the frame, too. Until he’s as close as he can be… without putting her in danger. In danger of being close to him.
“I just…” she sighs. “I don’t know if you’ve fallen asleep yet but, if you’re awake, I need you to know that I love you, Aaron.”
He shuts his eyes against the tears threatening to fall.
“I love you so much and when you’re okay, when you’re ready, I’m gonna hold you for so long.” She sniffles, wiping away the tear that falls down her cheek. “I mean it,” she says. “You’re going to be so tired of me you’ll beg me to let you go but I won’t.” She smiles, “and we’ll just have to stay like that forever.”
It makes him smile.
“I love you,” she repeats once again. “I mean that.”
She runs out of things to talk about around four in the morning. He’s stopped moving around the room and her curiosity gets the best of her. Knees giving heavy protests, she climbs to her feet. She hesitates before she opens the door. If he’s sleeping she doesn’t want to wake him but she also doesn’t want to come in if he’s not ready.
“Aaron?” She cracks the door open and frowns when she sees the bed’s empty. “Where--” she almost kicks him.
He stirs when she stops, having made a soft noise in her surprise. Blinking slowly he looks up at her, wincing at the light coming from the hall. Where she expects some trepidation or maybe fear she finds nothing but soft vulnerability.
“Did you mean it?” he asks, eyes slivers.
It takes her a moment to understand what he’s asking. Without a word passed between them, she pulls the comforter off of their bed. Settling down on the floor beside him she pulls the blanket around both of them. “You mean cuddling you until we both die?”
He smirks and presses his face into her neck.
She wraps her arms around his shoulders. “There’s nothing I would rather spend my life doing.”
#soft aaron hotchner#emily prentiss#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#hotchniss
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Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 16
TITLE: Love and War
Warnings: profanity, mental illness
Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty
“You know, I’m really fucking sick of your cheating,” Tyler snarls.
“I am NOT cheating! “ Esme cries, and refuses to make eye contact with the man sitting beside her; aware of the temper that’s slowly boiling. He’s agitated; eyes narrowed, shoulders tense, jaw tightly clenched. She’s seen and heard it all before; the bitterness and the irritation and the rash jump to conclusions. “You’re imagining things!”
“Bullshit I’m imagining it. I have eyes you know. I CAN see. And what I’m seeing? You’re cheating.”
“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but there’s no cheating happening. You’re just pissed.”
“Damn right I’m pissed. I know what you’re up to. I can’t fucking believe you think you can get away with it. I know YOU. I know when something’s up. And something is up.”
She rolls her eyes. “The only thing that is ‘up’ is your temper. Take it down a notch, Australian. Or I’ll take YOU down a notch.”
“I’d love to see you try,” he scoffs. “What other tricks do you have up your sleeve? What other shady shit are you going to pull?”
“There you go with your paranoia again. There’s nothing going on. No shady shit. Can’t you just accept that you’re losing?”
“I’m losing my mind is what I’m losing.”
A derisive snort. “Not much left to lose.”
He scowls. “I have had just about enough of your lip.”
“What are you going to do? Stab me? Shoot me? Throw a grenade at me?”
“I’m going to beat your ass is what I’m going to do. Go all fucking HAM on you.”
“You’re going to start now? Have you been napping for the last hour?”
“Is that a shot at my age? I’m pretty sure that was a shot at my age.”
“It was a shot at your poor skills and your lapses of judgement. You’re slowing down. No wonder you’re suffering so badly.”
“I’m going to make you suffer in a second.”
“Bring it. There’s nothing you got that I can’t handle.”
It’s been sixty minutes of this. The snarling and the scowling and bickering back and forth; nasty exchanges fuelled by his hurt feelings and damaged ego and her refusal to back down or admit any wrongdoing. It’s a battle of both wills and personalities; two strong and resilient yet extremely stubborn people, neither giving the other an ounce of sympathy or allowing any breathing room. And it comes to a head; a growled ‘fuck!’ on his behalf followed by the xBox controller being tossed onto the cluttered coffee table in pure frustration. Letting loose a groan of both defeat and annoyance, he leans back against the couch and rakes both hands through his hair and then runs his palms over his face.
“Cry some more!” Esme shouts, and gleefully bounces up and down on the cushion beside him. “Unleash your inner bitch baby! Because you just got knocked the fuck out. AGAIN.”
“I really, really, REALLY do not like you right now.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t handle defeat." She reaches for the open bag of red licorice that sits on the arm of the sofa; yanking a strand out and pointing it at him before taking an aggressive bite from it. “That you’re way too competitive even with the stupidest of shit.”
“This!” He wildly gestures towards the flat screen television across the room. “Is NOT stupid shit!”
“It’s a goddamn video game, Tyler. Stop taking this so seriously.”
“It isn’t just a video game,” he argues. “It’s my fucking pride! My manhood!”
“I highly doubt your manhood is in any danger because your wife beats you at Call of Duty. You need to simmer down, son. I can’t help it that I’m THAT good.”
“Is this what you do all day back home? When I’m not around? You hone your video game skills?”
“No. I just happen to have the magic touch. I can’t help it that I’m a natural. I even beat TJ AND Millie and you know how good those two are.”
He places his hands behind his head and laces his fingers together. Sighing heavily and then turning his gaze towards the ceiling. “They’re amateurs compared to me.”
“Well you’re the one who has been looking like the amateur, so…”
He shoots an annoyed glare in his direction.
“Look, in real life you may be the king when it comes to this shit; shooting people and beating the shit out of them. But in video game land? I’m the fucking master. And you WILL accept defeat and bow down to me.”
“Like fuck I will.”
“You know the rules. You’re the one who wanted to play with these kinds of stakes. Now get to it. Pay your dues to the true Queen.”
Sighing heavily, he reluctantly gets to his feet, fingers pausing on his belt buckle.
“Do it,” Esme orders. “All is fair in love and war.”
“You know, this isn’t over yet. Even without these on, I won’t be totally naked. Which means you haven’t won a damn thing.”
“I’ve won five out of seven games. You have way less clothes on than me. Now suck it up and take them off.”
“Fine,” he huffs, and angrily yanks the leather from its clasp and rips the belt from the loops on his jeans; glaring at her as he tosses the item aside. “Happy?”
“Pants too.”
“Pants and belts are two separate things. I only need to take one off.”
“Pants and belts go together. They count as ONE item.”
He frowns. “Says who?”
“Says the rules.”
“Whose rules?”
“Listen, I don’t make them, I just enforce them. A belt isn’t a piece of clothing. It’s an accessory. So it is counted WITH the pants. Stop being such a baby and play by the rules!”
“Your imaginary rules you mean. I didn’t make you take your underwear off when you lost YOUR pants. Aren’t those an accessory? Shouldn't they have come off too?”
“Underwear can be worn alone.”
“You can’t go out with just underwear on, Me. Give me a break.”
“You can walk around the house in just underwear. But you don’t walk around in just a belt now, do you? Stop whining, suck it up, and drop your drawers.”
“You’re a pain in my ass,” he grumbles, and finally relents; popping open the button and reaching for the zipper.
“Yeah baby!” she hollers, and scrambles up onto her knees; whistling noisily and once more excitedly bouncing up and down. “That’s what I’m talking about! Take ‘em off! Let me see that sexy ass of yours! This is way better than any peeler bar!!”
“If you’re going to objectify me, shouldn’t you be tucking money into my underwear?”
“You don’t wear any. Where am I supposed to tuck it? In your ass crack? Does it work like a debit machine? I just slide my card in? Is that how it works? I have to slip something up your butt?”
“You come anywhere near my ass with the intention of slipping something into it…”
“Like you’ve never enjoyed a little ass play. Don’t act so innocent. You damn well know you don’t mind a finger up there every now and then. Don’t act like you’ve never allowed it to happen.”
“I was drunk.”
“Each time? Something like a dozen? You were drunk EACH time? Listen, there’s nothing wrong with admitting it. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with having that kind of kink. It’s only when I’m going down on you and you’ve been extra….well...EXTRA.”
“Enough! Why do we have to talk about it? Isn’t it enough to just to do it?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Does it make you uncomfortable? Discussing butt stuff? Well now you know how it feels. Not literally, because your dick is way bigger than my finger. So you DON’T know how it feels. Now shut up and do what I say. Drop your pants!”
Sighing, he slides the zipper all the way down and allows the denim to slide off his hips and ass; letting it pool at his ankles before kicking them off.
“Wait a second…” her eyes narrow and she points the remains of her licorice strip in his direction. “What the fuck are those?”
A grin plays at the corners of his mouth. “What’s what?”
“Those.” She gestures at the extra layer of clothing. “What the hell, Tyler James…”
“It’s a pair of those UnderArmour things you bought me. You said I should start wearing them. That they’ve been sitting in the drawer since we bought this place. I’m finally wearing them.”
“You’re supposed to wear them outside! To keep you warm! You don’t wear them in the house!”
“Says who? I can wear them where the fuck I want.”
“You…” she snarls, and glares at him. “...you did this intentionally. As soon as you declared this strip Call of Duty, you went upstairs and put those on. You weren’t wearing them earlier. I KNOW what you wore out. And I saw you take those clothes off when we got home from picking up the food and you were NOT wearing those underneath. You sneaky bastard.”
“Don’t hate the player,” he says, and drops down onto the couch and reaches for the controller. “Hate the game.”
“You absolute dick. I can’t believe you did that. Now THAT’S cheating.”
“It’s not cheating. It was purely a strategic move. And you call me an amateur.”
“You went calculating mercenary on me. You pulled out THAT card. You shit!”
“You may be kicking my ass at the game, but I outsmarted you. I’ve always been able to. Haven’t you realized that by now?”
“Oh, it’s on,” she declares, and snatches up her own controller and plops down beside him. Scowling and moving away when he attempts to slide closer to her. “Don’t even think about it. We’re enemies right now. Mortal enemies. Your treachery will not go unpunished.”
“And you say I’M taking this too seriously?”
“You totally upped the ante. You crossed a line, mister. Accusing me of cheating and all along it was you that was up to no good. I see how it is.”
“Does it make it any better if I tell you that I love you?”
“Save your ass kissing. Because when I win, I’m going to make you get on your knees and pucker up. You have no idea what you’ve done.”
“I’m not scared of you. Much.”
“Be afraid. Be very afraid. I will destroy you.”
Grinning, he reaches over and presses the start button on her controller. “Bring it, short stuff.”
*****
She emerges victorious. Easily handing him a crushing defeat that leaves her still clad in an oversized plain shirt and wool socks and him relegated to stripping off the last layer of clothing. And his smirk is one of both annoyance and amusement as he watches her, standing on the couch with a foot on either side of his thighs and partaking in her victory celebration; a mixture of wildly tossing her hair -or what’s left of it -around and suggestively bumping and grinding her hips while repeatedly chanting: “I did it, I did! I beat you, I did!”. She’s had a little too much to drink; enjoying nearly three quarters of a bottle of wine and then indulging in two hot chocolates infused with Kahlua. And between her somewhat inebriated state causing poor coordination and her penchant for being clumsy on even her best and most sober of days, he keeps a firm, protective hold on the back of her calves. The last thing he needs is a trip to the ER and an awkward explanation of just how she fell and busted her head open. In Telluride she’d once slipped on loose stone in the driveway and went down hard; catching the back of her head on one of the truck’s running boards and creating a hell of a gash in her scalp. And for someone that had spent years in the military and on the job and who’d inflicted gnarly injuries and gruesome deaths on others, he’d been the one close to panicking; convinced he’d seen he’d never seen so much blood in his entire life and nearly hyperventilating at the mere thought of her being hurt. She’d been the calm one; trying to talk him down on the way to the hospital while he drove with one hand on the wheel and the other holding a blood soaked towel to the back of her head.
But it had been what had happened once he’d gotten her help that caused the most trauma. For both of them. The nurse in charge of administering the first line of care had taken one look at the sheer size of him and the amount of scars and tattoos covering the visible parts of body and had gotten her guard up. His behaviour had been the nail in the coffin. His PTSD (undiagnosed at the time) triggered by hospitals and all of the sounds and the sights and the smells that accompany them. He’d been irritable and short tempered and unable to sit still; alternating between vigorously bouncing or shaking his legs or aggressively pacing the floor. He had sent off a number of red flags, and no sooner did they make it back to an exam room, a handful of cops showed up. Explaining the nurse's worries and how their arrival at the ER and Esme’s injury was being treated as a possible ‘domestic abuse situation’. That had only made his mood even worse; being accused of the one damn thing he’d always vowed never to let happen. No matter how dark and dire a situation got, no matter how bad their problems or volatile their arguments, he’d sworn he’d never hurt her; promising to put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger if he ever ‘blacked out’ and physically hurt her. To this day he’s still amazed that he never caught an assault charge. Shoving one of the officers that had attempted to escort him to a different room and grabbing the throat of the other; triggered the second they made physical contact with him.
Six hours later they’d been sent home with five stitches in her head, a prescription for pain meds and a half assed apology. The next day, Child Protective Services showed up on their doorstep; receiving the hospital report and hearing about how he’d assaulted two cops and wanting to further investigate. Nothing had ever come of it; their case file quickly closed when it became apparent that the children were well taken care of and there were absolutely no signs of abuse in the house. But it had done a lot of damage; worsening his PTSD and helping his distrust in the general public grow to epic levels.
“Are you done?” he asks now, when the celebration finally comes to an end. Her hair messy and wild, cheeks flushed from a mixture of her erratic movements and the alcohol she’d consumed, chest heaving from exertion. “Got it all out of your system? Or are you going to gloat some more?”
“Don’t be such a baby. It’s all in good fun. Everything I do and say, is done with love.”
He smirks. “Sure it is. You good? You finished? Or do I have to boot you to the couch tonight?”
“I’m good. I’m done. It’s over. I won’t gloat anymore and further hurt your delicate sensibilities.”
Smirking, he runs his hands around to the front of her calves and slides them upwards. Briefly lingering on her thighs before snagging the bottom of her shirt and yanking her downwards. She gives a startled yelp when she initially loses her balance and then begins to giggle when he easily and effortlessly gathers her into his arms; knees on either side of his hips as he pulls her tightly against him.
“I know I got a little out of hand,” he says. “Over the whole video game thing. I get a little...intense.”
“You think? Intense is putting it lightly. You’re a little competitive.”
“Yeah, just a tad.”
“And I’m sorry too. I’m sorry you’re a sore loser.”
“Excuse you,” he chuckles, and she laughs and squirms against him when his fingers dig into the sensitive areas below her rib cage. “I was trying to be nice. I was trying to apologize. In my own way.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I know what you’re like, Tyler. I know how you are. You’re insanely competitive. I’ve seen you while playing xBox with the kids. And I’ve seen you after when Millie’s kicked your ass.”
“First, she doesn’t really kick my ass. It’s a small margin of victory. Second, it doesn’t happen often.”
“You keep telling yourself that, babe. Regardless, I know you. I know how worked up and intense you get. I don’t take anything you say seriously when you’re like that. Especially when you ARE losing. It’s all in good fun. You don’t say shit to be mean. Same way I don’t. It’s just who we are. We shit talk each other. I think that’s pretty cool, actually. That we ARE like that. That we’re not just husband and wife and two people raising a family together. We’re friends too. I know you’re my BFF. No doubt about it.”
“You’re definitely mine. But let’s be realistic; how many BFF’s sit on your lap with no underwear on?”
“I lost them an hour ago. One of the three games you actually won. And speaking of which…” she glances down between them. “...technically, things aren't over yet. There’s one thing that remains. That you still have to do.”
“I admitted defeat. I watched your stupid little victory dance. I let you rub it in my face. Isn’t that enough?”
“Nope.”
“What more do you want from me? My right kidney?”
“I want you to do what you’re supposed to. The rules were made very clear at the very at the beginning. And YOU’RE the one that made them. So…”
“I thought maybe you’d go easy on me. Cut me a break. Have some sympathy.”
“You’d have zero sympathy for me and you’d totally enforce the rules. So, you have no choice in the matter.”
“Me, come on, you already hurt my pride. You want to decimate it entirely? Take pity on me.”
“Sorry. I have none to give. You know what you have to do.”
“You know, I was thinking maybe you’d do it for me. Give you that last piece of victory. Give you that feeling of power.”
“Mmm...hmmm. You know what I think? I think that you were hoping getting me down there would weaken me. That I’d do a little something for you.”
“Well I DO need comforting,” Tyler reasons. “You did beat me pretty bad.”
“I totally kicked your ass. But comfort? I don’t know…”
“Be nice to me. You already humiliated me. What more do you want?”
“Don’t turn this around. This isn’t about what I want. This is totally about what YOU want. Because you know if I give in, it puts you at your twice a day. You just can’t handle change. Even when it comes to THAT.”
“I’m a creature of habit. I need my routine. I can’t help it. You know how my OCD acts up when my routine gets fucked up.”
“I love how you just so casually play that card to get what you want. Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous tonight. And a little drunk.”
“Just a little?”
“Maybe a lot drunk. Or at the threshold between still being able to make conscious and wise decisions but not drunk enough to pass out and have you carry me upstairs. But, seeing as I’m in a generous and giving mood and you HAVE been on your best behaviour lately, maybe I could give you a little something.”
A slow grin spreads across his face. “Yeah? A little something, huh? This is where I’m going to miss the hair the most…” he uses gentle fingers to push wayward strands out of her hair; looping dark tresses behind each ear. “...when you’re getting to business. I always knew just how much effort you were going to put into it when you’d put her hair in a ponytail.”
“I thought you liked it. My hair. I thought you didn’t mind it like this.”
“I do like it. I love it. It suits you; shows off your cute, tiny little face. I’m just used to it being long, that’s all. You know, being able to grab it and shit.”
“There’s still some length to it. Enough for you to get even your humongous hands on. And as for the whole ponytail thing, I promise I’ll find another way to let you know when I mean business. When I’m all in.”
“I’m not too worried. Even when you haven’t put your hair back, you’ve never put in a bad performance. Let’s just say, it’s not just Call of Duty you’re a master at.”
“I figure I must not be too bad. I must be doing something right. I haven’t heard one complaint in twelve and half years.”
“Baby, you’re doing everything right. You will never hear a complaint from me. Ever.”
“Have you ever thought maybe I’m not actually that talented? That maybe you’re just very easy to please?”
“Me, no one has ever gotten as quick of reaction out of me as you have. Right from day one. So I don’t know what hoodoo voodoo black magic you’ve got through those veins of yours, but all those other women? None of them even come close to you.”
“Not a single one? Not even the stripper in Thailand you once told me about?”
“Not even her. I actually had to concentrate really hard to get it up. With you? You just look at me a certain way and that’s it. You’ve got some power that I can’t even come close to explaining.”
“Maybe it’s the fact it’s lust AND love?”
“That’ll do it.”
“Speaking of lust, I really do want you to see you with your pants off. I know what a tremendously beautiful sight that is. And I’m actually feeling very generous and giving right now.” She pushes her fingers through his hair; tightly gripping the longer top strands as she leans in to kiss him. Nothing soft or slow about it; lips demanding and her tongue insistently pushing against his teeth. Even after twelve and a half years, it’s rare for her to be the aggressor; preferring him to take charge and enjoying being dominated and ‘man handled’. And it took him a while to get used to letting her have even the slightest bit of control; liking his usual role of being the one fully in charge.
His hands briefly rest on her shoulders and then slide down her arms, pausing at her hips before reaching around to slip up the bottom of her shirt and grab her ass. Fingers pressing into the soft flesh; pulling her even tighter against him and bringing her bare crotch in direct contact with the beginnings of his erection. Twelve and half years later and he still wants and needs her just as much as he did that first time in Dhaka. Maybe even more so. There’s nothing mundane about it; he enjoys the changes in her form and the familiarity that comes with their love making. Their bodies know each other so well; always eagerly responding to one another and knowing exactly how to both torture and please.. And he can’t imagine wanting to be with anyone else; completely content and satisfied knowing that what they have extends far beyond passion and sexual gratification.
She’s cradling his face in her palms when she slowly pulls out of the kiss, and he winces when her teeth capture his bottom lip between them; hard enough to draw tiny beads of blood. It’s her way of letting him know just what she’s in the mood for; the slight hint of aggression and the darkness in her eyes betraying the combination of primal want and need. Even after twelve and a half years she never actually verbalizes it; the self conscious side always leery about being that honest and open and fearing rejection. So he’s become a master at reading her signs; the assertive and domineering way in which she’ll kiss him, the way her hands hungrily and needily paw and grab, the darkness that appears in her eyes and the little smirk upon her lips.
That smirk is there now. Tugging at the corners of her mouth and she slides off his lap; her dark hair slipping through his fingers and his legs parting when she places her hands upon his knees. Something changes when she settles herself between his thighs; the softness returning to her features, the smirk transforming into a delicate smile. In that moment she seems so delicate pure; that smooth, porcelain skin accentuated by the dark hair that frames her face, those enormous eyes sparkling in the glow given off by the fireplace. There’s so much trust and faith and love evident in her eyes that it almost takes his breath away, and he reaches out to lay a hand on her cheek; fingers splayed over her ear and his thumb brushing over her lips. And she turns her face into his palm; gaze never leaving his as she presses a kiss to the calloused skin. And suddenly, despite the earlier bantering and sexual innuendos, the time doesn’t seem quite right; the comfortable silence between them, the softness of her hands resting upon his knees, the dainty curve to her lips and the innocence in her eyes. And he slides his hand to the back of her head and tangles his fingers in her hair as he gently draws her forward. Her arms circling his neck as he pulls her into him; the kiss long and deep and passionate, leaving them both breathless.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he says, forehead resting against hers. “Do this right.”
“I think you’re going to have to carry me. My toes are tingly.”
“I think I can manage. How should we do this? Do you feel like caveman style of Rhett Butler in Gone With The Wind?”
“Caveman style. Makes your muscles bulge more. And gives me a chance to stare at your butt.” She gives a small shriek when an arm wraps around her waist and effortlessly hoists her up onto his shoulder; yelping when a hand clamps down on her ass he pushes himself into a stand. “My big, strong man,” she giggles. “My knight in slightly tarnished armour.”
“Just slightly?”
“Your armour is perfect as is. It’s beautiful and it’s sexy and man, does your ass look extra good from this angle.”
“Speaking of asses…” he brings his palm down on one of her cheeks in a ringing slap. “....this one? This ass? It’s all mine.”
“All yours,” she agrees, tightly grabbing hold of the waist of the UnderArmour pants he still sports as he begins the journey up the stairs. “Don’t drop me! Don’t let me fall!”
“I’d never let you fall, Me,” he vows. “Ever.”
****
The confines of his arms are the most secure and comfortable place on earth; strong and muscular, even the lightest of embraces always possessing intense power and protection. Affection -both receiving and giving- had once been foreign to him; deprived of a loving parent when his mother passed away and left with one that was cold and menacing and did nothing but inflict torture and abuse. His first wife hadn’t been one for the more quiet and relaxing moments following sex, and his life after his divorce had consisted of no strings attached hook ups; out the door as fast as he could flush the condom. So it had been a learning process; a slow yet steady journey of travelling outside of known behaviour and comfort zones. Now he’s a master of it; the aftercare and the snuggling and the long, sleepy conversations as they lay in midst of tangled sheets and sweaty limbs. And he readily seeks and offers physical contact in all aspects of his life; quick with the hugs and the taking of a hand or little random kisses when you’re not expecting them.
She lays tightly tucked into his side. Head resting on his shoulder and her arm draped across his midsection; fingertips lazily following the lines of his ribs and drawing feathery patterns on smooth, warm skin. She knows every inch of his body; able to blindly find each scar and trace the outline of every tattoo. His body is hard and strong; tall and broad shouldered, athletically built. It’s reminiscent of how he’d looked when they first met; lean and muscular, impossibly strong without any extra bulk. She’s seen him every shape and size. Rail thin and sickly looking when he’d finally gotten out of the hospital; an almost staggering loss of both weight and muscle. And the 'lumberjack' stage; thick and powerful; his build phenomenal, extra weight gathering at his stomach and just above his hips. She’s loved him each and every way; during the best days of his life and the worst. Her heart breaking at his struggles with his thin and weaker body during his convalescence five years ago; the days he hated what he saw in the mirror and would fly into rages directed at Nathan and how he’d managed to break him both physically and mentally. And she’d supported him through nearly two years of physiotherapy. The weeks filled with gruelling and painful appointments; comforting him the best she could when it all became too much to bear and he’d cry tears of both frustration and agony. Trying not to break down herself when he claimed that it would have been easier had he died. That he felt useless to both her and the kids. Lamenting that he wasn’t even half the man he was when they’d first met. But she’d gotten him through it; gently leading him out of the dark place in his head and doing whatever she could to encourage him to keep going.
Five years later and he’s come a hell of a long way. There will always be issues; long lasting effects both physically and mentally. The damage Nathan had done causing permanent and life altering problems; vision loss in the right eye, post concussion syndrome, nerve damage in the small of his back and into his right hip, a leg limp that becomes even more pronounced when the cold weather sets in and irritates the arthritis that thrives in his knee and femur. Yet he never complains; down playing the pain and refusing to let it control his life. He’ll need another operation when he hits sixty, if not before. The knee not healing and bouncing back as well as it should; the surgically repaired ligaments and tendons far weaker than they had hoped they’d be. But he doesn’t let it slow him down; even on the days he can barely move and she has to help him get out of bed or in and out of the shower. It’s a bitter pill for him to try and swallow; occasionally needing assistance when it comes to even the smallest of everyday things. She sees how it both annoys and embarrasses him; someone his size and possessing his skills and capabilities needing help from someone as tiny as her. Holding onto that one shred of toxic masculinity that tells him the roles should be reversed; he’s the one that should be taking care of her and doing whatever it takes to make sure she’s safe and healthy and protected. And she handles it the best way she knows how; quietly and efficiently. Never calling attention to his struggles and keeping his mind from travelling down a dark and dangerous rabbit hole by encouraging random chit chat; keeping things light and happy and her hands soft and loving. And in the future, never bringing up what he’d needed or what she’d had to do.
She presses a kiss to the scar that mars his left shoulder. “You awake?”
“I am.”
“You okay?”
His fingers continue to comb through her hair; slow and soothing movements. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re extra quiet tonight. I mean, you’re always quiet. But you’re even more so.”
“I’m just lying here enjoying it. The post orgasmic bliss.”
She lifts her head to look at him, admiring the line of his jaw and the beard that’s beginning to fill out and thicken and those impossible long and dark eyelashes that rest upon smooth skin. “Hey, that’s MY line.”
“Not tonight it’s not. I beat you to it.” As the fingers of one hand continue to move through her hair, the others drift along her upper arm; calloused tips occasionally pausing to trace slow and lazy patterns. “You alright?”
Nodding, she slides further up the bed. Nose pressed against the sensitive spot right below his ear and her hand reaching up to rest on the top of his head; thumb repeatedly brushing against his brow. “I’m good. VERY good, actually.”
“You were fucking amazing,” he praises, and turns his face into hers and places a kiss on the bridge of her nose. “You always are. But that? That was…”
“Extra?”
He chuckles. “Yeah. Very extra.”
“I don’t want to ever hear that you’re complaining about me ever again. Because you are extremely spoiled and there are many men who would envy your sex life.”
His eyes flicker open and a frown tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t complain about you.”
“Like hell you don’t. All couples complain about each other. I admit that I complain about you. About some of the shit you do that drives me insane. Doesn’t mean I love you any less.”
“There’s not really anything to complain about when it comes to you.”
“Right…” she laughs. “...don’t go sparing my feelings, babe. I know what I’m like. I know what kind of bullshit I bring to the table. And yet you’re still here. You still keep hanging around.”
“It’s not that bad; dealing with your bullshit. Besides, I kinda like you.”
“Kinda, huh?”
“Just a bit.”
“I kind of like you too. And I wouldn’t mind if you hung out around here for the next...I don’t know...fifty years.”
“Good. Because I think I’ll stick around. I’m kinda comfortable. I can think of worse lives. I’ve LIVED worse lives.”
“Well now you’re spoiled. Insanely. You’re like that mangy little kitten someone finds in a gutter and nurses back to health and they get all fat and happy and get to sleep all over the furniture.”
He grins. “Did you seriously just compare me to a stray animal?”
“Hey, you needed some work when we first met. You were a little...feral. You were living in a shack with a chicken as a roommate.”
“Roommate? That’s my child you’re talking about.”
“You were pretty rough around the edges. You needed some big time TLC. And I was more than willing to give you that. You had potential. I saw it. You weren’t as scary as you liked to think you were.”
“Maybe not to you. I wasn’t like that with you. I was trying NOT to be.”
“Until you had your meltdown over having the feels and you tried to choke me out.”
“Not one of my finer moments,” Tyler admits. “But I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was trying to scare you. Because I didn’t want you getting all caught up in something and then have me fuck it up and disappoint you. I was trying to protect you.”
“From you?”
He nods.
“I wasn’t afraid of you. I didn’t think you’d hurt me. I could tell you weren’t that type; to put your hands on a woman. No matter how angry you got.”
“It wasn’t about hurting you THAT way. It was about us taking things too far and feeling things for each other and trying to make something of nothing. I wanted that to happen, but I was scared that it would. Doesn’t make much sense, I know.”
“I think you were trying to protect yourself more than you were trying to protect me.”
“Maybe. I guess I worried I was feeling too much, too soon. That you’d find out who I really was and you’d run. I didn’t want to get attached and have you take off because you couldn’t deal with my shit. In the same way I didn’t want you getting attached and finding out I was too much of a mess and regretting what happened between us.”
“That was NEVER going to happen. I knew you were different. I SAW you, Tyler. Who you really were. Behind those walls you built up. Behind that whole hardened and emotionally vacant mercenary act you put on. I saw it the second we met. It was all in your eyes. That you weren’t like everyone else.”
“I think you give me way too much credit.”
“And you don’t give yourself enough.” Her thumb moves to the scar on the left side of his forehead; thin yet jagged, running vertically. “I was thinking about that first night. In Dhaka. After we...you know.”
“Fucked? Four times?”
“Normally I’d tell you not to be so crude and that it was a little more softer and meaningful than that, but…”
“There was nothing soft or meaningful about ANY of those four times. It was fucking. Let’s not sugar coat it.”
“Whatever it was, it was amazing. YOU were amazing. But do you remember afterwards? When I cuddled up to you? And you wondered what the fuck was going on? You didn’t know how to react; you sort of froze up and didn’t even budge. Were you angry or…?”
“Why would I have been angry? There was nothing to be angry about. I’d just gotten through having the most incredible sex of my life. FOUR times. I had a beautiful, amazing woman in my bed. Still naked. I definitely was not angry.”
“Uncomfortable?”
“Surprised. I wasn’t used to that. The whole afterglow thing. I was used to just getting shit done and getting the fuck out. And my ex wasn’t into that kind of shit. She was a roll over and go to sleep kind of girl.”
“You poor, neglected man. Never getting to enjoy the aftermath. You made up for it though. With me.”
“That I did. I was just surprised when you did it. Cuddled up to me like you did. But I definitely wasn’t angry. Or uncomfortable. It was just different. YOU were different. Doesn’t mean I didn’t like it. It felt good. It felt right. And I figured if something feels that right? There’s no way anything could be bad about it.”
“I love this side of you,” she declares, and presses a kiss to his temple. “This softer, sweet side. I mean, I love all sides of you. But this? This is always a breath of fresh air. And it did; feel right. What was going on with us. And it kind of scared me too. I wasn’t used to that. Feeling things so quickly for someone. Trusting them the way I trusted you.”
“It was a little unnerving. I was a little spooked. But all’s well that ends well, yeah? I mean, here we are. Twelve and a half years under our belts, Me. Seven kids. I think it’s safe to say that we weren’t wrong about what we were feeling. Even if it did seem too soon. I kinda knew I was in trouble pretty early on.”
“When? When you saw me on your porch?”
“I had a feeling you’d be a handful,” he grins, and turns his face into hers; placing a kiss on her brow before resting the side of his nose against hers. “It was the second night though. When I told you about Austin. It had been years since I talked about him to anyone. And I just let it out. Something told me I could. But it did scare me.”
“What were you scared of?”
He shrugs. “Being that honest about things. So soon. I was worried I’d tell you what happened...what I did...and everything would change. I thought you’d be disgusted. That you’d look at me like I was a huge piece of shit. And I would have deserved it. If you did.”
“You made a mistake. We all do. You’re not perfect, Tyler. None of us are.”
“It wasn’t just a simple mistake. It was a horrible fucked up one. I took off. My kid had cancer. And I couldn’t handle it and I ran. Like I always do when shit gets too hard. I wasn’t even there. When he died. I left him and he spent the last of his days wondering where the fuck I was and asking what he did wrong that made me hate him enough to leave.”
“You were a different person back then. You couldn’t handle it. A lot of people wouldn’t be able to. And you had a lapse of judgement. Unfortunately, it ended up being way worse than you thought it would be.”
“I was worried once I told you about all of that, you’d hate me. That it would make you sick to even look at me.”
“I have never once hated you. Not even back then. I didn’t feel disgust. You know what I felt? I felt sad. For Austin. For you. That either of you had to go through that. My heart hurt for YOU. That your child got sick and you had to watch him suffer and that it was so painful to see that you made a bad decision. I was sad for you. Like I still am. But hate you? I could NEVER hate you. You have enough hate for yourself. To last a lifetime.”
“Yeah…” Tyler’s voice quivers with emotion. “...I guess I do.”
Smilingly softly, she combs her fingers through his hair. “You’ve been thinking about him a lot lately, haven’t you.”
He nods.
“I know it gets extra difficult around this time of year. At Christmas. I know how hard it is for you. Trying to be happy and enjoy things while it feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest.”
“It’s not normally this bad. I mean, it’s bad. But THIS?” He swallows heavily around the rock of emotion sitting in his throat. “Never like THIS. I don’t know what it is. Why it’s hit me this hard this year. I don’t know if it’s ‘cause I see how much Millie and TJ are growing up. Or I see so much of Austin in both of them. It’s normally not like this. This bad.”
“It’s okay, you know. To feel this. You don’t have to hide that from anyone. Especially me.”
“I don’t want the kids seeing me like this. I don’t want them thinking they can’t be happy. It’s Christmas. They deserve to be happy and excited and to have the time of their lives. I don’t want them thinking they have to walk on eggshells because of me. Or that I’m not happy being with them. Because I am. Happy. With them. With you.”
“I know you are. You don’t have to convince me of that. I know how much you love us. How happy you are. I never doubt that.”
“I guess sometimes I feel guilty. That I am as happy as I am. That I did move on and have other kids. That I didn’t do it right by him but I turned around and made more kids I could screw things up with.”
“You are NOT screwing anything up. You are a great dad. An amazing dad. And your kids love you so much. They idolize you. You’re their daddy. There’s no one they love the way they love you.”
“He loved me. Idolized me. And look what I did. Look how I betrayed that. How I betrayed HIM.”
“It was a mistake.” Gentle fingertips brush away the tears that glisten on his cheeks and the sides of his nose. “You made a bad decision. But that doesn’t make you a monster, Tyler. It just makes you a man who screwed up. And you know what? Austin would want you to be happy. He’d want you to have a life. To have other kids. Because he’d know how much love you have and he’d want you to give that to other people. He would never deprive you of that; having other kids.”
“Maybe. Doesn’t mean it makes it any easier. The fact he died. Alone.”
“I know it’s of little consolation, but he wasn’t alone. His mom was with him. And I’m sure she told him how much you loved him. That she probably told him you had to go. Not that you chose to.”
“You give her a lot of credit. I can assure you that she DIDN’T say any of that. That he died knowing I abandoned him. That he died hating me.”
“A mother will do anything to protect their child from getting hurt. And I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what she did. He was vulnerable and he was sick and I highly doubt she’d make that worse by shit talking you. I know I wouldn’t. That I’d never let any of my kids hear any of that. That if it had been me? I would have made sure he knew how much you wanted to be there and couldn’t. I would have told him how much you loved him. And would always love him.”
“You’re a different person, Me. She’s nothing like you. Not even in the slightest of ways.”
“I know at one time she loved you. And you loved her. That it wasn’t always bad. That there were some good memories too.”
“I did love her. But not the way that I love you. Not even close. What I have? With you? What I feel? That’s the real deal. Her? I don’t know what that was.”
“She was your highschool sweetheart. You thought you were destined to be together. It just didn’t work out.”
“Which is a good thing. Or I wouldn’t have what I have now. Which is why I’d never go back and change things. Even if I could. Because I change one thing, it changes everything. And I wouldn’t give you or my kids up for anything in this world. Which makes me feel like shit. That I wouldn’t bring back my first kid.”
“Tyler, don’t let your mind go there. That’s a very dark place and that is not where you need to be. I’m sorry it happened. I’m sorry Austin got sick and died. That you had to go through that. But comparing what you had then to what you have now? That will lead to nowhere good. Stop tormenting yourself like this. You have a good life. One that you’re more than deserving of. You have people that love you. Don’t overlook that because you’re so busy looking back at things. You’re not betraying Austin because you had other kids. Because you found love and are loved. And I can guarantee you that he would not want you doing this to yourself.”
“It’s not that easy.” He frantically swipes at the tears that freely roll down his face. “I wish it was. I wish I could turn this all off. That I’d never feel a damn thing again.”
“And that’s not good EITHER. It’s okay to feel. You’re a human being. But dwelling on what you did? You’ll never really enjoy what you have if you keep doing that. And one day the kids WILL notice it. They’ll see the difference in you. And they’ll wonder why they weren’t enough. Why you didn’t love them the same way you loved him. And I know you don’t want that.”
“I do love them. They’re my kids. You have no idea how much I love them.”
“Then you need to let it go. Not Austin himself. But what happened. The decision you made. Because it WILL destroy what you have. It’ll destroy you. And you’ve come way too damn far to let that happen. I won’t LET it happen.”
“I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to keep going through this. I just want it over. I don’t want it to hurt so much. And I don’t know why it does. Why it’s so hard this time around. I don’t have an explanation, Me. I don’t why I’m like this. But trust me, I don’t want to be this way.”
“Come here…” she encourages, as her one hand finds the nape of his neck and the fingers of the other tangle in his hair. And she pulls him down into her; both of his arms wrapping tightly around her torso and his face nestled against her collarbone. “...it’s okay, Tyler. These times are going to come up. We were told this would happen. That you’d feel this way from time to time. You’ve had a great five years. You’ve avoided these kinds of moments. It was bound to creep up; sooner or later. Christmas is always a hard time for you. I get it. I know you can’t help it.”
“I don’t want to be this way,” he sobs against her. “I just want it to stop. How bad it hurts sometimes. I just want it to stop.”
“You’re going to be alright.” Her voice is soft and soothing; fingertips lightly massaging his scalp. “It’ll pass. You’ll get through this. Same way you’ve gotten through so many things. So many bad, BAD things. You’re a tough cookie, Tyler Rake.”
“I wouldn’t be able to do this if you weren’t here. If you didn’t keep giving me chances. Putting up with all this shit. I wouldn’t even be here. Alive.”
“I love you. More than you could ever know. I love you more and more every day. And I’m not going anywhere. You know how you always say ‘I got you’? Well I’VE got YOU.”
“I love you. So much. I wish there was a way of telling you HOW much.”
“You don’t need to say it." She drops a kiss on the top of his head. “I know. You make it perfectly clear. In your own way.”
“Thank you. For this. For everything.”
“You’re going to be okay,” she assures him, and runs her fingers through his hair. “I won’t let you fall either.”
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