#sir is it a name or your dating profile

[persephonewritessometimes]

two's a company, three's a crowd // hotch x reid x reader

Summary: You've been meaning to ask Hotch about it for some time, what happens when he agrees to fulfill your fantasy?

Author's Note: This is self-indulgent!! I understand if this is not everyone's taste, but I couldn't find a fic like this that I liked, so I wrote my own!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid x AFAB Reader

Word Count: 3570

Warnings: SMUT, THREES*ME, SUB-SPACE, PET NAMES (pretty girl, baby, little girl), softDOM!HOTCH, softDOM!REID, ORGASM DENIAL, "SIR" AND "DOCTOR" USED TO ADDRESS HOTCH AND REID, "DADDY" USED; light system (all green's, no use of yellow or red); squirting; oral (f receiving); worried!hotch, hotch pov; wizard of oz(?) [reader uses "oz" to describe being in sub space]

Key: y/n = your name

This work is meant for readers aged 18 and over. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

We’re enjoying our morning coffee - me with copious amounts of sugar and cream, Hotch just straight black coffee - and I’m toying with the question. I’ve been meaning to ask him for months now, potential embarrassment is the only thing stopping me. I’m picking at my cuticles, starting to sweat, and just decide to blurt it out.

“I want to have a threesome.” Hotch chokes on his coffee, slamming his hand against his chest as he looks at me wide-eyed.

“You couldn’t have waited to ask that until I wasn’t taking a drink?” He croaks, throat certainly scratchy from choking on hot coffee. I give him a sheepish smile and shrug. He looks at me for a few moments, and I can see him collecting his thoughts as he thinks about what to say. Finally, he asks, “How long have you been meaning to ask me this?”

“Um…like six months.”

“Y/N,” he sighs, “I’ve told you you can tell me anything.”

“I know that! It’s just…it’s embarrassing.” I shift my gaze away, trying to shield myself from Hotch’s impending “no”.

“Hey. No. Don’t do that.” I hear him get up and he comes to my side of the table, grabbing my hand. I swallow down the lump in my throat. The embarrassment is worse than I thought it would be. “Y/N, look at me.” I shake my head, but a strong hand soon finds its way to my chin and I’m gently forced to meet his eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. I was just…surprised. That’s all. If you want a threesome, we’ll have a threesome.”

“I don’t want you to do it just because I want to do it.”

“I’ve…I’ve thought about it too.” My eyes must have widened because he chuckled. “You’re pretty easy to read. You love being adored, what better than to be adored by two people at once.”

“Damn dating a profiler,” I mutter. “So you’re okay with it?”

“Of course, I’m okay with it. I love seeing you happy, pretty girl. Did you have someone in mind?”

“If it’s not too awkward…Reid?” His brow furrows and I just give him the prettiest smile I can. “Come on, you’re already dating one subordinate, why not throw another in the mix? Besides, he’s already agreed.”

“Y/N! You asked him before you asked me?” He exclaims.

“I just wanted to be prepared in case you said yes!” I shoot back.

“I guess, if we were to add anyone, I’d be the most comfortable with Reid. Seeing as we have no attraction to each other.”

“What? You aren’t going to kiss each other for me?” I say, one hundred percent joking, just trying to get a rise out of him.

“Only I get to kiss you.” He raises his eyebrows as he looks at me and I feel my cheeks grow hot. “We need to set some ground rules if we’re going to do this.” I nod furiously, trying to keep a smile off my face. “You’re going to be the death of me someday, you know that?”

-2 Weeks Later-

We had gotten coffee with Reid a week after our initial conversation to set up ground rules. I told them I wanted to be surprised by the actual occurrence, but not anything that happens in it. Hotch got a little possessive in the actual discussion, and we came to the agreement that if double penetration were to happen, Reid had to wear protection and only Hotch actually got to be in my pussy. I was fine with that. We agreed we were fine with dom and sub roles, something Hotch and I naturally already do. Hotch already has been addressed as ‘Sir’ and we settled on ‘Doctor’ for Reid. Watching Reid shift in his seat at that made my heartbeat speed up. Hotch came around to the idea of Reid and I kissing, but he said he would step in if he started to not like it. I had been on edge for the week following, unsure of when they were going to corner me.

It was Saturday, I had been running some errands and came home to a quiet house. I threw on one of Hotch’s t-shirts, forgoing pants as his shirts seemed to drown me anyway. I’m putting books back on the shelf in the bedroom when I hear Hotch clear his throat behind me.

“Aaron! You scared the shit out of me. I could have fallen off this chair.”

“Uh-uh, pretty girl, try again.” He says, arms folded over his chest. I notice the glint in his eyes, the one that’s straight-up predatory, and I can feel my panties start to get damp.

“Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.” I say quickly, clasping my hands together demurely.

“Good girl.” His voice is low and I clench my thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction. “I’ve brought a friend with me today. What’s your color?”

“Green, sir.” My stomach drops to my ass, I wasn’t expecting it to happen today, but that makes it all the more exciting. I watch as Reid steps into the doorframe, looking a little nervous, but eyes already lidded with anticipation of what’s to come. “Hello, Doctor,” I say, inclining my head toward him.

“Come on, little one, don’t be shy for Doctor Reid now,” Hotch says, striding into the room. “Why don’t you go give him a kiss?” I nod and pad over to Reid, who has a flush creeping up his cheeks.

“What’s your color, Doctor?” I whisper, smoothing down his shirt, and easing him into my touch.

“Green.” He whispers back, and his eyes drop down to my lips. I smile and nod at him, that it’s okay, and then his lips are on me. After getting used to kissing Hotch for so long, it feels weird to have someone else kissing me. Reid is tentative at first, letting me set the pace, but after I bite his lip a little bit, any semblance of restraint he had is broken. He grabs my face with his hands, kissing me like a man starved of food, and when his tongue slips into my mouth I moan softly. Reid pulls away gasping and then busies himself with kissing his way down my neck. I feel a soft body behind me and lean into it instinctually. Hotch’s hands grip my waist tight enough that I know it’ll leave a mark. I can already feel him, hot and hard pressing into my back, and as I tilt my head back when Reid finds the spot on my neck that makes me keen, Hotch’s lips are on me, swallowing the noises I’m making. Hotch’s tongue is lazy, but demanding as it slips into my mouth, and the intrusion is one I’m used to. I’m so distracted I don’t realize that Hotch’s hands have moved from my hips and were steadily moving towards my cunt until his fingers slid into my panties and I gasped into his mouth. Reid steps away for a second, unbuttoning his shirt, and Hotch abandons kissing me as we both watch his fingers glide through my arousal before he buries two of them in my cunt. I whimper, hand shooting down to his forearm, my nails digging in as he pumps his fingers slowly.

“Doesn’t she make such pretty sounds, Doctor Reid?” Hotch asks, pressing a kiss into my temple before pulling his fingers out and I whine.

“Yes, she does.”

“You should feel how wet she is, she’s so worked up.” I’m panting a little bit and look up just in time to see Hotch slide the two fingers that had been inside of me into his mouth. “Come on, pretty girl, why don’t you show Doctor Reid how excited you are?” I nod, anything to please him, and shuck off what little clothing I was wearing as I make my way to the bed. Once I’m seated, I spread my legs obscenely wide, pussy dripping and on display for both of them. Reid makes a low noise in his throat and to taunt him further, I drag my fingers through my folds, spreading my arousal. Reid is on me before I register it, yanking my hands away from my cunt, my wrists smarting at his strong grip.

“Don’t touch what’s ours, little girl.” I blink at him a few times. “Do you understand, or do I have to spell it out for you, huh?” He has one eyebrow quirked and I nod furiously.

“I understand, Doctor.”

“Good.” He spits out. “Now be a good girl and stay still. Can you do that for me?” I nod again and he sinks to his knees at the edge of the bed, arms wrapping around my thighs and yanking me to the edge of the bed. I let out a noise of surprise that turns into a moan as Reid licks up my cunt before teasing my clit. My hips are jumping upwards on their own accord, my arousal smearing over Reid’s face. I feel the bed dip beside me, and Hotch, now in just his boxers, situates me between his legs, strong thighs coming to rest on either side of me. Reid’s nose bumps against my clit and I sigh, arms coming up to grab Hotch’s biceps, my top half now supported by his chest and abdomen. When Reid slips two fingers inside of me, my nails dig into Hotch’s biceps, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he’s leaving pretty purple marks on my throat - marks that will be hard to cover but I don’t give a fuck right now. One of my hands shoots down to grab at Reid’s messy curls as I feel myself throttling toward the edge.

“Reid, I’m gonna cum.” He stops immediately, pulling his fingers out of me and sitting back on his heels.

“Try again.”

“Huh?” I’m confused, I was so close and he just stopped.

“Try. Again. Not Reid, baby, not right now.” He says as his gaze drops to my cunt and my thigh twitches in response.

“Doctor. Please. I want to cum. I’m so sorry, I’ll be a good girl, I promise. Please just let me cum.”

“What do you think, Hotch, has she earned it?” Reid says, finally tearing his eyes away from my splayed cunt to look at Hotch, who reluctantly removes his lips from my throat.

“She sounds so pretty when she begs, but no, she hasn’t earned it.”

“Please! I’ll be so good! I promise! I just want to cum!” I cry out, tears pricking at the corner of my eyes.

“You will, pretty girl, just be patient. Reid, switch spots with me.” Reid nods, slipping in behind me, a different pair of thighs now resting on either side of me. Seeing Hotch’s brown eyes look up at me as he’s level with my pussy makes me whine, a low, thready sound. The cheeky bastard winks at me, before literally burying his face in my cunt, and I’m met with a low growl of approval when he finds the mess that Reid had made. Reid’s fingers are dancing down my sides, the featherlight touch a stark contrast to the way Hotch is eating me out. Reid’s fingers come up to pinch and tug at my nipples. My back arches up into his touch and when Hotch slides his fingers back into me, the two sensations are overwhelming, crowding my nervous system. It doesn’t take long for both of them to get me dancing on the edge again, a few tugs and thrusts away from reaching my peak, and my breathing starts to labor, my abdomen tensing, but even though I want it, the peak never comes.

“More,” I gasp out, “More, please, I need more.”

“More? My pretty girl wants more?” Hotch asks, pulling away from me.

“Yes, sir, please. Want your cock. Please. Both. Please. Want you.”

“Fine, we’ll give you what you want. But only because you begged so prettily. Doctor Reid help her up.” Hotch shucks off his boxers, cock hard and leaking, begging for attention. He sits on the edge of the bed. “Come on, pretty girl, hop up on my lap.” I oblige immediately, grinding my cunt into his throbbing cock and he hisses, hands gripping my hips, effectively stilling me. The world is going a little fuzzy, the edges blurred, the anticipation of what’s to come setting my heart into an off-kilter pace. I hear the unmistakable rip of a foil wrapper. “Color, pretty girl?” Hotch says, fingers tilting my chin up until I’m looking him in the eyes.

“Green, green, green,” I whisper, and he chuckles, a quick break in the dominant facade.

“Okay, baby girl, you ready? Doctor Reid’s gonna open you up a little bit, okay?” I nod, and turn my head over my shoulder to see Reid opening the bottle of lube I keep in the nightstand drawer. “Uh-uh, eyes on me, pretty girl. Can you do that?” Hotch says, hand gripping my jaw to bring my attention back to him. “There you go. Just like that.” He kisses me, hard, and when I moan I feel his cock twitch against me. Reid’s fingers slip into my tight hole and I hiss, both at the slight stretch and the cold lube. Reid kisses my shoulder in response.

“I know, baby, just have to make sure you’re ready.” He starts to slowly thrust his fingers in and out, scissoring them apart to open me up and soon enough my hips are meeting his movements. Reid pulls his fingers out and I whine at the loss of contact.

“Go time, pretty girl,” Hotch says, kissing the tip of my nose, as he spreads his legs wider so Reid can step between them. He gently lifts me up, hand guiding his cock through my arousal before he guides me down on his cock. He lets it slide home, and I catch my breath for a few seconds. I feel him twitch inside of me and I clench down on him in response.

“I’m ready, Doctor.”

“Eyes on me, pretty girl, wanna see your face when Doctor Reid fills you up.” I whimper at his words. When I feel Reid start to slide into me my eyes flutter shut at the overwhelming sensation of being full. “Eyes open, honey,” Hotch whispers. I obey him, forcing my eyes as Reid slides home and I moan, loud and unashamed. We stay in that moment for a few seconds, both men letting me adjust to the feeling before they start to thrust. It takes a few tries to get a rhythm going, but we figure it out soon enough and my body starts to feel loose and tense at the same time, my hands desperately clinging to Hotch’s shoulders, my one anchor in the sea.

I can feel my orgasm rising, climbing impossibly high, and I can feel myself slipping under, into a space I’ve only gone a few times, when I was really worked up, or after I came really hard. The world is fuzzy and I’m almost there when I realize Hotch is asking me something. I don’t hear it though, all I’m focused on is the sensation happening between my legs.

“Fuck, coming, coming, I’m coming, Daddy, I-” I let out a scream when I hit my peak, missing the way Hotch’s eyes widened at the name I used for him. I feel myself squirt all over Hotch’s lap, the gush immediately pushing him over the edge with a muffled ‘fuck’, and it feels like my orgasm goes on forever. Reid finishes quickly after, spilling into the condom. I rest my forehead on Hotch’s shoulder, riding out the aftershocks, thighs twitching as Reid pulls out. My breathing is labored and I’m a million miles away. I stay like that, feeling Hotch soften inside of me until he gently pushes me away to look at my face.

“No! Don’t, Daddy.” I cry out, burrowing further into his chest, craving the safety he exudes. His hand comes up to rub my back.

-Hotch’s POV-

She’s really far under. I didn’t realize she was slipping until she called me Daddy. I know what to do though, as she’s gone into sub-space a few times since we started dating. The first time was after we had sex for the first time - scared the shit out of me if I’m being honest. When she came around the first time, she was mortified, apologizing profusely even when I assured her it was fine. Since then, we’ve figured it out, and she really only slips under when I’ve edged her for a long time or we hate-fuck.

“Pretty girl?” I ask, and she hums in response. “Are you far away right now?”

“Yeah,” she says, her voice soft.

“Reid, can you grab some dark chocolate and a glass of water from the kitchen please?” He rushes off and I say, “Hey, pretty girl, I have to pull out, okay?”

“No!” She says, starting to cry.

“I know, I know.” My thumbs wipe away her tears. “But I’ve gotta take care of you, okay? Help you feel better? Do you want Daddy to help you feel better?”

“Okay,” She finally whispers. I gently push her up and she sniffles when I slip out of her. She’s shaky on her feet, looking like a deer in the headlights when I stand up, towering over her.

“Come on, baby. Let’s get you in the bath, okay?”

“Up?” She asks, looking up at me.

“Of course.” I open my and help her jump up, my arms coming to rest under her her butt as she locks her ankles around my back. I carry her into the bathroom and set her on the edge of the tub as I turn the faucet on and get the water to her favorite temperature. She clings onto one of my wrists as I do so, small hands gripping tightly. When the tub is full, I help her in.

“Daddy, please, get in with me? Please?” I can’t refuse her, she’s always been my weak spot so I slip into the tub behind her, wrapping my arms around her, trying to help her ground herself. She’s quiet and jumps slightly when the door creaks open.

“I got what you asked for. Can I do anything?” Reid asks, handing me the chocolate and glass of water.

“Thank you. And no, we’ll be okay. She just got overwhelmed, she’ll be back in a few hours.” I say, and Reid just nods, dismissing himself from the room to give us space. “Pretty girl?” I ask, and she turns, doe eyes looking into mine. “Can you eat this for me?” I hold the pieces of chocolate out to her and she gingerly takes them from my hand, eating them slowly. “Good girl.” She beams up at me at the praise. “Now, can you drink this?” I hand her the glass of water and she wraps both hands around it, sipping it. It takes her a good ten minutes to finish the whole glass, and I take it from her when she’s done, taking note of her heavily lidded eyes and a sleepy yawn. “Pretty girl, come on, let’s get you into some fluffy pajamas.”

I help her out of the tub, and as I’m drying her off I notice she’s chewing on her lip, brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Was I a good girl, Daddy?” Her lip wobbles a little bit.

“Oh, baby, you were the best girl. You are the best girl. Daddy’s not mad at you. Daddy’s just a little worried, okay?”

“Worried?”

“Yeah, baby, Daddy just wants to make sure you’re okay. Where are you at right now?”

It takes a few seconds for the question to register. “Oz.” She says, quietly.

That’s what she calls being “far away”, she calls it being in Oz. Her eyes are zeroed in on me, fully focused on me, nothing else.

“Do you want to go lay in the poppy fields, pretty girl?” She knows what this means - a nap and cuddling and her eyes light up in recognition.

“Yes! Poppy!” I sweep her up in my arms, bridal style, and carry her into the bedroom, help her into a pair of pajamas, and into bed. Reid had changed the sheets while we were in the bath. I sit, my back against the headboard, and she sprawls over my lap and chest, knees on either side of me as she tucks her head under my chin. I run my fingers down her back and she hums in contentment.

“Daddy loves you very much, pretty girl, he’s so proud of you. His pretty girl.” I say and she nestles further into my chest. She’s fast asleep in the next ten minutes, snoring lightly. I don’t remember dozing off, but I’m awoken a few hours later by Y/N shifting in my lap. She pushes off my chest, blinking a few times. “Hey there, pretty girl, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” She says, eyes clear and I could sigh in relief. “Did I slip under?”

“Yeah, you did. It’s okay. I figured you probably got overwhelmed, am I correct?”

“Yes, but not overwhelmed in a bad way. I didn’t slip because I was scared.”

“I know, baby. I love you.” Her eyes light up.

“I love you too.”

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x y/n #hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x reid x reader

[c-m-stuff]

Undercover

-Description: You and Spencer are married. When you needed to go undercover, something went wrong.

-Warnings: Angst, language, mention of rape, mention of fight

-Word count: 1214

-Note: Hey guys, I'm back with a somewhat more angsty one. Speaking of the warnings, those are only mentions, nothing got discussed in detail. This is also a repost from Wattpad! If you have any requests, send them in! Much love!

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Masterlist

_________________________

Y/N POV:

'Are you ready?' Aaron asked, while we sat in the black SUV with Derek and JJ.

'Yes, I'm ready.'

I was about to go undercover, meeting with the unsub on a so called date. After creating a fake profile on one of the most popular dating sites, it took me an hour of chatting, before he finally asked me out.

I wore a beautiful, black dress, with stunning, black heels under it. A necklace was hugging my collarbone, while my hair was just loosely behind me. I got an earpiece in my ear, hearing everything the team said.

I took my little handbag, and stepped out of the SUV. While I took place in the sweet restaurant, Derek and JJ came walking in, taking place not much further. While we were all waiting for the man to show up, Penelope began talking.

'While we need to wait for that creep, I really need your advice, cupcake. I am stuck between two choices for a gift for Kevin's upcoming birthday. Either a thick book with lots of words in it, or a lame men's perfume.'

'Garcia, let's keep this professional.' Hotch joined the conversation, before adding:

'But, I would go for the book.'

'Look at that. Boss man has taste.' Derek chimed in.

'I agree. Thank you, sir.'

'He's coming.' Aaron announced, making my heart beat faster out of nervousness.

There he was. Victor Parker, the unsub we needed to catch. Thanks to the pictures, we've sent of ourselves, we were able to recognize one another. He looked around, before spotting me. I smiled, waving him over.

'So you must be my gorgeous date? I'm Victor Parker as you know, it's nice to meet you.' he kissed me on the cheek, before taking place on one of the seats.

'Thank you, I'm (fake name), it's nice to meet you too.'

We began talking about whatever came up in our minds, the team telling me to keep him distracted. The food came quick in, as we ended it later with a dessert. He was quiet easy to talk to, you wouldn't say, he's the bad guy. But, maybe that was the dangerous part.

After a lot of talking, eating delicious food and laughing, our date came to an end. But, not if Victor has anything to say about it.

'Hey gorgeous, would you want to watch a movie at my place? You can pick.' he smiled widely at me, a glistering in his eyes, that made me somehow shiver.

'We still don't have evidence, agree on the invitation.' my boss ordered through the earpiece, as I smiled, sweetly.

'I would love too!' I told him, as we left after paying. While we were walking towards his car, the team was talking in my ear.

'JJ and I, will drive right behind you, pretty girl.' Derek reassured, as Penelope chimed in.

'I'll watch the street security cameras, keeping an eye out for you two.'

'Be careful, love.' the man I much rather have a date with, spoke a bit concerned, as I cursed in my head for not being able to answer them.

__________________________

Spencer's POV:

I was watching the camera footage with Garcia, seeing the car my wife was in, while Morgan and JJ drove right behind them.

'And, boy wonder. Now you two are married, have you ever thought about having baby geniuses one day?' she asked, curiously, but I hadn't need to think about the answer.

'I-um, I actually would love to be a father someday.' I admitted, causing her to let out an enthusiastic shriek.

We turned our full attention back to the screens, Garcia switching from one security camera to another, the unsub and my wife still talking.

'Are you also scared of spiders? I'm terrified of them.'

My eyes went wide, hearing the sentence, (Y/N) just said. Garcia looked at me, worried as well. She just spoke the safety word, meaning something was wrong.

'Oh no, this is not good.' she turned around again to look at the screens, only seeing the car of Derek and JJ. She immediately began typing, the footage jumping from one to another.

No (Y/N) to be seen.

'Shit, we lost them.' I heard Derek curse through the walkie-talkie. I was quick in calling Hotch, my panic increase.

'Hotch, we got a problem.'

After explaining everything, it only took moments before he came storming in.

'Garcia, can you trace her earpiece?'

'No, I can't trace anything. They're probably somewhere without a signal.'

'No, no, no, that's not what I meant. I loved our date, I'm grateful we met.' (Y/N) her panicking voice sounded loudly through our walkie-talkie, she was clearly afraid. I began to panic more, scared something would happen to (Y/N).

'So, do you own this place?' she asked Victor, with a shaky voice.

'Oh, it's from your mother.'

'Garcia-'

'I'm on it!'

After the quick typing, she gave us the address, as we ran towards the SUV's. While driving with high speed, I couldn't maintain my emotions, my fears and concern visibly for everyone. It only got worse when hearing a terrified (Y/N) yelling.

'No! You don't have to do this! Please!' Morgan pressed harder on the gas, the inability of hearing the unsub bothered us every second more.

'No, please, stop!'

The next moment, we heard several screams and background noise. It looked like a fight was going on.

'We're here!' we immediately ran inside, our guns pointed in front of us.

As Morgan kicked in the door, we saw (Y/N), sitting on the back of the unsub, firmly holding his hands. Morgan quickly took it over from her, cuffing and escorting him away. Her shirt was off, leaving her in her bra. She had a blue eye, along with some other bruises.

I ran towards her, finally allowing the tears to roll. We both allowed. I wrapped gently my arms around her, scared to hurt her. After a lot of tears, I slowly pulled away, looking into her scared eyes.

'Did he?-' she shook her head, knowing what I was referring for. I was quick in taking my FBI coat off, helping her in it.

'He didn't. He only took my shirt off, before I hit him in the balls. It was a whole fight.' I sighed a breath of relief, glad she reacted fast, glad she was safe.

'I was so worried. You did so good, my love. I'm so proud of you.' I wrapped her in another hug, as I pressed kisses on her head, while rubbing her back, gently.

'Spence?'

'Yes, sweetheart?'

'Bring me home, please?'

'Of course! But, let's first go to the ambulance. I want to make sure you're alright.'

So said, so done. The paramedics checked her out and took care of her wounds. Afterwards, we went home, took an relaxing bath, and fell peacefully asleep in each other's arms.

#criminal minds #cm #fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x yn #angst imagine

[aquilathefighter]

Fluffbruary 8: Fashion

Fashion design school AU! Shout out to any techies out there B)

Find all my @fluffbruary ficlets on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

In the dim backstage light, Hob scurries between the racks, dodging bored models and stressed-out design students.

Where the hell did the double-sided tape go? He wonders, trying to clear his head over the chatter on the headset. He’s not looking where he’s going when he slams into something sturdy, awash in black fabric.

“Can we get some glow tape on this thing?” He shouts over to a crew member.

“I would rather you not call me a ‘thing,’ nor put any type of tape on me,” a deep voice whispers into Hob’s ear. Hob stumbles back, taking in what, or rather who, he’d just run into.

Shit, he thinks. That’s Professor Endleaz. Once upon a time, his designs with the White Horse were seen at every Fashion Week in the world, but after a mysterious accident he’d left to teach at the New Fashion Institute. This was his show and his students. Hob stumbles a few steps back, head down.

“My apologies Professor, I wasn’t expecting you to be back here.” Then Hob meets his eyes. The man is ethereal, his pale skin practically glowing in the dim light. He feels his face start to flush. He’d never actually seen the man’s face up close. His striking jawline and cheekbones, his blue eyes intense and heated. He could have been a model had he not chosen design.

“It is no matter…” he trails off, still examining Hob.

“Name’s Hob,” he blurts. “I’m the stage manager.”

“I see.” Prof. Endleaz reaches out to grab his chin, turning his head to the side, examining his profile. “You are quite beautiful. Perhaps you should consider modeling for me.”

“With all due respect sir—” Hob splutters, blush deepening. He’d thought he’d have no chance with someone as dazzling as the man in front of him, but now he’s calling him beautiful? It was like a dream come true, his secret crush calling him beautiful.

“Do not argue with me. Hand me your cell phone.” He releases Hob’s chin and holds his hand out expectantly. Hob reaches into his pocket and snatches the phone with a rapidity he hadn’t thought himself capable of. He unlocks it and places it in the professor’s hand.

Professor Endleaz opens the contacts app and types his information in.

“You will meet me on a date at the coffeehouse on the corner next Saturday. Eleven o’clock.”

Hob nods his head dumbly, taking his phone back.

“Now, I am sure both you and I each have preparations to finish before the show,” Prof. Endleaz states, lifting his head up and turning toward the clothing racks.

“Yep! Yes,” Hob almost shouts, and scurries away.

What. The. Hell. What just happened!? Hob thinks, stunned. He hears the headset screech to life.

“Hey Gadling, still waiting on that tape!” the assistant stage manager says. Hob smacks himself on the forehead. He gets back to his mission, searching for the tape and pondering what he has gotten himself into.

#fluffbruary #my fic #dreamling #dream x hob #fashion AU #aquila writes

[quillkiller]

wip tag!!!

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

thank u for the tag @themuseoftheviolets love u <3

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the seven husbands of evelyn zabini

come a little closer

i wanna make you drive all night (just because i said maybe you should come over) / iwmydan

don’t look back

emmeline deletes all her dating profiles

the assassain au

the true crime podcast au

emmeline/reg/lily

i think thats all ??????

np tags!!! @itsjaywalkers @foursaints @effiepotterisamilf @transsexualpriest i didnt know which blog to tag mwah @pupmotif

[viktheviking1]

Moxxie had a charcuterie board for every occasion.

He had an array of meats and cheeses for boring Mondays, a different combination with some olives for romantic date nights, and a specific type of cracker that he preferred to eat when he was sad. Millie didn't understand most of the fancy words he used trying to explain the flavor profiles, but she did learn to interpret the boards. Sometimes she even found it easier than reading his face.

So when he walked into the office with a board with the sad crackers, some raisins, what looked to be muenster, swiss, and ham, she immediately knew he was having a pity party.

"Aw, honey. . . Not the raisins. You deserve more than raisins!" Mille rubbed his back as he sat down at the receptionist desk with the tray.

"No, sweetie, I don't. All I wanted to do was to help Blitz and his highness get back together, and all I've done is make things worse." He said, rolling a raisin under his finger, pouting.

"First of all, it was my idea in the first place, so if anything. I ruined their relationship." Millie said, popping a sad cracker in her mouth, and hopping up to sit on the desk "And second, we didn't ruin everything! Nothing's ruined! Stolas probably just needs some time to himself, that's all."

It was then that they heard a knock on the front office door. Moxxie quickly wiped the tears away with a handkerchief, and gave Millie a look, which she knew meant she had crumbs on her face. She grabbed the fancy napkin from him and roughly rubbed her face with it.

Moxxie nodded at her satisfied, “Come in!”

The door opened, revealing none other than Stolas himself, wearing his fancy prince attire, holding his tophat in his hands. It was odd enough for him to be here in the first place. What was even more strange was how nervous he looked.

“See! What’d I tell ya?” Millie whispered, hitting Moxxie happily, who waved her off, “What can we do for you, your highness?”

“H-hello, yes, um . . . “ Stolas cleared his throat, but spoke quietly, pointing at the office door, “Is Blitz here . . .?”

“No. Sorry he . . .” Millie started, then looked to Moxxie for help.

“He wasn’t feeling well so he stayed home today, sir. Loona did as well so she could take care of him.” Moxxie explained.

Stolas seemed to relax a bit at the news, “Oh good. That’s a relief.”

Moxxie and Millie exchanged a look.

“I-I-I mean,” Stolas smoothed out the nonexistant wrinkles in his clothes nervously, “Not that he’s sick! Heavans no! I-I just meant that- well . . . it was actually you two that I wanted to speak with today.”

Millie and Moxxie exchanged another look, worried.

Millie spoke up, “What is it, your majesty?”

Stolas walked over, carefully picked up one of the couches in the waiting area with one hand, placed it in front of the receptionist desk and sat down in front of them, “Well, I was wondering if either of you enjoyed writing letters.”

Moxxie unconsciously looked at Millie, but she just smiled, “What do you mean, your highness?” her voice was warm as honey, the image of innocence.

“Well, you see I recieved this through my mail slot recently.” He pulled out an envelope with his name scrawled out on the front, and placed it on the desk for them to see, “I wanted to know if either of you knew where it came from . . . ?”

The conversation paused for a beat and then Moxxie and Millie spoke simultaneously. Millie hopped to her feet on the desk, pulled a jagged knife out of thin air and shouted, “We’d die before telling you what we know!” At the same time, Moxxie burst into tears and shouted, “We’re sorryyyyy!!!”

Millie looked down at her sobbing husband, placing the hand holding the knife on her hip, “ . . . Babe, really?”

Read more on the Pompous and the Prick

#helluva moxxie #helluva boss moxxie #millie helluva boss #helluva boss millie #helluva boss stolas #helluva stolas #blitz x stolas #stolas helluva boss #stolas x blitz #stolas goetia #helluva blitzo #blitzo helluva boss #helluva boss blitzo #blitzø helluva boss #blitzø x stolas #stolas ars goetia #moxxie x millie #millie x moxxie #millie hb #millie knolastname #moxxie knolastname #moxxie helluva boss #hb millie #hb moxxie #ao3 link #ao3feed #helluva boss fanfiction #helluva fanfiction #helluva boss fic #helluva millie

[night-chant]

MLQC Scenario - Miss. Love: King’s Choice (Role Swap AU)

Wait no hear me outt

Featuring: MLQC Guys + reader

Synopsis: There’s this new otome game but there’s no way he’d have any interest in these sort of things. That is until he saw a certain pixelated character through the screen . . .

Warning: None---enjoy the madness loool

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Victor:

stage 1: denial

When Victor first heard of Miss. Love: King’s Choice, he was really put off by it---the title sounds ridiculous, the game mechanics doesn’t seem entertaining cuz really, why would he get excited over virtual cards?

stage 2: curiosity

Apparently the game is really successful, proven through the engagement on social media posts and promotions about the game online. 

The algorithm would constantly feature you---front and center with your beaming smile as you sat on a floral swing adorned in roses. It was your most iconic SSR . . .

aHEm forget his phone, he would still hear passerby talked about it---he would never admit how much his attention sharpened at the sound of your name whenever they talked about you, your elegance and courage found within your dates and chapters.

Eventually, he would download MLKC as a joke, ready to nitpick everything about it, internally promising himself to uninstall if---I mean WHEN it gets boring.

Although he complains about aspects of it, he never really did???

stage 3: embarrassment

Will hide it from anyone from a two-meter radius.

When Goldman walked nearby, Victor would stare at the calculator app so...stiffly…

stage 4: acceptance

He will get over his embarrassment soon (you bet he would get your top-up cards yesssss)

You know that lead board for every love interest in Momentos for Bond Points? Victor was always ALWAYS at the top for yours.

And so when it was your featured day in Box Office, everyone gotta watch out cuz he will be at the top in Box Office too XD

Lucien:

The toys at the orphanage didn’t appeal to one of the children and she was bored out of her minddd

Lucien tried to offer ideas and the more the little girl reject every one of them, the more crazy his ideas got just to mess with her lolol

Like noo professor sir I don’t want to read that Quantum Physics textbook plz noo XD

He finally managed to make her happy when he offered his phone. He didn’t have any games on it, but she was welcomed to download some as long as he approved of them. (He wasn’t a dad but that didn’t stop him from acting like one lol)

He was expecting like dress up games or UNO but what she chose ... well..

“Are you sure?” Lucien asked as he carefully eyed the preview contents of MLKC. “It seems harmless but unfortunately, I don’t think you’re the target audience.”

The little girl pouted. “But this lady looks like a superrr beautiful princess!! Did you see her hair and dress? Look look!” She swiped to the image of your profile. Robed in a simple yet stunning lavender dress, you held elegance in your posture and innocence in your eyes. 

The little girl poked Lucien’s cheekbone. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Is that a yes?”

He smiled after recovering from his daze. “It seems that the princess has convinced me too.”

They were your firm loyal supporters from then on lol

He was always pushed into dealing with the gacha pulls especially after you came home to him many times aww

Even after visiting the orphanage, Lucien might admit he read all of your unlocked dates on his own lol

Kiro:

He ain’t picky with any kind of games, his phone was full of all sorts of them (he had the dream phone storage space sighh)

He has rpg, shooting, ones where you just raise farm animals ,...webkinz?? So an otome game isn’t a strange exception. 

Although he didn’t really download it for the romance, he instantly gravitated to your charisma to the MC player. Your compassion made his heart swoon and now all he thought about was romancee

And when you sung happy birthday to him on his special day?? His heart almost couldn’t handle your angelic, lovely voice.

Screenshotted your dates all the time ---he demands new content asappp

Kiro consistently voiced his support to you like the biggest stan to anyone who would listen (i am so sorry Savin the car rides to the tour performances will feel much longer now)

Kiro got excited over any event and raved about how gorgeous the art in your karmas are.

His manager sighed as Kiro was nearly bouncing off the walls. “What are you going on about now??”

“Savinsavinsavin look at the new karma I got! Doesn’t Miss. Chips look perfect??”

“Kiro, that is a R karma.”

Offended, Kiro wrapped his arm protectively around his phone as he glared at Savin. “!! ANd I need to frame it on my wall.”

He had all your merch in his room. Your posters, your pins, your figurine, your body pillow--

Lately, his songs was all about one girl and fans had no clue who was his secret girlfriend cuz the only one he ever posts about was a game character??

Gavin:

When it came to media, this guy lived under a rock. The latest movie’s gigantic, bright ad could be flashing in front of his face and a lone smol bird by the streetlight would catch his attention first.

So how on Earth was he gonna find out about the mysterious, subtle mobile game Miss. Love King’s Choice??

Uhhh

He was kinda peer pressured by Minor . . .

Minor: yooo brooo i know a girl who is sooo your type and she is right here!

Gavin: Really? Where? 

The only pedestrians in the streets were an elderly couple.

When he sees you in Minor’s phone screen, he was concerned. He had two thoughts:

1) Minor played dating simulation games?

2) Oh no why does this virtual character look cute?

Cute was an understatement. How you cuddled with big fluffy dogs in your SR or how you were very much embracing the look of your long veil in your wedding SSR.

Gavin acted/tried to convince himself he wasn’t interested in playing MLKC but nevertheless, he would look over when Minor was doing the dailies in order to get a chance to have a glimpse of you.

“C’mon, bro, drop the act and download the game!” Minor said when he caught Gavin low-key eyeing over at his phone. “Do it and I’ll stop tapping on your girl’s forehead.”

Gavin glared. “Stop doing that.”

(but then how was he supposed to read the next dialogue?? Anywhere else would earn Minor sthg way worse than Gavin’s glare QAQ) 

If Minor knew what was good for himself, he gotta make it clear his favourite character was NOT you.

Gavin maaybe did some research about a certain character…

”Huhhh?? I didn’t know she could control flowers and plants???”

”Minor, there were clear hints: lilies grew where she walked at the end of chapter 2.”

Eventually, Gavin ended up playing the game. He enjoyed the moments where his MC player gets to save you in dangerous moments of the story.

He always associated you with cuteness until he read your Valentine SP’s Mind Quest his face is completely red aAH 

He was a bit defensive when people criticize your character though so watch outtt

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

This is my second attempt to make you smile lol I hope you enjoy it!!

Masterlist

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mr love victor #mlqc lucien #mr love kiro #mlqc gavin #love and producer #mlqc headcanons #mlqc scenarios #mlqc scenario #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fluff #mlqc writing #mlqc au #crack fic #mlqc x reader #otome fanfic #otome fluff #otome #otome game #mlqc x you

[thesiriusmoon]

Family Secrets

Summary: Agent Gideon has vanished from the BAU, and the team are asked to investigate a family annihilator.

Characters: Bonnie McBride (OC), Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer Jareau, Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia

AU: Criminal Minds

Episode: My Own

Word count: 5k

TW: probable mentions of gore, blood, and death

Reblogs and likes help me a lot!! Help a little account out <3

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“Sir?” Bonnie knocked on Agent Gideons office again, becoming a little impatient at the lack of response, but was too polite to barge in. But what if he was hurt? He was old right enough, and stressed… could have had a heart attack or something.

So she decided against being nice and pushed the door open and stopped at the entrance.

Everything was gone.

Bookshelves cleared, desk tag no longer, the walls bare.

“Agent Gideon?” She called out to the empty room and entered fully.

Where was he?

Closing the door behind her, Bonnie went straight to Agent Hotchners office, and forgetting to knock this time went straight in to find Chief Strauss standing in front of her boss’s desk.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t knock… Agent Gideons gone sir.” Agent Hotchners brows furrowed and questioned.

“What do you mean gone?”

While Chief Strauss’s face remained straight.

“All his things are gone. His office is empty.”

“Agent Gideon has left the BAU effective immediate.” The chief finally spoke and Bonnie felt her face flush.

Left… he couldn’t leave…

“When we’re you going to tell me this?” Agent Hotchner began to rise from his chair and Bonnie took a step back.

“Right now Agent if you’d let me have some time, and if we weren’t so rudely interrupted.” The chief turned to stare at Bonnie who averted her eyes.

“Bonnie was just worried. You can continue with your work now.” With that, Bonnie nodded to Agent Hotchner and left, ensuring to close the door and curse herself for making such a bad impression with the chief, who she had never met before.

She had to walk past Agent Gideon’s empty office and felt similar to his walls.

Carrying files in her hands, she walked with her head down out towards the storage unit which she had memorised down to a tee, she could walk around with her eyes closed.

These were closed cases. Ones that could rest but were always available if needed. Copycats probably, or reoffending. She sometimes read them. Sitting down on a discarded chair- she knicked it from another room- and began having a browse.

Michael Earlson.

Reading aloud, Bonnie learned that this man had kidnapped a little boy and was planning to sell him off. One of the auctioneers was a high school principle…

John Jamelske

Kidnapped and held three teenagers near her age and forced them to chose one to die. Two made it out. He was taken peacefully. Sick.

Carl Buford

A man who preyed on young boys looking to escape a dangerous area, using American football and ran a youth centre in South Side, Chicago.

“That’s where Derek’s from.”

And as she kept reading, she saw his name.

On a suspect list. No more information.

Of course he didn’t do it though. Derek didn’t hurt the innocent. That much was evident when he shot Sandy Parker.

She flipped to the next file.

Tobias Hankel

A man suffering with an identity disorder. Watching then killing victims in their homes! Then she stopped dead when another familiar name caught her eye.

Spencer Reid.

In the list of victims. Obviously survived.

But no detail like Derek’s.

Of course she knew being an FBI could be dangerous. But to see it in writing let it sink in. She always likes to read. Things really stuck.

She wondered if she’d be in Sandy’s file…

Footsteps made her jump and she grabbed the files on the floor and began searching for the box for 2006. Sorting it in date order.

“Bonnie?” Agent Hotchner knocked on the storage door as if it were her own office.

“Yes sir?” She closed the lid to the box.

“I know Gideon’s leaving will be hard. It will be for all of us. But it’s not the end remember?” She hated profilers sometimes. Gideon had hinted on going directly to him if she wished to pursue her interest in criminal justice. What if her only chance was now missing.

“There was something he said on my first day, he knew you needed an assistant. And I was the only one for an interview… why?” The question lingered in her mind for the few months she’d been here.

“Well… I’m sure you understand now that Jason Gideon’s profiling skills are almost unreal. He looked at your application and others, and only chose one. I don’t really have the time to interview like ten people. He also did it without my knowledge.” He laughed absently.

“But I’m glad he did. You’ll make a good whatever it is you want when you’re done with education.”

“Profiler.” She smiled.

“If you have the time, you could start training now. Whenever it suits you.”

“I’m not qualified.”

“You are to me.”

The kindness and praise she got from her job was overwhelming at times. Even a simple well done would almost melt her. Must be something to do with childhood, as most things are.

“I’d love to! Does that mean I learn how to shoot?” She asked eagerly. Wanting to copy the rest of the team.

“Not so fast. Seminars, fitness, and mental health checks first, to ensure that you should be allowed to handle a gun.”

“I could just go out and buy one too. Just like every other American.” She joked, though it was true.

Then Jennifer’s heels clicked, quickly walking down the hall were the cupboard was kept.

“Sir, we have a case.”

Agent Hotchner nodded his head. “C’mon.” And Bonnie followed.

“Two families annihilated in their homes in Los Angeles. All shot. The father tied up in both cases.” Jennifer announced to the group.

“Eliminate the biggest threat first.” Derek said.

“Then pick them off one by one.” Emily sighed.

“That’s right. The mother of the first house, the Jenkins, was found face down on the stairs, and the kids were both found under their beds. The second house, Laurens, mother was in the upstairs hallway, the youngest son downstairs by the back door, and the daughter in her room.”

“Both families got one of each?” Derek asked and Jennifer nodded.

“Older daughter, younger brother.”

“Seems like a pattern to me.” He replied and beside him Emily nodded.

“That’s not all! The first houses electrics were all out and the fuse box outside destroyed with water. No wifi, no connection to telephones, they couldn’t call for help. The other actually untouched.” Penelope spoke up from waiting at the computer board.

“The first house is big. The family might have had security cameras but with the electrics down they might not have worked. The unsub didn’t have to do that with the other house. It was just regular.” Agent Hotchner finally spoke.

“Calculated. Watches the family and knows how and where to enter. Waits for the right moment then strikes.” Derek said ominously.

“And shot? How did no one hear?” Emily asked and Spencer spoke up.

“First house is really large and had a lot of room between neighbours, it might actually be difficult to hear anything going on in the house at all. Even a gun shot. The other… maybe a silencer?”

“The Jenkins were found the next morning when their gardener appeared for his shift, the Lauren’s paper boy.” Jennifer finished.

Bonnie stared at the pictures of the families. The kids so young and the parents so happy in their photos.

“Wheels up in thirty.”

The team finished and Bonnie left to collect her go bag from her locker.

Her left arm still a little stiff from her attack last month. But healed and scarred nonetheless.

On the night she returned, her mother wasn’t home. She’d be working on the streets just like any other night. Bonnie would have liked to have her familiarity around however, but recently her mother was hardly ever near.

The jet would be about three hours, she had time to relax on the cushioned seats. All while she scribbled in her notepad.

Rich houses… happy familys looking families… shot but no one heard… matching families… dad possibly killed first.

The police department was very large and high up. A huge building that sky rocketed to the clouds.

“Thank you for coming so soon Agents. I’m detective Davis, head of homicide department.” A tall man with circular glasses and a long suit shook Agent Hotchners hand.

“Our pleasure. I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, SSA Derek Morgan, SSA Emily Prentiss, Doctor Spencer Reid, Agent Jennifer Jareau, and our assistant Bonnie.”

“Again, thank you all for coming. We need all the help we can get. So far there’s no footage on any cameras around the house. The security systems of both houses were down.” Detective Davis began running though the case.

“Hank Jenkins, the father of the first house was bound to a chair in the master bedroom. We think he was killed last, and quickly. One shot between the eyes. Same for Jason Lauren. Same tying, same shot.”

“Do we know what kind of gun he used?”

“Yes sir. 9mm Winchester Magnum, common handgun. Bullets were found in and around the victims.” Bonnie grimaced.

“Doesn’t care about the mess now does he? You think he’s making some sort of point? I mean- why tie the father up? To make him watch?” Derek asked the obvious question.

“We think so. We think he tied to father up first then took out the family. Then killed him last. He made sure he suffered the most, having to listen and watch his family die. Fathers are meant to protect…”

“Maybe this father didn’t.” Detective Davis raised a brow at Spencer.

“Excuse me?”

“M-maybe this unsub thinks the fathers aren’t doing a good enough job as a father. We’ve seen this before with Karl Arnold, a-a family psychologist who believed that the f-families were dysfunctional. That the fathers had failed to-to fulfil their duties as the primal caretakers.” Agent Hotchner thought along with every word from Spencer, then agreed.

“It would make sense. The wives and children were shot all over their body and the father was one through the head. This unsub may have wanted the father to see what will happen to his family if he didn’t protect them.” Then flipped out his phone.

“Garcia, get me everything you can on a Hank Jenkins and Jason Lauren, anything to do with domestics or child services. Thanks.”

“Are you serious?” Detective Davis had his hands on his hips defensively. “I’ve known Hank for a very long time. He loved his kids. He’d never hurt them.”

“You asked us to come and do our job, and that’s what we’re doing. If you feel you have too much of a deep connection to the victim I suggest you step down.” Then Agent Hotchner strode past the man and into the bullpen room, leaving Detective Davis red in the face.

Normally he was collected, but she too thought something was off about the detective.

Within the room isolated from the other detectives, the team began to discuss their findings already.

“And how did he get in the house?” Emily asked.

“Reports say no sign of forced entry…” Derek read from his file.

“Maybe he was invited in.” Agent Hotchner said finally before effectively splitting the team up. “Reid and Prentiss the Jenkins house, Morgan and JJ you’re on the Lauren’s. Bonnie you’re with me here.”

“Yes sir.” The four other agents other than agent Hotchner agreed and left the building, and Bonnie began setting up at the end of the table.

“We’ll try and find out more about the two fathers.”

“You think it could be a psychologist like that Karl?”

“Maybe…” he picked up his phone and put Penelope on speaker.

“Wassup sugar cakes.” Agent Hotchner groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “So I’ve found out no reports of domestic violence have been reported from either houses or neighbours.”

“Big house for the first, hard to hear.” Bonnie mumbled.

“But I took a step further and looked into the mothers as well. Linda Jenkins was treated in the ER last month for a broken wrist. Nothing on Heather Laurens.”

“Unreported?” Bonnie thought aloud and agent Hotchner nodded.

“Possibly… Garcia, do the mothers have anything in common at all?”

“No sir. Nothing I can find but no case is too tight for me to squeeze in! Garcia out!” And the call ended.

“A neighbour or a friend might know something connecting the two even if they don’t know the other victim… let’s focus on Linda Jenkins first.”

Agent Hotchner stood up and Bonnie followed closely as he approached Detective Davis who wasn’t looking as happy as he was when the team had arrived.

“Detective, I’d like a list of close friends or relatives for Linda Jenkins and Heather Laurens.”

“Linda’s sister just arrived.” He pointed towards a small room in a corner where a middle aged woman resembling Lauren very well sat with a tissue in hand, dabbing her eyes.

“Great thanks.”

The two entered the room cautiously, and Agent Hotchner sat across from the women who’s red rimmed eyes looked dry and swollen.

“Hi, my names Aaron Hotchner and I’m with the FBI.” The woman looked up, shaking ever so slightly and refused to meet the man’s eyes. But looked to Bonnie.

“The FBI?”

“Yes ma’am. I’m not the FBI though. They’re here to help bring justice to your sister. May we know your name?” Bonnie spoke softly, and sat down on the arm chair beside the woman.

“Abby… Linda’s my little sister.” Bonnie felt pain from the woman. The innocence of still calling your grown sister little… it was like she were a kid again.

“Okay Abby… we’d just like to ask you some questions about Linda… is that alright with you?”

Abby glanced to agent Hotchner but still refuses to meet his face, instead she looked at his legs.

“Just us? Please?” She turned back to Bonnie.

Bonnie looked to her boss for advice, and was surprised when he nodded his head. “I’ll be outside.” And stood up to walk out.

“Why just us may I ask?”

Abby shifted in her seat, knees pressed tightly together. “Linda’s business isn’t for a man’s ears to hear…”

“What do you mean?”

“Our father was terrible. After that she- we- couldn’t trust them anymore. But she eventually fell in love with Hank…” Abby began sobbing and Bonnie froze unsure on what to do, her hand moving on it’s own to find Abby’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry to hear that Abby…”

“I thought he was good! Maybe we could trust again! But he ruined her even more!” Abby was wailing now, fuelled by anger and Bonnie was panicking on what to do next. So she just kept talking.

“What did Hank do to Linda… if you let us know it may help us find who did this to her.”

Abby calmed, scarily quick and looked into Bonnies wide soft eyes with narrow hatred.

“He beat her. Every day. The kids too… but I was so scared he’d kill them if CPS ever got involved. He was fucking crazy.”

“I’m sorry…” then an idea popped into her head.

“Was there any support groups Linda went to? For guidance of friendship?” If CPS or the police couldn’t beg involved, perhaps Linda had looked for a different help.

Abby nodded. “I told her about one I used to go to. It’s this little one held in the towns church with the priest. He helped me a lot. Not enough to date but enough to leave my house again.”

How long had Abby been afraid…

“May I have the priests name? I’d just like to talk to him about Linda.”

“David Walker.”

“Thank you Abby, you’ve really helped me today.” Stroking the woman’s shoulder, Bonnie got up and left before she could start crying too.

“Linda used to go to a support group for abused people. Community centre held by the priest David Walker.” She coughed recomposing herself.

“Alright let’s get down there.” Agent Hotchner lead and like most times, Bonnie followed.

“So… why did Abby not want me in there?” He asked while he drove down the street.

“Afraid of men.” She sighed staring out of the window watching pedestrians pass.

“And Hank?”

“Scumbag.”

He tutted. “What are the odds Heather had the same going on?”

“Big i’d say… but we still need to figure out how this persons getting into the houses and stuff.”

“We’ll leave that for now, let’s focus on this group.”

The two of them arrived at the church, tall and stone. A light and pleasant feeling when entering, like all your sins had been brushed away with a gentle hand.

Inside the building, the cathedral windows casted rainbow glows over the benches and stand at the front where the priest was flipping through a book.

He didn’t look much like a priest. His large build and tight shirt made him look a bit like agent Hotchner. Probably forty something.

“Good afternoon sir.” Agent Hotchner started and the man lifted his head. Quite good looking.

“Hello. What can I do for you two?”

“I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner of the FBI and this is Bonnie. We’re investigating a homicide near by, and we heard that one of our victims, Linda Jenkins came to a group meeting here sometimes.” Bonnie couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t feel honoured when he said ‘we’.

The man frowned deeply, and rubbed the forming wrinkles on his forehead before coming down from his stand to greet the two.

“I remember Linda. Very kind woman, very gentle.”

“What can you tell us about her?”

The priest sighed. “She always had a bruise or something on her when she came… I prayed everyday for her to find peace… I just never thought they would be answered like this.” The priest bow his head, sniffling slightly.

“Do you keep a record of people who come to this group?”

But the man shook his head. “Confidentiality is very important in here. In fact we don’t even use our real names. I only know Linda’s from the news… she called herself Casey.”

“Is there anyone in this group that you think had been… off recently? Specifically a man.”

The priest hummed for a second. “What do you mean by off? A lot of the people who come in are off in some way. Ridden with anxiety. Drugs addicts. All kinds.”

“Not like that. Someone who’s seemed really calm. Someone who used to be a nervous wreck and is now seeming better just out of the blue.”

Bonnies watched the priests face twist.

“No I’m sorry… no one like that comes here.“

“No one at all?”

“No I’m sorry agent.” The man closed off quickly, and had began walking back to his podium as if the two had rudely interrupted.

Before Agent Hotchner began to leave, he turned to ask. “When’s the next meeting?”

“Our next meeting is tomorrow night.” Agent Hotchner looked down at Bonnie and the two raised their brows.

“Thank you for your time sir.”

“God bless.” Bonnie nodded to the man and followed her boss out of the centre.

They walked until they were in the car and he spoke first. “He never mentioned Heather…”

“Maybe she didn’t go to this. Maybe another one? Or… I don’t know.”

“We need to speak to the rest of the team and discuss the findings… then maybe we’ll learn something about Heather.” The two of them could only hope.

Back at the police station, the team had gathered alone.

“A cupboard door leading to a basement was open at the scene in the Jenkins house, I’m assuming he hid there. No bodies were found around that area.” Emily began and Spencer followed on.

“No forced entry. Windows all closed, doors all intact.”

Then JJ started to share her and Derek’s finding on the Laurens. “Heather had no friends or family. Only child. Parents died ten to twenty years ago.” Jennifer started and Bonnie began to write.

Derek added, “We talked to the neighbours who are really torn up about it. They said they heard thumps, but assumed Jason was drunk again and didn’t want to get involved.”

“We found out that Linda Jenkins and her children were being abused, do you think Heather was the same?” Agent Hotchner asked to whoever would answer.

“If she was she had no one to turn to. No hope of getting out.” Said Spencer, writing upon the board.

“Online? There are other ways to communicate now. If she didn’t feel comfortable talking in person than maybe she would on a computer.” Emily asked and Derek nodded.

“Exactly. We found a chat on heathers work laptop. A site where women could share their stories and have comfort from others either going through the same thing or having been in the same position before.”

“And?” Agent Hotchner pressed.

“And there’s dozens of accounts offering advice or condolence… the accounts are also anonymous…”

“Shit…” he cursed and buried his head in his hand. “Two anonymous groups…”

“One sexy technical analysist.” Derek flipped his phone up.

“Speak to me.”

“Hey baby girl, we’ve got a site here, I need you to look at an account called ‘catlover500’”

“Oh you found my secret account?” Penelope giggled from the phone and Derek shook his head. “Anyways… ok so… this is Heather Lauren’s?”

“Yep.”

“And what am I looking for?”

Derek turned to Agent Hotchner. “Hotch?”

“Someone who… relates. Abusive father. Older sister. Submissive mother.”

“Okay… three comments under a detailed post about Heathers life… she talks about how she lived in fear for her and her children’s lives… and these comments are relating. One says ‘I know what you’re going through, my father did the same to me and my siblings until he eventually died of a stroke. You’re brave and will get through this.’ Another said ‘no father or husband should ever raise their hands to their loved ones. I’m so sorry this is happening to you.’ And the other, ‘my husband is the very same. Our two young children, I have a boy and a girl just like you, are scared. I’ve resorted to a support group but that’s all I’ve managed. My wrist broke last week, I’m still recovering But if you have hope, then so do I.”

“Oh my god…” Derek straightened and Emily’s jaw dropped.

“Could that be…”

“Linda Jenkins.” Agent Hotchner dead panned. “Garcia, can you check if these two accounts have private messaged one another?”

The clicking of Penelope’s keyboard filled the room.

“There’s some sort of firewall sir… this site of built for privacy.”

“Ok… just do your best then.”

“Yes sir.”

And the phone call ended.

“Now… wait I guess.” Agent Hotchner sighed.

“The priest said there’s a meeting tomorrow night. One of us could go?” Bonnie suggested and the team murmured in agreement.

“We can’t just sit around until tomorrow night, there must be something!” Jennifer argued.

It was late already, there wasn’t much else to do but sleep and try to rest before the next day hits.

“We’ve visited the houses, talked to family and outsiders, now Garcia is hacking a website to help us. There isn’t much else we can do.”

The entire team felt helpless. But more tired than anything.

“Tomorrow morning JJ, Morgan and Reid, go to the Jenkins house and try to find anything related to Heather Laurens.” Agent Hotchner planned and that was the night finished.

The next morning everyone was up early in their hotel rooms. Agent Hotchner alone, Derek and Spencer, Emily and Jennifer, and Bonnie alone.

None of them thought that they could have been waking up to the news of another family dead.

“Exactly the same thing. Father tied up. Family all shot. Mother, one daughter, one son.” Agent Hotchner read from a notepad.

“He’s escalating… why?” Emily asked.

“Maybe he knows we’re onto him? Maybe the priest let it slip.” Derek suggested and Bonnie hoped he was wrong.

“Yeah m-maybe, or he’s just struck another person he’s stalked.”

“We need to find out if there’s a connection with Linda and Heather… me, Prentiss, and Bonnie will visit the scene and you three stick with the Jenkins.” Then the team split up to go their separate ways.

The car ride was quiet. The three of them worrying whether or not they would gain some sort of lead to who did this, rather than connections that may not mean much in the end.

“Prentiss find a laptop. Bonnie look around the house for the entry. I’ll speak to the detectives.” The two girls glanced at each other before splitting up.

Bonnie began to feel nervous. The last time she went on her own at a crime scene she almost died. But if Agent Hotchner thought she’d be alright, then she would be right?

A back window was wide open, and while she tiptoed for a peek in, she saw that it was perfect for using to sneak in. A big open space you could climb in without knocking anything over. But how would they get it unlocked… the handle was on the inside and needed a key.

Which is exactly why she thought he must have already been inside. This was his escape route.

“Bonnie!” She heard Agent Hotchner call and she went running back to the front of the house.

“Sir?”

The man was holding his phone out, Penelope on the other end. “I finally got in and found that Linda had shared with Heather a phone number. And I called it and…”

“And what?!”

“It was a Father Walker.”

“What?” Agent Hotchner breathed out weakly. “And you’re sure about that Garcia?”

“Positive sir, I’ve already sent the phone number to your cell.”

“Maybe he did pray for that kind of peace…” Bonnie said quietly and Agent Hotchner placed a hand on her shoulder as Emily exited the house with a piece of paper in hand.

“Phone number hidden in the laptop bag of Lisa Downs, the mother.”

It was a match to the one sent by Penelope.

“We need to pay the church a visit again. Right now.”

“What’s going on?” Emily asked as they quickly ran to the SUV.

“It’s the same number Linda sent Heather.” Bonnie replied jumping in the backseat.

“Call the others and ask them to meet us at the church.” Emily did so, and when the car stopped outside the house of god, it didn’t take long for the others to show.

“What up?” Jennifer asked.

“The priest. I think he’s our unsub. All three women had contact with him, possibly talking about their husbands.” And Agent Hotchner took the lead into the church.

Like yesterday, Father Walker was standing on his podium reading, and waiting for his gathering of anonymities.

“Mr Walker, I need you to come with me.” The man looked up surprised and confused, looking rather offended at the sight of cuffs dangling from Agent Hotchners hand.

“What?” He asked, and the chief strut towards him with his shoulders tense.

“You’re under arrest for the suspicion of the murders of three families.”

The priest was bewildered. Stammering on his spot as Agent Hotchner pulled his arms around his back and connected his wrists.

“I don’t understand!”

“You can talk when we’re at the station.”

Bonnie bit her nails, watching the man be handled out of the church with Agent Hotchner holding him captive.

Back at the station, the man was in custody, all of the agents and Bonnie waiting behind the glass of the interrogation room. They could hear everything.

“You lied to me.” Agent Hotchner sat down alone in front of David Walker.

“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t know the woman’s name until the tv, but I… I did know Heather… and Lisa. I visited them from time to time when their husbands were at work. Trying to give them the support they needed to leave. But it didn’t seem to be working.”

“So you resorted to killing everyone?” The agent pressed firmly and Bonnie shuddered.

“What?! No! I wanted to help. Offer the guidance of god. But it didn’t work!” The man began to cry and buried his head deep into his arms.

Agent Hotchner stormed off and burst through the interrogation room. “Who else would know about these calls?”

“Sir?” Penelope was on the phone.

“This better be something good Garcia.” Agent Hotchner took the phone from Derek’s hand.

“So your darling boy in there isn’t actually the good man everyone thinks he is. There was a sealed file… a court case where his daughter Sarah tried to put him in jail for abuse. The mother never testified and the son was too young to understand. He was ten. His names Michael.”

“The mother too scared, the son too confused and-and brought up to believe the abuse he suffered was normal… now he’s grown. He gets it now.” Spencer mumbled.

“Where are they all now?” Derek asked, having a theory of his own forming.

“Mothers at home works in retail, and… oh… Sarah the older sister… she took her own life a couple weeks ago.”

Which was exactly what Derek had been thinking. There was the stressor.

Agent Hotchner turned back around barged into the room once again.

“Mr Walker. I know what you did to your family.” The older man slowly raised his head with bleary eyes.

“What?” He sounded broken. All his secrets coming out so suddenly. Slipping through the cracks of the dam he built carefully.

“I know you beat them. You beat them hard and you got away with it. Maybe now you feel guilty and you’re trying to be better by giving guidance to others, or maybe it just boosts your ego and you still go home every night to kick the shit out of your wife? Which one is it? Because I know you did it so pick one.”

“I… I was a bad father and I know I was. I drank a lot, lost my temper… I loved my children!”

“Enough to hurt them? Sir you don’t do that to your children.”

“Oh please! Sometimes they need a smacking!”

Bonnie craned her neck at the change of tone in the man’s voice. Guilty and sorrow to defensive and reasoning.

“No one in this world deserves to be harmed like that. You’re own daughter killed herself because of you. Where is your son now?” The agent asked and the man answered quickly, recoiling at the mention of Sarah.

“He still lives with me. He’s probably home. I… i had the theory it might have been him…”

“Why?” Agent Hotchner paused before he spotted bruising around the priests ear. “Because he finally started to hit back.”

Agent Hotchner said nothing more and walked out of the room for the last time. “Call Garcia again and get the address. We’ve found him.”

After all the hair tearing stress and worry about families close by, Michael Walker was caught. The murder weapon hidden under his bed in a pillow case.

The story was simple while Bonnie wrote it up.

Michael was abused since he was a young boy. His mother, older sister, and him. Just the same as the other families. He couldn’t save himself, or his sister, but maybe he could put others out of their misery and send them to heaven where nothing could ever harm them again. Because he too would rather die than live with the trauma of abuse lasting years. He ended his life quick and smoothly. The second he heard the door kick open and the FBI pour in he was gone. No explanation was really needed.

He was an Angel of death. Seemingly putting families out of their misery, and at the same time torturing the father who made it all possible in the first place. If you don’t look after your family you will lose them. David Walker’s two children decided life would be better without living in his world.

Michael knew about his fathers calls as he listened to him every day and every night. Looking for a victim to save by ending their life.

“Spencer?” Bonnie spoke quietly on the jet ride back to DC.

“Hm?” He hummed from reading an encyclopaedia for birds.

“Are you ok?” She asked. Of course she could see how much Agent Gideon meant to him. He was more than a mentor to Spencer, even if he would never admit it.

“I-I’m fine… why?” That awkward face he does when his lips form a thin line and his cheeks look squishy formed.

“Agent Gideon leaving must be hard on you… and it’s ok to admit it.” Spencer laughed and shook his head. “I mean it.”

Then his expression dropped, softened. His wide sad eyes told her what she needed to know. He missed him, and maybe wouldn’t stop.

“Thank you.” In almost a whisper Bonnie caught it.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #david rossi #moreid #penelope garcia #Jason Gideon #jemily #father figure hotch #dad!hotch #BAU family #cm fandom #cm fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #thesiriusmoon Bonnie cm #thesiriusmoon writes cm

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Hello! I love your blog and I was just wondering if you had any LGBT+ headcanons for Pride Month?

Happy Pride 🌈

Hmm, let me tackle human characters first.

Earl of Norramby is gay. Obviously.

Nancy is bi and demi.

Also... in classic "at first I was joking, but now I really like it" fashion… I HC the first Fat Controller as trans.

No one ever named their child Topham Hatt OK????

But a sufficiently ballsy dude might choose it if they were forming a new legal identity. And we know Hatt I was ballsy indeed. He stole everything that his neighbors didn't have nailed down and some things they did. He bricked up a gauntletted line even though it shut down his railway. He told the LMS to pound sand. He drained Tidmouth despite the fishermen wanting his head on a platter. You'd have to be a VERY strong personality to be such a successful, powerful transman in the early 1900s but you'd have to be a strong personality to be him anyway???? I'm serious. An ADHD transman with zero chill who literally made his own world. I'm tempted to write a fic of the Young Topham days, who knows. Those old British schoolgirls could be tough birds and I love reading their bits whenever they break through conventional history. I like to think the first Lady Hatt used to be a roommate of him at the girls' school they attended. Jane probably helped him the night he ran away to get a job at the GWR shops. And then maybe she didn't see him again until after he transitioned and became successful and he wooed her for a little while before the reveal that it was her old friend, Euphemia or whoever.

And Jane was soooo pissed off. (Luckily she was also in love.)

I also absolutely adore the idea of an FC5 (not sure Richard will ever get a chance to be FC4, at this rate) who is a woman. But butch. Everyone calls her "sir" but she is also she.

Okay, vehicles! This is where I've hesitated, unsure if I can make myself clear.

I don't particularly vibe with putting human gender and sexual labels on them.

This is not because I want to erase or minimize the diversity of human gender and sexuality.

It's because they are not human.

I mean, okay, I do have my old 'conversion AU,' so I do mentally play around with them as human every so often—to catch most readers up, my notion was that sometime within the 2020s-2040s a large portion of our cast is turned into humans as a fancy alternative to maintaining or retiring them as engines. But even in this AU the whole point is that they adjust to being human but are still rather 'alien', so, like many fans, I kinda take it that they are pansexual by default. There are some more specific things, though (incomplete because, again, I don't think of my human AU very often, so I still have a lot of question marks):

Thomas, I think, would be aromantic

Bertie -> also aro

Edward -> intersex (specifically XX male)

Henry -> gay gay homosexual gay

Gordon -> some sort of greyscale but also he has no clue about this and pursues (straight) dating because it's the 'normal' thing to do (good luck, dude)

James -> will figure out his human gender identity only if given another hundred years to experiment

Percy -> fine with identifying as male but also quite gnc

Toby -> straight and demisexual

Duck -> agender

Stepney -> nonbinary

Donald -> asexual spectrum (unlike Gordon he does know this about himself)

Emily -> lesbian lesbian homosexual lesbian

Philip -> multigender

Harold -> pan. i know i said pan is kind of the default for ex-vehicles but Harold merits a special mention for being, uhh. how shall we say. very sex-positive. a big gallant flirt.

But, again, I'm not too interested in forcing myself to figure out everyone's full identity profile in my human AU because I find the concept of 'gender' and 'sexuality' in them as trains to be far more interesting.

From a creative standpoint, it's actually a lot of fun to play them 'straight' but to use their experiences to explore the whole concept of gender, to push the idea of sexuality to its limits, and also to play around with metaphors for human identities...

Again I know it looks like LGBT erasure but, well. It feels very queer to me.

Here's some of how I see engine gender history. The allegory to real-life stuff is not intentional; it just sort of naturally sprung up when I played around:

At the period (RWS) canon begins, the normal, "natural" order of things is for an engine to be romantically bonded with their coaches.

This very much has a similar status to human heterosexual marriage. It appears to have the seal of tradition. It's acceptable. It's expected. In general (subject to the approval of your manager) it's allowed. (Yes, there is the obvious difference that the union is between one engine and several coaches but it was rare that the convention was for you to exclusively commit to one among the rest. Basically... harem culture I guess.)

If you were built to privilege—if you actually had some coaches you regularly handled, and you did feel this sort of special bond with them—then you might fail to have any occasion to start asking some otherwise very... obvious questions.

Such as:

What if you and your coaches despise each other?

What if you develop particular feelings about just one or two of 'your' coaches, which are increasingly impossible to hide? Like... do you have to?

What if you feel absolutely neutral about your coaches, but your firebox starts to burn with the heat of a thousand suns when you catch sight of that smart tank engine runabout at the end of the line?

What if your line is so big and busy that you don't have coaches that you pull 'regularly'?

What if your railway grows so big that you hardly see any coaches consistently?

What if you are strictly a goods engine and you've only ever exchanged five words in your life with any coach? Okay, so you're just... condemned through no choice of your own to solitude and abstinence, with no hope of happiness? Sounds like horseshit, doesn't it?...

... Say, what's this whisper you hear from the old wheels that fifty years ago the managers didn't approve of these kinds of relationships? That Back In the Day this sort of romantic attachment that is now considered 'the norm' was actually considered scandalous and beyond the pale? What?

'Fifty years' is just an average; different regions and railways progressed at different rates. But, in general, the earliest period of rail history saw an insistence that Useful Engines don't have any such attachments at all. For all its pomp and status, the model of 'passenger engine and coaches' was itself considered quite unnatural before it won acceptance.

But for a good period circa 1900 it was The Thing That Was Done. It became the norm by which rail romances are still rather judged. And it's telling: although humans tended to assign engines human gender (at first usually female; as the idea of a romantic bond between engine and carriages became normalized, humans started to see their engines as male, in a reflection of human marriage), probably the best analogue for vehicular gender remains type. Powered vehicles are one gender; unpowered stock is another. There are also gradiations within those two poles, of course.

And, when freed from human surveillance and control, vehicle sexuality tends to express its preferences in that way. So, to take engines: They very rarely give a rat's ass as to whether a potential mate is male, female, nonbinary, whatever. They recognize the distinctions among themselves but they are seldom relevant in matters of attraction ever, really. Instead, an engine might have an attraction to rolling stock or other engines (or of course both! but 'both' is definitely not a given). Then, within those categories, they are very likely to instinctively be attracted to a subcategory pool based on vehicle type.

I feel like I should give examples but I actually feel more comfortable using my OCs to illustrate:

Joscelyn — a female engine who is attracted to coaches exclusively (she is also absolutely terrible at forming any such connections so she is effectively maidenless)

Skimmer — a male engine who is attracted to both coaches and other engines. This does saddle him with the stereotype of being kind of slutty. (I mean he is kind of slutty but he is judged as such based on his 'sexuality' rather than his actual history.)

Poppet — at the risk of spoilers... she is attracted exclusively to trucks and lorries (which, in her era and culture, is definitely one of the more transgressive "sexualities" for an engine!)

Lizbet (she was formerly Lillibet but I didn't realise at the time how that nickname is not quite so rare and quirky for Brits as it is for us) — attracted to other engines exclusively (which—of course!—means m, f, and nb engines; no meaningful difference from an engine PoV). She is old enough that this 'inversion' caused her significant trouble with her humans back in her day. (She never exactly repented, albeit she did act circumspectly to preserve her friendships with the engines she lived with.)

Araby — male engine who has a hopeless thing for ships. When he worked a landlocked railway this didn't matter. When he was sent to Sodor for a while... oof! did our boy have an awakening...

Columbine (this is a real-life engine, of course) — the equivalent of human 'pansexuality'; she is potentially attracted to anything with wheels

Coppernob (same; sue me) — the loco equivalent of 'asexual'. He does know how to play the role of gallant beau to lovely coaches (which he had to learn late—it wasn't tolerated on the F.R. during his first couple of decades) but I reckon he just thought everyone played it as a role and will be endlessly baffled as engines over the years assert their rights to form bonds with each other because why do you all care about this so much? it was just a bit we had to do for a while for respectability... innit?

Because a vehicle's build is essentially their "gender," that means that I have long kind of viewed rebuilds as having strong metaphorical ties to gender reassignment!

Absolutely horrifying when imposed upon you against your will, of course.

But I imagine there are lots of cases where it wasn't. You can usually tell by whether or not the engine (or whatever) thrived after the rebuild. While I consider 'human AU' Henry to be cis, I read 'engine' Henry's history as very much a trans allegory: he was originally made wrong. I mean his builder canonically had no idea what he was doing! The form he got later at Crewe at last made him into himself. There are plenty of real-life cases that I like to see as similar in an RWS universe. The SECR 'Rivers' had endless problems and angst in their original form; being converted into tender engines felt right for them. Some of them had been consciously eating their heart out wanting such an impossible change for years. The 'Queen Mary' type brakevans I consider to be similar, or at least some of them: unhappy as locomotives, never really feeling right as an engine, perhaps even pestering the engineers for ages to make them into brakevans...

Of course, I don't consider all such transitions to be successful. Some engines, like poor No. 62768 of the LNER., found themselves much unhappier after their rebuild (he was just chosen at random when he was in the shop for repairs, it's not like he wanted it!) Then there are situations like the GWR autotanks who were given panelling to disguise their locomotive nature so they could pass as coaches. Do I read this as cross-dressing, or a sort of cosmetic transition? You bet I do! 😇

Can an engine be assigned a human gender but later determine that it was given to them in error? I mean, it's possible and it happens that engines choose a new human gender but it's quite rare, rarer by far than in humans. They are much more preoccupied with the engine dimensions of their identity. What is much more common is actually what I suppose we'd consider genderfluid or multigender: Various owners (or, if they are unnamed, drivers) over the course of their career might assign them different genders and in virtually all cases the engine (to forgive the pun) rolls with it, untroubled by being a 'he' one decade, a 'she' the next, and perhaps later again being a 'he' even while he answers to the name Lady Eleanor or whatever. To them human gender is very arbitrary and they tend to be perfectly content to just go with it. Often they wish to choose their own name, but even very early in their lives their builders or owners have already gendered them and they seldom care to change that because, again. That bit is all very arbitrary and meaningless to them. The humans seldom treat their engines differently no matter what gender is assigned and therefore the engine sees little distinction.

Soooo, yeah. As for some of our characters, well... this is also very unformed and embryonic still, but...

I do think a lot of our classic lads would have thought they had No Romantic Feelings Whatsoever. Some genuinely were! Neville and Donald spring to mind (Donald is also Duck’s queerplatonic partner, natch.) But for most of them, this was just because they didn't care for coaches, nor indeed other engines of their own type.

However, I reckon as the decades went on their complacency was shattered. (I call it complacency not because acephobia isn't a thing but because for engines in this universe 'asexual' would be considered a positive trait. Useful Engines Don't and all that. So there is some privilege there.) For instance, Thomas may find that he is attracted to non-rail vehicles? And Percy definitely has a thing for flying vehicles, poor chap... (Percy also has long been comfortably attracted to engines, coaches, and ships too. But whirlybirds, man. Kinda ruined/enhanced his life.) James and Gordon found that they weren't "above" such ridiculous things as "playing at" love; they were just diesel-sexual. Henry liked other engines for a long time, so he is open to steam and diesel; he did however get knocked through a loop of his own within this century when he encountered his first electric car and was absolutely useless for the two hours afterwards...

Anyway. God it's late and I hope this makes sense. In any case I don't see the engines as 'gay' or 'straight' or whatever but I do think they have as much gender and sexuality diversity as we humans do; in fact they probably have a good deal more! I also think that they have had a long struggle for most of these identities to be accepted. So they get it. And, most of all, engines would absolutely not understand homophobia at all. Human gender is such an arbitrary thing! Why anyone would get so hung up on policing something like that is baffling to them. They are keen to be of service to all humans, they really love seeing all humans happy, and apart from that they don't have any opinions on humans' peculiar romantic or sexual lives (they barely understand what human sex is!)

Now, how humans board trains or polish an engine or mend their fences or behave in any way even remotely connected to the running of their railway or yard... well, that they have opinions on. Strong opinions. That they will argue with you about. That matters. ;)

#chatter #ttte #ttte headcanon #ttte analysis #priorities on the island of sodor #the railway series #the fat controller #it's way too late i'm not tagging all those characters (: #happy pride 🌈 #long post #i would apologize for taking so long but actually you getting an answer in less than a month is probably a record for me #thank you for the ask <3

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

OC Profile Veronica Bradshaw (fantasy au)

Fandom: Top Gun

TV Series/Movie/Game: Top Gun: Maverick

Face Claim: Hailee Steinfeld (Romeo & Juliet 2013)

Full Name: Princess Veronica Georgiana Dawn Bradshaw

Other Name(s): Your Grace / Little Bird

Age: 23

Parents: Nicholas and Carolynn Bradshaw

Siblings: King Bradley Bradshaw

Abilities: politics, sewing, singing, and hosting

Date of Birth: Spring of the Second Age

Height: 5'8"

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Species: Human

Love Interest: Sir Jacob "Knight of the Gallows" Seresin

Quotes:

"I am terrified because I have never felt this much love for someone before."

"No matter what we take from this world - it will eventually take it back."

#oc profile #top gun oc #top gun #top gun maverick #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman x oc #oc community #ocappreciation #oc: veronica bradshaw #fic: all the ashes in our wake #fd: top gun #fantasy au #knight!jake #knight!hangman #jake seresin au

[stargazer-dreamer]

Spiritbox

character: reigen arataka

reader: gender neutral

content warnings: sexual content, at the end

notes: also on ao3. 2k word count. unreliable narrator. companion piece to ghost box; it’s recommended to read that one first but it isn’t necessary

There was no room for a romantic angle in any of your current relationships. You didn’t want that. Even in your online communities, there wasn’t really anyone you were interested with in that type of manner, content to stay as just friends, just acquaintances, coworkers and space-sharers.

So you tried the popular dating app.

Reigen thinks it’s only appropriate, for a business, to branch out and follow the latest trends—to come up with new ways to put himself, and his name, and his office out there. Yes, he’s stood out on the street and handed out flyers, made a website, shot peace signs at passing cameras, but he still found that business was slow lately, boringly so; only emails and articles to fill the time.

When it was only him and Mob, a quiet day at the office usually saw him sending the kid home early. Now that he had an additional name in the lineup, there was only so many times a week he could send Serizawa to reorganize the massage oils before the man would mutter that there wasn’t much left to do. The fact of the matter was: there hasn’t been much of anything to do for quite the while, and Reigen was starting to get just a tad bit worried about how he was supposed to pay the upcoming bill.

He decides to download a dating app. That seemed new and innovative enough to gain a decent attraction. Plenty of people used those platforms to form various types of relationships, not just of the romantic kind. So he’s heard, that is—it’s not like he’s ever actually used a dating app before.

Successfully, anyway.

Besides the point—Reigen entered his login information and got to work rebuilding his profile; spending a lot of time scrolling through his camera roll to find the most appropriate photos to use and typing up the best imaginable pitch for the office he’s ever come up with. It took an entire afternoon—“Sl-slow day isn’t it, sir?”—but by closing time, he got the account up and running. It was under his name, with his face, but he figured it would do well to get potential customers well acquainted with his physical appearance—so they could associate him with his brand, of course. There was no Spirits and Such without the greatest psychic of the twenty-first century, after all.

He spent the rest of the night and most of the following day swiping right. Statistically speaking, if he set his range at the largest possible amount and liked every account that came his way, he was bound to get at least a couple of matches. And once he did, only a handful of those would actually interact with him, and out of those, only a fraction would come to see him. That had been his previous strategy with the app, anyway. It would have been, if he had ever used it before, of course.

His hand was starting to cramp when Mob asked him—“What game are you playing, Master? You’ve been playing it all day, is it that interesting?”

Suddenly, it felt extraordinary hot in the room. His back was wet, like he ran ten marathons and was about to start another one immediately afterwards. His mind went blank, and he found that he was lost without words. This was a very uncommon occurrence for Reigen—for you see, he was able to talk himself out of just about any situation he found himself in, and was quite known to be capable of talking a mile a minute if he really wanted to—so to be left so utterly tongue-tied without an idea on exactly why he felt such a way burned him up. Badly. Like he needed to throw his phone against the wall, fast, before it was too late.

This was about the same time that Serizawa found his voice. “I probably have the same game…do you want some tips?” And when he started to lean in over his shoulder to see what exactly was on Reigen’s phone, the device did, in fact, find its way across the room; crashing against the wall opposite, ricocheting around, before bouncing to the floor, where it clattered to a stop at the foot of his desk.

Silence filled the space. It felt like a record-breaking summer.

Finally, like a switch had been flipped, he regained some of his bearings. “Oops!” he exclaimed, “I dropped my phone! How clumsy of me!” He laughed, getting up to retrieve the device; and it was an achievement in itself that the two psychics in the room couldn’t have stopped the phone in time—but to have them both so stunned by his behavior that they didn’t pick it up for him was award-worthy, truly. He outdid himself this time.

A quick inspection found nothing amiss, so he snapped it shut, and slipped it into his pocket. He swiped at his bangs—to wipe away the lingering sweat—and smiled. “It’s just some gatcha game I saw an ad for. I was grinding for crystals so I could do some more pulls.” A wink to Serizawa saw the man blushing and turning away, so he didn’t catch the thumbs up he gave him. “You know how it is.”

“I-I do—I do. Good luck, sir.”

“Oh,” was all Mob said, and nothing more; and they left it at that.

---

It took about a week before he got his first match. He was so ingrained in typing up an email one-handed while using his other to simultaneously consistently swipe that he almost missed the notification. He scrambled into the chatroom.

[[ hello!! ]]

He waited.

He waited all day, but got left on read.

---

This happened six more times over the course of the next month before he actually got a reply. It took another two for him to realize that he couldn’t wait for a reply back to start his spiel, he had to lead with it instead. That got some conversations going, but no one actually agreed to come out to see him. He was getting traction, but stumbled halfway out.

This was familiar. Achingly so. 

---

The day after he matched with you, he was about to shut the whole venture down and come up with a new one. Maybe focus more on the website, maybe find some bulletin boards and scatter some posters in the local area. He was laying in bed, contemplating some ideas when you messaged him.

(( Hi ))

He stared at the message. He had already sent the pitch beforehand; such a simple response must mean that this was a potential future client, surely. A quick look through your profile was enough to tell him he should take the friendly approach.

[[ hello!! ]]

[[ how may i help you? ]]

The friendly approach included lots of emojis. According to research, frequent amount of emoji use made people appear more sociable and less intimidating. He hoped he wasn’t overdoing it, less he appeared corporate instead.

The symbol indicating you had seen his messages popped up, and he gripped his phone a bit tighter.

(( You’re a psychic? ))

[[ yes i am!! ]]

There was a pause. He felt himself gulping, despite himself.

(( Do you do curses? ))

In the privacy of his own bedroom, he allowed his tongue to click. If this was where your mind went after seeing the word psychic, he better let you down as quickly as possible, as easily as possible.

[[ i’m afraid i don’t offer curses ]]

[[ i do offer evil repellent charms if that’s something you’re interested in ]]

Hopefully, that would satisfy you enough. It usually worked as an alternate option for clients; it had to be presented before they got too worked up, though. People who craved curses tend to latch on to ideas quickly and refuse to let go, kicking and screaming.

(( That sounds interesting. Tell me more? ))

Bingo.

---

Over the course of the following week, you were the only one he had matched with. That was a negative. A positive, however, was that your curiosity seemed to grow the more you spoke to each other—and he found himself messaging you throughout the day. You would ask him about his business. What sort of methods he used and what kind of spirits he’s faced. If he was successful, what he would do in hypothetical situations. Easy to answer questions, and even easier to embellish answers.

It was on the seventh day that Mob spoke up. “Master, have you been messaging clients?”

Once more, the office turned into a sauna. From his desk, he stared blankly at his student.

“Because if you are, I don’t think it’s working.” The kid always had such a way with words, truly. “We haven’t had many jobs lately.” It was the truth. Spoken clearly, if not confidently.

He wondered why Mob assumed he was messaging a client specifically, and not someone else. Not a personal matter or another acquaintance of his, family or friend. But when he thought about it, and he looked into his student’s eyes, partially obscured by his cropped hair, Reigen didn’t like the conclusion he got to. Not at all.

“Ah, well,” his hands flew around him, pointing and gesturing to nothing in particular but his vague point. And what was his point? Why was he so flustered? “I set up a messaging line on the website, is all. So I’ve been getting a lot of questions lately. That must be why we haven’t had many walk-ins this week—my online advice is just that good! I impress even myself sometimes, really.”

He was glad Serizawa had class today. He was sure the man would have checked the so-called messaging line on the spot. Mob, for his part, just took his word on it.

“Oh,” he said, and nothing more; and they left it at that.

---

The dating app strategy worked. He hit a breakthrough, and over half of the customers coming in over the following month were those he had matched with—and a good chunk of the other half had been word of mouth from that demographic. Business was flourishing. The safe never looked so good. Clients and curiosities flooded in; his schedule was booked for the first time in ages. He had several interviews with news sites and even a small television segment. The dating app strategy truly was innovative, and he started running across other small businesses during his swiping sessions—he was a trendsetter.

Reigen Arataka, the headlines said in big, bold letters. Greatest Psychic of the Twenty-First Century.

Of course, with the raise in popularity, the truth eventually came out to the rest of the office. Mob labeled him a genius. Serizawa was happy for him. He didn’t know why he was so embarrassed to begin with.

He delegated all the duties of the app to himself. It would be much easier if he had help—but he didn’t want them to see your messages. His face still burned at the thought of it, so he split up the rest of the workload evenly, to keep up with the demand.

One day, in the office, between appointments, in the lull of papers shuffling and a lunch-run, Reigen held up his phone in front of him. The shutter noise was turned all the way down, so Serizawa didn’t hear the photo of himself he took. He was feeling pretty good. Better than he had in weeks.

He sent it to you.

Your curiosity seemed to have peaked a while back, but you had never once come in. You had admitted that the conversations you shared were pleasant and, on a day very much like this one, Reigen was careless, and gave you his number. He enjoyed talking to you, too. He found himself checking his phone more often, these days. And when you sent a photo of yourself back, he felt his heart skip a beat.

Oh.

He couldn’t leave it at that; and he cleared his schedule.

---

The day you finally came to visit him was the day he finally got to touch you. Your moans underneath him was all he could ever ask for, and the fact that this was his workspace didn’t matter much to him at all. Not when your lips parted like that, and your back arched for him. Not with the scent of you, and him, and the oils and incense around you, so much that it made it hard to think. Intoxicating, driving him further and further off the edge, higher, rapidly—

He buried himself deep, and you gasped, writhing across the massage table, panting and blurry-eyed. In the moments following, his mind cleared enough for him to realize a thorough room cleaning was in order. And with that thought came another: it didn’t matter what happened—if you would have him, he’d be happy to clean up later.

#reigen arataka #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #mp100 fanfic #mob psycho 100 fanfic #reigen arataka x reader #reigen arataka x you #reigen arataka imagine #reigen arataka imagines #mob psycho 100 imagines #mob psycho 100 imagine #mob psycho 100 x reader #mob psycho 100 x you #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #misapprehension

[hiding-from-hybe]

How to get a man in 30 days | PJM

✨Summary - Noelle Hartman enlists the help of a handsome, sexy, date doctor, Park Jimin..

Usually the type to help men on their romantic endeavours to get the women of their dreams and desires, he's confused but intrigued when she asks him for dating advice.

(✿ ◕ 3◕)つ・*。

Pairing: Jimin x oc

Genre: 🔞, eventual smut, dating!au,

Warnings: Swearing, smut, peer-pressure, negative self body image.

Notes: locations may vary as fictional/non-fictional as I am not native to any locations in this book but did research as much as I could to make it as authentic as possible.

Words: In progress

Perfect.. Noelle Hartman's life was seemingly perfect, from her perfect job as a travel agent, to her perfectly handsome and loving boyfriend...if only he was real.

When out mingling at a party she had no right to be at in New York, she met three of the most stylish and fabulous people she'd ever seen.

Her English accent was what had them intrigued but when asked about her dating life, she mentioned she was single, everyone turned their noses up at her so she laughed obnoxiously and said that she was joking.

Noelle had been too busy with her head in the clouds to date so she had conjured up a fantasy boyfriend, plucked out of the deep depths of fiction.

Her Sir Lancelot. Her knight in shining armour.

Her new friends Prudence, Jaq and Toni with an 'I' always told her how jealous they were of how her boyfriend spoiled her with gifts and flowers every time they met up, yes she felt guilty every time she lied to them, but this way no one bothered her about being a quote 'single lonely saddo in her late twenties' end quoteD and the better she felt about herself as they praised her.

They didn't meet up much, just for brunches here and there but whenever they did, she would take a package or wear a new expensive necklace to show them, of course whatever lavishly expensive item she purchased would always immediately go back the next day.

Due to her job she got to travel the world with discounts and benefits. An annual familiarisation trip on the dime of the company was a great way to upkeep her image and Instagram in front of her new friends.

She knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn't stop now, not when everything in her life was 'perfect'

Before brunch she dabbed her wrists with a dior sampler that had seen better days and rolled the depths of her collarbones with a smidgen of men's cologne to keep up the pretence that her neck was his favourite place to kiss when she didn't want to ruin her lipstick, which was her staple look, Yves saint laurent 59 Melon.

Using samples was a way to cut costs on the designer clothes had to purchase to keep up the speed with her new fashionista friends, she adopted a lounged style, never the one to look bold or chic but the brand name was enough for her friends not to bat an eye and they label it her personal preference on clothes. She always kept a low profile but in the end she was running out of ways to wear them, to look different, so much so Prudence had told her that the sweatshirt she was wearing was so last season.

"You know me, I don't like to throw clothes away, even though my closet is bursting at the seams" She lied, all she had left was a white shirt, a black Dior pinafore and a black beret she was saving for the next time they went to brunch.

"I wonder what Sir Lancelot has put in the bag this time?" She eyed the parcel in your rather well made fake handbag.

"Dibs if there's chocolates" Yelled Toni.

"He doesn't gift to me everyday, this is probably the sunglasses I ordered" Noelle smiles under the facade of lies, while looking in the chic little bag not big enough for much and faux gasps at a little box containing the keys for an apartment with the words soon written on the key chain. "It's just a set of keys to his apartment"

"Ellie he's so sweet, I bet he wants you to move in" Jaq smiles weakly, lifting her tea cup to her lips.

"He'll probably pop the question when you go over there tonight" says Toni showing off her new engagement ring and Noelle throws the chocolates that she had boxed up knowingly inside at her. "Truffles.. nice"

"I still don't see why you won't tell us who he is Ellie" Prudence pouts but then a grin paints her Rococotte lips "Is he married?" She leans in further "Or is he royalty?" She whispers and Noelle shakes her head.

"No, he's just the private type" She excuses.

"Penthouse, plane chartering, private?" Prudence lifts her well defined brow and Noelle just shrugs. "Oh come on Ellie, tell us"

"You're not getting anything out of me but if you need to know something, we're off to the new Baha Mar resort next week in the Bahamas" Technically it was not a lie but she was being sent for work, testing out the place, it was the best work perk she could ask for.

"How romantic, he's totally going to ask you to marry him" Toni mumbles through a mouth full of chocolates.

"My parents haven't even met him yet" Hell, she hadn't even met him yet. "But I'm sure it won't be long until I take him back home to London"

London was once her home but the Royal borough her friends expected was not the type of home life she grew up in, she was raised in a quaint neighbourly cul-de-sac in Salt Hill drive, Slough. She could still remember the way the west runway of Heathrow airport would open, acting as her alarm clock every morning before school, airplanes coming back and forth from various destinations, it made her want to see the world.

Though it was her dream to be a flight attendant, neither her height nor weight made her application considerable but at least she was seeing some of the world, mostly through the eyes of others whilst they booked their all inclusive resorts, bachelor and bachelorette weekends and around worldwide trips through the travel agency she worked at now in Williamsburg, NY.

It was exhausting pretending to be perfect but it was her life, day to day she was cardigan wearing, glasses bridge pushing Noelle, but to her new friends she was Ellie, a designer wearing, frappé drinking bestie.

"That means you're not going to make it to my engagement party?" Toni moped, but Noelle knew it, it was all part of her plan, she couldn't afford the gift nor a dress to attend anyway so being jet set off to a romantic destination with a romantic fake hubby was a great way to bow out gracefully.

"I'm really sorry Toni" Noelle gave her a genuine pout, she wished she could go and be the person they believed she was, but at the end of the day, she wasn't.

She was a fraud.

~

Another day, another dollar... Noelle sat up from being pulled away from her blissful sleep to turn off her alarm screaming at her from the side table next to her bed and she couldn't wait for the week to be over already.

Her home was an average one bedroom apartment, the rent was as decent as you could find and what she doesn't spend on lavishness and luxury she pays in rent and utilities, skipping breakfast had become the norm, the less groceries she had to buy the more she could save for her lifestyle.

With her brown hair in a low bun, Noelle wore her drab little work cardigan and her glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose, she felt like a tiny speck in the big wide world, that she wasn't anyone special when she looked in the mirror. Everyday was the same, only when she was Ellie was she happy to be seen.

Sat in her office cubicle on the phone to a client Noelle can't help but daydream about leaving to jet off to the Bahamas, she had already packed a few things she just needed to get through this week of work and she'd be sunning herself and taking pictures for her latest Instagram posts for her friends to gush over. Everyone lies about how good their lives are online, right?

One thing she had to remember was to pack a mens sized pair of sandals, she couldn't go anywhere without her makeshift man's accessories to make it look like she was being accompanied by her knight.

She would pose for a few pictures that would apply to two people of course to keep up the illusion, but mostly her pictures were just of the room and views from the hotel and destination, and her friends would be none the wiser that she was venturing alone.

"Hello, are you still there?" A voice on the end of the line woke her from her daydreams of sun, sea and Instagram likes.

"Erm yes ma'am, that's all booked for you, I will compile all that together and you shall receive a confirmation email from us, thank you for booking with New tour travel agency and have a nice day"

Noelle hung up the phone and blew out a breath, it was her lunch hour so she decided to flip through the new Vogue issue that had just been released as she trailed from the news vendor and through the streets on her way to get a bagel from her favourite deli.

The deli was always busy at lunch so she stood waiting to be served and in front of her was a tall broad man. She daydreamed about how he would turn around and he would be a handsome Adonis that would sweep her up into his arms and kiss her deeply in front of everyone.

"NEXT!" Booms Giovanni, the owner as he works the Deli counter, fifty years in the business and still works his ass off every day with his two sons. "Noella Bella" He greets "What can I get for you today?" He smiles at her but as she goes to order she looks upon the bikini body on the front page of her magazine, Noelle felt insecure about the two piece she packed, so instead of a beautiful, tasty bagel with cream cheese, she walked out to across the street where she begrudgingly spent $15 on a sad looking desk salad and trailed back to her work office to eat alone.

Even though Noelle loved her job searching for new places for people to vacation, the rest of the day was a gruelling few hours of getting side-eyed by her work colleagues since they weren't picked to check out the new Baha Mar resort, it had been the talk of the office since the opportunity had come up, but she had proved to her boss that she deserved it with high sales and incentives.

None of her work colleagues knew about her Instagram account; it was her secret because she knew they would probably snub her more. The profile picture was of generic sunbathing legs in a hammock, a holiday snap from last year, and Noelle wore sunglasses and a hat for set up and timed selfies.

Noelle had received rude, misogynistic DMs from when she would post pictures of herself before but she wasn't going to find her knight in shining armour in her Instagram inbox asking her to show them more of her skin anyway, so she just ignored them, deleted them without reading and eventually closed them.

Going home with her earphones in, Noelle listened to a pretty song from a daily recommendations playlist as she watched the busy streets pass her by, with a soulful voice and a harmony to match she thought that the track was just simply exquisite and she would definitely add it to her favourites.

Home is where the heart is, exactly where her bed is to be precise as her keys jangle in her hand and then thump on the kitchen counter she couldn't wait to toss her ass back into bed and look for some online sales that she probably.. in reality, shouldn't.

Her pay check was going to afford her some luxury she needed for her trip since she wouldn't need money as long as she stayed within the resort and sub-renting out her apartment for the week would give her an extra bit of cash to come home to.

Expensive. Expensive. Expensive.

To shop within her means was harder than she thought it would be, clearance sales didn't accept returns either, she would have to pay retail price now to send it back later.

Sure she could stroll through the markets strewn around the city and pick up a copy or two, but the more authentic her purchases were the less she had to prove to her friends, as not all knock offs were good knock offs.

Little essentials she could get away with, a pair of earrings were easy to fake but she knew her friends would surely notice if her outfit wasn't in any recollectable collection, she had to be careful.

Early to bed, early to rise.

Noelle had woken before her alarm clock, with a thundering in her stomach, she had fallen asleep forgoing dinner being outbid by vintagewhore_98 for A pre loved black, golden shoulder buttoned Chanel sweater, the owner must not have known what they had for selling it at such a bargain price but Noelle didn't have it either after getting out bid by $50.

"Goddamit" She cusses and shuts her laptop and rolled out of bed to find sustenance for her roaring monster of a stomach.

It's exactly 11 steps and a shuffle into the fridge and it's exactly how she expected it to be. Sad and empty. Figures. She'd have to go grocery shopping after work, there was no time now so after a pathetic attempt at breakfast, a piece of toast from the end of a loaf of bread and the last scrapings from the foil of her stick of butter, she made do.

Her mood was low and shopping for food was never as exciting as shopping for clothes especially on the budget Noelle had set for herself, low priced tins and no fresh produce wasn't the best diet but her work lunch salads were at least two of her supposed five-a-day... maybe.

Thinking about her shopping list on the way to work she was going to grab a bunch of bananas to keep her sweet tooth at bay, until she suddenly remembered there was a smidgen of Nukota sticking to the side of a jar in the cupboard..

Nukota, the more affordable hazelnut flavoured chocolate spread than the overpriced original brand. Same thing, just a fraction of the price. Just a few more days and she would be eating whatever she wanted for free, sunning herself by the resort beach and sipping cocktails in the Bahamas to get away from all the pressure, all the lies. Except from a picture or two for her Instagram page.

In her cardigan and glasses she felt like everyone was staring at her as she walked to her little cubicle, a tut from Veronica Heller, (her manager) was unprovoked and Noelle knew she was just jealous like everyone else that their boss saw no potential in anyone in the office other than Noelle herself.

Daydreaming about licking the jar of chocolate edges in her sparse cupboard got Noelle through the morning of two destination wedding bookings, and a few romantic 'holiday for two' getaway packages.

Another lunch brings another miserable looking salad staring at her in the face, she hoped it would magically taste like a burger when she took a forkful and placed it into her mouth.. but no such luck and an untasteful grimace It definitely tasted exactly like a salad. The only saving grace was a coffee to wash it down with.

The afternoon was also mostly uneventful, Noelle sits in front of her computer and rubs her eyes between calls. The week was dragging, for a second she though she may not make it to the end when a migraine sets itself across her forehead, radiating between her brows.

"Got to stay alive.. for the Bahamas, for the Bahamas, for the Bahamas" she repeats to herself, clicking the shutdown button as she drags her ass off her computer chair after hours of screen time to the off-brand grocery store.

The darkness comes early in the evenings as does the bitter autumn chill as Noelle wraps her cardigan closer as she paces the store after gathering a basket. The air conditioning is on and it's absolutely glacial in the fridge section where Noelle picks up a bananas, a cucumber, some celery, peppers and a jar of hummus.

Trying to lose weight through the temptations that surrounded her was hard but a teaspoon of honey usually set her right and power through, so a jar of that was added into the basket too but she definitely had to get her pop tarts, sugary sweetness.. her cheat day dinner or generally for a rather special kind of shitty day.

Perusing the reduced items for something she could eat today Noelle felt off, the lights that dangled above her were so bright it made her eyes squint, so much so she couldn't read the yellow priced down stickers on the packets, her peripheral vision was dim and she began to see spots.

It wasn't long before her body felt fuzzy, a static buzzing all over her body and hearing a voice in her ears, a loud voice but she can't really feel much of anything until her vision dispels its grey haze to a man looking down upon her.

"Ma'am open your eyes, Can you hear me?" Noelle is kind of awestruck at the Handsome man- who she realises is on his knees and has her in his arms.

"What happened?" She mutters to him.

"My name is Dr Benson, you fainted, I'm going to ask you some questions alright?" He talks slow, hoping your brain can catch what's coming out of his mouth.

"Ok?" You say but he's not sure he's happy with your tone, so he asks you to follow his fingers with your eyes, upon completing that he starts to question you.

"Hmm.. What's your name?" The handsome guy asks and Noelle is all tongues trying to string a sentence together.

"Noelle—erm Ellie.. it's Ellie"

"You don't sound so sure of your answer Ellie, are you sure you're feeling alright, Do you know what today is?"

"A really shitty one" She blurts and the Doctor laughs heartily.

"Don't say that, it's my birthday, but do you know what the date is?"

"Why would I know when your birthday is...?" Noelle is confused why would she know the date .."Oh today's date..! Sorry it's been a very long day" She sighs.

"You still haven't answered my question..."

"My name is Noelle Hartman, today is Tuesday the 25th, I'm single and I'm a Virgo" She laughs in jest "Am I in the clear to go Doc?" Noelle bats her eyelashes and Dr Benson is a little taken aback but helps her stand up.

"Well you didn't hit your head so I think you're okay, possibly a little dehydrated, here" He passes her a bottle of water from a passing cart, which she's unsure to take considering it's classed as stealing but doctors orders she undoes the cap to take a sip. "Do you have anyone to pick you up? Boyfriend or—?" She wonders what a handsome doctor is doing in an off-brand grocery store but a passer by tells her she was lucky he was just walking nearby.

"Nope just little me" Noelle shakes her head.

"Then please let me drive you home" It doesn't take much convincing to get Noelle in the car, for all she knew he was a liar, a scoundrel but it seemed so silly in her mind for him to kidnap someone like her.

"How much do I owe you?," Noelle says as he parks within her apartment's view "I think technically this was a house call" They both get out and slowly walk to the main door.

"Technically I'm off duty but how about just a cup of coffee sometime?" Dr Benson holds out his hand for Noelle to shake and she takes it, walking up to the foyer door she turns back but almost slips "Take care of yourself now, Otherwise I might have to carry you up myself"

"Thank you Lan—?" She's stumped, on pause for second realising she can't even remember his name after staring at his handsome face for too long, almost calling him Lancelot like a weirdo was embarrassing but maybe he would be into it but now was not the time to find out.

"Derek.. Dr Derek Benson" He replies and Noelle sheepishly walks into her apartment with a nod and as she stepped inside wailed like a banshee. Was this it? Was he the one? Noelle jumped around her apartment until she realised.

"Fuck! I didn't get his number" Noelle whines, and to her dismay she also realised her day had gone from bad to worse. "No! I didn't get my fucking pop tarts"

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts #dating #bts jimin

[oraclekleo]

Im Jae Beom (GOT7 / Solo) Kinky* Reading

Hello and welcome!

I’m Kleo and I’m here to present some k-pop related tarot readings to you.

Disclaimer:

I would like to state that all these readings have a purely entertainment nature and their purpose is to bring some fun into my and hopefully yours lives. I have never ever met any of the idols / actors / celebrities in my readings, I don’t know them personally. Tarot reading isn’t an exact science and I can never guarantee any of it. Most of it is my intuition mixed with fantasy. Don’t take these readings seriously and don’t base any important decisions on tarot readings only, use your common sense.

If you wish to request a tarot reading, please read the pinned post on my profile first to see the instructions on how to request. I only do readings for idols / actors / celebrities of 18 years of age or older. Requests for readings including younger people will be automatically dismissed. If you feel uncomfortable with these tarot readings, do not engage in reading my posts. Thank you for understanding.

Reading Info:

Rating: 18+

Reading Type: Single - Couple

Requested: Yes - No

Deck: E. A. Poe

Spread: Kinky*

Questions:

Position

Libido

Turn On

Kink

Dirtiest Secret*

Full Name: Im Jae Beom

Stage Name: Jay B / formerly JB

Group: GOT7 / Solo

Masterpost: Got7

Im Jae Beom

Jay B / JB (GOT7 / Solo)

Deck: E. A. Poe

Spread: Kinky*

Position - 7 of Wands

Jay B is likely to become difficult in a relationship. He wants to have someone reliable by his side and yet he’s sort of fighting becoming really close with them. The outcome is that his lover feels pushed away and agitated by Jay B holding up to his independence and not sharing much with them. Jay B probably has some commitment issues that need to be solved.

Libido - 9 of Swords

Oh yeah! Commitment issues. Okay! Jay B is clearly for some reason scared to actually become close and intimate with people. This fear is rooted in his mind. Maybe he has had bad experiences from the past but he needs to overcome the anxiety and stop projecting the horrors that exist in his mind into people around him. He needs to start seeing that not everyone is fake or trying to deceive him and play him for a fool.

Turn On - 7 of Swords

Ah! Here comes the trouble, doesn’t it, Jay B? Well Jay B can’t be surprised he has no trust in his partners when his type is a player and thief of hearts from the beginning. Jay B is likely to feel attracted to the dangerous type of person, someone who’s hot on the outside but their heart is made of steel and ice and granite and will have no scruples about cheating on him when they have the chance. Maybe Jay B thinks he can change them for the better? Hardly, dear! Stop dating monsters in pretty skin and you won’t have a reason for distrust and anxiety.

Kink - V The Hierophant

Jay B is likely to have a kink for correcting bad behaviour and disciplining a misbehaving lover. He’s likely to come up with many ridiculous and impossible to follow rules just to enjoy the thrill of inflicting the punishment when his lover breaks the rules. He’s no sadist about it, he will likely hold a short lecture before stepping to the actual spanking. The man likes to listen to his own voice as much as he likes to listen to his lover’s squeals and whines.

Dirtiest Secret* - King of Wands

Jay B is the hard dom. He’s likely to thrive from having complete control over his lover. He’s also likely to have a thing for semi-public sex. Not that he would lower himself to have quickies in club restrooms. It’s more likely he will leave windows open while making his lover scream with delight so the neighbourhood knows who’s the master of the house there. He would like to be called ‘Sir’.

Thank you for reading!

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#jay b #jay b smut #jay b tarot #jay b got7 #jay b imagines #jay b scenarios #jb #jb tarot #jb smut #jb got7 #jb scenarios #jb imagines #im jaebeom #im jaebeom smut #im jaebum #got7 #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 smut #got7 jb #got7 jayb #got7 kpop #kpop got7 #oracle kleo #kpop tarot #kpop #kpop smut #kpop imagine #kpop scenarios

[candied-mushroom]

So another fun fact about my Byakuya/Sakura fankid Kenji, he has a love interest named Zuri. Drawn by

Also wrote a short thing about Kenji bringing her home to meet his parents. Wanted to try and flesh her out a bit.

“He’s bringing a girl with him?”

Sakura nodded in confirmation as she brewed herself and Byakuya a cup of piping hot coffee. His black as he always took it and herself with a hefty scoop of protein powder she stirred in.

“Yes, remember Kenji mentioned he met someone?” Sakura reminded as she brought over his mug and handed it to him. Blowing on hers briefly before taking a small sip of that caffeinated goodness. “I believe her name was Zuri?” she added after swallowing a mouthful.

“I know that,” Byakuya answered flatly. “Did…he mentioned how they met?” he questioned.

Sakura tapped her chin in thought. “I recall he mentioned they met at a library.” to which Byakuya immediately scoffed.

“Is that what he told you?”

“Yes, why?”

“They met on a dating app.”

“And how would you know that?” Sakura raised an eyebrow as Byakuya tensed and looked away.

“I may have… hired someone to look into her,” he confessed.

“Make no mistake, I am upset our son was dishonest. But considering your first reaction to him entering a relationship was that of all things I can understand Kenji’s secrecy.” her eyes narrowed at her husband.

“You can’t fault me for that.” his grip tighten on his cup of coffee. “And he has the Togami name. I wouldn’t put it pass anyone to try and take advantage of that for their agenda.

Try as she might, not even Sakura had enough willpower to hold back a sigh before needing a second sip of her protein coffee.

“Byakuya, I understand you are apprehensive about Zuri...” her frown deepen. “But Kenji is flying from med school back to Japan to stay with us for a while and is bringing someone very near and dear to him with him, I want to enjoy our son’s company after not having him in the estate for so long. I would suggest you do the same.”

It was both a warning and a suggestion. While Sakura was proud of her son for following his dreams and working towards pursuing a career in the medical field, she greatly miss his presence ever since she and Byakuya became empty nesters. She refused to let Byakuya’s skepticism sour his temporary return.

“Fine…” he muttered.

Sakura wasn’t fully convinced.

….

With the golden gates to the estate in sight, Kenji slipped a bookmark between the pages of Gerald’s Game by Stephan King and tucked the novel into his bag.

“We’re here,” he announced as the gates opened and immediately turned to his girlfriend. “Zuri, I am aware you are probably sick of hearing this. But I should warn you-“

“Darling, I’m not at all intimidated by your parents.” she laughed lightly.

“It’s not my mother I’m concerned about.” he frowned. “It’s my father…”

“Kenji, if you think your father scares me you’ll be a foolish, foolish man.” her lips curled into a big smile. “I wouldn’t be wearing heels this high if I was fearful of him. Best to look him in the eyes than be looked down on, no?”

Zuri was confident, she always was. Kenji wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or not right now. He liked that about her but combined with her ruthless ambition, even he wasn’t entirely sure how her and his father’s personalities would clash.

The limousine pulled up to his parents estate. Admittedly Kenji would have been content with a taxi, but his father insisted he send them the company limo to drive them there.

“We’re here, sir.” the chauffeur announced before stepping out of the vehicle to open the door for them.

One of the many maids under his father’s employment immediately took their luggage and went on ahead with Kenji and Zuri following behind. At the entrance stood both of his parents, eagerly awaiting his temporary return.

“You’re finally here.” his mother wasted no time walking up to him and giving him a big hug. “And you must be Zuri,” she said once she let go of Kenji and turned her attention to her. “Kenji told us so much about you.”

“Good things I hope.” Zuri laughed before digging into her purse and retrieved a bottle of wine. “I come bearing gifts. I hope this will suffice. I was told you favoured red.”

“You shouldn’t have.” she took the bottle. “But thank you.”

Kenji braced himself as his father stepped forward, his sky blues meeting with Zuri’s deep browns.

“And you must be Kenji’s father, a pleasure to meet you,” Zuri said, extending her hand to shake. “I’ve heard so much.”

“Likewise,” his eyes cast their usual judgemental gaze onto her, yet Zuri had no problem looking him straight in them. Not even flinching as he shook her hand, giving it one of his signature firm business grip. “I’ll show you inside.” he went on ahead with Zuri following.

Kenji let out a sigh and glanced at his mother.

“I told you not to say she was a model.”

“It slipped out! And I just said she done some modelling before…” his shoulders slumped forward in defeat. “I might not have a girlfriend by the end of this, will I?”

“We’re see.” she smiled reassuringly and ruffled his hair.

….

“My, what a lovely manor.” Zuri complimented, her louis vuitton heels clacking against the floor as she walked down the hall of Byakuya’s estate. “The fenestration and use of the windows is very elegant. And the symmetry and curvilinear fluidity? I’m impressed.”

Fenestration? Curvilinear? Who was she trying to impress? It took more than a few sizeable words to leave an impression on Byakuya. His mouth remained in a straight line, frown deepening.

“What are you an architect?” that came out ruder than he meant, earning him the painful blunt blow of Sakura’s elbow to his side. “Oof!” he rubbed his side, looking at Sakura who shot him a glare that clearly said ‘be nice for once.’

Luckily Zuri didn’t notice or the very least pretended not to. She just smile and laughed politely.

“Oh no, but my mother is. I suppose I just picked up a few things over the years.” Zuri explained.

“What does your father do?” Sakura inquired.

“He works in oil maintenance. The kind that provides divers and engineers to repair rigs.” Zuri’s smile drop as she rolled her eyes and dug through her designer purse. “Speaking of which…” she pulled out a notebook and pen. “Forgive me, but my father is a bit of a fan of yours. Saw one of your matches when he was travelling abroad and was hooked. He’s been nagging at me to get him an autograph.”

“It’s fine. If it’s an autograph your father wants it’s an autograph he’ll get.” Sakura took the paper and pen. “What’s his name?”

“Nathaniel,” Zuri answered as Sakura scribbled out an autograph and handed the notebook and pen back to her. “Thank you, he’ll be thrilled to bits.”

They ascended up the staircase and made their way down the hallway.

“The staff brought your bags to your room. Why don’t you two unpack and meet us in the lounge?“ Sakura suggested.

“Will do, thanks, mom,” Kenji said, entering the room with Zuri, leaving just Byakuya and Sakura.

“Did you say room as in singular?” Byakuya felt his eye twitch as they ventured further down the hall.

“He’s an adult, Byakuya.” Sakura reminded. “Fretting over it served no purpose. We taught him to be prepared and responsible.” she dismissed.

She was right, but that didn’t mean Byakuya had to be pleased about it. He simply crossed his arms and huffed as they wandered to the lounge where they got situated on a couch. The staff had prepared drinks and a charcuterie board for them to graze at while he and Sakura waited for Kenji and Zuri.

Fortunately, they didn’t take long and joined them shortly.

“So…did you have a safe flight?” Byakuya began, while he was apprehensive about regarding his son’s love life, he genuinely was pleased Kenji was back home. He and Sakura kept themselves busy with work and other activities, but like all empty nesters Kenji not only leaving home but the country made for a more difficult adjustment than he would like to admit.

“We did, got held up at customs but aside from that everything was fine,” Kenji responded, to which Byakuya just scoffed.

“I told you, you should have just taken the private jet. Could have avoided that altogether.” fighting off the urge to add ‘and be home faster’.

“It’s fine, Dad. It’s honestly it’s a hassle getting that sorted out. Besides I wanted to surprise you two when I showed you when I mentioned the ticket home when we video chatted.” he smiled, helping himself to a few grapes.

“I’m glad you’re, regardless of our transportation. Even with all the video chats, phone calls and text messages. It’s just not the same without you here.” Sakura sighed sadly.

“Sorry, but is that a chess table?” Zuri inquired, eyes locked on the set on the other side of the room.

“It is,” Byakuya answered bluntly.

“Fancy a game?” Zuri asked, not even awaiting a response as she stood up. “I should warn you I’m very good.”

That huge confident grin plastered on her face was the most single irritating thing to Byakuya right now. But for the sake of his wife and son, he would comply with Zuri’s demands.

“Fine, I’ll humour you,” he responded flatly, face in his all too common unimpressed scowl.

“White or black?” Zuri asked. “Do you have a preference for chess colour?”

“I don’t care. You pick.” he dismissed the trivial thought of colour preference with a wave of his hand.

“Fine by me, I’m rather partial to white.” she sat herself down and began setting up the pieces.

“So, what exactly do you do?” oh how he loathed small talk, but according to Sakura it was a requirement.

“I’ve done some modelling, but I attend classes. All online, I travel a lot,” she explained, moving her pawn forward. “Although I strive to be the brains behind the industry.”

“Do you now.” his eyes narrowed as he moved his piece.

“Your poker face is atrocious,” Zuri remarked.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s abundantly clear you aren’t fond of my relationship with Kenji,” she commented, moving her white knight across the black-and-white board. “Nor the fact you don’t intimate me. I can tell it aggravates you immensely.” she grinned. “I appreciate the effort though.”

Byakuya said nothing for a moment, simply taking his turn and staring her down. Zuri wasn’t the first overly self-assured person he came across in his lifetime. He faced cocky businessmen twice his age as a high schooler and left them a blubbering mess.

“I won’t deny that I’m not aware of the privilege that comes with being involved with Kenji.” Zuri began. “The Togami name is the embodiment of power-“

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he warned.

“It wasn’t, merely a statement of fact.” Zuri countered, moving her bishop. “I don’t fault you at all for any doubts about my intentions with Kenji.”

“And what exactly are your intentions?” it was an old and cliche question, but it was only one worth asking at the moment.

“I assure you they are entirely pure. Kenji isn’t some pawn in my path to success. I’m perfectly capable of that on my own.” Zuri explained as Byakuya took one of her pawns. “I happen to be very fond of him, you and your wife raised a fine young man.” Try as he might, Byakuya could not hold back the prideful feeling in his chest at that statement. “Kenji’s a good man, comes off as stoic but cares a lot, far more than the men and women I’ve been involved with.”

“I think he gets it from his mother.”

Zuri moved her chess piece before leaning back in her seat, head high with a victorious smile on her face.

“Checkmate.”

Byakuya blinked, staring at the board in disbelief. Impossible, they just started playing!

“I warned you, didn’t I?” she taunted. “I’m very good.”

….

Try as he might, Kenji couldn’t help but glance back at his father and girlfriend every few seconds while trying to hold a conversation about college with his mother. The chess table was far enough so he couldn’t hear anything.

He tensed watching the two stand up and… shake hands? Wasn’t what he expecting, but logically speaking it seemed to be the best outcome. He tried not to stare as they returned over.

“I do have some connections in the fashion industry.” his father explained. “I would be more than happy to provide a reference when needed.”

“Why thank you.” Zuri smiled and glanced at Kenji. “Did you show them the pictures from our trip to see my parents?”

“No, I think the photos are still in my bag.”

“I’ll go get them. You absolutely have to see my mother’s latest projects.” with that being said Zuri gave Kenji a quick kiss on his cheek before turning on her heels and going off to go fetch them.

“Hm… I like her,” he commented, earning a perturbed look from both Kenji and his mother. “What? I can be nice.“

#Sakura Ogami #sakura oogami #Byakuya Togami #danganronpa #Sakuya #Kenji #Zuri #my fics #rarepair #rare pair #rare pairs #fankids #fan kids

[green-ville]

The Story of Icarus (4)

        Synopsis: Kara Maro made one mistake in her naval aviator career, and his name is Jake Seresin. The lies are stacking up and when they topple, she’ll be buried beneath them. 

----

Chapter 4: Stack The Lies High Enough, They’ll Topple

             “What happened.”

           “Nothing, sir.”

           “You passed out on us and you weren’t even flying. That leads to concern.”

           “Bad dream, sir. It doesn’t happen when I’m awake.”

           “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

           “I’m sorry, sir. Really, I’m fine.”

           Maverick pierced his lips. That look that he gave her spoke a thousand, indescribable words. “You don’t have to lie to me, Maro. Your confidentiality agreement. . .I have clearance. I can look into it.”

           But he hasn’t, she finished for him. She cracked a half smile, which dropped quicker than she should have let it. “I’m fine sir, really. Just a bad dream.”

           “A bad dream,” he repeated, “or a flashback?”

           She wasn’t keeping up the mask. It was all down now and she wasn’t even trying. He could see past it- through it. He was reading her like a book. Had he done so this entire time? Was it all pointless? Had she failed every step of the way in this stupid mission?!?

           Her finger twitched.

           “I,” her voice cracked. She gave up for good, head bowing. “I really can’t lie to you, can I sir?”

           He kept a respectful volume for the quiet hospital room. “You can try, but it, if I’m to be honest with you, hasn’t worked.”

            He even sounded apologetic that it hasn’t worked. He was practically apologizing for her failures.

           “I’m sorry.”

           “You don’t need to apologize.” His sincerity was almost believable. If only her pessimistic brain wasn’t stronger. “Really, Maro. I want to see you succeed. Let me help you.”

           She bowed her head, staring at the white sheets. Tears burning her eyes. Crying again. Weak. Pathetic. She was going to fail this mission – if she even got to it.

           “I’m sorry sir,” she repeated, because that was apparently all she knew how to do. “I’m sorry.”

           “Stop apologizing, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

           Tears poured forward, a tidal wave she couldn’t control. Because she couldn’t control anything right now. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, knees coming up, hands covering her red eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

           “You didn’t do anything wrong Maro.”

           “I did everything wrong!” She was crying in front of her Captain. She was basically beginning for attention at this point. She was laying it on thick, emotionally manipulating him. Could she even be a shitier person or was this the extent of it?

           “Maro, let me help you, please.”

           “I – I’m sorry sir. I’m sorry.”

           “What happened?”

           “I. . .” her heart rate kept going higher, breaths raising up. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told him. I shouldn’t have kept it from him.”

           “Told who? Told him what?”

           “My mission!” She sobbed into her hands, hiding her red face. Shame shook her body. The memory playing. Always leading her decisions. “My mission sir, it was different from his. I had orders, he didn’t know them! He hates me and I can’t make it right! I’ll never make it right!”

           “You got my back babe?” Jake whispered to her, speaking out of the corner of his mouth so the superiors around them couldn’t hear. He liked flirting where it was obvious. He was a risk seeker, otherwise he wouldn’t be a Naval pilot.

           Smiling, lying through her teeth, she answered back, “I’ve always got your back baby.”

                         Kara kicked down the locked door on her fourth attempt. She shouted her frustration as the door slammed into the wall, but thankfully it didn’t bounce back. She was allowed entry in to the room she knew she needed to go into.

           Because there he was. Her mission.

           “Name and date of birth,” she screamed, gun pointed at him even as she searched the room. “NOW!”

           “Mark Peters, March 15, 1971!”

           Confirmed name and date of birth. His profile matched the picture she had been shown anyway. Still, her first mission, she didn’t want to bring the wrong person back. She walked to him, still scanning, paranoid driving her every movement. She grabbed him by the collar and shoved him forward. “Stay low and keep moving.”

           “I’m finally being extracted?”

           “Shut it!”

             Their landing wasn’t her smoothest. They had been shot at \countless times and she could only protect and out maneuver them so much. They had taken several hits leading to a crash landing.

           The moon lit their canopy as it opened up, and breathing in that fresh air should have brought her some sense of calm.

           Her first mission.

           Success.

           It didn’t.

           The men that surrounded her all went for the man she had brought back, grabbing at him, helping him down. They hardly paid her bleeding self any attention. She held her abdomen where blood soaked her uniform, and when shouting at them proved useless, she finally grabbed one.

           She yanked him and shoved him against the ladder she had climbed down. Her eyes burned with dust and debris, her lips were dried and cracked, her skin was caked with filth. She screamed at him, half mad, “JAKE SERESIN. ALIVE?”

           “Yeah!” The man screamed back, alarmed. “Returned like 15 hours ago.”

              “Orders aren’t always more important than the person you fly with, Maro. In the end, it comes down to you to make that decision.”

           She raised her head, looking at him with her red eyes, her red face, her messy hair that conveyed none of the professionalism and confidence she had to have. “It’s one life against another, sir,” she whispered, practically breaking that confidentiality agreement. Understanding began to dawn, and he saw a part of her she had never truly revealed more. “And if I know my wingman can handle it, I’ll leave them. Every time,” she whispered, bowing her head again. Hiding her shame. “Every time, I will leave them.”

           A hand rested on her knee. It was warm compared to her cold. She was cold now. Nothing could warm her up.

           “You have to go on this mission, don’t you. It’s not pride, it’s necessity.”

           Kara didn’t answer him for a long time. She couldn’t. Every time she thought about answering she choked up, swallowing her words thickly. She couldn’t even speak she was so useless.

           Finally it got out. Breaking her confidentiality even more. Shit had hit the fan in a way she had never expected.

           “Yes, sir. I need to.”

           Maverick nodded, patting her knee. “Then I will do everything in my power to create a team, okay Icarus? But I. . .my priority is making a team to survive this mission. I need you to be a team.”

           And she’ll betray them, just like she betrayed all of them.

           Still, she nodded. She raised her head, looked at him again despite knowing she was a horrible mess right now. She thanked him with her red eyes and tear stained face, wondering what must have happened to this poor man to make him so understanding of her situation.

             They were taking the day for the beach. That didn’t entail sunbathing and swimming, their Captain had other plans.

           Dog fight football.

           When Maro heard, sand already shifting between her toes, she couldn’t believe it. What type of Captain was this? Just this morning she had seen how understanding he could be, but he was actually following through on what he said? He was really trying to make a team?

           Whatever happened to him, it must have been horrible. Tragic. He must not have ever really recovered from it.

           Seeing Bradshaw, she got the same feeling.

           Beside her, Natasha Trace removed her shirt, not afraid to strip down. “You gonna join the party Maro?”

           Her chest tightened. She knew what she looked like without a shirt on. She shouldn’t. It could raise too many questions. And yet, at this point, she had ruined whatever perception anyone had of her anyway. It wouldn’t matter. They wouldn’t care.

           Kara removed her shirt, revealing her sports bra. Revealing much more than the bra that covered her chest.

           Scars.

           Old wounds that healed in jagged, raised, skin.

           Where she had been shot. Stabbed. Where her ribs had cracked through her skin.

           Taking off her pants, revealing the shorts beneath, the same thing. There was a long scar on her thigh.

           Earned due to her stupidity. Her insufficiencies. If only she had been better.

           The sun reached her pale skin, seeing flesh it hadn’t seen in years.

           Natasha Trace stared at her.

           “Please stop,” Kara whispered, arms around her torso, discomfort settling in.

           Natasha raised her gaze. “You’ve got a story,” she stated. “You don’t have to keep it in. When you stack the lies high enough, they crumble.”

           Kara rubbed the bruise from the IV that was in her right arm. “I signed a confidentiality agreement, Trace. I can’t share it.”

           “Then if you want to keep flying, I suggest you find a way to get it out somehow, because what you’re doing now isn’t working,” she stated, and headed towards the water, where the rest of the team had begun to congregate.

           Kara hesitated, contemplating running in the opposite direction. Contemplating putting on a shirt and hiding forever. But she had to get this team to trust her. Like her.

           Maverick was right. In order to even get to where she needed to get, she had to complete the mission before her own mission. In order to get her mission out, she had to blow up that uranium site. If she didn’t do that, she couldn’t grab her mission.

           She had to get the team to trust her.

           Kara headed to the water, standing beside Natasha, hoping she didn’t mind her lingering beside her after everything.

           “Thank you,” she said offhandedly, “for this morning.”

           Trace side glanced her. “Us girls have to stick together, Maro. There are far too few.”

           She held out her fist.

           Kara bumped it.

           “Let’s kick some ass, yeah?”

           Trace had more enthusiasm than she did. Still, she tried her best, repeating a much less believable “yeah.”

           Rooster and Hangman were the captains of the dogfight football. Rooster picked her right away, the silence that came with it having her shrink in on herself. While Hangman was picking his player, her quietly asked through the side of his mouth, “You good?”

           Everyone knew. Word had to have gotten out.

           “I’m good,” she whispered back.

           “Good,” he nodded. “Fanboy, with me.”

           The teams were decided. Maverick ended up going with Hangman’s team to even everything out. Hondo chose to referee, stating he hated running on concrete, he hated running on sand even more.

           It was chaos when everything started. Sand went flying, two balls were thrown, and then it was a mesh of bodies.

           Somehow. . .she didn’t know how, why, she shouldn’t have done it but it happened. . .Kara relaxed.

           “Fly high, fly high!” Rooster shouted, and she knew the code. Knew what she had to do.

           Fanboy set himself up, and she ran at him, barely glancing at the football to know where she had to go. Fanboy kneeled down, and she stepped on his thigh, using him as a stool and jumping into the air, reaching as high as she could go.

           Rooster threw the ball perfectly. She snatched it, landing softly in the sand, and zipping forward with it tucked under her arm. She dodged under Yale, somersaulted to evade Harvard, Trace rammed into Coyote to keep her path clear - and Kara slammed the football to the ground when Hondo registered her as safe.

           Rooster swept her in his arms and she laughed, enjoying herself. Actually relaxing, Letting loose for the first time in ten years.

           That stopped the very next round, where her opponents prioritized her. Nat had the ball, searching the crowd for an open teammate, and Kara jumped up, offering herself up.

           She didn’t land back on the ground with her feet. She was tackled midair, Harvard digging his shoulder into her stomach and taking her all the way to the ground.

           Maybe it would’ve been fine for any other person with half the medical history she had, but it wasn’t any other person. It was Kara. It was a hard tackle. Her head hit the ground, and she was gone.

           “Uh- ah! AHH!”  She shouldn’t have been so loud but she couldn’t help it, and when she landed, it was hard. The jolt that ran throughout her body, shocked her to her core, it was unlike anything she had ever felt before. She could feel everything, and yet she couldn’t move. She could feel her fingers, feel the cold, but there was a hollow sensation accompanying it, and despite her desire to move them, there was no follow through of the action.

           Stuck on the green grass, unable to convince her body to move, in enemy territory. At this point, it was just another normal mission for Kara.

              “Kara, can you squeeze my hand? Squeeze my hand, come on.”

           She blinked, languid, vision sluggishly returning to her. She first processed how many bodies were around her, and then came the more defined features. The eyebrows, the mouths, the nose. She could identify who was who and she realized she was on the ground, feet elevated via the use of a duffle bag.

           Nat was on her side, Maverick on her other side.

           “Squeeze my hand Kara,” Nat repeated.

           Kara squeezed.

           “Good, can you squeeze Mav’s hand?”

           Kara squeezed. Everyone was watching her. She was making a fool of herself. Maverick would never let her fly if she rolled over after one hit.

           “Fine,” Kara choked out, crunching at her abs, forcing herself to sit upright. “I’m fine,” it was like talking through a mouthful of marshmallows. Her head was on fire right now.

           Nat put a hand on her shoulder. “Take it easy Kara, you passed out again.”

           “Again?” Hangman heard, a flash of anger crossing his features. “This has happened before?”            “Just. . .just thirsty. Dehydrated.”

           “Give her a water! Meathead, a water!” Nat ordered, getting a water, passing it to Kara. Kara grabbed it, head bowed, and drank the warm water. It wasn’t refreshing, but it was water, and there was benefit to drinking it.

           “Do we need to call paramedics?” Maverick asked.

           “No.”

           “Yes! She passed out, the hell do you mean ‘do we need to’?”

           Maverick steeled her with a look. Kara held it, and repeated, “No.”

           Hangman scoffed.

           “I think I hit my head,” Kara whispered, fingers lightly dancing along the back of her head, finding a tender spot and eliciting a wince. “That was all. I hit my head.”

           “You’re out for the rest of the day,” Maverick ordered. “Rest. Take a full rest, no going to the gym for three hours like I know you’ve been doing. We’ll go from there tomorrow, deal?”

           Kara nodded. “Thank you sir.”

           “Phoenix, help her.”

           “Yes sir.”

           Phoenix held her hand, a sturdy form of support. Maverick was on standby in case she fell, which was good, because Kara didn’t have her footing right away. She rose too quickly and her knees buckled. She didn’t make it to the ground, Maverick and Phoenix supported her, but it was just another step in the wrong direction.

           “Are you – “

           “I’m fine! Fine, just, you know, stood too quick,” Kara waved it away, pretending to be alright even as her brain melted, her stomach churned, her heart clenched. “I’m fine,” she repeated, gaze to the sand, and began to walk away. Needing Nat’s support or she’d be on the ground.

           Nat lasted a total of four steps before she spoke, keeping her volume just for the two of them. “You’re not fine, Kara. You’re barely holding it together.”

           Kara turned her head, locking blue with brown. “I just need to complete this mission,” she said, “and then it’ll be over.”

           “Over for good? Or over as in, you won’t return.”

           They got to a picnic table, and even though the wood had grown hot in the summer’s sun, it was good to sit down. To rest her forearms on her knees, to hang her head, and to exhale without straining herself. Her right leg was shaking, a nervous habit that sometimes rose.

           “Do you know why they call me Icarus, Nat?”

           “Because you fly too high?”

           Kara shook her head. “No. . .No. My superiors gave me the name. They chose it because one day, I won’t come back.”

           Nat stilled.

           “Icarus, his story. Him and his dad are escaping from a prison, they make these wings and escape, but Icarus flies too high, the wings melt, and he dies at sea.” Kara took a sip of water. She shrugged. “One day, I’m going to be somewhere that I can’t get out of, and I won’t make it back. That’s why they named me Icarus.”

           Nat looked down at her. “I don’t know how you got into this position, Kara, but I’m sorry. I don’t envy you.”

           Kara shrugged, not pitying her own situation. Unable to, as she chose it. Every step of the way, it had been her decision. “If I were in their shoes,” she said, “I’d want someone to get me. I’m gonna head back to base, okay? I need to try and sleep.”

           “Do you want me to drive you? Should you drive after that?”

           “I’ll be fine Nat, really. It’s a short drive.”

           Nat wasn’t convinced. “Call if you need anything, I mean it.”

           “Yes ma’am.”

           Slow, Kara stood, moving to grab her items. When Nat continued to watch her, hesitating to leave, Kara told her, “you can head back to the game, Nat. Look at them, they’re suffering without you.”

           “Drive safe, Kara.”

           “Kick their asses for me.”

           Kara headed to her car, holding onto her backpack. Her muscles began to tighten from lack of movement and they strained as she pulled her shirt overhead. She wasn’t bothering to put her pants on, the shorts would be fine.

           Getting to her car, she opened the shotgun seat door and set her backpack on the seat. On the opposite side of the car, the drivers seat door opened and a man sat behind the wheel. Kara froze, staring at his profile, not knowing what to do.

           He spoke first. “You’re not driving back after that stunt you pulled.” It wasn’t a suggestion or an offer, it was a matter of fact to him. “Are you going to wait all day?” He asked, holding his hand out for the key.

           Kara looked at her keys, slow in processing that this was happening. He was here, right in front of her. He was going to drive her back.

           Did he still care about her? Was it really not totally ruined? Did she maybe have a chance –

           No. She couldn’t do that to him a second time. Maybe he didn’t utterly despise her, but she had hurt him enough. It was best to accept the kind act and expect nothing more.

           Kara moved her bag to the floor, and sat in the seat, passing over her keys. The music was quiet when the car started, a perfect volume for her to get out, “Thank you.”

           He reversed and shifted into drive to leave the parking lot. Hangman’s hand stayed on the gearshift like this was a manual and he needed to.

           “I promised to always have your back,” he stated, “even if you don’t have mine, I’m a man of my word.”

           Kara was silent.

           “I know what you’ve been telling people. Phoenix, Rooster. They both told me what you said.”

           “I promise I didn’t say anything to them, they don’t know – “

           He cut her off. “You told them it was your fault.” Kara closed her mouth. She had told them that. “You told them that you did leave me.” His knuckles whitened, grip tightening on the wheel. The vein in his neck popped with his rising emotions. “My only question is why. Why did you do it? Don’t give me any of that bullshit you’ve been giving everyone else. It’s just you and me. After everything we had been through, you owe me an honest answer.”

           An honest answer. Her confidentiality agreement wrapped around her throat, tightening and cutting off her air. She looked down at her hands, trying to figure out what to do. She looked to her right, into the distance where the sun reflected on the medium blue water. The smell of saltwater air wafted to them; it practically marked all the land.

           “You had orders, Hangman,” Kara finally whispered, thumbs fiddling, eyes red. “But. . .But I had different orders. A different mission. They told me the night before we went out, so,” her lower lip quivered, “so it was real. I promise you, that year was real.”

           She thought with how long the silence stretched for he wasn’t going to respond. Whether he was just processing everything, or more likely, he just didn’t believe her. He probably thought she was just adding another lie onto the stack of things and couldn’t wait to see it topple.

           But then he spoke again. “You get all those marks from that mission?”

           “No.”

           “Multiple missions?”

           “Yes.”

           “How many?”

           “9.”

           They pulled onto base where the car became silent. He walked alongside her to the barracks, close enough where she thought he expected her to pass out again. Selfishly, a small part of her enjoyed how close he was. She wanted to hold his hand, his arm, anything, just to pretend it was ten years ago again.

           But they were never going to be the people they were again.

           AC chilled them in the barracks. Part of her wished her room never came up, but it did, soon. Too soon.

           He left her at her door, not stopping, heading away and she watched him, heart aching. What she did next was stupid, but she had been making a lot of stupid decisions lately.

           “Jake.”

           At his name, he stopped. Six rooms down, back to her, he stopped. Her only indication he was listening.

           “You were, and always will be, my biggest regret.” Cruel words, she knew as much by the way his entire body subtly locked up. “Everything I did with you was a mistake, and I am so sorry I did that to you. I never should have fallen for you, I never should have dreamed with you. . .”

           His words were cold, barely held together. “You said it was real,” he said, tight, restrained, hands balled into fists. “And now you call me a mistake?”

           “I know what I did to you Jake, so if I could go back and stop it from ever happening, I would.”

           He pivoted, green eyes burning. “You gotta lotta nerve saying shit like that Maro. Am I really not worth putting any effort in? Is this all a joke, another lie?”

           “What? No! What’re you talking about?!”

           “I’m just trying figure out what the hell you’re doing! Am I reading the signs wrong, did I spend ten years still loving you while you moved on? Or am I reading the signs right, and you still love me? Because it has to be one of those, Kara, and I’m done guessing.”

           Tears blurred her vision. Her shoulders sagged, body fatigued with all the emotional and physical chaos that had been returning to Miramar.

           Her voice shook when she asked, “You still love me?”

           He scoffed. “Of course I still love you! Even after that shitstorm of a mission you were the best thing that ever happened to me, the highlight of my fucking existence!” He ran a hand through his hair, grabbing the ends and shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Christ Kara you think I faked any of it? You think I ever lied to you?”

           “No!”

           “Then why do you think I could just get over you?”

           “Well why didn’t you!” Her volume raised, a question in her mind that boiled her blood. “You think you deserved to feel like this? Fuck Jake, you deserved to move on, to find someone that loved you like you deserved, that would always be by your side! You deserved to start a family with someone!”

           “I wanted that with you!” His voice raised to match hers.

           “You deserve someone better!”

           “I just want you Kara!” He shouted, and she stilled, jolted to her very core. “Why is that so hard to understand? I just. Want. You.”

           The tears slipped, and once again, she couldn’t stop herself. One second she was standing there, defeated, not knowing what to do, the next her arms were around him and she was squeezing him tight.

           “You are worth it,” she whispered to him, sniffling, tears hot. “You’re worth everything Jake, I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. I promise, I swear, everything else be damned. I’ll make things right.”

           Warm arms lightly wrapped around her, sealing her in. His head rested on top of hers, and she shut her eyes, feeling a glimpse of peace for the first time in ten years.

#jake seresin #jake seresin x oc #hangman x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #rooster #natasha trace #phoenix #tgm angst #pete maverick mitchell #maverick