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impala-dreamer · 3 months

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Tourniquet - Chapter Six

A Supernatural Dean x Reader Series Told Backwards

~Y/N has been by Dean’s side through his worst days, always there if he needs her, forever just a call away. Love is impossible to fight and more impossible to live with. Just a side character in his epic life, Y/N would give anything just to give Dean a moment’s peace.~

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The Man Who Lost Too Much

Life moved quickly in the background. Sometimes it was hard to remember the day or the month. Time was counted in miles and blood. Age was measured in how many bodies you laid in the dirt.

It wasn’t without good times, though.

Y/N hadn’t spoken to her father in a while, but she wasn’t always alone. She would run with other hunters when they crossed paths, hook up with a stranger or two when she was in the mood. Hell, a few times she’d run into the elder Winchester himself and spent a quick weekend getting lost in the sheets.

There was nowhere she couldn’t go, nothing really she couldn’t do. She was a feather on the wind, tetherless and free.

But late at night, her thoughts would drift to him. The Boy with the Green Eyes who could always make her feel better, make her feel like she mattered. No matter how many lives she saved, how many thank yous and hugs from survivors, she never quite thought she was helping. Her efforts in doing good always seemed so small next to what Dean was up to.

Sure, his heroics always came with a price, but Y/N longed to be closer to him, to be a part of the action. She wanted to see it up close, to live in the spotlight, if not right behind it. Skirting the edges of the light and holding him up- that’s what she really wanted.

Rumors of the Winchesters were never lacking and never dull.

Wherever she went, she’d hear stories, often exaggerated, about their adventures. Most were ridiculous.

‘Dean Winchester fought forty-seven vamps all by himself and came out without a scratch!’

‘Sam was born with horns and John had to get a witch doctor to remove them… he was still cursed, though. Poor kid.’

‘Those Winchesters are friends with the King of Hell and have traveled back in time twenty-six times.’

‘That car is haunted. I’ve seen it drive itself.’

‘Dragons. They fought dragons.’

‘Dean Winchester slept with my daughter and three of her friends. And I’m pretty sure, my wife.’

Sadly, that last one she believed. Usually, it didn’t bother her to hear about his sexual exploits, but when the moon was full and the wind was warm, she remembered nights in the tall grass behind the junkyard and his arms so gentle around her body.

She was working when he called; laptop burning on her lap as she scrolled through bits of scanned articles and photographs from decades ago. The phone buzzed on her nightstand and she peeked at the caller i.d. An old picture of Dean leaning on the Impala lit up her screen. She couldn’t remember when the photo was taken, but it always made her smile. His hair was short and spiked, his necklace fought with the buttons of his green henley, his leather jacket more than a whole size too big.

Y/N smiled and dragged her fingers across her own necklace, that worn hexagon that she clung to when overwhelmed, sucked on when thinking. A little bit of Dean always with her.

“Yo, Winchester. Been a while.”

Instead of a hello, Dean replied with a heavy exhale that instantly dropped her mood and upped her anxiety.

“Hey, Y/N/N…”

She closed her eyes, clutched the phone tight. “Where are you? Are you OK?”

His swallow was thick; he’d been crying, she could tell.

“Yeah. I’m- I’m OK. I… I don’t even know where I am. We pulled over for the night and I just-”

Y/N held her breath for a split second and then fell into crisis mode.

“It’s OK, Dean. I’m here. Just tell me what’s going on.”

There was a rustle of fabric, a sharp inhale; the scratch of nails down an early beard.

“Y/N/N… I fucked up. I- this is the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“Dean, not for nothing, but you’re gonna have to narrow it down a bit, babe.”

He laughed softly and the tightness in her chest eased. He would be OK.

“Talk to me. I’m right here.”

Dean sniffed back a tear. She could almost see him there, eyes leaking freely, bottom lip trembling.

When he started to explain, the words shot out in a ramble that would have made little sense to anyone else. Y/N knew how to decipher his language, knew what each pause meant, why this word was harsh and that one softer. She knew.

He spoke of the last two years. He talked about losing Sam and then finding him again- without a soul. He explained about his deal with Death and the wall that was put up in Sam’s head so his soul wouldn’t shatter and kill him. About Castiel and Crowley, about deaths and near-misses, about everything.

Finally, Dean told her cautiously about moving in with Lisa and feeling like a father to her son Ben. He rambled on about civilian life and how much he loved doing stupid simple things like mowing the lawn or fixing stuck drawers. How he thought he’d finally gotten his due, that maybe, while it wasn’t perfect, Lisa could have been his salvation after a lifetime of pain. He cried again while recounting the ways he’d hurt them, scared them, gotten them kidnapped or worse.

When he was ready, Dean explained about the hospital and how he’d asked Castiel to erase him from their memories. How he’d sacrificed something he loved yet again for the good of someone else. They’d never remember him, never know who rearranged the tools in the shed, who bought all the cheap whiskey in the cabinet.

“It’s the worst thing I’ve ever fucking done,” he said, rounding out his confession as it had begun.

Y/N rubbed her hand down her cheeks, pushing the tears deeper into her skin. Her stomach ached in that horrible way it did when Dean hurt her, but she knew it wasn’t his fault. He needed to tell her and she needed to hear it.

She sighed.

“Yeah, it’s- it’s not great, Dean. It’s really fucking horrible, actually. You can’t just- take someone’s memories like that.”

“I know.”

“What if someone did that to you? What if I came along with my own buddy angel and had them erase your dad? Or Sam? Or… or me? You can’t play with people’s heads, Dean.”

“I know!”

She didn’t even flinch, she was too heated to be startled. “What were you thinking?”

Dean ground his teeth hard, growled through the clench. “I was trying to keep them safe!”

Y/N fought back. “From what?”

“From me!”

The friends fell silent for too long. Dean’s words hung in the space between them, electrifying the air and stabbing through their veins.

“Dean, I-” She couldn’t stand it. She needed to see him. “Fuck it. Turn your camera on.”

“No, Y/N/N, I can’t-”

“Just fucking do it, please.”

And there he was. Green eyes wet, freckled cheeks gaunt and hugged by the shadows. He wiped at his face and smiled, but couldn’t look at the camera. He couldn’t look at himself, couldn’t face her.

“Dean…”

He closed his eyes and refused to speak, so she did.

“What you did was fucked up, I can’t let you think otherwise, but Dean… you are… the most selfless, caring… brave man I’ve ever known, and I… I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now, but I know you. And I know that you are going to be OK. You’re gonna get through this and, well, maybe you’ll never be over her, but…”

The spike in her gut twisted enough to make her pause and he opened his eyes, found hers on the screen.

“It’ll be OK,” she said softly. “I promise.”

He took a breath and let it out, and with it, a million pounds fell off his back. His shoulders fell, his jaw unclenched, the tightness in his face eased.

“I don’t fucking deserve you,” he whispered, staring so hard at the phone she was sure he’d break right through.

Y/N shook her head and smiled that secret smile that was only his.

“Shut up, Dean.”

Tourniquet Tags:

@prettyinplaid94 @winharry @muhahaha303 @cookiechipdough @ladysparkles78

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67@k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05

#spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean x reader #angst #tourniquet

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lizard-queen-izzy · 2 months

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Yes, I am BMC posting in 2024, but you have to understand, my friend writes them so well.

Anyway! Deere rambling time. Specifically @rebuke-me 's Punk au. Which, if you haven't read it, you are missing out. [Also, spoilers ahead for said au if you haven't read it.]

They're so pathetic./pos They're both in so deep, but they don't let themselves realize it.

Jeremy's back in Middleborough, and it's the first time he's been back since he moved away with his mom. And he's so different. He's been to hell and back, and his walls are so high up. He hates himself and thinks everyone else does too, and that they're right to. His mom is awful, and he's grateful to be far away from her. His on and off boyfriend is no better, and won't leave him alone. His little sister is both clinging to him for dear life as the only familiar thing in this new environment, and avoiding his eyes. And his dad is trying but he has no idea what he's doing either. And Jeremy just wants to fall into the background. For no one to notice him, for no one to recognize him. To just get through school and keep his sister safe and his dad happy.

But Jake Dillinger won't leave him alone.

He keeps asking Jeremy questions about his makeup and his clothes. Asking if he's OK. And offering to take him to and from school. And remembering little things about him. Bringing him coffee. And the worst part is, is Jake isn't scared to be seen with Jeremy. He only hides it because Jeremy asks him to, he does it for Jeremy's comfort.

And then they sleep together.

But the lights are off. And they don't say names. And they don't kiss. And it's nothing they need to think too much about. Just a thing they do now, in Jake's empty house. It becomes part of the routine.

Drive to school together, make subtle eye contact in the halls but no more, drive home together, sometimes to Jake's house.

What neither of them are counting on, is falling for the other. Hard.

Jeremy's convinced Jake is straight. He's Jake Dillinger, of course he is. This is just to get off, he doesn't have feelings for him. He never could. So even if Jeremy might be feeling things he shouldn't for the guy, it's easy to shove it down because it'll never happen.

And then there's Jake, having his sexuality crisis because fuck. Does he like guys? He definitely still likes girls, he's never liked any other guys, but he for sure likes Jeremy. Which is a problem because the guy has a boyfriend. Well, not currently, but he has a weird situation with his ex and even though he's so clearly bad for him, it's not Jake's place to tell him what to do. He's not his boyfriend, and he's not even sure Jeremy really considers them friends.

So now they're stuck in this limbo of sorts. Neither of them saying what they mean, or what they want. Never moving from this standstill they've lodged themselves in. And then Jake finally works up the nerve to tell Jeremy, bite the bullet. Nothing is worse than keeping this in. And Jeremy agrees to meet at Jake's house and talk, says he even has something he wants to discuss to. And Jake is so excited, but Jeremy looks squirmy so he let's him go first.

And then Jeremy tells him he's taking his ex [Sean] back. That he apologized and promised to change and make the effort. And they were just messing around, nothing serious. And everything freezes for Jake. Full stop. And his excitement vanishes. Of course Jeremy is taking his ex back, of course he doesn't like Jake back. Jake was stupid to think he would. And so Jake shuts down, says it's cool. And for a selfish moment, Jake thinks he sees a flash of hurt on Jeremy's face. But even if it was there, Jake can't let himself enjoy that because then he's hurting Jeremy. And no matter what he can't make himself hurt him.

And Jeremy is hurt by Jake's response. Because it confirms all his fears. That this meant nothing to Jake. He meant nothing to Jake. And whatever they were, whatever they could have been, didn't matter. It was just a phase. And Jake was fine to stop whenever because why would he bother with Jeremy when he could have anyone he wanted?

And then their routine is broken. Jeremy's avoiding Jake, they don't even look at eachother in the halls. And then the play happens. And Sean drugs Jeremy. And Jake almost loses him completely. And Jake's terrified, but he has to be calm for Jeremy. He has to be there for Jeremy's little sister. Has to be the calm one because otherwise no one is going to help.

He talks with Jeremy's sister [Esther] in the hospital waiting room, and she shares maybe more than she should. Answers some of Jake's unasked questions. And he sees their mom, and she's just as bad as Jeremy said. Hell, her just being there activates Esther's fight or flight. And then his dad shows up and he looks so tired and so scared for his kid. And Jake blames himself even though it's not his fault, but he should have done something, done more. Said something. And he's still trying not to shake or break down in front of Esther, because she's 13, and this isn't the first time this has happened. This isn't the first time she's almost lost her brother. This isn't the first time she's been crying in a hospital waiting room waiting to hear if her brother will be ok. And so Jake holds on for her, to give her something stable to hold onto. But inside he's crumbling.

...

This turned into more of a summary of most of the plot than anything but they truly drive me insane./pos

#deere #punkdeere #punk jeremy au #Jeremy heere #jake dillinger #deereau #au #rambles

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lemonhemlock · 8 months

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Honestly I think I hate Cersei because she thinks she is some mastermind while she isn’t. Tywin and how he keep holding power for so long is very interesting, btw I love Tywin and Kevan dynamics. Jaime is my fave i just love his storyline. As for Tyrion, there are 2 of them. The book one and the show one. Show one I hate. Book one I kinda enjoy because he constantly flirts with darkness. I don’t buy show Tyrion poor misunderstood meow meow. And I hate that they did the same with show Aemond. That’s why I prefer Aegon and Daemon. From the beginning you know where they stand, there are no attempts to make them sympathetic bullshit. Stop whitewashing characters in order to make characters more sympathising for audience. The reason why the Joker, Soprano Family and Roy family from Succession are so great is because they aren’t portrayed as some poor people being victims of their circumstances all their life. Aemond wanting to console Jace at Driftmark? What the fuck is that? Also giving him sexual trauma made me laugh. The show made it clear I and everyone else is meant to feel sorry for him but I just laughed at how pathetic they are. Like you have weak Viserys, pedo Daemon, rapist and drunkard Aegon and traumatised and with only one eye Aemond. So yeah, the winner of who should be the fan favourite is clear. Instead of showing the 4 of them as bad and letting people choose who their favourite is, they create 3 of them in unsympathetic light and make one of them #1 victim and the other 3 as monsters or weak men. Sorry but I hate the narrative where I am being shown down my throat who I am supposed to love and who to hate. Especially if 3 out of 4 characters are doing terrible things and only one behaves properly until starting the war. I really can’t wait for Aemond to burn Riverlands, most stans would leave his fanclub and began to see Aegon is not the worst guy out there. I just hope TGC won’t stop playing Aegon until the moment Aemond will show everyone what a legit psycho he really is.

idk what to tell you, anon, this is not exactly the blog for cersei haters. i've always found this prevailing tendency of enjoying jaime as a character but disliking cersei to be very strange, bc their POVs are so intertwined and they are as delusional & "awful" as the other so i don't really see the point here. it's a choice i would personally interrogate bc more often than not it has some v unsavory roots. cersei can be just as funny as jaime and he can be just as unhinged as her. also cersei's dumbness is greatly exaggerated, she does have some good ideas and a knack for getting out of tricky situations (some of them of her own making, yes, but she's hardly the idiot fandom likes to paint her as). fans sure love to think they would have made better decisions had they been in her situation.

she also suffers from getting a POV so late in the game, in comparison to her brothers, and is way more affected psychologically by the death of her son than jaime is + the prophecy hanging over her head. she's basically having the worst mental health crisis in AFFC and getting judged for not being Machiavelli's Prince

as for the rest of the message, as i've said in a previous post, i see this desire to not allow characters to be anything other than cardboard villains very reductive and not smth i'm personally interested in fiction. narrative bias and needless demonisation at the expense of others is one thing, but, generally-speaking, why is it somehow superior if they only receive dark traits instead of being humanized & muddled? why is it better writing if aemond is only shown as a psycho killing machine? are the literature gods going to get angry if he tries to be polite one time? the roy siblings weren't coddled by the narrative but they were also shown acting like human beings (clumsily) trying to connect with people

also no actor is going to turn down hbo money and the opportunity to appear in one of the most viewed shows of the year, so i don't see why tgc would stop playing aegon, unless he were fired. these people are professional actors, they may not like or agree with certain character choices but they don't have the luxury of turning down jobs bc of their character is not "true to the text". they still have bills to pay.

#ask #anon #cersei lannister #jaime lannister #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen

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redcliffed · 1 year

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since you said to be more specific if i wanted to know more then can you talk abt what youve mapped out of grells and madams relationship? redcliff is my otp so i would love to hear what you think of the red murder wives

ok so!! my biggest thing w them is that to me they are just. horrible for each other. they are soulmates they are tied together by the red string of fate but god is it unhealthy. like if u build a relationship off of brutally murdering ppl ur not gonna have a healthy dynamic i’m sawrry (ESPECIALLY when it ends with murder. u don’t kill ur gf that casually if ur relationship is healthy). there’s so little content of them but the bits we see seem pretty tumultuous (i base a lot off that one rainbow butler one shot bc that shit was so gay but sooo toxic it’s scrumptious) so i just run with it! they’re both very mentally ill and homicidal that shit was doomed from the start

the whole relationship like a slow build from their first meeting bc anne is immediately like Live With Me and they’re inexplicably drawn to each other (read: horny) but it’s a slow evolution from yearning and going marginally insane and probably like drunk making out they refuse to talk abt after to insane love confessions and kinda just running with the idea that they’re basically married. and the whole time it’s just a constant flux between desperately needing each other always and divorce worthy fighting. so much divorce worthy fighting.

grell falls HARD like really fucking hard like despite being the world’s worst gf she’s also more invested. she has insane tunnel vision for anne like she abandoned her whole life for her so ofc she does!! it’s a genuine obsession and it’s so unhealthy and she’s desperately needy and anytime it feels like it may be crumbling she goes hard on trying to sabotage bc she will not leave until the bridge is burnt to fucking ASH (she’s also insanely impulsive abt it like the minute she regains common sense she’s just like “why did i do that” and then wants to rekill herself so bad).

anne is very very infatuated but she’s kind of the normaler party in the sense that she can have a life outside of grell (and grell does not like that). she’s a workaholic abt the murder and also about the Being An Aunt and she’s having a crisis of morality at all times and this makes her very preoccupied but also lowkey without grell she’d kill herself. grell is like her key to being able to live with herself morally it’s like. “no one will love me with how horrible i’m being but this bitch not only loves me but also condones my atrocities!! if she leaves me i’m blowing up the world.” but the thing is she’s confident enough that grell Won’t leave her to not be as invested in her. and she’s also not afraid to be a frigid bitch when she’s pissed at her and can be so extremely hot and cold about everything it’s absolutely insanity inducing.

they’re stuck in this insane loop of being madly in love, anne kinda zoning out of everything and getting cold, grell vying for attention via acting out or manipulation or cheating or something, Big Fight, and then back to being madly in love and they NEVER WANNA STOP bc they understand each other so deeply and fundamentally in a way no one else ever will!! they enable the worst parts of each other and they feel so safe with each other. they’re each other’s home but god that home is the worst place you’ve ever stepped foot in.

there’s also an internalized homophobia layer going on for sure that definitely does not help things. esp bc anne was probably grell’s bi awakening. i always write madam red as a lesbian who has already unpacked that and dealt with it so while she has like. period typical internalized homophobia it’s way less of a Thing for her. but for grell it’s just like Oh God What Is Happening Why Do I Want To Live In Her Skin What Are The Gender Implications Of This I Am Having A Bad Time!! so like the double whammy of a full blown sexuality crisis and first time doing commitment r driving her a little insane the whole time.

it also makes grell nerfing anne a lot less random in my brain. she just snapped in that moment and it was a 2.5 year buildup of frustration that she just let loose bc she felt like she was being rejected and like all her fears of abandonment were being confirmed and she kinda just lost it. i don’t even think she fully gets why she did it tbh it kinda just happened and she ran with it and processed it all two hours later and was like “oh shit i’m going to pretend that won’t make me wanna die forever” but it’s also just a response to a constant pattern of Fucking Everything Up So Bad Now, Kiss And Make Up Later except oopsies it was fatal this time!!!

basically when the relationship is good it’s perfect and idealistic and amazing in every way and when it’s bad it’s the worst fucking relationship you’ve ever seen. it’s a mess they’re a mess it’s so fun!!

#sorry if u wanted more lovey dovey romance for them #they’re both Not Good People the relationship is gonna suck i fear #they r lovey dovey tho. toxically #i like my sapphic ships a little bit rancid and horrible #redcliff #black butler #grell sutcliff #grelle sutcliff #madam red #angelina dalles #asks #headcanons

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inevitably-johnlocked · 1 year

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hey steph, can I rant for a moment? sorry for the sudden ask but it's kind of confusing to me.

I think I'm on the aroace scale. I rarely ever feel romantic attraction, and even less sexual attraction. At first I thought I was completely aroace, but I think I went into denial about it for like.. two years.

and now I'm talking to someone. and what confuses me is that I can obviously feel romantic attraction, I feel it towards him, but honestly, the idea of romance seems weird to me. It's like I'm looking at it through a commercialized sense, like it's all television to me.

I don't know how to explain this, or my feelings, honestly. then there's the sexual aspect of it all. In my last relationship, it kind of surrounded it all, and I don't know how to feel about it.

I read a reblog of yours, and it talked about how sex was a motive for some people. that confused me, i didn't know that, and I think that's my motivation for asking you the following question:

is it supposed to be this confusing? I don't want to get into the details in your ask box, because I feel that's weird, but is it supposed to be so confusing? It's like I'm in denial for two different things, but I don't know what they are.

again, I apologize for the random ask, I hope you have a nice day

Hey Lovely! *HUGS*

Ah, you must be talking about this post here that was in my auto queue, that I forgot I reblogged, LOL. I found it super interesting from the viewpoint of an ace who just... doesn't understand why "sex sells" or why people in movies have to fuck the second they meet, LOL. It literally doesn't make sense to me, but apparently it IS a thing.

That said, I am LITERALLY the worst person you can ask about this kind of thing. I've never been in a serious relationship, and when I do "like" somebody, it's always one-sided on my end (which has left me believing no one will ever like me "that way" so, yeah, shit self esteem on that end. No one has ever liked me that way and probably never will :/). BUT I do find myself constantly the "level headed friend who can tell you unbiased opinions on a relationship", so yeah, I'll try my best here.

So my thoughts on this, from what limited experience I have about romance, is yeah, it's supposed to be confusing. People rarely "have it all figured out" right away, and if you do, you're in a small minority of people. It's OKAY to question your own preferences and such. Doesn't make you any less of the identity you are comfortable with. I mean, until I went through my four-year identity crisis, I just thought there was something wrong with me. Took me a long time to realize that I'm just not what society deems as "normal", just my own brand of it.

Relationships are not easy, Lovely, and they do require work and communication. If you're struggling with these feelings, and your partners cares about you, you should both feel comfortable talking about it to each other without judgement. I as an outsider can't tell you what the "right" thing to do here is. That's something that you will have to figure out on your own with your partner. Every relationship is different, and in my understanding of them, communication is key.

It's okay to feel unsure about yourself and things you're going through. Attraction (whatever variation of it you have) IS fluid and is sure to change over time as you learn more about yourself and your life experiences.

Sorry I'm not much help here, but I hope my words brought you some semblance of comfort <3

#steph replies #relationship advice #my advice #i am not a professional #chatting with lovelies

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nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 1 year

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I am actually reading Alastair Reynolds' Revenger now, and it's a book that's equal parts good and irritating to me, and is really good at tapping into certain things that I like about fiction (like a "concerned with how individuals relate to / are connected to [something big and mysterious], specifically the social institutions and beliefs surrounding it" vibe that I think is present in many books that I like, but not in books I've written in the past)

But the irritating parts are taking up a lot of my attention, so that's what I will write about here

The first, and least surprising, annoying thing is Reynolds' emphasis on sexism and sexual violence. This is a matter of taste, and it would be silly to accuse Reynolds of trying to write a book that's "too political" or whatever (it's very obviously not his intention to lecture his audience, or anything like that)

That said, one of the main characters is a fat dude who is mocked for the fact that he is fat, and Reynolds' sexism is not just limited to making fun of this guy for being fat, which I could deal with -- it's also this:

He could have been the most handsome man Gwen had ever clapped eyes on, if she'd never seen an unmasked man before -- as it was, he simply looked like someone had tried to make the worst possible choice. He was gangly and graceless and simply too tall to carry off the physiognomy of a fop. One thing he had in his favour, Gwen thought, was that a man with his build couldn't exactly be called a "twig".

Unacceptable for a book whose politics are "pirates are awesome," for sure

Moving on to stuff that bugs me more. Reynolds makes a point of showing us that some magic in his universe works by removing a person's spiritual self from the body and inserting it into a sort of miniature wooden puppet, where it will go about its daily life like a normal person (except not really). He then makes a point of making this more central to the plot than his previous books had, and I'm not at all sure why

In Reynolds' earlier books, this concept was just part of the world-building, and was occasionally there for plot purposes, but not the main way he used it (e.g. the dramatic climax in the first book involves a puppet named after a god falling into a conveniently-placed gorge so that her divine spirit can merge with a larger god and trigger a crisis). Here, we are shown a lot of stuff that has to do with these miniature puppets, and it's slowly explained to us that a lot of the arcane magic in the world works via these puppets.

And, again, this is fine as world-building . . . but it becomes way more important to the plot. The main reason for this is that the puppets used to store people's souls contain a mysterious, possibly magical technology that has the ability to regrow its own insides, possibly "ascend" to a state of divinity, etc. This technology is, in the present day of the story, primarily distributed among puppets that, in turn, are owned by this new society of pirates who are the "good guys" of this book. This society operates in the sea (which is mostly covered in ice), and so to get from there to land (which is mostly covered in the puppets in question), they've set up an elaborate system of relay points that send messages back and forth to each other (for some reason).

All this makes sense to me as a "subplot" that is a) well-integrated into the main plot and b) doesn't feel "padding" in the way I am complaining about here. But it is also the main thing the new pirates are doing, and has nothing to do with anything that would traditionally be done by pirates, and I don't understand why Reynolds does this. The society in question contains a bunch of very young teens, too -- which is fine for a character's point of view, since we can just follow one of those kids (but again, not clear to me why Reynolds does this). At some point it just feels like he's showing us that he has a cool new setting that he wants to use, and damn the plot

Which is sort of frustrating, because the book is very well-written and suspenseful in many ways, and I do want to know how it ends, but the author is making me spend a lot of time worrying about nonsense that doesn't seem to matter at all

#this is one of those things where i'm sure i could do a better job if i could write the book #so i don't want to complain too much

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noteguk · 3 years

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any way you want it | kth | m

— summary; in which your best friend, Taehyung, finds out about your unsatisfying sexual experiences and decides to put an end to that track record himself.

— contents and warnings; smut, childhood best friends, Taehyung x reader, bigdick!tae, breast play, oral (f receiving), dry grinding, dirty talk, tae has a praise kink, unprotected sex (be responsible!!), rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, Taehyung takes things personally but he has good intentions, this is what happens when mutual thirst gets suppressed for years of friendship

— words; 6.6k

— author’s note; i have no idea why but this fic was so fucking hard to put down into words??? I felt mentally constipated the entire time but it’s finally here

Taehyung wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when you called him at almost two in the morning, complaining about your newest nightmarish date and practically begging to come over. Like the good friend that he was, he made sure to tell you that you would be more than welcome to join him in his newest documentary marathon about aliens, and wondered if you could bring him some takeout on your way over there. Like the bad friend that you were, you said no.

To be fair, the nearest takeout place was across the city from his apartment (about thirty minutes away and in a bad neighborhood), and you were already having a horrible night as it was. Besides, you refused to take part in Taehyung’s search for a high blood pressure and cholesterol levels, arguing that it wasn’t the right time to stuff his face full of hypercaloric noodles.

But you did pity him enough to comply with his second request: a big pot of vanilla ice cream, which you were sure you’d end up consuming too. You were in a crisis.

As if to prove that the gods above were laughing at you, during the walk of shame to Taehyung’s apartment, it had started to rain (because of course it did), and your umbrella was only able to save you from the shoulders up before it crumbled and flew away from your gasp, rolling on the asphalt like a ball of dirt in a Wild West movie. By the time that you dragged yourself to his front door, you were completely soaked (and not in the way you had planned for that night to end), and about to break down crying.

Taehyung, like the angel that he was, helped you with your heavy coat and talked you into taking a warm shower before you got sick. He took the supermarket bag from you (where the ice cream had probably already melted) and walked you to this bathroom, excusing himself so he could grab you some dry clothes — and you only saw the ones he had picked when you got out of the shower.

With a silly smile dancing on your lips, you fumbled with the black booty shorts that Taehyung had jokingly gifted you that past Christmas — one that read “daddy’s juicy butt” in big, bold, neon pink letters over your ass — and then decided that your dignity was already dead by that point, so another kick wouldn’t hurt. Taehyung had also given you one of his favorite band shirts, which he only revealed during desperate times.

Your heart melted with the thought of your best friend trying to comfort you, and pulled the fabric close to your face so you could take a deep inhale, drowning in his scent. It smelled of that stupid cologne that Taehyung had used ever since he hit puberty, and a bit of fabric softener.

The two of you had an extremely close friendship, to the point that it got kind of strange at times. Ever since childhood, it was joked that you and Taehyung had been long lost soulmates — doing everything together, from going to school to laughing at the same exact jokes during movie marathons, often at the same moment and for the same amount of time. Before puberty hit (and the hormonal rage took over your first teenage years) you couldn’t remember disagreeing with him even once. You two had always been in sync.

But the uncomfortably close part only hit after you two went to college, and your anxiety for being a virgin in a sea of starving sharks got the best of you. After long conversations, you had managed to convince Taehyung to help you learn a thing or two about the art of naked wrestling.

Apparently it was weird to give your best friend a handjob and a blowjob for the sake of education. Go figure.

Regardless, your friendship wasn’t affected by any of that — even if you two had agreed to never mention any of it ever again — and you could always count on Taehyung to catch you when you fell.

Even if it was at two am on a Tuesday, after one of your nightmarish dates.

You threw yourself on the couch next to him, hugging your knees against your chest to form a barrier between you and the divine providence that had taken you to that point. You had half-assedly dried your hair, but pools of wetness had started to build on the back of Taehyung’s shirt.

Instead of accusing you of ruining his favorite piece of clothing, Taehyung reached for the remote and paused his documentary just as the narrator was starting to explain how hieroglyphs were actually part of an alien language. “Just tell me how bad it was,” he said, a mustache of ice cream melting over his top lip.

You took a peek at the bowl of melting vanilla on his center table, and decided that you would probably pass the desert for the night.

You glanced at him sideways, voice coming out monotone. “You sure you want to go down that path?”

Taehyung licked his sweet mustache off and nodded, clearly intrigued. “Yeah, hit me with it. You look like you need all the help that you can find.”

You sighed, turning around on the couch so you were facing him — legs still against your chest. “Okay so… I went to his place...”

“Yes…”

“And... we had dinner, talked for a bit.”

“How was the talk?” He asked.

You shook your head, trying to kill the memories inside. “He didn’t let me say a word. He just went on and on about this new website he’s working on, and how expensive his wine glasses were.” You scoffed, angry at yourself for ignoring the clear red flags of an arrogant douchebag. That was what the desperate need for immediate human connection could do to someone, you thought. “Apparently it’s supposed to be the next Facebook or something. Or twitter. I honestly wasn’t paying much attention.”

He chuckled. “Starting off strong.”

“That wasn’t even the main issue,” you said, lowering your forehead so it was touching your knees. You just wanted the world to end at that moment, so you wouldn’t have to go through those experiences again. “After that, we sat on his couch and started watching a movie. And you know how that goes, we started kissing, he pushed me down and got on top of me…”

“And?” He instigated.

With a sigh, you raised your head, meeting your friend’s gaze. Taehyung thought he had never seen you look so dead inside. And he had seen a lot from you. “And he humped like… my lower abdomen for about three minutes and came in his pants.”

Taehyung cringed visibly, taking one hand to cover his mouth. “Oh, man. That’s bad.”

You nodded, strangely relieved at his reaction. Part of you was worried that you were the evil witch in that scenario, that maybe you had done something wrong. “The worst,” you agreed. “Wanna know what else?”

“What? There’s more?”

“He didn’t even ask me if I was satisfied with whatever the hell that was.” You told him, bitterness dripping from your tongue. In the grand scheme of things, that was something silly to get mad over, but the fact that your date didn’t even have the guts to ask if you had gotten something out of that was ridiculous. “Not that I could possibly be. But it’s like he didn’t care and I was just a pillow for him to hump like a… sexually repressed religious teen, I don’t know.”

Taehyung only nodded, realizing that there wasn’t much that he could say to fix the situation. “Was he a good kisser at least?”

You sneered. “I think he was trying to crush my face with his.” You glanced at your friend, only half of his face bathed by the yellow and orange shades coming from the television. Maybe a documentary about ancient history and alien expeditions wouldn’t be so bad. Worst case scenario, it would knock you out, and you wouldn’t have to think about that mess anytime soon. “Also, too much tongue, just… the amount of saliva…”

“Got it. You can stop there.” Taehyung raised one hand, his eyes closing for a second. His palm lowered and met one of your knees, standing there in a silent attempt at consolation. “I’m sorry about your terrible date experience, dude.”

“If you could even call it that.” You ran one hand through your hair, suddenly overtaken by a wave of anger. “God! I was just… so… ugh! Like… ughhhh!!”

Taehyung, bless his heart, sometimes couldn’t understand the random neanderthal sounds you threw his way. “So... what?”

At last, your makeshift protection came crumbling down, and you collapsed on the couch dramatically, legs dangling off the edge. Taehyung thought that you were being possessed for exactly two seconds before you started talking again. “I did a full body shave for this night, Taehyung. Do you realize what that means?” His lips fell open, but, before he had the chance to answer, you continued. “It means that I really wanted to get railed tonight. Actually, I wanted to find a guy who actually knew what he was doing for once in my life.”

Taehyung chuckled, trying to disperse the tension in the room. “Come on, the dating pool can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, it’s bad,” you said.

He wasn’t giving up that fast. “How bad?”

You raised your head to look him dead in the eyes, a silent threat, before finally uttering, “Try no-man-has-ever-made-me-cum bad,” and crashing your head back against the sofa.

If you weren’t so hyper-focused on your own sexual melodrama, you would have noticed the thick silence that fell between the two of you, Taehyung’s face contorting into fifty different emotions within a few seconds. He thought that he had heard it all — from the secrets hidden in Machu Picchu to the obvious extraterrestrial influence on earthy religion — but no amount of bad documentaries could ever prepare him for that revelation. That didn’t make any sense.

“Wait. Seriously?” He finally found his voice and managed to push his doubt out of his throat. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”

You chuckled, humorless. “Oh no, I’ve had plenty of those. Just not from another person.”

“How’s that possible?” he asked.

“I ask myself that every single day.” You sighed, forcing yourself to sit back up. Taehyung was staring at you like you had just grown two extra arms, and you wondered what an amazing sex life he must’ve had for that confession to get him so confused. “Guess I’m just really bad at picking partners, who knows.”

There was a soft grunt on your throat as you fixed your position on the couch, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of your entire day piling up at once. Your gaze mindlessly traveled to the TV — a big plasma monstrosity that Taehyung had bought compulsively during a Black Friday sale — looking at a white-bearded man pointing maniacally towards a specific, round-shaped hieroglyph. You didn’t even need to hit play to know that he was making it seem like it was an UFO, but curiosity got the best of you.

“Can you pass me the remote?” You asked, pointing at the small device that laid beyond Taehyung’s body. “I kinda wanna see what—”

“I’ve made tons of girls have orgasms,” Taehyung interrupted, looking at you like he had just clicked out of a transe.

You laughed at his monotone voice. “I’m happy for you, Tae.” You leaned over his legs so you could finally reach the remote. “That wasn’t a jab at your masculinity, I’m sure you’re a very caring partner, and I’m sure there’s tons of guys out there that—”

“I can make you cum too, if you want.”

You had just grabbed the small piece of plastic when his sentence hit you like a smack in the face, making you drop the remote back on the couch, eyes widening. “You… what?”

He suddenly broke eye contact, taking one hand to massage the back of his neck. “Did that sound as creepy as I think it did?”

“A bit, yeah.” You forced out a light chuckle, trying to break the ice. There was no sign of mockery in his voice, and you didn’t know how to react. You could not say that the offer wasn’t tempting (you’d be lying if you claimed that you didn’t think Taehyung was attractive), but his proposal was so oddly-placed that it sounded like a joke. “What are you talking about?”

Taehyung sighed, turning his head to look at the television. “I just think it’s really unfair that no one has ever made you cum before.”

You smiled. “That’s very nice of you, but…”

“And I want to help you with that.” He looked back at you. Oh, he was being a hundred percent serious. There was no longer a single ounce of doubt in your mind. “We’re friends, it’s not gonna be weird. We’ve done similar stuff before.”

“We were a lot younger, though.” You didn’t know why your mouth suddenly felt so dry, your fight or flight response kicking at full strength. You could tell that Taehyung was also trying to convince himself about the strangeness of the situation. “It’s gonna be kind of weird, yeah.”

“Not if we don’t make it weird,” he threw back. Was it bad that you were actually considering it? Maybe it was the piled-up exhaustion combined with the years of sexual frustration, maybe you were finally out of your mind. But you were really considering it. “I don’t wanna pressure you, alright? Just making a friendly offer. If you don’t want it, that’s fine.”

You kind of wanted it, though. There was too much accumulated libido inside you from years and years of unsatisfying partners, and you trusted Taehyung with your entire heart. It sounded like a safe enough bet: if all went to shit and it got too awkward, you two could just stop, no hard feelings. Besides, you knew that Taehyung cared about you, which was more than you could say about all your dates in the past couple years.

And the more you stared at him, probably looking like a deer in the headlights, the more you grew soft under his presence. At once, you were hit with desires that you had never considered before: you wanted to kiss those soft lips, wanted to know how his large hands would feel around you. You really, really wanted to know how it was to have a good sexual experience with someone, and you couldn’t think of a better candidate than your best friend. Even if you still thought it could be seen as a little bit weird.

But you also kind of didn’t care.

You licked your lips, finally finding your voice after a long moment of silence. “How… how would you do it?”

Taehyung turned his head and looked at you, noticing the expectation in your eyes. “How would you want me to do it?” He asked.

You tried to think, but your mind was completely blank. What did you want him to do? What did you like? Suddenly you weren’t sure about anything anymore. “I don’t know,” you admitted, glancing down.

Taehyung smiled at your nervousness, one of his hands moving to your chin and tilting your head up. “How ‘bout I start by kissing you?” He questioned, gaze flickering to your parted lips. “Is that alright?”

There were no words in your throat, so you simply nodded, closing your eyes as he leaned in.

Taehyung’s mouth tasted of vanilla and you thought, even for a moment, that you were in paradise. The second that his tender lips met yours, your anxiety melted away, giving space to a newfound flame of desire. Taehyung kissed you softly, sensually, taking his time caressing your mouth and drowning in your heat. His hand moved to the back of your head, pressing you closer to him and leaning your head to the side so he could deepen the kiss.

He sighed heavily into your mouth when your tongues met, his other hand moving to hold your waist. The position on the couch was kind of awkward for kissing, with the two of you sitting side by side, so it wasn’t an unwelcome surprise when Taehyung tugged you onto his lap, making you straddle him.

The kiss was starting to get hungrier, messier, a small whimper dying in your mouth when his palms traveled down to cup your ass, pressing you down against his semi-hard cock. Taehyung sighed and groaned at the feeling of you on top of him, loving the way that your fingers played with his hair, your body so perfectly tight against his. If there was any hesitation before, it had completely vanished by that point.

It caught you off guard when he suddenly broke off the kiss to ask you, “Do you like any pet names?”

You blinked, taken aback. “Hm? What?”

He placed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You know, you want me to call you by something?”

You realized that Taehyung was really taking that personal service to a different level, and you couldn’t say that you were let down by it. If any of your past partners had the dignity to ask what you liked, you wouldn’t be in that position in the first place. “I… like being called ‘baby’,” you told him.

Taehyung smiled. “That’s cute. Baby it is.”

Before you had a chance to respond, Taehyung’s lips were back on yours, a dreamy sigh leaving his mouth as your tongues met once again. Only a few seconds passed before he shifted his weight to lay you down, never breaking the kiss as he positioned himself between your legs, hovering over you. Taehyung started trailing a path of kisses down your neck, his large hands slithering beneath your oversized shirt and caressing the skin of your stomach.

“Can I take this off?” He asked, tugging at your shirt.

You agreed and, within a heartbeat, that piece of clothing was already on the floor, and Taehyung was diving in to kiss the valley of your naked breasts. You moaned timidly when one of your nipples was wrapped by his lips, his tongue coming out to play with it. Taehyung’s other hand was occupied fondling your other breast, tugging and pressing down on it, and the sensations were taking over your mind.

“You have great tits,” Taehyung mumbled against your skin, switching to mouth your other nipple.

“I’m glad you like them,” you teased, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. You were letting out these cute little whimpers that were making him lose his mind. “Feels really good.”

“Yeah?” He asked, moving back to kiss his way up your neck. His tongue was hot and heavy as it danced on your skin, and you knew that those sucks he was giving you were surely gonna leave a few marks on your flesh. But you didn’t really care. “Gonna make you feel even better, baby.”

Your eyes fluttered shut at the pet name — it sounded heavenly when Taehyung used it with his deep, honeyed voice; his warm breath hitting your neck as he continued with his ministrations.

He kissed his way to your cheek, placing a small pec on your lips before saying, “Can you do something for me?”

You nodded. “What is it?”

Instead of responding right away, Taehyung’s gaze fell to your lips, and he was once again attacking them. That time, you weren’t able to hold back the whimper that you let out, your panties already glued against your core with how much he was turning you on.

One of his hands had trailed down your exposed abdomen, teasingly playing with the hem of your shorts. You held your breath when he tugged them down, bringing your underwear with it and throwing them somewhere in the living room. Taehyung grunted loudly when his fingers slipped past your folds, digging into your heat. His brain almost short-circuited because of how wet you were.

He broke the kiss and looked you deep in the eyes. “I want you to sit on my face, baby,” he said, and his request shot straight to your core. “Let me take care of you, okay?”

“Are you sure?” You asked. You had never done that before.

But Taehyung wasn’t sharing your reluctance. “Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse and eyes darkened. “Wanna taste you so bad. Sit on my face, please.”

And you didn’t need any more convincing than that. Taehyung helped you get up from the couch so he could reposition himself on it, laying flat on his back and watching as you settled yourself above him, thighs on either side of his head. The couch was the exact size for that, a little smaller and you’d have one leg dangling off the edge.

Taehyung took his hands to your thighs, running them up to your hips. His eyes were focused on your pussy, and you never felt so exposed when he started pressing you down lightly, guiding you closer to his mouth.

You held the back of the couch for support and did as he requested, lowering yourself until Taehyung had you flat on his tongue. Your breath trembled and caught in your throat when he licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, humming around the taste before doing it again. Taehyung was an expert at erasing your worries because, with a few more licks, he had you fully losing yourself in his sinful ministrations.

It wasn’t long until you were whining out his name, your folds lazily dragging against his tongue as you started to grind on his face. “God, Taehyung!” You called out, hand coming down to tug at his hair. Taehyung grunted in satisfaction, the vibrations of his deep voice sending shockwaves through your pussy. “That’s… that’s really nice. You’re really good at this.”

He moaned in response, closing his eyes at your words. Taehyung was eating you out like his mouth was made for it, like he was starving for your taste and you were all that he could think about. He licked you from your entrance to your clit, playing with your sensitive spots and enjoying the tremors of pleasure that ran through your thighs, his hands locked tight around your hips. You sobbed and cried over him, making special effort to keep your legs steady as you rocked yourself on his tongue.

It was only when he decided to suck on your clit that you realized how absurdly close you were. You clenched your teeth and whined out, yanking his hair harder. “Do that again, please,” you asked and Taehyung, like the good friend that he was, was quick to comply. Taehyung wrapped his mouth around your clit in a way that had you trembling over him, licking and sucking on your sensitive nub like his life depended on it. “Fuck, that’s so good, Tae. Feels so good…”

He moaned again, more desperate this time, and some part of your mind understood the pattern that he was presenting you: Taehyung really, really liked your compliments. And you had no problem giving away any more of them.

“You’re licking me so well, Tae, you’re gonna make me cum like this,” you told him, meaning every word you said. Taehyung was a Greek god beneath you, staring up at you with those dark, focused eyes as if he dared you to cum on his tongue. “God! You’re so good for me.”

And then your praises ran thin, because your mind was gravitating somewhere else — seeking for the high that was dangerously close. It was only when Taehyung started toying with your entrance, brushing two of his fingers on it, that you came undone, crying out his name like it was a personal prayer.

There was a smirk on your mouth as you came down, a flooding relief that overtook you. You never thought that you could come so hard in your life, especially when it depended on another person, and you were so, so happy to be wrong that you could cry.

With shaky legs, you removed yourself from Taehyung’s face, straddling his lap and watching as his lips glistened with your arousal. His pink tongue came out to lick them, a hum on his throat as he took in your fucked-out expression.

“You did so well, baby,” he said, placing one of his hands on your waist. “Come here.”

Obedient, you leaned in and sighed as his mouth met yours. This time, Taehyung didn’t wait to eagerly insert his tongue inside your mouth, making you taste yourself on him.

He pulled away leisurely, his voice hoarse. “Can you taste how sweet you are?” He asked. “I loved making you cum on my tongue, baby. You looked so pretty.”

Taehyung breathed out, planting kisses on your neck, one hand trailing down to squeeze your ass. You whined at his tight grip and pressed yourself down on him, feeling his hard cock poking out against the fabric of his sweats.

Taehyung groaned at the stimulation, pressing down on your asscheek again. You rolled your hips on top of him, wincing in sensitivity as his member brushed your clit. “Loved your pussy so much, baby,” he continued, sounding like he was lost in a daydream, “I can’t wait to be inside you. Bet you’d be so tight for my cock, hm?”

“Yeah,” you managed to speak. Even if you had just reached your orgasm, you were still aching to feel something inside you. You wanted Taehyung more than you could understand. “I want you to fuck me, Tae, please.”

He breathed out, his hands tightening around your flesh as you rolled your pussy against his cock once again. Taehyung looked like he was one heartbeat away from completely losing his self control, and hearing you beg for him to fuck you wasn’t doing him any favors. “Gonna need to lie down for me, baby,” he asked.

With a few more shifts on the couch, Taehyung had you beneath him once again, your legs open for him as he removed his shirt and pants. It wasn’t long before his cock sprung free from its confinement, standing erect. You licked your lips at the lustful sight, pussy clenching in anticipation as you took him in — Taehyung was big. Bigger than anyone you’ve ever had, that’s for sure; long and thick and already leaking for you.

You would’ve cried out in need if he didn’t interrupt you. “What are you looking at?” Taehyung asked, the ghost of a smile creeping up on his lips.

Your stare oscillated toward his own. “That’s why you have such a good track record, your cock is huge.” You bit your lip, thinking about how good he would feel inside you. You didn’t know how it was possible, but you were pretty sure the last time you’ve seen his cock — back in the dark ages of your freshman year of college — it wasn’t as big as that. Or maybe you just didn’t have anything to compare it to.

“Hey, I just used my tongue on you, don’t ignore my efforts,” Taehyung teased, wrapping one of his hands around his member so he could pump himself a few times. The playful atmosphere swiftly shifted back, and, when he spoke up again, his voice was deeper. “You think you can take it?”

“Yeah, I can,” you said. You couldn’t be sure, but you were sure going to try.

Taehyung hummed, moving a bit closer so he could brush his tip against your pussy, coating it with your wetness. You closed your eyes in expectation, knowing that you’d love the stretch he would give you.

“You want it?” He asked, a touch of desperation covering his words. Taehyung was nearing his breaking point, and the fluttering of your pussy on his cock was making him go insane. “Want my cock inside your tight little cunt, baby?”

You nodded, frantic. The brushing of his thick tip on your hole was becoming too much, your walls clenching around nothing, seeking for something to fill you up. “Yes, fuck, I want it so bad.”

“Are you tight for me, baby?” He was trying to prolong that moment for as much as he could, keep the pretty face you made when you pleaded for him to fuck you burned in the back of his head. Making you cum once was a victory he would take forever, but making you cum around his cock might as well be his life’s biggest achievement. “Ready for me to fuck you?”

You cried out when he started pressing himself inside you, guiding his crown inside your pussy, then stopping. “Yes, Tae, just put it all in, please,” you whined, hands fumbling for support on his broad shoulders. Taehyung already had you clenching around nothing, you didn’t know what else he wanted from you. “Please, please, fuck me.”

Taehyung chuckled, looking down at where you two met. He was only human, and his self control was short lived. “Since you asked so nicely…”

Your back arched off the sofa as you felt the delicious drag of his large cock inside you, opening you up gradually, taking its time before filling you up to the brim. You gasped and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling, nails digging on the skin of his back as Taehyung groaned besides your ear.

“Fuck, that’s so good.” He let out a shaky breath, and you swore you never heard his voice get so husky before. “I just slipped right in. You’re so fucking wet.”

Your mind was an apocalypse of confused thoughts and forgotten exclamations, eyes fluttering shut as you dove into the sensation of Taehyung inside you — his hips angling backwards, tilting up just enough so he could move himself away from you core, only to come slamming back inside. The stretch of his cock was amazing, it was making you drunk, and all that you could think about was how much pleasure it was giving you.

“So-So big—“ you muttered, half aware that the words actually left your lips.

“How do you like it, uh?” Taehyung asked, his voice dripping sin and hunger. You could tell that he, too, was getting carried away by the feeling, his hips rutting themselves against you at a lazy pace. “Gonna give it to you any way you want it, baby.”

You bit your lip, a small moan leaving your mouth when Taehyung leaned closer to you, distributing hot kisses on your neck. You swore you’d be happy if you died then. “I like it rough,” you answered.

He groaned, apparently satisfied with your response. “Whatever you want.”

Taehyung got to his knees on the couch, deciding to put one foot on the ground for support, his hands raising your hips to help him reach even deeper inside you. Faster than your brain could compute, the shallow, lazy pace he had sat was being replaced with a harsh, fast pumping that made you cry out his name, eyes closing in sheer bliss.

“Tae! Yes, yes, just like that,” you sobbed, running one hand through your hair. You felt like your body was floating, every cell of your body overheating with the amazing pleasure that Taehyung was giving you. You never had someone fucking you so hard, his cock pistoning inside you, your body bobbing up and down on the couch.

Taehyung’s eyes were glued to the bouncing of your breasts as he continued to fuck you, a deep groan leaving his chest. “That’s it, take it,” he moaned out, quickening his pace even more. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth opening in a silent scream. “Gonna make you cum so hard around my cock, baby. Gonna fuck you until you cry. Want that?”

“Yes, yes, please,” you moaned. “Feels so good, Tae.”

“You like my cock, baby? Like it filling you up?” He asked and you could only nod pathetically, your entire body too fucked out to even respond. “F-fuck, your pussy is so good. Tell me that you love my cock.”

“I love your cock,” you whined, feeling like a complete hot mess under his thrusts. “I — fuck! — I love your cock so much, Tae, it’s so big.”

Your words motivated him to fuck you even harder, his member hitting even deeper inside you. Taehyung was getting lost in the stretch of your pussy around him, the glorious sounds you were making, the lust that coated your face every time you called out his name.

“Shit, I don’t know how anyone could look at you like this and not want to see that pretty face cum.” He was breathing out hard, grunting every time your cunt tightened around him. Taehyung wanted to see you like that forever, taking his cock like a good girl, creaming all over him and begging to do it again. You were wrapping around him so perfectly, taking all of him so well, that he didn’t think he’d manage to move on from that anytime soon. “So fucking hot.”

Taehyung chased after your high like a starving man looking for food, experimentally changing the angle and force of his thrusts to see what would get the best reaction out of you. At last, after a pathetically loud cry from your part after he raised your legs up, it seemed as if he had found it. “I bet you’d be so tight cumming around my cock, baby,” he was thinking out loud at that point, trying to make sense of the pretty sounds and expressions you were giving him so eagerly. He wanted nothing more than to see you cum — it was personal at that point. “I wanna feel you cum around me, baby. Wanna feel it so bad.”

“I’m c-close.” Your nails dug into his shoulders, eyes closing tightly. There was a light heat in your cheeks and sweat on your forehead that was making Taehyung wonder if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “You’re so good, T-Tae, you’re fucking me so well…”

Taehyung thought that he could cum right then and there, pushed over the edge with those sweet words alone. He loved being good to you, loved making you feel things that no one else managed to before. He was intoxicated by that sense of superiority, drowning in your praise. He wished that he could fuck you forever.

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he pushed you on, his words hanging somewhere between an order and a breathless plea. You were getting so tight around him that it was making him crazy, your wetness coating his cock and dripping down between your legs like his own personal brand of aphrodisiac. “You can do it, come on. I wanna see you cum so bad.”

You smiled at him, a cute, fucked-out smirk that made Taehyung go to heaven and back. “So good for me, Tae, you’re so big,” you said, your voice so needy and high-pitched. Your orgasm was looming over you, pressing down on your lower body and making you see stars. It was only a matter of time before Taehyung got you crying out his name, back arching off the couch and mouth falling open in delirium. “Tae! Fuck! Don’t stop, please, I’m gonna—“

But your warning came a second too late, because you were already spasming around his length, body shaking as Taehyung thrusted hard inside you. Just as expected, you were absolutely fucking gorgeous when you came — all quivering lips and rolling eyes —, and Taehyung was beyond satisfied to know that he was the only one who saw that pretty face of yours.

“That’s it, baby, fuck.” Taehyung was starting to feel his own high approaching, called by the delicious tightening and releasing of your pussy around him. His thrusts were messy and harsh; his sweaty hair falling over his eyes like a cascade. “Can I cum inside you, baby? Can I fuck you full of my cum?”

You noticed the desperation in his tone and, with the throbbing of his member inside you, you knew that he wasn’t far. “Yes, please,” you said. “You were so good for me, Tae, you can cum wherever you want.”

And it was that final taste of praise that pushed Taehyung over his limit; waves upon waves of cum filling you up as he rode out his high. “God— fuck!” He cried out, drunk on the feeling of your walls milking the last drops of cum out of his cock. A few lazy pumps later, and he was collapsing on top of you with a mumbled, “F-Fuck.”

There was an instant of silence after his orgasm, the quietude only filled by Taehyung’s heavy breathing. You took one hand to his head, caressing the strands as a smile blossomed on your lips. “Well, I believe you now,” you said playfully. “I’m sure you made a bunch of girls orgasm.”

Taehyung chuckled, breathless. “Thank you, I try,” he said, looking up at you. The darkness in his gaze was gone, and it was just your best friend staring back at you. “You alright?”

“I’m great,” you admitted. You never felt so good in your life. “You?”

“Fantastic, thanks for asking.” He leaned back so he could sit up, running one hand through his disheveled hair before saying, “I’m gonna grab you a towel, hang on.”

Taehyung left you for a couple minutes before coming back to clean you up, tenderly wiping away the mess you two had created. After he was done, he discarded the towel on the floor and crawled back to rest on your chest once again.

There was a comforting quietude that floated in the atmosphere, only filled by the muffled buzzing of his freezer and the vague sound of raindrops drumming on the window. You didn’t really know how to deal with that entire situation, didn’t know how things would stay between the two of you. But, at that point, you made the decision to keep those worries for the following morning and, instead, just enjoy his warmth radiating all around you.

The glorious silence, at last, was broken when Taehyung started mumbling against your breasts. “Hey, ___?” He called.

“Yeah?”

“How many dates have you been on?”

You hummed, thinking for a moment. “Ever?”

Taehyung made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I don’t know, like, this past year.”

“Uh… like… five or six? I think?” You answered, looking down to meet his gaze. You knew that wicked expression very well. “Why?”

He smiled. “Because we have a lot of shitty dates to make up for.”

#bts fic #bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung fic #bts #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #bts x you #bts x reader #reader insert #smut #au #taehyung au #bts au

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scuttling · 3 years

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(Not So) Casual Friday

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 4,456 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch (it's not a main component but he very much has the tummy here), Pining, Accidentally admitting attraction, Embarrassment, A little angst, Oral sex, Protected sex Summary: Your best friend Derek finds out about your feelings for Hotch and teases you mercilessly. You can manage it, though, until the first ever Casual Friday, when Hotch shows up to work in a black polo and jeans and you kind of ruin everything. Or maybe you don't? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Okay, girlie, today’s the day,” Derek says when you set your bag and coffee cup on your desk on Monday morning. You shoot your best friend a tired smile and wonder for the—you’ve worked at the BAU for almost two years, so it’s probably the 500th time—for the 500th time why he has to be such a morning person when you would prefer not to have a conversation until at least 10 AM.

“Today’s the day for what?” you sigh, asking out of obligation, because it’s obvious that’s what he’s waiting for; he smiles, picks up your coffee and hands it to you, which must mean you sound bitchy. You take a grateful sip, close your eyes and exhale through your nose.

“For you to admit to me that you’re in love with Hotch.”

You spit out your coffee—only all over yourself, which is great, wouldn’t want to inconvenience Derek at all—and then cough so hard he has to thump on your back to help clear your airway.

It draws some attention; Hotch comes out of his office, takes a look at the two of you and probably regrets hiring the both of you, then walks down the stairs to make sure you’re okay.

“What happened? You’re wet,” he says a bit gruffly, looking at the coffee all over your chest and sleeves. You glare over at Derek, who’s clearly trying not to laugh.

“Derek made me spill my coffee.” You grab a handful of tissues off your desk and pat at the wet spot, trying to soak up the worst of it, but it’s not salvageable. You’ll have to change your shirt.

“And then you… choked on it?” Hotch asks, to clarify. Derek does laugh at that; the things Hotch is saying happen to have dual meanings, slightly sexual, and now that Derek knows—thinks he knows—about your thing for Hotch, it’s clear he finds it all so hilarious. He’s a twelve year old boy in a grown man’s body.

“Okay, I didn’t spill, I spit,” you correct, looking up at them, and Derek makes an exaggerated face of disapproval.

“Should have swallowed,” he says, trying to sound serious, and you shoot him an irritated look and reach out to slap him in the chest. Asshole.

“Do you need help getting cleaned up?” Hotch’s expression is kind, sweet, but you’d sooner die than have him blot coffee off of your boobs. It would be mortifying, especially in front of Derek.

“No, no, I think I’m okay. Thanks,” you add with a soft smile, and then you reach up and pull your sweater over your head, unzip your go bag, and search for another top.

For some reason, Hotch has a coughing fit scarily similar to the one you just had, and you turn to pat his back like Derek did for you.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking up into his face, and he nods despite his watering eyes.

“Fine,” he croaks, and he leaves as quickly as he came. You sigh, because it’s not even nine and your day has already been so weird.

You’re wearing a tank top, and thankfully the coffee didn’t get through to that layer, so it’s quick and easy to throw another lightweight sweater over top of it; you ball up the wet one, shove it in the dirty clothes portion of your bag, zip it up and stash it under your desk. Derek looks like he’s having the best day of his life.

“You realize you just undressed in front of Hotch,” he says with a tone you don’t appreciate. You roll your eyes.

“I did not. I had a tank top on underneath.” You almost always wear an undershirt, because you’ve been a cop long enough to know that sometimes your clothes get torn or messed up in the line of duty, and you’re not trying to offer a free show while taking down an unsub. Derek wiggles his eyebrows, points at your chest.

“Yeah, one that put those little boobies on display. His eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character.” This time, you punch him in the arm, hard. It’s too goddamn early for this.

“Can you please shut up already? I don’t have a thing for Hotch.”

“Ah, I didn’t say you had a thing, I said you’re in love with him. And I have evidence; lots of it.” You tip your head back, groan, wondering what you did to deserve a best friend who is also such a pain in the ass, and it’s that moment that Hotch chooses to rejoin you; he looks a little flushed, probably from the coughing earlier.

“Uh. We have a case; I know not everyone is here yet, but you can head up to the briefing room, I’ll grab the others when they arrive.”

“Sure thing, sir,” you say easily, grabbing your tablet and what’s left of your coffee; you gesture for Derek and he follows, laughing and shaking his head. “Okay, what is it now? I’m so glad you find me entertaining today.”

“‘Sure thing, sir,’” he says with a high, breathy voice you assume is supposed to mimic yours. “You want his dick so bad.” You narrow your eyes at him as you head upstairs.

“Uh, because I was being respectful? I know that’s a foreign concept for you, the world’s biggest asshole, but you don’t have to read anything into it.” You take your usual seats at the table, pull up the note-taking app on your tablet, and Derek sits back, crosses his arms behind his head.

“Well you’re not calling me ‘sir’, and I’m the sexiest piece in the office, so it’s hard not to read into it.” You look over at him, elbow on the table, chin in the palm of your hand.

“Sexy is subjective, and you don’t do it for me, sorry to break it to you.” He scoffs, laughs, and you laugh too because you both know you see each other as brother and sister, buddies, and fellow former cops, and absolutely nothing else.

“Yeah, I get it, only Hotch does it for you; he’s not my type, but I can see how a young lady like yourself could be drawn to his brooding exterior.”

“I’m not drawn to his exterior!” you practically growl, and then you’re joined by Spencer and JJ.

“Good morning. What’s going on with you two?” JJ asks, loading up the monitors for the debriefing, her eyebrows raised.

“She’s in love with Hotch,” Derek says completely nonchalantly, and you rest your head on the table, on top of your forearms, and sigh.

“She’s what?” JJ’s whole face lights up, and you seriously regret everything.

“I’m not in love with anybody!” you mumble against your arms, and then you sit up, because you’re clearly going to have to defend yourself. “And I’d appreciate it if you quit saying that I am.”

“I told you I have evidence,” Derek reminds you, leaning back in his chair a little. One swift kick would have him toppling ass over tea kettle, but you’re too nice, even when he’s actively trying to ruin your life. “Shall I go over it while we wait?”

“I’ll be an objective third party,” Spencer says with a brief smile, and you sigh, wave your hand toward Derek.

“Alright, let’s hear it. I’m sure I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever evidence you might think you have.” He grins like this is the moment he’s been waiting for, and you feel a little stupid for encouraging this.

“For one, you always look at him. When I’m delivering a profile, I notice you watching the locals, making sure they understand what we’re going over, since you're the queen of analyzing the micro expressions. But when Hotch is delivering a profile, your eyes are on him the whole time. Same goes for discussing theories on the jet; anyone else, and you’ve got your face in your tablet, scribbling notes, but you always look at him when he speaks.”

Your cheeks get hot. He’s a captivating speaker, is all, with that deep, velvety voice, and you can learn a lot from him, so you pay attention. That’s just being smart.

“Second, you tense when he gets close to you: not like you don’t want him to touch you, but like you’re halfway to jumping him already and trying to control it. I could probably put my hand in your pocket and you wouldn't even flinch, but if he leans over you to point at something you look like you’re about to cream your pants.”

“I have seen that, actually,” JJ offers, and you look over at her, betrayed. Sure, you get a whiff of his clean, crisp cologne, or feel the heat of him at your back, and your body reacts, reminds you that this is your boss and you’re at work and you can’t get turned on by the way he smells, but that’s actually a good thing, not an indicator of feelings or anything.

“Third, there’s something up with you and the gray suits. I can literally tell that he’s wearing one before I even see him, all because of the look on your face. It’s like you’re drunk on the gray suit.”

“Okay, that’s not true,” you say with a roll of your eyes—the gray suits are god tier, but there’s no way you’re that obvious—but it’s Spencer who speaks up, this time.

“You know, I have noticed that. Your pupils tend to be more dilated when his suit is gray or blue than when it’s black.” Fuck. You sigh.

“He barely ever wears the blue. It looks so good on him,” you murmur, and then you snap your eyes shut, cover your face with your hands. “Fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“To be fair, we are profilers,” Derek says, leaning in to pat your back. “But also to be fair, he’s been a profiler longer than any of us, so if we know, he definitely knows.”

“Not helping, Derek,” you grind out, and then you’re joined by the rest of the team. Penelope takes the seat next to you, leans in with a worried tone of voice.

“Is everything okay?”

“She’s having a small crisis, but she’ll be fine,” JJ says with a smile, and you don’t miss the way Hotch looks you over when she says it, concern in his eyes. “Alright, so we’re headed to Arkansas…”

Later that morning, when you’ve been given your instructions—yours are heading to the crime scene with Emily and Derek—Hotch pulls you out into the hall, rests a gentle hand on your arm.

“Are you alright? JJ mentioned you were having a crisis earlier. This is the first time I’ve been able to get you alone, and I wanted to check on you.” You take a deep breath, look up at him, so handsome in a black suit, white shirt, green tie—he almost never wears a green tie, and you absently think it brings out the more golden tones of his eyes—and smile softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s really nothing. Personal stuff, and I’m dealing with it.” If by ‘dealing with it’ you mean you’ve been repressing it, shoving it down day in and day out until your feelings are choking you, then yeah, you’re dealing with it. “Thanks for checking, though, that’s kind of you.”

“Of course. I’m here to help in any way I can, if you need me.” Good god, do you need him, emotionally, physically, but that’s fantasy, and this, what he’s offering, is rooted in reality. Good things do happen, but not to you.

“Thanks.” Your voice is weak to your own ears, and he swallows, nods; you see Derek hovering by the door, waiting for you, and you pull away to join him, plastering a smile on your face. You don’t talk about it again until Friday, and at that point it’s extremely unavoidable.

It’s Casual Friday, newly implemented by the bureau as a way to boost morale, and while it doesn’t really excite you, because you’re fairly casual anyway, others take full advantage of it. Others, including Hotch.

He shows up to work wearing a black polo and dark jeans, his usual watch. It’s easily the most simplistic, basic outfit a man could decide to wear on Casual Friday, but this isn’t just a man, it’s Aaron fucking Hotchner, and so naturally, you lose your damn mind.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the damn polo didn’t fit him perfectly, tight across his shoulders and chest and the little tummy he has that makes you want to be under him so badly, your stomachs pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly, his strong thighs working against yours…

“Hello, are you alive in there?” Emily asks, waving her hand in front of your face; the two of you, along with Derek, are in Penelope’s office for lunch while Rossi, Reid, and JJ are out of the office for a seminar. You blink, shake away your thoughts and hope and pray they don’t come back—but they’ll come back, they always do.

“She’s just short circuiting because of Hotch’s Casual Friday look,” Morgan says with a wink, sitting backward in his seat. “She’s been drooling so much I’ve had to follow her around with a mop to clean up after her.” You push your wheeled chair away from them with a groan, needing space and air and, potentially, a brain transplant. You’ve gotten nothing done all day long.

“Can you blame me? The man comes in here everyday, buttoned up tight, looking incredible in a suit and tie, and then he shows up in that black polo, all snug and hot and delicious, and you expect me not to freak out? You guys are lucky I didn’t pass out.” You’re met with silence, and you blink, confused, at your friends, but they’re all just kind of staring with looks of barely concealed humor. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret that I want to climb him like a tree.”

“Pretty sure it was a secret to him,” Penelope says, looking shocked, and you whip around in your chair to see Hotch standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and a little flushed.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I, uh—” He raises a hand, waves you off.

“It’s okay. No harm done; thank you, for the, uh. Compliment.” He steps forward, hands a manila folder to Penelope. “Thanks for taking care of these,” he says softly, and then, unsurprisingly, he gets the hell out of there. You wish you could disappear off the face of the Earth.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” you mutter when he’s gone, leaning forward with your head in your hands. “That’s it, I’m quitting. It’s been nice knowing you guys.”

“Okay, don’t be dramatic,” Derek says, and you look up to glare at him; he’s the one that started all this in the first place. You were fine, feelings tamped down and suppressed, until he brought it up and then told everyone you know.

“Don’t tell me not to be dramatic, Derek! This is all your fault. You never respect my boundaries, you never know when to just let me be, you always have to pick and pick until you wear me down. Maybe I had a reason for wanting to keep my feelings private, did you ever think of that?”

“I know you're upset,” Emily begins softly, because there’s some pretty thick tension between you and Derek now, but you stand up, push your chair across the room, and shake your head.

“I’m not upset, I’m fucking humiliated. I’m going home; let him know I’m sick, will you?” You exhale deeply, storm upstairs and grab your stuff and drive home with tears in your eyes. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life, and add that to the absolute heartbreak you’re feeling? You’re just happy you make it to your apartment, so you can break down with cheesecake and a sappy, romantic comedy with a happy ending: those perfect, fictional worlds are pretty much the only place one is guaranteed. You are, as planned, hunkered down on the sofa in your softest pajamas, watching You’ve Got Mail and eating the center out of an entire cheesecake with a spoon when there��s a knock at your door. You groan, pick up your cheesecake tin, and walk over to it, fully expecting it to be Derek come to beg for forgiveness for ruining your life, so it’s no surprise you drop your dessert on the floor when it’s actually Hotch on the other side.

He looks down at the tin, then up at your face, cracks the barest hint of a smile.

“I thought you were sick; I brought soup,” he says, holding up a paper bag, and your heart thumps in your chest. You wipe a hand over your face, because you haven’t been exactly neat in your heartache cheesecake consumption, and then you kick the tin across the floor and invite him in, closing the door behind him.

“I thought it was obvious that I wasn’t actually sick, just… really embarrassed,” you say when he turns back to look at you. “I can’t believe you heard all that stuff I said… I’m really sorry I made you uncomfortable.” You take the bag from his hand and invite him to follow you into the kitchen, where you set it on the counter, lean against it. He comes close, but not so close you can’t function, which is good; your comfy pajamas are shorts and a loose tank top, so you feel a little exposed already.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he says softly, and you frown, must have heard him wrong. He presses his fingertips against the counter, as if for support. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was… unexpected,” he explains, “very unexpected, but I’m not uncomfortable.”

You flush hot, and you can feel the bad decision part of your brain switching on, warning bells ringing in your head.

Whatever you do next has the potential to be extremely stupid, and you would like to avoid that at all costs; you love your job, after all, despite how physically and emotionally exhausting it can be, and you love your team. Time to think with your upstairs brain only.

“That makes me feel a little better,” you say truthfully, and despite the pep talk you just gave yourself, you move closer to him like there’s an invisible magnetic force between you; you would imagine a guy like Hotch would step back, keep his distance, but he only cranes his neck a little so he can look down at you more easily.

God, he’s tall. And he smells good, and his face is perfect, and that goddamn polo...

“Good, I’m glad. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. I’m not uncomfortable, it’s not… it’s not unwanted.” You swallow audibly, looking up at him, wondering if he knows what he’s saying, what it sounds like.

“It’s not?” you ask, and it comes out breathy; he takes a small step closer to you, brushes his fingers over your arm, peers into your eyes.

“No, it’s not. I’ve been thinking of you, too; I know you know you’re beautiful, but you’re also so smart, and strong-willed, and a force to be reckoned with. I’m proud to have you on my team, and I’d be proud… to have you climb me like a tree.” He smiles again, just the barest hint of one, and you put your arms around him and pull him closer for a kiss.

One long, slow, perfect kiss turns into another, then another, and he presses your back against the counter, his hands on your face and your hands on his thick waist; you hum into the kiss, revel in the feel of his lips on yours, his tongue sweeping past them, and when you pull back for air it feels like there’s only one question that needs to be asked.

“Bedroom?” you breathe, and he nods, and you take his hand and pull him in that direction, pausing to kiss him several times before you get there. “You don’t happen to have a condom, do you?” you ask, breathless, guiding him to the bed, and he frowns, shakes his head.

“I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.” You grin at that, lean forward and kiss him, your fingers in his hair.

“I find it so hot that you even say presumptuous. I might have one here somewhere.” You open your nightstand, move around books and toys until you find a couple; you flip them over, checking to see if they’re expired, and offer him a couple options. “They’re still good, surprisingly. You can, uh. Choose the one that would work best.”

He looks them over, picks one and hands back the rest, and you throw them back in the drawer and slide into his lap, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says, holding your waist as you look down at him, completely in awe that this is happening. “But I want to clarify: if you’re looking for something casual, I don’t think we should go any further.” You inhale softly, surprised by his straightforwardness, and you lean in, kiss him slowly.

“I don’t want casual. I want to be with you.” His eyes are so brilliant, dark in the dim light of your bedroom, and he nods, presses his lips to yours and slides his hands beneath your top, guides it over your head. Then they move to your shorts, slipping them gently off your hips, and you stand so he can push them to the ground.

You’re both breathing heavily, a little rough, and you step between his legs, kiss him again, run your hands down his chest, closing your eyes with a sigh because you finally get to feel him after a year of just imagining what it would be like. After a beat, you open your eyes, look into his, smile.

“Really grateful for Casual Friday,” you whisper. “Otherwise you might never have found out I’m kind of in love with you.” You ease the polo over his head, drop it on the ground and encourage him to stand so you can take off his pants; he does, but before you can drop to your knees as planned, he takes your face in his hands, presses one soft kiss against your mouth.

“I’m more than kind of in love with you.” Oh, if that isn’t the greatest sentence your ears have ever heard… You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss a little more, forgetting that you planned to finish undressing him; when you remember, you make quick work of it, then have him lay back against the bed and settle between his legs.

You put your mouth on him because you want to, more than anything, and his hand drops to your hair, caressing you while you suck slowly, deeply, holding him with one hand and pressing against his stomach with the other. His moans are soft and gorgeous, his body tense beneath your hand, and you’d do this all night, but he murmurs your name, coaxes you up, puts his hands on your back as you settle against him.

“You’re so incredible. I never would have imagined I’d get this, get you,” he breathes, skimming his hands over your sides and hips, and you kiss softly, steamy and sweet.

“Me neither.” You lean up, make space for him to roll on the condom, and then press him inside; your breath hitches, and so does his, and you lay on top of him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, arms around each other tightly while you move. “Hmm. Aaron,” you sigh, hair falling around him, and he groans, digs his fingertips into your hips.

“Sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth.” You smile, but it slips away when he surges up to kiss you, leans up so he’s sitting with you in his lap. He slides a broad hand up your back, wraps it around the nape of your neck, and pumps his hips up as you sink down, eliciting a series of soft, eager moans from the both of you.

“Feels like I’ve waited so long; I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I wanted you,” you tell him, chest heaving, and he brings you to him for a kiss, something a little rougher, less refined. He’s getting close.

“Never. You make me feel so much.” You reach back against his leg for support, work harder to bring him off, and when he comes he crushes his mouth against yours, delicious and more uncontrolled than you’ve ever seen him. He chants your name, so soft and sweet rolling off of his tongue, and then gets you on your back so he can press deeply inside.

You feel so incredibly full, panting beneath him, your hands on his waist and your feet on the backs of his thighs; his perfect face is inches from yours, all shallow breaths and decadent, passionate kisses, and when you climax you pull him closer, sigh, unravel completely in his embrace.

Maybe good things do happen after all. You hold each other and talk for a while, after a quick pitstop to the restroom, and then your stomach growls—understandably, since the only thing to fill it since lunch was that stupid cheesecake—and Hotch orders takeout on his phone from bed; god bless technology.

There’s a knock at the door twenty minutes later, and you know that’s quick for your favorite Thai place, but you’re not complaining because you’re officially starving. He offers to grab it, throws on his boxers and heads for the living room; after a few minutes, you wonder what’s taking so long, pull on your robe and go to check on him.

Hotch is talking to Derek, who is standing in your living room with a piece of cheesecake and a shit eating grin.

“I came with a peace offering, but now I think I’ll wait for a, ‘Thank you, Derek,’” he says, and you roll your eyes, stalk over and take the cheesecake out of his hands. You give it to Hotch, lean up to kiss Derek on the cheek, and push him toward the door.

“Thank you, Derek. Go away, Derek,” you say with a smile of your own, and he raises his palms and retreats down the hall, laughing as he goes.

This is just one more thing he’ll tease you mercilessly about, but this time the benefits outweigh the costs. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt #dad bod hotch

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iamdeku · 3 years

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Strictly Business: ProHero!Deku x Reader

Pro hero!Izuku meeting his new personal assistant who is nervous and had previous terrible experiences with Proheros who treated her like a tool. (Reader is female)

This was a really fun request to do! I loved the idea for this and definitely got a little carried away with the word count, haha. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault. Bad bosses. I did not proofread.

You had been nervous when you had started working for the #1 hero. You had worked hard to get here, but it had been a long road, and it hadn’t always been fun. In fact, up until now it had been terrible. When you walked into Deku’s office, you were seriously thinking about undoing years of work and changing your career path entirely.

Your dream had been to work with heroes. Not be harassed by them.

You first job had also been your first mistake. You should have known better than to work with the Fresh-Picked hero, Grape Juice, but you were new to the industry and no one had warned you off. So you became a personal assistant to your sleaziest boss to date.

Mineta had done his best to ruin your life. He sexually harassed you at ever turn, abused his power, kept you after hours and made you do ridiculous things. When you finally gathered the courage to quit, you never looked back.

When you were looking for your next job, you decided it was better to go with an established hero, one who had been in the game a long time. Endeavor, as the former #1 hero, seemed like a solid, safe choice. You were so wrong.

You worked for Endeavor for years, unwilling to quit the paycheck, but the experience was awful. Endeavor was arrogant, with a terrible temper and a hefty helping of sexism. By the time you were in a financially stable enough place to quit that job, you had lost all faith in the heroes around you.

So now, starting your first day working for Deku, you were prepared for the worst. You were sure you were about to be introduced to some fresh torture, but you were ready for whatever he would level at you. Heroes could sink no lower in your eyes.

So naturally, you were surprised on your first day when he seemed…nice. Sweet even.

You knocked on his office door, a combination of dread and resignation swirling in your stomach. You expected a wait, but he answered it almost immediately.

“Hi! You’re my new personal assistant, right? It’s so nice to meet you. I’m sorry I wasn’t at your interview. I meant to be there but there was a crisis downtown I got called in for. I hope you got the gift basket I sent to your house to apologize. I really am so sorry, it’s terrible policy not to have met you before now.”

You had gotten that gift basket, actually, but you hadn’t thought he was aware of it. You definitely hadn’t thought it was his idea, but from the sounds of his speech it definitely had been. You blinked at him a couple of times, trying to gather your wits after that rapid speech.

“Yes,” you said. “I’m your new personal assistant. It’s very nice to meet you. What can I do for you today sir?”

He seemed confused, as though he hadn’t expected a personal assistant to be ready to work. That couldn’t be right though. He was an experienced pro.

“Didn’t they tell you when you got here? I thought we could start with lunch together, so I can get to know you since I missed your interview. I’m sorry, I should have sent you an email.”

Your heart sank at his words, all of your hopes for his kindness to be genuine crashing with it. So, it was to be the hopelessly flirtatious boss who thought you existed to fulfill his fantasies again. You had seen that before.

“I’m really not sure that would be wise, sir. I like to maintain a strict level of professionalism,” you said, making your refusal as polite as you could.

He blinked, as though it hadn’t even occurred to him that might not be professional.

“Oh. I suppose you have a point. Well, why don’t we eat here while we work then? I can ask you a few of the questions I didn’t get to for your interview while you settle in.”

You sighed internally. There was really no way you could politely turn that down, so you forced your face into a smile.

“That sounds like it could work well.”

You were pleasantly surprised when your lunch actually went well. Deku never made a move on you, other than his request for you to call him Izuku, which seemed to apply to all the employees. It could have just been a ploy to get you to let your guard down, but all the same, you wanted to believe he really was this kind.

You two worked together in his office the whole day, and you became familiar with his schedule. He never did anything to make you uncomfortable, and as the day wore on you decided cautious optimism was the way to go. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You smiled fondly at the memory, chopping carrots on the counter. Across the room from you, the man you had come to know well was pacing, mumbling frantically as he analyzed some old battle playing on his TV.

“Izuku, you’re going to throw off my cooking with all that racket, and then we’ll have nothing to eat.” You laughed lightly.

He nearly jumped 10 feet in the air. “Sorry, sorry! I guess I just got a little lost in thought. Although I guess I wasn’t the only one lost. I asked you about my schedule earlier and you didn’t seem to hear me at all.”

You blushed in shame. “Sorry.”

Izuku shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Happens to me all the time. Obviously. What were you thinking about?”

“I was just remembering my first day working for you and how terrified I was.”

It seemed silly to you now, but back then you never could have predicted you would be best friends with your boss, let alone cooking dinner for him while working unofficial overtime as a passion project. You never thought that working for Izuku would be what you always wanted.

“Why were you terrified? Just because I’m #1? You’d worked with famous heroes before. I’m no one special.”

Oh, how wrong he was.

“You are special. You were the first hero I’d worked with who didn’t make me miserable. Every boss I had before you either sexually harassed me, overworked me or was just plain unpleasant. Usually all of those. I had given up on heroes before I met you,” you confessed casually.

Izuku blanched at you.

“What?” The word was breathless, barely audible.

“Yeah. I thought you knew my work history. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but anyone with any experience working with heroes will tell you Endeavor is not a super cuddly guy.”

“I…had no idea.” You looked up and found, to your surprise, that Izuku’s eyes were swimming with tears. “I never knew you were treated like that. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s okay. I have you now.” You froze at your misstep.

He would probably never notice it, but you had. It really hadn’t been your intention to fall in love with your boss, but he had been so sweet and kind to you that it had happened naturally. The way his eyes lit up when he smiled, the energy he had for the things he loved, his strength and dedication had all lead you here.

“I’m not going to let anything like that happen to you again. Or anyone. I’ll make sure your past employers get investigated.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

There was silence in Izuku’s house as you stared down at the carrot you had been cutting. In an effort to lighten the mood, you tried to make another joke.

“You know, that first day when you invited me to lunch, I thought you were hitting on me.” You laughed a little bit at the absurdity of it. “I know now that you would never do that, obviously.”

You heard the crash when Izuku dropped the mug of tea he had been holding. Before you could move, he was scrambling to pick it up, cheeks bright red and flaming.

“I-Oh, this is terribly awkward.” Izuku mumbled, no doubt thinking you couldn’t hear him.

“Wait. Were you flirting with me?” You asked, breathless.

“No! I mean…not…not then,” he stammered.

“Are you-” You stopped, taking a moment to gather your courage as Izuku stood, effectively giving up on the shards of pottery at his feet. “Are you flirting with me now?”

He stiffened, looking deeply uncomfortable as he met your gaze.

“Yes. I mean, not intentionally! It’s just that I have feelings with you, but I would never act on them. I would never want to make you uncomfortable and if you feel like you need to resign now because of that, I understand. I would be happy to recommend you to any of the other pro-heroes I know, and I can assure you they would make excellent bosses.”

You crossed the room to stand in front of him, taking one of his awkwardly flailing hands in your own.

“I think I am going to have to resign, unfortunately.” You watched his face fall before quickly correcting yourself. “It seems like it would be inappropriate to date my boss. I have feelings for you too, Izuku.”

Rising up on your tiptoes, you dared to kiss his cheek, hot from his blush and scattered with freckles.

“You do?”

The question is quiet, but you hear it clearly with his breath in your ear, faces still close from where you haven’t dared to move. You pull back now, surveying his awestruck face.

“Yes. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I guess it was sort of inevitable that I would fall for you.”

You smiled, biting your lip and staring down at your feet. Izuku’s warm, calloused hand reached up to your cheek, pulling your gaze up to his.

“So does this mean you want to be with me?”

The words seemed too good to be true, striking somewhere deep in your chest and knocking you breathless. Yes. Please, yes, let it be true.

“I would like that very much. If you would, I mean.”

Izuku nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! That was never my intention with this, but after getting to know you, I really do like you. I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but I think you’re beautiful and clever and funny and I would love to take you out on a date, if that’s something you would want.”

You smiled, leaning gently into the palm of his hand that cupped your face, bringing your own hand up to twine your fingers together.

“I think that sounds perfect.”

Izuku laughed softly, and you could hear the emotion in the sound.

“You know, I was so lonely before you. I was really just hoping for a friend when I hired you. I thought maybe we would get along okay and I could have someone to keep me company. I was crushed when you said you liked to keep it professional, but I vowed to myself I would honor your wishes.”

“Yeah. We both did a great job of keeping it professional.” You gestured to your surroundings, snickering to yourself.

“I seem to recall you inviting me into your home first,” he teased.

“Hey! I was having a home decorating crisis! I could not build that shelf myself.”

“Or, as it turns out, with my help.”

You snorted at the memory of your backwards shelf, which you had eventually decided to just make do with. As it turned out, Izuku was terrible at building furniture. He was great at making you happy though.

“Well, it all turned out for the best.”

“It sure did. But I think we can both agree that you’re the one who’s not professional here.”

You rolled your eyes, rising up on your tiptoes.

“How’s this for professional?” You breathed.

Izuku seemed like he might ask questions, but before he could, you kissed him gently. When you pulled away, you were both smiling. Your hands had moved to wrap around his neck, and his hand had fallen to your waist.

“I think I’m really starting to like professionalism.”

#mha #bnha #agedup!midoriya #prohero!deku #deku x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku

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samwisethewitch · 3 years

Text

Coping with religious trauma

CONTENT WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS DISCUSSIONS OF MENTAL ILLNESS, TRAUMA RECOVERY, AND HOMOPHOBIA. The advice in this post is intended for an adult audience, not for those who are legal minors.

A lot of people find their way to paganism after having traumatic experiences with organized religion, especially in countries like the United States, where 65% of the population identifies as Christian. (This number is actually at an all-time low — historically, the percentage has been much higher.) Paganism, which is necessarily less dogmatic and hierarchical than the Abrahamic religions, offers a chance to experience religion without having to fit a certain mold. This can be extremely liberating for people who have felt hurt, abused, or ignored by mainstream religion.

To avoid making generalizations that might offend people, I’ll share my own story as an example.

My family joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, better known as the Mormons, when I was nine years old. The Mormons are an extremely conservative sect of evangelical Christianity that places a heavy emphasis on maintaining a strong community that upholds their religious values. The problem with that is that Mormon values are inherently racist, sexist, homophobic, and transphobic. As a teenager in the Mormon Church, I was told that as a woman, my only purpose in life was to marry a (Mormon) man and raise (Mormon) children. I was discouraged from pursuing a college education if it meant delaying marriage. I was not allowed to participate in the full extent of religious ritual because I was not a man. I was not allowed to express myself in ways that went against Mormon culture, and I kept my bisexuality secret for fear I would be ostracized. I didn’t have any sort of support system outside the Church, which inevitably made the mental health issues that come with being a queer woman in a conservative Christian setting much, much worse.

I left the Mormons when I was seventeen, and by that time I had some major issues stemming from my time in the Church. I had been extremely depressed and anxious for most of my teen years. I struggled with internalized misogyny and homophobia. I had very low self-esteem. I had anxiety around sex and sexuality that would take years of therapy and self-work to overcome. I wanted to form a connection with the divine, but I wasn’t sure if I was worthy of such a connection.

I was attracted to paganism, specifically Wicca, because it seemed like everything Mormonism wasn’t. Wicca teaches equality between men and women, with a heavy focus on the Goddess in worship. It places an emphasis on doing what is right for you, as long as it doesn’t harm anyone else. It encourages sexuality and healthy sexual expression. Learning about Wicca, and later other types of paganism, helped me develop the kind of healthy spirituality I’d never experienced as a Mormon. Although Wicca is no longer the backbone of my religious practice, it was a necessary and deeply healing step on my spiritual journey.

I’m not sharing my story to gain sympathy or to make anyone feel bad — I’m sharing it because my situation is not an uncommon one in pagan circles. The vast majority of pagans are converts, meaning they didn’t grow up pagan. Some had healthy upbringings in other faiths, or no faith at all, and simply found that paganism was a better fit for them. Others, like myself, had deeply traumatic experiences with organized religion and are attracted to paganism because of the freedom, autonomy, and empowerment it offers.

If you fall into this latter category, this post is for you. Untangling the threads of religious trauma can be an extremely difficult and overwhelming task. In this post, I lay out six steps to recovery based on my own experiences and those of other people, both pagan and non-pagan, who have lived through religious trauma.

While following these steps will help jumpstart your spiritual healing, it’s important to remember that healing is not a linear process — especially healing from emotional, mental, and spiritual trauma. You may have relapses, you may feel like you’re moving in circles, and you may still have bad days in five or ten years. That’s okay. That’s part of the healing process. Go easy on yourself, and let your journey unfold naturally.

Step One: Cut all ties with the group that caused your trauma

Or, at least, cut as many ties as reasonably possible.

Obviously, if you’re still participating in a religious organization that has caused you pain, the first step is to leave! But before you do, make sure you have an exit plan to help you disengage safely and gracefully.

To make your exit plan, start by asking yourself what the best, worst, and most likely case scenarios are, and be honest in your answers. Obviously, the best case scenario is that you leave, everyone accepts it, and all is well. The worst case scenario is that someone tries to prevent you from leaving — you may be harassed by missionaries or concerned churchgoers, for example. But what is the most likely case scenario? That depends on the religious community, their beliefs, and how involved you were in the first place. When making your exit plan, prepare for the most likely scenario, but have a backup plan in case the worst case scenario happens.

Once you’ve prepared yourself for the best, worst, and most likely outcomes, choose a friend, significant other, or family member who can help you make your exit. Ideally, this person is not a member of the group you are trying to leave. Their role is mainly to provide emotional support, although they may also need to be willing to run off any well-meaning missionaries who come calling. This person can also help you transition after you leave. For example, you might make a plan to get coffee with them every week during the time your old religious community holds worship services.

Finally, make your strategy for leaving. Choose a date and don’t put it off! If you have any responsibilities within the group, send in a letter of resignation. Figure out who you’ll need to have conversations with about your leaving — this will likely include any family members or close friends who are still part of the group. Schedule those conversations. Make sure to have them in public places, where people will be less likely to make a scene.

If you feel it is necessary, you may want to request that your name be removed from the group’s membership records so you don’t get emails, phone calls, or friendly visits from them in the future. You may not feel the need to do this, but if contact with the group triggers a mental health crisis, this extra step will help keep you safe.

Of course, it’s not always possible to completely cut ties with a group after leaving. You may have family members, a significant other, or close friends who are still members. If this is the case, you’ll need to establish some clear boundaries. Politely but firmly tell them that, although you’re glad their faith adds value to their lives, you are not willing to be involved in their religious activities. Let them know that this is what is best for your mental and emotional health and that you still value your relationship with them.

Try to make compromises that allow you to preserve the relationship without exposing you to a traumatic religious environment. For example, if your family is Christian and always spends all day on Christmas at church, offer to celebrate with them the day after, once their religious commitments are over.

Hopefully, your loved ones can respect these boundaries. If not, you may need to distance yourself or walk away altogether. If they are knowingly undermining your attempts to take care of yourself, they don’t deserve to be in your life.

During this time, you may find it helpful to read other people’s exit stories online or in books. One of my personal favorites is the book Girl at the End of the World by Elizabeth Esther. Hearing other people’s stories can help you remember that other people have been through similar situations and made it out on the other side. You will too.

Step Two: Seek professional help

I cannot overstate the importance of professional counseling when dealing with trauma of any kind, including religious trauma. Therapists and counselors have the benefit of professional training. They are able to be objective, since they’re approaching the situation from the outside. They can keep you from getting bogged down in your own thoughts and feelings.

I understand that not everyone has access to therapy. I am very lucky to have insurance that covers mental health counseling, but I know not everyone has that privilege. However, there are some options that make therapy more affordable.

There may be an organization in your area that offers free or low-cost therapy — if you live in the U.S., you can find information about these services by checking the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) HelpLine or visiting mentalhealth.gov. You can also look for therapists who use a sliding scale for payment, which means they determine an hourly rate based on the client’s income. And finally, if you have a little bit of extra cash you may want to look into therapy apps like BetterHelp or Talkspace, which are typically cheaper than in-person therapy.

If none of those options work for you, the next best option is to join a support group. Support groups allow you to connect with other people whose experiences are similar to yours and, unlike therapy, they allow you to get advice and feedback from multiple people. These groups are often free, although some charge a small fee.

Finding the right group for you is important. You’re unlikely to find a group for people recovering from religious trauma but, depending on the nature of your trauma, you may fit right in with a grief and loss group, an addiction recovery group, or a group for adult survivors of child abuse. If you’re a member of the LGBTQ+ community, you may be able to find a queer support group. (The LGBTQ+ club at my college was an invaluable resource in my recovery!) Depending on your area, you may also be able to find groups for specific mental and emotional issues like depression or anxiety.

Make sure to do your research before attending a meeting. Find out what, if anything, the group charges, who can join, and whether they use a curriculum or have unstructured sessions. See if you can find a statement about their values and philosophy. Make a note of where meetings are held and of who is running the group. Some support groups meet in churches and may or may not have a religious element to their curriculum. It’s best to avoid religious groups — the last thing you need right now is to be preached to.

Getting other people involved in your recovery will make you feel less alone and prevent you from getting stuck in your own head. A good therapist, counselor, or support group can help you realize what you need to work on and give you ideas for how to approach it.

Step Three: Deprogramming

“Deprogramming” refers to the practice of undoing brainwashing and reintroducing healthy thought patterns. This term is normally used in the context of cult survivors and their recovery, but deprogramming techniques can also be helpful for people recovering from a lifetime of toxic religious rhetoric.

To begin the process of deprogramming, familiarize yourself with the way organizations use thought control to shape the behavior of their members. I recommend starting with the work of Steven Hassan — his BITE model is a handy way to classify types of thought control.

The BITE model lays out four types of control. There’s Behavior Control, which controls what members do and how they spend their free time. (For example, requiring members to attend multiple hours-long meetings each week.) There’s Information Control, which restricts members’ access to information. (For example, denying certain aspects of the group’s history.) There’s Thought Control, which shapes the way members think. (For example, classifying certain thoughts as sinful or dirty.) And finally there’s Emotional Control, which manipulates members’ emotions. (For example, instilling fear of damnation or punishment.)

Here’s a simple exercise to get you started with your deprogramming. Divide a blank sheet of paper into four equal sections. Label one section “Behavior,” one “Information,” one “Thought,” and one “Emotions.” Now, in each section, make a list of the ways your old religious group controlled — and maybe still controls — that area of your life. Once you’ve completed your lists, choose a single item from one of your lists to work on undoing.

For example, let’s say that in your “Information” column, you’ve written that you were discouraged from reading certain books because they contained “evil” ideas. (For a lot of people, this was Harry Potter. For me, it was The Golden Compass.) Pick up one of those books, and read it or listen to it as an audiobook. Once you’ve read it, write down your thoughts. Did you enjoy it? Why or why not? Why do you think your group banned it? What was in this book that they didn’t want you to know about? Write it down.

Once you’ve worked on the first thing, choose something else. Keep going until you’ve undone all the items on your lists.

If you want to go further with deprogramming, I recommend the book Recovering Agency by Luna Lindsey. Although this book is specifically written for former Mormons, I genuinely believe it would be helpful to former members of other controlling religious groups as well. Lindsey does an excellent job of explaining how thought control works and of connecting it to real world examples, as well as deconstructing those ideas. Her book has been a huge help in my recovery process, and I highly recommend it.

Step Four: Replace toxic beliefs and practices with healthy ones

This goes hand-in-hand with step three, and if you’re already working on deprogramming then you’ll already have started replacing your unhealthy beliefs. This is the turning point in the recovery process. You’re no longer just undoing what others have done to you — now you get an opportunity to decide what you want to believe and do going forward. This is the time to let go of things like denial of your desires, fear of divine punishment, and holding yourself to unattainable standards. Get used to living in a way that makes you happy, without guilt.

Notice how each step builds on the previous steps. Therapy and deprogramming can help you identify what beliefs and behaviors need to be adjusted or replaced. Your therapist, support group, and/or emotional support person can help you make these changes and follow through on them.

These new beliefs and practices don’t have to be religious — in fact, it’s better if they aren’t. If you can live a healthy, happy, balanced life without religion, you’ll be in a better position to choose a religion that is the right fit for you, if that is something you want.

Your new healthy, non-religious practices may include: mindfulness meditation, nature walks, journaling, reading, exercise, energy work, learning a hobby or craft, or spending time with loves ones — or it might include none of these things, and that’s okay too. Now is the time to find what brings you joy and start doing it every day.

Step Five: Ritual healing

This is an optional step, but it’s one that has been deeply healing for me. You may find it helpful to design and perform a ritual to mark your recovery.

Note that when I say “ritual,” I don’t necessarily mean magic. Rituals serve a psychological purpose as well as a spiritual one. They can act as powerful symbolic events that mark a turning point in our lives or reinforce what we already know and believe. Even if you don’t believe in magic, even if you’re the least spiritual person you know, you can still benefit from ritual.

You might choose to perform a ritual to finalize your healing, or to symbolically throw off the chains of your old religion. It can be elaborate or simple, long or short, joyful or solemn. It might include lighting a candle and saying a few words. It might include ecstatic dance. It might include drawing or painting a representation of all the negative emotions associated with your old religion, then ritually destroying it. The possibilities are literally endless. (If you’re looking for ritual ideas, I recommend the book Light Magic for Dark Times by Lisa Marie Basile.)

One type of ritual that some people find very empowering is unbaptism. An unbaptism is exactly what it sounds like — the opposite of a baptism. The idea is that, if a baptism makes a Christian, an unbaptism makes someone un-Christian, no longer part of that lineage. It is a ritual rejection of Christianity. (Obviously, this only applies if you’re a former Christian, though some of the following suggestions could be adjusted to fit a rejection of other religions.)

If you’re interested in unbaptism, here are some ideas for how it could be done:

A classic method of unbaptism is to recite the Lord’s Prayer backwards under a full moon. (For a non-Christians version, use a significant prayer from whatever religion you have left.)

Run a bath. Add a tiny pinch of sulfur (a.k.a. brimstone) to the water. Get into the bath and say, “By water I was baptized, and by water my baptism is rejected.” Submerge your entire body under the water for several seconds. When you come back up, your unbaptism is complete. (You may want to shower after this one. Sulfur does not smell good.)

The Detroit Satanic Temple has a delightfully dramatic unbaptism ritual. For a DIY version, you will need holy water or some other relic from the faith you were baptized in, a fireproof dish, a black candle, and an apple or other sweet fruit. Light the candle and place it in your fireproof dish. Toss some holy water onto the flame (not enough to extinguish it) and say, “I cast my chains into the dust of hell.” Take a bite of the apple and say, “I savor the fruit of knowledge and disobedience.” Finally, declare proudly, “I am unbaptized.” You can add “in the name of Satan” at the end or leave it out, depending on your comfort level.

Personally, I’ve never felt the need to unbaptize myself. I’ve ritually rejected my Mormon upbringing in other ways. Maybe someday I’ll decide to go for the unbaptism, but I’ve never really felt like I needed it. Likewise, you’ll need to decide for yourself what ritual(s) will work for you.

Step Six: Honor your recovery

Our first reaction to trauma is to hide it away and never speak of it again. When we do this, we do ourselves a disservice. Your recovery is a part of your life story. You had the strength to walk away from a situation that was hurting you, and that deserves to be celebrated! Be proud of yourself for how far you’ve come!

You may choose to honor your recovery by celebrating an important date every year, like the day you decided to leave the group, the date of the last meeting you attended, or the date you were removed from the membership records. Keep this celebration fun and light — get drinks with friends, bake a cake for yourself, or just take a few moments to silently acknowledge your journey.

If you feel like having a party is a bit much, you can also honor your recovery by talking to other people about your experiences. Share your story with others. If you’re feeling shy, try sharing your story anonymously online. (Reddit has several forums specifically for anonymous stories.) You’ll be amazed by how validating it can be to tell people what you’ve been through. `

Another way to honor your recovery is to work for personal and religious freedom for all people. Protest laws with religious motivations. Donate to organizations that campaign for the separation of church and state. Educate people about how to recognize an unhealthy religious organization. Let your own story motivate you to help others who are in similar situations.

And most of all, take joy in your journey. Be proud of yourself for how far you’ve come, but know that your recovery is a lifelong journey. Be gentle and understanding with yourself. You are doing what is right for you, and no god or spirit worthy of worship could ever be upset by that.

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lovecinnatwist · 3 years

Note

How do you feel about omega Jason Todd/ alpha Dick Grayson? Maybe Dick didn’t know Jason was an omega until Jason got hit with some of Ivy’s pollen...

GasP Anon what a great idea! I adore JayDick- Alpha!Dick and Omega!Jason is a bop even if I don’t write it often.

I hope you don’t chaotic mess which is pining!Dick!

Sexuality Crisis Adverted

Tags: Omegaverse, Heat/Mating Cycles, omega!Jason, alpha!Dick

The moment the dust settles around them Jason knows that he’s fucked. The groan that creaks from his chest is heavy and tight. A side effect- he’s sure- from all the Goddamn pollen. Why couldn’t Poison Ivy chill with it already? It hasn’t worked before and it isn’t going to work now. There’s a series of loud beeps in his ear, signalling the filtration system in his helmet shutting down. Not that it matters when the equipment hasn’t done its job in the first place. He undoes the latches with quick fingers all while Ivy heads out through the giant hole she’s made in the ceiling.

Not like he’ll let that stop him. The cool air prickles against his face in a refreshing way. It feels wonderful against his quickly warming skin. He tosses his helmet to the side to deal with later. For now he’s got to get that bitch back in jail before she spreads more of the new strain about Gotham.

He hunts her for what feels like hours. By the time he tracks her back to Robinson Park he’s low on ammo and his heat has finally begun to set in. The familiar cramps and aches make his joints squeak. It’s something he feels more than hears over the sound of whatever Ivy’s latest plan is. He shoots right through another blossom and more dust goes flying. Not that it matters. Even if his heat turns critical he knows exactly how much time he has and it’s more than enough to get her in Arkham.

A flash of blue and black blurs in the background. His eyes can barely follow the movements between staying focused on Ivy. He dodges two of her attacks and fires. He nearly grazes her but a wall of vines take the hit. He curses and charges forward.

Sharp. It’s one of the benefits of heat. The starling clarity when your instincts are at a fine point does wonders for things like this. Well until the actual fever crashes down and you’re too sluggish and horny to do anything but sleep or get fucked. Jason doesn’t mind either, though with Roy and Kori off-world he’s sure he’s going to be doing more of the former this time around.

Nightwing makes himself useful and the next time Jason shoots he hits his target. It’s only rubber bullets but her hiss of pain is satisfying.

The two of them work seamlessly. Which is a feat in itself with the ugly filtration system Dick has on. He looks ridiculous and Jason makes sure to tell him that as soon as he gets a chance. The sound of alpha’s laughter follows him through the air as he performs an effortless flip out of the way. Jason can’t help the quirk of his lips and soon they are putting Ivy away together.

Not bad for an impromptu team up.

Nightwing hands her off to the police while Jason lays on top of a nearby roof. He’s catching his breath as the fire within him cools a bit. The exercise made him tired but it's a good kind of ache. One that distracts him from the way his lower abdomen curls and unfurls repeatedly. Once he’s no longer struggling to catch his breath he starts thinking it’s time to head back home.

Soft footfalls land behind him. He scoffs.

“ What none of the pretty officers down there ask for an autograph? “

He’s teasing mostly but nothing but silence greets him. He pauses and cranes his neck awkwardly to catch the other man’s expression. The wonderment and awe there are foreign.

Dick opens his mouth to speak before closing it. He isn’t wearing that ugly mask anymore so now Jason can easily read his expression. It’s odd considering what a steel trap he usually is. Despite his body's protest he sits up and faces the alpha.

“ You good? “

He can read the anxiousness in his body language. It’s helpful considering the fact that Dick is absolutely drenched in scent blockers. Jason usually is too but without hood and the impending heat- well he wouldn’t be surprised to be told he stinks. The idea of showering and curling up in his bed with a good book almost makes him purr. Dick says nothing again. He just stands there looking stupid and Jason- well Jason doesn’t really have time for it.

His bones scream as he stands. The ache is setting in fast but he’ll be good to get home. He’s definitely traveled home in worse states and thanks to Dick he didn’t take too many hits. He stretches and twists, the soft pop in his lower back is gratifying. There’s a slight uneasiness in the air. The longer the silence goes on the more tension starts to form between them. Jason can’t be bothered with it so as casually as he can manage he starts shifting towards the edge of the roof.

“ So- this has been fun but I gotta go. Need to shower this shit off before the fever sets in. Thanks for the assist. I’ll send my report so tell the old man he doesn’t need to bother- “

“ You’re an omega! “

Jason blinks. It’s probably the worst cut off he’s ever gotten. The lack of tact is new for Goldie and Jason for the life of him can’t shake off his discomfort. If it were another time he would laugh. The stupid way Dick is gawking his hilarious. The alpha smacks a hand over his mouth like he’s trying to keep from saying anything more.

Jason’s eyebrows fly up.

“ Uhhh yea? “

They don’t really talk about secondary genders. Not often or ever really. Sure technically Jason should have a bunch of pack jobs to do but since Bruce hasn’t formally asked him back he doesn’t bother. Cass is pretty good at nest building and caring for the others so there’s never been any need.

If anything it’s been more of a relief. He’s always been pretty weird about his dynamic. Not because he thought it made him weaker or something. It’s more because the second anyone found out that all 6”2 and 215lbs of him is omega? Well they got this intense kind of look on their face. Kind of like they weren’t looking at a person anymore, more like a piece of meat.

Kinda like- Kinda like- how Dick is staring at... him... now.

The puzzle pieces click together all too slow.

Dick removes his hands like he can’t quite help it. His eyes wide in amazement and- huh is it the light or are his pupils dilated? The alpha starts to speak and the words start coming out in a rush.

“ I had no idea that you were an omega- I mean it makes sense- because you’re gorgeous and at first- at first I thought I was gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that- but like i’ve never been gay- like i’m into omegas always have been but then there was you and you just made me think all these things and feel all this new stuff and gosh I was so confused. Now everything makes sense though because now I’m not gay and you’re an omega and you smell good and fuck do you always smell like this? You smell amazing little wing. I hope our pups smell like you. It’s kinda sweet but spicy, like in a good way. Kinda like warm sheets out of the laundry and chai tea- I just wanna roll around in it and get it all over me- I know that’s kind of weird but like I’m a weird kind of alpha sometimes i’m sure it won’t really bother you too much through like I swear I’ll be a good mate and take good care of you and- God is it weird i’m taking so much when I should probably be taking you to nest? I should totally be taking you to nest. God I can’t believe i’m talking so much when you probably just wanna rest. Or well fuck? We could do that too I don’t mind you probably look so gorgeous all fucked and pupped up- I hope it sticks. I know I’m kind old to not have any pups yet but like I feel like I must have been waiting for you and now- “

Jason’s eyes have been growing widder by the minute. Dick’s mouth is still going and his heart is racing with every word. He’s practically babbling to himself. While Jason- Well Jason is feeling a little frightened. He isn’t even sure how to stop the alpha either but then Dick is walking towards him taking about mating, sex and pups and well- well Jason has to put a stop to it there.

He takes out his gun and shoots right past the alpha’s face. Dick had been so lost in his words he didn’t even notice Jason take the weapon out. Jesus just where is the alpha’s head at? Actually he knew where the alpha’s head’s at. It’s why he’s currently got his M1911 pistol between them.

Dick shuts up and Jason welcomes the silence with a silent prayer. Moments pass and when he sees the alpha doesn’t move, he lowers the gun a fraction.

He takes a deep breath.

“ 1. What ever you’re talking about right now? Isn’t happening. You’re saying a whole bunch I don’t get- but let me be clear. You are not getting anywhere near me, my nest or my vagina. “

Dick flushes at the word. He opens his mouth and there’s a quick ‘ but Jay’ on his lips. It’s kinda admirable but Jason doesn’t have the time. Heat fatigue is on him and the last thing he wants is Dick Graysosn trying to take care of him or- or doing whatever the hell he’s talking about.

He fires another bullet this time close enough to graze the kevlar.

“ 2. I don’t know how you apparently missed that i’m an omega but just because I am doesn’t mean we’re suddenly going to ride off into the sunset with me birthing barefoot however many pups you want. That isn’t happening this- “

He waves the gun back and forth between them.

“ This isn’t happening. “

Dick looks determined and his mouth is in a tight little line. He opens his mouth to speak and Jason raises the gun again. The furrow of those perfect eyebrows is kind of adorable but mostly annoying.

“ 3. If you even try to come within the radius of my den while i’m in heat i’m going to shoot you, Not in your leg, not in your arm, but right between your pretty pretty eyes. You got that? “

Jason prefers people to pale when he’s threatening them but instead the alpha lights up.

“ You think my eyes are pretty? “

Jason groans. Alpha’s were such a pain. He never really took Dick to be like a typical one either. He kind of wants to put more thought to it but he can’t when his skin is starting to crawl and itch in a way that’s numbing.

“ I think you’re pretty irritating, that's what I think. “

The alpha frowns and Jason takes a step back.

“ Remember the rules Goldie or you might get yourself in trouble. “

He gets a solemn nod. Dick looks troubled as much as he looks confused. The alpha is standing there nodding to himself as if he’s gluing together an invisible puzzle.

“ Yea- Yea that makes sense. “

Tension eases from Jason’s shoulders but then Dick starts talking again.

“ God I haven’t even courted you and here I am talking about pups and sex like a total knot head. I haven’t given you any gifts or even won any challenges- God talk about stupid. I’ll totally make it up to you Jason you’ll see I’m a good alpha I swear I just need a chance and then I’ll for sure convince you- “

Jason Todd is sure Dick’s lips are moving a mile per minute. There’s also a frantic quality to his movements that look- off but he’s in no shape to be the judge of anyone's state of mind. Maybe he had gotten dosed by something earlier in the night?

Oh well- that’s a problem for the bats. Jason isn’t having any part of it.

He hops off of the roof leaving Goldie talking to himself.

Getting back to his nest turns out to be easy which he’s grateful for because the moment he inches through the window is the moment he realizes how tired he is. He practically crawls into the shower. The only reason why he doesn’t skip it all together is because the idea of bringing dirt, grime and pollen into his nest sets his instincts on fire. He bathes thoroughly despite how sluggish and tired his movements are. After all, it's probably the only bath he’s going to be having over the next few days. Besides answering the delivery guy and bathroom breaks he doesn’t plan to do much else.

Clean and cool he slinks his way to his bedroom, his hair still damp from the shower. He doesn’t have much of a nest going on but the half constructed walls from the other day are at least a base. He pads over to the closet and drags out the rest of his material. His body thrumming with fatigue and need. He knows from experience however that if he tries to sleep in a half done nest he’s just going to be fitful all night and have to do it anyway.

Better to get it over now.

He crafts everything together with slow, drowsy movements. One of the edges is a little lopsided but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s got a few things from Kori and a few things from Roy and as usual it all goes seamlessly with the rest of bedding that he kept around the house. He’s got a small pack but it’s his. The soft smell of milk and pup from Lian’s little yellow shirt makes him smile. It’s mute and a little dull but it does the trick. Especially when he keeps everything in the air tight containers Roy made him.

Nest finished and body clean he crawls into the mess of blankets. It’s soft and soothing against his feverish skin. The contact calms some of the aching that’s been echoing in his bones. He sighs and melts, curling into his pillows as his eyes fall shut. It’s cozy and his and for now that’s enough. He passes out before he can have another thought.

In the artificial heat, Jason sleeps like the dead. A good nest has always done wonders at keeping him pliant. Something he plans to reap all the benefits of as he takes some time off the streets. He rolls over and stretches, soft fabric wrapping around his ankles. He purrs and nuzzles deeper, a content thrum of safe, warm and happy running through his system. Heat sleep is always some of the most restful.

He basks in the warmth coming from the window, ready to roll over and go back to dreamland. At least he would be if some ass hole didn’t decide to start doing home renovations.

The pounding sound is annoying. Almost like someone has decided to build an entire Goddamn shelf at whatever time of the afternoon it is. He hisses and buries his head under his pillow. It helps a little until he realizes that what he’s hearing is knocking and it’s coming from his front doors. He groans.

Maybe if he doesn’t answer the person will give up?

They do not give up.

Jason drags himself out of his nest fully ready to shoot the person on the other side of the door. No one knows about his apartment. He’s always made sure not to give the bats the slightest idea where it is. After all they were too noisy and the idea of any of them being able to show up whenever they wanted gave him anxiety.

He wipes his face and it does nothing to wake him up. When he shouts out a gruff I'm coming the knocking stops. He groans his legs like led as he drags himself to the door. It only takes one peek through the spy hole to see who it is.

His head falls back and he curses the day the universe decided to tredge his sorry ass back to life.

“ A bullet between the eyes Goldie. “

He means it to sound more rough and threatening. For the most part though he just sounds tired. He’s gotten enough sleep of course but the demanding furnace of heat is only just starting to burn through his energy reserves. Something about the bodies need to redirect all energy toward reproduction or some shit. Jason always assumed its alpha propaganda but you know what? He welcomes the break because sometimes the only care he gets is from himself.

“ I brought breakfast? “

Jason winces at the awkward tone of voice. He doesn’t move to open the door and Dick stays quiet for a tense moment.

“ I wanted to apologize for last night and figured maybe we could talk? I got your favourite. Baleadas from that place you like. Add Avocado and Bacon. “

The omega curses. At the mention of food his mouth immediately starts to salivate. With how quickly his heat came on he hadn’t really gotten a chance to prepare. Usually he likes to prep some meals and in the interim order take out. He has to admit that Dick knows him pretty well if the alpha is showing up with food.

On one hand letting a viable alpha into his home is probably a bad idea. On the other hand he could most definitely take Dick if it came down to it. Decision made he reluctantly starts to disarm the security system.

“ You try some shit- “

Dick’s worn face appears, take out held up like a peace offering.

“ And between the eyes I know. “

Jason fixes him with a look and when the alpha doesn’t move he steps to the side to let him in. They head to his little kitchen after Jason shuts the door. The apartment is small enough that they didn’t even go far. He glares at the alphas shoes and Dick is quick to take them off. While he does Jason helps himself to the bags.

When Dick had said breakfast he had been modest. There are at least three bags. Some with fresh fruits, some with expensive bougie chocolates you can only get up town, Baliedas of course, fresh made guava juice, heat pads, electrolyte drinks and a variety of cramp medicine. He rolls his eyes and digs through a little box that Dick pushes onto the table as he fidgets next to an open chair.

Jason raises an eyebrow before grabbing the box and flipping it open. A happy trill leaves his lips before he can stop it. He pulls out a semita the smell of sweetness and cinnamon filling the kitchen. Roughly pulling out a chair he takes a seat, his mouth watering before he even takes a bite. When he does he moans happy and light as flaky pastry melts on his tongue.

God had to be from Aliana’s. Shit was perfect.

He scarves down one quickly, licking his fingers before reaching into the other bag to pull out a warm balieda in aluminum foil. The food is so good he completely forgets Dick is even there. For the most part his mute alpha scent is blocked away which makes it easy to ignore him. Well except for the soft smiles and what the man must think are sneaky looks thrown his way.

He gets half way through his second semeta when he finally looks at the alpha who is sitting in the furthest possible chair.

“ So- we gonna talk about last night? “

Dick has the decency to flush. His color darkens in an interesting way. Jason doesn’t ever think he’s ever seen him like that before. He chews slowly and the alpha groans covering his face in his hands.

“ Was testing a serum with Alfred before we got the call about Ivy. It’s a new formula and didn’t seem to be working, didn’t kick in until we were half way done. “

Jason makes an understanding noise. It’s a good thing they got things done quickly but still Dick probably shouldn’t have been out compromised like that. He takes a straw and pops it into one of the juices. At the first sip his entire body flutters with alertness. There’s just something about sugar during his heat that could raise him from the dead.

“ What the hell were you doing out with that stuff in your system? What if you got caught or something. “

The way Dick looks down and his blush travels to his ears is very telling. Suddenly the words from last night return to him.

‘ at first I thought I was gay ‘

He blinks. Oh my God. Dick actually had a thing for him. Even when he for some unexplainable reason thought he had been an alpha. A part of him is actually flattered that the bone head would jump into the fray to give Jason back up. Not that he needed it but still the gesture had been nice.

Now here he is, at Jason’s apartment, bringing him breakfast and things to help him with his heat. The scent of insecurity leaks through what must be industrial scent blockers because Jason can barely get a whiff of anything else. He hums low in his throat and blue eyes flicker up to his. Jason tries to read what he see’s there but Dick’s gaze drop down again.

“ Thought you could use the help. “

‘ More like you wanted an excuse to see me ‘ Jason thinks.

He leaves the alpha to stew instead tucking away the new information he has. Now that he’s full and rested he can actually think a bit clearly. Dick isn’t a bad looking alpha. His skin is a gorgeous gold color that blurs the line between ethnicities. The contrast of his vivid blue eyes almost makes him look like they are glowing. His teeth are straight and he’s got a great smile with plump lips that will probably be nice to kiss-

Jason’s also seen enough of Dick coming in and out of the showers to know how crazy the alpha’s body is. All hard lines with battle scars and marks that make his inner omega sing. Something dark and dangerous wants to push and see how his marks would look amongst the collection. He sips his juice in silence, mulling over the possibility.

Warmth pools in his stomach, waking up the first tendrils of arousal for his heat. Dick’s eyes look up and he swears he can see the alpha’s nostrils flare. He smirks and then laughs when Dick looks mortified to have been caught blatantly scenting him.

“ Well this has been nice. Thanks for breakfast Dickie but you should probably get going before my fever flares up. “

When the man stands Jason’s eyes trail down his figure. The alpha jumps under his attention, skittish and shy.

Not bad, not bad at all. The hunter in him purrs.

“ Yea- sure totally glad I could help. I’ll just be going. “

The stuttering of his words is cute. Unlike the night before when Dick had basically been vomiting words, now he’s shut like a clam. The difference is endearing. Jason stands and Dick stumbles back.

“ I uh… hope your heat goes well. If you need help, just call and i’ll do my best to get here. “

Jason fixes him with a look and the expression of sheer horror that crosses the alpha’s face is worth the drama.

“ Not like that- just like food or whatever? Like if you have cravings or something. “

Dick stumbles over his words but the recovery is smooth. Jason watches Dick putting on his shoes. He heads back over to the plastic bag on the table.

“ Uh huh. “

He makes a show of stealing one of the wrapped candies and twisting it out of the foil. Dick’s eyes stare and his fingers. The blue follows, follows, follows until he brings it to his lips. Jason grins as he sinks his teeth in.

The helpless way the alpha swallows him gives him a thrill.

“ Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out. “

Because now that he’s looking- what an it is.

Dick gives him a terse nod before turning and twisting the knob. He tilts his head as the alpha leaves. When the door click shuts he gives a sound of appraisal.

Yea, Jason wouldn’t mind hittin that.

After the impromptu visit he starts scheming.

First, he finds out the ingredients of the serum. It turns out to be a pesky little thing that blurs the line between a person and their instincts. An attempt to make their truth serum recipe stronger. Some shady shit Bruce probably shouldn’t even be dabbling in. But then again it seems like it's okay for the line to blur as long as no one dies.

He scoffs, tossing his tablet down.

Focus- no wasting his heat thinking about Bruce. Not when Dick is clearly a better subject matter. He purrs low as warmth pools in his belly. Reading the report made one thing clear. As frantic as the alpha had been, he had also been genuine.

Luckily Jason doesn’t even have to do much to get the man to visit again.

His heat fucking drags.

Sure he’s usually quite long but this- this is just too much. Enough that Dick goes out of his way to drop food outside and leave it for him to find. The first time it’s a surprise but by the third- well Jason is opening the door before the alpha can run away.

He looks decadent in his Richard Wayne civies, smelling like expensive cologne and wearing something soft. The dark blue of the scarf brings out the lightness in Dick’s eyes. While the dark grey sweater hugs the man’s muscles in all the right ways. It’s nice to see all of his face too. The way the alpha’s features stand out in the plain hallway is almost overwhelming. Or at least it would be if Jason hasn’t been spending the last 5 days obsessing over him.

He decides to press his luck. Technically he could get away with at least this much, he is in heat after all. He smiles as he accepts the bags, making sure to brush against Dick enough to scent him. The quick little intake the alpha does is precious. It’s subtle of course but with how Jason’s heat stink is practically visible in the air Dick looks like he’s been smite.

For seven entire minutes the man is stun stationary at the front entrance. It’s almost comical how long it takes him to recover. Jason’s already eaten an entire carton of nasi goreng and an egg roll.

Dick excuses himself under the guise of being late, his cheeks pink. The alpha nearly goes head first into the door frame in his embarrassment. Jason has to bite back his laugh. He busies himself with licking sweet and sour sauce off of his lips as the man retreats. The thought of ‘how cute’ doesn’t leave even when the food is done.

It shouldn’t be this easy to fall for him. The clumsy way Dick goes about things is so different than anything he’s ever had before. Bless his sweet shy heart but the alpha is anything but assertive.

In fact it reminds Jason of a romcom. When the male lead is obviously in love with the protagonist and everyone can see it except for him. It sort of feels like that. Though the more Dick tries to cover his tracks the more Jason finds neon signs of tender affection and desire.

It’s courtship.

He doesn’t know if Dick realizes it yet, but Jason’s sure as hell accepting it. The thickly drawn line he put down in the beginning is starting to edge away. Every little gift, every text message, every fleeting glance is chipping away at it until it disappears.

When leaves his curtains open a sliver at night, he can catch the alpha guarding his apartment.

Now logically it could be seen as platonic. After all, Pack mates were meant to watch each other’s backs- especially during heat and rut. Jason hasn’t been there for any of his pack members' cycles, and in turn he never takes it personal when they haven’t been there for him.

Now that he has it though he never wants it to stop.

The next day when Dick stops by, Jason spills something on the alpha’s shirt. It’s an excuse. Something that a league alpha would see through. Dick however is absolutely oblivious and Jason takes great pride in making Dick leave in one of his. Stinking like possessive dangerous omega and in exchange he adds the alpha’s shirt to his nest. He also adjusts it to make it big enough for two.

It smells amazing and he sleeps with his face in it.

Jason enjoys every moment of his heat. He soaks up the attention the alpha lavishes on him earnestly. On day 10 he actually finds himself saying a little thank you to Ivy. His heat isn’t nearly as strong as a usual one but the symptoms are still obvious enough that he has to stay shut in. It gives him more time to iron out his plan of action. Well it’s less of a plan and more like throwing himself at the alpha and taking and having until he’s full.

He purrs thick and heavily. The rumble is so dark it’s almost like a growl but Dick looks completely unbothered by it. He doesn’t mind most things Jason has been learning. The alpha doesn’t shame him for being taller and wider than him. He doesn’t make Jason feel like less than himself, or less than others in his caste. He’s just nice, oblivious but nice and Jason- well Jason has never had that before.

He licks cannoli filling off of his fingers while sneaking a peek at Dick.

Jason has to hand it to him. He’s doing a pretty good job and pretending to pay attention to the movie. There’s no way he is though. Not with how Jason’s apartment smells like safe, happy, wanting omega. Not with the way Jason is making sure Dick knows just how comfortable he is with him in the room.

Dick’s scent is mute because of the blockers but that doesn’t mean much against enhanced senses. He can still smell the brief wisp of indulgent pride at providing for him.

The delicious italian food is spread out of the low coffee table like a feast.

One thing Jason could say for certain, the alpha knew how to eat. The baliada’s had only been the beginning. Dick’s brought him some of the best goddamn food he’s had in a while. There’s been slow cooked ribs with all the fixings. A 4 cheese pizza with truffle oil, spinach and grilled chicken with fresh gelato for dessert. Then of course the handmade pasta they’re having now.

Absolutely perfect and only a fraction of how the alpha has been spoiling him.

He even made it a point of giving Dick a few challenges of his own. Simple things that he slowly increased the difficulty on. The first day he had asked for something elementary. A blue blanket. Nothing too hard because he just wanted to see if the alpha would. Then- 2 hours later he had the biggest, softed blue blanket that he’s ever seen. Adding it to his nest had been soothing to his instincts.

Next he asked Dick to take over a case of his. Nothing with a time limit of course but the alpha took it anyway. He used all the information Jason gave up and two days later the bastards dealing to the middle school up north were in black gate where they belonged. That alone had been good- but Jason… Well Jason wanted the best.

That’s what led him to this little idea. He’s got the most recently released rom com on screen, Dick’s soft blanket over them while he lounges on the couch with nothing but a thin white t-shirt and a pair of sweats that fit him in all the right way. Before Dick had come over he made sure that the place had been absolutely coated in his scent. Which had been kind of easy with how much his heat tends to stink up places.

He leans against the alpha and feels him stiffen up against him. It’s minute but the man quickly relaxes when Jason purrs soft and sweet. A gentle sound made to relax alpha’s whether they wanted to or not. He shifts and feels Dick’s eyes drop to his chest. He feels hot knowing that the alpha can clearly see his nipples through his top.

The movie drags on and Jason enjoys torturing the alpha.

It’s dainty touches at first, just to test the man’s reactions. Simple and frequent enough that he’s sure the alpha knows he’s doing it on purpose.

So what if he wants to cop a feel off of the alpha who’s courting him? It’s his right.

He curls into Dick’s side, surprised how his body fits in the curve of the alpha’s arms. His breast presses against a bicep. A purr starts to build in his throat.

“ Movie’s good. “ He lies.

The alpha grunts the affirmative. It’s obvious that he isn’t able to pay attention. To be truthful Jason would be insulted if he could. After all he’s purposely pumping out a perfume of sweet, wanting, waiting omega that must have Dick dizzy.

Still the man doesn’t push and Jason’s heart pounds in his chest.

They reach the end of the movie and Dick seems too quick to get off the couch. Jason stretches and lays down his entire body relaxed and warm. The last bits of heat are whispering out of him which he’s glad for. It means he has more energy and more than that- that he can’t be accused of being compromised.

He hums as Dick straightens up the leftovers on the coffee table. He’s so diligently good that Jason just needs to reward him. He bites his bottom lip peering up at the alpha through his lashes. Slow and purposely he runs a clothed sock up the inseam of Dick’s black slacks. The way the alpha tenses and stumbles is equal part adorable as arousing.

Blown blue eyes look at him and Jason’s purr grows.

“ C’mere. “

Jason is pretty sure he didn’t let any sort of command slip into his voice. It had been nothing but a soft honest call but the way Dick just- lets everything fall to get back to him did things to his ego. Dick stares at him helplessly. Eyes struggling to stay on his face, but darting down to his lips, chest, thighs then back up in rapid succession. Jason sinks into the couch, the soft rumble in his chest merging with the credits on screen.

“ ‘m feeling a little restless. Would you scent me before you go? “

Jason tilts his neck up, demour and willing. When he cuts his eyes at the alpha he’s sure there’s mirth in his gaze. He can’t help it however. Not when Dick looks like he’s about to short circuit. Almost like the only gravity in the room is Jason and if the alpha takes his gaze away from him for a moment he’ll be floating towards the sun.

Huh, his heat must be cooling off if he could think up that metaphor.

The alpha swallows not moving. Jason watches his hestitance gleefully. He knows what he looks like. The hard lines of his body posing in an open and friendly gesture. A wanting gesture that would have a weaker alpha already on their knees.

Jason smirks, He can practically hear Dick’s heartbeat pounding in his chest.

“ Sure Little Wing, yea I can do that. “

He can but he still hasn't moved. Jason would snort but he doesn’t want to give away the game too quickly. He wants Dick to move on his own. To see how the alpha will genuinely act if Jason leaves himself open and vulnerable.

Instead of his neck, Dick lifts his wrist and uses it to drag up and down the smooth expanse of Jason’s throat. Jason’s purr crescendos to the point where it almost hurts. His vocal cords vibrate as his chosen alpha rubs his scent all over him. It’s mute because of the patches- but still undeniably Dick.

Jason’s eyelashes droop. His entire body is warm content and happy. Dick stares and him and the omega stares back.

“ I should probably go…. The movie was good, thanks for suggesting it. “

Jason didn’t watch a goddamn thing and he’s pretty sure Dick didn’t either.

“ Anytime Goldie. “

He means it. The two of them bask in silence, the title screen flicking back up as the credits roll to a close. No one says anything so Jason is content to leave things where they are. He has all the answers he needs.

“ See you around. “

Sooner rather than later? He wants to quip. He holds his tongue however. Patience. Tip your intentions too early and your prey will get away. League lessons ring true even now. He feigned nonchalance while nodding at the alpha.

“ Sounds good. Bring Sushi next time “

There’s nothing left for Dick to prove. Jason has already made his decision.

The alpha smiles soft and sweet. His entire face lightening up at the promise of another meeting.

“ Sure Little Wing. “

Jason grins.

How clueless and naive. The poor thing had no clue that next time actually meant eternity.

#Ficlets #Prompts #Requests #JayDick #Omegaverse #omega!jason #Alpha!Dick #Dick thinks Jason is Pretty #Jason wants to tap that

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melon-kiss · 3 years

Text

This is just going to be a ramble about everything Sherlock. You’re most welcome to discuss or just ignore it. I needed the space to vent.

I watched Sherlock. Again. I think it’s beginning to become my annual tradition. And I have a crisis. Don’t get me wrong, I am always Sherlollian at heart. It’s just… I have doubts sometimes. And what triggered those doubts this time was the fact that Sherlock calls Molly “John”. Twice. And then Irene Adler. And then one post on Tumblr. And many, many more.

OK, these are just my random thoughts. Enjoy if you’re willing to read them.

1. “John”. “Molly”.

We often mix up names of people we consider to have the same place in our lives. Which is good, right? Right. Only, in Sherlock’s case, we’d have lean into the theory that Sherlock does love John romantically and feels the same way about Molly. Or concede the fact that he loves them both platonically. Neither of these options is really satisfying, isn’t it? Well, that’s why I’m struggling… One could say he’s in denial of feelings for Molly and identifies them as friendship, as this is the strongest, purest relationship in his life, the only one he describes as emotional and the closest he’s ever had to love. Besides, Molly and John are similar in one way – they both share the same – medical – knowledge. Of course, Sherlock doesn’t realise her other qualities until The Reichenbach Fall when she says she can help him whenever he needs it. It’s not until she’s honest with him again and tells him, without a shred of grudge, that she knows she means nothing to him, that he realises he has at least two friends. He calls her “John” when his mind is busy with something else, so there’s no room for any purposeful confusion. The same thing happens in The Empty Hearse. What else can it mean if not friendship?

2. Nothing Hits Like Irene

Irene Adler is created as the love interest for Sherlock. Is she, though? Well, we see Sherlock utterly confused upon their first meeting. We also see him flirting and creating an atmosphere of sexual tension for the first time. OK, he saves her but then she vanishes, he got over her, I thought. And all was fine until The Lying Detective came and Irene Adler sent a text to Sherlock, first in such a long time. John, of course, suggests that if Sherlock should be romantically involved with anyone, it should be her. And then it hit me.

Irene Adler is the symbol of chemistry in Sherlock’s life.

She’s a dominatrix. She’s all about sex, that’s obvious. At the critical point of The Scandal in Belgravia Sherlock says: I believe John Watson thinks love’s a mystery for me but the chemistry is incredibly simple and very distractive. Sherlock discovers that he, indeed, can have chemistry with people. He doesn’t mention love, he merely says sentiment, referring to the crush Irene Adler had on him. She is, indeed, a simple distraction – you can see it clearly in his memory palace when he yells at her to get away. But Molly… Molly stays. She leads him through the entire process of surviving a shot.

And then Irene Adler returns in The Lying Detective. John confesses to Sherlock about texting with a stranger met on the bus. And that he wanted more. Sherlock says everyone gets to be human sometimes. Even he can’t resist the urge of replying to Irene Adler sometimes. It was all about attraction again.

And that’s why she’s not considered a romantic relationship in his life. John rambles about love changing him, to be more specific, the love of his woman changing him. But he says Irene’s a dangerous criminal. How would that change Sherlock in any way?

In The Final Problem, upon deducing the coffin, John suggests Irene Adler but she’s not his first thought in general once they all hear that this is about someone who loves Sherlock. Sherlock’s response is very telling: Don’t be ridiculous. Look at the coffin. It seems like Sherlock pieces the puzzle at once – the coffin, plus the “name” on the lid – it couldn’t have been Irene Adler.

And that’s why Sherlock calls her The Woman. As a symbol of his sexuality. The Woman who’s woken up certain impulses in his life.

3. Makeshift Gauge

Who is she?, Sherlock asks John in His Last Vow.

Based on what Mofftiss duo said about Molly, she was supposed to be featured in two episodes top. Yet, she stayed. The uncanonical character not only stayed but became fans’ favourite. I think she became a useful tool for Moffat and Gatiss. I think that not only she represents Sherlock heart (of which existence he has no idea at first) but later becomes our makeshift gauge. For what? For measuring Sherlock’s progress. See, it’s like when you live with someone, you don’t notice when they put on weight or grew a little but those who see less of them will notice all changes right away. So, when Sherlock runs around with John, we don’t notice the change in his behaviour at once (also because he’s always been nice to him, from the very beginning), we need to focus to see that. But Molly pops by once per episode and we see how Sherlock’s perception changes. In season one, he has good intentions, but they turn out bad. In season two, he’s more neutral but doesn’t restrain himself from rude comments. And Molly is being Molly – tells him he’s rude in her natural, soft way and he says sorry. For the first time. Without anyone making him do that. Almost the same happens in The Reichenbach Fall – but this time, Molly doesn’t let herself be fooled by Sherlock’s arrogance and just ignores it, going straight to the point. She says: “I’m here for you” and lowers his defences. In season three, he spends an entire day with her, smiles at her and is the sweetest, softest Sherlock we’ve ever seen. Moreover, when Lestrade asks him about her helping him solve cases, he says: [John] is not in the picture anymore, implying that she not necessarily had to be a temporary replacement. In season four, he says I love you to her.

What can we deduce about his heart?

4. The Eurus Conundrum

We could write an entire book about Eurus and not even be able to grasp her spirit. I’m not going to do that right now.

I have issues with what happened in season four finale. I mean – Molly, of course. Mycroft says Eurus and Jim Moriarty met five years ago, so before Moriarty revealed himself to Sherlock. They both planned the entire game for Sherlock. Does that mean Sherlock never really won with him? Does that mean Moriarty let him use Molly to “win”? Since she was included in Eurus’ plan, we can safely assume Jim knew about Molly back then. At first, when I saw Moriarty saying We both know that’s not quite true [that you don’t have a heart] in many Sherlolly fanvids, I was like naaaaah. He didn’t see her as one of the important people in Sherlock’s life, it couldn’t have been a reference to their meeting. But now… how deeply back in time was Eurus’ plan allocated? Which events did she predict?

Or maybe I’m missing something? Any thoughts on this?

5. Sherlock Evergreen

I once came across a post here, about how BBC Sherlock is literature, about sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s struggle with his own genius character. He was over with him, didn’t feel like writing any more of his stories so he killed him, but fans demanded more. He kept writing, although he hated it from the bottom of his heart. Season four, so often considered as the worst of all of them, is a way of saying that Sherlock character is, unfortunately, invincible. Immortal. He will live forever. We can’t kill him, no one can. Even his creator couldn’t have done it.

In season four, Sherlock goes back to the start. He is a clean slate again. He went through the entire process of change – became a good Sherlock, considerate of other people’s feelings and emotions, appreciative, supportive, loving, ready to mend what he broke. That interpretation, although very good, kind of killed my Sherlolly spirit. But I guess every interpretation like this would do it. If we stop treating characters like real human being, we’re left with what they really are – a construct, tools, puppets in the author’s hands.

Based on this, I think we’re safe to say there will never be a fifth season of BBC Sherlock (gosh, how I wish I was wrong!). Why? Because, despite what Moffat said in an interview once (after season three finale he said they’ve plotted out the entire fourth and fifth season – liar, liar, pants on fire!), season four had the perfect ending. As mentioned above, Sherlock became a good man and Mary Watson summed up what Sherlock is all about: two man, a genius junkie and a former soldier, who solve the weirdest, the toughest of cases together in flat on 221B Baker Street. Now, Sherlock is ready to be taken over by other artists who may find a new way to tell his story (though, I don’t think so) all over again.

And that’s a big, big shame… I think I speak for at least most of Sherlollians when I say we’d like to see Sherlock and Molly’s first encounter after the call. The finale really closed all the story arcs and subplots, except for this one. I mean, c’mon. You don’t have to be a Sherlollian to be annoyed by this – just remember that it was such a “biggie” that Moffat was asked about this in an interview. And this may be another reason as to why we won’t ever get a fifth season of Sherlock – because that would mean taking a side. And none of the creators will do it because Sherlock cannot be an open-and-shut case. It has to be like literature: big, open, twisted, unclear and full of room for interpretation. As long as there’s no certain explanation – yes, Sherlock loves Molly, no, Sherlock is gay – we create more and more content out of the need of closure. Thanks to the room for interpretation, the story lives. I mean, it’s been four years since The Final Problem airing and here I am, discussing BBC Sherlock still.

Coming back to Sherlolly… don’t worry. Though I’m still not sure that we can harvest any hard evidence for Sherlock’s feelings for Molly (other than friendship and respect), I’m still a Sherlollian. There two new fics waiting for me to pull myself together and write them. I think it’s good to have doubts – it means my brain hasn’t rotten yet and I can still be critical, I’m able of having my own opinions.

Thank you if you managed to read it all! I’d love to discuss if you have any conclusions. If not, that’s fine, too. I just needed it get it out of my system.

PS WHY DOES MY POSTS IN ENGLISH SOUND SO SOPHISTICATED IN MY HEAD BUT WHEN I PUT THEM IN WRITING, THEY’RE SO SHITTY?!

#bbc sherlock #sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #irene adler #molly hooper #sherlolly #molly x sherlock #thoughts #eurus holmes

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marshvlovestv · 3 years

Text

Eric in the Pod Room - An impassioned defense of a man at his worst

Big tw for discussions of suicide, suicidal ideation, and mental illness, and lots of me projecting my own issues onto a terrible fictional character

I’m in a really bad place mentally right now and I’m immersing myself in a Zero Escape Let’s Play series to distract myself from it. It definitely isn’t the healthiest thing for me to be hyperfixated on right now - the series has a chummy relationship with the concept of suicide, after all, and suicidal thoughts are my worst symptom at the moment. But you know what, it’s twisted, but I’m so dangerously comfortable with my own suicidality at this point that the themes of suicide in Zero Escape almost feel warm and welcoming, to the point where I’d even consider them a factor in why I am so obsessed with the series.

I was working on a larger meta, which most of this post is an excerpt from, about the many suicides from Zero Time Dilemma specifically - none of them influenced by Radical-6, all of them with some interesting psychological analysis to be done concerning them. But the Let’s Players have reached the Pod Room, the puzzle that seems to singlehandedly give players the most reason to hate my favorite character. They turned out to be no exception, and they spent the length of the puzzle going on and on about how they despise Eric. I got really tense and upset and thought, “You know what? Forget about Diana, Carlos, and Delta. I can talk about them later. All I want to do right now is come to Eric’s defense. I want to talk about my boy.”

Like, I get it, you know? The first time I saw the Pod Room, I wasn’t the biggest fan of Eric, either. He bullies Sean, he actively refuses to be of any help in solving the puzzle, he makes lewd comments about Mira (and for the record, the problem I have with this is the fact that he says these things around a child, not the comments themselves; people should be allowed to experience and express sexual attraction and that is a hill I will die on). After the puzzle itself, we learn about Eric’s deepest trauma and after that I see people either feel bad for hating him and begin to sympathize with him fully, or go, “Yeah, that sucks for him, but it still doesn’t forgive a damn thing. He’s the worst and I hate him and I hate this game for making him exist.” I am firmly in the first camp, if you couldn’t tell.

Lest we forget: This is the route at the end of which Eric commits suicide. A murder-suicide, granted, but still. He takes his own life. The Pod Room is the start of Eric’s descent into rock bottom and I just... can’t hate him for that, especially not when I recognize some of myself in him. I have never killed another person (I promise); I don’t have homicidal thoughts. I don’t know personally what would compel someone to commit a murder-suicide and I don’t even want to speculate. But his homicidal tendencies aside, Eric and his suicidality have always spoken to me personally.

I’ve done plenty of analysis of Eric in the past under the lens of personality disorders, and my most general conclusions are that he suffers from PTSD, dependent personality disorder, and possibly borderline personality disorder as well. Suicidality is highly correlated with all three of those disorders, and as such I find it highly unlikely that his decision to kill himself in this route is a spontaneous one. If he is anything like me, when he isn’t actively, imminently suicidal, he probably still spends a lot of time imagining worst-case scenarios in which suicide would be a no-brainer. For me, my worst-case scenarios often involve the loss of my parents; they are my Safe People, people around whom my AvPD symptoms are less extreme and my behavior is less inhibited, and I seriously fear for my ability to function without them in my life. Sufferers of many different personality disorders have “special people” like this in some way or another. DPD and BPD have, respectively, Depended People and Favorite People, the objects of the sufferer’s attachment. Mira clearly fulfills both of these roles in Eric’s life, and lots of his worst-case scenarios must involve the loss of her.

Before her death is even confirmed, we can see how much he struggles to function without her there in the puzzle room. I read Eric’s behavior in the Pod Room as him flailing in the absence of his special person. The Let’s Players I’m watching have even made derisive comments about how he doesn’t even know how to be a person, and I’m sitting here like, yeah. You’re right. He doesn’t know how to be a person, not right now. His identity and self-worth are tied to a person who has disappeared under mysterious and stressful circumstances; without her, he feels useless and helpless, which is why he’s overwhelmed by something as simple as a sliding block puzzle. Without her, he loses his grip on his self-control, which is why he has no filter to stop him from saying inappropriate things and why can’t stop his worse impulses to mistreat people. I’m not trying to say that anything he does in the Pod Room is right, but there is a reasonable explanation for why he acts the way he does.

And then, they find Mira’s body. One of Eric’s worst-case scenarios has come true, and in the process he has lost not only the person most important to him but the very sense of self that said person helped him feel. It’s just as bad as he always imagined, and even worse, she was killed in exactly the same way his brother was, triggering a PTSD flashback. His trauma is further compounded by being shown graphic video of Junpei and Akane’s deaths (and later just being shown their dismembered bodies in person).The devastation he must be feeling in this moment is beyond what I can even comprehend and I fully understand why he snaps.

Again, I don’t want to speculate as to why his mind goes “revenge first, suicide second” and why he kills people he could be reasonably sure are innocent. All I can say for sure is that, when he does ultimately kill himself, it’s not out of guilt and it’s not out of fear of consequences. His last words are promising Mira that he’ll be with her soon. The suicide is about her. It was always about her. It’s not just that he’ll miss her; he genuinely cannot picture a life for himself where she is not a part of it, at least not a good one.

(Quick sidenote here to talk about one other thing that Eric does in this route: shooting out the X-Pass authenticator. Once Mira’s body is found, six people have died, meaning that Eric, Sean, and Q are free to leave. But Eric shoots out the authentication device before this is possible. When this happened in the Let’s Play, the players called him an idiot for destroying his own means of escape, which really annoyed me. Here’s the thing: Eric is already actively suicidal at this point. He destroys his key to the outside world because he can no longer imagine a life for himself in the outside world. Shooting the authenticator was in itself an act of suicide, even though he wasn’t pulling the trigger on himself.)

All of this is not to say that Eric is okay in the true end and should be left to his own devices. He’s a man in pain, a man in constant crisis, and he’s in desperate need of intervention to prevent him from harming himself or others. I like him and Mira together and she will likely always be a special (Depended, Favorite) person to him, but he can’t and shouldn’t rely on his relationship with her to keep his head above water and keep him from acting the way he did in the Pod Room. Eric needs professional help; but call me optimistic, I think that learning from Sean about how he acted on the other routes, what it looks like when he is truly at rock bottom, might inspire him to seek that help.

Anyway. Sorry for the rant, I hope it was interesting at least. I’m going to go refill my medications and schedule an appointment with my therapist because, as fun and cathartic as this was to write, it’s definitely not healthy to get this riled up over fictional characters; plus, I can’t rightly advocate for a fictional character to get help when I’m not taking care of myself, can I?

#zero escape #zero time dilemma #eric ztd #suicide #suicide tw #don't worry about me btw i'll be fine #i know this gets really personal but feel free to like rb interact whatever #i'm not shy about this stuff

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snarky-art · 3 years

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Musa and Aisha in their enchantix! I still haven’t figured out how I want the wings to look but that’s ok I think.

Info on their relationship in my version of Winx Club below!

So when Aisha arrives at Alfea in season 2, it’s pretty much the same as in the original show. She doesn’t really know what to do. Anne was the only person her age she had ever really interacted with. The rest of the time she was pretty isolated and surrounded by adults. She has trouble figuring out exactly how to act around the winx and is really scared of messing things up.

Musa is also used to feeling like that. She has a lot of separation anxiety and fear of abandonment which she had manifest in the defense mechanism of not letting people get close so she couldn’t get hurt. She’s gotten better at handling it though ever since joining Alfea and getting a super close knit group of friends. As a result though, she can understand best how Aisha is feeling and is able to help in little ways the others can’t.

Musa does the most to make her feel more comfortable and at ease (the others do too but it just hits a little different coming from someone who really gets it, ya know?) and as a result they become much closer much faster. They find themselves talking more openly about their fears and insecurities and experiences when they’re alone and a they just end up having a really strong bond. In my version of this, Musa and Riven did get together at the end of season 1, but they breakup around ¾ths of the way through season 2. They realize it just isn’t really healthy for either of them and they both bring out the worst in each other. They both have some insecurities from previous relationships and just their family life in general (Riven’s mom abandoned him, Musa’s mom is dead and her relationship with her father is pretty strained although it does start to get better after the concert episode in season 2), so Musa is the one who ultimately takes the initiative to break it off. They both aren’t happy and Riven takes it especially hard, but Timmy talks some sense into him and he starts working to get better around the end of season 2/beginning of season 3.

Another reason Musa breaks it off is along with realizing how much worse she feels with Riven and along with how much worse she is as a person with him, she has a moment of realization where she just goes “oh, but with Aisha, I DO want to be better, and I trust her so much more completley,, oh no.” and she’s basically like “now we don’t have time to unpack ALL of that right now” but along with ending her relationship being better for both Riven and her, she needs to think some stuff about that over.

Musa is in denial about liking Aisha for a while and tries to stifle it and convince herself it’s nothing or that it’ll go away. This isn’t because she’s having a Gay Panic or something though (in my thing she’s bi and has had partners of other genders before). The panic comes from at this point, Aisha is one of the closest people in her life despite them only knowing each other for about a year and she doesn’t want to ruin something good (cue abandonment issues). Musa handles this physically by being more shy and easily flustered and also by eventually talking to the winx about it. Tecna ties but in my thing, Tecna is borderline Aromantic (demi is what I’m thinking of for her, still haven’t figured it all out though) so she’s not very good at giving advice for it, but she’s happy to listen. Flora gives soft advice and a listening ear, ever the romantic, and Stella is too but she’s much more loud (she also feels bad about trying to hook Musa up with so many dates and her and Riven broke up now that she knows Musa was having a crisis the whole time, granted the date with Jared was a good thing since Jared and Musa became good friends so Stella won’t apologize for that one and Musa decides that’s fair), and Bloom is pretty awkward with relationship stuff so she does the “are ya winning, son?” approach to all of this. Musa appreciates that they’re all trying though, despite the various degrees of success.

Aisha doesn’t really talk to anyone about her feelings for Musa, which she realizes she has shortly after gaining her enchantix. During the first attack on Alfea in the their third year of school, when she sees her enchantix for the first time, and how sure of herself she was about doing what she could to save Galatea’s life and save all the ancient texts and tomes, she’s like “yup that pretty much confirms everything for me.”

In my version Aisha is a lesbian and she’s known for a WHILE. Anne was her first crush and she also liked some of the princesses and nobles that she would meet or see at the many fancy diplomatic meetings she would be dragged to. She’s very secure in her sexuality and romantic attraction (homophobia isn’t really a Thing in my version per se, but there are some concerns about lineage in upper circles for royalty and leaders, since not all queer couples can have children biologically and sometimes adoption is hard depending on the circumstances, ESPECIALLY if there is a form of magic that is needed to be transferred from one member of a family to the next member and it isn’t a guarantee or even possible for some magic to latch onto someone and become apart of their core if they aren’t biologically related). Aisha hadn’t mentioned it to her parents though. Her parents and her don’t have the most open relationship due to the very controlling and stifling nature of both the court her parents rule over and just their general demeanor which leads to the next issue: arranged marriage on Andros, which is something her parents still partake in, and that really makes both Musa and Aisha feel like their hearts are being grabbed and twisted. Once they tell her, she’s about to tell them but they leave soon after telling her because they have stuff to do and also they would rather speak to Aisha once she’s “calmed down some.” The next time she has time to tell them, shit with Valtor starts to hit the fan and it gets put on the backburner.

By the time Nabu shows up, it’s pretty rough. Once Aisha realizes who he is she’s mad because of course she is, this is the person she’s expecting to be with. Nabu is understanding of this, and gets it completely, especially since he originally lied about his identity. Aisha does take a breather though and they talk it out some. He wanted to see who he was arranged to marry like in the show, and Aisha says she honestly never wanted to see him, and he laughs and says that’s fair. They do end up having a “best bros” dynamic though eventually. AIsha tells him about Musa, and he says he’s so sorry about this whole thing and eventually they do meet up with their parents like in the show and they talk to them about everything finally and their parents tell them that the arranged marriage isn’t necessary in the end. It works out and Aisha and Nabu do a sickass secret handshake they made and all is well. The relationship between their kingdoms is also really strong regardless of marriage too due to their eventual life long friendship.

Aisha also eventually talks to Flora some about how she should go about asking Musa out and about whether or not she thinks it would be a good idea and Flora and Chatta (ESPECIALLY CHATTA) are doing EVERYTHING they can to not blurt out that Musa hasn’t been able to shut up about liking Aisha for over a year and a half at this point.

Over the season their relationship continues to get stronger.

TW: talk of e*ting disorder. Please skip this paragraph if that is triggering to you. I will have the next paragraph start with -paragraph over- so skip to that if you would like

I also have a thing in my version where Musa struggles with an e*ting disorder some just do to anxiety and insecurities and that was one of the ways those things ended up manifesting (that’s how it was for me and I’ve put a little bit of myself into each of these gals and pal (Tecna is nonbinary in my version and although they’re fine with being perceived as a woman and is cool with she/her pronouns and general slang terms like “gal,” “dude,” “bro,” etc., they still prefer overall being acknowledged as a nonbinary person by people who don’t know them very well (all pronouns are cool with them also. This stuff I just mentioned is how I am as a nonbinary person and I thought it fit Tecna too). This is why I have her looking a little thinner in my earlier sketches, since those take place in season 1 and 2. Aisha goes out of her way to help her however she can and Musa feels guilty but eventually Aisha just tells her to accept the help because she cares about her, she knows that Musa wants to get better (she started wanting to really work to stop skipping meals in the middle of season 2 and being less afraid of putting on weight. Her relationship with Riven wasn’t helping her mental state and this was around the point where she realized things probably weren’t going to get better unless she worked really hard on both herself and with setting better boundaries. Aisha was the only one to know about her skipping meals more than was healthy as it ended up coming out on one of their many late night heart to heart convos they like to have) and because it isn’t taking a toll on her mental health, and she promises to let her know if it does (Aisha also learned more about healthy boundaries during her time with the winx way to go, queen). They do meal preps together, get a healthy workout routine that doesn’t involve Musa dropping dead from exhaustion every time, and they get help pamphlets and Musa ends up seeing a counselor on campus to get some help and by the middle of season 3, things are a lot better, and while it’s still something that Musa is going to struggle with off and on during her life because that’s how this stuff tends to work, she has the tools to help herself better and she also has a really good support system and knows therapy is still an option if she needs it after her time at Alfea. The rest of the winx find out eventually too and are, of course, super supportive and proud of her.

-end paragraph-

The main takeaway from that paragraph is that Aisha and Musa are very close and supportive of each other and that I mention Tecna is nonbinary (all pronouns acceptable, although tends to prefer they/them)

Along with that being yet another huge thing that relates to them wanting to help each other grow and become better people, they just end up realizing that if they could choose a day where they could choose anyone to spend time with for the whole time, it would be each other.

By the end of their third year at alfea/the movie (unsure which yet exactly, but it’s in that time frame) they get together and they stay together for the rest of everything:)

#winx club #Winx #aisha #aisha winx #layla #winx layla #musa #musa winx #enchantix #winx redesign #winx reboot #winx rewrite #winx remake #sapphic #WLW #they are in love #it's my sleepover and i get to choose the love story #enchantix redesign

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