#but now he's like. an intern or some shit in the courthouses

[mar-im-o]

In my high school creative writing class we did a character exchange exercise and the dude reviewing my piece looked me in the eye and said it didn't seem realistic for my main character to be black, queer, and autistic

I'm black, queer, and autistic

#everytime i make an intersectional character now i think about him #oh **** ****** #he's a republican now #well he always was #but now he's like. an intern or some shit in the courthouses #so he's dangerous #writing #intersectionality #poc #black #actually autistic #creative writing #queer

[mondaymelon]

first time in this account lol Idk if you're taking requests but I saw that post some minutes ago and... Idk, wanted to request something lol, if you didn't do it yet! What about headcanons with a reader who doesn't show physical attention until some years of knowing them? Like, they know each other for about 5 years and just then the reader decides to do some small act of physical affection... I wanted the headcanons to be with Childe, Arlecchino, Wanderer and Furina! If you can <3

₊˚ෆ 𝐈𝐅 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔… | childe, wanderer, arlecchino, furina x gn!reader

( childe's part might be a little ooc. havent done that part of the archon quest yet cries. also mwah arlecchino we love her in this household !! )

[ You were always someone who wasn’t fond of physical attention. Fleeting touches and kisses to the cheeks were never your forte, yet what should happen if the lover you’ve had for years is suddenly on the receiving end of such affections? ]

"physical affection... ah- it's okay if you can't show that to me, there's plenty of other ways to tell that you love me!"

CHILDE was the one to say those words to you, and the held the most certain truth. You were his lover, and a hug or two couldn't sway the fact! While the harbinger is quite the puppy and often yearns for your warmth, he'll respect your boundaries and allow you whatever. A lover like Childe places your happiness as a priority over his, wanting more to see your eyes sparkle than his own.

"Love, you wouldn't believe what happened in the courthouse today." You glance up from your spot where you're curled up on the couch, snuggled into a fluffy blanket and holding a warm drink in your hands, one of Inazuma's light novels sitting on the armrest. You hear the door to the two of you's home shut and lock, and listen to... Childe's footsteps. How strange, is he stumbling?

Glancing up, you internally gape at the cuts on his body, your eyes instantly drawn at the red splattered across his features. "'Taglia, what hap-"

He lets out a dry chuckle, grinning sheepishly as he rids his shoes at the door. "No worries, the blood isn't mine. Most of it, at least. I managed to get out of there in time, so all's well, yeah?"

As if that'd provide you any comfort. You narrow your eyes, glaring at him unyieldingly, until Childe has no choice but to force out another tasteless chuckle. "Come on now, I'm home, so let's do something fun instead of just being mad at me, 'kay?"

"Tartaglia."

The man flinches, his deep ocean eyes rounding. When you call him that and not his nickname, he knew that he had landed himself in deep shit. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry." He says that, but the sentence rounds up in a change of his tone, sounding almost suspiciously like a question. "It won't happen aga-"

The world itself seems to stop.

Your head is buried into his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. Archons, can you hear how fast his heart is beating? You've made him into a complete and utter mess. He's blushing, his ears practically on fire, and any thoughts once in his brain have been seared away in single second. It takes him to the count of three to remember how to breathe once more, his chest erratically heaving up and down as his shaking arms wrap around you hesitantly, wondering if it'd be okay to do so.

"...Love?"

"Mhm?"

"I- I thought you-"

"If it's with you, I'm okay."

Oh, how those words tug at his heart. You look so perfect in his arms - yes, you looked simply perfect all the time, he'd admit in a split-second. The messy nest of hair atop your head when you woke up in the early mornings, the dark bags under your eyes when you didn't sleep until late at night, your smile, your laugh, even your scowl. It silenced any effort to not fall in love with you.

A smile tugs at his lips. A bright one, a warm one, if that was even possible. Perhaps his eyes are shining with tears, or perhaps it was merely a trick of light, but he holds you all the closer, not wanting to let you go.

"Love, I... Archons, I don't think I'd be able to love anyone but you." ₊˚ෆ

"..great. i don't want your filthy hands on me anyways, so there shouldn't be a problem, hm?"

WANDERER's words were just that, would it kill him to be a little nicer? It didn't matter... you knew your lover well, or at least well enough to tell that what he said wasn't the complete truth.

Sure, you had seen him shrug off and make expressions of disgust directed towards particularly touchy people that he'd become somewhat acquainted with. And you most certainly had witnessed his frustrated outbursts and rants when he returned home to your shared abode, whining and grumbling about any trivial error someone had made - that is, brushing fingers with him while passing him papers. Something that couldn't exactly be avoided, yet he had glared at the wall for a good amount all the same.

Ah, but then there were moments when he thought you weren't looking, and that was when his eyes would drink you in. Grazing over your eyes, to your lips, then to your hands, where'd they linger on your fingers for perhaps longer than they should.

And you'd catch the times where you were inclined to say something flirtatious - words that were never all that flirtatious in the first place, Wanderer just happened to be unusually susceptible. Chin resting on your hand, eyes staring into his, you'd say something about how pretty he was, and then he'd just about go into neurogenic shock, likely not speaking to you the rest of the day, the tips of his ears, if one squinted to a certain extent, pink.

"Love." You glance up at him, a slight pout fixed on your lips. He'd been immersed in minor tasks, and those pesky things were what stole his attention away from you. An ironic twist of fate, as you were usually the one to be drowning in work, and he'd be the one practically begging for affection.

He hums, yet doesn't even bother to look at you.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

"No."

"Go get something to eat?"

"No."

"Visit the... House of Daena?"

"No."

"Shall we feed the finches?"

A slight pause. "...No."

"Then... let's hold hands?"

He froze at your words, and it seemed that the male lost the function of inhaling, for he sat there unmoving for what seemed like hours, his expression petrified in its form of his large eyes, raised eyebrows, and mouth slightly ajar.

"...Excuse me?" It seemed that he doubted his own ears, for he set his work aside and fixed his focus upon you, fingers trembling just the slightest.

"Hmph, have you suddenly forgotten how to think?" You frowned, yet your eyes curved into crescents all the same, and Wanderer felt his breath hitch at how ethereal you were. The sly fox you were, you took his moment of shock, settling by his side and intertwining your fingers with his. "Like this, is it not?" You were smiling now, and for the first time you glimpsed the red on his ears, but now on his face too, a rosy red descending upon his cheeks.

"What's..." Perhaps you were right. His vocabulary had suddenly dwindled, and now he had nothing but questions - that, and the growing warmth in his chest. "What do you think you're doing right now?"

Whatever attempt he had to sound "mean" had failed. You knew him too well for that. "Holding hands, what else? Your hands are cold you know-" And at that he flinched. "But it feels nice."

D...Did it really?

"You, no... love, let's stay like this. You're... warm." ₊˚ෆ

"when you sought me, i thought it'd be a serious matter. there's no trouble in it, truly, so there's no need to look so dejected."

ARLECCHINO hadn't even batted an eye. Was there a reason to? Yes, this certainly crossed off any thought of romantic couple things like kissing and hand holding, but it wasn't like she'd gasp dramatically and fall to the ground, blaming you for setting boundaries-

As if she'd ever. Your imagination was running wild today, perhaps it was the lack of sleep finally catching up to you? It was a stark contrast compared to Arlecchino, who went days without rest, shuffling through paper after paper on her desk and constantly relaying messages to her subordinates. She was a hard worker - a trait most easily overlooked, but it was a point of adoration for you. A point among many. Arlecchino was an easy person to love, despite the bristling thorns she'd show at first glance.

"Darling, a cup of tea, please?" Her gaze flicked up from her work to you, a thin smile decorating her lips. It was more a less a habit the two of you established - that is, pouring her tea. Her favorite cup was the one you had gifted her when you first started your relationship, shaded in a dark hue and embellished with roses, their blooms, petals, and thorny branches spreading across the expanse of porcelain. You placed said cup on her desk with a breath of satisfaction, tilting you head in questioning at the unusual amount of papers on her desk.

"Arle, did something happen?"

She merely chuckled to herself, her eyes shining with delight. "Ah, why don't you wager a guess?" You were her "subordinate" of sorts, although your true association was far more intimate. You knew of her plans with Fontaine, and helped carry them out. She revered your loyalty, but your warmth far more.

"...Has the hydro gnosis been secured?"

She snapped her fingers in one swift motion, her small smile widening into a true one that played across her ruby lips. "Correct, I'd expect nothing less of someone as capable as my lover."

"Then, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet..."

"They've done well." It'd be hard to forsake the note of pride in her voice. Setting down the sheets in her gloved hands, she stood from her seat slowly, letting her eyes scan over your body. "You've asked your question, now shall I ask mine? Darling, I did quite well myself, did I not?"

Her expectant gaze read one thing, but instead of the usual quality time spending the two of you'd share, this time, you had rather differing plans. Smiling, you walked up to her, not letting the way her eyes sparkled just the slightest escape your sight. Promptly, sneakily, you flung yourself upon her, beaming as your hands found refuge winding about her torso, nearly instantly trapping her into your death hug. "You did, Arle~!"

"..." At her silence, you glanced up, only to be met with a sight that drew blush upon your own cheeks. Her usually composed, mystery-shroud features were now conflicted with crossing emotions... of what, however, was rather indecipherable. Arlecchino was a person of many masks, yet now it seemed that her "mask" displayed but one thing - love.

"Darling, I... you look perfect in my arms, so shall we stay like this a moment longer?" ₊˚ෆ

"is that so? a trivial matter, is it by law that i must hold you in my arms in order to prove my love for you?"

FURINA's multicolored irises and teardrop pupils twinkled, their shine dancing on the moonlit breeze. A hand daintily held a teacup, its fragrant contents swirling about the porcelain basin. Her laugh accompanied the cool evening wind, and she fluttered her eyes shut in a smile that brightened her expression. "Come now, why so shocked? Wouldn't this be expected from someone as benevolent as I?"

It was a scene that would remain forever painted in your mind, like a beautiful mural that one's eyes could not possibly forsake. The way her mouth tugged upwards and the manner in which her eyes curv-

"Hey, are you even listening to me right now?" A familiar voice tugged you out of your reminiscence of the confrontation months prior. Furina displayed a childish frown on her lips, her partly furrowed eyes sharpening her gaze into a rather particular one.

Oh, lost in thought once more. You let out a soft sigh, nodding sheepishly. "Yes, love, I am.."

"Mhm..." Your words left a no, you clearly aren't!" Furina sat up, her intensifying discontentment apparent on her features. "I said I got you access to front ticket seats to the hottest new court case! You know, the one involving the robbery... the one that's quite literally got the entire Steambird in a chokehold? Yet, you're not excited in the slightest!?" She sounded offended, and she likely was, for her cheeks were flushed the slightest in rash frustration and her narrowed eyes creased at their corners. "Appreciate my efforts, why don't you?"

"Appreciate" indeed.

Ah, but was a sudden, tight embrace overshooting it? For she tensed in your arms, her frame absolutely suspended in your hold, her slack jaw giving the slightest tremor. "Mon amour, just w-what are you-?"

"Come now, Furina, am I not permitted to hug my own lover now?" The jesting in your voice faded as the sarcastic grin on your face formed a smaller, more genuine one. "I'm... ah, I'm okay, if it's with you. I'll be okay."

She paused at your words, contemplation of them flashing in her gaze, and let out a gratified exhale. "Then..." she nearly melted in your embrace, leaning her head into your arms compliantly.

"Don't you dare think I've forgotten about your previous transgression, but... ah, it can be forgiven, can't it, mon amour?" ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) hc hc hc hc furina calls youfrench petnames because french oui oui baguette.. AHEM my sincerest apologies to any french or french speakers...

REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! please consider following me as i amm soosososoo close to a follower goal ive been wanting to reach and itd be crazy if i could reach it before christmas!!!

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

#★ ˎˊ˗ mondaymelon #astronetwrk #favoniuslibrary #x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin x you #childe x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #arlecchino x reader #furina x reader #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #tartaglia x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche x you #scara x reader #childe x you #wanderer x you #genshin impact imagines #genshin #childe genshin #wanderer genshin #furina genshin #arlecchino genshin #genshin impact drabble

[ashesoriley]

Ok what Adaine and Riz got married for some fucking scholarship so they can go to school and they do like a courthouse wedding. They did not tell anyone because it is in fact a scam and they don't want to get it revoked

Then Fig finds out and insists on throwing a huge fucking reception at Seacaster Manor which is An Issue because now they have to pretend and they are both gay in the wrong direction

So Gorgug genuinely believes them and is congratulating them

Fabian is throwing a bitch fit in the corner and will not admit to himself why. He's covering by saying things like " well I wanted to be your best man the ball I can't believe you didn't tell me" meanwhile he's consumed with jealousy

Kristen knows why she's upset and thinks she's lost her chance with Adaine and is drowning her sorrows and getting incredibly drunk.

So now later in the party three things happen simultaneously

1: Kristen goes up to Fig very drunk and is like ":) you wanna know a secret:) I'm in love with adaine hiccup and I never told her:((" and just wanders off

2: Gorgug goes up to Adaine and Riz and very sincerely congratulations them. Adaine is feeling incredibly guilty because they are scamming and her very nice friends threw this incredible party and she spills the beans to Gorgug

3: Raug goes to talk to Fabian who's had a few drinks and asks him how he's doing and Fabian goes on about how he wanted to be there at his wedding and be his best man and he wants the best for him in life. And Raug is like hmmm. And asks him how he really feels about Riz. And Fabians like I dream of kissing him in the moonlight but that's just what bros do. And Raugs like hmmmm dude I think you're in love with the ball. And Fabians like nuh uh and internally piecing shit together and panicking about it

Anyway Fig is in the trenches finding out about this when Raug wanders up like: "uhhhh we have a problem". And there's a terrible 10 minutes until Gorgug wanders up like "did everyone know it was a scam:(?" And suddenly everything clicks together.

The tone of the party has now changed as suddenly they split up to make them admit their feelings.

Zelda and Gorgug both split up to get Kristen and Adaine and suggest they go out to the garden together and make a romantic setting and they confess their feelings and it's all very sweet.

At the exact same time Raug and Fig have locked Fabian and Riz in a closet and are chanting confess. Riz eventually cracks and admits it's a scam and Fabians like :D that's terrible:D

So a little while later Kristen and Adaine wander in holding hands and Riz shouting from the closet "it's over Adaine they know" and shes like "are u gonna finally tell Fabian you like him then?" She didn't know he was in the closet too. And Fabians like what??? And Raugs like "I told you it was mutual!" Riz bolts out of the closet determined to start a new life stealing Figs skateboard to go faster. Fabian is now chasing him on the hangman desperately shouting his feelings as they run. The hangman giving unhelpful commentary. Eventually they have a nice conversation and get on the same page.

The real challenge is the next day getting everyone else at the party on the same page

#fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fabriz #riz x fabian #kristen applebees #adaine abernant #fabian seacaster #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #fig faeth

[thefanficmonster]

Can I request a fluff Drabble or smth with Connor Walsh where he’s struggling with a case and than his 4-6 year old kid points out something about the case that helps Connor solve it and he’s just really proud of them?<333

Aww sure thing, darling! Enjoy the drabble 💕

Father-son relationship: Connor & Child Character [How To Get Away With Murder]

Warnings: None :)

Genre: Domestic/Family Fluff

Summary: see request above

This was the type of case that got everyone fuming. Literally everyone. Yes, even the too-cool-to-care Frank. How did Annalise pick this one out of all the cases that she rifled through this week? It's almost as though she wanted to make them suffer because she dropped the case on the K5 and hasn't made an attempt to help them ever since. She proclaimed she had some work of her own to do therefore wouldn't tolerate anyone trying to bother her.

That's left the five students with plenty of research work to do, work they inevitably caved and started taking home with them. It's a guessing game how much of it they actually get done with all the distractions they have at home, but unlike the others, Connor gets a pass for that one. Rightfully so, because the man has a lot more responsibility than his colleagues.

He has a toddler to be looking after all on his own while his partner is on a trip provided by the establishment where they've been interning.

"Alright buddy, it's you and me against this fu...." Connor cuts himself off on time, "...damn case. Come on."

With that, he sits the five-year-old in his lap, turning the TV to a cartoon channel as to keep his son entertained while he rifles through a few more files before calling it a night and turning to watch cartoons himself.

He's just flipped to the page of the file with the press-taken pictures of the day of the first trial taken outside the courthouse. Most of them have captured the plaintiff and the defendant along with his previous lawyer.

Basically, this man's wife is suing him for supposedly embezzling portion of her half of their joint company's income. He's sworn up and down to every tabloid, every journalist and even everyone in the Keating office that he's had nothing to do with the embezzlement that has been proven to actually be taking place behind the scenes.

As Connor's reading the recounts of what went on before, during and after that trial, a little finger lands on top of the attached picture up above the typed out writing.

Looking up, Connor chuckles to himself, seeing that his son is pointing to the bright red jacket the defendant's wife - or now presumably ex-wife, is wearing. "You like that jacket huh?"

Turning the page, he's met with the pictures of the second trial that happened within months of the previous and was the last one the defendant attended with that lawyer who claimed he was a lost cause and dropped him before her career could get ship-wrecked. Why he waited four months before contacting Annalise is a mystery but, if Connor's to be asked, he believes the man is actually guilty. They've brought up too much concrete evidence for him not to be. And he knew that. But he's now restored his determination to not pay the large sum he'll be owing his wife (ex-wife) if she wins the lawsuit.

As he's reading through the recounts, his son once again takes it upon himself to point at one of the pictures that are pinned at the top of the document. His dad has an idea of what he's pointing at before he even looks up, "Ok, ok, I promise to get you that jacket for your next birthday." It's only after he looks up that he realizes that although his son's pointing at the same jacket as before, it now resides on a different body - the attorney's.

"Wait a second..." He mumbles, aware that he's grasping at straws here. There's a big possibility they both own the same or similar jacket. Which is exactly why he quickly flips back to the previous pictures to compare the two.

It's the exact same jacket. It's the same fucking jacket, holy shit!

An emblem of the designer on the bottom of the right side - check!

An identical seemingly cigarette burn mark on the left sleeve - check!

An indent in the leather around the collar - check!

"Oh my fucking God! They were working together!" Not minding his vocabulary anymore, Connor carefully picks up his son and sets him down on the couch next to the file as he dashes to grab his phone and dial Frank. While it's ringing, he makes a point to kneel before his son and give him a kiss on the forehead, "You, sir, just saved your dad's life. You're getting ice-cream tonight."

"You're buying me ice-cream, Walsh?" Frank, who picked up a moment sooner than Connor expected, says with upmost confusion.

"No, but I think I just solved your case. Sorry, we just solved your case." He quickly corrects himself before sharing a high-five with his son.

#how to get away with murder fanfic #how to get away with murder #connor walsh #connor walsh fanfic #connor walsh x you #connor walsh x reader #connor walsh fanfiction #connor walsh x y/n #connor walsh fic #connor walsh headcanons #connor walsh imagine #connor x you #connor x reader #connor fanfiction #connor fanfic #connor imagine #htgawm #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fuff #reader #x reader #headcanons #drabble #request

[noperopesaredope]

My New Fic

So, for a while now, I have had a weird hyperfixation on a somewhat obscure movie series: A Christmas Prince, which has a fandom of about 3 people at most. Recently, I mentioned in the comments section of this video that I had written a fanfic for it as a 14 year old. I got quite a few replies requesting the link to this fanfic, so I decided to look for it in my old drafts. 

I couldn’t find a full version (and I’m pretty sure I barely finished it anyways), but I did find a pretty through outline for the fic and a few scenes. I can remember a lot of my old plans about it, so I decided to rework some stuff, write some of it out, and start posting it on my AO3. 

So far, the first chapter is not great. That is because I needed to build things up, and because I only have so much to work with. But I have been trying my best, and I think it’s going to get a lot better over time. So here is a preview of the first chapter in case you are interested:

Out of everyone in his family, Count Simon of Aldovia was quite possibly the single most obnoxious royal imaginable. He was a man born into a high status, and he owned that fact, flaunting his place as second-in-line the same way a peacock flaunts its tail. As his father once said, “power is everything, so take as much of it as you can.” To get anywhere in life, you must be willing to do whatever it takes to get to the top. Being second-in-line wasn’t quite the top, but it was close, and therefore he had to cling to that title like his life depended on it. In some ways, it really did.

Which is why it really fucking sucked when Simon found himself stripped of his titles and disowned by everyone in his entire family.

And it was even worse when, after being married for just two weeks, his wife- sorry, his EX-wife managed to strip him of most everything he owned through the power of divorce. 

He was almost impressed with how well she was able to use and abuse every legal loophole imaginable for the sole purpose of robbing him in a way he couldn’t sue her for. After all, he himself was someone who had a tendency to mess with people through legalities and technicalities, almost like some sort of particularly smug fae. Then again, being a smug bastard who abuses legal loopholes was exactly what got him into this mess, so perhaps he needed to stop doing that.

Simon sighed as he sat on the steps of the courthouse, internally lamenting his misfortune and wondering where he was going to live. He was kicked out of all the royal mansions, and Sophie got the house, along with all the money necessary to buy a new one. It truly was a terrible situation to be in, and he was completely in over his head.

“You look like shit.”

He looked up to see Christina, his family’s former housekeeper, standing in front of him. Simon simply raised an eyebrow at the 70-year-old woman, confused but unsurprised by her blunt comment.

“I was recently made aware of your current predicament. It appears you no longer have a place to stay,” she stated in her typical, smooth, monotone voice. 

Simon bitterly snorted at this. “Seems like everyone but my family knows. But then again, they might also know and they just don’t care. As per usual.” He took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long inhale before letting the smoke slowly release from his mouth. “And so is the luck of Simon,” he muttered with an uncharacteristic resignation.

Christina paused at this. She slowly looked him up and down with a contemplative look on her face before finally opening her mouth again.

“I’m getting old, you know. It’s getting harder to do things. I’ve been considering hiring someone to help me out around the house and such. Maybe get my groceries,” she mused, her eyes wandering around in thought.

“Okay…” Simon said with confusion in his voice, not sure where this was heading.

Christina’s eyes turned sharply back to him.

Simon stared at her in shock for a few seconds, before managing to fumble out, “may I ask why you would choose me of all people?”

“Because you need a home and I need someone to help me out. Someone who I trust. And I trust you. Besides, you owe me.”

Simon paused before nodding his head in agreement. He did need a home. He stood up and held his hand out for her to shake. “You got yourself a deal.”

Christina took his hand and shook it with a smile, before wrinkling her nose in disgust. “First things first: no smoking in or near the house. You’re going to kill me.”

Simon sighed and put out his cigarette. The old woman watched him as he walked over to a nearby trashcan to throw it away. She was going to need to help him get rid of that new habit. Smoking may be common in Aldovia, but that didn’t make it good.

He walked back over to her and Christina clapped her hands together with a smile. “Shall we start making arrangements?” Simon nodded his head, and the pair began to walk down the stairs to head over to Christina’s house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Click here to read the rest on AO3! I’ll be updating whenever I feel like it.

#a christmas prince #simon a christmas prince #netflix christmas movies #hallmark movies #christmas movies #fanfic #fanfiction #dumb fanfic #obscure fandom #practically nonexistant #found family #christmas #social commentary #unions #labor unions #the movies have some crazy stuff happen in them

[the-modernmary]

chess, not checkers || a. hotchner x f!reader

Summary: Cross-examining Agent Hotchner should have been a lot more simple than it had been. But when the questioning slips out of your control, you find yourself being profiled right there in the middle of the courtroom. Amazing how one stranger can know you better than anybody you've ever met.

Contains: SMUT! 18+ only, minors DNI. Fingering, (light) choking, semi-public sex, adultery, anger sex, enemies to lovers, edging, lawyer hotch <3

Word Count: 8k+

Comments: This is so heavily inspired by “charcoal grey” because we all know how hot he was in that scene. Thank you to @angelfxllcm for being an absolute godsend as I wrote this and being the most supportive friend ever. (If you haven’t read her work, you absolutely should!)

“Fucking FBI and their selfish ass schedules,” you grumbled as you hurried through the hallway of the courthouse, your intern Robin on on your heels. “Court gets pushed back for a week because Agent Hotchner just had to leave with them on a case instead of working remotely, and then expects us to drop everything to go to court the second he gets back to D.C. As if we don’t have jobs too. As if I don’t have six other cases sitting on my desk that now have to be pushed back because of him.”

 Robin scrambled behind you, nodding along to every word that left your mouth. “Does this happen with the, uh…”

  “BAU,” you supplied.

  “—BAU, right. Do court cases usually get pushed back for them?”

  You shook your head as you checked your watch. A glint caught the corner of your eye. Shit, your ring. You hadn’t expected to go to court, and completely forgot to leave it at home. You pulled it off and slipped it into the outside pocket of your bag, hoping nobody noticed.

“No. Most cases from the BAU never go to court,” you explained. “There’s enough evidence against the people they arrest that it’s almost always a plea.”

  The Bankers Box in Robin’s hands almost slipped as you placed another file precariously on top of it. “Then why is this case going to court?”

  Your step faltered as you processed her question, and you couldn’t hide the disbelief on your face. “You did read the brief for this case, right?” you asked, unsure if you really wanted the answer, except her embarrassed blush and averted gaze gave you enough of one. “Seriously? Okay, well, first of all, because of that, you won’t be sitting at the attorney’s table with us. Instead you’ll be in the public seating. I won’t weaken my case because you decided to be unprepared. If this happens again, you won’t be welcome to join me in court at all, am I clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” Deciding to take pity on the poor intern, you sighed as you started your explanation. “Our client claims that his arrest was unlawful and therefore none of the evidence they found should be usable. I’m inclined to agree with him, so we’re fighting all of the charges that were made with evidence found after the arrest.”

  “So you don’t think he’s guilty?”

  “I don’t ask that question. I’m not God and I’m not his priest, I don’t need to hear his confession. I just need to get him out of unjust and illegal charges.”

  Robin’s eyebrows furrowed. “So he’s going to walk free? Even after everything he did? How do you sleep at night?”

  Fucking Christ, how did this girl even get into law school? You rolled your eyes, suddenly regretting your decision to take on an intern. “No, he’s not going to walk free. He’s going to get a lesser charge, because everything else was obtained illegally. And I sleep very well, actually, because my job isn’t some episode of Law & Order. Less than 10% of my cases ever go to trial. I’m not here to suddenly convince juries that the evidence is wrong. My job is making sure that everybody is given their constitutional rights, that the police are doing their jobs correctly, and that the State isn’t over-punishing. Any cop knows that, and if you ever come across one that doesn’t, you know that you should look into those cases even further. You have to realize, criminal defense lawyers—”

  “— are the last line of protection against a corrupt system.” You turned to see your assistant, Marcus, making his way towards you, briefcase and your spare blazer that you keep in the office in hand. “I see you’re giving her your famous anti-prosecutor lecture.”

  Marcus helped you slip on your blazer over your satin button up, his hands lingering on your skin for just a little too long to be considered professional, and it made you shiver in anticipation. “God knows she needs it. Thank you, Marcus, for bringing these so quickly. Were you able to get the physical copies of Agent Hotchner’s files?”

  Marcus held up his briefcase. “All right here. Although I have to say, I’m a little lost as to why you need his service records.”

  The three of you turned the corner to enter the courtroom, your heels clicking on the tiled floor. Robin obediently took her seat in the public viewing area while you and Marcus pushed through the swinging door to settle at your table. “I’ve heard stories of Agent Hotchner’s testimonies. He used to be a prosecutor, so he’s not easily tricked, but he is prideful and will defend his work. I’m going to use that to my advantage. It’s like I always say, practicing law means always playing chess, never checkers.”

  Marcus took the seat next to you, making sure to sit close enough that his knee brushed yours the whole time. “You know, I was thinking, this case is complicated,” he whispered, “And we haven’t combed through everything yet… It could take more time than we planned.”

  You smirked, knowing exactly what he was insinuating. “Agreed. I’ll tell Tony I have to stay late at the office tonight.”

  Before Marcus could continue his flirting, you were distracted by the door to the judge’s chamber opening, revealing the back of a man in a black suit. “Thank you again, your honor, for the continuance,” came the deep timbre of the man, and oh. You certainly weren’t expecting that. “A young girl was able to be reunited with her family this week because of it.”

  The man in the doorway turned, and your breath caught in your throat. He was tall and buff and expensive-looking and absolutely gorgeous. His suit was tailored to fit him perfectly, the sleeves of his blazer straining against his biceps. He carried himself with an aura of confidence, like he belonged in the courtroom, and he was making his way directly towards you. Unconsciously, you separated from Marcus, putting as much distance between you and your assistant as possible without raising suspicion.

  The man said something to the prosecution before turning to you, hand outstretched. He said your name as a greeting, and your name had never sounded so good. “I’m Aaron Hotchner.”

  When you stood up to shake his hand, you tried to ignore the way his eyes raked down your body, or the way the two of you held on just a moment too long to be considered proper. It felt as if he was looking right through you, learning all of your secrets as though they were written on your body. No, you knew that look. He was studying you. “Agent Hotchner, it’s a pleasure.”

  “Likewise, Counselor. Please, call me Aaron.”

  You raised your eyebrows in Aaron’s direction, still shaking his hand, and it made your skin burn. You dropped his hand. “I’m just glad we’re able to get this case done and over with. Hopefully with no more delays.”

  His eyebrows quirked upwards in what could only be described as shock. “I see your reputation precedes you,” was his only reply before going to his respective seat, and if he noticed you watching his every move, he made no indication of it. That being said, you definitely felt his gaze on the back of your head as the judge entered the room and the session began.

  As the proceedings dragged on, you and Marcus continued to talk strategy, his hand finding its way to your thigh ever so often. You also continued negotiating with the prosecutor, both of you flashing Post-It notes of potential plea deals that you would be willing to accept, always careful to keep it out of the eyes of the judge and jury. By the time Aaron had been called to the stand, the offer given to you still wasn’t low enough. Fine, if the prosecution wanted to make a fool of themselves, so be it.

  You listened to Aaron’s testimony with the prosecution, completely enraptured. There was something about the way he spoke, so full of authority and confidence, that made the entire room drawn to him. He was incredibly intelligent, that much was clear, and despite the many years since he had actually practiced law, that prosecutor candor hadn’t left him. Staying focused on the case had proven to be more difficult than previously expected. You found yourself staring at his lips, and it didn’t take long for your mind to conjure up some obscene and explicit situations starring the man in front of you. 

  Eventually, his eyes caught yours, and he watched you, his lips — god, those lips — quirked up in a smirk. Aaron watched you expectantly, and in the light of the courtroom, his eyes were almost the color of whiskey, and you wanted nothing more than to drink it all in.

  A sharp “Counselor” broke you out of your trance. In the corner of your eye, you could see Marcus looking at you in concern, but he was the furthest thing from your mind now, especially as Aaron let out an amused huff of air.

  “Counselor, does the prosecution wish to cross-examine the witness?” the judge asked with barely hidden annoyance, making you think that it probably wasn’t the first time she had asked the question.

  You stood up quickly, smoothing down your pencil skirt as you did. “Yes, your honor. Thank you,” you said, trying your best to keep your voice steady as you noticed Aaron’s eyes trailing down your bare legs.

  The cross-examination started normally, and Aaron answered all of your questions with careful precision that only a lawyer could pull off. He seemed to know exactly where you were trying to go with your questions, and easily sidestepped any unflattering implication you were trying to make. Long, biased questions were met with short, clipped answers, not giving you anything to work with. Whatever move you made, Aaron was right there, two steps ahead with you. Never in your life had you met somebody who could follow you so easily or could match your wit without so much breaking a sweat.

  It was exhilarating.

  “Agent Hotchner,” you started, hands clasped behind your back. “Could you please explain to the court how profiles are used when finding and apprehending suspects?”

  Aaron sat up a little taller in the witness box. “Using behavioral research and past case studies, we’re able to construct what we call a profile of the perpetrator, or unsub. Anything they do can give us insights as to who they are — their victims, what weapons they use, even how they dispose of the bodies. Once we have a profile of who we believe is committing these crimes, we have our technical analyst run the parameters through her system. From there, narrowing down our search is easy.”

  You nodded slowly, pretending to mull over what he was saying. “For clarification’s sake, in layman’s terms, you build your profile off of assumed psychology, and not concrete evidence, is that correct?”

  The muscles in Aaron’s jaw flexed, a sure sign he was gritting his teeth. “Behavior analysis is a tool, just like any other—”

  “It’s a yes or no question, Agent,” you interrupted, and oh, he was not happy about that.

  His tongue darted out from between his lips. “The research we use for behavior is—”

  “Yes. Or no.”

  Aaron hesitated, his frustration building up to palpable tension that settled in the courtroom like a thick fog. You weren’t giving him a chance to explain or show off anymore, didn’t allow him to be seen as the smartest person in the room anymore, and that was getting to him.

  “Yes,” he conceded, grimacing as if admitting that was physically painful for him.

  “Thank you,” you replied, and he caught the unspoken that wasn’t so hard now, was it? even if the rest of the room did not. You walked back over to your table, snatching up a piece of paper and holding it in the air. “Your honor, the defense would like to submit Exhibit Seven into evidence.”

  Once the judge gave her express permission, you placed the form in front of Aaron with your left hand, perfectly manicured fingers splayed out in front of his eyes. You almost missed the way his head tilted ever so slightly and his eyes narrowed, like he was staring at a puzzle half complete. “Agent, could you please tell us what’s laying in front of you now.”

  He leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the paper before meeting back with yours. “This is a part of our official report of the case. Specifically, it has the profile that was used to lead us to the apprehension of Mr. Mckenna.”

  “Does it say on that paper who had the final sign off on the profile before it was circulated?”

  “Yes, that would be me. As Unit Chief, my job is to sign and finalize any reports.”

  “And could you please read the profile, verbatim, as written on that report?”

  Aaron’s face remained neutral, with the exception of his eyebrows scrunching together. Slowly, he had started to piece together your strategy, and he didn’t like it. “The unsub is a white male, between 32 and 40 years old. He’ll most likely be unemployed and driving a van or truck — anything that would let him easily transport his equipment and victims. We believe that he’s also had run-ins with the law before, likely as a juvenile. He’ll come across as friendly, if not a little shy. We believe that this comes from a failed relationship in his past, one where he believes that he was manipulated and wronged, and now he’s going after surrogates for that woman. Killing these women is the only thing that gives him any sort of power. If we can figure out who this past relationship was, it will lead us directly to the killer.”

  You paced back and forth in front of the witness stand, your skirt tightening around your legs with every step you took. “Between 32 and 40 years old, unemployed, and killing surrogates… Except Mr. Mckenna is 22 and works part time as a bartender. How do you justify arresting my client with those inconsistencies?”

  “As I mentioned before,” Aaron started, his voice dangerously low, “A profile is just one tool we use of many. Not every single part of the profile will fit every single time. Which is why we also rely on outside evidence to ensure that we have the best chance at catching the unknown subject as quickly as possible.”

  “Except you had no concrete evidence, which you admit in your own report!” You took two steps closer to him, getting as in his face as possible without risking being held in contempt. With every word that left your mouth, your voice got more and more forceful, and you got more and more under Aaron’s skin.

  “All of it was circumstantial at best. You had a hunch, an inherent bias against my client due to his previous conviction record, and you were frustrated at your own inability to get a good lead. But you can’t arrest somebody on a hunch, or because you’re angry. You had no evidence and the man you arrested didn’t even match the profile that you came up with!”

  Your eyes locked with Aaron, his gaze heavy, and neither of you dared look away first. “Objection!” came from the prosecutor behind you. Exactly what you wanted. “Argumentative and foundation.” You flashed Aaron a predatory grin.

  Two moves to checkmate.

  “Sustained,” said the judge.

  “Withdrawn.” You tapped the witness bench, hoping to convey an air of aloofness and calm. Aaron scowled. “Agent Hotchner, before joining the FBI, you were a prosecutor, is that true?”

  Confusion flashed across his face for the briefest of moments, and it gave you a twisted sense of satisfaction to know that you had the upper hand. You knew the answer to every question you were about to ask, and he knew that. He just couldn’t figure out where you were going with this line of questioning, or what the relevance even was. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  You made a soft hum of approval. “Could you please walk us through your higher education?”

  “I attended George Washington University for both my undergraduate and law degree.”

  “What did you major in for your undergrad?”

  Aaron hesitated. “Political Science.”

  Check. “So all together, you’ve had about seven years in higher education. In that time, how many psychology classes did you take?”

  It was almost sadistic, the way you relished in the slight twitch of his face — the realization that he had been backed into a corner. The silence was deafening as Aaron’s scowl met your smug grin.

  “None,” Aaron said finally.

  “None,” you repeated, performative shock dripping from your words. “Do you have any academic background in psychology or human behavior, then?”

  Aaron’s jaw clenched, and as you made your way closer to the witness stand, you saw his thumb frantically moving back and forth over his fingertips. Clearly, you had struck a nerve. “The FBI has rigorous coursework in order to become a profiler, along with multiple exams and continued training as more research becomes available to us. The profiling classes are no easy feat and are written by experts in the field. Creating profiles has a long and respected history in detective work, and these profilers have caught some of the most prolific serial killers of all time.”

  You placed a hand over your chest in faux modesty. “My apologies, Agent Hotchner, I believe I wasn’t very clear. I’m not calling into question the validity and effectiveness of profiles. I’m calling into question the validity and effectiveness of you as a profiler.”

  You could practically see the cartoon fire spewing out of Aaron’s ears. He was so close to being in your trap, something he had to have known, too, yet he continued to toe dangerously close to that line.

  “A lack of formal education in profiling,” you continued, keeping your voice light, “and the blatant disregard for basic police and legal procedure as shown in this case with my client… I mean, how many other mistakes were made in your past cases? It’s hard to believe that you can read anybody, much less the hardened criminal that you have painted my client to be.”

  Checkmate.

  “Objection!” cried the prosecutor again. “Your Honor, this is —”

  He was cut off by the judge raising her hand. “Sustained. Counselor, I would advise you to tread lightly from here on out.”

  You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Withdrawn.” You turned around to make your way back to your table, ignoring Marcus’s look of complete disbelief. Baiting Aaron had been easy, and now all you had to do was wait.

  The courtroom was uncomfortably silent for one beat… two beats…

  “Not only can I read Mr. Mckenna,” echoed Aaron’s voice, “But I can also read you.”

  Once you got back to your desk, you turned around, hands resting on the cool wood of the table top, but you never sat down. Instead, you leaned forward, and arched your eyebrows in a silent challenge — one he was all too eager to pursue.

  “The red Harvard Law tag on your briefcase is a perfect match to your lipstick, and you wear the same one every time you go to court. Not because you’re superstitious the way most lawyers are, but because it’s your way of maintaining control in the courtroom, something you’re desperate to keep in every aspect of your life, personal and professional. I would guess that this need goes back to late high school, early college. But you’ve been worried about appearances and how you’re perceived for even longer than that.”

  You fought the urge to roll your eyes. So he thought you were Type A? Anybody could have guessed that by your anything. All they would have to do is look at your color coded case files or your daily schedule, planned down to the minute. You had only been trying to sway the jury when you insinuated that he wasn’t a good profiler, but maybe you were actually starting to believe it yourself.

  Except Aaron got a dangerous glint in his eye, causing your stomach to bubble with anxiety. Clearly, he was playing chess, too, and by the looks of it, he believed he was winning. 

  “In fact, you’re so worried about losing control, that despite your busy schedule, you refuse to hire a planner for your upcoming wedding.”

  That got your attention. The objection that you were about to call died on your lips, and all you could do was stare with poorly hidden shock. Next to you, Marcus turned pale as a ghost.

  Aaron, cocky bastard, continued his profile of you, with no clear signs of stopping anytime soon. “You have a tan where your ring usually is, and I know you’ve been wearing it recently as you subconsciously fiddle with where it would be whenever things in court aren’t going your way. Just like you’re doing now. You still have your maiden name, which you plan on giving up when you do get married because not taking his last name would arouse too many questions that you want to avoid. Just another way your concern of appearances is manifested. So you’re engaged.

  “I would say congratulations, but it’s not a happy relationship, not on your side, anyway. Younger female professionals will take their rings off in fear of not being taken seriously, but you’re an established and respected lawyer. You needn't worry about that. So if it’s not about you, it’s about the fiance. You don’t want to be associated with him.”

  You gripped the edge of the table, too angry to form words. Your nails dug into the varnish, and you were sure that your heavy breathing could be heard from across the room. This dick. This absolute, garbage, piece of shit dick. The worst part was how casual he sounded as he aired all of your dirty laundry for everybody to hear.

  “He’s holding you back, in all aspects of life, but mostly intellectually. He doesn’t have a sliver of your capabilities. The two of you are probably high school sweethearts, prom king and queen type, but while you grew up and matured, he never did. He can’t keep up with you. Still acts the same way he did in high school, only now with more access to alcohol and money. Career wise, he doesn’t have much going for him, probably some sports related pipe dream. But you stay with him because you know how to control him and how to use him to your advantage.”

  Aaron’s eyes zeroed in on Marcus, and all of the color drained from your face. The voice in the back of your mind was screaming at you to object, to get the judge involved, anything, before Aaron did any more damage, but you were frozen in your spot. For the first time in your life, you were completely and utterly speechless and spiraling out of control.

  “That need for control is also why you’re sleeping with your assistant. It’s casual for you, but not for him anymore. You should break that off. That’s nothing new for you, though. In fact, I would bet that if we looked back at all of your affairs since your engagement, we’d find a long string of men and women, all of whom are your subordinates or of lower status than you. It’s a win-win situation — they’re more than eager to have a chance with you, and you get to stay in control. Oh, you’ll stop when you actually get married, but you continue to push that date back, as well. So…”

  He leaned back in his chair, clearly feeling good about himself, and God, you could kill him. You could reach over the witness box and wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze until his whiskey colored eyes popped out of his smug, beautiful face.

  Aaron lifted his chin, eyebrows raised in your direction. “Do you believe in my abilities as a profiler now, Counselor?”

  That snapped you back into action. You cleared your throat and unnecessarily smoothed down your skirt in an attempt to regroup your thoughts. “Well, Agent Hotchner, thank you for that little show and tell. It’s clear that you are very passionate about your career. However, just like your profile of my client, you have no evidence for any of your unsubstantiated accusations.”

  It was a pathetic attempt at saving face, and Aaron knew it, but it had to be enough for you. You turned your back towards Aaron so that you could face the judge, who, to her credit, had a perfect poker face the whole time. “Your Honor, I move to strike Agent Hotchner’s outburst” — not an outburst, Aaron was too composed to ever have one of those, but he grimaced at the word all the same — “from the record, as no question stands before the witness at this time.”

  The judge looked at you dubiously, clearly debating her ruling. There shouldn’t have been any reason to worry, you were legally in the right, but there was always the chance that she wouldn’t be on your side. You noticed yourself fiddling with where your engagement ring would usually be, and you cursed yourself under your breath. How could Aaron have possibly known all of that?

  “Sustained,” she said finally, “I direct the jury to disregard the witness’s, uh, example when considering the evidence.”

  You let out a breath of relief. It wasn’t much of a win — everybody still heard what had happened, it was still in the back of their minds, like the ring of a bell echoing — but at least in regards to the case, you had the legal upper hand.

  The judge turned back to you. “Defense, the witness is still yours, if you have any further questions.”

  If you were a little more in your right mind, you would have cut your losses, but between your oath to defend your client to the best of your ability and that stupid self assured grin on Aaron’s face, you knew that you really had no choice.

  Deep breath in… Slow breath out… You’re at a stalemate now.

  “Agent Hotchner,” you said, causing him to perk him up in interest. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting you to continue. “Wouldn’t an ex-lawyer and an FBI agent be familiar with the rules of decorum in a courtroom?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I understand your question, Counselor.”

  “Let me rephrase, then. Would you say that you have a history of emotional outbursts and rule breaking in your line of work? And I’ll remind you that you are still under oath.”

  Aaron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No, I wouldn’t. Integrity is one of our core values, and we take that very seriously.”

  With shaking hands, Marcus handed you one of the files you’d had him print out on Aaron. “If that’s so, can you explain why, since your promotion to Unit Chief in 2005, you and your team have had seven disciplinary hearings, one of which being an internal investigation into the excessive force used by one of your agents, and another being a congressional hearing?”

  A sick sense of satisfaction passed over you when you saw him get visibly shocked, his poker face breaking for the first time that day. If he wanted to go for blood, you could fight back twice as hard. “I’m not at liberty to discuss either of those cases.”

  You shrugged nonchalantly. “Very well, Agent. So between the discrepancies in the profile, your inability to control your temper, and your history of breaking procedure, coupled with the fact that you arrested my client without any warrant by kicking in the door to an innocent civilian’s house, do you really believe that your arrest and the subsequent evidence that came from that arrest was obtained legally? Or do you just not care either way, as long as you’re able to prove that you’re right?”

  Right as he opened his mouth to speak, you turned your back on him and started to walk back to your table. Aaron wasn’t even able to get a peep out before you cut him off with a sharp “Question withdrawn. At this time, the defense rests.”

  “Our arrest was made on the grounds of—” Aaron tried, and you smirked to yourself. He must have been desperate if he was trying that move twice. You whipped around, gaze steeled.

  “I have no further questions, Agent Hotchner,” you repeated, only letting out the slightest hint of amusement. “But thank you for your cooperation with Lady Justice today.”

  Aaron’s eyes met yours, and a weight settled in the pit of your stomach. You should have hated him, but something about him had you completely and utterly entranced by him. Maybe it was the novelty of the case. Maybe it was the matching intellects and the fact that he was the only other person who could give you a challenge.

  Maybe you just liked the way you got to lose control with him.

  As he passed you, his arm brushed yours, and your whole body burned.

  “Very cute, Counselor,” he whispered, voice dripping with condescension. “How long did it take you to come up with that little switch up?”

  “Don’t patronize me,” you snapped. “I was playing chess, you were playing checkers, and that’s why you lost.”

  The rest of the session went on normally, if not a little tense. To your surprise, Aaron hadn’t left immediately after his testimony, and instead took a seat in the section for the public. Good. As soon as courtroom decorum wasn’t a factor, you were sure to give him a piece of your mind.

  Court adjourned for the day, and you couldn’t get out of there fast enough. You told Marcus to continue to push for a better plea option as you grabbed your briefcase and stormed out, pushing through the throngs of people until you could see the back of Aaron’s head.

  You sped up your steps until you were right behind him, and you grabbed his wrist to stop him in his tracks. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

  You pulled Aaron into an empty conference room, hoping to get some privacy before you completely blew your lid. You already had one public humiliation because of him, and you did not need another.

  “What is your problem?” you hissed, locking the door behind you. “You had no right to put my personal life on blast like that.”

  Aaron placed his hands on his hips, swooping the sides of his suit jacket back, and you had to make a very conscious effort to not stare. “You questioned my profiling abilities, and I proved them.”

  “You didn’t prove shit,” you argued, folding your arms across your chest. “Except for the fact that you’re an insufferable bastard.”

  “Are you saying that my profile was off? Because if you didn’t want to be caught committing adultery, then you shouldn’t have made it so obvious.”

  You gritted your teeth and took a step towards him in a futile attempt to come across as intimidating. Even in your heels, he still seemed to be towering over you. You’d have to level the playing field somehow. You gripped his tie and used it to pull him down so that he was closer to eye level with you. “I don’t need your judgment, Aaron.”

  Aaron moved closer to you, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His Adam's apple bobbed and it captivated you. “I couldn’t care less about what you do,” he said flippantly. “Matter of fact, I don’t think this fit of anger is even inherently about your little secret coming out. Do you want to know what I think it is?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I think,” he continued, completely ignoring your protest, “You’re angry because as much as you can dish it out, you can’t take it.”

  Your grip on his tie tightened at his words. “Trust me, I can take anything,” you said, voice low and breathy.

  Aaron’s eyes flickered to your lips — those kissable, red stained lips of yours. You hadn’t had to reapply your lipstick once throughout the day, and he idly wondered just exactly what it would take to muss up that perfect, pouty red lip. 

  “I also think that for the first time in a very long time, you didn’t have control, and you liked it.” He bent down a little bit more so that his lips brushed against your ear with every word and you could feel his breath run down your spine. “Aren’t you bored of sleeping with boys who are so far beneath you?”

  You’re not sure who initiated it, but the next thing you knew, your lips crashed against his, the two of you making out like it was the last kiss either of you were ever going to get. His hands felt impossibly everywhere all at once — gripping your hips, tugging at your hair, and even snaking under your work blouse to palm at your breast. His teeth nipped at the fibres of your lips. With every movement of his hands, little gasps escaped you, and you could feel the curve of his lips curling up into a smirk.

  His fingers trailed up the side of your body, past the curve of your neck, and tangled themselves in your hair before yanking it back, exposing the column of your throat. Immediately he attached his lips to your neck, nipping at your pulse point.

  “Aaron,” you whined, trying to regain the breath he stole from your lungs. You practically melted in his arms, going completely weak at the knees, especially as his tongue trailed across the underside of your jaw. You let his tie fall from your grip, instead bringing your hands up to cup his face to pull him in for another kiss. 

  His lips set a bruising pace, and it caused a fire to burn in the pit of your stomach. You had never once been kissed like this, never once felt so all-consumed by a person. Aaron’s cologne surrounded you, making your head spin. Bruises were sure to form from how harshly he was gripping your hips, but you didn’t care. He was addicting, and you wanted more.

  Hotch walked you backwards until you were pressed up against the wall, his thigh shoved in between your legs, forcing your skirt to ride up. The position made his arousal obvious as he pressed against you. The way he held you was possessive, primal even, Unconsciously, you ground down on his thigh, hoping for anything to help relieve the ache between your legs. 

  Unfortunately for you, Aaron caught on to what you were trying to do, and he chuckled against your lips before pulling away just far enough to speak. “Look at you,” he whispered, and the raspiness of his voice only served to turn you on even more. He hooked a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him, and his thumb traced your bottom lip, tugging at it ever so slightly. His other hand slowly trailed its way up your thigh, nails scratching at your skin. “Skirt hiked up around your waist, desperate to get off. Your little boyfriends aren’t doing it for you anymore?”

  He pressed his thigh further into you, ripping an involuntary moan from your throat. “Fuck,” you gasped, your hips still moving back and forth against him, not caring how needy it made you seem. “I need… I…”

  “What? Big, bad lawyer doesn’t have any more smart ass comments?” he cooed sarcastically, pushing your skirt up even higher. He replaced his thigh with his hand, and his fingers ghosted over your covered pussy, teasing you, not giving you nearly enough contact. “Fuck, you’re so wet already. Go ahead, needy girl, if you’re that desperate.” Aaron yanked down your panties in one fell swoop, and you blindly kicked them off to the side. “Be a good girl and show me how much you want this.”

  Without any more of a warning, one of his fingers entered you, and you let out a breathy moan that Aaron was sure to have on repeat in his mind for days to come. When the heel of his palm pressed against your clit, your brain completely short circuited. You threw your head back as far as you could despite being pressed against the wall as his name clumsily tumbled from your lips like a prayer.

  “You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted, pressing you further against the wall. “Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

  Electricity coursed through your veins as he added a second finger, easily finding that spot in you that made you see stars. You rocked your hips back and forth against his hand, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. His lips trailed from your jawline, down your neck, and to your collarbone. 

  “Look at me,” Aaron ordered, tightening his grip on your chin, and your eyes shot right back open. Instead of the whiskey colored irises you had gotten used to, Aaron’s pupils were so blown that they made his eyes completely black. “I want to see you lose control all over me. Gonna make sure you come harder for me than you have for any of your boy toys.”

  That wouldn’t be very difficult. Nobody had ever made you feel the way you did then, Aaron’s fingers buried deep in your cunt and lips exploring every inch of skin he could access. No part of this was for his pleasure — from the curl of his fingers to the slow circles on your clit, it was all expertly calculated to bring you to the edge with as much intensity as possible, and it was all devastatingly effective.

  “I’m so close,” you whimpered, and if it weren’t for the wall behind you, you would have completely lost your balance. “More, fuck, please.”

  “More?” he mumbled against the column of your throat. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

  Coherent sentences were not an option for you at the moment, not when you were so deliciously overwhelmed with pleasure and with Aaron. Besides, how could you tell him that you wanted him to completely and utterly ruin you? That you wanted him to bend you over the conference table and pound into you until you could barely speak. You wanted Aaron to mark you and send you home to your fiance with reminders of every little thing he did to you for the days to come. You wanted raw and untamed passion. You wanted to be consumed, for him to settle in your lungs like smoke, and haunt your dreams for the rest of your life. 

  You didn’t want nice and calculated the way every other man you’d been with had acted — you wanted Aaron Hotchner to take control.

  You couldn't say any of that, so instead, you grabbed his wrist, the one that was holding your chin in place and, without breaking eye contact with him, you guided his hand down until it rested on your throat. “More,” you choked out, giving him an animalistic grin.

  That was all it took. Using his grip on your neck, he pulled you in for another kiss, messy and desperate and swallowing all of your incoherent moans as his fingers moved harder, faster.

  You clung to him like a lifeline as you felt your whole body tense up, your orgasm fast approaching. You were so fucking close and he felt so fucking good and, God, if this is what losing control felt like, then you and Aaron could do this forever and —

  His fingers were gone from you, and you clenched around nothing. You cried out in protest, which only seemed to amuse him.

  “Oh? Prom queen isn’t used to not getting what she wants?” Keeping his hand on your throat and you pinned against the wall, he made slow, teasing work of his belt buckle.

  Your chest rose and fell in a desperate attempt to catch your breath. “What happened to watching me come undone all over you?” you shot, trying to even out your voice as much as possible. It didn’t work very well. “Did you lose your nerve?”

   A dark, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “Don’t worry, Princess, that’s still the plan. I just never said where. I want to make sure you’re nice and wet and ready for me to turn you into a moaning mess on my cock.”

  In an attempt to regain some control of the situation, you rolled your eyes. “Yeah? And how do you expect to do that?”

  He smirked and released your throat. Wordlessly, he grabbed your wrist, and guided your hand down your body, further and further until you reached your throbbing pussy. He used his hands to press your fingers to your clit, and you whimpered softly. God, you were dripping, and the extra stimulation didn’t help your shaking legs.

  “By making you so needy and whiny that by the end of this, you're begging for me,” he hissed, lips brushing the shell of your ear with every word. He moved your fingers so that you were rubbing small, slow circles around your clit, although it wasn’t nearly enough to give any real relief. “Begging for me to come and fuck you over and over and over again. Because you know that your pathetic fiance and your string of affairs have never made you feel like this before.”

  Aaron yanked your hand away from your clit and you could sob. You wanted to cum so badly that you could barely put it into words. Still holding your wrist, Aaron brought your hand up to his face. He took a brief moment to admire the way your fingers glistened, covered in your arousal, before bringing them to his lips and sucking.

  Eyes wide, you made a choked noise as you committed the view of Aaron to memory. “Please, Aaron, fuck, I need you,” you whined, the start of a long string of incoherent begging. You needed him then and there, damn the consequences.

  He pulled your fingers out of his mouth slowly, and you moaned at the obscene wet noise it made. “So desperate,” he murmured as he began to unbutton his slacks. “All for me. All because I edged you once.”

  Aaron pulled down his pants just enough to pull out his dick, and you licked your lips involuntarily when you saw it, big and thick and leaking precum. Clearly, it gave Aaron a bit of an ego boost, because as he ran the head up and down your sensitive folds, he reminded you, “You did say you could take anything, Princess.”

  Your breathing came out shaking as you shivered, waiting for him to do something — anything. You were so empty and you needed him so badly. If you didn’t get his dick in you soon, you were pretty sure you would lose your mind completely.

  “Fuck me, Aaron,” you moaned, arching your back to press into him more.

  He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips in an almost intimate gesture. “Patience is a virtue,” he chastised.

  In your haze of arousal, you barely noticed him grabbing your briefcase and digging through the small pocket in the front. You especially didn’t notice his pause when his finger touched something small, round, and metal in the bottom of the bag. The only thing you cared about was him coming back to you, holding up a condom packet with a smirk.

  “I knew I’d find one somewhere in your briefcase.” You let the comment slide, the excitement at the prospect of sex with Aaron Hotchner outweighing any jackass comment he could make. Aaron made quick work of putting on the condom. The second he was done, one of his hands ran up your thigh, getting a good grip on it before pulling it up and around his waist.

  “Do you feel how wet you are for me? How willing you were to give up control? All for me? That—” Lips pressed to your ear, he pushed his cock into you, bottoming out with one thrust. You threw your head back in pleasure. “—Is playing chess, sweetheart.”

  Aaron dropped his forehead to the crook of your neck as he began pounding into you at a desperate pace. He had held off on his own pleasure for long enough, and now he was chasing his orgasm with a ruthless determination. One hand stayed gripping your thigh, the other one braced against the wall next to your head. Aaron nipped at your neck in between moans of praise for you.

  “I — oh, fuck — knew it,” he groaned, digging his fingers deeper into your thigh. “You wanted somebody to take control. Somebody who knows how to please you.”

  You wrapped your arms around his neck and tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. You were an incoherent mess at this point, his name tumbling from your lips like it was the only thing you knew how to say. At that moment, it probably was. 

  “Finally, that bratty mouth of yours is good for something. You sound so pretty, moaning out my name. Say it again.” A particularly deep thrust caused you to tug at his hair. “Louder.”

  Never before had you met somebody like Aaron Hotchner, and you weren’t sure if you ever would again, so you screwed your eyes shut and let yourself get lost in the absolute pleasure he was providing. You memorized everything you could — the way the calluses on his hands felt against your skin, the way he moaned out your name, how deliciously full you felt, and how for the first time in your life you felt truly seen — so that you could suspend the moment in amber to preserve in the back of your mind.

  “Please,” you begged, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails. “I’m so close. Fuck, Aaron, you feel so good, please.”

  Aaron tore his lips from your throat, choosing instead to press his forehead against yours. His lips brushed yours with every word he spoke, so close that you were practically kissing him. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured. “Be a good girl. Be a good girl and come. All over my dick.”

  When you came, it was with a cry of his name as your whole body shuddered. You clung to him as he continued to fuck you. His thrusts began to stutter, and he took the opportunity to capture your lips in one last, scorching kiss, and you were all too happy to oblige.

  You think he moaned something as he came, but you couldn’t hear it over the sounds of skin slapping against skin. He fucked you through his orgasm, making sure that you felt every single inch of him. As if you could ever forget it. 

  The two of you stayed where you were for a few moments, relishing in the feeling of being full a little longer. Your walls fluttered around Aaron, which caused him to muffle his whimpers into your throat.

  “Aaron…” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the moment. “That was so—”

  “I know.”

  “We shouldn’t have done it.”

  “I know.” He pulled back just enough to leave a lingering kiss on your lips, and your whole body burned. “But I don’t regret it. Do you?”

  You shook your head. “Not at all.” The confession lingered in the hair for a tense second because both of you seemed to remember where you were.

  Aaron slowly pulled out of you, an act that looked almost painful for him when you let out an involuntary moan at the feeling. He could have spent all day in you, if given the chance.

  The two of you adjusted yourselves in silence, both of you hoping to be able to leave the room with some semblance of professionalism. At the very least, the goal was to not look like you had just had sex in a courthouse conference room. Shame and embarrassment flooded you — what had you been thinking?

  Once you felt that you were presentable enough, you grabbed your briefcase and tried to ignore Aaron burning a hole in the back of your head with his gaze.

  “Well, Aaron, this was fun.” You cleared your throat. “I’m sure we’ll see each other around at some point.”

  You were two steps away from the door when you heard his smug, courthouse voice come back in full swing.

  “Forgetting something?”

  You turned around in a huff, ready to go right back to arguing with him, but what you saw made your whole body heat up in embarrassment. There was Aaron with a self-satisfied grin and dangling off his finger was your panties.

  “These are cute,” he mused. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to fully appreciate them.”

  You rushed over there, fully prepared to snatch them out of his hand. “And you never will,” you shot, but even as you said it, you didn’t make much of an effort to take them out of his hands. You just stared at him and his swollen lips and mussed hair, all your doing.

  Ever the gentleman, Aaron started to hand your underwear back to you, but instead of taking it back like you knew you should have done, you covered his hand with yours, closing it in a fist around your panties.

  “Who says you can’t?” you whispered, guiding his pantie-filled hand down to his pockets. “This way… You can keep it as collateral. To make sure I’ll come and see you again.”

  His breath hitched in his throat as you guided him to put your panties into his suit pocket, and you were glad to be the one surprising him this time.

  “I don’t care about your fiance,” Aaron started, and you braced yourself for the worse. “But I’m not interested in being the ‘other man’ to your affairs with your assistants, too.”

  “Consider it ended,” you promised, not caring how desperate or easy it made you look. You wanted to keep Aaron around for a long, long time.

  Just until the wedding, you corrected yourself.

  You slung your briefcase over your shoulder, wincing as it dug into a bruise that Aaron had left. It would be there for a while — you’d have to find a way to hide it from Tony until it faded. The thought made you stupidly giddy. “I’ll see you around, Aaron.”

  He nodded in goodbye, and you slipped out of the conference room on shaking legs. As soon as the door closed behind you, you reached into your bag, and reluctantly slipped on your engagement ring.

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #Aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds fanfic #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #my writing #criminal minds

[shmaptainwrites]

Can I request a Coffee shop AU with the fluff number 3? Maybe Aaron's trying to help her bake a new recipe or she's showing him how to make a certain coffee and he burns his fingers?

Ps. I didn't intend for that the first question to sound like a coffee order "I'll have a latte with two shots of..." 😅🙈

Yes of course honey! I hope you enjoy it :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader

Warnings: Aaron accidentally cuts himself :(

Note: This is set when Hotch is still a lawyer, but he didn't get married to Haley

Bittersweet Cafe

There was nothing Aaron liked more than before or after a long day to go to the coffee shop across from the courthouse. Most of the other lawyers went to the faster paced commercial stores like Starbucks, but he liked the quiet.

It became his favourite place to work, where he would prepare for his cases and even on occasion spend his days off.

Maybe it helped a little bit that you were the owner, the kindest soul he’d ever met, someone who was constantly looking to give to others. Your cafe was a safe haven for those who just needed a place to be themselves, it was a place where the workers knew your name, a community with a sense of spirit.

Which is why he thought the least he could do when you were understaffed was to put his preparatory work aside and offer a helping hand.

“Oh Aaron, you don’t have to do that,” you waved your hand. “You’ve got that big case to prepare for,”

“(Y/N), it’s just high profile, we have witnesses and the defendant was caught in the act. It’ll be easier than most days, come on let me help out,”

You looked around, realizing now you were the only one behind the counter because your employee’s shift had ended and she needed to get to class.

“Alright, come put on one of these aprons and write your name on this,” you handed him a blank name tag and a chalk marker.

He hopped over the counter and came to the back while you quickly turned the sign showing that you had gone out for lunch.

“Okay, I have an hour to teach you how the hell to use all this stuff,” you pointed to the large espresso machines. “You think you can handle it?”

“Sweetheart, I finished law school a year early, I think I can do this,”

“We’ll see about that Mr. Cocky,” you teased.

Aaron actually wasn’t that bad at picking up how to use the different machines, he watched you use it once then internalized the instructions before doing it himself almost perfectly each time. So coffee definitely wasn’t his problem.

“Let’s try cookies then, see if you can work in the kitchen,” you grabbed his sleeve and dragged him into the back room where you had a small kitchen set up where you’d make your baked goods.

“Don’t you normally make these in the morning?”

“Yes, but I didn’t get a chance to make these ones because I was understaffed genius, and plus it’s Chantal’s birthday and these are her favourites and she’s coming later so I want to make sure there’s some for her,”

Aaron smiled a little as you explained your reasoning for needing the sweet treats, but you quickly moved on to telling him what he needed to do.

It took less than thirty seconds for something to go wrong.

Aaron was attempting to slice the frozen stick of butter so it would fit in the measuring cup, but the knife slipped and cut his finger.

“Shit!” he exclaimed and quickly dropped what he was holding before going to squeeze his finger and try to breathe through the stinging pain.

“Well I guess you’re not good at everything,” you teased and he frowned playfully.

“I just cut myself, aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?” he asked and you shrugged while grabbing the first aid kit and coming over to him.

“I don’t know, am I?” you raised a brow and he just rolled his eyes. “Okay, if you’re gonna be such a baby, what do you want me to do?” you said, first taking his hand in yours and examining the cut.

“I dunno,” he mumbled. “But… maybe if you kiss it better I'll feel alright,”

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, but you kept your expression serious.

“Aaron, how am I supposed to kiss your finger, it’s bleeding,” you asked, knowing exactly what he was trying to get to.

“Well,” he grabbed a small piece of gauze from the first aid kit and held it against his finger. “I’m sure it would have the same effect if you kissed me here,” he pointed to his lips.

“You’re really cheesy for a lawyer, you know that, right?” you asked, throwing your arms around his neck.

“If it gets you to kiss me then it’s worth it,” he hummed.

“Hmm, you’re about to be a very happy man then,”

You pushed yourself up on the tip of your toes and let your lips gently fall on his. You both tasted like different types of coffee, perfectly brewed, mixing together and making a fantastic blend.

His uninjured hand came to hold your head closer, squeezing you a little tighter when he heard you sigh.

When you pulled away you looked at him with a slightly cheeky smile on your face.

“I hope you don’t mind that being you method of payment,”

“I’d take it, gladly,” he nodded, dipping down and stealing one more kiss. “But I think maybe you should make those cookies, I don’t want to ruin Chantal’s birthday. I can stick to making the coffee,”

“Good plan,” you chuckled.

There was never a doubt that it was always a good day at the Bittersweet Cafe.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner blurb #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #hotch blurb #hotch

[kitsu-katsu]

Why c!Wilbur blowing stuff up for shits and giggles as a child makes no sense for his character (and why that would reflect a lot more badly on c!Phil anyways if that were the case):

Warning: c!Phil critical ahead, if you don't like that, skip this post

Now, to those of you that decide to read this: Strap in folks! We've got a lot of ground to cover this from and a ton of quotes ahead!

1) Wilbur’s a pacifist through and through. He always preached words over weapons, only fought when attacked first, wanted to ignore a war until it went away, considered giving up his nation many times, etc. A few examples of quotes to show this thinking:

“Basically, we have such a lower opportunity here that we probably just need to accept the conditions of surrender, just so we can save any more bloodshed, any more destruction on our land. They’ve entrapped our land, they’ve set up bombs on our land, they’ve destroyed all our homes. To stop any more bloodshed, I feel I would be a bad general if I didn’t look for conditions of surrender.” - (Wilbur’s The Revolution is Coming: 30:32, 2nd Aug)

“Tommy, we need you alive. Tommy, this isn’t worth it. Tommy, your life is worth more than the revolution.” - (Wilbur’s The Revolution is Coming: 34:57:, 2nd Aug)

“What has made you do everything you’ve done up to this point?” (Quackity)

“That’s a- That’s a big question. Um. I guess it’s just protection for my people. I mean, I- I- I just want to see them thrive, and I want to see them safe.” (Alivebur)

- (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:03:02, 12th Apr)

“Look, do you know how long and how much blood was shed to get L’Manberg to the point it was at? You know what would happen if we manage to get L’Manberg back again? More blood would be shed, and we would be the illegitimate rulers of a nation.” - (Wilbur’s video Am I the Villain?: 18:52)

“We don’t win wars with battles and with armour. We win wars with our words, Tommy. We’re starting a revolution, not a war.” - (Wilbur’s The Wall: 4:54, 29th July)

“I’m not a fighter, I’m a writer.” - (Wilbur’s The Wall: 1:48:31, 29th July)

“Fighting is not necessary right now, Tommy.” - (Wilbur’s the election results: 43:42, 22nd Sep)

“Tommy, control yourself. Tommy, control yourself, it’s not worth it. Tommy, do not take your shot! He disrespected me, yes! But we’ve talked about this, Tommy…!” - (Wilbur’s techno and wilbur make cave better: 59:36, 23rd Sep)

2) The reason his thoughts about blowing it all up in Pogtopia even hit as hard, the reason all his allies were so shocked about him going through with it IS his pacifism first mindset (which has only been put second when he’s been attacked first and put in the defensive or in the case of his speech to Quackity after the political debate he genuinely thought, by the previous failure of his philosophy and the war trauma spurred on mainly by the FCR and Eret’s betrayal, that the only way to truly win respect and make a change in the world was through fighting and killing, which he was convinced of but was ultimately always too soft to actually go through with (note how he doesn’t kill anyone in the L’manburg explosion and how in the times during Pogtopia in which he declared he wanted people dead, he got second thoughts, regrets, retracted his statement or protected people with his actions):

“If you want to really help people, you’re gonna need power, Quackity. You can make a movement, you can make a resistance, right, you can go out and you can come back, and they’ll give you a ticker tape parade. They’ll cheer for you in the streets, but you will change nothing.” - (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:05:42, 12th Apr)

“If you have a revolution, everyone will hate you, you will sacrifice everything, and you will lose everything you’ve ever had, but you’ll come back and everything will be changed.” - (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:05:59, 12th Apr)

“And power isn’t gaining from diplomacy, and bureaucracy, and giant courthouses suspended in the sky, blah blah blah. It’s gained from swords, Quackity. It’s gained from blades, it’s gained from steel, iron.” - (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:06:19, 12th Apr)

“We blow up the entire fucking place to kingdom come. I want no survivors. God help whoever’s caught in the fucking crossfire.” - (Wilbur’s video, Am I The Villain?: 17:52)

“And, I know you’re scared, Tommy, I understand you’re scared. And it’s scary, it’s scary, Tommy, but do you know what? You know what? In a time like this, when a man has nothing to lose, do you know what that means? It means we can do what we want. We have a man on our side who literally rigged our nation with TNT. We can do the same to them. We can rig this festival with TNT. We can kill them all, Tommy. ” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:15:52, 8th Oct)

“Anyone caught in the crossfire is caught in the crossfire. That’s how it goes, you know? - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:41:22, 8th Oct)

“Chat, do I wanna- Chat, do I wanna, do I wanna do it? I’m having second thoughts about the TNT. Chat, I’m having second thoughts about the TNT. Do I wanna kill these people? Seeing that they’re my friends.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 34:09, 16th Oct)

“Tommy, I’m getting second thoughts. These are my friends, I don’t- Do I- I don’t know if I wanna [inaudible].” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 36:17, 16th Oct)

“Just, if you’re gonna kill anyone else, kill me. Don’t kill anyone else here.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 1:10:53, 16th Oct)

“You sounded like you were gonna murder another person. You sounded like you were gonna go for Niki.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 1:12:34, 16th Oct)

“Oh, yes, sorry, Niki, you missed that part. I was gonna blow up Manberg, I was gonna completely destroy it in a huge fireball. Look, Niki, come to Pogtopia, you’re safer here. You’re not gonna be hurt by anyone.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 1:17:59, 16th Oct)

“No you two can escape, I’ll be the… I’ll- I’ll- I’ll be… I’ll be trapped in here…” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:27, 17th Oct)

“I don’t, I don’t, I don’t want to kill you two. I don’t want you two to die.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 28:53, 17th Oct)

3) He was inspired by Dream blowing up L’manburg first with Eret’s betrayal during the first revolution. He knew Dream wanted L’manburg out of the picture and had tried it before. It’s why he knew to immediately ask him for TNT, because either way, Dream would benefit from both side’s mutually assured destruction:

“Here’s the plan, right, Dream. Dream is on our side, Dream has TNT, Dream has everything, right. I say we talk to Dream, and we ask him very nicely, very kindly, ‘Dream, give us all the TNT you have’. ” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:12:22, 8th Oct)

“Remember, how he rigged L’Manberg, like ages ago, during the War? And then he detonated the TNT and destroyed the entire thing? We do that again, everyone, we blow up the entire fucking place to kingdom come.” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:12:36, 8th Oct)

“The only reason that Dream is working with us, is because of the fact that we are the enemies of his enemies! That’s it! That’s all that joins this!” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:14:35, 8th Oct)

“Dream, let me be your vassal. Dream, I understand you have a lot of TNT, a lot of the ol’ trinitrotoluene in your possession, don’t you? You do! Dream, I want to be your vassal, I want to set this up, I want to rig the city.” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:33:27, 8th Oct)

4) Wilbur hesitated a LOT with the detonation, wanted to be stopped, told people his plan in detail and was overall in a deep internal conflict about the whole thing (and didn’t blow it up once to not kill Tommy and Quackity too, this is also the moment in which his suicidal tendencies are the most clear in his lines before the 16th). Ultimately he decided to do it because he was suicidal and deeply suffering from mental health issues, believed himself to be the root of all bad in the server and by extension, L’manburg was too, and by that point his original view for L’manburg had been so twisted by Schlatt anyway that in his POV it’d only be used to hurt more people anyway:

“I- Look, rigging L’Manberg is not gonna help us get it back, I’m aware of that. But sometimes in order to feel comfortable and safe you have to be ready to give up the things that you’re worried you might lose. And in this case, I think I might lose it already.” - (Wilbur’s who are you go away: 1:17:57, 8th Oct)

“I know there’s a lot of people, Tommy! … I’m not telling you where the button is, man. … Tommy, it’s over that hill, it’s over that hill, right there!” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 28:30, 16th Oct)

“Chat, do I wanna- Chat, do I wanna, do I wanna do it? I’m having second thoughts about the TNT. Chat, I’m having second thoughts about the TNT. Do I wanna kill these people? Seeing that they’re my friends.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 34:09, 16th Oct)

“Tommy, I’m getting second thoughts. These are my friends, I don’t- Do I- I don’t know if I wanna [inaudible].” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 36:17, 16th Oct)

“But this is the opportunity- this is the opportunity. If I don’t blow it up now, when am I gonna blow it up?! When am I gonna blow it up, Tommy? But when do- when do we do-” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 36:30, 16th Oct)

“If I don’t do it now, what happens if this is the only chance I get. Everyone’s in this close situation, I can do some proper damage. Look, this isn’t a- He needs a consequence for his actions, Schlatt does, he can’t just keep being handsome and powerful and strong all the time. He needs, he needs to be put down a peg.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 37:07, 16th Oct)

“I can still call off this whole detonating at the end of the speech, dude. I can call it off.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 38:24, 16th Oct)

“Should I show you where the TNT’s laced? ‘Cause in a, in a last ditch effort, we may need to destroy it by hand, okay? So, under the chair, where Schlatt sits, there’s about twenty pieces, right? And then going under, under the main area here, following this red line, there is TNT all the way, and then it jut- and then it- … It darts up here, and over to the dance floor, but it doesn’t touch the water.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 38:29, 16th Oct)

“I have to light it, I’ve got to light it, I’ve got to light it.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 1:08:17, 16th Oct)

“Yesterday I had the perfect opportunity to blow everything up and finally end it, you know. I had the perfect opportunity to finally blow up everything and end it and just completely save everyone, right, from the tyranny of Schlatt and the tyranny of the existence of Manberg and L’Manberg, right.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 25:17, 17th Oct)

“Explain it to me! Give me a reason! Give me a reason!” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 26:50, 17th Oct)

“Who else is it gonna hurt?! It’s gonna hurt Schlatt, Manberg, and-” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 26:55, 17th Oct)

“Why did I bring- I should have just done it. I’m such a fucking showman. I should have just done it.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:18, 17th Oct)

“No you two can escape, I’ll be the… I’ll- I’ll- I’ll be… I’ll be trapped in here…” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:27, 17th Oct)

“I just- I just want to f… I just wanna end it, I wanna end it. I wanna press that button, man.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 28:08, 17th Oct)

“I don’t, I don’t, I don’t want to kill you two. I don’t want you two to die.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 28:53, 17th Oct)

“Ohh, fuck you! Fuck you, man! Why do you make it so hard?! I should have just- I’m such a fucking showman.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 29:29, 17th Oct)

“Tommy, we’ve tried my ideas. I’m willing to listen to you. I’m gonna follow you, Tommy. Whatever you think is gonna be the best way of taking down Schlatt, we’ll do it. We’ve tried my ideas.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 32:01, 17th Oct)

“My L’Manberg. My L’Manberg. As long- As long as I know the button is here… as long as I know. As long as I know the button is here. It’s just not today. I just need to know that it’s there for a fall-back. I need to know it’s there.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 33:46, 17th Oct)

“I’ve been hasty. But the fact that I know it’s there, and I can just stroke my right mouse button, that’s all I need. As long as I know it’s there.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 34:27, 17th Oct)

“You’ve convinced me, I don’t wanna go straight to Plan B, if Plan A fails.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 39:02, 17th Oct)

“Look, Tommy, at the end of the day, if this doesn’t go well, I’m gonna blow the place to smithereens. The place will be gone, I’m gonna detonate it and blow it to smithereens, right, if this doesn’t go well. But it will go well…! … ‘Cause it’s literally- there’s no one on Schlatt’s side.” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 21:00, 16th Nov)

“But none of them have the same anticipatory love of what they’re doing, unlike us. Everyone on our side is fighting for something we’ve loved, and had for ages, right. That’s why we’re gonna win, and that’s why you shouldn’t be afraid. And yes, the whole place is rigged.” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 21:38, 16th Nov)

“I could, I really could, that’s the thing. That’s the bit that I like. It’s the bit that makes me smile the most is the fact that I definitely could.” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 26:28, 16th Nov)

“Chekhov’s Gun. Chekhov’s Gun. I’ll be honest with you, chat, I’ve been wondering this whole time if it still works. I’ve been thinking to myself does it still- ‘Cause I fixed it up for today.” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 1:11:36, 16th Nov)

“Phil, I’m always so close to pressing this button, Phil! I have been here, like seven or eight times I have been here… Seven or eight times” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 1:14:56, 16th Nov)

“Phil, I’ve been here here so many times.” - (Wilbur’s smithereens: 1:15:13, 16th Nov)

“I don’t even know if it works anymore, Phil. I don’t even know if the button works. I could, I could… press it, and it might-” (Wilbur’s smithereens: 1:15:29, 16th Nov)

5) The one time anything about Wilbur using TNT while young (and here the age isn't as clearly implied as in Phil's thing, this could very well be more of teen Wilbur than kid Wilbur) is mentioned in the actual text is this one maybe-canon-maybe-not-so-canon-anymore line:

“Tommy, have you heard of TNT duplication? The flying machines that dup TNT? Phil taught me about them. He taught me about them- I’m sure he wouldn’t have taught me them if he knew what I was gonna do with them. But, he did teach me about them. … They were very useful, in this.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 11:30, 16th Oct)

Now let’s pretend that headcanon makes any sense and that yeah, Wilbur totally just enjoyed building shit to detonate and said tendency encouraged in childhood just up and carried into adulthood and manifested as him internally going “I must blow up this thing I made because that’s what I do” and let’s pretend that he didn’t have a big ass internal conflict about it.

Ok, so Phil said that Wilbur blew stuff up when little, so he’d have connected it to the button room. Now think for a moment: How does that reflect on Phil as a parent? Let’s forget about everything else for this one moment (and believe me, I’ve got no shortage of stuff to critique c!Phil on in regards to his relation with c!Wilbur) and just focus on this one action. A man freely lets his son use TNT to blow up some random stuff presumably made out of toys. Just a little kid playing with TNT, yup, that’s his boy. And it was to such a degree that the same man just went “Oh yeah! It’s totally the blowing shit up thing!” in a fraction of a second after seeing the button… And then yeah, saw all of the hesitation, the breakdown, the struggle, the wishes to die and impaled him with a sword, but we can go deeper into those aspects in another post

Then Phil tried to make it better by saying to chat that all kids just break stuff apart, more implying that little Wilbur wasn’t actually using explosives which… makes the whole thing even dumber, ngl, because at that point c!Phil is just saying “Oh yeah, he knocked over his lego houses when he was four, so when I saw that button I immediately went ‘Oh, of course! He rigged the place! What an obvious connection!’”. You see what I’m getting at?

TLDR: It doesn’t fit with canon and even if we shove it in with its implications, then c!Phil is just an idiot, whether it be from letting his kid freely play with TNT to such a degree that he deduces where his most drastic measure resulting from trauma and breakdowns is going just by seeing the button OR whether it be from him connecting dots where there are none if he tries to save his skin as a father and just say “Oh yeah, no, who didn’t knock over stuff as a kid, what do you mean?” not realizing that… exactly… who didn’t…. so it wouldn’t connect with the button room at all

#dsmp #dream smp #c!phil critical #c!phil negativity #c!wilbur #c!wilbur analysis #wilbur dsmp #wilbur #wilbur soot #pogtopia #l'manburg #Can you sense my saltiness? I hope you can #Did Phil play with explosives as a kid too or was Doomsday just his way of feeling young? #Was he just feeling young and quirky so he decided to go destroy some livelihoods with the bestie? #c!Phil (derogatory) #man wait until I make yet another c!Phil is a bad father and was horrible to everything left of Wil's legacy post #I'm about to destroy a rp old man /hj #I hope you can see how this makes zero sense too #like from so many angles #and the retracting that didn't go all the way is just ??? #And this all trickles in from the Dreaded Letters Retcon Stream (derogatory) #Like really if it weren't for those retcons back then this wouldn't have happened #Because then Phil wouldn't need some complicated backstory reason for knowing what the button did #If he had gotten at least SOME info about stuff going awry from Wilbur's letters #And hoooo boy do I have some words to say about the letters stream #Which I have said in posts but I might just remake some #tw suicide #tw suicide mention #tw suicide ideation

[hot-wiings]

Messed the time line up. Shouto is younger, and Natsuo is older, than they actually are. 

Edited: 12-30-2020

To this day I still miss and miss you. To this day I'm still encircled by the memories of us together. Had I caught you that day, no, had I stopped you that day. To this day would we still be friends? How would it be? Dear, my friend, how have you been? I'm doing great, you know, yeah. Dear my friend, I'll be honest. I still freaking hate you. Even now I remember the past days we were together. The time and countless days we went to Daegu together.

You exited your school, parents and other junior high graduates filing around you as you moved from the cool conditioned gym into the hot outdoor summer air. You walked down the steps, quickening your pace as you saw the back of an orange head, the head of your best friend, Touya Todoroki. You nearly tripped on the pretty dress your mom made you wear for the occasion as you reached him but he grabbed onto you and firmly held onto your arm and shoulder until he felt you were stable enough to stand on your own.

“Be careful, you're so clumsy.” 

“I am not.”

He wasn't making fun of you, you knew this as you saw his smile. He was teasing you the way he did your entire friendship since you were kids, but you still felt the need to defend yourself as people exiting the school looked your way. 

“How’s it feel to be a middle school graduate?”

“It feels great!” 

Touya walked with you away from the school towards the parking lot where your parents were waiting for you both. You hoped your mother had the car on and running with the AC, you weren't sure you'd last another minute in this heat. 

“Are you still planning on applying to UA?”

“Yes. My moms not exactly on board with it. She thinks I should go for something practical, apparently ‘the world has enough heroes already.”

You bit your lip and looked at the ground as your mind replayed that day with your mother. You left out the harsher details to Touya. Your mother had threw out all your applications to any hero schools she could find in your bedroom with the simple statement that you that you weren't cut out for the hero life. She and your father didn't believe in you, but that just motivated you to work harder. 

“Are you still applying to UA?”

“My father- Yeah, I am. We have to go to the same high school or else I’d miss you.” 

Touya and you had reached your car which thankfully was on. Your father gave you and Touya a curt nod from inside the car while your mother smiled at you both from where she was outside the vehicle, leaning against the door waiting for you. 

“Are you coming with us Touya?”

Touya was hesitant as he looked across the lot where his mother, sister and brothers sat in his fathers expensive car. His father wasn't there and you couldn't recall seeing him in the audience as you were given your middle school education credentials. Touya never talked with you about it so you didn't know the extant, but you knew his father didn't play an active role in his life. 

“No, I think my mom needs me home tonight.” 

“Okay, don’t be afraid to drop by the house soon. You could help [Y/N] send out some high school applications to some practical schools.” 

Your mother got in the car, leaving you to say goodbye to Touya. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at her new attempt of saying you shouldn't be a hero.

“[Y/N], don’t worry about your high school application. With the two of us, the world is nothing scary.”

That was a long time ago. You and Touya slowly lost contact over the summer. You looked for him at the UA hero exams, but he wasn't there. Sometimes you had to wonder if you had just called, would things have turned out differently. 

‘With the two of us, the world is nothing scary’ we said, and now we walk two completely different paths, damn. Do you remember those days? Was it at Sinsa? The conversations we had over soju. The ambition we had of conquering the world. We were young and had big dreams, only twenty. Sudden cutting off contact. After a long while, after your parents' short call from an unknown number. I immediately ran there to check. Seoul Detention Center in Anyang was too far. 

You felt weird as you sat in a small black chair bolted to the ground. You felt weird as you looked across the big, clear, plastic panel separating you from him. You felt weird as you picked up the phone attached to the wall that connected to the look alike phone on Touya’s side of the panel. 

You hadn’t heard from Touya for a while after junior high graduation. Despite promising to stay in touch, you hadn’t. ‘With the two of us, the world is nothing scary’ what a joke, after junior high, you simply drifted apart from each other. You applied to UA, your dream school, and got in, but you had no clue to what Touya had chosen to do with his high school career, he had blocked you out of his life.

Truthfully, the drift between you wasn't one sided, you hadn't called him or tried making contact until after your first year at UA high had passed. Once you had tried to mend the gap, you couldn't, too much time had gone by. Contact had been lost for so long, your friendship fizzled. Even when you started interning for Touya’s father, Enji Todoroki, in your third year at UA high, you barely saw each other but rather his two younger brothers, one of which who Enji hoped to mold into a hero. 

You hadn't heard from Touya in ages. You hadn��t heard from him until you received a call from his younger brother, Natsuo Todoroki, asking you to come to Japan’s detention center in Hosu city. Despite it being two in the morning, the young mans voice sounded urgent and you couldn't possibly say no. 

“Why are you in here, Touya?”

“I fucked up. I fucked up bad.” 

“What happened Touya? I’ll try to fix it, your dad will try to fix it. I just need to know what happened.”

A moment of silence passes and you can tell Touya is hesitant to admit to you why he was in there, why someone had decided to put him behind bars.

“You can’t fix it [Y/N], my dad won’t fix it. He thinks I need to learn my lesson.” 

A red flashing light goes off above your plastic panel as well as a loud buzzer. A security guard comes over and informs Touya that his time with you is up, as he grabs onto Touya’s orange jumpsuit and pulls him away from his side of the plastic wall, all that can be hear is Touya yelling to you. 

“I wish we never lost contact.” 

You stood up from your chair, giving the next criminal and innocent time to talk. You walked out to the hall where you saw the younger Todoroki brother. The white, spiky haired male stood there waiting for you with a nervous look on his face.

“Thanks for calling me, Natsuo.”

“I thought you’d want to know, you used to be close.” 

“We were...”

Natsuo awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck, not sure of what to say in this situation. He wasn't sure if you needed comforting, or not, truthfully, Natsuo felt nervous around you. 

“Would you mind keep me in the loop about his trial?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you with any updates.”

Natsuo smiled at you, and you couldn't help but try to return it. You grew up knowing Natsuo as Touya’s kid brother, you grew up with him being the annoying kid who tried to follow his older brother and his best friend around, but in this smile you saw Natsuo as a friend.

To this day I still miss and miss you. To this day I'm still encircled by the memories of us together. Had I caught you that day. No, had I stopped you that day. To this day would we still be friends? How would it be? Was it you who changed? Or was it me? Uh.I hate this flowing time, it's us who changed. Hey, I hate you, hey, I don't like you. Hey, even as I say these words, I miss you. The visit to Seoul Detention Center every week. I went all alone on that three-hour-long trip. The day of your trial, the day of your release.

You showed up at Touya’s trail hearing, his words to you that day hit you hard. You couldn’t help but put blame on yourself. If you had kept contact with him. If you had just called him, stopped by, or even written an email.

As you sat in between Shouto and Natsuo Todoroki your leg bounced up and down nervously, you hadn’t even realized it until Natsuo had grabbed your hand which had been resting in your lap as a way to comfort you. With one small squeeze from your newfound friend, you felt more at ease. 

You knew the probability of Touya being found innocent was slim. you hadn’t spoken to any lawyers or read any official statements, but Natsuo had told you Touya had gotten into some dark shit, drugs and violence were included. He had fallen far since you both had loss contact. Here you were, a hero, a UA graduate, but your old friend was being interrogated on the stand. If you had just kept contact.

You squeezed Natsuo’s hand as you watched the jury pass down a white paper with their response to the judge. The judge unfolded it slowly and carefully read the words. With every passing moment your heart pounded harder. 

“The jury finds Mr. Todoroki guilty of drug possession, grand larceny, and the use of a false identity. Five years in prison, and one year probation.”

Without even letting him say his goodbyes, the authorities dragged Touya out of the courtroom, but the look Touya shot you was word enough. He looked upset, but who wouldn't be after being sentenced. Still holding your hand, Natsuo pulled you out of the courthouse and navigated you both through the crowds of people exiting. Reporters were waiting on the courthouse steps, waiting for a chance to bombard the Todoroki family in their dire time of family crisis. 

“Mr. Todoroki, is it true your brother was sentenced for murder?”

“No comment.”

Natsuo handled it well as he pulled you along with him to the Uber car he had called. The press could get so out of hand sometimes, his only concern was getting you and him away from them, he didn't even allow himself time to comprehend the bogus rumors being spread about his brother. 

Once you were in the car he let go of you hand and ran his fingers though his white hair stress-fully. Murder? The press was just one of the many reasons Natsuo had chosen to pursue college instead of a career in heroics. Between his father and the reporters, that life style just seemed bad. 

“Are you okay? The press can get crazy.”

“I’m alright. I’ve gotten quite used to the press since I’ve come to work for your fathers agency. A reporter once asked me if I was the number two hero’s affair woman.”

“Ha, reporters can be such jerks. They don’t even attempt to get the full story. They just assume.”

You were so consumed in each others presence, you’d forgotten about the dire circumstances of why you were together that day. Natsuo had that effect on you. He made you carefree and aloof. Forgetful of the bad things. 

A light pink hue dusted Natsuo’s cheeks as he realized how close you and him were sitting next to each other. He adverted his gaze down to his hands. He was a college student now, not some dumb kid trying to follow around his older brother. He was an adult, yet he didn't know how to go about with the feelings he developed for you over the years.

He was lucky to even have your friendship. You used to think of him as Touya’s annoying little brother, yet you had a blossoming friendship now, you shared your deepest secrets. He couldn't sit back on his feelings, he had to shoot his shot. He fiddled with his hands as he looked up at you and proposed his question. 

“Shouto and Fuyumi are riding home together, do you wanna stop and get coffee with me?”

You gave Natsuo a soft smile and grabbed one of his nervous, shaking hands. 

“I’d really like that.”

I remember vividly it was winter with heavy snow like white tofu. And after a long time not seeing, you became a completely different person. With drowsy eyes, you asked, ‘Don't you want to try?’ I got angry and cursed at you. There's no way the you who were my only friend can return, and you became a monster. The you I used to know is gone and the me you used to know is gone. I know it's not just because of time that we changed. The me you knew is gone and the you I knew is gone.

Five years had gone and went by quickly. While it was hard with his brother in prison, Natsuo had coped by throwing himself into college and his relationship with you. Between your work at his fathers hero agency, and random drop byes to his college dorm room, Natsuo saw you everyday. He knew he loved you, you even had Endeavors stamp of approval, not that he wanted or felt he needed it.

Natsuo was ecstatic that his brother was getting out today, but he was nervous. He had begged you to be there with him once his brother came home. Not that he had to beg much, you had promised to be there as soon as he mentioned his brothers release. 

Natsuo wrapped his arms around your waist from behind you and leaned his head in the crook of your neck. Much like his other siblings, Natsuo wasn't one for skin-ship, but over the years of your relationship he learned to like it. He even yearned for it from you. 

“Do you think he’ll be excited to see me?”

You sat down the bag you had used to pipe icing on Touya’s cake and grabbed Natsuo’s hands that were wrapped around you. You could tell he was nervous, you could hear it in his voice. 

“I’m sure he misses you. You and Fuyumi.”

“I tried visiting him, but he always turned me away... Maybe he’s angry that I didn’t push our father harder to bail him out.”

“Oh, baby... he’s not mad at you. He wouldn't let me visit either. I think he just didn't want us to see him in such a bad place.”

Natsuo placed a kiss on the side of your head before pulling away. You put a cover on the cake and turned around. With a soft smile you leaned up and kissed his cheek. 

“Your brother loves and misses you, okay? I’m gonna wash up, don’t touch the cake.”

Natsuo pulls you back against him and presses his lips against your. It was chaste and quick, but it was enough to help calm him down his nerves. He was reverted back to the chill, aloof, Natsuo you knew and loved. 

“No promises.”

You hadn't been in the bathroom long, but so much could happen in ten minutes. By the time you came back, you had found your boyfriend lumped on the couch, a sad shell from his usual chill self.  

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

You sat down next to him and pulled his form against your side. You ran your fingers through his white tips, giving his scalp a nice massage. A calming technique you picked up over the course of your relationship. 

“Touya’s home. He went right up to his old room. He said he didn't want to see any of us. He didn't want to see me.” 

Natsuo’s words made Touya’s look nice. During his time in prison, Touya changed. He became a colder, meaner version of himself. The car ride home with his father didn't help. If it was up to Enji, he would've given his son a longer sentence. Touya hadn't meant to, but he took his aggression out on his younger brother. 

“I’m gonna try to get him to come down.”

“Don’t, just give him space.” 

“I want to talk to him... Besides, we put all that work in his cake, and he didn't even try it.”

His hand shot out and grabbed onto your wrist to stop you from leaving. He knew if you went up there you'd have words with him. You were to different now. You were on a straight and narrow track to becoming a great pro hero. His brother was on the dark and murky path of a criminal, that was a truth he didn't want to admit. He knew this, yet as you shot him a smile, that smile you gave the people you saved, that heroic smile he loved, he felt at ease. This was who you were, a hero. You had to confront Touya, and he couldn't prevent that. 

It wasn't long before you were on your feet and rushing to Touya’s old bedroom door. You hesitated before you knocked. This room was full of so many memories. Sleep overs and hangouts. You weren't sure you were prepared to see your old friend. 

You received no response to your knock so you barged right in. The room looked different from the last time you were in it in middle school, but it stayed the same from his duration at prison. 

“If I didn’t answer, than don’t come in.” 

Touya rolled over in his bed to face who ever came in uninvited. At first he was angry, upset. He just wanted to be alone. Five years in prison, separated from humanity was hard to cope with. It was difficult to readjust. When he saw you that anger dissipated. His dear old friend. He wished he never cut you out of his life. 

“[Y/N].”

“Touya.”

You finally got a good look at him after all these years. He’d indefinitely gotten more mussels in prison, but he was still relatively lanky. As you inspected him you noticed the blotchy, redness of his eyes.

“Are you high right now.”  

He was silent and avoided your eyes, but the way he looked and the smell was undeniable. Maybe it was the hero in you, but you felt furious as you watched him. 

“You just got back from prison and you're already getting baked? Drugs are what landed you in prison in the first place! Do you want to go back there?”

You weren't yelling, but scolding him. Still, Touya became agitated as you gave him a lecture. How could you sit there and judge him when you had been working for his father. The opposite of a hero. 

“You don’t get the right to lecture me about what I can do in the comfort of my home. Your just my fathers employee, a crappy old friend.” 

You were simply ready to deck him when Natsuo walked in and grabbed your hand to calm you. Though you weren't loud, he, Fuyumi, and Shouto could hear you all from the living room. Touya hated himself for what he said. You were more than that, so much more. He just kept misdirecting his anger.

“[Y/N] has every right to lecture you. She is my girlfriend, and she’s played a big role in our lives since you got put away. I don’t want you talking to her like that.”

Natsuo rarely argued with his elder brother. He looked up to the guy, he idolized him. This post prison Touya wasn't the man he looked up to. He wasn't the Touya he grew up with. 

“Aren’t you the least bit ashamed? I look up to you, Shouto looks up to you, Fuyumi looks up to you. Or at least we did. We don’t know you anymore, and quite frankly, I don’t want Shouto around you, he’s still an impressionable teenager.”

It's not just because of time that we changed and I feel so empty. To this day I still miss and miss you. To this day I'm still encircled by the memories of us together. Had I caught you that day. No, had I stopped you that day. To this day would we still be friends? How would it be? To this day I still miss and miss you. To this day I'm still encircled by the memories of us together. Had I caught you that day. No, had I stopped you that day. To this day would we still be friends? How would it be? How would it be?

Touya hadn't talked to his brothers in weeks, despite being free to roam about in the world with the liberty to go anywhere he wants. Natsuo stayed true to his word of not wanting Shouto around him. Shouto stayed at the dorms, and on the weekends he stayed with you and Natsuo at your apartment. Endeavor didn't really care where Shouto was as long as he showed up at the training sessions.  

Natsuo really had to grow up and act as a parent when Touya went away. Heaven knows Enji wasn't a real parent. 

While he hadn't talked to his brothers, that didn't mean he hadn't seen them. Touya got bored of being in the house, and had rather not be there when Enji was around. He took a walk in the park, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn't known you'd be there on a picnic. 

He stayed off to the side where you and Natsuo couldn't see him. It killed him to watch you. You were so happy with Natsuo. You were so happy with his brother. The way you laughed and kissed. How he fed you and hugged you from behind. You were so domestic together, so content. 

He wanted that to be him. He always dreamed that he would grow up to be a hero, to be a hero with you. One day you’d date. One day you’d get married. His father discouraged him, he said he wasn't cut out to be a hero, so he listened. Touya felt he wasn't good enough so he cut you out of his life. But he was wrong, he was so wrong, you made him better. It was too late now, he fucked up and went to jail, he left his siblings to clean up after him, and you were in the loving arms of his brother. He was nothing but a criminal. 

Touya didn't have anyone now. He pushed everyone away. he was a criminal, a problem child, a villain. Everything the news made him out to be. He was all alone, and he blamed Endeavor. Maybe that’s why when the Hero Killer video came out he felt compelled to follow him.

“Dear my friend, I'm sorry to let you down. I’m sorry I wasn't good enough.”

Touya hated himself for pushing you away. He hated himself for leaving his siblings alone. More so, he hated Endeavor for pushing him to believe that he wasn't worth your while, that he wasn't worthy of being a hero. He hated Endeavor, and he would get revenge.

“Dear my friend, I’m sorry for leaving, but you'll be happy with him.”

It took years for Touya to push everyone away, but it took seconds for Dabi to light his room on fire. It took years to build up his hatred and anger for his father, but it seconds for Dabi to slip out the door and claim a new life for Touya.

#bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #boku no hero #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #natsuo x reader #dabi x reader #touya x reader #bnha natsuo x reader #bnha dabi x reader #bnha touya x reader #mha natsuo x reader #mha dabi x reader #mha touya x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha todoroki x reader #mha todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x reader #natsuo todoroki x reader #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki natsuo x reader #toya x reader #bnha todoroki touya x reader #bnha todoroki natsuo x reader #bnha touya todoroki x reader

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss, Ch. 1 [NSFW/18+]

Chapter 2 ->

Summary:  You can’t stand Frederick Chilton, but after he’s tortured and left scarred by a former patient, you are afflicted by an irrepressible desire to get him in bed.

This has been posted on AO3 for awhile, but I thought I’d post the chapters here! (Took the liberty of fleshing out the short smut a wee bit.)

2,380 words

Dr. Frederick Chilton was arrogant and unpleasant.

Everyone thought so, but most would dance around their hostility toward him with subtle digs couched in polite conversation. Not you. You weren’t shy about saying it to his face.

As he exited the courtroom doors, Dr. Chilton saw you waiting in the hall to ambush him, and braced himself for another soapbox diatribe. 

Such a shame, he thought. He recalled how he had tried to make a good impression when you first met, but all his charm kept backfiring, and now you patently despised him. His failure to curry favor was nothing out of the ordinary, but unfortunately, he still had to deal with you. You were one of Crawford’s lackeys, and had made yourself inescapable since Will Graham’s arrest.

“You conniving, idiotic, condescending weasel!” you exploded upon the man with an expensive suit and gaudy cane. “How could you get on the stand and make that bullshit testimony? You don’t know anything about Will!” You withheld the fuck-you’s that time, out of professional courtesy.

He brushed you off and continued walking briskly down the hall, cane tapping on the polished floor, but you followed and walked alongside him.

“Do I need a restraining order against you?” Dr. Chilton said, bored.

You crossed your arms. “Oh, hah-hah.”

“What is it, then?” he sighed, slowing down. Trying to outpace you was more trouble than it was worth, thanks to the pinching of scar tissue in every stride. “I am extremely busy.”

“‘The confused man Will Graham presents to the world could not commit those crimes, because that man is a fiction,’” you quoted his testimony.

“Correct. Is that all?”

“Did you ever consider it’s because he didn’t commit those crimes? You know, being the only one who thinks Will is a psychopath doesn’t make you a genius, it makes you an idiot. Or do you know that, but you’ve just been pining have him locked up so you can study him?”

“Incredible. Mr. Graham has found a truly gullible fool to place under his thumb. I have never met anyone so susceptible to his manipulations. Have you ever been tested for personality disorders?” He regarded you like you were a lab rat with a lot of audacity to be squeaking at him (though to be fair, that was how he looked at almost everybody).

You burned to keep arguing, but he walked down the courthouse steps and got into an obtrusively fancy classic car. Your heart was racing. You weren’t finished with him.

  *****

You seemed to be the only sane person aware that the sweet, empathetic, dog-loving Will Graham was obviously being framed, and did your best to visit him as often as possible at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

Unfortunately, that meant dealing with its chief of staff.

Every time you visited Will, you ended up clashing with that pompous buffoon and his perfectly coiffed hair. He was notorious for his unethical practices, but since rich white assholes were incapable of being fired, it was your self-appointed job to protect Will from him.

Though, recently, you had to admit two things.

One: you may have been the tiniest bit biased by your fondness for Will, and two: your feelings toward Dr. Chilton had been softening.

Not long ago, Chilton had barely survived being tortured by a former patient, Abel Gideon. The sight of him on a medical gurney cradling his own internal organs in his arms was a horror that would be burned into your brain for life. He may have been an incompetent jerk whom Gideon had every right to want revenge on, but he didn’t deserve that.

You didn’t think he would survive, but in a few weeks, like magic, he was back to play Will’s jailer, a cane in hand but no other sign of the trauma he endured.

Too little sign of the trauma he endured, honestly. After all, he was only hurt because of his own meddling—using psychic driving to convince Gideon he was the Chesapeake Ripper in order to achieve the fame and glory of having treated the Chesapeake Ripper.

But no, he was still bursting full of egotistical remarks and ambition, if a little short on organs.

“I see the experience hasn’t humbled you one bit,” you commented upon his return, when he gloated about the accolades he would receive after writing a book about Will Graham.

“Funny, it almost sounds like you wanted me to be gutted,” he retorted in a pleasantly upbeat voice with a sharp undercurrent.

His rich-boy superiority complex did make it tempting to punch him in the face… but disembowelment was going too far.

Something changed after that. It used to be that you couldn’t wait to get away from him, but now you found yourself wanting to stay and fight longer, your cheeks burning with indignation. Days you weren’t visiting Will, you went to the mental hospital to crusade against Dr. Chilton over ethics and his lack thereof, just for the excuse to see him. 

The two of you exchanged cutting banter the same as always, but you found yourself being more civil... or, at least, your heated arguments felt more playful. Sure, you still called him a dirty slimeball, but now it was a friendly roast and not because you hated his (slightly damaged) guts.  

It was strange. Every time you argued your heart would pound against your chest in anticipation, but you couldn’t figure out why.

Your breaking point came when you barged into his office and discovered him spying on patients’ private conversations with visitors—headphones on, feet up on his desk, holding a Montblanc fountain pen in his mouth and swirling it with his tongue.

He didn’t startle at your unexpected entrance, as a person who feels shame might do when caught in the middle of something so sleazy. He was completely unrepentant about it. Sliding a headphone off one ear and picking up a glass of top-shelf scotch from his desk, he took a slow sip, and smugly asked, “Can I help you?”

What could you say to that? You felt your face heating up, so you turned on your heel without a word, and left. You finally understood what you had been feeling.  

You always took him for a coward—the type who runs crying to mommy the moment his knee gets scraped. But he’d been tortured, brutally, and still wasn’t running away. He got more than what was coming to him, but he didn’t change his manipulative psychiatric practices or grating personality at all.

As infuriating as it was… his resilience was sexy.

Like a switch was flipped, every time you sniped insults at each other, instead of picturing strangling him with his tie, you imagined blindfolding him with it, tying him to a bed and spanking him with his cane. He had the cutest way of shimmying his shoulders when he was trying to be coy about a secret, and that smarmy little crooked smile he made when he thought he was winning used to infuriate you, but now it caused an aching between your thighs. 

After weeks of this, he cornered you in an empty hallway. “Do not think I haven’t noticed you are here far more often than you need to be. You didn’t even talk to Will Graham the last two occasions you paid a visit. What is it, then? What’s your angle? Keeping an eye on me for Crawford?”

“Isn’t it obvious?,” you scoffed. “I want to fuck you.”

“Huh,” he vocalized with detachment.

You’d expected him to be flustered by the bold declaration, or to jump on you immediately. Not to coldly look you up and down like you’d handed him a strange puzzle piece to analyze.

It must have been a long time since he’d been intimate, considering his reputation as a Grade A piece of shit. But apparently he wasn’t that desperate.

To be honest, you weren’t even sure what his orientation was. You may have been completely off base.

“Fascinating, really. For someone who called me… what was it? A ‘morally corrupt assclown,’ you must be in a dire state to consider propositioning me. You know, as a respected psychiatrist, I can recommend some literature on sexual dysfunctions.”

A cold, satisfied smile spread over his thin lips and you realized if your attraction was one-sided, he held all the cards. You made the mistake of delivering him a massive advantage over you, and you were going to make a fool of yourself. He was relishing the power.

There was still time to backtrack on the vulnerability you’d accidentally exposed while he was still trying to figure out if you were joking. But you were around profilers, psychiatrists, and investigators with hidden agendas all day, and you grew weary of conversations having ten layers of meaning and obfuscation.

The honest truth was, it would be nice to get laid.

“Well? Are you interested or not?” You dropped your voice and stepped closer to him, inches from his face. He smelled so clean, like hospital antiseptic and spicy aftershave. His breath hitched as your leg brushed the inside of his thigh—that’s it, that was the reaction you wanted. “Do you want to fuck me, Dr. Chilton?”

Oh, he did.

A barely audible whine rose from the back of his throat, and his hands were around your waist. “I suppose so,” he said, still a little too clinically, though a hard bob of his Adam’s apple betrayed him. His eyes met yours. They were the color of an ocean wave crashing on the beach; an honest, North Atlantic wave that you might find at Chesapeake Bay—not some perfect crystal-blue wave from a tropical paradise. “It couldn’t hurt to let off some steam.”

“Precisely,” you nodded. Just two adults doing the logical thing. That’s right. No squishy vulnerable feelings that could be used against you. Just relieving tension.

He grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you hastily into the nearest unoccupied space. The door to the cramped supply closet clicked shut, and he leered at you with eyes that seemed to glow with hunger in the dark. You felt pleasantly like a small animal trapped with a wolf about to be devoured. A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine and sent heat rushing between your thighs. Before you knew it you were flipped standing with him pressed against your back, pumping into you with muffled moans—as frenzied with desperation as you’d fantasized he would be—as you braced against a metal shelf crammed with pens and packs of post-it notes.

He was strong. You had expected his suit to hide the flaccid body of a sedentary academic, fragranced of old books, but when he pulled your hips into his your body moved.

After finishing inside you with a ragged, tortured breath (barely choking back a too-vulnerable moan), he hastily zipped himself back into his pants and left you to clean yourself up on your own, without so much as a nod to ceremony or pleasantries. That was the end of that, you figured—exactly what you asked for, no more no less. Little did you know, Dr. Chilton had no intention of leaving things off at one quickie in a closet.

Before you left, he pulled you into his office and provoked you with lewd remarks about fucking you on his desk—so you knocked the clutter off it onto the floor to make room. He shrieked like a toddler as his very important papers and very expensive office décor went flying, having neither thought through the actual consequences of desk-sex nor expected you to call his bluff. His beautiful seawater eyes went wide as you pushed him back on the broad mahogany surface and climbed on top of him. Then you were riding him, chasing your climax with his well-manicured hands kneading your ass cheeks, pulling you deeper and deeper with each stroke of your hips. And still you wanted more. You wanted to fuck him into next week.

And then you were in his unreasonably lavish home, in his unreasonably, decadently oversized bed, his mouth feverishly working your heat, and you repaying him by making him come over and over until it was torture, until he could no longer hold back the whimpering sobs of pleasure as he fell apart, and he passed out from fatigue. You collapsed next to him on the bed, panting, sweating, and shaking with over-stimulation.

For a moment you considered the snoring body of an unsavory man you had exhausted into submission, lying naked and leaking fluids onto two-thousand-thread-count sheets, and briefly considered calling a cab. Then you went to the bathroom for a towel to wipe him off before curling yourself around him under the covers.

  *****

Morning found you nestling in his soft light brown chest hair, tracing your fingers along the raised red scar that divided a third of his torso like an autopsied cadaver. He flinched a little when you touched it, but remained impassive. A reservoir of sympathy swelled up within you.

“You pity me. That is why you wanted to sleep with me all of a sudden,” he said, deciphering the meaning of your look. “I’m not complaining. Apparently, to be fortunate in bed requires only that one be tragically disfigured. You are drawn to wounded birds.”

The corner of your lip screwed up like you swallowed something bitter. It’s… probably not healthy to desire someone purely out of pity, but he was right. You never felt anything for him until you felt sorry for him. But that wasn’t all there was to your relationship… was it?

“The instinct to nurture and the instinct to hurt are both strong human emotions. They’re primal,” you speculated.

“Trying your hand at psychoanalysis? I would leave it to the professionals, darling.”

“Would you?” You tilted your head innocently. “Then how come you’re still practicing?”

He clutched his chest and feigned being wounded.

Grinning, you buried your face back into his hair. “Arguing with you was always exciting… trying to land a stinging blow. Now I see you hurt, and I feel the need to protect you, too. You tickle my instincts, I suppose. Like cold ice cream on hot pie. What can I say?”

“Hmm, a plausible hypothesis,” he nodded idly at the ceiling, one brow lifted. “I’m not sure that that is any better, but as previously mentioned, your motivations are not of particular interest to me.”

“Charming. Let me phrase it another way, then: You have a very punchable face, but since you’ve already been eviscerated, it takes the fun out of it.”

“Well, and I was going to offer you breakfast…”

#frederick chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #Raúl Esparza #Hannibal #my writing #very excited to start the sequel sooooon!

[emonaculate]

Swindle (I)

❥ AU: Modern!Mafia AU

❥ Genre: Future Smut / Angst / minor Violence

❥ Rating: 16+

❥ Pairing: Eren Yeager x Black!Reader

❥ Word Count: 1.9K

❥ Warnings Include: Domestic abuse, Profanity, Mentions of Rape, Murder, Violence, Corruption

Summary: Y/n L/n has been a world-renowned detective-turned-lawyer who has never lost a case, well that is until the criminal she is going up against, the notorious Eren Yeager, a man who just so happens to run one of the most dangerous mafia clans known to mankind, the Yaegerists. Will Y/n manage to beat this case too or will she fall to Yeager's charm and power?

Once her black heels connected with outside concrete, Y/n felt the flashing light of paparazzi taking her picture obsessively. She held onto her file folder and walked urgently into the federal courthouse. Y/n pushed her shades up, smoothed out her white button-down blouse and her black pencil skirt before entering the courtroom to see the jury and judge already being seated.

"I guess it's time to get this show on the road." She spoke to herself as she made her way to her seat.

Y/n sat down and checked the watch on her wrist, seeing that defendant was late. Her glossed lips remained in a respectful smile as she waited for the trial to begin. This case meant a little bit more to her than the usual ones; countless women and men have been going missing only to turn up dead or worse. While there was no real evidence of what was happening to them, all the data and clues lead back to international playboy Eren Yeager. Just his name alone carried enough weight that no one else from her firm even wanted to take the case.

The dark-skinned woman opened up her file case and looked over photos and evidence gather by the incompetent police force, she had a hunch that they were well aware of Yeager's ties to the crimes but had been paid off. No matter though, Y/n took down others with even less evidence, this was going to be a breeze. A light gleamed in her dark brown eyes as her smile grew wider, she had found the perfect loophole to get him before the trial even began.

"All rise!" She heard a loud voice announce meaning the trial had finally begun.

Y/n looked up, stood, and turned her head to see the nonchalant Eren Yeager leaning back in his seat, he didn't even look prepared to go to court. His long brunette hair was pulled up into a horrible-looking man-bun, the white button he wore was untucked and slightly wrinkled, pink lipstick marks littered his neck and Y/n couldn't help but roll her eyes in annoyance.

"You may be seated. And now we will commence the trial, Eren Yeager V..."

The woman stood up and moved out of her seat heading to the floor to speak; she walked past the male without a spare glance despite feeling his turquoise eyes greedily take in her form.

"I'd like to call on the defendant to speak. I just a few questions." The smile on her face was as polite as it was sinister.

"Mr. Yeager?" The judge looked at Eren and his lawyer.

"Sure." He shrugged and stood up heading to the floor as well.

Once Eren sat down, Y/n begun throwing her questions at him with the intent of getting him to slip up.

"Mr. Yeager, the first victim I'd like to bring up is your ex-girlfriend. Historia Reiss."

"Oh? You think I killed my ex?" He said slightly amused by her claim.

"Getting to that but first; as you know, all the evidence I have was given to me by Military Police, and it's no secret that evidence mysteriously disappears within their hands. So, I took it upon myself to do research."

"Well aren't you, a good little girl?" Eren hummed as he leaned over the banister.

"There's nothing little about me, however, I do pride myself on being a good girl." Y/n matched his banter whilst remaining professional, there was no way she'd allow him to get under her skin today, after all, she needed to avenge those poor souls.

"Back on topic, You and Miss Historia were a public couple for two months and then you just broke it off correct?"

"Correct. Mutual break up."

"So you had no problem seeing her with your brother just two days afterward? You felt no type of jealousy or anger?"

"I felt nothing at all. She was someone that lived in the moment. One day her favorite color was red, the next it was blue."

"Are you saying that Historia was just a fling?"

"Precisely."

Y/n's smile wavered for a moment and she bit her lip, knowing that what she was going to say next could throw the case from her side. It was risky but given how calm and collected Eren was currently looking, she knew she needed to get the jury antsy or at least stir something in the male to make him break or crack just a little.

"When Miss. Reiss's body was found, did you know she had been sexually assaulted moments before being shot to death? Her autopsy showed signs of struggling."

"..." Eren's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at the woman.

"Miss. L/n.." The judge warned cautiously.

"My apologies. I have no further questions." Y/n turned prepared to walk back to her seat.

"I heard. I heard what happened to her. But no I had no part of it." Eren coolly breathed out.

Y/n looked back at him as she sat back down knowing that now it was time to bring out the big guns. She knew that there was no way in hell that he had anything to do with the death of Historia, but it was still a necessary blow to get him to crack and it certainly worked its magic. Even though the crack was no more than a small slither, it was enough for Y/n to slide through.

She took a sip of her water to wet her tongue as she listened to multiple victims' families break down and cry in front of Eren as they questioned the whereabouts of their loved ones' remains. Despite all of that Eren insisted he had no idea or part in any of it. Y/n stood back up prepared for round two, feeling confident enough that she was going to break him.

"As previously stated by others, most of the victims died in the same way and were women. I couldn't help but notice one fact."

"And that might be?" His guard was up, no longer holding onto that flirtatious persona, he had dawned earlier.

"They all rival the murder of your mother Karla Yeager."

And there it was, the mask that his face held came crashing down straight to the floor. Y/n's smile disappeared as well, nothing left but a solemn look as her brown eyes held a serious gaze with his rage-filled turquoise ones.

"My mother?" He sounded pissed and had begun to slightly shake.

"I told you, I did my homework. The autopsy for the late Mrs. Yeager, she was gunned down in midday light and no one saw anything, well know one but you. Am I correct?"

"Miss. L/n." The judge's voice boomed as he stared down at the woman in disbelief.

"Just a moment. Eren when your mother died, you were a young boy. So no one believed you when you protested about the 'titans' that took away your mother. And everyone that has been murdered besides Historia Reiss had a connection to 'Titans', excuse me, I mean the Marleyan Mafia." Y/n concluded not noticing Eren's face morphing into one of complete and utter rage.

"Now I have no further question-"

Y/n's words were cut off by the sound of an explosion, the commotion and debris sending her to the floor. The courtroom door burst open as Y/n began to sit up, the sound of gunshots rang off in her ears.

Screams and cries soon began to follow, Y/n's eyes widened in horror as she watched the body of the judge fall from his bench, blood splattering against the ground and oozing out of the open wound against his split opened head.

Eren stepped down from his stand and moved towards Y/n who shook on the floor. His face calm and collected again, despite the chaos that was raging. He gripped Y/n's arm harshly and tugged her up off the ground despite her struggle and stumbling.

"Drop the act, Y/n. The majority of the section has been cleared out." He finally said.

With his words, Y/n stood up straight as a smile formed on her face as she shoved him away from her.

"About time. I don't think I could sit through any more sob stories."

"That was a low blow about my mother, don't think you're getting off easy." He frowned gripping her wrist again.

"Oh? I did what I had to do. But consider it payback for all the other dirty work, I've had to do for you."

"You like getting dirty for me." His hand trailed up to her face as he squeezed her jaw tightly.

"Not when it involves me dealing with those perverted pigs at the station. Now let's go, I'm sure Armin is waiting for us."

She shoved him away again and turned on her heel walking past the fresh corpses toward the back exit that had been cleared completely out, Y/n gave Eren a blank look pausing in her steps.

"You owe me a new pair of shoes by the way."

"You keep giving me attitude and we'll see who owes who," He warned as he pulled out his phone to call Armin. "Blow this shit to hell."

Y/n watched him give commands over the phone and bit her lip, it was making her feel some type of way. God, it had been too long, a year without any real contact to ensure that this latest plan would work. Most of the jury had been people with ties to the Marleyan gang that Eren had been plotting to take out. The only way to get so many of them in one place was to have a trial and make it look as if it was certain Eren was going to jail.

"You know that if you come with me, you'll be a wanted woman." Eren voiced having hung up on Armin.

"Come on, you going soft on me Yeager? What happened to the only way out is death?"

He walked up to her and placed his forehead on hers silently. Y/n knew what he was trying to say, he had a superstition that if he admitted he loved her vocally, she would wind up dying just like everyone else he loved.

"I'm not leaving you. Now let's go before we get blown the fuck up." She mumbled softly as she pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

He laughed and held onto her hand as she made her way to the car that had been planted for them to escape in. The model was an old and retro mustang with a classy red paint job.

"Connie?" Y/n questioned as she slipped into the car.

"He thought it would look badass if we drove away from an exploding building with a mustang." Eren rolled his eyes whilst getting in as well as revving the engine.

"I gotta admit, it does sound hot."

Eren rolled his eyes and began to count down from ten, continuously revving the engine waiting for the explosions to begin. Y/n leaned back in her seat with a crazed smile on her face, the thrill of living life on the edge was getting to her again. Out of nowhere, the planted bombs began to go off one by one. Eren stepped on the gas and sped away from the sounds, the car jumping and bouncing from the debris of the explosions hitting against the car. Y/n held onto her seatbelt and laughed whole-heartedly as she looked at her boyfriend whose eyes were trained on the road, and that's when she knew she meant what she said.

She would follow him until the day she died.

#tw: injury #tw: drugs #tw: murder #eren yeager x black reader #black main character #gore #y/n is a bad bitch #ruthless murder #plot twist #to be continued #eren x black reader #eren jaeger #eren yaeger x reader smut #attack on titan #mafia #modern au #tw mention of rape #anime fanfic #poc representation #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #yeagerist #character death

[beyscape]

The Intern - 4

Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: Being Andy’s intern meant you got to spend more time by his side more than anyone. This was fine, however, until feelings got in the way and made things complicated

Warnings: swearing, age gap relationship, implied sex, technically cheating

Word Count: 3754

A/N Contains spoilers from episodes 1-6! 9 Crimes by Damien Rice kept coming up in my shuffled playlist when I was writing this, thought that was interesting,,

Ch.1   Ch.2   Ch.3   Ch.4   Ch.5

  The room was quiet. The only sounds were coming from the man laying beside you, and even those were rare. You watched the dark blue shade of the sky grow lighter as the sun rose slowly, not daring to move out of the fear of disturbing your lover beside you. You knew how hard it was for him to get a good night’s sleep. You felt his fingers twitch slightly from where they lay on your waist.

  The sneaking around was proving to be harder than you both had thought. Well, you hadn’t really thought about the technicalities of this whole thing, but still. Ever since that night you had first shared such an intimate moment in the hotel, both you and Andy had decided it was too hard of a task to keep away. That meant, almost every night since then, Andy found a way to sneak out of his bed and into yours. He came when everyone was fast asleep, when there was nothing but the moon and the stars to hold witness, and left with the first rays of sun. You knew it was all borrowed time, only a couple of hours bliss, and it was coming to an end already as the sun blinked lazily. Andy’s slow and steady breathing was warm on your shoulder, you felt a small kiss placed right under your shoulder blade.

  You shifted from where you lay, now facing him. His hand remained on your waist, holding you close. His blue eyes were still halfway closed, eyelids heavy with sleep. The tips of your fingers traced his cheek gently, Andy smiled at the touch. He was slowly getting used to the affection he once forgot the feeling of, it kept him grounded. Sane. In a time when everything felt so out of control and so wrong, he was glad to have found his anchor. His safe haven. He pulled you closer.

“Andy,” you whispered, your eyes searching his face, savoring every last detail like you did every morning.

“I know.” He sighed, well knowing he had little time before having to leave the warm bed and go back to his equally cold house.

In the next twenty minutes he was up and dressed, and disappeared into the beginning day after kissing you one last time. It was never easy; your heart would ache and protest every time you had to go back to merely being ex-colleagues. Your only consultation was knowing you would be able to throw yourself into his arms when the night fell.

You slept for what felt like only five minutes after Andy left, and would have slept more had it not been for the shrill ringing of your handphone form the night stand. You blindly reached an arm out, refusing to open your eyes, and brought the phone to your ear.

“Neal? Yeah I was sleeping,” you shot up, fully awake as Neal gave you the news, “Alright I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You pulled on your clothes and grabbed your stuff with a practiced speed, well aware that you had no moment to waste if you were to make it to work with minimal scolding. You also had a pit stop to make before that. Soon enough you were in front of the bright red door of the Barber house, trying to gather up the courage to knock. You had been in the house before, when you helped Andy with carrying some files, but that was before getting romantically involved.

“Y/N?” someone called, sounding out of breath, you looked up and met the person you were trying to avoid. Well, not really trying as you stood right in front of her house, but you were hoping she would be on her jog. Laurie, much to your dismay, returned from her jog in that same moment.

“Laurie, hi!” you stammered, somehow managing to smile. You tried not to look at the wedding ring on her hand, or think about how her husband was in your bed just a couple of hours ago.

“It’s been a while,” she weakly smiled at you and you didn’t blame the woman, “is Andy not home?”

“Oh, I haven’t knocked yet. I was afraid I’d wake you guys up.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. “I have something I need to talk to him about.”

“Is it about Jacob’s case?” Laurie’s eyes widened.

You bit your lip. “I don’t know yet, that’s why I need to talk to Andy first.” Laurie nodded, and ushered you in.

“Andy,” she called, “we have a guest.” Laurie turned to you; expression grim as she tried to give you another smile. “I’ll be upstairs, I need a shower.”

“Who came at this hour—” Andy appeared on the stairs, and stopped. “Y/N.” His gaze flickered between you and Laurie. You swallowed.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys to it.” Laurie left, barely even looking at Andy. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escaped your lips. Andy lead you to the kitchen wordlessly.

“What are you doing here?” He finally asked, satisfied with the distance. Relief washed over you as you noted the tone of his question, he wasn’t angry. Instead, he seemed almost concerned.

“I’m sorry for coming like this, I wasn’t sure what you’d say.” Your words were barely above a whisper. He immediately shook his head.

“I know you wouldn’t without a good reason.” His gaze looked over you.

“We have Ben’s phone. Neal just called me, and I have to go to the courthouse as soon as I can. He’s probably gonna try and keep it hushed, so I figured you should know.” You breathed out; chest heavy. Andy’s eyebrows raised, thinking.

“Thank you so much for telling me,” he muttered, looking over his shoulder before his fingers grazed yours slightly, not daring to do more.

“Just, wait for like a day, alright? It’ll look suspicious if you go and request to see the evidence so soon. He can’t know it was me.”

“I know, baby girl,” he said quietly, “I’ll give the tall bastard a day to gloat before coming in with Joanne.” Jacob barreled in just then, coming to a halt upon seeing you. He didn’t say anything if he noticed the way you and Andy jumped back when he came in.

“Y/N, hi.” He greeted you with a small smile, “are you staying for breakfast?”

“Hi Jacob. I was just actually leaving. Had something to discuss with your dad.” You gave him an apologetic smile before turning to Andy. You nodded, not really meeting his eyes. he did the same. You dashed out of the house with a quick goodbye to Jacob, it was too hard to stand there and look at Andy while his son was right next to him and his wife upstairs. You rested your head on the steering wheel for a moment, before driving off to work; you were already late.

 ------------

Andy kept his word and gave you and Neal one day with the phone before telling Joanne what he knew. You were at the courthouse with Neal the next day, looking into some other evidence for another case when you finally left Duffy’s office and saw Andy at the end of the hall. You froze as your eyes met. Yu couldn’t read anything form his expression, he looked like he was marching into war as Joanne said something to him. His gaze flickered to yours just for a split second and you almost saw his determination falter. Almost.

“Mr. Barber has every right to be here, Neal.” Joanne spoke before turning to you, “Y/N.” she gave you a smile.

“Hi Joanne.” You smiled at the older woman.

“Well technically I could argue that he doesn’t since he’s a possible witness in the case but I’m letting it slide.” Neal retorted, a smirk appearing on his face as he took Andy in.

“What a mensch.”

“You’re not going in there with us if that’s what you think was gonna happen.” Andy finally addressed Neal; his voice was hard. You just prayed Neal wouldn’t provoke Andy too much.

“Of course not, I already examined the cellphone. I was up here for something else. We do have other cases, right Y/N?”

“Goodbye Neal. And next time you want to conceal evidence from us, don’t.” Joanne nodded before her and Andy moved on. You were just about to breathe in relief when Neal spoke again.

“Oh, I have been meaning to ask,” his voice called, “how’s your father, Andy?” You didn’t need to see Neal’s face to know he was smirking; you suck in a sharp breath.

Andy turned. “What did you say?” If only looks could kill, Neal would drop dead; your gaze darted between Andy and Neal.

“I asked about your father. How’s he doing? You know, I knew criminal law was a passion of yours but I had no idea it was the family business.” Andy, who was slowly walking back to where you and Neal stood, slammed him to the wall by the collar of his suit. Duffy was already making her way towards you, but you were closer.

“You think this is a joke? Do you?” Andy’s voice trembled with anger as you put a hand on his arm, pulling.

“Andy! Stop.” You managed to push the two men apart with the help of Duffy, your hand lingering on his arm as you stared at Andy’s face, twisted with fury.

“Shit.” He stormed off, you followed without knowing what you were doing. All you knew was, Andy was upset and you wanted to be by him.

“Don’t lecture me about concealing things,” Neal shot from the hall, not done with the baiting, “I will say this, it explains a lot, Andy, about you, about your son.” You cursed as his words were successful in getting a raise out of Andy, he made a move towards him.

“Andy,” you stopped him, your hand on his chest, as everyone moved closer. Ready to break apart a fight.

Andy’s burning eyes calmed as he looked at you. You dropped your hand when you felt the stare of everyone else.

“Fuck,” Andy moved out of your reach, frustrated as he breathed hard.

Neal cleared his throat. “Y/N.” He ordered, snapping your attention back to him. You ran out, dizzy, adrenaline still pumping wildly in your veins. You spared one last worried look at Andy’s figure, noting his balled fists with a troubled heart. However, in the moment you were lost in your feelings for Andy, you missed the strange look Neal gave you.

------------

 You immediately knew something was wrong when Andy came over that night, his regular gentle kisses leaving their place for rougher ones. His roaming hands gripped tightly, desperately as the layers between you were thrown away. A part of you wanted to ask, to comfort him, but desire was stronger and was quick to shut your mind to all but Andy’s burning touches.

“I’m just trying to look out for him,” he murmured into your hair later, telling you of the night’s events. Your head lay on his chest, one leg thrown over his, a light blue sheet was draped over the two of you.

Your fingers idly drew shapes on his chest. “He knows, deep down. I’m sure.”

“I hate yelling at him.”

You raised your head, holding yourself up with the support of your elbow. His blue eyes were weary under the pale light of the moon, they fluttered shut as your hand laid on his cheek. He leaned into the touch. You placed a kiss on his temple, right between his brows where the  worry lines seemed to make a home for themselves.

“Andy,” his eyes opened slowly, “I wish I could find a way to end this all. I hate seeing you like this.”

He sighed, but a small smile formed on his lips nonetheless. “You have no idea how much you help me, do you? You are the one thing that keeps me sane these days, baby girl.” You kissed his cheek at that, his beard slightly tickling. His cellphone rang then, earning a groan from Andy.

“Who the fuck calls this late?” he hissed, his expression souring as he saw the word ‘unknown’ flash on the screen. He sat up in the bed, listening intently; you ran a hand over his strong back, trying to surpass a smile. Andy Barber was one handsome man, sometimes you found it hard to believe he really was here, in your bed. He ended the call.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, but I gotta go.” He stumbled out of bed, his moves fast, almost panicky.

“Is everything alright?” You sat up as well, not wanting him to leave when you already had so little time together.

He pulled on his pants. “Yeah, I think,” his eyes searched for his shirt, “this might be good news, I gotta go talk to this kid.” You threw him the shirt he was looking for.

“Call me later, then.” You sigh, nothing you could do or say would change his mind once it was set.

“I will.” He kissed you once, twice, “go back to sleep.” You nodded. Just like that, he was gone. It took some time for sleep to coax you back into its arms, but when it did, you were still thinking of the warmth of his hands as they explored every inch of your body.

------------

Your morning of dealing with Neal and working on the mountain of paperwork was interrupted when Lynn, your boss, called you and Neal to her office. Possible important development, she said, in the case of Ben Rifkin. You shot a confused glance at Neal, who shrugged before following Lynn.

A moment after you were seated detective Duffy strode in, with two people you didn’t recognize in tow. Then came Joanne and Andy, who shot you a quick, apologetic look. He hadn’t called, but you didn’t blame him with everything going on. Your attention turned to the fidgety boy. He started speaking once everyone was seated.

As Matt told his encounter with Patz, Neal grew more annoyed by the word, on the other hand you could see Andy’s hidden hope. This could potentially lead to linking Patz to the crime, getting Jacob off the hook. You tried to not show your own relief. Maybe things would look up for the first time in a while.

Neal tried to dismiss the boy’s story once they left with Duffy, but Lynn wouldn’t let it go so easily. After a moment of consideration, she finally agreed for a search warrant,  much to Neal’s dismay. He scoffed before leaving, your eyes found Andy’s before following Neal out of the room. Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

It was from Andy. “Meet me in the file room 2” the text read. You sat at your desk, eyeing Lynn walk out Joanne and Andy. Joanne smiled at you as she passed, Andy barely looking, he leaned and whispered something to the older woman. She nodded and patted his arm.

You waited for another moment, making sure everyone else was busy with their own works, before grabbing some files from your desk. If anyone tried to ask any questions, this way you hoped to avoid them. With the rhythmical click of your heels, you made your way down the hall, took the stairs, and found the file room 2. You quickly slipped through the door, shutting it behind you.

The room was small, walls lined with shelf after shelf, all of them had boxes filled with old case files. In the middle of the room, Andy stood with his hands on his hips, his back turned to the door. His head snapped to your direction with the sound of the door. He exhaled, seeing that it was you. A soft smile broke on his handsome face, illuminated by the dim yellow light of the room. You tossed the files in your hands on top of a box, running into his open arms. A quite laughter of disbelief escaped him, shaking his chest as your head rested on the crook of his neck.

“Finally,” he spoke after a moment, “there has to be something, right?”

You nodded, “The guy’s shady for sure, there has to be something in the apartment.” You pulled back a little, just enough to see. There was hope twinkling in his eyes, such a beautiful sight, you let out a happy sigh. He leaned in slightly, his gaze fallen on your lips. The door flew open, revealing a tall figure on the doorway.

Neal.

You and Andy flew apart instinctively, your heart pounding in your chest. You looked at Neal in horror, as his eyes drifted between you and Andy. He smirked.

“Well, what do we have here? Mr.-I’m-morally-superior Andy Barber, fucking the intern.” He sneered.

“Neal—”

“Be careful, Neal.” Andy took a step forward, fists clenched, “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, I think it’s my business alright. Murder suspect, coming from a broken home, you know how it’s gonna look in front of the jury.” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes roaming over you. “I can’t fire you, but you’re off the case of Ben Rifkin. Conflict of interest, when you’re screwing the dad of our prime suspect.” He shrugged, turning to Andy. A cold smirk still playing on his lips. “And here people were feeling bad for your family. Does your wife know you’re running behind her back with a pretty young thing between your arms?”

Andy moved towards the tall man with fire in his eyes, fists drawn back and ready to punch, you stepped in front of him. Beating Neal would only make things worse for everyone. Neal scoffed.

“Listen to your little mistress.” He looked around the room. “Honestly, with the way you two are so carless, I’m surprised this isn’t the talk of the town. I don’t even have to say a word, you’ll probably handle getting caught yourselves.” Neal laughed, a bitter sound to your ears.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut, Neal, or I’ll shut it for you.” Andy spit, his eyes focused on the guy behind you. You kept your hands on his arm, firm. Neal looked at both of you for a second.

“I won’t say anything, for now.” You turned to him then, surprised. Neal continued. “But you both know that I know. And personally, I’m sick of your attitude, Andy. I’d like to see you squirm a little.” He laughed again, placing his hands in his pockets before turning around and leaving.

“Fuck,” Andy breathed, “God dammit.” He kicked one of the shelves, shaking the boxes of files. The shaking of your hands and the swaying of your head kept you in place. You looked at each other with matching expressions.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said after his breathing calmed down a little, “I’ll go there now and talk to him—”

“Andy.” You closed your eyes, steadying yourself before your next words. “It won’t change anything. You know Neal as well as I do. Better, even.” Your mind running a thousand miles per second, you tried. Tried to figure out a way out of this hole you had dug yourselves into, tried to find the right words, tried to breathe… All three proved to be more difficult than you wished for.

“Shit, Andy, what if he’s right?” You opened your eyes to look at him, his frozen face not helping the tears stinging in your eyes. “You’re married for fuck’s sake, and everything with Jake… You’re upset and I, I should have known better.” You choked on your words, barely managing to get them out. It was one thing to be with a married man, that was always looming over you, but if your little affair ended up hurting Jacob’s case… that was a fact you hadn’t considered.

“Baby girl,” And shook his head, not wanting to hear it. He stepped towards you, grabbing your arms. “No. If you’re blaming yourself,” he gulped, his gaze burning into yours, “you can’t. Okay? I wanted this, if anyone’s responsible, it’s me. And, fuck…” he muttered under his breath, “We can’t change anything now.”

“What are we gonna do, Andy?” you whispered, warm tears dripping down your cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumb, pulling you in an embrace.

“I don’t know.” He needed to think, with Neal knowing it was a matter of time. At the best-case scenario, Neal would wait until the trial and use it there. But that meant, you had maybe six weeks before coming clean at least to Laurie and Joanne. Andy cursed. It was way too soon than he hoped for. “We will figure it out.”

His hand rubbed your back mindlessly, soothing your silent crying. Just when he thought things were starting to get somewhat better, it all came crashing down. He didn’t regret what he had with you, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t feel guilty about it. But, it meant, another mess to try and figure out, it weighed on his shoulders. It was his fault, Andy knew it, his fault for being careless. Maybe he had grown too comfortable in the weeks he had spent with you. He pressed his lips together. It was better to talk to Laurie before the trial. Better she learns from him. You shook between his arms, drifting his attention from his thoughts.

Yes, he had to talk to Laurie soon. It could wait though, for another moment, as he held you in his arms, savoring the feeling. He wished he had more time, to no avail. Andy sighed. “We’ll figure it out, Y/N.” He murmured, placing a kiss on top of your hair. He closed his eyes, praying to whatever was out there to give him enough strength; to figure out a way out of this mess, to protect his son, and to protect this woman who occupied the most hidden, special place in his heart.

-------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: oooooh shit’s hitting the fan. My askbox is open for requests, feedback and just to talk about chris evans!

CHRIS EVANS TAGLIST @marvelouspottering​ @kelbabyblue​ @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​ @may-machin @little-dark-empress​ @retro-babez​

THE INTERN TAGLIST: @patzammit​

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #defending jacob #defending jacob fanfiction #andy barber x y/n #andy barber fanfiction #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans #chris evans imagine

[theggning]

First Line Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some of your favourite authors!

Thanks @mayihavethisdanse ! I definitely have more than 20 stories but some of them are from the... let’s call them the shame days. So I won’t be getting into those. Instead I’ll do some first lines from chapters. 

Fallout 4

Stories From the Front (Piper and Danse go on a mission and a ship happens on accident. Danse/Piper) 

The sun rose on another beautiful Commonwealth morning. Birds chirped serenely in the trees outside. A gentle breeze carried fresh air through the open shack window, rustling her hair and chilling her skin.

Piper opened her eyes, and instantly regretted it.

Souls That Cry For Water (Preston and Minuteman!Danse talk feelings. Gen)

“Good morning, Commonwealth. Well I- it’s actually night but when I say morning, I mean… technically it’s 2 AM, so that’s-- morning, since it’s after midnight…

“Anyway. Anyway. I know I usually have the-- have the recordings automated overnight, but I was lying there in bed, thinking about… Well, I started thinking about a scenario...”

All Along The Watchtower (Nick and Danse team up to solve a mystery and a friendship happens on accident. Gen, background Danse/Sole) 

1.  The sky rumbled, green flashes in the distance foretelling the radstorm a few seconds before the click-click-clicking in his chest. His internal Geiger counter hummed to life as the first heavy drops spattered against his fedora.

2. It wasn’t like Nick expected traveling with the least easygoing man in the Commonwealth to be a picnic, but he realized his crucial mistake about two hours in: he’d forgotten to bring a radio. 

5. Claustrophobia was one of the most oddly common reasons that people washed out of the Brotherhood of Steel.

10. Machines do not remember. But he does. 

 11. It had been an eventful 24 hours, to say the least. Much of it still felt surreal, like he had never quite woken up from dreaming. But if this was a dream, it was the best Danse had ever had.

Slightly Crusty Older Stuff: 

Soul Calibur

(YES REALLY OKAY)

Ache (SC4, Maxi realizing the gravity of having an evil sword shard shoved into him. Light one-sided Maxi/Kilik) 

It was disturbing, discovering patches that covered up things you didn’t even realize were missing. 

Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective

Try, Try Again (Yomiel discovers his immortality via extremely dark dry comedy. Gen, TW: suicide, supernaturally unsuccessful suicide attempts)

He'd lost track of the time as he knelt there on the floor beside the sofa. It could have been minutes, hours, or even days. Her hand had long since gone cold in his, and he could feel her body getting stiff in his arms.

Ace Attorney

The Last Drop   (Diego wakes up from his coma and begins his angsty evolution into Godot. Background Diego/Mia.) 

Perhaps it all would never have happened if Julian Dorn, in Room 302 of the Caduceus Trauma Center Neurology Ward, had not complained of a stomachache.

The Best Part of Waking Up  (A kinkmeme fill, Adrian Andrews runs into Godot and they go out for friendly coffee and a chat. Gen.) 

The courthouse was such a divisive place to her now. On one hand, it represented the lowest, darkest time of Adrian’s life. Sitting in that defendant’s seat while the world came crashing down around her… it was like a waking nightmare and she still got chills when she remembered it.

Red Eye (Another kinkmeme fill, Godot visits the prison and kicks the living shit out of Redd White.) 

“Mr. White?”

Redd could barely hear the warden’s voice over the roaring in his head—the ringing in his ears and what he swore was the sound of his pulse throbbing through bruises and heavily bleeding gashes in his formerly perfectimous face.

EVEN OLDER, EVEN CRUSTIER, but included for AO3 completion.............

Kingdom Hearts

Those Lacking Spines  (Xaldin, Vexen, and Lexaeus save the world and endure terrible fanfic tropes in an extremely goofy parody written circa 2006. Gen. EXTREMELY OLD.) 

1.  There was nothing to do in The World That Never Was.

6.  Somewhere across the universe, very far away from where the G.S. Existentialist drifted lazily through space, somewhere all the way past chapter nine, there was a shadowy figure perched at the loft window on the very top floor of a tall, dark skyscraper.

9.  When we last left our heroes at the suspenseful, cliffhanger ending to chapter eight, they had just been swept over by an evil wave of darkness that would, according to the laws of the world, sweep over them and transform their every happy, angry, annoyed or ambivalent feeling into Evangelion ™ Brand 100% Pure Angst, No Artificial Colors.

12.  There is really no comfortable way for the author to relay the climactic events of the previous chapter to you before she embarks on this, the penultimate episode of the epic quest of Xaldin, Vexen and Lexaeus and their battles against all that is confusing and mentally-scarring.

13.  As Xaldin lay there, immobile and stunned on the cold floor of who even knew where, shards of glass sticking painfully out of various parts of his backside, he tried to remind himself that days like this had to happen every so often to keep you humble.

----------------------------------------

THOUGHTS: 

I do love to open on a joke.

Vivid, easily identifiable character dialogue (like Travis in STCFW) is also a good start.

Never underestimate the power of just doing a moody description of the weather. 

Otherwise, it seems like I tend to start with a plainly stated idea and then explain it somewhat before connecting it back to the characters’ present situation. 

I can’t pick a favorite really... they are all my flawed children. 

Tagging anyone who’d like to participate. <3 

oh god please dont judge my crusty old stuff PLEASE PLEASE PLS

#fanfiction #fallout fic #kh fanfiction #those lacking spines #oh my god people write fic for soul calibur #well okay just me actually apparently #writing meme

[cofferi]

a guy left a pretty upset voicemail on the reception line the other day saying he is a lawyer trying to pick up his disclosure but all the court buildings are closed and they gave him some number to call but when he calls nobody picks up and it doesn’t allow for leaving voicemail. he’s understandably frustrated and i’m like wow that really sucks but i’m just the reroute line so i already feel bad having to forward his call to yet another person. i call back and leave a message and for some reason i feel particularly bad about this one so i actually say i sincerely apologize for this inane process and if he could call back yet again and leave the courthouse he’s trying to reach i promise i will forward him to the supervisor there. so anyway that was like a few days ago. today i’m having a particularly bad day. i get an unexpected call from that supervisor and he says hi we’ve never spoken before but i just want to let you know that guy picked up his disclosure today and thanks for forwarding that message. and i’m like oh ok that’s great haha. i didn’t even know if i was forwarding it to the right person. sometimes i just make educated guesses and pray and hope i’m even in the right section because i have to field calls that are even vaguely legal-related and i have no experience and nobody tells me anything. supervisor says no he was exactly the right person in this case and if i have any questions about anything i can just ask him or send it his way. so i did. i asked him to clarify some stuff about prosecutions and parking and courts and he spent like 20 mins on the phone answering all my questions. and i got off the phone just being like wow. idk i guess something got to me. it was his chipper attitude and the way he was so genuinely nice and wanting to help me. i’m sorta crying now even just remembering it. reminds me of the girl from finance who i met up with only a handful of times last year to sign some things, but she got me a $20 starbucks card for xmas and i was so speechless. she doesn’t even know me. she said she was grateful for me being so dedicated and coming into the office. i didn’t even know what to say. it’s these sort of people that like........idk i have these people that i just think about all the time. maybe they were really nice to me during times when i felt the most down so i will remember them forever. i feel like i get emotional at the littlest things. but i’m just so grateful to people who make time for me even and especially when i’m someone random to them but they’re so genuinely kind amongst everyone else in this corporate world who don’t care and don’t give a shit. like certain people really make an impact on me. i wish i was able to convey to them just how much their words mean to me. and yeah anyway i just want to say i applied to an internal position a while ago and if i get it and get to choose my work location i want to pick the location of that supervisor who called me.

[matth1w]

Advocatus

Pairing: Matt Murdock (Daredevil) x Reader

Summary: A pretentious legal aide annoys you and Matthew brings the snark

Warnings: None

Rating: All

Word Count: 1,050

Note: This is trash ik ik.

You were taking time to respond to some work emails on your phone while you were waiting for your boyfriend, Matthew, to finish closing statements.

He was defending a group of residents against a slumlord who was trying to sue for damages he caused AFTER they had moved out.

You leaned against the marble of the courthouse walls, ready to pick him up for your celebratory lunch date. The door opened and you heard him speaking to the judge for a moment.

“Your honor, as the evidence and testimony from my clients have shown...”

The door shut again and you only heard the ringing of the elevator down the hall. You paid little attention to the man who stepped out, only looking up briefly before returning to your emails. However, he seemed more interested in you.

He cleared his throat, forcing you to look up and smile politely. You scanned him, noticing the ‘spoiled trust-fund brat’ vibe radiating off him. He looked exactly the type to have his eyes set on the senate or legislature. Maybe mayor and then an embarrassing run for president that ends due to such low support in the polls, even his own constituents hate him.

The idea made you chuckle internally. You’d have to tell Matt that one.

Apparently happy he got your attention, which he must have mistaken for interest, he spoke up,

“Ugh that Murdock never shuts up. Going on and on. We get it dude, you’re blind and you hate rich people.”

He shot you a look, expecting you to agree. The dumb fool must think you’re part of the prosecution. But then, wouldn’t you be in the room? Or just some random person sitting outside a courtroom. Either way,

‘Stupid aide’, you thought.

Your patience was already warring thin and him criticizing Matt was making your blood start to boil. You were used to it, sure. Lawyers argue for a living and there’s plenty of people who criticize the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. But all you wanted to do was answer some emails then have a nice lunch with your boyfriend.

You gave a tense smile and looked at your phone again, hoping if you simply ignored him, he would get the hint.

Apparently not.

“But a pretty woman like you is probably bored with all this law talk.”

‘...Wow.’

You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and put your phone in your coat pocket. You squeezed the bridge of your nose, trying desperately to not rip this asshole a new one.

Once you opened your eyes, ready to teach him a lesson in How to Not be a Douche 101 you heard the gavel ring. The doors opened again and the slumlord was storming out, angrily typing on his phone.

His lawyer and legal team followed behind him, clearly unhappy. One of the lawyers snapped at the slimy dude who had tried chatting you up and he scurried behind them.

Then the defendants walked out. Happy and the looks of relief so clear on their faces. They gave you a polite smile but all you could focus on was the sound of his cane echoing in the now empty chamber.

Matthew finally stepped out and you walked up to him, draping yourself over his arm.

Leaning in to give a quick kiss, you then smiled at him.

“Congratulations, Mr. Murdock”

He huffed a laugh at that, loving the tradition you two had. His amused smile turned into a smirk.

“Hope you weren’t too bored waiting for me.”

It was your turn to huff.

“You heard that?”

He looked down somewhat bashfully, if it weren’t for that shit eating grin, as he folded up his cane.

“Yep”, he said, popping the p.

You held out your arm to him, allowing him to put his through it and began to walk down the hall, the sounds of your heels and his dress shoes sounding loudly.

“Yeah...”, you sighed. “Real class act.”

He laughed and squeezed your arm. As you rounded the corner, you saw the man from earlier being berated by the slumlord. His face was emotionless, if not a little annoyed.

However, once he saw you and Matthew walking arm in arm, he grimaced but then quickly rolled his shoulders back.

You had to hold back a scoff but shot daggers at the man. He ruined your productivity but he was not going to ruin your lunch.

Nonetheless, he walked up to you both and cleared his throat.

“Ah, Mr. Murdock.”

You cringed at his loud voice. Matthew was blind, not deaf.

“Good job in there. I guess.”

Matt nodded and gave a cocky smile.

“I would say the same to you but seems you were focused on other things.”

You had to hold back a laugh at his snark and the man seemed somewhat taken aback and about to respond but Matthew beat him to it.

“Ah, but anyway. Nice to meet you.”

Matthew stuck his hand out too just enough to the side of the pretentious aide. You watched him look at you quickly then step to the side to shake his hand.

The slimy man then smiled bitterly before walking away, leaving you two alone.

You caught the smirk that Matthew was not even trying to hide.

“Laying it on a bit thick with the whole blind bit aren’t you, Matthew?”

“I am blind though, darling”, he said, turning to you and smiling cheekily.

You roll your eyes.

“You know what I mean, Matthew. Do you ever feel guilty?”

His arm shakes under your hand as he chuckles,

“For what?”,

he asks even though you know he knew exactly what you meant.

“For playing the whole ‘blind and helpless’ card”

“I mean would you have kept talking to me if I didn’t play the blind and helpless card?” he asked and tilted his head, genuinely curious.

You ponder for a moment and laugh.

“Touché”

“I mean people see me...” he paused to lick his lips, “and that’s what they expect. They don’t see a blind person and think they’re able to see without their eyes. I mean what would you have said?”

“Hmm... I would’ve said, ‘interesting Mr. Murdock, do tell me more’”

He laughed again, that light, love-filled laugh you loved so much,

“Touché”.

#matt #matt murdock #matthew murdock #matt murdock x reader #matthew murdock x reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader

[fuwafuwamedb]

A Case of Bureaucracy Pt 6 (Siduri, Hakuno, CasGil, Gudako, Rin)

Thus Far: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

___

“I’m not a tea person. I have no preference,” Hakuno reminded him again. “I just don’t like bitter things.”

He still wasn’t listening, opting to sip more of his drink and greet the company that soon came through the door. Siduri’s small smile and her news of dinner being in an hour was enough to make her groan internally.

“I should go get some of my things,” Hakuno found herself telling the arrogant man.

“We can push back dinner,” Gilgamesh pointed out.

“Actually,” Siduri shifted, looking between them. “Enkidu is planning to join for dinner.”

The blond winced.

“I have tried to tell them that you want time to settle in more with your wife, but they were very insistent on being able to join this evening.”

“I thought Enkidu had a shoot.”

Siduri shook her head. “I checked. They’ve been meandering, it seems.”

Whatever that meant, it looked like it left old Gilgamesh none too pleased. Even more, she could see Siduri glancing her way, feigning another smile, although the look in her eyes said she was struggling.

So Enkidu had taken a day off.

Good for them. The place felt like a large, golden trimmed prison with wardens and cameras around every corner. The maids were gossips and the warden herself was influential enough to her that she was sitting here in clothes that were not her own and sipping tea with the world’s most arrogant arachnophobe.

“Hakuno and I will simply have to not keep Enkidu waiting.”

Gilgamesh stood up, brushing a hand down his button up and reaching her way.

“Come along, Hakuno.”

Come along, Hakuno, Hakuno thought to herself, sighing as she took the man’s hand.

How hard was it to divorce someone whom you married by mistake? It should have been a quick case of, ‘oh no. We’re married and we don’t know one another. Let me sign here and you sign there and- done. Divorced.’

The two of them should have been already eating separately, this place a mere memory in her head.

But that wasn’t the case and Hakuno found herself slipped under the blond’s arm, his beefy enough arm reminding her that she was far from home.

“Please take your time. I can distract Enkidu for a while,” Siduri told them.

“Do that,” Gilgamesh replied.

“Don’t you need someone to bring the car around?” That was how it worked in the movies, after all.

“We don’t have a great deal of time.” Gilgamesh moved forward with that, opening one of the doors off the other sitting room, ushering her to a long hallway and to the other end of the house.

The lights came on. The cars gleamed in a row of red and golden colored vehicles. The place was too modern, too cold, like the rest of the house. She still had the urge to wrap her hands before touching anything. She still felt like someone should be taking pictures instead of living here.

“We’ll take this one.”

Right. This one.

The golden vehicle looked like someone had melted a gold bar over a frame of some sort. The brand logo gleamed under the low lights, reminding her well of when she had worked with Roma under Nero’s smiling face.

The inside was no better.

The gleam of the dashboard over the black interior bathed the space in a faint blue. The trim of the vehicle was adorned in a wooden looking finish and LEDs. Gilgamesh himself was already pressing the button on the dash, lifting up the lights from the front of the car and pressing another button to start the garage door.

“First time?”

“I rode a car here,” she pointed out.

The sound of his laughter came a moment before he sped forth, racing into the world outside and along the path towards the house.

“You must visit the courthouse often.”

She could almost hear sirens already. Here she was riding in the car with some kind of lunatic.

“Hmm?” Gilgamesh shifted.

Hakuno stopped him as he went to turn his head. “DON’T LOOK AWAY FROM THE ROAD!”

“I’ve driven this path a thousand times. It’s fine-“

She kept her hands on his face, forcing him to face forward. Adrenaline junkie or not, he wasn’t getting them a near death experience today because of his lack of attention for tasks.

“Hakuno, remove your hands. You can’t afford my face.”

“Keep your eyes on the road and maybe I wouldn’t have to touch your baby face.”

“Excuse me?”

It was baby soft. What did he expect?

But he reached up, pulling the hands off one at a time before they made it out to where the real world was. The car raced along the roads, speeding passed the police cars and around corners. Others were honking, but the man was already passed them, too far ahead to ever be caught.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Hakuno asked him.

“No.”

She really hated this guy.

She really did.

“Take the next turn,” she offered. “Masters Street is what you’re looking for. There’s a large apartment complex. You can’t miss it.”

You can’t miss it, but he did a loop three times around the building.

The sheer gleam of the guy as they walked into the building was like some kind of spotlight, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

Flashy, flamboyant man right here, he seemed to advertise, in desperate need of being spoiled by every single person that I meet. Take me to your finest of everything so I can exercise my talent of being obscenely critical.

A few of the more questionable apartment owners waved in Gilgamesh’s direction, eyes following them until Hakuno opted for the stairs. 

She needed air, breathing room.

More importantly, she needed the exercise and time to not look at Gilgamesh. Having to run up these stairs, even in heels, was better than having Gilgamesh next to her in the mirrored elevators. 

“Hakuno, these stairs are ancient. This can’t be livable.”

She was ready to curl up in bed now and forget about dinner.

Hakuno shoved a hand into her pockets as they got to her floor, her eyes landing on her door just as she grasped- air.

I’m not wearing my clothes.

Which meant her house keys were currently on the bed in that bedroom she’d changed in, alongside her wallet and phone.

Cursing her luck, she had no other choice. Her fists pounded on the crappy wood door, watching it rattle on its hinges. No noise that it made could drown out the sounds of Gudako and Rin racing for the door. The thumps and slams on the other side gave away the head to head race happening just beyond.

“…HAKUNO!”

Rin won, although that was little surprise. Her hair a mess of brown and her shoulders graced by the redheaded roommate of theirs, both Rin and Gudako looked over at her as they opened the door.

“Holy shit, you look cute,” Gudako observed. “New clothes?”

“It’s a long story,” Hakuno replied.

“We were approached and told to go home,” Rin pointed out. “You got married apparently? What happened to getting patents? I thought- ...Who’s this?”

Right. Gilgamesh.

Hakuno took a breath, beginning the introduction.

“Rin. Gudako. This is-“

An arrogant man. That was all she could think as she felt him move. 

The man behind her was already moving in, pressing his lips to her neck. His hands seemed to know where to hold her, pulling her up against his stone slab of a chest as he chuckled near her ear. 

“I’m sure the two of you already know who I am,” Gilgamesh boasted. “Hakuno speaks of you often. Gilgamesh King. We’re here to get my wife’s things.”

Rin and Gudako looked to one another before giving him a bemused frown.

“I can explain,” Hakuno began.

However, yet again, Gilgamesh was pushing forward, getting them into the apartment where he curled his lip at the interior.

“Hakuno and I were married earlier. It was a quiet affair. You’ve seen my work. It’s important to be able to enjoy personal affairs… personally,” he hesitated on that last bit.

Probably because he was full of shit.

“Hakuno, who is this guy?” Rin glared up at him. “There’s something about him that I don’t like.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Rin’s frown darkened.

“Gilgamesh makes videos,” Hakuno explained. “He’s an actor or something.”

“Oh! That explains the flashiness.” Gudako nodded. “Hot damn. I didn’t think you’d marry an actor. Kinda weird for you, but you always do like the arrogant guys in movies.”

She wasn’t going to touch that.

“Hakuno!”

“I have to grab my things, Gudako, but come with me if you want to talk more.”

Her group wasn’t stopping with that. Rin took the lead in follow, Gudako trailing after with a grin towards Gilgamesh.

“How long have the two of you been dating?” Rin asked.

“Six months,” Gilgamesh replied.

“You were cheating on Emiya?”

Hakuno groaned, running a hand over her face.

Was this what that situation before had been like for Gilgamesh? Arrogantly spout answers that could be poked holes into? God, but they weren’t good at lying, were they?

“You got us, Rin.” Hakuno glanced over at her as she pulled a suitcase from her closet. “I officially got to talk to Gilgamesh today. We were married by a mistake and I’m planning to live with him for a while until we divorce.”

Rin groaned. “You never tell me anything! You’re so confusing, Hakuno! Just tell me, were you cheating before?”

“No, I just wasn’t in a serious relationship with Gilgamesh.”

Rin nodded, glancing over at him. “We don’t know anything about you. What movies are you in?”

“Oh, yeah.” Gudako grinned. “I want to see your movies too.”

“I’m not a film actor. I am an internet personality with-“

She moved around Rin and Gudako and yanked the man in, pressing her lips to his before she had to start explaining internet things to Rin again. The man stumbled a little as she held his shirt, his hands going to her person.

“I-I think I hear Cu calling, Rin?”

“What? He told me that he went to sleep!”

The sound of footsteps could be heard, but Hakuno found herself pulled closer. Gilgamesh’s arms were pulling her in, his mouth moving against hers more.

“You’re taking advantage of this,” he murmured as their lips parted.

“Rin doesn’t use technology. Ever.” Hakuno shook her head. “She can barely manage her phone calls with her boyfriend. Do not try to explain these things to her.”

“They asked about my film career.”

“We really need to have a serious talk about how we’re going to manage to look like a normal relationship. I was dating someone until a month ago.”

“But it wasn’t serious.”

He seemed so confident about that. Meanwhile, she could only sigh, slowly releasing the man’s shirt.

“Who’s Enkidu?” she began.

“Hmm?”

“I have to pack.” Hakuno motioned at the room. “While I grab a few things to bring with me to your home, we might as well get our story straight. You’ve met Rin and Gudako. They’re pretty much the only two people I’m close to. They know we’ve been seeing one another and have gotten married. Gudako may look you up later, but Rin won’t give you too much thought since she trusts me to make my own weird decisions.”

She opened her top drawer and began to dump clothes in, glancing his way after another moment.

“So- since we have some time. Who is Enkidu? What do I need to know for this? What’s your favorite color? What do you like? And also, what do you hate?”

The man was still staring.

“Or we could just divorce,” she offered again.

“Enkidu is the model I mentioned earlier. They’ll ask you a lot of questions, but ignore them and just turn the attention back to me. That’s all you need.”

Hakuno threw one of her projects at him, making him catch the lotion bottle or get hit.

“What’s this?”

“First thing you need to know about me: I don’t stop when I have goals. That’s my creation that I have those patents for. One of many, actually. I plan to give that to Siduri when we get back.”

She dumped a bit more in the suitcase, heading towards her bathroom for her toiletries next.

“Second thing is, I don’t need much. I am self-sufficient. I don’t need any extra things or many creature comforts. Sweets don’t count, but sweets are a food group for a reason.”

She came back into the room and filled her suitcase a little more, carefully making sure the bottles were closed before placing them into the bag.

“There’s nothing special to know about me, so you can rest easy. You’ve gotten the most uninteresting bride of all. I make things and I spend time with my two friends. That’s it.”

The man looked around at the room again before moving forward. Those red eyes seemed to flash as she found him looming over her, his hand tilting her chin back. Then, as she looked up into that gaze, she found her breath catching.

“Do not speak like that again,” he murmured. “Nothing special is for others. You are married to me. That means what is mine is yours. You are the wife to the one man in Fuyuki who can sell anything with his name alone. You are the owner of the great Uruk estate alongside me. You have gardens others grow green with envy about. You are adorned in clothes others can only dream about. And then, at night, you get to rest next to me.”

Her face was burning, alongside the rest of her existence as the man leaned in close and purred the words to her. His hot breath fanned at her face, his hold keeping her upright.

“You married the great King, Hakuno.”

The bed met her back. The man himself had somehow pushed her bedroom door closed.

“This is not where I would have wanted to begin this, but you’ve been teasing me with all that bouncing up the stairs and kissing me. You’ve made your intentions clear enough.”

#drabble #drabbles