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akoyaxs · 7 months

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Tunutu pt 2

Okay so i'm FINALLY getting somewhere with my writing!!! Enjoy this little snippet of what I've written so far, and I swear the rest WILL be better it'll just take a few days 💗

The next time you saw Aonung after that day in your room, you didn't know what you were expecting. Maybe, like he usually did with other girls, he'd pretend nothing ever happened. Maybe he'd taunt you and say it was all a joke, despite everything you said.

If you're being honest- you didn't have high hopes. It's not like all your other experiences with Metkayina men had ended with them ackegknowledging you afterward, after half-breaking your back and saying you were the tightest thing they've ever felt.

But you certainly weren't expecting him to stick to his words.

Days had passed since you slept with Aonung, days in which you didn't see him around the village or anywhere around Awa'atlu. Of course, your mind had just come to terms with the fact he was like all the other guys, and you really had been stupid, listening to the meaningless pillow-talk riff raff he'd cooed at you afterwards.

No one would say where he was, and Tsireya, Rotxo and the Sully's all acted infuriatingly knowing and smug when you sneakily asked them. Very casual. Definitely off-hand. Nonchalant for sure.

And you were. It wasn't that deep that Aonung, like you predicted and prepared yourself for, did not stick to his words about sticking around and everything. You were stupid and hopeful, and you didn't really blame him either.

So you were trying your best to put him behind you when a whole week had passed without you seeing him, and you were starting to fall back into your old patterns.

Which is why, on the eighth day, you could be found in the Tsahìk's marui.

There had been an incident at training where Zei'ke had gotten a little bruised and battered. He was very good looking, so you tolerated his chatter. God- he really was even stupider than Aonung. Why did you always just go for big stupid hunks?

But at the end of the day, he was a big hunk, so you were happy to patch him up, applying ointment to his cuts and bruises, bandaging the worse injuries and massaging his sore muscles.

The trouble was, Tsireya had begged you to come swimming that afternoon, and this was your first time wearing swimmers out in the village. So maybe your bikini was a little smaller than it could of been, but who was it hurting, really, to be showing off the best assets you had to offer in a strictly na'vi village.

It certainly wasn't hurting Zei'ke, given the way his eyes stared not so conspicuously down your top when you bent over, or how the ties of your bikini bottoms peeked over your shorts.

What's the harm in having some fun, you thought.

It wasn't like Aonung was going to do anything, his absence had made it pretty clear that he was a liar, that it really was just about sex, maybe even just experimentation.

But when you moved closer, leaning up to massage Zei'ke's shoulders, you were surprised by the way he flinched back.

"What, am I hurting you?" you ask, frowning slightly. You had been careful, using your hands gently and besides, na'vi were literally impossible for you to injure.

"No," Zei'ke says slowly, blinking owlishly at you. His gaze flicks down to your breasts, then he clears his throat and looks away. You frown.

"Is there a problem with my clothing?"

"No- I just... I should go," he says hastily.

"Why?" you ask, weary and suspicious. You wonder vaguely if suddenly, everyone's starting to wonder if you're turning into the evil sort of tawtute. "I haven't finished massaging your muscles-"

"You shouldn't," Zei'ke says shortly. "He wouldn't like it."

That was new. Your eyes narrow as you try to guess what this skxawng is going on about, but you have a sinking sort of feeling you know exactly what's happening.

"And who are you talking about?"

Zei'ke blinks guiltily. Obviously he wasn't supposed to say anything, but if he was careless and clumsy enough to let the first words slip, you could pull the rest out of him.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain future Olo'eyktan, would it?" you ask casually, shifting on your feet to look more careless. "You know, tall, stupid, very good looking. Name's Aonung?"

"No!" Zei'ke practically bursts out, before scrunching his face up guiltily. Even someone that thick would realise he wasn't convincing anyone. Your eyes narrow further.

"What does him not liking it have to do with anything?" you ask.

"He is my commander," Zei'ke says owlishly.

"No," you huff, growing tired of his incompetence. "Why would he not like it?"

"Because... well... you fucked him..."

"Charming," you mutter under you breath, rolling your eyes at his very limited vocabulary. "What does us sleeping together have to do with anything? I've been with other na'vi men, and that didn't change anything, especially about others?"

Zei'ke frowns, processing your words, and you want to take him by the shoulders and rattle him. It would be hard though, given he's double the size of you.

"You are his," Zei'ke says simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"No other man goes near you," Zei'ke explains. "Sometimes we can argue with the claim, but he is to be Olo'eyktan, and we do not dare-"

"What is he playing at?" you snap. "We just fucked, I've fucked others and nothing ever happened with that? Just because he's the little prince he thinks he can control what I do?"

"Uh... I don't know?" he says weakly, and your scowl deepens.

"How did you even know about that anyway?"

"We can all smell his scent on you," Zei'ke says, face flushed with embarrasment. "You did not realise, tawtute?"

"Obviously fucking not," you growl.

"Besides," Zei'ke says, obviously eager to take some of the heat off himself, "Aonung got upset with us asking about you. That's why I'm so battered."

At this, you freeze. Zei'ke can obviously tell he said something important, because he winces and scrunches his face up.

"I mean- no- I tripped-"

"Shut up," you say carelessly. "You saw Aonung?"

"Yes? I mean... he's been at training for day-"

With a furious growl, you push past Zei'ke, storm out of the marui, and stalk along the village. You can feel his eyes blinking owlishly at you, clearly torn between confusion and worry for what Aonung might do to him.

Rage is boiling in your veins. First, Aonung ignores you after promising a million things. Then he "claims" you or whatever the fuck that means. And now it turns out, he was here. In Awa'atlu. And he just didn't come and see you.

You storm across the sand to the warrior grounds, hands balled into little fists. All the sparring and beatings and fights don't faze you, you storm straight through all the tussles towards the familiar broad figure of Aonung on the very opposite side.

Fights pause and everyone stares as you stride past, all tiny and furious in your bikini and shorts, less clothing than they'd ever seen you in.

Finally, you reach Aonung. He hasn't noticed all his warriors have stopped fighting, he hasn't even noticed you storming towards him. He's busy sharpening a spear, discussing something with Neteyam seated beside him.

Neteyam is the first to spot you, and his eyes go wide. Before he can say anything, Aonung notices his friend's surprise, and turns with a small, puzzled frown on his stupidly handsome face to see you right in front of him.

Thank Eywa he's seated, because it makes your next action a lot easier. You slap him. Hard.

Several people gasp, everyone mutters, and all eyes are now on you as you glare up at him. Aonung's eyes are dark, but he doesn't say anything. He looks a little confused, and that makes you even more furious.

You shove him hard. Mortifyingly, yet predictably if you're looking at it logically, Aonung doesn't move a single inch, and suddenly you're right against his warm, muscular body. Stupid skxawng, his hotness making it hard for you to be mad at him.

"You dick," you growl. "You fucking idiot-"

Aonung clears his throat, clearly aware of everyone watching with varying degrees of surprise, interest and amusement as this little angry tawtute snarls curses at their commander. Neteyam, too, looks slightly entertained.

"Dismissed," he calls to his warriors.

They all wander off, taking their sweet time to cast glances back at you, muttering excitedly between themselves. Neteyam stands awkwardly, trying to hide a smile.

"I'm going to go," he says decidedly. "I'll see you later bro. Good luck."

Aonung nods tightly, before his gaze flicks back down to you, glaring up at him with all your might. This fucking skxawng is going to be the death of you. He obviously wasn't going to be the first one to speak, so you took a deep breath.

#avatar fanfiction #aonung fanfiction #aonung fic #aonung x reader #avatar smut #aonung x female reader #avatar fandom #avatar the way of water #avatar #aonung

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hazshit-hotel-hater · 3 months

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Since Viv still somehow cannot decide on what Angel overdosed on. I am taking my liberties and doing it my goddamn self. I will also be formatting this into a summary of what I think a good small backstory scene could be like while also giving Angel a safespace and bonding experience.

It’s in the tags but WARNING there is discussion of drug abuse and overdosing in this summary.

Urg, okay, Vague but also kind of not vague angel backstory stuff because ig viv cant make up her mind on her own OCs backstory

Angel is lying in bed with Husk sitting at the edge as per usual, and Angel starts talking about a few mild personal things (mental struggles, work, general issues, etc) and Husk suggests taking something mild to help him relax and sleep so he gets up and gets him a few pills and puts them in Angel’s hand; says its Benadryl just to help him sleep a bit, but notices quickly that Angel is suspiciously reluctant to take or even look at the pills. Obviously, he asks what's up and is met with the answer of, “Nothin’ I just don’t… use that stuff.” It piques Husk’s interest, and asks if it doesn’t work for Angel, who responds with, “It definitely works.” but ultimately, Husk decides not to pry; however, he lets Angel know he’s open to listen if it’s something he feels like he wants to talk about.

Angel, being weirdly stubborn but also becoming a bit more open with Husk by this time, takes a few minutes to actually say something but eventually informs Husk that it was something he used to try and get high off and had some really good and really bad trips with, but it was the drug that ultimately led to him suffering an overdose and never waking up after it. Both of them are quiet for a bit until Husk gets up and searches for something else to help Angel sleep and, once again, places a few small pills in his hand and says he can try these, but if not, he can try something else without pills. Angel is still reluctant but ends up accepting the offer and proceeds to carefully assort the pills into little categories, saying it’s something he ‘needs to do’. Husk doesn’t push further than that and watches Angel take the pills before the other lays down again.

Things once again go silent for a good ten or so minutes until Husk notices Angel uncomfortably folding his hands over his stomach but mentions that pills always make him feel queasy to an extent and that he only takes them with other people around so he’s distracted from the discomfort they give him. In an attempt to calm Angel’s apparent nerves on the topic, he decides to sit with the other until Angel falls asleep. Eventually, Husk follows suit, with both of them waking up the next morning and Angel giving a relieved and grateful, albeit shaky, sigh. The next morning consists of Angel thanking Husk but ends with the two coming to an agreement that next time Angel can't sleep, a liquid medication approach would be better.

I don’t know if I’ll ever do a full fledged writing of this, but the concept of triggers is something I’ve personally yet to see stated in Hazbin Hotel. This would be a good way to discuss clear lingering trauma Angel has while still treating it with the gentleness the character needs and severity the topic needs. Benadryl was also just becoming a thing around the 1940’s so it makes sense for this to be something Angel very likely could’ve overdosed on. The topic of common triggers is something interesting too; I’ve seen that in other media obviously but even though I know we won’t get it, it’d be nice to see the caution around said trigger and very slowly seeing the character become more open to it if it is a common thing like this. Not everyone will get over triggers and I myself also used to have a strained relationship with a certain pill like this, but there is always the chance that you will be able to use it somewhat normally again.

If this were to happen I’d be fine with it if Angel never got over the discomfort of pills, but much later on in the series if we saw him take some kind of antihistamine casually and comfortably it’d be really nice to see that kind of growth. And as for Husk, I’d like to see him be less shame-y with Angel’s struggles like he was in Episode 6. Since we’ve basically lost Cherri Bomb as his safespace from external stressors, I really think Angel will benefit from an actually deeply caring friend, especially one that doesn’t overstep his boundaries and doesn’t encourage self destructive behaviour. The same goes for Angel by the way, I’m really pissed that they didn’t have Angel apologise for harassing Husk and everyone else. It really is not that hard to at least try to have him feel sorry about that sort of thing. Fuck, here’s something I wrote in like 20 minutes.

——————

It’d be really nice to have someone to talk to, honestly, even though he didn’t speak to Husk very much at all prior to this; he was looking forward to it a little more now. Coming home… er… coming back to the hotel after work and chatting casually at a bar was just… something about it sounded so… calm. Sure, he could go to a random bar and flirt with some rando, but talking with an actual acquaintance while having a few drinks seemed so freeing. Not having to worry about someone staring at him from across the room and getting approached about some kind of ‘offer’ outside.

God, he fucking hated that... “Fuck…” Soft smile melding into a grimace, Angel began to chew slower and slower until he eventually stopped altogether and harshly swallowed. He’d probably been making Husk feel gross like that for ages now. Obviously, he’d seen the disgruntled faces he’d get in return for flirting, but he’d never actually thought about it like that until now. He couldn’t even say, ‘for some reason, it made him feel gross’; he knew exactly why; coming to terms with that, on the other hand, was a lot more uncomfortable than he’d imagined. “Hey, uh… Not to damper the mood, but… I…”His chest puffed as he took a deep breath, and each word pulled Angel to avert his gaze further from his food and the cat sitting across from him. “I was gonna say… I’m sorry for bein’ weird and touchin’ your face yesterday…” As he spoke up, his voice lightly cracked near the end of his sentence. “And when we were filmin’ the hotel commercial… And every time I’ve put my legs on ya lap… And any otha time I did somethin’ like that.”

——————

I haven’t even finished this writing yet (I’ll likely add the rest when I do finish it) but you can see that it genuinely is not that hard to fit in an apology.

Anyway I hope you guys enjoyed my little Angel Dust ideas. Be prepared for more eventually

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theheirofthesharingan · 3 months

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Okay, sorry if this was asked before but I'm curious and I'd really like to learn more. You've mentioned in a couple of posts now that Itachi wasn't retconned. Could you please elaborate further?

Hey! No, this wasn't asked before. I was thinking of making a separate post for this, but procrastination is evil. So, I am one of the 'Itachi was meant to be a good guy/was not evil/had more to him than he let on' people. Watching the anime, it was the feeling that there was more to him. His reveal was along the lines of devastation and shocking for me than surprise. Detailed post is below the cut.

First thing first.

This was Itachi's first look that Kishimoto had planned.

Itachi was originally conceived as the leader of Konoha's Special Assassination and Tactical Squad called the "Anbu", dubbed the Itachi Squad (イタチ隊, Itachi-tai), which would have been a 70-man group divided into four teams, specializing in assassination and other illicit operations. However, this idea was scrapped in favour of the current Itachi working for the Akatsuki.

The above paragraph is from Itachi's wikipedia that cites a couple of interviews as sources. People can't be too blind in their delusion to think the author who wrote the story had no idea what he was writing.

Next is the Naruto Databook that has some fishy things if we look closely. In the first glance it's not very obvious, but after learning the truth it seems very much obvious.

It says, "the ones who know the reason of its downfall are very small". Go back to Obito's words about only four people being aware of the reason of the clan's downfall.

Additionally, Itachi carried out 134 B-Rank missions. Zero A Rank. And one S-Rank. The S rank mission being the Uchiha massacre. It's very fishy that he was given one s rank mission without any A tank mission. Suspicious? We know later on why.

It's also interesting because the first databook was published in 2002 and Itachi first appeared in 2003. If his twist wasn't planned from the beginning this databook is very telling.

Since I mentioned how he looked, here's him in Sasuke's flashbacks for the first time.

He looks far from evil or sadistic. You want to know who enjoys killing for fun? Hidan. Itachi, on the other hand, on the day of the massacre itself, looks miserable and lost.

In chapter 7, he in a haze-like manner he talks about crying. In many English translations it's translated as 'he made me cry' and in many it's this. It's very, very vague, but his statement is complimented by Sakura's question, to which he still responds in the similar way 'My..' Maybe he was trying to say 'My brother', but he instead finishes his speech with 'my goal is to take revenge' etc., Since it's still very early so it might not be the strongest evidence, but a few chapters later in chapter 27, during their fight against Haku, when Sasuke awakens his Sharingan, he has two tomoe in his right eye.

Yes, he might have awakened it this way, but it also suggests that maybe already had his Sharingan and that's why this is 'asymmetrical' awakening? In the later chapters we find out he actually did have his Sharingan he awakened after the massacre.

This flashbacks in chapter 127 most firmly establishes Itachi's twist. The tilted head-protector. Sasuke remembers it vaguely, but he has no recollection of Itachi crying that night, because his mind is still hazy from the "truth" Itachi wanted him to believe. We know later on the significance of this scene.

There are three moments before Itachi was even introduced that give away what we see right after his truth reveal and connect to the chapter 403.

The 'Itachi was retconned' camp also uses 'Itachi was meant to be older (than 13) but Kishi made him younger later on' as an excuse to justify their retcon bullshit.

Kakashi, in chapter 142, states Itachi was 13 when he was made the Anbu captain.

Itachi graduated when he was just seven. Sasuke is the same age as Itachi was when he graduated from the Academy. Itachi is 17 at the time of his first appearance and Sasuke is 12. It is enough to tell lies were spread about Itachi. We, obviously, learn later on why.

Some more obvious hints were his interaction with Asuma, Kurenai, and Kakashi.

The criminal infamous for annihilating one of the strongest clans refuses to indulge in fight?

He also asks Kisame to keep things low key and not get too much attention. That's an excuse. He's not here to wage war. Yes, later on he does ask Kisame to go ahead. But that's because he's a spy. He cannot let Danzo know he dropped his guard. One single mistake from his side that could unearth the truth of the massacre and Danzo would lay hands on Sasuke. Plus, while he's strong, his opponents aren't just fragile saplings who couldn't stand any blow he or Kisame cast. He knew reinforcements would be on the way.

Kakashi also wonders why Itachi didn't just kill him. Again, yes, the torture was brutal, but they're ninja who are meant to do and endure cruel things. Itachi had to look like he was a menacing criminal reputed to have killed the Uchiha singlehandedly.

So, he completely avoids fighting Asuma and Kuernai, takes on only Kakashi because he's strong and can take it, also has Sharingan. But he completely refuses to go against Jiraiya. Jiraiya may or may not be stronger than him. Maybe they were equal. However, recalling Obito's words again: Itachi devoted himself to fighting Sasuke to death.

Two conclusions come from this:

He didn't want to fight Jiraiya because it would result in a massive bloodbath and killing a leaf Shinobi is out of question for him. He's not a coward. He just doesn't want to fight him.

As we know from later on, he wanted to fight and die at Sasuke's hands only. Killing a Konoha Shinobi or dying at the hands of someone that isn't Sasuke isn't a part of his plan.

This can also be tracked further when Kisame captures the Four Tails.

Kisame most likely knew about Itachi's illness, knew Itachi wanted to die at Sasuke's hands. The reason Itachi didn't fight Jiraiya and Rōshi was most likely the same.

Kisame comments on Itachi's 'lingering affection' towards the village. The Akatsuki pairings' dynamics are quite opposite. Deidara and Sasori love art but have differing opinions on eternal vs explosive. Hidan and Kakuzu represent religion vs materialism (money). And Itachi and Kisame represent treachery vs loyalty. Itachi isn't loyal to Akatsuki, Kisame is.

They also wonder why is Itachi taking the matter of kidnapping Naruto so lightly. He could have done it very easily. We know now that that wasn't his intent and his objective to visit the village was something else.

As popular as 'Itachi knocked on the door before kidnapping Naruto' meme is, the truth is, he wasn't there to kidnap him at all. Replace Itachi with Kisame alone for a moment. Knock on the door? No, sir. Naruto would be half-dead. Or replace him with Hidan and Kakuzu. They're sadistic bastards and would have damaged Naruto in the worst possible way.

Furthermore, when you think of it, he revealed 'Akatsuki are after jinchuriki' years prior to the Akatsuki even began collecting the tailed beasts. It was a message he left because it was important. His job in the Akatsuki wasn't to "pass on the info to the village." It was to keep tabs on them so they don't attack Konoha.

After the massacre, Sasuke's unwavering faith in Itachi despite being put in Tsukuyomi. At first it doesn't seem too much, but we later discover that Itachi used to be a kind and gentle boy. So this bit isn't just Sasuke is blind, but also that Itachi was a kind child before the tragedy happened.

Sasuke's flashbacks in chapter 220 also hint towards Itachi being trapped in the politics of the village/clan. Fugaku is speaking to his own son but the discussion is so intense that he has to activate his Sharingan to convey the message to Itachi.

These are the flashbacks from the chapter #221 that further shed light on Itachi being a spy.

He's the "pipeline between the clan and the village" - a spy. Later Obito says Itachi was callously used for his devotion towards the village, this is an example of his clan doing this to him.

This is Itachi right after being accused of Shisui's murder. He looks in grief, while also processing the news. Once the narrative delves deep into Itachi's story (through Sasuke's eyes) in VOTE1, he continues to look miserable, lost, in pain, and in dire need of help. And once we begin to see more of him before his death, he is quite human. But again, Kishimoto had his whole story figured out by that time, knew what he was to do with Itachi's arc and Sasuke's future there.

_______________

Kishimoto isn't a terrible writer because some people choose to ignore what's written right there or cannot accept happened. Usually the deniers of this are those who question his morality. His morality is never the subject of the debate because Itachi isn't exonerated for his crimes. He's a part of a world that's cruel and violent and his actions align with it very much. The ones who "praise" him have their own bias, and that gives him nothing in return. Characters in fiction always, I mean, always respond to the information based on their morality. When Hashirama praises Itachi, it's because he grew up in the warring era and lost all his family. He learns there's this kid who chose a path with the least damage but at the cost of his life, he's a good Shinobi. Hiruzen also has his bias as well as his guilt. Naruto's praise for Itachi is not only because of stopping a war, but also for loving Sasuke. No one other than Sasuke sees him as a person whether anyone likes him or hates him. He's praised by other Shinobi for doing things that are expected from a Shinobi.

Either way, at the end of the day, Itachi himself doesn't see himself who is worth forgiving, worth loving, worth being remembered. That's his whole arc.

Some things above in the post I took from this thread. Some information I ommited from it, so feel free to go through it, please.

#itachi #itachi uchiha #uchiha itachi #akatsuki #kisame #ask #anon #this was a very important ask

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buckyarchives · 1 year

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metal arms and short skirts | bucky barnes. [3.]

summary: waltzing in as the new head of the Avenger's medical division, impressing everyone, and... scaring Bucky with your incredibly short skirts. while bucky's having a hard time looking at his arm as anything other than a deadly weapon, you're more than happy to help him.

word count: 4.9k

a/n : i started this with an upload schedule but it went completely out the window, oops. and i’m taking request for bucky onshots rn. not beta’d/brief proof reading

outfit reference here

story playlist here

read on AO3 | masterlist

Bucky woke up the next morning happier than usual, more excited to start the day, just wanting to see you. Even if it was just a moment in the hallways while you busied yourself with work. A part of himself was relieved at the fact he didn't have to purposely injure himself just to see you, Natasha was starting to get suspicious when he took hits or pulled punches.

As he woke up, Bucky planned it all out. Sam was going to come by soon to go on a run, then Bucky would take a shower (he also decided midst his sleep he needs to make himself more pretty for you), grab some food and coffee and drop by the lab.

Enduring all the teasing by Sam towards Bucky while making laps around the compound, they both easily made it around the new recruits. Shower, done. Bucky thought about you the entire time, not in a creepy way, it was endearing. He took a much-needed walk through the city nearby; you can only spend so much time in the compound without feeling suffocated, and found some hipster coffee shop that reminded him of you. Bucky thought about taking you on another date, hopefully soon. Grabbed some pumpkin bread and a coffee that he totally didn't have to ask Natasha about. Back in the 40s, bucky can't remember coffee being made any other way than just– one way.

Bucky walked back into the compound with a little skip in his step, which didn't go unnoticed by the others. It wasn’t every day that the infamous winter soldier didn't trudge around the compound - scowl permanently on his face.

The familiar head of hair showed behind the panels of glass, vaguely showing into your lab. Bucky's steps falter slightly as he observes you at work, so focused and concentrated on whatever task was in front of you. Bucky admired your intelligence and confidence far more than he had expected. You had practically swept him off his feet with it.

Trying not to startle or disturb you, Bucky slowly slid the door open, balancing your coffee and food in hand. You were balancing on a small stool as you reached for some hidden files at the very top of a bookcase.

Bucky opened his mouth to greet you, and just as the first syllable came out. You let out a high-pitched yelp and flinched back, the files dropping from your hand and falling all over the floor. Bucky watched as your chunky heel caught on the stool, losing your footing and now free falling. But bucky was quicker, he dropped everything and brought his arms out to catch you before you fell backward to the floor.

A metal arm wrapped around your upper waist and flesh hand steadying your legs on the ground, so they don't give out. You're perfectly placed hair now messy, and bucky looking down at you with wide eyes.

“Shit–” he breathed, “are you okay?”

You don't say anything at first, you are caught starstruck staring back up at bucky. A dazed smile grows to your ears. “I am now.”

Bucky can't bite back the giddy smile that grows on his face. “You should be more careful.”

“Why would I when I have a night in shining…” your bright eyes look down at the arm that wrapped around your body. “Metal watching over me?”

Bucky grows red at the acknowledgment of his arms that are still wrapped around you, and the closeness between your body and his. Only a few inches separate your lips, and bucky's eyes go wide from embarrassment.

“Oh, I'm sorry!” he panics, slowly letting go of you. You stand up straight now and gaze going straight at the large puddle of spilled coffee across the floor, next to the file you dropped.

“you, uh– dropped your coffee.” you point out.

“Christ, I'm so sorry.” bucky says, flustered to hell as he instantly goes for a roll of paper towels sitting on the table. God- he feels like such a mess. So much for the plan. “Fuck, really I’m sorry. I went all the way across town to get coffee for you, and I wanted to surprise you with it– fucking hell, I had to ask Nat what your order was, and then I just spill it, making a mess of your space. I’m such an idiot, I'm… I'm rambling, sorry.”

You looked stunned and dazed with towels in your hand, stopping when you began to listen to Bucky's rant. Slowly growing flustered. Bucky turns around, worry laced on his face as he waits for your reaction, expecting you to lecture him for making a mess. He feels so stupid–

“You got me coffee?” your mouth gapes open and bucky can't help but think you looked adorable standing in front of him.

Rising to his feet, a sheepish smile on his face as he goes faces you. “Yeah and, uh, bread. Pumpkin bread.”

“Is the bread okay?”

Bucky turns his head to where he stood only a few minutes ago, eyes landing on the bag. Bending to pick it up to see a perfectly good loaf, only a little smushed on the bottom. Bucky forces a smile as he hands them to you. “Still edible.”

“Thank you so much.” you beam up at him, quickly grabbing the bag. Quicker than Bucky can think, you close the distance between you and him, standing on your toes to give him a peck on his cheek. All happening so quickly that bucky got whiplash, blinking rapidly to himself as you walk past him to clean up the rest of the mess.

“Hey, no. I got it.” bucky objects, grabbing the towel from you. “It's my mess and you might get your outfit dirty.”

It's then when Bucky notices your outfit today, a baby blue dress that he can only think matches the shade of his eyes (whether it was intentional on your end or not: but it so was), strapless and fitting your body nicely. Stopping at your mid-thigh– which felt expected now, but bucky still grew a little flustered as his eyes lingered. Your usual white goo goo boots, which had resulted in your fall.

“Thank you, bucky.” you smile, going to gather the files spread out on the floor.

It doesn't take long at all for Bucky to clean up the floor and follow you to one of the less crowded areas of the lab, you were almost messier than tony- almost. You’d pulled a chunk from the bread and offered him some, which bucky took gladly as you ate your own piece.

“So what brings you here besides spilling coffee and giving out bread?” you start, looking at bucky with the softest eyes ever. Successfully pulling at bucky's heartstrings and leaving him breathless.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you.” Bucky shrugs.

You smile sweetly, “then I'd say I'm glad, because I wanted to see you too.”

Bucky leans back from the edge of the table, biting the side of his cheek. “Well, I don't want to hold you up.” bucky silently motioned to the door, but your hand goes to him before he can move.

“Stay, I'm not busy.” you smile.

Bucky blinks once, twice before he leans back in. “okay. You sure?”

You bit the bottom of your lip and nodded, a giddy smile on your face. Bucky can't seem to grasp how he could have made you smile like that, so beautiful.

“Last night was fun.” you start, gaze not leaving bucky.

Bucky nods in agreement, not noticing the way you stepped a few inches closer to him. “I'm glad.”

Your eyes flickered to bucky's lip and he swears he stopped breathing at that moment, his body moving closer to yours. A part of bucky doesn't understand how you could make him feel this way, how you can light a spark in him that he was so positive burnt out decades ago. Make his heart thumps so loudly you didn't need to be a super soldier to hear. How you could make him blush so easily and seemingly command his body closer to you.

Now bucky's eyes catch your lips, and your hand ghost above his waist. Faces only a few inches between them and bucky's senses are on overdrive as he can smell the vanilla and lavender on your body. Bucky closes the space between you two, slanting his lips on yours. Tasting the pumpkin spice as you kissed him.

A smile graces his lips as you lean into his touch, now snaking his arms around your waist. Your hands are brought up to his jaw and around his neck. Bucky is in a pure state of bliss and he’s sure his soul is ready to leave his body.

“Hey! No making out in the lab, especially with my best worker.” Tony's Starks shrill voice breaks the two of you apart, drowning in your own pools of embarrassment. A coldness washes over Bucky's body.

“Tony! Jesus Christ, what is it with people sneaking up on me today?” you think out loud, and collect yourself and stand up straight. “What brings you by?”

“You got a meeting with Dr. Pym at 4 and Helen is flying in at 7 to do some test of the new regeneration project.“ Tony hands a folder to you, a thick one with large, red letters spelling out ‘[Classified]’ on them. Tony's eyes catch bucky’s, a smirk rises to his face. “And Barnes, maybe ask your girlfriend about that thing tomorrow night.”

Your eye perks up and beam towards Bucky, Tony sending a quick wink toward Bucky as he continues down the hall. “What thing?” you ask him.

“This gala, it’s at the Stark tower on Saturday. Natasha says it's just PR for the most part, to talk to politicians and press mostly.'' Bucky starts, realizing what Tony meant now, starting to fidget with his fingers.

“Would you like to go with me? As a date?”

You blink once, twice, and stare in awe as bucky's nervously darts his eyes around the room, avoiding your gaze. “Really?”

“Yeah, if you're busy though-”

“Yes.” you smile brightly, leaving bucky breathless once again.

Bucky chews on his cheek, “really?”

“Yes.” you begin to close the gap again, “I’d be more than happy to go with you.”

Bucky starts to realize how much control he lacks around you, the constant feeling in his heart that tugs him towards you. He feels lighter; yet more nervous around you. Your eyes follow him, and bucky’s tongue swipes across his lips for a quick moment. Close enough to feel his breath again.

“Can I kiss you again?'' Bucky asks, almost breathless.

Your lip quirks up into a small smirk, playfully narrowing your eyes in his direction. Your chin raises up high to reach him. “Hmm, can you? Don't you have somewhere to be, sergeant?”

Bucky's heart flutters at the use of his rank, the way your voice sounds smooth as honey when you teased him. A part of him wants to just take you now, in the middle of your lab, with the risk of anyone walking.

“I don't know, do I?” bucky plays dumb, attempting to match your playful tone.

You lean in close and give bucky a quick peck on his lips, far too short for bucky to be satisfied. Maybe even lighting a bigger flame in his stomach, aching for more of you. “Maybe a mission?”

Bucky groans, his head falling limp and his long, brunette hair falling in his face. “Don't remind me.”

“Come on.” you smack your lips, wrapping your hands around his face as you push his head back upright. Revealing a dopey smile, warmth courses through bucky at your touch. His worries simply melt away: as if it's that easy. Your thumb lightly caressed his cheek. “I’m sure Steve is looking for you, go kicks some Hydra agent's ass so you can come back and we can dance at a fancy gala.”

“You make it sound so easy, doll.” bucky sighs, his mouth pouts as he leans into your touch.

You pull his face in, kissing him once again. With a sweet and innocent kiss, bucky's hand raises to ghost over your waist before you pull back. “Go be a hero for me.”

Bucky wants to protest, but you are already playfully pushing him near the exit of your lab. A grin is painted on both of your faces, and bucky's gaze is dripping with adoration for you.

“No, I want to stay.” bucky wines, lingering at your door. “Don't get rid of me.”

“Get back safe for me, yeah?” you spoke.

Buckys exhales, studying your face for a moment. Memorizing your features, almost as if he'd forget. A smile grows as he pecks your lips once more. “Fine, get rid of me.”

“Tell the other I said ‘have a safe mission’” you say, as bucky steps out of the lab. Giving you one more sweet smile.

“Will do!” bucky shouts, just as you leave his sight and head back into your lab.

Once the sliding glass doors close and you have a moment to yourself, your hand clutches your heart. Feeling it pound rapidly against your chest, your face feels warm. Bucky's touch lingers on your waist and lips, already missing him.

******

Dust filled bucky's lungs as his eyes began to flutter open, coughing roughly as he regained his consciousness. A sharp pain shot through his entire body, and bucky tried to flip to his side but he couldn't seem to move. Bucky’s eyes scan the area, and black spots filled his vision, but he could see the remains of the hydra facility everywhere.

Only a few moments ago, bucky stood close to Steve and Sam as they searched through the supposedly abandoned facility. But their intel was either wrong or the mission was compromised because a group of a dozen agents crashed through one of the doors.

Ending up in a fight, separating the three, and just as bucky had one of the last agents pinned down by the throat, he pulled out a beeping device. In red digital letter counted down to zero. Before Bucky couldn’t yell out to take cover, everything went up in flames with a ground rattling boom. Bucky must have hit his head and fallen unconscious for a moment, only now waking back up.

Bucky attempted to get up again, but his left arm wouldn't budge. Between heavy pants, his gaze fell down to his arm. The sharp pain coursing through his body came from the nerve endings from his still human shoulder being pushed up against his metal arm, being crushed from the biceps to his hand. Stuck under a huge slab of concrete.

Trying to pull it out of the rouble, flinching as he feels the metal connecting to his shoulder strain. His shoulder muscles feel like their being torn apart at every single flinch or small movement. A strained groan escaped his lip, attempting to push the concrete away with his right, but it was too heavy.

Bucky hears the faint sound of dragged footsteps, the dust still swarming through the air. Only seeing a figure dressed in black slowly get up from the crash. Bucky narrows his eyes to try and make out who.

“Sam?’ Bucky's voice is graveled and quiet. Followed by a choked cough.

The person did not respond or turn to bucky, bucky's vision starts coming back slowly. The man that stood across the room was not Sam or Steve. With a tentacle tattoo peeping from his collar, bucky's heart picked up, the man's gun cocked back and pointed down to the floor. Just above a passed-out sam, blood soaking his shirt.

Bucky's gun stood a few feet away from him, panic coursing through his body as he tried to reach for it. With his left hand stuck under the rubble, he couldn't move. Bucky braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to slide his arm out. He winched and cried through bared teeth as he pulled, and pulled. His shoulder felt like it was being torn apart, because– well, it was.

His hand touched the gun and with absolutely no hesitation, Bucky aimed at the Hydra agent's head and pulled the trigger. The man's body fell limp and hit the ground with a thud before he could set fire to Sam.

A heavy exhale left bucky's lips, relief coursed through his body knowing Sam wasn't in immediate danger at the hands of the agents. Bucky's head turned back towards his arm, his breath hitched at the sight. His metal arm was torn in half, severed wires spark at his biceps where it was torn.

Bucky's breath picked up and his chest heaved, anxiety coursing through his body as flashbacks from the alps came crashing in. blood and nazis standing above him as they found him barely alive, the cold snow soaking through his uniform as they dragged him through the canyon.

Black spotted his vision again as he tried to gather to his feet, he needed to check on Sam, he’s bleeding– Steve, wheres Steve? Are all the agents dead? Bucky's chest felt heavy, and his head lulled around as he grew dizzy. Fuck– his shoulder hurts like hell. Where is his comms? Are they damaged? Did agent hill hear the place blow? Is someone coming? Get up, Barnes!

Bucky choked on his own thoughts, his knees giving out before he couldn't even stand fully. He hit the ground, and everything went black.

*****

“So you and bucky? How'd the date go?” you could hear Natasha smirk from behind your back. She sat on a counter of your lab, hanging around just as Helen arrived.

“Did you melt the poor old man's heart?” Clint added, who also followed Natasha in here and decided to hang around. You enjoyed the company as you worked.

You smiled ear to ear to yourself, flipping through your files on some Stark tech you were assigned to look at. Trying to bite back the grin as you turned to face the two, a poor job as well considering Clint didn't miss a beat at teasing you.

“It was good, better than I expected,” you spoke. “He asked me to the gala tomorrow night.”

“You're welcome,” Natasha smirked, bringing a bottle of water to her mouth.

“I can’t believe you're actually taking time aside to date, you've never batted an eye towards romance while working before,” Helen adds.

“Well, it's a lot easier when he's at your work.”

Clint opened his mouth to say something, probably some teasing comment. But it was abruptly cut off by the loud shouts and cries of your name down the hall. Everyone in the room perked their head up, Natasha was quick on her feet to crane her neck out into the hallway.

A gasp escaped Natasha's lips as her gaze fell on whoever was yelling, instantly rushing out of the lab. You dropped everything as another cry for your help echoed through the compound.

Into the hallway stood Steve, holding onto a half-conscious Sam with a trail of blood in his wake. Close behind stood a grimey bucky, down an arm and in obvious pain.

“Shit!” you gasped, turning to Helen. “Sam's critical, get out a stretcher and an IV.”

You rush down the hall, your heel echoing as you stop to pull Sam over your shoulder. Examining the wound as best you can as you help Steve drag him toward the lab. It looks to be a large gash on his right side, and an exit wound. Which was a good thing considering what could have been.

“I need to get him steady and into surgery asap!” you shout down the hall toward Helen, “what the hell happened?”

“Ambush, they blew the building before we could even think to take cover. I think Sam fell on some metal rod.” Steve spoke through heavy pants.

“He’ll be okay, he’ll be okay.” you repeat, almost as if you're speaking to yourself. Steve helping you lay Sam over the stretcher as they wheel him off into the surgery room. you leave him in Helen's hands as she and Steve follow him. You fall back and turn to bucky with worry laced in your features.

“Holy shit, bucky.” you gasp at the sight, blood soaked his clothes; unsure if it belonged to him or not. Grime and dirt painted his skin, and his arm was gone. Wires severed and sparked as the metal panels were crushed and cut into sharp edges.

“I’m okay, doll. It's not as bad as it lo-”

Bucky can barely finish his sentence before you're aggressively grabbing at him and shoving him into the lab. “Are you hurt? What happened– holy shit, are you okay?” you rattled out faster than you could think. Eyes frantically checking over bucky as your hand's ghost over his body.

“My shoulder feels like it's on fire, but i'm okay.” he looks down at the blood-soaking pants, bucky sighs. “none of this blood is mine.”

“Get on the table, please. Let me look at you– fuck, are you sure you’re okay?” your practically push him onto a bench, already tearing at his jacket to take a look at your shoulder. Bucky can't help but think under different circumstances he'd enjoy this. Ripping off the fabric and seeing the scars around the metal, all raw and distressed from the pulling.

Bucky winced when your hand grazed above the scars, you instantly recoiled with a slew of apologies. Your gaze lands on the severed arm and crushed metal.

“I'm gonna have to reconstruct an entirely new arm, there's no way I can build off this. Especially since it's a foreign design.” you sigh, a small light clicks and you begin looking up into the wiring. Bucky listens intently, trying to ignore the sharp pain coursing through his shoulder and chest. “I'll need to get you into a chair and probably sedate you so we can remove the rest of it.”

Bucky flinches back from your touch, his breath hitches at your words. “What?”

Between the flashbacks and the mention of the chair, bucky is finding it too easy to fall back into that old mindset. Even the mention of the chair brings back the tingling feeling of electricity coursing through his brain just to break him down, only to attempt to build Bucky into something else. A monster.

You notice bucky’s change in demeanor, the way he curls into himself and closes off from you. You step back and away from his bubble to give him space. “I have to get this done soon, okay?”

Bucky is hesitant in his response, too distracted by the heavy breath as his panic sets in. the room feels too hot and suffocating. He notices the blood on your baby blue dress and bucky over the edge as he looks at you in horror, beginning to mix reality and flashbacks as memories of Hydra shake him to his core.

“Bucky? Talk to me, please. Breathe.” you speak softly, attempting to bring him down from his panic attack.

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, icy blue eyes brimming with tears. Slowly, you bring your hand up to graze against his cheek, giving bucky enough time to reject your touch. He doesn't, slowly bucky leans into it, chasing after your warmth and comfort. His breath starts to steady.

“Bucky?”

Bucky hums in response, “I’m sorry.”

“Please don't apologize.” you sigh. “I just need to get this fixed, and soon.”

Bucky hesitates, “I trust you.” is all he can manage to say.

You nod, making sure Bucky saw your movement. “I won't have anyone do anything to you that you're not comfortable with, yeah?” bucky nods, your hand planted on his shoulder and back; guiding him to an area to get him ready. “I’ll go get some anesthetics for you, make a few calls and we can get started. Just you and me.”

“Just you and me.” bucky repeats under his breath, following you with no hesitation now. His hands shook but his features were more at ease.

Bucky would be okay as long as it was you.

******

Many hours later watching over an unconscious bucky as you worked on totally getting rid of the hunk of metal, and having to reprogram the nerve endings to connect with an entirely new one. You had to rush to get a few messy doodles and designs that you'd done on your own time to be completed, as well as calling a few favors from the Wakandan research center and waiting for the shipment to come from the princess of Wakanda herself, who is also a close friend of yours. And conveniently owed you a few favors.

Helen and Tony offered their help more than enough times but you kept up Bucky's deal, despite how cramped and tired your hands got, just you and him. You had to respect that.

Sam was in surgery and already making good progress. a part of you thanked the timing for Helen being here because she is a far better surgeon than you, you were better with things made of metal or had programming, not human bodies. Sam would not be having as good a recovery under your hands. You were sure Natasha and Steve were doing their rounds to both Bucky and Sam, every 20-30 minutes one of the two would check in on the super soldier. Steve would linger longer with a sympathetic look casting over his face, you didn't mind the company.

Some small part of you grew relieved as you took away the red star from him, knowing his past and some of your own personal run-ins with Hydra. Feeling pride knowing you could give him an arm he'd feel less disgusted with, attempting to tend to his jarring scars that connected man to metal. But some were just too healed to do anything about it.

Bucky lay there for hours, a peaceful look as his features softened making him look a few decades younger. You wondered if this was the longest he’d slept peacefully in a while, no twitching of the eyebrow or jaw indicating a nightmare or waking. He looked happy, younger– your gaze lingered far too long a few times, Natasha having to snap you out of your stares with a snarky comment. Bucky began to resemble the boy in the photos hung around the Captain America exhibit.

Your fingers traced against the gold lines as you finished, feeling the sleek black vibranium against your skin. It was cold, yet to be warmed by bucky's body heat.

Grabbing a bottle of water that sat to the side, one Clint dropped off in the middle of a very intense moment in rewiring the arm to his nerves. Taking a few sips as you stretched your legs and began to clean your area, expecting bucky to wake soon. You'd be here when he woke up.

Until you looked down at yourself and realized you still wore the blue dress with Sam's blood stained all over it, some dripping down to your shoes. A frustrated groan escaped your lips, calling over Steve to watch over Bucky so you could change. Wondering why no one had half the mind to point it out.

You had a small locker reserved for you at the compound, you didn't use it much since you didn't live here. Only a few extra toiletries for overnight jobs and workout clothes, settling on grey sweats and a tight-fitting grey crop top, long sleeves, and an interesting cut-out around the neck and shoulder.

Your steps didn't echo like they would with your heels, slightly startling bucky at the sudden change when you walked into the room. Your eyes met him as he sat across from Steve, flexing and squeezing his vibranium hand. His head perked up once he noticed your presence, you smiled at him to ease any worries as he adjusted to the new arm.

Steve read the tension in the room, smacking his lips. “Well, I'll leave you two for a moment,” he said before slipping past you to leave the room.

“You feel okay?” you asked, instantly coming to Bucky's side.

Bucky looked down wide-eyed at the pitch-black vibranium, his mouth gaping open slightly as watched the panels move and adjust in amazement. “Yeah, different.”

“It should take a little to adjust to the feeling, I tried my best,” you responded quietly.

“Best?” Bucky's eyes met yours, “this is amazing, it looks like a piece of art– like it deserves to be in a museum and not me.”

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, shying away from bucky. “It deserves to be on you, and I just made the design just for you. The Wakandas produced most of it– which by the way, they have legal ownership of your arm technically since it's vibranium.”

Bucky's eyebrow quirked up. “Is that something I should be worried about?”

“Oh! No, just don't piss them off or they might take it back.” you laughed, bucky smiling along.

“noted.”

“Okay, do the arm thing,” you said, your back sitting up straighter with an amused smile painted across your face. Bucky rolled his eyes and reluctantly did it.

“Anything new I should know about?”

You hummed, thinking for a moment. “Not that I know of, I didn't want to do anything without your permission. I’ll look over the files Shuri sent with it later, you can look them over too.”

“Okay.” bucky nodded, looking back toward his new arm. Running his right hand along the golden ridges on his palm. “It's beautiful really, thank you.”

“Anything for you,” you spoke, sinicerity in your eyes.

Bucky's heart warmed at your reply, trying to bite back his smile; but ultimately failing.

🎞️tag list : @matchat3a @sebsgirl71479 @heavenswrld @ivywasmaroon @nt-multi-fandom @michaelfuckinglangdon @fand0mskullfa1ry @lilliarussell @athenabarnes @almosttoopizza @genlovesdcb

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #marvel #bucky fic #bucky fluff #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine

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hotchs-bitch · 2 years

Text

The Morning After

Summary: When you and your fiancé wake up after a night of drinking, you have to figure out exactly what happened last night.

Or, loosely based off of the Pineapple Incident episode of HIMYM (although I’ve been told that it’s like that one New Girl episode and it’s also giving Phil and Claire. These are all good things in my book.)

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: Alcohol, description of hangover (very accurate if I may say so, because I wrote it while hungover), cursing, allusions to smut, a bit of fighting and arguing, mentions of case-related violence (homicide)

A/N: Honey, I’m home! (If home is writing about hotch) (it is) Lovingly beta’d by the long suffering @laurensprentiss, of whom I am trying to drag by the ear out of her sloppy dog boy era, and @spacecowboyhotch. Gorgeous moodboard by @honeybrowne. Anyways, find it on ao3 here, or under the cut!

Happy reading <3

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping outside the window, and Aaron snoring next to you; just like any other day.

Except it’s not just like any other day, because your head is pounding and you don’t remember how you got home from the bar last night and holy shit, has Aaron always snored so loudly?

You give him a weak shove with one hand, but it does the trick and makes him fall silent. He might be waking up or maybe still half-asleep, but at least he’s being quiet.

And then he starts to talk.

“Morning, sweetie,” he mumbles, rolling over and pressing a kiss to your temple. He says something else, something you don’t hear, because he’s making your entire head vibrate with his stupid mouth and it hurts so badly that all you can do is slap his chest lightly and turn your head away.

He pulls away, takes the hint and settles a hand on your thigh under the blankets. That’s Aaron; he’s always got to be touching you, feeling you, knowing that you’re there and you’re okay. A hazard of the job, and of how much he loves you.

When he clears his throat, you wonder if maybe he doesn’t actually love you and if he’s just being loud because he’s an asshole. “I said, I’ll go make breakfast.”

Okay, so maybe he does love you.

“Mmph.” The noise comes from somewhere deep in your chest, vague and agreeable enough that he stands up without shifting the bed much. Thank god.

The slow, steady drag of slightly uneven footfalls disappears down the hallway, and you hear the distant ‘clang’ of a saucepan followed by the sound of Aaron cursing. Serves him right for being so damn loud, in your opinion.

You’re starting to sweat now, overheated from head to toe, so you push down the blankets to find yourself wearing a bra and a pair of Aaron’s boxers. They’re warm and soft- using them as pajama shorts isn’t new territory by any means- but there’s a stain on them that smells suspiciously like alcohol.

Eyes squinted at the soaked-fabric splotch on your hip, you rub a finger against it and bring the finger to your nose. When the smell of pure bourbon hits your nose, you gag aloud. Alcohol is the last thing you want to be thinking of right now, with the way your head and stomach are spinning in opposite directions.

Why the hell are you wearing Aaron’s booze-soaked boxers? And if you’re wearing his underwear…. What is he wearing?

Your answer comes a minute later when Aaron reappears in the doorway, holding a tray. He’s got dried blood on his knuckles that you hardly notice, because breakfast smells so good. There’s water, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and a bottle of Advil in the tray, and you settle a hand on your stomach as it turns.

“Smells good,” you croak, and Aaron sets it down by the foot of the bed. He turns to grab a pair of pajama shorts, and gives you a minute to take him in.

When you do, you pause. “Baby?”

“Mmhm?” Aaron asks, slipping black fabric from under his shirt to down his hips before stepping into the sleepwear. He’s obviously not doing much better than you if he hasn’t noticed yet, but you still clue him in.

“Is that…. My thong?”

Aaron turns his head downward to observe the black lace fabric pooled by his ankles on the bedroom floor, then brings a hand up to rub at his temple. “Where are my…?”

“Here.” You snap your waistband to bring his attention to the boxers, wince when the elastic snap hits your ears and stomach at the same time. You pull back the waistband a little, revealing a circular bruise on your hip.

“What’s… Why are…?”

“I don’t know,” you groan, letting your head fall back against the pillow. “God, what happened last night?”

“I came to pick you up,” he replies, sinking back into bed next to you. He grabs a water and passes you a glass as well, and you swallow it back with pills that are way too big for your poor, sore throat. “I think… I stayed for a drink?”

“You think so?” You grumble sarcastically, pointing out the bourbon spot on his boxers. “Just one?”

Aaron pinches the bridge of his nose and wraps an arm around you, letting you rest your head on his soft, solid chest. “Maybe a few, I guess. How are you feeling?”

Your groan into his chest must be enough of an answer, because he just sighs. You feel him shift as he sets the breakfast tray on the nightstand, then pulls you back in close. “Tight,” you complain, and he loosens his grip.

Large fingers come up to stroke your hair, brushing strands away from your face. “Go back to sleep, hon,” he whispers. “We can figure out last night later, when you feel better.”

When we both feel better, you want to say, but you can’t. Your mouth is semi paralyzed with exhaustion, and it’s all you can do to hum into his shirt before falling fast asleep in your boyfriend’s arms, one big hand stroking up and down your back long after you’ve gone back to snoozing.

———

When Aaron wakes up, he finds you faced with a bigger worry than what happened last night.

“We woke up in bed together, Aaron. Almost naked. Oh my god, what if we had sex?” You fret, louder than before now that your headache has started to dissipate, and he shoots you an unimpressed look.

“We’re engaged. It tends to happen,” is his dry response, and you slap his shoulder as he sits up.

“We’re out of condoms, you idiot!”

Two large hands reach out, envelop your own. “Hey,” he murmurs, and you meet his eyes despite the throbbing of your head, “You’re on birth control. We should just figure out what happened last night. You went to the bar…” he trails off, ready for you to step in and pick up the story.

“Right.” You take a deep breath, settling back down. “I went to the bar to meet up with the girls. They were, uh, teasing me. Saying that I’m an old married lady since we’ve gotten engaged.”

And then you fill Aaron in.

—————

“Drink, drink, drink!” You aren’t sure who’s chanting now; you’re three shots in and everything is getting blurry.

“One more!” Emily pushes a shot glass towards you. “You’re never going to come out with us anymore, after the wedding.”

“Not true!” You protest, but you shoot the shot anyway. It tasted sweet, vaguely of cherries, and you’re definitely more lightheaded than you were a moment ago. “You guys are my friends, I’m not just gonna, gonna ditch you!”

It’s hard to hear Penelope’s ’tsk’ over the bar music, but she manages to project it. “You and boss man are going to cozy up and lock yourselves away and we’ll never see you again.”

“Just have a good time while you can,” JJ urges, “Before you’re stuck at home because you’re too tired, or your baby is sick, or something.”

“I don’t even have a baby!” Your pushback is useless, and just results in three more shots being placed in front of you. “I don’t know why,” you say before taking a shot, “You guys think I’ll just be boring.” Another shot. “My best years are ahead of me!” Another shot. “I can party like-“

———

“And that’s all I remember,” you admit with a wince.

“And then I came to pick you up, after Emily called me,” Aaron says. He holds you a little closer, kisses your forehead. “That was about an hour after you went out.”

And then Aaron fills you in.

———

“Well, how is she?” Aaron asks Emily.

She responds by pointing to you across the bar, just in time for the two to see JJ stop you from climbing up to stand on the table. “That’s how she is.”

Aaron shakes his head, fiddles with his car keys while he watches you. “She’s been so stressed with trying to plan the wedding; she really needed tonight,” he confesses to Emily, who waves it away like nothing.

“She’s having a great time. She was first out onto the dance floor, kickstarted everybody dancing.”

It’s an impressive brag, Aaron thinks as he looks at the sea of bodies on the dance floor. “She did? After how many drinks?”

Emily laughs at that, in a way that says she’s personally responsible for the answer. “Seven,” she admits, and Aaron cracks a smile.

“Well, we should get going,” he finally says, holding his car keys in one hand as he makes a start towards you.

“You aren’t going to stay for a drink?” Emily asks, and Aaron shakes his head. “Come on! If she needs to lighten up, so do you.”

She has a point; that’s the only thing that gets Aaron to hesitate. “One drink.”

“One drink,” Emily promises. “And then you can go right home and go to sleep.”

“One drink,” Aaron agrees, following her to the bar. He orders himself a rye and coke; not his usual drinking method of slow-sipping straight liquor by any means, but he is here to relax.

“Aaron! Honeybear, baby!” He hears your slurred voice through the crowd, and winces as Prentiss starts snickering. “Did you come to dance?”

Emily throws her head back into a full-bodied laugh, cackles for a couple of minutes before she settles back down with a hand wiping away tears of laughter. “Yeah, honeybear. Are you going to dance?”

Aaron gives you a smile, turns back to the bar, and orders without skipping a beat, “Also, a double of bourbon and two shots of tequila. Thank you.”

Thankfully the liquor is set down first, and he winces at the tequila shots before drinking them both. He grabs his rye and coke to nurse, leaving the bourbon on the nearest table.

“Honeybear!” He looks to the side, just in time to feel you run straight into his chest. “Wanna dance?”

The drinks have gone to his head sooner than they should have, but he blames it on the club-like atmosphere and grabs your hand.

He’s careful not to let Prentiss hear when he pulls you close and says straight into your ear, “Let’s dance, sweet pea.”

When you let out a peal of laughter, he pulls back to hand his half-empty drink to Prentiss, who trades him for another glass of… well, something. He tips it towards her in gratitude, throws the contents of the glass back, and sets it down.

“Ready?” You ask, tugging him out onto the dance floor with both hands.

“Ready,” Aaron confirms. He raises one arm up, spins you to the beat of the music, and pulls you in for a long kiss as the music surrounds you.

After a few minutes of dancing and more drinks for both of you, you start to complain about your feet. “Maybe it’s time to go home,” Aaron suggests, stumbling a little too much for his taste as he leads you off the dance floor and towards Emily.

Shoot. He really didn’t want to have to call a cab tonight.

“No, I want- Aaron!” You cry out as he stumbles into the table from earlier, knocks over the forgotten bourbon with a glass ‘thud’.

You both watch in horror as the liquid seeps into the side of Aaron’s khaki pants. It darkens the fabric, and he swipes at it uselessly, only to end up with the liquor sticky on his fingers as well as his thigh.

“You can’t wear those,” you protest, grabbing his hand. “It’s okay, honeybear, we’ll find you something else!”

“No, no,” Aaron insists, swinging your hand up in the air. He wonders briefly, drunkenly, why he even did that, but he’s back to his train of thought in no time. “We should, uh, we can just go home.”

“Home?” You ask, frowning at him. “You aren’t having fun?”

Drunk or not, Aaron thinks you’ve got no idea what kind of power you hold over him. Especially when you’re looking at him like that, like he’s single handedly taking away your only source of happiness.

“Of course I am, sweet pea.” He leans in to kiss you, ready to prove it.

Unfortunately you surge forward to kiss him too, accidentally bumping him into a large well-muscled man in a black shirt.

Great.

“You got a problem?” The man asks, accusatory, and Aaron clears his throat.

“No, no problem. Just an accident,” he tries to explain, but his new friend isn’t having any of it.

He crosses his arms, looks Aaron up and down like he’s sizing him up for a long minute. “I’ll tell you what,” he bargains, “If I can get her number, we won’t have no problem.”

Aaron sees you open your mouth out of the corner of his eye- probably to agree, just to get this man away- but he’s quick to speak first. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m sorry?” The man turns toward him, arms uncrossing. “I don’t think that’s up to you.”

“She’s my fiancée. You aren’t getting her number,” Aaron says as menacingly as possible, taking a single step towards the man. Did he stumble forward?

Apparently yes, he did. He catches himself against the man’s forearm and straightens up in a hurry, says, “We can work this out-” before a meaty fist connects with the side of his face and everything goes black.

———

“He hit me,” Aaron frowns, and you kiss the pursed expression off his lips. “He can’t do that; I’m an agent.” His gaze catches his bloody knuckles, and his eyes widen with the implication of where the blood came from.

As a loving fiancée, it’s your duty to distract him. “You’re my hero,” you say dreamily, and he makes a face like he’s trying not to roll his eyes.

“Anyways,” he continues, “I don’t know what happened afterwards.” One hand comes up, rubs absently at the bruise forming on his cheekbone.

“That’s okay,” you promise. “You know what? I bet Emily would know what happened, if we asked.”

“Yeah, she’d know that you call me honeybear,” he grumbles, and you can’t fight the giggles that overtake you.

“What? It’s cute!” Your protests fall on deaf ears, even when you cover his face in kisses.

“Sure.” Aaron is stoic, unmoved. “Are you going to phone Prentiss?”

“Uh huh. Are you gonna let me eat while I do?” You motion to the breakfast tray that he set down on his nightstand before you fell back asleep earlier. “I think bacon would really help my memory.”

Aaron passes you the tray, stealing a piece of bacon for himself as he does so. “Doesn’t help,” he declares around a mouthful, and you shush him as your phone begins to ring on speaker.

“You’ve got Prentiss.”

“Emily, hi,” you say, turning down the volume on the phone with a belated wince. “It’s me. And Aaron is here, too.”

Aaron hums in acknowledgement around his mouthful of toast, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Hey, sweet pea. And hi, honeybear!” Emily greets you both, and you cover your face as though you can hide from the words. “Are you looking for your earrings? You left them in my car.”

“No. I mean, I guess. I didn’t realize-” When her words sink in, you pause. “I was in your car? Pen drove me to the bar.”

“I drove you after the bar. You know, after Aaron got in that fight?”

And then Emily fills you both in.

———

“We can work this out-” Emily hears, and she looks up just in time to see her boss get clocked in the face by some massive guy who was definitely trying to dance with you before your fiancé showed up.

To his credit, Hotch shakes his head, rights himself, and swings back. His fist connects with the other man’s nose in a sickening crunch, and they both recoil; Hotch shaking his hand, and the other man clutching his nose.

As Emily watches, a bouncer comes up to the three of you. He says something, grabs both men by the back of the shirt collar, and pushes them in the general direction of the door. Message received.

You follow behind them, stumbling blindly until Aaron takes your hand in his and starts to lead you out with all the care in the world.

Hotch probably drove here, but Emily knows he’s in no condition to drive. That, and the fact that you’re totally going to owe her for this, is the reason she throws a few bills on the table in front of JJ and rushes out of the bar behind you.

When she catches up, she grabs your free hand in greeting. You stop walking immediately, causing Aaron to walk into you with an ‘oof’. “I can drive you home,” she urges. “It’ll be safer than walking and cheaper than a cab. C’mon.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” You’re still stumbling a bit so she offers an arm that you grip with both hands, dropping Aaron’s hand completely.

“Hey,” he complains with a sickly sweet grin on his face, reaching the hand back towards you. Emily thinks that if any unsubs were to see that smile, this guy would never get a murder confession again. “Sweet pea, c’mere.”

Oh, great. The sappy nicknames go together. That’s cute, even if it seems otherwise when Emily has to hide a gag.

She releases you, lets you stumble back into Aaron’s waiting arms as you all round the corner towards the parking lot. You and Aaron are whispering to each other, giggling- Aaron Hotchner is actually giggling, and if she were a worse person she’d be recording it- until she unlocks the car and opens the back door on the passenger side.

“Everyone in.” To her relief, there’s no drunken argument about not wanting to go home; you both slide into the backseat and cuddle up immediately.

It’s sickening.

“Em, d’you know where to go?” You ask, already in the process of texting her an address with shaky fingers.

“I’ve got it.” She shuts the door for you and gets in the car, starting to drive with one eye on the rearview mirror and the other on the location you’ve sent her. “Did you have fun?”

“Mhm. Aaron, baby, did I tell you what she said?” She hears you ask, followed by a low grunt from Hotch that must mean ‘no’. “She thinks I’m gonna be boring after we get married.”

“Not boring.” There’s a kissing sound, and Emily looks back again to see Aaron pressing kisses all over your neck, exposed shoulder, anywhere he can reach. “Just all mine.”

Emily has never wished to be deaf, but there’s a first time for everything. Still, it’s kind of sweet to see SSA Hotchner, the big scary boss who used to dislike her, cuddling his girlfriend and drunkenly calling her sappy names.

It’s certainly nothing she ever expected to bear witness to, that’s for sure.

She decides to leave the two of you to your own devices for the rest of the drive, until she brings the car to halt a few minutes later. “We’re here. Are you sure this is the right address?”

You clamber to the window, pressing your face against it like a kid in a candy shop. “Yep!”

“This isn’t a house. This is a strip mall,” Emily points out. It’s sort of a sketchy one, too, judging by the amount of graffiti on the dumpster out front.

“Mhm. Aaron wanted to go mini golfing.” Aaron opens the door and helps you out of the car, and Emily watches with concern and mild amusement as you tap the roof of the car twice. “Okay, go! Thanks!”

She rolls down her window as the door shuts, just in time for Aaron to lean in to speak to her. There’s alcohol on his breath, and she wonders if he somehow had a few drinks that she didn’t notice.

“Thank you, for the ride.” He’s pronouncing each word slowly, careful to enunciate, like he’s trying to seem sober. “We’ll be fine. We can call a cab later. Thank you for the ride, Emily.”

“No problem, Aaron.” So sue her for using his first name; he never lets anyone except you use it, but he’s drunk enough to be calling her Emily and repeating sentences. “Be careful. And just give me a call if you need a ride,” she insists.

Aaron waves her off with one hand, the other one already finding its way around your waist as he leads you to the door of the strip mall.

———

“So I left,” Emily finishes. “You didn’t end up calling me, but you texted me the word ‘safe’ a bunch of times, so I figured it was okay.”

“We went mini golfing,” you clarify, then turn to Aaron. “You wanted to go mini golfing?”

He’s too occupied with his injured hand to pay much attention to you. “I punched him,” he says, a frown on his face. Your poor fiancé; he’s got all the power of an FBI unit chief, and twice as much empathy for anyone who isn’t a killer.

“You defended yourself. And me,” you remind him, taking his hand and kissing it gingerly. “Thank you.”

Emily clears her throat, a reminder that she’s still on the phone. “No offense, but I had to listen to you two last night, and I’m still trying to recover. Enough with the cute, please. I’m going to be sick.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologize, squeezing Aaron’s hand as you talk. “Thanks for updating us, Em. I’ll grab those earrings on Monday.”

“Sounds good. Rest up today, okay? Sergio, get down from there!” Emily shouts. You hear the sound of something smashing in the background- a vase falling, from the sound of it-, and the line goes dead.

Aaron moves the breakfast tray off the bed, and you notice that the two of you have cleared off the plates while Emily was speaking. “Well, I guess that’s it,” he says.

“We’re going on a field trip,” you correct. “Come on. We swapped underwear and I’m bruised, you’re not curious about that?”

While he sighs at you, you take the opportunity to stand properly for the first time today. You’re woozier than you thought, and you steady yourself against the bed, shaking your head like that will get rid of the hangover still rolling around in your skull.

“Are you sure about this?” Aaron asks. “Maybe you should just rest.”

“No,” you insist, turning away as you pull off his boxers and start to get dressed. “It’ll be fun. It’s like we’re investigators.”

“We put someone in jail for six counts of homicide on Tuesday. We are investigators,” Aaron says, but he gets up and starts to change clothes nonetheless. “Do you even know where this place is?”

“Well, no.” You grab your purse and phone and start towards the front door with your fiancé on your heels. “But you heard Emily. I texted it to her.”

Your long-suffering partner follows you out to your car without further complaint, and the drive to the strip mall is made in comfortable silence.

It’s not far away, but it’s in a noticeably different area of town. The parking lot is full, so you drive into the parking lot of the chapel next door.

Aaron steps out of the car first. “Not a great neighbourhood,” he says like he’s profiling a scene, motioning to the graffiti on the dumpster.

You shrug a shoulder and get out, leading him inside the strip mall. There’s a legal office, a dry cleaners, and a mini golf place down the main stretch, so you beeline to the mini golf doors and walk up to the desk with your fiancé in tow.

“Hi, how can I help you?” The girl behind the counter can’t be much older than mid-20’s, you think. She’s got red hair in a long braid, and fair skin with a smattering of freckles covering both cheeks. You notice a green name tag pinned to her shirt, reading ‘Brooke’ in neat cursive.

“Hi. Uh, who was working here last night?” You ask, and she tilts her head slightly.

“I was.” When she looks up at you, her eyes widen in recognition. “Oh! You two were here!”

Aaron places a hand on the small of your back, then clears his throat. “We were here, yes. We were just wondering, uh, what happened. We’re sort of… missing a piece of last night, and hoping you can fill in the blanks.”

“Do you mean after your fight?” She asks, looking between the two of you.

You frown back at her. You and Aaron fought? That can’t be right. “What do you mean, our fight?”

And then Brooke fills you both in.

———

“Two for Hotchner, please. Or Aaron. Aaron Hotchner.”

Brooke looks up to see an older man standing over her, holding out a credit card. He’s got his arm around a woman- you, she later finds out- who isn’t tearing her eyes off of him, and Brooke guesses that they’re together.

“Yeah, sure thing. It’s going to be $9.50,” she says, and he hands over the credit card. The smell of alcohol is rolling off of both of you. It’s nothing unusual for this time of night in this part of town, so she runs the card and hands it back without comment.

“He’s Aaron,” you say to her, placing your left hand on the man’s chest. She notes the ring on your ring finger, and then the stain on his thigh once he steps back. You’re his fiancée, then, and it’s been a long night already. “Aaron Hotchner.”

“Okay. Well, you two can start right there,” she points over to the first hole and hands over two clubs and balls. “Just shout if you need anything. Uh, and be careful.”

The two of you stumble away, and Brooke watches you start to play for a moment before she grabs her phone. You’re the only people there, and though drunk, you seem relatively harmless, so she sits down behind the counter and starts shopping online.

She doesn’t look up for a while, until she hears the undeniable thud of a golf ball against skin, and “Sorry, sweet pea!”

When she does glance up, you’ve got your pants pulled down a couple of inches, exposing the waistband of a black thong and a patch of skin that you rub a hand over gingerly. “Y’all okay, Mr. Hotchner?” She calls out, and after the man gives her a thumbs up she turns her attention back to her phone.

There’s a good sale on shoes, especially one pair of heels she’s been eyeing, and she’d be adding them to her cart right now if you hadn’t distracted her by saying, “She called you Mr. Hotchner.”

“She did. Because that’s me,” Mr. Hotchner- Aaron?- explains, turning away from you to putt the ball.

“But she didn’t call me Mrs. Hotchner. Why can’t I be Mrs. Hotchner yet?”

“Well, you will be. After we get married.” He sinks the shot and grabs the ball, and you don’t move a muscle.

“You’re the one who keeps pushing back the wedding!” You raise your voice and drop your club, and it clatters to the turf.

Brooke has seen this about a hundred times in the two years she’s worked here. A little too much alcohol, some underlying tension, and the smallest thing can send people into a tailspin. She sets her phone down completely, trying to be subtle about watching the two of you over the counter.

Aaron, meanwhile, shakes his head like this is an argument he’s had a million times. “How do you expect me to pick a date when we get called out of town all the time?” He sounds a bit more frustrated now, his voice carrying easily up to the counter.

“David got married three times. Ask him how he managed, since you trust him so much more,” you snap.

“I talked to him about how to propose. Are you almost done holding that against me?” Aaron sets down his club next to yours. “If you want to set a date, go ahead. But it’s going to be a huge waste of money when we have to work that day.”

Usually, Brooke thinks, at least one person is drunkenly crying by now. That’s why she isn’t surprised when you speak next, and your voice is thick.

“Do you even want to get married?”

“What?” Aaron freezes completely. “How can you- of course I do. You know that.”

“You don’t want to pick a date, and the girls all think I’m going to be so old and boring, and we’re going to be engaged until we die,” you say, and Brooke watches as the man takes both of your hands in his own.

“You know what’s not old? Or boring?” He’s lowering his voice, and it’s a strain to hear.

Brooke misses his next words, but whatever he says perks you right up.

“Really?” You practically shout, throwing your arms around your fiancés neck. “Let’s do it!”

“Okay, okay. Come on.” Aaron pulls back and grabs your hand, stumbling towards the counter.

Brooke quickly pretends to busy herself with the register, hoping she wasn’t caught eavesdropping, until Aaron taps the counter with one large hand. “Hi. Can I help you?”

“Yes. My fiancée and I-” you cut Aaron off with a squeal of excitement, and he shushes you with a smile- “Need to get married. Right away. Is there a... a place where we could do that?”

There’s a legal office in the strip mall, but they’re definitely closed by now, so she shakes her head. “Nowhere that’s open,” she says apologetically.

“You don’t get it. If we don’t get married, we’re not gonna get married,” you insist, and Brooke doesn’t really have a response for that.

“She means it’s a special circumstance. We go on a lot of business trips,” Aaron explains. “We need to have a wedding. Tonight.”

“Legally, I don’t think that’s happening tonight,” Brooke says apologetically. As soon as she finishes speaking, an idea pops into her head. It’s got to be the stupidest idea she’s ever had, but you both seem like nice people. Albeit, nice people who had a few too many, but still. “What if you did a fake wedding instead?”

“A fake wedding! Yeah. Yeah, we can do that. Right, honeybear?” You ask, and Brooke watches Aaron for his reaction.

She bites back the sting of jealousy when Aaron says, “Of course we can, sweet pea,” and kisses you. Boys her age would never agree to something like this.

“Okay, y’all!” She claps once, then grabs two plastic water bottles. She takes the caps off both, grabs the little plastic rings from around the neck of the bottles. “Here are your rings. Just… go ahead, I guess.”

“Uh huh. Okay.” You take both rings from her and hand one to Aaron while he moves to stand across from you, holding both of your hands while swaying slightly on his feet. “Um… I’m nervous now,” you confess, and Aaron chuckles.

“Want me to go first?” He offers, and you nod. “Okay. Um…” he looks over at Brooke, squinting at her nametag. “Can we have a minute? This is going to be embarrassing,” he admits, and Brooke just laughs at that.

“Of course. I’ll be cleaning up the course, you two can take your time and shout if you need anything. And, uh, congrats,” she says, walking over to where your clubs were abandoned.

She keeps a safe distance, out of earshot but with an eye on you both, as she tidies the course and puts things back where they’re supposed to be and you say what she can only assume are sickeningly sweet drunk wedding vows. At one point she gets on the floor to grab a ball out of the windmill, and when she turns around, you’re both gone.

———

“That’s all I saw,” Brooke says. “I wasn’t even sure if y’all got home safe, but you left these behind.”

After a moment of searching under the register, she pulls out two plastic rings. You take them from her, clutching them both tight in one hand.

“Um, thank you. For everything,” you say softly, and she smiles and nods and waves politely while you go back outside.

You walk back to the car and drive in silence for a few minutes before Aaron speaks. “So, a wedding date,” he prompts, and you shake your head with a smile.

“I can’t believe we did that. But if we’ve got the vows out of the way, maybe we can just get it legalized and skip the whole wedding hassle,” you suggest, playing with the plastic ring that you’ve slipped onto a finger.

“Or, I’ve got another idea,” your fiancé says. “We don’t have to, of course, but it might be a nice alternative.”

And then Aaron fills you in.

———

“A toast!” Emily says, clinking her spoon to her champagne glass. “To SSA’s Honeybear and Sweet Pea Hotchner, with whom I am never drinking again. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” The BAU team and their dates all echo her from their various spots around Rossi’s garden. There are only a few snickers at the nickname, thank god, or you’d be holding your new husband back from demoting your friend.

“This was a good idea,” you commend him, tipping your champagne glasses together before taking a sip.

“Hey, hey, not too much of that.” Aaron gently pulls your champagne glass away. “Are you looking to repeat the other night with the honeymoon, this time?”

You let out a giggle, and turn to kiss him. One hand settles against the side of Aaron’s face, carefully avoiding the bruise shining on his cheekbone that has steadily shown up in the last day and a half. “Depends. Do you want to go to Europe, or somewhere tropical? I don’t care, as long as we’re gone for a month.”

“Don’t,” Aaron warns, but it’s through a snorted laugh. You both look up when hands land on your shoulder, only to see Dave standing between you.

“So,” he asks, “Are you kids having fun?”

Aaron nods and sips his champagne, leaving you to answer aloud.

“We are. Thank you for officiating, and helping us with this on such short notice.” You wave a hand around to the garden, which has tables and chairs and even a tent set up, and is strung with fairy lights throughout.

“Short notice?” Dave snickers and grabs himself a glass of wine from the bottle next to you. “We’ve had bets on when you’d do this for months. All of this has been ready in the garage since you got engaged.”

At both of your surprised expressions, he just chuckles. “You’re a part of the BAU! You’re never going to have more than a day’s notice for anything; how were you supposed to plan a wedding?” He walks away, still laughing under his breath as he goes to talk to Derek and Savannah.

“Zero privacy,” Aaron mutters to himself, one of his hands finding yours under the table. “We work with animals.”

“They’re not that bad,” you chastise, squeezing his hand in your own as you look out at your friends, all of them either gathered in small conversations or on the dance floor. “We’re lucky to have them.”

“We’d be lucky to have private nicknames. Or less bets placed on our relationship,” he counters, but you can see the way his gaze softens when he looks at Penelope and Spencer playing with JJ’s sons.

“Don’t be like that. I’ll make it up to you later,” you coax, turning again to kiss Aaron’s cheek, and then his jaw. “You know, JJ said that I’m never going to come out because I’ll be too tired, or I’ll have a sick baby, or something.”

Aaron watches as you take another sip of champagne. “So?” He asks, his voice going slightly deeper.

“So, there isn’t even a baby yet. But if you can be nice for a couple more hours, I’ll let you try to change that,” you tease, and Aaron’s hand tightens on yours. “What do you say, honeybear? Gonna give me a reason to stay home from girl’s night in a year?”

Aaron actually lets out a little groan at that, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it. In lieu of a wedding band because of the short notice, you’ve got a plastic bottle ring wrapping around your finger next to the engagement ring you’ve had on for months. “Sweet pea, I’ll give you a reason to never leave the house again,” he promises, low and husky.

You sigh dramatically at that. “I can’t believe the girls were right. I’m going to be an old, married woman. All boarded up, no time for my friends.”

“More time for me, then,” Aaron murmurs. You giggle, turning your attention back to watching your friends interact. This is one of the best nights of your life, and you would have never had it if you hadn’t had too much to drink and then spent a day unraveling the mysteries of the night before.

You never end up finding out why you swapped underwear.

—————

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its-malarkey · 7 months

Text

I’ve been randomly consumed by the concept of an LMK Gravity Falls AU (thanks to YouTube comments) Here’s what I’ve got so far:

MK- Dipper

Mei- Mabel

Macaque- Stan

Wukong- Ford

Red Son- Pacifica

DBK and PIF- the Northwest parents

Spider Queen- Gideon (I’m so sorry Queen 😔 but you do both build a mech and serve the main antagonist before turning against them and also exist mostly as a minor annoyance aside from your one big moment)

LBD- Bill

Sandy, Tang, and Pigsy all kind of vaguely fulfill the concept of Soos, Wendy, and Stan but not so much in a story manner

-MK finds the staff (which had been left behind much like the Journals, except Macaque left it where it was because he couldn’t lift it) and unlocks his powers in messy and chaotic ways so he and Mei train on FFM with Macaque

-Macaque is pretending to be the Monkey King, claiming he “started going by Mac around mortals, might be easier for all of us if you called me that too”

-MK and Mei get into various demon-related shenanigans thanks to MK being Monkey King’s successor. Macaque himself rarely shows up to help with those unless they’re in actual danger because he doesn’t want it getting out that the Monkey King is missing and that the Six-Eared Macaque is impersonating him

-Macaque: “I can’t lift the staff or use my Monkey King powers anymore because I passed them on to you. Heh, it’s okay, gold never was my color anyway”

-he and Wukong had their big falling out under the mountain, and after that, they didn’t see each other for ages. LBD grabbed a hold on Wukong’s mind during a thoughtless, impulsive move of his, and while she can’t quite possess him without her full power, she can feed his negative emotions and whisper thoughts into his head. He knows this and calls out to Macaque for help with “a curse” without explaining why (as usual)

-Macaque, the simp he is, arrives to help and immediately gets met with an LBDified angry Wukong ready to kill him. Mac, confused and upset, can’t keep up with a full-powered not-holding-back Wukong, and loses his eye. He panickedly pulls him into a shadow portal that he can’t control because his powers are going haywire with his panic and fear. He’s been dreading Wukong’s return, but in recent years, he’s gotten concerned and been trying to locate him because if Wukong hasn’t returned after this long, could he be… gone?

-Wukong chooses to spend time hunting down information on how to end LBD instead of returning, and he gathers the rings of Samadhi. He returns to FFM where he senses Mei (ya know, descendant of Ao Lie and all that), only to find Macaque fighting with a strange kid filled with Wukong’s own glowing light and power. Immediately assuming the worst, he jumps into the “fight” to stop it

-Mac is terrified, and Wukong is just terribly confused because he doesn’t know why he’s THAT afraid of him, the two haven’t even seen each other since their big argument… right?

-MK and Mei jump in to protect Mac and Wukong is, again, terribly confused

-MK: “Who the heck are you?”

Wukong: “Uh… I’m the Monkey King. You have my powers, don’t you know who I am??”

MK: “What? Nah, Mac’s the Monkey King”

(Macaque is very stealthily trying to escape)

Wukong, just befuddled: “Wh— no, I’m the Monkey King. Indisputably. Always have been.”

Mei, who was a little suspicious anyway but still liked Mac: “Prove it. Pick up MK’s staff.”

Wukong: (smirking) “Easy.” (It is in fact very easy) “See, kiddo?”

MK: (jaw-dropped, turning to Mac, who suddenly looks very guilty) “You LIED TO ME??”

Mac, rubbing the back of his neck: “Well—“

MK: “Dammit, I should’ve known Mac didn’t make any sense as a nickname. If you’re not Monkey King, who even are you??”

Wukong, before Mac can say anything: “His name is Macaque. Well, the Six-Eared Macaque is his full name, but— he’s definitely not the Monkey King. He’s a trickster, but,” (baring his teeth) “I never thought he’d stoop to stealing my identity.” (He looks at Macaque, who’s frozen) “Lazy identity theft, at that. What the hell have you been doing with my name, Macaque? Dammit, it’s been YEARS. How petty can you GET?!”

Macaque, finding his voice to be angry: “PETTY?! You TOOK MY EYE!”

-Wukong is, again, as always, confused because he would remember doing that… right? And Mac doesn’t elaborate and they continue bickering (with escalation) until Mei and MK break it up and explain what Macaque has been doing with them and how he hasn’t done anything evil and has, in fact, only been good

-Wukong settles down and decides he wants claim on training his successor which sparks an argument until they agree to compromise. Wukong, as typical, doesn’t tell anyone about the Samadhi fire. They end up bickering a lot during training

-LBD finds them anyway and starts the ritual and kidnaps Mei

-after getting Mei back, they have to all work together to beat her using the Samadhi fire, and they end up having to use it on her while she’s inside of a vessel that isn’t the child she was possessing (because no children murder). Macaque makes the sacrifice in Wukong’s place

-I’m not sure how it ends, but Macaque does come back :))

-the end, it’s 3:30AM and I have many more thoughts but am so so eepy

#lmk monkey king #lmk six eared macaque #lmk wukong #lmk mei #lmk sun wukong #lmk mk #au #alternate universe #lmk macaque #lego monkie kid

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13slovergirl · 2 years

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ft. Catsuki Bakugou, Shoto Todorokitty, Kittentoshi Shinso, Shota Aizawa

Summary: S/O gets a cat that suspiciously resembles them.

A 'small angry ball of adorableness' was the very first words you used to describe the new addition to the family. He caught on pretty quickly.

The light orange fluff ball hated you until you came home with some cat treats and toys that you patiently waited for him to take. Meanwhile, Katsuki was watching angrily as you sang compliments to the scared kitten.

"C'mere Cat-suki, it's okay!!!"

Yeah, he caught on.

Imagine how surprised he was when he gave in to your begging for him to give it a try and the kitty accepted the treat from his hand with barely any problem. And then the immediate 'annoyance' when he catches the smug look on your face.

You guys would have to give the cat over to his parents, but they don't mind too much.

He lays down in bed and the cute kitten jumps up onto him and lays on his stomach, head on his nice rack. After a few seconds of processing, he starts gently petting it. It's a bit awkward but the cat purrs nonetheless. The soft noise and repetitive movement starts slowly lulling him to sleep....

And then his mom walks in.

She never lets him live it down.

When you found an adorable and elegant long haired calico cat that had a gorgeous pattern vaguely resembling your lover's half n half, how could you not adopt it on the spot?

His first words when he sees it? "How are we going to keep it?"

I mean, yeah, it's valid. Very valid. Oh god how are you guys gonna keep it. Pets aren't allowed in the dorms and you don't think Principal Nezu is going to accept 'But Tokoyami lives in the dorms' as an excuse.

Eventually the two of you come up with a way to safely keep the cat outside of the school. It's a bit upsetting that you can't keep it in your dorm, but it's safer outside the school than inside.

Anyways, for a cat who YOU adopted, it really likes Todoroki. Cats just love him. I mean same but still.

If Todoroki wasn't a busy guy that cat would never move off his lap.

It probably would like to lay on his boobies when he's trying to sleep. And I bet you wish that was you.

I think that instead of getting therapy or 'bothering' you with his problems, he just talks to the cat. The cat doesn't care, more time with their favorite person in the world I guess.

"Have you decided on a name yet?" "What about Roki :D" ".....No." "Why not D:" "...That's my nickname :("

You did not make the choice to have this cat. Neither of you did, the cat chose you. The cute little Siamese cat laying on your porch was a manipulative bastard but the two of you had no option other to take care of it for the rest of your lives like a spoiled child.

He loves being able to sleep with the cat next to him while you're training/studying. He'd rather be doing what you're doing or cuddling with you, but you're insistent that he gets some much needed rest and ever since you started being with him while sleeping it's gotten harder to sleep without you.

The brat doesn't usually allow cuddling though, so he just has to settle for sleeping next to it.

Like Bakugou he figures out pretty quickly that you think him and the cat are very similar and he loves to tease you with it a bit.

He sees the cat curl up in your lap for a nice pillow? He rests his head in your lap in as similar of a place as the cat did. You mention how adorable it is when the cat rubs against you? He does the same. You coo at the cat when it headbutts your hand? He kisses the same spot.

If you don't catch on to his little hints he might just go out and buy some cat ears and a human-sized collar :]]]

It just so happened that a slightly older black cat with unkempt fur 'snuck' into Aizawa's classroom the same day that you planned on dropping some stuff off straight to his classroom. What a strange coincidence. None of the kids are able to keep the kitten in their dorms so I guess you two just have to keep it.

'Shota the Cat' became the class mascot and Aizawa hated it. Not the cat, just the fact the kids asked you if you could name the cat after him and you agreed. He hates hearing his name and turning to look at the person who said it, only for them to be talking about the cat.

But it's all worth it every morning and night when he sees you sleeping with the usually grumpy cat, knowing that he doesn't need to worry about you being lonely when he has to work. He doesn't admit it but he gets why you guys see him in the cat so much. He'd love nothing more than to be where the cat is.

No one's surprised anymore when he rolls up to school with the cat in his sleeping bag. However, after the first villain invasion he stopped. It's for the best that he stays home with you.

When the two of you get into a fight he likes letting you take Shota the Cat to bed and just get all your emotions out like that. The first time you did it was just a joke of 'I'm taking our child, I expect child support' but it turned into a simple way of calming down and resolving the issue faster. It also makes him feel better that you have a source of comfort.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x y/n #bakugou x y/n #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto x y/n #todoroki x y/n #shinso hitoshi x reader #shinso x y/n #shota aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo fanfiction #:{[ 13's lovergirl

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jackdup · 2 months

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@facsimila || cont.

“Yeah, no, that was more of, like . . . the royal ‘we’—? Like the . . . Well, speaking for all humans here, not, um . . . whatever you identify as.” Which he says rather distractedly, as with one hand holding his ECHO device, the other restlessly skates over the holster of his pistol, fingers drumming with bubbling nerves on the grip. Timothy’s gaze skirts across the genuinely pleased set of red eyes flashing up at him, and he adds as an afternote, “I do actually, y’know, need the map I was looking at, so if you could just”—a vague jerk of his thumb and a soft whistle breaks his speech—“that’d be super awesome.”

He’s not really telling her to make herself scarce. (Is it sad that she’s become somewhat of a comfort in her continuous presence . . . ? Okay, yeah. Possibly. Most likely. Definitely. But it looks better than him wandering around talking to himself.) It’s just that he’s aware—and she’s aware, which is probably why she’s making herself a semi-nuisance at the moment—she can easily communicate without taking up the entirety of his screen.

And, god, he forgot how much of a freakin’ craphole Eden-6 is.

You’d think, y’know, you’d really think that after years of being trapped in the dumpster fire that was the casino, immersing himself in the vast and endless . . . nature of this place would be revitalizing or something. No glaringly bright and obnoxious neon signs out here. No—okay, less—people around every corner trying to kill him for the offense of living at all. Just bloodthirsty and extremely hungry creatures, instead.

Tim pulls his face cover up farther over his nose and mouth as he creeps around a very suspicious-looking hole in a nearby tree’s roots.

“I’m just gonna . . . go out on a limb here and assume—because, I mean, really, why would you . . . Whatevs. I’m just saying, you’re lucky you don’t have a sense of smell right now.”

#facsimila #ミ★ « v: main (post bl3) »#ミ★ « prose »#bounces up and down excitedly while vibrating 8))))#we wING IT in this house!!#but i adore the idea of iris just being an AI presence with him ;)#how did he come by her ??? who tf knows #but she's there! timmy has someone to talk to! and that's all that matters #ty again so much for your beautiful response to the meme ;w;/ <3

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cbsghostsmetasandtrevor · 9 months

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CBS Ghosts - Pilot - Sam & Jay get a House

This is a scene that I previously skipped before. Spoilers may appear.

I, too, would be suspicious. How did the lawyer even find Sam?

Also, I love how the lawyer is just like "your relative died, here's your house."

So, Sam makes it clear that Sophie is her great-aunt. This means that Sam's grandmother or father is Sophie's sibling, which means that Hetty is a grandmother (with however many greats) to Sam. I know the show has been shaky on this, but it's the only thing to make sense given they've never been shaken about Sophie as a great-aunt.

So, I like that we get a David mention - we don't know yet that he's connected to one of the ghosts (more than being a relative), that ghost which directly connects to her ability because without him she would never get.

David a key to what happens here in the pilot, so I like that he gets that vague mention 'a son that died years ago'. I do have to wonder why Sam seems to know so little about her relatives.

Anyway, David and Lawyer come back later on, and it's very interesting how he gets a mention here. I would love to know more.

Okay, two things - Sam is definitely impulsive. But the bigger thing here is that she practically already decided that she was going to move there. Like it's pretty clear that she must be unhappy in the city and that she really wants to move. This is her chance to jump!

More proof that she's SO READY to be done with the city. The SECOND that he gives her an option that makes sense for them to possibly make the mansion work - she's like Lets DO it. Which is hilarious and say so much about how impulsive she is and how unhappy she is in the city. Her statements and quick assurances that they can do it, says SO much.

I love how her argument is at least somewhat sound, but I just bought a house and she has no idea how much work it'll need or ANYTHING about running a B&B (which is still true two years later because they're bad business people).

Anyway!

Aw, Jay. You give in to easily. But at least he's willing to see it.

Sam's already made up her mind, which is hilarious.

LMAO - Jay's got some kind of premonition with assuming that the house "must have something wrong with it". Also, one minor thing - but the house LOOKS SO MUCH BETTER than it actually is. Exactly why you see things in person.

Last note - I love the zoom into the house, it changing to the run-down part and then finding themselves with Trevor's Story to the Ghosts.

Love it! Feel free to chat!

#ghosts cbs #cbs ghosts #pilot #sam arondekar #jay arondekar #Lawyer dude

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teenyweenyeenymeeny · 1 year

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parallel play 🤍

headcanons. once again:

This is pretty related to the last one I did of the play date Attempt with Yoosung so perhaps check the headcanons I wrote out there for context for these ones!

I think that V is the first person to notice Jumin regresses and do something about it! He can tell that something is off with him sometimes (if Jumin starts feeling fuzzy when Not at home he will go home and cancel all his plans for the day like in his route when he thinks Elizabeth III is in danger. Perhaps something like that happened when he was with V but I don’t know) and also since Rika used to be Yoosung’s caregiver, he would be at least vaguely familiar with age regression and perhaps he would suspect Jumin of it!!

I think V would know that approaching Jumin directly about the topic would not end well and so he tries to think of how to support him without actually saying he knows something is wrong. The solution he comes up with iiiiis

Victoria III!

She is a stuffed cat who looks very much like Elizabeth III :) V gives her to Jumin and tells him she can be a friend for Elizabeth III (“… or anyone else who may need a friend”) because what if she got lonely when Jumin was at work! Oh no! And I think Jumin was a bit suspicious of why V would give him this but he accepts her anyway, although gets really embarrassed about owning her. He doesn’t have any regression gear because he refuses to indulge that part of himself but Victoria III is definitely a childish thing to own even if she is “Elizabeth III’s”. She probably ends up going in Drawer Of Shame.

When Jumin can’t hide his regression anymore, though, Victoria III becomes a comfort object for him and he takes her everywhere he goes when little and gets really upset if people touch her without asking or something similar.

Also he is relieved to have her because he always likes to hold Elizabeth III and stroke her fur and he was always concerned that he may accidentally hug her too tight and squish hat or something but Victoria III wouldn’t mind being squished!!

Onto more specific rather than background >:)

Jumin’s play date with Yoosung was okay, but it was not very catered to him. When V tells him he’s welcome to come and regress with him, Jumin agrees and hopes it will be better than with Yoosung (not that the way Yoosung regresses is a problem of course it is just different to how Jumin does and can be overwhelming. But V understands Jumin better and so he should be able to plan small time with Jumin’s needs in mind) and it is! V both realises that Jumin doesn’t need a whole lot of coddling most of the time and also that if he’s going to do an activity, he needs a specific goal in it. For example, he can do little puzzles, but if he was expected to play pretend, he would just get anxious and sit quietly without doing anything.

V is also the only human that Jumin doesn’t feel like he needs to wear a mask around! Mostly because they are so so close.

Also, as part of that but also separately, Jumin doesn’t feel as Perceived when he’s with V because of his poor eyesight. He doesn’t feel so much like he is being watched because he knows V can’t see very well but doesn’t like that he appreciates that. He feels complicated about his own feelings on V’s eyes and doesn’t let them cloud the fact that he still only wants the best for V’s health and quality of life.

Uhhh that is all for now :)

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whumpcloud · 1 year

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Pretty

direct continuation of delirium (but you don't have to read it to understand)

taglist: @suspicious-whumping-egg @gala1981 @whump-in-the-moonlight @ohwhumpydays @morning-star-whump

content: captivity whump, lady whumper, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee, beatings, choking, begging, burning, references to self-harm via burning, references to suicide and murder, very brief reference to being buried alive, threats of beating & breaking bones & being left outside, smoking

He doesn't regret it, even with Ophelia's hands wrapped around his throat.

"Lia," Nicolas wheezes, "let him g-go. Fucking shit."

Derian clutches at the grass. He can feel Ophelia's nails scratching into his skin.

"You know the only reason you aren't dead, pretty boy?" Ophelia hisses. "Because Nicky doesn't want me to kill you. Remember that the next time you lay your fucking hands on him."

"Mhm," is all Derian manages to get out.

Ophelia lets him go, and Derian curls up on the grass and takes the sort of breath that makes him feel as though his lungs are going to burst. He can hear Nicolas gently waving Ophelia away and mumbling "I'm fine"s until she lets him be.

Derian is pulled to his feet by his shirt.

"That was pretty brave," Nicolas smiles, and Derian realises just how much he hates Nicolas' stupid smile.

Well, he already went for it once.

He doesn't have the advantage of complete surprise this time, but he still manages to kick Nicolas in the knees hard enough that Nicolas drops him. Ophelia is on him in an instant, slamming his head back into the ground. He only whimpers from the force.

"I didn't put my hands on him," Derian breathes.

The next minute or so is a red blur. Derian is vaguely aware of Ophelia screaming at him, but he's more aware of the blood flying from his face. He barely even registers the impact of being beaten. Just blood.

"-enough, that's enough," he hears Nicolas say, though he sounds far away. "Come on, Lia. You had your fun."

Ophelia says something in response, but Derian doesn't hear it. It doesn't matter. Derian weakly pushes himself to his elbows and coughs out the blood congealing at the back of his throat. Nicolas kicks his boot into Derian's chest without even looking, and Derian wheezes and buckles back onto the grass.

"There we are," Nicolas says softly. "Breathe out."

Ophelia exhales, and unclenches her fists. "Okay. I'm okay."

"Good, 'cause you're patching him up."

"But you're better at it!"

"But I have work." Nicolas folds his arms. "You like eating, yeah?"

"Shut up," Ophelia mutters.

Nicolas laughs and punches her in the shoulder. "I'm teasing. Go on, drag him back inside. I'll see you later."

Derian whimpers softly as Ophelia pulls him to his feet. His head lolls forward, and more blood drips onto the grass. He feels like a ragdoll. But he fought. He smiles through bloody teeth.

He's dumped on the sofa, and while Ophelia gets the first-aid kit, he gingerly touches the skin around his eye. He bites his lip. He must look like a wreck.

"I think you annoyed him," Ophelia says, and Derian glares up at her. "Don't shoot the messenger, pretty boy, I'm only stating a fact. Burying you did the opposite of what he wanted."

"That's his fault," Derian says.

"Yeah, I mean, I was going to throw you from the roof, but he was worried you'd break your neck."

Derian genuinely wonders, sometimes, if she means anything she says, or if she's just so used to threatening people that she doesn't realise she's doing it.

Ophelia kneels down in front of him so she can clean his face without having to hold his head up. She seems to be listening for something. They both hear the minivan start up, and skid down the road.

"Hey," Ophelia says suddenly. "You wanna smoke?"

Derian looks up from his hands. "What?"

"Wanna smoke?" Ophelia repeats. "You did before, unless you were just wasting all the cigarettes you used to burn yourself. And if you tell Nicky I smoke I'll break your legs with a hammer."

"Got it," Derian mumbles. "And… yeah."

He winces. Ophelia isn't gentle wiping the blood from his face, but she's normal about it. Derian is starting to almost prefer her to Nicolas. He flinches a little just imagining Nicolas' hands.

When she's done, grabs a rope, ties it around Derian's wrist, and pulls him outside, even though he follows willingly. She ties it to a metal loop in the wall, then produces a pack of cigarettes from her dress pocket.

Derian hates that he missed smoking. He's always wanted to quit, just never "got around to it" as he kept saying. But of course it isn't the real reason. It never is.

He leans back against the wall as he blows smoke into the air. He relaxes, in a way he hasn't done since being brought here. Ophelia folds her arms. Neither of them say a word, for a little while.

"Who were you?" Ophelia asks. "Before we took you?"

Derian flinches in surprise, then looks over to her. "What do you… mean?"

"What did you do, what did you like, that sort of shit," Ophelia shrugs. "I mean, I know you were a dancer and you had a boyfriend. That's it."

Derian narrows his eyes. "Why the sudden interest?"

Ophelia sighs. "Just answer the question."

"There's nothing else to say." He focuses his eyes on the ground. "That's all there is."

"Then why'd you burn yourself?" she asks.

Derian's grip tightens. "I don't have to tell you fucking anything. Why do you even care?"

She shrugs. "Can't we have a civil conversation?"

His head snaps around to look at her. "You want me to be fucking civil?"

"Okay, better idea." Ophelia blows smoke into Derian's face. "Have a civil conversation with me, or I'll beat you with a tire iron."

He swallows, coughing softly, and turns away from her again. "F-Fine. What do you wanna know?"

Ophelia gestures vaguely. "Family?"

"Dad," Derian mumbles. "Mom died when I was a kid. Only child."

"How'd she die?"

"Killed herself."

"Mm." Ophelia fidgets. "So did ours. I don't remember though."

"Oh." Derian awkwardly kicks the wall. "Any other parents?"

"Nicky killed our dad when I was eleven," Ophelia says nonchalantly. "Don't tell him I know. He acts like I'm still a kid sometimes. He won't admit it when I ask him."

Ophelia, without a weapon in her hand, without the anger that Derian is used to, comes off as very normal. He isn't that surprised. There was always going to be a moment like this, where he had to remind himself that they're the same people who would've killed him if he hadn't begged. It unsettles him all the same.

"Did he deserve it?" Derian asks.

Ophelia nods. "Yeah. You think we're bad? He was worse."

"And you hurt people anyway?" Derian raises an eyebrow.

"It's fun." She shrugs. "We don't pretend like we're any good for it. Dad did. So Nicky snapped."

Derian looks up into the clouds. "Do you think I'll snap?"

Ophelia laughs, a genuine, soft laugh. "Nah. You haven't got it in you. Nicky was always like that. Both of us were. If it wasn't Dad, it would've been someone else. You're too nice."

"Nice." Derian exhales. "I'm an asshole. I was an asshole before. That's why I burned myself. 'Cause I fucking hated being one."

"Yeah, you're an asshole, Derian." Ophelia sighs and shakes her head. "Doesn't matter. You couldn't kill anyone, is the point. You're actually a good person."

Derian shouldn't be taking a murderer's word for it. But he isn't going to tell her she's the only person to ever say that without him forcing them to. Charlie never meant it - she would only tell him that once they'd stopped fighting and Derian was crying into her shoulder, pleading for forgiveness.

He has nothing to lose by believing it, he supposes. Or at least believing Ophelia means it. Derian has never thought of himself as a good person, in that horrible, desperate way where he needs everyone to reassure him that he is, despite knowing he'll never agree.

He's dragged from his thoughts by a burning sensation in the side of his neck and Ophelia's hand holding him in place. It's a familiar pain, but it forces a whimper from him, which seems to be enough.

"Sorry," Ophelia smirks. "I needed to put out my cigarette. Should I put out yours as well?"

Derian shakes his head, slapping his hand over the burn. "N-No! Don't. Please."

"Please," Ophelia repeats, leaning in closer. "I love it when you beg."

"I know," Derian hisses.

Ophelia punches him in the stomach, stepping back so she can watch him double over in pain, and stamps out his cigarette on the grass. She pauses, then makes a non-committal sound.

"I thought about leaving you out here for a minute, but that would be kind of boring." Ophelia rests her fingers over Derian's throat. "Beg me not to, though."

There it is again. Uncertainty.

"And if I don't?" Derian dares.

"I'll beat you and then leave you out here." Ophelia smiles, with the sinister edge Derian's come to expect. "I think there's a storm tomorrow."

Derian takes a breath, and glances aside. "Please don't."

"You can do better than that, pretty boy," Ophelia says, palm pressing against his Adam's apple. "I know you can."

"P-Please," Derian says again, unable to stop himself from stammering. "Don't- don't leave me out here. Please."

Ophelia purses her lips. "Nope, not doing it for me."

It's always strangulation that she falls back on. Derian scratches at her with his free hand, but it doesn't seem to bother her at all. She presses him against the wall, leaving him no room to kick or struggle, and only lets go when tears well up in his eyes.

Derian stumbles, but braces himself. There's always bruises around his throat now, but he isn't going to kid himself and pretend that it makes it any better. It hurts the same.

"Try begging now," Ophelia says.

"Please," Derian rasps, still trying to catch his breath. "P-Please don't leave me out here."

Derian flinches as Ophelia leans in again, close enough to whisper in his ear. "I know you're sick of hearing it, but damn, you're pretty."

It keeps him alive, being pretty, and suffering. If he ever, ever escapes, he'll start burning his face instead of his chest.

#polly's prose #derian rodriquez #nicolas wainwright #ophelia wainwright #whump #whump writing #captivity whump #if theres any mistakes no there isnt. i am about to get five hours of sleep #athazagoraphobia

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