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chiliyue-archived · 7 months

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cause i love to love, to love, to love you

↬ in which you have him all lovesick and smiles

includes; dazai, chūya, atsushi, fyodor

notes; i am gonna pretend i didn’t disappear for 2-3 months. this has been in my drafts for so long :( i tried to clean it up as much as i could but it’s really old jfjdks

DAZAI

dazai appears happy. present tense.

his typical inquiries for double suicides came to lessen to conscious degree, substituting in drinking sake together when the sun cowers, nothing but a string of nonsensical chatter proceeding each sip.

he was sticky like that: unannounced visits, impromptu phone calls, sudden changes in his schedule to accommodate yours. in any case, he isn’t one to shy from stooping as low as whining if it rewards him with your familiar face.

( his windpipes splinter before he could mutter it out loud, but the solitude that’s wedged deep in his bones for so long felt lighter when you were near. he questions how long such benevolence would last before becoming sullied by his hand… ).

…and yet all things considered, it hasn’t deterred him from courting you nonetheless. at times he can’t help but think he’s taken a bite of his own medicine when he’s the one skipping around like a helpless maiden.

and yet again in spite of it all, his brazenness remains perpetually untouched as ever. he entertains different approaches if only to coax out a new reaction from you and he’s not bashful in the slightest. so much so, he remains unruffled even under the scrutiny of your coworkers.

. . .

“ this is highly unprofessional.”

“ don’t be so mean, bella. don’t you know how much i missed you?”

your eyes flit down to the man currently using your lap as a headrest, the rest of his body stretching over the expanse of the couch. he was shameless, that much was certain, but his ability to remain unperturbed whilst in his lovey dovey state was impressive. you cocked a brow, sighing.

“ osamu.” his lips visually twitched at the call of his name; it’s a word warm on your tongue but leaves the hairs on his nape at your mercy anyway. " you saw me fifteen minutes ago—”

“ twenty.” he corrected, cheeky (and quite frankly, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled that number out his ass). “ but it was the longest twenty minutes of my life.”

he was unrepentant as ever, experimentally positioning his head to rest on the plush on your thighs. by muscle memory, he began to absently draw shapes wherever he could reach, a crude rendition of stars decorating over the bend of your knee.

he smiles innocently when you squint at him, the gleam in his eyes unwavering. “ only a couple more minutes and i would have been yours,” you mutter out, your voice not as sturdy as you hoped. “ at home.”

dazai almost turns pouty at that. almost. “ but my love, i’ve missed you like crazy. twenty minutes is too long, how can i possibly manage?” the words come out through a breathy exhale and you watch as his lashes kiss his cheeks when he flutters them closed. “ all i could think about is you. and now i have you right here.” he hopes his words carry as much truth as the way his heart does, scurrying away the cold that's mocked him for so long. “ can’t we just stay like this a little longer? pretty please?”

resigned to your fate, you could only clamor your palms over your features— if only to salvage your waning dignity from your coworkers.

unfortunate though… that in doing so you miss the blissful smile curling on his lips as he peeks at you from below. and atsushi notes(after throughly grimacing, not expecting him to be so blunt), it reaches his eyes too.

CHŪYA

" chūya-"

" you can't flirt with me. i have a partner."

terse, stubborn and slurred. if the groggy voice wasn’t enough to confirm your suspicions, the shit-face look belonging to your boyfriend did. he was drunk. wasted if you were to speak bluntly.

in truth, it really doesn’t come off as much of a surprise; his ability to hold his liquor was nothing to brag of (despite what he may profusely argue) and you’re half-convinced he’s already forgotten his own name.

still, you don’t loosen your grip on his sleeve even under the figurative holes he’s burned with his stare. “ chūya. i am your partner.”

“you—! wha-!” his voice erupts into a sudden warble, eyes akin to saucers. " you… you are??"

he takes what’s left of his thinning rationality to study you proper; the style of your hair, your clothing, the smell of perfume/cologne, the familiar quirk of your lips—

oh, he thinks as you push back the loose bangs veiling his face. he doesn’t make any attempts to move, feet stalled and eyes blinking, evidently stunned.

you decide to press on. “ do i look familiar now…?” the lilit of your voice grazes against his ear, plucking out a faint memory tucked somewhere in the crevice of his fuzzy head.

oh. he thinks twice, the stern look bruising his face thawing.

without realizing it, he squares his shoulders in any attempt to remedy his current disheveled appearance, slumped posture pulled taut in— what he hopes— was a more put together frame. conversely, he wobbles on his feet when you continue to eat away at the distance, the ghost of your touch pushing pinpricks into his skin.

“ you’re- you’re really all mine…?” he cringes as soon as it leaves his mouth, coming off eager and hopeful. something like a laugh escapes you and he can’t tell if that’s what made his stomach turn or the alcohol. perhaps both.

“ that’s what i’ve been trying to tell you. you’re so stubborn when you’re drunk.” you punctuate the words with a kiss to his cheek, now warm with revelation. chūya, exhausting the last bits of his energy, shrinks beneath it, a gloved hand clutching his reddened face defensively.

“ why haven’t i made you my spouse yet?” he remarks it so suddenly, you nearly choke on air. he can’t even comprehend what you say thereafter or register the look beginning to contort your features, nothing but liquid courage keeping him afloat.

but- well, if there’s anything the haze trotting his head and his thinning cognition could agree on, it’s that your ring finger appears a little too barren for his liking.

( but not for much longer, he hopes )

ATSUSHI

the sudden change in atsushi’s behavior was a notable observation within the ADA, many of whom watched as the weretiger became stupefied by a face belonging to you. it wasn’t long before concluding it was all the result of a crush; the culprit of which being atsushi himself who played his hand poorly at discretion.

the lovesick chatter would leave his mouth without much rationality, waxing of "[name] this" or "[name] that," and effectively becoming on the receiving end of his praises. it was almost a routine of sorts, occupied by stutters, belated responses and his fidgety footfalls. by the end of it, he fruitlessly attempts to steady his rabbiting heart— if only to stop his blush from staining beyond his cheeks.

even now as he silhouettes by the agency door, the rattle of rain is deafened by the rush of blood to his ears. he anxiously worries the handle of the umbrella in his palms, bouncing from one sole of his feet to the other. should he just ask you? maybe he should wait… now that he thinks about it would be more appropriate to just leav—

“ damn it.” he perks at your sound of displeasure, his heart spiking. “ so much for leaving in a hurry…” you stiffen, realizing you have nothing but a coat protect you from the weather. the flimsy jacket you hurriedly plucked from your wardrobe only added flavor to your disappointment.

atsushi doesn’t miss the opportunity; his feet carries him to you before the unpleasant voice lurking deep in his subconscious bullies him otherwise. “ we can share,” he gestures to his own, silently praying his voice was leveled. it wobbles anyway and by now his knuckles are sheen white as a product of his nerves.

with the organ jumping around in his chest, he almost doesn’t register your ‘thank you,’ only that his fingers were quickly undoing the straps of the umbrella before you could change your mind ( he impulsively bought it earlier that day— his previous pair worned out and far too tiny for two people. but when you thank him with a kind smile, hands slightly brushing with each step, he argues it was the best 800 yen he’s ever spent ).

… that said, a more appropriate question is how you managed to remain naive to all his pining for so long— he’s become despairingly obvious against his own good and yet he can’t find it in himself to change himself, a perpetual lovesick look copy and pasted whenever you entered his proximity.

the same can't be said to everyone else however and he wasn’t particularly pleased when he caught wind of the bets exchanged among his treacherous colleagues. he fears it's only a matter of time before one of them blabs their tongue to you. at this rate, perhaps one of them should.

. . .

" y'know atsushi," ranpo once said, offering his companion a gleaming simper. " you reallllyyy talk about [name] a lot."

"oh.”

his heart flutters, eyes slowly blinking.

" yeah,” he smiles. “ i guess i do.”

FYODOR

" you've been awfully quiet, my dear." fyodor’s voice was just loud enough over the sound of clashing cutlery, fixing you a gaze of genuine interest. " is the meal not to your liking?"

you feel your lips twist into a frown. for being attentive, he (for once) falsely saunters pass the source of your displeasure, failing to recognize the extent of your internal woes. " no- no-" you fidget with your fingers, ignoring the way your propped elbows skidded against the table. the behaviour doesn't go unnoticed by the former, who takes it upon himself to hook his index fingers with yours. “ there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask of you. a… request of sorts.”

“ what is it? i’ll have it shipped to you by the end of the week,” he offers generously though it quickly fades into a confused hum when you shake your head at the proposition.

" it isn’t something you can buy…” you drop your gaze from him to the scantly poked portions of cuisine on your plate. fearing he may misinterpret your words and assume it to be unattainable - perhaps gifting you something ludicrous as a piece of land - you amended quickly. " it’s not what you assume to be either.”

at that, he bums questioningly. “ then what displeases you, my darling?” he provides a faint squeeze to your hand, igniting something warm and paradoxical to his thin layer of frigid skin. “ what can i offer to rid you that frown?”

" just your company.”

" my company?"

" yes." perplexed, he cocks his head; an invitation. willing an inhale to your lungs, you took a moment to gather possession of your words. “ these days you've been rather occupied. i was hoping for perhaps… if we may spend some time together?"

fyodor appears vaguely surprised by that, something unfamiliar fortifying around him. requesting his time felt like a hefty expenditure just in itself and it wasn’t too far fetched to assume he’ll disregard it in favor of some plot embellishing deep within his brain. but a swift refusal never comes.

“ i see,” he finally says after a brief pause. his voice was so soft you wondered if it was meant for you to hear.

it's grows quiet before he speaks again, the fingers curled around your hand withdrawing but not before providing the tips a delicate squeeze. " i can arrange some time tomorrow for you,” he proffers. “ will that satisfy your request, myshka?"

hardly anything can catch fyodor off guard, but something had to be said in the way you brightened at the suggestion, a deep curve coasting over your lips. how pleasant you are.

" yes," you hastily replied, dipping your head slightly. " more than perfect. thank you."

the way your lineaments crossed into a smile was always enduring to observe — exasperated, but one he wouldn’t mind seeing tomorrow knowing he was the cause for such elation.

( idly, he wonders what he can do to see it again ).

A/N !

i’ve been meaning to post this for months but it’s so old & i never quite (and still kinda don’t) liked it :(( fyodor’s is bit ooc jfjdkskla

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moonstruckme · 9 months

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not sure if you’re taking requests buttttt poly!marauders but they’re kinda overprotective bfs and she sneaks out to go to a party with marlene or her girlfriends but they find out and show up at the party 💞

Hi don't worry, I am! I think it should show on the requests page linked in my pinned post, but please let me know if it doesn't, I'm still figuring tumblr out and often mess up! I hope this is alright honey, I tried to go for the angst but honestly the more I write the more suspicious I become of my inability to write our boys being anything other than soft with reader! I'll try to work on it but in the meantime I hope you enjoy this <33

cw: mention of concussion symptoms, including nausea, nothing intense or even very descriptive though

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 906 words

You’re aware that the internet had said you were supposed to avoid bright lights, loud sounds, and movement when Remus had looked it up after an unfortunate fall that morning. Just like you’re aware that when your boyfriends left you at your apartment a few hours ago, they’d been trusting you to follow those instructions. But you’re also aware that the internet had led you all to believe your concussion was mild, and that Marlene only has one birthday a year. Damned if you were going to miss it.

So yeah, you feel a bit queasy as your eyes struggle to track the movement and voices around you, but that’s nothing compared to the contentment of being with your friends. Lily has assigned herself the role of your caretaker, checking that you’re alright every few minutes and shushing anyone who raises their voice too loud around you, and Marlene has attached herself to your side, telling you how much she appreciates you in between beer-scented hiccups.

“And you’re so nice to come tonight,” she’s saying now, brushing her fingers clumsily but sweetly through your hair. “I can’t tell you how much—uh oh.”

You have a premonition of ill fate even before the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you follow Marelene’s unfocused gaze to the curly-haired boy coming towards you.

“Happy birthday, Marls,” he says, his smile only appearing slightly strained, before he turns to you. “Hey, sweetheart. Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Jamie,” you say quietly, and Lily and Marlene leave the couch to give you as much privacy as a party allows. “What are you doing here?”

“Everyone here’s been posting, and you’re in the background of half the pictures.” His smile slips as he crouches in front of you, disappointment in his eyes. “You know you’re supposed to be resting,” he says softly. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You’re glad that he’s here instead of Remus or Sirius, who surely wouldn’t be as careful about not embarrassing you. James is less stern than the others, and though you feel a bit guilty for doing so, you press that to your advantage.

“I haven’t drank anything but water,” you say. “That’s gotta count for something, right? And look.” You brush your hair behind your ear, showing him the earplugs you’d put in before arriving. “I’m being careful, see? I’m alright, Jamie, and it’s Marlene’s birthday. Let’s just stay, both of us, okay?”

James looks nearly apologetic. “Remus and Sirius are waiting in the car.”

You groan, but allow James to pull you to your feet, waving goodbye to your friends with a pout. He supports more of your weight than you really need him to as he walks you outside, where Remus sits in the drivers’ seat of the idling car. Dread settles, along with dull resignation, in your stomach.

Sirius is in the backseat and you hope James will get in first, but he lifts you in before him, placing you between two of your three upset boyfriends. You can’t look at any of them, allowing James to buckle your seatbelt for you as an oppressive silence, worse than the bass that had brutalized your head inside Marlene’s, stretches out between you.

True to form, Sirius is the first to breach it.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“You have a concussion! All you had to do was stay home and rest. That website said that lights and loud music—say, the sort of things you’d find at a party—would only make things worse.”

Normally, you’d argue with him. No matter how hopeless it seems, no matter how obvious it is that Sirius is going to win, you can always meet him head-on and at least make your point. But tonight, with your head throbbing and something about your very being feeling fundamentally wrong, you can’t muster up the energy.

“I know,” you say.

Sirius goes silent at the acquiescence in your voice, and he looks at Remus in the rear-view mirror, unsure of how to proceed. James puts a hand on your knee, a tiny gesture of comfort even though he’s upset with you too. The motivation that had driven you to Marlene’s and through the party is wearing off, and you feel suddenly, embarrassingly teary.

“Do you feel sick?” Remus speaks for the first time, and though his voice is calm, the absence of his usual terms of endearment leave no doubt that you’re still in trouble.

You clear your throat of the tears that are trying to clog it. “A little.”

“We’re bringing you to our place to rest.” It’s not a question. “We can go get some things from your place tomorrow, but tonight you can just wear our stuff. Think you can eat something before bed?”

It’s worse that he’s being kind to you. You’d been prepared for a lecture, but being taken care of is worse. It brings the vulnerability you’ve felt since the frightening pain and dizziness of that morning to the surface, and you keep your face turned towards your lap as your eyes become wet. “Yeah, I think so,” you say, and your voice cracks slightly when you add, “I’m sorry.”

Sirius makes a sympathetic, pained sound from beside you, and James abandons all pretense of anger, tucking your head under his chin.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Remus says, a bit more gently. “For now, just try to relax.”

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grace-williams-xo · 5 days

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Comment from @pluto-pepsi on this post of mine, re point 11.

I lowkey want Anthony to be mad in “Penelope has no male relatives so I guess the duty of beating the shit out of my brother for ruining her engagement falls to me” kind of way

“Why do I have it on good authority that Penelope Featherington was about to accept a proposal from Lord Debling, until you ruined it?” Anthony yelled, marching into Colin’s study angrily. Kate followed him, resigned.

“Anthony! Kate! When did you get back?” Colin asks, not put off by his brother’s attitude.

“That is hardly relevant,” Anthony snaps.

“The ship arrived yesterday, but we stayed at an inn. We have only returned to Mayfair today,” Kate explains, moving to sit on an armchair. She has mostly given up trying to calm down her husband.

“Lord Debling is not important anymore brother, Penelope and I are betrothed,” Colin sighs, a small smile between smug and fond settling on his features.

“You are what?! Since when?!”

“In fact, I am surprised that whatever informed you of her ill fate with Lord Debling did not also tell you of our engagement,” Colin shrugs.

“You cannot propose marriage without my approval, Colin. I know the Featherington estate has been unfortunate lately. Does she even have a dowry?” Anthony seethes, nostrils flaring.

“A dowry should not matter—“

“But—“

“Anthony,” Kate interrupts their squabble, her voice gentle but exhausted. His neck immediately snaps to look at her. “Colin has been fond of Miss Penelope for some time now. You should consider this while we rest from our journey.”

“You are right.” Anthony huffs, always obedient of his wife, and walks out of the room with a sigh. Colin sends Kate a grateful look as they exit. “BENEDICT!”

“Anthony,” Kate all but groans. This is not what she meant when she said they should rest.

“Brother! You have returned!” Benedict grins, bounding up the stairs.

“How could you let our brother propose marriage to a woman who was for all intents and purposes engaged to someone else?” Anthony asks sharply.

“I do not think she was,” Benedict says confusedly.

“I have heard otherwise. It is my duty to rectify this.”

“Rectify it how? They are already engaged to be married, and you are not the guardian of either of them,” Benedict points out in disbelief.

“Miss Penelope is without a male guardian, so I must do what I can and must to control the Colin of it all,” Anthony replies matter-of-factly

“Anthony,” Kate says, voice sterner than before, “I said we should rest.”

“This is not over,” Anthony scowls.

#bridgerton #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton s3 #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kanthony #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #polin #lord debling #benedict bridgerton #Anthony is MAD #but he is whipped so bad for his wife #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfiction #writtenbygw

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britany1997 · 1 year

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Could you do a poly with the boys being mated to a girl that just so happens to be maxes daughter?

Fate Yields For No One

Prologue

Yes of course I can write this for you! Sorry I got this forever ago, I really wanted to make it into a multi chapter fic:) I hope this series will be worth the wait. Comment or DM to be tagged in this series or in my main list:)

Poly! Lost Boys x Max’s Daughter Reader

(I don’t know when the next installment will be out, but there will be more chapters, at least 4-5)

Warnings: angst, talk of death, blood drinking, dub-con turning

California, 1935

You clutched the wall as you stumbled into an alley, coughing loudly into your bloodied handkerchief.

You leaned against the wall, sliding down until you were seated on the grimey alley floor. You pulled the cloth from your lips, hand shaking to see it splattered with the evidence of your impending doom.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you recalled the fall of each and every member of your family to the same tragic fate.

The Depression had robbed your father of his job, and then your family of its home, forcing you to live a life on the cold California streets, begging for whatever scraps the wealthy were willing to give.

The spread of tuberculosis had gripped the homeless population in your town, and your family had not been immune.

You’d cradled your mother as she’d sobbed for your father. You’d mothered your siblings when she had left you too. Now you were the only one left, and it didn’t look like you’d be here much longer.

You withdrew into yourself, attempting to quiet the world around you, resigned to the conclusion that you’d be rid of it soon.

Which is why you didn’t hear footsteps approaching until a tall gentleman appeared at your side.

He was dressed in a form fitting grey suit paired with black dress shoes. His brown hair was slicked back in typical fashion, and perched on the bridge of his nose were a pair of wire rimmed glasses.

You couldn’t help but think he looked like the kind of man you’d meet on Wall Street, and not in this damp alley where forgotten youths like yourself came to die.

You coughed into the handkerchief again, staining it further. “Please,” you croaked, “are you a doctor? Can you help me?”

The man crouched down to examine your face. You gasped at his disregard for his fine clothing, and his immediate interest in you.

He shot you a soft smile, “I am not a doctor,” he told you, “but I can help you.”

He took your hand in his, smiling wider at your shocked expression, “what if I told you that I could do more than heal you? What if I could restore your life and then some? Would you want that?” He whispered, seemingly staring into your soul as he asked.

A tear slipped down your cheek as you returned his gaze, “I’m not ready to die,” you strained, “I’m so scared. Please don’t let me die, not like this.” You begged, searching his eyes for assurance that he wasn’t just toying with you.

The man sighed, “ok,” he breathed, “I’ll give you what you want.”

His eyes scanned over your broken body, slumped against the alley wall, and he cringed.

“I am truly sorry that there isn’t enough time to do this the gentle way,” he raised his hand to stroke your cheek, “I hope you can forgive me.”

As he finished speaking, his face shifted. His once brown eyes flashed a bright yellow. His teeth elongated into sharp fangs. The man had vanished, and before you crouched a monster.

You would have screamed if you’d had anything left in your lungs, but unfortunately the sands in your hourglass were almost up.

The monster lunged for your neck and bit down, draining the remaining life force from your body. As you faded into blackness, you scolded yourself for trusting this wolf in sheep’s clothing. You knew your error in judgment would be your last.

The monster pulled away from your neck, and you watched with blurred vision as he used his menacing fangs to tear into his wrist.

He brought his wrist to your lips, and wrapped a hand around the back of your head to pull you closer.

You fought to stay conscious as the monster’s blood dripped onto your tongue, but against your will, your eyes fluttered shut and your vision faded to black.

Taglist❤️:

@anna1306 @bloodywickedvamp @misslavenderlady @ghoulgeousimmaculate @6lostgirl6 @pixielostboy @riz-coolgirl @solobagginses @its-freaking-bats @xxryn @honeybedo @dwaynesluscioushair @feardot-com @lostboys1987girl @altierirose

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wannaeatramyeon · 7 months

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//peeks in here//

I am shyly going to ask if requesting where the reader is Goo’s younger sister and where Samuel somehow gets hired to protect Goo’s younger sister (despite the younger sister knowing some self defense) / the reader falling for Samuel? Would be okay with you? :0 (if that makes any sense-)

If not, that’s totally fine :>

Just thought I’d give it a shot aha-

Sure that's ok with me anon! Sorry for the delay! Man I miss the days before Sammy was fully unhinged.

Samuel Seo x Goo's Younger Sister!Reader: Plushie

Goo doesn't like this.

The way your eyes widen upon first meeting, the way his linger a moment too long.

If he wasn't busy being out of town, running around like Charles Choi's very well paid dog, he wouldn't need to do this.

But Samuel, with his terrible daddy issues and irrational need to prove himself-

Goo might as well take advantage of it.

"If she misses even a hair on her pretty lil head then I'll cut yours off, ok Samuel?"

"Oppa!"

Sammy-

(Or Samuel as he likes to be called. Which you learned after you earned a disapproving glare and a correction each time. Good thing his glares have no effect on you and you don't care what he likes.)

- is more patient with you than his haughty and bored expression may suggest.

To your annoyance, it seems that he has taken your Oppa's word to heart and has made it his current life mission to keep you in sight and within reach almost all times.

"What do you like to watch, Sammy?"

As if on reflex, the glare comes. Except it doesn't hold anywhere near as much frostiness as it did in the first couple days. He's still exasperated, but becoming resigned to his unfavourable nickname.

"Nothing."

You're also getting used to his short, curt responses.

If you think about it, It's kind of ridiculous that this man is sitting next to you in your apartment. Very close quarters. Shadowing you for over a week now.

Dressed down. In a hoodie that is at once large and comfy, yet extremely tight in certain areas, and sweatpants. His dress code has gradually loosened. From expensive tailored suits, to casual shirts and chinos, and now to this.

This situation can be read as intimate. Except he's only here because he has to be, and your Oppa doesn't believe you can protect yourself.

(You wanted to tell Goo that he's wrong. He was the one that trained you up, after all. But there's no stopping him once he gets something in his head.)

"You must like to watch something. Action? Thrillers? Comedies? Documentaries?"

"I prefer to read."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, "What about when you were a kid? You must like something then."

An inscrutable expression flashes across Samuel's face, his next words come out forced. "Nothing. I couldn’t- didn’t watch anything."

Oh.

You file that away for another time, maybe when you don't have whatever this wall is between you. If that day ever comes.

That small bit of insight into what sort of boy this man used to be.

Because the likely reasons he couldn’t are either he wasn't allowed to or couldn't afford to, and neither of these are great choices.

You decide to breeze over it. For today. Deciding that Sammy is not the sort of person that would want any sort of sympathy. That he would most likely interpret it as pity.

"Well, let's watch this. It's my fave."

Unfortunately your fave is nothing short of absolute trash.

Samuel sits silent throughout the full 30 minutes.

At the end, you turn to him and press for his thoughts.

"It's... not bad."

His answer stuns you. You don't hide your expression and receive a small smile in return.

You look at him in a new light.

If someone was to ask either of you when it started, both of you would probably answer this moment was when the fondness started to grow.

Goo would likely kill him.

Trace a blade along each of his tattoos, dig in and watch the crimson flow.

If Goo knew that Samuel had any sort of anything towards you, Samuel would suffer a fate worse than death.

Still, the close quarters are doing nothing to help his budding interest.

The show was a turning point. From you being Goo's somewhat bratty and annoying sister-

(Goo is extremely bratty and annoying himself, of course it would run in the family.)

- to you being… Well.

You.

A fully formed person in your own right.

Your laughter changes from grating to infectious.

Your questions from prying to simply curious.

Your 'Sammy' from exasperating to endearing.

Even his assigned job to look after you no longer feels like a chore, another chance to nurture his Secret Friend status.

It's enjoyable.

Your shopping habits test the limit of Samuel's patience.

Your shoes are also testing the limit of your foot arch, but you decide it's worth it to see how long he can bear traipsing after you.

He might be winning this one as he follows you obediently, store after store.

Reaching for his wallet each time you carry an item towards the register. You rebuff him with a wave of your black credit card (technically, your Oppa's black credit card) and Samuel seems to suffer from not being able to perform this act of gallantry.

Offers his opinion even when you don't ask, usually in distaste at something you're looking at. A huff of laughter when you accuse him of being the one with no taste.

Accuses outright you of being tasteless when you ponder over purchasing an adorable plushie.

Samuel dismisses it. "It's ugly."

"Well it reminds me of you!"

He stills for a moment, shock briefly crossing his face before chuckling. Eyes lighting up with mirth.

And you think 'damn him, he's not ugly at all.'

Annoyed, you return the plushie back to the shelf with force.

You're still petulant as you continue to look around afterwards, and he seems to relish in the way you stomp around heavy footed.

His apology comes hours later, when you're waiting at the food court. In the form of some greasy junk food you demanded in one hand; the plushie you squealed over and he physically recoiled at, in the other.

"To remind you of me," he smirks.

That night, as you lay awake with the plushie in your arms. You also think 'damn it, it does remind you of him.'

And squeeze it tighter to your body.

#lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism x reader #lookism fic #samuel seo x reader #samuel seo #seo seongeun x reader #seo seongeun #wannaeatramyeon

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molsno · 4 months

Text

I'd be lying if I said I didn't look upon all those people who talk about giving up on life and just becoming a neet with envy. maybe that's problematic or reductive of me but like damn I wish that was even an option for me. if I did that, I would simply be homeless. that's all there is to it. nobody in my life has the means to support me indefinitely; certainly not my family, who are basically all poor women struggling to support themselves, multiple of them having been evicted from their homes very recently. even if they were able to financially support me (who are my options? MAYBE my cop sister and her cop husband? fat fucking chance), how would I get there? I live on the other side of the country, thousands of miles away. should I give up on the few nice things I've been able to afford (which I am still in debt paying off) that have given me some basic securities - namely my bed and car - and use the last of my money to board a plane there? or should I risk my life driving across the country as an inexperienced driver hauling a trailer full of my belongings?

the fact is that I'm the only person in my entire family to have ever earned a bachelor's degree, but even passing through the classist barrier that is higher education was not sufficient to free me from the chains of poverty. I'm an autistic tranny faggot who never learned any of the necessary skills to succeed under capitalism because nobody in my life could have ever taught me that. because I transitioned, I have no connections from my college days, and I lack the social skills to engage in networking, which bars me from most jobs that are actually worthwhile. essentially, even as lucky as I am to hold a degree in computer science (which technically is not even issued under my name as I've never had enough money to get it reissued after my name change), I still have to contend with the fact that the actual benefits of said degree will continually be gatekept from me due to my background.

it is so tempting, especially now as I discover how much more time I have for personal fulfillment while unemployed, to simply give up and resign myself to the fate that seems so fitting for me. unfortunately, I literally Can Not do that, as the only thing waiting for me on the other side is a life far, FAR worse than anything my family has suffered, and one which I will never recover from. I'm forced to play the capitalist game no matter how much misery it brings me. the only thing that I can dream about is one day feeling even the slightest bit of stability.

#personal #opening linkedin is a form of psychological torture

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dc-and-arfrona · 11 months

Text

Too Late

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Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Summary: Jason waits wayyyy too long to ask you out, so someone else does.

Type: Angst

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5k+

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Jason's POV

I walk, nearly skip, to your apartment. Today is the day that I am going to ask you out. We have grown so close in friends and after a good talk with Roy, I was ready to make my move. I had everything ready, your favorite flowers in my hand and a small little speech in my head. As I get off the elevator I see another man in front of your apartment. Delivery guy? Maybe? Hopefully? My heart sank when I saw you greet him at the door with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

My heart constricts, and I stand frozen in the hallway, invisible waves of pain crashing over me. How did I let this happen? I had been so sure that I was making progress, that we shared something special. But now, watching you exchange affectionate gestures with this stranger, it feels like my chance has slipped away. I lean against the wall, my grip on the flowers tightening, as the reality of my own hesitation and indecisiveness settles in. The weight of regret hangs heavy in the air, mocking my missed opportunity.

Unfortunately I am not invisible, they see me at the corner of your eye and the strange man turns around to look over at me as well. Wally fucking West. Were they fucking? What was Wally doing with you? What kind of greeting was that? Wally and they froze as they stared at me and the flowers in my hands. Wally quickly, almost possessively, grabs you and intertwines your hands.

My heart feels like it's been shattered into a million pieces. The sight before me is a painful twist of fate, mocking my unrequited feelings. I try to keep my composure, my face a mask of neutrality, but inside, a storm of emotions rages. Anger, jealousy, and heartbreak intertwine, creating a tumultuous mix that threatens to consume me. I manage to summon a weak smile, forcing myself to play it off as though I'm not affected. "Hey, guys," I say, my voice betraying a hint of sadness. "Didn't mean to interrupt. Just wanted to drop these off. Hope they brighten your day." With a final nod, I turn on my heel and walk away, my footsteps echoing the sound of my shattered hopes and dreams.

A few moments later I get a text from you. I am begging, praying that it's an explanation and nothing was going on. My heart was able to sink even more when I read the message. "Jason, please don't tell the team about our relationship, I am not ready to tell you. I can trust you right? Also, thank you so much for the flowers! :)"

My hands tremble as I read the text, the words burning into my wounded heart. It's as if the world around me fades into a blur, leaving only the weight of your secret and the ache of betrayal. I struggle to find the right response, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Can I trust you? The question echoes in my mind, a painful reminder of the fracture in our connection. But somewhere deep inside, despite the pain, I find a flicker of compassion. I take a deep breath, typing a reply, my words laced with a bittersweet mixture of resignation and longing. "You can trust me," I type, each letter a testament to the strength I muster. "I'll keep your secret. Take care." With a heavy heart, I press send, knowing that my unspoken feelings will remain buried in the depths of my soul, a secret that will forever haunt me.

Months later, and I am still heartbroken. What makes it worse is that you have come out to the team. I see you now everywhere. Wally always makes some kind of show that he is your boyfriend. I could almost swear that after every kiss Wally gives a glance over at me to make sure that I can see that his lips are on you... and not mine. He knows that I love you. He also knows that I am too late. Our friendship hasn't been affected a bit, you thankfully believed me that the flowers were just a random kind gesture on a random Tuesday.

One day, as we gather for a mission debriefing, a subtle shift in the atmosphere catches my attention. Amidst the serious discussions and mission preparations, I notice Artemis and Wally exchanging sly glances, your banter taking on a new level of intimacy. The once playful dynamic between you now carries a weight I can't ignore. My heart skips a beat as I observe your reaction, the flicker of discomfort that momentarily crosses your face. It's as if a veil has been lifted, revealing a hidden truth that had remained concealed until now. Questions swirl in my mind, but I bite my tongue, unsure if it's my place to intervene. The weight of unspoken secrets lingers in the air, leaving me to wonder if this newfound connection between Artemis and Wally will only deepen the void that separates us further.

Then it all explodes, you are at my door sobbing. He broke your heart. He had your precious beautiful heart and he broke it. He ran with someone else and left you. I have never experienced so much anger. The person I love the most, the one I wanted to protect with all my life, was sobbing in my arms due to some dick that couldn't comprehend the amazing gift he had.

As you stand at my door, your tears flowing uncontrollably, my heart shatters into a thousand fragments. The sight of you, broken and vulnerable, ignites a firestorm of anger within me. How could he? How could Wally, who had been entrusted with your precious, beautiful heart, treat it so callously? The fierce protectiveness that has always swelled within me now roars to life, ready to confront the source of your pain. I hold you tightly in my arms, my own tears mixing with yours, a blend of sadness and rage. In that moment, I vow to shield you from any further harm, to be the rock you can lean on when the world becomes too heavy. As your sobs echo in the room, I find solace in knowing that, despite the anguish we both endure, we have each other to lean on, to mend the broken pieces of our hearts together.

Months later, the pain of unrequited love still lingered within me, casting a shadow over our friendship. Every day was a struggle, watching you and Wally together, witnessing the love and happiness that should have been mine. But I couldn't bear the weight of my silence any longer.

Summoning all the courage I had left, I found myself standing before you one evening, our eyes locking in a bittersweet dance of emotions. The air was heavy with unspoken words, as if the universe held its breath, waiting for the truth to be set free.

"I need to tell you something," I finally whispered, my voice laced with vulnerability. "These past months, I've been carrying a weight in my heart, a weight of regret and longing. The truth is, I've loved you for so long, and seeing you with Wally has been tearing me apart."

A mix of surprise and sadness flashed across your face, and for a moment, I feared that I had made a mistake. But I had to be honest, for both of us.

"I never wanted to jeopardize our friendship," I continued, my voice trembling. "But I can't keep pretending that these feelings don't exist. You deserve to know the truth, even if it means risking our relationship."

Silence hung in the air, and I braced myself for your response, unsure of what the future held for us. But then, something remarkable happened. You reached out, gently taking my hand in yours, your touch sending warmth through my entire being.

"Jason," you said softly, your eyes filled with compassion. "I had no idea you felt this way. The truth is, I've been grappling with my own doubts and uncertainties. Wally may have been a distraction, but it was you who captured my heart from the beginning."

Hope bloomed within me, fragile yet resilient, as your words washed over me. In that moment, we stood together, two broken souls finding solace in each other's arms.

From that day forward, we embarked on a journey of healing and discovery, navigating the complexities of our intertwined past and forging a new path ahead. The pain of the past gradually faded, replaced by a love that grew stronger with each passing day.

Though the road was not without its challenges, we faced them together, drawing strength from the unwavering bond we shared. And as we embraced our newfound love, the scars of our past became reminders of the resilience of our hearts.

In the end, the timing may have been imperfect, and our path may have been fraught with obstacles, but our love proved to be stronger than any pain or regret. And together, we created a future built on trust, understanding, and the courage to seize the love that had eluded us for far too long.

#dc universe #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #robin x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #red hood x you #dc imagine #jason todd x you #red hood imagine

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masterwords · 7 months

Text

no better place

Summary: “I knew a new puppy was a bad idea.”

The time Hotch broke his foot stepping over a brand new puppy and spent the entire holiday season laid up.

Words: 5.7k

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: injuries & surgery, mention of clooney's passing

Notes: So...Comfortember is still happening but this popped into my head and I couldn't get it out so...now it's out there. Chicago Times, old men, Jack is at college and everyone they love comes to help. This should get busy and fun. I want to dive on to SO MUCH comfort. This is Chapter 1 of...many. Probably. I'll make it a landing page later.

****

“Fractured in two places? You’ve gotta be shittin’ me!”

Derek was staring at the x-ray like it had to be a joke. They had to have mixed it up with someone else’s.

“I told you,” Hotch replied with a smug little smile in spite of the fact that it was him sitting on the exam table with his foot draped in icepacks while he waited for the shot of whatever pain killer they’d given him to kick in. Derek rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“How’s that possible? It was one step.”

“I felt a pop. I knew right away.”

“Do we need to check for like, osteoporosis or something, doc? One step…come on. How?” Derek just couldn’t believe it and Hotch was more than a little irritated at how he was reacting. Some part of Derek refused to admit that getting older meant doing less with more consequences, and try as he might to outrun the perils of aging, it couldn’t be done. Still, Hotch wasn’t sure this had as much to do with him being older as it did with just simply landing wrong with his full body weight. He was pretty sure even ten or fifteen years ago it would have ended up with the same result. As if reading Hotch’s mind, the doctor just shook his head and pointed to the two small fractures in the top of Hotch’s foot, a common injury site that had a relatively high healing rate. He’d just begun to feel somewhat comfortable, resigned to his fate of lying on the couch watching the world go by for a couple of weeks when the other shoe dropped.

“This kind of break is extremely common, even in young people. There are a lot of small fragile bones in the foot. The breaks are clean but I am concerned that there are two of them, one in the 4th metatarsal and one in the 5th. This could make organic healing a challenge at your age. I am going to suggest surgery – the procedure would take roughly two hours, it’s an outpatient procedure so you can go home as soon as you’re cleared, and it doesn’t extend the healing time by much. What it would do is strengthen that area and give you the best fighting chance at regaining your active lifestyle.”

“Surgery?” Hotch was at least two full clicks back. The drugs they’d given him were strong and he was out of it. Derek had plenty of experience asking questions and slipped right into that part of his personality that had been neatly folded up and put away since he left the BAU. Suddenly he was Agent Morgan in the interrogation room again.

“What kind of surgery? What’s the prognosis with and without it, doc?”

“Here is the information, everything you could want to know about the procedure and why I am recommending it. If I didn’t know how active the two of you are, I would probably not be pushing for it but this injury could severely impact your lifestyle if it doesn’t heal correctly. And given your age, that’s unfortunately very likely. I’ll step out and give you a moment to look over the paper and talk it over, and then I’ll come in and we’ll splint it up and send you home to rest.”

“Thanks doc.”

Derek didn’t hesitate. He glanced down at Hotch who was lying on the table with his arm thrown over his eyes, and he pulled out his phone. He wasn’t exactly sure what time it was in Thailand but it didn’t matter, he had to call Savannah. Get a second opinion.

“This had better be good,” she said instead of hello. “It is 5am and I still had two hours on my alarm clock, Derek.”

“Good morning beautiful,” he said automatically, a smile on his face. Thirteen hours, he knew now. She was thirteen hours ahead of him and he felt a little bad calling and waking her up, but not bad enough that he wished he hadn’t called. Even when she was grumpy she made him smile. “I won’t keep you long, I just...we had kind of a situation happen and I need your opinion.”

“A medical situation or a Hank situation?”

“Hank’s good, it’s Aaron I’m callin’ about. He broke his foot this morning taking a step weird. Non-contact, two fractures, and Dr. Carter wants to do surgery. What do you think?”

“Did he leave the x-rays in the room?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Send me pictures of them, give me five minutes and I’ll video call you. I want to see him and his foot too okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

She didn’t even take the full five minutes, and when Derek saw her face he breathed a sigh of relief. She smiled at him gently and even in the dark of her room, with no makeup on and her gray flecked hair pulled back in a ponytail, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Has Dr. Carter come back yet?”

“No, just us. They gave Aaron a shot of something that looks pretty powerful and we’ve been waiting for it to kick in. I’d say it’s kicked in, he’s practically dead to the world.”

“Alright. Well I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I agree with Dr. Carter. The fact that it was a non-contact injury makes me a little concerned about it happening again, and putting a couple of screws in there is going to help make sure it doesn’t by helping it heal correctly. There are no guarantees, but this would be the recommendation to just about any athlete with an injury like this. What’s your hesitation?”

“Last time he was under, his heart stopped.”

“That was a traumatic situation and emergency surgery to correct internal bleeding, Derek, not a scheduled outpatient foot surgery. I know you worry but this is a low-risk situation.”

“So you’d do it?”

“I would. Can I talk to him?”

Derek brought the phone to the side of the exam table and tapped on Hotch’s arm, rousing him. He hadn’t been sleeping, exactly, just zoning out somewhere in the caverns of his mind. “Yeah?” he rasped, lifting his arm to look at Derek. What he saw instead was Derek’s phone and Savannah’s smiling face and he followed her lead with his own sleepy, slow smile. “Hey you.”

“Hey yourself,” she said. “How you feeling?”

“Tired.”

“Yeah. They gave you the elephant tranquilizers huh?”

“Guess so.”

“Good.”

“Do you want me to have the surgery?” he asked, blinking slowly. There was only one reason she’d be looking at him right now and even if he couldn’t remember Derek calling her or any of their conversation that had happened right beside him, he knew that much.

“I do. Ultimately it’s your choice, but I agree with Dr. Carter.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it?” Derek asked, staring at Hotch with a look of pure confusion. Hotch just shrugged. “No fight?”

“I trust Savannah.”

“Okay then. Guess we’re scheduling surgery.” Derek’s mind hadn’t quite caught up to where they were at, not really. How they’d gone from his complete disbelief that there could be any broken bones at all to having two of them and surgery on the horizon was beyond him. He wanted to laugh and cry over the absurdity of it.

“Let me know when the surgery is. I’ll see if I can get some time off to come help with Hank.”

“Thank you,” Hotch said, throwing his arm back over his eyes to shield them from the harsh overhead lights. His head was pounding...it didn’t exactly hurt, not through the fog of the drugs, but it was annoying and the darkness made it stop. It didn’t do much to alleviate the intense throbbing in his foot though. That, he knew, he was stuck with for the foreseeable future.

Derek said goodbye to Savannah and hung up, shoving his phone back into his pocket before leaning down and kissing Hotch’s elbow. Hotch hummed in response and Derek only sighed miserably, already beginning a mental checklist of everything he would have to do to get their house ready. Moving furniture, getting a shower chair, installing bars in the bathroom. He would have to take time off of work, talk to his mom, call Penelope and tell her their trip back to Virginia was canceled until further notice. There was so much to do he didn’t hear the doctor knock before re-entering the room. “I knew a new puppy was a bad idea.”

It had only taken a week for him to come to that conclusion. One week ago things had been good, everything was on track for a vacation and a busy holiday season until the dog.

“A puppy?” Derek asked when Desiree brought her over, ready to convince him that it was time. She only shrugged and smiled, holding the tiny little ball of fluff up to Derek’s face. A black sable German Shepherd, all dark fur laced with enchanting bits of tan and silver and red. She stared at him curiously with dark eyes and he already knew he was going to have a hard time saying no, something about her already seemed to know him and love him. It made his chest ache. Clooney had been gone for a couple of years now, he’d been in good enough shape to live longer than a dog his size should have and Derek had almost convinced himself Clooney might be able to live forever. Until he didn’t, and while the years had padded his grief some and their little family had moved on from tears to reluctant acceptance, he wasn’t sure he was ready to get another dog. To replace Clooney.

“She’s not a replacement, Derek,” Desi said, shoving the dog into his arms. “I loved that old fool too, but Jack’s gone off to college and Hank needs someone to play with. You guys could use a guard dog living in that neighborhood.”

Derek regarded the puppy with her floppy ears and huge chunky paws. “A guard dog?”

“Oh, Derek come on. She’s basically Clooney’s granddaughter or something. I don’t know how dog breeding works but her mom is related to Clooney somehow.. Just take her for a week, test it out. If she doesn’t work out I’ll find someone else or take her myself.”

“Why aren’t they training her?”

“She’s a little broken, just like you like ‘em.”

She was bred for duty as a K9 but she had a small heart defect that, while the vet assured them it wouldn’t affect her quality or duration of life, would preclude her from duty as a K9 cop. Desi’s fiance was one of the K9 officers and was trying to get her help to find families for the dogs they couldn’t use. “One week.”

The very first day, she peed inside of Derek’s favorite running shoes and chewed up the toe of Hotch’s pair. Lesson learned, no more shoes beside the door. She wasn’t terribly destructive after that, though she did do a lot of peeing on the wood floor. Hank played in the yard with her for hours, chasing her and playing fetch, and at one point while he watched and found himself softening up to the idea, Derek wasn’t sure who exactly was fetching.

“I don’t want a puppy,” Derek said as they crawled into bed that first night. Already his resolve had weakened but he wasn’t there yet. He would be sad to give her back, sure, but he would still do it. “She’s cute, I’ll give her that...but a puppy? We’re getting ready to fly to Virginia...what do we do with a puppy?”

“Let’s give her a chance. I don’t want a puppy either but Hank seems very motivated to help. Maybe we can use this as a tool, he’s old enough for a little responsibility.”

“He’s seven, he ain’t trainin’ no puppy.”

“I don’t mean that, but he can feed her and take her into the backyard when she needs to go out. He can keep her brushed. He could probably teach her a few little tricks.”

“You’ve gone soft in your old age.”

Hotch had no argument for that, he knew he had. And he supposed it was his right to do so, he’d been gruff and stern far too long. He simply smiled and nestled down beneath the blankets. It was getting cold. “I know you miss Clooney. I do too, every day. She wouldn’t replace him. No dog could ever. But it might be nice having another dog around.”

Derek tried to enjoy the puppy, but her bark grated on his nerves and the peeing in the house was about to drive him crazy. Hotch wasn’t crazy about any of that either but he was trying to maintain his status as good cop to Derek’s bad cop at least for the week.

And then Hotch fell. Well, he didn’t exactly fall, that was the part that Derek was the most bothered by. He never hit the ground, that would have made more sense. He just stepped wrong. Coming up the back porch steps after taking the as yet unnamed puppy out in the early morning, he hopped up the slick steps to the back deck like usual. The same way he took the steps every day, except this time a puppy made a mad dash and darted beneath his feet to chase a bird that landed in the yard. He pivoted on the slick wood to avoid stepping on her and landed with all of his weight on his lead foot at an unnatural angle. He knew right away his foot was broken, or maybe his ankle, that part he didn’t know. But it was broken, that he was sure of. He felt a sickening pop that released a wave of pain that coursed from his toes to his knee. It took everything in his power not to collapse right there on the spot. Instead he just let out a low groan and limped pathetically back into the house like a lame animal, waiting for the puppy to follow him inside before shutting the door and falling into a kitchen chair. Derek found him at the table with his head down ten minutes later, just breathing through the worst of it.

“What’s up?” He asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He looked down at the puppy sitting at Hotch’s feet and thought she had a strangely sad or guilty look about her.

“I think I broke my foot,” Hotch said from inside of his arms. The act of talking made him feel dizzy and sick, his hands were shaky. He knew he was in some kind of shock. “Could you get me some ice please? I can’t walk.”

“Can’t walk? Broke your foot? How? It’s 7am man.”

Derek went to the kitchen and rummaged through the freezer for an ice pack quickly, confused and trying to reason out what could possibly have happened in the thirty minutes since Hotch had gotten out of bed. Walking back to the table, the look of confusion plastered on his face, he watched Hotch slide his foot gingerly out of his slipper with shaking hands and he saw it right away. His ankle and the top of his foot were already swelling, the color changing from pale to a pinkish red. He couldn’t believe his eyes. “You’re gonna have to talk to me here.”

“I was coming up the stairs,” Hotch said quietly, taking the ice and setting it on his foot now propped up on the chair beside him. The pressure from the icepack hurt and he had to put his head down again to ride out another wave of intense nausea. “She got under foot. I didn’t want to step on her so I just shifted a little and landed funny.”

“So you didn’t even fall?”

“No.”

“Probably just sprained…”

“I felt it pop Derek.”

It didn’t seem possible, but Derek made the call to Hotch’s doctor’s office to see if they could get him in today to check it out. Neither of them wanted to go to the Urgent Care and sit for hours, it wasn’t exactly an emergency. The pain came and went, a little ibuprofen at least took the edge off and Derek didn’t have any problem helping him from the kitchen to the living room so he could lay down on the couch to try and rest off the shock. From there they waited. His doctor was able to fit him in for an appointment in late afternoon with an x-ray scheduled first, they just had to stay comfortable until then. Derek still couldn’t believe it.

“It can’t be broken.”

Derek couldn’t bear to watch the x-ray, watching them move Hotch’s foot into positions that caused him pain. He was in the room but he couldn’t look. Still, the longer the day wore on and Hotch’s condition didn’t seem to improve the way it might have if it was a sprain, he began to come around on the whole broken idea – they wanted to put Hotch in a wheelchair and he didn’t argue. If it was a sprain he would have been walking on it. He might be getting up there in age but he was still tough as nails – they’d both suffered their fair share of strains and sprains as a natural side effect of their active lifestyle, so for this to take Hotch down...he knew it had to be big, he just couldn’t wrap his mind around it being this bad over nothing. Over a misstep. Because that meant it could have happened to him too, it meant that they had to be more careful with their bodies, it meant they needed to get into even better shape...he didn’t know. It unsettled every bit of comfort he’d developed over the last few years.

The worst part was, he found himself blaming the puppy. When they told him Hotch couldn’t walk for two weeks and he should spend most of that time resting, meaning he would have to take on extra work around the house, meaning they would have to reschedule their trip to Virginia to visit Penelope and the rest of their friends. Meaning a whole hell of a lot of things, all because Desi convinced him a puppy might be fun.

Well she was going to hear about this, because his idea of fun didn’t involve broken bones and crutches.

“We’re not keeping her,” Derek said as he helped Hotch from the wheelchair into the waiting car. There was no comfortable way for a man of his height to sit in any car with a broken foot, but they didn’t have far to go and Hotch didn’t complain even if Derek could tell he was uncomfortable. “Two more days and Desi can find someone else to take her.”

“Derek…”

Derek didn’t answer, and didn’t look at Hotch because that might wear him down. Hotch had obviously already become attached to the little thing in spite of the predicament she’d caused him. To avoid having to look at Hotch, he swung them through their favorite place to get milkshakes and bought them a treat before driving home in silence. He didn’t want to be so cruel but this wouldn’t have happened if not for the puppy, and now he had to call Penelope and tell her they weren’t coming to visit, that they instead had to spend a week preparing for surgery and then six to eight weeks (or more) recovering from it. It was going to crush her. She’d been preparing for their visit for weeks now.

“I’ll come to you!” she said, without hesitation. “You’re going to need the help and I have plenty of vacation time saved up. I was going to take the whole week you guys were here off anyway...I’ll get a plane ticket right now. How does two weeks sound? Is that too long? Is that long enough?”

“Babygirl, you don’t have to spend your vacation taking care of us.”

“I know, silly, but I want to. Let me. Please. I miss you both so much and you’re going to need the help.”

He found it impossible to say no to her, and by the time their conversation was over he had a time to pick her up from the airport on his calendar for the next morning and a little more peace in his heart. He knew she was going to convince him to keep the puppy too, but she would help him take care of Hotch and he could use her support. As soon as he was off of the phone, he went to tell Hotch they were about to have company and found him sleeping with the puppy lying on the floor beneath the couch looking up at him as he breezed through the room. She still looked sad and guilty, like she knew what happened. He felt a little bad for her so he scooped her up into his arms and gave her a kiss on the head, called her a good girl, took her outside to pee and called Jack while he sat out there waiting for her to do her business.

“Broken?! I’m gone for two months and my dad breaks his foot?!”

“It was a freak accident. He’s okay though, I’d let you talk to him but he’s sleeping on the couch.” The puppy was sleeping on his lap now, stretched out across his thighs like she owned the place. Derek had to admit that was sweet and he wondered if she knew, in some way. If she felt responsible. She’d been a little extra clingy since they got home, staying close to Hotch for no real reason he could account for. And the minute he’d allowed it, she was up on his lap.

“Do you need me to come home?”

“Absolutely not. You’re in your first semester of college, man. You don’t have to worry about us.”

“Apparently I do!”

“No, Jack, you don’t. I got it. Plus my whole family’s here, we got Jess...who I have to call next...and Penelope’s flying out. You stay in New York, be a kid out on his own, don’t worry about your old men. We’re fine.”

“Will you have him call me when he wakes up?”

“Sure thing.”

Jessica was livid. About what, she didn’t really have words, mostly just that he was hurt and he didn’t call her. “How much time should I take off?”

“You don’t have to take any time off. Just come by when you can. Penelope’s gonna be here tomorrow and she’s staying for two weeks. My mom and sisters are gonna help.”

“I’m coming by tonight with dinner, do not cook. We’ll make a game plan then.”

“Jess…”

“Derek, he’s my brother. Let me help.”

Derek sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t want the help, he knew they were going to need it, it was just that he was starting to feel the crushing weight of being a burden to everyone he loved. He could only imagine how it was all going to make Hotch feel once he woke up and became aware of the situation. He was glad that all Hotch knew right now was whatever dreams he was floating through and the warm weight of the puppy on his legs.

His mom and sisters showed up with bags of groceries in their arms and a truckload of pillows stuffed into giant trash bags. “What’s all this?”

“Go get the walker from my car,” Fran said, handing Derek the keys. “It’s folded in the trunk.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

There was a walker, a shower chair and a small brown bag full of gel ice packs all stuffed into the trunk of her car. He scooped it all up in his arms and made his way back into the house, hoping they were all being quiet enough not to wake Hotch.

“What’d you do, rob the old folks home?”

“This belonged to your grandma, it’s been up in my attic since her hip surgery two years ago. I knew it would come in handy. Just needs a good wash.”

Desiree was looking at the puppy on Hotch’s lap while Sarah pulled out the lysol wipes and began cleaning up the dusty old medical gear. “You’re going to need to move this furniture around, make the walkways bigger.”

“I know.”

“And put some bars on the walls in the bathroom. Probably two near the toilet and another two in the shower.”

“I know, Sarah.”

“Hey, don’t take that tone with me. I’m just trying to help.” Sarah had spent the first few years of her adult life working in retirement and assisted living facilities, she knew all of the ins and outs. He was lucky to have her experience even if he didn’t exactly want it right now. He just wanted this all to go away.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m going to do some shopping tomorrow to get everything I need.”

“You have a week. I’ll help.”

“I got it,” he said a little indignantly. He could manage the repairs on his house himself, it was the only part of this whole thing he felt like he did have any control over. The only part he knew how to handle. But the look Sarah gave him was equally as stubborn, and he knew that whatever came out of her mouth next was going to crush his chances of doing it himself.

“He needs you to be available to help him, which means you can’t be out and about at the hardware store and punching holes in the walls. I know you got that whole Mister Fix-It thing you like to do, but you have to step back this time little brother. Your husband needs you.”

Yeah, he saw that coming. She knew how to break him down. He didn’t even recognize it until the tears were burning in his eyes and she was pulling him in for a hug.

“It’s all going to be fine,” she said quietly, patting his back. “He’s going to be okay. You’re just going to have to slow down for a while. It’ll be good for both of you.”

He nodded and tried to stop himself from crying but it was no use, and that was what Hotch woke up to. The sight of his sister consoling him beside a living room full of medical equipment that hadn’t been there earlier.

“Derek?” he asked, his voice a hoarse sleepy whisper. “What’s the matter?”

Derek sniffled a little and sucked it up, puffing up his chest and flashing Hotch his best smile. “Nothing. All good. How you doing? Can I get you something?”

Hotch scrunched up his nose and considered the questions but they were too much in the soupy mess of his brain. He let his hand settle on the puppy’s chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her ribs and smiled.

“I think she likes me,” he whispered and Derek let out a laugh.

“I think she feels guilty.”

“For what?” Hotch asked and Derek just shook his head. Of course Hotch wouldn’t look at it like that.

“Nothing…” he said, brushing it off. “Let me get you some water.”

“Already on it!” Sarah called, rushing toward the kitchen. Hotch blinked stupidly around the room, as if realizing for the first time that it was packed with people. Fran and Desiree were moving furniture out of the way and unpacking what looked like every throw pillow they could find in Fran’s house.

“Ma, what did you do?” Derek asked as the pillows tumbled out of the bag. Fran just laughed.

“These are my extras.”

“I think you got a problem…”

“I don’t see you complaining when you come sit on my furniture.”

“What am I gonna do with a thousand Christmas throw pillows?”

“Prop your husband’s foot up, make him comfortable. He’s going to be laid up through the season so I thought it should be festive. I’ll bring over all of my good Christmas blankets in the morning but they had to go through the wash.”

“Ma…”

“Hush. Don’t you ma me, now sit down with him while we put this place together. I took care of your grandmother for six months while she healed, one of your sisters is in med school and the other has worked as a caregiver for years. I’d say we’re experts and you are simply in our way.”

“Ma.”

“Shh. Hush. We’ll make you a list of things to get done when we leave, but for now...sit.”

“I see why you’re so bossy…” Hotch whispered, sitting up enough to allow Derek room to squeeze in behind him before he leaned back against the brick wall he called a husband. Derek’s arms draped over his shoulders and circled him.

“You boys want me to turn on the TV?” Fran asked and Hotch was about to say something when Derek shook his head.

“No. Just do your thing.”

Hotch wouldn’t have minded the television on, it would have provided a distraction from the intense throbbing in his foot, but if Derek didn’t want it on he must have had a reason so he just lay there against him petting the puppy as he waited.

“Penelope’s flying in tomorrow morning,” he said, and Hotch nodded. He had already assumed that would be the case. No way they could cancel on her for this reason and have her just say okay, maybe another time. “She’s going to stay for a few weeks and help out. That cool?”

“Do I have a choice?” He asked it quietly but with a soft smile. Derek just shook his head.

“Nope.”

“Then yes, it’s cool. Anything else?”

“Jess is bringing dinner tonight. She wants to talk.”

“I figured as much. You made yourself busy while I slept. Did you call Jack?”

“Of course. He wants you to call him. Kid’s probably got a plane ticket ready to buy so you should do that soon. Tell him he’s forbidden to come home until his holiday breaks.”

“I’m sorry Derek,” Hotch said, his voice quiet and thick with emotion. Derek didn’t have to look at him to know he was crying, and part of that was the drugs they’d given him in the office but the rest...well that was just Hotch. He felt things so damn deeply.

“For what?”

“Don’t,” Hotch whispered, reaching up to swipe the tears from his cheeks. “You know why.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Shit happens. We’re gonna be fine.” He knew Hotch wasn’t worried about himself, he was worried about how this was going to inconvenience everyone around him. All of the tasks he was responsible for around the house, taking Hank to school in the mornings, assistant coaching his basketball team, taking trips and Christmas shopping and sledding and...all of it gone. “We might never be alone again...but we’ll be fine. Come on,” Derek said, twisting around so he could look at Hotch. “Don’t cry. Come on. It’s gonna be hard but we’ve done hard things before.”

“I know.”

“Will you stop crying if I say we can keep the damn dog?”

Hotch scrunched his nose and sniffed, a little insulted that Derek was talking to him like he was a child. But it was also funny enough to make him smile. Glancing down at the dog, he patted her on the top of the head and let his hand rest there heavily. He didn’t have the strength to do much more. The drugs in his system were making time lag, making his body heavy and bone tired. They didn’t do much for the pain that drove in waves from his knee to his toes, but they did make him find it hard to care or focus there long.

“You hear that Paige? He says you can stay. I knew he’d come around.”

“Paige?” Derek asked, his voice cautiously quiet. Hotch had named the puppy. He clearly had no plans to give her back whether Derek had agreed to it or not.

Hotch hummed happily and nodded. “Satchel Paige. She loves the baseball Hank throws for her.”

“When did you decide all of this?”

“This morning. Outside. Was going to tell you, but...”

“Yeah,” Derek said, smiling down at her, finding that he’d been stroking her soft fur for the last few minutes absentmindedly. She was so warm, breathing slowly, nestled in against Hotch’s thighs. “I guess you had other things on your mind.” Satchel Paige. Paige. Something about her having a name that meant something to both of them, a link between them, the first member of their family that would come from their own union...it softened him up. And when she snorted and twitched her ear and stretcher her legs out stick straight before curling back up around her cold little nose, he knew there was no way he would have ever been able to give her back either. Hotch just knew it first.

“It isn’t her fault, you know,” Hotch whispered, running his fingers up her fuzzy little snout. He was already in love. “Look at her.

“I know. It just sucks, man. I hate seein’ you in pain.”

Hotch smiled and leaned back, closing his eyes. The world had taken on a foggy, unreal quality that made him feel dizzy. He sank into Derek and grounded himself against his solid form. “I’m alright. Just tired.”

“Then sleep. Jess will be here soon, then you can both call Jack together. I’m not allowed to move anyway...you might as well take advantage of this.”

Hotch didn’t need to be told twice, he was drifting off by the time Derek finished talking.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #fanfiction #chicago times universe #my soft soft old men

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witchering10123 · 4 months

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my "divorced" zukka au, slammed back into my memory by @transboyzuko latest addition (a true hero right there yall)

story idea is below the cut because whoo boy it became a lot longer than i thought it would

sozin's comet, sokka and toph are dangling off the ship, there's smoke and fire everywhere, it's getting hard to breathe, hard for sokka to see, and without his weapons, sokka is unable to see a way out

a figure of a guard appears through the smoke, and sokka jerks back and away from the man (in vain) but in doing so, jostles his leg. the pain and the shock combined, toph's hand slips out of sokka's grip and he watches helplessly as she falls

sokka makes to jump after her, but the guard grabs him before he can and yanks him back onto the safety of the wider platform. sokka tries to fight, but he's quickly subdued and he falls unconscious

(fear not, toph does live: she falls from sokka's grasp, but what sokka doesn't realise, due to the intensity of the smoke and fire, is that suki is right beneath them, and she catches toph. do not worry i am not killing toph, i am too scared to do that)

the airship pulls away from the battle, with the most senior commander taking over and urging a retreat to one of the southern fire nation islands, where he, and a number of powerful fire nation lords, hail from - that part of the fire nation does not recognise the authority of fire lord zuko, however it is unclear if they would recognise ozai, now that his bending is gone (and besides, quite a number weren't wholly impressed with him usurping iroh), so the war has become more of a civil war, with the separatists (they're not separatists but idk what else to call them) planning to take over the fire nation and then continue the war

the gaang are now faced with a fire nation civil war AND convincing the many ek provinces and water tribes to support zuko so that the 100 year war can truly end, however many ek ministers and some northern water tribe ambassadors believe this is a trick

during this time, sokka is a prisoner of the separatist group, and has resigned himself to this fate, believing toph to be dead and ngl perhaps suki as well, but he's definite that toph is dead and he's definite that his actions led to her death, so MAJOR survivor guilt

this is, of course, exacerbating his guilt about not protecting yue, his mum, katara (even though she's not dead he still doesn't know what happened to her)

so yeah, sokka's feeling very guilty and feels as if he deserves being imprisoned/tortured/etc, so he's not making any escape plans or anything, he's just done

BUT THEN

a new political prisoner is placed in the cell next to his: a young boy called hinata (imagine like 7 or 8) who the separatists are using to try and goad one of the fire nation nobles who is supporting zuko - he reminds sokka a bit of the boys back home in the swt that he cared for

sokka begins to feel very protective of this kid, especially when the guards come round to do their usual tormenting, or when they give out too small rations, or when hinata has a nightmare, and after a while he realises that he needs to get out, but not for himself, just for hinata

so they do, they escape (you'll notice how much thought i've put into this lmao) but they can't get back to hinata's family because it's all a massive war zone so sokka grabs the kid and they head for the ek, and not just the ek, like south east of ba sing se ek, near the eastern air temple ek, like as far from the fire nation as possible, sokka isn't letting anyone near hinata

yeah, he essentially becomes an older brother to hinata

now sokka has every intention of reuniting hinata with his family once the war is over but unfortunately they are very remote and so the village they are staying in doesn't exactly get the news asap. or like, at all

aang is visiting the eastern air temple a few months after that war has ended (i'm thinking at least a couple of years after aang defeated ozai but hey whatever floats your boat) and he stops by at a village to get supplies and lo and behold sokka and hinata are there

the reunion is very accidental, one of appa's buckles on his saddle snapped and aang landed near the village because he didn't want to continue his flight to the eastern air temple with a broken saddle and he needed supplies anyway, and so he enters the village, asks a nearby kid who looks strangely fire nation "hey, do you guys have a blacksmith" and hinata is like, "oh yeah, come with me" and he takes him to sokka

yes sokka would become a blacksmith fight me if you dare

(also i'm imagining that during sokka's time as a prisoner, he definitely lost his leg that got broken because like the separatists would have gone for the easiest route with sokka's broken leg and if it's broken too badly then why bother trying to heal it just go chop chop- so yeah, sokka makes himself a prosthetic and specialises in mobility aids, which are sorely needed in this area of the ek with the amount of refugees that fled to that province when they couldn't get access to ba sing se, but he does other engineering things as well and his ideas are, ngl, creating a bit of a hub near the eastern air temple, so slay for sokka)

regardless, aang and sokka reunion :)))

long chat about hinata having to return home, because like yes that was always the intention but aang reveals to sokka that hinata's family were killed when hinata escaped and the separatists had no more leverage over hinata's family (he doesn't reveal that to hinata for obvious reasons, he lets sokka do that) and hinata and sokka have become a little dependent on each other

it's not co-dependency per se, but like it was definitely going that way before they reached the village and their community helped them begin to heal from their trauma and stuff, but regardless they don't want to be separated, and so after much deliberation sokka and hinata decide that they want to stay where they are and if the gaang want to visit that is fine but if there's nothing tying them to the fire nation then why leave their new home

sokka's part of the decision is most definitely fueled by shame over losing toph and not being able to protect the people he loves, but aang doesn't realise that sokka doesn't know that toph is alive so aang doesn't mention anything, he just agrees to tell the gaang and family and all and leaves

aang returns not even three weeks later with katara zuko toph suki, a couple of hinata's uncles who want to at least see that hinata is alive, and a letter from hakoda and bato saying that they're aboard a ship sailing over

angsty reunion for sokka as he realises that toph is alive lemme assure you that was not on his reunion bingo card no siree

angsty reunion for suki and zuko with sokka because zuko and suki were very sure that sokka was dead and sokka was very sure that zuko and suki would hate him for getting toph killed

angsty water tribe fam reunion obvi with a heavy dosing of katara hakoda and bato assuring sokka that he did not fail

...so yeah it's angsty it's dramatic it's miscommunication it's long distance it's kind of technically not really divorced au but it's got a bit of flair and that's all that really matters

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skarlette1 · 4 months

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Pearl Girls: Where I Belong

--The final chapter of the Pearl Girls series.

Can it really be a single semester since I was given a pearl necklace that turned me into an unwilling sex worker? It seemed like the ordeal had gone on for years. But it was finally over. Finally.

That seductive necklace had turned me from Alexis Ames, PhD, adjunct professor at Skarlette City University (and secretly the superheroine Argent) into “Professor Pearl Girl”. As a mind-controlled tool of Club Absinthe, I had spent the last few months as little more than a sex toy at the beck and call of the Club’s pearl-level members. I hadn’t conceived of any way to avoid that fate until three days ago.

The last seventy-two hours since Yvonne Yates had broken my necklace and set me free had been a whirlwind of activity. As Professor Alexis Ames, I’d helped the police to liberate of all the Pearl Girls of the Chloros Neriada Sorority. Although most of the girls had tried to destroy their necklaces before they could be removed, we’d managed to recover a few pieces. Some would be used as evidence in the prosecution of the pearl-level members of Club Absinthe that had benefited from the Pearl Girls’ services. I’d also delivered several necklaces, well-sealed in reinforced titanium cases, to Libido League Tower. Platinum Panther and Sammie Sims would study their circuitry so they could protect us from threats like this in the future.

I’d given hours of testimony to the police and district attorneys about the inner workings of the Pearl Girl network and its infiltration of the highest levels of Skarlette City University. Dean Dickinson had already resigned in disgrace and it seemed likely that most of the trustees would do the same within the week.

I’d also told the authorities about the theft of antiquities that Lyta Leasch was supposed to be delivering to the museum, although I couldn’t quite bring myself to speak her name. The police were easily able to identify Lyta as the archaeologist in question. Unfortunately, she’d already withdrawn her life savings and left town for parts unknown. Even her husband, Grant Kerry, had no idea where she might be—at least none he was willing to share with the police. I’d considered approaching him as a colleague to encourage him to help with the investigation. But, after all that I’d done to him under the influence of the pearls, I was certain that I was the last person he would want to see.

Even though Treasure Tartarus looked likely to escape justice for her part at the center of all of it, I’d wracked my brain for ways to make her pay for her crimes. But the thought just kept sliding out of my head. It was mainly because I was so very tired, but to be honest, some of it was because of how much I still wanted to kiss her.

By the time the authorities had asked me all their questions, even my superheroic stamina was flagging. It was the middle of the night and there was nothing left for me to do but head back to my penthouse, collapse on my bed still dressed, and sleep. My dreams were twisted visions of glinting pearls, ruby lips, and smoking-hot sex—proof that all those months as a Pearl Girl couldn’t be wiped away as easily as crushing a necklace.

I awoke with the sun already high in the sky, my muscles stiff, and my crotch sticky. The mists of my dreams melted in the morning sun like the memory of how passionately I had been desired as “Professor Pearl Girl.” I dragged myself into the shower and let the streaming water wash away the physical residue of my ordeal, cleansing my body from scalp to toes. The emotional fallout would be much harder to scrub away. I let the water flow over me for a long, long time. Its soothing hiss and warm caress slowly helped to center me in the here and now: The first day of my post-Pearl Girl life.

Looking at myself in the mirror, the difference from four months ago was striking. Argent’s short, no-nonsense, honey-blond hair had become long, platinum tresses that reached nearly to my waist. Alexis Ames’s thickly arched eyebrows that enhanced her look of intelligence had been plucked down to thin lines that made my whole face look weak. Tentative. Needy.

Worst of all was the lost confidence in my eyes. As a professor, I knew my subject area, inside and out. As a superheroine, I knew my powers and how to use them to help people. But I didn’t see any of that in my eyes—only a woman filled with regret at her past failings, and profound doubt that she had the strength to avoid them in the future. Now that I was free, I had no idea what I wanted, other than stopping those who had taken advantage of me. Did I want to return to the classroom, where so many of my transgressions had taken place? Did I want to return to active duty with the Libido League, where I would constantly worry that my fantastic powers would fall into the service of a supervillain due to my weak will? Did I want to try some other path altogether?

My stomach growled. I guess at least one part of me knew what it wanted. I wrapped a silk robe around me and headed toward the kitchen. The Italian tile was cool on my bare feet. Halfway down the hall, I was greeted by the smell of fresh coffee. I had barely been here during my time as a Pearl Girl so I couldn’t believe that the coffee maker was still functional.

I walked into the kitchen and found Crystal Creese—my personal shopper and sometime domme—standing at my stove. Wearing a stylish burgundy sweater, black leather skirt, and crimson leather boots, she was … cooking. “According to the news, Alexis, you’ve been through one hell of a semester. Exceptional circumstances call for exceptions to my rules, especially about how I treat you going forward. In addition to your closet, I’ve stocked your pantry. Pour some coffee and fetch the plates. The frittata will be ready in a minute. I’m sure you need some protein. Then you can tell me all about it.”

I stood with my lips parted, unsure of what to say. I wasn’t surprised that she’d gotten into the penthouse, I had given her a passcode for the private elevator weeks ago. I was slightly surprised that she was cooking—she didn’t seem the type. I definitely was surprised that despite whatever she’d heard about me on the news, she still came over to help, or even wanted to associate with me at all!

“Snap to it, Alexis!” Crystal said. “Recovery from brainwashing means I cook you food, it doesn’t mean I set the table.”

“S-sorry, Crystal.” I hurried to prepare the breakfast nook and pour the coffee. Crystal brought over the frying pan and plated the frittata. I forced myself to take a bite. My mouth was awash in sensation. “My god, Crystal. This is the best thing I’ve tasted in months!”

“Don’t act surprised that I know my way around the kitchen.”

“It’s not that. I just realized that I’ve barely been tasting my food for months. Whatever else that Pearl Girl necklace was doing to me, it must have been focusing so much of my attention on sexual pleasures that my other senses were dulled. It’s like every single experience of the past few months was twisted by those glimmering, white pearls.”

Once I started talking, I couldn’t seem to stop. As we finished the frittata and sipped the coffee, I told Crystal nearly everything about my life as a Pearl Girl. From the way I was first tricked into donning the pearls, to my earliest services to pearl-level members, to the way I used Grant Kerry’s feelings against him, my arrangements with Dean Dickinson and the other trustees, and how I’d nearly brainwashed my lover Yvonne into sexual slavery. I even confessed that I’d only started a relationship with Crystal because I had mistakenly believed she was a pearl-level member (she got a hearty laugh out of that). The only things I held back were my secret identity as a superheroine (for obvious reasons), any mention of Lyta Leasch (I’m not sure why), and how much my desire to kiss Treasure Tartarus had shaped all of it (I was still ashamed of how much I still burned for the touch of her lips).

The afternoon shadows had grown long by the time I finished my tale. Crystal’s attention never wavered. She had never struck me as the warm and understanding type, but her presence made me feel seen in a way I couldn’t quite explain. Losing the pearls hadn’t just changed me, its effects were even rippling through those around me, even through someone as strong and unyielding as Crystal Creese.

When I couldn’t say another thing about the last few months, I looked to Crystal—Crystal who had every reason to leave me a distant memory, but was still sitting across the table from me. “So, what do you think?”

“I’ve got a hell of a vocabulary, Alexis, but I can’t find the words to describe how wretched your ordeal was. That’s one of the reasons I’m here.”

“What do you mean, Crystal?”

“I mean that I’m breaking my own rules. I have clients who are just clients. I have clients that become friends. I have clients, like you, who sub for me. Never the twain shall meet. While I might be friendly with my subs, and my friends might think I’m a bitch sometimes, it doesn’t change the fact that my subs are never my friends. But when I heard what happened to you, I realized that today of all days, you needed a friend.”

“Thank you, Crystal. It means more than you know. I don’t know how I’m going to get past this.”

She leaned forward. “You’re going to get past it by putting it in the past, Alexis. You’re going look at what this experience has given you that you can use, and fucking use it. Forget the rest.”

“What did being a Pearl Girl give me that I can use?”

“Me, for one thing.” I let out a small laugh, but Crystal cut me off. “Seriously, those little pearls thrust you into all sorts of situations you never would have tried on your own. Some of them you hated, sure. But some of them you didn’t. Be honest with yourself. Some of the things the pearls made you do were some of the most intense experiences of your life. You know who you are so much better than you did before the pearls, Alexis. Build on that and move forward.”

“It’s not that simple, Crystal.”

“Make it that simple. You’re free of the pearls, so act like it. Choose for yourself what you want to do, and do it. Decide who you want to be, and be it. Become that version of Alexis, right now. Don’t worry about the repercussions. Let the past die. Let tomorrow take care of itself.” Her eyes flashed with that intense passion for life I had seen so often in the bedroom.

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s as easy as dressing for the life you want to live, Alexis. In fact, you should go get dressed right now. I’ve filled your closet with beautiful clothes. I can’t wait to see what you choose—what version of Alexis I get to meet. Go in there and put on the first outfit of the rest of your life.”

I opened my mouth to answer but realized she was right—about getting dressed, at least. Crystal looked amazing and I was wearing nothing but a silk robe, my knees pulled up to my chest with my bare feet resting on the seat of the chair. With a little nod, I rose and padded down the hall to my bedroom.

My closet has been completely reorganized. There were stylish but serious suits for academic wear; slinky dresses to go clubbing; a leather catsuit (obviously for the bedroom but that wouldn’t look out of place fighting crime); and lingerie that was more ribbon than silk. Which outfit was right for the first day of my post-Pearl Girl life? Which version of Alexis Ames would I be? The professor for my students? The heroine for the city? The loving domme and mentor for Yvonne?

What could I be for Crystal? Sub? Lover?

Friend?

Today was nice. I’d never had many friends. But it would take more than a stylish sweater to prepare me for Crystal’s “friend” category. Is that even what I wanted? Her rule was that friends were never lovers. Could I bear to never have sex with her again? To never see that hunger flash in her eyes as she gazed over my body?

I studied the gorgeous clothes for a long time, trapped in indecision. Then, a single question bubbled up in my mind:

Why do I need to choose? If Crystal can keep her subs separate from her friends, why can’t I have an outfit for every mood? A persona for every relationship? Of course I could. I already had one secret identity as a superheroine; what did a few more matter?

But who would I be with Crystal?

Time for the first decision of the rest of my life. “Crystal? Could you come here?”

The heels of her boots click-clacked their way down the hall. “Have you made your decision, Alexis?”

“Yes ...” I turned to face her, my head hung low. “... and no. I’ve decided not to decide. You have far better taste than I do. You selected all these beautiful clothes. How do you want to see me tonight ...” I drew circles in the carpet with my big toe. It was now or never. “... Mistress Crystal?”

Crystal gasped. “I was hoping you’d know a good thing when you had it, Alexis.” She sauntered over to face me. I could see how much she wanted me just by the way she rolled her hips with each step. “This is a lovely robe, but it’s last year’s fashion. Take it off.”

“Yes, Mistress.” I unknotted the belt and let the robe hang open a moment. I loved the smile that played across her face as Crystal’s eyes drank in the strip of flesh peeking between the lapels. Inch by inch, I shrugged the silk off my shoulders until it slid down my back with a whisper.

Crystal let out a soft moan. “You’re like a work of art, Alexis. A work of art I love to kiss.”

“Yes, Mistress.” I leaned over, my lips parted—even barefoot, I was a bit taller than Crystal in boots. Her lips were just as warm as I remembered.

Her hand made its way up my neck. Grabbing a fistful of my long hair, Crystal pulled me deeper into the kiss. Her other hand glided across my breasts, teasing my sensitive nipples to stiff peaks. She took her time, coaxing the passion from my body. I was moaning in her mouth by the time her hands trailed lower, claiming every inch of me along the way.

Pushing me back against the floor-to-ceiling windows, Crystal broke the kiss. Her brilliant eyes flashed, pinning me to the glass like a butterfly under her passionate inspection. Her fingers explored the folds of my sex, playing my body like a virtuoso. A high-pitch whimper escaped my throat.

“There you are, Alexis. I see you. Cum for me.”

I came, shamelessly riding her hand. Like an all-seeing goddess, Mistress Crystal bore witness to my passion.

When my legs grew too rubbery to support me, Crystal guided me to my knees. I shuddered against her thighs as she stroked my hair and told me what a good girl I was.

After months of being forced to give myself to anyone who wanted me, my first choice as a free woman was to give myself to one woman in particular. Before the pearls, I would have sworn I didn’t have a submissive bone in my body. But as Mistress Crystal petted my hair and whispered her praise, I couldn’t deny there was only place I wanted to be:

On my knees before her.

--The End (for now)

--It’s been quite a ride since the first chapter of “Pearl Girls” in July 2021. I hope you all have enjoyed reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it!

---

Like what you read? Will you buy me a coffee and request something rich to sink my teeth into? Or peek into the depths of my longer fiction?

#skarletteone #mind control #flash fiction #superhero

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meenawrites · 1 year

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More about Trudy and Spider because I have no chill

SO we don't know much about Trudy unfortunately other than the fact that she was an absolute badass who could fly like nobody's business and had a good moral compass.

But I've been thinking about what her backstory could possibly be like, and thinking that she would probably reveal it to Spider after she finds him in despair about his parentage.

I think the scene would go something like this: (also warning this is written immediately and with no editing so not my best work)

Trudy finds Spider crouched in one of the scientists lab chairs, some video log playing before. She blinked several times, trying to chase the sleep from her eyes. His eyes were wide as he watched. Fat, silent tears shone in the screen's light as they rolled down his cheeks, and the voice finally hit her. That familiar lilt and baritone voice, the commanding air.

"Papa Dragon is–"

She slammed the off button, breathing heavily. Spider jumped at the violent action, and she swiveled the chair to face her.

Fear was etched into his small face, fear and horror. He hiccoughed as she crouched down to his level, holding his knees to his chest.

"He's my dad..." he whispered in a voice so small, so broken, Trudy was sure her heart broke with it. He had been bound to find out someday. It wasn't even really a secret, but she had wanted to be the one to break it to him, to gently talk him through it. Perhaps unfiltered access to the lab's computers hadn't been the best move.

"Yeah, he is," she said delicately. There was no sense denying it, and the kid deserved the truth.

Spider's eyes welled up with fresh tears again and he buried his face in his knees. The kid didn't cry often, refused to really. He hadn't even cried when he'd broken his leg catching baby Tuk when she'd al but walked off a tree branch. But this, this was what made him cry.

Trudy's face hardened, and she wrenched Spider's face up to look at her.

"Hey, kiddo, look at me. Look at me. It doesn't matter who your parents are, alright?"

"This-this is why Neytiri doesn't like m-me. It makes sense," he stuttered, fighting her hold. "She should–"

"Hey! You listen to me, that is not true. You are not your parents, and that damn Neytiri should know that."

Spider was still hiccoughing and trying to pull himself from her grasp, so she grabbed his from his underarms, sat in the chair herself, and pinned him in her lap.

"You are not responsible for whatever your dad did, you got that?"

"But–"

"Not buts!" she insisted, tightening her hold on him. "I need you to get it through your brain that it has nothing to do with you. You didn't choose who your dad is. No one does."

Spider finally relented, turning his face into her chest and allowing himself to be held. She pressed her nose to the top of his head, rubbing her hands down his arms.

"What if I become like him?" He mumbled into her tank top. "I don't want to hurt anybody."

"You won't," she asserted, shaking him once. "Just because you're someone's kid doesn't mean you'll turn out like them."

Spider's continuing hiccoughs and chest spasms told her he wasn't convinced.

"I mean, look at me, bud. I'm nothing like either of my parents."

He stilled in her arms at this admission, peeking up at her through tear-clogged eyelashes.

She sighed, resigning herself to her fate.

"My dad was a hard-ass who never wanted a girl, so he didn't really know what to do with me. He was what you'd call a workaholic and was hardly ever home. And my mom..." She bit her lip, rolling the words in her mouth. "she had no self-esteem to speak of and let my dad walk all over her. She raised me to be the opposite of everything I am now–don't be independent, stay quiet, stay submissive and you'll find a husband. As if any of that crap had worked for her.

"And I decided I would be nothing like either of them. I joined the military as soon as I could, which went against all the bullshit feminine standards they wanted me to fit with. I got my education, became the best damn pilot I could, didn't give a shit what people wanted or expected me to be."

She glanced back to the kid in her arms, smiling a bit as she noticed that he was no longer crying.

"Moral of the story, kiddo: it doesn't matter who your parents are. You can be whatever you want to be. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. If they do, you come running to me, and I'll beat them up."

Spider cracked a watery smile at that.

"What really matters is in here," she said, knocking on his chest. "You've got a good, strong heart. Listen to it, and if you ever doubt it, you come ask me, okay? Cause I've got you, you know that right?"

Spider nodded, one of his hands clenching in the fabric of her shirt.

"Good. Now let's get your ass to sleep. You're sleeping next to me today, got it, ya rascal?"

She stood before he could respond, his arms looping around her neck as she adjusted his position.

She'd remind him as many times as she had to that he wasn't his parents, wasn't anything like Quarritch. She could spend her life doing that if it stopped him from crying.

#Trudy is Spider's mom #I love Trudy #Trudy stan #Trudy is my wife #avatar 2 #Spider Soccorro #Spider Socorro #avatar the way of water #my AU

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shillelagh · 1 year

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Part 2

After being resigned to my fate as Minston's trainer for the time being, I decided to journey eastward to Sandgem Town to find Professor Rowan and make him take his terrifying Chimchar back instead of giving me a Pokédex. I wouldn't even want to catch Pokémon anyway! However, upon reaching Sandgem Town, the professor was nowhere to be seen and left his assistant, Lucas, to give me a Pokédex and show me how to catch Pokémon. I tried to argue with him, but he just seemed so genuinely invested in all of this Pokémon research stuff that I couldn't bear to put a damper on it.

He gave me a few Pokéballs, and Minston rampaged up and down every area we could get to, but left the first Pokémon he found in each area for me to catch. I didn't really want to, but it didn't seem to be my choice...

Back at Lake Verity, we caught a Starly that I named Nausika. Back to Route 201 we caught Phoebe the Bidoof. On Route 202, we caught Nemea the Shinx.

Nemea is very quiet but curious, and she became our first teammate to battle other than Minston. Outside of Jubilife City, Barry wanted to see the Pokémon I'd caught and sent out a Starly of his own before I could tell him I didn't want to battle. Regardless, Nemea was sent out and she easily defeated Starly and then Piplup. Oh, how I wish I had gotten to take that Piplup instead. I didn't want to train Pokémon at all, but anything would've been better than where I am now...

Heading west of Jubilife, an angler gave me a fishing rod and we caught Ino the Magikarp on Route 218. North on Route 204, we caught Elvis the Budew, and inside the Ravaged Path we caught Navel the Geodude.

Minston practically dragged me east towards Oreburgh, the city with the first Pokémon gym in the Sinnoh league. On the way we caught Strumothy the Kricketot on Route 203 and Strahd the Zubat in the Oreburgh Gate. North of Oreburgh we finally caught Reya the Machop.

Being herded towards the gym, Barry informed Minston and I that the gym leader, Roark, was currently in Oreburgh's signature eccentric coal mine. With that, Minston and I were off to find him.

We found Roark, who made us watch him punch a rock before heading back to his post at the gym. I was eager to leave the tunnels before I caught black lung, but Roark's exploits seemed to get Minston pumped up. We found an Onix that we would've caught if Minston didn't punch through it like a sledgehammer through cheap drywall.

While impressive, a fire-type would be horrible against Roark's rock-type Pokémon... But maybe that was a blessing in disguise? I know that if I wanted to beat Roark, Elvis would probably be a big help with his super effective grass-type moves, and I once read a magazine article about how a foolproof method for beating Roark with just a single Geodude. But if Roark could get rid of my Minston problem, maybe I could end my career as a trainer early!

With Minston's fighting spirit, it wasn't hard to get him to lead the battle against Roark. In fact, it probably would've been harder to stop him. Unfortunately, Minston was unscathed after brutally beating and smashing his way through Roark's Geodude and Onix with Power-Up Punch. I was hopeful that Roark's Cranidos would finally be Minston's end, but instead his flame erupted into a blinding light and he evolved... And effortlessly eviscerated Cranidos with a single, mach speed punch.

... Given the next gym in Eterna City focuses on grass-type Pokémon... I think I need to find a new plan to get Minston off my back. Literally. He hasn't gotten down since we beat Roark and I'm getting so tired of this already.

#bdnuzlocke

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lacnunga · 2 years

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Pecking further at the foth dragon au except I've decided to just take canon and scrumple it up in my sweaty hands a bit - the aftermath of Keith failing to escape fassfern house.

"Your clothes," Ewen said, indicating the piles of uniform Windham had left behind during his escape attempt. He hadn't touched them - he'd had little thought towards doing anything about anything but to rush in blind panic to Lochiel to confess his carelessness, somehow irrationally sure in the moment that the missing officer would be the doom of their party.

Said officer gave a disgruntled sigh as he went to change - he did not ask Ewen to turn around, and Ewen did not offer to. He simply watched, perhaps overzealously now that Windham was to be fully a prisoner once more, as the tartan was exchanged for breeks; surprisingly, the man did not toss the filibeg carelessly on the ground. Instead, he attempted to fold it, grumbled, gave up, and handed it to Ewen with a vague air of apology, clearly still somewhat put out with having had to resort to thievery. It was strange to Ewen to feel his cloth still warm from the other man's body. There was little talk exchanged as the two and their dragons ate their supper - cheese, biscuits and oatmeal - each man stewing in his own thoughts.

Ewen could not help but consider Windham's retrieval a blessing, despite Lochiel's words. Not only was it a private consideration of having another chance at recovering from the slip that allowed the Englishman to vanish in the first place, but he also considered Windham's presence worth the delay of intelligence reaching the enemy. Windham's note might have spoken of Ewen's lack of military experience, but well he knew the value of the redcoats' stupidity; the Prince might have pardoned the Royal Scots company, and the men of the 6th regiment of foot, but they and not seen the...unfortunate fate of their armaments.

After Windham had finished his evening's ablutions, Ewen felt about in the pocket of his coat for his preparation.

"Your wrist, if you please, Captain Windham," he said as courteously as he could, for he loathed to do as he was about to, and would not have done it had Windham not forced his hand. He tried not to look too hard at the blooming bruise on Windham's face and feel like a cad for his actions.

With suspicious gaze, Windham presented his right arm. Ewen considered the coming night.

"The other," he decided.

Windham switched his arm with an air of impatience, and Ewen had to force down the instinct to needle him, already anticipating the upcoming battle between them.

He had thought Windham would make a fuss as he brought out the chained manacles - indeed, for a moment as the Englishman's eyes perceived them there was a furrow in his brow, but it was one soon washed away by a frustrated resignation.

"I need not do this if you had rather extend your parole-"

"You might better spend your time thrashing a dead horse, /Captain/ Cameron," Windham said sourly, "you shall have no more of my compliance than this. Now do you intend for us to stand here all night?"

Finding himself to be the one needled, Ewen allowed himself the satisfaction that followed when, after shutting and locking one manacle over Windham's wrist as expected, he instead surprised the other man by shackling not Windham's other arm, but Ewen's own. With a click of the lock, and the key vanishing deep into the folds of his clothing, they were made as one.

Windham stared at him in shock before raising their linked hands.

"What in God-"

"You'll forgive me, /Captain/, if I have taken your previous assertions to mean that you should try to escape whenever possible. I cannot, of course, trust that you will not abscond the second I am asleep."

Windham's face went from shocked to red.

"And if I should-," he cast about wildly for a scenario," -should feel that my only option then is to kill you to enable my return to the army?"

Ewen could not contain a bark of laughter at that.

"You will take it as a compliment, I hope, when I say that I cannot imagine a man of your honour to take it upon himself to stab a man in his sleep. Besides, you would have a devil of a time dragging my corpse about with you."

A growl distracted him for a moment, and he turned to see Windham's yappy pinioned beneath Anne's clawed foot - gently, as she had done the day he'd first met his irascible Hanoverian, but firmly, as Arthur looked set to take a chunk out of Ewen's leg for entrapping his master as he had.

"And how are we to sleep like this?" Windham asked, drawing his attention back by rattling their chain noisily.

"Why, in the Highlands, we tend to lie upon a bed and close our eyes. I did not think you did it so very differently in London," Ewen said dryly.

Before Windham could put forth another retort, the door was pushed open and their companions for the night toppled in - seven officers in all, only a few of those from the different clans that comprised the Prince's top-heavy army. Having suffered O'Sullivan's organisational bullying the whole way from Loch Sheil they were in a sour mood all, which they had evidently sought to relieve by means of judicial application of alcohol, making Ewen doubly glad to have secured Windham, lest he take advantage of their company's enhanced sleep. They were twice over relieved of their dourness at the sight of Ewen manacle-in-manacle with the thunderous Englishman. There was much teasing that Ewen should be so sensitive to sleeping on the floor that he would resort to such an extreme to take the bed, which Ewen weathered with smiling patience - doubly so from Lieutenant James MacDonald of Keppoch, with whom he'd often spent time as a boy along the shores of Loch Lochy, and who had taken it upon himself as the elder of the two to dunk the young Cameron in those same waters.

It did not take Windham long to tire of this, and he threw himself on the bed, allegedly to sleep, forcing Ewen to sit upon the edge to continue his talk with James: how had he been in the intervening years, how had he liked Rome as he once thought to visit it, had he seen the Prince go out to the gardens of the house and return with one of the pale roses on his breast? Well enough, he replied, very pretty if somewhat too papish for his tastes, he continued, and he had seen his Highness go, James said and as he did so, he touched his felted bonnet.

"Aye, perhaps I should pick one too. You recall how my darling Mary put the goirmean-searradh to her breast tae ward off the evil eye."

Behind him, Windham snorted, which Ewen ignored.

"But you're a vain cock, James MacDonald," he laughed, "if you're about putting roses on your hat, we shall all have to follow suit so as not to look poor."

There was a little more talk after that, but his prisoner's shifting antics put Ewen's arm at such a wicked angle that he also soon retired, as to retain its motion for the time ahead.

He settled down in his plaid beside Windham, who made a game, if painfully obvious, effort at feigning sleep.

"You should rest," Ewen murmured to him, low amongst the slowly rising timbre of snores around them, "we start our way to Perth to-morrow."

"'twould be easier to rest without these," Windham grunted, jangling to chain again.

"Aye, 'twould," Ewen easily agreed, but said no more on it.

At the side of the bed, Anne half-lay herself upon the English dragon, who allowed the indignity with surprisingly little fuss. The room had quickly heated up with the warmth from the bellies of the other officers' drakes, and Ewen quickly found himself kicking off his plaid. Outside, the earlier rain that had graced the beginnings of their journey has gentled into a soft drizzle, grey and light against the rapidly blackening night sky.

For all that Windham was not the most disagreeable man he had ever had the misfortune to be sheltered with, he did not make for the lightest bedfellow. Whenever Ewen was on the verge of falling asleep, a toss or a turn across the pallet would awaken him again - admitting to himself some fault in that chaining the man to him was Ewen's idea. Still, despite it all, he must have fallen asleep at some time in order to be roused once more by the scrape of metal on his wrist.

Blearily, he forced gummy eyes open; it was some ungodly hour, where the birds were beginning to trill in the hedges and thickets that crawled up from the placid banks of Loch Eil up the narrow wind of the Suileag. Not yet sun-up, the world outside was wreathed in sleepy cool blue shadows, and the smell of wet grass and heather permeated the place, overtaken only by the more prominent scents of damp wool and gunpowder that betrayed the presence of Highlanders.

Somewhen in the night, the two enemies must have sought to lessen the pull of their bond by rolling in towards each other, and in the still morning, Ewen found a minute to look upon Windham's sleeping face. Dim though the lighting was, he could see the fearsome features some might call hard and unpreposessing. Yet, in the moment - and many moments later - they seemed to Ewen as those of some ancient Roman emperor: dark and dignified, with a martial smattering of scars that, rather than disfigure, elevated his face, for all Ewen did not think of himself as an artist. Those aquiline features were even now pinched in displeasure, and Ewen found himself having to stifle a snort at how the characteristic dissatisfaction of the English followed them even into the arms of Hypnos.

#wip wednesday #flight of the dragon au #truly i do not know what im doing #they dont sound quite right - like keith and ewen but slightly to the left #also i dont know if the keppochs are macdonalds or macdonells ive seen both

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