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sp0o0kylights · 5 months

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Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms.

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans.

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at.

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming.

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme.

“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym.

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel.

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give.

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures.

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.)

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds.

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious. “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.”

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was.

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it.

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome.

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again.

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!”

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!”

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s.

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!”

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.”

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise.

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for.

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.)

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con.

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.”

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of;

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all.

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.”

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself black up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this.

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game.

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all.

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.)

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly.

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

“Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?”

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of a few silly images.”

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room.

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!”

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air.

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking.

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!”

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed.

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.)

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway.

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.”

Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.”

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.

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love-toxin · 11 months

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MR O’HARA HAS ME ACTING FERAL BOTH OF MY LIPS HAS BEEN DROOLING SINCE I WATCHED ATSV OPENING NIGHT… I NEED HIM TO DESTROY ME

RIGHT??? LIKE--LIKE--

(cws: across the spiderverse spoilers, gn pronouns, smut, rough sex, mating press, size kink, biting/venom, belly bulges, mindbreak(?), breeding mention, a bit of forbidden love trope)

Like....imagine, if you will, becoming an assistant for the Spider-society after your dimension is destroyed. It's mostly because Miguel took pity on you since you're not a spider-person, you had nothing to do with the unravelling of your world, and/or you were meant to gain your spider-powers but an anomaly in your dimension prevented it. Since there's no place for you in another multiverse, he keeps you on his team both to give you asylum and to keep an eye on you just in case you prove to be an anomaly yourself....but it becomes pretty clear pretty early on that you're not really a threat. Not for violence, at least.

You're just a sweet thing that gets doted on by nearly everyone in the society--you're either a refreshing break from the endless spiderman variants running around or you remind the spiders of their Mary Janes, their Gwen Stacies, their Gayatri Singhs, and being a civilian to boot makes you the perfect candidate to have your things carried for you and be given web-slinging rides around the facility even though you're supposed to be the assistant here.

But even so, even though you're treated so lightly, Miguel really likes you and even--gasp--enjoys your company. It can be hard to tell with him, but the most perceptive of the spiders notice that Miguel keeps you in his good graces always. When he's stressed or in a bad mood, he collects himself before he speaks to you. He never snaps at you, and on the very rare times you get caught in his crosshairs, he apologizes quietly and gently and reiterates that whatever it was about, it wasn't your fault. He gives you so much wiggle room for error to the point that his companions sometimes complain outright that he's such a hardass, but he never berates you when you make a mistake, and without fail Miguel will come up with some reason for it; "That's because they don't screw up as often as you do" or "At least I can trust them to do their job", or he'll just tell whoever's bitching to leave you out of it and he'll dismiss you to discuss the matter privately.

Surprisingly, those incidents don't bother him nearly as much as when the inner circle starts getting closer to you. He feels this deep need to pull you away when Gwen offers to take you on a trip through the dimensions (although that's just plain dangerous), but it also bubbles up when Hobie hangs around and encourages you to join his band, and when Jess asks you questions about your life and is eager to hear about any potential romances you might be getting yourself into--there's a lot of single spider-people out there, and you're not tied to any dimension, so you've got plenty of options!

God, Miguel hates when Jess brings that up. You don't need to go anywhere, your place is here. You can stay here safely, which is something he can't promise in any of those other dimensions the spiders come from. But that's not the real reason, he realizes that when he feels that tingle at the sight of you holding Mayday and playing with her, having been given the task of impromptu babysitter for Peter when he has to rush off and do damage control somewhere.

It's you. He likes having you around, and it's not about letting you venture off into other dimensions, he just doesn't want you to leave him. That's why he loves it when you reply to those people, when you tell them "Oh, but I couldn't leave Mr. O'Hara! He'd lose his head without me." or "I really like this job, actually. I wanna keep working under Mr. Miguel." and especially "Miguel saved my life, I owe him all I can give. I could never leave him all alone." because it just reaffirms that desire for him to keep you as close to his side as possible. When he replays those videos of himself and his daughter, the pain is dulled for a while as he sees your eyes in hers, and envisions a future where you create a new family with him--one that he can properly protect this time.

It's that fantasy that emboldens him to lay hands on you, your body so puny and small in comparison to his massive frame, so fragile as he holds your hips in both hands and waits for you to tell him this isn't really what you want. He's waiting for it, anticipating it, even reminding you that you have the option when you look up at him shell-shocked. He promises that your answer won't affect your position here. It falls on deaf ears, however, because you desperately want to kiss him but you just don't think you can reach.

It's so adorable to see you try. Up on your tiptoes, clutching at his suit, straining to try and reach him where he's at--all it takes is an arm around your waist and he's got you off your feet and in the air, perfectly situated to press your pretty mouth to his own and awaken his instincts that have laid dormant all these long years. The stress of keeping each and every dimension following its intended canon has nearly broken him, it might have done so already if not for your unexpected appearance in his life. It's riled him up so much he doesn't think twice about taking you back to his place, nor gives him second thoughts when you help him peel that tight suit off and he tears through your clothes just as easily--maybe it really doesn't matter. His world is gone and so is yours, but you're both still here and you're begging him for another kiss, for more attention. How sweet could you possibly be? Pleading for something you'll always have and not realizing it's the least you deserve, perfect as you are?

Miguel just can't help himself anymore, he's too far gone and you’re too angelic for him to let down when you want him so badly. You don't seem to mind the rough treatment as he pushes you down either, no, you thrive on his aggressiveness and even encourage it to come out as he clambers over you. That pretty smile and those giggles as he shoves your thighs apart and spits, his venom sending electrifying tingles up and down your spine as he fingers the makeshift lube inside you. He's so bulky you can't even get your legs all the way around him when he lowers himself, forced to let your heels scrabble down his lower back as you struggle to find some kind of purchase on him--to just grab something and let it keep you steady as he slides in and rocks you into oblivion. The toxins loosen you up too, thank god, or else you'd be seriously struggling to take him in when he's practically twice your size. And he doesn't want to force it in, he just wants to ease you into the process before he allows himself to batter your poor body with thrusts that shake the whole bed--it's a little bit of payback for flaunting your pretty self around his office without ever telling him how you actually feel about him. Now you know exactly what you've been missing.

Drooling, hair sticking to your skin, sweat dripping down your chest, body gripping him like a vice yet endlessly slick....you're a total mess and he couldn't be more satisfied. You don't even try to keep yourself together, but that's all that he wants--he wants you to lose yourself in the way he makes you feel so you won't ever want to leave. The taboo is there; you're not from his dimension, he shouldn't be planning any kind of future with someone who doesn't belong in his world. But it makes it all more thrilling in the moment even if he can reason his way around it, it makes his every thrust gain power until he's breaking your willpower down enough to have your eyes rolling back in your head, hips jumping weakly as you try to participate. You don't even know how good you make him feel without lifting a finger.

Gliding through you as if you couldn't be more willing to take him, his position is clear just from a glance down at your stomach--the bulge is obvious, and as sickening as it could be your whines as you brush your fingertips over it sing his praises without a coherent word. You're so wet and stupid and needy on his cock, clearly he should've done this a long time ago when you were so much worse at hiding your pining looks at him from across the room. If he knew it would culminate into this, he would've saved the assistant crap and turned you into his stress relief toy that very first day. If he had, you might've already had a family by now....knowing him, at least.

It's still just as sweet to lick your tears up now, though. You're already drunk on his cock, it doesn't make much more difference for him to sink his fangs into your throat and pump you full of more venom straight from the source, the shock sending you straight into orgasm and dragging it out for so long he fears you might just pass out from the pleasure. It's like he's juicing up a plump little fruit until it's so ripe it could burst. And as if your own ecstasy wasn't enough, you really lose it when Miguel has you pinned and flooding that sore, fluttering little hole with so much seed it burns. Jets of pearly-white cum squirting down your thighs, painting you like a canvas without him even pulling out, because you just can't take him at his peak and you know it. You just have to whine and squirm beneath him as he fills you up, his hot breath puffing over your cheeks as he keeps you barely still enough not to wiggle away. With a shift of your hips you nearly slip off right up to the tip, his cum sloshing about and making everything too slick--but a hand slides up your neck and grips the crown of your head, his biceps flexing as he slowly pushes you back down with vermillion eyes piercing through your heated flesh. Lower, deeper, until he's seated himself up in your guts again and holds you there to milk those last few shots out of him, keep him nice and warm with those precious walls uncontrollably spasming around him. Doesn't stop you from pulling his head down closer, though, and whispering your praises while begging in whimpers in equal measure, urging him not to stop now. You're not ready to let him go.

How convenient is that? Miguel won't ever let you go, and he's known that deep in his chest since the moment you arrived--it couldn't make him any more satisfied to know that you feel the exact same way.

#don't look at me i know im 100% off the shits #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman x reader #spicy writing #ellie writes #anons

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reveluving · 1 year

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today's batmom thot of the day is:

Bruce's secret stash of your 𝙣𝙪𝙙𝙚 polaroids!

warnings: smut obv (minors DNI!), thirsty!Bruce is thirsty for his wife <;3

check out my batmom m.list <3

Nobody loves you more than your husband. Anyone to claim otherwise, be it his children, Alfred or even your own staff (which were basically teenagers who now sees you as their mother, at this point), well, that'll only happen when hell freezes over.

The problem is? The man is always busy, as a renowned business by day and a renowned vigilante by night. So, he can't always spend time with you as much as he hopes for. So, naturally, when he's graced with the opportunity to be with you, no doubt he uses it like it's his last day on Earth.

But when he can't?

His nude polaroids of you are his saving grace.

You see that gif up there? That's him sneaking glances at those photos at any given time.

I've actually mentioned this fact in one of my drabbles! One of his favourite ones is kept in his wallet, stashed in the same slot behind your cafe's business card—if in any case his kids have his wallet for whatever reason, the last place they'd investigate is your card.

Or at least, he could only hope none of them ever stumble upon it.

If not, he knew you'd never let him keep another one. It's happened before, and he was lucky enough to find it.

But, was it worth traumatizing his father figure, who was unlucky enough to have found it?

What was it, you might ask?

It was during your honeymoon in Japan, your hotel room overlooking the city at night. He had on you the bed, his thumb nestled in your lips as he bottomed out. The spurt of cum trailing from your cunt up to your pretty glossy lips. The pure bliss on your face as you take his hard cock and oh, it never fails to make his blood run hot.

"Messy girl." He tutted with a sly smile, cooing at the mix of your drool and his cum coating his fingers. The magnificent view of the Tokyo Tower plus the skyscrapers surrounding it was an added benefit; a variety of neon lightly illuminating your room, enough for Bruce to see you in your glory.

He already took a good nine or ten photos of you on his phone before tossing it aside with your polaroid camera, where he's also used it on you for another three, one of which will definitely be his number one. For now, he wanted no interruptions, and loomed over you, the dangerous look in his eyes barely hidden behind his wet hair made it clear that he was beyond done with you. It wasn't until you whimpered and rolled against his hips that the look he had was accompanied by a smirk, knowing that you needed him as much as he needed you.

Yes, that honeymoon had to be one of the best ones he's ever had, and he's been to plenty with you.

The point is, his family has had enough trauma, for they've witnessed their fair share of 'unspeakable events' in the past regarding the two of you, be it in the bedroom, some gala, your cafe's storeroom.

But that's besides the point.

We've only talked about one of his utmost favourite polaroids, so you can bet your ass that he has more than just one! Those other favourites are stashed in the bedside table, his office desk, both in the mansion and his company, the Batcomputer's drawer, and the Batmobile. All of which were locked for his own use, of course.

He probably has at least 20, and counting, even, for your husband is not only a pleaser in bed, but an artistic one, as well. His muse? You, duh. Whether it's a polaroid of you in his oversized dress shirt only or nothing at all, these keepsakes are far more valuable than any art piece in any prestigious galleries. Better yet, they're priceless, for they belong to him and and him only.

a reupload. dumblr really testing me. going back to my IRL responsibilities cuz shit is crazy rn see yall in a few months tho <3 /j

#no i will not make a fic about it #but we can def talk more about it <3 #— reve's reverie 🌹#a mother's touch series #batmom #batmom reader #batfam #batfam x batmom #batfam x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x batmom #batman x reader #batman x you #batman x batmom #batman #dc x reader

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fatecantstopme · 1 year

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Undercover

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Summary: You've gotta go undercover for a case...with the last person on earth you'd ever wanna go with.

Warnings: Angst. Cursing. Use of pet names. SMUT, dom/sub vibes, praise kink, sir kink, light choking kink. Mentions of murder. Little bit of fluffy fluff at the end.

A/N: Haley doesn't exist in this story, just FYI.

"So we need two people to go undercover," Rossi said.

"Count me out," Emily said, throwing her hands in the air. "This unsub creeps me out too much. I have no interest in playing his game."

Rossi looked at you and you groaned. "Oh come on."

"You're the only other option, (Y/N)," he insisted.

You looked over at JJ and she shrugged uncomfortably. "Don't look at me, I'm just the media liaison."

"Fine, I'll do it, but only if I can take Morgan with me."

Morgan grinned. "Hell, yeah. I'm in."

Garcia cut in, "Sorry, hot stuff--as much as I'd love to see you go undercover in a tux, you don't exactly fit the required profile."

You looked at Spence hopefully, but he shook his head. "Sorry, (Y/N/N), I'm too young for this one."

You groaned. "Well what's wrong with Morgan?"

"The group the unsub belongs to is very exclusive--if you're not white, you're not getting in," Hotch answered.

You bristled slightly at your boss's interjection. He wasn't wrong and you knew it, but every time he spoke you couldn't help but feel annoyed.

"Fine," you conceded. "Looks like I'm taking Rossi."

Rossi laughed. "Come on, (Y/N). You know I'm too old for this one."

The room fell silent as the realization dawned on every single person in the room, yourself included. Shit, shit, shit.

"It has to be Hotch," Rossi stated.

Even Hotch looked slightly surprised. "I haven't gone undercover in quite a while."

"Better figure it out because you're the only option," you grumbled.

Hotch sent you a glare, but didn't bother to reply to your statement. "When's this party happening?"

"Saturday night," Garcia answered.

"That's two days to prepare," Emily stated. "Should be plenty."

You sighed loudly, but nodded your agreement.

"Good. Let's get started," Hotch said.

The room immediately began to clear out, the rest of the team going back to their desks to work. You stayed behind, which didn't go unnoticed by Rossi.

"I know it's not ideal, but it's the best way to draw out the unsub," Rossi said gently as he sat down beside you.

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. "He hates me, Rossi, and to be honest, I'm not his biggest fan either. But you want us to pretend to love each other in front of a bunch of strangers? For hours on end?"

Rossi patted your arm. "I know, kiddo, but he's not that bad. It'll be okay."

You stared at him in silence for a moment. "The man never looks at me unless it's a glare. He looks annoyed every time I dare to speak in his presence, especially if it's directed at him. There's no way we're going to be able to pretend to even like each other, Rossi."

"I'll talk to him, okay? But you both need to be the professionals I know you are. It's not about either of you...it's about all the girls this man has murdered."

You sighed lightly. "You're right, you're right--as always. I'll behave, I promise."

Rossi smiled. "That'a girl. I'll talk to Hotch."

You nodded. "Be mean if you have to."

"(Y/N)," Rossi warned with a chuckle as he left the conference room.

It's not that you hated Hotch or anything like that. Hell, you actually found him incredibly attractive--it was his attitude you couldn't stand. He wasn't always rude to you, he was almost friendly when you'd joined the team a couple years prior. A couple months in and he started to act differently. You had no idea what you'd done to him to make him hate you, but it pissed you off to no end.

Hotch wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy with anyone, but he was downright hostile with you. He went out of his way to avoid you when he could, and acted like a sullen child when he couldn't. He always paired you up with someone else on cases, to the point where you'd actually never worked with him alone one-on-one.

You grabbed your notebook and headed back to your desk.

"Hey, you okay?" Emily asked you softly when you sat down in front of her.

"Yeah, it's fine. Just gotta figure out how to make sure we don't kill each other in public."

She chuckled. "You're not going to kill each other."

You raised your eyebrow. "Sure--it'll be great."

"You'll be fine," she insisted. "So you wanna go shopping later?"

You nodded. "I've gotta find something to wear to this damn thing. Invite JJ and Garcia too. I need opinions. If I've gotta dress up, I wanna at least look hot."

Emily laughed. "Girl please--you always look hot."

"Thank you, thank you," you said with a mock bow.

"(Y/L/N)," Hotch yelled from his office. "My office. Now."

You closed your eyes and sighed before getting up and heading to the office. You made eye contact with Rossi as he walked back to his own office. He gave you a soft smile and a subtle thumbs up...but you couldn't help but feel nervous as hell.

"Sir?" you asked as you entered his office.

"Close the door," he said without looking at you.

You closed the door and waited silently for him to speak.

"Are you going to sit or just stand there awkwardly?"

"Standing closer to the door gives me a better escape route," you said stubbornly.

Hotch huffed in annoyance. "You're being childish. Sit down."

"Is that an order, sir?"

His body tensed and he clenched his jaw as he gestured to the seat in front of him.

You sat down and crossed your arms, silence stretching out between you.

After an entire minute of silence, you couldn't take it anymore. "I'm assuming you called me in here for a reason?"

"I did." Hotch's gaze finally landed on you. "We need to discuss this op."

"What about it?"

Hotch raised his eyebrows. "How about your reaction when Rossi said we'd be going undercover together?"

"Can you blame me, Hotch? We have to pretend to be romantically involved--but we can barely be in each other's presence without animosity."

"We're professionals, (Y/L/N)."

"May I speak freely, sir?"

"As if you don't already."

"I'm going to take that as a yes," you began. "You don't act like a professional, Hotch. You act like I'm an actual burden to you--like you despise me so much that merely being in my presence makes you angry. You can't even look at me without glaring and you almost never speak to me unless you have to. Can you see why I wouldn't exactly be thrilled about going undercover with you?"

To your surprise, Hotch looked almost hurt by your words. But that quickly turned back to annoyance--maybe even anger. "Can you really blame me? You're not exactly pleasant to be around," he said harshly.

It was your turn to be hurt--and unlike him, you couldn't hide it. You stood up and walked to the door.

"I didn't dismiss you."

You didn't even bother to look back at him. "This conversation is definitely over." You walked out the office door and straight out to the bank of elevators in the hall. You ignored the voices of your teammates calling your name. You just needed to get out of there--you needed air.

Instead of going down, you went up, making your way out to the roof. It was your go-to place to think, and lord knew you needed to think in peace.

You were angry and you needed a moment away from everyone else to calm down--otherwise, you might say something you'll regret. This was one of those moments where you questioned your life choices...and how much you really wanted to keep working at the BAU.

It was your dream job and you loved your team more than anything, but working with Hotch was slowly killing you. You hated the way he made you feel, but more importantly you hated the side of you he brought out. You just didn't like yourself when you were around him.

It hadn't always been that way. When you'd first started, Hotch had actually been nice to you--you might even say he was sweet. You felt accepted by the entire team, your boss included. You just didn't know what had changed. Somehow he was getting even worse and that attitude was pushing you to your limits.

You knew you had to get through this case and deal with the undercover part--the lives of an untold number of girls relied on it. But after that, you really needed to think about what your future was going to look like.

**********

Somehow, you made it through the rest of the day without losing your mind. You and the girls were now out shopping for the perfect dress for this op.

"Okay so I grabbed 15 different dresses in your size," Garcia said with a massive grin when you, Emily, and JJ walked into the store.

"You only got here 10 minutes before us!" you exclaimed.

Garcia just kept smiling. "I excel at speed shopping."

You laughed as she dragged you to the back of the store, the other two following behind you. You went into the dressing room to try on the dresses. Garcia had pulled various styles and colors, some of which were absolutely not your style at all, so you avoided trying those on.

The first dress you put on was just a basic little black dress. You stepped out of the dressing room to let the girls see it.

"Ohh an LBD. Okay," Emily said. "Spin please."

You spun with a chuckle. "What do we think?"

"Hmm. We can do better," Garcia said. "Next!"

You switched into a different black dress, longer this time, but perhaps a little more revealing in the bodice than you'd prefer.

"Ow-ow!" JJ cat called you as you stepped out.

Emily clapped and Garcia let out a little gasp.

"I think it might be a little...much," you said lightly.

Emily laughed. "The girls are coming out to say hi."

"Yeah, I'm gonna try another one."

The next couple dresses you tried on just didn't really speak to you, despite the reactions of your friends. You finally reached a dress that you thought looked nice on the hanger, but you weren't quite sure how it would look on you.

It was a deep emerald green dress in a silky fabric. It was very simply designed, v-necked with thin straps, floor length, with a thigh-high split up one side.

When you put it on, you let out a little gasp as you looked in the mirror. Even with minimal makeup, messy hair, and no shoes, you thought you looked incredible.

"Was that a gasp I just heard?" Garcia asked.

"Maybe," you said with a chuckle as you stepped out of the dressing room.

"Holy shit," Emily mumbled.

"That's the one," JJ said, eyes wide.

"I second that," Garcia agreed.

"You think so?" you asked, timidly.

"Girl, please. You look hot as hell," Emily insisted. "Hotch is probably going to pass out when he sees you."

You laughed. "He won't even notice, Em. You know he doesn't look at me."

"He's a man, (Y/N). He'd have to be blind not to."

"She's right, ya know," JJ said.

"Well I can't say that I wouldn't love to see Hotch fall flat on his face," you said lightly.

"I don't know why you're always so mean to each other," Garcia said with a frown.

"Oh please--he started it," you insisted.

"Hmm," she hummed. "I suppose."

"Enough talk about Hotch. Go change so we can buy that sexy dress and get dinner," Emily cut in.

"Tacos?" you asked.

"Obviously," she agreed.

**********

The next day was spent in the office, preparing for the op the next night. As always, Hotch was moody and distant, but he did try not to snap at you very much.

He wouldn't admit it, but Rossi's words from the day before, as well as your rightful anger, had been weighing on him all night. He didn't mean to be an asshole--well, yes he did. But he didn't want to be. It was self-preservation. He knew what would happen if he was nice to you...the first few weeks of your time in the BAU had given insight into that.

"Hotch," your voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"What?" he asked.

You sighed. "You weren't listening, were you?"

He winced. "Sorry."

A look of surprise ghosted across your face. You were certain that was the first and only time he'd ever apologized to you. You shook your head to clear it and repeated your earlier statement. "Somehow these guys are rich enough to actually rent out an entire hotel for a weekend. The event itself is in the hotel ballroom and each of the 'couples' in attendance will have their own rooms, us included. Garcia managed to secure us a room."

"What do we need a hotel room for?" Hotch asked.

You sighed. "I'm not going to explain that one, Hotchner."

Before Hotch could snap at you, Rossi cut in. "The hotel rooms are used for the various interactions between the couples. Each couple is required to have a room in order to participate in the event."

"Besides," Reid continued, "we need the two of you to convince the unsub to come up to your room for (Y/N)."

You winced, a look of disgust covering your face.

"Sorry, (Y/N/N)," Reid said sheepishly.

"It's not your fault the unsub is so sick," you reassured him.

This particular unsub was part of an exclusive group of people who 'traded' women amongst each other for various fees dependent upon what the purchaser wanted the woman for. The unsub would purchase a girl to keep, and eventually murder in a horrifically sadistic and brutal manner.

Essentially, Hotch would be operating as your current 'owner', but once you'd identified the unsub, he'd offer you to him for a sordid fee. You didn't like the concept of any of this, but you wanted to catch this guy so badly.

After a few more hours of planning, it was time to wrap things up and get ready for tomorrow. You were meeting the team at a nearby hotel to get ready and it's where they would be setting up. You and Hotch would depart from there and go directly to the hotel with the event.

**********

At 4:30 the next day, you arrived at the hotel the team was setting up at. Most of the team was already there, the only one missing was Hotch.

"How you feeling, (Y/N)?" Emily asked softly. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be, Em."

"Thanks for showing up," Morgan teased as Hotch walked into the hotel room.

"Shut it, Morgan. I couldn't find my tux."

'Tux?' you mouthed at Emily.

She shrugged. "Guess he wanted to match your level of class," she whispered.

"Actually, tuxes are required," Reid interjected.

"Ahh," you said with a nod.

Emily chuckled lightly and grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the bathroom. She gestured to JJ and Garcia to come along. She shut the door behind you all and you jumped up on the bathroom counter.

"Make me pretty," you joked.

"Girl please. You're already gorgeous. We're just accentuating it," Garcia stated with a smile.

"I love you," you said warmly as you pulled her into a hug. "But seriously, who's gonna fix my hair? I look crazy."

JJ laughed. "I'll take the hair. Garcia's gonna handle your makeup and Emily is here for comic relief/emotional support."

The girls got to work on styling your hair and doing your makeup, chatting and laughing together as if you weren't about to go undercover in a freaking lion's den.

While you and the girls were getting ready in the bathroom, the guys were talking over things in the bedroom.

Hotch needed maybe 10 minutes to get changed, so he had some time to kill before he needed to get ready. That time wasn't really a beneficial thing. It allowed him time to think about all kinds of things he really shouldn't be thinking about.

The event was starting at 7, so you needed to be at the other hotel by 6:30 to check into your room. At 6, the girls popped out of the bathroom, leaving you on the other side of the door.

Garcia cleared her throat to get the rest of the team's attention. Everyone turned to face her and she dramatically gestured to the bathroom door. "Presenting the beautiful, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)."

Emily swung the door open and you stepped out into the main room. Everyone was silent as they took in your look. You felt slightly uncomfortable under their gazes, despite being a very confident woman.

"Damn, girl," Morgan breathed out, the first one to recover.

"She looks great, doesn't she?" Garcia said excitedly.

"She really does," Hotch said softly without realizing it.

Everyone turned to look at him in surprise, but none were as surprised as you. Your eyes met his and you inhaled sharply, breath catching in your chest.

Hotch realized he'd spoken out loud, only because of the look on your face. A dark blush crept into his cheeks and he averted his gaze.

"Thanks, guys," you said softly, taking the attention away from Hotch.

He lifted his gaze back up to you, completely unable to keep his eyes off of you. You looked even more beautiful than usual and you absolutely took his breath away.

You looked back over at Hotch while ignoring the chatter of the rest of the team as they gushed over your look. Your heart was racing so quickly, you were slightly worried someone would be able to hear the pounding.

You'd never seen Hotch look at you the way he was looking at you in this moment. You felt almost small under his gaze and if you didn't think it sounded insane, you would say he almost looked hungry as he gazed at you.

"I guess I should change too," Hotch said lightly, eyes not quite meeting yours.

"Oh, right." You stepped out of the way so he could go into the bathroom to change into his tux. You walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it, suddenly feeling a bit faint.

JJ noticed immediately and came over to sit beside you. "You okay?" she murmured.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just a little nervous," you lied smoothly.

It was obvious she didn't believe you, but she didn't say anything. She simply wrapped her arm around you and pulled you into a side hug. It was just what you needed to feel grounded.

After several minutes, Hotch came out of the bathroom wearing a very well-fitted black tux. Much in the same way he looked at you in shock when you came out, your eyes widened as you took him in.

"You clean up nice," Rossi teased.

"Yeah, yeah," Hotch muttered. He looked up at you, eyes not quite meeting yours. "Should we head out?"

You nodded and stood up, taking a deep breath to prepare yourself for the night ahead.

"We'll be close by if you need us," Rossi assured you both as you started out the door. "Garcia will be monitoring the cameras in the ballroom."

You nodded again as Hotch opened the door and gestured for you to go first. "We've got this," he said firmly.

The ride to the other hotel was silent...and not the comfortable kind. You hated it, but you couldn't think of a single thing to say, and apparently neither could he.

When you arrived at the hotel, Hotch handed the keys to the valet, took your arm as you got out of the car, and guided you into the hotel lobby.

"Good evening, sir," the front desk lady said. "May I have your last name please?"

"Carter," Hotch said smoothly.

The woman checked the computer and offered the two of you a smile. "Your room is on the 7th floor," she handed Hotch the room keys before continuing, "elevators are to your left. Please let us know if there's anything we can do to make your stay more pleasant."

"Thank you very much," Hotch responded.

Once the two of you made it to the room, you separated from each other as if your skin burned. You made quick work of searching the room for cameras and/or listening devices. Finding none, you finally relaxed a little and spoke to each other.

"Call Rossi," you said. "We're a go."

Hotch glared at you, clearly annoyed at your commands, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he simply called Rossi, told him the room number, and said he'd be in touch.

"We have 20 minutes until we need to be downstairs for the party," he said as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

You sat down in an arm chair on the opposite side of the room. "Shall we sit in silence until then?"

Hotch shot you another glare. "Perhaps we should discuss our plan?"

"What's to discuss? You know the plan as well as I do. Just pretend to actually like each other for long enough to find the unsub. Sound manageable?"

He winced as if you'd hit him, but quickly recovered. It did not, however, go unnoticed by you. "If you're silent, I think I can handle it," he snapped back.

You narrowed your eyes. "Don't worry, I'm excellent at faking sweetness."

10 minutes passed in complete silence. You felt bad for being so nasty to him, but it was all you ever did. You didn't banter...you fought, and neither of you knew how to pull a punch.

Much to your surprise, Hotch broke the silence first. "Have you always hated me so much?"

You turned to look at him. He actually looked wounded and it made your expression soften. "I don't hate you, Hotch."

"Coulda fooled me."

"Do you hate me?" you asked softly.

He looked surprised. "Of course not."

"Coulda fooled me," you said, echoing his response.

He looked down at the floor. "I know I'm an asshole, (Y/N), but I don't hate you."

You were silent for a moment. "That's the first time you've called me by my first name since I first joined the BAU."

His gaze met yours. "It is?"

You simply nodded.

He returned the nod thoughtfully. "I don't mean to be like this, you know."

"Well you're not like this with anyone else on the team, so I can only assume you have something against me specifically."

He shook his head. "I don't, but it's just--it's hard to explain." He fell silent, refusing to allow himself to elaborate further.

You sighed and stood up. "Come on. We might as well head downstairs."

He nodded again and joined you at the door.

"Remember," you said softly. "Pretend to like each other."

You opened the door and the op began.

**********

Hotch's hand rested firmly on your lower back as you walked into the hotel ballroom. You closed your eyes briefly, silently willing your body to not react to the feeling of his hand on you or the proximity of his body to yours.

Unfortunately, he felt the tension in your back against his palm. "Relax," he murmured in your ear, causing you to shiver.

You hated your body for reacting so intensely to him, and you cursed quietly under your breath, earning a deep chuckle from Hotch.

You wanted to glare at him for laughing at you, but you knew there were eyes on you both. You decided to lean into the role you were supposed to be playing, while also getting back at him.

You placed your hand on his chest and leaned your body into him, giving him a whiff of your perfume. You felt him tense against you and you grinned. "You okay there, handsome?" you teased.

He gave you a tight-lipped smile, but you noticed the slight flush in his cheeks. He knew what you were doing, but he was quite sure you weren't aware of what you were really doing to him.

He guided you farther into the large ballroom, eyes scanning the room for men that fit the profile. Unfortunately, almost every man in the room fit the profile almost perfectly.

"Are you paying attention?" he asked softly.

"Yes, Sir," you hissed in annoyance.

He bit back a groan, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "Don't," he mumbled.

"Don't what?" you asked teasingly, knowing exactly what got to him.

He shot you a look that sent a wave of heat straight to your core. Your eyes must have betrayed you, because his expression changed to an almost wolfish look that had your pulse racing.

"Behave," he snapped. The harshness in his voice surprised you, until you saw the couple watching you from the corner of your eye. Hotch had slid seamlessly into his role, so you slipped back into yours.

Your eyes looked down and your body language screamed 'submissive', which was what you knew the unsub would want to see. The man nodded at Hotch, clearly appreciating his dominant control over you. Hotch inclined his head at the man, signaling his respect.

Once the couple was out of earshot, you whispered, "One down."

Hotch nodded. "500 to go." It was an exaggeration, but it felt like he was right.

For the next hour, the two of you made it through the room several times, eliminating almost every man there. You were starting to lose hope that you were going to find the unsub, but Hotch was refusing to give up.

Your eyes were dancing around the room when they landed on a man several feet away from you. You hadn't noticed him before, but he was watching you, eyes taking in your appearance with a dangerous hunger.

You turned your head into Hotch's shoulder, so the man could no longer see your face. "Your 2 o'clock," you whispered.

Hotch glanced in that direction and his grip on your waist tightened almost possessively. You instantly knew he agreed with your instincts and his protective nature kicked into high gear.

You felt Hotch move his head, gesturing for the man to come over to you. He leaned down to murmur against your hair, "He's coming this way."

"Hello there," the man said as he reached you. "Who do we have here?"

He was clearly talking about you, so Hotch turned your body towards him, allowing the man to have a clearer view of you. "This is Anna," he lied smoothly. "My favorite girl."

You kept your head inclined to express a very submissive nature, but you allowed yourself to gaze up at the man through your lashes. He was looking at you with an intensity that made your skin crawl, but you didn't show it.

"Anna," he said softly. "Beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

"Thank you, sir," you murmured.

"And so well-behaved." The man looked up at Hotch. "You've trained her well."

Hotch smiled. "She's a very quick learner." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "A little violence goes a long way with this one."

The man hummed lightly, clearly pleased with that information. "Is she available?"

"What did you have in mind?" Hotch asked.

"I was thinking something permanent."

Hotch pretended to think about it, looking slightly disinterested.

"I can pay very well," the man insisted. "I pay extra for complete discretion."

"Discretion is obviously included," Hotch said simply.

The man shook his head slightly. "Complete discretion. After I make the purchase, I expect utter silence on your part, regardless of what may happen."

"Should I be concerned about 'what may happen'?" he asked lightly.

"I'll make it worth your while to not be concerned."

Hotch looked down at you. "How much?"

"$500,000."

Hotch laughed. "She's worth more than that."

"My apologies. I'll give you the 500,000 for discretion and 1 million for the girl."

Every single fiber of your being was telling you this man was the unsub you were looking for and you had a feeling Hotch felt the same way.

Hotch nodded. "You've got yourself a deal."

The man smiled. "I'll transfer the money to whatever account you wish."

Hotch gave him a government-controlled bank account to wire the money to.

Back at the other hotel, Garcia received a notification that the account had received 1.5 million dollars. "Alright, guys. It's go-time. I just got 1.5 million dollars for something...I'm assuming it's for (Y/N). Hotch is talking with a man now."

Rossi and Morgan leaned over her shoulder to look at the camera feed. "Let's roll," Morgan said.

Morgan, Rossi, Reid, and Emily headed out to the other hotel. The plan was to pick up the unsub once you were transferred to his possession.

Hotch's phone dinged with a notification from Garcia informing him the money had been transferred. He looked up at the other man with a smile. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you. She's all yours."

"Excellent. Come along, Anna. We have much to do," the man said firmly as he grabbed your arm to guide you away from Hotch.

You felt Hotch's tension as you were pulled away from him, but you didn't look back. You knew if you did, it would give you away.

The moment the man was out of earshot, Hotch called Garcia. "Don't lose her," he said firmly.

"On it, sir."

Garcia watched the man guide you through the ballroom towards the bank of elevators. The cameras in the elevator showed how clearly uncomfortable you were and it made Garcia upset to watch. The unsub's hands were all over you, but you didn't pull away--you couldn't.

The elevator doors opened and the cameras in the hallway showed the unsub leading you into room 456.

"They're in room 456," Garcia said over the phone.

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Hotch was running across the ballroom towards the elevators. As he waited for the elevator, the rest of the team came into the building.

Hotch held the elevator doors opened and the other four jumped inside and headed up to the 4th floor. When they reached room 456, Emily knocked on the door. "Housekeeping," she called.

A few moments later, the unsub opened the door, looking annoyed. His expression quickly turned to surprise as 5 FBI agents busted into his room.

Hotch looked around the room for you, ignoring what was happening with the unsub behind him. His gaze landed on you and he relaxed immediately. You shot him a small smile and waved your fingers at him from the bed.

He rushed over to you. "Are you okay?" he asked gently as he pulled out a knife and quickly cut the rope that bound your arms to the headboard.

"I am now," you said softly, rubbing your wrists slightly.

"You did good," he commented.

"So did you."

He helped you off the bed and you straightened your dress before making your way over to the unsub. "Gotcha," you said with a smile as you patted his cheek.

Hotch nodded to Rossi and Morgan and they escorted him out of the room. Emily and Reid followed, but Hotch grabbed your arm to keep you from following them. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked softly.

You smiled. "He didn't do anything other than tie me to the bed and awkwardly fondle me, Hotch. I promise I'm okay."

He looked angry for a moment. "I hate that he touched you."

You shrugged. "It wasn't great, but I'll live." You grabbed his arm. "Come on, let's go."

He followed you out of the room and downstairs. The team loaded up in their vehicles and headed back to the other hotel for Garcia and JJ, while Rossi and Morgan took the unsub back to the BAU for questioning.

Garcia and JJ were packing everything up when you walked into the room.

"You're okay!" Garcia squealed as she ran across the room to hug you.

You laughed. "I'm perfectly fine, Pen. I promise."

JJ gave you a hug too before helping Garcia carry stuff out to the car. Everyone else cleared out, but you and Hotch stayed behind to change.

"We'll meet you guys back at the office. Tell Rossi to get started without us," Hotch said firmly as he ushered Emily and Reid out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

"I was kind of looking forward to interrogating him," you complained.

"I'm not letting him anywhere near you again," Hotch growled.

"Little possessive aren't we?"

His eyes met yours and your breath caught in your chest. His pupils were blown wide and his gaze was incredibly intense. Your heart began to beat rapidly and your breathing became more shallow.

You'd never wanted him more badly than you wanted him in this moment, but you found you couldn't move. It was as if your feet had grown roots.

Hotch, on the other hand, began to slowly walk towards you, like a predator hunting his prey. He stopped mere inches from you, so close you could feel his breath against your lips.

He leaned forward, pinning you against the wall, his arms caging you in. "Tell me to stop," he whispered.

"No," you breathed out.

He groaned softly and you watched as the last remnants of his self-control faded away. Without warning, he slammed his lips against yours, taking your breath away.

You kissed him back, snaking your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you. His body collapsed against yours, pressing into you deliciously.

His lips began to move to your jaw and down to your neck, sucking your skin and leaving little bite marks as he went.

"Aaron," you whimpered softly.

He moaned against your skin, nipping at your pulse point. "Say my name again."

You gave the hair at the nape of his neck a tug and whispered his name again.

He looked up at you, eyes black with lust. "I wanna take my time with you," he murmured.

"We don't have time," you said softly. "The team's gonna wonder what's taking so long."

"I don't care," he growled. "I've been wanting to do this for years."

You groaned, the mere idea that he'd wanted you for so long was a massive turn on. You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots gently. "Then you can wait a little longer, baby."

"Fuck," he mumbled, hands tightening on your hips. "I'll take my time with you later. Lift that dress up, baby. Wanna touch you."

You didn't need to be told twice. You lifted up the skirt of the dress so it was around your waist, revealing your black lace thong.

He raised his eyebrows when he saw your underwear and you grinned. "Didn't want panty lines."

He grabbed the edge of the lace and ripped it with ease.

"Aaron!"

"What? You won't need them." He slipped a finger between your folds, effectively silencing your response. "So wet for me," he groaned.

Your head leaned back against the wall and you let out a soft moan. Your fingers reached for his belt, quickly removing it before fiddling with the button and zipper on his pants.

He grabbed your hand and pushed it away. You were about to protest, but he made much faster work of removing his pants than you would have. He pulled his boxers down just enough to release his hard cock, stroking it as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"Please," you whimpered.

"Please what, baby?"

"Fuck me, please," you begged.

"I can't say no when you beg so sweetly," he said softly.

You clutched at his shoulders and lifted your hips up to meet his hands. He chuckled lightly at your neediness, but he couldn't deny his own need any longer. In one swift movement, he sheathed himself inside of you completely.

You gasped as you dug your nails into him, trying to adjust to his size. His length and girth stretched you out almost painfully. You wrapped your right leg around his waist and begged him to move.

He started to thrust up into you, your moans mixing with the salacious sounds of your bodies meeting.

"You feel so good, (Y/N)," he moaned into your ear. "Could stay between these pretty legs forever."

"Faster," you begged.

He chuckled darkly and sped up his thrusts. You gasped loudly, pleasure overwhelming you.

"Squeezing me so tight, baby."

"So close," you gasped.

"Yeah? You wanna cum, pretty girl?"

"Please," you whimpered.

"Not yet," he growled.

You let out a soft whimper as he continued to thrust into you. He was struggling to keep his own orgasm at bay, but he wanted to make sure yours was as intense as he could make it before he came.

"Fuck, baby, you're so beautiful."

"Wanna cum," you cried softly.

He thrust into you as hard and fast as he could. "Cum for me, baby."

You cried out as your release hit you with overwhelming force. You clenched tightly around him as you came, drawing deep moans from his chest.

"Squeezing me so good...gonna cum, baby," he groaned out.

You felt him slow slightly and you worried he was going to pull out. "Inside me, please--Aaron, wanna feel you fill me up," you begged quickly.

"Baby, you sure?"

You nodded rapidly. "Please--need it."

He leaned into you, lips against your throat as he thrust into you a couple more times before he came inside of you, filling you with his seed. He groaned your name against your skin as he came down from his high.

You were both breathless as he slowly slid out of you. His hands didn't leave your hips, which you were thankful for. You were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to stand up without his support.

"You alright, (Y/N)?" he asked softly as he kissed your temple.

"More than alright."

He smiled. "Me too."

You chuckled as you looked up at him. "We--uh...we should probably clean up and get back to the office."

He nodded and pulled away from you a little. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry--"

"Nothing to be sorry for, Aaron. I wanted that as badly as you did."

He looked back up at you, eyes scanning your face for any hint of deception. The fact that you'd used his first name and the look of affection on your face solidified his belief that you were serious.

"For the record, I'd like to do this again later," you said softly as you took in his gentle expression.

He smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Oh really?"

You bit your lip and nodded.

He groaned softly. "Don't play coy now, (Y/N)."

You grinned and pulled him in for a deep kiss, one he returned happily. When you separated, you pulled yourself off the wall and went to adjust your dress. As soon as you stood up straight, his cum began to seep out onto your thighs.

"Shit," you mumbled.

"What?"

"Well, you ruined my underwear and now I'm going to get cum all over my dress."

He grinned. "Good thing you brought clothes to change into."

"I didn't bring another pair of underwear!"

"Sorry, gorgeous. Guess you'll have to just sit with your thighs clenched together."

You smacked him affectionately as he started to take off the rest of his tux so he could change.

"You're terrible," you grumbled lightly. You grabbed your clothes and went into the bathroom to change. When you came back out, he was dressed and ready to go.

He looked slightly uncomfortable, as if the realization of everything that had happened just dawned on him. "We, uh--we should probably talk about this..."

Your expression hardened slightly, unsure of what he was trying to say. Did he regret it? "We can talk about it later. Let's just get back to Quantico."

Hotch nodded, noticing the way you'd closed up when he'd mentioned talking. He couldn't deny that he was worried--and perhaps slightly ashamed that he'd given in to his primal desires. He just had to hope you didn't hate him.

You stayed quiet for the whole ride back to Quantico, leaving Hotch to wonder silently if he'd really and truly messed things up for good.

**********

After the interviews were completed and the unsub had confessed to all of the murders, it was almost 2am. You were beyond ready to go home, as was the rest of the team.

Everyone was leaving except for Hotch. He watched as you started to make your way towards the elevators. He knew he needed to make a decision...

The elevator doors closed with you inside and his decision was made for him. He figured he could talk to you on Monday...or maybe just never bring it up ever again. Maybe that's what you'd prefer.

You'd never admit it to anyone, but you went home that night and cried yourself to sleep. You should have known better--hell you did know better. Giving yourself over that easily was embarrassing...especially when you did it with your boss.

Hotch didn't call that night, nor the next day, and when you came to work on Monday, he tried to catch your eye, but you ignored him more harshly than you ever had before.

Two weeks went by in much the same way. You wouldn't even look in his direction and he desperately tried to think of something to say. The longer this went on, the harder it was for him to say something.

Friday night came and the team wanted to go out for drinks. You declined, opting instead to go home and curl up on your couch.

Hotch overheard your explanation to JJ, telling her you were too tired. He decided tonight would be the night when he would man up and actually talk to you.

A little before 6pm, there was a knock at your door. You were already in your pjs and you'd ordered Chinese food for dinner, so you assumed it was your delivery.

When you opened the door, you were shocked to see a soaking wet Aaron Hotchner standing at your door.

"Well you're not the Chinese delivery guy," you grumbled.

He held up the bag of Chinese food in his hand. "Caught him on the way in. He was more than happy to hand it to me so he could get out of the rain."

You sighed. "Come in then, before you get pneumonia."

He followed you into your townhouse, shutting the door behind him. He stopped in the entryway, clothes dripping all over the floor.

"I'll get you a couple towels."

"Thanks," he said sheepishly.

Even after toweling himself off, he was still soaking wet. He removed his coat and his suit jacket, leaving him in his white button down, which in its current state, did nothing to hide the body beneath it.

You swallowed thickly and averted your gaze. "So what brings you to my house in the pouring rain on a Friday night?"

"I...I thought we could talk," he mumbled.

You gestured to your dining table. "Pull up a seat. I got enough Chinese food for 4 people."

He sat down at the table across from you and you silently pulled out the different containers.

"Just don't touch the potstickers," you said lightly, the ghost of a smile playing across your lips.

He chuckled. "I learned my lesson on that one."

A couple years ago, the team had gotten Chinese food to sustain them on a late night of work. Hotch made the mistake of taking the last potsticker mere seconds before you came back for it. Every other person on the team knew better than to take the last one without asking you first and Hotch learned first-hand that night how aggressive you got about potstickers.

The two of you ate in silence for a little while. Since he'd come here without warning, you decided to simply wait him out. If he had something he wanted to say, he'd need to just come out and say it.

You were half-tempted to start humming the Jeopardy tune when Hotch finally spoke up.

"Sorry for stopping by unannounced."

"It's alright. I didn't have any exciting plans anyway," you said, gesturing to the containers on the table.

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. You could tell he was uncomfortable, but you weren't about to ease his pain. You were still annoyed with him.

"So I--I think I owe you an apology," he began.

You raised your eyebrows.

"I do owe you an apology," he corrected.

"Go on."

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "I shouldn't have done what I did that night at the hotel."

"In what sense?"

"I shouldn't have slept with you," he said softly.

You winced, but he wasn't looking at your face, so he missed your expression. "Right," you snapped, standing up. "Well if that's all--"

He finally looked up at you and you saw the pain in his eyes. It softened your heart and your expression. "Please," he whispered. "Just let me finish."

You sighed and sat back down.

"Can I start over?" he asked.

You nodded. "Please do."

"Do you remember when you first joined the team?"

"Of course."

"So do I. Better than I should, actually," he mumbled. "When you first started, I thought you were amazing. You were so incredibly smart, but so humble. You made me laugh, you brightened my day every single day...you made me feel something I wasn't sure I'd ever feel."

You inhaled softly, his words stirring something inside of you that you weren't sure you wanted to feel.

"Those first few weeks were incredible and I was so glad that you'd joined the team--not just because I enjoyed your company, but because of how good of a profiler you are. I realized there was a problem pretty early on and it changed everything for me." He sighed. "I started to treat you differently from the rest of the team and I'll admit I took it a little too far. I thought if I pushed you as far away as I could, then I wouldn't want you anymore."

He ran his fingers through his hair and stood up. He started pacing the length of the dinning room, eyes trained on the floor. "The thing is, you'd already managed to wedge yourself in my heart and nothing I did changed that. I kept telling myself that I'm your boss and I can't feel what I feel for you--that I can't have you. I was so angry at the whole situation that I started taking it out on you--and you didn't deserve that." He finally looked up at you. "You don't deserve that."

There were tears in your eyes, but you didn't say a word--you couldn't.

"The night of the op...I struggled to keep my composure from the moment you walked out in that dress. You looked so incredibly beautiful--you took my breath away. But when we walked into that ballroom and those men looked at you so hungrily...it disgusted me. The mere thought of any one of them touching you made me sick to my stomach, especially knowing what kind of people they were."

He looked angry even in that moment, as if talking about it was unbearable.

"My natural protective instincts kicked in and I almost forgot what we were there to do. I know I teased you a little and I'm sorry about that--it was unprofessional."

"You weren't the only one doing the teasing," you reminded him gently.

He smiled slowly. "True. But still. I shouldn't have done that." He clenched his jaw. "But when Andrew Connors looked at you, I saw red. I knew he was the unsub before he even came over to us. The way he looked at you...it terrified me. Then I had to watch him walk away with you and I couldn't breathe, (Y/N). The thought of something happening to you was overwhelming."

"I didn't know," you whispered.

"I've gotten very good at hiding what I'm feeling," he conceded. "When we busted into his hotel room and I didn't see you right away...my brain jumped to the worst conclusions. But then I saw you and you looked uncomfortable, but alive. I've never felt relief like that in my life."

You offered him a small smile and he continued.

"When you told me that he'd touched you, I almost lost it, but you were so calm. It didn't bother you the way it bothered me, and I realized that part of the reason I was so upset was because of how I thought of you--the possessiveness I felt--like you were mine. I couldn't stand the thought of him touching what belonged to me."

He paused. "I'm not saying you belong to me--that's just how it felt to me in that moment," he clarified. "By the time we got back to the hotel, I was so worked up I could hardly control myself. That sassy little attitude of yours was the last straw and I broke."

"You didn't actually break--I invited you in," you said softly.

"I literally caged you against a wall."

"And you asked me to tell you to stop. I didn't want you to."

His expression shifted slightly. "You didn't? Like even now looking back?"

You laughed mirthlessly. "Hotch, did you really think you forced yourself on me?"

He nodded slowly.

"You know me better than that. If I didn't want to do it, it wouldn't have happened."

"I just thought that maybe you were feeling confused and pent-up like I was and you just gave in because I was there."

"Do you know how terrible that sounds?"

"You're so out of my league it's not even funny--and I'm your boss! Are you really so surprised that's what I was thinking?!"

You inhaled sharply. "I'm not out of your league, Aaron Hotchner."

"Of course you are!" he insisted.

You groaned in annoyance. "How many men have I dated since I joined the BAU?"

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"How many?" you asked again.

"I...I don't know. You've never mentioned anyone."

You nodded. "That's because there hasn't been a single man. Not one."

"Not one? How is that possible?"

"Not a single one. Do you know why?"

He shook his head.

"You," you said simply.

"Me?"

"I wanted you from the moment we met and for some damn reason that's never changed, even with the way we treated each other."

His face was filled with complete and utter shock, which surprised you.

"You're a profiler, Aaron," you teased. "Did you really not know?"

He shook his head. "Maybe I just didn't want to believe it."

"Why not?"

"Because then I wouldn't have an excuse to keep us apart."

"And now?" you whispered.

He crossed the space between you and grabbed your hand, pulling you up out of your chair. "I can't take any of this back, (Y/N), and to be honest, I don't want to."

You gently caressed his face. "Something real?" you asked softly.

He turned his face into your hand and kissed your palm. "Something real," he confirmed.

You stood on your tiptoes and pulled him down to kiss you, his lips softly caressing yours. You moaned softly as you leaned into him, deepening the kiss. His arms snaked around your lower body, pulling you flush against him.

When you finally separated to breathe, Hotch leaned his forehead against yours. "I don't want to be presumptuous--" he began.

"Bedroom is the first room on the left," you murmured.

He chuckled. "You read my mind."

He slid his hands under your thighs and pulled you up with ease. You wrapped your legs around his waist with a giggle as he carried you to your bedroom.

"So strong, Agent Hotchner," you teased warmly.

"Hmm," he hummed. "I like these titles you use."

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed."

He tossed you down onto the bed and you laughed lightly.

"What are you gonna do to me, sir?"

He groaned softly. "You're going to be the death of me, beautiful."

You smiled and leaned back on your elbows. "I certainly hope not. I have plans for you."

"Sounds ominous," he teased.

You grinned. "You're going to love it, I promise. Now, why don't you lose those wet clothes?"

He smiled. "Only because you asked so sweetly." He started to unbutton his shirt tantalizingly slowly, eyes never leaving yours.

You bit your lip as you watched him, silently begging him to speed it up.

After what felt like an eternity he slid the shirt off his shoulders and onto the floor, but of course he was still wearing his undershirt. He started to very slowly lift it up, eliciting a groan from you.

"Aaron."

He chuckled. "Alright, alright." He pulled the shirt off over his head and tossed it onto the floor.

You let out a little hum of approval, which made him blush. He was a confident man, but he felt very exposed under your gaze.

He shed his pants quickly, leaving nothing on but his boxers. You eyed the bulge appreciatively, the memories of his size on the forefront of your mind.

"I think you're a little overdressed, baby," he teased lightly.

You looked down at your t-shirt and pj pants. "Hmm...you might be right." You yanked your shirt off in one smooth motion, tossing it to the side before looking back at him.

He practically pounced onto the bed, eyes glued to your torso. "No bra?" he whispered.

"I wasn't expecting company."

"I'm not complaining," he said almost reverently as he hovered over you, hands touching your sides.

He licked his lips before kissing you softly, moving down the column of your throat down towards your breasts. He swirled his tongue around your nipple before giving it a light nip as he took it into his mouth.

Your back arched towards him and a soft moan left your lips. Your hands immediately went to his broad shoulders, holding onto him as he toyed with you.

His hands slid down your sides, fingers digging into your skin as he went. He didn't want to let go of you, but he needed to remove your pants. He was dying to bury himself between your legs.

You wiggled your hips to help him as he tugged off your pjs. "Baby," he groaned, as you laid before him completely bare. "Never wear underwear ever again."

You laughed lightly. "If you promise to keep looking at me like that, I'll burn every pair I own."

He grinned wolfishly. "I'll make it worth your while."

He gripped your thighs and tugged your legs apart with gentle force. You gasped softly and his eyes flicked up to you to make sure you were okay. What he saw had him moaning with need of his own.

Your eyes were hooded and filled with lust, lips parted, a warm blush heating your face. You bit your lip when you caught him staring and shifted your hips slightly to get his attention back where you wanted it.

He gave you a little smirk before lowering himself comfortably between your legs. He nipped at the soft flesh of your inner thighs, hands massaging your hips gently.

"Aaron," you whined.

"Patience, sweetheart," he mumbled.

You whimpered softly, but you had a feeling he would make it worth the wait.

His lips slowly made their way towards your core, warming your body from the outside in. After what felt like an eternity, his tongue finally darted out sliding between your folds with ease.

You gasped in pleasure as he settled in, mouth moving against your core with expert precision. Every swipe of his tongue, movement of his lips, and vibration from his moans had you shivering with pleasure.

It didn't take him very long to work you into a heated frenzy. Within minutes, you were coming apart on his tongue, cries of his name reverberating through the bedroom. Your fingers clutched his dark hair, giving it a light tug when the pleasure became too much.

He lifted himself up, licking his lips as he eyed you with a dark look. His ministrations had only served to fuel his hunger and you could tell he was struggling to maintain his control.

"Can I taste you?" you asked sweetly.

Surprise lit up his features. "You--you don't have to."

You furrowed your brows. "I want to--badly."

He nodded hesitantly, rolling over to allow you access. He helped you remove his boxers and you inhaled sharply when his cock sprang free. You hadn't gotten a very good look at it the last time, but you'd known it was large. Now seeing it, all you wanted to do was feel the weight against your tongue.

You gripped the shaft firmly, pulling a soft moan from his throat. You licked your lips before pressing kisses to the head, the shaft, and his balls. You traced the large vein on the shaft with your tongue before slipping his large member into your mouth.

"Fuck," he groaned, hands immediately wrapping themselves in your hair.

Your mouth was so warm and wet, and the way you moved had him breathing heavily and making the sexiest sounds you'd ever heard. Each one spurred you on and your motions quickened.

"Just like that baby," he moaned. "Feels amazing."

You hummed appreciatively around his cock, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through his body. His hips jerked up to meet your mouth and you gagged slightly.

A look of panic crossed his face at the sound, but when he looked down at you, it was clear you didn't mind. You pushed yourself a little lower onto his cock, gagging again as you took him into your throat. You wanted to make sure he knew you were into it.

He was surprised by how much it turned him on, his moans becoming almost embarrassingly loud. "Gonna cum if you keep doing that," he said lowly.

You sped up slightly, the only signal you gave him that you wanted exactly that--his cum pouring down your throat.

Moments later, he gasped your name as he came, and you swallowed every drop he gave you. You paid special attention to the head of his cock as he came down from his high, making sure to prolong his pleasure as much as possible.

He tugged your hair gently, pulling you off of him and up to his face so he could kiss you. When you separated, he was completely breathless.

"Where--" he breathed deeply, trying to steady his heart rate. "Where did you learn...to do...that?"

You grinned. "A magician never reveals her secrets," you teased with a wink.

He chuckled. "Best I've ever had, hands down."

You blushed. "Thank you."

"Thank you," he countered. He flipped you onto your back and climbed on top of you again.

"Oh!" you gasped in surprise as your back hit the mattress. "We're not done?"

He looked surprised. "Do you wanna be?"

You shook your head rapidly, causing him to laugh. "It's just--in my experience, most men are one and done."

"Oh baby, you've been hanging out with all the wrong men," he teased. "Besides, you only came once."

Your brows knit together in confusion. "So...?"

"I need at least two more from you."

"Two more? I've never cum more than once during sex."

"Oh now that sounds like a challenge," he said devilishly. "And I love a good challenge."

You blushed a little and wiggled slightly under him.

"Hey," he said softly. "We don't have to do anything you don't wanna do. Tell me to stop and I will, no matter what."

You smiled warmly and touched his cheek. "I appreciate that. I want you...I'm just not used to the whole 'multiple orgasms' thing."

He kissed your palm. "May I try?"

You nodded slowly. "Please..."

"I'll go slow, baby."

In a split second, you decided you didn't want him to go slow. You wanted him to ruin you and you had a pretty good idea how to rile him up.

"I want you to fuck me until I can't walk, sir." You put a lot of emphasis on the title, hoping it would have the desired effect.

You weren't disappointed. His eyes darkened instantly and his grip on your hips tightened. "Is that what you want, huh? You want me to use this sweet little pussy for my own pleasure?"

You inhaled sharply, desire evident in your expression. "Make me scream," you begged.

Hotch shifted his body and thrust into you without any warning, earning a cry of pained pleasure from your lips. "I can't deny such a pretty little request," he growled before he began to pound into you, setting a brutal pace.

You cried out again as the pain faded away, leaving only white hot pleasure in its wake. Your nails clawed at his back, finding purchase anywhere they could.

"Shit, baby--this pussy was made for me," he mumbled against the shell of your ear.

"Oh god," you moaned loudly.

"Keep making those pretty little sounds for me, baby."

His thrusts were measured and precise, each one hitting your sweet spot and sending waves of pleasure through you. Every inch of your body was on fire, from the tips of your toes up to the roots of your hair. You had never in your life felt this incredible and you never wanted it to end.

"Aaron," you gasped. "I'm so--so close."

"Fuck--" he growled. "Say my name again."

"Aaron."

Somehow his pace increased and it sent you tumbling right over the edge. You came with surprising force, pussy pulsating around his cock. As badly as he would have liked to keep his pace, he had to slow down to avoid cumming too.

"That's it, baby," he murmured against your neck. "Doing so well for me. Gonna give me one more?"

You hadn't been sure it was possible for you to have two orgasms, let alone three, but you were 100% willing to try. You nodded, but it wasn't enough for him.

"Can you use those words for me, pretty girl?"

"Yes, sir," you murmured.

He groaned and began to pick up his pace again. "That's my good girl."

Your eyes widened and your nails dug into his flesh slightly. The burning sensation caught his attention and he smiled. "You like that don't you? You wanna be my good girl?"

You nodded hastily. "Yes, sir. Please. I'll be so good for you."

He grinned. "Of course you will, baby."

He shifted his weight and pulled your legs up to his chest, allowing him to thrust even more deeply inside of you. His thrusts never faltered, his pace remained steady.

You whimpered below him, the pleasure almost too much. Your body was so sensitive, but you didn't want him to stop. "Please," you whispered.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you need."

"More," you begged.

He kissed your leg softly before sliding a hand down between your thighs. He began to gently circle your clit as he continued pounding into you. Your moans grew in volume and your legs began to shake as the pleasure built.

"I know you're close, baby," he groaned. "I need you to cum for me."

You moaned as he increased the pressure on your clit. The feeling of his hands on you, his cock filling you up so thoroughly, and the gentle skill of his fingers combined to send you to the very edge.

You knew you needed something more--but you weren't sure if he would be comfortable with it. Neither of you had exactly had time to discuss what you were into in the bedroom.

You reached up and grabbed his hand from your leg, pulling it towards your face. He watched you, a look of confusion marring his handsome features. You placed his hand on the base of your neck, giving it a light squeeze to ensure he knew what you wanted.

His eyes widened, but he didn't move his hand. "Are you sure?" he whispered.

You nodded quickly. "Please, Aaron--I need it."

He groaned lowly and added a small amount of pressure to your throat, not enough to choke you, but enough for you to know he was there and he was in control.

You gasped in pleasure, the mixture of the various sensations threatening to overwhelm you. Within moments, you were crying out as you came, body shaking beneath his as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

"Shit--" he moaned loudly. "I'm gonna--gonna cum."

"Fill me up," you begged.

It was all he needed to hear to cum, a cry of your name falling from his lips. His cock filled with you with what felt like an endless amount of his seed, his orgasm lasting for several seconds.

Finally, he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily. He kissed whatever skin he could reach as he tried to catch his breath.

"That was pretty decent," you said breathily, a teasing tone lacing your voice.

"Just decent?" he asked, head lifting to glare at you affectionately.

"Sooooo decent."

He laughed and you shot him a grin.

"Seriously, Aaron. It was fucking amazing."

"I couldn't agree more. I can stay here forever." He kissed your jaw. "Unless I'm hurting you?"

You shook your head. "I kinda like your body weight on top of me. Feels nice."

"Good because I don't think I can move yet."

You laughed warmly and wrapped your arms around him to hold him tightly against you. "You're pretty cute like this."

"Did you just call me cute?" he mumbled against your skin.

"Mhmm."

"Thanks, baby," he said with a little chuckle. "You're pretty damn cute too."

"Just cute?" you teased.

He lifted his head to look at you and smiled warmly. "You are absolutely the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life. And right now? God...literal perfection."

You blushed, your entire face turning red. "Aaron..."

"I'm serious, (Y/N)."

"Thank you," you said softly.

He lifted himself up so he could look down at you better. "I'm going to tell you every second of every day so you don't forget."

You laughed lightly. "You're a dork."

"And you're sexy."

You laughed harder. "I kinda like this game."

He kissed you gently before sitting up entirely. "How 'bout I run a bath for you, hmm?"

"That sounds nice."

You watched him as he walked to your adjoining bathroom and began to fill up the tub. You smiled as you watched him, feeling incredibly happy. He was so handsome and sweet...just like you'd thought he was when you first met him.

You had never been thankful for an unsub or a case before...but you were thankful for this one. This case changed everything for you and you had a strong feeling the change was going to be permanent.

Hotch turned around to look at you with a warm smile and you felt it in your bones, this deep adoration for the man in front of you. You felt happy for the first time in years, really and truly happy--and you knew it was going to last forever.

#Aaron Hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader smut #hotch x reader #hotch x reader smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #hotch smut

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callimara · 6 months

Text

Important PSA

Criticizing Israel is NOT antisemetism or an attack on Jewish people because

ISRAEL =/= ALL JEWS

And while I am not saying that there is no antisemitism because there is plenty of that too, this is not a case of that. But grouping all Jews together as Israeli and presenting them as a monolith erases their individuality and identity. It's like calling all Asian people Chinese, and that if you criticize China, then you hate all Asian people. It doesn't make sense.

I am so frustrated seeing people who are trying to raise awareness about Palestine be called antisemetic and disgusting by people who cannot perceive Jews and Muslims as anything but a monolith. That's the reason why so many people are having trouble distinguishing between Hamas and Palestinian civilians, because to them, they're all the same.

And that's why they don't see an issue with collective punishment.

And you know what? Palestine is NOT just the Jewish holy land. It is also the Christian holy land, and the Muslim holy land. Palestine wasn't even the first choice for a Jewish homeland because it was heavily contested by Jewish rabbis at the time.

Turning Palestine (I say Palestine because the entirety of what is now Israel used to be Palestine) as an exclusively Jewish ethno-state means that people of Christian and Muslim faith all over the world are stripped of their holy land. The oldest church in the world, dating back to the times of Christ is located in Gaza, and who are the ones protecting it? Palestinians.

And you know who bombed it? Even though it had 500 refugees of both Muslim and Christian faith inside? Israel.

Even the slogan used for the founding of Israel itself, "A land without people for a people without a land." Is blatantly revisionist and erases the existence of Palestinians already living there. It erases all the historic religious sites that stand there and are frequented regularly by their respective devotees. Or worse, does not consider the Palestinians as 'people.'

Some people tend to forget that religious belief is NOT the same as race, and so you CANNOT claim indigeneity just because you are a certain religion. I am an Indonesian Muslim. Born Muslim, raised Muslim, and every generation of my family have been Muslim. That doesn't mean I can say I'm indigenous to Saudi Arabia. Let alone that Saudi Arabian land is my birthright.

If a white American woman born and raised in Seattle decides to convert to Hinduism, can she then say she is now indigenous to India? Or if she has a child, and that child had a child, and they were all raised as a Hindu, but have always lived in the US all their lives, can they claim that they are indigenous to India?

No.

And the fact is, the first Jewish settlers during The First Aliyah (great Jewish migration to Palestine) came from Eastern Europe and are genetically closer to Russians and other Slavs than they are to the Jews who remained in the Middle Eastern region after their exile (and I guess some people forget that you can convert into Judaism even if you didn't come from "The Promised Land." Like for marriages and stuff.) That's why they feel the need to distinguish themselves from the word "Arab."

Granted, there were also Yemeni Jews that migrated with them (whom I would say have stronger claims to indigeneity), but even in the transition camps, there was a clear divide between the European Ashkenazi Jews and the Yemeni Jews, who literally had their kids taken from them to give to the Ashkenazi Jews.

And let's not forget that when Jewish migrants from Ethiopia came, they were given contraceptives without consent to make sure they didn't impact the "desired" population.

Wake up. This isn't a religious war. This is European colonization.

#free palestine #gaza genocide #history of israel #debunking propaganda #psa

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

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Am I the asshole for farting on public transport?

I feel a ton of anxiety over this, even though I find it funny.

A while back I messed up my lower abdomen from holding in gas. Not bad enough to give me a hernia, but it likely could cause damage if I hold it in or fight the urge. During the checkup I had for my gut trauma, the doctor told me holding it in at all is not a good idea, and to fart when I have to.

In any case, I try not to stink up a place, especially in public, but sometimes I sneak a fart or two, which I never used to do before the hernia scare.

With this in mind, I had to take a train for 3 hours to visit a group of friends over the new years weekend. On the train home, I was exhausted, and wasn't able to properly let out gas while hanging out with my friends. I'd gone to the bathroom, but it wasn't enough, so I popped a few farts quietly in my seat.

The air conditioning was going pretty well, so I thought I was in the clear. Plus, I only farted twice. I was masking cause public transport after New Year's is gnarly even without covid, so it was hard to smell. Usually, even with a mask, you can smell it, but I couldn't smell anything.

There was an older woman in front of me (maybe 60s?) who kept coughing. I thought she had covid or old person lungs, but at one point, she got up and looked behind her and said, "oh, god". I was pretending I didn't know what she was doing just in case, so I didn't see her face or if she was looking at me. I'm also visibly gay, and get called tons of messed up stuff by strangers, and lowkey thought she was being homophobic at first before remembering I ripped ass lol

The train was practically empty at this point, and had plenty of free seats elsewhere, though it didn't when I'd first boarded, which is why I was behind her. I thought, if she's upset about the stink, couldn't she move a few feet away? It can't be that bad. She kept getting up and pacing back and forth, then sitting back down, so she could always move to a seat not so close if it's cause I'm stinky.

At the end of my trip, she was walking around again. I went to get my bags ready, and she looked at me and asked "do you get off at this station or the next?" I told her this was my stop, and she didn't ask anything else. She took her stuff and left first. I didn't see her for the rest of the ride. She only had one small bag, so it made me more confused why she didn't change seats if she smelled something foul.

When I got home, I let that shit rip and it absolutely stunk way worse than I was expecting. I was surprised as hell, I thought she was overreacting. I've been thinking about it for a while now, and wonder if I should have done something differently.

Am I the asshole for farting in public?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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thisisawonderfulusername · 1 year

Text

only you

cavill!sherlock holmes x pregnant!reader

requested by: anon

summary: after becoming pregnant, you notice that sherlock has been distancing himself. he finally returns home after at least a month of being gone.

warnings: pregnancy, mention of a dead body but nothing graphic, if there's anything you see let me know

word count: 2k

a/n: thank you so much for this request! i apologize for how long it took to write, but i enjoyed it! i don't think i was able to fit absolutely everything but i hope you like it either way.

everything was perfect in the beginning. at least, that's how it felt.

when you first met sherlock, it was at the scene of a case you were working on. you admit, it was a bit suspicious of you to be digging around in a dead man's pockets, but you were there for the same business as him. or at least similar.

"who are you?" you jump at the new voice in the room, obviously not expecting anyone else to waltz in while you were doing your investigation.

you rise from your crouched position as you pull a note from the dead man's pocket, turning to see the intruder.

my, was he handsome.

clearing your throat, you fold your hands together, encasing the paper. "i could ask you the same."

he sighs, "sherlock holmes."

a soft gasp passes your lips. sherlock holmes, the well renowned detective.

"i ask again, who are you?" he questions.

"y/n l/n." you inform him, "it's a pleasure to meet you, mr holmes."

his eyebrows raises as he looks to the corpse on the floor. "may i ask why you were searching a dead man's body?"

"oh," you had almost forgotten your business here, being in his presence. you glance down at the body, "i'm investigating a case. my search has led me here."

he seemed intrigued by the new information, nodding his head. "the case of his murder?"

"well, a missing person's case. but it seems it has become more than that." you motion towards the floor.

"i happen to be investigating his murder." he tells you, "i believe our cases may have crossed."

"so it seems." you hum.

he glances around the room for a second, clearly thinking. "perhaps we can share our information."

you never would've expected that case to lead to a long partnership, bringing your minds together to solve even the toughest of cases.

"another case solved, mr holmes." you smile at the man beside you.

"couldn't have done it without you, miss l/n," he responds, causing you to chuckle.

and perhaps a blooming romance.

yes, throughout the months of running around with him, you may have grown to have some feelings.

it was something different. you had met plenty of men. your parents had introduced you to some, telling you how wonderful they were and how you should settle down soon before nobody would want you. of course, nobody would want a woman too old to have a child.

but with each man who courted you, you realized that in your mind, you were comparing them all to sherlock.

sherlock, who was the kindest gentleman you'd ever met. the person you felt most comfortable with on any day. the man who had moved in with you after a mere three cases, leaving two-twenty-one b baker street as a place for bringing evidence together to create conclusions.

in your mind, he was perfect. but out of reach.

little did you know, it wasn't quite as far away as you suspected.

"ha!" you step back as you look at the strings that connected on the wall in front of you. "oh my- sherlock!" you call for him.

he rushes in from the other room, eyes wide. "what? did something happen?"

"i figured it out!" you squeal, clapping your hands together, "i solved it!"

"you-" he quickly moves forward to look at all the connections, eyes darting all around. a moment later, he looks back to you, "you did!"

it's almost natural how you gravitate towards each other, "my word, you are just-" he can barely form words, and without thinking…

he kisses you. it seems as if it's something that happens everyday, with the way your hand moves to rest on his shoulder without any thought.

when he pulls away, you're staring into each other's eyes, amazed by what just happened.

"well, that could've happened much sooner," you breathe out, sharing a smile with him.

after your relationship blossomed, it was approximately a year before he proposed.

and not too long after, you found yourself to be pregnant. when you told sherlock, he was elated at first.

the two of you were turning a new page in your story, beginning a new chapter.

but after a month or so, the excitement from him began to dwindle. he grew distant, and it seemed to you like he was hesitant to even look in your direction.

with time, he was rarely coming home, staying in the flat that he used to call home- to you, it seemed like that was slowly a returning case.

one day, as you were heading towards town to run some errands, you heard a strange whining sound near the bushes along the sidewalk.

when you went to investigate, pushing the leaves to the side, you saw a puppy. a bundle of shaggy, light brown fur.

"oh, sweety." you frown, hesitantly reaching out for it. once it allows you to get closer, you manage to pick it up out of the bushes. it was much heavier than you expected, but you managed to hold him. "why are you out here all alone? have you got any owners?"

you searched for a tag but to no avail. "it seems not. i suppose i'll take you home with me then, how does that sound? we can keep each other company."

you smile. no part of you ever expected having a dog, but here you are, carrying one back up the stairs to your home.

"i think a bath will do you good," your nose scrunches as you open the door, having to hold the dog close to yourself and smelling the odor that came from him.

thus began a friendship filled with love and loyalty.

part of you wondered what sherlock would think, but he hadn't been home in at least a month, only dropping in to grab a new round of clothes every once in a while.

your hand runs across cato's back while his head rests in your lap. every few minutes, you'll lift your hand to turn the page of the book you've been reading, but only seconds later it's back on his fur.

it's been a relaxing evening, as you've had no errands to run for the day, and until dinner you haven't got anything to do.

usually, this time would be spent by sherlock's side. whether it be having a cup of tea or going out to solve a crime, it would be with him.

it seems you haven't had that since you found that you were pregnant. since your belly grew bigger, since he stopped lingering in your presence.

a knock at the door has the dog's head raising, and you look towards the door. as he jumps off the couch, you place a bookmark on your page and push up from your cushioned seat.

when you open the door, you're greeted with the sight of the young sister of sherlock's and her new beau.

"enola!" you smile, opening the door further, "it's wonderful to see you again. and tewkesbury, a pleasure as always."

"it's wonderful to see you again, you look wonderful," enola says as they enter your home, noticing the dog a few moments later, "and who's this?"

you look down to him, his tail beginning to wag as tewkesbury reaches a hand out for him to sniff. "this is cato." you inform, "i found him on the street about a month ago. i didn't expect for him to get so big in such little time."

they both smile and enola watches as tewkesbury scratches the dog's ear. "how does sherlock feel about him?" she asks.

a small frown tries to tug your lips down but you quickly disguise it. "i'm not sure," you sigh, "he hasn't been home to meet him."

tewkesbury looks away from the dog when you say that, eyebrows furrowing together. "he hasn't? why not?"

all words are lost as you shrug, not knowing yourself why he hasn't been around.

"i'll go speak with him," she states, beginning to move back to the door.

"no, enola," you grab her hand and she stares at you in utter confusion. "there's no need. i'm sure he'll be back soon."

her hand drops from yours as she sighs. "if he fails to return, i will get him myself." you promise.

she nods, "just- tell me when he does."

you muster up a smile, "of course. would you like any tea?" you change the topic.

"we were actually on our way to the market," tewkesbury informs you, "we were just passing by to say hello."

you nod, "well, don't let me hold you up. enjoy your day."

enola's arm loops through his and you feel a tug at your heart as you open the door for them, "remember, tell me when sherlock comes to his senses." she points a finger at you before they leave.

you sigh when you close the door, thinking of the times you and sherlock had their kind of relationship. young and naive.

you look down at cato, who was unaware of your feelings, his tail wagging happily.

"oh, darling." you sigh, patting his head, "what will i do?"

you hum softly, moving throughout the kitchen to grab various ingredients for dinner.

it was a peaceful moment until you heard the door open, followed by a growl in the living room.

you froze, carefully placing what you held on the counter and grabbing for a knife. had you forgotten to lock the door?

when you peak around the corner of the entryway that leads out of the kitchen, you see what caused the distress of your dog- your husband, home for the first time in who knows how long. it upset you that the thought of him being home didn't cross your mind before someone breaking in.

the confusion on his face is evident when he turns his head and sees you. "what is a dog doing in our home?"

"i took him in." you state matter of fact as the dog trots over to you, sitting at your feet while keeping his gaze on the man unknown to him.

sherlock's eyebrows furrow, "and why was i not informed of this?"

"i'm surprised you even care," you laugh bitterly, "he's been here for a while now, and it says a lot that you're only learning of it now."

it takes sherlock a moment to answer, glancing around the room before looking back to you. "you're mad at me."

your lips purse. "what a brilliant deduction, sherlock."

he purses his lips, "i know i've been busy-"

"no, sherlock!" your voice suddenly raises and cato stands, "you haven't been home in forever. you've left me!"

when he looks down at the floor, you can feel the tears beginning to form in your eyes. "that wasn't my intention, darling." he mutters softly, taking a step towards you.

a soft growl comes from cato as he stares your husband down. "don't call me darling." you speak lowly, "you've lost that privilege."

you can see the hurt in his eyes, but you couldn't seem to care. when he shows no sign of reply, you cross your arms. "please, sherlock." you whisper, "what did i do? you've never been this distant."

"i didn't mean-"

"then why-"

"i'm scared, alright?" his voice raises, causing you to flinch. he frowns at the sight, shaking his head. "i worry i won't be a good father."

you feel a pang in your heart at his confession. out of all the reasons in the world, you never would've expected him to be scared.

"sherlock," you step toward him, "my love, you will be a wonderful father." after you drop the knife on the dining table, your hand raises to rest on his cheek and he leans into your touch. "i wouldn't want anyone else for this baby. only you."

his striking blue eyes stare into yours and you can see the guilt within them. "i'm sorry for leaving," he whispers softly.

"you better be." your volume matches his as you press a kiss to his cheek, "and if you do it again, i'll let cato maul you."

a laugh is pulled from him and you smile at the sound that you missed so much. "i promise, darling." he glances to the dog, "he's pretty cute."

"i know, right?" you look down at him, "i found him in a bush." you chuckle.

taglists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

sherlock holmes: none yet

#sherlock x reader #henry cavill sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #holmes x reader #cavill sherlock x reader #cavill sherlock holmes x reader #henry sherlock holmes x reader #henry sherlock x reader

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creature-wizard · 11 months

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What's up with the Satanic Panic, in a nutshell.

Around the 1970's, conservative Evangelicals began weaponizing a number of conspiracy theories against anyone who wasn't a conservative Evangelical. These conspiracy theories were essentially repackaged witch hysteria (IE, the conspiracies pushed by early modern witch hunters) and antisemitism (especially blood libel).

The core conspiracy theory was that a global satanic cult was working behind the scenes to manipulate politics and lead people away from Jesus. The exact practices of the cult depended on who you asked, but common allegations were practicing human sacrifice (including plenty of child sacrifice), drinking human blood, engaging in sex slavery, producing CSE and snuff films, doing drugs, and having orgies.

Numerous people stepped forward claiming to have been either former cult members, or cult survivors. Pretty much all of their accounts are full of blatant absurdities, and anytime someone was actually investigated, pretty much all of their claims fell apart. For example, Mike Warnke, one of the earliest self-proclaimed ex-satanists, was found to have made up his entire story. One woman, Lauren Stratford, was not only revealed to be a fraud, but afterward claimed she was a Holocaust survivor to collect benefits.

Some examples of claims made by people who claimed to be ex-members/survivors include:

Neopaganism was created by the global satanic cult, and Aleister Crowley was their main agent in this.

All neopaganism and modern witchcraft is a slippery slope to human sacrifice and "hardcore satanism."

All media that depicts magic or the supernatural in any way is part of the satanic agenda. Yes, literally all of it. Yes, even that.

Homosexuality is part of the global satanic agenda.

Rock and heavy metal music are part of the global satanic agenda.

Fluoride, artificial sweeteners, and various food additives are actually mind control drugs.

Electromagnetic waves are used to control people's thoughts.

Marxism was created by the global satanic agenda.

If you know anything about QAnon conspiracy theories, you might notice that some of these look awfully familiar. This is because QAnon was another manifestation of Satanic Panic. They updated "electromagnetic waves" to 5G, and largely replaced homosexuality with transgender, but it's the same thing.

The conspiracy theory about cultists creating mind controlled slaves by inducing dissociative identity disorder through torture (all that Project Monarch stuff) is purely a product of the Satanic Panic. People's supposed "memories" of this abuse were generally produced via recovered memory therapy, which is now known to be more effective at implanting memories rather than recovering them. No serious investigations ever produced any evidence of the supposedly widespread and incredibly elaborate torture of tens of thousands of children.

Now, there have been actual isolated cases of what might be considered satanic ritual abuse. But they do not constitute evidence of a global satanic conspiracy. Rather, they constitute evidence that the perpetrators were inspired by the conspiracy theory.

Additionally, they had a very pseudoscientific view of DID, and the horrible practices allegedly used to induce it and create mind controlled alters were pure pseudoscience, as were the alleged symptoms that someone might be a victim of satanic ritual abuse and just didn't remember it. Everything from autism to having conflicted feelings about your abuser to liking BDSM could be construed as a sign that you had been ritually abused. With a bunch of therapists fully convinced that thousands of people had been ritually abused and armed with hypnotic techniques that allowed them to implant memories of abuse, you can see where things could turn messy in a hurry.

Those who claimed to be former satanists/SRA victims were extremely clear in their assertions that this global satanic conspiracy really did exist, and that the only way to escape and stay safe from it was to accept Jesus. Tales of demonic attacks that could only be stopped by the power of Jesus were common, as were other claims of grandiose supernatural power.

In short, the Satanic Panic was - and still is - a means of demonizing anyone who isn't a fundagelical Christofascist, and scaring anyone who already is, into remaining such. Many of the conspiracy theories have made their way into supposedly progressive circles, so you'll occasionally come across the Project Monarch stuff in DID communities, or see pro-LGBTQ people subscribing to conspiracy theories about the wealthy elite drinking blood or adrenochrome.

But make no mistake, there is no "grain of truth" to these allegations of a global satanic conspiracy. There was no "time before all of this was corrupted by evil agendas." It was all created by people with with hateful agendas, and continues to be perpetuated by people with hateful agendas. And that's all, folks.

#satanic panic #sra #satanic ritual abuse #ritual abuse #conspiracy theory #conspiracy theories #conspiracism #did #dissociative identity disorder #project monarch #mind control

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doylldonmagar · 5 months

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So I saw @hermesmyplatonicbeloved 's post and had some thoughts. I agree and disagree. I am a percabeth fan but I also know that some of it is screwy, and if you are familiar with my blog, you know this. I think RR screwed up and wrote out a LOT of trauma, I think he really should have dealt with that better. I think it's not good that he wrote trauma and mental issues and abuse into the foundation of many characters and then has ignored it when it became convenient for the plot.

I would love to see specific quotes and books for these because some of them I have no memory of and would like to revisit them.

I'm gonna talk my way through all of this so I'm gonna text break here

The first point is Percy scaring her to tears. I can only imagine in Tartarus? Like when they're both in their worst state? I don't know. I agree they should have talked about it, but I think they should have talked about all of HoH, which brings me back to saying: Rick really failed at dealing with trauma and processing and long term effects. Honestly, being scared *of* him, yeah I agree that's bad, but is that the situation? If she's scared by his power, then I'm not sure of where I stand on this, I don't know anyone with demigod powers, but I don't think I'd be scared simply because I know someone is capable of hurting me. Plenty of people are capable of hurting me. Like I don't know, what situation is this?

"Percy has been suicidal the whole time annabeth has known him, in BoO Percy attempts suicide and annabeth said nothing, noticed nothing" I'd really like a page or quote because i remember him being suicidal but never attempting. (Im rereading what i wrote, is this maybe referring to percy deciding it would be better if he drowned when hes with Jason? If so, I thought the book said annabeth wasn't told that he wanted to give up) But really my bigger issue with this statement is the fact that it's not necessarily a bad relationship just because a person doesn't realize someone is suicidal, or if their suicidal thoughts are fluctuating. If he's been suicidal the entire time she's known him, how should she know? And why is it the girlfriend's job to stop him from suicide? Like yeah she should care, but that's not her responsibility. No one should feel responsible for a significant other's suicide unless they encouraged the SO to do it.

The judo flip, I agree, annabeth should have been more sensitive to Percy's past and again, I blame Rick for conveniently forgetting that an abused kid is not going to laugh or even take well to being thrown on the ground. This also reminds me of a post I made a while back, because I was so frustrated by media portrayals of women getting upset (usually worried) about another character and shaking them or hitting them or using some form of violence, and that's portrayed as acceptable and normal and as a sign of love. I'm not a fan of that.

"Annabeth likes to keep percy on his toes" this point, I want specific quotes, cause I'd like to go over it again. I agree this is funky. Percy says he feels more comfortable with annabeth and feels like he can talk to her blah blah, but yeah, I think I remember him saying she makes him anxious and that's a problem for me. Like genuinely, to anyone who reads this: if your SO makes you feel uncomfortable, anxious, nervous, or unsafe, please reevaluate your relationship and be safe. That's not good. And back to percabeth, I'm really not sure why RR would say that.

Bringing up abusive stepfather. If annabeth didn't already know about Gabe...I don't know, that says to me that percy was too traumatized to talk about it, in which case, why can annabeth see it in his actions, his comments, his reactions? I don't know that either. But I do know that having met my fair share of traumatized kids, it's not at all uncommon for them to share trauma as a joke and for multiple kids to laugh it off, not to mention suicidal jokes or jokes about their own abuse. Now I want to be clear, I'm not saying that's healthy, I think that's bad, but I also think it's common. And if annabeth doesn't realize what he's really talking about, or is caught up in her own experience, or is uncomfortable, laughing is not an uncommon response. And I don't think that makes their relationship toxic. (And I'm saying it again: I think Rick wrote that so that people could say oh poor percy and feel strongly about how horrible the situation is, but he didn't want to get into the trauma, so by annabeth laughing it off, he can move on with the scene but include little details that show how bad tartarus is)

I don't remember any comments about poseiden, but I agree her interactions with Tyson are problematic. I have zero explanation or excuse, I really don't know what rick was thinking with that, unless it was maybe a way to signify how all halfbloods feel about monsters? (Now that I've said that, that kinda makes sense, if percy sees a monster who was his human friend, but everyone else just sees a monster who is just like the other monsters who have killed their siblings. But still. Annabeth saying he was gross was uncalled for, Rick could have said she was scared or concerned this was a trick or something, but disgust?)

I agree about Percy's unresolved trauma manifesting as fear of annabeth. I already commented on the judo flip, see comments above.

Percy absolutely has horrible self asteem. I'm not sure that's annabeths problem. Yeah she should support him in every way she can, but it's not her responsibility or anyone else's to make him feel better about himself. She should want to, and she should be positive and encouraging, but I don't think Percy's lack of growth is her problem or necessarily a sign of a toxic relationship. It can be, but I'm not certain it is in this case. I think, as I'm sure you know if you've read this much, Rick doesn't know how to write characters who are further along in their trauma- processing, healing, discussing- rick fails to deal with anything besides a currently traumatized kid and a unresolved but out of the directly abusive situation. (This is where I'd like to note, the whole seaweed brain thing, not funny to me, not cute. I'm not a fan because I do think that encourages negative self image. I am aware that that could be link to annabeths childhood, but again, I would expect her to be hyperaware of this sort of emotional abuse. And I blame Rick. Why does she never have her actual abuse mentioned?)

I don't recall annabeth pushing percy to choose between them. I would have said she had doubts about him still wanting to go to CA and he said that he regretted not being there for Estelle but didn't want to be without annabeth (which is kinda cute, kinda codependent to me, and I agree, codependency is not cute)

I would argue the last point "Percy has no interest in going to New Rome or University" is clearly false. In SoN (2nd book of HOO) Percy discovers there are full families living in New Rome, and how it's safe there, and he says multiple times that he wants that, how he remembers he had a girlfriend named annabeth and he wants her to be there and wants to be able to settle down *there*. And in ChaliceotG he's torn, because he does want to stay in New York for his mom and sister, but he really wants to be with annabeth and he loves new Rome. He says multiple times how he wants to go to New Rome. Its true, if the only reason he wants to go is for annabeth, that's a bit funky. But new Rome is the safest place for demigods, and he's been in wars for years, of course he wants that. And wanting to be out of school- okay? New Rome isn't just about the university, not to mention the New Rome university is focused on kids with dyslexia and adhd, obviously. So it will be tailored to him, his struggles are understood, accepted, and aided. Who wouldn't see the appeal in that?

And finally, I agree, that if a character or couple is going to have broad reach, they should be healthy. That's a problem i have with Colleen hoover and all her toxic relationships that have a large audience and are so loved by that audience. And back to this, I hate that the pjo hoo couples are so focused on in the books because fans always pay attention to the couples, but the focus amplifies them, and I think having a relationship be the main focus of a kids/teen/ya book sets up horrible mindsets, and idolizes relationships and all in all is not good for kids. Percabeth or not, healthy or not, I don't think the emphasis on relationships is good.

I might link some of my other posts that I mentioned or that address similar issues in the reblogs

#percy jackson abuse #pjo thoughts #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjo hoo toa #pjo #percy jackson thoughts #percy jackson #anti percabeth #percy jackon and the olympians

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topaz-mutiny · 6 months

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I think the fans are underestimating how differently people can process things.

I am consistently seeing posts say "Ashton/Tal were repeatedly warned the shard was not for them/will 100% kill them", when this was absolutely not the case, and, more importantly, it is very likely for groups of people to completely misinterpret the warnings. Even if they've known each other and loved each other for a decade.

I certainly thought the warnings were not clear or frequent enough so I was shocked like lightning in the latest episode that they were meant to be absolute death flags.

Please note that I'll mostly refer to the fictional characters, I don't want to bring the people behind the characters too much into this.

First, I would like to point out, the show takes place over weeks and months with plenty of breaks and interruptions. That is plenty of time and opportunity for memories to get faded, muddled, crossed-over with other memories, etc.

The "warnings" happened two weeks to a month ago. And even when they were fresh on the cast's mind, here are the warnings verbatim (bold is my emphasis):

But be warned, holding the strength of the two in one vessel might sunder it. You bear the dormant strength of the empress. Find and bestow the might of the emperor.

- Evontra'vir, episode 74, aired October 5th. The conversations move on to unrelated things with no followup.

Ashton: He also said it might be dangerous for these two shards to intermingle. Or he didn't say dangerous, he said that-- it could destroy me. Orym: --A chance the vessel could break. Laudna: --The vessel <air quotes> could break. Fearne: Wasn't there something if you put them together with the right thing that it'll be okay? Ashton: It might come together and be okay, yeah. -- Dancer: Maybe if it were to meet one of its own ilk, it could awaken. Allura: What you said as a point of warning likely is true. To have both within a singular vessel, it's possible one could survive, but it's also highly possible that it would rend you into a thousand pieces. -- Allura: We're in a strange area of experimentation and unknown knowledge. -- (after finding out Ashton has a fascimile of a Luxon beacon in their brain) FCG: So he's got two things in him or them? Allura: It would seem, which is why I'm a bit--Well, you're either the greatest weapon we could hope for in this time, or will be our end. I couldn't tell you. Orym: Boy, maybe we don't add a third thing. Ashton: I was put together by bits and pieces. This was not an intentional thing and it, I honestly shouldn't have survived it. It was, literally, I was put together with junk. Allura: In an odd way, your fragmented nature might be what keeps all of this in check. ... Perhaps we don't put another powerful entity within your form.

- Various, episode 76, aired October 19th.

To me, these warnings were not clear in the slightest.

To me, these warnings were interspersed with so many words like "possible", "might", and "chance" that I completely misinterpreted the situation as "For Ashton it is dangerous but doable" instead of "The Game Master is telling you Ashton's character sheet will be ripped up."

This is the problem with using in-character voices and using descriptors that imply chance or flexibility. They can drastically weaken the meaning of a phrase such that people like me will mistake it for something else.

Because that's how my brain works. "May", "chance", "perhaps" suggest to me a reasonable set of odds for an action and does not come across as the grave warning a game master would want.

And as a reminder, these muddled warnings were weeks apart and weeks away, which can make remembering the meaning even worse if you've already misinterpreted them. That's why I was 100% on board with Ashton taking the shard. It seemed reasonable but dangerous, so when Matt said "I warned you." in that grave tone and with that grave look I was thrown for a loop. I went "oh no! those were serious warnings!?" and the panic started setting in.

Also a contributing factor was the pressure and lack of communication from Bells Hells.

Fearne did not want the shard, and finally stated that thought aloud to Ashton. For Fearne and Ashton, that meant the only choice left was Ashton, because, for one reason or another, the 5 other people in Bells Hells repeatedly assumed and pushed the shard onto Fearne and wrote themselves out of the equasion. FIVE characters absolved themselves of being active participants. Once the idea of Fearne came to mind and this Emperor Fearne/Empress Ashton/Callowmoore shipping dicotomy, Bells Hells just stopped talking about it and never once considered if any of them should take the shard should Fearne refuse.

So... yeah that's how my brain works.

#critical role #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #c3e77 #ashton greymoore #fearne calloway #bells hells #evontra'vir #taliesin jaffe #matthew mercer #communication breakdown #tl;dr Bells Hells needs to talk to each other more instead of just assuming how things will be #do you want explosions and dead PCs? that's how you get explosions and dead PCs.#people will think differently and can misinterpret what you say #even this loving group of 8 people can misinterpret each other despite being together for like a decade #tbh I thought the shard going to Orym would've been ideal #I might repost this for the Monday crew idk

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forever-rogue · 1 year

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Hey babes, can you do a Mando x reader where the reader is a bounty hunter and leaves the ship to complete a mission and is only supposed to be gone a few hours but they’re gone all night and Din starts to panic and the next morning they show up slightly injured sand Din completely loses it and he was so scared then feels guilty? (fluff and angst) (sorry this is long!)

AN | This! It’s everything. Enjoy🥰

Warnings | Mention of injury [blood, bruising, cuts - nothing descriptive]

Pairing | Din x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.4k

Masterlist | Din, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I'm going with you."

"Umm….no?" You looked up at Din and found him in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as though he had any kind of authority over you. Sitting back on your haunches, you momentarily stopped packing your bag and shook your head, "wait - are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling you," it was a simple but assertive statement that he clearly wasn't going to expand on. With you a huff, you stood up and walked over to him, stopping just in front of him. He was slightly intimidating but you'd never admit that.

"Well, Djarin, I hate to tell you this, but you are not going with me," you reached up and patted his helmet right where his cheek would be, "I'm going solo."

"It's not safe."

"Nothing we do is safe!" You waved your hand around, gesturing vaguely, "we're bounty hunters."

"I am a bounty hunter," he insisted with a sigh as you rolled your eyes dramatically, "you are an enemy of the new republic."

"I prefer the term pirate," you couldn't help the way the corner of your mouth tugged up in a small smile at his heavy sigh. You'd learned early on that it was a common theme in his daily life, "and, in case you forgot, I'm on the up and up and my charges were cleared. So."

"So," he repeated, almost mocking but lacking any real malice, "you've still got plenty of enemies out there. The government might forget but scorned criminals rarely do."

"You don't think I'm capable of handling myself."

"No," he sighed in exasperation, "no. It's just…dangerous."

"I can handle a little danger, Din Djarin," you insisted softly, annoyed and slightly touched by his concern, "I wasn't the pirate queen for nothing!"

"I don't-" you turned on your heel before he could say anything else to go back to your packing, "why are you being so stubborn?"

"Why are you being so overbearing?" You countered, slipping the last of your supplies and your trusty blaster in your bag. He remained silent and you knew you'd caught him weaving a web he couldn't quite explain, "I'll be okay. Don't worry about me, Din."

He remained silent for a moment and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head. You zipped up the bag and tossed onto your bed. After a few tense moments of silence, he exhaled heavily and gave you one, sharp simple nod, "you'll be back soon."

"A few hours tops," you promised softly, "but you know how these things go. Hostile negotiations and all. I'll do everything in my power to keep it short and sweet."

"Good," he grunted in response, "just watch your mouth. That's always what gets you in trouble."

"It's kind of touching that you care so much," you smiled coquettishly, wishing you could see his expression under the helmet. You just knew that he was probably stammering and blushing, "one might almost think you have feelings, Mandalorian."

"I don't like you like that!" He insisted nervously and you grinned like a loth cat.

"I never said you liked me like that," you teased, "I just said you have feelings, generally speaking. But it's good to know that you definitely don't like me."

And you were beaming as he stood there slowly dying on the inside.

"Just…be careful."

"I will," you smiled softly, "I'll be back before you know it."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It turned out that you were a liar.

It turned out that Din's feelings ran even deeper than he had anticipated.

Because when you didn't return home by the end of the evening, he was starting to panic. You'd promised it would be a few hours.

A few hours had come and gone. And you weren't back.

Din was going to wear a path into the floor if he kept pacing as he was. Grogu was on the floor, cooing in concern as he watched his father grow increasingly worried.

"I know," Din turned to him and sighed, "I know there's no use worrying."

More babbles reached his ears. He listened to them and nodded in understanding, even if he didn't completely understand what his son was saying. He got the general gist.

"I'm sure she's fine," his hands found his hips as he nodded thoughtfully, "but then she should be back."

There were a few beats of silence before Din threw himself onto the couch. If he was going to stress and worry, he might as well be comfortable, right? Truthfully, he was anything but.

He tried to watch a few holos, skipping between channels every few seconds, his mind light-years away.

"It wouldn't hurt to go and see if I can find her," he wasn't even sure who he was trying to rationalize with. Himself? Who knew at that point. Grogu gurgled at him before waddling over to the couch and climbing on top of it. He clambered slowly into Din's lap and made himself comfortable. He reached up and gently stroked his big green ears before exhaling slowly, "I don't know exactly where but I could just…look around and see?"

Big, inquisitive blinked at him. How was his small, young son going to be the logical one?

"Fine," Din agreed in a haughty tone, "I'll stay here. But if it's much longer I'm going out there to look. But you'll have to stay here."

Grogu's eyes widened as his ears drooped sadly.

"Fine…I'd take you with me."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

At some point with his worrying, Din managed to fall asleep. Granted, it wasn’t a very deep or comfortable sleep; he was half sprawled on the couch, startling with every sound that seemed even remotely out of place. Unfortunately, none of those noises turned out to be you. You, who had managed to worm your way into his heart despite his best efforts; you, that were the bane of his existence and one of the best things in his life.

Eventually he sat up with a heavy sigh, trying his best not to wake Grogu. At least the little one didn’t seem to have any trouble sleeping. Din slowly stood up and started to pace around the kitchen, debating if a fresh caf would soothe his worries or ramp up his anxiety. On second thought, he decided against it, opting instead to straighten everything up. The small home the two of you shared on Nevarro was generally kept tidy but it was something to keep his worried brain occupied.

He got so wrapped into what he was doing that he almost - almost - didn’t hear the telltale creak of the front door. Din froze for a moment before he heard your familiar footsteps start to shuffle into the house. Something was off.

He left the kitchen so fast that he almost ran into you in the hallway, your name rolling off his lips in surprise at the same time as you said his. You laughed nervously as you felt him take you in, mentally counting down the seconds before he realized you were hurt. Not gravely so, but still…you knew DIn and you knew that he’d have a conniption.

“H-hey,” your voice was small and nervous and it was painfully obvious that you were trying to deflect him, “sorry, I’m late. It took a little longer than anticipated.”

“You’re hurt.”

It was even a question, just a simple statement. You shrugged before giving him a noncommittal shrug, “you should see the other guy.”

“I don’t care about the other guy!” his tone took a sharp edge that had your eyes widening in surprise. It was the closest he’d actually gotten to admitting his feelings for you. You blinked a few times before swallowing thickly, “kriff.”

“‘m okay,” you insisted but you could tell that he didn’t believe this for a moment. He was regarding you with intense scrutiny and it made you almost squirm, “Din…please say something.”

“You’re bleeding,” he tried to mask the worry in his voice as he took off his glove and brushed away the blood from the cut on your cheek. You froze at the feeling of his skin on your skin, his touch surprisingly gentle. You’d forgotten all about the knife cuts on your face and shoulder. You had no doubt he could see the blood that had soaked into the fabric of your. He made a small sound of concern and part of you really wanted to jump into his arms and let him hold you, “where else. Show me.”

After a moment of hesitation, you nodded and slowly lifted your top, thankful for the fact that you still had your bra on. Your shoulder was almost done bleeding, but there was a gnarly gash there with the sides already bruising. Your left wrist was sore and bruised, the color radiating into your forearm. You weren’t sure if it was broken or sprained, but you did know it was painful.

Din sucked in his breath before shaking his head. You hated the churning feeling in your stomach; it was an odd combination of joy that he clearly held some modicum of affection for you, and the other part was upset that he was so worried. His hand rested on your cheek for a moment before he brushed his knuckles along your jaw.

“C’mon,” he reached for your hand without waiting for an answer as he gently pulled you to the refresher. You silently sat down on the edge of the tub and watched as he gathered the supplies that you normally used on him. Oh how the tables had turned. He reached you gently before kneeling down, the black T of his visor intently trained on you, “this might hurt a little bit.”

“Okay,” you nodded slightly before closing your eyes, finding yourself leaning into his touch, seeking it out like an animal seeking out the sun’s kiss. You couldn’t hold back the hiss that escaped your lips at the contact of the alcohol he was using to clean your wounds.

“I know,” he cooed softly, his voice so low and gentle. You bit the inside of your cheek as he tended to your wounds, but you knew that the pain and discomfort was written all over your face, “I know, cyar’ika. You’re doing so well.”

Your heart leapt with affection at his gentle words and touch. You’d known that deep down he was a soft-hearted and kind man but having him display his affections so openly was an entirely different thing.

It didn’t take the Mandalorian very long to take care of your wounds; years of practice on himself had taught him a thing or two. He just hated the idea that it was happening to you instead of him. He should have gone with you…he shouldn’t have taken no for an answer.

When he was done, he patted your knee gently and slowly straightened back up. You looked up at him with a soft smile, “thank you, Din.”

“The cuts will heal just fine,” he held out his hand to help you up. You tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, “your wrist is sprained. It’s not broken. But you’ll have to take it easy with that hand.”

“Okay,” you felt so small next to him, sheerly from his height and the bulk of his armor. You swallowed thickly, “guess I should have let you come after all.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed quietly, neither agreeing or disagreeing with you, “who did this?”

“I don’t know,” you admittedly honestly, “it was some man, I didn’t get a good look at him. He caught me when I was running out.”

“I’ll go back and find him-”

“But I got what we were looking for,” you reached into your pocket and pulled out the stolen pieces of kyber crystal you had retrieved, “now it can go back to the rightful owner.”

He nodded, taking one of the pieces and admiring it with curiosity. But, like always, his attention shifted back to you, “I’m coming with you next time.”

“I expected nothing less,” you laughed softly, the sound going straight to his heart. It was like every little thing you did had become something he loved, a small piece of his soul.

The two of you remained silent for a few moments, a shift rifting through the air. Din’s hands found your face as he gently cradled it, studying you intently. Your face felt like it was on fire, and you wanted nothing more than to be able to kiss him. But you couldn’t - wouldn’t - do anything without his permission.

He brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, causing every fiber of your being to hum in content.

“Din…” you almost whispered his name and caused gooseflesh to burst all over his skin. It would be so easy for him just to lift up the helmet enough to kiss you. It would be so easy and simple, and he yearned and ached for it.

“Cyar’ika,” his breathing was stunted and he was so close to doing it, to doing what he’d been dying to do since he realized he’d fallen in love with you. He reached up and started to push the helmet but you grabbed onto his wrist and stopped him.

“No,” you whispered, surprising both of you. Despite how much you wanted this, you didn’t want him to do anything just because of the intimate moment, “not like this.”

He seemed to know what you meant and he dropped his hand, but nothing before lacing your fingers through his and gently squeezing it.

Before either of you could say anything else, a soft, gentle babbling caused both of you to look towards the doorway. Grogu was there, happily looking between the two of you. You and DIn took a step apart, and he cleared his throat.

Grogu padded his way over and plopped down in between the two of you. You’d never been more thankful - or annoyed - for his interruption.

You met DIn’s gaze and offered him a small smile.

You knew he was returning it under the helmet.

It held a small promise of soon.

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin one shot #pedro pascal #the mandalorian

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