#i'm sorry but you'll never see me forgive an abuser only because He NoW fEeLs SoRrY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maayuls · 1 year

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Luckae

College tutor AU

//Cw: smut//

Diluc is the top of his class at Mondstadt University and the most popular guy at campus. Despite the many ladies and men who ask him out, he refuses in favor of his studies. However, it all changes when he meets someone from his past.

Kaeya Alberich. Diluc's childhood bully.

"He's tutoring me?! But Dad, I told you, I don't need tutoring!" The bluenette protests as if Diluc wasn't sitting right in front of him.

"Yes, he is, and you're getting tutored whether you like it or not."

With an annoyed huff, Kaeya sat back down on the cough as his father left them alone after discussing payment to Diluc.

"So...Diluc, I see you're not some wimpy kid anymore." Kaeya scoffed, looking at the other up and down.

Diluc has changed since then.

That small little boy grew up to be handsome, tall (though, not as tall as Kaeya), and his muscles toned. Kaeya could even see it through the jacket he was wearing. Meanwhile, to Diluc, Kaeya has changed as well. The only reason Kaeya ever bullied him was because Diluc made the mistake of telling him he liked him. It was elementary school; kids were cruel and especially to those who had puppy crushes.

Kaeya has changed a lot since then—more beautiful, slender, toned, and tall. Diluc can see it all from the way he was only dressed in a T-shirt and some shorts that rose to his thighs, considering he was at his own home. Diluc gulped at the sight.

No matter how much he despised Kaeya for bullying him in his entire elementary days, he couldn't deny now that Kaeya was hot.

If he could just get this over with, the faster he can leave.

As soon as he gets into Kaeya's room, he starts taking his books out.

"So, let's start with basic calcu-"

"I don't need tutoring, so just go home, and I'll tell Dad you did your job. You get paid, so it's a win."

Diluc really hates these kinds of attitudes.

"No can do. I'm here to teach you, and I'm not getting paid until you get your grades up." Diluc explains.

Kaeya gives it a thought and surprises the redhead when he suddenly sat on his lap.

"W-what are you-"

"If you quit now, I'll make it worth your while." Kaeya whispered to his ear.

Diluc groaned as the bluenette grinded his hips.

"I know you still like me. I saw how you looked at me. You want me, don't you?" Kaeya seduced.

He was right. Diluc did want Kaeya.

It's as if a switch was flicked inside his brain. The next thing he knew, he was carrying Kaeya to his bed and hovering over him.

The shocked look on Kaeya's face as he laid under him got to Diluc's pride. It felt good to see him like this.

"You think you can have everything and anything you want, huh? Well, I will be teaching you a very important lesson."

Kaeya didn't know how he ended up on his knees, moaning as fingers opened up his asshole. He never intended to actually have sex with Diluc. He just wanted to scare him off, in fact, he never even had sex before. His entire body trembled just from those fingers abusing his prostate that got him cumming hard.

"P-please..." Kaeya begged, but he doesn't know what for.

For Diluc to stop? Or for Diluc to put something bigger in him?

His body language can say for itself as he took one of his ass cheeks and spread them.

"You want more? Hmm, how about a deal? Allow me to tutor you, and I'll put my dick in you. If you get your grades up, I promise you'll have a reward from me."

Kaeya immediately nodded and agreed, pushing his ass higher in the air.

Who knew getting fingered felt so good? He could only imagine how sex would feel, and he wanted it so bad.

He gasped, followed by a moan as he felt Diluc's tip stretch his rim. It burned for a bit but after Diluc had given him time to adjust, he could finally feel the pleasure set in.

But why wasn't Diluc moving yet?

"There's something I'd like to hear from you first. An apology." Diluc whispered in his ear. "You broke my little heart back then, you know?"

"I-I...I'm sorry...please forgive m-me..."

"Why did you bully me? Did you hate me that much?" Diluc asked, making slow circular movements with his hips.

"Mnnhh...no..."

"Then why?"

"I...didn't know..ah..how to say I liked you..too."

Kaeya hid his face on his arms in shame. He was never an expressive kid, always surpressing his actual feelings even now, but of course, he was ashamed of ever bullying someone for liking him. It only made it worse that Diluc turned out to be his type.

He was rewarded for his honesty. Diluc started thrusting in and out, relishing on the moans that followed from the man beneath him. Diluc's hands roamed all over his body, touching and leaving marks on untouched skin.

For a moment, he pulled out completely. Before Kaeya could ask why he stopped, he was flipped over until he could see him face to face. Diluc's cock suddenly buried itself back inside the tight ass and continued to rearrange Kaeya's insides.

Oh, how beautiful Kaeya looks with that fucked out face looking directly at the man fucking the life out of him.

"I'm gonna cum inside you."

"Yes...please cum inside..me." Kaeya moaned out loud as his tummy burned with his incoming climax.

With a loud moan, almost a scream, Kaeya's body convulsed as cum dripped from his dick and his walls tightened around Diluc. The redhead groaned as he released inside him in bliss. Slowly, he eventually pulled out, watching as his cum overflowed from the swollen, puckered hole.

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

"Is this how you treat all your students?" Kaeya asked with a bit of a huff.

Although, a bit ashamed that he got out of control like that, but at least it worked out.

Eventually, Kaeya did get his grades up and got his reward from Diluc.

His reward involved a romantic date, a confession, and a very sex-filled night at a hotel.

END.

#luckae #luckae smut #college AU #smut #reposted from twitter

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

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Let It Go: Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

synopsis: a run-in with your ex proves to be... interesting. (Sort of inspired by tonight's episode of MPL and my own run-in with an ex).

wc: 1.4k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

song recommendation:

"You somehow managed to forget all about me, huh?" There's a beat before you can manage to mumble,

"I..."

"Why are you here?" Your ex motions to the club around you, and you bite your lip. "You never wanted to go out to the club when we were together."

And he's right. You never wanted to party, to drink, to allow yourself to feel any intoxication around him. Because he would take advantage of it. You fiddle with the strings of your purse, then exhale deeply.

"Listen, Kisaki, I--"

"Listen, Kisaki," he mocks you, laughing. "You always sound so pitiful when you're explaining yourself." The man narrows his blue eyes at you behind his glasses, swiping his hair back from his face. "It's a shame. You were only someone I used to pass the time; I never really liked you anyway." You try to hold back tears, try to look anywhere but at his face, but you feel something within you begin to crumble again.

This was it. This is what Kisaki did to you, then he'd choose to "make it up" how he pleased. Oftentimes, he would just coerce you into having rough sex, then call it forgiven. But you couldn't forgive him. Not when he--

"Is there a problem, y/n?"

The sound of your current boyfriend's voice brings you back to the present moment, and you look over your shoulder at Ran Haitani. He cocks his head at you, smiling sweetly, with a hand placed on your shoulder. When Ran sees the tears forming in your eyes, the corners of his mouth droop, and he turns to Kiskai with a blank look.

"Has my girlfriend offended you?" he wonders, sliding his warm hand from your shoulder and touching your waist. You want to tell him, you want to inform him of the nasty words Kisaki said to you earlier, but the blonde and black-haired man doesn't get a chance.

"She's offending me with her presence," Kiskai spits and Ran nods.

"I see; my apologies." He begins to escort you away, holding you close and clutching his fist by his side. "I'm honoring your wish, y/n."

"No violence, please."

Ran is avoiding a fight, you realize after the sting of him not defending you passes. You had asked him to avoid it earlier that night, and the hot-headed older brother would defend you physically if he had to. But he doesn't have to. Not right now.

"Hey, from one man to another, I wouldn't be her boyfriend. She's really sloppy seconds, and kind of an embarrassment if you know what I mean."

The movement is quick, and if you hadn't been by his side, you would have missed it. A glass drops to the floor, and you see Kisaki on the floor, clutching his face as Ran stands over him, straightening his jacket and giving him a fake grimace.

"Oh, my bad." He squats down to face Kisaki, whispering, "From one man to another, you better not look her way ever again. Or that broken nose will turn into a broken face."

Ran stands, then rejoins your side and tries to usher you away from the sight of Kisaki cradling his broken nose, blue eyes looking over at you in horror.

You blink slowly, deciphering the horror in his eyes as what kind of monster did she exchange me for? and let your lover lead you away with whispered curses against your abuser.

_____________________________________________________________

"I'm not sorry for what I did."

The words are whispered against the skin of your wrist, and Ran appears to be as apologetic as he can be in the moonlight spilling through the open window. The long, gauzy curtains brush against the wood floors of the apartment while you turn your head to look at your semi-remorseful boyfriend, skin prickling with goosebumps.

"It's fine."

"Can I make it up to you, though? I know you wanted to enjoy your night, but--"

"No." Your word silences him, and Ran stares out at the cityscape, inhaling deeply. Memories of the years of abuse endured under Kisaki's thumb come rushing back to you, and your shaky breaths begin anew. Ran pulls you close as you begin to shake, sniffing as mucus clogs your nostrils and makes it hard to breathe.

"Just let it out."

"I just... I should've been--" You choke out a sob, pressing yourself into the old band t-shirt that smells like Ran's expensive cologne. The woodsy smell calms you only marginally, but it smells like home.

"You're no one's 'sloppy seconds'. And you're not embarrassing." Ran pulls you away from his shirt, tilting your chin up with his index finger as he murmurs, "Your ex is going to be alone for a long time. He's the problem, not you."

Ran presses your fingertips to his lips and kisses your right hand then your left, reminding you of the first time he showed up to your door, covered in dirt and blood and craving your touch. He pulls you to him and kisses your lips, holding both of your wrists behind him so all your body can do is lean forward onto his chest.

You pull away to breathe, then continue kissing his soft lips, hoping he would never let you go from this moment in his arms. Your wrists are released, then hands roam up your exposed thighs and under the large t-shirt you'd pulled on after making it home and showering. You smell like Ran - everything smells like him - and you drown in the scent; teakwood and Oudh clouding your nostrils.

"I love every inch of you," Ran vows, pulling your shirt over your body. You help him and lift off of his chest, tossing the article of clothing onto the floor as his hands come to caress your breasts and waist. "I hope you'll never think about his words again after tonight." Ran licks his lips, then proceeds to press you down so he can capture your nipples in his mouth and suck on them, going back and forth between the two.

"Ran," you gasp, cradling his neck with your right hand. "Ran." You repeat his name over and over again, rolling your hips over the seams of his jeans and letting small moans escape your lips as he caters to you, to your body that's been so starved for something other than sadness.

Fingers slide below your underwear and part your lips, rubbing gentle motions onto your slit and making you exhale so deeply that you feel you won't ever have another breath in your lungs.

"That's it," Ran whispers into the darkness. "Just let it all go."

Just let it all go.

You let go as Ran slides his fingers into your cunt and brings you to the edge of pleasure, where it crests and then falls off a cliff. His violet eyes watch you through it all, making sure each of his movements is adequate and pleasing to you before continuing down his quest of making you unravel at his behest.

"I love you," he groans as you sink onto his cock. "I really do."

You kiss him in response, moving your hips up and down as you ride him slowly, with his hands gripping your hips and guiding you up and down his length. You cling to Ran, which is how he likes it, hair draped over to one side while you fuck him lazily and draw him to the edge before stopping. And each time, his eyes find yours, mouth opening to curse as you drag him back and forth between pleasure and frustration.

"Make me cum," Ran finally gasps, eyes hooded. "Do it, my love."

You smack your hips into his quickly, kissing down his neck while he lays beneath you, fingers clenching and letting go of the flesh of your ass cheeks rapidly. "Baby," you grunt, pussy sucking him in as you cum for a second time. Ran shoots up in the bed suddenly, pressing you against him as he spills his seed into your dripping pussy, eyes rolling into the back of his head as his hips jerk four times.

"Oh..." Ran sighs as he comes down from his high, head swimming. You rest on top of him, still pulsing around his length as he recovers. "You're so perfect."

"So are you," you grin, your head in the clouds. "I love you."

Ran takes two fingers and slides them down your lips in acknowledgment, and you press a single kiss to them, remembering the way he'd done the same motion after your first kiss, and how you'd ended up just like this, tangled up in each other after one of his fights.

#ran haitani x reader #ran haitani smut #ran haitani #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #Spotify

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whosscruffylooking · 3 years

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The Purest Things-Damaged

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Warnings: Mentions of rape, murder, and cheating. Canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: and so we begin our descent into the world of slow-burn! this piece begins at the end of season 3 episode 13 & carries into seasons 3 episode 14. thank you to everyone who has interacted with my stories, commenting and reposting helps creators so much! enjoy this installment :)

The Purest Things Masterlist

Gif Credit: @hqtchner

january 2008

Bookend: “We are all damaged. We have all been hurt. We have all had to learn painful lessons. We are all recovering from some mistake, loss, betrayal, abuse, injustice or misfortune. All of life is a process of recovery that never ends. We each must find ways to accept and move through the pain and to pick ourselves back up....Each tragedy is an announcement that some good will indeed come in time. Be patient with yourself.” ― Bryant McGill

Another day, another murderer locked away. This case proved that sometimes, the so-called "good guys" can be just as selfish as the "bad guys." The special agent who recruited the BAU's help, Jill Morris, used this case to obtain personal fame and grow her career.

You sit next to Rossi aboard the plane. He had a more personal interaction with Morris throughout the case, and you can tell her actions have left him more than disappointed.

Looking out the window at the sun setting behind the clouds, you mumble to yourself, "What's the difference?"

"Did you say something?" Dave speaks up.

Looking to him, you brush it off, "Oh. Nothing. I was just talking to myself."

He crosses his legs and smiles a warm smile at you, "Penny, for your thoughts then."

"I guess...I just don't understand how Jill Morris's motives can be any different from Jeremy Andrus's. Of course, Jill didn't murder or rape anyone. But, she exploited this case for her own personal benefit. She didn't just use the unsub; she exploited the victims as well. How is that any different than Jeremy using women for his own gratification?"

David sighs, "Aristotle said, 'Every practical pursuit or undertaking seems to aim at some good.' Our brains are wired for love and solidarity. Greed forms to undermine that wiring and trick others into believing that their means to an end is done for "good." People believe that to maintain that myth, any and all costs to others are simply casualties in the long run."

"There is all the difference in the world between helping another soul and exploiting their hardship for your own gain and deceiving yourself that they are the same," he continues, "I tried to show Jill that. But, I think she's already determined that the reason she does this job is not for the same reasons that we do. The rush of catching a suspect comes second to the excitement she gets when being praised for her achievement."

"What happened to her empathy," you wonder, "Empathy is a natural foundation in each of our lives, and our society functions on it! How could that not overpower her desire for recognition? I mean, for Christ's sake, her friend just died!"

"Unfortunately," he solemnly says, "It is harder to understand the motives of our peers than it is to profile a serial killer."

+++++

You wake as if there is an emergency, like sleeping had become a deadly thing, your heart pounds, and thoughts jumble throughout your brain. Shooting up from your seat, you crawl over a sleeping Rossi and stumble your way to the bathroom.

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the edge of the sink. Looking cautiously into the mirror, as if you are uncertain of what you'll see, you take in your ghostly appearance. Sweat beads drip down your forehead. Unable to comprehend the blurry remnants of your dream, you turn on the faucet and splash your face with cold water.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you notice everyone is sound asleep. Thank goodness no one noticed your state of panic. You notice that one overhead reading light is on and look to see Hotch awake and blankly staring out the window.

"Can't sleep either?" You ask, sitting across from him.

"Are you alright?" He asks, trying to deflect your attention.

You squint at him, unwilling to back down, "Are you?"

He looks at you intently, taking the sight of you in inch-by-inch. No one has asked him that over the past few weeks. In fact, everyone has seemingly been avoiding him since he was served his divorce papers. Perhaps they are doing it because they are unsure how to support him or genuinely feel that what he needs right now is space.

However, you know that being alone is the last thing he needs right now. "Hotch, I know it isn't my place, and I--I'm sorry if this is overstepping. But that expression on your face that you've worn for the past few weeks isn't foreign to me. Perhaps to everyone else, it is. They don't know what to do or say. You're their unit chief, and they are used to you being strong and keeping it together for the sake of everyone else."

He straightens his posture, his attention centered on you.

"I witnessed firsthand the ways that divorce can torment people. My parents got a sudden divorce when I was 14. It was unexpected to all of us. My father was unfaithful, and although my mom was willing to forgive him, he didn't want to put in the work anymore. He found a new outlet for his frustrations. I watched my mother and father waste away for years," you lament.

Hotch sits on the edge of his seat, his eyes trained keenly on you. It was odd for him to make a connection so quick, to give his trust so easily. In fact, he hardly trusts at all. Dave and Haley are the only ones who have really been given an insider's peek into the mind and heart of Aaron Hotchner. There was something in the way he listens so actively to what you are saying. You would be lying if you said you didn't notice his gaze aimed at your lips.

There is a sympathetic and heartfelt concern he shows for you, one second only to your own regard for him. He listens like he is absorbing your words. The longer you spend in each other's presence, the more you both realize that this is the kind of friendship you both have needed for far too long. Even if the words go unspoken, you share an empathetic understanding of one another, and you are sure it has been there since the day you met. Hotch has been fascinated by you since he watched your interview with Strauss over and over again, though he would never let it be known.

+++++

February 2008

Today is the day that you get to accompany Hotch and Reid on the Criminal Personality Research Project to interview Chester Hardwick before his execution. Hardwick's case is one you know inside and out. You wrote a research report on it that was awarded the Graduate Student Ethics Writing Competition winner for the American Psychological Association and was published in their Ethics and Behavior journal. Agent Hotchner suggested that you tag along, considering you know just as much about the case as Spencer does.

You and Spencer absentmindedly fiddle with the knickknacks that rest upon the desk as you wait to be escorted to see Chester Hardwick.

Hotch's phone begins to ring, and he answers it, "Yeah, J.J... Um, no, it's--It's a personal matter. Yes, thank you. I will take care of it when I get back."

"Everything okay?" You ask softly.

"Yeah, fine." He says abruptly.

"We can do this interview another time," Reid offers.

Aaron huffs, "Well, he is scheduled to be executed next week."

"I can take the lead on the interview if you w-" Reid unintentionally pushes.

You cut him off, "Reid."

Hotch shoots you an appreciative look.

Anytime sir.

"Agent Hotchner?" A relatively short man wearing freakishly petite glasses comes to the door.

The Unit Chief shakes the man's hand and introduces you and Spencer.

"You're here to see our infamous inmate Hardwick," the warden exclaims.

"Yes," you say, "He agreed to meet with us as part of our Criminal Personality Research Project before his execution."

The man smiles widely, "I've read your research on Hardwick many times. I must say, seeing your perspective on the mind of such a prolific killer was very enlightening."

You beam with pride at his commendation. Instinctively you look to Hotch, who appears to have the slight trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You wonder, how can he go from scowling and frustrated one minute to fighting back the urge to smile at the mention of your achievements? You bite your lip to suppress any further needless excitement.

The warden continues to ramble, "Serial killers are kind of a hobby of mine. Chester is the only one I've ever met in person, though. I bet you've met quite a few."

"Sir," Hotch interjects, "We'd very much like to get started as soon as we can."

Time to put our serious pants back on.

You can visibly see your superior's annoyance, and you stifle a chuckle.

The warden quickly composes himself and apologizes for his enthusiasm, touching his hand to Hotch's shoulder in the process. Hotch's mouth falls agape, and his sights shoot to you. A small snort escapes you, and you cover your mouth, attempting to conceal it as a cough. He squints at you as if he is mentally murdering you. You crinkle your nose at him.

Don't mentally murder me when we are about to interview one of the most prolific killers of our time.

The warden leads you into the small cell that you will convert into a makeshift interrogation room. Soon enough, you hear the clanking of chains echoing in the hallway. Everyone's eyesight is fixed on the door.

A silver-haired man dressed in a yellow jumpsuit walks in with an air of arrogance and determination. He glares at Agent Hotchner, who mirrors the prisoner's actions exactly. Hotch states that keeping the prisoner chained will not be necessary, a call that both you and Spencer are unsure of.

Hardwick sits across from you and leans into the table, "I know you."

"And I know you. Too well, I think," you respond.

A menacing grin sweeps across his face, "Oh, I like you already. How about you send these two away so the grown-ups can talk."

You can hear your boss scoff from behind you.

"Chester, it's time to get serious."

"You were born April 4, 1950?" Spencer asks.

"Does my birthday really matter?"

"It's customary for us to start at the beginning. We want to know as much as we can about your childhood," Reid continues.

"There's nothing to know. It was average. I lived in a nice house on a quiet street. I ate cereal, went to school, watched cartoons."

"I don't have time for this," Hotch raises his voice, causing you to jump slightly, "You grew up in a series of projects, each one worse than the last. You spent your teenage years peeping into your female neighbors' windows and burglarizing their underwear drawers when you got the chance. You set 100 small fires for which you spent 2 years in juvenile detention."

You glance at Reid from the corner of your eye; you are both uncomfortable with the direction Hotch is taking this.

"We've done extensive research, Mr. Hardwick," you say, gently trying to soften the blow and appeal to the man's ego. If Hotch is taking the bad cop role, you need to be this psychopath's ally.

"We've talked to almost everyone you've ever known," you continue, "including your mother."

Chester swivels on the balls of his feet, "Good ol' Jean? I'll bet she was a real treat."

"At this point, lying to us isn't really possible or helpful," Spencer offers a slight smirk to the man.

"Y/N, right?" the prisoner turns his attention to you, "They're wrong. They're all wrong."

"About what, Chester?" You implore him.

"I started a lot more than one hundred fires," he peers out the window.

You look up at Hotch, and he sighs in surrender.

Chester antagonizes you three, stating that no one care's whether or not they hear the truth. In between his jabs, he strays to various different series of thoughts. Most are meaningless, but it is his way of trying to get under your skin. For you and Spencer, it is relatively easy to maintain your composure. For Hotch, however, Hardwick's digs do nothing but add fuel to the already lit flame under the special agent.

"Let's talk about the specifics of this case, Chester," you interrupt his rant, "Why did you choose Sheila O'Neal?"

He shakes his head, "You gotta show me a picture. I don't know their names."

As if you can feel Hotch's anger radiating off of his body, you brace yourself for the oncoming strike.

"Is that what this is all about," he says disgustedly, "Some chance for you to relive all of this?"

"I have an excellent memory," Chester brags.

You tune his impassionate speech out and focus your observance on your boss. His scalding stare at Hardwick can only translate one way, 'I have initiated my emotional indifference. I could kill you and not care one bit. So proceed with caution.'

"They were toys, a diversion," you hear Hardwick chant as you tune back into the present. Hotch looks anywhere but at the killer in front of him, his gaze eventually landing you. You are some kind of shelter to him that neither of you has yet acknowledged or come to understand.

Your stomach churns at Chester's descriptions of his victims. He describes them as useless objects that, once their purpose was served, were discarded like garbage.

"Why did you ask us here?" Hotch charges.

The wicked man looks at you, his eyes void of a soul and his stare sending a chill down your veins.

"I wanted to speak to her."

Your breath catches at the back of your throat.

With that, Hotch straightens up and fervently positions himself between Chester and you. "Reid, pack it up," he commands.

Reid looks to you, "Are you sure?"

"No, now." Your superior repeats himself with even more fervor. He presses the buzzer to signal the guards to release us and says, "Have a nice trip. You're going where you belong." Hotch makes sure to put as much distance between you and Hardwick as possible. He buzzes the ringer again. No response.

"It's 5:17," Hardwick chuckles.

You close your eyes, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Reaching out for Hotch's arm, you lower his hand from the buzzer. "The evening yard begins at 5 o'clock. No one is going to come open that door for-"

"At least thirteen minutes," Chester disrupts. He waltzes over the table and takes one of the images of his victims into his hand. Holding it up as if to brag to us about it, he says, "And it took me less than five minutes to do this."

You push aside your worry. Instead, you choose to focus on all of the information you have accumulated over the years about Chester Hardwick. There has to be something you can use to your advantage to diffuse this situation.

"Perhaps in all of your research, you should have familiarized yourselves with the guard tones," Hardwick jeers.

"I heard the tones," Hotch counters in a monotone voice.

"So you planned to be locked inside with me, with no guns or weapons."

Hotch shakes his head, his voice more natural than before, "I won't need a gun."

Spencer places his hand on your arm and begins to guide you to the other side of the room.

"There's no way I am going to be executed next week," Chester taunts, kneading his hands together. "Not after I kill three FBI agents. You saved my life by coming here." His venomous words ring in your ears.

Hotch's tone deepens, "Unfortunately for you, I am not a five-foot-one-hundred-pound girl."

Your pulse quickens at Hotch's threat, and your attention is rapt by his display of dominance. He begins to shed his jacket. You feel yourself flushing; attraction suddenly entangles you as if it were an invisible rope.

Now is the worst possible time to be feeling this. Calm down.

"All of your life, you've gone after victims who couldn't fight back," he fiercely says, "and the rest of the time you spent looking over your shoulder." You understand the intensity in his tone and sense a great deal of emotion behind his words.

He rips his tie from his collar, and your breathing hitches in the back of your throat. Hopefully, Spencer doesn't notice, and if he does, he chalks it up to the deadly situation you find yourself in.

"You were always worried about the knock on the door," Hotch doesn't back down, "Scared that somebody like me would be on the other side waiting to put you away."

Well, if you keep ripping your tie off like th--no. Not gonna go there right now. Focus on the pyshco-killer threatening to kill you.

Now, Hotch intimidatingly points his finger directly at Hardwick.

If only I were on the receiving end of tha--no! Now. Is. Not. The. Time.

"At your core, you are a coward," Hotch fires.

You have to do something. Hardwick is enraged, and Hotch has nothing left to lose.

Without even giving it a second thought, you blurt out, "Chester, do you want to know why you killed those women?"

"What?" The prisoner hisses.

Spencer speaks up, "Earlier, you said you wished you were different. We can tell you why you are...what you are."

He begins moving towards you, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice your boss carefully making equal strides. You motion for him to stop.

"You can tell me why I did what I did?"

"I think so," you nod, "Don't you, Dr. Reid?"

"I do. Your mother is bipolar. And almost certainly an undifferentiated schizophrenic. Your father suffered severe shell shock in the war, what we now refer to as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. As far as I can tell, he remained clinically depressed the rest of his life."

"Exactly," you say, giving Spencer a chance to gather his thoughts after having thrown him under the bus.

"53% of all serial killers have some form of mental illness inherent to their families. Chester, in your case, both of your parents suffered from psychological disorders, which they essentially took out on each other as much as they beat you. So, violence sort of became a normal expression of love in your household," you say, eager to have some kind of breakthrough with him while subliminally directing Spencer's string of thoughts to follow yours.

Allowing Reid to pick up where you leave off, he takes charge of the conversation and explains how a portion of one's brain wants what it wants without conscience or judgment. A part of the brain that no doubt took over Hotch's reasoning powers moments ago, though you do not blame him.

"Earlier, you said your victims never had a chance. I think you know deep down that it was you that never really had a chance," he concludes. And with that victorious resolution, the guards unlock the door. Hotch storms out, and Reid follows behind.

"Is that true that I never had the chance?" Hardwick calls out after you both.

You stop in your tracks, "I don't know."

"Maybe," Spencer nudges you out the door.

++++

In the car, Hotch looks at you in the rearview mirror, "That was smart to get Hardwick to focus on himself long enough for the guards to come back."

You pat Spencer's shoulder, "I give all the credit to boy wonder and his beautiful statistic-filled brain. I'm sorry for all of the times I said you were running out of storage with all of that useless data."

"I find that I do some of my best work under intense terror," he declares, "Wait. Useless data? When did you say that?"

You pinch him softly and chuckle, "I'm kidding."

"I'm sorry," Hotch sighs.

You meet his gaze in the mirror once again, "For what?"

His chestnut eyes reveal pangs of remorse and guilt, but something tells you there's more to those feelings than what occurred at the prison.

"I antagonized the situation."

"No, you didn't," Spencer states.

"I certainly didn't help."

"Well, I can't argue with you there," you kid.

His piercing eyes suddenly twinkle, causing you to blush slightly. You quickly look down at your feet until your cheeks cool down.

Hotch sighs in defeat, "So Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers uncontested so that nobody wastes money on lawyers."

That statement is all too familiar to you. Yet again, your heart shatters for the Hotchners.

"You don't want to?" Spencer asks innocently.

He means well, but you know from experience that such a question only unleashes a tidal wave of painful emotions for the one fighting for his family.

"What I want, I'm not going to get," Hotch laments.

His eyes, once filled with depth, now distant and empty.

++++

Glancing up from your paperwork and into your supervisor's office, you take note of his gravity-drawn shoulders that carry the weight of the world on them. He repeatedly picks up a stack of papers and then drops them back down atop his desk, covering his face with his hands.

"What do you think is going on up there?" Derek asks, pointing his pen in the direction of the office.

"I might have an idea. I'm going to go take my report; anyone else's done?" They all hand you their paperwork for you to deliver to the boss.

You hesitate to knock on his door but apprehensively do so anyways.

He invites you in. Your heart sinks as you approach his desk, able to get a closer look at his beaten expression. You always knew he was hiding pain behind his tough exterior, but now he wears it on the surface, most likely unintentionally.

Placing the paperwork on his desk, you notice the heading on the papers he was gripping tightly.

SUPREME COURT STATE OF VIRGINIA: MARITAL SETTLEMENT AGREEMENT

Hotch's eyes move slowly, laboriously, to look at you as if it takes a concentrated effort to do so.

"Heartache is a real thing," you sympathize with him, "In fact, Reid even told me that a broken heart can show up on medical scans. When a heart breaks, your body and brain need time to recuperate. There's no set amount of time or remedy that will heal you. Don't set your expectations of yourself too high, and surround yourself with the people who love you."

His chin trembles, and his eyes flutter as he blinks back tears.

You turn to leave the room but look over your shoulder one last time, "We are all here for you, Hotch."

Just as you are about to shut the door, you hear him call out to you, "Y/L/N!"

His stare reveals a vulnerability you have had yet to see in him.

"Call me Aaron."

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theskygivesmelife · 3 years

Text

"I am the master of my fate,"

How ironic that a poem about self control uses this very phrase, whilst ignoring the fact that fate, or destiny actually imply that there can never truly be any control, for all is predetermined from the beginning of time.

...

I'd say we don't. Nonexistence is a superior state of existence in my opinion.

...

First things first: you don't love me, so stop saying you do. Even if you genuinely believe you do, you'll understand what I mean.

With that said, for the love of God can you stop messaging me? Not on WhatsApp because I will have *deleted* it, and not on Android messages because I can't respond as I don't have any balance. I use my phone only for music or gaming mainly anyway. Speaking of which, I thought I did make it clear that I don't want to talk to you. When was the last time we did talk? Right, your birthday. I don't remember ever being that drained after talking to you. Honestly, it was a pain—was it for you too? I guess that's what happens as one becomes truly apathetic. Seriously, I don't know who you're still trying to contact, but that person's dead. Well, not literally unfortunately, but if you do want to talk to some tired, disillusioned soul I'm still here I guess. As I mentioned, your little I love yous at the end don't really hold, because, you know, you're really just refering to the wrong person. For the record, I've started to think that not only am I incapable of loving, but am also incapable of being loved.

Anyhow, lets just say that if I were Jekyll then I'm Hyde now. To be honest, I don't even know why I'm responding to you. The "fuck her, why give a damn?" voices have been quite loud for some time. Well, I don't think of you all the time, so "fuck the world" might seem more apt as a generalisation. Back to the point: some time ago I'd have actually cared, but I don't give a shit now about anything.

I'll say it now: I don't think it'll ever be a good enough reason for you. I don't think any reason ever will. You'll probably still try to convince me to maintain contact, even though it's so horribly one sided. Well, I just couldn't care less for the most part. It'd probably be good if you wouldn't waste your time on me though. I mean, let's be real. You're not going to get my number once out if this country. Even if you miraculously did, you'd certainly make some replacement friends in college without the downsides that I have, so it'd be pointless. I know you won't listen anyway, and I said that I don't care either. So why am I even trying? I don't know.

If you'll remember I've tried to shut you out multiple times. It's funny now, ~because I feel absolutely nothing now.~ Quite often in the past I'd feel quite regretful or guilty, but now? Heh, just an emotionless robot just moving along now. Going through the motions you know. Still, if there's one thing I should mention, it's that I never lied to you when I said some sentimental crap like caring about you and such. Whoever I was back then, he genuinely ment it. And now, it seems like my wick is shorter than I imagined. It's going to burn up quick. You know what that means? Garima, it means peace at last. So, let me have my time now. I still dream of that little cottage far away, secluded from society. No-one for company. Okay, a cat and a dog. They'll be nice. A drum kit. Video games maybe? What'll I do? Electrician perhaps? Mechanic? Just so long as it isn't a crappy 9-5 job, and actually pays my bills. No people. No friends—do I really have any? No girlfriend—I don't want one (not asexual, but I'm not as horny as you I guess), and I doubt I'm capable of forming a proper relationship anyway. No family—I never had one to begin with. Can you imagine it? All alone and blissful. Just let me be. Please. One way or another, I'm gone. I'm actually feeling sad now typing this, tears in my eyes and all (I haven't cried in forever) but you shouldn't be. You've got a long, long way to go; you'll do well anyway. I don't know what I really was to you, or what I've done to you. I know that I was a hard person to deal with. I can't really list out all the times I've failed you; I hope you will forgive me for them. Believe me when I say that if there was ever I person I really tried to keep happy as often as I could, it was you.

" *Bye, stay healthy and happy* "

I won't—I can't.

Bye.

PS. Nice songs. I still appreciate music I guess, unless it's a really bad day.

...

[8/18/2018, 12:03 AM] Prathik: It seems not. Oh well, I was hoping I could talk one last time. Silly of me; you're probably either sleeping or studying for tomorrow's — should I say today's? — test.

[8/18/2018, 12:57 AM] Prathik: You know, I've been thinking: what if I wanted to talk to you one day? Would you then be ready to hold conversation? I think you would, but that doesn't strike me as fair. I mean you say that you'll miss me, but that's something you'll just have to take in your stride. On the contrary, if I miss you, then I try contacting you, and in all likelihood you'll just respond. What do you think?

[8/18/2018, 1:44 AM] Prathik: Maybe you're free tonight? I just want to talk; I don't know what I'm even doing now. Ugh I can't even explain it without sounding like some self pitying shithead. Forget it. I'm sorry

[8/18/2018, 12:42 PM] Prathik: Seriously, the very dynamics of our interactions are messed up. Everything is based on my mood and how I'm feeling. Don't want to talk? No problem! I'll go silent. Depressive episode? No problem! I'll go silent. It's like I can literally choose what and when we get to converse. Tired of our conversations? No problem! I'll just stop talking to you. And all you say is that you'll miss me. Sure, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, but bloody hell — why didn't you ever call me out for my behaviour? Gee, we screwed up...so many flaws and nothing was even done about them.

Yes, I'm ranting. I'll say stupid things, and maybe hurtful things too. If I were completely aware of what it is that sounded like that, then I wouldn't be saying them. Not that it's an excuse for saying anything I shouldn't. You probably shouldn't take anything personally, because in all likelihood, I'll probably just be projecting.

[8/18/2018, 12:52 PM] Prathik: Oh shit, I really need psychological help don't I? Do you think that if I got better, I'd finally stop sabotaging all the relationships I have?

[8/19/2018, 12:19 AM] Prathik: Goodbye

[8/19/2018, 2:25 PM] Prathik: Okay, I'll just leave this here. Just one last thing. I honestly am doubting my mental stability: I'd wager that I'm fairly unstable in general and more so at this point. My mood seems to swing like a fucking pendulum, and for whatever reason, I have and possibly might keep spouting unnecessary shit. So please, just *IGNORE EVERYTHING* I say. *EVERYTHING.* Except this one last message. Please. It's all I ask.

[8/19/2018, 2:54 PM] Prathik: I'm also not going to be using WhatsApp anymore — no point now right? — so I guess you'll be spared if having to reply to anything.

...

[8/8/2018, 10:24 PM] Prathik: Bloody hell, always nice to me even though I don't deserve it. Can't just go study like you ought to or talk to anyone else? You've got tons of friends after all. Perhaps one day they'll give you a consolation prize saying "good effort; hard luck" and maybe then you'll see how you're just wasting your time. Whatever. It's not like I can control you or force you to behave in a certain manner. Stupid world. Just leave me be

[8/8/2018, 10:52 PM] Prathik: I don't even know why you don't give in. I mean, what am I to you? Some depressed idiot that makes you feel better about yourself? I don't think that's the narrative you've sold to me, so that's probably not the reason.

It's kinda like you're an ant running against the wind. Not any wind, though, just that which is being blown by some sadistic little kid. It keeps running into it. Over and over it tries and fails. The wind keeps pushing it back, but the ant doesn't see how futile it's attempts are. It doesn't see that despite the fact that it keeps trying, nothing's going to change. It has so many other avenues of exploration, ones that would certainly lead to a great reception from the colony, but oh no. The ant keeps running, hoping that the resistance will decrease. Eventually the boy just blows harder, and the ant flies away and lands on its back. (Good thing it has an exoskeleton.) Only then does it see how pointless its efforts were, and that they were better off invested somewhere else.

...

You know how people throw that fucking annoying platitude around? That things will get better? Doesn't happen. It's no different in its progression from a physical illness, and once you go beyond a certain stage you're only living on fumes at that point. Limited time. But it'll get better they say. Fucking hell, it can also get worse, but who's willing to actually concede that bleak truth?

...

Yeah, maybe. I don't know. I'm just getting worse mentally. I mean, I set the suicide date for when I'm 25. It's only kept dropping. I started considering pushing it to college years, and now I'm genuinely pondering whether I should just drop out of college like when I'm 19 or so and be done with it — at least I won't have to wonder about how you'll come meet me in USA lol. I'm also drawing more blanks in tests. It's not like I don't know, it's just making me more and more anxious. Like the psychology UT we had just some time ago. I left 12 marks because it seemed to easy to be true and I thought I was wrong. I got 17.5 . And meeting people, ugh. Worse than ever. Sure I'm introverted, but at this rate I'm practically going to become a hermit. My ability to function like a sane person is waning, and it's actually quite clear. It's makes me awe struck and horrified at the same time seeing how someone is so capable of self sabotage. Yeah, I don't think I was made for this world. Just one big mistake that hasn't been taken care of yet.

...

Oh, if you haven't listened to it already, you really should listen to Heroes by David Bowie. Please do, if you haven't yet. Just this one song.

...

[6/28/2018, 12:13 AM] Prathik: I love you.

[6/28/2018, 12:14 AM] Prathik: ^ I just felt like saying that.

...

You don't get it. I don't know for sure that you like talking to me. Yes, you've said so so many times that I've lost track. I'd be lying if I said that it were enough to convince me. It isn't; you can't do anything to change my perception of myself, and sometimes I'll project, being the idiot I am after all. There's never going to be a time when I can the voice that says you're you're just using me for some kicks or something to shut up. That doubt will never go, and every time you say something like that, I'll make sure to interpret it as evidence that even you don't care, that you just let your guard down. You can't ever really make me satisfied or happy, so don't throw away any more of your time actually trying to justify anything. If you know that what you've done is fine, then it's fine.

...

[6/12/2018, 8:51 PM] Prathik: Speaking of which, it's interesting that you brought up the fact that our relationship is dysfunctional. Not that I really addressed it well when you originally meantioned it. It does make me wonder, are the dynamics of the way we interact with each other actually healthy? Perhaps we're just fucking each other in the ass and not even realising it? While it's a possibility that I consider, you should know that I don't think the second one is too probable. All the same, it's bothersome enough to actually consider pondering over. Funny, though, how I've just turned a blind eye to it; best relationship you've had you say. Pretty much the same for me, I suppose that's why I've not considered anything that suggests contrary to that opinion.

You know, we never did our cliched apologies. I'm not sure what exactly to apologise for; however, I don't have any qualms admitting that I did fuck up. I'm not sure it makes any sense to apologise for going silent for a month. Honestly, while I did miss you, I'm not sure of how much I actually regret it. Heck, if I hadn't misunderstood your message and not responded... Moreover, what's the point of saying sorry for something I've done multiple times and might do again anyway? It probably does defeat the purpose of it. I do regret making you angry though. I'm not too proud of getting you pissed off, I honestly am sorry about that. That conversation just didn't go the way I'd have liked it to I guess...

[6/12/2018, 8:53 PM] Prathik: Also, is it just me or have things between us changed? I mean, the one month silence probably did more harm than good. It'd have probably been better had I never done anything, or had not stupidly misinterpreted what you said and stayed silent after all. I don't know, I'm not saying it has anything to do with you anyway. I know who's responsible if something is wrong after all.

[6/12/2018, 10:04 PM] Prathik: Oh, today I mixed NaOH with NH4Br, boiled it and inhaled it. I also had to do some speaking for a group activity in English, and I didn't really fuck it up at all or get shaky knees

Just saying. Anyway, which Tapasya acquaintances are you still in touch with?

[6/12/2018, 10:42 PM] Prathik: Oh look, they just killed off net neutrality in USA. Fucking Ajit Pai. As if he didn't have an incredibly punchable face to begin with.

...

[6/10/2018, 10:05 AM] Prathik: If you say so. Read at your own inconvenience.

Since I'm idiotic enough, I decided to read more of the dude's articles. Lost a ton of brain cells. Also, don't read the comments. Nutty, the lot of them.

[6/10/2018, 11:00 AM] Prathik: "The power of propaganda always surprises me. Only 30 years ago, homosexuality was almost universally condemned, and now it’s accepted in half the world and half the States. Clearly, the natural position worldwide is that homosexuality is a disorder, and should be condemned. The problem is, we lost the youth. Somehow, homosexual advocates were able to brainwash and indoctrinate them into accepting it. If you talk to anyone my age, they believe that homosexuality poses no health risks (homosexuals have a 5 times higher chance of getting HIV) and that they are born as homosexuals (despite no scientific evidence.) IMO this is a result of two things: homosexual propaganda (esp. through the internet) and the collapse of the traditional marriage model. The parents simply haven’t taught their children about Christianity and thus they are easy prey for the homosexual movement.

Honestly, I am very pessimistic and I feel that it’s only going to get worse as time goes on. More and more ‘Christians’ are accepting this behavior day by day and it’s heartbreaking."

Has to be the most ironic things I've ever read. Talks about propaganda and indoctrination, but completely turns a blind eye to how he's become what he is.

[6/10/2018, 6:29 PM] Prathik: And now, I've realised that I could have actually spent my time better by talking to you on the phone as you suggested. Not that I studied one bit as I planned to do.

...

[6/9/2018, 1:56 AM] Garima Joshi: Bye now, love you.

[6/9/2018, 1:57 AM] Prathik: Bye. Love you.

...

if I could really recover from the depressed, socially anxious, and suicidal person I am today, believe me I'd let you know immediately. I promise.

...

[3/20/2018, 3:01 AM] Garima Joshi: I know you said you were tired. Thanks for sticking around. Always great talking to you.

[3/20/2018, 3:02 AM] Prathik: It's always fun talking to you. So.. yeah. Do we say goodnight or goodmorning at this point?

[3/20/2018, 3:03 AM] Prathik: Yeah. Stay safe in Delhi will you? Bye.

[3/20/2018, 3:04 AM] Garima Joshi: I'll try, I'll try.

Have a good day (today)

Bye, love you.

[3/20/2018, 3:06 AM] Prathik: I thought you said cheesy stuff were grossing you out...

I'm sorry, did I sound a little overprotective?

[3/20/2018, 3:13 AM] Garima Joshi: Okay Patrick I love you v much but I'll find you a wife tomorrow, for now you need those 2 hours 58 minutes of beauty sleep to rope in all those women

[3/20/2018, 3:13 AM] Prathik: Lulz. Fine. Love you too.

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sukirichi · 3 years

Note

chapter 5 really left me numb and speechless. nothing prepared me for that, you woke up and decided you'd ruin us all today. but okay hear me out, THE BEAUTY OF RECKLESS. (this is me simping for your cute ass and your god-tier writing skills so i'm sorry if the long message bothers you)

but reckless is so heartwrengchingly beautiful. five chapters in and we already have such strong settings and a stable background of all the characters, minus the mysteries of gojo's past we've yet to discover. if i remember correctly, gojo can't go against his mother because he did something wrong in the past and she's using it against him? the manipulation of the characters to tie people up to what they want struck me so much. usually i only read fanfiction for the smut (which you're also an absolute goddess at writing btw) so reckless wasn't really my cup of tea. but after chapter one, i kept moving to the next, and the next, and now i'm left heartbroken after chapter five. i don't think i've ever read something as painful as this before which says a lot because i'm a SUCKER for angst. suki, the way you write, you never fail to blow me away...

i thought reckless was going to be a happy story and i still hope it is, but after chapter five, i'm super excited to see where you'll take us with this. y/n herself is such a complex, human character that is conflicted by her own feelings and goals. honestly, i thought she was pretty annoying that she doesn't give gojo a chance and locks up immediately like gurl...just let him speak ffs, but i'm not actually mad at her because you made us understand her perspective. y/n came from a family background in which love wasn't really what she felt, rather a sense of obligation to provide so she would find a spot. again, this could just be my analysis and i could be wrong, but the way you wrote and pieced them all together as if they were actual human beings going through every day conflicts made me root for the characters more. i still want them to make more babies and fall in love, but now you've given us so much more to look forward to. this is my first time wishing that y/n gets more than love. i wouldn't say she was abused like gojo was (FUCK MAMA GOJO, FUCK PAPA GOJO, FUCK EVERYONE ELSE) but she has her own internal struggles that as someone who preferred to do things my own way because i'm "independently strong" i could see myself in her. the struggles are the same and i was crying a waterfall before i knew it. OVER A FANFIC! ONLY YOU, SUKI, ONLY YOU.

i don't know how you manage to tug at our emotions so effortlessly as if writing the story is an instant way for our hearts to be swayed and pulled side to side, but you are so good at this. i swear. i've been following you for a while now, watched you grow and i'm really proud of you. i hope you know that. i also wish people would stop being so rude to you, you're like the sweetest person here with how you're so patient and welcoming to everyone :(

okay i'm steering off path, forgive me its like 4am right now and i'm still not over reckless ch5. speaking of, who's gonna clean my pillows stained with tears or tell my cat who saw me crying that it's just a fanfic and i shouldn't be this heartbroken as if i lost a loved one?

and suki, gojo...your portrayal of him is CHEF'S KISS, never seen before, really fucked with my mind type of portrayal. he's so well-written and feels so real. i love how he's a kind hearted person but can't care for y/n the way he wants to because his bitch ass mom is getting in his way. the scene over him going against his mother shaped his personality and my respect for him deepened, though i still wish he didn't have to say all those. i know his intentions were good and its his way of "keeping us and the baby safe" but he made me cry so bad i actually felt chest pains. he knew where to hurt us and the way he lied by saying we seduced him and he'll turn the whole world against us when what he wanted to say is the exact opposite really broke me. i'm starting to think that there's more to everyone now than what you've originally shown which makes everything sm better, can't wait for the next update.

gojo saying "he can't defeat his mother, but he knows you can. you will."

the trust he has for her and the way he believes in her capabilities, i want me a baby daddy gojo 😩 now after seeing the teaser for chapter 6, my theory is that y/n and gojo are going to be the most powerful, baddest couple. king and queens. i don't think y/n will forgive him that easily so i'm hoping gojo explains his side and she listens (y/n please for the love of god hear the poor man out, he's a victim in all this) so they can communicate better. but honestly? you'll do great. i know whatever you post will be so amazing that we will be, once again, left speechless. reckless is so beautiful and painful yet it makes me root for them more. i can't wait for y/n's revenge arc and to see how she and gojo will take over the world someday.

✨ absolute icon couple ✨

sorry this was too long! i hope you're proud and giving yourself some credit and rewards because ch5 was truly amazing. hope you get some rest, don't forget to drink water and eat three meals a day. i love you

oh my gosh i’m so sorry i took long to respond to this i was just...i teared up at this! i’m feeling extra emotional today idk its probably bcos the weather is gloomy and i am too but like anon omg i am...i’m really really humbled and so happy rn, i don’t think i can properly express how thankful i am for a message like this. you have graced my inbox and there’s sm i want to thank you for - for the support from me as a writer here, for the kindness of your words, for the feedback on reckless and how much you related to it - just... thank you so much, for everything, this message really means a lot to me and i hope you know that 😭 i’m still sorry you cried over it but omg anon i’m just downright speechless rn thank you so much 🥺 please take care of yourself too and know i love you more and i’m forever grateful for this, thanks so much 😭💕

#asks with naoya's trophy wife #series: reckless #suki: for keeps #you guys trying to make me cry huhhhh #also that character analysis and theory 😫✋🏻

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