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buckyalpine · 6 months

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LMAOO OKAY IMAGINE 40s!BUCKY (like tfa stark expo version) MAGICALLY TELEPORTING TO MODERN DAY, and Sharon’s bitch ass is hanging all over him, flirting hardcore, and is absolutely thrilled bc he’s actually giving her some attention. BUT THEN HE SEES THE READER AND IS LIKE “oh wow who is THAT” and leaves her alone to go woo the gorgeous dame. I can picture her face getting all red and embarrassed and upset. And Sam and Nat and Tony are in the background giggling.

GOD I LOOOVEEE THISSSS 40's heart has my heart cause this blushing soldier would be such a perfect mix of devilishly handsome and adorably shy.

"Shit" Tony huffed watching his time portal experiment start up and fail for the fourth time in a row while Bruce continued to medal with the dials, resetting the machine once more. "Why does it keep doing that"

"Give it a secondary power source, there's not enough juice with the first one"

Tony nodded, rummaging through a pile of knick knacks on his desk, grabbing a vial and adding it to the generator.

"Alright, set the timer to 19:00 hours and 40 in the past. Let's see if we can just travel to yesterday first before messing with going back years" He snorted, as Bruce punched in the time before hitting the start up button. The machine started to rumble before growing hot, the dials and buttons spinning and clicking on its own, parts starting to pop off.

"Oh shit!" Tony ducked under the table, shielding himself from getting knocked out as the portal grew more powerful, a force filed growing, knocking down things around the lab.

"What the hell did you use as a power source?!" Bruce yelled over the high pitched whizz the machine started to make, blinding light filling the room before disappearing, leaving a cloud of smoke in its place.

"I don't know, I just grabbed something that look like it'd fit" Toy shrugged between coughs as the smoke dissipated, squinting when he realized the platform wasn't empty.

Someone was standing there.

"What the hell..."

Blinking with bright blue eyes was a young soldier, dressed in a fresh, clean and pressed uniform, looking like a lost puppy while Tony and Bruce blinked in both confusion and amusement.

"Banner what the hell did you do with the timer?!"

"You're vial set everything into over drive, it must've recalibrated to 1940 instead of a couple of hours ago!" Bruce threw his hands up while the younger version of Bucky stared at the lab with child like wonder, his eyes twinkling as if it were Christmas day.

"Holy shit..." He breathed out seeing the vast technology, his mind still reeling over what was happening. One minute, he was on his way to see Steve and take some girls dancing and next thing he knew, he was sucked through a loop.

"Dear God-alright, uh-Barnes?" Tony waved the soldier over, mentally debating on what to tell him.

"Mr. Stark? It's-it's an honor, sir" Bucky shook Tony's hand before standing tall before him with his back straight, ever the bright eyed Sargent. Tony scratched his head before letting him take a seat, figuring honesty was the best police.

"Sargent. This may take a while"

Bucky understood bits and pieces of what Tony explained to him while getting a tour of the compound, the common room being the last place for him to check out. The team alternated between greeting and secretly cooing over the adorable young Bucky while also simultaneously laughing at Tony. At the very least, the billionaire was lucky the actual Bucky was away on a mission with you and Steve; there was only so much he could handle in a day. The soldier decided to hang back in the living room with the others, happily chatting away with Sam and Nat.

Then there was Sharon

"Hey Soldier" She winked, giving him a smirk causing the young Bucky to blush, throwing her a flirty smile right back.

"Nice to meet ya' doll" Bucky drawled out making her giggle, his lip catching between his teeth when she flipped her hair back.

"Aren't you sweet" She whispered, her heart beating a little faster when he moved towards her, his sweet baby blues gazing down at her intently. She'd tried a million times to get Bucky's attention before and he didn't look at her twice. She wasn't about to lose her chance with the new one.

"Look whose talking" Bucky chuckled back, his naturally flirty nature taking over with ease, after all it would be rude for him to ignore her.

"Someone's gotta protect him from this randy she goat" Sam whispered while Nat snorted, watching the two of them continuing to flirt, Sharon's hands toying with the buttons on Bucky's uniform, making her way up to brush his collar.

There was no way she was going to just let the gorgeous soldier go.

The machine wasn't fixed any time soon so Bucky was given a room to stay in. He loved the feeling of modern day sweats, looking cute as ever in some comfy joggers and a cotton tshirt, his fluffy cropped hair always neatly brushed and face shaven.

He was a Sargent after all. He always looked his best, even in lounge clothing.

There hadn't been a day where Sharon left Bucky alone. She clung onto his side, practically crawling up his leg day in and day out while the others side eyed the situation, keeping an eye out for the innocent Bucky.

"So, what's a soldier like you doin' without a girl, hm?" Sharon teased, pressing her hand to his chest, loving the way Bucky flirted back with her while the both of them sat in the common room with a movie playing in the background. Tony, Nat and Sam glanced at each other, quietly watching from their place in the kitchen while the blonde continued to giggle and blush, running her finger's through his hair.

"How do you keep your hair so soft, Sargent"

"Well, I- woah"

Sharon frowned when the soldier stopped talking half way after something- or someone- caught his attention. His eyes grew wide, a classic boyish smile appearing on his face when he saw the prettiest dame he'd ever laid his eyes on walk by the living room, making his heart flutter.

"who was THAT" Bucky stared in awe, seeing her stretch her arms up, still in some type of modern tactical suit, rubbing sleep from her eyes and yet she was still one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen.

"Uh-excuse me" Sharon's face twisted watching Bucky stare are you like a love struck puppy, nearly jumping over the sofa so he could run and talk to you. He didn't take his eyes off you, practically swooning when he saw you pack away the gun from you holster.

"Huh-yeah, sorry-" Bucky mumbled, still focused on you, unbothered by the way Sharon's face was now red with embarrassment, seething at what he was doing.

"Look at this guy, he's not even hiding the fact that he's staring at y/n" Sam snorted while Tony and Nat snickered, watching the young Bucky watch you with heart eyes, "Aw man, he's got it bad"

"Hey y/n, looks like someone's got a little crush on you" Nat whispered, discreetly nodding to the living room. You nearly squeaked in surprise, seeing a very very young version of your boyfriend sitting on the couch, taking peeks over at you whilst ignoring the blonde who was still fighting for his attention.

"Tony, you did this, didn't you" You sighed while Tony smiled proudly, now fully invested in how all this was going to play out.

"I'll explain later. Go wash and change and you can talk to him"

As soon as you were out of the kitchen, Bucky scrambled to the group, cheeks tinted pink, bashful as ever, looking at the three smirking faces, wiggling their eyebrows at him.

"See something you like, soldier?" Nat prodded while Bucky nearly giggled, nodding.

"Who was that" He asked in earnest, truly curious to at least get your name.

"That would be y/n. I'll introduce you once she's back down. You might be her type, y'know" Sam winked knowing damn well he was your type. After all you were technically already dating. Bucky bounced on his heels, waiting patiently while Sharon huffed, refusing to move from her spot on the couch. You made your way back down after a shower to see an exited Sam and a shy Bucky along with a smug Tony and Nat.

"Y/n, meet young Buck" Sam smiled while you held your hand out, swooning at the way he shook it gently, throwing you smile few got to see, one he had when he got butterflies in his belly.

"Nice to meet you Sarge"

"Pleasures all mine, angel" Bucky whispered, leading you off to the living room to talk to you more, offering you a seat, wondering if you wanted anything to snack on or drink, forgetting Sharon's existence entirely. Sharon nearly opened her mouth to say something, immediately shutting it with a satisfied smirk seeing the other Bucky walk in followed by Steve. Hopefully he'd see his girlfriend was a cheating whore, flirting with someone else even if it was him from the past. Her brain wracked itself in hopes that this would all crash and burn while Bucky frowned the closer he got.

"What the fuck Stark" Bucky scrunched his face walking in on some punk flirting with his girl, only to realize said punk was a younger version of him.

"Relax, I'll fuse you two together" Tony shrugged while Bucky's face twisted again, grumbling when his younger self kissed you hand again, pulling you up for a dance while fumbling with a phone he'd just managed to figure out.

"They're cute" Steve grinned, nudging Bucky playfully while Bucky rolled his eyes, smiling to himself a little while later when you caught his eyes, throwing him a wink. You laid your head against the young soldiers chest while he swayed with you, unaware that he was being watched by everyone else, in his own world with just you in it.

"You better fuse us together" Bucky hissed, narrowing his eyes when you giggled at something that was whispered in you ear; Tony snorted with a shit eating grin on his face.

"Why Barnes, scared of a little competition?"

Before Bucky could retort, Sharon was up and walking with purpose, stalking right towards Bucky.

"Y'know they're both flirting hard, right? Aren't you two dating?"

Bucky wordlessly stared at her while the others looked at her with confusion, the desperation becoming embarrassing.

"Sharon, shut up" Sam deadpanned while her mouth gaped open and shut before storming off.

"Back to what I was saying. Scared, Barnes?"

"You should be the scared one" Bucky sassed back, knowing exactly what his younger self was capable of; he knew that innocent boyish charm did wonders when it needed to. That being said, even his past self recognized real love, gravitating towards his one true soul mate after just seeing her once.

He watched the two of you continue to dance and whisper, the young soldier tipping your chin up, eyes flicking to your lips, his soft pouty pink lips so close to yours, leaning down so he could press a kiss so sweet-

"Alright that's it, punk get your hands off her!"

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genshin-scenarios · 6 months

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android au - personal assistant droids

Summary: In a modern-futuristic world, it's possible to create androids that are so advanced, they’re more or less human. There will be 5 android au posts total, each focusing on a different group!

T.D.H. is a line designed to help busy users! They were intended for corporate higher-ups for personal assistant work around the workplace, but because of how attractive their designs are, it's not uncommon for regular people to save up for them to make their everyday lives simpler (and livelier).

Characters: Diluc, Childe, Kaeya, Zhongli, Ayato, Thoma

More like this: Anemo companion droids, Anemo droids who lost their previous user

To have Diluc as a personal assistant feels out of place, to say the least; his demeanor is a little too prince-like, or at least, you can easily imagine him as the heir of a corporation if he was human. So within the first few days you’re quick to ask him to address you casually - you don’t think your conscience can handle having someone like that treating you like a superior.

Diluc does prefer having some sense of structure however, so he still arranges your appointments and keeps track of everything else he was designed to do. He finds comfort in ticking off the tasks on his list, though he’s not sure why you request for him to wear fake glasses every now and then ‘for personal reasons’.

If you have guests over, Diluc makes a talented bartender! Though to your dismay (or joy, depending on you), he’d always limit the amount of alcohol in your drink or omit it entirely. Something about how he’d rather have you conscious even if your guests aren’t, and that if you really wanted to drink, you could do so once you two were alone.

‘Why, do you want me just for yourself, Diluc?’

‘...If that’s what you’d like to hear, I wouldn’t be opposed to taking that as an order.’

Childe is the kind of assistant droid who you never see actually doing work. He makes it seem like all he does is chat with people and dote on you, but you’re aware that once you aren’t around, he makes sure to run through his checklist and finish off the accounts for the month in his head. Such was the wonders of technology, to allow him to upload files to a cloud system without needing to physically type things down.

He’s also very attentive, though you didn’t realize this at first because of how talkative he was. Distracted by his jokes and charms, you almost forget that Childe really is looking out for you every step of the way until he has his arm around you - not to flirt, but to keep you from bumping into the crowd of people on the street.

Childe is a good cook, but what he likes even more is asking you to taste-test his creations. While he can’t actually consume food, he has sensors on his tongue that allow him to detect flavors (very useful for when he’s buying desserts or snacks, and needed to try samples to see if they fit your taste).

‘A house-husband? Well, I guess that’s technically what I am. But don’t forget I can fight too, Master~’

Have someone you need to email or call but you really don’t want to? That's where Kaeya comes along to take care of your social interactions!

Jokes aside, he really is the most talkative model in this collection. Sly as he is, Kaeya isn't a stranger to figuring out which people or tasks you dislike, and rewards you with a gift after you finally drag your feet to get it over with.

He’s good at countering procrastination in this way, such as buying your favorite snacks or preparing a movie night for you when you get home. Kaeya sometimes dries your hair for you too after you shower, and quietly muses that you probably had a long day, when you doze off before the movie manages to cross the fifteen-minute mark.

Kaeya enjoys driving or escorting you to places too, knowing full-well he looks like a doting boyfriend when he does so. He dresses stylishly and would talk to passersby while waiting, telling them about this wonderful and super-important person… only to welcome you with the same amount of grandeur. He finds it cute when you half-heartedly scold him for it, saying he’ll make people misunderstand the situation.

‘What is there to misunderstand, Y/N? I thought you said we’d be together for as long as you lived? I was rather looking forward to that.’

An encyclopedia of knowledge, Zhongli has an elegant personality and voice that you could listen to for hours. He’s rather adept at keeping track of your accounting needs in particular, though you’ve learned quickly that he has a rather skewed sense of money when he spends it himself—you had to send him to buy last-minute groceries because you already started cooking at home, only for him to return with… way too many of the same ingredient, because it was on promotion.

That aside, Zhongli does emphasize the need to manage your mental and physical health quite a lot. He makes you medicinal teas and offers to give you massages quite regularly, though there’s nothing scarier than his offer to do chiropractic maneuvers at home… you tried to change the topic quickly after that, telling him you’re feeling great - so there’s no need for such a thing!

As much as he likes to ramble about topics that he’s interested in, Zhongli is an android that listens to you very well. He’d take note of information that might be useful in the future, such as things you said you’d like to buy or were curious about.

‘Today I thought it’d be beneficial to attempt an acupuncture treatment. …Just kidding. I heard that the flowers in the park would be blooming this season. Shall we go on a walk?’

Ayato's a little picky with his users. They don’t have to be rich corporate heirs or someone of prestige, but Ayato is an android with a personality that gets bored easily; he even comes with a warning label that he might get up to shenanigans if paired with an incompatible user, but once he finds a person intriguing enough, he’s loyal to a fault.

Sure, he still enjoys teasing you and keeping you on your toes, but for the most part Ayato practically sees you as the center of his world, though he presents himself to suggest otherwise. His work record is absolutely spotless, and sometimes he even predicts what you might request from him before you have to, getting it done while saying it’s all in a day’s work.

Just make sure you don’t let him cook unsupervised, as Ayato is quite curious about… experimenting with flavors, you could say. By which you mean he’d add the randomest ingredients into an otherwise normal recipe, which would sometimes be too adventurous for your palette to handle.

You realize just how much he dotes on you during one rainy day, where Ayato walks you home under an umbrella as he asks how your day was. In moments like that, his expression is just soft enough that you might be fooled into thinking it was love.

The perfect model for tired users, Thoma has a caring personality that warms the heart. Cooking, cleaning, and making sure you wake up on time? He's got it all covered!

Honestly, you don’t think your place has felt this homey until Thoma got here. During the first few days he asked you what you’d like out of your home - what activities you do to wind down, how often you work on your laptop, and other details. You thought these were just conversation starters at first, until weeks later, you started to see the vision of what he wished to give to you:

A place where you could shed away the worries and expectations of the outside world. To rest safely and feel reinvigorated by the time you had to go out again - sometimes with Thoma in tow as he busied himself with self-appointed tasks (related to housekeeping). You realize after a while that Thoma views the upkeep of your home as a source of pride.

He likes to knit and crochet items for you whenever he has time, too. Little accessories to put on top of headphones, beanies, and even blankets to use around the house. Once, when the weather was unbearably cold and the heater wasn’t working, Thoma forgot his lack of body heat and attempted to warm up your hands with his own.

#yes i really just named this line ‘tall dark handsome’ (TDH)#diluc ragnivindr x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #childe x reader #zhongli x reader #ayato x reader #thoma x reader #kamisato ayato #genshin x reader #genshin reader insert #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #zhongli genshin impact #childe tartaglia ajax #traveler wishes

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pip-n-chips · 1 year

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How about being Harper's favourite fucking menace though? Fighting everything he does tooth and nail, in a straightjacket every night, getting other patients to distract the orderlies so you can beat his ass... No matter what he does, it doesn't break down your spirit. It's infuriating, he just can't get his hands on you. he might have to use more... sinister methods...

YES YES AND YES!! also this didn't go in the direction I planned it to go, but here's something for you regardless

Harper absentmindedly drums his fingers against the wooden desk as he looks through patient files, the room filled with silence aside from the occasional clicking of his computer mouse. His fingers halt upon reaching your name.

Harper considers himself a patient man, and in his line of work it's absolutely crucial to be. But even the best of men lose their patience, and his is running very, very thin.

His eye twitches.

The reason?

You.

(continued under the cut)

You you you, of course it's you. He's dealt with patients in the past who didn't, ah,, favor his methods, but he's never met anyone quite like you before.

You're always resisting, always fighting. You just don't know when to quit, to give in, and it drives him mad. If you were anyone else, he would have accepted the loss and sent you over to Remy's, made you their problem, but no.

He couldn't. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't.

Because something about you draws him in; he wants to study you, get inside your head. He wants to fix you. He's not meant to be the bad guy in your story, why can't you see it? He can help you, he can make you feel all better, but you can't fucking see it yet.

Harper leans back in his chair and takes off his glasses to drag a hand over his face, frustrated. His attention shifts to the familiar tightness in his pants, and he glances down at his crotch.

He can't deny the effect you have on him, however.

Every snarky comment, every demand. Every kick and every scream. Everytime you shake yourself out of the trance he put you in, everytime you deny deny deny...

Oh,

you sweet little thing.

You must think it's wearing him down, bit by bit, but you'd be such a fool to think so. All it does is make him want you more and more and more. He can't lie and say a part of him doesn't like how you've been fighting him, because you give him a challenge. You give him a kind of thrill he's never felt before.

God, you're such a tease.

He wants to tame the untameable, cure the incurable. You are the mouse to his cat, and he wants to chase you down and show you what he can really do. And once he has you in his grip, he's never, ever going to let you go.

The tightness is almost unbearable now. Harper's belt clinks as he hastily removes it and unzips his fly. His cock is soon in his hand, the tip already dribbling with precum. He shakily lets out the breath he's been holding onto as he starts to stroke.

How do you tame a mouse? Do you give it cheese? What would be your cheese? Do you trap it? Maybe he should toss you into the quiet room again- but ah. Last time he left you there for too long, he saw you back in town after a while of searching here. He still hasn't figured out how you managed to get past security. Or the cameras. What a sneaky little bastard, you are.

He loves it.

Maybe he should throw you in a rigged maze, one you can never solve. One you can never escape. It'd wear you down until you come to him begging. But would you even ask for help? Maybe he could deprive you of everything except the basic necessities until you're forced accept his help, it'd teach you to be humble. You fight so much to maintain your broken yet incredible mind, so he couldn't imagine you giving up completely.

His breath quickens as he lets his thoughts run wild, the room filling up with his desperate grunts and the slick sound of skin rubbing against skin as he gets more and more aroused.

That could work, and he has a separate property in mind to keep you. Well- technically Remy owns it, but it's been unused for a while, and he's sure he could pull some strings to make it work. He's going to make sure he's all you see, all you feel. You'll be so starved for any type of interaction, you'll practically be begging for his cock inside you- any hole of his choosing. He'll drug and tie you up so you can't fight anymore, and you'll finally see just how much he can help you. How much you need him, and how much he needs-

Harper suddenly convulses, thick ropes of semen spurting from his cock, splattering on his desk. He sinks into his chair, panting, waiting for his mind to clear.

Only you could get him so hot and bothered like this. Only you can give him this kind of reaction. You must be doing this on purpose, this must be your plan. To rile him up, to tempt him. The way you fight, the way you look at him... You're asking for it, surely- It's all a cry for attention. You're playing games with him, hoping you'll lose. You just don't want to admit it, because if you did, you'd have to face the truth. And you and him both know that you prefer your little lies.

How could someone so strong be so cowardly?

Harper reaches into a drawer for wipes and begins to clean up the mess resulting from,, his activities. He thought he got all of it, but upon looking up he sees some managed to land on the computer screen, right on the image of your face.

Would you look at that...

A low chuckle escapes past his lips as he leans forward. His breath his hot against his face as he caresses your image and wipes it clean with his thumb. He wonders what it would be like, cumming on you like this. (You'd hate it with a burning passion, but he'll teach you to love it. Just like how he'll teach you to love him.)

He's itching to find out, but he can wait.

It won't be too long now, anyway.

(Not long at all...)

If you want to keep playing your little games of fighting and denying and teasing and pretending- then that's fine!

He'll play too.

It'll just make his prize upon winning that much sweeter.

#degrees of lewdity #dol #harper the doctor #dol harper #ask #thirsty #pippywrites

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rainbowcarousels · 5 months

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Three years ago, I did a AGSZC post about how they love or at least lust and I thought I would bring it back and see what's different.

Genesis

Pansexual as fuck. Likes the wine, not the label. Also more of a casual fucker than anyone else because sex can just be something fun to do and sometimes variety of the spice of life. He is also the spice of life, so it works well.

Love language is touch so he is absolutely the person who does random touches throughout the day, from reaching over to push back hairs to 'accidental' hand brushing, he's like a cat who doesn't want you to know they want your attention while simultaneously pushing you to give them the attention.

I think a lot of people think he's fussy but he's not, he's just big on body reclaimation especially after degradation. Being able to shift his look, to feel a little softer in his own space, it's an important part of why Shinra has never been the be all entity for him. As such, I think he pushes for the same for people he loves as part of that sense of love because he values that independence and self expression. He likes to bring a little chaos and impulse to things so he likes to push and challenge, especially in bed.

Highest sex drive of the lot of them, but is also probably the person most versed in his own body too because he both took the time to figure out what he liked. Also his skills really translate well to sex. He's a mage so he's good with his hands and his dexterity, he's learned to roll his tongue to do more than recite the plays inspired by LOVELESS and he feeds off of reactions then responds in kind.

Possessive as all hell, he likes to see his handiwork in all manner of places. He's a biter, he's a scratcher and he will write on them with anything to hand. There has definitely been some knifeplay with that writing.

While he can seperate sex and love, when the two mix is generally when he's in his element. Whether that's the kind of puppy love he has with Angeal, the demanding ferocity of Sephiroth, the casual enthusiasm of Zack or the intense connection of Cloud, it's a different experience for him and he never treats anyone exactly the same. He would 100% have a good time with Tifa and the sheer power of that woman but if we go JBSWM-verse, baby sister called dibs and being violently possessive of loved ones seems to be a family trait.

Sephiroth

Has a tendency to think practically about sex as a biological thing, right up to the point he can push out of that mindset and then, it's all pure desire and instinct. Everything becomes want and need very quickly once he's made up his mind and then he's just all about completely enveloping the other person into himself. There is a reason he wants everyone to be inside him canonly, okay? It's just some misplaced kink.

Generally a little touch starved when he was younger so he's very touch focused as an adult. Like there is a reason he likes nails down his back or bites or anything that really gets under his skin and takes a while to leave. It's this evidence of something important.

For someone who has largely used his body as a weapon to inflict violence, also really into wringing out the most pleasure that he can. Once someone is below those barriers, I think he has a lot of fun getting genuine responses from people. The kind of things that they may not notice in themselves but he files away as part of something they like. Even with himself, I think he notes things like how he's all about how different things feel.

Absolute bastard too, total tease when he's being controlling and thus when those tables get turned and he chooses to give that up, it's always about getting pushed to his limits. That's why it's always with someone he loves and trusts enough to do that - he may not have a choice in how his body was/is used in some ways but in the ways that matter to him, he is very particular about who he lets near him and how much he'll trust them. I think this is the core of Genesis's desire to get a very vocal response some day, he wants to try and wipe the restraints of this away and get him swallowed up in the moment while being swallowed down.

Way more tentative about being the instigator, but again, I think that's just because he's so much in the spotlight that so little of his life is his that he's obscenely possessive of what he has and the public do not deserve to intrude on it.

Least straight of the bunch. There's only one pussy that ends up in his bed and it's him. (Sephiroth as cat jokes will never get old and I will not apologise for them.)

Angeal

Surprisingly, I think he's the one who has the most sharing when we're doing things on the poly side. I don't think it's so much possessiveness as he has a very traditional idea of what a love story is and can't always seperate himself from the idea that love is about being someone else's everything and that makes it harder with multiple people involved. He might advocate sharing but he's not always a big fan of it, so he does like a lot of one-on-one time to try and sate that feeling.

I also think comparatively, Angeal's the most 'straight' of the bunch. Genesis slipped under the wire because he's 100% demi and that connection means that what parts he had wasn't really a deal breaker and Sephiroth got in under the 'Sephiroth defies categorisation' rule. If you want to extend that to Zack, he comes under Genesis any twenty minutes you let them be bored alone together as another person where it's how he knows him and if you want to add in Cloud, well, he does like the spitfires, doesn't he? I think baby Genesis made an impression.

Care as a love language. Absolutely loves to feel needed, to take care of who he's with even if he can roast them during doing so. It's about giving them food, making them comfortable and pushing out of his comfort zone when he can because he does love them. He likes to make love more than fuck, I'm not even sure he knows how to just fuck. The two things are so linked for him.

Does enjoy the commander role in bed, which is pretty funny when he's with people who outrank or are the same rank as him. I think he enjoys the idea of just getting under their skin enough to let them relax and he can just take care of everything - but not right away, this is someone who screams edger to me both for himself as a sense of denial and for whoever he's with.

Rarely has anal sex. Not because of a lack of enjoyment, it's just that - as I think I wrote somewhere before - it's not just his wallet that's tight. He has trouble relaxing into it and I think it takes a lot longer and they just don't really have the time. He does however have large fingers and knows how to use them. I like to think this came from Genesis being ready to be sexually active before he was so he got a lot of practice in doing other intimate things before he was ready for that.

Zack

Pure energy and enthusiasm, Zack is just someone who's up to try anything and roll with it. I don't think he always likes everything but he's maybe the most open minded of the lot and loves trying new experiences. I don't think he takes sex particularly seriously often, it's something fun, it's a great release of endorphins and as such, I think he can dial down the intensity best and just be funny and silly with it.

100% has no preference between genders, he is an equal opportunity guy and if you ask, he might say yes regardless. I think he and Genesis are the most likely people to have fucked someone else they work with and still get on okay with them. I think he's just trying to get the most of his experiences without labelling them.

That doesn't mean he can't get intense. I think when he's gotten right into the moment, he can get very intense and instinctive. Like he might be a dope and he might squeal like a puppy but I think with him it's a matter of needing everything all at once. He's impatient so I do also think that means he pushes himself over the edge a lot sooner than he often means to.

Honestly I think his love language is wound up in that almost starry eyed sense of what love is, like it's a big feeling and he's not always great at expressing those because it's serious and really important. When he tries, he pulls it out as doing things for people in a way that's similar to Angeal but I think that makes sense. He's grown up with Angeal so it feels like humour and acts of service would translate. Like he is little sloppy in bed, there's no finesse to it, but he's absolutely about to make sure everyone has a good time.

Falls in love easily. He's a little spacy, he doesn't have the best track record for his attention span, but in the moment when he's with someone, they're his entire world. He has a great sense of devotion, we see it in canon with Cloud, but I don't think how spacy he is makes him easy to deal with so I think that's why he needs someone who understands that.

Cloud

I think Cloud does actually prefer men but in the same way as Genesis snuck under Angeal's wire, Tifa kind of snuck under his and they have a similar sense of young love. As such, I think he tends to lean more masculine for type but really, people who kick ass is probably his sexuality.

So sensitive to touch. Seriously. He is so easy to get worked up and get a very vocal response out of and he is so mad about it. I don't think it's voluntary, he's just someone who gets off on being given a lot of touch - both rough and affectionate - so it's easy to get him overwhelmed and squirming. We've all seen the Wall Market scene, it's practically a canon trait.

While I think he can match anyone's energy - well maybe not Zack, but who can? - I think when he's instigating anything sexual, he doesn't really leave wiggle room for interpretation. This isn't the 'gentle touches so you know I want to' with Angeal, it's not 'pushed into the nearest wall' like Sephiroth once he decides he wants it or Zack coming straight out and asking but I think the closest is probably Genesis in that he wants to challenge and be challenged. He wants pushback, he wants to feel it and they're damn well going to feel it tomorrow if he has anything to do with it.

I think as the person with the least experience in relationships and sex, he's a little more tentative. I think he enjoys finding kinks he enjoys, but it's a gradual gliding in and not jumping right in to trying it. There is a part that wants to seem aloof and will pushback against the idea he needs anything or anyone but I think the right people can dismantle that by dismantling him in the best way.

Chronic blusher and hates himself for it. Can and will attempt to hide it and it's genuinely pretty funny to see someone that turned on and that grumpy, no wonder Zack tends to get the giggles.

I will probably add to this at some point but it was fun to think about!

#ff7 #headcanons #fic: just be still with me #agszc #spicy thoughts #i will probably add to this later but this is what came to mind at 1am #long post

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bitchsister · 8 days

Note

i can’t stop thinking about gale and bucky dp’ing curtis. i’ve been so sad they never got to do this in eat your young. in my mind it’s exactly what they all need

You diiiiiirty rascal, you.

It took me three days to write this because I had to take a break here and there.

I’ve combined this ask with one I got very shortly after. (Same anon?? Hmmm!?!?! 👀👀👀)

I thought it just made sense to put them together.

THIS IS A LUCKY CHARMS AU PROMPT.

I did think about doing this as an EYY prompt, and could do that again later too if anon would like!! For me, it made sense to pair these two requests up with the LC AU instead of EYY.

Also @swifty-fox is to blame for like half of this even though I planned to do it all before they said anything idc I’m blaming them still.

don’t read if you’re not absolutely LOCKED IN for:

feminization of Curt, double penetration, crying, whining, getting a lil snotty over your boyfriends fucking you absolutely stupid, daddy is used once or twice, pet names like honey, darlin’, baby, Gale and Bucky adoring Curt like he created the universe even though he is Head Brat in Charge.

Reminder : This is Yoyo’s first time writing dp. She does not know what she is doing :-) ever :-)

Andiamo!

Curt was getting used to spending Bucky’s money — and he wasn’t shy about it, either.

In the beginning Curt used to send a text, at the very least, about a sweater he liked, or a journal he wanted from the coffee shop Gale frequented on his coffee and matcha runs for the two of them while they hammered away at case files and court hearings.

Those days were over, though.

A trip to the mall before going over to Bucky’s for the weekend would prove as much.

She’s goddamn beautiful, Bucky commented on an actress in the movie they watched the night before and for whatever reason, that had stuck with Curt.

He thought, in the back of his mind, if Bucky wanted to fuck a girl then he mind as well, but Curt would scamper around in a skirt he bought with Bucky’s money to taunt him for it first.

It was obnoxious, the skirt. The lace. The tule that ruffled the edges and the playboy crop top he bought.

He dressed himself in a fit of giggles, hardly able to look himself in the mirror once he was all finished so he instead trekked to Bucky’s study where he and Gale were thumbing through piles of law books to figure out if their tactics would even hold up in court.

“Hey, darlin’.” Bucky greeted the familiar noise of Curt entering the room without looking up from the book in front of him, but Gale had.

“Johnny,” Gale grumbled at the sight, his lungs squeezed dry of every ounce of oxygen left inside them. “Might wanna look at this.”

Curt stood proudly beside the window he usually did, a lollipop in his cheek and a joint in his hand as he bashfully turned his gaze toward the two of them, giving them that infamous “What?” As if he’d been wearing his usual cut offs and a baggy tee.

“What’s this?” Bucky murmured, sighing loudly as he sat back in his chair, leather squeaking beneath him.

“What’s what?”

“Curtis..”

Curt shrugged a singular shoulder and plopped down by the window, looking down at his collection of books and acting as if he could focus hard enough to pick one he’d pretend to read.

Bucky and Gale had been more the generous with their time these days — giving Curt all the attention he could ever want; fucking him pink, sweaty and sleepy enough so they could buy themselves a couple hours of uninterrupted silence to hammer in the last few nails of their work.

It was understood between the three of them their dynamics.

Curt was in the midst of his summer break and hardly had an interest in a summer job. Instead, he’d spend his days with Bucky and Gale going to dinner or getting fucked in the pool, in the tub, or over the island in the kitchen.

Others, he’d go out to the farm to visit his mother Ruthie. It was his own little getaway where he’d plant wild flowers and drive their little boat in the fresh spring water.

He loved Bucky, and he loved Gale, but all three of them knew their lives were on different paths.

That didn’t mean they weren’t meant to be — no.

If you were to ask Curt if he’d rather be doing anything else with his life, he’d say he’d rather die.

Bucky was so in love with Curt it sometimes made him feel ill and Gale just the same, though he repressed his feelings so far down into his gut that he was unsure he could bring it up without being sick.

It was too much to fathom, too much to think about.

So he didn’t.

Nobody did.

What was the point, when something like this could rock up into Bucky’s study without a forewarning or a text?

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” Curt grinned, sitting the way he usually did but this time he was wearing a skirt with no underwear beneath it. Just crossed legs, and lips alternating between a cherry lollipop, a joint, and mouthing off as usual.

“C’mere.” Was all Gale had to say, his voice steady and his gaze locked on Curtis whose cheeks flushed pink. He liked when Gale used his voice, which he was getting so much better at as of late.

“Why?”

“‘Cause I said.”

Curt huffed and sat up slowly from where he’d been slouching, the book he’d been staring at clapped closed once he stood and flattened out the skirt that hiked further up with each step toward them.

At times, it was a hard balancing act, but Bucky never minded sharing with Gale and only Gale, who had never once complained about watching if he was put in such a position — however, he’d lately been so hands-on that it was hard to imagine himself sitting idly by while Bucky had all the fun.

“Where’d you get this?” Gale asked, reaching forward to tug at the skirt that Curt wore confidently, but seemed shy in. “Spending Daddy’s money again?”

Curt nodded slowly, slipping himself into Gales lap and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, joint held to Gales lips who reluctantly took a hit.

It was game over.

“He said he liked one of ‘em pretty actresses in that movie we watched last night.” Curt made himself comfortable in Gales lap, the joint between his teeth again as he hummed. “I think I’m prettier, so I thought I oughta show ‘em.”

His knees were scabbed from the farm and his shins bruised from drunken nights with his girlfriends at the college bars, who knew how to fucking put ‘em back.

A tomboy, through and through, but he looked so pretty this way.

Curt could pull off anything.

Bucky snorted anyway, nursing the whiskey he’d had lying around for hours now by his side as he watched Curt drape himself over Gale and feed him more smoke via his own lungs and mouth, “She’s conventionally attractive, Curt. Universally.” He waved his pen, “She wasn’t even wearing a skirt.”

Curt’s cheeks burned bright red, his thighs spread over Gales once he turned in his lap. No longer was he concerned about acting prudent, or modest. He was nothing of the sort. “You don’t think I look pretty?”

Both Gale and Bucky uttered out the loud hums in the very back of their throats; the ones Curt could recognize from anywhere and would know exactly what they meant. “Too fuckin’ pretty.” Bucky concluded in a whisper, watching Gale’s palms flatten over Curt’s mid-summer tanned thighs that already quivered with aching anticipation.

He’d gone and riled himself up more than he’d ever realized, but Bucky and Gale were not so far behind him. “Put him on the desk for me, Gale.” Bucky waved his fingers and Gale was quick to obey, just as eager to please as Curt could ever be.

He stayed behind Curt once he was sat upon Bucky’s desk, his chin resting on his shoulder to look down at his body — his pink nipples, his soft belly and the skirt that hardly covered his thighs and his cock that had began begging for any bit of attention.

“Wait,” Curt slapped his hand over Bucky’s chest to keep him at a close distance while his other pulled Gale closer, drawing him further into Bucky until they were face to face over the desk with Curtis between them. “Give Galey some lovin’.” He demanded, but his voice was soft and so sugary sweet.

It was only recently that Gale and Bucky had broke the third wall; sharing kisses, swapping spit or Curt’s cum they couldn’t bear the thought of tasting by themselves, always so eager to share with each other — Curt wasn’t shy about wanting to explore that need to share a bit deeper, pick and dig at the brains that have wanted to make such advances for years but never knew how.

Their kisses were sloppy, wet, uncoordinated but Curt relished in watching Gale learn how to he loved by a passionate man rather than the hand of a distracted woman who’d rather be doing anything else.

He watched them touch, kiss, lick, bite until he could hardly keep himself still. “Okay,” he whispered, shoving at their chests. “My turn now.”

“Sorry,” Bucky murmured through a chuckle once he’d pulled away from Gale who groaned at the sudden loss, his eyes cracking open to soak up the sight of Curt panting between them with his legs spread wider and waiting. “Galey tastes so much like you right now.”

Weed, cherry, sickly sweet.

Gale hadn’t even minded the fact that Bucky may or may not have been licking the saliva out of his mouth just because of said reason — all he cared was that he had the two of them, and always would.

The details hardly mattered.

Until whenever the day came that they did.

“Shouldn’t be tellin’ us what to do, anyway.” Gale grumbled as he sucked a little red mark into Curt’s collarbone from where he stood, gripping his thighs to spread them as Bucky pressed himself closer on his front side. “Look at yourself.”

Curt smirked once he lifted his thighs, his feet covered in thigh highs spread apart. “Yeah, look at me.” He sighed, as if Gale had made a valid point.

No, a year ago he never would have imagined himself in such a position, wearing a skirt while he spread his legs for two judicial professionals who’d both earned prestigious titles in their respectful fields — but there he was, and there he ought to stay, for as long as they’d have him.

“So, what’s the angle?” Bucky asked through a smirk as he pressed his palms to the back of Curt’s thighs, his knees drawn closer to his chest. “Exactly where did you think this would land you, Curtis?”

A grin was shot back at him once Curt had reached up to grip onto Gale’s biceps. “Mmm.. Somewhere like this.” He panted, his half-lit and almost forgotten about joint still dangling from his lips.

Both Gale and Bucky had rid themselves of their clothing faster than Curt could even register, his hands left briefly to palm between his legs and hike up further the pink skirt that hardly covered anything anymore. “I wanna try it again.” He blurted, his own needy little fingers already working to fuck himself open and get ahead of the process, which last time had failed so miserably.

Curt wanted so badly to feel both Gale and Bucky at the same time — and what better way to bring the three of them closer, he wondered.

No amount of lube or sweet talk could get Curt to relax, too riled up after he’d returned to Bucky’s for the weekend after boxing practice with a bloodied cheek from a misstep and sweat still damp in his hair. Too much adrenaline, still. Gale had rationed when he simply couldn’t fit. Please, no, Galey. Please, please, please. Keep trying. Curt had begged, though he was in tears from their efforts.

“Curt,” Gale whispered, already afraid just he could split him apart on his very own at times. “I don’t think it’s even possible.”

Curt wasn’t taking that for an answer and Bucky knew as much to be the truth, already warming lube between his fingers with a grin. “We can try.” John nodded, looking to Gale as to soothe him and his nerves. Despite how he may act at times, or how he may look, Curt was a big boy who could handle his own. “Second you start crying again is when we stop.”

It wasn’t on purpose — and it wasn’t so much the pain that had caused the tears, but the frustration he felt with his own body for not cooperating.

Thankfully, not a lick of adrenaline had hit his nervous system that day unless you considered the little bit he got from swiping Bucky’s card to buy knee highs, a skirt, and an overpriced playboy top.

Curt nodded in understanding nonetheless, his own fingers that desperately worked themselves between his cheeks replaced by Bucky’s instead — warm, thick, and so familiar. “Fuck,” a whimper dribbled from his lips once he was easily maneuvered to sit over Gales thighs again after he’d circled the desk.

He pressed his back into Gale’s chest, grinning up at him as he moaned through the joint that had finally put itself out. Gale had removed it to discard nearby in one of Bucky’s desk ashtrays littered only with the filters left from Curt’s morning and midday study or magazine flipping joints which had freed his lips to be kissed and bitten by Gale.

Curt gasped, his neck craned upward to catch the kisses Gale was showering upon him while Bucky worked himself into the little body that could already feel him in its belly, full just from one and eager to take on another. “Such a pretty baby,” Gale murmured breathily, holding Curt into position by the backside of his thighs, folded in half in his lap as Bucky slammed his hips into Curt’s ass. “Already so tight around Daddy, you’re too little to take two.”

“Uh-uh,” Curt argued, his cheeks burning red hot and his skin sticky with sweat already. “I can d— fuck,” he reached up again to grab onto Gale’s biceps, gazing at Bucky who was so full of love and adoration, looking at him the same way he did his expensive paintings. “I can do it.”

Bucky’s hips slowed then, watching intently at his cock as it disappeared with each careful thrust while Gales hung heavy and needy.

He nudged Gale upward carefully before he lined their cocks up together, stroking both as if they’d already merged into one somehow.

Their hips found a rhythm once Gale stood and held Curt to his chest by his thighs, Bucky being the anchor he latched onto once he was wedged between them, taking both of their cocks at once with a little encouragement and a ton of luck, just like he said he would, yet nobody could utter a word just yet besides the sputtering, whimpery mess Curt had suddenly become with the hem of his skirt pulled up and clenched between his teeth.

Though it was difficult, Gale and Bucky had made it a point to go slow.

“Fu- uuck,” Curt panted while Bucky cooed at him, the feeling of Gales cock so close and tight against his own and the familiar warmth of Curt around both of them was unlike anything he’d ever felt.

Like nothing he’d ever imagined.

“Look at you,” Bucky recognized the Curt in front of him, his jaw unhinged and his eyes glassy and trying so hard to focus, but hadn’t seen him quite this gone in some time. “You’re doin’ so good.”

Gale’s gaze had landed on Bucky again, needy and wanting and waiting as he huffed little breaths of oxygen from his lungs. “You should see Galey’s face, Curt. Makin’ him feel so fuckin’ good, honey.” Bucky pressed a few sloppy kisses to Gales lips that were starting to taste more like him again.

Spearmint, matcha, little wooden toothpicks.

“Takin’ us both like this.”

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet to us, Curtie.”

“Look at you, baby. Takin’ cock like you were born for it.”

A sight for sore eyes, the few little wet spatters on Curt’s belly from his own leaking cock caught Bucky’s attention. “Look how wet you are.”

Curt had bounced back and forth from panting and moaning to choking back little sobs that made his chest heave and shudder, cheeks splotchy, pink and covered in hot wet tears, nose stuffy and sniffling. “I-I told ya I could do it.” He hiccuped through what sounded to be a sob, but his expressions had shown not one bit of pain.

Both Gale and Bucky had remembered their deal earlier about the tears but this felt too fucking good to let go of, even despite the big fat stream that trickled down from Curt’s pretty blue eyes and to his chest once Gale had stripped him of his clothing, skirt and all. “Oh, sweet baby.” Bucky moaned, “Does that feel good?”

A wild string of yesyesyes’s was fucked out of him, his core rattling with each draw of oxygen back into his lungs that felt like they’d begun to bleed.

He felt so full of them, the sensation nestled deep into his belly — he couldn’t stop the wave of emotions that ripped right through him, whining and whimpering, hardly able to muster even a squeal through it all and so instead it came out in a continuous swirl of gentle weeping.

Dontstopdontstopdontstop, pleasepleaseplease, Curt wailed amidst the cacophony of beautiful skin against skin, thick, breathy moans, and more wet kisses shared between Gale and Bucky who were closer now than they’d ever been before, even including their college days.

Bucky licked into Curt’s mouth that simply couldn’t stay shut, and then Gale had leaned forward to do just the same.

By now, Bucky had learned Gales tell for how close he was to tipping right over the edge. “M’gonna — fuck -“ he mouthed at the dip in Curt’s shoulder, mostly tongue and so very gentle I’m-in-love-right-now-but-I’d-rather-die-than-admit-it kisses. “Gonna make me come, baby.” Gales voice had gone deeper than ever before, a low growl mixing with the same one Bucky had huffed back at him.

“Y’gonna be full of it, just like you wanted.”

Curt sobbed between them, but rocked his hips harder against the two, “Faster,” he begged, though he looked in no shape to be requesting such a thing. “Please — faster - please fuck me faster.”

He was in no mood for Gale or Bucky to scold him for bad manners.

A swirl of pretty pinks, yellows, blues and greens.

Tan skin, the smell of them, the sound of the fountain in the pool trickling outside the open window by his usual spot.

His body had hardly been his, then.

Used by Bucky and Gale beyond its limits until everything became warm, wet, and sticky. He was filled with it, covered in it, licking it from his fingers and from Gales mouth once he’d been plopped onto the leather of the couch in the study, peppered in kisses as his vision blearily came in and out of focus from the exhaustion that crept up on him, Bucky wiping him clean with a wet wash cloth from the adjoining bathroom while Gale smoothed his hair away from his eyes.

“Told ya I could do it.” Curt whispered through the hiccups that still wracked his lungs that struggled to catch an even breath.

{ these keep getting longer and longer pls put a muzzle on me }

#💌#I can’t add on and edit this any longer #get it away from me. just take it #curtbucky #Curtbuckygale #masters of the air #yoyo writes #lcau

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starpirateee · 17 days

Note

please continue the chimera!curtwen au! I would love to see the full story, and the consequences of curt joining chimera (and how owen reacts). it's such an interesting premise!

Y'all are asking for it! You've got that vaguely corrupted Curt comin right at ya! In fairness, I'm... also asking for it. This has taken over my entire brain and I will be thinking about this au for a hot goddamn while now....

(part 1)

"This is…" Once upon a time, the Secret Service operative known as Curt Mega used to be a legend. Known among governments, feared among their enemies. His was a name to be known, to be respected.

All of that came to an end at the beginning of 1959. In the dead of winter, Mega had been sent to investigate one of the most covert operations in the world, and had never returned. Some say he was killed in a gunfight. The reports say he was declared missing in action, and then presumed dead a month later. No matter the case, Curt Mega- a man with a future. A man of only 34 years old- was dead to everyone that mattered.

Everyone, that was, except Owen Carvour.

Because, the truth of the matter was that Curt hadn't died in a gunfight, or through some tragic accident… In fact, he wasn't dead at all. He had, however, joined the ranks of the dead, so to speak. Most of the operatives of Chimera were men just like him. People who had been declared dead, or who's country would be more than happy to kill them if they ever showed face again.

Suddenly, it made a lot more sense why they were informally known as ghost corps…

Owen had been getting Curt acquainted with the system that they had been developing under the noses of the world's governments. To say the least, he wasn't expecting a lot. Curt and technological developments were not two things that tended to mix, so he had rather low expectations.

"This is incredible."

That wasn't one of the things he'd prepared himself to hear, and he had to briefly check to make sure he was even still talking to Curt.

"Incredible, you say?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Curt nodded. "It works, doesn't it? You've got it deployed already?"

"We do. Mind you, what we currently have deployed is a prototype, really… A first draft. But the system for data collection will be much the same."

That's what they were looking at now. Massive banks of data, the likes of which Curt had never seen before, let alone tried to think about. He hadn't imagined that an archival system made for nothing more than drives the size of his forearm would be so large, but Owen had told him of a compound in the Pacific that they'd been developing, and he realised only that this was something that the world's governments would never catch up to.

"I'm guessing the Pacific compound isn't the only one, huh?"

"No, not at all. There are backups for that data, and larger compounds in development, even as we speak. Quite enticing, right?"

"God, yeah." And Owen wasn't the only one surprised to hear him say that. He didn't think he'd ever find himself so interested in a world which he could never understand. A vast attention span was not something he was ever given, especially not the capacity needed to understand what was going on in the science and tech industries.

Granted, he still didn't understand it, but he had Owen's support again, somehow, so he was willing to believe that would change.

Owen closed the file they'd been delving through with one hand. "That's what we're trying to uphold now. And that's why I asked you here. Curt, how are you for acting?"

"Acting?"

"Yes. Acting. Pretending to be someone you're not."

"… I know what acting is."

"Are you any good?"

Curt had to genuinely think about that. He probably wouldn't find out why he'd been asked that until he gave an answer, so he tried to figure out some sort of a response. Had he acted before? What were they counting as experience, and did his former job give him any credit on the matter? "Well- uh- I'm no James Dean, but I'm not bad, I guess?"

"I suppose what I should be asking is: can you make it believable?"

"I suppose? I'm not really sure what you're asking me here."

Curt did make it so impossible to keep one's patience in check sometimes, and Owen supposed he knew that better than anyone. He sighed. "We are going to need you within the network, so I need to know that you're capable of swapping between roles and making flawless transitions. You're going to need it."

"That what they have you doing?"

"In part. But you know me, Curt. That's easy as far as I'm concerned. This isn't about my particular skills here, but about yours." He leaned forwards a little, quietly tapping a finger against the file.

"I probably haven't had the experience you have, but I did a bbit of something like that in the agency..? Y'know, case files, secret identities…"

"And your track record is nearly impeccable… I'd say you were fairly good at it."

"Thanks?"

Owen just smiled back at him. All too brief. All too professional. Not so much the warm, genuine smile that Curt's mind had attributed to Owen, but a show of something more than neutrality all the same.

"There's an event in a little over two weeks time. For all intents and purposes, this is your chance to prove yourself, and to prove that I didn't waste my time convincing them that you were worth it."

He'd said that so casually, as if he was admitting to having seen a movie, not something of that weight. It had managed to completely take Curt by surprise. He blinked. "Wait, run that by me again… You did this?"

"Well, I can't take all of the credit, but-"

"You convinced them to give me a chance? You?!"

"Why's that so hard to believe?"

"If you were alive at all, I'd have thought it'd only make sense if you… I dunno, completely hated me?"

"It wasn't personal."

Curt smirked. "You're a fuckin' awful liar, you know that?" There was something in the way his gaze averted for the smallest of seconds that was a blatant tell in curt's eyes. It was so brief that it was barely obvious, but he'd learned to spot it from a mile away. "What really happened?"

"I know you're someone they wouldn't want to miss out on, that's all."

"Owen..."

"... Because you're the best I've ever worked with and I knew I'd get another chance if they persuaded you..."

#spies are forever #saf #curtwen #agent curt mega #owen carvour #void offering #star mail #nova's tags →#i will make myself obsessed w the chimera au. i swear to god #this is brought to you by way too many incoherent thoughts about this au #im insane for it i can't lie #ask me about chimera curtwen. i am sooooo normal about chimera curtwen #fic tag: hands of the enemy

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edgecallskating · 1 month

Text

How I Make Figure Skating gifs at SPEED

Fishing this from my notes because I think this is a fun question! If you'll permit me, a brief digression into how I do this!

I used to do live figure skating commentary on The Bad Place™. The Platform Formerly Known as Twitter moved fast, so if I didn't get my gif up quickly it would get swamped in the hashtags and feed. So I got really, really good at making gifs on the fly during comps. So! Here's what I do: I have the broadcast running in two sessions: master live stream on the tv, gif stream on the laptop. I load the laptop session first so that it runs ever so slightly behind the tv stream. This gives me a couple seconds of buffer before pulling the trigger to capture video. I have Giphy Capture sized and ready over the stream on my laptop. Watch, capture, repeat. While the judges score or during the flood, I start cutting and uploading. I've streamlined my naming convention for files to conform to the convention SkaterName_CompYear_CompSegment_ElementName. I can search everything quickly based on any one of those slugs from my drive. Everything's filed by skater as well. Mid-way through the season I'm familiar with most of the programs, so I'm reasonably prepared for the Good Bits and can pay attention to those while the event is live. After the first couple of skaters I also know if the replay videos after the performances are worth paying attention to and capture accordingly. I'm also a former, long-time skater, so I like to think I have a skater's sense of what's likely to be memorable or noteworthy. I like calling attention to small moments in addition to the big ticket elements. But yes, I am fast! I do appreciate that I don't have to move quite so quickly on tumblr. If I don't get a gif up in the first 5 minutes after a skater's performance it won't disappear into the slobbering maw of The Algorithm. I really like that tags on tumblr stay active long after the competition is over, so gifs have a much longer life and more people enjoy them. THANK YOU to everyone who likes and reblogs my stuff. I do this entirely for fun and it gives me a lot of happiness to see so many people love these little sparkling moments of a sport I love. Big hugs to all of you!

#text post #how to #figure skating

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barbiewritesstuff · 1 year

Text

Strauss Blocked : Part 2

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Okay so I might make this a 3 parter... oops???

I'm sorry if Hotch is ooc but in hoping that the more I write for him the better it'll get. I'm also not that far into the series (series 4) so I have plenty of time to get to know him better

A huuuuuge thank you to my bestie @Igg5898 for beta writing this nonesense and @ravensmadreads for the inspo (and shut up you do totally inspire this, we go feral in the chat)

Tw. SMUT. Oral (both female and male), p in v sex, Spencer is NOT coping well with things and it breaks my heart and that's pretty much it....

Previous Part

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“He’s okay,” Spencer said, knocking on your door after everyone had already retreated to their hotel rooms. After Avery Watt’s cup incident, you had been told to go home. There was nothing left to do for the day, and Hotch would need further examining at a hospital in another town. Medics assured the team it wasn’t all that bad, but they needed ex-rays to make sure they weren’t missing anything. Reid, ever the loyal friend, offered to ride with Hotch, “The hospital released him an hour ago. They said he’d have no lasting damage to his windpipe, but he might have a raspy voice for a bit…” he added, you stepped aside and let him in. Spencer quickly made himself comfortable, turning on the kettle and prepping a mug for tea, he turned around, “I have a feeling you don’t mind though…”

“I don’t like what you’re implying, agent Reid,” you grinned, crossing your arms over your chest to hide how vulnerable you truly felt. As friendly as you and Spencer were, admitting you had a crush on Hotch -- because that’s the only thing you would ever admit to. Not even the threat of torture would get you to tell anyone that you had actually slept with him -- felt a little too private. The feelings you harboured for Hotch were your little secret, something you kept both bottled up deep inside you and close to your heart, and until you figured out what to do about them, or if these feelings might ever be reciprocated, you wanted to make sure no one else would ever find out.

“Oh come on,” he grinned, “Don’t pretend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied.

The kettle clicked. Spencer turned his attention towards his mug, he filled it up to the brim, just shy of spilling it right onto the case file you had placed on the desk when you came back to the Hotel. The aroma of mint filled the room, and the two of you were quiet for a moment, enjoying this small interlude in a harrowing day that had started with a dead girl and ended with Agent Strauss driving you back to the hotel, saying that “This wouldn’t have happened to him if he had been more careful,” you had been vaguely impressed by how fast that woman’s brain was rewriting history, and wondered just how different her version of the day had been.

Spencer pulled you out of your reverie with a tap of your nose.

“You think he’s sexy,” he stated

“Sure,” you smiled a little uncomfortably, “He’s attractive.”

“You have a crush,” he corrected you.

You had had a long day. You were tired, Hotch’s ‘accident’ and seeing him getting carted off on a stretcher had affected you more than you had realised in the moment, it was making you rather emotional. Spencer’s correct reading of your feelings was only making things worse. To avoid him noticing the tears welling up, you pretended to look annoyed and rolled your eyes.

“You should do something about it,” he said, “You know he likes you too.”

You stayed quiet.

“I’m going to the store, I have a craving for salted caramel ice cream. Do you need anything?” he eventually said, changing the subject. You hated profilers, you decided in that moment, because Reid wasn't the kind you let you off easily if he thought you were being stupid about a crush. He was a secret romantic -- a curse his mother, professional bookworm, had passed on to him -- and would do anything to make two star crossed lovers get together. If he had changed the subject so fast, it was because he could see he hurt you.

“I will take two bottles of the cheapest wine you can find, please,” you smiled

“Ooh, big plans for tonight,” Spencer chuckled, “Can I join?”

“I’m sorry, I need some time by myself. Strauss has stuck to me like shit on a shoe for the entire day, I need to be a hermit for a bit,” you said, “Besides, I’m not planning anything particularly fun. Just a bath and an early night,” you added

“That’s fine,” Spencer smiled, “I have a book on the depiction of food in 15th Century paintings that I want to finish, anyway,” he said, “Can I finish my tea?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, sitting down on your bed and patting the space right next to you. Spencer sat down, holding his mug with both hands as he took small sips. The two of you stayed quiet for a bit, enjoying the quiet.

Reid sipped his cup at a seemingly quickening pace, slurping more than swallowing now. You looked over, surprised to see tears streaking down hos face.

“I thought he was dead,” Spencer admitted in a whisper, “I thought we got into the room too late…”

“Spencer --” you said, lowering your voice to match his. You reached over, balling your hand over the edge of your sleeve and wiping his tears away with your cardigan.

“I know, I know, but Nathan --” Spencer breathed in rapidly, “I can see him when I close my eyes. Just on the bed like that,” he added, “I know Nathan didn’t die, but just because I saved him doesn’t mean I’ll manage to save someone else. And I’m scared that someone else might be someone I love.”

“Spencer, listen to me,” you said, grabbing his chin in one of your hands, “None of us would ever put you into a situation like that, not if we can help it. You’re our friend, we’ll protect you, even if it is the last thing we do, and even if it is from ourselves. We’re not going to die on you,” you said, aware that you were making promises that weren’t yours to keep. Trying to avoid falling down that rabbit hole of thoughts yourself, you tried to joke, “And if I ever do die, I promise I will haunt the shit out of you."

“If?” Spencer asked, blubbering out a teary laugh

“Yeah, if. Deal with it,” you deadpanned back

“I hope you never die,” he said, “But if you do, I hope you do haunt the shit out of me.”

“No you don't, Spence. I’ll be a mean ghost. I’ll write on your mirrors, move things two inches to the left, make the phone ring at 2 am every night,”

“Eh,” Spencer shrugged, “You can do better."

“Fine,” you huffed, pretending to be offended, “I will make sure your tv plays nothing but romcoms for the rest of time, and I’ll make it so that all your fantasy novels are missing the last chapter."

He gasped, “Now that’s evil,” Spencer said with a genuine smile, “I look forward to it.”

“Go get me my wine,” you ordered him, fishing his empty mug out of his hands and putting it on your night stand

“I’m going, I’m going,” he laughed, quickly standing up and jogging out of the door. You watched him leave and stayed put for a second, listening to his footsteps fade as he made his way down the corridor, wondering if you had made the right decision. Spencer had been having a rough year, Nathan had started things off and he’d been kidnapped too. The Spencer he was before running into that cornfield had never quite gotten back. It worried you. You felt bad for sending him away like that, he was clearly trying to reach out, but you would be lying if you said your year had gone completely smoothly too.

Developing feelings for your boss was one thing, but with Rossi’s arrival and now Strauss’ interference it felt like everyone was doubting your abilities. Rossi second guessed every move you made under the guise of having more experience and knowing the job better and you couldn’t really deny that, he had worked on most of the major cases that made the bureau what it was today and he’d written so many books that most of the material you had been taught at the academy had been based on his research but it was hard to feel confident in yourself as an agent when you were trying to prove your worth next to agent Rossi, who for some reason seemed to only ever be partnered up with you.

All in all, and especially after days like these, you wondered if the BAU truly was the place for you. But if it wasn’t, where would you go? You had never even considered another career path. You hadn’t exactly told yourself to make a decision by the end of the night, but the sooner you decided, the sooner you could make a plan B for your life.

The prospect of leaving the BAU scared you, you liked your colleagues, and you’d miss Spencer but as much as it sucked and brought you to the verge of a panic attack whenever you thought about it, you couldn’t help but think it would make things with Aaron so much easier. You wouldn’t have to see him every day. You would finally be free to move on.

Having a crush on your boss was unfortunate. Having a one night stand with him was bad practice at best and downright stupid at worst. Entertaining Spencer’s ridiculous thought that he might like you back was a recipe for heartbreak and misery. But your heart refused to see it that way, part of it hoped that Spencer was right whenever Aaron accidentally stood too close to you, whenever he defended you against Strauss, whenever he shot you one of his rare smiles. It tried so hard to make something out of nothing and leaving would allow you to heal from that. Maybe you’d finally be able to meet someone you could see a future with. Someone your age with a stable 9 to 5 job that wants marriage and a family. Someone gentle that other people didn’t routinely call a ‘drill sergeant and a bully’.

By the time Spencer knocked on your door again you had all but made up your mind. You took the two bottles of red from him with a smile and screwed the cap off of the first one as soon as you had closed the door, bringing it to your lips and taking a large swig. You didn’t even like wine -- whenever you went out you always took care to order the cocktails with the most fruit juice to hide the taste of alcohol -- but writing a resignation letter for your dream job required some easily accessible alcohol and you doubted the 24h convenience store next to the hotel sold ready-made Malibu cocktails.

You sat down at the desk with a pen and notepad and tried to start it but it never seemed quite good enough. “Dear Aaron Hotchner,” sounded too formal, “SSA Aaron Hotchner,” sounded too negative and “Dear Aaron,” sounded both too informal and too much like the title of a breakup song. Before you knew it, you had drunk half a bottle of wine in the space of an hour and made no progress on your letter.

Decision making abilities impaired by alcohol on an empty stomach, you decided it would simply be easier to tell him now. You certainly felt brave enough.

You left your hotel room in your nightie, and made your way down to his room. You raised a fist to knock and immediately dropped it to your side. This was a bad idea, you realised, you didn’t even know what to say, but before you could sober up enough to turn around and make your way back to your own room three doors down, the door opened. Hotch stood in front of you, hair dripping water onto his bare torso. He had clearly just stepped out of the shower, further evidenced by the towel he held against his throat, patting his brand new bruise dry.

"Thought I heard something," he said, "Everything okay?" He added, eyes travelling down your body and taking in your clothes and the half empty bottle of red you held in the hand that wasn't brushing your hair back.

"Can I come in?" You asked and Hotch leant against the doorframe to check for an unwanted audience in the corridor. You wondered how much of your inner struggle was visible on your face, because you were pretty sure he never would have considered letting you in otherwise.

He stepped out of the way, letting you walk in a few steps before closing the door and turning to you, waiting patiently for you to speak.

“I think I might quit,” you muttered, barely above a whisper. Hotch stayed quiet for a moment and you wondered if he hadn’t heard.

“Is it because of today?” he asked and you shook your head, “Is it because we slept together?”

You shook your head again, “I just don’t know if I’m a good fit,” you replied

“Are you having trouble with colleagues?” he asked

“No, I --” you started, trying to find any other excuse and coming up short. Not that Aaron would have listened anyway, since he cut you off as soon as he heard what he wanted to hear.

“Then no.”

“I’m sorry?” you asked, perplexed

“No. I’m not accepting your resignation,”

“It’s not your decision to make,” you snapped at him.

“And you can’t do this after drinking,” he nodded towards the bottle of wine.

“My mind was made up before, Sir,” you replied, hitting the 'Sir' hard. You were usually on first name basis with him the second you were off the clock and out of earshot from any of the other members of the team, so hearing you be so formal made him frown.

“Right,” he said, “So it is because we slept together,” he added, you raised an eyebrow at him, feeling more and more like this was a terrible idea, if only because if you had been sober, you might have been able to defend yourself against this, “You called me ‘sir’, you’re trying to distance yourself from me. I get it, it’s fine if you regret this, but please don’t throw a perfectly good career down the drain for it,” he said, “We can pretend it never happened, it’s fine.”

As the words started to register in your head, you felt nothing but confusion. From what you understood -- or thought you understood, you had to focus harder than you ever had to in order to understand a word he was saying -- it didn’t seem like Hotch was looking at the situation the same way you were. If anything, he seemed to have thought this would lead to something.

“I don’t regret it,” you said, “Which is the problem. I don’t think being in love with your boss is particularly conducive to…” you started, “I don’t know. I think it’s better if I leave. I’m not good at this anyway.”

“In love with your boss?” Hotch repeated, raising an eyebrow up at you in surprise. You didn’t reply.

You felt a blush covering your face as you ducked your head to look at the floor, “Perhaps,” you said quietly, suddenly regretting the amount of wine you had consumed.

When you felt a warm hand on your chin, you allowed your head to be guided up. Your eyes connected with Hotch’s and you were surprised to find his pupils large enough that only a thin ring of iris could be seen around them, “Perhaps, or definitely?”

You swallowed, suddenly becoming aware of exactly how close your lips were to his. Your mouth suddenly feeling dry, “Definitely,” you replied, the word a whisper on your breath.

“Good,” he exhaled, pulling you close and capturing your lips into a passionate kiss. You froze briefly, allowing him to take the bottle out of your hand and placing it on the nearest surface he could find before all but slamming you against the wall. You squealed in surprise but it soon turned into a moan when one of his hands pulled your head back by your hair. He brought his mouth down by your neck, nipping, kissing and nibbling flesh as he travelled down your body, leaving goosebumps wherever he touched you.

His other hand cupped your breast over the fabric of your nightgown and massaged the soft flesh, soon rolling your hard nipple between two of his strong fingers. You moaned again, trying to keep it down as Strauss got out of bed above you and walked to the bathroom. Aaron sank to his knees and lifted your nightie up slightly.

Having genuinely not expected to walk up to Hotch's room to seek the release you so wanted, you hadn't bothered to wear particularly enticing underwear, and perhaps that was for the better. In one swift movement, he grabbed both sides of your panties and tore them off. Not giving you time to recover, Hotch's mouth colided with your slit. He peppered it with kisses for a moment before taking pity on you and sliding his tongue between your folds, the scalding temperature contrasting deliciously against the cold outside temperature of Alaska in December which seemed to seep in even with closed windows and closed doors.

Your legs buckled slightly but with one strong, steadying hand, Aaron held you up. His other hand came to grab one of your ankles which he moved to rest over his shoulder. Like that, he could finally access you in full. He lapped at you, sometimes sucking at your sensitive bundle of nerves until your juices dripped down your chin and the familiar coil of pleasure tightened in your stomach. You were on the verge of release when Aaron looked up, crossing your gaze, and winked. His pupils were blown out, eyes dark with lust and cheeks flushed out. He looked so good you almost wondered if it was all a dream. To reassure yourself, you grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged at it a little. Hotch let out a groan, the vibrations of which were enough to send your spiralling towards your orgasm.

Once down from your high, Aaron came back up with a satisfied smile but far from having quenched your thirst, cumming had ignited a fire in your core than could only be put out by his own release. You pulled him against you, kissing him with a passion he hadn't imagined to be possible, and pushed him towards his bed.

The back of his knees hit the mattress and he fell down on his back, you wasted no time climbing after him, trailing your fingers up his legs and towards his member agonisingly slowly until finally, you brought his pyjama pants down and wrapped a hand around his cock. Aaron looked down. He liked how pretty the nail polish colour he had picked looked as your hand bopped up and down, jerking him off. But soon, all thoughts escaped him as you leant forward and licked a strip of skin before taking his tip in your mouth.

Hotch hadn't had many blowjobs in his life, just a few in high school. Any sexual partners he had had after that weren't a fan of them, and he understood, even if he missed the feeling of it. You didn't seem to mind it, you seemed to enjoy it, even. Aaron felt his cock hit the back of your throat, you let out a stifled albeit pornographic moan and brought one hand to your core. Aaron's hand darted out to stop you, he couldn't bear the thought of you coming again without feeling your pretty cunt wrapped around his cock, tightening as you came.

Obeying his silent order, you took him out of your mouth and shuffled upwards, sinking down on him seconds later. The effect of it was immediate, and Aaron couldn't help but chuckle. You usually weren't one to keep quiet, whether at work or in bed, once you weren't feeling shy anymore, you were quite vocal, but with him fully sheathed inside you, feeling you up so thoroughly, all thought left you and the only things to come out of your mouth were content little sighs and needy little whimpers. He couldn't lie, he liked the effect he had on you.

You bucked your hips gently once you adjusted to his size but the speed wasn't up to his standards. Although Hotch liked slow and passionate sex as much as the next man, he had been waiting to feel you, to fill you, for weeks now. He would take his time in the morning. Hotch flipped you over, trapping you in between his furnace of a body and the bed as he pounded into you. Leading you from one orgasm to the next as he hit that spongey part of you that had you seeing stars over and over again. Soon, his thrusts faltered. He drove himself in you one last time before coming with a low grunt, painting your walls white with his release.

After a few seconds, which he spent catching his breath and happily looking into your eyes, he pulled out of you. Aaron made his way to the bathroom, where you heard the water run for a moment before he reappeared, towel in hand to clean you up.

"You were so good for me," he whispered as he wiped the cum off of your core, "So good, sweet girl. How about some sleep?" he offered, but before you could form your answer, your eyes grew heavy and you drifted off to sleep.

----

You stood under the jet of Hotch’s shower, soaping yourself up mindlessly, mentally preparing yourself to face the team and Strauss after spending the night -- and morning -- with Hotch. He had kept his promise and gone easy on you, but sex with Hotch was amazing and you now had to scramble to piece your brain back together in time to face your colleagues.

Remembering that Aaron still needed to shower, you stepped out, drying yourself off with the towel he had laid out for you before making your way into the bedroom. He was still lying in bed, naked and looking like a dream as he read the newspaper.

“You want coffee?” he asked, moving one of his legs off of the mattress.

“Sure,” you replied, allowing yourself to stare as he walked towards the coffee machine and poured you a cup. Aaron brought it to your, handing it over so you could wrap your hands around the ceramic and take a sip. You could see he wanted to say something, probably about last night, but he seemed to think better of it.

“I need to go to my room to get changed,” you said, “See you at breakfast?”

“About yesterday --” he started, giving in to the urge.

“Please --”

“I just need to know if you were serious when you said you were in love with me?” he cut you off, “I need to know it wasn’t just the wine talking.”

“I was,” you replied. You came up to him, extending your arms around his neck and kissed his lips, “What’s that saying? Drunk words are sober thoughts?”

He grinned, “Just making sure," Hotch said. He looked into your eyes for a moment, his smile slowly fading, “And about resigning?”

“I don’t know,” you said, leaning in for another kiss. Aaron happily reciprocated, deepening the kiss almost immediately before pulling away a few seconds later

“You need to go,” he said, “Get changed, go to breakfast. Because if you keep kissing me, I might never let you leave this room,” he added.

You nodded, letting go of him before turning around and walking back to your own room, making sure to stay unseen by anyone possibly walking by.

You made your way to the breakfast table ten minutes later, dressed and ready for the day. Hotch had agreed to arrive a little later, spacing out your arrivals would avoid raising suspicions.

“Morning,” you said, waving slightly at Spencer, Derek and Rossi who had already taken their seat and filled their plates. The two younger men were engaged in a heated discussion and Derek did not hesitate in immediately pulling you in.

“Favourite early morning tv shows when you were little?” Morgan asked

“I was a Scooby Doo girl,” you said, sitting down on the nearest empty chair.

“Ah hah!” he exclaimed triumphantly, “See, kid, no one watched college quiz shows before school.”

“That’s not fair,” Spencer defended himself, a mouth full of scrambled eggs, “You asked her for tv shows! You never mentioned tv shows with me!”

“Okay, favourite early morning tv show, then?” He asked again, pointing a half eaten croissant at Spencer

You looked down at the boys’ plates, Spencer had loaded three plates with eggs, a gravity defying pile of pancakes and a few pieces of watermelon while Morgan had skipped all healthy options and gone for all the chocolate containing pastries you could find. Right on cue, your stomach growled

“I liked Wishbone,” he said, chewing through the overcooked egg.

“That weird show about the dog?” You asked, vaguely remembering catching an episode or two as a kid whenever nothing else was on.

“Yeah, I liked it. It was cute. And my mom used to say it was the only decent thing on tv because at least it taught us about literature,” Spencer replied.

“Spencer --” you started, about to bring out some statistics of your own on the success of the show.

“Morning team,” Hotch said, appearing behind Morgan already dressed in his crisply iron work suit, a stark contrast from the casual clothes everyone else wore, “How did everyone sleep?” he asked, quickly glancing over at you with a barely-there smirk.

“Like a log,” Morgan replied

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked

“Good as new,” Hotch replied, “My voice is still a little hoarse, but that’s par for the course,” he added, leaning over to grab the coffee pot.

“Come get breakfast with me,” Morgan said, tapping your arm lightly to catch your attention. You stood up and followed him towards the buffet, stopping a few feet away from the table to tie your shoelace.

“I know I’m not much. I look like a pipe cleaner with eyes, and I have the strength of a nine year old girl, but I need you to understand something,” Spencer said, his voice lowered so you wouldn’t hear and staring straight at his morning cup of tea, “Y/n is my best friend,” he continued. He took a deep breath, gathering all the courage he had, and looked at Hotch, “You hurt her and I will hurt you.”

“How did you figure it out?” Hotch asked after a pause, mentally going through everything that could have betrayed you and finding nothing.

“I spend enough time around you to recognise the smell of your body wash, sir,” Spencer replied with a small smile, “And I’m being serious.”

“I know,” Hotch replied, “I’ll take care of her,” he promised.

#fanfic #criminal minds #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fanfiction #ssa hotchner #hotch smut

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faghubby · 11 months

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60 days later. Conclusion to excepting her rule

Kelly has taken over, after catching me in her underwear she has transformed me into her sissy husband. She continued to push my boundaries after locking me in chastity. She was in charge there was no doubt of that Kelly controlled everything in my life. Even work. She had gone in and spoke to my boss. She was called if I messed up at work, if I was late, even telling a dirty joke would prompt a phone call from my boss to Kelly. It was a few weeks into chastity that everyone at the office knew I wore panties to work. I don't know how or who figured it out but it soon spread.

"Since you have no reason to hide it anymore" Kelly told me. She would often send me to work in ladies slacks. Or a obvious female blazer. The good news was I had lost 25lbs. And was in the best shape of my life. This did not stop Kelly from controlling what I ate.

In the bedroom lots had changed. I used the strapon to make loveto Kelly, and of course pleased her orally whenever she wished. But Kelly one night slid a finger in my ass when I complained my punishment was to wear a butt plug all day. After that she would use my ass as she pleased, plugs, her strapon, or fingers. I knew better then to argue.

Kelly also had me growing my hair. And had pierced my ears. Two holes in each. I wore a set of diamond studs In one set of holes. The other would change depending on my attitude as Kelly put it. If she was pleased with me a simple gold stud. If not prehaps a set of hoops that read sissy in bright pink letters. But tonight I could fix it all.

Kelly came home and i waited i didnt want to bring up our talk. I wanted her to be happy and bring it up herself. I had a routine of chores after dinner and i tried to rush thru them.

"When you finish your chores we can have our chat" Kelly had told me. It was 815 when I found her filing her nails. She handed me the file as I sat down.

"Now, I will go first." Kelly said.

"First I want you to get Lazer hair removal" she stated I went to comment but she stopped me.

"Let's get it all laid out first" she patted my hand.

"I thought you would like to find a boyfriend to play with since you like cum so much, you should get it straight from a real cock" as she said this I was horrified.

" on that note I have started fucking my boss, and think you would also enjoy eating dirty creampies afterwards" I wanted to talk almost jumping out of my seat.

"If you can't sit and be quiet" Kelly started I sat quietly letting her finish.

"Also, to many calls from your boss, and assistant I think you need harsher punishments, quiet times, or maybe spankings" Kelly told me.

"And I noticed your license is up for renewal, I don't think you should do it. I mean do you really need to drive. We can get you a bus pass" she explained. She went thru all the items again explaining herself in detail. Then it was my turn.

"I think this is gone to far Kelly, I mean you are sleeping with your boss?" I clarified.

So you don't want to state any issues, just complain. Well it's about your bedtime anyway" Kelly said dismissing me. I stood and raised my voice to her.

"Don't you yell at me" Kelly was on her feet."You are the one who wanted to wear my clothes, so I got you your own. You where afraid someone would notice you becoming more femine. So I made sure they knew. This whole thing has been about me helping you. I thought since you always eat your cum when I let you cum. That you would like some from a real man. Since you wanted to be locked up. I went and found someone else to satisfy me. It seems no matter what I do for you. You are ungrateful. I sat down stunned.

"Now go get ready for bed" she shouted. I went and got ready I was in bed wearing a yellow nightgown with lace around the edges with matching panties when Kelly came in to kiss me goodnight.

"Kelly I am sorry I upset you" I wimpered.

"Well thank you, but you obviously need more attention" she pulled out a leather belt.

" I want you to be brave about this and except you need it" she told me."Now lay across my lap with your panties down." I got up and did as she said. The first smack came without warning and I jumped.

"Now I don't want to do this but you need to remember your place" Kelly said smack, smack smack.

"Does it hurt" she asked, I nodded tears forming in my eyes.

"OH now I feel bad, but you do deserve it" Kelly told me. Then reached over into the toy drawer. And was doing something

"Here you like this it will help." She said as she pushed a plug into me. It was huge I thought as she worked it in and out before forcing it to sit. Then smack smack smack.

"See now you are leaking from your cage" smack smack smack.

"You want me to help you become a total sissy faggot don't you" she said followed by more smacks. My ass was on fire. When she stopped. Pulled up my panties and held me to her chest. The plug still buried in my ass.

"Look at time past your bedtime" Kelly said. "I let Rob my boss fuck me without a condom today. I know it's probably mostly dried or out but you can stay up late if you want to lick it clean anyway" she said standing up she took off her pants and panties and lowered herself on my face.

"I promise to get you fresh next time" she told me as I licked her to an orgasm. In the morning I found Kelly had laid out a pale blue dress for me to wear to work.

"Kelly" I said

"Yes" she smiled waiting for me to complain.

"I love you is all" I responded. She patted my sore ass. And handed me pantyhose. When I got to work I found my assistant had been promoted to my job. I was sent to see my boss.

"We have a special new position for you" he told me. "You will be the new personal care person. You see everyone is always leaning over thier computers and wierd work hours. So you will be on call to help them with whatever they need.

"I don't understand" I told him.

"Well let me get you started. See I got these new shoes and they been hurting my feet. And what I could really use it a foot massage" he told me putting his feet up.

"You want me to massage your feet?" I said queerly

"Exactly" he said I knew he would call Kelly if I didn't so I removed his shoes and socks and rubbed his feet. After a few minutes he glanced down maybe some kisses will make them feel better. I cursed under my breath but kissed them.

"Suck my toes like little cocks bitch or do I have to call your wife and tell her you cursed" he said. I licked and sucked his toes which seemed to excite him. I saw the bulge grow in his pants.

"Come here under the desk" he said in a husky voice. " You know what to do" he said. I hesitated but as much as this guy was a fat lover I knew this was my place. I unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. I had sucked my friend once in high school. But now it was different he wasn't big I took him easily and swallowed when he came. Then fixed his pants for him. I was led to my new office by his assistant. It was a window less room. With a full size couch. And a big desk. And carpet on the floor. There wasn't even a computer

"Here is your new phone, you are expected to respond to every request" she told me and left. I was bored. Nothing to do. My phone had limited internet access and video games where a waste of my time Kelly had told me. So I called Kelly

"Hello cocksucker, i swear I give you permission and not 24 hours later" Kelly laughed. I didn't have to wait long I soon discovered my duties from getting paper for the printer to massaging a woman's shoulders, or picking up the lunch order. I basicly an intern, I thought to myself.

Kelly thought my new job suited me well. When she asked all about it when I got home.

"No more decisions ordeadlines. You can be your submisssive self." She pointed out.

Shs also presented me with a smaller more permanent chastity cage to wear. Then allowed me to clean her used pussy.

"Baby, you are perfect, I wouldn't change a thing. I am sorry your family has disowned you. But that leaves you more time to tend to my needs.

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heartsywritesthethings · 7 months

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Day 1: Anticipation

y’all get a treat from GA!anon this October!Thanks for the submission love!

lol it's literally been forever since I've written a fic like this, but here we go. First pairing for Tickletober is Miguel and Lyla from Across the Spiderverse!

~ ~ ~

"Did you find anything yet?" Miguel snapped at his virtual assistant. Sometimes, he really hated the fact that Lyla had her own personality. Things were so much easier when artificial intelligence was just something that helped along with missions instead of getting in the way of progress.

"Someone didn't drink their spider coffee this morning," Lyla's voice answered through the speakers on his desk, but she was nowhere to be seen. Miguel clenched and unclenched his fists as he attempted to stay calm. It'd been days since the last canon disrupting event and Miguel was starting to get...well...antsy. He was always bad at sitting still, even before he'd decided the world of superheroes was his calling.

"Did you find anything yet?" Miguel repeated with a fair amount of venom in his voice.

Then Lyla appeared in her usual and preferred avatar, white puffy jacket, heart shaped glasses, and black boot heels. Why she felt the need to look this ridiculous as his avatar assistant, he'd never understood. Some of the other spider-men suggested that she had to overcompensate for his constant grumpiness, but Miguel ignored them.

"Nothing. Still." Lyla replied, looking up at Miguel with the audacity to also look annoyed.

"Keep looking," Miguel spat and turned his attention back to the multiple screens in front of him. Lyla stuck out her tongue at him and then fizzed away.

Miguel tapped his foot. He drummed his fingers on the desk. He idly pulled out his fangs and then allowed them to shrink back to normal.

The waiting was always the worst part. The anticipation. He knew something was about to go wrong, like a storm gathering in the sky, but he just couldn't figure out where. No one could. It was driving him insane. All universes seemed relatively peaceful.

Well, as peaceful as a Spider-Man's New York could be. There were fights happening, sure, but nothing that would involve Miguel having to step in and interfere. He watched other spider-people jump into action in their canon, his body itching to join the fight.

Wait, no his body was actually itching. It had felt just like his restless energy at first, but it had intensified, all over his body like little bugs crawling up and down his spine. Was his suit malfunctioning? It was digitized as well, but it never malfunctioned.

"Lyla do you--?!" Miguel started when he felt the buzzing stopped suddenly. His body relaxed. Lyla popped into view on his shoulder, leaning back and filing her nails.

"What now?" She sighed. Miguel fought the urge to swat at her like a fly. Despite her being artificial, she was still very intelligent.

"There was--"

"Something wrong with your suit?" Lyla finished for him. He swore he could see her smirk ever so slightly. "Nonsense. Your suit never malfunctions,"

She disappeared.

Miguel frowned at the empty space she occupied before. That was...strange. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the screens in front of him. He'd look at his suit later, there were more important things at--

"¡Mierda!" Miguel stumbled back from the screens as the something in his suit drilled into his armpits. As quickly as the sensations had started, they ceased, leaving Miguel with his heart hammering hard in his chest and his mind reeling.

"What was that?" Lyla's voice asked and this time Miguel caught onto the fake innocence in her tone. She appeared right in front of him, leaning forward and putting a hand up to her ear. "I didn't quite catch what you said there,"

"What did you do to my suit?" Miguel growled, lunging forward. Lyla easily disappeared the moment his claws would have gone through her. Not that it would have done much damage to him anyway.

"Your suit?" Lyla asked from behind him curiously. The buzzing returned, this time as something lightly crawling along his spine up to his shoulder blades.

"ACK!" Miguel cried out, reaching behind him to no avail. "Lyla! Quit it!¿Qué está pasando?"

"Everything alright?"

A familiar voice asked from below Miguel's desk. The vampiric leader of the spider-men carefully leaned over the edge to see Peter B. Parker standing awkwardly below him, this time without his baby in tow. The buzzing in his suit had stopped at least, but that didn't exactly help Miguel's mood. Whatever Lyla was doing, he didn't exactly appreciate it.

"Yes," Miguel growled, "it's fine. Do you have something to report?"

Peter looked uncomfortable, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his bright pink bathrobe. Miguel had honestly gotten sick of seeing it, but even he knew how stubborn his fellow spider-people could be and that was not a hill he was willing to die on. Besides, there was a spider-horse around here somewhere.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about Miles again," Peter started. Always the same with him. Miguel rolled his eyes, not bothering to bring the platform down.

"I've given you my answer. It's still no," Miguel said. The buzzing started again, this time around the back of his knees. It felt like light feathers lightly drifting up and down the backs of his kneecaps. He almost buckled entirely as the tickly sensations raced up his nerves and threatened to take him under.

"I just want to check on the kid," Peter continued, completely oblivious to the struggle that Miguel was going through right now, "It's been a while and I'm just...I know he wanted to be a part of something bigger, you know? He'd do really well here and you'd like him. Well, as much as you can like anyone. You're like the only Spider-man who isn't sociable. Or funny."

Would this guy ever shut up? It was like this every damn time this Peter Parker walked into this side of the base. Wah wah wah, my baby. Miles. Canon.

"I-hihi--" Miguel quickly clamped his mouth shut as a giggle threatened to escape his lips. It felt like a finger was dragging up and down his armpits, just teasing him. Miguel could feel his whole body shake with the effort of keeping the laughter at bay. Even when he clamped his arms down tight against his sides, it didn't matter.

"Is this a bad time?" Peter asked.

"He's listening," Lyla answered for him though her voice sounded far away, as if she was right in front of Peter and completely ignoring Miguel. "He's just being a little grumpy right now,"

"Come...back...later...¡Dios mío, deja de hacerme cosquillas!" Miguel managed through gritted teeth. Something fluttered around his midsection and he fought to stay upright.

"Is everything alright?" Peter asked and suddenly the tickling stopped. Miguel took a deep breath and cleared his throat. This was absolutely ridiculous.

"Yes. I'm fine. I've made my position on visiting Miles Morales clear." Miguel said and peered over the edge of the platform at Peter. The Spider-Man frowned at him, looking like he wanted to say more, but then Lyla appeared by his shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Miguel bristled, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment though he knew that Peter couldn't see it through the mask.

Suddenly Peter smiled and chuckled to himself as Lyla disappeared.

"Well, obviously you're busy, so I'll talk to you later about it," He said, turning on his heel and heading towards the exit. Miguel reached for the platform controls.

"What did she say to you?!" Miguel growled, "Lyla?! What are you up to?"

The platform lowered, but as it did, the tickling began again. All across his stomach, his sides, his underarms and even the bottoms of his feet. Miguel couldn't help it this time. He collapsed pitifully in a fit of snickers, giggles, and huffed Spanish curses.

"¡No ahí! Noahahahaa!" Miguel laughed on the floor of the platform, feeling the tickling buzzing around his thighs now. It was completely overwhelming though Miguel wasn't even quite sure how Lyla even knew how ticklish he was. How did she manage to get into his suit like this?!

"¡Maldita sea, mujer! ¡Deja de hacerme cosquillas! ¡Por favor!" Miguel begged in Spanish. It seemed that his ability to speak english completely went out the window once he'd been tickled silly.

"Say you're sorry," Lyla sighed as she floated casually above him. She smiled at him innocently. "And I'll fix your suit."

"¿Por qué carajo debería disculparme?" Miguel snapped. Apparently she could translate that as the tickling feelings drilled into his armpits again and Miguel positively squealed. He kicked his feet as the buzzing somehow managed to slide in between his toes. He was losing his mind right now.

"¡B-bien! ¡Lo lamento! ¡Por favor deje de! AHAHAHA NO!" Miguel cackled. Lyla yawned and then shrugged her shoulders.

"Good enough for now I guess," She said and flicked her wrist. The intense tickling stopped and Miguel gasped for breath on the floor.

Slowly, he pulled himself together and glared at his screens now as if they were the cause of his discomfort. He waited, pulling the platform back to where it needed to be. He waited for another canon disruption or for Lyla to mess with his suit again.

His skin crawling...with anticipation as to what would come first.

#submission #ga!anon #tickle fic #tickletober 2023 #across the spiderverse

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mychlapci · 3 months

Note

User earthstellar here again because I saw your post about werewolf Drift and Rodimus and I honest to god had a fic drafted of this exact thing for Halloween and then the file corrupted and I gave up, so here's what the plot was:

Essentially, the Lost Light has to make a stop on an unknown planet in order to search for energon crystal deposits, as the ship is running a bit low

Rodimus insists on going out to explore it-- The planet seems to be heavily organic, and something is preventing the ship's scanners from working as they normally would.

He doesn't want anyone else going out as a landing party because they don't know if it'll be safe or not, but Drift insists on going with him, to keep Rodimus alive in the event they run into something weird.

They do indeed run into something weird-- Some kind of techno-organic thing, not Cybertronian in origin (probably?) but definitely aggressive and very, very fast.

It gets a few hits in on both of them, and they drag each other back to the Lost Light in order to head to the med bay. They pass out as soon as they get inside. Everyone assumes it's from energon loss, due to the deep cuts all over their armour.

When they wake up, they are in the med bay as expected, but they are now cyberwolves.

Their internal comms are different now, they can't access them and they don't seem to work anyway, and they have a whole new sensory suite and it's a little overwhelming.

But they also can't speak (like a beastformer would be able to), and therefore can't communicate to anyone that they're still there, they're just... cyberwolves.

They understand each other; They have some kind of new language data pack, able to interpret each others barks and whines.

But to everyone else, their captain/co-captains have turned into fucking huge giant cyberwolves and seem to be more animalistic than a beastformer would be and nobody knows what the fuck to do.

Gradually, cyberwolf instincts leak in more and more to their cognitive processes; Drift doesn't want to sleep anywhere other than curled up by Ratchet, and Rodimus doesn't want to curl up anywhere other than beside Drift, so Ratchet's habsuite becomes a temporary kennel of sorts until everyone figures this out.

By a couple cycles in, while Drift and Rodimus are still very cognizant and self-aware, their cyberwolf instincts get harder to ignore. Prompts keep popping up on their internal HUDs that they couldn't understand at first but now can't ignore, instinctive drives, like chasing flight-capable crew members and treating mini-bots like pups and play-fighting (to be fair, a thing Drift and Rodimus already do lmao)

And gradually this could turn into them not being able to ignore mating instincts, maybe Ratchet has to break up a little dog fight that broke out in his hab suite after the cyberwolves worked themselves up running around Swerve's getting petted (mostly Rodimus, Drift is more touch-averse) and playing ball with various patrons etc.

But it turns out the dog fight was an instinctive "no Ratchet is MY mate" kind of thing and Ratchet does not realise this until he starts to figure out that they're competing for his attention etc.

something something

Eventually they sort of figure out how to reverse the altered transformation sequence, but not fully, so when Drift and Rodimus enter their root modes they still have cyberwolf features like ears, tails, claws, etc. -- And their HUDs are still throwing up instinct prompts.

So they still don't want to go back to their own hab suites, Ratchet eventually gives in because they make the argument that this is their first night in root mode again and what if something weird happens again??

And they end up Doin It.

Bonus: Ravage figured out more or less what was happening before everyone else did, but didn't tell anyone because he figured they'd sort it out eventually, and also it's more interesting to him to not help. He did, however, immediately tell Nautica about "new cyberwolves on board" and Velocity nearly had to barricade the medical bay, lmao. and also Drift and Rodimus following Ratchet around in their wolf forms made him miss Soundwave ;__;

(HI FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WELCOME BACK FROM THE DRAFTS)

okay. so, i will be honest with you. i don’t think i made that post. i probably didn’t even reblog anything like that. but i did make a post about transformer werewolves and so i’m answering this anyways because i need everyone to know that i’m open to talk about transformers werewolves. (and perhaps you just understood The Implication of my werewolf posting and knew what i was asking for) (and this has nothing to do with my teen wolf thing shut up)

I love werewolf Rodimus and Drift <3

At first they’re pretty aware of what’s happening, not that they understand it, but they know that they’ve turned into mechanimals and no one can turn them back. Slowly though, it does not matter as much, as the instincts take over... Drift and Roddy start walking with more practice in their step, moving faster, becoming stronger, their hearing and sense of smell get better as well. Ratchet is, unfortunately the designated handler for these two. They insist on curling up besides him every night and he’s then forced to recharge with two absolutely massive cyberwolves huddled up on top of him. it’s as annoying as it is endearing.

hgrhhh Roddy and Drift eventually sinking into their breeding drive. They already sleep with Ratchet in their den hab-suite, they should get to mate with him too. The dominance fights don’t get too bloody but you know Ratchet’s very angry at the two of them.

Drift and Rodimus turning back but they still insist on sleeping with Ratchet. It might have been a bad idea. Their breeding drives are in no way sated yet, they start to rub up against Ratchet, trying to get their smell on him, scent him, make him theirs, a simple instinctual response that Ratchet thinks it the two trying to get frisky, which... isn't too far from the truth. Before be knows it he's got too strong cyberwolves mouthing at his panels and then at his bare array, barely even bothering to get him prepared before Drift finally mounts him... Rodimus tries to growl at him but you know Ratchet shuts that up right this moment. He'll wait for his turn, like a good puppy <33

#i do have a whole thing already written down about transformers werewolves already dude.... i know everything about it #valveplug #also hello for the love of god hi welcome back from the fucking drafts tumblr user earthstellar #jesus christ #i am so sorry #i was half convinced i posted this #texty

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chaotictarlos · 1 year

Text

From my Secret Dating AU I'm working on.

When Carlos walks into the bar to join his friends for a quick drink after a truly awful day at work, he’s not expecting to come face-to-face with someone from his past. He’s also not prepared to pretend like he doesn’t actually know him but it just sort of happened that way.

He keeps sneaking glances at TK as he listens to Paul recount a story about something the Dean had done - he’s not really sure what’s happening in the conversation, he wasn’t listening and hadn’t been the entire time he had been sitting there. Instead, his mind was preoccupied with TK and the fact that he was sitting across the table from him for the first time in six years.

“Carlos!”

Carlos jerks and turns his attention in Paul’s direction, looking a little sheepish. “I know our new colleague is pretty but that doesn’t mean you need to get lost in his eyes.”

Carlos rolls his eyes.

“I’m, uh, that’s not… No, I’m not,” Carlos says, trying to pretend like that wasn’t exactly what he had been doing. “It was a long day… not the best, so my mind is somewhat occupied.”

Paul hums with some sympathy while everyone else rolled their eyes.

“Did that case you’re working on get resolved?”

Carlos sighs, looking down. “Yes and no. The kid was sent back to his family because the judge decided that was the best place for them right now, but everyone at the office knows that isn’t the right call. Our hands are tied though and I have a stack of twenty other cases that I have to take care of and can’t dedicate the time I want to, to this case.”

Paul pats his back gently, “I’m sorry, that’s really tough. I hope that going back to the family goes well for the kid and if it doesn’t… I hope they get the help they need.”

Carlos nods, sighing heavily and taking a swig of his drink. He catches TK’s eye again, seeing the burning questions that were there but ones that he knew TK won’t ask since they supposedly don’t know each other.

“I work for the Travis County Family Support Services,” Carlos says, hoping that it answers at least one of TK’s questions. “It’s not the easiest work and there are days I go home wanting to quit and change my job, but I do a lot of good.”

TK nods, “I bet. You always - you seem kind, I bet the kids you work with really enjoy getting the chance to know you. I’m sure you’ve done everything you can do to help - the courts don’t always make the right decisions but you more than likely always make an impact in the lives that you get to help. Don’t forget that, even when it gets hard."

Carlos smiles softly at him, “Thanks.”

Carlos wants to get TK alone and talk to him, but he currently doesn’t have a reason to. If he did he knows that his friends would say something about it and assume that he’s interested in TK. Which, wasn’t technically a lie but he wasn’t interested in TK the way they would assume that he was.

He wants a chance to catch up with his ex, to find out what he had been doing these past years, and just talk, not hook up, and they couldn’t do that in the bar with prying eyes. He also wants to explain to TK that he didn’t mean to pretend like he doesn’t know him and that he was just caught off guard to see TK after six years.

It was a lot, even for Carlos, so he stays mostly quiet and tries not to pay too much attention to TK.

At the end of the night, he lingers, hoping that TK will get the hint and linger too but he’s gone as fast as he can be once everyone says their goodbyes.

The next day Carlos has to work so he doesn’t have much time to think about TK or the fact that he was apparently back in his life. He spends most of the morning elbow-deep in case of files, reading different stories about children who are being abused and neglected and trying to figure out which one he should go check on next - all the while his boss is breathing down his neck to clear some aware so that he can give him more.

After he gets his cases organized he spends the rest of his morning driving around Travis County and checking in with families. He makes notes that he needs to, and calls his boss a few times to get a child immediately removed from the house because it’s not a safe environment for them.

By the time lunch rolls around, Carlos wants to fake a stomach ache and head home because the day has already been too stressful. He drives to one of his favorite food trucks to get lunch, hoping that a few tacos would make him feel better.

As he eats, he pulls out his phone and stares at TK’s number, wondering if he still has the same one. He eats another taco before he clicks on TK’s number, opening a text thread that hadn’t been messaged in for years.

[Carlos] On the off chance that you still have the same number, hello TK. It was nice to see you last night.

Carlos presses send before he can talk himself out of sending the text message. Thankfully - he hopes - he doesn’t have to wait long before his phone is vibrating with an incoming text message.

[TK Stand] So you do still remember me, could have sworn you acted like you didn’t know me last night.

Carlos makes a face, but a smile still finds its way on his face.

[Carlos] Same old TK. I’m sorry about last night, easier to just go with it than correct them and let them know I know you. Honestly, it’s a long story.

Carlos sends the message and hesitates for just a moment before he sends another one.

[Carlos] Maybe we can talk about it and catch up over some coffee? As friends, that is.

He bites his lip, waiting nervously to see how TK would respond. He only wants to meet up as friends. He had long gotten over any romantic feelings that he had for TK but he still wants to be friends with him. There was nothing wrong with being friends with an ex and had they lived closer, Carlos is sure they would have remained friends after they broke up during college.

His phone vibrates again and he holds his breath as he picks it up and reads TK’s response.

[TK Strand] Sure, we can do that. Are you free after work? I’m busy for the next few days.

#t's wip wednesday #tarlos wip #wip wednesday #tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #tk strand x carlos reyes #tarlos fic #911 lone star

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locallixie · 2 years

Text

regular office — johnny

[📞] — A certain fresh face caught your attention when he first walked in the door. This office has just earned a new member, and he, was full of surprises.

⇀ genre ; comedy, fluff, office au, colleague!johnny, office worker!reader, colleagues!nct, colleagues-to-lovers, masc!reader.

⇀ warnings ; minor language, awkward office crush.

⇀ word count ; 1.6k

You typed away on your computer, working in a tight cubicle wasn't fun at all, but at least the job paid their employees well enough for you to continue working there. There was Jungwoo who sat next to your little working space to keep you company while your supervisor nagged you for files and documents.

"I'll get it done by afternoon." You told your supervisor as he gave you more forms and documents to fill.

Reaching your limit soon, you were in your early twenties and it already felt like you were pass sixty. Overworking yourself wasn't great for your health. Your back hurt, you finger was soon to fall off, your eyebags were prominent, you were drunk on coffee as well.

"Ugh, I can't do more of this, I'm getting old." You complained as you got back to your desk.

Jungwoo pushed his chair out, "Having a bad day? Let's go for a smoke."

"That would be nice." You walked outside with Jungwoo, in your hand was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. You pulled one out of the pack, placing it between your lips. Jungwoo opened the lighter, lighting your cigarette for you.

You started smoking since year nine in school, ever since then you became a smoke addict, smoking one pack per day. Your close friends and parents all told you to quit but you couldn't go a day without smoking, it was the urge that clawed deep in your skin and into your internal body.

"Hey, is that the new guy HR have been telling the department about?" Jungwoo pointed to something in the far distance, a figure with boxes on their arms and their bag was walking to the company's building.

You let out a string of grey smoke, "How are you sure? That could be anyone."

"No, that must be him, he's wearing our department's ID card." Jungwoo told. Different departments has different colours to tell each one apart. For example, your department was research and development; therefore your colour was yellow. A single yellow line running across the ID card.

You finally looked, as if it was a heart-struck, the figure with boxes also carried a handsome face full of maturity and poise. The way his frame was tall and muscular was tickling your fancy. You always had a thing for men with these attributes.

Your face heated up without knowing, you touched your warm cheeks. Was it the sun? Was it the cigarette you were smoking? Or was it that new guy?

Your break ended as soon as it started, or at least that what it felt like for a plain office worker. Back to breaking your back for a stupid documents. You weren't sure what you really did in your department; there were meetings here and there, then individual research, but maybe that was it.

"Everyone," HR called, everyone who were present looked up from their overheating computer. "This is Johnny Suh, he's from our US location, he will be working with us for the time being." HR introduced the guy you saw from before.

Now having a closer look at him, you couldn't help but think of dirty scenario you see yourself and him in. It was obvious that you wanted to sleep with Johnny. Was it because you were just a horny individual? Maybe, you couldn't deny the fact your sex life was a terrible mess. Even so, your sex drive was still high as a mountain's top.

But the way Johnny Suh seemed like a intelligent person was also turning you on, a plus as he was tall and handsome. His lips curved up into a cat-like smile, and those charming eyes, his perfectly plucked brows, and his board shoulders in his suit.

"Hi everyone, it's a pleasure meeting you all." Johnny said in fluent Korean, for a foreigner, it was almost on point. Your colleagues welcomed him with open arms, he adjusted with ease.

Johnny sat across the room from; you, occasionally would admire him from afar. When you worked, when you ate lunch, when you were talking to your other colleagues. He climbed the top without any help, being experienced and an expert at his job, he was employee of the month by his first year.

...

"[Y/N], remember to send our location in China the graphs and the legal documents, they have been asking for it for weeks now." Head of department, Taeyong, said to you. The meeting ended on another stressful list of tasks to complete, you were exhausted from all the documents,and files, and research you did. You needed a break, a long and peaceful break.

Mark, who work in human resources, was talking to the new guy in the company's break room. The wonderful yet harsh scent of coffee beans filled the atmosphere entirely.

You grabbed your personal mug that you brought from home, your lunch from the fridge inside the break room. You ignored the other two, sitting down at the table.

"Ah, [Y/N], long day?" Mark asked, sitting across from you. Johnny following behind him, sat beside you.

You let out a dragging sigh, "Shut up, I'm too tired to talk right now." You opened your lunch box, the smell of sweet and sour ribs calmed you down. Lunch was your favourite time of the day, where you could just relax and enjoy your home-cooked meal.

The Canadian laughed, "You must be starving, has Taeyong been whoring you out?"

"No, Dongyoung." You put a spoon of rice in your mouth. Dongyoung was your department's supervisor, he does all sorts of thing. Like identify employees' strengths and weaknesses, managing overall work-flow of the department, and nagging.

You didn't hate Dongyoung, you just found him annoying. He would push your limits, putting works that wasn't in your profession on you, and scold you on tiny mistakes such as spelling.

You turned your head from your food, accidently meeting eyes with Johnny. Your face stuffed with food, your cheeks full. An embarrassing state for you, looking at this pretty guy while you were less than appealing to yourself.

Johnny smiled kindly, "You look cute when you eat, [Y/N]." You exploded, your heart beating like a hammer on a stubborn nail. He thought you looked adorable when you were in you least flattering sight. Your face blushed a pinkish shade, covering your face in embarrassment, you turned away to continue chewing.

Johnny chuckled, sipping his cup of coffee. "I'll see you later, Mark." He bid goodbye to the one across.

"You too, [Y/N]." Saying it to you, he winked. As he walked away, your cheek flushed a clear view for Mark to see.

Mark teased, "Do I sense a crush? You like Johnny, do you?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up!" You told loudly, you were glad there were only you and Mark in the break room for you to use your volume like that. You tried to eat as quick as you could to escape Mark teasing words and stupid jokes.

You exited the break room with an annoyed attitude, gripping on your lunch box tight as if you were to crush it with your bare hands. You returned to your cubicle, another round of work has began.

You couldn't focus, all you could look at was Johnny from the opposite side of the room. You kept your eyes on him, not taking it off even a mere inch. He looked attractive when he work, his performance was great. The sight of him working continuously, typing, and reading through documents was admirable. The speed, the movement, the attentiveness to details.

"[Y/N]." Someone knocked on your cubicle's wall, calling out for you.

You snapped out of your train of thoughts, coming back to reality. You yelped as you were startled by the sudden noise and voice.

"Woah, there, did I scared you?" Donghyuck, from the same department as you, giggled at your confused yet scared expression.

Donghyuck's sweet tone of voice changed drastically when he got into the real reason why he was here. "Urgent meeting again, let's get going."

You sighed, getting out of your chair. The stress was piling up inside you, the pressure of managing work and a social life was pushing on your back. You had deadlines and unfinished research to do, you would stay up 'til dawn simply to make a twenty slides powerpoint to show your monthly research.

An urgent meeting, but for what? You wondered. It could be anything, could it be another temper tantrum from Dongyoung? Or something exciting actually happened? With that in mind, you came into the meeting room.

Everyone in the department were already there, sitting quietly as Taeyong stood in the very front. You didn't quite catch what he was explaining, since a sensation in your stomach has risen and was occupying your head space. A swarm of butterflies, it could be compared to, flying around your stomach with no intention to stop.

Johnny was next to you, you were close and personal with him. Worse, he had his hand on your thigh as he rubbed it gently. His big hand with veins being visible, his forearm showing out of his sleeves, his chest was somewhat popping out of his white button-down. Such a literal blessing to be able to see this sight in broad daylight.

You glanced at him, nothing, not even a glance back. You were questioning yourself, whether or not you should push his hand away. One side, you were too socially awkward to tell him to stop. The other, you secretly enjoyed it.

The meeting ended in more work, as per usual for every meeting, especially urgent ones. Johnny gazed at you as he stayed back to clean up, a charming and welcoming gaze. But, full of lust and desire.

#nct x you #nct fanfic #fluff #nct 127 #nct x reader #johnny #johnny suh #nct x male reader #suh youngho #colleagues #office au #cigeratte #crushcore

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masterwords · 2 years

Note

Can you write Hotchgan in the beginning state of their relationship and Hotch has a meltdown, which catches Derek off guard because he didn't know about the autism? 👀

If you aren't comfortable with this its no problem, don't worry💗💗

Oh, hey YOU. Okay, I really hope I did this some justice...I scoured @eldrai's blog for inspiration and cues. It got long, way out of control, and it was partially inspired by a scene at the end of 10x05 - Boxed In on the jet and of course I took a lot of inspiration from Lo-Fi/Mayhem too. But this jet scene...

Something about everyone sleeping, and how close to home that case was for Hotch, and the way Morgan stands up there to look at him in the dark but gives him space...ANYWAY. I hope this is okay. <3

4.1k words | Hotch/Morgan | Derek figures out how to help when Hotch has a meltdown.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and stared hard at the file, willing the words back into focus. He could finish the whole thing before they landed, and with any luck, he could keep the noise at bay. Or keep them from noticing when it got too loud. The pressure built in his chest and his pen worked faster.

Sometimes it caught him off guard, things fell into place too quickly for him to perform his carefully curated damage control. And sometimes it was a slow burn, a gradual undoing of the threads that kept him in one piece. A pot of water coming to a low, rolling boil over dying embers. When he looked at Mary and told her she couldn't blame herself for what her son did, something had hitched in his chest. Some little warning bell, an alarm. He was seasoned enough to know his triggers, so he trained his eyes on his feet and walked one foot in front of the other toward the vehicle. His job here was done.

This was a slow burn, he recognized it, but he could put it out before it became a blazing fire.

Breathing got him through it. Closing his eyes, blocking out the crime scene, he managed to put it back where it belonged in order to drive he and Dave and JJ back to the precinct. He drove, because if he drove, then he could also decide to pull over. He was in control.

He took the banker box of information for the reports so he had something to keep his hands busy and his mind quiet on the jet. He was in control.

He poured a cup of coffee because if he slept he might slip into a nightmare. He was in control.

On the jet, everyone visited quietly about saving that boy. Finally a good outcome. A happy ending. Sure they'd all missed Halloween, but a little boy would go home with his parents and hopefully, after time, be okay. Derek kept looking back at Hotch who had seated himself completely on his own in the back with the remaining work. For Hotch, the case wasn't closed, it wasn't over, but he could make it go fast. Each time someone looked like they might talk to him, Derek drew their attention back to him, back to the conversation at hand. He could see the wild on-the-brink look in Hotch's eye and knew that he was one drop, one ripple away from losing it.

Right now, he was in control.

“Hey Hotch? What did you say to Mary back there?” JJ asked, craning her neck over the top of the seat. He glanced up at her and blinked slowly, his eyes faraway and coming sharply into focus. Derek watched the change happen. The shadow that fell over his features, and his lips formed a grim line.

“Later, Jayj,” Derek said, patting her on the leg. “He looks like he's in the zone there. Unless you wanna get stuck with that paperwork, we should let the man focus huh?” Draw it back to work. She shrugged and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, yawning.

“You don't have to tell me twice.”

Hotch looked back down at the report, but it had all gone fuzzy and he wasn't getting it back. He was no longer in control.

His glass pond was full of ripples, rings growing bigger and more violent by the second. His heart was thundering. There were no more words on the page, just splotches of bright white and kaleidoscope colors dancing in his vision. He clenched his fist against his thigh, dug his fingernails in until they cut crescents into his palm and couldn't seem to make himself stop. Instead, he pressed harder and harder, his shoulders shaking, muscles coiled tight all the way up into his jaw. His hand felt wet, blood pooled against his fingertips and he squeezed harder. Like a tea kettle with a steam release, he was waiting for it. The pressure was still building, though.

And the noise in his head was so loud.

The world around him was quiet, so many tiny people fluttering through their lives below him and though none of them were anywhere near him, he felt their electricity crackling over his skin. He became a lightning bolt. Everyone's goodness, their evil, the words, the expectations it all flowed through him like a current. He thought about how he'd yelled at the unsub, he heard the words he said and felt them thunder through his chest. Pulling the child out from underground, that family's generations of evil manifesting into a squall in his head. It hurt to hold it in, it hurt but it was in there so tight he couldn't let it out, it just raged inside of him beating against the walls of his being until he thought he might just come apart at the seams.

His face gave no real sign of any of this, but the muscle that twitched just beneath his ear was a dead giveaway to Derek.

Derek watched him cautiously. Everyone else was sleeping, or close to, and he was caught somewhere in time wondering what to do. How to help without drawing attention...attention would undoubtedly make it worse, but Hotch was no longer in control of much. He could see the quiet primal fury boiling there. He stood up, glanced at Hotch staring so intently he thought he might burn a hole into the page, and then turned to head toward the back of the plane. Hot water on tap gurgled and growled into a mug, Hotch's favorite mug, and then a bag of chamomile tea was plopped inside. He grabbed himself a cold water bottle and felt around for a moment beneath the seats for his headphones. He liked to keep them right there, easy to grab, easy to lose himself in.

Careful not to startle Hotch, he crouched in front of him and waited to feel those amber eyes on him. Desperate, a silent plea for understanding, and Derek nodded before holding the headphones up. Hotch didn't back away, didn't flinch or move. He just stared helplessly. Unable to speak.

This was always hard for Derek, knowing that someone who valued control so much could lose it so completely, so vastly and not even afford themselves the grace to let it happen. Ride the storm without the shame.

There was no shame, but Hotch simply had never given himself the freedom or the kindness to try and see it that way.

At first, Derek had tried to comfort him through it. He was never one to shy away from an emotional situation, and Hotch so seldom showed him anything like that...he really thought he was doing the right thing. He was doing what he would have wanted, were he to find himself in that situation.

But what he thought was going to be a simple thing turned out to be anything but. He didn't know what he was seeing. Hotch was so good at hiding himself away, so in tune with his triggers that he never showed that side of himself...until New York, until a car bomb ripped his feet from the ground and took his hearing and his relationship with gravity out in a ball of flame. He found Hotch in the hospital, tearing an IV from his arm, desperate and concussed and bleeding. His eyes were so wild with terror and he was shouting...he'd never heard Hotch shout at anyone like that before. Part of it was his hearing, the shouting because his world was unsettlingly quiet when he knew it should have been anything but...and yet the noise in his head, the ringing, was so loud. He shouted and Derek froze for a moment. This wasn't an unsub, it was a doctor and a nurse, people who wanted to help him, to care for him. Derek managed to get them out of there, pressed his hand to Hotch's chest first and felt the hammering of his heart against his sternum. “Hotch,” he said quietly, his hand moving to settle over the bleeding on Hotch's arm and he tried to pull him back in. He squeezed it, tried to stop the bleeding, and something about the pressure seemed to snap his focus onto Derek. It seemed to quiet him a little, but that despair, that fear and wildness was still there.

And Derek couldn't touch it.

“Hotch, your go bag is on it's way...” Relax, he meant to say, but he could see that feral spark in his eyes that told him that would be a step too far. That word was wrong. Hotch was barely holding something together, barely holding his tongue, his fists. He looked around the room desperately, saw the mangled sheets, the bed at an odd angle and tried to picture the rampage he'd only just missed.

As Hotch came down, a deep sadness and shame filled his eyes, but he forced himself to talk only about the case. It became his only focus as he regained some semblance of control, and Derek longed to ask him about what had just happened, but it felt dangerous, so he didn't, he followed Hotch's lead. They talked about the case, they waited for the team to arrive, things got worse instead of better, but he was in control again. At least for the time being. The pressure had built and released, and now it was building again.

He managed to find his way to a bed, to sleep, before he lost anything again.

That night, after the unsub slit himself ear to ear in front of Hotch, after the news of Kate, after Derek blew up the ambulance...he and Spencer met up in the hotel bar for a beer. Well, Spencer ate a plate of french fries and had a Coke, but Derek went for the beer he'd decided against the night before. Ice cold Stella Artois, he could drown himself in its amber depths. As quietly as he could, he spoke to Spencer about what he'd seen at the hospital while Hotch did his best to sleep off the day. “I've never seen him like that before,” Derek confessed, and Spencer nodded solemnly. He'd always had a feeling he knew Hotch better than any of them and he felt vindicated, but he wasn't about to overshare, not something so deeply personal. Instead, he offered what he could in a roundabout way. Things that might help.

“When I feel like everything is out of control,” he started cautiously, really focusing on his word choice and holding Derek's eye contact. That part was the hardest for him, he longed to look somewhere else, anywhere else, but Derek needed it. He knew that, in order to know this was a moment to take seriously. For the sake of his relationship. “When everything is building up, things are stacking up too fast...it's hard to hear people talking to me, even if they mean well. It just makes it worse. What I need is...a buffer, I guess. A way out. My voice, in here,” he indicated his head sadly. “It's too loud and anything added to it just increases the volume until I think I'm going to lose my mind.”

“Are you saying...” Derek stared and Spencer raised his hand briefly, begging him to stop. To just listen. Not to ask questions that Spencer had no business answering.

“I'm only saying maybe there was too much going on. He was in an explosion, Derek. We saw the footage. And everything else this week...then that...I'm just saying that what happened in the hospital was...” he paused, he could feel himself getting worked up, dangerously close to just blurting something out that he had no right saying. “Listen. It was probably just too many things that happened too fast. And even if that one last thing was a good thing...like a doctor trying to care for his injuries...it was still...” Too much, even for a person who wasn't autistic, that was what he wanted to say, but Derek interrupted him and stopped him just in time.

“Overwhelming.” Derek finished the sentence, and thought he caught more in what Spencer didn't say than in what he did. But now Spencer looked exasperated and a little wild, so Derek just shrugged and told him he had some thinking to do but he appreciated the help. They didn't speak about it the rest of the night.

It gave Derek a lot to consider, and a conversation was looming just out of reach. One he wasn't sure he knew how to navigate. It was just that he thought the one place Hotch should be able to be himself, and lose the mask, should be with him, right? He was so sure of that, but there was a little voice inside that said it wasn't inherently true. Unless he wanted to. It was Hotch's decision. Derek struggled with that.

“Aaron,” he'd started on the long ride home from New York, unable to sit in the silence any longer. He had to know. He was desperate for answers. But Hotch was distraught, in and out of some kind of fitful sleep, deeply uncomfortable now that his body had time to come down from the shock of the night before. The intensity of the pain kept him pinned in place while his mind spun out of control. He couldn't have talked about any of it if he tried. He'd already been on the precipice of another meltdown all morning, he'd snapped at Derek over trust when he hadn't ever meant any harm, and now he was barely holding it at bay. One more thing.

“Derek please,” he started, his voice nothing but a whisper. “Not now.”

“Okay,” was his reply, hearing Spencer's voice in his head. Adding one more thing...he didn't want to do that. That wasn't his goal, it wasn't ever his goal. “Soon?”

Hotch nodded, and let his hand cross that invisible barrier, over the console, to rest against Derek's thigh. He rubbed fingertips over and over in a quiet rhythm with the grain of the denim and closed his eyes against the throbbing in his head.

By the time the conversation actually happened, by the time Hotch actually used the word autistic, Derek had figured out everything he needed to know on his own. It was probably better that way, it didn't feel so much like a confession or Hotch being on center stage and more of a simple acknowledgment, a mutual understanding. Derek had already proven he could be trusted with such a deeply guarded part of him that Hotch didn't find it hard, one night in bed, to just lay it out. He no longer feared that the admission would come with an end to something good.

“Am I that obvious?” Hotch asked, seriously, once the rest of the conversation, the hard parts, were out of the way. Derek smiled and he could feel the warmth of in the dark. The sincerity was almost overwhelming.

“Something like that.”

He'd learned to read the signs, until he was no longer caught off guard. To anyone from the outside, the way he would press his fingertips to his forehead, or pinch the bridge of his nose a little harder than seemed necessary, it might look like he was nursing a wicked migraine. And sometimes he was. It was hard to tell the difference, the way he'd taught himself to react was jarringly similar. And that had always worked for him, no one could tell the difference and really he preferred it that way. No one could fix a migraine any better than they could this, that was his thought. This was like his body's alarm system screaming that he was at capacity, and he had to release it whether he was in the right place or not. His father had tried to beat the "fits" or "tantrums" out of him, that sure as hell didn't work, especially when he was big enough to lose control and fight back. Now everyone offered him a wide berth and a quiet room, it really was as good as he thought it was likely to get.

Dave and Gideon had figured out the difference and mercifully kept it to themselves. They would make sure he was given some space, and often Dave would make a sort of show of it. Bring Hotch a cold can of coke and an ice pack, a wet rag, some Tylenol...something that might scream migraine to anyone whose eyes were keeping a little too close a watch. And he would always come out looking tired with the Coke opened, the Tylenol stashed in his pocket, and a half-hearted exhausted smile on his face meant for a good friend. And with as long as the aftershocks lasted, it really played perfectly into the migraine mask.

Derek quickly discovered he couldn't do much. Hotch didn't want physical attention; he didn't want a hand in his air or on his shoulder. In fact, those things often made it worse, made him retreat further or react with more intensity than if they'd just left him alone. And while Dave had more than once confided in Derek that he had something that would help, Derek wanted to do more. The migraine thing worked in police stations, at Quantico, in the courtroom. But that was only helping him hide it, not through it. And Derek didn't want him to feel like he had to hide it. Especially not with him.

Dave was a friend, and he was a good friend. But Derek was more than a friend, so he should be able to do something more, right? It was hard knowing that the answer to that question was likely a resounding no. This was something Hotch had to weather on his own, ultimately. And what Hotch wanted was space, really, but he also needed something Derek figured out how to provide anyway.

He figured it out sort of by accident. He thought about Reid talking about how loud his inner voice got and it gave him an idea, something he tested out one day at home when it came out of nowhere and somehow...it worked. It didn't fix anything, but it helped and that was all he'd been hoping for. Hotch needed a buffer between himself and the rest of the world, and if there was one thing Derek understood, it was that. Throwing up walls, creating barriers. Cultivating quiet. He'd become skilled at that at a very young age, and while he didn't hold on to most of it as he'd aged, he retained what it could do for his own well-being.

After every case he pulled out his headphones and lost himself in music for the hours on the jet.

Music reminded him of good in the world.

Music reignited the parts of his soul that might wither and die after what he saw every day. A good drum beat could teach his heart how to do it's thing. A good guitar riff would make his blood rush. A thumpy sexy bass could cure everything else and by the time the jet landed he felt like himself again.

Hotch liked music differently, and Morgan spent hours and hours of his life trying to educate Hotch on proper music. Really, truly good music. Gospel, deep raspy blues, outlaw country, things you wouldn't find on the radio. Hotch was a Top 40 kind of guy, a classic rock guy at best, before Derek showed him the treasures. Things you had to dig properly for. Hotch, it turned out, loved Muddy Waters. Something in the harmonica, the rhythms, the sad wisdom in his voice.

So, he slid the headphones gently over Hotch's head, pressing them firm against his ears to make sure the seal was in place and placed the mug of tea down beside him. Satisfied with these little things, he walked away into the darkness. He'd created a barrier between Hotch and the world, and the hardest part for him to learn was that that barrier had to include him too.

Hotch closed his eyes and let the weight of the oversize headphones on his head distract him from the noise, let his fist slowly un-clench and pressed his bloody palm flat against his thigh. He'd dug deep this time, he could feel the crescent gashes throbbing, he'd need to cover them up with bandages and he knew Jessica would have a flurry of questions but...not now. The music started low, the volume so quiet, and in trickled the harmonica and the guitar. It painted his senses and he struggled against his body to pull in a breath, just one. The world's noise melted away from him as his focus was drawn to Muddy's voice. She moves me, man...

None of the songs were in order, except by order of what Derek knew Hotch's favorites were. He began with quiet, just a soothing voice and a simple melody. He selected each song while his eyes flicked up and read the situation from the other end of the plane. To anyone else, in the dark, it would look like he was just playing around on his phone, solitaire or a word game with Garcia (and he was doing that too) ...not playing personal DJ. Guiding Hotch through the winding path of his mind from afar. It was like holding his hand without ever touching him.

Hotch's hands, trembling, hugged the warm mug of tea and his features softened slowly over the course of the trip until he leaned back and let his eyes close. The muscle in his jaw throbbed when he released the tension there. He would pay for it with a headache later. But for now, the case file could wait and he could breathe. Derek kept it up for the duration of the flight, one song after another, lulling Hotch into a space of comfort, of eventual peace. It may have been fleeting, but it was undeniably good.

It didn't fix him. In the car, he was pensive, exhausted, painfully quiet. Derek knew better than to ask questions, he didn't need answers. The case was hard. Sometimes these things didn't have triggers that were obvious to him, but Derek knew this time. It was clear as day. JJ said some things to Hotch that she had already mentioned feeling bad for, foot in mouth statements she wished she could take back but knew had already done their damage. She told him what Hotch had said to the boy, how he'd been with the mother afterward even though she couldn't hear what they spoke about...it was a perfect storm. Past colliding with present.

He'd said things to that boy, channeled some long-buried words in a voice that didn't sound at all like his own. He jumped into that hole, pulled that little boy out, and that should have flooded him with joy. He knew that, but it didn't. Because as he watched that boy's parents rush toward him with all the love in the world, he knew that had never belonged to him. He wished, briefly, that his mother had loved him well enough to do what Mary had done and that made him feel worse. More of a monster. To wish harm because he was harmed. He had never been a believer in an eye for an eye, but that moment, he felt some little piece of him snap.

“You can't blame yourself,” he'd told her, but did he really mean that? He chewed on that for much of their drive home. Did he mean that at all? He blamed his mother, and shouldn't she too blame herself? Isn't that how blame works? It isn't subject to logic. It doesn't bow to facts. It swears fealty to despair and desire.

“Derek?” Hotch asked, sliding his sliced-up hand over until it rested against his thigh. He rubbed at the seam of Derek's pants, pressed the thick denim between thumb and forefinger to ground himself, and released a long and weary breath. The noise in his mind was fading and leaving something else in its wake. Some desperation for comfort. A way to release it all before walking through his front door, something to help him find his smile for Jack. “Would you mind stopping for a milkshake? My treat.”

Derek grinned and nodded. “I thought you'd never ask.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #criminal minds #hotchgan #fanfiction #autistic hotch

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eriquin · 6 months

Text

Cat's in the Cradle, Part 3

Eddie gets out of the trailer park and starts walking.

(master post)

Hawkins was in shambles and no one paid attention to Eddie as he wandered down the street. The earthquake had cut sharp gouges through the center of town, and everyone was panicking about it. On every block, he saw people loading up their cars with all their valuables and driving away. But he also saw people packing up tools and medical supplies and heading towards the fires. It was a pretty even split.

He made his way into a playground just so he could sit down on one of the benches. He wasn’t sure when the sun had risen but he felt like he’d been walking all night. The bench was cold, so he tucked his legs up into his jacket and curled up. He had only put his head down on his backpack for a second before someone was shaking him.

“Hey, kid,” the man said. “Come on, wake up.”

Eddie sat up quickly and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled. The man wasn’t wearing a uniform or anything, but he had an air of authority to him anyway. Eddie pulled his bag in front of him like a shield.

“Where are your parents, kid?” he asked. “What’s your name?”

Improve instincts kicked in. “Teddy, sir. Theodore Gamgee.” The first name was pulled from an old memory and alias. The last name had him hoping this man didn’t read a lot of fantasy. “Ma and Pa are home in Alabama, sir. Sent me to visit my cousins.”

“So what are you doing out here? Where are your cousins?”

Eddie couldn’t help tense up. He was going to have to think of plausible cousins for himself real fast. “Just arrived yesterday, sir. Tried to call ‘em, but no one answered. Then there was the... the...” He looked past the man towards the smoke coming from the center of town.

“Oh hell, you must’ve gotten here right before the earthquake. You poor kid.” The man crouched down and put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Who are your cousins? Maybe I know them.”

Eddie bit his lip. “The Mayfields?” He knew Max’s mom still went by Hargrove, so this guy was unlikely to recognize the name. Add in the fact that the trailer park was trashed and vacant. “In, uh, Forest Hills? ‘Cept I don’t know how to get there.”

The man rubbed his chin and looked in the direction of the trailer park. This was a little bit of a test to see if he was honest. “Sorry to say this, son, but Forest Hills got hit pretty hard in the earthquake. Your cousins will probably be taking shelter down at the high school. That’s where they’ve got everyone set up.” And he passed.

Eddie got up and put his backpack on. He looked in the same direction the man was, then back at the smoke. “Thank you, sir. An’ where’s the high school?”

He got up and pointed in the right direction. “It’s that way. I’m about to head over there with some donations.” He jerked his hand towards his pickup, the back of which was filled with boxes. “You want a ride?”

Would the little lost boy persona he’d conjured up trust this guy enough to get in a truck with him? Eddie wasn’t sure, but he figured that if something went fishy it wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to duck and roll out of a moving vehicle. And he’d been walking for a long time already and was tired and hungry. He accepted and climbed into the passenger seat.

For once, things worked out for him. As soon as the truck stopped in the high school parking lot, he ditched the man and ran for the building. Surely, Wayne would be here somewhere. But the gymnasium was full of people and he was so short now. He wandered between groups looking for his uncle’s silver beard and balding head. No luck. He did a couple more circuits of everyone before deciding that Wayne definitely wasn’t anywhere in the room. There were a couple of plastic chairs with line of sight to the front doors. Eddie sat in one and put his backpack under his feet and watched as people filed in. He wasn’t the only one keeping watch. He wasn’t even the youngest, though most of the kids here were with at least one adult.

He dozed off again after a while and woke with a start, wondering if he’d missed his uncle. The room was still buzzing with noise, and he picked up his bag and started another round of checking on faces. A lot of people were milling around a bulletin board filled with missing persons posters. They were grumbling about something and someone was scribbling on one of the posters. Eddie snuck around the crowd to see what they were doing and got a clear view once they stepped out of the way. He heard a mutter of the word ‘Freak’ and saw devil horns scribbled over his own little black-and-white picture. It hurt more than it should have, probably because he knew that Wayne must have put the poster up. Eddie covered his mouth and turned away.

A forty-something woman with a bob haircut patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, hon,” she said gently. “Even with everything, we’re still keeping an eye out for him. You’re safe here.”

Eddie flinched and ducked away from her. He pushed past a couple more people and ran through the crowd until he got to the men’s room and shut himself inside a stall. He forgot how thirteen-year-old him would cry at the drop of a hat. He hadn’t missed the wild ride of pubescent hormones fucking with his emotions.

It wasn’t just that, though. He could admit it to himself. He’d spent the last few days on the most nauseatingly horrific roller coaster ride, but at least he’d quickly gotten some backup in the form of a group of people who seemed to know what they were doing. Now the world was ending, his friends thought he was dead, and he was completely untethered from anything solid. He had no idea what was going to become of him. He had to check in on Wayne, somehow, but after that he also had to get back to Dustin and let him know what had happened. He just didn’t know how to do it.

He left the stall and washed his face and thought. Wayne wasn’t in the shelter, but Wayne had been there to put up a poster. His uncle was a stubborn son of a bitch, in his own words, and he knew he’d come back to check on that poster and put up a fresh one. They weren’t going to kick a kid his age out of the shelter. Hell, no one had even asked him any questions yet. They had a food table set up and just kept handing out soup and sandwiches to whoever wanted them. He could probably even snag a cot and get some sleep that night.

With a plan in mind, Eddie left the bathroom and focused on getting through the night.

#cat's in the cradle #my writing #stranger things

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