#( Verse left up in the air just in case you wanted to decide where this takes place uv u )

[persephonewritessometimes]

Moon Song / part three: and you might be dying

Summary: Hotch and Y/N are on a break...for a few days. Things get complicated when they're on a case together.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x (AFAB) Reader

Word Count: 4058

Warnings: BLOOD, GUNSHOT WOUND, slight PANIC ATTACK, DRINKING, distressed!reader, arguing, toxic!hotch, slightly toxic!reader, lots of emotions, infidelity, mentions of cheating/adultery

Playlist: Link

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

-2 Weeks Later-

         Our “break” lasted all of a week. He caved first, showing up at karaoke night at the bar to hang out with the rest of the team, but I knew why he was there. He corners me as I come out of the bathroom.

         “Y/N, can we talk please?”

         “I’m not sober enough to talk to you right now,” I mutter, but I don’t hesitate to follow him when he grabs my hand and leads me through the crowd and out the door into the chilly late November air.

         “I can’t do this.”

         “Do what? Date me or not date me. Because you give mixed signals sometimes.”

         He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t not date you. I need you. You…you make me happy.”

         Now it’s my turn to sigh. “Hotch, we both know how this ends. We fuck, then we fight, then we both get hurt and agree not to do this again, and guess what, we do it again. I’m getting tired of this. Unless you leave Haley, I’m not interested.” I turn and head back inside, head now pounding from the confrontation and alcohol running through my body.

         “You okay?” Penelope asks when I make my way back into the bar.

         “Yeah, just hot.”

         “Yeah, you are girlfriend!” She shouts, and I let out a laugh.

         “I’m gonna sing a song, I think.”

         “Please, grace us with your voice, Y/N! I’m getting sick and tired of listening to middle-aged men butcher every song.” Emily groans. JJ agrees with her, and I make my way to the woman running the karaoke machine. I ask if she has a specific song, and she says she does. It queues up and I get on the small stage, taking the mic out of the mic stand. The opening chords start, and I sing:

         “Step one, you say we need to talk. He walks, you say sit down, it’s just a talk. He smiles politely back at you; you stare politely right on through. Some sort of window to your right, as he goes left and you stay right. Between the lines of fear and blame, you begin to wonder why you came. Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend, somewhere along in the bitterness. And I would have stayed up with you all night, had I known how to save a life.” I’m singing with all the emotions that are running through my body, singing about him even though he’s probably left already. I get to the second verse, glancing over at the table our team had commandeered and almost stutter when I see Hotch standing there. He’s watching me with an almost sad expression. I watch as JJ and Reid look at each other, then at him. He doesn’t notice, just continues watching me. I finish the song and the bar is in an uproar, asking for an encore, which I politely decline and hop off the stage. As I approach the table, Hotch blinks hard a few times, like how I do when I’m holding back tears.

Oh. Oh. That’s when I decide to take pity on him. I need him. As much as I want to deny it, I need him too. And he needs me too.

“I’m heading out for the night, walk me home, Hotch?” He looks at me, surprised, but nods, offering me his hand after I slide my coat on.

The walk home is quiet, neither of us wanting to disturb the temporary peace that had been established. I unlock your door and say,

“Listen. Okay. I need you too. But I will not be your side piece. If you want me, you have to leave her. I’m sick of feeling dirty and used.” He’s quiet, looking down at me.

“Okay.”

I shake my head in surprise. “What?”

“I’ll leave her.” He must see the confusion written all over my face because he says, “Come on, don’t look so surprised. We’ve been seeing each other for eight months now, obviously, I would come around to the idea at some point.”

“I – huh, what the fuck is going on right now?” I ask, flustered by his answer and the alcohol.

“Now, can I come inside or not?” He’s smiling now, looking for approval. I nod, still in disbelief. I’m happy, but I feel like the other shoe will drop at some point. I’ll take what I can get until then though.

-3 Days Later-

         “Okay team, we’ve got a case. Multiple murders in Front Royal, all young women. No other connection other than the fact they’re all in their mid to late twenties.” Hotch says, handing us each a file.

         "Great,” I mutter. I just love when I fit the description.

         “Front Royal? That’s like only an hour and a half from here.” Reid says. “Curious that there have been multiple murders only an hour from our headquarters.”

         “Exactly. There were two weeks between the first and second kill and only two days between the fifth and sixth. We need to catch this guy before he devolves.” Hotch says. “We’re driving, no need to fly. We leave in 30 minutes.” And with that, he leaves the room.

         We all get up, gathering our go-bags and anything that would be of importance, and we’re ready within 15 minutes. As we wait for Hotch in the parking lot, Reid comes over to me.

         “Walk with me?” I nod and follow him as he walks a little way from the group.

         “You and Hotch okay?” He asks, side-eyeing me. “You seem happier than usual.”

         “Gee, thanks for noticing. And yes. He told me he’s leaving Haley.” Reid looks at me in surprise now, eyebrows raised.

         “Oh! That’s um – that’s good?”

         “Why did that sound like a question?” I ask, grabbing his arm.

         “It’s just…do you think that it’s the best decision? I’m not trying to make assumptions here, well, maybe I am, but do you really think you and Hotch are good for each other? One minute you’re fighting, the next you’re in love. It’s just a lot, emotionally speaking.” He trails off towards the end.

         “I – don’t know,” I whisper.

         “Has he told you he’ll leave Haley before?”

         “Never directly, but yeah.”

         “So why is this time any different?”

         I have no answer for that, but Hotch shows up and we all pile into two cars and head off to Front Royal. I’m with Hotch, JJ, and Emily in the backseat. Rossi is driving the other car, and Derek and Reid are with him.

         “Sorry, you got saddled with us girls,” I say, poking fun at Hotch.

         “Yeah, well, after the last time you drove, I don’t exactly trust you in any vehicle.” He jokes back.

         “It wasn’t my fault! There was a squirrel in the road, and that light pole came out of nowhere.”

         “Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night, Y/N.” He smiles at me, and I feel butterflies in my tummy. Despite that, I still think about if Reid is right or not. I’m lost in thought most of the drive there, making a pros and cons list in my head. My phone chirps. It’s JJ.

         JJ: What are you thinking so hard about up there?

         Y/N: Just something Spencer said to me. It’s not a big deal.

         JJ: You look like you’re about to explode from how hard you’re thinking.

         I let out a quick laugh, Hotch glances at me, confused.

         “Oh, it’s my sister.” You say, waving the phone.

         Y/N: How dare you make me laugh.

         JJ: Someone’s got to! Now take a deep breath, you can think about whatever you’re thinking about later. Okay?

         Y/N: Okay mom.

         JJ laughs.

         “Okay, are you two texting each other? Because you can just talk, we’re all in the same car.” Emily says a laugh in her voice.

         “Wow, way to call us out Emily!” I say.

         Before long, we pull up to the police station and pile out, Hotch introducing himself to Chief Montgomery, a tall woman in her late forties, long brown hair graying towards the roots. She’s gracious and welcomes us in, giving us the conference room to work the case. We get set up, each getting assigned tasks. I’m tasked with organizing the information as it comes in, stuck at the police station.

         “Come on, Hotch, everyone else gets to go out and actually do something and I’m stuck here.”

         “Yes, you are. I won’t risk sending you out in the field when you’re in his target demographic.” He lowers his voice. “I can’t lose you, okay?” I just nod at that, resigning myself to the conference room as he leaves.

         It’s slow for an hour or so, then the rest of the team comes in waves with loads of information. It’s like a race trying to put it all together and finish it. We’re getting close when Hotch’s phone rings. He excuses himself to answer it. I don’t know why, but I trail him out of the conference room.

         “Hey, sweetie? What’s up?” My stomach drops. “Mhmm, yeah, of course. It should only be a couple of days and then I’ll be back home. I miss you too. Love you.” He hangs up and turns around to see me standing there, arms crossed, pissed as all get out. “Oh fuck. Y/N, it’s not, just, please - ”

“I thought you were going to leave her,” I say quietly, still coming to terms with the fact that I am not enough for him. I don’t think I ever will be.

He sighs, “Y/N, it’s complicated.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? What does that make me, your mistress? I can’t keep playing this game Hotch.”

“I care about you, Y/N. You have to believe me.”

“Then fucking show me! Why are you still with her? She treats you like shit and you know she’s cheating on you.” My voice gets louder, and I swallow the shakiness down.

“And what am I doing with you?” He hisses, getting in my face. “You’re as willing a participant as I am, we’re both to blame here.”

I look up at him, letting the fire in my eyes shine bright. “You never should have kissed me.” He blinks, and regret flashes over his face. “I will not be someone you fuck around with just to get back at your wife. I’m a person too, I have feelings too.”

“What do you want me to do? She’s the mother of my child, Y/N. And last time I checked, you aren’t.” I take a step back as if he had physically pushed me. He should of, it would have hurt less. Tears fill my eyes; I say nothing as I turn and walk back into the conference room.

“Oh, fuck no, I’m not letting this one slide.” JJ spits out, walking out of the conference room and slamming the door behind her. “How dare you?” I watch as she points a finger in his face now, his own treatment turned on him.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Don’t act stupid, Hotch, we all heard you. I think half the fucking precinct heard you. What a nice show you put on for everyone there.” JJ stares him down and I watch Hotch as he starts to look sheepish. Everyone is staring at the scene going down right outside the not-very-soundproof glass.

“I - ” He starts.

“She miscarried your baby. Two weeks ago. At her birthday party.” The color drains from Hotch’s face. “Just thought you should know.” With that, JJ turns and walks back into the conference room.

I’m not mad she told him. It would have come out eventually. I feel a hand on my shoulder, it’s Rossi.

“I’m sorry, kid, I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. I’m over it now.” I say quietly, starting to dig through the mounds of paper we had acquired. Everyone watches. “Okay, does everyone want to stare at me or do we want to catch a murderer?” I spit out, and after that everyone jumps into action. Hotch doesn’t join us, I glance back and see him sitting in a chair, just staring at the wall.

-

I run into JJ in the bathroom, and she says, “Hey, I’m sorry I told him, I just couldn’t see him treat you like that.”

“It’s okay, JJ. He would have found out eventually. He looks shellshocked though, do you have any smelling salts?” I grin at her.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?” I ask, confused.

“Crack jokes after everything. It’s like, you’re so full of light and life and laughter despite everything. I don’t know how you do it.” She says, shaking her head as she grabs some paper towels to dry her hands.

“I don’t know. I guess, yeah, I’ve had some shitty things happen to me, but there are so many good things that are gonna happen in the future. I focus on that.”

“You are so different from him.” She says, looking me over. “I’ll never understand it.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever understand it either. We just click, yeah, we fight, but I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Ever. Sometimes I’m overwhelmed by emotions. Reid… asked me earlier if I think Hotch and I are good for each other. I’m still not sure of the answer, but I know, that wherever I go, somehow, my path always leads back to him. That has to mean something, right?” I smile at her.

“You deserve to feel loved, Y/N, without restraint and without regret. I hope someday he figures that out.” A lump forms in my throat.

“Yeah, me too,” I say, and we exit the bathroom.

We walk back into the conference room and see everyone in their bulletproof vests.

“While you two were gossiping in the bathroom, we found a possible suspect. Get your vests on.” Rossi says, and JJ and I rush to get our vests on. We pile into the cars, this time I ride with Rossi, Reid, and Derek. Reid rides in the back with me and pats my hand as we speed away.

“You okay?” He whispers.

“I’m fine. Let’s just catch this guy so I can go home.” I say. We pile out of the cars downtown, it’s seedy here, with lots of broken windows, graffiti, and alleys.

“Everyone split up in pairs, Y/N you’re with me,” Hotch says, his gaze leaving no room for argument.

We split off in pairs, JJ tagging along behind Hotch and me, but keeping a healthy distance away.

“Why didn’t you - ” He starts, and I cut him off.

“Hotch. We are not doing this right now! We have something more important to do. So please, shut the fuck up, and let’s do our job.” I stride past him. “I’ll take the left side; you take the right.” I give him no time to argue and turn down the alley on the left. It’s damp here, and as I round the corner, I hear the click of the safety being turned off on a gun. I slowly turn around to see a gun leveled at my head. “Johnathan, you don’t want to do this.”

“No, no, I think I do.” He says, cocking his head. Everything slows down, it feels like I’m stuck in a vat of molasses – there’s no getting out of this for me. I glance at the hole in the building right beside us. “No one’s coming to save you. It’s just us.”

“I know why you did it.” He pauses.

“All these years women have rejected you, so what better thing to do than deal the ultimate rejection – killing them. Then they’ll never reject you again, will they?” I’m scrambling for anything at this point.

“You think you’re so smart because you’re in the FBI, you’re just like every bitch I’ve killed. Pretty, young, and clueless.” He takes a step closer; I swallow hard and close my eyes. If I’m going out this way I’m not going to watch while it happens. I hear the trigger pull and flinch waiting for the impact – it never comes. Instead, I hear a second gunshot and I’m shoved to the ground, and open my eyes to see the unsub dead, and Hotch unconscious on the pavement.

“No, no, don’t do this to me, Hotch. Please, I can’t do this without you. I’m sorry, please just wake up.” I’m shaking his shoulders, but he doesn’t rouse. I start methodically checking for a gunshot wound, and see blood blooming across his lower abdomen. “HELP! PLEASE! WE NEED HELP HERE! OFFICER DOWN!” I scream, pressing my hands into his stomach to try and stop the bleeding. JJ rounds the corner first.

“Oh fuck.” She says, but everything sounds like I’m underwater. I’m sobbing, begging anyone who is in the great big sky who’s listening, please don’t let him die. Don’t let him die. Don’t let him die. He coughs and groans, a hand coming up to grab my wrist.

         “Hotch? Oh my god, thank god. I thought I lost you.” The words fall out of my mouth. He grimaces, still lost between the lines of conscious and unconscious.

         “I love you.” He whispers and then loses consciousness again.

         “No, no, no, wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!” I’m chanting. The paramedics show up and move me out of the way to compress the wound and get him in an ambulance. I get in the back with him, holding his limp hand despite his blood covering them.

         We barrel our way towards Warren Memorial Hospital, Hotch never regaining consciousness the entire ride. They start a blood transfusion; my hands are shaking as they ask me questions. I answer them as succinctly as I can, never taking my eyes off him. They wheel him immediately into surgery when we get there, and I’m not allowed in the OR. The rest of the team shows up a few minutes later, Derek staying behind to take care of the unsub’s remains and give a report to the police. I sit in the ER waiting room for thirty minutes, not talking to anyone, not letting anyone touch me. Covered in his blood and mute, I sit. Waiting for any news.

         “Anyone here for an Aaron Hotchner?” A doctor asks, walking out. I stand up quickly.

         “Me. I mean, we are.” I say.

         “He’s out of surgery, bullet came out easily, just needed some minor repairs and stitches. One person can come back and see him right now, he’s still unconscious.” I glance back at the team.

         “Go, Y/N. It should be you.” JJ says, and tears spring to my eyes. I follow the doctor through the maze-like hospital until he drops me off at Hotch’s room. He’s lying on the bed, his head slightly inclined. He looks so pale against the stark white of the hospital sheets. I walk over, pull up a chair, and take his hand.

         “You are sick, and you’re married, and you might be dying,” I take a shuddering breath, “But you’re holding me like water in your hands,” I say nothing more, simply resting my head on the bed, and I fall asleep. I’m awoken a little while later by JJ sticking her head in the door.

         “Y/N. Haley is on her way up. You need to go.” I nod and get up as quickly as my still sleep-addled brain will. I kiss the back of his hand before placing it gently back on the bed, I turn to go, but I’m not fast enough. Haley is standing in the doorway watching me with narrowed eyes.

         “So, you’re the bitch who’s fucking my husband.” I freeze – I was so close. I almost made it out, through the doorway that she’s now standing in, blocking my only exit.

         “I’m sorry,” I say plainly, and she blinks. “If you move, I’ll be gone for good. I promise.” She sighs, rubbing her eyes.

         “I assume the bullet was intended for you, and he jumped in front of you?” She asks quietly.

         “Pushed me to the ground is more like it,” I say, toying with the bandage on my elbow that I had landed on.

         “He must really be in love with you to do that.” Now it’s my turn to blink in surprise. I’m not sure if she meant to say that out loud. “Look,” she sighed again, “We’ve been on the rocks for a while now. I’m just glad he has someone to go to, even if that’s not me.” She steps aside and I make my way toward the now-free doorway. She grabs my arm before I’m out. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at him. Don’t let him punish you for what happens between us.”

         “It’s a little too late for that,” I say. “Our…relationship is far from healthy. It’s a fucked-up mess if I’m being honest.”

         “So, he’s managed to fuck up not one, but two women.” She gives me a sad smile and releases go of my arm.

         “Can I ask you something?” I say timidly.

         “I’m an open book. Unlike him.” She smiles again.

         “Do you love him?” She pauses in contemplation.

         “I think a long time ago, I used to love him, but no, I don’t love him anymore.”

         “Then why are you still together?” My voice cracks on the last word and her eyes soften.

         “Habit? Familiarity? Hell if I know. I think just because of Jack. But god knows what kind of influence he’s getting when his parents are too busy yelling at each other to pay attention to him.” She pushes her hair behind her ears nervously. “I don’t know where to go from here.” A rare moment of vulnerability from the woman who had just called me a bitch a few moments ago.

         “There are only two ways to go: forward together, or forward separately. If you’ll excuse me.” And with that, I make it out of the room, ignoring JJ calling my name and sprinting to the elevator, making it barely inside before I’m breaking into gasping sobs. I run into Rossi while leaving the hospital – I’m sure a look a mess, covered in blood, eyes puffy and red, bewildered.

         “I need a break.” I gasp out, and he regards me with sad eyes.

         “However much time you need, Y/N. Come back when you’re ready. If you want to come back at all. No one would blame you if you left for good.” He would.

         “Thank you. Now give me the keys.”

         “I don’t think you’re in any state to be driving, Y/N.” He says kindly.

         “I’ll take her,” Reid says, stepping out from beside one of the cars. “You’re FBI-sanctioned taxi driver is here.” He says, extending a hand to me. I let out a broken laugh and take it, Rossi hands him the keys and we barrel back towards Quantico. I call my sister on the drive.

         “I’m coming home for a little while.”

         “Oh, thank god. How soon?”

         “I’ll be on the first flight I can.”

         “Is everything okay?” I can hear her worried tone through the phone.

         “Everything is…fucked up. I just need some time away.”

         “Of course, Y/N. Let me know when your flight is, I’ll come with Bobby to pick you up from the airport.” I hang up the phone, looking at my hands. Hotch’s blood has dried under my nails. I start to feel like I’m suffocating like the air is crowding in my throat.

         “Reid. Pull over at that gas station please.” He doesn’t ask questions, just immediately puts the turn signal on, pulling into the closest parking spot. I sprint inside and into one of the bathrooms, turning the water on as hot as it will go, and sticking my hands in the stream of water. I don’t notice the heat. I feel numb. I’m gasping, wheezing, trying to get my breath out as I’m scrubbing relentlessly at my hands desperately trying to get the blood off of them. My vision starts to black out and I stumble back, into someone’s arms. It’s Reid.

         “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it all out, I’m here.” I turn and bury my face in his chest, trying to remember what it felt like before I met Hotch.

---

part four: smoke signals missing my heart

---

TAG LIST (want to be added? click here!): @morgthemagpie @rousethemouse @hausofwhores @stxlemate @ssamorganhotchner @art-and-thoughts @sebastiansstanswhore

[red9]

❛  where do you think you're going?  ❜

𝑺𝑰𝑿 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺. // @devilsbaptist

              There was a part of him that hoped he wouldn’t notice, thinking himself subtle- clever enough to get away with it. After all- he was one of, if not the only person who cared if he showed up or not. He was just a face in the crowd after all, a misfit, newly brought into the fold. Just one little lost sheep in a great big herd as they’d put it, so it made no difference if he was there or not. That was his line of thinking at least, why he’d keep to the back of the crowd, close to the door in case he wanted to cut and run at these sorts of things. A tricky situation to be in, knowing that when the father would speak, it had to be a pretty damn good excuse to see himself out. 

              And so he would wait, through the hymns and verses of the book of Joseph, those most devoted taking to the front as they’d bow their heads in prayer. Not a single seat on a pew ever vacant, leaving those to line the rows on feet, some kneeling in the aisle in hopes of getting grace from the father himself- a touch- a glance- a hand on their head as he held the book in the other hand. And then there were the others, all starkly different as he’d come to learn. Jacob to one side, aloof and alone, his dark eyes seeming to always scan the room, as if waiting for someone to strike- the eyes of someone who had seen too much and could trust few and far between. Then there was Faith, close behind the father, while most would scan the crowd, her eyes were distant and dreamy, lost in her own little world as the bliss did what it was made to do. And then there was John, where most would shift and shuffle, he stood, motionless, half expecting him to admire the crowd with that warm and welcoming smile. But it wasn’t the devoted that held his attention, those who raised their hands up in prayer to him- no.

              Through the sea of people, his eyes somehow decided to meet his. A sight he didn’t expect to see, and one that left his heart racing. As if he’d been caught sinning in church, as if in that brief and fleeting moment of eye contact the man could read his every unholy thought he’d ever imagined about him. The world itself seemed to stop, his heart coming to a standstill, the very words in the air seeming jumbled and faint, as if bliss itself had been released into the room. Stars clouded the edges of his vision, his skin ablaze with the feeling of ocean eyes burning straight through him. As if he was the sun himself, blindsided by his beauty, those mere seconds feeling like a lifetime before he pulled his gaze away. The room itself felt like it was on fire, like he was drowning all the same. He needed out- needed to smoke- desperate for a moment to clear his mind as he silently slipped out the double doors to make a break for the cool night air.

              Silence, apart from the muffled singing of the others as they began to break into song. Like a distorted dream, his eyes looked to the night sky, the moon desperate to break through the clouds that hung overhead. Even she too was drowning in the darkness of the night. In the distance he could hear the barking of dogs, crickets chirping as the warm summer nights became a constant with the bliss flowers in bloom. He needed something to distract, the carton of cigarettes that wore through his pocket being brought out as means of relief. Tapped against his wrist, he flipped the lid open, popping an orange filter into his mouth as his lighter illuminated the dark. Each one like a little sin in itself, eating away at the inside with each slow drag that would fill his lungs. But he needed it, needed it to distract from the feeling those eyes left lingering. Snapshots of John’s face so clear behind his closed eyes. That dark hair that hung in his face, that perfect smile that would make his heart race. Surely he wanted to fix him, saw pleasure in him being there- as if he might have a chance to scrub away all that was wrong with him. But that was the thing- there was no fixing him- a lifetime of prayer could never right the wrongs he’d done in his previous life he ran from. Why did he even want to try?

              The thought was interrupted- a voice- seemingly like a ghost out of thin air- ❛  where do you think you're going?  ❜   how did he not hear him coming?

              Eyes snapped open, quick to turn on his heel, attempting to remain calm and composed, while his heart rate spiked through the roof. There he was- as if he knew- standing there, that same smile, that soft crinkle of his eyes as he’d stand there- staring. At him of all people. Why ?

              “Sorry, just needed some fresh air is all. My singing is not that good anyway-” An attempt at breaking the silence, his humor hardly making up for the tension that lingered between them. Not of anger, but something else- something more- he couldn’t quite put it to words. As if the tension came from there being space between them, when there should be no space at all. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as tongue danced over his lips for relief. “Did you need something? Or is leaving the church before the sermon is done some kind of terrible sin I just unknowingly committed eh?”

[geoconsult]

@celestialter​ Encountered the Consultant 

“Many living things come into our lives and greet us with open arms, but farewells come just as often as any. Have you met with a farewell you were unable to move past?” 

[ofherlionheart]

zukka + 6? 😌

send me a prompt! || 6. "I want you to be a part of my future."

[edit: yeah this is boo chronicles ‘verse but y’all already knew that lol]

It’s a stunning spring day of clear skies and rustling green leaves, and Zuko’s stuck in a library for it. From the page in front of him, Butler’s words rise up and swirl meaninglessly into the air, as they have been every few minutes for the last hour. Zuko sighs and slouches to the left to find the straw of his lukewarm, no-ice cold brew with his tongue, taking a sip even though his body stopped responding to caffeine a few days ago.

Finals week is as annoying to suffer through the seventh time as it was the first time.

There’s a thunk on the end of Zuko’s desk, and he startles, nearly smacking his coffee across his work.

“Do you rotate every couple hours to make sure you’re getting enough sunlight?” Sokka asks.

Zuko safely relocates his coffee and eyes the box that Sokka’s dropped onto his desk. “I’m not a houseplant.”

“Really? You should take advantage of having legs, then.”

Zuko snorts. He can tell Sokka’s also a bit fried by finals week—especially since this is his eighth and final one, coinciding with a research thesis—because his quips are’t nearly as witty as they can be. “What’s in the box?” he asks.

“See for yourself,” Sokka replies, popping open the top flaps.

Zuko rolls his chair closer to peek inside. Immediately, he recognizes the soft leather casing, but he still reaches in to lift an edge and confirm that what he already knows is there is actually there. And, yes, there’s the soft glint of metal that Zuko expected.

“Why did you bring these to the library?” Zuko asks.

They’re knives. Not just any knives, but Sokka’s kitchen knives, a finely crafted and extremely expensive full set meant for the head chef of a high-end restaurant, not a college student who mostly makes stir fry and curry. Zuko’s a little obsessed with Sokka’s knives, not only because they’re objectively far superior to Zuko’s cheap, off-brand shit from the corner store, but also because they have a great story: when Sokka’s grandmother left her shitty ex-husband, she also walked out the door with Pakku’s gorgeous knife set, which she passed down to Sokka the year he left for college. Sokka, of course, promptly named them The Stabby Girls.

Sokka grabs a chair from an unoccupied table and drags it over to the side of Zuko’s desk, long legs sprawling enough when he sits for his foot to knock against Zuko’s ankle. “Decided to start packing early, since I’m leaving right after commencement,” he says. “Also, I’m avoiding thesis edits.”

“Uh-huh.” Zuko’s glad the final draft of his thesis was due a month ago.

“And as much as I love The Stabby Girls, it doesn’t make much sense to take them roadtripping.”

He starts playing with the edge of one of Zuko’s notepads, an idle movement to match the unhurried way he’s working through his explanation. Zuko wonders why Sokka’s still been popping up in his day-to-day the last couple weeks. Sure, they’re good friends by this point, but there’s only finals week, and then Sokka’s going to graduate and leave for this “epic roadtrip of epic proportions.” After that, who knows where in the world he’ll land for grad school. If there’s such thing as an organic ending to a friendship—which Zuko absolutely believes exists, seeing as he’s never really stayed friends with someone after they’ve been absent from his immediate day-to-day for longer than a year—this ending is the perfect example.

“I thought about asking Katara to take them, but she once tried to put Mama Stabby in the dishwasher, so that’s a no,” Sokka continues. “And then I realized there’s only one person I really trust to take care of The Girls, and that’s you.”

Zuko blinks. “You don’t want The Stabby Girls?”

“I mean, I want them back. But it doesn’t make sense to leave them in my car when I’m backpacking.”

Which, yes, Zuko understands, but … “You’re leaving them with me?’

Sokka nods, looking at him easily while still messing around with the notepad, as if this is all just very normal. “Yeah,” he says. It sounds a little bit like Obviously. “I’m planning on seeing you again. I want you to be a part of my future.”

“Oh.”

At that, an amused smile curls Sokka’s lips. “Oh?” he echoes.

“No,” Zuko splutters, though he doesn’t know what he’s negating. “I just …”

He really doesn’t know how to put words to the tumble of emotions that’s suddenly roiling around his gut, but he thinks it has something to do with declaring permanence—no, not permanence. Constancy? Continuity? Some sense of promise applied to a future that seems anything but certain. Legible? Visible?

Zuko needs to give his brain a break. “Have you had lunch?”

He pulls the box with The Stabby Girls closer to him, and he must be imagining the different twitch in Sokka’s cheek. “Not yet,” he answers.

“Let’s grab some.” Zuko stands, shutting his laptop and tucking The Girls under an arm. “I don’t think we should keep a box of knives in the library for that long, either.”

Sokka nods, heaving to his feat. “We can drop off The Girls at yours and then swing by Sullivan for food?”

Sullivan Street is a bit further out than Zuko was thinking, but hell, apparently Sokka’s regularly thinking about them way further out than he is. “Sounds good,” Zuko says and falls into step with his friend, cradling the box of knives against his chest.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Crawl Home to Her

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem BAU Reader 

Warnings: Religion is mentioned, slight mention of supposed homophobia, drug use, death and thoughts of dying, kidnapping (it’s Spencer’s POV of Revelations)

Author’s Note: I was listening to Work Song by Hozier and felt like it fits PERFECTLY for what Spencer was going through when he was kidnapped by Tobias. I took some creative liberties, but much of the plot lines up to the show’s episode. I linked the song if anyone wants to listen to it before they read or after, it’s such a beautiful song. Hozier is in my top three artists; his voice is just so beautiful and soulful. 

Summary: The only thing that’s keeping Spencer alive is the memories of his Heaven. Maybe someone how a faithless man will escape Death’s grasp on faith alone. 

Word Count: around 3.2K

Category: Angst 

Crawl Home to Her

When Spencer comes to the first thing he notices is the smell of burning. The stench permeates the air around him, filling his nostrils. The second thing he notices is breathing. Breathing that is not his own. A man stands before him and it takes him a second to piece it all together. The throbbing in his head takes much of his energy. He can feel the blood drip down the back of his neck and cake onto the collar of his work shirt. Strangely, all he could think about is the time his father told him a respectable man never wore a spoiler shirt. Well dad, look at me now, Spencer thinks grimly. He hates that his father occupies his mind even when he’s about to die. He has much more beautiful things to think about than the man who called him a failure.

“They’re gone,” the shadowy figure tells him. Tobias, Spencer thinks. Tobias is the unsub. 

“Who are they?,” Spencer asks, his voice must sound as cowardly as he feels. He hopes that Tobias didn’t get Y/N. He can’t live with himself if he let his partner, in more ways than one, get hurt. 

“It’s just me know,” Tobias answers, in such a way that it’s almost obvious. 

“Who...Who are you?” Spencer croaks. The lightbulb hanging above his head taunts him. He has the lightbulb, but where’s the ideas? Where are the answers? Where is the light of safety? 

“I’m Raphael,” Tobias says, standing to his full height, towering over a trembling Spencer. 

Raphael... The angel...Spencer’s mind turns but is halted by the horrible smell coming from his side. It invades his mind and nothing seems to make sense. 

“What’s that smell?” he asks.

“They’re burning fish hearts and livers. Keeps away the devil,” Tobias or Raphael answers, Spencer is not too sure who he’s even talking to at this point.

“They say you can see inside men’s minds,” 

“That’s not true, I-I study human behavior-” Spencer reasons, but is cut off by Tobias/Raphael’s passive shushing. 

“I’m not interested in the arguments of men,” Raphael tells him. He turns around to rummage in his pocket for something that Spencer can’t make out in the dim light of the shed. Between the lightbulb blinding him and the stench of the liver burning, Spencer’s senses are overloading themselves. Focus, Spencer, focus, he begs of himself. 

Don’t let him win. Don’t let him win. 

Tobias pulls out a revolver and a bullet. He toys the bullet in Spencer’s face, asking him “Do you know what this is?” 

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe. 

“It’s God’s will,” Tobias says rationally. 

The cocks the gun and aims it towards Spencer’s head. If he pulls the trigger he’d shoot him straight in his head. Staring down death, all Spencer can think about is him suggesting that they split up. He was the one who left Y/N, he’s the one that’s responsible.

“You don’t have to do this,” Spencer tries to reason. 

“I’m just an instrument of God. This is your salvation, this is time to repent for your sins,” Tobias says, pulling a chair to sit next time. It’s strange, Spencer thinks, Tobias is not that much older than he is. This job has forced Spencer to think of the countless paths that he could have gone down. Part of him thinks that could have easily been on the other side, the angry part of him, the broken and sad part of him. 

“Tell me your sins, and may God forgive you,” Tobias says, his voice almost as fearful as Spencer feels. 

Spencer closes his eyes, trying to think of all the things he’s done wrong in his life. All the people he’s hurt or the mistakes that he’s made. But at this moment there’s nothing running through his mind by the thought of Y/N. The way she’d hold him after a case or the way that she’d listen to him with light in her eye’s. It’s nice to have someone who cares, Spencer thinks. Or at least it was. 

“I’m a good man, Tobias, I’m a good man. Like you, we catch the bad guys, Tobias--we are the same. We catch the sinners.” Spencer professes, trying anything to get out of here alive. He’d do anything to get back to Y/N. To get back in her warm embrace. 

“We all have our sins, including you. You just need sometime to sort them out,” Tobias says, and like that he’s gone with the wind. 

***

It’s early morning when Spencer wakes up, the sun bleeds through the cracks of the wood panel door. His clothes are caked in his blood and dirt. His hair is stringy and the blood from his ear clogs his hearing. But he’s alive, he's still here, breathing the same air as Y/N. Somehow that’s enough to keep him hoping that she’d find him- save him. 

The door opens with a sudden slam, Tobias walks in carrying a load of logs. There’s something different about him. Spencer thinks that there’s an air of arrogance, an air of superiority in his walk. 

“What are you staring at, boy?” Tobias- or at least the man who looks like Tobias Hankel asks. 

“You’re not Raphael?” Spencer reasons. 

Tobias throws the pile of logs into the box on the floor of the shed. He stands up to his full height, but there’s something that’s taller about him than last night. There’s something more intimating about the man standing before Spencer. 

“Do I look like Raphael to you?” Tobias asks, the sneer so apparent. 

Spencer decides to ignore that, answering this person, whoever he is, is not in his best interest. 

“Thank you for burning these, for keeping us safe,” Spencer says, trying to get on his good side for his sake, so he can go back to Y/N. 

Y/N. If Spencer can just close off his mind and focus on her, he’d be okay. He’d get through this. If he can just close his eyes he can just feel her touch or taste her lips against his. If her kisses make him a sinner then crucify him. Least he’d die a happy man, with the promise of tomorrow with her endless love. 

“Don’t try to trick me, you’re are filthy liar, you’re a disgusting sinner,” 

God, Spencer thinks, waits until he hears that he’s from Vegas and fell in love with a man. Spencer focuses on breathing, not the itch from being dirty with his own blood or not the thought of impending death. 

“It will be over if you confess, boy. Confess your sins!” Tobias yells. 

“I’m not a sinner,” Spencer says, almost defiantly. There’s a surge of strength in Spencer, and he swears that the small memories of Y/N makes him a stronger person. 

“We are all sinners” 

“The Lord spoke unto Moses saying, ‘speak unto all the congregation of the children of the lord’  and say unto them, ye shall be holy, for I, the lord your god, am holy,” Spencer quotes, the fear somehow seeping back into his voice. 

“You know Leviticus,” Tobias says, almost surprised. Yes, Spencer thinks, even heathens can quote the Bible. 

“I know every word of the Bible, I can quote it for you?” Spencer pleads. 

“Even the Devil can read,” Tobias tells him. 

Spencer’s wound bleeds down his neck, the throbbing almost pounds to the beat of his heart.

“It’s time to confess, Spencer Reid,” Tobias whispers, leaning into Spencer. 

“I’m a good man, Tobias. I finally found someone who puts back the pieces. I found someone who loves me, and I can’t leave her like this. I can’t do that to her.” Spencer confesses. 

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs,” Tobias quotes, and as he does his face seems to drift off. It’s like he's there with Spencer, but not there at the same time.

“First Corinthians, Verse 13,” Spencer recites. 

“Hmm, so your parents did raise a believer,” Tobias reckons. 

More or less, Spencer thinks. He might not believe in God the Almighty, some entity in the clouds watching over him, but he does believe in love and maybe even an afterlife. He has to believe in an afterlife, because if he doesn’t he’d fail to give Y/N forever. 

“Yes,” Spencer says, settling on playing the part of a righteous believer. 

“Yes, my parents read me the Bible. They are good people too,” Spencer tells him. 

Spencer’s not really sure what happens next, but the blow to his head makes the world go black and the sweet memories of Y/N fade into the distance. 

*** 

A cool rag presses against Spencer’s head, where he figures where “Tobias” hit him, or whoever was there with him. 

Dissociative Identity Disorder. DID. DSM-5. 300.14 (F44.81). Tobias has three personalities, Spencer thinks. He remembers the day vidily. Reading about DID with Ethan, they sat on the lawn of the park near school. His memories are distrubed by a very confused looking Tobias, who hold bandages and a wet rag. 

“What’s your name?” Spencer asks, hoping that whoever was there last night is gone. 

“Tobias,” he says, almost meekly. Spencer recognizes something in that, somewhere deep inside him, he recognizes the fear that Tobias wears like a shield. The man here last night must have been his father... 

“Who was here last night?” 

“My father, Charles,” Tobias says. “I’m sorry if he hurt you.” 

Tobias turns to reach in his bag, he brings out a vial of clear liquid, a needle and a long piece of cloth. He ties the long piece of cloth around Spencer’s arm, who with a sudden realization fights to get away from Tobias. 

“NO! Please, NO!” Spencer yells, trying his hardest to fend off the inevitable. 

“It helps, Spencer. I’m trying to save you from him! It’s gonna help, it helped me,” Tobias tells him, continuing to tie the fabric in a tight knot above Spencer’s elbow. 

“Please! I don't want it!” Spencer pleads as the room folds in one him, the darkness is not welcoming, it's suffocating. It’s sucking the life out of him and he can’t escape it’s clutches. 

***

There’s another person in this shed, Spencer thinks. He tries to strain his eyes to make out who it is. It’s not Tobias, the shadow is too short for him. 

Y/N. 

She’s wearing a dress, the blue dress that she wore on their first date. He loves that dress on her. He’s sure he’d love any dress or anything she’d put on to wear for their first date, because well, it’s their first date. 

“Spencer,” her voice is even more comforting than usual. It’s syrupy sweet and he feels like he’d get a toothache just from listening. 

“Sweet Spencer, you need to come home to me, okay? Come home to me baby.” 

He tries to call out to her, but it’s futile. She's a ghost, but she looked so real. Maybe he’s the ghost and his eternal damnation is to haunt her. He’s able to see her, but never able to get close enough to feel the way her hands caress his checks or the way her eyes light up at his touches. 

The spooky beauty of his girlfriend is whisked away with the familiar shoots of two tall, skinny figures. His parents. His father sits there on the table with a sneer on his face. His mother has this faraway look on her face. Spencer’s twelve again, listening to his father yell and slam the bedroom door as he rushes out the door, never looking back. 

The shadowy figures are gone as soon as they came and are nothing but a reminder to Spencer that he’s not worthy of love. He feels guilty. He really does, but the needle going into his vein brings back Y/N and for now he wants nothing more, but to see her, even if it’s not real. 

***

Spencer’s not sure if he craves the clear liquid in the vial because he gets to see Y/N or if he craves to see Y/N because gets to the liquid coursing through his veins, the slightest reminder that he’s alive. 

He’s alone in the shed, but there’s a bright green light blinking. A computer, he wonders. Is this the way from the Ninth Circle of Hell? Is this his way home, his way to Y/N? 

His thoughts of home and of their warm bed are interrupted by who he can only assume is Raphael, enough time has passed for him to be rising to the surface. Part of him misses Tobias, they’d probably would have been friends growing up. Two outcasts raised by a parent who meant well, but did do irreparable harm in the end. 

“It’s time to choose,” Raphael announces. He points to the computer screen, which lights up. Spencer can only assume that his face is being streamed across the internet. Garcia, and probably the entire team are watching this, watching him at his lowest moment. He swore that he’d never show Y/N himself like this, even though he knows that she’ll love him still. 

“Choose a member of your team to die. You are all sinners in the end, but it’s time for you to choose who dies.” Raphael tells him, his voice booming, a stark difference from the nervous murmurs of Tobias. 

“No,” Spencer shouts. “Kill me, kill me instead!” 

“Choose or they all die!” Raphael yells. 

Think, Spencer. Think. He looks around at the shed, trying to think of an out. His eyes latch on to the shovel sitting in the corner of the room. That’s new, he realizes. A cemetery, a grave... 

“I choose Y/N,” Spencer says, not truly believing what he’s saying, but praying that she gets the message. 

“Why?” Raphael asks. 

“She’s prideful and careless,” Spencer reasons, trying his hardest to appear nonchalant. 

“Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before the fall,” Raphael quotes. 

“Yes, John 14:27,” Spencer says. And with that his fate and Y/N is sealed. It’s funny in a twisted way, he always knows that his fate would be forever linked to hers, but not just in this way. 

“Come on, boy. Get up,” Raphael orders him. 

Spencer makes it to his feet and the pair make their way into the night. 

***

Spencer’s not sure how far he’s walked, but his feet are numb and he can’t feel anything in his arm. The inside of his arm is littered with marks, a constant reminder of the cravings he’s feeling. No, he tells himself. What he craves is Y/N. He makes his way up the rocky terrain of the cemetery, hoping that she’s on her way to rescue him, hoping that she’s there to wash away the dirt and kiss his scars. 

Raphael is at his side, pulling him along. It's a strange similarity to Dante and Virgil and their journey to the depths of Hell. Maybe in this scenario Spencer isn’t Dante, maybe he’s Beatrice waiting for his Dante to rescue him. 

“Please, I need rest. I’m exhausted,” Spencer tries to argue, but it’s no use. Raphael’s grip on his arm only tightens. 

“Keep moving,” 

They arrive at the cemetery. Spencer is not ready to die. He’s not ready to die and leave Y/N. He wishes he really did believe in God because maybe, maybe he wouldn’t be as scared as he is right now. 

“Dig,” Raphael tells him, tossing the shovel on the ground at Spencer’s feet. 

As if he’s shaking Death’s hand, Spencer reaches down for the shovel and starts to dig. Each deposit in the mountain of dirt is a cry for help. Each time he cracks his neck in pain or rubs his hands in exhaustion is a goodbye kiss for Y/N. 

Spencer stands to his full height. He’s nearly as tall as Tobias, somehow he still feels like a child. 

He suspects that Tobias feels the same way. Maybe one day Spencer will come to regret his choice. Maybe one day Spencer will be grateful that he reached into the very depths of his strength to fight to the very end. 

“Tell Tobias I’m sorry,” Spencer says, the tears flooding his eyes. 

Spencer bangs the back of the shovel against Tobias’s head. His limp body falls to the ground and suddenly he’s terrified that Tobias is somehow still alive. Spencer scrambles for the gun and pulls the trigger. He’s not even sure how many shots he fires but the body is punctured with bloody holes. Spencer, clutches are Tobias’s lifeless body. As if he can squeeze him back to life. 

He thinks he’s imagining it. He thinks that he’s on the brink of death. There’s a light, a soft yellow light beckoning him home. A voice calls out to him, clear and strong, it’s drawing him in and Spencer is crawling from his own grave to the voice that he could recognize anywhere. He’s teetering between Heaven and Hell. Y/N’s voice and light tether him home. 

“Spencer!” she calls. Finally, he thinks. Finally, she’s close; he lets himself believe he’s safe. 

“I’m here!” he shouts, surprised at the force of his voice. 

“Oh Spencer,” she says, running to him. 

She falls to the ground next to him. Spencer is scared that she’s not real, that it’s the drugs in his system again making him believe that she’s nothing but a cruel figment of his mind. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I knew you’d find me. Please forgive me, I didn’t mean it,” Spencer cries, his face tucked into the crook of her neck. 

“Shhh, baby. I’d find you anywhere. Hmm, let’s get you out of here. You are safe now Spencer,” she tells him softly. 

Spencer may not be a man who believes in God but he has to believe in Heaven, because Heaven is holding him in her arms. 

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! 

[organabanana]

What spring does to cherry trees || Supercorp

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Supergirl (TV 2015)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor

Characters: Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor

Additional Tags: mostly fluff, with some porn for flair, pre-canon, but also, post-canon, tooth-rotting fluff.

Summary: I want to do with you what spring does to cherry trees. What does that even mean? It's taking a simple I love you and putting lead-lined glasses on it to keep its power contained. No offense, Mr. Neruda, but that's just weak. Kara doesn't like poetry. Until she does.

Notes: Written for a very patient anon who prompted me with “Seeing the cherry blossoms in Washington DC” but I got sidetracked by Neruda and my favorite of his poems and it turned into This.  It's poem number fourteen, found in "Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada" (Twenty love poems and a song of despair) by Pablo Neruda, which you can read here (Spanish) or here (English). I mostly translated the lines I needed myself, so I can't guarantee they'll match the official translation (I'm also not sure there is such a thing as an official translation, so there's that). With special thanks to the most patient anon in history for the prompt, to @lavenderrry for praising my vibes, and to @emiltons for the gorgeous graphic.

[ao3 link]

The first time Kara encounters Neruda's poetry she's nineteen and bored. In her defense, she thought taking a poetry class would make her feel sophisticated and cultured, but all she feels is annoyed at the insistence of using language to obscure your message rather than share it.

And yes, yes, she gets it. It all sounds very pretty and evocative. It's just Kara has been hiding her true self in plain sight for the last six years, and she can't understand why anyone would willingly and needlessly do that to themselves. To their feelings. She may never have been in love, but Kara is pretty sure if she ever is -- if her heart ever feels full to the brim with the kind of big feelings her professor keeps making them read in metaphors and symbolism -- she'll want to make them clear as day.

I want to do with you what spring does to cherry trees.

What does that even mean?

It's taking a simple I love you and putting lead-lined glasses on it to keep its power contained.

No offense, Mr. Neruda, but that's just weak.

***

Kara doesn't take any more poetry classes, and she doesn't think of Neruda (or any other poet, for that matter) for years. She has so many other things to think about. She moves to National City and starts working for Ms. Grant. She grows into herself, she thinks. She becomes Supergirl and feels more like herself than she has since her pod left Krypton. She dates, a little bit. Dips her toe in the dating pool, if you will. She meets Lena Luthor.

And that's the second time she runs into Neruda. Right there on a shelf in Lena's living room, on a book that looks well loved and well read, spine full of small cracks and lines from being opened over and over again. Kara has always thought you can tell a lot about a person by looking at their shelves.  

"Pablo Neruda," Kara says, one finger tracing a line down the spine of the book like she's trying to read something in the pattern of the cracks, "I didn't know you liked poetry."

"I don't dislike it." Lena's heels click-clack on the hardwood floor before she sets the bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table and sits on the couch. "Have you made up your mind on what we're going to watch?"

Kara can hear the faint electrical hum of the TV being turned on, but she's a bit too distracted by the book to focus on deciding whether tonight is a night for a romantic comedy or an epic drama. She couldn't say exactly why this book feels important. It just does. Maybe it's because Lena keeps so much of herself hidden somewhere not even Kara's X-Ray vision can reach, and finding little clues about her thoughts and feelings feels a lot like she's struck gold.

Yeah. Maybe that's why.

Her fascination with the book only grows when she pulls it out of the shelf only to find the title written in Spanish. "Veinte poemas de amor--"

"And a song of despair," Lena finishes in English. "Atonement? I've heard good things about it."

"No way. I said I could be persuaded to watch a tear jerker, but I did not sign up for actual depression." Kara brings the book along when she walks over to sit down next to Lena. She's so focused on the book, still, that she miscalculates her landing just by an inch or so and her thigh bumps against Lena's as she settles on the couch. But Lena doesn't move away, and Kara figures there's no reason why she should. They're friends, after all. Close friends. Figuratively and now very, very literally close.

"I didn't know you spoke Spanish." Kara speaks again, breaking the silence before it solidifies into something potentially awkward.

"I don't. It's a bilingual edition. Can we please pick a movie?"

Kara would love to do exactly what Lena wants. In fact, giving Lena everything she wants has become sort of a constant in this fledgling friendship between them. It just feels nice, you know? Giving her what she wants and making her smile. But this book. It's all so very distracting.

"So. Do you prefer the twenty love poems, or the song of despair?"

Lena rolls her eyes, but she can't quite hide the amused smirk behind the glass when she sips her wine, so Kara knows she's not nearly as annoyed as she's trying to appear.

"What is it with you and Neruda? I didn't know you were a poetry fan."

Kara scoffs. "I'm not." She still remembers the feeling of relief washing over her when she saw her passing grade on that stupid course and realized she'd never have to read another line of poetry in her life. "I don't even like poetry. I'm just curious, that's all."

Lena cocks one eyebrow at her. Studies her, in a way that makes color rise to Kara's cheeks and has her wondering if Lena can see through people, too. 

"Anyway!" Kara shakes her head like she's hoping that'll make the blush fade. "The love poems, or the song of despair?"

"The poems," Lena finally concedes, "and I'm very surprised you don't like poetry. You seem the type."

"What?" Kara is already thumbing through the edge of the book, trying to find the place where it'll open naturally and hopefully show her which of the twenty love poems Lena happens to like the most. "What does that even mean?"

"Well, you have a big heart. Big feelings." Lena looks into Kara's eyes like she's trying to read all those feelings right there in shades of blue, and Kara finds herself looking down at the book just in case. Just in case all those big feelings she can't even name herself are there for Lena to read. "Seems like a recipe for liking poetry."

Kara shakes her head and pushes her glasses up, just in case. Just in case the lead in them can shield more than just her powers. And just as she's about to argue -- just as she's about to tell Lena precisely why she doesn't like poetry -- she opens her book and her gaze lands on a familiar phrase.

"Quiero hacer contigo," she reads out loud from the page on the left, and her fingertip is already finding the next verse on the right when Lena finishes for her.

"What spring does to cherry trees."

If Kara was just Kara Danvers, she'd have missed it all. She'd have just heard her best friend speak a line from a poem that -- much like most poems -- means very little to her. But she's not just Kara Danvers. So Kara hears the way Lena's heart beats just a little bit faster. The way her breath catches just so. The exact fraction of a tone her voice drops when she speaks. The faintest hint of a sigh.

"See? This is why I don't like poetry." Kara chances a look into green eyes, and she's so very grateful Lena has no superhearing to tip her off to the way Kara's heart seems to trip all over itself.  "'I want to do with you what spring does to cherry trees'. What does that mean?"

Kara swears -- she swears -- she catches Lena's pupils dilating just enough to make her think she knows exactly what the poem means. 

"It's not about what it means, Kara. It's about what it makes you feel." Lena lets out a soft chuckle, something light and airy like this is just a silly little conversation with no weight to it at all. Like she can't feel the way the air itself seems to have changed into something new. 

"Is it your favorite line?" Kara pretends she can't hear the way her own voice has changed, too.

Lena shakes her head. "No. My favorite is actually--"

Kara hears the DEO alarm before Lena's fingertip can make contact with the paper, and she almost considers ignoring it. She almost considers letting whatever danger is looming over this whole city have at it because finding out what's Lena's favorite line in her favorite poem seems far more important right now.

But of course, that would be crazy. Crazy! Kara would never.

"I'm so sorry, Lena, I--" Kara stands up, already hearing Alex's voice telling her where she's needed as she pulls her phone out of her pocket and pretends to read a text, "I have to go. I forgot I had this thing with--"

"Go." Lena's smile is just small enough to make Kara's heart twist in an uncomfortable way that's become familiar since she started lying to her friend. "Sounds important. I understand."

Kara nods, just once. "Tomorrow?"

Lena's smile doesn't grow, but it suddenly reaches her eyes, and something settles in Kara's chest. "Of course. Tomorrow."

Five hours later, foe defeated and safely locked away at the DEO, Supergirl touches down on Lena's balcony. There isn't a single light on inside the apartment, and Kara hesitates for a second by the sliding glass door. She shouldn't sneak into Lena's apartment in the middle of the night. That's a little creepy, right? Even if she knows Lena's said over and over again Kara's welcome any time.

It's just.

That book.

Lena's favorite line.

Kara may never be able to sleep again if she doesn't find out what it is.

So with a non-zero amount of shame at her own choice, Kara ends up sliding the door open and slipping into Lena's living space. She listens for Lena's breathing to make sure she's asleep, and once she's satisfied that's the case she makes a beeline for the shelf and the now-familiar book. It doesn't take her long to find the page she'd been reading before, and soon enough she's reading the lines Lena had been pointing to.

How you must have hurt getting used to me, to my savage, solitary soul, to my name that sends everyone running.

The words wrap around Kara's heart like a vice. If she could do it without blowing her cover and putting Lena in danger, she'd go in her room right now just to wake her up and tell her what Kara thinks about her soul. About her name, too, while she's at it. She'd tell her everyone else is free to run if they want, but Kara isn't going anywhere. 

But she can't do any of those things. 

***

The two lines stay with Kara, sort of swirling under the surface of her thoughts. She never actively thinks about them -- about poetry in general, for that matter -- but they're there. 

She remembers them sometimes. When their friendship grows and strengthens and one day Kara realizes Lena may be the person she loves the most in the world (tied with Alex). When the secrets and lies catch up with her and she thinks she may have lost Lena for good. When she finally gets Lena back.

It's been five years since she snuck into Lena's apartment that one night to find out about her favorite line in her favorite poem. Five years since she's actively thought about Neruda and the book and the words inside it. But for some reason, when Kara wakes up a couple hours earlier than she needs to and finds herself unable to sleep, she feels like that's precisely what she needs to read to soothe her brain. Maybe poetry will have the same sedative effect it used to have in college.

Wearing only an old t-shirt, Kara walks out of the bedroom and into the living area, scanning the shelves where she thinks she last saw that book. It's hard to keep track when your book collection has multiplied and turned into more of a home library situation than anything else, but she eventually finds it -- spine still cracked and pages still well-loved and well-read -- and settles down on the couch.

Kara flips from poem to poem, not really paying attention to any of them. A line from the third and then two from the eighteenth and a word or two from the seventh, eyes flicking between the Spanish lines and their English counterparts on the other side of the page. It's soothing, in a strange way. Like white noise, she figures. Nonsensical but calming. Until she lands on the fourteenth. 

"Oh, those cherry trees," Kara half-groans in a whisper. The cherry trees and the spring and the convoluted way to say I love you. And Lena's favorite lines. 

Kara feels it all over again. The pang of pain at the sight of that line.

My name that sends everyone running.

It lands different this time, five years into a friendship that turned out to be so much more and nearly went up in flames at one point. Because of names and lies and... well. Everything else. Lena was right after all, wasn't she? It's not about what the poem means. It's about what it makes you feel. And right now Kara feels a lot more than she'd be able to put in words if she had to.

Maybe Mr. Neruda was on to something after all.

"Hey," Lena's voice is laced with sleep, and Kara smiles as she listens to her footsteps bringing her closer, "what are you doing? It's the middle of the night."

Kara wouldn't call it the middle of the night -- more like a very early morning, really -- but she's not about to argue. "Reading. I couldn't sleep."

"Everything all right?" Lena reaches the back of the couch and makes the most of the rare height advantage over her girlfriend to press a kiss to the top of blond hair. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

Kara opens her arms before Lena can even think about sitting next to her instead, and smiles at the familiar weight of Lena sliding onto her lap. Even as she shrugs off Lena's question, Kara is already burying her face against the soft skin of her girlfriend's neck, breathing her in and letting the familiar scent filling her lungs soothe her like no amount of poetry ever could.

"Kara," Lena's fingers slide into blond hair, blunt fingernails scratching at Kara's scalp and making her hum in delight, "that's not an answer."

"No reason. I'm just not tired anymore I guess." A deep, content sigh. "Baby, you're so good at that."

There's still a slight crease between Lena's eyebrows, but that doesn't stop the smile Kara's praise brings to her face. "You'd tell me if I had to worry?"

Reluctantly, Kara pulls away from the warmth of Lena's neck. Her arms wrap around Lena's waist as she looks into green eyes. "You know I would."

And Kara watches Lena let the words sink in. They've had this conversation before, and Kara knows they'll have it again. They both have sore spots that need special care from time to time. And just to keep Lena's mind from going down any sort of rabbit hole, Kara decides it's time to continue a conversation they left unfinished five years ago.

"It didn't hurt at all, you know. Getting used to you." Kara shows Lena the book she's been holding, and grins when Lena smirks as the reference clicks.

"I thought you didn't like poetry," Lena chides, taking the book and flipping through the pages until she lands -- unsurprisingly, if you ask Kara -- back on poem fourteen.

"I don't. It's like... giving feelings a secret identity."

Lena arches one eyebrow, looking somewhere between amused and curious. "Care to explain?"

"Well, you know," Kara leans in to steal a quick, soft kiss, "say I want to kiss you. I can just say it. That's better than hiding it behind some kind of... flowery metaphor that'll make you wonder if I'm even saying that in the first place. Right?"

There's this look on Lena's face. Kara knows it well. It's like a challenge. Like she's playing chess and she's already thinking six moves ahead and knows you're toast whatever you do from that point on. Kara finds it nothing short of delicious.

"So you're saying," Lena says, and there's victory right there simmering under the surface of her words because she knows -- she knows -- she's won, "you'd rather I say 'this is a lovely sunrise we get to see together'," Lena's gaze drops to the open book in her hand to refresh her memory on the line she's about to quote, but she makes sure she's looking into blue eyes once again when she speaks, "than 'so many times we've watched the morning star burn, kissing our eyes, and over our heads the grey light unwind in turning fans', right?"

Kara swallows, hard. Her cheeks burn with a blush that will simply not be contained, no matter how hard she tries to keep some semblance of dignity. Her mouth feels dry all of a sudden, heart beating just fast enough -- hard enough -- that she's sure even Lena's plain human hearing can pick it up. And the look on her girlfriend's face lets Kara know she knows exactly what's currently happening to her.

"W-- well." Kara blinks, shaking her head like she's trying to physically clear the fog inside. To her credit, she thinks she manages to sound more indignant than turned on. "I mean that's unfair. You made it hot."

Lena lets out a delighted chuckle that hits Kara right in her heart, like a little pinball ball making it ding with the knowledge that Lena Luthor is happy enough to laugh. Really, truly laugh. 

"What?" Lena asks, still grinning, fingertips teasing the soft hairs at the back of Kara's neck like it's nothing -- like she doesn't know what she's doing to her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Ohh no, ma'am," Kara grins, cheeks still burning with the feeling simmering down low in her belly but too charmed by her girlfriend's teasing smile to stop, "you don't get to pretend you didn't do that on purpose."

"Kara," Lena says, in that way, because she knows, she knows, she knows Kara's weaknesses so perfectly well, and Kara wouldn't have it any other way, "I was just quoting Neruda, I didn't do anything."

"You did the voice thing!" 

"What voice th-- Kara, if you can't just admit plain language and poetic language are simply not on the same level I--"

"You purred the words! How is that fair!?"

Kara presses her lips together like she can retroactively keep the words from exiting her mouth. Too late, though. Lena looks positively delighted.

"I purred the words?" Lena echoes, barely able to keep a straight face. Actually, you know what? Scratch that. She's openly pleased with herself. Smug, even.

"I mean. I mean," Kara says, and she touches the bridge of her nose with one fingertip because for a moment she's forgotten there are no glasses to push up at all, "obviously it's not the same. Poetry and prose, they're inherently--"

"Different, right," Lena finishes Kara's thought, "so you see how you'd use one or the other depending on how emotionally charged--"

Kara shakes her head. "But you don't need flowery metaphors to convey emotion! You can just say what you mean and mean what you say."

"But you just said it yourself. It felt different when I just said it's a sunset, and when I quoted--"

"You purred poetry at me, Lena, of course I'm going to feel a certain kind of way!"

And there it is. Kara feels it in her bones. The checkmate Lena had seen coming a mile away. She sees it right there in the smirk on her girlfriend's face. In the way Lena's pupils dilate just so. The way her tongue peeks out to lick her lips as she looks at Kara like she's lunch.

Or, you know. Breakfast, as the case may be.

"You feel a certain kind of way?" Lena shifts on Kara's lap and they've been together for long enough that Kara absolutely knows there's nothing innocent or coincidental in the way Lena's night shirt (Kara's high school gym t-shirt, mind you) rides up to expose Lena's lace-covered ass. "What kind of way is that, Supergirl?"

Kara perks up at the sound of her name. Her other name. Because maybe it wasn't checkmate after all. Maybe it was just check. Because the thing is, it's not just Lena knowing all of Kara's weaknesses. That knowledge very much goes both ways. And Lena calling her Supergirl? 

Oh, Kara is absolutely not the only one who's feeling a certain way.

"You know." Kara shrugs slightly, pretending to still be the mouse in this little game. She rests one hand on Lena's knee and lets her palm slide up her thigh, slowly, listening to Lena's heartbeat speeding up with each inch of skin Kara explores. "You know the way I mean."

Lena's breath hitches just so when Kara's hand slides further up, and Kara savors the sound of Lena's heart tripping over itself when her fingertips drag along damp lace.

"You're listening, aren't you?" Lena cocks her eyebrow, but her lips stay parted and her breathing comes in short, warm puffs so the whole thing really doesn't come off as stern as Kara is sure Lena would like. 

"Hmm?" Kara knows she's probably pushing her luck, but she bats her eyelashes anyway, her face the very picture of innocence as if her fingertips weren't tracing the very edge of Lena's panties, hinting at what they could (will) do if she just happened to push that fabric aside. "Listening to what, baby?"

Lena tries not to -- Kara can see the struggle right there in her eyes -- but she whimpers anyway, quiet and just barely audible to the human ear. 

"Kara." It tries to sound like a warning, but it falls just this side of pleading instead. Lena blushes so very pretty when she's feeling a certain kind of way.

"Yes, Lena?" 

"You're listening," a breath, slow and measured like she wishes she could take in a deep one but her lungs can't quite cope with that right now, "to me."

"Well, I mean," Kara shrugs slightly, like she can't feel the warmth of Lena's pussy against her fingertips, "I try to. I feel like it's good girlfriend etiquette."

Lena is trying so hard to look at least moderately annoyed. It's not working at all, but Kara can see that's her intent. She also knows exactly what Lena means, too. She means Kara is listening to her. To the beat of her heart and the air in her lungs and all the tiny, inaudible (for everyone else) sounds that tell her exactly how much Lena wants her. 

"You're listening to what you're doing to me." Lena drops the book on the floor to wrap both hands around Kara's neck, hips shifting forward just enough to get more contact with Kara's hand between her legs. Kara knows Lena doesn't need superhearing to notice the way Kara's breath catches in her throat. 

"And what am I doing to you, baby?" Kara won't cross the barrier of Lena's panties just yet, but her fingers becomes more purposeful, less teasing as two fingertips press against Lena's clit through damp lace. Lena's eyes flutter closed and she takes in a sharp breath that sounds almost like a gasp, and Kara rewards such a gorgeous sound with a kiss to Lena's jaw. "What Spring does to cherry trees?"

Lena must feel Kara's teasing grin even if she can't see it, because she lets out a breathless chuckle even as her hips start rocking to meet the movements of Kara's fingers. "Just admit poetry can express richer emotions than prose ever cou--"

Kara's mouth is on Lena's before she can finish her thought, and Kara would maybe feel a bit guilty for interrupting, but Lena's fingers fist in blond hair and pull her close and there's no way someone who's offended would kiss her like that. And Kara isn't even listening anymore, because Lena's tongue is in her mouth and all she can hear is her own heart thumping along anyway.

When she breaks the kiss, Lena keeps Kara close. She's panting slightly, breath hot and wet against Kara's lips and pupils so dilated Kara wonders if she can see her at all. A quiet, hitched moan escapes parted lips, and Kara swears there's nothing in the world -- in the universe, really -- more beautiful than Lena when she's like this. Like putty in her hands. And Kara just can't resist. 

"Admit you purred," she whispers against kiss-swollen lips, knowing if there's one chance for her to win an argument with her girlfriend this must be it. When she has Lena rocking against her fingers, wet and wanting and just the right amount of needy to get her to give in, for once. 

"Kara." It's practically a whine, and Kara swears it sounds like victory. Until she sees the glint in her girlfriend's eyes, and Lena gets her checkmate move after all. "Shut up and fuck me."

Kara feels the words rather than hears them. They hit right between her legs and spread all over her body, and you know what? Kara really is okay with losing under these particular circumstances.

Two fingers hook under the crotch of Lena's panties and Kara tugs lightly, almost like she's testing the strength of the lacy fabric. "Do you really like the..." Kara's voice trails off as Lena pulls the t-shirt up and over her head, blue eyes staring unabashedly at her girlfriends breasts as she struggles to finish her thought, "...these?"

It's just polite to ask before tearing someone's panties to shreds, if you ask her, even if you're currently transfixed at the sight of her breasts.

"I don't care." Lena's voice is doing that thing again, except this time Kara is pretty sure she's not doing it on purpose at all, it's just that's what Lena sounds like when she needs Kara now and isn't that just the best thing ever? "Baby, please, I don't care."

Kara doesn't know if she rips the panties off first and then leans in to catch Lena's left nipple with her mouth or if it happens the other way around, but she honestly doesn't care either, as it turns out. All she knows is two fingers slip inside Lena in one smooth, firm thrust, and her free hand grabs Lena's right breast, and then--

"More," Lena moans, breathy and greedy, but when Kara starts thrusting harder into her Lena shakes her head, "no, no-- more fingers," and Kara lets out a quiet whimper around the stiff nipple between her teeth. 

Kara pulls her fingers out of Lena and stretches her ring finger to join the first two before sliding them back inside. Her movements are slow and careful, all of her senses focused on detecting even the slightest hint of discomfort in her girlfriend until her three fingers are fully inside Lena. 

"Go on, Supergirl." 

Lena's tone is just the right amount of teasing to make Kara chuckle lightly, mouth leaving Lena's breast to trail kisses up her sternum and to the freckles on her neck as her arm starts pumping once again. She's so very close, Kara can tell, and even more so when she turns her wrist just so to press the pad of her thumb against Lena's clit.

Lena's fingers dig into Kara's scalp, into the strong muscle at her shoulder as Lena holds on and rides Kara's hand, hips rocking hard and fast in time with Kara's thrusts. Kara couldn't listen to any one thing if she tried. It's a symphony of sighs and moans, whimpers and ragged breaths and stuttering heartbeats that nearly overwhelms her senses until she feels Lena clench around her fingers, hips losing their rhythm as Lena comes with Kara's name on her lips.

Kara pulls her face away from Lena's neck just so she can look at her. Watch her come around her fingers and then relax, chest heaving with the effort of trying to catch her breath. Kara swears there can't be a more beautiful sight in the universe, especially not now, with the sun rising and bathing Lena's damp skin in early morning light. And as much as Kara tries to suppress it, there's a thought running through her head. A line from that stupid poem with its stupid cherry trees.

A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body... 

"You're thinking very loudly," Lena whispers, already resting her head on Kara's shoulder as her fingertips play with the hem of Kara's shirt, "what are you thinking?"

For a second, Kara considers telling her, but Neruda's words aren't what comes out when she opens her mouth. "Just how beautiful you look," she says, which is in fact the truth. Kind of. She can't let Lena win every single time, right?

***

"Apparently the first cherry trees got here in 1910, but they had to burn them all because of a bunch of insects." Kara holds the little guide book in her hand as she reads, her other hand safely in Lena's as they walk along the Tidal Basin. "These ones are newer, from 1912."

 "Oh, like the Titanic!" Lena looks delighted with the coincidence, and the bright smile on her face makes Kara lean in to steal a kiss from her lips. Her fiancée is super cute when she lets her inner dork show, if you ask Kara.

"See? I told you buying an actual guide book would be worth it!" Kara holds the small book in her hand with the pride of someone who's just won an argument (for once). "Where else are you going to get that kind of high quality trivia?"

"You do know the prototype L-Corp keychain I gave you last week can access Google, yes?"

"Not the same."

"Not to mention the actual supercomputers we all carry around in our pockets. Or the high-tech communicator in your wat--"

"Lena!" Kara groans. "Look around! The cherry blossoms! The quaintness of springtime! A romantic stroll along the river! Where's your sense of romance?"

Lena chuckles lightly, her free hand sliding up Kara's arm to wrap around her bicep. And Kara would complain about the obvious use of one of her many Lena-related weaknesses, but you know what? It works.

"Kara Danvers," Lena says, voice low and teasing, "that's all very poetic."

Kara rolls her eyes, but she can't quite stop the bright smile that's already appearing on her face. "Don't you start with me," she warns, not very convincingly. 

Lena presses a kiss to Kara's shoulder, and it makes color rise to Kara's cheeks even through the soft fabric of her cardigan. Even after all these years. But she figures if there's one day to be particularly enamored with one's fiancée, that's the day she's scheduled to receive a Presidential Award for her contributions to science and the betterment of humanity.

Not to brag. But Kara is proud.

"I love you," Kara says, because she can't not, "and I'm just so proud, I--"

Lena presses a finger to Kara's lips, stopping what was potentially about to turn into a whole speech about the many ways in which Lena Luthor could not possibly be any more perfect if she tried. 

"Kara," Lena warns, all cocked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips, "you promised. You promised you wouldn't cry before the actual ceremony."

And Kara would argue. She'd argue that she's perfectly capable of going on about Lena's many virtues without actually crying, but you know what? Her eyes are feeling just a tiny bit misty already so she's just gonna go ahead and trust Lena on this one.

"You know what I also love?" Kara presses a kiss to the pad of Lena's finger and obediently changes subjects. "Sushi. Let's go get some." Kara starts walking away from the beautiful soft pink trees and in the general direction of the street festival, tugging Lena along. She's all for the romance of blossom-watching, but she'd be lying if she said hearing about the culinary side of this whole festival hadn't excited her a bit more than that.

It's only when she hears a sigh coming from Lena that Kara's focus shifts from food to the woman next to her. That wasn't a happy sigh. 

"Are you okay, baby?"

Lena smiles. It's not a fake smile, but there's a hint of something in it that isn't fully happy, either. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine. It's just... between the cherry blossoms and all this talk of sushi, I guess it made me a bit nostalgic for Sendai." 

"Sendai?" Kara looks at Lena with curiosity written all over her face. "What's Sendai?"

"Oh, it's a city in Japan. I lived there for a few months for an exchange when I was in college. Did I never tell you?" Kara shakes her head, her face the picture of delight at getting to learn something new about Lena. "There was this little restaurant near Tohokudai, I swear they had the best sushi in the world." Lena hums, letting her eyes flutter closed for a second like she's trying to imagine the taste. "I'd do anything for some negitoro maki from that place right about now."

Kara listens intently to her fiancée's words. She knows it's just a silly little comment. She knows Lena will be perfectly happy eating the undoubtedly delicious sushi currently being sold at the street festival. And yet.

She can't resist a chance to make Lena just that little bit happier, can she? 

So Kara looks around to make sure they're not being watched, and lets go of Lena's hand. "Be right back."

"Where are you--?"

But all Lena gets is a quick kiss and a gust of wind on her face before Kara disappears.

She's only gone for a couple of minutes -- just enough for Lena to wander back towards the cherry trees -- and when she comes back she's holding a small box which she immediately presents to Lena.

"Sushi for my... sushi," Kara lets out a chuckle, her now-free hand coming up to scratch at the back of her head like she's aware she may have gone just a little bit overboard but she's hoping it won't be too much, "Sendai's beautiful, by the way."

Lena's smile is soft, and Kara has a feeling -- not to toot her own horn -- if she'd been listening she would've heard Lena's heart skip a beat. 

"Kara Danvers," Lena sighs, shaking her head like that'll do anything to hide just how charmed she is right now, "you're something el-- what's that?"

"Nothing," Kara shifts slightly and puts her hand -- and the little carton box it's holding -- behind her back, fully intending on letting the focus of this moment be on her romantic gesture, but Lena raises one eyebrow and Kara loses her resolve. "Potstickers." Kara's voice is quiet as she shows Lena the box. "What? I was in the neighborhood!"

"In the neighborhood of," Lena squints slightly as she reads the words on the box, "Shanghai?"

"Well, China is next door to Japan, if you think about it."

Lena chuckles, clearly too charmed by this whole thing to even continue teasing Kara about it. "Thank you. For this. You didn't actually have to fly all the way to Japan to get my favorite sushi, but I appreciate it."

Kara shrugs, chopsticks already grabbing the first potsticker in the box. "I'd go way farther than Japan to make you happy. You know that."

"I do know," Lena nods, looking just a little thoughtful, like she's just now realizing she fully believes Kara would stop at nothing to make her happy, "you even promised when you proposed."

Lena wiggles her finger, flashing the kryptium ring that's been there for a few weeks now along with a teasing smile, and Kara can only shrug. "Well, I meant it," she says, popping the potsticker in her mouth and leaning against the trunk of a nearby cherry tree.

"I know," Lena says again, but this time she's smiling, amusement shining in her eyes, "if only Lex had figured out the one true way to have the world in the palm of your hand is to make a Kryptonian fall in love with you."

"To be fair, I really don't think your brother is Kal's type."

***

Eight hours later, they're seeing the Tidal Basin from above, the cherry blossoms looking nearly white in the moonlight. They could be in National City already, but Kara figures there's no reason why she can't take the scenic route with Lena in her arms and enjoy the view without the crowds and the bustle they experienced earlier today. Perks of being your own private jet.

"Go a bit lower, baby," Lena's voice is soft against Kara's ear, like she's afraid if she speaks too loud she'll break the spell and they won't feel like the only two people in the world anymore, "I want to see the flowers."

Kara doesn't make her wait. Lena's just been awarded an actual medal by the President, and spoiling her a little is the least Kara can do. So she dips until they're hovering just above the soft pink blossoms and then a little lower still, close enough that Lena can smell the sweet, fresh scent of Spring.

The night is clear and quiet, just cool enough for Lena to reach for Kara's cape and pull it forward to wrap it around herself. Kara holds her a little closer, just enough to hopefully provide a bit of extra warmth, and she figures it was the right move when Lena slips one arm from under Kara's cape to reach for the tree and pick a particularly pretty blossom from one of the branches that's closer to them.

Lena looks at it for a moment, twirling the little stem between her fingers like she's pondering what to do with it. And then she turns and tucks Kara's hair behind her ear, sliding the small flower between soft blond strands and smiling when she's satisfied it'll stay exactly where she wants it.

"Happy?" Kara chuckles, something soft and quiet and a little teasing because there's something equal parts amusing and endearing about Lena's perfectionism when it comes to silly little things like putting a flower in Kara's hair.

"Very."

And there's something about the way Lena smiles, more with her eyes than with her mouth, that makes Kara see, clear as day, just how serious Lena is. How sincere, when she says she's very happy. 

Maybe that's why Kara gets a little transfixed just looking at her, suddenly aware of just how different this Lena -- the Lena wrapped in her arms and her cape, wearing her ring and smiling with a smile that's just Kara's -- is from the Lena she first met all those years ago.

"Kara Zor-El," Lena's voice is soft just like the sound of Kara's true name on her lips, "what are you thinking about?"

And Kara wishes she had the words to tell her. But how does she even begin to explain what she's feeling right now? How she's still the same Lena that made Kara's heart trip all over itself the first time she saw her, but she's so very different all the same time. Brighter. Lighter. Loved. God, she's so loved, and Lena knows it, finally, and that's what's different, maybe. Not just Kara's love, because Lena's had that from the very first day, probably, but the fact that Lena can feel it now. 

How do you put that in words? I love you just doesn't feel like enough. 

And then it hits her.

"I'm thinking," Kara smiles, cheeks pink with the knowledge that she's just been proven wrong, "about what Spring does to cherry trees."

[talatomaz]

crossing paths pt.i | diana prince x lance!reader

a/n: reader has the powers of telekinesis. since this was going to be really long, i decided to split it into two parts. also this may be slightly canon divergent since i’ve not watched flash in a long time.

warnings: mentions of fighting, death

word count: 1.9k

masterlist | request list | request rules

pt.i | pt.ii

reader is sara & laurel’s younger sister who works with team flash. after her and cisco’s experiment goes sideways, she finds herself trapped on an unknown earth not unlike her own

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“You’re absolutely sure this will work, Cisco?”

You asked, tying your hair up into a ponytail whilst the mechanical genius typed on his computer; the keys clacking under his fingertips.

“Yes. 100%. Well, more like 99%. Okay, if we’re being truly honest, then 93%.”

Cisco paused after each figure before turning his head to face you.

“Cisco-“

You started before the former interrupted, “Trust me, y/n. You’ll be fine. You just need to travel there, have a look around and then come straight back. We’ve done it so many times before.”

You and Cisco had been working on modifying the extrapolator your team often used to travel between different Earths. Or rather, you used to use them before the rebirth of the universe following Oliver’s sacrifice.

You cleared your throat at the thought of the vigilante. Having grown up with him and he having dated both of your older sisters meant that he was practically like your brother. And you were broken when you’d lost him so you’d left Team Arrow and came to work with Barry and his team instead.

Working with Team Flash was...different, to say the least. But having known them for several years, you got on well with them all, especially Cisco and Iris.

However, this project you were working on was only known to you and Cisco; the others blissfully unaware, mainly because the two of you knew that if you told them, they’d guilt you into stopping your experiment.

You were the one who had gone to Cisco with the idea in the first place.

After the Crisis, many of you had assumed that everyone solely remained on one Earth however you believed that the multiverse still existed, but that it’d be much harder to access. Cisco had agreed to help you but had explained that he wouldn’t come with you due to his relinquished powers.

So here you were, getting ready to try out the extrapolator in order to confirm or disprove your theory that the multiverse still existed.

“Technically, we haven’t, Cisco. New Earth remember?”

“That’s just semantics.”

“Cisco, if this doesn’t work, you better be ready to explain to my ex-assassin of a sister what happened to me.”

You laughed as his face dropped at the thought of that conversation.

He cleared his throat, “I’ve done all the necessary calculations and made a few needed modifications, including a GPS chip. It’ll work, y/n. Here, take your mask. Just in case.”

He added as an afterthought, handing you the sleek black mask he had designed to disguise your identity.

You put the mask in your jacket and took a deep breath, readying yourself. Holding the extrapolator, you pressed the small button and a familiar portal opened in front of you; variations of colours swirling around the breach.

You looked back at Cisco and feigned seriousness, “If I die, I’m going to kill you.”

His eyes widened making you smile, ��Be safe, Cisco. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you then stepped into the inter-dimensional breach.

***

“Okay, hopefully this worked.”

The breach closed behind you as you stepped into an alley; the several dumpsters providing some form of protection from anyone who may have seen you.

Wherever you were, it was bright and sunny.

Pocketing the extrapolator, you stepped out of the alley and walked down the paved sidewalk, listening for any indications of where you were from passersby.

You continued walking until you came across a newsstand that looked fairly out of place in this seemingly technological environment.

You stopped, peering at the front cover of one of the magazines.

The words “DAILY PLANET” were printed on the top of the paper. You reached down and picked it up, flicking through the pages, pausing when you saw a familiar name on the byline.

Folding the paper back into its original state, you placed it back on the stand, flashing a kind but brief smile to the newsagent who looked at you with intrigue.

Although you didn’t know what Earth you were on, at least you knew you were in Metropolis.

A place you had visited several times since the rebirth of the universe.

A place that, despite whatever Earth, was always home to one Clark Kent, better known as Superman.

You pondered in your thoughts for a little while longer before deciding to venture out and explore the city, eager to find any similarities or differences between your Earth and this one.

You ended up in a museum.

You weren’t sure exactly how you’d gotten there, having followed wherever your feet had taken you but, nevertheless, you were here.

Whilst you were never a huge fan of museums, you’d often found yourself being dragged to them by Laurel when you were younger.

There was something about them that she’d loved.

She tried explaining it to you once.

How the beauty of art told a story or something.

You didn’t really pay much attention and who could have blamed you? You were only 10 years old. You’d rather be out playing or hanging out with your friends than spending your Saturday afternoon in a stuffy old museum.

But this place was anything but.

In truth, you knew that you sought solace in places like these during times of distress or uncertainty.

It gave you a chance to feel closer to your sister after the world had cruelly taken her away from you. Even on another Earth, you still found peace and felt her presence next to you.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging before tensing once more, feeling someone behind you.

You never used to be so on edge.

When you were younger, you lived such a care free life, never feeling any need to be concerned or cautious.

But that had changed quickly.

Soon you had been thrust into the vigilante life, more determined than ever to become like your sisters and help them fight crime.

In fact, you had learned to fight from a reluctant Sara.

After several arguments about the danger of her world, she’d come to accept that there was no changing your mind and had decided that if you were going to purposely put yourself in harm’s way, you needed to be prepared. She had put you through vigorous training which Oliver soon picked up with you after Sara had been recruited to form the Legends.

So, suffice it to say, you were well-versed in the forms of self-defence and were constantly on the lookout for any form of danger.

And being on a different Earth certainly warranted your caution.

“How are you liking our exhibit?”

A feminine voice said, her voice thick with an accent you couldn’t distinguish.

Turning with a smile, you spoke, “It’s beautiful. I never used to appreciate art but now I find myself lost in the works of Rembrandt or Claude Monet.”

“Ah yes. They were most excellent artists.”

You blinked, not at her words but at her face.

The woman who stood before you was, quite simply put, the most beautiful person you’d ever seen in your life.

Realising you were staring, you cleared your throat, “Yes, I agree.”

You opened your mouth to say something else - what, you weren’t sure of - when you closed it again having spotted a man who’d just entered the room which held the small exhibit.

The figure wore a black cap, obstructing his face, his eyes darting around before landing on another male situated in one of the corners of the room. The latter gave him a brief nod which the other returned. Discreetly glancing at them, you noticed familiar bulges beneath their shirt, surely holding a gun.

“Okay, don’t be alarmed but I think this place is about to get robbed.” You said in a hushed whisper, faking interest in another piece of art beside you.

You noted the small but discernible flicker in the woman’s eyes, her name still unknown to you.

“How-“

“Let’s just say I’m perceptive. Do me a favour and take out your phone.”

You waited until the brunette had followed your instructions.

“Pretend to be talking to someone and walk out the room. They’re not going to do anything until you’re gone because they don’t want to run the risk of you warning someone.”

She nodded at your words and proceeded to carry out your plan.

You fought the look of surprise and confusion that surely would’ve shown on your face at the lack of fear on hers. Instead, her eyes seemed to hold a look of determination.

Determined to do what, you weren’t sure of.

Once she had left, your suspicions were confirmed when the two men simultaneously took out their guns and shouted.

“Everybody down on the ground. Now!”

Screams and shouts were let out by the small group of citizens in the room, replacing the quiet bustle of hushed whispers that had previously filled the air.

As everyone immediately fell to the ground, you slid down the wall until you were in an upright position.

You watched as they removed several of the smaller pieces of art, carefully placing them in a duffel bag. You waited until they grew closer to you before standing up causing both of their guns to be aimed at you.

“Sit back down or you’ll get a bullet in your pretty little head.”

They both moved to stand in front of you, blocking you from the view of the security cameras and the people behind them. Using your powers, you pulled the guns toward you and flung them to the far side of the room.

You took advantage of their momentary confusion and kicked both of them. One of them grabbed you from behind, his tight grip trapping your arms. You raised your legs and caged the other’s neck between them.

Twisting your legs, you threw him to the ground and then drew yourself closer into your captor’s arms, lifting off the ground for a brief second before throwing him over your shoulders and onto the ground beside the other intruder.

“Run!”

You yelled to the handful of citizens who watched you with a mixture of awe and fear.

Then you felt yourself being pushed against the marble ground as one of the men jumped on top of you, his weight crushing your small figure.

“You’re going to regret that, bitch.” He snarled against your ear.

You threw your head back, smirking when you heard the grunt of pain and several curses falling from the man’s lips.

You raised your hands and with it, the other man floated in the air. With a wave of your wrist, he went crashing into his friend and they slumped into a corner.

You quickly picked yourself up and ran out of the museum’s back exit, knowing you had to avoid the police at all costs.

Reaching an abandoned alley, similar to the one you first arrived in, you took out the inter-dimensional extrapolator, deciding it was way too dangerous for you to remain here any longer.

Pressing the device, you expected to see a breach form but to your shock, there was none. Inspecting the device, you saw that it had been broken, more than likely from when you’d been thrown against the ground by the robbers.

You muttered a foul curse before calming yourself.

Think, y/n. Think.

Your ears perked up at the familiar whistle and rattle of train tracks.

Okay, you knew what to do next.

You needed to go home.

Part 2 ->

[nerdzzone]

Only For A Moment: September

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: August

Note: I really liked writing this part so please let me know your thoughts!

-----

September 2020

Before the pandemic hit, we'd planned to send Grayson to preschool in the fall after he turned three. However, with the state of the world when the time arrived, it became a more complicated decision. We knew the benefits - we knew it would give him the opportunity to make friends and jumpstart his learning - but after many long, anxiety filled discussions, we decided to keep him home for another year. We didn't need it for childcare as neither of us had any work on the horizon and he still had another year before kindergarten so he wouldn't be missing out on preschool education completely. The risks just seemed to outweigh the benefits at that point in time given the case numbers in our area.

But not everyone had such an easy choice to make. People with older children had to educate them somehow - whether that be in person or online. In person classes had a much higher risk of exposure to the virus, but online classes were harder for children to focus on and required much more participation from the parents.

Carly had made the difficult choice to keep her kids at home and continue their online education, but it was proving to be harder than she'd anticipated. The kids were tired of learning through a computer and they missed their friends. Despite the risk of in person learning, they wanted to go back to school and were dragging their heels when it came to doing their work at home.

They started in August and by the middle of September, Carly was quickly losing her patience with all three of her children and, after a tearful phone call from his sister, Chris and I agreed to take them for an afternoon. They had some homework that we had to make sure they did, but Chris' goal was more related to sending them home with a renewed appreciation for their parents and a promise to keep working hard.

He'd picked them up just after lunch and given them a stern - but understanding - talking to on the way over to our place, but once they arrived he was back to being fun Uncle Chris and started their afternoon of school with gym class in the form of a soccer game. He ran them around the yard for over an hour before they wrapped up the game and came in for a snack. Then, the real school work started.

"So," Chris clapped. "What homework does everyone have?"

"Math..."

Ethan wrinkled his nose in disgust as he answered and his siblings nodded their heads in agreement.

"Well, it's your lucky day!" Chris grinned. "Whitney happens to be a math whiz! She went to university to be an accountant."

It was hard not to laugh at the disgust on their faces and I was tempted to inform them of the fact that I had dropped out just to retain my status as their uncle's 'cool' girlfriend. I thought that information might not help inspire them to work though so I kept it to myself.

"Why did you do that?" Miles questioned. "That's so boring!"

"It doesn't have to be," I insisted. "Chris, why don't you take Gray to do a puzzle or something and we'll get this work out of the way?"

"Sure," Chris nodded, plucking Grayson off the stool he was sitting on and throwing the giggling child over his shoulder. "And remember, the faster the homework gets done, the faster we can get back to doing fun stuff!"

I waited until Chris had left the room before shooting a smile at the little students that I was left with.

"Okay, now that he's gone, I can show you the secret to making math fun," I told them, stretching up to grab a big jar of jelly beans from the top shelf of a cupboard. It was Chris' secret stash, but I was sure he wouldn't be too mad if I borrowed it. "You just need to find some motivation."

The kid's eyes went wide.

"Are those Uncle Chris'?" Ethan asked, a hint of wonder in his voice.

"Yep," I smiled. "So, let's hurry and get to work before he comes back and catches us."

I shot them a wink and they all scurried off to get their notebooks.

-

It was easier to incorporate the candy into Miles and Stella's math homework as in the younger grades, they were mostly doing addition and subtraction. I helped them use the jelly beans as counters and let them eat them after every few questions. For Ethan, it was a bit trickier. In sixth grade, he was getting more into the start of algebra and some harder level fractions which jelly beans were less useful in. Instead, we used them as motivation and he got to eat a couple of jelly beans for every row of questions he finished.

We almost got away with our jelly bean thievery, but just as the kids were packing up their books, I heard a gasp come from the doorway.

"Are those my jelly beans?!"

The kids all burst out laughing as I shot Chris a sheepish look.

"I'm sorry. They needed some encouragement..."

Chris shook his head, but the smile on his face told me that he wasn't really that upset.

"I trusted you," he scolded me. "Now I'll have to find a new hiding spot and you won't be informed of its whereabouts."

I pouted at that as Grayson scrambled up onto the stool beside me to get his hands in the candy before it was moved.

"You could just be nice and share," I pointed out. "Making them forbidden just makes them more tempting."

"Yeah, Uncle Chris," Ethan nodded in agreement. "Plus, you're always telling us that we have to share stuff."

"You're getting too smart, kid," Chris smiled at him. "But unfortunately for you, I'm still in charge which means you have to do as I say, not as I do."

Ethan rolled his eyes at that as Stella frowned.

"That's not fair!"

"That's life," Chris shrugged. "Now, who's going to help me make some dinner?"

Grayson and Stella threw their hands up in the air as I popped another jelly bean into my mouth.

"What are we having?"

"Pasketti!" Grayson enthusiastically informed me, earning a laugh from Chris as he ruffled his hair.

"Spaghetti," he clarified. "With Ma's recipe for the sauce."

"Ooh, yum!"

I stole one last jelly bean before putting the lid back on the jar. The kids all whined in protest, but if Chris was making dinner then I knew it was time for me to stop stuffing them with sugar.

We all stayed in the kitchen as Chris started getting things ready, giving the kids simple jobs to do like opening jars and the occasional stirring. Dinner was about halfway ready when Miles got a cheeky smirk on his face.

"Uncle Chris?" He questioned, getting Chris' attention. "Aren't you going to sing the spaghetti song?"

That piqued my interest and I raised an eyebrow at Chris whose cheeks were slightly pinker than they'd been moments before.

"What's the spaghetti song?"

"On Top of Spaghetti," Chris informed me as if I should know what he was talking about. I didn't and my face must have shown him that. "C'mon! You have to know it!"

"I can't say that I do," I shrugged. "You'll have to enlighten me."

"Daddy sings it every time we have pasketti!" Grayson informed me, still mispronouncing the word.

"Well, I think I need to learn it then," I smiled. "Go on, Chris. Let's hear it."

The kids all agreed with me, hassling him to start the song.

"Alright, alright," he agreed after a moment of resistance. His cheeks were still looking a little rosy with embarrassment as he took a deep breath and then began. "On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese. I lost my poor meatball, when somebody sneezed..."

I watched - filled with an almost overwhelming sense of affection for him - as he sang through all the verses of the song. The kids joined in where they could and all of them were giggling by the time he was done.

"Again, again!"

Grayson started the chant, but they all joined in and with a smirk, I did too.

"Yes, Chris! Again, again!" I teased. "So I can film it for Instagram!"

"Ha-ha," Chris laughed sarcastically. "You're so funny, Whitney. There will be no filming of this performance."

"But just think how much your fans would love it," I smiled. "You'd melt the hearts of women all over the world."

Chris let out a laugh at that comment, but didn't have time to respond before the kids took over again, demanding another performance. Once he was sure that my phone was safely out of reach, he launched into another round of song.

-

By the time dinner was done and the kids were all settled in front of the TV watching a movie, my heart was feeling rather full. Seeing Chris with all the children and enjoying the afternoon of a house full of their joy and laughter had me feeling things I hadn't been entirely sure I was ready to contemplate yet.

As I sat at the island in the kitchen, sipping my second glass of wine as Chris finished loading the dishwasher, I broached the subject.

"Today has been really nice," I told him, my voice catching his attention in the quiet room. "Having a house full of kids."

That thought clearly gripped his interest as he spun around to face me, still drying his hands.

"Yeah?" The excitement in his voice was palpable. "We haven't talked about that, have we? Do you want more kids?"

"I do," I smiled at his overzealous reaction. "At least one more. I'd like Grayson to have a sibling. It seems lonely to make him grow up all alone."

"It does," he agreed. "I can't imagine growing up without siblings."

"What about you?" I asked. "I mean, I know you've mentioned in interviews that you want a big family, but is that real? Or just for the family man image that your fans love so much?"

Chris chuckled and shrugged, but there was something sheepish about the way he was looking at me.

"Honestly?" He paused as if waiting for a response, but it seemed unnecessary. We both knew I wouldn't want anything other than the truth in a moment like this. "I want at least two more, maybe even three. Hell, I'd have another one right now if you were willing."

I almost choked on the wine I was sipping as those words left his mouth, but as I placed my glass safely back on the counter, the coughing shifted into laughter.

"We can't have another one now," I protested. "We've only been together for like four months!"

"Five," he corrected with a soft smile. "And we were only together for one night before we had Gray and I think he's turned out alright."

He was right about that and I would have been lying if I said that the thought of another little baby didn't stir something inside me, but the more rational side of me came through.

"We can't just rush into another baby," I insisted. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but that's a big decision."

"I know it is," Chris assured me. "I'm half-kidding. I know it's not something we can rush into, but another part of me thinks it would be nice to have one now while we've got nothing else going on."

"That's true, but this pandemic won't last forever," I pointed out. "Even if you got me pregnant right now, you'll hopefully be working again before it would even be born. I'm not sure I could deal with Grayson and a newborn all by myself."

"Yeah, but some experts think this mess is gonna last for a few years still which would make this the perfect time to have a baby."

I shot him a look and he shrugged with a smirk.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," I warned him. "Let's just see how this whole pandemic situation goes for a bit longer before we make any massive life plans."

"Alright, alright," Chris chuckled, coming around to my side of the island. He rested his chin on my shoulder and slid his arms around my waist, placing his hands on my stomach. "It would be nice though, wouldn't it? Having another little baby around. Another little mix of the two of us."

I could feel his breath on my neck as his voice was low in my ear and I had to admit that he was right. I was one of the lucky women who actually loved being pregnant and, despite how exhausting and stressful the newborn phase was, I did miss having a little baby around.

But my worries about our ability to co-parent if we split up were still lingering in my mind. They'd been eased slightly by how solid our relationship had been so far, but if it all fell apart, I was still worried about how we would cope. Adding another baby to that so soon seemed like a foolish thing to do.

"It would be nice," I agreed, letting my hands rest on top of his. "It will be nice, one day."

"Well, whenever you're ready," Chris paused to place a kiss on my neck. "Just let me know."

I smiled at his eagerness and turned my head to kiss his cheek.

"I will," I assured him. "And maybe, once the kids have gone home and Grayson's in bed, we could practice. Just so we know what we're doing when the time comes..."

"Oh, I know what I'm doing," Chris practically growled, his grip tightening around me to pull me closer against him. "Don't you worry about that."

I giggled at his confidence before wiggling out of his grasp and standing up from the stool I'd been sitting on.

"I'm not worried, but practice makes perfect, right?"

With a wink, I grabbed my wine and turned to leave the room and check on the kids. Our conversation had given me plenty to think about, but it was comforting as well. I had no doubts that one day I wanted to expand our little family and even if I wasn't quite ready yet, it was nice to know that Chris was on board.

The man was born to be a father, he excelled in every aspect of parenting, and I was grateful that I was the one who got to help him find that role and that I got to share the experience with him.

-

October + November [part one]

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99

[alextir-creates]

Sukka Fankids by Tigrette-of-Fire

Hey everyone! After a month of debugging my computer so I could access Paint Tool SAI again, I am finally back! This time with more fankids. Alex Tir, chronic OC maker, strikes again.

Sokka and Suki were my favorite canon AtLA ship, so I always felt it was a shame they broke up post-canon. In classical fandom fashion, I have decided to disregard that entirely. In any case, meet Taiyin and Arnaaluk, Sokka and Suki’s twin daughters. They were a treat to design, honestly, and I want to touch on a few design notes before moving onto character backstories. (Cont. Under the cut!)

Taiyin’s hair is not in a Fire Nation style topknot, but is rather based off of an Inuit hairstyle (referenced here). Because I’m basic, Taiyin’s name is also a subtle homage to Yue, because I feel like Sokka and Suki would probably be open and honest with each other about that. (Also, bonus points if you can figure out how it’s a homage). As for Arnaaluk, the headband she’s wearing is a nod to her mother’s culture, given that her hairstyle is distinctly Southern Water Tribe. As a mixed raced, multi-ethnic person myself, it’s important to me when designing mixed OCs to have them celebrate all the pieces of their heritage. (Am I bitter about how Bryke handled that in LoK? You bet I am.) The clothing on Kyoshi Island (or, at least, the civilian clothing – I can’t say definitively for the Kyoshi Warrior outfits) is inspired by Ainu cultural dress. So, I did some research and did my best to design Arnaaluk an Ainu-inspired headband.

Taiyin and Arnaaluk are both waterbenders, though they ultimately choose different specialties. Arnaaluk specializes in healing (though she’s certainly capable of defending herself). She’s the epitome of “[this lady does] not start fights, but [she] can finish them,” and generally claims to be the twin in possession of the braincell, though she secretly enjoys shenanigans just as much as Taiyin. Taiyin is a combat waterbender (with waterbending first-aid training, of course). Studying under both her Aunt Katara and her mother, Taiyin fights with a fusion style of Southern waterbending, Northern waterbending, and classical Kyoshi Warrior martial arts (two words: ice fans).

Where their stories continue from there, however, is largely up in the air. Theoretically, I could just make the necessary modifications to fit Taiyin and Arnaaluk into the Legend of Korra timeline. And while I’m not adverse, to that, per say, the problem is that my feelings about LoK are overwhelmingly negative. Like, on a bad day when I’m being particularly uncharitable, the endgame Korrasami and what that did for lgbtq+ representation in cartoons is the only thing that justifies LoK’s existence to me. Before anyone comes at me – no, this is not about shipping, it’s about racism. While AtLA itself was by no means perfect (there’s some excellent meta outlining what AtLA did wrong by Hindu, South Asian, Central Asian, and Southeast Asian fans – I highly recommend checking it out), but the way Lok treated its cultural inspirations – more than one of which are cultures I belong to - was actually hard for me to stomach. I have no issues with other people loving the series – I get why it’s important – it’s just also not for me. So, the long story short is we’ll see if there’s a particular verse that’ll grow around these gals (admittedly, I would really love to have Arnaaluk succeed Sokka as Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, but that’s for another day).

Art © Me

Avatar: The Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra © Mike DeMartino, Bryan Konietzko, and Nickelodeon

Image ID: Neck up headshots of two teenage girls. The girl on the left, labelled “Taiyin” in writing below the headshot, has a bob of reddish-brown hair with the upper half of her hair tied into a bun. She also has two looped braids starting at her temples that tuck back into the bun. She has light-to-medium brown skin, and pale blue eyes (the same color as her father’s). She’s grinning in such a way that her teeth are visable, with the left side of her mouth (viewer’s right) pulling higher than the other.

The girl on the right, labelled “Arnaaluk” in writing above the headshot, has darker reddish-brown hair pulled into two long braids at either side of her head. The braids are each tied off with a blue wrap with white trim. Like her sister, she also has light-to-medium brown skin, though her eyes are dark blue (the same color as her mother’s). She has “hair loopies” (like those worn by Katara), though hers tuck into the beginnings of her braids behind her ears. She is also wearing a medium blue headband with a light blue pattern of geometric whirls and points.

Underneath the headshot of Taiyin are logo-style renditions of Avatar Kyoshi’s headband (in bronze) and the Southern Water Tribe crest (in blue). Kiyoshi’s headband is tilted, and slightly above and to the left of the SWT crest.

The entirety of the image is bounded by a teal square “frame.”

End ID.

[capt-spooki3]

By The Witch's Grace

Route Unlocked: Phil

Chapter Four: First Lesson

A Sbi "choose your own story" fanfiction

Click here for story description

Warnings: cursing, fainting

4.4k words

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Y/n stepped down the stairs on the porch, they decided on going to go find Phil because they were eager to ask him all about magic. As they walked down the last step, Wilbur hopped up with the guitar in hand and a big smile when he saw them.

“Hey! Uh Y/n, good morning, I was going to ask if you could help teach me guitar?” He held the instrument up in his hands, gently like he was afraid to break it. “You seem like you’d be a good teacher.”

“Oh, yeah, I can teach you sometime. I’m going to go find where Phil went off to, but there are music books on the shelf if you want to get started!” They smiled at him, his face falling a little and shoulders lowering before a small smile returned and he stood, looking a little too tense.

“Of course! Of course… have fun Y/n.”

They waved to him as they walked away, feeling a little guilty to leave him like that, but brushed it off as they approached the tree line and heard soft humming from within the trees.

“Why in the world does he have to be all the way in the woods- hey, Phil?” They stopped before the grass was taller and waited to see if they would get a response, but they got nothing. Right as they stepped forward to walk into the taller brush, a flicker of blue light illuminated from farther in the trees. “Using magic instead of words… of course.” They couldn’t help but smile and scoffed but continued forward into the forest.

A few paces in and they spotted him sitting in a clearing they were sure wasn’t there before, just watching a floating blue light right above the palm of his hand. There was a thin line of blue light that shone dimly around the area of the clearing. He almost seemed to be actively ignoring their presence until they took a step into the circle and he turned to them just before they tripped on seemingly nothing. Losing all sense of balance in an instant, they fell forward flat on the ground. They slowly opened their eyes up, groaning softly, but quickly realizing they weren’t in the forest anymore. The circle he had been sitting in had turned into a pasture on a small hill that overlooked an overgrown piece of land and instead of being morning, it was night now. Crickets sang softly and lightning bugs glittered the area and even the air smelt of dew and coldness of the night.

“What the hell…” They got to their feet slowly, looking around in awe while Phil watched in silence. They walked forward but stopped at the softly glowing, blue circle that seemed to be the same area of the clearing they saw before stepping in. “What is this… Phil?” Turning to him, they watched his hand enclose around the blue light he was holding, and it burst into little blue embers before disappearing before he stood up to join them at the edge of the circle.

“Peaceful isn’t it?” He spoke softly so as not to disturb the quietness around them both. “It’s magic in case you couldn’t tell, I’m surprised you couldn’t feel it before you stepped in.” He said with a little laugh, quietly surveying the area with a smile.

“What do you mean?

“Hm?”

They gestured aimlessly with their hands.”What you just said- the.. ‘couldn’t feel it’ bit. What does that mean?”

“Oh! Right, my bad mate” He laughed at himself, taking a moment to sit down again though beside them this time before he explained. “Let’s see, how can I explain this in a way that would make sense… so magic has a feeling when your soul is in tune to it, you’ll have a sixth sense in a way once you work on being able to feel it. When you get close to a magical area or even a person that uses magic, your soul will react.” Y/n looked at him like he was crazy when he said that but his smile just grew wider. “It feels warm like you’re standing near a fire on a cool summer night. I’m sure you’ll get a hang of the feeling quickly though so don’t worry. You know what! Let’s start on that now.”

He turned himself to face them and crossed his legs, patting the area in front of himself as he looked up at them to urge them to sit. They took another look out at the millions of fireflies that simply mesmerized them before sitting in front of him with their legs crossed as well. He reached over and took both of their hands in his and held them gently. Y/n just watched, confused but incredibly interested. They didn’t say a word and just watched him. 

Phil closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and blowing it out. Slowly, his hands began to emit a gentle yellow that glowed the brightest in his veins nearest to his hands. The color started to crawl onto their hands around where he held onto them like it was a tiny fire spreading from his hands onto theirs. As his light grew slightly brighter, they felt a comforting warmth begin to bloom in their chest. Just like Phil described, it was like a fire was surrounding their chest but it didn’t burn it just protected and warmed.

“Do you feel it yet?” He opened one eye at them while they stared back, eyes wide and gleaming from the dim magic.

“You feel this all the time?”

“Not all the time, just sometimes. Like when we first met you, you were very warm, I could sense the magic from your home before you even opened the door. I swore you’d be able to feel my magic too, but I guess it makes more sense now that you couldn’t.” He slowly let their hands go, the glow falling away from their hands as well as his shortly after. “Is the warmth gone yet?”

They put a hand on their chest, watching it while they focused on their chest for the feeling, but it was long gone. It saddened them a little, but they looked back up to Phil and nodded. “Yeah, it went away as soon as you let go. How did you do that? What did you do?” 

“I condensed a lot of magic into my hands and boosted your aura with it. That’s the little thing surrounding your soul that lets you sense that magic, we’ll have to train yours if you want to sense magic on your own. Though…” He trailed off, holding their gaze a moment before he looked over at the star-littered sky. “That may take a while. As much as I want to encourage you to have time to spend with my sons and bond with them, this is an important part of learning. I’d have to ask you to spend most of your days with me until we’ve mastered this.”

“That’s fine!” They replied immediately, startling him as they leaned forward in excitement. “I want to learn! I’ll gladly give you all my time, I want to learn as much as I can. Like… like how to do this.” They said, gesturing to the projected area around them. “And… I don’t know, how to turn people into pigs or something.”

Phil burst out laughing which carried over to Y/n, making them giggle along with him. “Who are you? Circe?” He joked but they just ended up looking at him with confusion. “She’s a goddess who is well known for turning men to swine. Though… in all honesty, you do kind of remind me of her now that I’ve connected the dots. At least from what I have read of her.”

He left the topic on that note, not giving any indication of explaining his thoughts either. He taught them, quietly, in ways to feel natural magic. He explained to them the ways this earth held its own magic and if you were in tune with your soul, you could feel it in strong magical areas. There was even a promise to show them what he meant once they could feel his magic without aid.

Time passed while they sat together within the realm he made. It could have been hours and Y/n could have never been able to tell as the moment they were living in under the moonlight never seemed to end. The peace was everlasting and they couldn’t complain, this was the first time they have felt so at peace and safe with another person in years. Phil was patient with them in their confusion with this magic he was clearly well versed in, he calmly eased their mind when they grew frustrated and offered a new way to try and learn their soul. 

When they finally began to feel dim warmth in their chest again, he seemed much more excited over it than they were even when he was just teaching them. He questioned them on how it felt and if they could enhance the feeling along with other questions that made no sense to them as he used words that held no meaning in their mind.

“You made a lot of progress today, I’m proud of you. I think you need a well-deserved break though, we’ve been at this for quite a while.” He said to them while getting up slowly to stretch his legs and even his wings as he unfurled them, stretching them out for a moment before pulling them in to offer Y/n his hand to help them up.

They took his hand, standing up slowly as their legs ache from sitting in the same position for so long. “It feels like we’ve been here for hours.” They complained, looking up at him. “ How long… have we been in here?”

“I’d say it’s been all day.”

“Wha- hold on, all day!? Oh no, I told Wilbur I’d teach him guitar!" Y/n ripped their hand away from Phil’s when they ran to run out of the magic domain and apologize to Wilbur. They had no intention of stopping until Phil yelled out in a panic.

“No, wait- Circe!” It was too late by the time they heard him as they were already halfway out of the illusion, but as soon as they felt the chilled air on the other side, their vision darkened. The last thing they could feel was their fall being stopped by hands grabbing their arms and holding them most steadily by the waist. It didn’t seem to take too long for them to regain consciousness as their eyes settled on the treetops around them, hardly outlined against the night sky.

“Hey there, are you with me?” They turned their vision to beside them, being met with Phil’s face. He smiled at them despite the worry that was prevalent in his expression. The pounding in their head hit shortly after, holding their forehead with one hand as they groaned softly as they were pushed up into a sitting position though Phil kept his arm on their shoulders for support.

“What just happened?” Y/n mumbled out, tears were starting to prick their eyes from the pain. Phil ran a hand over their head to smooth out their hair, tending to them in a caring manner. “I assume… I shouldn’t have tried to leave that fast huh.” The realization had come slowly and he laughed softly at them, now holding their gaze.

“It was a bit too strong for you, that would be my fault. I should have warned you much earlier about that, the drastic change in magic around all around you to nothing but small traces of natural magic is enough to take anyone down especially after being surrounded by it for so long like we were.” He got his feet under him and stood up but kept a slight lean as he held both hands out to help them up. It took quite the effort to pull them up since their body still felt weak and their legs were jello, but they were standing at least with the help of holding onto Phil for dear life. “Wanna head back to the house? I’m sure Will has already started cooking and we can get you some medicine.”

They sighed, dropping their head onto his chest. “Yeah… that’s fine. I need a minute though.” Each time they moved so they could adjust their position, their legs nearly gave out so they didn’t want to risk collapsing on the way.

“Do you need me to carry you?” He offered, leaning his head to the side to see their face but they just laughed.

“No, no I’m fine.”

A couple of moments passed by and he started to push them off of him but consoled them quickly when they started to panic. “You’re fine, just let me pick you up okay?” He waited until they nodded that it was okay and slowly scooped them up into his arms since it was the easiest way to carry them other than on his back as his wings made that a bit difficult. They kept an arm around his neck to feel more secure and leaned into him a little, head resting on their arm over his shoulder. He didn’t prompt them to talk since they were visibly tired so that gave them time to just think while he made his way through the brush and trees.

They hummed softly before muttering. “Phil?”

“Yeah mate?”

“Why did you call me Circe?”

“Oh, yeah I guess I did huh?” He chuckled at his carelessness and glanced down at them though they only matched his gaze last second before he looked away to watch where he was going. “I’m sorry about that, I’ve been thinking about you and your resemblance to her since I mentioned it. I guess it fits you better than expected so I felt compelled to call you it.” He trailed off, the silence being filled with the crunching of sticks and leaves still on the ground from autumn that hasn’t had time to decompose since that year’s winter had come on too fast. They had begun to space out but snapped back when hearing him whisper to them. “I won’t make the mistake again, don’t worry.”

“Actually… it’s okay.” They moved their head a bit to watch the scenery pass as Phil walked, finally getting past the treeline “It’s endearing.”

Phil looked down at them and laughed softly. “You like it?” They nodded their head, not being able to help a smile. “Hm… I might just continue to use it then how’s that sound-” Right as he finished his sentence they both were startled by the door of the house being slammed open. They looked toward the sound to see Technoblade standing there with a hand on the wide-open door, looking slightly disheveled and worried.

“Phil! There you are!” Techno ran down the stairs and to the two, grasping Phil’s shoulders and checking him over feverishly while Phil watched amusingly. He looked Y/n over once he was sure Phil was okay. “I didn’t know where you two were, I was worried and- why do you both reek of magic? Did something happen? Are you okay? Why are you carryi-”

Phil cut him off “Hey hey, mate we’re fine! We are both okay, calm down.” He tenses up his wings and gives them a little shake before relaxing them again. “I was just teaching them and they left my realm illusion a little too fast and they aren’t used to strong magic changes like that.” He adjusted them in his arms and glanced at them. “They are just a little weak. If you want to help though, can you carry them into their room for me? I might be strong enough to carry them, but not for a long time.”

Techno took Y/n from Phil quickly and without a word, letting them get comfortable in his arms like they were with Phil. He waited to head toward the house until Phil started walking and made sure to keep to his side, he was acting just like a dog who hasn’t seen his owner for a little too long. He asked little questions on what the two were practicing and listening intently to Phil as he explained, though Y/n had to close their eyes at this point as a wave of drowsiness washed over them as they listened to the two talking. The deep rumble in Techno’s chest every time he spoke was oddly comforting, almost equivalent to that of a cat purring.

It seemed they dozed off because they were being gently laid on their bed the next thing they knew. The pillows had already been propped up so they could sit up easier. They sat back and looked at Techno once he had set them down. He gave them a light smile, patting them on the head to mess their hair up a little.

“Phil’s gonna be back soon, he’s getting you something to eat.” He said before turning away to talk out the door.

“Uh- Technoblade? Could you tell Wilbur to come here for me?” They sat up straight, waiting for a reply as he looked back at them. With a little laugh, he gave them a thumbs up and left the room with a small wave to them.

A few moments passed by while they waited, in that time Poppy raced into their room to offer nuzzles and lay on them to make everything better. They had become so focused on the cat and giving her attention that they didn’t notice Wilbur in the doorway until he knocked. Looking up at him in surprise, he waved with a smile and slowly walked over to their side with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hey, I heard from dad what happened. How are you feeling?”

“Tired?” They laughed, watching as he sat on the side of the bed while they spoke. “I’m doing okay, I’m sure I’ll be fine by morning. Speaking of, Will I’m so sorry. I meant to come and help you learn guitar today but Phil kept me so busy that by the time he said to stop, it was night.” They leaned forward to emphasize their seriousness. “Tomorrow, bright and early, We’ll go down in the basement and I’ll help teach you okay?”

“Only if you’re feeling up to it alright?” He reached over, petting Poppy and making the cat lean into his hand and roll over to get more pets. “I don’t think anyone here wants you overdoing it.”

“I will and I promise, we can spend the whole day if you want.” They told him, glancing up when they noticed movement by the doorway again and seeing Phil with a bowl and a piece of bread.

He walked over and set it on the night table which was on the opposite side of the bed that Wilbur was on. “All day?” He asked, looking at Y/n who turned to him.

“Is that alright?”

“Hm..” Phil put his hands on his hips, dramatically taking his time to think. “I guess so, you probably want to have a day to recover from this huh.” With a small laugh, he rubbed their back lightly before heading out of the room. “Eat up and both of you sleep soon, it’s late.”

“Goodnight Phil!”

“Goodnight!” Wilbur echoed, watching him go before he looked back to Y/n. He looked like he had something he wanted to say but took a deep breath and smiled at them, getting up off the bed. “Hey you better enjoy the soup, I made it. And if I do say so myself, I did a great job on it.” They giggled a bit at him and he sighed with a little shake of his head. “You’re a really great person… I’m glad we met you. Ahem! Good night dearest Y/n and I’ll reconvene with you in the morning!” Making a show of bowing to them and standing up tall with his hands behind his back, he saluted before sharply turning and walking out the door.

They called after him with a laugh. “Sleep well, Wilbur!” Watching him go, they smiled to themself and with a few pets for Poppy they focused on eating so they could sleep and be ready for the day tomorrow.

-

“Now Y/n remember, I’m sure you won’t be using any magic but be wary alright?” Phil stood in front of them, holding intense eye contact before looking down at the eye of ender around their neck. He brought a hand up to hold it and examine it while they watched him. “I’ve been worried about this and I don’t know exactly how it’s going to affect you once we start playing with magic more. I could feel it sapping my magic from me yesterday…” He shook his head and let go of it, holding their arms. “Just… come to me if you feel off, okay? I’ll be right in my room with Techno.”

He sent them off with that, heading to his room where they assumed Techno was waiting for him. Wilbur was outside with Tommy since he demanded Wilbur come to see the sheep he has made friends with since everyone but him had seen. Y/n had Tommy tag along that morning when they went to feed the animals and he excitedly showed them how close he had gotten with some of the sheep and even a couple of the chickens. It warmed their heart to know he had something to fill the childish part of him that he wasn’t able to express when training to be in the guard.

They headed down into the basement to wait for Wilbur and decided to catch up on some reading. All of the talk of magic with Phil brought back their interest in it big time. They searched through the shelves, trying to find one that seemed like it had a lot of useful information that could help when Phil was teaching them. Standing against the bookshelf, they flipped through a book, stopping to read a page or two every once in a while until the front door closed and there were hurried steps down the stairs.

“Sorry for being so late, Tommy was telling me the names of all the sheep he named- I hope you didn’t already have names for them because he is all about this one being named Karen,” Wilbur said with a laugh as he got down the basement and looked up at Y/n who had the book in their hand, watching him. “Heh, uh hope I didn’t disturb your reading.”

They snickered, closing the book with a thump and sliding it back into its place on the shelf. “Oh, not at all.” Walking up behind one of the two plush chairs they had, crossed their arms on the back and looked up at Wilbur. “So, what all did you learn yesterday?”

“Oh! Well uh…” He grabbed the guitar up from beside the bookshelves opposite of Y/n where they kept the music books and sat over on the bottom step of the stairs. It took him a few moments of remembering out how to hold the instrument again, but once he had that down he strummed a few chords out of place before playing the standard ‘hot cross buns’ and after getting praise from Y/n he played ‘mary had a little lamb’ and ‘good king wenceslas’ which was a favorite of Y/n’s when it came to easier tunes to play.

“How did I do? That’s all I got to teach myself yesterday.”

Y/n walked over to him and knelt down where they adjusted how he held his fingers on the strings. “It’s easier to play and better on your hands this way. I think you did really well, better than I was and I learned just by listening to someone play and watching how they did it.”

He perked up at that, seeming to forget they knew how to play despite wanting them to teach him so desperately. “Do you want to play something? I’d love to see you play.” He offered the guitar to them to which they looked at it, seeming hesitant.

“Oh I don’t know, at this point, I think you’re better than me. It’s been a long time since I’ve played.” They touched the wood of the guitar, thinking back on when they last played. “I stopped making time for it when the hunters got bad. I guess I just fell out of it after that.”

“Well… maybe you can try again?” He met their eyes and pushed the guitar towards them again. “I know you’re learning new magic things, so maybe you can do something cool with that.” They took a moment to think about what he said and looked back at the instrument. Finally, they reached to take it from his hands and he seemed eager to give it up, pushing it onto them as soon as they had it.

They couldn’t help but laugh and sat back on the ground and crossed their legs as they situated the guitar, strumming a few chords and getting comfortable with the feel of it again. “Hm.. let’s see what I can remember here.” They strummed a few chords until something finally came to them. “Oh! I’ve got one, okay… I’m not sure how good this will be but…”

Humming softly as they started, they bounced their foot a little to keep time. They had to restart once with a small grumble but seemed to get the hang of it better with the second start. “Alright, so I think it goes a little bit like… I can feel it on my tongue. Brick and mortar, as thick as scripture. Drawing lines in the sand and laying borders, as tall as towers. I babble on until my voice is gone.” They sang, getting a feel for the music more as they went through as soon as they were singing the next verses they felt eyes on them. Other than Wilbur’s of course. They glanced up past him to see Phil, leaning against the doorway on the top floor of the house just listening. When realizing they were looking at him, he just smiled and waved a little before giving a gesture to tell them to continue playing. They smiled a little and gave a glance back at Wilbur then to their hands as they focused on playing.

“‘Cause like constellations a million years away, every good intention…”

___________________________________________

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[reid-me-a-story]

I Need a Doctor

Based on the song “Doctor” by Jack Stauber

Synopsis: Reader is pining after her best friend, but after a drunken night and a failed attempt at seduction things start to look up for her

A/N: This is my first ever fan-fiction and WOOF was it a beast! This is based off a song that reminded me of Spencer some how, see the lyrics below!

Although this is a self insert one-shot, reader is never introduced as (y/n), I personally find it distracting in fan fiction to have to skip over that so instead of (y/n) there is use of pet names when needed. Any defining features such as height , hair colour, etc. is not specified including weight - however Spencer does pick reader up. Smut is included but if you aren’t comfortable reading it then feel free to stop about halfway through when there’s a little breaker in the story!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!reader* (please read content warnings!)

Category: Angst/smut[18+] (and a little bit of fluff, all around a pretty wholesome story)

Content warning: Idiots in love, unrequited love (happy ending I promise!), drinking, unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral (male and female receiving), Fingering, Swearing, use of pet names (baby, princess, Little girl), teensy bit of degradation. *Let me know if I missed any!!*

Word count: 4.2k

Lyrics: Verse: Sarah Vanessa, Jack Stauber]

I need a doctor, oh

I'm not a doctor but I think I might be able to help

It's not a simple symptom, no

My diagnosis is that no one has been treating you well

[Chorus: Sarah Vanessa, Jack Stauber]

So, what do you prescribe?

Love's the only medicine

Is this a lie?

No, take three of these a da-ay

Oh, I think I'm cured

Cool, are you alright on your own?

No, I'm not sure...

Okay

[Outro: Sarah Vanessa]

Oh, I think I'm sick again...

*gasp

After three years of pining after your co-worker and best friend you decided to try to fill the void caused but the unrequited love.

You knew you wanted to be with Spencer since your first day, however it seemed that all he wanted was a friend. You guys were close and spent a lot of time together but it never seemed to progress. You once thought about taking the reins and asking him out, thinking that maybe he was just nervous. You grossly misread that situation and thank god you didn’t ask because the next day you over heard him telling Derek about a girl he wanted to ask out.

After that you started to isolate yourself from Spencer. You loved him but he didn’t feel the same. Garcia and JJ tried to make you feel better by telling you that it would never last with this new girl. You wanted to believe it but actions speak louder than words. Not only were you keeping a bit more distance from Spencer but he seemed to be cancelling plans left and right.

While you never made any new plans you would always spend every Saturday together when you weren’t on a case. Sometimes you guys would do something as extravagant as a play or spending the day touring a museum exhibit - something you wouldn’t nearly be as interested in if Spencer wasn’t your tour guide. Other times your days would be spent watching old reruns of your favourite shows or having Spencer read to you. Those days were your favourite because listening to Spencer’s smooth melodic voice always seemed to calm you down even at your most stressed out.

Since you over heard Spencer tell Derek about this girl he wanted to ask out he’s been cancelling your Saturday plans. It didn’t bother you at first but it’s been almost 5 weeks and you’re getting quite hurt by it. He still talks to you at work or spends time with you when you are on cases and dismissed for the day but it’s not the same.

Today is Friday and Garcia came skipping through the glass doors straight for you. “Hello, my beautiful human! Since we have no case do you want to have a Girls night tonight? JJ and Emily are coming! Please come!” She begs.

You debated declining so you can spend your weekend in solitude, sulking over your best friend but the look in Garcia’s eyes made you reconsider. “Okay sure, where are we going?”

Penelope squealed “Ahh! Okay awesome! We’re going to be going to this cute little Italian restaurant and then heading next door to this bar! It has really good Yelp reviews and - OOH maybe we can get you a hunk to take home tonight and-“

That got Spencer’s attention and his head whipped up to look at Penelope. While his eyes darted over to you to gauge your reaction to Penelope’s comment, you both locked eyes. You thought you saw him silently beg you not to go out tonight but you ignored it and stood up.

Penelope was still chattering away while you were packing up so you can go home to freshen up. You really didn’t want to get set up with some random guy but it might fill the void that is still there. Once Penelope gives you an opening you ask her what time to be ready for. She tells you that she will pick you up at 7. You thank her and head home.

Once you pass the barrier to your apartment you relax your shoulders, not realizing how tense you had been all day. The dread of going out tonight started to really sink in. If you were being honest with yourself you would have loved to have spent the night sitting in silence reading a book that reminded you of anything except Spencer but instead you agreed to go out and get drunk with your co-workers. Great.

You hop into the shower and take your time drying your hair. Just as you finish putting your makeup on and getting dressed Garcia texts you that she’s outside. You throw on your jacket and slip your heels on and walk outside.

After a really nice dinner you found yourself 6 shots in at the bar next door. You were fending off a really persistent guy when your phone goes off. You notice that it’s Spencer and you’re able to use it as an excuse to get away from the guy thats hitting on you. Despite how much you want to fill the emptiness that you feel without him you don’t want to just sleep around to do it.

You step outside into the cool air and answer your phone. “Hello, Doctor” you slur

“Hey... I - I uh...” Spencer stutters. You can tell he wants to say something but instead of waiting your tipsy mind forced the words out of your mouth

“I need a Doctor” you were attempting to be seductive but based on Spencer’s reaction you figured it didn’t come across right away

“Oh my god, stay where you are I’m going now” then the call drops.

“Shit” you say to yourself. You head back in to the girls. This is the last thing you wanted. Or is it? You’ve been dying to spend time with him outside of work for weeks. It sucks that you’re drunk for it but by the time he shows up and comes inside you are absolutely buzzing with excitement.

Spencer looks around the bar quickly for you. Before he locks eyes with you, you try to take in his appearance. He looks worried, his hair is messy and his curls look like they’ve been stretched by his hands running through them. Once he looks at you his shoulders relax and he lets out a deep breath.

“Hi” he breathes once he reaches you, he looks relieved to see you look physically okay.

“Hi Dr. Reid, fancy seeing you here” you slur and reach out to touch his arm. Before you make contact though you pull back; knowing how he is about touch. He ignores that and pulls you in for a bone crushing hug.

“I was worried about you” he whispers into your hair. Your heart starts beating faster the longer he holds onto you and you bury your face in his chest, inhaling his scent. He always smells good to you, like old paper and coffee. He smells like home and you start to tear up.

He feels you shudder and pulls back and notices your tears. “Hey, hey, what’s going on are you okay? Didn’t you say you needed a Doctor?”

“Oh yea,” you whisper “ typical drunk girl crying, it’s no big deal. Aren’t you a Doctor? I just need you”

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

You shake your head “Can I stay over at your place instead?”

He looks hesitant but agrees nonetheless. You both wave goodbye to the girls and he leads you out to his car by the small of your back. When you get to the car Spencer opens the door for you and makes sure you’re buckled in before going and sliding into the drivers seat. You turn on the radio at a low volume so you don’t have to sit in the awkward silence.

Once you get to his apartment he gets out and walks around to open your door. You get out and he leads the way upstairs. You make your way inside and as soon as you pass the threshold of his front door you don’t know what to say. He’s the first to break the silence. “Do you want some water? Maybe some Tylenol? If might help you feel better”

“O-okay” you stutter. You follow him into his kitchen and take the glass filled with water from him. You take a huge sip and put the glass down.

Just when he opens his mouth to say something you blurt out the question that’s been burning in your mind since it happened, “Spencer, why did you call me?”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times before saying “It’s stupid really, don’t worry about it,” and before you’re able to respond he asks “ Do you want some clothes to change into? Might be more comfortable than what you have on”

You nod and he leaves, he comes back in a few minutes with a button up Pyjama shirt with little dinosaurs on them with matching pants. You go to walk away but he grabs your hand. You turn to look at him when he pulls you into a hug again. “I miss you” he whispers.

The admission makes your eyes prick with tears. Instead of saying anything through your scratchy throat you just nod and hug him tighter. You both stand like that for a few moments before you pull away. Your skin is on fire from his touch and you can’t stand it anymore. You advert yourself eyes from him so you don’t have to look at him trying to read your thoughts through your eyes. You’re afraid he would hear the truth in your thoughts about how much you love him.

You slip into the bathroom to change quickly and when you emerge you find Spencer standing by the bed waiting for you. When he hears the door open he looks at you and you can hear him take a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it” he whispers under his breath.

Trying not to break the silence too much you whisper back, “Get used to what?”

All the time in the world could not have given you the preparation to hear the next words that he chose to say.

“How effortless beautiful you look.”

“WHAT?” Your inner voice screams. Tears prick the corners of your eyes for the third time that night. “Please don’t Spencer.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t say things like that and expect me not to love you”, You say just barely above a whisper.

Spencer closes the distance between you and gently pushes a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear. You try to keep your eyes on your hands that you hold between you and Spencer but he pulls your attention to his eyes. “What if that’s what I want?”

Before you can respond he closes the final distance between you two. His lips are soft and full against yours. His hands move to your hair and yours gravitate to his shoulders. He tastes like coffee and mints and the taste is almost as intoxicating as the liquor you drank earlier in the night.

You push him back towards the bed and he sits on the end. You go to straddle him but he stops you with a hand in your waist. “We shouldn’t..”

“Oh.. y-yea, I understand” you say defeated.

“Oh god, no. Trust me. I want to- I want to so bad but you’re drunk and you’re not thinking clearly. I’ve wanted this for so long you don’t understand but I’d don’t want you to wake up and regret anything-“

You cut his rambling off with a kiss and he immediately relaxes. You pull back with a sigh and a tiny smile while nodding in understanding.

Spencer stands up, kissing your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom. You start to head out into the living room when you hear him call out “Where are you going?”

“To sleep on the couch, I don’t want to intrude.”

“The beds big enough for the both of us,” he states before quickly adding with a small blush, “I- uh- unless you aren’t comfortable with that”

You blush in return and slowly pad your way over to Spencer’s bed. You pull back the covers off your side and slide in, Spencer stretches out his long legs, reaching over and pulling you into him by your waist. You rest your head in his chest and start dozing off to the sound of his heart beating.

Just before you succumb to your sleep you hear him whisper into your head “I love you”

———

You wake up to the smell of coffee and the Saturday morning sun beaming through the windows. You go to stretch out and realize that you’re not at home but instead at Spencer’s, in his bedroom, in his clothes. Last nights confessions flood your memory and you smile to yourself. He loves you. Spencer Reid loves you.

Despite your pounding headache you can’t help but jump out of bed and pad into the kitchen. You see Spencer standing by his coffee maker. As soon as he spots you his eyes fill with something you just can’t quite place, and a small smile lights his face. You slowly step towards him and jump onto the counter, sitting right next to the coffee maker.

“Good morning” you say as softly as possible, as to not disturb the peacefulness of the morning.

Instead of answering in words, Spencer laces his fingers into your hair and pulls you forward to kiss you softly. When you both break away to replace the air in your lungs he finally speaks, “Good morning, beautiful. How do you feel? How’s your head?”

“No complaints” You joke, while winking at him.

The innuendo is lost on him for a few seconds before he laughs and says “No you dork! Your headache!”

“Ah, I’ll manage. Is there enough coffee there for me?”

“Always, anything for you”

You two drink your coffee in silence; with you playing with Spencer’s free hand, and him trying to memorize every second of this morning. Spencer finishes his coffee first and places his cup down on the counter. With his now empty hand, he starts playing with your hair, running his hands through the soft locks.

You soon finish your cup and pull him to stand in between your legs. “I think,” you say sneakily “I think I need a doctor”

“What do you mean?” Spencer asks

“Hmmm well I think you might be able to help me, Doctor” you whisper in his ear while running your hands up and down his chest. You hear his breathing start to get heavy. When your nails get close to the waistband of his sweats his breath catches in his throat and a soft moan escapes instead.

“What seems to be the problem?” He says, voice low and husky.

“Mmmm” you sigh “Well Doctor, my symptoms aren’t simple, think you can handle it?”

“I don’t think anyone has been treating you right.” He moans softly again as one of your hands start to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“So what do you prescribe, Dr. Reid?”

“Me.” He claims before slamming his mouth against yours. The kiss is hungry and Spencer quickly dominates it. His hand move from your hair down to you waist and the other hand moves to the front of your borrowed sleepwear, pulling at the drawstrings. You feel heat bloom between your thighs. You never expected him to be so aggressive but you loved it. You loved him, and you wanted him- now.

“Mm Spencer, please..” you moan between heated kisses.

Spencer chuckles and starts kissing down your jaw and neck “What baby? What do you need” he mumbles against your skin.

“You.” You moan breathlessly. He growls against the skin of your neck while slowly sliding his hand into your pyjamas. Once he reaches the waistband of your underwear he pulls back to look into your eyes - silently asking for consent.

“Please, Spencer. I need you! Please!” He smiles and reaches into your underwear and is fingers slide past your folds feeling the wetness from how turned on you were.

He moans when he feels you. “Oh wow baby, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?”

“Yes Spence, all for you.” You breathe out between a soft moan.

“Good. You’re mine, baby” he finally sides one of his long fingers between your folds and starts pumping his hand slowly- curling a finger up to press against that sweet spot inside of you, causing a guttural moan to leave your throat. He withdraws his hand and you whine at the loss. He gives you a look and its intensity stops any sounds from escaping except for soft pants.

He signalled for you to lift your hips and he pulled you towards the edge of the counter. He pushed your knees apart and kneeled down. The sight of Spencer looking up at you between your legs almost made you finish right there and then - you let out a low groan. He chuckles and moves forwarded starts nipping at your inner thigh, never taking his eyes off you.

He kisses everywhere except where you want him. Whines escape your mouth before you can stop them and you can feel him smile against your leg. Finally showing you a little bit of mercy and finally licked a thick stripe up in between your folds. Spencer lean out a low moan against your sex, “You taste so good, baby”

Your back arches and you throw your head back. Your breathing picks up and one of your hands grip his hair. You tug on his Chestnut curls - hard “Spencer, please! more… fuck - please!”

“What do you need princess?”

“You, Spence! Pl - uhh - Please!” You scream at him.

“Anything for you,” he adds, before adding two fingers in the mix. He thrusts his fingers in and up towards that spot inside you while flicking his tongue over your clit. Your eyes roll back and you let out a deep moan. You never thought that your best friend, the man who is perpetually awkward around women would be this good. Looking down towards him you see that his eyes haven’t left you - its like he’s trying to memorize every movement your body makes. The knowledge of Spencer watching you come undone combined with the pleasure coursing through your veins sends a wave of euphoria crashing over you.

“Fuck!” You scream out as you ride out your orgasm, one of the most intense of your life if you’re being honest. When you finally come down and try to catch your breath you look down towards where Spencer is and his eyes are wide while staring at you.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, baby” He jumps up and crashes his lips on yours and you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You moan into his mouth and reach down towards the waistband of his sweats pulling them down with his boxers. You watch his cock spring up and slightly gawk at the size of him. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with and you tell him as much. Before he can respond you jump down off the counter while pushing him towards the wall beside you so he has some sort of support.

You lick a thick stripe from the base of his shaft before leaving a small kiss to the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum. You take the head into your mouth and hollow out your cheeks while taking more in. What you can’t fit in your mouth you pump with your hand.

You look up at Spencer through your lashes; he’s looking back down at you, with his hand balled into a fist pressed up against his mouth. You hate that he’s silencing himself from you so you reach up and grab his hand to place it at the back of your head - giving him permission to fuck your face at his pace. He’s trying to be gentle but after a few strokes with you hollowing your cheeks he can’t help but buck his hips further into your mouth - causing you to gag. You swallow around him and he slides deeper. Your nails are digging into his thighs leaving ten, small angry red crescent moon indents behind. He thrusts slightly deeper causing you to gag and tears to slide down your face, “come on baby, I know you can take me deeper”

At the sound of his voice you hum, causing his hips to buck into your mouth again. “Fuck!” He pulls out and continues “Don't wanna cum there. I wanna fill you up baby. Do you want that? Do you want me to fill that tight little cunt up?”

You moan and nod excitedly and Spencer grips the back of your thighs, signalling you to jump. He carries you into the bedroom with you laying kisses and leaving marks over his jaw and neck. You find a sensitive spot just below his ear that causes his breath to get caught in his throat. Once you both enter the room he places you gently on the bed, climbing in-between your legs and kissing your lips and down towards your neck. He starts to unbutton your pyjama shirt while leaving small red and purple love bites over your neck and chest. Once he finally removed the last article of clothing on you he takes a step back to admire your body. Usually this would cause you to be self-conscious; meaning you would usually cover yourself with your hands or a blanket. Something in Spencers eyes calmed you and made you relax. He made you feel beautiful just by the look in his eyes - and he said so in just as many words, “ You’re so beautiful baby, do you know that?”

“Please Spence, I need you inside me! I need you to fuck me right now or else I might die…” You whine

“Well, we can’t have that” He chuckles. Spencer pulls off his t-shirt and kneels in-between your legs, pulling one over his shoulder, one hand on your thigh and the other on your waist, He thrusts in and bottoms out completely - causing you to yell out in surprise. “You make such pretty noises baby… how many more can I get out of you, huh?”

Spencer sets a brutal pace, thrusting into you deeper than you thought was possible. Your hands desperately try to grab anything to hold on to. One settles on the hand gripping your waist tightly, surely leaving bruises that you could only hope would last. Your other hand reaches forward - scratching your nails down his chest and leaving red welts behind in its wake - causing Spencer to let out a guttural moan. He leans forward, dropping your leg to his elbow to relieve the pressure, and kisses you deeply. His hand leaves your waist and he presses his thumb to your bundle of nerves, pressing slightly and rubbing small circles over it. “ I want you to come for me baby. come on little girl, you can do it”

You couldn’t defy him even if you wanted to. Your body gave into his wishes and crashed into the wall at full speed. Spencer kept the same pace as he fucked you though your orgasm. “Oh what a good girl. come on baby, one more for me…”

“One mo-ore? Spenc-! Fuck!”

“Yes, one more beautiful. Fuck- I know you can do it baby. One more and I’ll fill you up with my cum. You’d - fuck!- like that, huh? You’d like - ugh - to be my dirty… little …cum-slut… wouldn’t you?”

Your eyes rolled back at his words. You could barely believe what you were hearing. His words sent you over the edge for your third and final time. Your entire body shuddered from overstimulation and pleasure. Spencer moaned loudly and you felt him twitch inside you, his cock painting your walls with his cum. Just as he starts to pull out you reach forward and beg with wide eyes “No! Stay! I want you to keep it in me, please Spence, please! I need-“

He cuts you off with a kiss and presses back into you, holding you as close as he can - trying to follow your wishes. After a few minutes he started to soften, he slowly pulled out of you despite your protests. He shushed you with a few quick kisses to your lips and quickly ran to the washroom to get a damp washcloth. He wiped between your legs as gently as he could without overstimulating you too much.

Spencer flopped down beside you, grabbing you and pulling you into his side. He starts slowly kissing your lips, cheeks, forehead - really anywhere his lips could reach without having to let go of you. You giggle a little bit as he gets to a ticklish spot on your neck. “Well Doctor, I think I’m cured. I guess you were right, I just needed you”

“And three orgasms,” he deadpanned.

You both laugh a little at that. You look at him and that same look is in his eyes from before. You’re finally able to place it. “I love you, Spence.”

His eyes shine a little brighter and he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “I love you more, beautiful girl”

[stiltonbasket]

hi! i dont know if you've done something similar for renouncement verse but lwj getting baby rearing tips from lqr would be really cute uwu

(brief author’s note: please please reblog, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

Two weeks after Wei Shuilan’s full-moon party, Lan Xichen orders Wei Ying to get some fresh air and take a trip down to town with the juniors. 

“I’m ordering it as your physician,” he scolds, as Lan Wangji kisses his husband’s forehead and slips a packed lunch into his qiankun bag, just in case Wei Ying doesn’t like any of the delicacies Caiyi has to offer; having A-Lan altered his sense of taste, among other things, and made him more partial to sweet and bitter flavors as well as spicy-sour ones. “You haven’t left the Cloud Recesses in months.”

“Xichen-ge,” Wei Ying says, rolling his eyes, “you try taking those stairs when you can barely fit through the door. Or fly in a straight line without overbalancing, for that matter.”

He has a point, Lan Wangji thinks. A-Lan is a very round baby, big enough for her age that some of the guests at the full-moon feast asked if they were holding the party late, and it had certainly showed on Wei Ying’s slender figure in the weeks before her arrival.

“Well, you ought to go now,” Lan Xichen urges. “It’s a wonderful day, and A-Lan’s asleep. Go stretch your legs, and then come back and rest as soon as you feel tired.”

So Wei Ying had gone, leaving the Cloud Recesses with a kiss for Lan Wangji before flying off on A-Yuan’s sword and vanishing into the cloudy mist hanging over the Caiyi River.

After that, Lan Wangji settles down in the jingshi to wait for his husband’s return, placing his baby daughter on the bed beside him and starting on the mountain of official correspondence he’s been neglecting since A-Lan was born. Most of them are congratulations and well-wishes for the baby, along with a select few (which Lan Wangji sets on fire the second he opens them) consoling the Chief Cultivator for the one child of his blood being a daughter, and assuring him that the next baby will surely be a boy. 

Upon further reflection, Lan Wangji points a finger at the ashes in the hearth and incinerates them a second time. The thought of his little daughter ever facing anything but the honor and worship due to an empress sets his teeth on edge, and it takes only a moment of thinking until he decides to put off answering the guilty clan’s request for a second representative in Lanling’s council for as long as he can.

But unfortunately for him, the sound of the snapping fire jolts poor A-Lan awake, and she gives a soft, confused little gurgle before lifting her head and looking around. Lan Wangji lifts her into his lap, humming Wangxian beside her tiny ears as she begins to whimper—but his efforts are in vain, because the baby bursts into tears and refuses to stop crying no matter what he does to calm her. 

“A-Lan,” he says, more than a little shocked—because he has never heard A-Lan cry like this, not since that first shrieking wail when she first found herself out in the world six weeks ago. But A-Lan keeps crying, even after he tries changing her smallclothes (needlessly, since her diaper was freshly changed when Wei Ying left the jingshi) and puts her in another blanket to keep her warm, and no amount of rocking or singing or even a cool bath proves useful in the slightest. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Lan Wangji asks urgently. “A-Lan, baobei—”

Shuilan only draws her tiny legs up to her chest and sobs, rubbing her fat fists into her eyes as if the whole universe was against her, and the realization hits Lan Wangji so suddenly that he nearly falls to the floor, baby and all. 

“It’s because Wei Ying isn’t here,” he says wretchedly. “It is, isn’t it? You’re not sick, surely—he’s coming back, A-Bao. Don’t cry, your A-Die is coming back.”

But with such a little baby as A-Lan, how was she to know? All A-Lan knew was that she spent the first ten moons of her life safe inside Wei Ying, listening to his precious heartbeat and kicking out at his affectionate touches when he tried to feel for her head or her hands, and then she was in his arms instead, but still never so far away from him that she could not hear his voice. And now Wei Ying is gone, and A-Lan has rightfully taken his absence for the calamity that it is. 

Lan Wangji remembers his sixteen years of mourning after Wei Ying fell from his grasp and plunged to his death in Qishan, and wonders how frightened Shuilan must be that Wei Ying has disappeared without any explanation her infant mind can understand. Neither of them have left her side since she was born, so for one of her parents to disappear without explanation, and for it to be Wei Ying who had disappeared—

He nearly bursts into tears himself, just thinking about it. 

Naturally, it is at that moment—with half of Lan Wangji’s layers sliding off his shoulders, A-Lan screaming herself hoarse, and sweat dripping down her father’s pale face—that Lan Qiren lets himself into the house, apparently expecting to find a peaceful nephew and great-niece before he walks into the middle of a virtual tornado instead. 

“Wangji?” he calls, as Lan Wangji drags himself into the front room in all his miserable, disheveled glory. “What is the matter? Have you fed her?”

“I have fed her, changed her, checked her temperature, and made sure all her clothes were loose enough,” he says, distraught. “Perhaps I will take her to the healing ward, just to make sure she is well. Good afternoon, Shufu.”

“You examined her with your lingli, didn’t you? She’s not sick.”

“No, but—”

“Give her here,” his uncle sighs, holding out his arms for the child. “Now,  bring me that square blanket on the divan, and watch closely.”

While Lan Wangji watches, Lan Qiren lays the blanket out on the bed and folds it into a triangle, and then he places A-Lan onto it with her fluffy round head above the folded edge and packs her into a tight bundle with one arm waving freely outside it. 

“Shufu,” Lan Wangji ventures, brow furrowed. “What are you—”

“Quiet,” Lan Qiren instructs him. “Pay attention, Wangji.”

He folds up the bottom corner of the blanket, laying it over A-Lan’s chest and her chubby bent legs, and then he folds the other half around her like a bamboo string around a zongzi, trapping her flailing fist against her body before handing her back to her father. 

“There,” he says, satisfied. “See?”

A-Lan’s sobs are already calming down, and a moment later she blinks in confusion and goes straight back to sleep. 

Lan Wangji gapes at her. “What did you do, Uncle?” he wonders. “I already tried wrapping her, but this…”

“That is how a baby should be swaddled,” Lan Qiren scolds. “You and Wei Ying wrap her like a pancake roll, and it does well enough most of the time. But when a child this small is in distress, it can be helpful to remind them of their time in the womb, and put them in a similar position with a swaddling blanket. What made A-Lan cry so?”

“She missed Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says dully. “He went to Caiyi with Sizhui and Xiaohui, and she woke early from her nap and cried when she realized he was gone.”

I remember weeping because Wei Ying was gone, he doesn’t say. She seemed as heartbroken as I was, back then. 

“Ah,” his uncle murmurs. “A word of advice, Wangji. When you are overtaxed, and dealing with a child in distress, your discomfort will inevitably worsen theirs. I learned this by trial with your brother, and it ended with him stopping his tears and laughing for me because he hated to see me cry.”

It sounds so much like Lan Xichen that Lan Wangji feels his throat swell. “En?”

“In such times, seek help before you become overwrought,” Lan Qiren advises him. “I am here, as is Xichen, and the nursery teachers who cared for you both when you were little. You and your husband are not alone, in any aspect of your lives, and it would be a joy to all of us to aid you.”

And then Lan Qiren makes tea and shoos Lan Wangji back to the bedroom, where he sinks down onto the bed with the baby snoring quietly in his arms and falls asleep himself.

When Wei Ying returns an hour later, he declares that everything must have gone perfectly for both of them to be so at ease.

“I didn’t want to leave you!” he laughs, cuddling a squealing A-Lan to his breast and waving a handful of new toys over her curious little face. “But you were as cool as a cucumber, Lan Zhan! Why can’t I be like you?”

“It was not so smooth as I hoped it would be,” Lan Wangji confesses. “But everything was all right in the end, xingan. My shufu is a very good teacher.”

[undercoverwizardfanfiction]

Mud is Thicker then Blood: Test

Verse: ROTTMNT Fantasy Verse

Summary: Being a father is one thing, but also being a teacher is another matter entirely. Especially with a son as stubborn as Donnie

Characters: Leonard, Donnie, Mickey, and Danny

Pairings: Why are you like this?

Rated: G

Dedicated to: @star-boy-blue for all the amazing art you made us!

“Focus Donnie”

The fourteen year old in front of him rolled his eyes, but as a parent he’s used to that. Donnie brought up his bo staff again. “I am, Dad.” As he expected, Don responded with an attack. Whenever Don got frustrated, he’d always respond with physical retaliation. Len took a step back, avoiding the blow before forcing his way into Don’s space. The teen immediately got a flustered look on his face before doing a corkscrew dodge away. Len could see Don’s eyes shift to his left. The teen started charging to move past him when Len swept his hook staff out, catching him around the ankle. With a squawk, that Len struggled not to laugh at, Don hit the ground on his plastron.

Len couldn’t help but wince. ”You ok?” He stepped closer, kneeling down looking over his son's form with a critical eye. Other than some dirt on his clothes, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong. “How’s your leg?”

“It's fine.” Of course Don wanted to do things the hard way. He rolled away and back to his feet with his training staff in hand. A part of Leonard is proud, but he can’t help but sigh as he stood up. “Dee, you don’t have to do this. If you need more practice and training it's fine. No one will think less of you.”

The teen looked at him with what can only be described as exasperation. “No, you don’t get to decide when I’m done. After how many times you made me try ‘just one more time’. No, I’m not done till I say I’m done.” He spun his staff for a moment, probably to vent some anger before slamming the end into the ground and settling into a stance.

Len studied him for a moment. He knew that Donnie is determined not to fail today. He knew what’s at stake. “Then listen. When you bottle up your feelings you get clumsy. You lose your advantage. Just breath and you’ll succeed.” He slid back into a ready stance.

A moment later, Donnie was on him again. The two deflected each other’s attacks for a few moments before Don pivoted in his step. Bringing his staff up to swing at Len’s head. With more defense then necessary he brought his shoulder up to shove Don away before taking several steps back. Without breaking eye contact he reached up to test his ponytail to make sure it wasn’t undone. With that, Len couldn’t help but grin. A surge of energy went through him as his hand caught the incoming bo, his hand now traced with an almost translucent black flame that made Don give an offended noise. “No fair, you didn’t say we could use magic!”

“Come on, rule number one is sometimes you gotta make up your own rules.” Len freed his hand, allowing his kinetic magic to flow through his body. Don, who knew better at this point, bent his knees and jumped backwards. Len could see the gears rolling in his son’s head as Don decides his next move. Len shot forward to retaliate, causing Don to jump again with a furrowed brow when his levitation kicked in and allowed him to float further away and try to stay out of his reach.

Len was on him the minute he hit the ground with an almost inhuman speed. His son was able to deflect his blows but was forced to take several steps back till his shell was up against a tree. Len brought the hooked staff down from above as Don quickly blocked with his own. Len can see his brow is furrowed in frustration, struggling to come up with a solution to the problem. The part of him that is Donnie’s father, silently begged him to surrender. They can always try again later. The teacher in him begs his son not to give up.

Don suddenly released his bo staff and ducks away, the staff snapping to the ground causing Len to stumble. Before Len can move, Don twisted his body and gave him a kick in the ribs. The blow broke his concentration and he lost his kinetic magic as he held his ribs with one arm hand. “Nice hit,” he commented, even though he didn’t have a broken rib or even a bruise, it was enough to knock the air out of him. “It’s not enough to beat your old man though.”

Don grinned. “You said I didn’t have to beat you though.” In his free hand Don held up a familiar blue headband with a gold coin held between his fingers that made Len blink rapidly. He reached for his ponytail again, only to find that the headband he used to tie it back was replaced by a cheap, frayed string, that fell apart at his touch letting his hair fall in his face. He could only stare in surprise for a moment before grinning. “Yeah, I did say that.” He stood up. “When did you realize that’s where I hid the coin?”

“This morning I saw you putting product in your hair, which you wouldn’t have done unless you were worried something might fall out.” Donnie held up the coin. “This counts as a win right? I found the coin, stole the coin, all without you noticing.”

Len’s proud smile sank into a slightly sadder one, one he hoped donnie wouldn’t notice. “Yeah kiddo, you win.”

Barely a moment later, Mickey burst out of the bushes, flailing his flippers in the air “WOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO go cookieee!” He shrieked with glee before sliding over and wrapping the teen in a hug. “Your Uncle Mickey is so so proud of you baby Deeeeeeeeeeeee.”

Don gave a loud gasp as he struggled to free himself. “Yeah I know Uncle Mickey! Air, turtles need air! Gah!” He squirmed around but Mickey’s hugs are a power all in themselves and they both end up in a somewhat escape/wrestling match (escape for Donnie, wrestling for Mickey), Len grinned as Danny approached him. “Well, he won.”

“Only because you went easy on him.”

Len glanced at the wrestling nephew and uncle, thankfully too enraptured in their wrestling match to notice them. “Don’t tell him that. He’s my kid, I’m not going to go all out on my kid.”

“I know, you big softy.” Danny wrapped his arm around Len’s neck and pulled him into a side hug for a moment before Len gave him a playful elbow to the ribs and steped away, he brought down his hook staff hard enough to catch the two wrestlers attention (though Mickey had Donnie in a nonlethal head lock, Donnie had a grip on either side of Mickey’s cheeks and was now trying to stretch his face out), Len snapped his fingers with his free hand and pointed to the ground just in front of him. Mickey squirmed free and went to his side while Don stood up.

Hesitating long enough to take a deep breath and move closer, readjusting his hood as though it were a safety blanket. In almost a blink the confident teen who wanted to challenge the world around him was again wracked with insecurity. But, as Donnie stepped up, Len knew his neverending courage would never fail him. “Um,” Donnie started quietly, “I did what you asked. I haven’t snuck out, I’ve listened to everything you said, trained with you everyday, and I got the coin without you noticing.” Despite the anxiety in his eyes, there’s a glimmer of hope. “Do I pass?”

Len had always waited for this day with dread and excitement. He let out a breath through his nostrils before putting on a brave smile. “Yeah you pass. You can be a Mud Dog now.” Don’s eyes filled with excitement as he curled his hands under his wide smile, a strangled squeal started emitting from his throat that sounded sorta like that time Mickey drank that bottle of rainbow liquid that made him radioactive for three days before he stood back up again. Seeming to understand there was more Len wanted to say.

“You’ve earned it. I always knew this day would come, but-” he reached out and cupped the side of his son's face. An act most sons would have detested but Don gently tilted his head into the touch with a smile “-It seems like yesterday I found you, a tiny little child with not even a name. I’ve seen you grow, get better, get stronger, smarter. More stubborn.” He used his thumb to rub his cheek, “You grew up too fast for me kid.”

“Are you saying you’re old now?” Don said with a wicked grin, trying to alleviate the swelling of Len’s melancholy. But Len responded with an equally wicked grin.

“Not too old to put you in a corner you brat.” He reached up and pulled down Don’s hood, causing him to let out a loud laugh before adjusting it to his standards. Len gestured to Danny and Mickey, “Alright, these two softies said they wanted to give you something in case you passed today. So I’ll let them at it.”

The teen blinked and looked in between the two, “Wait, no you don’t have to-“ but Danny waved him off. “Come on kid, I promise it isn’t vegetables this time.” With a dark blush, Don ducked his face into his scarf, save for his dark pink eyes but didn't protest further.

Danny went first. “From me.” He dug into his pocket, and drew out a familiar silver old pocket watch that he held out. It was probably twice Danny’s age and the only thing on it that had been replaced in its time was the fine dark purple cord that would hold it to the user's form. Don took it with both hands, eyes widening. “Recognize it? It’s the same one you fixed for me when we first found you. Been running ever since. Took care of it so when this day came you’d have something from your favorite Uncle.” Danny ignored Mickey’s offended look in his direction. “And see?” Danny pointed to the outside of the pocket watch, “it even has our initials.” Referring to the giant D on it. “It’s the closest thing I can give you to a family relic.” Danny gave a shrug that he probably hoped to seem nonchalant but failed at the slight quiver to Danny’s breath. “Hopefully you’ll think of me every time you use it,” he said rubbing Don’s scalp over his head.

With that he stepped back and turned away for a moment, probably hoping no one would catch him quickly dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve. If anyone but Len noticed they gave no indication. Don looked at the pocket watch with a smile and glint in his eyes before putting it back in his pocket and looking over to Mickey as he squiggled forward. “Well from your ACTUAL favorite Uncle,” Mickey made sure to give Danny a pout (who had collected himself to turn back around) before turning back to Donnie, “I made this a while ago, and figured you’d make good use out of it.” He held out a dark purple bag. That, to an observer may have looked like a terrible gift but Don’s eyes widened showing how valuable it really was. “It’s an infinite bag, you can load it up with a ton of stuff and carry it with you like it was nothing!” He flailed his tentacles excitedly. “Just like what we have!”

Don took the bag with both hands with a look of awe before he smirked weakly, “There’s not a criminal in this right? I don’t want another Registration Day fiasco-”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!!!” Mickey cried loud enough for nearby birds to take off, flailing his tentacles again dramatically. “An accident! I didn’t know Heinous Green was in it, I didn't!” He probably would have spent another hour defending himself had Danny not reached out and pulled Mickey back. “I know buddy, I know.” Danny said, pulling off his fedora and setting it on the eel’s head as a way to appease him. Which you wouldn't think would have worked except Mickey immediately deflated, his head sinking into his neck as he let out a sigh, feeling the brim of the silk fedora with a giggle.

Donnie let out a chuckle at his uncle's antics before tying the bag to his waist. He opened his mouth again, probably to thank everyone when Len held up his hand, “I got you something too. It’s not exactly new but I think you’ll enjoy it.” He swung his hook staff around. The moment Don’s eyes set on it he gave a loud gasp.

“I-No-Dad I can't, I can’t!” he protested immediately, taking a physical step back. But Len gave him a stern, but warm look that made him move back into place. Len let the staff rest in the palm of his hand as it returned to its handle form with a flash. “The Dragon Claw staff has been in our family for generations. Only a few of us have been able to use it to its full power. My mom, your grandma, was the first to use it fully in three hundred years. Then me, then you. The staff accepted you as part of the Yukimura family ever since it formed in your hands when you were five. When you wield this staff, it’ll be like me and your grandma are always protecting you.” He extended it out to him.

In that moment, he remembered watching his Mother train with this same staff. He remembered learning how to use it under a bridge, his only shelter from the snow and the only distraction from his hunger. And finally, he remembered a small, green hand, far too curious for his own good, reaching out and touching it, only for it to flash and form. Scaring the poor child for a good day in a half. It had only been when it formed again at Don’s touch (days later under the protective eye of him and Danny) that Len knew it had claimed Donnie.

Donnie looked up to him, only when he saw Len’s affirming smile and nod, did the fourteen year old take it. Cradling it in his hands like a sacred treasure. Len could see the tears form in Don’s eyes and was in a way grateful that his son understood how important a moment this was. He’s about to step up and console him when Donnie scrubbed his eyes on his sleeve

“Th-thanks you guys. Thank you dad. I know I wasn’t always the easiest kid in the world, but you never laid a hand on me or gave up on me. Even though we aren’t blood, I never felt like we weren't….” He took a breath, “Family.”

At that moment, the tables are quickly turned and suddenly it's Len with rapidly filling eyes that he can’t blink away. “Aw hell,” he said, wrapping his arms around his son. He could feel Donnie hug him back just as tightly, his smaller hands gripping the back of his jacket as though terrified Len would disappear from his grasp. “I’m so damn proud to be your dad,” he said, pressing his face into Don’s scalp after giving it a small peck.

Don’s muffled voice broke out from its place in Len’s chest. “Are you crying?”

“No!” Len quickly rubbed his face with his free arm to hide his lies before rewrapping it around Don. “Of course not!”

“Oh, definitely, he’s barely keeping it together,” Danny said with a grin that made Len promise to burn all his romance novels later.

“He’s going to cry big time,” Mickey added.

Len glared at them both, “You two are assholes you know that!?” He used this thumb to wipe his newest stream of tears away. Despite what he said, and despite the laughter, the two Uncles joined in the hug, holding them together as close as they could. The world saw them as thieves, as criminals. Wanted posters said three of them were unreformable monsters. But in that moment, and in so many more, he was a father. The luckiest Dad in the world.

They were a family.

They would always be a family.

[unsaidholland]

what a time | t. holland

hello besties, this is a tom fic that has been in the making for a while! a personal favourite trope, tom and musician!reader break up and she writes a song about him! what a time by julia michaels ft. niall horan is used as the reader’s song, definitely go listen to it if you haven’t!

warnings: it’s mostly sad so grab some tissues, fluff at the end

you, like tom, didn’t have a very typical job. while your friends went off to university to get their degrees, you went on to become a musician. that’s how you had met tom. he dmed you one day saying that he loved your music, you said you loved his movies, and the rest was history. he ended up introducing you to so many people over the ten months that you two were together, one of them being niall horan. niall and you exchanged numbers wanting to eventually collab, but neither of you thought that your breakup would be the reason that the two of you were going to release a song together.

after ten months, you and tom called it quits. you made sure the media thought it was mutual. that was the first thing you agreed on when the two of you started dating - if you ever went public and had broken up, it would seem to be a mutual agreement. neither of you wanted the other’s reputation to be ruined. little did the public know, the breakup was anything but mutual. he had broken up with you. you never knew why. he had just said, “it wasn’t working out.” that was all he left you with. that was all you had for closure. funny how forever seemed to last just over ten months, right?

you sat in your living room with a guitar in your hands. you had so much emotion that you had bottled up, and the only way you knew to get it out was songwriting. after messing around with different chords on your guitar, you found a chord progression that you were really confident in. the melody seemed to come naturally, and so your phone began to fill up with voice memos of possible lyrics. 

i think of that night in the park, it was getting dark

and we stayed up for hours

what a time, what a time, what a time

you clinged to my body like you wanted it forever

what a time, what a time, what a time

for you and I

what a time, what a time

for you and I

the chorus came naturally, the verses came next, and before you knew it you had a rough draft of a song. after listening back to the song, you realized that it was missing something. you looked around the living room, sunlight peeking through the sheer, white blinds. after writing for two hours, you decided you needed a snack and a coffee. 

you walked to the coffee shop down the street from your apartment. the coffee shop that you used to go to with tom. as you stood in line to order, your mind couldn’t help but wonder if he came to the shop when he was in town? did he stand in line and think about whether you still went here too? you ordered your iced coffee and pain au chocolat and sat at one of the tables. you chose a table far, far away from where you and tom used to sit. this place would always remind you of him no matter how hard you tried. the warm lights brightened up the room, but it still felt dim without tom. the coffee shop didn’t have that sense of warmth and familiarity that it used to, that tom brought to it whenever you used to go. 

you watched as people walked in and out of the shop. you watched as couples kissed in line as they waited. you watched as people seemed happy. you needed to figure out what was missing with your song, and as you watched two people out on the street argue, you realized you needed a second voice on the track. 

later that night, you asked niall to feature on your song. when you sent him a very rough recording of what you had written, he immediately agreed. the song was raw and real, the song revealed more about your breakup with tom than you could ever say. 

•••

it had been two weeks since you released the song. what a time became popular enough to get you and niall a spot on james cordon’s show. as you were sat on stage and the band started playing the intro, you felt tears well up in your eyes. you couldn’t do it. you walked off stage where niall found you.

“come here,” was all he said. it was all he needed to say. he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back as your head sat on his chest. his heartbeat helped to calm you down. you and niall were just friends, but he was like a brother to you, especially after he helped you with the song. “let’s try again, yeah?” he asked you after a few minutes. the crew backstage just watched as he comforted you. you wiped the tears away from your face and nodded.

soon enough you were back on stage and performing the song. you fought back the tears throughout the whole performance, but whenever you felt the tears about to spill over, niall was there to get you through it. when he was close to you, he would hug you or hold your hand, and when he couldn’t he gave you a reassuring look. a look that said, “we’re going to get through this.”  your voice wavered as you sang, but the audience still cheered you on. the emotion that you felt pushed you to finish the performance, because as soon as it was done, the sooner you could get home and cry, cry somewhere that wasn’t in the eyes of the spotlight. 

the episode you were on aired a few days later. you couldn’t bear to watch it, but you tweeted about it to help bring some publicity towards it. little did you know, on the other side of the world, tom was watching it as it aired. he was having dinner at his parent’s house when his dad had turned on the tv to watch the late late show. tom thought nothing of it and sat down on the couch next to the twins. he laughed at the segments, but then he saw you. nikki, knowing it was going to be too much for her firstborn, instinctively went to reach for the remote, but was stopped by tom saying a quiet, “no.”

he watched you as you sang. he watched as you poured your heart out to the world. tom watched you fight back tears that no one else could see, but most importantly, tom knew that he was the cause of this. he was the one who called it off, he was the one who ripped your heart in half, he was the one who caused all your tears, grief, and pain. he could never take that back. tom was too entranced by your performance to realize that he was shedding tears. he may not have been your boyfriend anymore, but he still knew you like the back of his hand. he missed you like a child misses his mother on the first day of school. he needed you the way the ocean needs the moon’s push and pull to create waves. it took you publicly fighting back your tears on stage for tom to realize completely that he had lost something more important to him than anything. 

tom listened to you sing.

you clinged to my body like you wanted it forever, what a lie, what a lie, what a lie.

he wanted you for forever. all he ever wanted was for you to stay in his arms forever, but clearly he lost everything when he broke it off. at the time it all seemed reasonable. he loved you, but he didn’t want to lose your relationship to the distance, so he called it off. tom just never thought that it would hurt this much. being separated by vast oceans didn’t make it any better either. it made everything worse. he couldn’t just go and see you. he needed to fly out to la, find out where you were staying, and find a place for him to stay. and in the case that you did take him back, he needed to change his schedule to make sure he didn’t lose you again, because he couldn’t lose you, not again.

he wiped away the tears that rolled down his flushed cheeks with the cuff of his blue midtown high sweater. as you and niall hugged at the end of the performance he thought about how perfect life was when he held you in his arms. he thought about how he should be the one holding you in his arms. he thought about how he lost everything the day he lost you. it had been a month and a half since the breakup, and he felt like he had been suffering ever since. he needed you, that was the only thing he knew to be true. 

“come here darling,” nikki said, opening up her arms to wrap around her son after getting up to comfort him. he held onto her like his life depended on it. she rubbed his back and placed a tender kiss on the top of his head. 

“i miss her so much.” his voice was breathy, light and filled with air, yet heavy with emotion. “mum i can’t live without her, why did i ever leave her?” he sobbed into her chest. tom didn’t care if the rest of his family was watching him sob over a girl he broke up with, he only cared about you. “i really messed up.” he pulled away to look at his mother’s expression expecting disappointment, but only seeing a soft, warm smile.

“you’re allowed to mess up. you live and you learn. the important thing is what are you going to do about it?” nicola was always a wise woman in tom’s eyes. she always knew what to say and when to say it. not only that, but she was always a good friend to him, not just his mom. she looked into tom’s brown eyes that were only swirling with emotion. deep in thought, tom could only hear his mom’s words roaming around his mind. what are you going to do about it?

•••

less than 36 hours later tom found himself in la. he was on a journey to find you, and this time he wasn’t planning on giving up. he knew where to find you.

you stumbled into your favourite coffee shop as you always did. the coffee in la was different than back home, so whenever you were in la you couldn’t stop the small coffee obsession. you sat down at a table, opening your laptop to answer some emails and get some work done. you may have been sitting alone at a table, but you were comfortable with the space. 

tom had walked in, ordered a coffee and a cookie, and after paying and receiving his order, his eyes scanned the room to find you, which he easily did. you looked ethereal, he thought you were so beautiful despite only wearing jeans and a plain t-shirt. you weren’t done up, but he still thought you were absolutely gorgeous. he mustered up the courage to ask if he could sit at your table, and once the two of you made eye contact it was as if the world stopped for a moment. his chest tightened at the sight of you, and the knot in his stomach had turned into butterflies. he was more nervous than he was at any press conference he had ever been to because if he didn’t do well, he would have lost everything for good.

“please sit,” you said after finding your voice. you shut your laptop, taking it off the table and putting it back into your bag to focus your attention on him. “what are you doing here? i thought you were still in kingston.” small talk was never your specialty. especially since you had so much you wanted to tell him with nowhere to start. 

“i flew out about 36 hours ago. i needed to see you.” tom cut right to the chase. he may have been sleep deprived, being too nervous on the plane and during his layovers to even sleep, but he was thinking clearly when it came to fixing your relationship with him. he needed you back, that was the goal, that was why he flew out in the first place. “yeah, i couldn’t get a direct flight, so i had a layover in toronto. it was cool and all, but all i could think about was seeing you.” tom kept rambling, and as much as you wanted to stop him and get angry with him, you just let him talk. you needed to hear him out. you needed to know if the past month and a half had been hell for him like it was for you. 

“i’m the biggest idiot that could have ever walked the planet, y/n. i shouldn't have broken up with you. i’m really sorry.” he reached out to grab your hands, cupping them in his. his touch was gentle, but so, so warm against your hands. his touch was intoxicating. you would be lying if you said that you didn’t want him, but even after he hurt you, tom was all you wanted. “i need to make things right. i need you back in my life, i need us to get back together. i want you, i’ve only wanted you.” i’ve only wanted you. his words were stitching your heart back together, but you couldn’t forget that he had left you.

“i was scared, so i broke up with you. that is the most idiotic thing i’ve ever done. i didn’t want the distance to hurt us so i needed to break up with you before the distance could break us up, but i’ll give you anything, no, i’ll give you everything if it means we can try again.” tom didn’t care about the people around your table, he just cared about you. he cared about getting you back. the two of you sat in silence, drowning out the noise of the other patrons in the shop. the bustle of the city was suddenly gone as you focused on him.

“do you mean it?” those words were the only thing you could muster out. your mind was all over the place. you looked behind him, at the people walking around the shop, grabbing their drinks and leaving, talking to their friends. your eyes focused back on tom. you focused on how he looked so desperate for you, how he was silently fighting for you as the two of you sat in silence.

“of course i do. i love you y/n.” those latter four words cut the silence like a knife. those four words were the last thing you thought you were going to hear from him, but here he was, saying everything you wanted him to and meaning it. he meant every single word he was saying to you, that much was evident.

“i love you too.”

•••

about a month later, you were scrolling on twitter only to see an article about you and tom getting back together. though the two of you never confirmed it explicitly, it was quite obvious with how much the two of you were spotted together. a few days after he flew out to reconcile with you, you had flown back home to london with him. countless dates were spent before tom had to go to ohio to film his newest project. you were meant to fly out later, needing to finish a few meetings in london about your next album.

you scrolled through your instagram to see a photo of you and tom that he had posted. it was a photo that harrison had taken of the two of you dancing around in the backyard as it was pouring rain. neither of you knew he had taken photos of you until after. the captured moment became both your lockscreen and tom’s lockscreen, and now it was out there for the whole world to see. he had tagged you in it and captioned it what a time for you and i, clearly referring to your song. a smile appeared on your face. you were quick to comment on his picture. when he says “you can stand under my umbrella” but he doesn’t have an umbrella :// if he was going to have fun with this, then so were you.

as your phone blew up, you got a text from tom saying he was taking a break from filming and that he would call you soon. what a time for you and him indeed.

[amchara]

Talking Bodies - Kit/Ty/OFC fic (Explicit, 1/5)

Ty has been observing their friend Ellie during her unexpected stay at the Herondale townhouse and believes he has found a solution to her problems - or at least, her problems with men. And Kit is usually up for his plans, even if this one is a bit unorthodox.

Yes, this is an Kit / Ty / OFC fic, set five years post-The Wicked Powers, while Kit and Ty are living and working in London. Ty POV. Part of my London Files ‘verse but you don’t need to have read them to read this mostly pwp story ;) Ellie is a school friend of Kit’s and has been in other stories of mine - and if you like the idea of Mari the werewolf, maybe you’d like this story? 😊)

While this chapter and the next don’t have any actual sex in it (talking and consent is important, yo) be forewarned, it’s going to get smutty from chapter three onwards, so has an overall explicit rating. Those chapters will not be posted on tumblr but will be linked to Ao3. Thanks to @dontmindmyshadowhunting for the feedback on the story so far!

Chapter One: Talking Bodies

Ty was again mulling over a problem that had been nagging at him for several months now. A problem that had just entered the kitchen from the downstairs flat that had previously been used as the servants’ quarters in the Herondale townhouse, and was padding across the cold floor in fluffy pink slippers. And hadn’t yet noticed him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ty!” Ellie yelped, as she turned around from where she had put on the coffeemaker. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“Upstairs,” Ty shrugged, as he sat down at the table, watching her carefully. As she finally took in what he was wearing- or wasn’t wearing, as was his case, being only clothed from the waist down. He watched as her eyes surreptitiously lingered over his shoulders and trailed down further. He lifted his arms up, in a casual move he knew showed off several muscle groups in his upper chest and her jaw moved slightly as she swallowed, trying to remain casual. Ty took another couple mental notes.

Ellie noticed his gaze and she quickly looked away, stretching for the laundry basket and launched something at him.

He grabbed the soft t-shirt - one of Kit’s - out of the air before it could hit his face.

“Put on a shirt, you’re blinding me with that glow-in-the-dark chest,” she scowled as she busied herself with putting on the kettle. But her voice held that tone that after three months of living under the same roof, Ty knew didn't actually mean she was annoyed. Well, fairly sure- but as he had confirmed the reaction he expected, he pulled on the t-shirt, just as he saw Kit come into the kitchen, all sweaty and flushed after his morning run.

“Pretty sure that’s one of mine, Ty,” he said affectionately, coming over to give him a light kiss on the mouth. “But it looks good on you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ty could see Ellie’s eyes snapping back to them, almost unwillingly.

“Ellie’s request,” Ty said.

Kit looked over to her. “Oh- and what pray tell, is your reason for protecting his modesty? From one of your conquests?” he teased, his eyes flickering to the open door downstairs.

“Yeah, that’s it,” she replied, a fleeting smile crossing her face. “I’m used to the Shadowhunter genes but I’m worried my one night stands might find Ty irresistible and decide to use me as an excuse to see him again, and no one wants that, believe me.” Her voice was light but Ty could see a small crease form on Kit’s brow, and Ty thought he was also recalling the incident from a few nights ago when Ellie had ejected an angry, drunk Irish guy from her bedroom and Kit and Ty had had to escort him out the front door.

But Ellie had already apologised profusely the morning after and Kit wasn’t about to give his friend more grief about it. “Very noble of you,” he said, winking at Ty. “I’d hate to add more bloodstains to my clothes defending Ty’s honour.”

He sauntered over to the counter, his face brightening as he saw the coffeemaker light go off. “Ah coffee- my love,” he stopped short as Ellie poked him in the stomach. Ty straightened up to watch the interaction.

Her eyes were glittering as she held her hand out in front of the pot. “I made this for myself, angel boy- get your own.” Kit bent his head down, close to her face, giving her his sweetest smile. “Yeah, but you’re not about to drink it all,” he said, in a wheedling tone.

“Oi- your Herondale charm does not work on me,” she informed him but Ty could see her smile widening and her breathing had sped up, just a touch and he wished he had his notebook out. But he couldn’t risk it and so he turned his attention instead to Kit’s reaction.

Kit had grabbed a coffee mug and was feinting, trying to get around as Ellie - who had been to the Academy, even if she had dropped out - put up a good defensive shield.

Despite that, they all knew Kit could have easily gotten around her, if he wanted to. He instead put down the coffee mug and grabbed her in a big hug, squishing her close to him.

“Oh my god, you smell,” she complained.

“Pour me a mug and I’ll go away,” he said, looking over to grin at Ty, who just smiled and shook his head. Originally, it had been an unwanted addition to his and Kit’s routine but now he was used to their occasional morning antics. Although they had been few and far between recently, as Ellie had retreated downstairs more often. And it did kind of remind him of chaotic mornings at the L.A. Institute.

“Go shower and I’ll put another pot on for you,” she countered.

“Deal,” Kit said, instantly letting go, although Ty could see how he subtly moved his eyes away from where Ellie’s low-cut top was peeking through her dressing gown.

After Kit left the kitchen, Ellie turned and held out a cup to him, filled with steaming tea. She always remembered.

“Thanks,” Ty said, taking it.

She sat down with her own large mug of coffee and a bowl of cereal and nodded at the pile of files he had left on the table overnight. “Busy day of work ahead?”

“Kind of,” Ty replied. “We have a few days of senior Clave members visiting so we’re preparing summaries and presentations of all the recently-closed cases.”

“Sounds important,” she said, looking over the files with a critical eye.

“It’s not really - they all get reports sent when we close them out, they just choose not to read them. It actually takes up time we could be spending working on new cases,” Ty said, trying not to let the irritation color his voice - he had promised Anush he would try to be more polite this quarterly meeting and he might as well start early before he headed to the Centurion office at Whitehall.

But he could see that Ellie had caught on. “Sounds annoying, then,” she clarified. “Do you- do you need-“ her voice suddenly went softer, shyer. “Anything I could help out with on the ground, while you’re stuck impressing the senior brass?”

Ty wished there was - she had been extremely helpful in the dragon scale smuggling case - but he had to be truthful. “No,” he said and he could see her face fall. “But if there’s anything Shadow Market related that you could help with, I’ll let you know.”

She nodded, catching his drift but she still looked sad. “Great, just let me know.”

After Ellie had left to get ready for her university classes, Ty pulled out his notebook from the middle of the pile of files and wrote down that morning’s interactions. He tapped on the table with his pencil as he thought, and then expanded further on his conclusions. He was almost entirely sure they were correct, and that he had found a course of action he was happy with.

Problem was, he still wasn’t entirely sure how Kit would react and he was key to anything progressing further. He watched as Kit returned to the kitchen table, running his hands through his still wet hair and figured now was as good a time as any to let him in on it.

“I think Ellie needs something to boost her confidence,” Ty said, without any preamble. “And find someone who appreciates her. Someone she can sleep with and not worry that they won’t call again or handle her moods.”

Kit gave him a quick look from across the table, a bit confused at Ty’s interest. “Agreed,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He grabbed at his cup of coffee, taking a big swig. “The men she’s recently been seeing have been trash.”

“Do you have a plan?” he asked casually.

Ty nodded.

Kit sat back up. “I’m in.” He nearly always was, when it came to Ty’s plans. “So we’re matchmaking Ellie? Setting her up with a nice Shadowhunter boy or girl or were you thinking more traditional - overseeing her swipe rights on Tinder?” His eyes danced as he started getting into the idea, pulling out his phone.

Ty skimmed his hands over the surface of the breakfast table. He knew what Tinder was - Dru had shown him it earlier in the summer, when Thais had briefly installed it to get over her latest heartbreak. “Maybe for step two. Step one is us sleeping with her.”

Kit choked on his coffee. “Um…” He refocused his attention on Ty, his blue eyes subtly darting over Ty’s face, as he quickly assessed Ty’s reaction.

Ty waited for him to finish. As it often was, he figured it would be easier to have Kit read him, rather than have to explain. He waited for a couple minutes and then prepared to show him his notes, if he needed to explain further.

Kit sat back. “You’re serious?” There were further questions in his voice but also, tentative interest, Ty thought.

“Yes, I am.” Ty nodded. “Don’t you think she’s attractive?”

Kit let out a brief, nervous chuckle. “Of course- but she’s also my friend. So that’s a boundary that we’ve not crossed- or at least, not since school. Plus, I’m with you.”

“You know I don’t mind. You can’t control who you find attractive,” Ty said. They had spoken about this early on in their relationship - Kit’s flirting with whoever caught his eye never bothered him. Ty knew he was the one who had Kit’s heart. Plus, he wasn’t suggesting they do this separately.

“My question- do you find her attractive?” Kit asked, his voice deliberately light. “I know you were with both girls and guys at the Scholomance but I wasn’t sure if you still…”

Ty thought back to the way that Ellie often held herself, her angry stance challenging the world, her blue eyes flashing when she and Ty had spotted the caged dragons in the London Shadow Market and how she had charged right in; how she flung her arms in casual exuberance around Kit when she came in after a night of drinking and dancing, how the dimple in her cheek deepened when she gave one of her rare smiles, her habit of tapping her fingers to her lips as she read one of her psychology journals in the library. He had spent the last three months observing her - and Ty knew one of his conclusions would be: yes; he found her attractive.

Ty shrugged. “Yeah, I do.” Kit took in this information, mulling it over, and then he looked up.

“Wait- but does she think we’re attractive?”

“Yes,” Ty said. He held out his notebook and passed it to Kit. “I’ve been making notes.”

Kit let out a quick laugh, as he flipped through the pages. “Ty- I both can and can’t believe you took notes on it.” His eyes widened and the flipping of pages slowed as he started to read more thoroughly. “I see you took notes on all of us…” he said, as he gave a lingering, inscrutable glance up at Ty before returning to read.

Ty could feel a small flush creep up from his neck. “Yeah, I did- I’m glad we offered her a place to stay until her loan money comes in, given the living arrangement with her boyfriend after they broke up. But it was strange at first. This was just a way to deal with that and well…” he rubbed the back of his neck, watching Kit. “Then it just seemed helpful to continue with it.”

Kit had let out a soft growl at the mention of Ellie’s cheating boyfriend, but his eyes softened as he looked back to Ty. “I know I’ve said this before - but I really appreciate you were willing to have her stay, given how much I know you hate disruption and she’s more my friend than yours.”

Ty watched as Kit traced his voyance rune, a familiar tic that he had when he was feeling nervous around Ty.

“She’s my friend too,” Ty said firmly, and he looked up to meet Kit’s face, eyes resting just below his cheekbone. “Especially after the past few months and the stuff around the Shadow Market case.”

Kit nodded, reassured. He handed back the notebook to Ty. “This was absolutely fascinating- I had no idea I had so many tells, especially when it comes to pre-jumping you,” he said, a smile playing on his lips and his normal cheerful manner returning. “But I’ve also realised - I didn’t need notes to know that Ellie thinks we’re both hot. Maybe it’s been less frequent recently, given everything but she’s made plenty of comments over the years on how attractive she thinks we both are. In very loud, complimentary terms- and…” he added, the smile mixing with a small wince, his eyes focused on past memories. “Sometimes in very inappropriate places.”

“The other thing is,” he said, speaking slower as if he were thinking out loud. “Is it - we wouldn’t be taking advantage of her, you know- her grief?”

“Her mother died two years ago,” Ty pointed out. He could see Kit about to protest and he continued. “I know, believe me, I know that grief doesn’t just go away…” Livvy was the unspoken word between them. “But also-” Ty searched for the words. “There comes a point when you want people to stop treating you like this fragile, broken thing. You need to start making your own decisions again and decide how you want to live… after,” he said. “And that’s partially why I think we should do it. I think she’s… stuck in that. Also stuck in that she dropped out of the Academy so she’s not exactly a mundane anymore but she’s not a Downworlder either.”

He paused, wondering if he needed to explain the other part but he thought Kit already knew about it.

Kit looked thoughtful.

“She can also always say no,” Ty pointed out logically.

“True,” Kit admitted. He grinned. “Okay, if she’s in, and you are, so am I.” He poked Ty’s arm playfully. “And to think I was going to just grab a coffee and head to the Institute. I didn’t expect to get a threesome proposition from my boyfriend over breakfast,” he said.

“What’s that?” Ellie had reappeared at the top of the stairs, now fully dressed and Kit looked over at Ty, the question in his eyes.

Ty shook his head, and mouthed. Tonight

Kit nodded, blushing slightly as he looked over at Ellie. She had her back to him as she went rummaging in the fridge and Kit snuck a glance at Ty, as if watching for his reaction.

Ty couldn’t help but find it hot that Kit was looking for his approval. His boyfriend didn’t blush that often, especially not almost five years into their relationship. He smiled into his tea. Depending on Ellie’s reaction to their proposition, this could be an intriguing dynamic to play with. His imagination began to play in full technicolor as he played possible scenarios in his head. He took a sip of his tea, and made the effort to meet Kit’s eyes.

Whatever Kit saw there made him blush even harder, and Ty’s smile grew wider.

(Chapter Two)

—-

Hah, this has been consuming me almost my whole holiday but I will get back to the Hadestown fic soon, as I’ve almost finished this one, just doing the edits on most of the other chapters .

Tag list: @jesse-is-spiraling maybe @thechangeling for the Ty POV? But let me know if not… and let me know if you want to be added/removed.

[mochibrokenheart]

SVSSS: Guardian of the Museum

Mobei Jun x Shang Qinghua

Word Count: 2,756

Summary: Of course there's ominous growling and destruction to the building on Shang Qinghua's first night as a museum curator. Of course there is! Besides being desperate to keep the job, he's not sure what possesses him to actually walk toward the dangerous situation. His survival instincts were better trained that! Except...wait a minute...the terrifying creature causing all the ruckus is actually the hottest thing he's ever seen???

My first contribution for Moshang Monsterfucking Month (and my first fic for the fandom in general!) Heavy on the monster part as the nsfw is not explicit. Who knew that it would be hard to write something short. Inspired by the Day 2 prompt: horny.

Also posted on my Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34305571

A nearby bell tolled at midnight just as Shang Qinghua locked up the museum for the night, which meant that he was officially off for the weekend. Being a party of one, he celebrated with a groovy victory dance while turning the key over in the lock.

There was a little click and he rattled the knob, checking that the door was properly locked—if anything was stolen or vandalized during the night, he would most definitely be blamed as the recent hire!

The job was an important stepping stone in his career path plan to being a rare artifacts curator. He really needed the experience. It was hard enough to land the job, so he wasn’t above looking neurotic by double, and triple, and quadruple checking everything before he left.

A chilly breeze tussled his hair and raised goosebumps down his neck. It was October, he supposed while drawing up his hood to block the chill, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to complain.

He was much to delicate for cold temperatures and would exercise his right to curse out the changing seasons. Of course, he could move somewhere further south, so that he wouldn’t have to put up with it anymore, but still!

The only good thing about the loss of summer was the bugs, he decided.

Clearly, Shang Qinghua was irresistible because bugs treated his blood like an all-you-can buffet. If only hot men thought the same. But alas.

Sighing, he turned up to admire the full moon, who seemed to sympathize with the sad state of his romantic affairs, being the moon and all. Something about it’s pale gray-white color naturally emoted a sad, longing reflection.

It was as he was looking up that he heard a growl, loud not because of its pitch—it was actually quite low and gravelly—but because it vibrated the very air around him.

Shit. Shit. He wasn’t equipped to deal with some beast! He had no weapons and there was no way his body was going to get the job done either. He was a delicate flower, just ask the bugs who always feasted on him!

He rummaged through his bag frantically for his phone. That was what the authorities were for.

Opening his phone, his mind was racing. Who did you call when there was a potentially wild animal on the loose? The police? Animal control?

Gasp! What if it turned out to be a demon?

…!!!

He didn’t have any shamans or priests on speed dial. There had never been a reason to until then but if it would save him, he’d buy up every type of religious necklace he could and wear them around his neck daily. It was like insurance—it never hurt to cover all of his bases.

While he was wasting time on the sidewalk, what appeared to be small bits of gravel drifted down from what seemed like the roof. Scurrying to get closer to the streetlight, which casted a circular light on the steps of the museum, Shang Qinghua bent down to get a closer look.

It felt dusty when he rubbed his pointer finger against his thumb and did match the shade of stone the building was…The new evidence presented a bit of dilemma. Yes, he was still itching to call somebody have them do the dangerous work, but at the same time, his boss might fire him if something happened to the museum under his watch.

“Well, if there’s more damage, I guess I’ll take a look,” he muttered. He clasped his hands together. “But please, take mercy on me, moon! I promise that if you get me out of this that my next erotica will be dedicated solely to you, and in very large print, so that my readers know the reach of your mystical power!”

His hands remained clasped high above his head as he waited. So far so good.

There was still the scary growls, of course, but those didn’t count because he wasn’t going to investigate that. It was absolutely common knowledge that people who investigated weird sounds always ended up dead, at least in horror movies, and that was all the proof he needed to wash his hands of it.

No, the only thing that could sway him from his crouch on the front steps was…was…

Tears shimmered in his eyes as more rubble was knocked off from the roof, the fine particles irritating his nose and causing him to sneeze.

Thoroughly betrayed, he used his sleeve to wipe at his nose. Forget the moon. Clearly the bond he felt had only been one-sided, and now he was obligated to actually suck it up and put himself in harms way.

The Shang Qinghua of five minutes ago would’ve screamed and called himself a fool. Why ignore those highly honed flight instincts?! Even the Shang Qinghua of the present was screaming and calling himself a fool when he took the first hesitant step inside.

It was deceptively quiet in the stairwell but that wasn’t enough to calm him. As the saying went, it was the calm before the shit storm and he was about to be right in the middle of it. How careless of him.

Just in case this was the end, he started to draft an epitaph—it’s not like anyone else would put in the same amount of effort. 

His minor following would be too busy wailing about the permanent book hiatus; his boss would have their hands full dealing with insurance over the architectural damage; and that hot-and-cold cucumber bro of his would still be nagging him in the afterlife, criticizing him for his stupid plan when it ‘clearly would’ve been better to do such and such’. But back to him.

We are gathered here to mourn the passing of one Shang Qinghua, a bright hamster that was taken from Earth far too soon. His exhibit work was flawless, his knack for collections cataloging unrivaled. There was never a day without bountiful office supplies with him around. We thank him for his singular brave—foolish?—sacrifice in the name of historical value. Shang Qinghua is survived by several dying houseplants and the stray dog he usually fed on his way home from work.

There. That sounded as good as he was likely to get. Wait. No. He almost left out the most important part: the secret letter of last words meant only for cucumber bro’s eyes. Bro, if you’re reading this it’s because I died a terrible and scary death. Please take pity and wipe all of my search history. It was all for research, honest! It’s bad taste to judge a dead man.

The access door to the roof was large and imposing in front of him, even though there was still no noise coming from the other side. He was going to be mad and then relieved, in that exact order, if this turned out to be nothing.

He inhaled. Exhaled. Jumped around and shook his hands where they hung down beside the length of his body. He’d watched enough athletes—for research!—throughout his short life and getting loose always seemed to pump them up for competition. The same principle should apply here.

The door gave with a loud screech and he suspected that it wasn’t in regular use. Not that there was probably much to see up there anyway. Just roosting pigeons, stone slabs, and—

His mind went blank.

Crouching in the corner, so close to the edge that all it would take was a gust of wind to send him tumbling down, was some sort of winged creature. And the wings were massive things that arched up before curving downward completely over it’s back, the tips draped on the ground. Judging by how large they were, they had to be functional, which nearly caused him to wet himself. 

He didn’t want to imagine that thing taking flight after him. Not that he would be exciting prey. Gods, this probably how a mouse felt when a hawk was flying overhead.

But it was the horns that really caught his attention. They were hulking black spirals and the sharp points were pointed right at him. Even in the poor light, it was obvious that they were pure black. Any other time, he might comment on how cool they actually were, how they were a cosplayer’s dream, but it wasn’t cool when it was a matter of life and death. 

And he would most certainly die if those menacing horns and wings were any indication.

Trying to keep the element of surprise, he slowly let the door swing shut. Until a little bat started flew over squeaking, which caused him to squeak as well. The door hit the frame with a loud rattle. His body went heavy with fear and his eyes snapped shut, a natural prey response. He had never, ever been this scared.  

Not patient enough for Shang Qinghua to turn around on his own, the creature flung him around to face it with an aggressive growl. And he had thought it was loud when he was on the sidewalk. Which wasn’t true at all. It was much louder and more intimidating when it was right in his face.

“Trespasser!” it growled, teeth clicking.

…Okay, so it could talk. Maybe this was a good thing. Now could grovel with it to spare him!

Blinking rapidly, he opened his eyes and looked up, up, up. It didn’t look as horrific from the front as it did the back. In fact, it had a humanoid appearance and was distinctly male. He was the hottest thing he’d ever seen, a total fantasy come to life. How the hell was he real?

His was incredibly tall, his huge wings proportional to his size now that he was standing up. Now that he saw them up close, Shang Qinghua noticed that they were a beautiful shade of blue that started out dark but lightened to pale blue once it reached the tips, which also had sharp spikes—Nails? Claws? He wasn’t well versed in anatomy—attached.

The top of his ears were pointy, too, just like the tops of the wings. Oh, and the horns! There were two of them, both pure, glossy obsidian, that sprouted out on either side of his temple, the bases thick and ridged as they spiraled like a ram’s. The only difference was that his horns were much larger. He could maul someone with those along if he wasn’t careful.

But now that he considered it more—even in times of crisis, he could multi-task when it really counted—the horns only added more to his attractiveness. They were intimating, sure, but also sexy, in a monsterfucking type of way. He gasped as a clawed hand wrapped around his throat. Yep, he could definitely get into the horns and claws. Mark him down as scared and horny.

The growling died down but sharp teeth were still on display, and there was a stylized tattoo-looking mark on his forehead. Despite the snarl, Shang Qinghua instinctively knew that his face was insanely attractive; it had to be to match the rest of him. Speaking of the rest of him…

He dropped down in front of him, making sure to drag his hands down that ripped physique and gave his massive pectorals a quick squeeze before he landed on his knees in a kneeling position. 

His face was right in front of the creature’s impressive package, covered only by a flimsy loin cloth. It fluttered in the night breeze and he had to bite down on his finger to stop his depraved moaning. “Ff-forgive me, my good-demon-sir, but I swear I’m not trespassing. I’m a humble worker here at this museum.”

He quickly took out his employee badge to offer it up to the demon who barely gave it a glance. “Gargoyle,” it said in reply.

“Oh. I’m sorry but I don’t really know what you mean by that.” Wait, why did he say that? He didn’t want to get further in the demon’s bad side than he already was! “I mean no offense, of course. I’m sure gargoyles are absolutely lovely—”

“No,” he interrupted, his face smoothed out into blank slate. It made it harder to read him but Shang Qinghua quickly decided that it was alright. “I am a gargoyle, human. You may address me as Mobei Jun.”

Ohhh. Now that he mentioned it, his wings and horns could belong to a gargoyle. He knew that they were popular parts historical buildings that had a strong Western influence, which the museum did.

“And I am a king. Not a sir.”

Curse his authority kink. He was sure that any new fantasies he conjured up would be staring this particular king and Shang Qinghua as his servant.

“Of course, my king! You’re reeking of kingly handsomeness. As a lowly human, my apologies for the obvious mistake.” The gargoyle king didn’t make any move to acknowledge his words other than a slow blink, so he figured that it was all good. “Excuse me if this sounds rude, but what are you doing up here? And what was all the noise about?”

“Guardian. I was charged with the safety of this place by a war lord.” Jeez. So he’d been with the building for centuries at least, maybe even millennia.

There was a pause and he realized that he wasn’t going to answer the second question. It also seemed like the gargoyle king was waiting on him and a light bulb went off. “S-sorry again my king. I am Shang Qinghua. I am in charge of the rare artifacts inside of the building, so you may see me closing up most nights.”

The gargoyle king nodded sagely and he figured that the role must be acceptable to him. A loud sigh left him and his muscles relaxed just in the slightest way. He might survive this encounter yet. Ever better, survive and be able to go home and break out that new bottle of lube that he bought last week. There was plenty of new material to work with, that was for sure.

Then the gargoyle stepped back, giving him more space, which was actually the opposite of what he wanted. Feel free to punish him for earlier transgressions, king, especially if they were rough in a sexy way!

Unaware of his inner pleadings, he continued walking away to crouch back near the edge of the roof.

“Umm, be careful, king. It’s dangerous to be that close—”

“I am a king. Concerns such as that are not applicable,” he said, puffing up his chest. Those pecs! He might have to put in a request tomorrow to do more work on the roof. It was a crime that no one was admiring that body on a regular basis. “Leave. Return home. The circles under your eyes are hideous.”

He gasped, touching his bags. Rude! He had just finished a long shift and definitely wasn’t at his best. He was going to have to step up his game if he was going to tempt this gargoyle in the future. Trying his best not to show embarrassment, or disappointment, he agreed to leave.

“Whatever you want, my king. I’ll leave for now but if you need anything, I’ll be back tomorrow and the day after as well. In fact, every night, in case you need me.” Screw his weekend off. Who needed one of those when there was a hot gargoyle of legend serving as the guardian of the museum. Not him, that’s who.

He scrambled to his feet and bowed again for good measure. The door was open and he was across the threshold when his dream gargoyle muttered something. “Did you say something, my king?”

He cleared his throat and spoke gruffly. “The pigeons pooped in my hair.”

Suddenly, the growling from earlier made sense. No matter if you were human or gargoyle, having birds shit in your hair, especially hair as luscious as Mobei Jun’s, was bound to make anyone furious.

Determined to keep his laughs to himself if it was the last thing he did, he merely replied, “Yes, my king. I will make sure to chase them away from you next time.”

“See that you do.”

On cloud nine, Shang Qinghua grinned as he bounded down the stairwell. The gargoyle’s comment implied that there would be a next time. And he intended to romance the loincloth off (literally) of the serious gargoyle king.

Hope you all enjoyed! So happy to share this with everyone. Thanks for reading :)