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winterscaptain · 3 years

Text

advocate.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: the very first part of ajf! the beginning of our story! oh my goodness! this got a little long, but there was a lot i wanted to pack in here. thank you all for your patience as i worked through this <3 i’ve got some fun graphics in here for you - open them for best quality!

words: 8.45k warnings: language, alcohol use, canon-typical descriptions of injury and violence, mention of suicide

summary: “our ambition should be to rule ourselves, the true kingdom for each one of us; and true progress is to know more, and be more, and to do more.” - oscar wilde. au!july-september 2007

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

“Director Shepard?”

You approach her, feeling very young, with a question and a smile.

She turns, smiling at you softly. “Yes?”

Her lecture was immaculate - she covered a broad swath of topics - being the first female director of NCIS, her history in international relations and liaison work with British and Israeli intelligence - all of which paved a bit of a roadmap for success in federal law enforcement.

You introduce yourself and shake her hand. “I’ve gotta tell you it was a challenge to choose between agencies in my applications, I admire your work both as an agent and director of NCIS and I was wondering…”

You lose your nerve a bit, but steel yourself again and ask.

“... Would you be willing to meet with me and talk about your career trajectory a little more?”

There’s a light in her eyes as she studies you with a kind of supreme benevolence and gentleness. “I would.”

+++

“Alright,” she says, setting her napkin in her lap. “What do you want to know?”

You laugh a little, “Is everything a good place to start?”

She laughs, and you’re immediately drawn to her warmth. There’s a kind of fire in her, and it doesn’t just come from her hair. “Not at all. Though I’ll give you some unsolicited advice now, to save some time. Find someone you can follow, someone you can learn from.”

She goes on to tell you about her mentor, still on the Major Case Response Team under her purview at NCIS. Though she’s his boss now, she tells you that she still goes to him for advice, for friendship.

“Trusting the people you work with always comes first. It’s not always possible, but when you can manage it. It makes everything better. Always protect them where you can, and don’t ignore the politics”

You do everything except take notes as she tells more stories, how she’s switched from “probie” to Agent to diplomat to Director, before she turns back to you.

“Do you know which unit you’re interested in, yet?”

You shake your head. “Not yet. I’m hoping I’ll have a better idea when the Quantico unit chiefs start coming in to lecture. I’m hoping one of them will catch my interest.”

“Great idea. When one of them does, give me a call. I think any unit could benefit from someone like you.”

+++

Agents Hotchner, Morgan, and Gideon have your attention the moment they step into the room. They’re confident, with a sharp kind of intelligence you admire.

The world of the BAU is fascinating. Serial killers, sex criminals, the very worst of depraved humanity is their everyday. While it sounds somewhat horrifying, it compels you.

Agent Hotchner especially catches your attention. He’s confident in a kind of serious, bladed way. Clearly intelligent, he commands the attention of everyone in the room and effortlessly wields his authority among curious students and his fellow agents.

You’d think Agent Gideon would be the obvious leader, what with all his years of experience and seniority, but even with his grasp of a field he shaped, he doesn’t hold a candle to Hotchner.

With your half-hour-old knowledge, you put together a quick profile of the remaining figure.

Agent Morgan, while strong and clearly an alpha male, brings a skepticism with him. It hangs in the air around him and seems to apply to both of his colleagues. There’s something about Agent Gideon that makes him uneasy, distrustful. He tends to shift his weight away from him when they get too close to each other.

He’s not overt about his skepticism regarding Agent Hotchner, but you get the idea there’s more under the surface you couldn’t possibly know just by studying his behavior in a lecture hall.

This is fun.

You hide your smile in your notebook, jotting down a couple of notes as Agent Gideon continues his “brief overview of profile-driven serial killer arrests.”

+++.

“Director Shepard’s office.”

“Hi Cynthia,” you greet her secretary. “Is Director Shepard in?”

She connects you, and you ask about the BAU.

“Is Jason Gideon still the unit chief over there?” She asks. You can already hear her typing and you’re more than a little concerned about her tenacity in this moment.

“No, ma’am, it’s Agent Hotchner, now.”

“Perfect.”

+++

+++

You’re called into SSA Radner’s office the following Monday to “discuss some changes to your academy courses.”

That doesn’t sound good.

SSA Radner, an imposing and intimidating woman, is the SSAIC in charge of your NAT class - the person in charge of your collective fates.

No pressure.

She opens the door when you knock, gesturing to the chair on the other side of her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

You chuckle nervously. “Thanks, Agent Radner.” You note her little smile as she sits at her desk, and chance a question. “Have I done something, I dunno, wrong? We don’t seem to find much good news in the SAIC’s office at my rank.”

That pulls a laugh from her. “I wouldn't worry too much. I have a proposition for you. It’s...unusual, but not unheard of.”

Your brow crumples a little and she exhales.

“It might actually be better if - yeah. Hold on.” She clicks her intercom and her assistant chirps from the other side.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Please send them in. I’d like to do a joint briefing.”

Joint briefing? What is this, the third invasion of Iraq?

The door opens behind you and you whip around, finding Agent Hotchner and IOS Section Chief Erin Strauss.

What the fuck?

Either you’ve done something terrible or insane and you’re not sure which.

Chief Strauss addresses you first, shaking your hand. You introduce yourself for good measure but have a feeling she already knows who you are.

“It’s come to our attention that you have ambitious interests and are taking exceptional steps to make the most of your education and training at the academy. Is this a fair assessment?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Agent Hotchner steps forward, sort of looming over you with something that isn’t quite a stern look. You take his hand when he offers, introducing yourself and ignoring the jolt of energy that shoots up your arm at his touch.

His handshake is firm, his hands dry and warm. He looks different up close, younger, maybe. There’s the barest touch of grey at his temples, the beginnings of lines around his mouth and eyes.

Not what I expected.

What did you expect?

How old could he be? Thirty-five, maybe?

Shut up.

He’s handsome.

Shut up!

His face relaxes a little bit before he speaks. “Director Shepard, a close professional colleague, has been a staunch advocate for you and your talents. She approached me about taking you on, giving you case hours in lieu of some coursework.”

“You’d have some catching up to do, as it’s already three weeks into your twenty, and we’d transfer you into the profiling classes,” Agent Radner adds. “But with your diligence, I doubt you’ll have trouble with the added workload.”

“No, ma’am. That should be fine. But,” you look between the three of them, “what does ‘case hours in lieu of some coursework’ mean, exactly?”

“You’d be on assignment with the BAU until you received your formal assignment following successful completion of the academy, with the possibility of assignment with the BAU as a full-fledged agent.” Chief Strauss rattles off the information as if it’s the thousandth time she’s said it.

It might be.

You can’t even fathom how much effort and time must have gone into this decision. The realization leaves you speechless.

She prompts you again. “Does that sound like an opportunity in which you’d be interested?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” You feel a little stupid, but you’re rewarded with a proud smile from Agent Radner.

You could also swear you saw a twitch of Agent Hotchner’s lips, but he doesn’t seem to be a man who smiles much.

+++

“So this’ll be your desk,” Agent Jennifer-but-my-friends-call-me-JJ Jareau says, pointing to one of the many desks in the bullpen.

You set your bag down with a little smile, feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

Agent Morgan pats your shoulder as he passes your desk. “You’ll do just fine, kid. Ready for a case briefing in ten?”

“Sure.”

His blinding smile eats up his whole face and you like him already. He’s different than you thought he’d be, but you still don’t think your preliminary profile was too far off.

Agent Gideon, still holed up in his office, has yet to acknowledge you.

Your eyes keep wandering to the open blinds, behind which Agent Hotchner and a woman you understand to be his wife have a quiet, apparently heated argument on either side of his desk. Except for the tight set of her mouth and the angry glint in her eye, she seems lovely.

Derek follows your gaze. “Wasn’t always like that.”

You look at him, a little furrow in your brow.

Should he be telling me this?

“She’s not always here either, but their son, Jack, has been sick, so it’s been… tense.” Derek shakes his head. “You wouldn’t catch me married in this job, not once.”

That pulls a laugh from you.

Emily, sitting at the desk beside you, turns in her chair. “Remind me to drink to that later.”

Derek snorts and picks up a couple of files, headed up to the round table room.

+++

Your first case briefing is, well...brief. The case seems fairly straightforward and you run through relevant vocabulary while JJ outlines the case details.

Preferential offender, keeps his victims for no more than three days, victims found in public places.

He wants them found, and fast.

Need-based, maybe? What are his priors?

You’re all dismissed with a brisk, “Wheels up in thirty.”

You pack your things a little slower than probably called for. Hotch disappears into his office again, closing the door behind him. When you pass the window, his wife is tucked under his chin.

Hotch’s eyes flicker to yours and you quickly train your gaze on the floor, hustling down the stairs.

+++

You land next to each other when you board the plane. You do your best to avoid taking anyone's assigned seat.

With a team of this size, you can only assume they have such things.

And they do.

Gideon, Spencer, Morgan, and Prentiss take a seat at the table while JJ perches on the arm of the couch.

Hotch settles at the informal “head” of the table, leaning on the chairs across the aisle. You take a seat in one of the chairs in the row next to him, trying to stay out of the way.

“C’mere, kid,” Derek says, beckoning you forward. “You’re on this team.”

You shuffle forward in your seat, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees and case file open in your hands. “I’m ready.”

JJ smiles at you, and you almost feel comfortable.

+++

You end up alone with Hotch in the precinct conference room after you land, unboxing files and sorting them for Spencer. Until you know enough to make yourself useful, you’ve made it your mission to handle the tedious and the clerical.

Hotch pauses every once in a while as if he wants to say something. You continue on your way. When he’s ready, he’ll stop you.

“I’m sorry about earlier. My wife, Haley, she -”

You look up, waving him off with a little smile. “It’s okay, Hotch. It’s none of my business.”

He looks at you for a minute, studying your face with a bit of a squint. “You mean that.”

It’s not a question.

You’re confused.

“Of course.” A nervous laugh leaves you. “I mean, you’re welcome to tell me if you want, but it’s nothing I need to speculate or gossip about or, God forbid, profile.”

The shock and relief war on his face until it settles back into something that looks like his usual severity, but a little softer. He doesn't say anything else, but you have the sneaking suspicion you passed a test neither one of you prepared for.

Spencer and Emily return from their trip to the medical examiner’s office.

“Who organized these?” Spencer asks, pointing at the neat piles you made.

“Me.” You look up from another box you’re working on. “Would it be helpful if they’re sorted another way? I went chronologically and then by number and type of offenses, with preferential offenders that match the M.O. on top, when possible.”

Emily, Hotch, and Spencer freeze, staring at you like you grew another head in front of them.

You’re suddenly and violently self-conscious. “What?”

Spencer snaps out of it first, shaking his head and picking up a stack. “Nothing that’s just...um…”

“Exactly right,” Emily supplies. She glances at Hotch before looking back at you. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Hotch is the last to break, but the curious little glances he keeps throwing your way always linger a little too long.

To your credit, you ignore them.

+++

“So, how are you liking it so far?” Derek slides into the driver’s seat and rolls out of the parking lot.

You’re headed to another witness’s house under direct orders to observe and as a few (carefully directed) questions. Derek insisted on bringing you himself while the others keep busy with something else.

“I’m liking it,” you reply.

He laughs. “Coulda fooled me.”

You screw up your face and look over at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he says through a laugh, “when you’re not making yourself ridiculously useful, you look terrified.”

“I am terrified.”

“Nothin’ to be scared of as long as you keep asking questions,” he says.

It’s almost like he doesn’t know how ridiculous he sounds.

“You’re joking, right?” You turn to face him, shifting in your seat. “Agent Morgan -”

He cuts you off. You’re pretty sure that’s just how he is - he interrupts the other members of the team frequently and fearlessly. “- Derek. Or Morgan.”

“Fine. Morgan, you have to know that your team is legendary. I don’t even know why -”

“- Don’t say it.” He flags his hand before putting it back on the wheel. “You’re here for a reason, and none of us are going to let you fall so hard you can’t pick yourself up, okay?” He glances over, meeting your eyes. “We’ve got your back.”

You quirk a smile. “Thanks.”

“And,” he adds, “Hotch seems to like you alright. That’s half the battle.”

“What’s the other half?”

He snorts. “Gideon. And local law enforcement.”

+++

You settle in a little easier after that. JJ’s your next target as you help her make some calls to the D.A.’s office.

You hang up and take a breath, slumping back in your chair. It’s been a long day already and it’s not even lunchtime.

“Hanging in there?” JJ asks, smiling at you over her files.

You nod. “Yeah. Just a… different kind of energy than the academy, I think.”

“I felt that way when I got here, too. Gideon was unit chief back then and Spence had just started, too.” She huffs a laugh. “It was a little easier when there were more newbies, but then…” Her face clouds over and she shakes her head.

“Then...what?”

She looks up at you and her mouth twists. “Boston.”

+++

“Hey, Derek?”

“Yeah?” He keeps his eyes on the road, but he can hear the trepidation in your voice.

The dark interior of the car feels safe in the early hours of the morning, headed back to the hotel. “You said I could ask you anything, right?”

His eyebrows pinch. “Shoot.”

“What happened in Boston?”

Derek takes a breath and lets it out in a whoosh. “I wasn’t there. I was supposed to be there.”

You wait on him, watching him watch the road.

“Unsub holed himself up in a massive warehouse. Gideon called in all the support he could - A Team, B Team, SWAT, the whole nine. I was visiting my mom in Chicago for her birthday like I do every year.”

He stops at a red light, and you take a moment to look past him into the adjacent SUV, where Emily and Hotch’s profiles rest in a statuesque silhouette, backlit by the streetlamp.

“It was a trap from the start. Everyone pushed in on Gideon’s order and the whole thing just…” He tosses his hand up and it lands with a smack on the leather steering wheel. “It just went up. Boom. Six BAU agents in our unit, dead, just like that. Had to rebuild from scratch.”

You shiver, though the car is warm. “I’m so sorry, Derek.”

He shrugs. “Gideon took six months off, Hotch took over. Gideon came back, Hotch stayed up front.” He smiles a little. “Haley wasn’t happy, but that’s the job.”

Why does it always come back to Haley? To Hotch?

Because he’s the unit chief.

I know but…

Don’t read into it.

You decide to push, just because it’s Derek, because he seems to know, because you feel safe with him, because it might be a mistake. “Is that what you meant?”

“Hm?” His head turns just a little toward you, his brow furrowed.

“You told me on my first day ‘It wasn’t always like this.’ Is that what you meant?”

“No sane man would take on the unit chief position with a wife and baby on the way.” He shrugs and with a secret little smile says, “But nobody ever accused Hotch of being sane.”

+++

Aaron sits in front of his computer, the end of his pen tapping on the glossy wood of his desk.

Does he have feedback? He’s not sure.

Even with your limited knowledge, you’ve managed to optimize most of the administrative bullshit and political nonsense that clogs most local investigations. You bounce between acting as his shadow and JJ’s, making friends and soothing hurts when toes inevitably get stepped on.

You’ve immediately adapted to his style of criticism and correction, using Derek and Spencer as guide-rails when you’re not sure where you’re going.

There’s nothing to complain about.

But then again…

Feedback isn’t just about the negative.

If he’s honest with himself, he knows he won’t shower you in the glowing praise you deserve. Gideon never did for him or anyone that came after.

It’s not in their nature, or his.

He starts to type.

Glancing out his office window, his eyes find you hunched over your desk, poring over one of Spencer’s notebooks, a pinch in your brow as deep as the Grand Canyon.

You work hard, impossibly hard. You throw everything you have at your work in the field while managing your courses and keeping up with your classmates.

That in mind, he drafts an email to Jenny.

With a sigh, he sends it.

He’s still thinking of what you said on the last case, the genuine truth of it, and how many times he has done his best to preempt the gossip that plagues this office, no matter who it’s about.

This unit, as much of a family as it may be, constantly wraps itself in the business of everyone else. To know you couldn’t give less of a shit about his marriage when the rest of the team (save Gideon) probably has money on when Haley calls it quits is, admittedly, refreshing.

+++

After being in the field, classes take on a new kind of banality. You’re keeping up well enough, but watching Gideon and Derek quarrel over the details of a profile beats diving into the techniques - you guessed it - Gideon developed from cases past.

Hotch and Garcia were gracious enough to CC you on emails while you were grounded at the academy, but it wasn’t the same.

It was hard not to feel left behind, like the last kid chosen for dodgeball in PE class, watching the rest of the unit leave the office. You hung back in the bullpen as long as you could find something to do this morning, making it to class at the very last minute.

Even after lectures, your classmates want nothing more than your attention. You’re suddenly consulting on three different practicals and never have a lunch to yourself.

Most afternoons, you sneak into the bullpen just for some peace and quiet.

You hear your last name and look up, finding Erin Strauss approaching you. You stand. “Ma’am.”

“What are you working on?”

You look down at your desk, finding practical and theoretical exam notes shuffled around next to mock consults and other nonsense Hotch dropped on his way to the jet earlier in the week. “Course work, mostly. It’s nice to… get away every once in a while.”

Erin nods with a little smile. “I’d imagine you’ve been pretty popular lately.”

You shrug, a little facetious. “You could say that.”

She pays your shoulder in a surprisingly maternal gesture, before wishing you luck and leaving you to your work.

At this point, you can’t even imagine just being an FBI agent.

+++

You’ve just closed your burning, tired eyes when your phone rings.

You answer, your last name a grumble into the mic.

“It’s Hotch.”

You sit up straight in bed, immediately awake. “Sorry, sir, I -“

“I should apologize. I don’t mean to interrupt your studying or wake you but I think I could use your opinion on this profile.”

You frown in the dark, flipping your desk lamp on. “My help, sir?”

“Yeah.” He heaves a sigh and you can almost see the fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been looking at it too long.”

“Maybe Derek, can -“

“No. You. Here, listen -“

He rattles off the details of the case and you snatch your notebook and pen off the desk, jotting things down as Hotch continues through the case.

“Have you identified and contacted local individuals who fit the victimology, taken steps to protect them? He’s a preferential offender with a predictable cooling-off period, right?”

For some reason, this isn’t half as exhausting as the practical exam practice you’d been working on for the last five hours. You may or may not have written those exact questions about fifteen times, but it’s far less exhausting when directed at Hotch.

“Yeah. Two high-risk victims are in protective custody and JJ’s been in touch since this morning.”

You go through a few more basic questions, getting your feet under you, before asking the one you’re really after.

“Sir, why did you call me?”

“I needed another set of eyes.”

You huff a laugh. “No, I gathered that, but why did you call me? I’m in the middle of learning about something you’ve been doing for…” You search for a number, but your brain is fried.

“Too long,” he supplies.

“Sure. But my point stands.”

“That it does.” Something creaks in the background and you imagine he’s leaned back in his chair.

“Did I help?” You’re happy he can’t see your dubious, if not entirely doubtful, expression.

He’s happy you can’t see the little fond smile on his face. “Yes, actually. You did.”

+++

“Wheels up in thirty.”

You all stand from the table and start your routines. Emily and Spencer make a beeline for the coffee machine while JJ jets back to her office for contact sheets and files and all manner of coordinating materials.

Derek’s routine is simple enough - he already has his coffee and his go bag, so he’s answering a few emails before wheels up.

You never really know what to do during this liminal space, so you stick to classwork.

Much to your surprise, you’ve shot ahead in your classes on the shoulders of Derek and Spencer. They’ve been monumentally helpful with the history and application of profiling techniques (though much of Derek’s advice has been ‘just watch Gideon,’ you’re not sure how to watch a process that takes place entirely inside the man’s head).

You ride with Hotch to the airstrip, looking out the window most of the way. It’s only a five minute drive, but the tree-lined roads around Quantico are always lovely this time of the morning.

As always, you do your best to stay out of the way on the plane, taking up residence on Hotch’s right with your notebook and case file.

You offer some thoughts here and there, not pushing too much or saying enough to make an ass of yourself.

When Hotch calls break, the rest of the team scatters to their respective corners.

Gideon turns to you, gesturing with one finger. “Hey, ah…”

Spencer chirps your last name from across the cabin and you shoot him a grateful smile.

“Good job in the briefing, today.”

And with that, he disappears to the far side of the cabin, leaving you and Hotch alone by the table.

“Wow,” you say with a little smile. “I didn’t know he was aware of my existence.”

Hotch doesn’t say anything, but his lips twitch.

Success.

+++

“Welcome back, kiddo!” Derek offers you fist and you bump your knuckles against his on your way back to your desk. “How’d those exams go?”

You huff, playing at defeat. “Oh, you know.”

“Don’t worry about it. There’s always next time.”

Hotch, returning from a meeting with Strauss, hardly looks up from the file in his hand when he says, “Well done on your exams. SSA Radner threatened to hang your marksmanship targets on her wall.”

You hide a smile. “Thanks, Hotch.”

“Not fair!” Spencer says, tossing another Tums in his mouth. “I never passed those.”

“Then how on earth do you have that, Reid?” You point at his six-shooter, still clipped to his hip.

“Wait wait wait,” JJ says, dropping her files and crossing her arms. “You haven’t heard that story?”

Your eyes flicker from Derek, to JJ, to Spencer, and back. “...No.”

JJ settles in, regaling you with a wild tale of an L.D.S.K. -

“You remember what that stands for, right?” Derek points at you and you have a feeling this is about to become some kind of pop quiz.

“Yeah. Long Distance Serial Killer.”

“Good. Famous unsubs include…?”

You sit back in your chair with a little smirk on your face. “D.C. Snipers Muhammad and Malvo, active October 2002, seventeen victims total. Apprehended by agents from the FBI Baltimore field office -”

Derek holds up a finger. “And?”

“- and the BAU and the Maryland State Police.”

“Good.”

JJ waits for Derek to nod at her and she continues what you imagine to be a rather embellished version of a story in which Hotch and Reid save the day.

“...And then Hotch just starts kicking the shit out of Spencer -”

Hotch’s office door shuts and he sails down the stairs with one of those little secret smiles. “This one ends with Reid stealing my sidearm and shooting the unsub in the head.” He taps right between his eyebrows in the barest of pauses on his way out of the bullpen. “Dead center.”

Derek and JJ groan, both whining about how he ruined the punchline before devolving into a fit of giggles. You can almost see the smirk on his face as he pushes through the glass door and turns the corner.

You join in the mirth, ruffling Reid’s hair. He smiles widely at you.

Maybe you could just get used to this place.

+++

The second round of classes on top of added case hours (you’re traveling with the unit more often than not) nearly brings you to the brink.

On the plane back to Quantico, you realize you can’t remember the last time you actually had a full night of sleep.

The rest of the unit is out cold, curled into themselves or stretched out under blankets, save for Hotch and Gideon.

Gideon’s writing in that wretched notebook again, entirely focused on his work under the weak reading light.

Aaron sits beside you on the other side of the cabin, looking over a few files before returning home. You watch him check his watch, sigh, shrug, and pull out his phone. To your surprise, he doesn’t move to give himself space as he calls his wife.

“Hey, honey, it’s me… Yeah, we’re on the plane. Should be back within the next hour and a half... “

He sighs and tightly closes his eyes. “Haley, please… Yes, I know Jack’s already asleep… Are you implying I didn’t do my damnedest to - Then what’s your point?...”

His voice never once rises above a low murmur. It’s impressive.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can… No, I won’t pass ‘Go’ or collect two-hundred dollars or step foot into my office… Yes. Plane. Tarmac. Car. Home… Yeah… Love you too.”

He snaps his phone shut and leans back, tipping his head against the headrest.

You stay quiet, continuing your review of S.S.A. Bailey’s course on, ironically, conflict de-escalation.

Hotch takes a talking breath and you look over at him, keeping a kind of soft understanding on your face - really, shooting for anything that isn’t curiosity.

“I appreciate your…” He looks for a word. “Discretion.”

You laugh a little down your nose. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s none of my business?”

“How many times do I have to imply that a phrase like that isn’t in the vocabulary of this team, usually?” He shifts a little, and you notice his thumb, running along his forefinger like he’s searching for bone.

“Is it really that bad?”

Hotch raises his eyebrows, and you relent.

“Fine.” You drop your voice. “Do you want to know what I’ve seen?”

He shrugs. “An outside perspective might be nice.”

You keep your eyes on your book as you speak, keeping your volume low and your tone as neutral as you can.

“I’ve seen how Emily worries about fitting in - I can’t help but relate. This team is a family and it’s… hard to break through that sort-of-wall to the outside world.”

The prickly feeling of his eyes on you isn’t altogether unpleasant, but you still haven’t grown used to it.

“Derek and Spencer are worried about Gideon and,” you glance at him briefly, “so are you. Everyone seems to want to know why, but I don't think that’s always useful.”

Hotch hums once, maybe in agreement - you’re not too sure.

You are sure, though, that this was a test.

“How’d I do, Counselor?”

It’s never too early to invoke the J.D. hanging in a frame behind his desk. It was the first thing you noticed and suddenly, a lot more made sense.

You’re rewarded with a small smile. “Not bad. Though you did forget to drop in the little bit about my marriage.”

“I didn’t forget,” you assure him.

“No?”

“No. I figure if you have something to say, you seem like the kind of person who’d just say it. At least,” you shrug, “that’s my impression.”

He’s quiet for a minute before he squints and looks over your shoulder at your reading. His brown eyes track down the page before returning to yours. He’s close to you, but you’re not uncomfortable.

Hotch is...safe. Somehow.

“There’s a reason you’re the exception. Not sure what it is yet,” he says. “But there’s a reason.”

“What?”

He leans back, a cryptic little smile on his face, and says nothing else for the rest of the flight.

+++

“Hotch, are you sure it’s not a trick question?”

“The questions aren’t designed to trick you,” comes a voice from the doorway. To your surprise, it’s Gideon. “They’re designed to stretch and reveal your instincts. No right answer.”

The corners of his mouth turn down while his eyebrows rise in that kind of halfway-encouraging look he sometimes gets. “Just go with your gut.”

He disappears and you turn back to Hotch, scribbling away in a file.

“He’s right.”

Your brain feels less and less bound to your body as the days pass. “Am I nuts, or is that the most words he’s strung together since I got here, combined?”

What you now know to be a smile twitches at Hotch’s mouth. “You’re not nuts.”

You sigh and turn your attention back to your mock exam, twiddling your pencil between your fingers. “I’m sorry to keep bugging you with homework - it feels like cheating.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket. “Resourcefulness is not cheating. If it was, I’d have to go back and get my J.D. out of a Cracker Jack box.”

You muffle a laugh.

He checks his watch. “I have a check-in with the budget office in five minutes. You’re welcome to stay right where you are, but it’ll be boring and I plan to do a lot of pacing.”

You hold your hands up in surrender and settle in.

Friday afternoons in the office feel a lot like Saturdays in the office - which is to say, nothing happens at all. The rest of the team is catching up on paperwork while Gideon walks laps with his little notebook.

Not three minutes into his conversation, Hotch stands and begins to pace, as promised.

"No, we can't cut the technology budget... Because if the BAU gets called to a remote region, we need to have immediate access to satellite phones and our technical analyst… Yes… Send the budget to the Director, and I'm certain it'll come back approved without changes… The arrest and prosecution rate of this unit is -”

His desk phone rings and he gestures for you to pick it up.

“Agent Hotchner’s office,” you say with more than a little trepidation. You’re definitely not qualified to answer the unit chief’s phone.

“Goddamn it, Aaron why can’t you -” She pauses. “Wait. Sorry. Who is this?”

You introduce yourself. “I’m currently on-assignment with the unit. It’s… unconventional.”

“Hm. Why are you answering Aaron’s phone?” Her tone isn’t accusatory - it’s more curious than that. You’d imagine this doesn’t happen all that often. He’s either at his desk, or he’s not at his desk.

She calls him Aaron.

You’re not sure why that surprises you. They’re married, and he has a first name.

Taking a look across the room, you watch Hotch’s profile as he continues to defend the budget he submitted.

Aaron.

You make an attempt to see the man behind the suit, the man who goes home to his wife and son when he can.

“I’m using his office to study for my academy exams. I’ll see if I can reach Agent Hotchner for you. Just a second.”

She snorts something that could be a laugh if it wasn’t so sharp. “Thanks.”

Hotch looks over and squints at you, mouthing, Who is it?

You put her on hold and answer in a stage whisper. “It’s your wife.”

Hotch freezes for just a second - it almost looks like he’s rebooting.

He blinks three times in rapid succession before he pulls the phone away from his mouth. “Tell her I’m in a meeting. I’ll call her back.” You move to reach for the phone but he holds up a finger and you freeze. “Wait two minutes.”

You follow instructions, taking the time to answer a few more mock exam questions. You try not to think too hard about his avoidance. This doesn’t seem like a particularly pressing phone call - Hotch is in budget meetings all the time.

None of your business.

After about a minute and a half, you pick up the phone again.

Before you can say anything, she’s already back on her mini-rampage. About twenty seconds in, she pauses.

“I’m so sorry. I’m still not talking to my husband, am I?”

De-escalate. Disarm. Establish rapport.

You can do this.

You channel Derek, using a softer tone designed to distract. Maybe you’ll sneak some humor in there, if you can manage it.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hotchner, he’s not available.”

With a defeated sigh, she asks, flatly, “Where is he?”

Humor. Play off her disappointment.

“I assume he’s in a meeting or something - he likes to think he’s very important - but I can’t find him.”

To your surprise, she laughs a little.

You check with Hotch across the room. He rolls his eyes at you but continues his bickering.

Success.

“Can you just… I don’t know… Tell him I called, or something?”

You try not to think too hard about the defeat in her tone. “I promise I’ll badger him to call you back as soon as he’s back at his desk, ma’am.”

“Wow.” She sounds impressed, and you’re not sure why. You’re not left in suspense for long. She continues -

“You’re a way better liar than JJ. Also - please don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel old. Haley’s just fine.”

“Of course.”

“You know what…” She asks for your cell number and you give it to her, throwing a glance at Hotch for good measure. He’s still pacing.

He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, but can’t say anything to you before he’s forced to respond to the poor budget clerk who drew the short straw. “No we can’t start sharing hotel rooms…”

Haley interrupts your momentary space-out. “Thanks, again. If he doesn’t have a chance to call me back, can you let him know I’m going to my sister’s for the weekend? With Jack?”

“Sure.”

That’s another question I’m not going to ask.

You hang up the phone and get back to your exam, trying not to feel comforted by the lull of familiarity in the room.

+++

For some reason, you keep finding yourself alone in police precincts in the middle of nowhere with Hotch sitting across the table from you.

“Hey,” he says.

You look up.

“Haley, she…” He heaves a sigh and trails off for a minute, frowning at a spot above your head. “I don’t know why I’m asking, what I’m asking.”

You keep your eyes on him. “Shoot.”

He takes another breath. “I don’t know how to make her happy anymore.”

This is above my pay grade.

“Everything I do seems to irritate her - trying, not trying, just surviving. I don’t know.” He shakes his head at your somewhat bewildered expression. “Sorry, I -”

“No, no, Hotch. It’s fine.” You search for his eyes. “What can I do?”

He shakes his head. “Any advice?”

Any advice? Definitely above my pay grade.

You also feel for him - he wouldn’t be asking if he wasn’t desperate.

Besides that, it almost makes sense he’s asking you rather than anyone else on the team. They’ve all known him too long, have been too close to see his struggles clearly. They need to see him as an authority, separate from petty squabbles.

Separate from the things that make him human.

He needs to be a superhero for this team, and then go home and be a superhero for his family. Both parts of his life exist with a wall between them - Agent Hotchner can’t be a husband and a father in the field, and Mr. Haley Hotchner can’t be an agent at home.

It must be lonely.

Everyone else knows about and ignores that necessary separation. He trusts them as his colleagues, people he can rely on professionally, but perhaps not personally.

Well, all except Emily.

You get the feeling that he doesn’t completely trust Emily yet, but you’re not sure why. That’s another thing to figure out about the walking enigma sitting across from you.

“Well… I’ve never been married, I don’t have kids, but I think…” You search for words.

It’s none of my business, is what you want to say.

Instead, you offer, “Why don’t you just ask her?”

His brow crumples. “What?”

“Ask her. You don’t know how to, I dunno, do it right on your own, it sounds like. But you’re a team, right? Just ask her.”

You duck down to your work, getting the feeling he’d rather not be observed as he processes. There’s a part of you that wonders whether his preference for privacy masks his fear.

Another part of you already knows the answer.

+++

Derek and Emily walk back into the precinct, spotting the pair of you right where they left you.

Hotch still watches you with a soft, curious frown on his face, like there’s a puzzle there he can’t quite solve. You diligently work away, sticking flags and post-its on cold cases for the board.

“What’s with that?”

Emily looks up from her phone. “What’s with what?”

Derek nudges his chin toward the conference room. “That.”

Emily’s brow pinches a little. “They seem to be getting along well.” Her mouth twists. “I didn’t think he’d warm up so easily. He didn’t with me.”

“He gets like that. He’s getting better, though, ever since you called him out.”

She snorts. “You’re kidding. I didn’t think he actually listened - I barely meant it.”

“No, you didn’t.” Derek raises his eyebrows and searches for her eyes. “And he heard you.”

Emily shifts her attention back to you, her posture softening. “Oh.”

“C’mon,” Derek says, tapping her upper back with a good deal of affection. “Let’s regroup and see what we’ve got.”

+++

Aaron sits up in bed, the harsh light from the hotel table lamp illuminating the ugly wallpaper and the case files on the equally ugly bedspread.

His fingers hover restlessly over the keys as he drafts his email, warring with himself.

Does he want you on the team? Permanently? He’s already shown too much of his hand, revealed too much of himself, grew too comfortable too quickly.

He’s not sure what it is about you that forced his guard down.

You’re not the first person he’s asked about Haley, though he must admit that Gideon was next to no help. Spencer’s offered him unsolicited statistics about marital strife on three separate occasions in the past three months.

Aaron presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut.

I live in a circus.

He opens his eyes and reads over the email again.

Fuck it.

His cursor hovers over Send for just a moment before he clicks. The little whooshing sound seals his fate.

+++

You land in Arizona and Gideon’s already on edge. There’s already another crime scene by the time you get off the plane

“This one’s going to be bad, isn’t it?”

Derek sighs. “You’ve got good instincts. Stay close.”

You elect yourself Derek’s shadow at the crime scene, taking notes for him while he circles and observes the body.

Leaning close to him, you ask, “Isn’t the body positioning a sign of remorse?”

He looks over at you with a little smile. “Yeah. Good work.” He looks across the street to Hotch, speaking with the detective. “Do yourself a favor and note that to Hotch. Make sure Gideon hears you.”

+++

This time, you’re alone with Emily in the conference room, helping her pin and organize the board.

“Hey,” she says, something like hesitation in her voice.

You turn. “Yeah?”

“Did Strauss ever…” She trails off and looks over her shoulder as Hotch, Gideon, and Derek come back in from the Arizona heat. They’re on their way to the conference room.

“Did she ever what?”

Emily shakes her head and forces a smile, waving you off. “Nevermind.”

You’re not sure you get the confused look of your face before your colleagues walk through the door.

+++

“Where are they?” Hotch watches the monitor, his eyes flickering, searching for Derek and Emily.

You’re frozen, watching over his shoulder as the woman stabs the unsub, and then herself. Without knowing why, your mind wanders to that question Emily almost asked you the day before.

This isn’t good.

+++

The plane ride home is quiet, tense.

You sit next to Hotch again. There’s not much you can do, but you shoot a text to Haley.

5:42pm We’re flying back. Should be wheels down in Quantico in about four hours.

She texts back after a minute.

5:43pm Thanks.

There’s something off - you don’t like the look of that period, but you try not to read into it too much. You’re all feeling a little unsettled after that case.

Your eyes wander across the cabin.

JJ’s bottom lip is firmly planted between her teeth as she stares out the window.

Spencer’s sitting across from Gideon with a huge book in his lap, but he’s looking at Gideon more than he’s reading.

Gideon, for once, doesn’t have his journal in his hand. He, like JJ, stares out the window, his mouth pinched.

Emily’s eyes are restless, her breathing somewhat irregular. She’s picking at her nails.

“Emily.”

She looks up at you, and you tap the back of your hand with a finger. She looks down, finding her thumb and index finger close to bleeding.

“Thanks.” She looks away from you again.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think the view out the window was the most captivating sight in history.

You know better. It’s just clouds.

Your phone buzzes in your hand. Jenny.

5:58pm How’s it going?

You huff a little laugh down your nose.

5:58pm Rough day.

Hotch breaks his gaze from the window. “What’s up?”

“Just Jenny. She’s checking in.”

He shakes his head and you can hear the sarcasm in his tone. “Good day for it.”

6:01pm If you’re up to it, I’ll be in my office late if you want to swing by and talk about it. 6:02pm I also have booze.

You look up to find Hotch reading over your shoulder. He backs off. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to -”

“No, it’s fine.”

“You should go, if she’s offering.”

You snort. “Should I be job-searching already?”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he says with a little smile. “Jenny’s seen a lot. She’s a good resource.”

+++

The Navy yard is quiet as you drive across the campus. The NCIS building isn’t hard to find, but it’s still unfamiliar territory.

When you park and get cleared for access and up the elevator, most of the lights are off on the Major Case Response floor. There are still agents present, working under the warm light of their desk lamps.

A team of four takes up the middle of the bullpen, but they barely look up as you pass them and climb the stairs.

Cynthia isn’t at her desk - gone for the night - and Jenny’s office door is open. She also has her overhead lights turned off, giving her office a cozy, lived-in feel.

“Hey, you,” she says, looking up with a little smile. “Just got the scuttlebutt on that Arizona case. Definitely not ideal, I hear.”

You shake your head, collapsing into a chair on the other side of her desk. “Not ideal is a good way to put it.”

She stands and crosses the office, pouring two small glasses of some amber liquid you know is gonna burn like hell.

You take what she offers and hold in both of your hands, not really interested in drinking it, and follow her to the couch.

“What happened?”

You heave a breath. “Got the call - three murders already. Clearly a preferential offender. All the women were students, brunette, similar features. We already had another crime scene by the time we landed. We used the profile, got the guy.”

Jenny’s brow pinches. “Then?”

“Copycat. Even came with a note exonerating the suspect we had in custody. We had to let him go without a lead on the second suspect.”

She sighs and takes a sip of her bourbon. “Been there.”

“We were surveilling him, waiting for him to do something stupid - we knew he would. The copycat confronted him… She was suicidal. Stabbed him, then herself. We were too late.”

“Oh, my God.”

You level her with an exhausted look. “Yeah.”

“How’s your team?”

“Tired, mostly.” You offer a humorless laugh. “Maybe in a more existential way than a physical way, not that any of us have slept…”

The two of you chat into the early hours of the morning. She’s had more than one day like this, in more than one country.

“It’s days like this that make you question whether you’ve chosen the right line of work.” She looks over at a picture of herself in front of the Eiffel Tower, resting on her bookshelf. “But the good days…”

“They make it worth it, don’t they?”

The corner of her mouth tips up in a smile. “Yeah. They do.”

+++

You find a text from Haley when you get back into the car, not realizing you left it in the center console cup holder.

10:38pm Thanks for getting him home safe. Get some sleep.

+++

When you come in the next morning almost embarrassingly late, Gideon’s office is still dark.

You’re not even really sure you should be here in the first place, what with the major fuckup hanging over everyone’s heads. The last thing you want to do is go home to your room, back to those four tiny walls and textbooks, even after everything. The bullpen, this team, has become your safety net.

They should all be here, but there’s only one absence striking you as particularly odd. “Where’s Gideon?”

Spencer shrugs, spinning half-circles in his desk chair. He looks despondent, staring at the carpet. You don’t see Emily or Derek, but you assume they’re somewhere.

Weird.

You set your things down and head up the stairs, knocking twice on Hotch’s door.

“Yeah?” He looks up and sees you, relaxing a little.

You take a little breath. “Should I be here today?”

“Do you want to be here today?” There’s something behind his voice you can’t quite place. It almost sounds like insecurity, like he’s worried he’s scared you off.

Far from it.

“I do, sir. I want to be here.” You think of Jenny, and hope he can hear more than you can say. “It’s worth it.”

You think maybe you’re figuring him out a little more. He smiles more often than you’d think, but you have to know what it looks like. This look - the softening of his eyes and the corners of his mouth, the slight crease at the corners of his eye, the threat of a dimple - is just as big a smile for him as Morgan’s human-sunshine smile.

“Then stick around. I’ll have you work on some mock consults with Reid and Prentiss - you’ll be doing a lot of those in the next few months until you’re ready to take them on by yourself.”

“I’ll go pick them up from JJ. They’re in her office, right?”

He nods and you turn to leave, but you’re stopped by the sound of your name before you can get through the door. “Yeah?”

“You’ve performed remarkably well, no matter what happens after this.”

The side of your mouth twists. “Thank you, sir.”

+++

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lockefanfic · 4 years

Text

Business Trip - Part 5: Negotiations

“Sit up on the edge of the tub,” she says softly, and you make eye contact with her to find her cute features flushed, her eyes heady with pleasure and lust.

Seolhyun lifts her body off your lap and you raise your body above the waterline, shuddering slightly as the cool night air hits your naked shaft. Seolhyun’s gaze lingers on your cock for a long moment, and a look of satisfaction appears on her face. She locks eyes with you again and bites her lip as you sit down on the tub’s edge. She draws closer, kneeling on the underwater seating ledge, and thinking you are about to kiss again, you lean forward - only for Seolhyun to dodge your face altogether and sink her face between your legs.

In a moment, you go from expecting another passionate kiss to having her lips, tongue, and mouth wrapped around your shaft - and it is an amazing feeling, as Seolhyun wastes no time with delicate foreplay or slow build up. Almost immediately she is bobbing her head up and down, and it is all you can do to grip the edge of the tub with one hand and the back of her ponytailed head with the other as Kim Seolhyun takes your cock in and out of her hot, slick mouth.

“We’d be idiots to not acquire this company,” Hirai Momo says in a serious, business-like tone, “if we don’t buy them, some other company will, and then we’ll wish we had.”

“I agree,” Park Choa says with a small nod, “their tech is legit. Their logistics and resourcing could use some restructuring, but with our capital behind their team that won’t be an issue. Their personnel and their tech have a lot of potential.”

“You’re both right. I don’t even think we need to consult with the boss on this one. I say we move forward and submit a proposal for acquisition,” you finish.

Momo and Choa respond with affirmative nods. Their faces are weary after two days of long hours spent in presentations, meeting with company executives, and reviewing company data. They are both happy to have come to a decision about the company, and both glad that the three of you were in agreement.

“Choa, have legal back home start up the paperwork. Momo, the boss will want a full summary report including all their presentations and the data they gave us on their tech. He’ll want to know everything about what he’s buying. I’ll meet with their management and start on a framework for the acquisition terms, and perhaps get started on financial negotiations.”

“Roger that, sir,” Momo says with a mock salute as if she were speaking to a superior military officer, “I’ll get on it right away, Captain. But first, sleep! To the hotel!”

Momo turns on her heel and pretends to march out of the meeting room, her long legs straight as they march in exaggerated fashion like a soldier on parade, her tablet held against her shoulder like a rifle.

Choa giggles as the younger woman leaves the room, then turns to you and whispers softly:

“Maybe it’ll be my turn to call you sir before this trip is over?”

“Maybe,” you say softly in reply, your lips widening into a smile that is returned on hers.

“I’ll make that call to legal in the morning, but first I think I’m gonna go PTFO,” Choa says with a smile, before she too turns and starts to gather her belongings from the boardroom table. “You wanna share a cab back to the hotel?”

“Thanks, but I need to finish up a couple of things here before I call it a day. I’ll see you guys bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Choa says, managing to smile kindly at you despite the fatigue wearing at her cute features. With one last wave, she throws her backpack over her shoulder and heads out of the office.

Finally alone in the moderately sized boardroom atop a tall office tower in downtown Seoul, you sigh deeply as you recline in your expensive looking leather chair. It has indeed been a long couple of days of work following a long haul flight, and the weariness in your body was proof of it. The sun has begun to set, and you glance idly out the window as it begins to paint South Korea’s capital in tones of orange and red. You search for a moment of respite for your mind after days of hard work amidst tall towers of glass and steel.

The floor to ceiling glass window gives you an excellent view of downtown Seoul. The entire office itself was like something out of a hipster interior designer’s sketchbook, all glass and hardwood and exposed brick. It was a gorgeous space, and you could see why it attracted a talented crowd of young professional employees.

“Ahem.”

A female’s exaggerated cough interrupts your reverie, and you turn to find the form of a young woman leaning into the entrance of the boardroom. You are struck for a moment by her beauty as the sun throws a splash of orange on her features. It is Kim Seolhyun, the Director of Marketing and Communications of the company. She gives you a short bow with her head as you make eye contact, a polite smile on her lips.

“I’m sorry, I left my notepad in here,” she says in only lightly accented English, stepping cautiously into the room, “I hope I’m not interrupting or disturbing you.”

“No, not at all,” you say quickly, “I was just taking a breather after meeting with my colleagues.”

“I see. Well if you’d like some water or tea or anything else, I can grab it for you,” Seolhyun says, gathering up the blue notebook on the other side of the table.

“Actually, some water would be great,” you answer, “although I think a stretch and a walk might do just as good.”

You are happy to find that a wide smile has appeared on Seolhyun’s face, and you are stunned for a moment at how lovely she looked when she smiled - her face was round and small, walking the thin line between attractively cute and dangerously hot. Her body was tall and slim, model-like in its proportions. As if that weren’t enough, she was extremely charismatic and was an excellent public speaker, handling the majority of the presentations you had listened to over the past couple of days. There was a reason she had risen to become the Director level, and it was obvious in the way she spoke.

Gorgeous, intelligent, and charismatic. This young woman won the genetic lottery, and she knew it.

“Great, follow me!” she says, turning to exit the room with a flourish. A smile on your lips, you get up from your chair and follow her out the door, the fatigue that was settling into your body suddenly held at bay by the prospect of spending time with a beautiful young woman.

---

“I lived overseas until I was ten, and when we moved back here my parents put me into an international school,” Seolhyun says, “my dad was away on business overseas a lot, so he knew how important it was that I know how to speak English.”

You nod in understanding as Seolhyun answers your question regarding her linguistic abilities, taking a sip from the cool glass of water she filled for you. You are both sitting in the spacious, modern, and quite well equipped cafeteria, empty at the moment aside from the two of you.

“Anyway,” she continues, “how do you like Seoul?”

“It’s gorgeous,” you answer, “I haven’t had a chance to see much of it, obviously, but now that we’ve come to a decision I hope we’ll have more free time to go explore it.”

Seolhyun nods apprehensively.

“So… you guys have made a decision about whether or not to acquire us?”

“...Yes,” you answer, realizing too late that you had spilled the beans. The need to engage in conversation with the beautiful young woman in front of you had caused you to forget that the deal still hadn’t been finalized.

“And…?” Seolhyun asks, her large eyes searching for the answer in yours. For another moment - and you noticed that these moments were happening quite often around her - you are stunned by her beauty. At the moment her face is inquisitive and ridiculously cute; she had the puppy dog eyes going on, and it was working.

“And… I think we’re going to put forward a proposal of acquisition.”

“Yes!” Seolhyun exclaims, her sudden outburst surprising you as she rises from her seat, pumping a fist in the air.

“Whoa, whoa,” you say, waving your hands in front of you in a “calm down” motion, “It’s not for sure yet. We still have to get our ducks in a row with regards to your data and tech, and then it has to go through our president before we can make a formal movement for acquisition.”

“But you’re intending to buy us, right?” Seolhyun says, her eyes wide and bright with enthusiasm, “that’s all that matters! All the details will work themselves out later.”

“Well, yes,” you say, realizing that a wide smile had appeared on your own lips - her enthusiasm was infectious.

“Oh, that’s awesome,” Seolhyun says as she plops herself back down in her chair, “that’s exactly what I wanted to hear. You have no idea what this means for our company. The founders are gonna be ecstatic! With more capital behind our tech I think we could really do some amazing things.”

“I agree; your stuff looks good. I think our companies can accomplish a lot together. You did a good job of selling what your company is all about in your presentations over the past couple of days.”

Seolhyun’s face is the very picture of happiness, her lips wide in a toothy smile. The girl had a magnetic, charismatic charm that was irresistable.

“I guess I’m pretty awesome,” she says smugly.

“You are,” you reply with a smile.

Seolhyun holds your gaze for a moment, a split second, before leaning forward slightly.

“This calls for a celebration, mister.”

“I’m tempted,” you say wearily, “but I’m honestly wiped out, and we have a couple more days of work ahead of us. Maybe towards the end of the week we can-”

“I have the perfect idea,” Seolhyun says, interrupting you mid sentence.

“What-”

“Shut up and come with me,” the young woman says, grabbing you by the wrist and leading you to elevator.

---

“You guys have a hot tub on your roof?”

“Yep!” Kim Seolhyun answers with an enthusiastic smile on her face, “We did really well last quarter so the management got it installed as reward. We work late a lot, so it’s nice to kick back and relax a bit after a long day’s work.”

It takes you a moment to realize what Seolhyun’s intentions were in bringing you up here.

“And you’re suggesting we use it?”

“Yes, Sherlock, yes I am,” the young woman answers sarcastically.

“Well I’d love to, but I don’t happen to have a pair of swimming trunks in my briefcase.”

Seolhyun considers the predicament for a moment. She gives you an appraising look up and down, exaggerating the head to toe scan she gives you.

“I guess you’ll have to go in naked,” she says with a wry smile on her lips, “the locker room is that way. See you in a bit.”

With that the young woman gives you one last suggestive look, her eyes suddenly seductive. She steps away, and in what was probably the most arousing thing she could have done at that moment, she bites her bottom lip. Sure that you noticed it, she turns and heads towards what you presumed were the women’s changing rooms.

You sigh to yourself, before smiling and making your way to the locker room.

---

Seolhyun was right - the hot tub was just the perfect respite after a long day of hard work, the warm waters soothing the aches of your body as you lift your arms to rest along the edge of the tub and let your head fall backward until you are facing the quickly darkening Seoul sky. The roof had LED lanterns hung up along a wooden fence that provided some privacy and a little light. To one corner stood an expensive looking outdoor barbeque and a couple of picnic tables atop a large rug of artificial grass. It was a gorgeous space, and had you worked in the building you could see yourself spending a lot of time here.

The opening door to your right captures your attention, and as Seolhyun steps out of the women’s changing room, your breath catches in your throat.

To say she was gorgeous fully clothed was a bit of an understatement, with her long, tall, slim body and her long dark hair that fell perfectly around her shoulders. In a white bikini, she was nothing short of breathtaking. It wasn’t even like it was a skimpy bikini - it was your run-of-the-mill swimsuit, but it did well to draw attention to her round, perfectly sized breasts, pushing them together slightly and creating a delicious looking cleavage. The lower half of the ensemble was tied loosely around her full hips, tied at each side of her waist with cute bows. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail, accentuating her long neck and seductive shoulders. She had the body of a model with the face of the girl next door; a dangerous combination.

You are suddenly ridiculously aware of the fact that you were naked beneath the water, and as Seolhyun reaches the hot tub and climbs the steps (giving you an enticing view of her cleavage as she bends to drop into the water), you give thanks for the fact that she couldn’t see the evidence of your arousal beginning to take shape between your legs. She takes a seat opposite you in the small tub.

“Pretty sweet view from up here, huh?” the young woman says with a smile, and for a moment you are unable to understand that she is speaking, so enraptured are you by her beauty as she sinks into the hot water.

“It’s… pretty,” you answer, immediately cursing yourself for not being able to come up with a better descriptive word.

“Yeah, I’ve spent a lot of nights up here, after everyone else has gone home,” Seolhyun answers, “it’s a good way to burn off some steam.”

Unable to say anything clever or witty, you resign yourself to simply nod in agreement.

“So! Tell me about yourself. I don’t really know anything about you aside from your name and what you do with your company.”

“I’m nothing special,” you say, your humility coming from honesty and not from pride, “I’m just a guy doing a job he loves to do that happens to send him on business trips to awesome places.”

“Ahh,” the young woman replies, “interesting. Girlfriend? Wife?”

“No,” you answer, “not yet.”

Seolhyun takes a moment to consider your answer, her slim smile hiding the questions she was surely formulating in her head.

“So you work closely with Hirai Momo, I guess?”

“Yes.”

“And… is there anything going on between you two?”

“No,” you answer quicker than you would have thought, “We’re just friends. Why does everyone think that we’re more than that?”

Seolhyun shrugs. “Maybe because it’s the way she looks at you. I noticed it in the meetings we were in whenever you spoke. That’s not the way a girl looks while listening to her colleague. That’s the way a girl looks at a guy when she wants more than friendship.”

You consider Seolhyun’s answer for a moment. It wasn’t as if you didn’t harbor any feelings for Momo at all; but you weren’t madly in love with her, either. She was certainly a large part of your life and you had feelings for her on some level, but you didn’t quite know what they were… yet..

The silence lingers for a moment between you and Seolhyun, and for a minute the only sound you can both hear is the soft hum of the hot tub’s water jets.

“What about you? Attached?” you ask, eager to steer the conversation away from the topic of Momo.

“No, I’m single,” Seolhyun answers, “I’m not really looking for anyone, either. Too busy with work at the moment. You know how it is.”

“I do,” you reply, and you find an understanding in her eyes.

“So I guess if you guys acquire our company, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” Seolhyun says, that flirty smile once again on her lips.

“Maybe. Or maybe we’ll take your tech and run away,” you say with a smile, ensuring she knew it was a joke.

Seolhyun feigns surprise at the notion.

“You could run away,” she begins, “but I will find you. And I will kill you,” she finishes, doing her best Liam Neeson impression. It’s so terrible you laugh out loud.

“That might be the worst Liam Neeson I’ve ever heard.”

In response, Seolhyun splashes water at your face; clearly she overestimated the strength of her splash, she ends up getting most of your face and hair drenched. The shock is apparent on her face as she realizes what she’s done.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-”

Seolhyun’s sentence is cut off as she receives a faceful of water.

“Don’t start a war you can’t win, Ms. Kim,” you say in your best cartoon supervillain voice.

Seolhyun’s smile turns into a naughty one, and she quickly crosses the hot tub, splashing more water at you as she does so - she gets one good splash in before you catch her wrists while she is going for a second one. She struggles playfully in your grasp, until she finally relents and comes to rest on your lap. You are both suddenly aware of your proximity, and the playfulness of the moment washes away and is suddenly replaced with a healthy amount of sexual tension.

“I guess you’ve got me,” she says, her eyes glancing at her wrists, still captive in your hands, “what will you do with me?”

Her eyes have taken a look freighted with lust, her eyelids half closed, and you take that as permission to proceed.

“I’ll find something to do to you,” you say, and with that you move your face forward to hers. She meets you halfway, and in a sudden moment of passion your lips crash into one another. You release her wrists from your grip and her arms immediately snake softly around your neck, your own arms wrapping around her torso as she shifts around on your lap and is now sitting with her knees on either side of your waist.

You’ve been in the situation enough times to know what this was. You knew what that first rush of passion meant, knew what would likely soon transpire. You knew that you were both young professionals looking to blow off some steam after a hard day’s work, and that this likely meant nothing more than that. Both of you were perhaps a little high off of the recent decision to acquire her company, and this was just a small way to celebrate.

Seolhyun breaks the kiss to look into your eyes, as if searching for permission, for some sort of indication that you wanted the same thing as her.

“Seolhyun,” you say, eager to ensure there were no misunderstandings, “you don’t have to do this to seal the deal or anything. I don’t want you to do something you might regret.”

“It’s sweet of you, but I want this,” Seolhyun says, her voice barely above a whisper, “I want you.”

With that your lips crash together again, and you are surprised to find Seolhyun’s tongue darting into your mouth, searching for and finding its counterpart, your mouths duelling as your hands roam each others’ bodies, exploring new flesh for the first time. You caress the firm, tight muscles of her back as you break the kiss and dive into her neck, unsatisfied with just her lips and eager to sample more of this young woman’s body, hands roaming freely over wet, soft skin.

Seolhyun lets out a soft moan as she raises her head to allow you access to her neck. You take your time, dipping your head to lick her collarbone before planting kisses upward, loving the feel of her wet, soft, unblemished skin on your lips, tracing your tongue lightly across her neck. You reach her ear and give it a soft nibble before moving back to her lips, which are ready and eager to receive you - this time it is your tongue that enters her mouth, eager to reciprocate her earlier advances.

Seolhyun breaks the kiss and draws away from you slightly, and for a moment you are afraid that you’ve gone too far and she wants to end things - but she puts your fears to rest as she raises her body slightly so that her upper torso is well above the water. With her eyes locked on yours, she reaches behind her back and undoes the simple knot that holds her bikini top to her body. Quickly, she grasps the garment and pulls it over her head before tossing it out of the hot tub, forgotten for the rest of the night.

Your eyes have been locked with hers the whole time, but you finally move your gaze downward to rest on her breasts. They are small, but like the rest of her body they are well shaped and with a delightful curve, her nipples enticing and already erect. The water dripping down her torso makes her even sexier than any woman has a right to be.

In that moment you wonder what you’ve done to deserve the run of luck you’ve been having with gorgeous women.

Satisfied that your eyes have taken their fill of her breasts, Seolhyun leans forward to allow your mouth to take their share of her body, and you oblige her, moving both your hands to her mounds and giving them a soft squeeze before taking her left breast in your mouth, your tongue playing random patterns around her hardened nipple. Meanwhile your left hand cups her free breast softly, squeezing and palming the soft flesh before taking her hard bud in your fingers and teasing it playfully with the pad of your thumb.

The young woman lets out a soft moan, the loudest yet, and her hips drive forward, making contact for the first time with your erect penis beneath the water. At the initial contact Seolhyun gasps, the only barrier between your intimate parts the thin layer of cotton of her bikini bottom. But she soon moves her hips forward again, and before you know it she is grinding against your shaft, the thin, wet cotton creating a delicious friction against the underside your cock.

Regretfully tearing her breasts from your mouth, she leans down until her mouth is next to your ear.

“Sit up on the edge of the tub,” she says softly, and you make eye contact with her to find her cute features flushed, her eyes heady with pleasure and lust.

Yet again you find yourself letting your head drop back in pleasure as the young woman between your legs works her magic with her mouth. Every entrance and exit of your shaft from her lips is a shock of pleasure that you feel in your entire body. You eventually gather the wherewithal to look down as Seolhyun’s head bobs up and down, her naked back glistening with sweat and water from the hot tub, the setting Seoul sun painting it with tones of orange, the toned muscles of her back working to pleasure you.

You do your best to fight it, to keep the pleasure at bay, and for a few minutes you succeed as you savor the pleasure, the simple pleasure of knowing you were in a rooftop hot tub getting a blowjob from one of the most gorgeous girls you’d ever met. But as it so often does, the feeling of impending orgasm began to come all at once.

“Seolhyun… fuck that’s amazing. Fuck. I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” you say, although even as the words leave your mouth you know you want to do exactly that - cum in this gorgeous young woman’s mouth.

In response, Seolhyun gives your cock a hard suck, starting from the base of your shaft, climbing up inch by inch, her lips wrapped tightly around you and her tongue pressed hard against its underside, until finally, your head pops out from between her lips. Wasting no time, she locks eyes with you and whispers.

“Cum in my mouth... But later I want your cum in my pussy.”

Normally, with other women, you’d have declined her offer - cumming in a woman’s mouth was wonderful, indeed, but it compared poorly to driving yourself inside a woman’s pussy and cumming inside her. But there is a heaviness, a strength in Seolhyun’s demands, in her tone of voice, that made her impossible to resist. With Momo, Sana, or Choa, you could have stopped her from proceeding, turned her around and started fucking her on the edge of the hot tub - with Seolhyun, you were powerless to do anything except follow her demands. This was a girl who demanded and got what she wanted, and you were unable to resist.

As she returns her mouth to your shaft, you realise that it was a pleasant problem to have.

Your eyes remain locked forward, because if you’d looked down to witness Kim Seolhyun taking your shaft in her mouth once more you think that it might be too much, and you’d cum almost immediately. And so in an effort so stave off that wonderful bliss for as long as possible, you gaze out at Seoul’s rapidly darkening sky.

Seolhyun, working between your legs, bears no such desire to prolong your pleasure, and you notice that one of her hands has joined your mouth, working the base of your shaft in a corkscrew motion - together with her hot tongue, gliding along the base of your cock and around the underside of the head, you quickly find yourself on the brink of orgasm.

“Fuck. Fuck, Seolhyun. I’m gonna cum.”

If she heard you say it, she must have ignored it. Seolhyun’s head continues to bob up and down on your shaft, and before you know it, your orgasm rocks your body from head to toe, your hands almost immediately gripping the back of the young woman’s head as your shaft erupts, sending hot, warm semen into the young woman’s willing mouth and throat.

You stay locked in that position for long moments, your body shivering in pleasure as the throes of orgasm rock your body, Seolhyun’s mouth wrapped tightly around your pulsating shaft as it empties hot, thick semen into her mouth. Finally, mercifully, your orgasm winds down, and Seolhyun takes your weakening grip on the back of her head as a sign that it has finally ended. She lifts her head from between your quivering legs, and, sure that your eyes are locked on her, she opens her mouth reveal a tongue and mouth painted in glistening white cum.

Then, without breaking eye contact, she closes her mouth and she swallows it all in two gulps, and she tilts her head back slightly to let you watch as her throat pushes the semen down and into her body. She opens her mouth again for you to see, and her pink tongue is all the evidence you need that she has swallowed it all.

She doesn’t speak a word - there is only that sultry, seductive smile playing once again on her lips, as she slowly, carefully rises from the hot tub, the warm water dripping down her sexy, topless frame, curving around her naked breasts and down her toned midsection. She rises and swings a long leg, then both, over the edge of the hot tub, before making her way to the women’s change room. When she is halfway there, she turns her upper body midway, her ass still facing you as she raises a hand in beckoning motion. Her lips still curved in that lusty smile, she continues into the women’s change room, closing the door behind her.

---

It takes you a few minutes to gather your senses and recover from the ridiculously pleasurable blowjob - Momo and Sana gave amazing head, and Choa was no slouch, but Seolhyun was probably on par with Momo for the most skilled at the task. Eventually you make your way to the door of the women’s change room, hesitating for just a moment at the fact that you were entering a room normally forbidden to men.

But this wasn’t a normal moment in time, after all, and you soon found yourself turning the knob and entering the dimly lit changing room. Like the rest of the office, it sported a classy, modern design. Two long rows of lockers lined one side of the room, while to the right, immediately after the door, was an open space with two showers - one of which was running.

Turning the corner to look into the shower stall, you find Kim Seolhyun leaning with her back against the shower wall, the shower head spraying her body making her somehow even hotter than she already was. Hair hair has been undone from its ponytail to fall around her shoulders, strands of black glued to her face and neck by the water. You take a long moment to fully admire her near-naked body; earlier you had resigned yourself to stealing glances at her beneath a veneer of gentlemanly consideration. Now, with any pretense of propriety banished by lust, you had no such reservations about admiring her gentle curves, her soft, unblemished skin, and her gorgeous face, lust and want written all over her small, delicate features.

Most alluring of all, however, is the fact that her right hand is at her crotch, working between her legs underneath the drenched, thin cotton of her bikini bottoms. The fabric is so wet, so thin, that you can easily make out the outline of her knuckles as they move her fingers in swirling patterns around her intimate areas, her face contorting to a heady mix of pleasure emanating from between her legs.

“Took you… long enough,” Seolhyun says softly, her words soft, her tone wavering, no doubt thanks to the pleasure she was eliciting from her own body.

“I had to recover from what you did to me,” you answer, and you were fully recovered indeed - the sight of the almost naked, wet young woman in front of you, pleasuring herself, had brought your shaft back to full attention. You reach a hand out to lean yourself against the shower wall; it is an almost cocky gesture, given the wanton young woman in front of you, but you want to keep her waiting.

“Good. Then you can stop staring at me and start fucking me.”

You smile slyly at the young woman.

“You seem to be doing a good job of fucking yourself.”

Seolhyun smirks at you, before licking her lips, her pink tongue, covered only moments before in your cum, licking her lips. She bites her lower lip again, the action almost unbearably sexy given the circumstances.

Without a further word she withdraws her hand from her bikini bottom, and with swift fingers she undoes the knots keeping the slim garment attached to her body. She tosses the drenched article away from her to land between the both of you. She is shaved clean between her legs, and the water flowing down her body from the shower head only serves to draw your attention to that wonderful space between her legs as it flows downwards towards her crotch.

“I’m so fucking wet. I want it so bad. And I want it hard.”

Seolhyun turns around so she is facing the shower wall, her round, perfectly shaped ass facing you, the delightful curve of her slim thighs creating a delicious looking gap directly below the soft lips of her pussy.

You had grown used to soft, pleasureable sex over the past couple of months, with elaborate foreplay and delicate, soft touches, ensuring that the woman orgasmed before you did - but here was a woman who said, straight up, that she wanted hard, fast sex. Who were you to resist?

No force in the world could have kept you from stepping forward, your eyes glued to her backside as you reach out your hands, placing them on her hips. She moans softly as you press your torso against hers, your wet skin meshing against each other. You bring your tongue to her ear and lick it softly as you breathe in the soft, sweet aroma of her hair, plastered against her scalp. Your mouth opens involuntarily in pleasure as your shaft rubs against the small of her back, the soft, wet skin creating a delicious friction against the underside of your cock.

“Don’t waste my time. Fuck me. Fuck me hard.” Seolhyun says, her words tinged with desperation, “I want it hard. Now.”

With other girls, you were able to restrain yourself, able to postpone sex until they were practically begging for it. With any other girl you would have teased her more, played with her breasts and ass and pussy and made her beg for you to penetrate her. But with Seolhyun, you were almost powerless, as though every order and demand she made was something to be done immediately.

And so you found yourself taking half a step back as Seolhyun bends slightly at the waist, lining up your most intimate parts. Taking your shaft in your right hand, and admiring for a second the sight of the gorgeous young woman’s body bent over for you, you bring your cock to her pussy and penetrate her in one, smooth stroke.

Every woman was unique, and Seolhyun was no exception, her pussy wet and slick, incredibly tight at her entrance but more comfortably soft further inside. You had grown used to Momo or Choa’s wetness, and Sana’s almost unbearably tight pussy, but Seolhyun’s body was new, wonderful territory - and as you bury your cock to the hilt inside of it, you allow yourself a moment to savor the tightness of her entrance, as though she were squeezing a hard ring of flesh around the base of your cock and massaging the rest of it with soft, warm flesh.

Your initial thrust has forced Seolhyun into a more bent position, her body leaning at an almost 45 degree angle forward. From this angle the shower head is pointed at her toned back, and you watch as the water cascades down her shoulder blades, along her spine, and down the firm, rounded cheeks of her ass. A wordless, soft gasp of pleasure escapes her lips, her eyes shutting involuntarily as the feeling of first penetration, and the sudden fullness between her legs brings with it a hot rush of heat throughout her body.

“Fuck. Fuck that feels good!”

You respond by withdrawing your cock, relishing in the feel of her ridiculously tight pussy lips of her entrance wrapped tightly around your shaft as it leaves her body, only for it to welcome it back in as you drive yourself forward, quickly establishing a hard pace as you thrust in and out, in and out, in and out of Kim Seolhyun’s pussy.

For long, pleasurable minutes, you fuck the young woman in the shower stall with hard, swift strokes into her willing pussy; this is not some soft lovemaking session, or even the rough, wild nights you sometimes shared with Momo - this was hard fucking with a single intent: to cum as fast as possible.

You are happy with your pace, happy to relish the feel of her tight, wet body, the sight of the shower water hitting the toned muscles of her slim back, happy to watch her grip the shower head desperately with one hand, the other hand pressed against the tiles of the shower wall, searching, in vain, for something to hold on to. You are happy to listen to the young woman’s gasps and moans, each sound heavily laden with pleasure. You are happy with all of these things, but Seolhyun wanted more, and you were all too ready to oblige.

“Fuck… harder! Fuck me harder! Spank my ass!”

You are taken aback by her commands, taken aback by a woman who was so demanding during sex. You had had sessions with Momo that you could both consider rough, but she never demanded and ordered you around like Seolhyun did, and truth be told it was kind of hot.

And so you draw your right hand up and bring it down onto her right ass cheek with moderate force, careful not to hurt her, and satisfied at the slight reddish tone it has left on her unblemished skin.

“Fuck! Do it harder!”

You are unsure whether she is referring to the pounding you are giving her pussy, or the slap on her ass, and so you do both, using your left hand, gripping her hips, to drive her harder against your shaft while your right hand smacks her ass with more force, the loud smack of your hand hitting her wet flesh vying with the wet squelches of your cock and her pussy as you fuck her.

You know now that she is not only comfortable with rough, hard sex, but that she wants more of it - and to that end your right hand leaves her reddened ass cheek and moves forward to grip a handful of her wet hair, plastered against her neck and upper back, and you pull back with a force that you are initially worried is too forceful. But the loud moan that erupts from her throat is enough to convince you that the young woman enjoyed it.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum!” Seolhyun says, the words spilling unbidden from her lips, a torrent of pleasure just barely formed into a coherent sentence, announcing her impending orgasm with words even as her body reinforces it with the slick wetness and tightening walls of her pussy.

“Fuck me. Fuck me as hard as you want! Fuck my pussy with your hard cock! Oh god, I’m gonna cum. I’m cumming. I’m cumming!”

Seolhyun’s world erupts in white as her orgasm overwhelms her senses, and it is all you can do to lean forward and keep her from collapsing as her body is wracked in pleasure radiating from her pussy. You wrap your arms around her shivering body, even as you bury your shaft into her pussy, your strokes slowing down in pace as her orgasm continues to hit her body with a force neither of you were expecting.

Thankfully, you are endowed enough to maintain significant penetration even when with the both of you pressed against the shower wall. Your pace has lessened to a near crawl, your shaft entering and exiting her body softly and slowly, and for the first time since you started fucking you are able to truly savor the feeling of her body as you are finally able to set the pace.

“Fucking cum in my pussy,” Seolhyun says with a gasp, the fatigue of the last few minutes finally hitting her all at once, “cum in my pussy like you came in my mouth. Fill me up with cum.”

It has been a quick session - only about fifteen minutes since you first entered her, but this was a quickie if there ever was one, and the sheer hotness of the woman you were currently buried in was enough for you to throw away any pretense of gentleness, any consideration for her pleasure or comfort - there was only your orgasm to reach, and that was all that mattered.

To that end you begin to pump in and out of her body, slow strokes at first but quickly building up to the fast, swift thrusts you were making when she came minutes ago. Your bodies are closer now, both almost upright, Seolhyun bent forward ever so slightly, her breasts and upper body pressed forward against the shower stall. You look down, and see only a slight glimpse of your shaft as it disappears between her ass cheeks with each thrust.

“Fucking give me your cum already,” Seolhyun says, her voice full of needy, lusty impatience, “cum for me.”

“You’re.. Fucking demanding… aren’t you?”

“I always... get what I want…” Seolhyun says, her sentence interrupted by the jolts your thrusting cock send throughout her body, “and right now… all I want.. is your cum in my pussy.”

You are so close now, too close to that point of no return when orgasm becomes inevitable, and her words are enough to drive you over that ledge. The feel of her wet, slick skin under your palms, her firm, tense ass cheeks as they crash into your lower abdomen, and most of all, that tight, vice-like grip of her pussy lips wrapped tightly around your cock - it is all too much to handle. In that moment you forgo any pretense of care for Kim Seolhyun - she is just a body, just a tight embrace of flesh for your cock, a hole to fire your cum into.

You wrap your right arm around her torso to grasp her left breast, squeezing the soft flesh there with a grip that you worry might be too hard, but the loud gasp that escapes Seolhyun’s mouth convinces you in an instant that she doesn’t mind it. Your other arm grips her left hip, driving it back against yours as you come to within seconds of orgasm.

“I’m gonna.. Fucking cum in you, Seolhyun.”

“Yes! Cum! Cum inside me! Fill my pussy with your cum!”

With two more strokes, you bury yourself as deep as you can inside her tight, warm pussy, before the throes of your orgasm wrack your body. Your shaft pulses strongly as it sends squirt after squirt of your warm semen into Seolhyun’s willing body, and you thrust forward slightly with each thrust, seeking every miniscule amount of pleasure from this moment.

You are pressing her body tightly against the shower wall and later you would wonder if you hurt her with your thrusts against the hard, wet wall, but at this moment, this wonderful moment, all you can feel is the soft, hot, wet flesh wrapped around your shaft as it finishes sending your hot semen into a young woman’s body.

After a long minute or two of silence as you wind down from your orgasm, Seolhyun turns her head slightly, her forehead still pressed against the shower wall.

“It’s going to be great working together,” she says softly.

“Definitely,” you agree, as you kiss the soft skin of her shoulder and the crook of her neck, relishing the taste of her wet skin on your lips.

“I guess you can buy our company, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You fuck me whenever I want.”

---

It is 7:54am the next morning, and you find yourself back in one of the downstairs offices, ready, if not entirely willing, to start the day’s meetings. After finishing up with Seolhyun in the shower, you headed back to the hotel where you were able to grab just a few hours of sleep before your alarm woke you, frustratingly early, to get ready for work.

You are engaged in small talk with Seolhyun, who is sitting on the edge of your office table. She is explaining the various positions on a company organization chart that she has printed out for you when the office door opens. Hirai Momo and Park Choa enter the room, but with a third figure following closely behind them - Minatozaki Sana.

Your heart leaps slightly at the sight of Sana, and the bright, cheery smile that appears on her face when you lock eyes captures every ounce of your attention, as though nothing else existed. It takes a moment for you to come back to reality as you notice that Seolhyun is still speaking to you.

“...and that’s me,” Seolhyun says, pointing to her position on the chart. She pauses the conversation as Momo, Sana, and Choa approach, offering the three of them smiles and small bows of her head.

“Good morning, loser,” Momo says.

“Good morning to you too,” you reply sarcastically.

“When did you get back to the hotel last night?”

“Late,” you say, with a glance at Seolhyun, and Momo, who is following your gaze, sees the blush appear on Seolhyun’s face along with a sultry smile. Momo suddenly looks sullen, and at that moment you are struck by the split second of hurt that flashes across her features. Next to her, Sana puts two and two together, and her eyes betray the disappointment and betrayal she felt inside.

“I see. Having fun with our new colleagues, I bet?” Momo asks, her tone suddenly heavy with sarcasm.

“You could say that,” Seolhyun begins, “I gave him a... tour of the office. Including the hot tub on the roof.”

Momo nods, but you’ve known her long enough to know that there is disapproval there, and hurt beneath her eyes. Sana, still standing next to her, has cast her eyes downward, a corner of her lip pursed together. It was the look of a girl who has just been struck.

“It was fun,” Seolhyun continues, “he was very… energetic.”

With that, Seolhyun hops off the office table and saunters over to her place in the boardroom, taking a seat opposite you along the long central table, every stride and movement full of confidence.

“Momo, Sana,” you begin, “it was just-”

“Save it,” Hirai Momo says, her tone sharp, “I don’t wanna hear it. I need some coffee. Let’s go, Sana.”

Momo drops her briefcase and tablet on the office table - two seats away from you. Sana catches your gaze, and you think, for a split second, that there is a glassiness in her eyes that is a precursor to tears - but Momo grasps the young woman by the upper arm and drags her out of the room. Momo’s stride is full of anger and betrayal, but Sana’s sad shuffle and small steps are the walk of a girl who has just been hurt.

Choa, who accompanied them into the office, sees the empty seat next to you, and sets down her belongings on the desk before taking the empty space.

“Do you want some advice?” she says, her tone serious.

“Sure, why not,” you say with a sigh, as you bury your head in your hands on the table.

“I’m sure this thing with this Seolhyun chick was just a one night stand, and that’s fine. And Lord knows there are no strings attached when we have our fun in the office too. But you’re an idiot if you think you can bang all these girls and still pursue a relationship with either one of those two.”

You give Choa a look and find earnestness in her eyes. She was, as always, a good friend before she was your executive assistant.

“And eventually, you’ll have to choose between them. If you chase two rabbits, both of them will get away.”

“Thanks, Choa. I appreciate it,” you say, meaning every word. You manage a soft smile, thankful to have someone like her in your life.

Choa nods and smiles softly, her small, cute face bringing a splash of joy into the otherwise dreary start to the morning.

“Great. Now let’s buy the shit out of this company.”

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #pov smut #reader insert #male reader #aoa #aoa seolhyun #seolhyun #kim seolhyun

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akathecentimetre · 4 years

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Hey there, so I really like history as a subject, and I'm pretty good at it. The thing is, I don't know what my career options would be if I studied it, or if I would be able to make money. My parents are heavily discouraging me from taking it as a major. As a 'historian' in training' what's your take? Thank you

Hi there! Sorry for the delay, ‘tis the hectic season…

Oh man, I have so many thoughts for you. Full disclosure: this is something I have worked on a LOT over the course of my graduate career both at my uni and on a national level; most of my advice, however, comes from a PhD candidate’s perspective and may not be directly helpful to an undergraduate, and I should also emphasize that everything I can say on this is very firmly based on the U.S. market only. That being said, a lot of what I can say can be universally applied, so here we go -

The number of history undergraduates in the U.S. has plummeted in the last decade or so, from it previously being one of the most popular majors. There are many interacting reasons for this: a changeover from older to younger, better-trained, energetic professors who draw in and retain students has been very slow to occur, partly because of a lack of a mandatory retirement age; the humanities have been systematically demonized and minimized in favor of the development of STEM subjects, to the occasional benefit of students of color and women but to the detriment of critical public discourse and historical perspective on current events; with many liberal arts colleges going under financially and the enormous expansion of academic bureaucracy everywhere, resources are definitely being diverted away from social and human studies towards fields which are perceived to pay better or perceived, as mentioned in the article above, as being more ‘practical.’ (We do need a ton more healthcare workers/specialists, but that’s a different conversation to have.) But now I feel like quoting a certain Jedi Master: everything your parents say is wrong. Let’s dive into why being a historian is a positive thing for you both as a person and as a professional -

You will be a good reader. As you learn to decipher documents and efficiently and thoroughly read secondary literature, you will develop a particular talent for understanding what is important about any piece of writing or evidence (and this can go for visual and aural evidence as well). This will serve you well in any position in which you are collecting/collating information and reporting to colleagues or superiors, and evaluating the worth of resources. Specific example - editorial staff at publishing houses either private or academic, magazines, etc.

You will be a good writer. This will get you a good job at tons of places; don’t underestimate it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been astonished (not in a punitive way, of course, but definitely with a sense of befuddlement) by how badly some of my Ivy-league students can write. Good writing is hard, good writing is rare, and good writing is a breath of fresh air to any employer who puts a high premium upon it in their staff. History in principle is the study of change; history in practice is presenting information in a logical, interesting, and persuasive manner. Any sort of institution which asks you to write reports, summaries, copy, etc. etc. will appreciate your skills.

You will be a good researcher. This sounds like a given, but it’s an underappreciated and vital skill. Historians work as consultants. Historians work in government - almost every department has an Office of the Historian - and in companies, writing company histories and maintaining institutional archives. A strong research profile will also serve you well if you want to go on to work in museum studies and in libraries public or private/academic. As a historian, you will know not just where to find information, but what questions you have to ask to get to the answer of how to tackle, deconstruct, and solve a problem. This is relevant to almost any career path.

You will provide perspective. Historians react to current events in newspapers and online - not just on politics, but culture as well (my favorite article of this week is about the historicity of The Aeronauts). Historians act as expert witnesses in court proceedings. Historians write books, good books, not just meant for academic audiences but for millions upon millions of readers who need thoughtful, intelligent respite from the present. Historians work for thinktanks, providing policy analysis and development (a colleague of mine is an expert on current events of war in Mali and works for multiple thinktanks and organizations because of it). Historians work for nonprofits or lobbying groups on issues of poverty, environmental safety, climate change, and minority and indigenous rights. In a world when Texas school textbooks push the states’ rights narrative, historians remind us that the Civil War was about slavery. Historians remind us that women and people of color have always existed. In this time and world where STEM subjects are (supposedly) flooding the job market, we need careful historical perspective more than ever. We need useful reactions to the 2016 election, to the immigration travesties on display at the southern border, to the strengthening of right-wing parties in Europe - and history classes, or thoughtfully historical classes on philosophy and political science, are one of the few places STEM and business students gain the basic ability to participate in those conversations. [One of my brightest and most wonderful students from last year, just to provide an anecdote, is an astrophysics major who complained to me in a friendly conversation this semester that she never got the chance to talk about ‘deep’ things anymore once she had passed through our uni’s centralized general curriculum, which has a heavy focus on humanities subjects.]

You will be an educator. Teaching is a profession which has myriad challenges in and of itself, but in my experience of working with educators there is a desperate need for secondary-school teachers in particular to have actual content training in history as opposed to simply being pushed into classrooms with degrees which focus only on pedagogical technique. If teaching is a vocation you are actually interested in, getting a history degree is not a bad place to start at all. And elementary/high schools aside, you will be teaching someone something in every interaction you have concerning your subject of choice. Social media is a really important venue now for historians to get their work out into the world and correct misconceptions in the public sphere, and is a place where you can hone a public and instructive voice. You could also be involved in educational policy, assessment/test development (my husband’s field, with a PhD in History from NYU), or educational activism.

If some of this sounds kind of woolly and abstract, that’s because it is. Putting yourself out there on the job market is literally a marketing game, and it can feel really silly to take your experience of 'Two years of being a Teaching Assistant for European History 1500-1750’ and mutate it to 'Facilitated group discussions, evaluated written work from students [clients], and ran content training sessions on complex subjects.’ But this sort of translation is just another skill - one that can be learned, improved, and manipulated to whatever situation you need it to fit.

Will you make money? That’s a question only you can answer, because only you know what you think is enough money. That being said, many of the types of careers I’ve mentioned already are not low-paying; in my experience expertise is, if you find the right workplace and the rewarding path, usually pretty well-remunerated.

Specific advice? Hone your craft. Curate an active public presence as a historian, an expert, a patient teacher, and as as person enthusiastic about your subject. Read everything and anything. Acknowledge and insist upon complexity, and celebrate it when you can.

And finally - will any of what I’ve said here make it easy? No, because no job search and no university experience is easy these days. It’s a crazy world and there are a lot of awful companies, bosses, and projects out there. But I do very firmly believe that you can find something, somewhere, that will suit your skills, and, hopefully, your passions too.

Resources for you: the American Historical Association has a breakdown of their skills-based approach to the job market, reports on the job market(s) for history PhDs collectively called ‘Where Historians Work,’ and a mentorship program, Career Contacts, which could connect you with professional historians in various workplaces. There is a very active community of historians on Twitter; search for #twitterstorians. For historians who identify as female, Women Also Know History is a newer site which collates #herstorian bios and publications to make it easier for journalists to contact them for expert opinions. ImaginePhD provides career development tools and exercises for graduate students, but could probably be applied to undergrads as well. The Gilder Lehrman Institute is one of the premier nonprofits which develops and promotes historical training for secondary school teachers and classroom resources (U.S. history only). Job listings are available via the AHA, the National Council on Public History, and the IHE, as well as the usual job sites. And there’s an awful lot more out there, of course - anyone who reads or reblogs this post is welcome to add field-specific or resource-specific info.

I hope this helps, Anon, or at least provides you with a way to argue in favor of it to your parents if it comes to that. Chin up!

#replies #anon #history #academia #education #career diversity #grad school #Caz rambles

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psychovigilantewrites · 5 years

Text

Chapter 7 - Queasy

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Word count: 11,285

Trigger warning: this chapter contains sexual content, violence, gore, and mentions of torture.

A/N: I’m so sorry for the wait, guys! This is my longest chapter yet, and I’ve really put my all into it. Thank you for all the kind words of encouragement! It really helped me get through my bad days.

One would assume that the docks would smell like the sea.

Wrong.

It smelt like shit. Literally.

A lot of Gotham’s sewage ended up in the sea , and trash that wasn’t from the sewage ended up there as well. Gothamites liked to pollute, and it made the docks smell.

But if you held your breath and closed your eyes, it still sounded like the sea.

The crashing waves, the sound of the breeze ruffling your hair, the rapid gunfire-

Oh right.

You were in the middle of crashing Red Hood’s illegal shipment party.

Dodging a rain of bullets, you hopped across some shipment crates towards a group of hired guns to incapacitate them with a flying kick. You hit the large muscly man- who was wearing sunglasses at night, for some reason- flat in the chest with one leg. With your other, you kicked aside the weapon in his hand, which flew straight into his partner’s head, making him stumble backwards.

Taking the two of them down, and looking back at the other eight unconscious bodies behind you that you had dealt with in under two minutes, you took a deep breath and smiled to yourself for you excellent work, before running off to where Bruce was.

Bruce had went on ahead to confirm the shipment and catch Red Hood, well, red handed, while you covered his back and deal with security.

You ran past the crates and metal containers that created a maze.

“Robin,” you heard Batman’s breathless voice in your ear, “Shipment is confirmed, call GCPD.”

“Okay, I’m coming your way,” you replied.

You dialled GCPD on your phone.

“Suspected terrorist attack at Dixon Docks.”

You hung up. Terrorist attacks always made the police rush more.

Finally, you heard the sound of gunshots get louder and you turned a corner to see Batman’s looming dark figure in a direct fight with Red Hood.

“Where’s Robin, B? Got bored of her already? Throw her away like the two before her?” Red Hood jabbed, dodging a punch from Batman.

All Batman did was growl and never stopped attacking.

“When are you going to tell her that she’s disposable? It’s not good to keep stringing women along, you know?” he poked, “Especially those you call your children.”

Batman succeeded in tripping him, making Red Hood stumble backwards for just a second. A shout distracted you from the fight, making your head snap in the direction of Moehler barking at his workers to hurry with loading wooden crates onto the back of a truck a few feet away.

You ran past Batman and Red Hood and towards the two men who were loading the last crate.

“Ah, there she is!” you heard Red Hood chuckle.

You were almost there, you needed to stop them before they could drive off with the weapons. Suddenly, you felt something grip your ankle, making you trip forward.

It was as if you were falling in slow motion, the ground slowly approaching your face. The next millisecond you heard a loud bang, and felt a sharp pain at your right earlobe.

As you broke your fall as to not hit your face, you realized that the thing around your ankle was Red Hood’s grappling hook, wound tightly to stop you from approaching your goal.

Struggling to get up, you felt a wave of disappointment crash onto you when you heard the sound of the truck’s engine start, and the tyres screech as it hurried to drive away. Before it could escape your view, you threw a tracking device you had attached to the armor of your uniform at the truck, which you saw suddenly bounce away as Red Hood shot it out of reach of the truck from behind you.

He ran from Batman’s attacks and towards the port, jumping onto a speedboat, and the two of you silently watched as he gave you the middle finger, while Moehler drove the speedboat away.

You untangled yourself from the wire around your leg and stood up, watching his figure get smaller and smaller into the darkness. That fucker actually gave you the middle finger. You could scoff at how juvenile it was if it weren’t for the fact that you were blaming yourself for letting the truck get away.

“You’re bleeding,” Batman’s gravelly voice made you jump.

You touched your right ear, and winced. You were sure a bullet had grazed it when Red Hood tripped you earlier.

“Huh,” you stared at the blood on your fingers, “I didn’t even notice.”

“You called Gordon?”

“Anonymous tip to GCPD,” you informed.

“Terrorist attack?”

“How did you know?” you smirked.

“You’re predictable.”

“Ouch,” you faked, “Someone’s in a bad mood.”

You glanced at him, earning yourself a scowl.

“It was like he knew my moves,” Batman suddenly expressed, “Like he’s familiar with me.”

“Sounded like he’s also familiar with my predecessors too,” you added.

Batman stayed silent.

“On top of the fact that he’s very familiar with my uniform,” you continued, “He seemed to know the moment I reached for my shoulder that I was going to throw a tracker at the truck and shot it out of the way. Not to mention that signal button a while back too.”

More silence.

“And the fact that he knows we’re your children,” you pointed out, “Which means that you have to assume he knows all our identities.”

A clenched jaw.

“Do you know who he is?” you narrowed your eyes at him.

Nothing.

“I trust you to know which information you tell me- or don’t tell me- is beneficial to me or harmful,” you lectured him in frustration, “Which means I’m not going to go digging around. So you better tell me when you figure things out. Trust goes both ways, Batman.”

“I’ll deal with the police.”

Sure enough, you heard the sirens slowly approaching. You glanced again at the dark sea, illuminated poorly by the distant city lights and the hidden moon, wondering who was under the red helmet, and what he meant by ‘disposable’.

***

Jason fired one loud bullet into the ground, breaking the chaotic commotion that came with unloading the crates in one of Moehler’s warehouse turned into base operations. He watched down at them from a raised platform, the two dozen or so hired by Moehler stopped what they were doing and turned to him, along with Moehler and some of his associates- mainly relatives.

“How many did we manage to get?” Jason asked.

“All of them, Red Hood,” a tall brute with distasteful face tattoos answered smugly.

“But just barely,” Jason snapped.

Jason felt the mood subtly shift. They knew why he was mad, and now, he could smell their fear.

“Can anyone tell me how Batman knew?” he calmly asked.

Everyone was avoiding eye contact with him, looking either at each other or their own feet.

“When I find out you know how this information got leaked, and trust me, I will find out, I will come after you and your family,” he simply shrugged, “So someone better step up and confess. Right. Now.”

Jason waited for 3 seconds, and then-

“It was Dave,” a bald brute stepped closer to him, the head of Moehler’s security detail, “We heard that he got arrested last week. It must have been him.”

“One of your own got arrested, and knowing that our meeting could have been compromised, you decided to keep quiet?” Jason articulated.

The man gulped, “We- we didn’t know for sure.”

“Didn’t know for sure?” Jason started chuckling softly, before pointing his gun at the man, “Tell me why I shouldn’t gun you down for your incompetence. Or are you still unsure?”

“His wife called and told me she hadn’t heard from him in three days,” his eyes now wide and pleading, “Only yesterday we confirmed that he had been arrested, but that’s about it. Our inside man said that the arrest report said he was arrested for public urination. We didn’t think much of it then.”

Jason thought for a split second, deciding whether or not to kill him.

No, it wasn’t a strategic move. The story sounded genuine, and if he killed too many people without actual cause, everyone would start to hate him and could want to start a coup. He needed to be specific about his rules.

He put down his gun and started chuckling, earning a sigh of relief from the man before him. He gripped the mans shoulder and squeezed hard- showing both friendliness and threat.

“Fine, we all make mistakes, right?” Jason laughed.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, “Sorry, boss.”

“Just be sure not to overlook things like this again,” Jason warned and gave him a hard pat on the back, “Now, I have another issue to address.”

The relief of the room just now was turned into tension again.

“Who was the brave man who shot at Robin to stop her from getting to the trucks?” Jason asked, “I have a reward for him! A token of courage, if you will.”

“It was me, boss,” the same man with the inked face answered proudly.

“Oh, it was you, huh?” Jason grit, “What’s your name again?”

“Snake, sir.”

“Snake?” he burst out laughing, “Okay, okay. What are you waiting for, Snake? Get up here!”

Snake strutted to Jason’s side, smirking all the way. Jason put an arm over his shoulder.

He saw that some of the others were already shaking their heads at their colleague’s ignorance.

“So Snake,” he started, “You were really brave tonight. You know why?”

“Because I tried to stop Robin?” he answered.

“Yes,” Jason agreed, “In fact, you shot at her, am I right?”

“Yeah, I did,” he grinned.

“Even when I specifically ordered everyone not to?” Jason asked softly.

Snake tensed.

“If I remember correctly,” Jason announced to his audience, “I said that anyone who tries to kill or harm Robin without my orders will be severely punished, didn’t I?”

Silence.

“DIDN’T I?!” he bellowed.

A mumble of “Yes’s” and “Yeah’s” were heard.

“Thank you,” he said sarcastically, “Now, my fellow associates, what should I do with our buddy Snake here?”

No one dared answer him.

It didn’t matter. Jason already knew what he had to do.

“Oh, right,” he pretended to remember, “I was going to give you a token of my appreciation.”

BANG. BANG.

A loud wail came from Snake. He fell to the ground and started crying and screaming. Jason could hardly blame him. He did just shoot both his kneecaps.

“What do you say to daddy, Snake?” Jason stepped on one of his knees, “Daddy gave you a gift, didn’t he?”

“F-FUCK YOU!”

Jason shot at his elbow, making him scream even louder. “Manners!”

“T-thank y-you,” Snake gasped in between sobs.

“Didn’t quite catch that.”

“Thank y-”

BANG.

Jason gave him a gift right between his eyes.

Whenever Jason killed, he didn’t feel better or worse. Killing was just part of the job, just merely strategic for him.

But killing the guy who almost killed you if it wasn’t for the fact that he pulled you down and made you trip using the grappling hook he had?

He felt better.

He took a deep breath.

“Whoever defies my direct order again, will get worse than this fucker!” he yelled, “No one touches Robin but me. Even if it means you get taken down, you don’t. Shoot. At. Her. GOT IT?!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good. Now someone clean this up,” he nudged the body with his foot, “Before the shit comes out.”

The part he hated most about killing and disposing of bodies was when the muscles relax and he has to deal with shit and urine that comes out. Not everyone will shit and urinate themselves when they die- it depends on whether they were holding it in to begin with- but when it doeshappen, it’s disgusting.

And Snake looks like he’s just full of shit. Whatever. He’s glad he has people to do the dirty job for him now.

“Moehler,” he growled, “I need to speak to you.”

Jason hopped off the platform and walked straight to the straw haired American-German man.

“Where are we with Black Mask?” he asked.

Roman Sionis. He was one of the defiant ones who refused to work together with Red Hood. Black Mask used to own all these gangs; Moehler’s, Ibenescus’- and Jason had snatched them from underneath his nose.

He wasn’t happy about it.

“Still putting out hits on you,” he gruffly stated, “And also taking down my men.”

“Why haven’t you dealt with him yet?” Jason hissed through the voice scramble of his helmet.

“He’s got a whole armory, boss,” Moehler complained, “And many men who are still loyal to him.”

“They’re not loyal, they’re afraid,” Jason corrected, “I’ll deal with him.”

“Let me know if you need help,” Moehler added.

Jason had already picked out what he wanted beforehand, as per agreement with Moehler, and all he has to do is bring it back with him to his safehouse. The rest of the weapons were to be sold to various gangs or anyone who was interested, and he would take 40 percent profits, as per agreement with Moehler.

Besides Batman’s interference that night, everything was going smoothly. Yet, he was stressed.

He needed to blow off steam.

Ah, right. It was time to enter phase 2 of his plan.

***

You fell on the comfort of your bed, and looked at the time. It was nearly three in the morning. You stretched like a cat, relieving your body from the aches and pains. You had already showered and refreshed yourself, along with slapping a bandaid on your grazed ear. It wasn’t too deep.

You checked your phone, and saw that Sexy Hunk From Library had left you a text about half an hour ago.

Sexy Hunk From Library: You up?

You grinned.

You: Yes! Hi. Sexy Hunk From Library: Hello. I thought you were already asleep. You: Nope. Just on Netflix. As usual. Sexy Hunk From Library: Let’s get on video.

Your heart raced at his directness. Before this he would ask you politely, or played coy with you. But now he wasn’t asking you if you wanted to get on video, he told you to.

And you liked it.

You took the initiative and dialled him first.

“Hey,” you heard his warm, yet tired voice first before you got the video feed and saw him lying on his bed.

Shirtless.

You gulped.

“Hey, you,” you smiled. You were sitting upright, your knees brought to your chest as you leaned against your propped up pillows.

“You hurt yourself again?” you saw him frown. His room was dark, and his face illuminated by the light from his phone.

“Oh, this?” you automatically touched your ear pinna where the bandaid was, “Yeah, I made an impulsive and stupid decision to pierce my cartilage at a really dodgy looking shop, now that I think about it. It got infected.”

For some reason, Jason thought it was funny, because he burst into a laughing fit.

“I-I’m sorry,” he choked, “Stupid decision indeed.”

“Hey!” you giggled, “Like you’ve never made a stupid decision in your entire life.”

“You caught me,” he conceded.

“Well, what was it? What’s the most stupid thing you have done in your entire life?” you demanded.

“Hmm,” you saw him bite his lower lip as he thought about it. You licked yours. “Well, I’ve done many stupid things. One of them is not going to that library sooner. I could have gotten to know you way beforehand.”

You blushed. “You know, I’ve never actually asked you what your age was.”

“My age?” he laughed, “Why? Do I look old?”

“No, no,” you quickly denied, “I’m just curious.”

“Guess how old I am.”

“Twenty-four?” you guessed.

“Woah, back up a few years,” he shook his head.

“Twenty-two?” you tried again.

“Close,” he nodded, “I’m twenty-one this year.”

“Argh, so close!” you said.

“How about you, princess?”

“I’m eighteen this year,” you told him.

“Phewh!” he gave an exaggerated sigh of relief, “Thank God for that.”

“Why?” you giggled, “Any specific reason why you would be relieved that I’ll be legal this year?”

“Of course,” he answered as a matter-of-factly, “There are so many reasons why I would be relieved.”

“Like?” you prompted.

“Like, I want to get into your pants?” he said bluntly, causing you to laugh out loud.

“Very direct, Jason,” you chuckled, “No sugar-coating at all.”

“Why would I?” he raised an eyebrow, “You should already know that I like you. You’re smart, beautiful, funny, not to mention hella clumsy.”

“Clumsy?” you shrilled.

“Yeah, I mean, for some reason you always get injuries. That cut on your forehead, now the infected ear,” he listed down, “I'm pretty sure if I got to know you longer I'd have more to add.”

“And that's a turn on for you?” you skeptically asked.

“No, but it makes for good entertainment,” he grinned, “But in all seriousness, you’re amazing.”

“Thank you,” you blushed, “You’re not too bad yourself. But actually…”

“What?”

“The legal age of consent for sex in Gotham is seventeen,” you stated, “So you shouldn’t have had to worry too much. Unless you thought that I was younger than that.”

“Huh. Didn’t know that,” he responded, “And hold up. There’s no way I would have thought you were younger than that. You’re too… developed.”

“Developed?” you laughed, “Interesting choice of words.”

“What can I say?” his expression changed, his voice lower, “I’ve stared more than I should.”

Oh, you were really blushing this time.

Not to mention the heat that shot down between your legs.

“Naughty,” you teased, “Unfortunately for me, all you wear are baggy hoodies so I can’t exactly stare back.”

“Hmm,” he hesitated for a while, and then raised his phone up high, so it could capture the rest of his shirtless upper body.

You tried to keep your reaction cool, because even in the dim light, you could see his ripped body. His pecs looked hard, and his abs- you wanted to lick them.

Your favourite part was the V that cut into his pants, teasing what was underneath.

“So what do you think?” he winked.

“Uhm,” you gulped, “Very nice.”

“Very descriptive,” he chuckled, and then brought his phone back down, “Your turn, sweetheart.”

“My turn?” you panicked.

You weren’t exactly wearing the sexiest choice of pyjamas. It Dick’s old and faded Superman t-shirt with shorts.

“Yeah, your turn,” he pressed, “I wanna see what you wear to bed.”

“O-okay,” you answered.

Slut. Your mother was back.

You straightened your knees and gave Jason a view of your upper body.

“Nice t-shirt,” he said stiffly. You thought you saw his jaw clench. “Superman fan?”

“It’s my brother’s. I’m more of a Batman and Robin fan,” you answered, smiling to yourself at the inside joke.

“I can see your nipples,” he pointed out.

Your eyes widen. Right, you weren't wearing your bra, so he would have been able to see them poking through the soft cotton. You brought your phone back closer to you.

“Aw, don’t be shy,” he smiled devilishly, “I think it’s hot.”

“I think you’re hot,” you blurted.

Whore.

“Very direct, angel,” he mocked your previous choice of words, “Oh yeah. Remember last week I said I had a dream about you?”

Oh, you remembered very well. “Uh-huh.”

“Well,” he began, “Wanna know what it was about?”

“I do, actually,” you bit your lip, “I was curious. Especially after you said that you were… finishing it.”

“It’s inappropriate,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

“Which means it was sexual,” he stated.

“It’s okay.”

“Well, we were at the library,” he started without hesitation, “At the bookshelves. I had you against one of them, and you were in my arms.”

“What were we doing?” you prompted.

“I had my tongue in your mouth,” he smirked, “And I was touching you.”

You were rubbing your thighs together, and you realised you were breathing slightly faster.

“Where?” you pressed on.

“Your tits,” his voice was now husky, “Your hair. Everywhere.”

“Oh.”

“Want me to go on?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, your free hand secretly cupping your sex underneath your shorts.

This was all new to you. Very new. You have wanted this so bad. You wanted to be naughty and inappropriate with boys you found attractive, but mother always stopped you.

It was too late for mother to stop you now.

“You were grinding against my dick,” he went on, “It felt really good.”

“I bet,” you grinned.

“Princess, are you really trying to be smart with me while I’m talking dirty to you?” he reprimanded lightly.

“It depends,” you shrugged.

“On what?”

“Whether or not you have your other hand down your pants like I do,” you boldly stated.

Jason really had the power to completely take off your mask, making you expose your true self to him. The one you had so desperately tried to hide from your parents, your peers, your family. Maybe it was the fact that he was basically a complete stranger that you could just cut off after. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t know you enough to judge you.

Whatever the reason was, it made you more confident, which evidently caught Jason off guard because of his current shocked expression.

Which turned into a much darker, and sinister one.

“Caught me,” he gave a side smile, “I’m really hard right now. Been hard after I saw your nipples.”

You let a finger between your pussy lips and felt that you were soaking.

“Oh,” you raised your eyebrows.

“What?”

“I’m wet,” you grinned at him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “Do you wanna like, you know?”

“Wanna what?” you teased.

“Wanna touch yourself with me,” he continued, “You don’t have to show me anything. Just, let yourself loose.”

You pondered for a while.

The masked you would never ever do anything of this sort. But you figured that there was no harm in letting your mask slip completely from time to time if it wasn’t hurting anyone.

Besides, you’ve always wanted to do this.

You leaned back completely on the propped pillows, the camera on your phone only framing your head and your upper chest. You took off your shorts and spread your legs, brushing against your clit with a finger.

You moaned softly.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he concluded excitedly. You saw that he was moving, busy with something using his other hand which was out of frame.

“Are you taking off your pants, Jason?” you asked.

“Yep,” he simply replied, “Aand, there. My dick is now free from its confinement.”

You giggled, now looking at him. His camera also framed his face and upper chest. His eyes were closed and you could see the corners of his lips slightly upturned.

He let out a short yet deep moan.

You bit your lip and started circling your clit.

“So, where was I?” he opened his eyes, “Oh, right. You were grinding on my dick. And, you were even begging me.”

“Begging you?” you sighed in pleasure.

“Y-yeah,” he confirmed, “You were begging me to hurry up and fuck you.”

His voice was sensual. The way his words rolled off his tongue was smooth like butter. You loved it when he said the F word. It sounded sexy.

“And did you?” you desperately asked.

“Not yet,” he told you, “No, I wanted to tease you more, so I just started finger fucking you-”

“Oh,” you sighed.

For some reason, you remembered when Red Hood stuck out his middle finger at you earlier. You imagined that very same long, thick finger inserting itself into your pussy. You tried to shove that thought away.

“Are you the loud type or the quiet type, Princess?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admitted, “I was never in any situation where I needed to be quiet or loud.”

“Means that we just have to find out, huh?” he teased.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Yeah, i’d like that.”

There was a moment of silence where the both of you were just enjoying the pleasure you were giving yourselves, looking at each others expressions on screen and listening to the heavy pants of each others laboured breathing.

“What happened next?” you prompted.

“Your begging was too much to handle, so I started fucking you,” he continued, “You were loud.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. In fact, even if you're the quiet type, I don't think you'll be able to stay quiet if I'm the one fucking you, sweetheart,” he said.

“Mmm,” you hummed, lost in the fantasy of Red Hood fucking you hard until you screamed.

Jason. You meant Jason.

“I was- mmm- I was super stressed out today,” he explained, eyes closed. You could see one shoulder and the top of his bicep making small movements, probably stroking his cock.

You wanted to see his cock so bad.

“What happened?” you breathed.

“Long story,” he grunted, “A colleague annoyed me. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

You understood, and also made a mental reminder to ask Jason what he was working as while waiting to apply for the police force.

“Then what- what do you want to talk about, Jason?” you asked, pleasure slowly building up, heat spreading from your core to the rest of you.

You’ve never been that turned on in your entire life. Granted, you never put yourself in any situations that would have aroused you. You’ve never seen porn.

But you knew that at that moment in time, you were horny as hell.

“I want to talk about how perfect I think your tits would look like,” he said, “If they were bouncing in front of me right now while you ride me.”

You moaned loudly at his words. He was good at dirty talk. You liked it very much.

You wondered if Red Hood liked your tits, since he got to grope them quite a bit.

“You sound sexy,” he commented.

“So do you,” you replied, “Fuck, Jason. I’m so horny.”

“Me too, princess. Me too,” he agreed, “I really want to fuck you.”

His eyes were hooded, looking at you through his own screen. You saw that his arm movements were getting faster.

“I want to lick your cock,” you said, before laughing to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, a smile appearing on his lips.

“I never thought I’d actually say that to someone,” you confessed.

“There's always a first for everything, angel,” he jested, “Hmm, now you've put the mental image of me fucking your mouth in my head.”

“And how does that image look?”

“Looks like I can come to that image alone.”

“Mmm, I think I’m getting close.”

You started speeding up, feeling all your juices leak and spread onto the whole of your pussy.

“I want to hear you come,” he groaned, and picked up the pace and force. You knew, because you heard a sound coming from Jason’s end.

A wet, slapping sound.

“Jason, your dick sounds are really hot,” you panted.

“Your expressions are really hot,” he responded, “Also your moans.”

“Mmm, Jason,” you breathed, “I think I’m-”

You felt a tightening in your core as you sped up your rhythm, your eyes closed shut and your mouth open in a silent scream. You built and built and built until-

“Fuck! Red!” you cried as you felt your pussy flutter and you reached your peak.

“Shit, fuck- ah!” he gasped. You opened your eyes immediately to see him with an almost angry frown and biting his lip too hard.

You felt your clit tingle when you saw him in that expression.

He opened his eyes and let out a long sigh.

“That felt good,” he panted.

“Yeah,” you giggled.

“Red?” he asked, looking amused.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“When you came, you said- well, moaned- Red,” he pointed out.

“Did I?” you panicked. You really didn't have any control over yourself when you were at that state of ecstasy. “You must have misheard me. Why would I moan a colour?”

“You tell me,” he smirked, a twinkle in his eye.

“I really don't know what to say,” you denied.

What the fuck? You moaned Red, as in Red Hood?

“I guess random things slip out when people come. It's fine. But I’d like to do that again, baby girl,” he smiled sleepily at you.

Baby girl.

“Me too, but, uhm,” you mumbled, “Please don’t call me that? Everything else is fine.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he hurriedly apologised, “I didn’t realise-”

“No, it’s fine,” you shook your head, “It’s just that- this guy I really despise likes to call me that. If you call me that, you’ll remind me of him.”

“I get it,” he frowned, “Why don’t you tell him to stop?”

“He won’t listen,” you almost laughed at the prospect of Red Hood apologising for calling you that.

“Who is he?”

“Some jackass I ran into and for some reason won’t leave me alone,” you rolled your eyes.

“That sounds serious,” he pointed out, “Is he a stalker? Why don’t you go to the police?”

You snorted.

“What?”

“Uh, sorry,” you mentally slapped yourself, “I mean, I don’t think the police can do anything about this guy.”

“Why, is he like the president or something?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Or something,” you revealed vaguely.

Jason looked genuinely concerned about your safety. You found that so sweet. You might actually consider a long term relationship with him.

“Well if you see him when we’re out together, tell me, because I’ll beat him up for you,” he assured you.

You thought about what would happen if Jason and Red Hood got into a fight and resisted chuckling to yourself.

“Of course. I won’t even stop you,” you humoured him.

“Good,” he yawned.

“You should go to bed,” you yawned back.

“Mmkay,” he mumbled, eyes drooping, “I’ll text you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” you acknowledged.

“Goodnight, princess. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, handsome,” you winked, and ended the call.

You sighed and lied down, staring at the ceiling.

It was definitely a different feeling, doing it with another person over video call. Jason had a way with words, making your experience even more intensefully heightened.

You enjoyed yourself a lot, but after ending the call with him and rethinking about everything, you suddenly felt a wave of guilt crash over you.

Because you just whored yourself out, you pathetic bitch!

There she was again.

You wondered if you could ever get rid of her.

You buried your face in your pillow and tried your best to ignore the haunting voice of your mother in your head.

You felt guilty for thinking of Red Hood too. This would have been the second time you orgasmed to him. And you’ve only orgasmed twice anyway, which meant that you’ve orgasmed to him every single time you masturbated, which meant that you couldn’t orgasm to anyone else besides Red Hood, which meant that-

You groaned.

You didn’t want to overthink your obvious sexual attraction to Red Hood, because how could you ever face him and fight him again the next time you see him?

***

Jason chuckled to himself as he cleaned the cum from his abdomen.

He thought that you were hotter, sexier than he ever imagined you to be. Phase 2 of his plan was going way too easy. You were already thinking about him.

You were thinking about Red Hood when you came.

It was too easy.

He shook his head and laughed. He guessed that Batman never taught you how to resist seduction.

He chuckled again before closing his eyes.

Too easy.

***

You gagged.

You felt bile rising from the back of your throat, your stomach feeling queasy and uneasy, as if your stomach acids were full and overflowing. Like if you were to do a handstand that very moment, all your stomach juices would come out down your oesophagus.

“Robin, don’t look away,” Batman asserted next to you, “Don’t be queasy.”

You took a deep breath- wait, bad idea. It smelled like blood.

You gulped and willed yourself to look at the three decapitated heads that were pierced by 3 pikes, spearing through the cut off neck, blood slowly dripping down the wooden stick.

The spears were driven into the wooden panels of the bar floor in a row, the warm dim light only barely illuminating the scene before you. All were male, all were brunettes. One was staring blankly at you, his pompadour messy, while the other two had their eyes shut in an expression of grimace.

At least you were at a bar on a Saturday night.

“If you look away, you’ll miss things,” Batman explained to you.

Batman had tapped into the GCPD radio feed like he did so many times before, and someone had called 911, describing an armed man with a red helmet had started to attack some people at Black Bass Bar in the East End, on Murphy Avenue. The both of you were patrolling The Bowery when Batman heard the call.

Despite rushing to the location much faster than the police department, Red Hood was already gone, leaving an empty bar with shattered glass all over the floor and three heads on pikes, their bodies dumped in the far right corner of the room.

Each body were missing every single finger except the middle.

Now that you looked at the heads, you couldn’t stop. You felt an eerie pull towards them, an unsettling feeling of anxiety settling at the pit of your stomach.

It was different from the mauling the Ibenescus faced at the club. Indeed, the mauling was more gruesome and the thought had disturbed you quite a bit, but you figured the adrenaline rush that Red Hood had incited that day due to the fight had prevented you from fully taking in and processing what had happened.

Because as of now, the room was empty and quiet. You weren’t in a hurry, and you were forced to take in everything.

It felt like the first time you’ve ever seen a dead body. You didn’t know why you were afraid of a cold empty shell, yet you couldn’t stop looking.

You couldn’t believe that you were justifying Red Hood’s actions. You couldn’t believe that you were sexually attracted to him. This served as a reminder as who he was-

A sick, depraved human being.

You closed your eyes at an empty attempt to try to forget the image, but it was too late. It was already seared in your mind.

What did these people do to deserve such a cruel, undignified death-

“Hmm,” Batman hummed, making you open your eyes, “Red Hood must still have trouble with the human trafficking ring.”

“What?” you frowned.

“Alexandru and Elias Ibenescu,” Batman pointed to the two heads from the right, “And Jarick Bucinschi.”

Right, you could see it now.

Alexandru and Elias Ibenescu were cousins of the main 4 brothers that lead the human trafficking ring- the ones who were mauled. Jarick Bucinschi was a Slav who married into the Ibenescu family and joined the ring.

You had read it all in the case file when the Ibenescus’ got murdered just over a week ago. You were too preoccupied with being disturbed by the heads to recognize their faces.

From what you read in their files, these people kidnapped women and children to sell them off to disgusting people to be prostituted or harvested for organs.

You didn’t feel sorry for them anymore.

But that didn’t make the scene before you any less gruesome.

There was blood smeared all over the floor, and some footprints all leading out, already oxidizing and turning into a shade of dark brown.

“I wonder why they’re so insistent,” you voiced out, walking towards the bodies in the corner, “The others submitted to Red Hood just fine.”

Batman was bending down and looking at the heads where the neck were cut off, the sounds of police sirens from outside getting close.

“Not everyone,” Batman answered, “It’s only been a week since Red Hood showed his dominance on the underground. These people and their families have been controlling their rings for decades. They wouldn’t submit so easily.”

“So who else?”

“Black Mask, officially. What’s left of the Ibenescu ring was supposed to submit too, but like Gordon said before, it was a massive operation with several people the Patru Frati appointed to directly work under them. The cousins must have thought that now the leaders were gone, they would be the next in line to take over,” Batman deduced.

Patru Frati. The direct translation of ‘Four Brothers’ in Romanian.

“So what is this, a statement? A warning of sorts?” you guessed.

“It seems so,” Batman straightened up and walked towards where you were, observing the headless bodies, “Hmm.”

“What is it?”

“Tell me what happened here,” he asked.

A test.

“He sliced off their heads pretty cleanly,” you pointed out, “He’s skilled with a sword, most probably a katana.”

“What else?”

“Obviously the middle finger he’s trying to show us again,” you grumbled, referring to the amputated fingers, “I don’t know if he cut them off post-mortem or not.”

“Yes, there’s too much blood from the decapitation,” Batman agreed.

“How much do you want to bet that he did it while they were still alive, that fucking psycho,” you muttered.

“What can you tell from the amputation?” Batman pressed.

“That he’s mocking you, just like how he was at the docks,” you concluded.

“Jesus Christ,” a tired sigh came from behind the two of you.

You turned to see Gordon grimace, not unlike the expressions on the heads.

He looked at you, and then to Batman with concern, “You sure she’s not too young to see these things, Batman?”

“I’m fi-” you started.

“She can handle anything I can,” he replied sternly.

That made your heart swell.

He looked at Batman through judgemental eyes, and then proceeded to walk over to the bodies.

After a few moments, he chuckled, “How old is this guy?”

Batman gave him a glare.

Gordon shrugged, “Just an observation.”

The forensics walked in, and immediately scowled when they saw the two of you. They were never big fans of Batman and Robin, because the two of you would arrive at locations first and “contaminated the crime scene”.

You smirked, your nerves slowly calming down the more people arrived. It made the atmosphere less eerie.

Because the truth was, you weren’t fine. You thought that Gotham could throw anything at you, and you would be able to stomach it.

You were wrong.

“I trust you have the files on these three,” Batman told Gordon.

“Yeah,” Gordon nodded, “These three were always able to get away without getting charged. I almost gave up at one point. I don’t want to say good riddance, but… well…”

“We’re done here,” Batman stated, and you started to follow behind him as he proceeded to walk out.

“Wait,” the commissioner stopped him, “You should know that there’s a gang war brewing, according to my informant.”

“As expected,” Batman acknowledged, and walked out.

***

“Did he really need to take all that time and effort to make such a statement?” your voice echoed in the Cave.

Bruce had taken out his cowl and was sitting at his large computer table, logging the events of that night. You were standing next to him, leaning against the table with a mug of hot chocolate in your still gloved hands.

“I mean,” you continued, “Isn’t killing them already enough of a warning?”

“You have to understand that these criminals kill on almost a daily basis,” Bruce explained without taking his eyes off the screen, “Dead bodies are part of the job. They’re desensitized to death.”

“So in order to strike fear, he has to do more than just kill,” you pieced everything together, “He has to make it look painful and... degrading.”

“Exactly,” Bruce paused typing and turned to look at you in the eye, “You did well today. Are you okay?”

“I can handle whatever you can handle,” you grinned, repeating his own words.

“Good,” he praised, “Things will only get worse. You will see worse things.”

“More so than people getting mauled by robot dogs and decapitation?” you rolled your eyes.

“Lazlo Valentin is still in Arkham,” Batman reminded you, raising an eyebrow.

He was right. You never had a Professor Pyg case before. From what you’ve read about him, you thanked your lucky stars.

“Yeah,” you admitted, “And let’s hope he stays there.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, “However, it is perfectly normal for these things to keep you up at night. Will you tell me when it does?”

“I will,” you promised.

You tossed and turned that night.

You didn’t want to close your eyes, because you didn’t want to see the scene again. But it wasn’t any different from staring in your dark room.

You were afraid to fall asleep, because you had just woken up from a nightmare. The heads again. This time staring at you with all of their eyes wide open, the glassy emptiness of their expression somehow pulling you in closer.

You couldn’t stop looking at those eyes.

The overwhelming sense of anxiety of dread drowned you, and you woke up, sweating despite the cold temperature.

“Fuck,” you groaned, and squinted at the sudden bright light of your phone when you looked at the time. It was already 5 in the morning, the sun would be up in less than two hours.

Thank God it was a Sunday.

When you finally managed to fall asleep, you slept in late. It was already midday when you woke up and went down for breakfast. Bruce gave you a break from training that day, because he somehow knew that you had trouble sleeping.

That was fine, you had another mission that day.

Your mission was to get over your fear of mutilated bodies.

So you sat yourself in front of your laptop on your study desk. You would have tried going to Gotham Public Library- a replacement for the one you lost- if it wasn’t for the sensitive nature of your research.

You first went through Bruce’s files on the more gruesome cases in Gotham. He wrote very detailed description of the cases, along with pictures he snapped from the camera in his cowl. You were glad you weren’t around when some of these criminals were active.

Most of them were in Arkham Asylum. The Joker, Lazlo Valentin, Victor Zsaz. After Jason Todd died, Bruce made sure they would never get the taste of freedom ever again- unless rehabilitated.

We’ll see how long that lasts. They always find a way to escape.

So the crime in Gotham were now dominated by gangsters. They were harder to charge, because they were slick and rich. Filthy rich.

They could bribe the judge, the jury, the officers- anyone. And they had the money to hire the best lawyers, and somehow also get rid of incriminating evidence.

Hence, the heavier crimes you saw when you started as Robin were gang related.

You wondered for a second how Jason Todd dealt with the surplus of mentally insane criminals. He’d probably know a thing or two about brutal deaths.

You caught yourself chuckling, and then felt immediately bad.

Your phone buzzed.

Thinking of ex-Robins, Dick was calling you.

“Hey,” you answered.

“Hey, sis! You busy?” his warm voice comforted you.

“Nah, I’m just going over some old case files,” you told him, “What’s up?”

“Can’t I call to just ask you how you’re doing?”

“You already called last week,” your voice leaked suspicion.

“I can’t call you again?” he asked sarcastically.

“Bruce put you up to this,” you stated.

He paused. And then-

“Yeah,” he confessed, “He was worried about you after… After last night.”

“I’m fine, Dick,” you sighed.

“Well, if you’re not then you can talk to me,” he offered.

“Actually, yeah,” you agreed, “How did you deal with it? Did it affect you?”

“The gore?” he started, “Of course it did. It was scary. I remember when I saw my first dead body. Kept me up for days.”

“Yeah, it did for me as well,” you admitted, “But then I just got… used to it, you know? But then this asshole comes and starts mutilating people. I mean, the occasional amputated limb or decapitated head is one thing, but he arranged them on spikes!”

“Yeah, must have been a spectacle,” he said, “But, really, I know these things are part of the job and all, but it affects everyone. You shouldn’t pretend that you’re fine when you’re not. Talking to someone about it really helps.”

“Well, I’m talking to you aren’t I?” you teased.

“I guess you are,” your brother chuckled.

“So how did you get over it?” you inquired.

“Well,” he began, “It really affected me, that’s for one. I always had trouble waking up for school the next day because of the nightmares, and well, thoughts. The darkness and silence really gets to you.”

“I know what you mean,” you agreed.

“And really, I talked to people about it,” he explained, “People who knew what I was going through. And after a while, it became easier to think that you’re not the only one affected by it. Anyone normal would be.”

“And did it ever go away? The fear?”

“Eventually, it did. I kept on thinking that it doesn’t get worse than whatever that was I saw then, but oh trust me, it kept on getting worse. To the point where I just… Treated it like another case to solve,” he told you.

“So you’re telling me to just expect the worst?” you scoffed.

“It doesn’t sound like much, but it helps you deal with it in the mean time. When you expect something so horrible, but it ends up being not so bad as what you imagined,” he continued, “You’ll be relieved to see just a decapitated head.”

A moment of comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you took everything in.

“Hey, Dick?” you tried, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How did, uh, he deal with it?” you winced to yourself. You didn’t like bringing up Jason Todd because of how it affected everyone around you, which was why you never really brought him up to begin with.

You heard a long sigh.

“He came to me as well,” Dick reminisced, “He used to call me up in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep. It was almost every night. He was sensitive- for a while. And then he gradually called less and less when he learned how to deal with it himself. He got braver and more confident. He was a smart kid too. Hardworking. I bet he probably did some weird cognitive therapy on himself to get over his fears. Wouldn’t be surprising.”

You felt a sudden spark of jealousy when you heard Dick talk about your predecessor in such a tone. You wondered if you were better than Jason Todd.

That was an issue you never really figured out how to solve.

Your constant competition with a phantom of the past.

“I’ll have to look for that cognitive therapy then,” you lightened the mood, “Thank you for calling, Dick. Talking to you helped.”

“No problem, kid,” he assure you, “Call me if you need to talk, okay?”

“Okay.”

After that, you moved on from Bruce’s case files to documentaries and articles, some of them making you cry as you read them.

Because the reading material you had on the Murder of Junko Furuta was only the Wikipedia page- and it was enough to make you choke back tears. You couldn’t finish reading the article.

You wondered if you could ever be desensitized to these things. You wondered if you actually wanted to be. But what Dick said earlier resonated in you. Anyone normal would be affected by it.

Because it must take a heartless, soulless person to not blink an eye to such brutalities.

But you couldn’t stop looking for more.

And somewhere along the way, you started watching videos.

The deep web was a scary place. The highest level of the deep web was full of depravity, the epitome of human wickedness.

And the scariest thing? The internet we normal people surf on a daily basis, the ones that pop up on search engines, makes up only 4% of web content. The other 96% of the digital universe is on the deep web- the stuff you can’t just Google.

Sifting through movie pirating websites and file sharing users with questionable content, you ended up watching leaked videos of beheadings and drug cartel torture.

After a couple hours, you found yourself able to handle the disturbing images better. You were more intrigued rather than scared.

You felt better.

But that was because you were sitting on a chair, in the comfort of your own room. No smell of blood, no dim lights and eerie silence.

Now you found yourself wanting to be tested again, hating the fact that by doing so, you were basically anticipating another brutal murder by Red Hood, just to prove to yourself that you had succeeded your own personal mission.

***

There was a sort of an annoying buzz in the air.

Like a mosquito that wouldn’t stop bothering you.

You felt restless.

It had already been more than a week since The Black Bass Bar, and it was Tuesday morning, and you were in class, and you were looking out the window, shaking your knee. You felt like your joints were aching, like right before you got a cold. The last two days had been uneventful, even during patrol.

No sign of Red Hood whatsoever. No gang related crimes.

It was like the underworld was holding its breath.

Maybe even Red Hood needed his break from time to time.

That night you went on patrol like you always did during a weekday. You were split from Batman- on your own motorbike- but not too far away from each other. You were currently in Chinatown, zooming past little alleyways to find a perfect place to park.

It was around 11pm, yet the area was still bustling with life. The red lanterns that hung above you contributed little to the illumination of the town, because the brightness came from many chinese stalls and restaurants that were open, full of merry people drinking their beer at the array of large round outdoor tables that occupied half the street.

As you appreciated the smell of seafood and bak kut teh that wafted through the air, overpowering the usual smell of pollution, you suddenly heard a loud explosion coming from the direction you were heading to.

You somehow knew who you were going to meet that night.

Finally, you thought.

You were getting bored.

You wanted to see him. He got you excited.

But in a curious way.

The past week that you were researching criminal behavior and also brutal murders, you got intrigued by his philosophy, and you wanted to know more about how he thinks.

You weren’t scared of him anymore.

“Robin,” you heard Batman’s voice in your ear, as expected, “Wait for me.”

“But I’m five minutes away, Batman,” you argued, “I think it’s at that warehouse complex. I’ll circle to the loading bay.”

“Do not proceed without me, Robin,” Batman growled.

“But by the time you reach here, he’ll get away,” you frustratedly reasoned.

“You don’t know who it is,” Batman hissed.

“But-”

“That’s an order,” he commanded, “Stay-”

You pressed the button in your ear, and click, he was gone.

“To hell with your orders,” you muttered to yourself and drove high speed to the loading bay of the warehouse, the lights of the town dimming behind you and a new orange light came slowly into view.

The warehouse was old, but not run down. It was a complex that consisted of 6 blocks, and a large loading bay for trucks. Two blocks were ablaze, fire licking the wooden crates you could see from the opened metal doors.

And there was Red Hood, who just threw in a grenade at a third opened door, and walked away from the explosion calmly towards his large, black superbike.

You drove your bike to a halt right in front of his.

You expected him to get on the defense, to take out his guns, to try to escape- anything. But he just leaned against his bike with his arms crossed, like he was expecting you.

You ignored the way his biceps flexed underneath his leather jacket.

“Where’s the old man?” his scrambled voice reached your ears.

“On the way,” you got off your bike and got into a defensive position, keeping your distance from him.

“Hmm,” he simply said, cocking his head to the side like a curious cat.

“Who’s warehouse is this?” you asked.

You knew he wouldn’t do things without a reason.

“Black Mask,” he shrugged simply, “His main armory.”

“Why did you kill the Ibenescus?” you straightforwardly asked.

“They’re filth who refuse to work with me,” he simply answered.

“Why did you do it in such a violent way?” you inquired.

“As a message to others,” he replied without hesitation.

“You tortured them alive,” you pointed out.

“So?” he scoffed, “They deserve much worse for what they do. You have no idea what they put innocent people through.”

You frowned in deep thought.

“What’s your end goal?” you demanded.

“Controlled crime,” he answered.

You didn’t have time to think about his answer then, or ask him more. Batman would be there any second.

“I’m going to have to stop you now,” you told him.

“Oh, baby girl,” he drawled, “You can try.”

You attacked him in a low sweep kick, which he easily avoided by jumping, but the moment he was midair, you quickly got back on your feet and tackled him into his bike, causing it to fall over.

Before you could stand, he had one hand around your neck, restricting your airflow.

He landed a punch at your stomach, making you want to vomit. He then used his grip on you to throw you on the ground. You felt a hard blow at your ribs when he kicked you, making you cough.

He stood over you as you scrambled to get on your feet.

He kicked you again, and you gasped as the air escaped out of you forcefully through his blows.

You felt his abnormal strength from his grips and kicks. Every time you tried to stand, he would kick you on the side.

“I don’t enjoy this,” his static voice started, “Stand down.”

You struggled to roll over on your stomach to get on all fours. You secretly reached for the R shuriken on your left breast, hiding it from his view, and then turned around in a flash, throwing it at him.

The bastard saw it coming, and he dodged it. During the one moment of distraction, you shot up on your feet and attempted to punch him. He caught your fists with a hand, and lifted his other fist.

You waited for the blow to your face.

But it never came. His fists were still in the air, aiming at your head, yet it never landed. You took his moment of hesitation to throw an undercut.

You felt a small crack in his helmet when the blow connected with your gauntlet covered knuckles.

You grinned, pleased with yourself as you watched him stumble backwards, tripping over his own bike.

Even though he was wearing the stupid helmet, you felt him glare at you. His right arm reached for something, and then you were blinded by a white light.

You hissed and closed your eyes, cursing at yourself for not looking away sooner before he threw the flashbang.

You heard the sound of an engine starting, and you stumbled forward in your blind daze.

When you finally regained your eyesight, the first thing your eyes saw was a disgruntled Batman with his arms crossed, looming over you.

Judging from the slight downturned corner of his tightly closed lips, he was practically fuming.

“I almost had him,” you winced, as you felt the pain from the blows you took now that your adrenaline rush was over.

He remained silent.

“He would have gotten away and we wouldn’t have known who it was that did this,” you tried to justify.

Without breaking eye contact with you, Batman pointed to a CCTV that was very much still active.

“I still think I made the right decision,” you shrugged.

“You disobeyed a direct order,” he fumed.

“I acted how I saw fit,” you argued, “You always say to follow your instincts-”

“Not if your instincts contradict my orders,” he retorted.

“Wow,” you scoffed, “Just- wow.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Well, since I’m sure you’re going to dismiss me for tonight, I’ll be heading back now,” you walked to your bike, grimacing at the pain the whole way.

“Robin,” Batman called before you could drive away, “Have Alfred check your injuries.”

You paused.

“Okay.”

*** “Take a deep breath and hold it,” you heard Alfred’s voice coming from the speakers in the small X-Ray room in the very far end of the cave.

You winced and did as you were told. You heard a beep, and then breathed normally again.

You walked out the room in a thin cotton robe and sat on a medical examination bed in the centre of the cave.

“Well, no broken ribs or fractures,” Alfred came out, holding the X-Ray image of your thorax, “Thankfully, your injuries are merely superficial.”

“Good,” you huffed, “Still hurts, though.”

“Yes, bruises tend to hurt,” he agreed, “Any other injuries I should know of? Your head, in particular.”

“No, no head injuries,” you shook your head. He specifically did not give you any head injuries.

“Very well, then. You are good to go,” Alfred dismissed you.

By the time you were ready for bed, it was half past midnight.

You admittedly felt bad for arguing with Bruce the way you did earlier. You rarely ever disobeyed him- but when you did, you would lie in bed for hours feeling guilty.

After all, he took you in, raised you, trained you, made you who you were. And you were forever grateful for that.

But sometimes he was just so frustrating.

It was either his way or the highway. But you guessed that’s the deal with most parents.

You sighed to yourself. You needed a distraction. You’ve been feeling anxious and restless the past few days.

You called Jason.

“Hello?” he answered, his voice slightly breathless.

“Hey, it’s me,” you greeted him, “Are you busy?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said.

“Would you like to hang out tomorrow after I finish school?” you asked, “I was thinking Robinson Park.”

“Really?” he blurted, “You’re feeling okay?”

You were taken aback.

“Of course I am,” you replied, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just thought that you were busy on school days, that’s all,” he chuckled.

“I’ve got nothing on tomorrow,” you explained, “I just feel like winding down for a bit. Take a stroll, eat ice cream.”

“Okay, then. See you at Robinson Park at…?”

“I finish at three, so I’ll be there around three twenty?” you told him.

“Awesome! I’ll see you tomorrow at three, princess.”

“See you, Jason.”

*** The weather was nice, considering that it was Gotham. You got lucky that it wasn’t all too gloomy that day, and there were actually birds chirping about.

You were sitting on a bench at Robinson Park in a tank top and shorts- you took the time to change before you came- watching as joggers passed by and kids chased their dogs. Suddenly, you had an ice cream cone pushed up in front of your face.

You looked up and saw Jason grinning, holding the cone.

“I didn’t know what flavor you liked, so I just got this one. If you don’t like it I can go back and buy another-”

“No, no,” you insisted, taking the cone from him, “I’m fine with this. Thank you.”

He sat down next to you. He was wearing a tight light grey shirt that stretched marvelously across his chest. It was the first time you saw him wear something that showed you what he actually looked like underneath.

His biceps reminded you of Red Hood’s flexed-

No, stop it. What was wrong with you?

“So,” he began, “What’s up with the…”

He gestured to your knuckles, which were taped and bandaged. You had cuts and bruises that needed to be bandaged on your knuckles, due to Red Hood’s hard helmet.

“Oh, I do MMA,” you answered smoothly, a lie that you had perfected over the years, “It’s funny, actually. I sometimes show up to school with bruises on my shoulders, or a black eye- stuff so bad that makeup couldn’t even cover it. Everyone thought my dad was abusing me.”

You let out a well practiced chuckle.

“So you not only get injured over glass doors, but you also let yourself voluntarily get beaten up?” he laughed.

“It’s a sport, okay!” you giggled, “I’m not too bad at it.”

“I’m not too bad at fighting, myself,” he grinned, and then licked his ice cream.

You forced yourself to not stare at his wet lips.

“You know martial arts?” you exclaimed, “Wait, what am I talking about? Of course you do. You’re planning to join the force.”

“Well, yes,” he said, “But I bet you’re better.”

“Are you kidding me? Look at the size of you!” you blurted.

“And there you go talking about my size again,” he feigned a hurt sigh.

“Oh, please,” you playfully slapped his arm, “Oh, I saw a meme this morning that reminded me of you- wait, let me show you.”

“Meme?” he asked.

You looked at him weird.

“Yeah?” you said slowly, “Don’t you know what a meme is?”

He blinked at you.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “Have you been living under a rock all these years? Where were you in 2010?”

You saw him frown slightly, and clench his jaw.

You immediately felt bad.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” you started.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, “It’s just that I’m not really on the internet much. No Myspace, or whatever.”

“Myspace?” you giggled, “Myspace is dead, Jason. It’s all Instagram now.”

“Well, let’s just say that living under a rock is quite an accurate statement you made,” he chuckled, yet no humour was in his eyes.

You tried to decipher the joke, but failed.

“Hey, wanna fight?” he changed the subject.

“Sorry?”

“I mean, spar,” he smirked, “It would be fun.”

You paused for awhile, thinking of your injuries. They were minor and usually you would be on patrol the day right after a light beating as well, so you figured why not.

“It’s on!” you stood up and gobbled up your ice cream, “Let’s find a nice spot.”

The two of you followed the park’s path, and settled on a flat area of soft grass a few metres down.

“I’m gonna have to touch you places, princess,” he warned, “You okay with that?”

“Oh, you can touch me anywhere you want,” you winked back at him.

His expression changed from excitement to a darker glint in his eye.

You got into your usual defensive position. You figured you were just going to go easy on him.

You went in for a right hook, which he dodged easily. And then a jab. He dodged again. You weren’t really aiming to hit him, as it was just a sparring session.

You kinda just want to tackle him to the ground.

So you went in for a low sweep, which he surprisingly avoided too. You frowned, thinking he was much better than you thought he was.

“I thought you said you weren’t too bad?” he gave you a smug look.

You narrowed your eyes at him, and then an idea popped into your head.

You wanted to just tackle him to the ground? So that’s what you did.

You ran head first in his direction, body bent low just like a football player, and tackled him to the ground.

He landed with an “Oof” on his back, but before you could even think of your next step, he had his hand around your neck and flung you off of him.

You laid on your back, letting the wet grass seep into your clothes, wide eyes and in shock.

“Oh, shit. Are you okay? I’m so sor-” Jason approached you to help you up, but you reflexively backed away from him.

It was illogical of you to back away from him, especially since he didn’t hurt you, but that move he made, it seemed too familiar.

“Fuck, princess,” Jason panicked, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You just caught me off guard and it was like a reflex. I swear, I didn’t mean to.”

You looked up at Jason’s wide, blue eyes. He was slightly sweaty, and his lips were apart, breathing heavily. He looked kind and concerned. You shook your head and laughed to yourself at your own ridiculousness.

There was no way your Jason could be Red Hood.

“It’s fine,” you chuckled, “I wasn’t expecting that move, that’s all. Come on, help me up.”

You held out your hand, and he pulled you up.

“Could you help brush off the grass from my back, please?” you asked politely.

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded and then proceeded to do as you asked. He didn’t even hesitate to brush off the grass off your butt. After he was done, he gave it a small slap, and grinned cheekily.

“Naughty,” you eyed him, smiling.

The two of you continued walking on the path, deciding silently not to continue sparring. You bickered and joked for around half an hour, before you needed to go back.

“I had a good time, Jason. Thank you, I needed this,” you said.

“No problem. You can call me anytime,” he suddenly hesitated and avoided your eye, “And uh, I’m sorry about just now. I really didn’t mean to.”

“I told you, it’s fine,” you dismissed.

“No, it’s not fine,” he grabbed your hands and stood in front of you, close.

So close, you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face and count the little white scars that littered his skin here and there, even some freckles, and you could see how long and thick his eyelashes were.

“I’m really, truly sorry,” he whispered, lifting your chin up, “I would never ever hurt you, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathed, consumed by his closeness and the icy blue of his eyes.

“I’m not a creep,” he chuckled lightly, “So you can trust me.”

“Okay,” you repeated.

“You’re really pretty close up,” he laughed nervously.

You hadn’t realised that the two of you were inching closer and closer together, until you felt his lips brush against yours lightly, as if he was asking you if it was okay.

You crashed your lips against his, eliciting a small gasp of surprise from him. He tasted like vanilla and strawberries- from the ice cream he had before.

The kiss was short and sweet- as you were in a public area. You broke it off and blushed.

“So, uh,” he panted, “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” you sighed back, “I’ll see you around.”

Once you were out of his view, you squealed to yourself as you rejoiced at your first kiss.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd reader #jason todd #red hood #red hood and the outlaws #dc comics #dceu #dc universe #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing

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loadsuperior898 · 3 years

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Crimebustersthe Creative Archive

Meera Borwankar JCP, Mumbai and head of crime branch

Crime Busters Wiki

Earn 125 points on every ticket you buy. Rack up 500 points and you'll score a $5 reward for more movies.

The Kickstarter campaign for the first issue of The Crimebusters is complete, and was a rousing success. Thanks so much to everyone who supported it! Im really looking forward to sending out the comic and hearing what you all think. And Im hard at work already on issue #2, so Ill certainly be sha.

She made history on July 21, 2004, when she took charge of Mumbai?s famed crime branch to become the first woman ever to head the department, which has to contend with, among other things, one of the world?s most organised mafias. The 46-year-old mother of two teenage sons pipped Arup Patnaik, special IG of the Special Reserve Force, and K.L. Prasad, an IG at the state police headquarters, to the post. Borwankar is known as one of the toughest officers Maharashtra has had ? her bosses, subordinates and the criminals she has tackled will heartily vouch for that. During her stint with the state Crime Investigation Department from 1993-95, one of the important cases she investigated was the infamous Jalgaon sex scandal in which local politicians were accused of duping young girls with false promises of jobs and loans. For her work, Borwankar has received the President?s Medal for meritorious service in 1997, apart from the Police Medal and the Director General?s Insignia. Educational high point? She has studied policy analysis in law enforcement at the University of Minnesota in the US.

G. Aswati ASP, Gadchiroli

When asked about how a woman police officer can make a difference in the lives of ordinary women, Aswati replies, ?A woman is seated in front of me right now. She is telling me about things in her life that she can never tell a male police officer?. Aswati (seen here with her husband C. Dorje) emphasises that women will certainly make a difference as far as crimes against women go. She may be the daughter of acclaimed Malayalam filmmaker Adoor Gopalakrishnan, but her aspirations have little to do with art. Known as an officer of integrity, she belongs to the 2000-batch of Assam cadre and was posted in Assam before being transferred to Maharashtra as assistant superintendent of police of the Naxal-infested Gadchiroli region.

Made in Maharashtra: Maharashtra has in fact a high number of women police officers compared to other states. Apart from Borwankar and Aswati, the state police has Sridevi Goyal, special IG, railways; Rashmi Shukla, deputy IG, prisons; Archana Tyagi, superintendent of police, Ratnagiri district; Maria Fernandes who is posted as deputy commissioner of police, headquarter-II, Mumbai police; Supriya Patil-Yadav, DCP, state intelligence department in the state police headquarter in Mumbai, deputy inspector general of police (prisons), superintendent of Arthur Road jail, Swati Sathe; and deputy commissioner (traffic) Pradnya Saravade. Saravade works as the deputy commissioner of the social service branch which falls under the direct supervision of Borwankar. As DCP in-charge of the port zone, she had unearthed a racket of exotic foreign-made cars being imported into India through corrupt port officials.

Blog Archive 2020 (152) July (25) June (30) May (31) April (30). Picturescape biology. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.

Damayanti Sen DCP, DD, Calcutta

On the phone Damayanti Sen, deputy commissioner of police (special), detective department, Calcutta, sounds as no-nonsense a person as she later transpires to be. She doesn?t mind interviews, she says, provided the talk revolves around her ? no personal questions, please! When you see Damayanti Sen (left), sitting in her large Lal Bazaar detective department room, she looks incredibly young, a tiny figure in her large straight-backed leather chair. But she exudes self-confidence. Because she doesn?t think that one?s gender makes any difference to the job at hand. Not in her profession and not in any other. ?No, I don?t think that women are better or worse off in a job. The only reason people ask a lot of questions related to my gender, is because there are fewer women in my profession now than men. But as that changes, people will stop being so interested.? Sen did her bachelors and masters in economics from Jadavpur University, both with a first class first. She took her IPS exams in 1996 and says she just happened to drift into the profession. She is married and her husband is in teaching.

Kanchan Chowdhury DGP, Uttaranchal

The country got its first woman director-general of police with Kanchan Chowdhury taking over as the head of the force in Uttaranchal since last year. Chowdhury wants to do ?something concrete for the women of Uttaranchal? and is planning to set up counselling centres in every district, not only in Uttaranchal but in the entire country. ?These centres could provide shelter, counselling, rehabilitation and other needs of oppressed and depressed women,? she elaborates. When asked how she felt that about being the new DGP of Uttaranchal and commanding a force of so many men, she says, ?Nothing special. But being the head of the police force, I shall see that my command is obeyed in letter and spirit.?

Chowdhury is, interestingly, the inspiration behind the Eighties? TV serial on a woman cop, Udaan.

Kanwaljeet Deol JCP, Delhi

As joint commissioner of police, Delhi headquarters, she has reduced several hardened criminals to their quaking knees, and as an official who brooks no oversight from her teams, is regarded with considerable awe by her colleagues too. Currently holding two posts, she is also the acting special commissioner of police, administration. She swears by T.S. Eliot and Marquez, but when it comes to her own literary skills, prefers to write something like 101 Tips To Survive The City (Penguin, 2002). Deol belongs to the Union Territory cadre, and joined the IPS after an MSc in physics from Punjab University in 1977, chiefly to be with her husband, Shamsher Deol, who had qualified for the IPS the year before. She says she owes her knowledge of the nitty-gritties of the police system to her first posting in 1978, in Panjim, where she had three police stations under her. She thinks policing is like mothering. ?Policing has been regarded a man?s profession for a long time. It?s a fallacy. I think policewomen give a more palatable image to the public. Team. They provide a soft side to a hard profession,? says Deol, who is on a mission to create a more effective police force in the 10 years of service that she has left.

Vimla Mehra JCP, Crime Against Women Cell, Delhi

Crime Busters Wiki

As joint commissioner of police, crime against women (CAW) cell, Delhi, she is taking joint commissioner Kanwaljeet Deol?s work forward (it was Deol who was at the forefront of the cell in 1986). Mehra, who has been heading the cell since 2002, and has brought in some very effective changes in its functioning, started with a posting in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands after her induction into the IPS in 1978, but has held an array of posts which required a fair amount of courage on her part. She was posted as additional DCP, south, after the infamous 1984 riots in Delhi, and has worked in the Central Reserve Police Force for four-and-a-half years, which included two years in the Rapid Action Force (RAF). The CAW cell deals mainly with matrimonial crimes, including domestic abuse, dowry deaths and other related crimes. Mehra may also be credited with starting the 1091 Helpline, a 24-hour distress call centre for women, a mobile helpline which immediately starts for the destination called from and a post box service, where women can write to P. Box 5353 for help. Now a strong 170-member force, the women?s crime police also imparts training in self-defence. ?I am all for improving our gender sensitivity in 2005,? says Mehra.

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samuelfields · 5 years

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Move Over FIRE, Welcome DIRE: Delay, Inherit, Retire, Expire

When I first started writing about achieving financial independence early in 2009, I never thought the FIRE movement would reach such a huge level of interest a decade later. After all, only misfits decide to aggressively forgo material pleasures, save 50% or more of their incomes, and retire from well-paying jobs in their 30s.

Back in 2009, the “lifestyle design” movement was all the rage because people were getting blown out of their jobs left and right. Some people went back to graduate school to save face. Others decided to start lifestyle businesses after getting laid off. I figured there was a good chance my head would also roll, which is one reason why I started Financial Samurai that summer.

Thanks to a raging bull market that ensued, life turned out fine and the FIRE movement picked up steam. Today, we are at peak FIRE, perhaps similar to peak crypto reached in December 2017. Unfortunately, when you’re at the peak, there’s usually nowhere to go but down.

Growing Angst Against Financial Independence

You know we’re at peak fire because the mass media has latched onto FIRE like a rabid dog which hasn’t eaten in weeks. Not a day goes by where there isn’t a new story about someone leaving a job early and how they did it.

As an investor, we know that by the time big media gets hold, it’s often too late to invest. Rather, it’s likely a more opportune time to sell. Just think about Uber and Lyft finally filing to IPO in 2019. After all the easy money has been made as private companies, they’re hoping to finally cash out to public investors.

My job as an investor and as a personal finance writer is to do my best to forecast the future. Writing about what may happen is infinitely more interesting (and risky) than writing about the past. Forecasting the future challenges your mind and could make you a rich hero or a broke fool with egg on your face.

But as with everything in life, no risk, no reward. Today, my crystal ball is saying the FIRE movement is in for a rude awakening.

On the one hand, there is growing disdain against the FIRE movement from the majority of Americans who will never reach financial independence. With the median household income going nowhere over the past 10 years, it’s been hard for middle-class Americans to get ahead. Further, the average American has a pitiful amount saved in their retirement accounts.

When you’ve been spinning your wheels for so long, all this brouhaha about people retiring early to live fabulous lives in their mom’s basement while posting fake Instagram pictures about their amazing lives starts to get mighty annoying after a while. Annoyance turns into rage and a new movement is born.

On the other side are FIRE practitioners who are finding out that not all is sunshine and rainbows once they’ve quit a stable job with wonderful benefits. With a slowdown in the economy on the horizon, things are not looking good.

The DIRE Movement Is Created

The Fed is on a mission to suffocate the economy with more rate hikes. The current administration wants to further escalate trade wars because of alpha male ego, no matter how adversely it affects the stock market. Meanwhile, the housing market has gone past its peak and will likely continue to be in the doldrums for the next several years.

When a downturn hits, if it hasn’t already, it’s an inevitability that FIRE followers will be forced to go back to work and earn their retirements the old-fashioned way. Some might even say FIRE during a recession stands for Foolish Idealist Returns to Employer.

However, as long as we keep the FIRE acronym alive, we give hope to its original meaning. But when all is lost, false hope only gets people into further trouble. Therefore, let’s eliminate FIRE entirely from our psyche so that we can finally make a change!

Let me introduce the newest retirement movement to the world: DIRE. As a realist who sees the future, it is all but a certainty the DIRE movement will supplant the FIRE movement as the retirement path of choice. Let’s find out why.

D Is For Delay

For most people, delaying retirement due to the rapid rise in costs for housing, healthcare, and education is the only way to survive.

Given the median household income has stayed stagnant at around $61,000 for the past decade while the median house price in America has risen from $177,000 to $222,000 during the same period (26% increase), housing has become less affordable. In some cities, real estate prices have appreciated so quickly that most residents have no hope of ever owning.

Median household income has gone nowhere in 20 years

Healthcare costs are out of control, especially if you plan to carry the entire monthly premium burden yourself. The average total healthcare cost is now almost $20,000 a year, subsidized mostly by the employer. Once you’re out of a job, the entire $20,000 cost falls upon you unless you have a low enough income to qualify for subsidies. For my family of three, I pay $1,760 a month, or $21,120 a year for a platinum plan. None of us are overweight or have any serious chronic illnesses either.

Education costs, specifically college tuition has grown unbearable with annual tuition increases averaging 5% – 7%, regardless of a recession or not. That’s a doubling of tuition every 10 – 15 years. Good luck retiring early if you’ve got to pay $50,000 – $100,000 a year for four or five years for even just a single child.

For parents with kids, retiring early will be all but a pipe dream. There will always be at least one parent working full-time to earn a steady income and have subsidized health care. The non-working parent can shout they are FIRE as loud as they want, but nobody will buy it. Being a stay at home dad or mom is nothing to be ashamed about, yet for the man especially, he can’t seem to accept his new reality of living off his wife’s income.

I Is For Inherit

With no hope of retiring early, many Americans are counting on an inheritance as their retirement strategy. With 25 as the median age when parents had kids in 1970 and the median life expectancy currently hovering around 80, the average American will likely have to wait until around 65 to inherit anything.

Today, the average age when women start to have children is 28. Therefore, future generations will likely have to wait even longer to inherit anything, all else being equal.

Not all is bad news on the inheritance front, however. With the average net worth in America rising to almost $700,000, parents are doing more than ever before to help their adult children thrive in adulthood. After all, Baby Boomers have benefitted the most from the longest bull market in history.

Every single one of my immediate neighbors in San Francisco has parents who either bought them their house or are letting them live in one of their multiple properties rent free. When I first moved into my house in 2014, I met my neighbor’s son who at the time was a 24-year-old senior at UC Davis. When he graduated in 2015, he returned home and still hasn’t left!

Can you imagine relying on an inheritance as a retirement strategy? You might never be able to start a family, create your own sense of independence, and make your great contribution to society. Clearly, one side effect of DIRE is a surge in depression.

R is for Retire

Forget about retiring in your 30s, 40s, 50s, or even 60s. With DIRE, we’re talking nowadays about the majority retiring in our 70s or older baby! We’re living longer. This means we’ve got to work longer to support ourselves. Once upon a time, people would retire at age 65 and die within five years. We are returning to the phenomena of that bygone era.

The earliest one can collect Social Security will rise from 62 to at least 65 if the government wants to make the program whole. After all, the government runs a massive budget deficit each year. With little-to-no social safety, achieving a comfortable retirement life will all depend on you.

With the trend towards retiring in our 70s or older, retirement life won’t be as fun. It’ll be much harder to play leisurely sports like golf or tennis when your back is always in pain. There’ll be no way to ever climb the stairs of Santorini when your knees don’t have cartilage. Donkey ride it is!

The only thing left you can do in this new world of retirement is watch tons of TV and surf the internet. At least with the popularity of food delivery apps, you will no longer have to go out of the house to eat a nice rubber chicken dinner. Staying glued to a lounge chair is what the new retirement reality will be like.

E is for Expire

Here is where the DIRE movement will be at its saddest. After a long life of working because you had to, not because you wanted to, reluctant DIRE followers will look back on their lives with regret. They will curse the day they ever heard about FIRE because otherwise they would never have taken the leap of faith at the top of the market and fallen splat on their faces.

Instead of being the hare, they would have won the race as the tortoise – steadily saving and investing their income during their highest income earning years with much less stress and worry. They wouldn’t have had to embarrassingly gone back to work with their tails between their legs and watched old colleagues now become their bosses. They wouldn’t have needed to go through multiple mental breakdowns and countless nights of self-doubt because they couldn’t replace their day job income with freelance income or entrepreneurial income to take care of their families.

Contrast reluctant DIRE followers with DIRE enthusiasts. DIRE enthusiasts see the FIRE movement is in trouble and decide to stay the course. Instead of retiring in their 30s or 40s, they decide to maximize their highest income earning years and retire with multi-millions in their 50s. Given everyone is living longer, retiring in your 50s is like retiring in your 40s of yesteryear. Of course, they also don’t just stay miserable at their jobs. DIRE enthusiasts proactively search for better opportunities in order to keep on working.

A DIRE enthusiast doesn’t scoff at families who believe they need $5 million in an after-tax portfolio to retire early. DIRE enthusiasts realize that runaway inflation, globalization, and structurally lower investment returns in the future will wreak havoc on living the early retirement dream. Therefore, instead of getting into a rage about why the world’s round peg doesn’t fit into their square hole, they simply adapt and work longer.

The DIRE Movement’s Future

Unless you’re willing to work more than 40 hours a week, build some side hustle income, generate some stable passive income, save aggressively, and continuously make shrewd investments for the long term, you have no chance of FIRE. And if you don’t do all these things and still decide to retire early, you will likely be screwed and join the reluctant DIRE camp.

Yes, some of you will decide to live like paupers and either delay or not have kids to keep expenses to a minimum to hold onto your FIRE dreams. However, for the majority who want to live more conventional lifestyles, it’s more important than ever to follow some key financial principles to increase your chances for financial independence.

If you are wise, you will embrace the realities of DIRE as the world heads south. Giving priority to caring for your family and delaying a super early retirement is the responsible thing to do. Don’t let FIRE FOMO foster irrational decision making.

Yes, if the economy gets really bad, there will be more face-saving by folks who say they are FIRE instead of admitting they got laid off and are drowning in a sea of despair. Just recognize not all is what it seems. If your passive income cannot comfortably cover your best life’s living expenses, you are not FIRE and only fooling yourself.

It’s time for the DIRE movement to rise up! I’m personally looking to head back to work, but I’m afraid after almost seven years of unemployment, nobody will hire my dire self.

Related: The Negatives Of Early Retirement Nobody Likes Talking About

Readers, are you ready to embrace the DIRE movement? Do you believe we are at peak FIRE? Do you believe DIRE will overtake FIRE as rational people adopt a more middle ground approach to early retirement, especially in a weakening economic environment?

https://www.financialsamurai.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/DIRE-Movement.m4a

The post Move Over FIRE, Welcome DIRE: Delay, Inherit, Retire, Expire appeared first on Financial Samurai.

from Finance https://www.financialsamurai.com/dire-movement-delay-inherit-retire-expire/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

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mcjoelcain · 5 years

Text

Move Over FIRE, Welcome DIRE: Delay, Inherit, Retire, Expire

Growing Angst Against Financial Independence

But as with everything in life, no risk, no reward. Today, my crystal ball is saying the FIRE movement is in for a rude awakening.

The DIRE Movement Is Created

D Is For Delay

For most people, delaying retirement due to the rapid rise in costs for housing, healthcare, and education is the only way to survive.

Median household income has gone nowhere in 20 years

I Is For Inherit

Today, the average age when women start to have children is 28. Therefore, future generations will likely have to wait even longer to inherit anything, all else being equal.

R is for Retire

E is for Expire

The DIRE Movement’s Future

It’s time for the DIRE movement to rise up! I’m personally looking to head back to work, but I’m afraid after almost seven years of unemployment, nobody will hire my dire self.

Related: The Negatives Of Early Retirement Nobody Likes Talking About

https://www.financialsamurai.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/DIRE-Movement.m4a

The post Move Over FIRE, Welcome DIRE: Delay, Inherit, Retire, Expire appeared first on Financial Samurai.

from Money https://www.financialsamurai.com/dire-movement-delay-inherit-retire-expire/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

0 notes

ronaldmrashid · 5 years

Text

Move Over FIRE, Welcome DIRE: Delay, Inherit, Retire, Expire

Growing Angst Against Financial Independence

But as with everything in life, no risk, no reward. Today, my crystal ball is saying the FIRE movement is in for a rude awakening.

The DIRE Movement Is Created

D Is For Delay

For most people, delaying retirement due to the rapid rise in costs for housing, healthcare, and education is the only way to survive.

Median household income has gone nowhere in 20 years

I Is For Inherit

Today, the average age when women start to have children is 28. Therefore, future generations will likely have to wait even longer to inherit anything, all else being equal.

R is for Retire

E is for Expire

The DIRE Movement’s Future

It’s time for the DIRE movement to rise up! I’m personally looking to head back to work, but I’m afraid after almost seven years of unemployment, nobody will hire my dire self.

Related: The Negatives Of Early Retirement Nobody Likes Talking About

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acdyson-blog · 7 years

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The Gap

There are so many times in life where we feel like we’re waiting around for something. Physically we can be waiting, how many times I’ve waited for late public transport, or when I’ve been ill and just couldn’t wait to get better. But sometimes we wait spiritually. We just need that breakthrough from God, we need Him to move in a situation that seems completely impossible and how hard it is when it just seems like nothing is happening. The worst thing about waiting isn’t necessarily the wait itself, it is the fact we just don’t know how long we’ll be waiting for. Come on God, just let me know, give me a break here, what sort of time frame are we looking at? A day? A month? A year? In a world where everything is instantaneous it just feels so unnatural to be kept in the dark or kept waiting around for something that may or may not happen.

There’s a lot said about waiting in the Bible, whether it’s for the Promised Land or meeting Jesus, I don’t know many people in the Bible who did not spend some of their life waiting. I think for me David is one of those guys that I almost feel a bit sorry for in some ways. Of course, we know David because he was the guy that lopped off Goliath’s head, we also know him as King David who was the father of King Solomon and we also know him as the guy who beat King Saul. But he wasn’t always that guy. He wasn’t always in a palace, he didn’t have a crown on his head from birth, in fact, he was a complete nobody.

‘The Lord said to Samuel, “How long will you go on grieving over Saul? I have rejected him as king of Israel. But now get some olive oil and go to Bethlehem, to a man named Jesse, because I have chosen one of his sons to be king.” 2 “How can I do that?” Samuel asked. “If Saul hears about it, he will kill me!” The Lord answered, “Take a calf with you and say that you are there to offer a sacrifice to the Lord. 3 Invite Jesse to the sacrifice, and I will tell you what to do. You will anoint as king the man I tell you to.” 4 Samuel did what the Lord told him to do and went to Bethlehem, where the city leaders came trembling to meet him and asked, “Is this a peaceful visit, seer?” 5 “Yes,” he answered. “I have come to offer a sacrifice to the Lord. Purify yourselves and come with me.” He also told Jesse and his sons to purify themselves, and he invited them to the sacrifice. 6 When they arrived, Samuel saw Jesse’s son Eliab and said to himself, “This man standing here in the Lord’s presence is surely the one he has chosen.” 7 But the Lord said to him, “Pay no attention to how tall and handsome he is. I have rejected him, because I do not judge as people judge. They look at the outward appearance, but I look at the heart.” 8 Then Jesse called his son Abinadab and brought him to Samuel. But Samuel said, “No, the Lord hasn’t chosen him either.” 9 Jesse then brought Shammah. “No, the Lord hasn’t chosen him either,” Samuel said. 10 In this way Jesse brought seven of his sons to Samuel. And Samuel said to him, “No, the Lord hasn’t chosen any of these.” 11 Then he asked him, “Do you have any more sons?” Jesse answered, “There is still the youngest, but he is out taking care of the sheep.”’ 1 Samuel 16:1-11. You see, David was not the obvious choice in fact he was Samuel’s last resort but in God’s eyes He knew he wanted David. There are so many brilliant teachings on worth, value and God’s love right here in this passage but I won’t go into that. What really interests me is that right here, God’s promise is so clear, so defined. God has chosen David to be King. We may not have an elderly prophet turn up on our doorstep, pour oil over our heads and declare that we’re going to overthrow Queen Elizabeth but often we get those moments where we know God is about to do something spectacular. Those moments are so exciting, inspiring and they really do give us a new zeal for life. So, what happens in the gap? And I think most of us can relate to this. We hear this promise over our life and then we wait for the next piece to fall into place. Unfortunately for Christians a walk with God is not like going up a staircase. It is more like going up a mountainside. The terrain can be tricky at times; we may feel like we’re going to fall over the edge, the next step ahead may not be obvious and furthermore we might even have to wait it out before we can move forward. This might not sound very appealing yet whether we believe in Christ, life still offers a very hazardous journey regardless of spiritual inclination. My dad was keen on reading up on mountaineers, he absolutely loved books that detailed those perilous ascents, the adverse conditions, the human spirit rallying despite the hazards…it used to baffle me. My dad was an atheist through to possibly the end of his life, I couldn’t say whether he connected with Jesus at the end or not however I do know that he put a lot of hope in his humanity. And here’s the thing, we can go through life without Jesus just like we can climb mountains without anyone else yet how much better is life when we do it with someone else? I read recently about a guy who died on a solo descent of a mountain and whilst I’m sure he died doing what he loved there was something so heart-breaking in that lonely death. The walk from promise spoken to promise fulfilled even with God can at times be hugely challenging. For David, he must have been pumped that despite his having older brothers he had been chosen to be King. For a guy who might have had hand-me-down clothes, got smaller portions at dinner, maybe he was picked on by his brothers, to finally be told that over all those older sibling, he would be King over them! It says in the Bible that the spirit of God came to David yet did anything physically change? In some ways, it did seem to be going in a good direction. After all, David must have been pretty good at the harp because he was invited to the palace to play for Saul when he was feeling particularly unstable…so let’s imagine, you’re told you’re going to be the next King and then suddenly you’re invited into the palace…but you’re not told to kill the King and overthrow him but play him some nice music instead????? Okay God, this is a bit weird! As my old maths teacher would say, close, but no cigar. This Biblical Ed Sheeran was not King David yet why did God put him so close to his destiny? The gap between promise and destiny must have felt so real. Two years ago, I had applied for a job which was an internal promotion. I had been desperate to move on in my career and felt like I was ready but when I applied, whilst I got an interview, I didn’t get the job. It stung for a while, it really did. It felt like a golden opportunity had been taken from me. I wasn’t angry with God but I was disappointed and felt like I was back in the same place I had been before. Some time passed and I managed to gain some perspective, I realised that I could either sulk or learn, if this person was a better choice then I needed to know what she knew. It turned out I learnt a lot from her and the best part was she was happy to mentor me and teach me, we got on so well that I was genuinely sad that she announced that she would be leaving earlier than expected to live in Italy. But it meant that in the blink of an eye I was the secondment manager! David’s journey to Kingship took a turn for the better when he stood down Goliath and killed him in front of the Philistine army. I mean, he showed just what he could do, that God was with him and after that he got promoted into Saul’s household, even Saul’s own son Jonathan befriended him. But it still didn’t fulfil what God had planned, it was a temporary place and it must have been bewildering for David to be so near yet so far from the destiny he had been promised once again. Sometimes it is a case that we can almost touch what we know God has for us. It could be marriage, it could be a child, it could be a job, a house, a relationship restoration…any of those things can sometimes consume us so totally. I have to admit with my job I was so thankful for the secondment but I did not know what would happen when it was over. I didn’t know how I would manage stepping back and giving over my responsibility, how would my team be? Would I just fade into the background? Literally a million questions swirled around my mind late at night. But I just felt God say, keep on doing what you’re doing. Even with my boss, I felt that message being expressed physically in private meetings. The journey to our new place is all sorts of difficult and it requires us to trust God implicitly, even when it hurts, even when it’s awkward or uncomfortable but it also requires us to be consistent, when David was in Saul’s court it says that ‘David acted wisely and prospered in all his ways, and the Lord was with him.’ Samuel 1:18:14. There is a tendency and a temptation for us when we get close to what God has for us to give up, we can develop an unhealthy mindset because we feel cheated ‘If God loves me why I am I here?’ or ‘If I’m supposed to be in this position why is that person there instead?’ What I love about David is that he decided to act wisely. If this was an office situation and David was destined to be the CEO he could have done many things; he could have undermined Saul by turning his colleagues against him, he could have been difficult to work with, he could have disrespected Saul’s authority. I mean we see that sort of behaviour often, don’t we? When someone doesn’t get what they want they act aggressively or forcefully because they don’t want to wait for something they feel they should have now. David’s wisdom wasn’t rewarded quickly, in fact, David was 30 years old when he became King and before that he lived through attempted murder, living as a fugitive, battling the Philistines amongst other cheery things. There must have been times where he questioned his destiny, or wondered when it was all going to work out. But whilst David wasn’t perfect, he was faithful to God. He didn’t have the answers but he knew God had the final say over his life. God was with him. Whilst in the gap David had to do things that maybe someone else would have said no to, even though he was on the run from Saul, he still stopped and asked God whether he should save Keilah from the Philistines. I think often when we don’t get what we want we can step back from God, or we doubt that God wants us to take up responsibilities that go beyond where we’re at. For me, I had been annoyed that I’d have to give up my job role but I knew that I needed to prove myself, even though I wasn’t getting paid for it, even though I didn’t have the title. I think part of it was done out of a selfishness but deep down I knew that how I acted now was even more crucial than before. David must have sensed that God was putting him to the test in each situation, even when it felt lonely or impossible. The gap is a wilderness and there was a lot of heartbreak along the way for David, he lost his best friend and there had been moments where his life had been on the line. Yet this gap from promise to destiny is a necessary and crucial rite of passage for us all. Nobody who is truly successful in their life is there by accident. There may be rich people in the world who inherit vast wealth or people who get their fortune through corruption but that is not what true success is. True success is navigating the path with love, kindness, truth and grace. Whilst David was made King years after the promise of God had been spoken over him, in God’s eyes David was the one he wanted, ‘this is he,’ it says in the Bible. God’s timing is not determined by minutes and seconds but often by the condition of our hearts. There are so many complexities and alignments that only God can understand but ultimately if we are not in the right place within ourselves then that next stage can be elusive. It isn’t that God is being mean and withholding whatever it is that you so desperately want but if we can’t learn in the gap then we simply won’t be ready. The gap is our training ground, it is our place where mistakes might be made but we learn from them. The Disney film Mulan is about a young woman who goes off to war in place of her crippled father. When she arrives in the camp in disguise as her brother she is terrible. She can barely lift her sword, she can’t do any of the exercises and she is sent back home in disgrace. Yet in the moment of complete rejection and failure Mulan decides to climb up the pole that every guy in the camp has failed to reach with heavy weights. The triumphant moment of Mulan reaching the top and throwing an arrow to the feet of her commanding officer triggers something within her that makes her a warrior, not a scared girl. The training ground of our life can feel unglamorous, frustrating and monotonous. For David, it was dangerous and very alienating. But whatever difficulties or feelings we have towards this gap, it is this place that proves our readiness, our willingness and our strength. How easy is it for us to be thankful when everything is sweet? How easy is it for us to be passionate when life is exciting? How easy is it for us to be strong in God when nothing is hard? God loves to bless us but He is so pleased when we are diligent in our faith, consistent in our prayer life, humble in the hard times and hopeful in the tough moments. God is looking for our hearts to get a promotion. God wants our dreams to be big and wild but he wants our hearts to be even bigger. You see, our hearts determine how we walk, how we talk and how we treat other people. Jesus said, ‘love the Lord your God’ but followed up with ‘love your neighbour as yourself’, if we rest on our salaries, on our spouses, on our status, on our success then we’ve missed it. Those things are great things but they are no way a replacement for God. David was moved because God knew his potential, but he was only given his Kingdom physically when he had proven that his heart was in the right position. There is nothing wrong with dreams and ambitions, we are each unique with our own goals and desires which, more often than not, God has placed in us. Yet it is crucial we don’t forget to seek God first because I’ve learned that life is not a straight road from one thing to the final thing, but a case of dot to dot. There will be lots of gaps, there will be a heap of times where you’re waiting, but that’s okay! Be encouraged that God loves you so much that he wants you to be ready for that next thing! My next journey is beginning, and whilst that at times makes me wonder, hope and get totally confused as to what’s happening, I know that I know that I know that my life is in God’s hands. I am safe with him because even if I died tomorrow, my future is bright thanks to Jesus. I have nothing to fear, nothing to be scared of. I love that my God is someone I can turn to daily, minute by minute, there is literally no need for me to hold back anything because He’s in this with me. For anyone waiting in a gap, fix your eyes on Jesus. At times you’ll get distracted, sometimes you’ll be frustrated, we’re human and it happens, but if you can ask God for strength, if you lean on Him then it gets easier, more bearable and you can find enjoyment in the mundane, you can laugh and live and know that whilst right now doesn’t seem to be what you’re hoping for, you have a God who has chosen and called you out. His plans for us are so much more than we could ever think up, but know that seeking His heart is bigger and better than anything this world could offer, and ultimately seeking Him will satisfy us whatever season we find ourselves in.

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anavoliselenu · 7 years

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Manwhore chapter 1

DREAM JOB

I walked into Helen’s office this morning certain she was going to fire me. It isn’t really my boss’s job to fire me. It’s HR’s. But the HR department has been cut. Edge, the magazine I have written for and loved since I graduated from college, is hanging by a thread.

Three steps inside the cluttered room stacked with old magazines, ours and our competitors’, and my breakfast—coffee with two sugars, and strawberry jam on whole-wheat toast—turns into a stone inside my stomach.

Without even looking up from the folder in her hand, Helen signals to the chair across hers.

“Selena, sit down.”

I sit silently, a thousand things leaping to my tongue: I can do better; I can do more; let me do more, two articles a week rather than one. Even: I will work for free until we can find our feet.

I can’t afford to work for free. I have rent, I’m still paying off my college loan, and I have a mother I love with a health condition and no insurance. But I also love my job. I don’t want to be let go. I have never wanted to be anything else other than what I am now, at this moment, as my fate rests in her hands.

So it’s with dread and an impending sense of loss that I sit here and wait for Helen to finally lower that folder and look at me. And I wonder, as our eyes meet, if the next story I have to tell in my life is the one of her firing me.

I am in love with stories. How they shape our lives. How they mark people who don’t even know us. How they can impact us even when an event didn’t exactly occur in our own lives.

The first things I ever fell in love with were the words my mother and grandmother told me about my dad. In those words I got what I didn’t have in real life—a dad. I would collect them into groups, memorize the stories they formed. Where he’d taken my mother on their first date (a Japanese restaurant), if his laugh was funny (it was), what his favorite beverage was (Dr Pepper). I grew up in love with stories and with all the facts and details that enabled me to shape, in my mind, memories of my father that have been with me for life.

My aunts said I was dreaming when I said I wanted words to be a career, but my mother kept quoting Picasso’s mother. “Picasso’s mother told him if he got into the army, he’d be a general. If he became a monk, he’d be the pope. Instead he was a painter and became Picasso. That’s exactly how I feel about you. So do, Selena, what you love.”

“I would do it more happily if you were doing what you love too,” I always replied, miserable for her.

“What I love is taking care of you,” she always came back with. She’s a lovely painter but nobody else thinks so but me and one tiny gallery that went bankrupt months after its inception. So my mother has a normal job, and the Picasso in her has quieted.

But she’s sacrificed so much to give me an education and more. Since I’m actually a little shy with strangers, I didn’t have encouragement from a lot of my teachers. None of them believed I had the stomach for hard-core reporting, so I ran with the only thing I could: the sole motivation of my mother and her belief in me.

Now I’ve worked at Edge for almost two years, the job cuts started over three months ago, and my colleagues and I have all been afraid we’ll be the next. Everyone, including me, is giving 110 percent of what we’ve got. But to a flailing business, it’s not enough. There doesn’t seem to be any way of salvaging Edge except with a huge investment that doesn’t seem forthcoming, or with stories much bigger than what we’ve been running.

The moment Helen opens her mouth to speak, I dread hearing the words We’ve got to let you go. I’m already thinking of a story, an idea, I can pitch for my next column, something edgy that could put our name out there and somehow allow me to hang on to my job a little longer.

“You’ve been on my mind, Selena,” she says. “Are you currently seeing anyone?”

“Um. Seeing anyone? No.”

“Well, that’s just what I wanted to hear!” She shuffles her paperwork to the side and pulls out one of the magazines from the shelf, dropping it on the desk between us. “See, I’ve got a proposition for you. It might require you to bend your morals a little bit. In the end, I think it will ultimately be rewarding for you.” She shows me an old magazine, a rueful smile on her lips. “This was our first issue. Fifteen years ago.”

“I love it!” I say.

“I know you do—you’ve always taken an interest in how we started. Which is why I like you, Selena,” she says without any warmth at all. Just a fact, it seems. “You know, Edge used to stand for something. All those years ago, we weren’t afraid of breaking rules, venturing where other magazines wouldn’t. You’re the only one who seems to have preserved that. The Sharpest Edge is always our column with the most comments. You focus on the trends and give your raw, unfiltered opinion. Even when people don’t agree with your opinion, they respect you for the fact that you share it so honestly.

“This is why I suppose you’re in my office now, instead of Victoria.” She jerks her chin in the direction of outside where my greatest competitor, Victoria, must be busy in her cubicle.

Vicky. She’s the only other overachiever at Edge and somehow always lucks out at overachieving more than me. I don’t want enmity with Victoria. But it still feels like there’s a popularity contest here I didn’t sign up for. She always seems so damn happy when Helen isn’t pleased with what I wrote, and sometimes I can’t write a word simply because I’m worrying about what Victoria will come up with.

“See, I’m thinking of ruffling some feathers. If we want to stay in business, it’s becoming clearer and clearer we need something more drastic. Something that will make people take notice of Edge. Are you with me?”

“I agree. If there’s anything to breathe new life into Edge—”

“We’re doing so poorly, we’ve all grown so scared; we’re all reporting from safe, scared places, afraid to push the button in case we explode. We’re already withering here. We need to write about the topics that scare us, fascinate us . . . and nobody fascinates this city more than our billionaire bachelors. Do you know who I’m talking about?”

“The playboys?”

Her lips twist. “The worst of them all.” She pulls out another magazine. I stare at the cover, which says Justin or Sinner?

“Justin Justin,” I whisper.

“Who else?”

The man staring back at me has a perfectly structured face, beautiful lips, and eyes greener than the bottom of a beer bottle. His smile is all mischief. It says he likes to cause trouble and, most of all, that he likes getting away with it. But there’s something very closed off and somehow icy in his eyes. Oh yeah, those green eyes are made of green ice.

“I’ve heard of him,” I admit, starting to get nervous. “I wouldn’t really be alive in Chicago if I hadn’t.”

Ruthless, they say.

A complete manwhore, they say.

And so ambitious he’d put Midas to shame. Oh yeah. They say Justin won’t rest until he owns the world.

“Victoria thinks that you’re too young and inexperienced to take on such a risqué project, Selena. But you’re single, and she’s not.”

“Helen, you know how much I enjoy writing about trends, but you also know that I really want to write bigger stories, stories about people’s homes, security. I want to earn that chance, and if this is how I can do that, then I won’t let you down. What kind of story do you see for him?”

“An exposé.” She grins. “One where we get to hear juicy little tidbits about him. I’m thinking about four things, specifically. How he manages to stay so calm and in control all the time. What’s the deal with his father? What role do all these women play in his life? And why, oh why does he have this obvious affinity for doing things in fours? Now”—she slaps her hand on the desk for emphasis—“in order to get to the meat . . . Let’s be honest, Selena: you must try to get close. Lie, little white lies. Ease into his world. Justin isn’t an easy man to access, which is why nobody’s been able to figure out even one of these things, much less all four.”

I’ve been listening. My curiosity is fully engaged. But I’ve started to squirm. Lie. Little white lies. True, I’ve lied sometimes. I’m human. I’ve done right things and wrong things, but I’d rather stick to the right side. I enjoy my sleep, thank you. But this is the opportunity I’ve wanted since I started college.

“And if Justin wants to make a play for you,” Helen continues, “then be prepared. You might need to play a little bit back. Can you do that?”

“I believe so,” I say, but I sound much more confident than I feel. And I just . . . I’m not sure how many opportunities like this I’ll get. I’ll never be able to move into reporting things that are important to me if I don’t make a stronger effort to be heard. Tackling a topic that fascinates the public so much will give me a voice, and I really, really want that voice.

“Do you think you can do this? Or . . .” She glances outside.

No. I can’t bear for Victoria to get the story. It’s not a pill I want to swallow. In fact, it’s downright bitter, and I don’t want to swallow it.

“I’ll do it. I’m hungry. I want a good story,” I assure Helen.

“We can always wait and find you another good story, Selena,” she says, playing devil’s advocate now.

“I’ll do it. He’s my story now.”

“He’s Chicago’s story. And Chicago’s darling. He has to be handled with care.”

“He’s the story I want to tell,” I assure her.

“That’s what I like to hear.” She laughs. “Selena, you are absolutely beautiful. You are a doll. You’re funny and you work hard, you give it your all, but for all that you’ve lived, you’re still an innocent. You’ve been here two years, and even before you graduated you were working it. But you’re still a young girl playing in a world for grown-ups. You’re too young to know there are protocols with the rich in the city.”

“I know we usually cater to the rich.”

“Just remember, Justin could crush the magazine. He can’t see it coming. By the time he does, he’ll see his face on the newsstand.”

“He won’t catch me,” I mumble.

“Okay, Selena, but I want intimate revelations. I want every detail. I want to feel like I stepped into his shoes and walked his everyday walk. What is it like to be him? You’re going to tell the whole city.” She smiles happily and wakes up her computer with a wiggle of her mouse. “I look forward to hearing all about it. So off you go now, Selena. Find the story in the story and write it.”

Holy crap, Livingston. You’ve got your story!

I’m so dazed and exhilarated, I’m euphoric as I head to the door, fairly trembling with the need to start working.

“Selena,” she calls as I open the glass door, my stomach in a whole new tangle. She nods her head. “I believe in you, Selena.”

I stand there, completely awed that I finally, finally have her trust. I didn’t expect it would come with a huge fear of failure on my shoulders. “Thanks for the chance, Helen,” I whisper.

“Oh, and one last thing. Justin isn’t normally accessible to the press. But there have been exceptions, and I can think of a way you could get lucky. Check out his new social media site, Interface. Use it as an approach. He might not like the press, but he’s a businessman and will use us to his advantage.”

I nod with some self-confidence and a ton more self-doubt, and as soon as I’m outside, I exhale nervously.

Okay, Livingston. Focus and let’s do this.

I’ve got so much information on Justin that I email myself dozens and dozens of links to continue researching tonight at my apartment. I place a call to his office and talk to a representative, asking for an interview. She assures me they’ll let me know. I cross my fingers and say, “Thank you, I’m available anytime. My boss is very excited to run a piece on Mr. Justin’s latest venture.”

Done for the day, I head home. My place is close to Blommer Chocolate Company, in the Fulton River District. I wake up to the smell of chocolate in the air. My building is five stories high, on the edge of downtown.

Sometimes it’s hard to believe I’m living my dream, or at least half of it; I wanted the briefcase, the mobile phone, the heels and matching jacket and skirt. I wanted to be self-sufficient enough to buy my mother the car of her dreams, and a home of her own where she wouldn’t get evicted because she couldn’t pay the rent. I still want those things.

Unfortunately my market is tough. A freelancer before I even graduated college, I had no steady income. You live by your muse, and she’s not always ready with ideas for you. Then I answered an advertisement in the Chicago Tribune. Edge was looking for weekly columnists for topics such as fashion, sex and dating, innovations, decorating tips, and even fancy pet discoveries. The office covered two floors in an old building downtown, and it hardly represented the corporate environment I’d envisioned.

The top floor is littered with reporters at their desks. The floors are wood, the editorial offices peppered with bright colors and satin cushions, always full of the buzz of phones and people chattering. Instead of the business suits I imagined wearing to work, I write in an oversize, trendy T-shirt-with-an-attitude and a pair of socks that have the words I Believe on the toes. It’s a crazy magazine, as crazy as some of the stories and columns we put out—and I love it.

But bloggers are putting us out of work, our circulation growing tinier by the second. Edge needs something cutting-edge, and I’m desperate to prove to my boss that I can bring it to her.

“Gina!” I call to my roommate when I stroll into our two-bedroom flat.

“We’re over here!” I hear Gina call.

She’s in her bedroom, with Wynn. They’re my best friends. Wynn’s a redhead, freckled, pink and sweet, very unlike the dark, sultry Gina.

We’re like Neapolitan ice cream. In height, Gina and I are the tallest, while Wynn is an elf. Gina and I try to use logic; Wynn is “Team Feelings” all the way. I’m the career girl, Wynn is the nurturer, and Gina is the sexpot who hasn’t yet realized she could use men as her personal dildos (if she wanted to). She doesn’t want to. Really.

Dropping my bag at the door, I spot their huge Chinese food picnic and join them on the floor.

They’re streaming an old episode of Sex and the City.

We eat in silence and watch a little bit, but I’m not even paying attention to the screen. I’m too wound up, and finally blurt, “I’ve got my story.”

“What?” They both stop eating.

I nod. “I’ve got my first full story. It might be three pages, four—hell, five. Depending on how much information I end up with.”

“Selena!” they yell in unison and come toward me.

“No tackle hugs! Shit! You spilled the rice!”

They squeal and then ease back, and Wynn goes to get the Dustbuster. “So what’s it about?” she asks.

“Justin Justin.”

“Justin Justin?”

“What about him?” Wynn asks.

“It’s . . . almost undercover.” They’re practically popping out of their skin with anticipation. “I get to meet him.”

“How?!”

“I’m trying to get an interview to ask about Interface.”

“Aha.”

“But I’ll also be researching him in secret. I’ll be . . . unlayering him,” I tease.

“SELENA!” Gina bangs my arm, knowing I’m usually straitlaced.

Wynn shakes her head. “That man is hot!”

“What do you two know about him?” Gina asks.

I pull out my laptop. “I was just online liking all his social pages, and the guy has over four million Instagram likes.”

We hop onto other sites and check out his Twitter feed.

I’m not impressed by what I read.

“His rep wouldn’t give me an appointment—she wrote me down on a list. I wonder if I’ll have better luck reaching out on social media.”

“Let’s look for a smexy profile pic in case Justin himself sees it.”

“Not happening,” I say.

“Come on, Selena, you have to make yourself as appealing as possible. This one.” She points at a picture in one of my old social media albums where I’m wearing a secretarial skirt and blouse, but the three buttons between my breasts are about to burst.

“I hate that shirt.”

“Because it shows off what you’ve got. Come on, let’s do it.”

I change my profile picture, then send him a message.

Mr. Justin, this is Selena Livingston with Edge. I’d love it if you granted me the opportunity for a personal interview in regard to your rising new star, Interface. I’ve put in the request through your office as well. I’m available anytime. . . .

I include all my details and shoot it off.

“Okay, fingers crossed,” I murmur with butterflies in my stomach.

“And toes.”

Later, after Wynn goes home and Gina goes to sleep, I head to my bed. I settle on my pillow, my laptop on my lap, sucking on a Fruit Roll-Up. “Interesting reading,” I say to an online picture of the man. I stay up until midnight, reading more and more. I’ve already dug up quite the dirt on him.

Justin Kyle Preston Logan Justin. Twenty-seven years old. His family is such old money in Chicago, he got a headline the day he was born. At age five, he was in the hospital with meningitis, and the world was on pins and needles to see if he’d make it.

At age six, he’d already earned a black belt in karate, and on the weekends he flew with his socialite mother from one state to the next on one of his father’s jets. At thirteen, he’d already kissed most girls in school. At fifteen, he’d been the world’s biggest player and smoothest liar. At eighteen, he was the perfect bastard, and rich to boot. At twenty, he’d lost his mother but was too busy skiing at a Swiss alpine village to reach the funeral on time.

By twenty-one, he and his two best friends, Callan Carmichael and Tahoe Roth, had become the most notorious trust-fund babies of our generation.

He’s the owner of four Bugattis: license plates BUG 1, BUG 2, BUG 3, and BUG 4. He has houses all over the world. Luxury cars. Dozens of gold watches, including a rose gold perpetual calendar he bought at auction for $2.3 million. He’s a collector, you could say. Of companies, toys, and, apparently, women.

Justin is an only child, and after inheriting his mother’s millions and displaying an uncanny flair for business during the following years, he became not only a billionaire but an absolute symbol of power as well. Not political power, but the good, old-fashioned power that comes with having money. Justin isn’t linked to the shady dealings of the Chicago political machine, but he can press that machine’s buttons if he wants to. Every politician knows this—which is why being on the playboy’s good side is in their best interest.

Justin doesn’t back just anyone. The public, somehow, trusts that Justin doesn’t give a shit about what they think—he won’t back anyone he doesn’t plan to own, so, indirectly, anyone backed by Justin can’t be owned by anyone else. He’s the champion of the underdog. Using his substantial inheritance, Justin became a venture capitalist at a very young age, funding the tech projects of many of his Ivy League school buddies, many of which soared to success, making Justin a few hundred million wealthier than his own father. He still manages venture capital investments from within the offices of M4. Named for his initial and his favorite number, M4 is a company he created in those early years when several of his investments ended up listing on Nasdaq—one for a few billion, to boot.

Latest cover of the Enquirer—

Justin Justin: Our Favorite Bad Boy, Revealed

How many women has he slept with?

Why isn’t he interested in marriage?

How he became America’s hottest manwhore bachelor

And more!

Twitter:

@JustinJustin I wish I’d never laid eyes on you! #eatshitanddie

YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD! @JustinJustin you fucked my girlfriend you’re so fucking DEAD

Free drinks anyone? @JustinJustin paying at Blue Bar downtown!

Facebook wall:

Hey Mal, remember me? I gave you my number last week. Call or message me!

Justin—drinks next weekend, I’m in town with the wife. (Not that I’d bring her. She’s fawned over you enough.) PM me to set a place.

Looking good in the yacht pics, Justin. Have room for a few more? My friends and I would love to party with you again! :) XOXO

Wow. “You’re a real gem, aren’t you?” I whisper, slamming my laptop shut around midnight. I bet half the things on the internet are completely overblown and untrue, which is why, of course, I need more reliable research—firsthand research. I grin and check the time, realizing it’s too late to tell my mother that I’ve finally got my story.

NEW RESEARCH

Twitter:

@JustinJustin please follow me on Twitter!

@JustinJustin to throw the first ball at Cubs game

My personal inbox:

EMPTY.

I’ve already got a two-inch-thick file on Justin Justin, but no call from his PR contact.

Today’s plans with my mother are a no-go too.

I was supposed to meet her to show our support for our community’s End the Violence campaign, but she calls to say that she’s not going to make it. Her boss asked her to cover for someone. “I’m sorry, darling. Why don’t you ask one of the girls to go with you?”

“Don’t worry, Mother, I will. Take your insulin, okay?”

I know she takes it, but I can’t help mentioning it every time we call. I obsess about her like that.

In fact, I worry about my mom so much, Gina and Wynn worry I’m going to make myself sick over it. I want to get a big cushion of savings so I know I can take care of her insurance and be sure she has a good home and good healthy food, and good care, too. I want to give my mom everything she’s given me so she can retire and finally do what she loves. Everybody deserves to do what they love. Her love for me and her desire to provide for me as much as she could have held her back. I want to do well enough that now she gets to follow her dreams.

This exposé could lead to so many more opportunities, that one door opening to a plethora of new ones.

I’m clicking Justin Justin links like crazy when Gina finally pads out of her bedroom in her comfiest outfit.

“I told you it needs to be something you won’t mind getting paint on,” I remind her. “Aren’t those your favorite jeans?”

“Oh fuck, I heard that! Why did I forget when I went into my closet and saw these?” She thumps back into her room.

An hour before noon, at a corner of the park near the basketball courts, Gina and I—along with what looks to be several dozen people—finally gather in anticipation of slapping our paint-covered hands onto a mural-size canvas.

“We’ve all lost someone to this fight. Our loved ones, our grocer, a friend . . .” one of the organizers is saying.

I was two months old when I lost my dad.

All I know is from my mother’s account: that he was an ambitious man, hardworking, and full of big dreams. He swore to her that I would never have to work . . . he was obsessed with giving us the ideal life. We didn’t ask for it, but it didn’t matter to my dad.

All it took was one gun, and none of it happened.

I didn’t get to have a memory of his eyes, gray, supposedly like mine. Never heard his voice. Never knew if, in the mornings, he’d be grumpy like Gina’s dad or sweet like Wynn’s. I remember the neighbors bringing pie for years as I grew up. Their daughters coming over to play with me. I remember playing with other people’s kids too, my mother taking me over to play with other children who had lost someone to violence.

Now, twenty-three years after my father died, every time something bad happens I wish we could make it stop, and I never want to forget how it feels, this wanting to make it stop.

We’ve been criticized over our methods of pleading for a safer city—some say we’re too passive, others that it’s pointless—but I think that even the quietest of voices deserve to be heard.

Per one of the organizers’ instructions, I pour a half an inch of red paint into my oversize plastic tray, and then I plant my hand on the surface. Thick red paint spreads to my fingertips.

“We’re putting our hands on this huge mural as a symbol to stop the violence in the streets, in our communities, in our city, in our neighborhoods,” the organizer continues.

My phone buzzes in my left butt-cheek pocket.

“All right, now,” the woman hollers.

On the count of three—one, two, three!—I press my hand to the wall, while Gina does the same, her hand red like mine and a little bit bigger.

Once we’ve all left our prints, we hurry to the water fountains to clean up. Gina leans over my shoulder and I yelp and try to ease away.

“Dude, you’re getting paint all over me!” I cry, laughing as I dry my hands and step aside to let her wash. While she scrubs off her paint, I pluck my phone out.

And my stomach takes a dive because I’ve got a reply.

MESSAGE

Justin Justin—

Ms. Livingston, this is Dean, Mr. Justin’s press coordinator. We have a ten-minute opening today at 12 p.m.

So I get that notification right now, Saturday, at like 11:18 a.m.

“Shit, I got it!” I tell Gina as I show her the message. But instead of high-fiving me because I freaking landed this and I rock, she glances pointedly at my coveralls.

“Oh no,” I groan. “I can’t see him like this!”

“Okay, take my belt.”

“OMG, really? I look ridiculous!”

She ties it around my waist and cinches it. “Selena, focus. There’s no store around, you don’t have time to go change.”

We share panicked looks, then we both survey my clothes. I’m now wearing a jean coverall with a tank top beneath and a red belt, with paint splats here and there. “I look like an absolute slut on a washing day!”

“You have paint on your cheek,” says Gina, wincing on my behalf.

I groan and whisper to the universe: Next time you make one of my dreams come true, can I please be dressed for the occasion?

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welshlabourpress-blog · 7 years

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Welsh Labour General Election Campaign Launch: Welsh Labour Leader’s Speech - Carwyn Jones AM

Good morning friends and colleagues – thank you to Gladys, Alex, Ruba and Saeed for their words this morning.

What a special set of stories you’ve given us today. Thank you for your hard work and I look forward to hearing more about your work in the coming months and years.

So, welcome to Labour-run Cardiff.

For those of you unfamiliar with the local geography, this authority neighbours Labour-run Newport. And Labour-run Caerphilly, and Labour-run Rhondda Cynon Taff.

I welcome colleagues from all those authorities and further afield this morning.

Today, we are here to talk about the General Election campaign, but we should begin by reflecting a little on what happened last week.

Welsh Labour, our party, can be rightly proud of our efforts in another backs-to-the wall election.

We always knew that retaining seats and councils would be tough after such a stellar year in 2012.

We did suffer some reversals – and we will learn from that, as we always do.

Think about Brendan Toomey in Merthyr Tydfil, he lost his seat – many people would have been raw from experience, and I would have understood if he wanted to lash out.

But, what did he message me the morning after when I commiserated with him?

“Thanks Boss, I’m not going anywhere, I’m here to anything I can in any capacity for Welsh Labour.”

That tells you everything you need to know about Brendan, and about this party.

When it would have been easier for Brendan and the Labour-led Merthyr council to pick a fight with Welsh Government - when they went into Special Measures on education – he didn’t choose that road.

Merthyr council worked with us, and now schools, like Bishop Hedley, are being singled in the national media for praise - because of the improvement journey they’re on.

You want to know the secret to our success over the years – look at those examples of how to react to difficulty.

That is leadership – it doesn’t always get the rewards it deserves.

But, it is that sort of long standing commitment and attitude that meant we once again we defied the polls, and the pundits and out-performed expectations.

In Tory target areas like Flintshire, Newport and Swansea – we repelled their advances.

Swansea increased the Labour majority – what a result that was.

And we did it by working together.

Because this isn’t just about leadership – it is about unity.

We in Welsh Labour – councillors, MPs and AMs – we are united, and we are working together for Wales.

What this party can achieve, in campaigns – and more importantly, in Government, knows no bounds – when we stand together, united.

That is how we must now approach the next five weeks.

There is no time to rest, we must be back out on the doorstep and be prepared to work even harder, to do the extra call sheet, to knock the extra street.

You know the Tories’ explanation for why they didn’t make the predicted breakthroughs last week?

“It was just local elections” they said – “and Welsh Labour are well-known for having good local campaigns.”

Well, we make no apology for that.

But, if you think we are taking the foot off the pedal for the next few weeks, you’ve got another thing coming.

Christina Rees, our energetic Shadow Secretary of State for Wales, is leading by example. Her 40-seat tour will show again that Welsh Labour is a party for the whole of Wales.

Chris is doing so much to drive this campaign, and to bring people together – if there was a physical embodiment of what Standing up for Wales means, Chris is it.

And, as Welsh Labour leader I will be doing everything I can to support our fantastic set of candidates.

I know I speak for my cabinet colleagues and the whole Assembly group – we are with you all the way, and will be with you through the next few weeks, and after that too.

Because we know, for us in Welsh Government, and for the whole of Wales, it is absolutely essential that we return as many Welsh Labour MPs as we can.

North Wales rail electrification – who put that on the agenda?

Who will keep that front and centre in the House of Commons? Welsh Labour MPs, that’s who.

The Tories have done nothing. They will do nothing.

We need Welsh Labour MPs fighting for vital infrastructure for our country.

Who has brought the issue of Women’s Pensions Inequality to the attention of the whole country?

Welsh Labour MPs, working with Labour colleagues right across Britain.

The Tories have done nothing. They will do nothing.

We need Welsh Labour MPs fighting for pensions justice and equality.

Who was it who brought the issue of child burial fees to the fore? An issue that speaks to who we want to be as a country.

It was Carolyn Harris, supported by her superb Westminster colleagues.

And now in Wales, our Government has committed to covering that cost in the future.

The Tories have done nothing. They will do nothing.

We need Welsh Labour MPs fighting for families and putting compassion back into our politics.

Something else to remind ourselves about - think back to this time last year, and the fate of the steel industry in the balance.

It was Welsh Labour MPs, the Welsh Government and our colleagues in the trades unions who worked tirelessly to Save our Steel.

There was all the work in the public eye – but behind the scenes so much more.

The Welsh Labour team in Westminster and in the Assembly fighting shoulder to shoulder to keep those steel jobs in Wales.

Jess Morden, Paul Flynn, Stephen Kinnock, Nia and Mark Tami never let up – champions for their communities, champions for the industry.

And now steel has a future in Wales once again.

This is what we can do together. Standing up for Wales.

Only this morning, because Welsh Labour is Government in Wales, we have been able to announce plans to create a world-leading technology cluster in Newport that is expected to create more than 2000 jobs.

The state of the art facility is the first project to be supported by the £1.2bn City Deal – a partnership that so many Welsh Labour council leaders, and Andrew Morgan in particular, were instrumental in delivering.

Today’s major investment puts Wales at the cutting edge of this exciting technology, which has the ability to change the way we live.

This is great news for Wales – and the first of many new exciting projects set to make a real difference to our economy.

But, we can do so much more with more Welsh Labour MPs in Westminster, with Labour in Government.

And that is why I am delighted to unveil our pledges to the people of Wales today.

First, we promise to protect living standards and create better jobs closer to home.

A Labour Government in Westminster will introduce a real Living Wage of £10 per hour and invest in infrastructure, skills and new technology.

That will build on the vital work we’ve done already in Wales…

· NHS Wales is a Living Wage employer.

· 150,000 jobs supported in the last Assembly.

· At least 100,000 new all-age apprenticeships in Wales over the next four years.

· Unemployment has fallen faster in Wales that across the rest of the UK.

Second, we will defend our NHS and protect social care

We know that with a Labour Government in Westminster there will be more resources for Wales, and more stability in the NHS and social care.

We won’t see the scandal of stripping money away from social services in order to balance the books.

With Labour in Westminster, we can work together across borders to give the NHS a bright future – unlike the Tories who lie about healthcare in Wales, smearing the hardworking staff and dragging politics into the gutter.

· Ambulance response times are the best in the UK

· Spending is higher on the NHS and social care in Wales

· Delayed Transfers of Care are low and getting lower – in England they’re high and getting higher

· We have world class cardiology treatment a stone’s throw from us here today

· Do not let the Tories trashtalk our NHS, we’ll stand up for our doctors and nurses

Third, we give all children the opportunity to achieve

We are committed to protecting Free School Breakfasts and we are going to invest an additional £100m to further improve school standards in Wales over this Assembly term. Again this builds on our record.

· GCSE results have never been higher in Wales – more children than ever getting a passport to success.

· We have cut the attainment gap for the poorest pupils at every key stage. That happens in Wales, but not in Tory-run England, because we are making different choices.

· There will be no grammar schools or Free Schools in Wales, because we want every school to be a great school – a Fair Deal for all our children.

· We haven’t scrapped our schools building programme as the Tories have in England, in fact we are committing £2bn to our schools estate in the coming years.

Fourth, we will put more bobbies on the beat to make our neighbourhoods safer.

We know that community safety is one of the country’s top priorities, and so a Labour Government would deliver 853 new police officers in our communities.

That builds on our decision to continue to fund 500 Community Support Officers across Wales – a step we took five years ago to stop the impact of Tory cuts.

A Labour Government will also give stronger rights for victims, again building on the innovative work we are doing here on crime prevention and tackling Domestic Violence.

Fifth, we are going to provide more affordable homes to rent and buy

In this Assembly we have committed to deliver 20,000 more affordable homes – and we know that with a Labour Government in Westminster genuinely committed to house-building, we can go past this target, and do more still.

· Ending the Right-to-Buy in Wales

· Bringing empty properties back into use

· Introducing new homelessness legislation

We are putting roofs over people’s heads in communities across Wales.

Another Tory Government in Westminster, committed to cuts, will be a disaster for housing. We can’t let that happen.

These are the pledges we will be taking to the doorsteps in the coming days. These are things people care about – good, secure work – a safe place to live.

Good schools, and hospitals.

The Tories, we know are desperate to make this an election about anything else – about Brexit for example. Which is deeply ironic given the absolute disaster they’ve made of that so far.

It is another reason we need Welsh Labour MPs in Westminster, to make Brexit work for Wales – we know the Tories won’t do that.

But, this is not the Brexit election. That was the referendum last year. A result I respect.

This election must be about the seven years of Tory failure.

Of broken promises.

Think about the things they have sacrificed on the altar of austerity.

Funding for disabled families.

They’ve made justice something people have to pay for.

They won’t raise military spending when the world has never been more dangerous.

And so I commend Nia Griffith’s pledge – our Defence spokesperson – to get that spend to a level that the country and our armed forces deserve.

Tories talk a good game on security abroad and at home, but their record is hopeless.

That is why we had to step in with Community Support Officers. That is why we’re committed to more policing.

And what about finance?

Their budgets are full of flip flops and hidden costs – no fair deal for working families, but a great deal if you’re so rich you don’t have to work.

Just think about this.

The tax and benefit changes which came in last month will mean that the poorest third of households will be worse off.

Worse off. The poorest third of the country.

How can that be right?

Is that the sort of Britain we want to live in?

And have all these cuts got the economy working again?

Have they balanced the books and are we giving the businesses of this country the confidence they need from Westminster? No.

The Tories have made this country meaner, poorer, smaller.

It is time to fight back. To send them a message.

To send them a massive headache – and you know how we can do that best?

It is by sending a battalion of Welsh Labour MPs back to Westminster to fight for our communities.

For the causes that matter.

Look at the talent available we have in our candidates – we have to get them back in, to get the country back on track.

Last week people all over the country had their chance to vote for all parties and none on local issues.

June 8th will be different.

The Liberals have already said they can’t win. Plaid obviously cannot win, nor can they have an impact in Westminster.

It is only Labour that can take on the Tories.

Only we can frustrate them. Only we can take a message of fairness and hope to the floor of the House of Commons.

So, to everyone across Wales who believes in a Fair Deal…

For everyone who cannot bear the idea of the Tories walking all over Wales…

It is time to give your support to your local Welsh Labour candidate.

We can do this, with your support.

Welsh Labour is united to halt the Tories in their tracks, and put fairness and decency back into Government in Westminster.

With your support, we can fulfill that promise – and we will Stand up for Wales.

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