#and so far every attempt to change the past has only ensured the present | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

halstudandruz · 4 years ago

Text

Research Purposes (NSFW)

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Bearded Jay Smut

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+)

A/N: I know the timeline is off but just go with it.

Sitting at the bar, you couldn’t help where your eyes wandered across the room. You were at Trudy and Mouch’s wedding, and even though it was a joyous occasion you were kind of ready to go home from the start. The night before you had discovered your ex-fiancé and the new girl in intelligence were dating, and it was safe to say you were drowning in your sorrows. You and Adam had been broken up for almost a year, but you still loved him and in the back of your mind you just hoped time would give you both the perspectives you needed and you would be back together. You had no right to be upset, but you were having trouble convincing yourself of that. The night was starting to wind down, as you downed a shot. You had held it together for Trudy wanting her to have the best day ever, but since they had left a few minutes prior you were ready to get drunk enough you couldn’t remember your own name.

“You know the longer you sit still the harder it’s gonna hit when you stand.” Jay teased sliding in next to you.

“Good.” You sighed, turning around to take another drink.

“Well in an effort to ensure I don’t have to carry you out of here would you like to dance?” He asked, holding his hand out to you. Contemplating for a minute he smiled when you took a hold of his hand following him out to the dance floor. Frank Sinatra played in the background while his hands slowly moved to rest on your hips. You and Jay were friends. You worked together and were around each other a lot. You got along well, and you weren’t afraid to admit he was an attractive guy, but you had always been locked in on Adam. So, your friendship never even toed the line. You never even thought about it, until tonight.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say you found out.” Jay whispered into your ear looking down at you.

“Found out about what?” You eyed him curiously until he nodded towards where Hailey and Adam sat laughing together.

“Wait..you know?” He nodded, “How long has it..?”

“I only found out a week or two ago so it probably hasn’t been that long.” He shrugged,“How’d you find out?” He continued. Sighing your hands rested on his chest.

“Today was actually supposed to be Adam and I’s wedding day. Before we decided to push it. So, I kind of went down a dark hole after the rehearsal dinner and went to see him. When he answered the door I saw her come out of his room.” You chewed on your lip.

“Oh fuck. What’d you do?” He pried.

“I made some excuse about not being able to find something I needed for today so I thought I might’ve accidentally left it there when I moved out or left or whatever. I was just going to leave, but then I had to pretend to look for it, and when I went into his room a bunch of her stuff was there. You know in the dresser I used to use.” You recounted the night before swallowing hard.

“That sounds awful. I’m sorry.” He shook his head pulling you closer as he moved a hand to rub your back.

“Yeah it wasn’t my finest moment. I’ve been avoiding him all day,” you chuckled blinking tears away, “How are you feeling about it?” You looked up at him hoping to shift the focus off you.

“What do you mean? Why would I care?” He masked.

“Come on Jay.” You scoffed giving him a look.

“I don’t have any say in what or who she does.” He said.

“How do you let it roll off you so easily? Not let it bother you?” You wondered.

“I want her to be happy, and wishing that I was the one over there isn’t going to do anything for either of us.” He shrugged nonchalantly, “You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have fun too right?” He continued.

“I don’t know. I guess.” You replied.

“You do, and that is why you’re out here dancing with me.” He smiled, spinning you effortlessly, causing you to laugh. You and Jay would spend the next hour talking and dancing letting your minds push away the two people across the room.

Jay and you were caught up in conversation, your bodies practically up against each other causing heat to surface on your face at the feeling of his hands holding you close. His tie now hung loosely on his shoulders, the top few buttons of his dress shirt open, and his sleeves had been rolled up allowing you to see the veins throughout them. You had never realized how attractive he actually was until you were this close, eyes counting the freckles that covered his face.

“Incoming.” he mumbled looking over your shoulder; breaking you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Adam walking towards you.

“No no no.” You whined hands gripping Jay’s shoulders tighter. Adam clearing his throat when he reached you,

“May I cut in?” He asked, looking between the two of you. A glint of confusion present in his face. Jay’s eyes shifted from him to you, registering your panic of having to face him right now.

“Uh actually I just offered to take her home. We were just heading out.” Jay attempted to save you.

“Oh well we’re going to be going right past your place we could just drop you off so Jay doesn’t have to go out of his way, and I’d actually really like to talk to you for a sec-“ Adam started to grab your hand.

“No it’s all good. No big deal. I already promised her I would.” Jay stepped slightly in front of you.

“Yeah I’m just going to go grab my coat and say bye to Sylvie. See you on Monday.” You pointed walking off to leave Adam and Jay alone on the dance floor. “You didn’t have to do that.” You smiled softly when Jay fell back by your side.

“He shouldn’t get what he wants all the time.” Jay shrugged.

“So is the ride offer actually on the table?” You asked.

“Of course.” He smiled helping you put your jacket on before pulling his on and heading out to his truck.

Walking outside you had made it almost to his truck ensuring you were far enough away from the door that people wouldn’t be watching before grabbing onto his arm to stop him. This could be a terrible, horrible idea, but that thought didn’t seem to over power your want.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, turning to face you where you leaned against the brick wall.

“You know I had every intention of waking up tomorrow either horribly hungover, or in someone else’s bed, and considering you prevented the latter..” You trailed off looking up at him.

“Are you serious?” He asked after a few seconds of silence.

“I’ve been holding out, hoping for something to change with him. I’m done waiting around.” You admitted weakly.

“I don’t want to just be some outlet to make Adam jealous.” He shook his head.

“This isn’t about him. This is about me and what I want. For once.” You laid a hand against his neck.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He whispered stepping closer to lay a hand against the cold brick, body just inches away from yours.

“Jay, I am going home with someone tonight, and I really hope it’s you.” You bargained. You hadn’t done this in months, and you were just ready to let all the pent up need out. Jay searched your face for hesitation before leaning in to capture your lips. You quickly responded, hands wrapping around his neck to pull his body against yours. Letting him take control of the kiss when his fingers moved to tightly grasp your jaw. Tongue slipping into your mouth in time with the movement. You hummed when he nipped at your lip pulling away to take heavy breaths.

“My place?” He whispered lips almost up against yours again. Nodding quickly you reached into his coat pocket fishing out the keys to unlock the vehicle. Chuckling he took them from you opening the passenger door to help you in before walking to the drivers side and starting the truck. You could see him looking at you from the corner of his eye as you chewed on your bottom lip appreciating his features lit up from the street lights. He turned to wink at you before putting the truck into drive and heading towards his apartment.

The silence was tense and a little bit awkward as you started to second guess your forwardness. You weren’t just using him to get back at Adam, right? You were a grown woman and you had needs. Needs that hadn’t been met in far too long, and the person that was going to satisfy them just so happened to be your co-worker from the same unit. That’s all. It was all coincidence. Plus Jay was hot. Everyone knew that. Why couldn’t you enjoy that fact when the opportunity presented itself? “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Jay asked jarring you out of your thoughts.

“Nothing. I just..I don’t know. Kinda embarrassed.” You admitted shrugging.

“Why?” He questioned grabbing a hold of your hand.

“I could’ve approached that better instead of acting like a horny teenager.” You laughed looking down.

“I would be lying if I wasn’t hoping you’d say something though.” He looked over at you grinning.

“What?” You looked at him confused.

“I mean you’re obviously beautiful and I thought we had a great night together, but I didn’t want to overstep bounds or make it awkward. I was just hoping you picked up the same vibe I was catching. I’m not the greatest at saying what I want.” He chuckled. Shaking your head you looked down smiling to yourself, feeling a little lighter in the knowledge that he wanted you too. Lifting the center console up you scooted closer to him. “Well hello.” He smirked, hand falling onto your thigh.

“I like your beard.” You smiled running your fingers through it. The last time you had seen him with one was when Erin left, and the only time before that was when he had been kidnapped. Remembering the bruises that accompanied the facial hair. Tracing his face where they had healed completely.

“Yeah?” He replied smiling at the gentleness of your hands as you admired his face.

“Yeah, I think you should keep it.” You voiced your opinion.

“Maybe I will.” He squeezed your thigh when you leaned over to lay soft kisses along his neck, nipping at his ear as you moved your palm over the crotch of his jeans. You felt his breath hitch at the movement, letting out a low growl when your lips attached right below his ear, heel of your hand pressing down simultaneously. “Oh god, I can’t wait to get you inside.” Jay whispered, breaths becoming labored at the insistent pressure of your hand. Quickly pulling into the parking garage of his apartment two minutes later. Putting the truck into park he let his eyes fall shut, head falling back onto the rest his hips finally moving up in time with the movement of your palm. The sight before you and the feeling of his obvious arousal already causing moisture to gather between your legs. Giving him a couple more rocks of pressure before slipping your hand up his shirt to rest on his stomach.

“Jay?” You whispered pressing a gentle kiss against his jaw, his facial hair tickling your nose. He turned his head to look at you, pupils already visibly darker than before. “I want you.” You stated. He grinned giving you a quick but hard kiss before shutting his truck off and guiding you towards the elevator. Pushing you against the wall as soon as the doors closed mouth molding over yours, hands bracketing you in against the wall. “Mmm.” You hum when his lips start to trail down your jaw. “Someone could walk in.” You remind him head falling back to give him more access. The dinging as you pass each floor prevalent in the background.

“Don’t care.” He growls lifting one of your legs to rest on his hips, fingers moving up your thigh, starting to move your panties to the side when the elevator comes to a stop on his floor. “I don’t think it’s ever moved that fast before.” He joked letting your leg down and grabbing ahold of your hand to pull you towards his apartment before pulling his keys out to unlock it and ushering you inside. “Do you want anything to drink?” He asked casually as he set his keys down slipping off his shoes, ridding your heels in the process you giggled stepping towards him to take the lapels of his jacket in your hands.

“I’m definitely thirsty but not for water.” You winked pulling him back towards your lips, before you pushed the jacket off his shoulders. Beginning to unbutton his dress shirt his hands moved down to your ass, lips breaking from yours long enough for him to whisper,

“Jump.” You let him pick you up, shedding his shirt on the way towards his bedroom.

“You have too many clothes on.” You sighed when he laid you down on the end of his bed tugging the bottom of his shirt. Laughing he stood up to pull it over his head for you.

“You haven’t taken one piece of clothing off and I’m the one that’s wearing too much?” He teased falling back on top of you.

“Lucky for you, you’ll find there’s next to no obstacles once this comes off.” You snapped the strap of your dress. Jay eyes trailed down your body slowly, hands following as he pulled you up to slide the zipper down slowly, lips falling to your collarbone in the process.

“Tell me if this is okay.” He hesitated sliding the straps down.

“It’s okay, Jay.” You voiced helping him pull the tight dress from your body. Face instantly blushing when you looked up to see his eyes wandering all over you, left in only your panties.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” He complimented hands squeezing your hips.

“Your voice is really sexy when you’re turned on.” You blurted out, causing Jay to laugh.

“Well I can assure you I am in fact very turned on right now.” He grinned nuzzling your neck.

“Can I..?” You asked tugging on the button of his pants popping it open when you felt him nod. He breathed a quiet sigh at the pressure being released when you opened his zipper, pushing them to the ground with his help. He returned back on top of you leaning down to press his mouth to yours, moving slowly to appreciate the action. In no hurry for this to end. Your hand trailed from his chest to his stomach, tip of your finger sneaking under the hem of his boxers. His hips involuntarily bucking at the anticipation, coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. Reaching further down you took a hold of him giving him an experimental squeeze earning a groan against your lips. Beginning to slowly move your hand his forehead fell against yours eyes closing while his hips began to move in rhythm. Swiping your thumb across the tip, gathering the precum that had started to leak out. He watched as you brought it to your mouth, licking it off your finger to enjoy the taste of him. Breath hitching at the sight, seemingly flipping a switch in him as he lunged forward capturing your wrists and forcing them above your head, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss. Roughly biting at your lip before moving down your body. Stopping first at your chest. His teeth nipped at the skin, laying soft kisses all over before taking ahold of your left breast tongue swirling around your nipple. Other hand pinching and rolling the right between his fingers. Swallowing a moan your legs opened further letting him slide between them more comfortably. His mouth moved farther south as his fingers gently started to make soft circles to your center outside of your underwear. Sighing your hips moved slightly trying to get more pressure as you felt Jay smile against your hip bone. Teasingly his fingers fumbled with the side of your underwear occasionally swiping his finger inside while his mouth bit and sucked the inside of your thighs no doubt leaving a few marks. “Oh, yeah you’re keeping the beard.” Your fingertips dug into his head, goosebumps rising at the rough feeling of his facial hair against your thighs, jaw tightening, not wanting to make a sound.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], are you insinuating we will be doing this again?” He looked up at you, eyebrow raised, cocky smirk on his lips.

“Stop talking.” You ordered, face going a little red.

“If I remember correctly you just said my voice was sexy.” He quipped.

“And if I remember correctly you were in the middle of something.” You pushed his head back down.

“As you wish.” He winked teeth grazing the inside of your thigh as he moved closer and closer to your core. Your legs were starting to shake at the anticipation, your mind picturing your juices covering his mouth and throughout his beard.

“Jay, please.” You actually whined when he laid a kiss on your clit outside of your panties.

“I just wanted to hear you say my name. I can tell you’re trying to hold back, but all I want is to hear you [Y/N]. Helps me figure out the best way to make you feel good.” He admitted hooking his fingers into your panties and slowly sliding them down your legs before tossing them to the floor, “Let me hear you baby. Let me know I’m doing a good job.” He reminded you before his mouth connected to your center, eliciting a moan that you wouldn’t have been able to hold back even if you tried.

“Such a pretty sound, sweetheart.” He commented, before his tongue swirled around your clit, gently sucking it. Head falling back you let yourself give into every sensation. The way his hands pinned your hips down, preventing you from moving. The way his tongue worked you so soft and smooth like he did the research on exactly how your pussy was structured so he could hit every sweet spot imaginable. The way he pushed a finger in slightly curling it up to perfectly hit your g-spot over and over again while his tongue flicked against your clit. The way his stubble burned against your thighs only heightening the realization that this was Jay. Jay Halstead: your co-worker, friend, and apparently now fuck buddy. Your legs started to shake, hips trying their hardest to fight their way out of his grasp, uncontrollable noises flowing from your lips, knot growing tighter with each tap of your sweet spot.

“J-Jay.” You warned, hoping he could hear your voice that was barely there. Your fingers tightening in his hair, the other one moving down to his cheek, thumb rubbing over the roughness.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” He encouraged fingers moving faster, tongue licking harder. This was Jay Halstead and he was eating you out like no tomorrow, and with that thought your thighs came up to trap his head, back arching as you screamed out the knot inside of you unraveling hard.

Legs falling back apart you released him and Jay made his way back up your body. Kissing you, taste of yourself covering his mouth. “That was beautiful.” He smirked, cupping your cheek.

“That was incredible, how did you even learn how to do that? It’s like you knew my body better than I do.” You laughed still a little light headed.

“Everyone is different. You just have to pay attention to the signs. For example I already know you’re not going to be able to cum from just penetration. Just like you have a hard time cumming from just oral. You need the best of both worlds. I always knew you were high maintenance.” He joked.

“You already have me all figured out.” You rolled your eyes, but. what he was saying was true. You don’t know how he came to the conclusion, but you weren’t about to complain.

“If you want to stop here I completely understand. We don’t-“ He started to say when you cut him off.

“And deprive myself of discovering whether your dick game is as good as your head? No thank you.” You grinned starting to push his boxers down.

“Well I could never live with myself if I left you wondering.” He shrugged, getting up to push the last remaining piece of clothing between you two to the ground before reaching over to fish a condom out of his nightstand. You took a hold of him again, twisting your hand up and down his shaft to make sure he was fully ready. He ripped the condom open with his teeth, rolling it on with your help. “You’re absolutely sure about this?” He asked again, positioning his dick at your entrance.

“Yes, completely.” You nodded.

“Just tell me if you want to stop at any point.” He reiterated, leaning down the rest of the way to kiss you when he started to push in. Groaning you focused on his tongue slipping into your mouth knowing the pain would subside soon, and a few short thrusts later the pleasure started to seep in.

“Ahh fuck.” You moaned relaxing into him.

“That’s my girl.” He smiled feeling the way you loosened more for him still making small movements, knowing there was no way he would be able to go hard right away, but within a few strokes your pussy started to clench him even harder than before. “Baby, you gotta loosen up for me or I’m not gonna be able to move at all without blowing it.” He groaned biting his lip, hips shuttering.

“I’m sorry you just feel so good.” You cried, it wasn’t your fault. Well not really anyway you had a hard time controlling it.

“Okay okay okay.” You closed your eyes, begging yourself to relax when he hit your g-spot for the first time. “Shit!” You cursed nails digging into his shoulder blades. “Right there. Again. Please.” You informed him, but you knew he was already aware as he hit it again before you were finished talking. He took one of your legs positioning it on his shoulder as he bracketed himself above you. Hitting harder this time, earning a loud moan from you. “Jay, faster. Please baby.” You begged.

“You feel incredible [Y/N]. I’m gonna cum so hard. Jay moaned above you.

“Your dick feels amazing babe. I love that I get to make you cum.” You reciprocated attempting to move with him. His thumb moved down to start rubbing circles on your clit in time with his long thrusts. “I h-hope you think a-ahhh-about this every time you - fuck - see me at w-work this week.” You got out between heavy breaths.

“I’m not going to be able to think about a-anything else baby. How f-fucking good you taste. How much I loved being between your legs e-eating you up. How good your pussy feels s-stretched around my cock. Holy fuck [Y/N] I’m so fucking close. Fuck fuck fuck, [Y/N].” He screamed louder with each word, collapsing onto you as he worked through his high, but you were already gone. Pulsating around his dick the minute he reminded you how good he looked between your thighs. Opening your eyes just in time for you to watch his orgasm and to catch your name falling off his lips with a few curse words.

“Is it true?” You asked after a few minutes of silence, heavily breathing being the only sounds that filled the room.

“Is what true?” He replied confused when he started to pull out of you before carefully disposing of the filled condom.

“You’re going to think all that stuff when you look at me this week?” You explained, causing him to chuckle still breathless.

“Maybe not every time, but I’d confidently wager 80% of the time.” He smirked rolling over to kiss you, “unless you don’t want me to?”

“Well it wouldn’t be fair for me to be thinking about it and not give you permission to as well.” You shrugged, knowing full well this wasn’t disappearing from your mind anytime soon. You got up to use the restroom as Jay cleaned himself the rest of the way.

“Is he bigger than me?” Jay asked, when you walked back into the room.

“I am not answering that question.” You laughed loudly laying back down beside him.

“Why not? It’s for research purposes. You know purely for your benefit.” He smirked down at you.

“Oh yeah? How so?” You urged.

“I just gotta know the level of game I have to bring. Should I be more focused on the motion or does the size make up for it?” He gestured south.

“Motion is always more important than size.” You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t think that’s true.” Jay scrunched his eyebrows,“Next time this happens I’ll just use my finger and remind you of what you just said.”

“I said it was more important. I didn’t say it’s not important at all, but I can assure you the level of game you brought tonight is better than I could’ve imagined.” You smiled completely satisfied.

“I totally am.” He decided, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“So what’s the plan here?” You changed the subject.

“I think that all depends on what you want.” Jay answered.

“Well..I’m not going to deny this was fun and you did say I need to have more fun.” You shrugged sheepishly.

“So then we keep having fun.” Jay said simply.

“But we need ground rules.” You laid your chin on his chest looking up at him.

“Okay..” He looked down at you waiting for you to continue.

“Like I don’t know..is this purely friends with benefits? Do we go out for dinner sometimes? Do I bring you coffee in the morning?” You started to list the things running through your head.

“If you want to bring me coffee and dinner, who am I to tell you no?” He joked causing you to sigh.

“Jay, I’m serious.” You pushed.

“Can’t we just kind of roll with it?” He asked, hand rubbing up and down your back.

“I guess I’m just scared of what will happen if they find out.” You admitted.

“So what if they do?” He seemed unfazed.

“You’re not concerned at all how Hailey would react?” You asked.

“I like her. I really do. That’s not a secret, but she’s sleeping with Adam. Why should we have to wait around and agonize over it? You deserve to be just as happy as he does [Y/N].” He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“What if this turns into some fanfiction shit where we end up having feelings for each other?” You giggled.

“Well then I hope the author writes us a happy ending.” He smiled kissing you on the forehead. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty tired after that performance.” He yawned. You agreed, waiting for him to slide further down into his bed before pulling you back into his side, your head falling back down on his chest.

“Promise me you’re not going to freak out in the morning.” He whispered kissing the top of your head after a few minutes of silence.

“I promise.” You replied kissing his chest before letting his heartbeat lull you to sleep.

Waking up the next morning you felt the heat before your eyes even opened. Quickly registering that you were laying on someone. Slowly opening your eyes you looked around the semi dark room, black out curtains trying to reduce the amount of light peeking through. You knew who it was, but you had to confirm it. Gently sitting up you were met with Jay’s figure still sleeping beside you. Oh shit. You started to panic, memories of the night before suddenly flooding your mind. Remembering the things you did, the things you said. Eyes darting around the room you started to contemplate an escape. You’d sneak out and pretend like this never happened. That’s probably what Jay would want you to do anyway and-

“Lay back down and stop freaking out.” Jay grumbled beside you, eyes still closed. You reached for the sheet to cover your still bare body.

“How did you even-“ You began to ask causing Jay to smirk.

“I’m a detective for a reason, [Y/L/N]. Come back to sleep.” He urged pulling you back into his chest.

“It’s probably just a better idea if I leave.” You sat back up causing him to sigh heavily.

“You promised me you weren’t going to freak out.” Jay reminded you.

“I’m not freaking out.” You tried to defend, voice squeaking a little.

“Then stop biting your lip.” He challenged. Stopping your actions you looked over to still see his eyes closed.

“Okay seriously how the hell-“ You started

“I know you better than you think.” He opened his eyes to look up at you, dark circles obvious under them reminding you of late the two of you were up last night a blush covering your cheeks at the thought. “What’s going on, what are you thinking about at 6:30 in the morning?” He asked, looking at you like you were crazy after seeing the time on his alarm clock.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged looking away from him.

“C’mon talk to me.” He pushed sitting up to face you where you clung tight to the sheet that was also still covering him up to his hips.

“I just said a lot of stuff last night that’s kinda embarrassing looking back on it now.” You admitted remembering distinctly how you encouraged him to fuck you.

“Like?” He urged making you groan.

“I am not answering that.” You shook your head looking around the room for any piece of clothing.

“I can’t think of a single thing that didn’t sound incredible coming out of your mouth.” He shrugged just as you found a shirt slipping it on before realizing it was his.

“It’s probably just a good idea for me to leave.” You sighed contemplating what to do.

“We’ve gotten like 3 hours of sleep. Please lay back down.” He looked at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Jay.” You sighed running a hand down your face.

“Just come back to bed and let me cook you breakfast later. Then if you want to leave you can.” He bargained, voice still raspy from lack of sleep. Your mind was all over the place. You did want to be here, and last night was great and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping for a morning encore. That’s what friends with benefits were for right? But how would this end? You just didn’t want to get hurt again somehow, but maybe that was just something you had to risk.

“Only if you make French toast.” You reasoned making him grin.

“That can be arranged.” He lifted his arms to pull you back to his chest.

“Your voice is sexy in the morning too.” You whispered after a few minutes, hoping he was asleep already.

“I think it’s a little worn out from all the sounds you had me making last night.” He retorted making you giggle.

NSFW Taglist:

@beautiful-bunny89 @justadreamxx @grettiwrites @life-treatments @weepingfestivalmentality @toomuchtv95 @malrunaway @queen-of-arda

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead smut #jay halstead #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd smut #Chicago pd #one chicago imagine

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diamond-coral · 4 years ago

Text

Bargaining Chip

Hello! This is my first time posting on Tumblr ever:) I pulled this one-shot from a fic I posted on AO3 a few months ago but the plot is irrelavent and I changed it from first person to second as well as some details so it can be read as a stand alone. There’s some plot from the actual story but you really don’t need to know it at all.

There might be a few errors, especially because I changed the entire point of view and converted it to present tense from past tense so sorry:)

Loki manages to get his hands on you and exchanges you and your body for his ticket to independence from the Avengers. Bucky gets to go first.

Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters included: Loki, and a little bit of Tony, Steve, and Thor

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY!!! SMUT (NON-CON TOUCHING, FORCED ORAL SEX (m receiving), KNIFE THREATS, DARK! AVENGERS, BUCKY’S AN ASSHOLE IN THIS, DEGRADATION, BASICALLY FORCED PROSTITUTION) READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

You awake in the passenger seat of your own car with only foggy memories of you and your partner before everything had gone dark. Your mission from the CIA...breaking and entering the motherfucking Avenger’s facility and managing to escape...you were so close. If it weren’t for him. In your haze, you look to see who could possibly have the audacity to be driving your car, and there sits Loki, the God of Mischief, who you had only scene on the news, driving one hand and inspecting something in his other.

“Good evening my lady. Sleep well?” he mocks without taking his eyes off the item in his hand which upon further inspection from you looks to be... a red leash?

What the hell?

“I do hope you like your outfit,” he continues. “I think I assembled quite the get up for you.”

Looking down, you let out a muffled scream that was cut off by a strip of duct tape. Your hands are bound in your lap, but that isn’t what horrifies you. It’s what’s underneath them. You take into account your bare legs, fully on display, with a black dress leaving little to the imagination. The top half is just as horrifying with it’s plunging neckline. Your legs end with a pair of strappy gold heels that ensures any chances of running away to be futile while your upper arms are adorned in golden bracelets accented with emeralds. Whether the emeralds were real or fake, you could care less. You have bigger problems to worry about.

“What the fuck?!”

Is what you try to say, but the gag only makes it come out as a mangled ball of muffled murmurs. Though the chuckle Loki lets out implies he understands your enraged speaking attempt.

“You, my dear, are going to be a bargaining chip. I heard about your little escapade at the Avenger’s facility last night. Impressive, I must say, but my brother and his little hero posse had been looking for you relentlessly after that. They are practically obsessed with catching the women that managed to break into their high security building.”

Loki takes a sharp turn into a parking garage, narrowly missing the wall. You squeal as your precious car runs over the curb.

“I forgot how much I hate mortal transportation devices. But Stark had to build this tower in the middle of New York to feed his ever-growing ego and now I’m the one that has to rely on a car to get me there,” he grumbles while pulling into a parking space. He takes a deep breath once the car is parked. “Now, I’m going to remove that gag out of your mouth, and if you scream, I will peel your skin off of your body in the slowest, most painful way imaginable. Understood?”

You nod frantically and he rips the tape off, extracting a whimper from your now stinging mouth. You open your mouth for him to take the wad of cloth out that was under the duct tape. As he extracts it, you snap your mouth shut in an attempt to bite him, but he’s quick to evade and grabs your jaw harshly.

“What did I say before?” he seethes.

“You said not to scream. I didn’t scream. Now let go of my face.”

Loki roughly throughs your face to the side, letting go, and looks around the surroundings of the car, probably checking for any unwanted onlookers.

“Out of the car. Now,” he orders and you hastily oblige using your bound hands to open the door.

As you shut the door, you catch a glimpse of your own reflection and grimace. You look like a hooker. Aside from the skimpy outfit, your hair was pinned up and intertwined with gold strands. Your makeup is done as well. Sultry eye shadow and dark red lipstick.

“I didn’t know the God of Mischief was a makeup guru,” you jab.

He ignores you and harshly pushes you forward. “Walk.”

“Where’s my partner?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Loki replies. “She has other uses than the one I currently need you for.”

“And what use am I needed for?”

“I already told you. By the gods, you mortals are stupid. You are to be a bargaining chip, (Y/N).”

Your blood runs cold. “How do you know my name?” you ask.

“I know everything about you. Including your peculiar abilities.”

You stop dead in your tracks.

“Now, don’t worry,” he adds. “As amusing to me as it would be, I have no interest in enlightening the Avengers to your secret identity. As far as they will know, I am simply giving them the criminal that broke into their compound.”

“And what’s in it for you?” you ask as he guidesyou into an elevator.

After pushing a button, he goes to fix his dark green tie. “Clever girl now aren’t you?”

“Answer the question.”

“How about-no?” he muses and a soft ding resonates through the elevator.

The doors opened and, for a moment, you forget the predicament your in. Inside was the most beautiful penthouse you had ever seen. The opposite wall was made entirely out of glass allowing a view of the New York City night skyline. Everything little piece of furniture each looks as expensive as your car, but your focus becomes drawn to the minibar. The Avengers were all sitting there, laughing, and most were obviously drunk.

“Here James, try some of this,” Thor booms.

Bucky makes a face. “Why would I drink something from another planet meant for Gods?”

“Jeez Buck it’s the only thing that can get you and I drunk,” Steve slurs and claps Bucky on the shoulder. “It’s your birthday. Live it up a little.”

Bucky hesitates before grabbing the flask Thor offers him and throwing his head back, downing the flask in one go.

Loki seems to have enough of the party scene as he clears his throat to interrupt them.

“Gentlemen-”

Before Loki uttered another word all the Avengers clambered from their seats to grab their weapons, but their intoxicated state just makes it a comical sight. Captain America falls over in an attempt to reach for his shield below the table. Tony Stark’s iron man mask smacks him over the head as he fails to turn in time to catch it on his face. Sam Wilson chokes on his drink and falls backwards off his barstool in shock.

“I come bearing no ill tidings.” Loki spread his arms.

“Then why bother coming at all?” Thor growls, shifting his hammer to his right hand.

“I’ve come to make an offer.”

With that, Loki snatches your wrist and throws you towards him and the other men. You stumbled in you stilettos and let out a yelp as you land on the floor looking up at the 5 present Avengers: Thor, the Winter Soldier, Captain America, Iron Man, and the Falcon. They all look down on you with perplexed looks etched onto their faces.

“You guys have been so caught up and stressed about finding your security breaches that I was generous enough to do some finding myself,” Loki explains.

“And how do we know you didn’t just pluck some prostitute off the street?” Caps eyes rake up and down your body.

Loki scoffs. “Always the skeptic captain. Does this answer your question?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flash-drive.

Tony snatches it from his hands. “Jarvis, what’s on this drive?” he asks, holding the drive up to a scanner in the glasses he’s wearing.

“It appears to be the files you have been collecting the 2 vigilantes you have been tracking and-.”

“Okay thanks J!” Tony interrupts quickly before Jarvis could spill any more information. He proceeds to storm up to your cowering and kneeling form that hadn’t dared move and harshly grabs your jaw.

Jesus, what was with these men and your poor, bruised jaw?

“Why would you possibly need this information?” he asks calmly, but his eyes are feral. He studies you and his brows furrow. Did he manage to piece it all together that you were the alleged vigilante they had been hunting? He lets go of your jaw and throws you back on the floor. “What business do you have looking for them?”

Looking for them? You let out a sigh of relief.

“None of your business,” you spit.

“Anyways,” Loki continues, and the drive suddenly disintegrated in Tony’s hand while reappearing in Loki’s. “I will happily hand over this seemingly important information along with the girl for you to do with her as you please, but…” He pauses. “Only if you stop tracking my current whereabouts.”

“And why would we do that, Loki? You’re dangerous,” Steve notes.

“I was dangerous,” Loki interjects. “I have been a good boy haven’t I? I would like to lead a normal life without you imbeciles tailing my every move. If I slip, Thor here will know within the second if I’m involved with anyone wrong doings, won’t you brother dear?”

Thor grunts at that statement.

“Besides, Stark’s satellite can track any magical energy if I use it. Which I won’t.”

“Fine. Now hand over the drive,” Tony snaps and holds his hand out.

After Loki drops the small gadget into Tony’s hand, he hauls you up and spins you around to face him.

His voice is quiet and low. “Be glad I didn’t tell them about my plans for you friend. It would be a shame if they found out about her abilities...and yours.”

He spins you back around to face the 5 men whose eyes were now raking up and down your body. “Easy on the eyes isn’t she?” Loki mentions, hands falling on your waist making you squirm. “You know, I almost considered keeping her for myself. Her exotic beauty is that of a pleasure maiden on Asgard.” Your struggles are invigorated at his implications. “Enjoy your whore.” And with that, he gives you one final shove before vanishing.

It’s silent for half a minute before one of the men speak up.

“Alright who wants to take her for a spin?” Tony asks, clapping his hands together. “I vote the birthday boy gets first dibs. Huh, Buckaroo?”

You blanch at the idea. Were they really going to go through with what Loki wanted? What happened to the valiant heroes you saw on your screen?

“Wait Tony, you can’t be seriously considering Loki’s suggestion?” Sam Wilson sounds surprised.

Tony shrugs. “Why not, Birdie? It’s either this or high security prison and I don’t think she wants to rot in a cell.”

“She is standing right here and would rather rot in hell than do what Loki had in mind,” you hiss.

“Well it’s a good thing we weren’t asking for her opinion,” Tony says.

“Tony’s right, Sam,” Steve adds slowly. “We bust our asses out there. We deserve something nice.”

“Day after day we save this pathetic world, and no thanks are given. Just everyone saying what we did wrong. We should’ve left the world to fend for itself after they tried shoving those ridiculous accords down our throats,” Thor murmurs

Sam raises both of his hands up in defense. “Fine. Do what you want with her. I’m gonna head out.” And with that he leaves. Your heart sinks, watching the only glimmer of hope, your knight in shining armor, walk out the door. Your self-pity party is cut short by an arm snaking around your waist.

Bucky Barnes, trained assassin, mass murderer, and now current Avenger, puts his face in the crook of your neck and inhales deeply, sending shivers down your spine while you stand frozen like a deer in headlights. “What do you say, doll? Wanna finish what we started the other night?” His hand on your waist slowly drifts down to your ass.

You stomp your heel down on his foot eliciting a groan of pain. “Last time I checked, you were in the dirt, and I was driving away that night after a successful robbery. There’s nothing to finish.”

He moves quickly as he rips your hair out of what’s securing it up, using the opportunity to tangle his hand into the roots and drag you away to a separate room. He wrenches open and throws you in, leaving you to stumble and trip. A searing pain on your forehead signaled that you hit your head.

“How about we use that snarky mouth of yours for something better hmm?” His voice is ice cold with malice as he grips your hair and yanks you up.

You cry out in pain, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Not so tough now, are you?” he sneers down at you. Hearing the sound of a belt unbuckling and pants unzipping, you shut your eyes.

A tear escapes, cascading down your face, but his thumb gently wipes it away.

“Open your eyes, doll,” he coos.

You shake your head and screw them shut even tighter.

“I said...OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES!” he roars and your eyes fly open only to see his member sticking out of his slacks right in front of your face. He’s almost fully hard as precum dribbles out of the tip. “Good girl,” he praises. “Now, since you can’t seem to keep your snarky mouth shut, let’s put it to better use. How bout that?”

You don’t move, and he sighed as you look down to the floor. You hear some shuffling, a small click, and suddenly something cold and sharp is pressing under your chin, tilting your gaze to his steel blue eyes.

“Let’s try this again.” He pushes the knife harder, digging it a little deeper, but not enough to draw blood. A knife. This dirty bastard has a knife. “Suck. My. Cock.”

Pushing all your pride aside, you direct your gaze to the task in front of you. Bucky lets out an approving hum and the knife is removed from your throat. You swallow before opening your mouth and dragging your tongue from his base to the tip before wrapping your lips around him and sucking lightly.

Bucky was no slacker down there, you had to give him that. You ease your mouth down his shaft and his head tilts back.

“Oh fuck that’s it,” he moans. “Take my dick down your throat.” He grunts. His metal hand fists your hair to push your head down, sliding a few more inches into your throat. “Oh-that’s a good whore,” he breathes.

A gag is torn from you and you slap your hands against his thighs to imply you couldn’t take much more. Bucky’s only response is another grunt as he jams the rest of his length down your throat leaving your only intake of oxygen to come from your nose which was now mashed right above the base of his thick cock. As quickly as he pushed you down before, he pulls you back off by your hair, letting you go to wretch, gasping for air and freedom. A strand of saliva still connects from his tip to my lips.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He snags your hair again. “Open wide, slut.”

You do just that and he begins to fuck your throat at his own pace, sliding his entire length down every time. Tears brim at your eyes, not just from the lack of oxygen, but the humiliation of the moment as well. The time passes much too slowly for your liking, minutes dragging on for eternity, before he begins to reach his climax.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” His cock twitches in your mouth.He holds your head with both hands as he releases straight into your mouth, warm thick strands of his release coating the back of your throat. He pulls out with a pop and smirks down at you. “Good little sluts swallow” he orders.

You glare up at him, making a show of not doing anything.

“Well?” he demands and raises a dark brow.

You spit his own climax onto his expensive shoes.

“Why you-!” He raises his hand, getting ready to send a smack to your face.

“Barnes!” A female voice comes from the doorway as the door flies open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

There stood none other than the Black Widow.

#dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #non-con #bucky x female reader #dark!fic #loki x reader #avengers #idk how to tag this #fanfic #am i doing this tag thing right?#no i'm not #smut #dark!mcu #marvel #dark bucky x reader #dark!marvel

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hotwings0203 · 4 years ago

Text

Gilded Cage

A/N: It’s embarrassing how long this took but oh well, happy new year to everyone and I hope you enjoy scummy yandere hawks!

Warnings: dubcon, kidnapping, abuse, toxic relationships, degradation, yandere themes

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At first she welcomed the bright flashing lights like a breath of fresh air, but in due time it made her throat close up like the rest of the situation.

He had agreed to let her out if she behaved, and that meant no biting, scratching, screaming, flinching, temper tantrums, and worst of all, no silent treatment.

And she would take it like a champ if it meant seeing any other person in 6 months.

He had kept her here like a flightless bird in this cage of theirs, and oh how ironic it was that she was succumbed to be the prey of this ruthless hawk, with him able to soar amongst the people and buildings while Y/n stayed perched in the house, her ever-growing wings mentally becoming too much for her to control and stay silent about.

She needed space, she wanted to leave, but she didn’t dare voicing any of her wants, especially when Keigo made it so clear how her meager wants were of no match for his needs.

And his needs, as he’s made so clear thus far, include her being a pliant, quiet, yet loving little birdie who cooks, cleans, and lays with him day and night without complaint.

God forbid she speaks up about her...living conditions, as he liked to so generously supply to her the first and last time she ever had this conversation with him. She tried telling him how she originally had loved their relationship of a couple of months, and sure it might have been weird for him to push her into moving in with him only after 3 months, but it was because of how much he loved her or so he said at least, when he bashed her head repeatedly on the ground when she told him it “wasn’t normal to rush into things so fast”.

Sure, he had a big spacious penthouse lent to him by the Hero Commission so being physically cramped was never a problem, and yes okay he showered her with gifts and little trinkets, just like birds did with their mates even more so after a big fight that usually left her black and blue, with swollen lips, ripped up knees and big red welts on her wrists while the hero himself was left with not even a feather out of place.

But there were days where their movie nights and cuddling sessions didn’t cut it for her anymore. There were nights when she couldn’t take his suffocating arms around her a second longer, only to be replaced by an even heavier and darker presence when she tried turning on her side away from him.

Sometimes it would be a chain reaction caused by the smallest of catalysts, however. It would be on a day where he left the restraints on a little too tightly, and Y/n was forced to use toothpaste on her wrists instead of the salve Keigo always kept in the medicine closet. Other times it would happen when he would keep feeling up her sides and pressing into her after a long day of her cooking in hopes that the plentiful food would be enough to keep him occupied away from her, even if it was for an hour or two.

It never was, though. He always wanted her, whether it was her scent, her presence, or her clothes that he kept in his pockets on his missions.

On those days, the days where she felt too much Keigo, too many feathers and too much Hawks was when she snapped.

Down would go the plates, the expensive wine glasses, the vases filled with flowers sent by hundreds of fangirls who knew nothing about the monster that he actually was. She’d tear out her mussed hair, red-faced with tears that ruined her makeup the makeup that she liked to wear on these types of days just to piss him off, knowing that he thought “excess makeup is for whores and catfishes. I already know you’re a whore, well, my whore, but you’re not even good enough at applying makeup to be deemed a catfish so don’t even try it hummingbird” while screaming in his face to let go, for the love of god Hawks PLEASE let me go I want to go home I don’t want this anymore I don’t want YOU anymore this isn’t working out I don’t love you-

And crack would be the sound of his palm across her face, knocking her to the floor. On these types of days he wouldn’t even think she deserved a change in facial expression, staring down at her pathetic trembling body while his lips were set in a subtle casual smile, his hands stuffed in his pockets as if he never raised an arm a second ago, and his eyes remained golden and neutral, the only indication of him processing her tantrum was the black glint in his pupils that dilated every time she gasped and sobbed on the floor.

To ensure that his precious, oh-so fragile lovebird wouldn’t hurt herself any further with her stupidity, he’d crouch down inches away from her face and cock his head slightly as a real bird would do. He’d reach out and lift her chin to face him while his other hand would snake up her thigh to try and console her which only succeeded in making her shake and breath unevenly.

Leaning forward to ghost his lips over the shell of her ear, he’d relish in the way her mouth would part in terror as he would lovingly whisper every threat of what he’d do to her the next time she wanted to be like a brat, because god help her if she thought he couldn’t tame a brat after dealing with a lifetime of villains.

It was almost laughable, how easy she was to silence. He didn’t even need to use feathers to pull her to her feet when he would tell her to go to the bed and get on all fours like the bitch she was.

She had to earn her way back into being his good, obedient little dove, on days like these.

But after these days would pass and she would indeed realign with his expectations, he would reward her greatly.

Never like this, though.

Y/n is brought to the present again as another flash of light from the paparazzi snaps her out of her daze. As the spots begin to fade from her vision, she sees Keigo in front of her adorning his trademark “for the fans-only” grin, although Y/n would call it a sleazy smile, the same smile he would give her before he signaled his feathers to cut deep into her feet so she’d stop kicking at him as he dragged her on the floor and feels him squeeze her hand a little too tightly to be dubbed as endearing.

“Stop zoning out on me, you look like a ditz”, he hisses through his teeth, his grin now resembling more of a bared-teeth look.

She tries to try to fix her face and pull the corners of her mouth up, attempting to also brighten her eyes and looking interested at the blond interviewer who was now conversing with Hawks about his recent team-up with Endeavor. It takes every ounce of self-restraint to not shove past the phony smiles and flashy attire enveloping her and waltz down the red carpet to the doors of the gala. She thinks if she hears him utter another word about how he’s so incredibly blessed to have the love and support of my fans, family, and most importantly, my girlfriend who has stuck by my side through thick and thin, she’ll puke on the bedazzled yellow dress the interviewer has on.

As if. He’d probably whisk her off to the nearest bathroom and pummel her on the floor right then and there just for being distracted, but not before fucking her as well.

She feels Hawks nudge her side, and on cue she darts her head up and really plasters on a blinding smile as she focuses on the question that was just asked to her.

“Sorry, what was that? I think I got distracted by your outfit, you look lovely tonight, an absolute catch.” She winks for good measure, just to salvage the damage of ignoring the conversation and Keigo’s tight-lipped smile, which was beginning to soften.

Bingo.

“Oh you’re so sweet! I can see why Mr. Number Two here swooped in to take such a cutie like yourself.” The interviewer giggled, twirling a golden lock around her finger. “But no worries, I was just saying you should come make a public appearance more often! I mean, the media barely gets to see you with Hawks intimately, it would be a great excuse to get all glammed-up as well...I mean, if Hawks here hasn’t got his talons sunk too deep into you.” She laughs shrilly and doesn’t notice how both Y/n and Keigo tense up at her insinuation.

Yeah lady, you’re not too far from the truth. The last time I tried to look nice and go outside, I was bedridden for a week and a half while nursing frozen peas over 7 different parts of my body, inside and out.

But if Keigo can bullshit more than he can tell the truth, then so could she.

She laughs warmly and places her hand on his shoulder lightly, just to sell the “supportive girlfriend” look.

“Well, I really would love to come out and show my support for him more often, but we’ve both agreed that with all the publicity anyways, it’s just too much pressure for me to deal with. I’d rather just stick with what I know and keep it hush between him and I.” She turns her gaze to Keigo now, superficially giving him a puppy-in-love look but discreetly seeking his approval if what she said was the correct thing or not.

He merely gave her an amused smile, as if to say damn, wasn’t expecting that answer but I guess it’s fine. Yeah. Two can play at that game.

Pleased with her answer, the blond bimbo turns on her heel and sashays away, leaving the couple by themselves.

Keigo gives Y/n a side eye and cautiously holds out his elbow for her to take. A peace offering for the meantime, just to reward her for the quick save.

Don’t fuck this up for me, or you’ll regret it tenfold when we get back home.

“Shall we?” He waits for her to oblige, and of course she does.

Arm-in arm, they gracefully walk down the red carpet towards the gold plated doors. Upon entering, Y/n’s breath is taken away at the grand hall, with red banners hanging from the balconies that had navy blue and gold words of praise for the heroes engraved in the silk. Hundreds of pro heroes filled the room, much more than what she was used to from only interacting with her captor for months.

Guiding her over to the long granite bar, Keigo squeezes her arm before lightly dropping it. Before she can move, he stands directly in front of her and his vermillion wings unfurl and slightly surround the two of them, creating their own little space. To others, it might’ve just looked like two lovers embracing each other and having their own little moment. Y/N knew better, however, and suspected he had ulterior motives.

She was right.

“I’m gonna leave you here for a few minutes, ‘kay? I don’t want you moving from here,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and she had to suppress a shudder at his unwanted proximity. “The feather stays on, and I better not see or hear anything funny while I’m away.”

She nodded and touched her necklace that was indeed laced with one of his feathers, remembering the deal he made when he agreed to let you out for the day.

Ah yes, the dreaded feather.

When she had approached him on shaking legs two days prior, Hawks was brushing his hair in the bathroom, keen on meticulously keeping it styled and ruffed up in the morning. It was one of the things that Y/N would begrudgingly say was one of his finest features, along with his natural eyeliner-shaped markings and rugged yet handsome facial features.

On good days, she liked to lightly trace her fingers and across his sharp jawline and feel the stubble growing on his blushed face. She’d try to stop immediately however, when he’d open his eyes and catch her hand, moving it across his body much to her chagrin and down to his-

She had stood outside the door, fumbling with the hem of her thin nightie and desperately trying to pull the short material past her bare thighs as she mustered up the courage to bring up her proposition.

Keigo slowly ceased his brushing when he saw the meek little thing quivering outside his door, and he quirked up an amused eyebrow. He braced both arms on either side of the sink, and let out a light exhale, before addressing her.

“Something wrong hummingbird?”

She dragged her eyes from the floor up to his dilated golden irises, and blurted out what she had been rehearsing in her head for the past couple of days:

“DoyouthinkIcouldcomewithyoutothegala?”

“Huh?” he snickered, thoroughly bewildered by what incomprehensible nonsense she had stuttered out.

Y/N bit her lip and took in a shaky breath, strike one, she fumbled her first try.

“Haw- uh, Keigo,” she corrected quickly. He preferred her using his first name, his real name. He claimed it made things more intimate between them as if carving his name on her back hadn't been enough to seal their “intimacy’-she didn’t need to be told twice what to call him by after that day “I was wondering...if I’m good and I don’t give you a hard time, can I come with you to the hero's gala?”

Keigo’s brow furrowed slightly, and he cocked his head to the side like a real bird. He seemed to be contemplating it.

“Alright,” he conceded after a couple seconds. “If, and I mean if you listen to me and don’t try any funny business while we’re there I’ll let you tag along.”

Y/N darted her eyes up to him, hope swimming in her heart.

“But you have to wear the feather.”

She immediately blanched.

A major inconvenience that she had come to terms with in the duration of her stay with him had been his stupid fucking feathers that layed oh-so-casually around the floor where she walked and coincidentally clinging to her clothes wherever she went out of Keigo’s eyesight, even though she was trapped on the same floor with him.

They had special properties; they could detect any movement, sense any vibration whenever he called for it. This made for a perfect tracker for Y/N in terms of whenever he wanted an update on her heartbeat, her mood, her whereabouts, and anything in between.

Yes, it was suffocating. But she would much rather it only be a suffocating feeling rather than him actually directing hundreds of feathers to surround her and hold her down on the bed or floor to do whatever he wanted with her in any position he pleased.

She didn’t dare complain to his face, however. She’d grit her teeth, grin and bear it, listen to every whim he demanded of her if it meant one night of superficial normalcy.

And so she put on her best behavior on the days leading up to the main event. She made dozens of dishes that circulated around chicken (his favorite binge food), she let them have “cuddle time”, with no complaints whatsoever when he insisted on bathing her and dressing her up in stupid pink frilly skirts, and she even gave him little subtle looks with a batting of her eyelashes when he looked down fondly at her good mannerisms and praised her for being such a sweet little birdie.

Eventually, her acting paid off and on the morning of the gala she was merited with a silk red dress that stopped at her upper thigh, ornamented with gold earrings and a 12K necklace to really sell off the look-which was of course wrapped around one of his feathers. Hawks had even hired a makeup artist who was instructed to not ask or say anything to Y/N save for questions about the products, much to her pleasant surprise.

She was still reminded of how much she had to grovel for him every time he rewarded her that afternoon.

“You look stunning, chickadee,” Keigo leaned against the dresser with his arms crossed, and smiled warmly at Y/N. “You’re making her look like a real model, maybe she should take over my job instead. Or, actually, maybe you could stop by my agency and make me all pretty for my next photoshoot.” He directed this last tease at the makeup artist and winked, causing the oblivious employee to giggle and blush.

Ugh, barf. He’s even a sleaze when I’m right here.

Y/N feigned a roll of her eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by the hero. She could feel his dilated eyes boring into her the rest of the 15 minutes of touch-ups. Eventually everything was done, and Hawks left praise after shameless praise fall from his lips and onto the poor fangirl’s heart as he guided her out the door, a hand on her lower back as he did so.

She took the opportunity to get up and walk to the full-length mirror, admiring how she looked for the first time in ages. Gone were the multi-colored marks that decorated her body as if she were nothing more than a mere canvas for her painter to use. Her eyes seemed a little brighter too, and it wasn’t just the makeup that caused it. She stood a little straighter and squared her shoulders, her chin tilted up more than before while she stared at her reflection. She didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror, and she liked it for once.

It was ridiculous, she knew it was to feel so vain but she couldn’t help but bask in her potential freedom for just one night. She looked gorgeous, she felt confident, and she had earned it all on her own.

Cocking her head to the side, she tried to practice a couple smiles to be camera-ready for when the time came. She turned the corners of her lips up, then showed her teeth, and even tried fluffing her hair up sensually. Biting her lip slightly, she threw her head back, causing her curled locks to bounce and lowered her eyelids to look sexy. She giggled at her own stupidity and poses, completely unaware that a certain winged-man had entered the room and leaned against the door for the past couple of minutes, simply watching the little show she put on.

“That's quite a look you’ve got there hun, why don’t you make those faces more often with me?”

She immediately froze, her breath hitching. She didn’t dare look at him in the eye from the mirror.

“I mean, I’m the only one who should be seeing such a slutty expression anyways, right?” He said ever-so casually, hands in his pockets as he slowly strolled up behind her, and she couldn’t help but think as her eyes darted up to meet him in the mirror that the sadistic shit-eating grin on his face didn’t suit so well with his god-like features.

She visibly wilted, her shoulders hunched and head down in contrast to the tall, powerful woman she had felt like mere seconds ago. Her breath quickened as he leaned over her shoulder, grazing his teeth over the sensitive part under her ear, and she bit her lip harshly to stop the squeak that threatened to escape her trembling lips.

“If I had known that a pretty dress and some makeup would make you act like a wanton little whore, I would’ve done this wayyy sooner. I guess you really are just another dumb bimbo bitch who does anything she’s told if she gets to feel important for a night.” He whispered in her ear, resting his head on her shoulder and looking up at her with innocent eyes, ones that imitated the mocking tone of voice he used.

It seemed like he wanted her to feel disgusting, to wilt under his cruel words that he used like knives-knives that were sharpened with his tone and body language, knives that were so intimately and carefully chosen. They worded so that they were used to their full extent to cut and carve through her heart.

“Is that what you are my little songbird, hmm? You wanna be a pretty baby and have everyone’s attention on you? I’m hurt, here I was thinking I was enough for you.” He pouted, and with every word he spoke the grip his hands had around her waist tightened.

She tried to protest but he plowed through her pitiful attempts.

“Hell, if you want some attention so bad and whore yourself out, I should call over some friends! Yeah, we can skip tonight’s gala, would you like that songbird? For me to share you with my friends so they can satiate your whorish needs?” And at his he shook her lightly, his grip around her middle choking her and cutting off her circulation. “N-no, Hawks,” she wheezed out. “I just... liked my makeup, that’s it. I only want you, I promise. I won’t cause any trouble tonight, please don’t call any friends over.”

She looked up at him in the mirror with eyes the size of saucers, blinking away tears and trying her best to show how apologetic she was at her audacity to feel good about herself.

He loosened his arms and straightened up, peering down at her disgustedly. He had absolutely no regrets about the way she sucked in air immediately when he relented, or about the way she frantically brushed the tears from her eyes, trying to preserve her mascara from running. (not that he would’ve minded). She needed to learn her lesson; he controlled her highs and lows. Only he had the permission of holding her fragile emotions in the palm of his hand, and if she didn't want that palm turning into a fist and breaking her, she would do well not to piss him off and treading carefully about flaunting what was meant for his eyes only.

She wanted to lock herself in the bathroom and cry out to her heart's content from being embarrassed and degraded like this. She kept absolutely still however, when she felt his hands lightly tracing the feather on her collarbones. It was an unspoken threat, and when their eyes met once again in the mirror, the way he sized her up confirmed it.

The feather stayed on.

Which brought her back to the present.

Y/N had already downed 3 glasses of champagne while reminiscing about earlier today, something Hawks would’ve surely tutted at. Finding herself bored, she meandered around the bar, keeping close to where he left her.

She scanned the room for her ‘lover’ and found him laughing with a group of his friends, his head thrown back and the charming sound of his deep yet lilted voice carrying through the hall, entrapping anyone who was around.

He certainly had presence, no sense in denying it.

Any girl would’ve been crazy to deny him, and Y/N wished that Hawks had fallen for a girl that didn’t want to deny him out of his hundreds of fangirls a point that was set in stone in Y/N’s mind when she saw a tall brunette clinging to his arm while she shrieked with laughter at whatever stupid story Hawks was telling.

Said fangirl seemed to also have been put under his contagious spell, from the way she so obviously threw herself on his arm and pushed her chest against his side under the pretense of shaking with laughter. Various other parts of her body seemed to be shaking against him too, but he didn’t seem to mind based on the smirk he quickly looked down at her with.

For the second time that night, Y/N wanted to throw up.

Was it jealousy? Negative. Rather, it was frustration that he literally had girls throwing themselves at him, tits hanging out and all but yet he wanted what he knew he couldn’t have. She assumed that it was this mentality of his that landed him at being Number 2, chasing after the seemingly impossible until it was tangible.

It was easier on some days to try to understand his point of view. It was much better than getting lost in the hours pondering what kind of bad karma she inherited from a past life to go through this hell. But on some mornings when she felt stone-cold sober, she remembered that she was a person, not some objective or conquest that he had rightfully won. Deciding to try and take her mind off from the trainwreck that was unfolding in front of her, Y/N aimlessly wandered to the side of the bar and down a grand hallway that was less crowded and had less Hawks.

On either side of the hall, giant bronze frames held the portraits of past heroes and had little scriptures of their accomplishments. Hawks had always talked about how he wanted his name up there, and how one day he was going to do something incredible to have his own face up on the hall of fame. His idol, Endeavor, already has taken place on the wall right next to All Might’s frame, and Y/N looks up and ponders at both of their pictures.

And how befitting is it, that Hawk’s idol is also accused of a sinister and tumultuous family past.

Maybe he doesn’t need to work too hard to follow in the footsteps of the number one hero.

“Quite the hero, Endeavor is. Even though there is controversy about the nature of his past and his redemption efforts, he set many precedents as to how a true hero should act.” Y/N’s head snaps to the right where Edgeshot had just joined her. He wore a navy blue tux with red seams, his trademark mask covering the lower half of his face.

“Yeah, you’d think his admirers would try to follow in the footsteps of changing themselves too,” she muttered bitterly. “I’ve noticed his biggest fans seem to take after his more...old brutish traits rather than the better person he’s trying to be now.”

The masked hero laughed softly, and Y/N looked at him suspiciously.

“What, you don’t think heroes have their own fair share of flaws?” She challenged.

“No no, don’t get me wrong of course. I would be on an inappropriate level of naivety to assume that, considering I’m a part of the whole corrupt system itself. I think, however, that change within a person comes after an extended time of self-reflection. You have to look within yourself and accept that you were wrong in the first place, if you want to change.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment.

“Do you think the villains are ever right? About society brushing the flipside of heroism under the carpet, I mean. It doesn’t matter if the heroes are trying to save people because it's expected of them, if they aren’t actually compassionate about their cause then is there really a point?” She asked desperately, hoping he could understand her.

Edgeshot hesitated for a moment before answering.

“In my years of experience,” he said quietly, still looking up at Endeavor’s painting, “the ones who have at heart a solid reason for acting the way they do are most always justified. It may not always be a good reason, but a foundation always gives way to a justification that can be argued for.”

All of a sudden, Y/N gasped as white hot pain sliced through her sternum. She looked down and saw the red feather on her necklace quivering as a fine line of red sprouted from the cut it made.

“Are you alright?” Edgeshot asked, looking fairly alarmed, his hand reaching for her shoulder.

“Yes, of course! My necklace is just a little sharp, a little edge just nicked me that's all.” She said shrilly, already backing away from the concerned hero. Turning on her heel, she picked up the hem of her dress and tottered out of the hall, not paying any mind to the vermillion plumage that drifted down her chest, past her waist and eventually clinging onto her leg, making little nips and stabs here and there.

Blood was pounding through her head as she navigated the way back to where Hawks had left her to be. Her palms were sweaty and she was sure her hair was becoming messy as she whipped her head around, attempting to look past tall heads and bodies that blocked her way to the bar.

Shitshitshitshit god please don’t let him be there already please please please-

But it seemed as though god wasn’t in a merciful mood, because lo and behold, the raptor was leaning against the long granite island with a glass in his hand.

He seemed to be casually grinning, swirling a maroon substance in his cup and choking it down leisurely, but as Y/N drew closer she knew-as expected- he seemed off.

The smell of alcohol was nauseating around him, he must have been drinking something strong. His wings, although lightly flapping behind him, were pointed at the edges and shaking lightly. His eyes were completely dilated, and were shifting around the room until they settled on her meek figure rushing up to him.

“Hey there birdy, long time no see. Did you have a good chat with Edgeshot? I’m sure you both enjoyed talking shit about me behind my back.” Y/N winced at how charismatic and booming his laugh was after his ominous remark. It was too carefree, a complete cover-up of how she knew he was actually feeling, and that scared her the most.

“Hawks I-”

“Keigo, sweetheart, did you forget my name already after talking with just one person? Damn, I’m hurt, guess keeping you locked up at home was the right decision after all if you’re acting like such a stone-cold bitch now.”

She stared up at him, openmouthed and thoroughly panicked now. He was talking too much, he was going to expose himself and her-

Wait. Why is she covering for him? Wouldn’t it be better if he blabbed everything else so people could realize what he’s doing? Maybe someone would intervene and save her!

But it seemed like he was three steps ahead of her and had already figured that out, because his face flushed slightly and his eyes darkened and narrowed, with lips set in a flat line. When Y/N saw this change, she tried to back away but he quickly grabbed her hand and yanked her out the room and through the exit doors. It was all happening so fast, she could hear various people call out to Hawks but he plowed through them so fast that she didn’t have time to even process that they were out of the building and in the air.

She screamed as he soared to an even higher altitude, clinging onto his neck for dear life. The wind whipped past her face, stinging her cheeks with the frigid cold and water particles that embedded on her lashes. Hawks was laughing hysterically the entire time he gained height, his talons ripping through her dress and piercing her skin, even overlapping the previous cuts his feather had made earlier.

“S-stop, what’re you doing, are you fucking crazy?” She shrieked, her words losing volume as the air was ripped out of her lungs.

“KEIGO, its KEIGO you stupid fucking cunt!” he screamed in her face. His arms loosened around her waist, and suddenly Y/N was falling, falling, falling straight for the asphalt.

She couldn’t even turn her head as her limp body plummeted down for imminent death. Her lungs begged for oxygen, fear settling like lead in her stomach, but the second she closed her eyes for what she thought was the last time, (Hawks) Keigo swooped down and yanked her back into his sinister embrace by her hair.

Ignoring the ripping strands she felt in her skull, she flailed around in midair trying to grab onto something-she reached up to grab his foot but he noticed and kicked her square in the face. Y/N had never before felt such terror and pain, mentally or physically.

Damn her pride, she wants to live for god's sake.

“Keigo,” she sobbed, remembering just in time to use his real name lest he smash her teeth in again, “please put me down, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I talked to Edgeshot but I swear it wasn’t anything bad or about you.” The warm blood streaming down her nose began to harden on her upper lip from the chilly altitude they had reached.

Abruptly, he shifted his grip and pulled her up by her hair (she winced at that painful adjustment) so that he could hold her around her waist now.

They had to have been at least 200 or so feet in the air. The pair had cleared their way through some clouds and could clearly see the full moon right in front of them. It was deathly quiet except for Y/N’s labored breathing through her fractured nose, and her fear racked even further as she looked up at Hawks and realized that he was simply staring down at her with completely dilated eyes that narrowed and gleamed at her expression. He truly looked like a bird of prey right now, a predator that was forcing her to play the part of his prey, a point that solidified when he suddenly wrapped one hand around her throat to feel her heartbeat that thumped like a rabbits’.

The light from the moon reflected off his back, causing his front to be completely shadowed so that the contours of his sharp face seemed ever more looming and dangerous. Both of them stayed suspended in the air for a minute or two like that, Y/N not daring to speak unless he granted her a sign to repent.

After a long, painstakingly suspenseful minute of studying her face, he finally growled “We’re going home.”

It seemed to take only a mere couple of minutes for the Number Two hero to travel halfway across the city. Y/N barely had time to try and drink in the beautiful colors that accented the winding streets and buildings below her, knowing that it would most probably be a long time before she saw anything else that resembled freedom again.

He finally began to descend rapidly, forcing her to cling onto his jacket and shove her face into the crook of his neck to avoid getting whiplash. Peeking through her lashes, she recognized the balcony floor of his penthouse rushing underneath their feet. Dread and anxiety surged through her veins as he finally landed and postiviley threw her off of him and onto the wooden floor. She slid a good couple of feet and skinned her legs in the process, unable to stop her momentum as she slammed back into a lamp.

Dazed, she saw stars as she rubbed her aching head. Unfortunately she didn’t see him, rushing over to her the second she landed.

He grabbed her jaw tight and wrenched her bleary eyes to look up at him.

What he saw was beautiful.

A trembling mess beneath him, makeup runny and complemented with blood that flowed from her nose like an eternal stream. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the way she kept flinching any time he shifted; it made his pants tighten and caused his teeth to grit in what he measured to be the absolute last bits of self restraint he had for the night. He had truly ruined her, and he internally patted himself on the back at his work.

Was he mad? Yes, wholly and completely at her betrayal of his orders.

Did he regret losing his temper? Absolutely not. In fact, if you ask him, he should get mad at her more often like this. If it merited her pliant and vulnerable being, then who was he to deny such pleasure? Fuck he should’ve done this from the start- blowing up at mild disobediance instead of acting like a doting, patient boyfriend.

“You alive?” he roughly shook her head and her teeth chattered inside her skull while he did so.

“Yes,” she whispered, mouth popped open by his gloved fingers as he shoved a digit inside her warm and wet cavern. It was embarrassing how drool seeped through her lips and dribbled down her chin, but humility was the least concerning factor in her environment at the moment.

“Good. After acting like such a tramp you better fucking be. I told you one thing,” and he slapped her for added emphasis to his frustration, “can you repeat what I told you? Or are you so braindead that you can’t remember the one order I gave you when I trusted you to sit still and look pretty like a good little bitch?”

“Nnngh, no I rem-I remember.” Y/N panted out, attempting to talk through puckered lips and drool. “You told me to stay at the bar and not to move.”

“Exactly. So what part of that was so hard to understand, huh?” He hissed through his teeth, looking deranged.

“I just got bored, that’s all. I wanted to talk to another person…” Even though she didn’t finish her sentence, Hawks understood her perfectly.

I wanted to talk to another person apart from you.

He let out a mocking laugh, stretching his arms over his head to hide his shaking fists. Rage swept through his body like wildfire, licking up his throat and cheeks. His face was flushed and unreadable to Y/N as he sauntered around the couch and plopped down on it, spreading his legs to seem as uncouth as possible.

She sat shivering on the floor, unsure of if he wanted her to follow him or wither away on the floor like a mutt.

As he sighed loudly however, her body immediately tensed as though bracing for another painful impact. She daringly peeked over her shoulder and saw the back of his head protruding from the black and red leather couch. Lazily flicking his wrist up to a height where she could see, he vaguely beckoned her over without saying a word.

Immediately she scampered over to him and situated herself at his feet (where she belonged). Her eyes were downcast, and he begrudgingly accepted it as a form of submission on her part. No sense in beating the disobedience out of her now if she already knows what she did wrong.

Hawks heaved out another heavy sigh and let his head fall backwards. On one hand, he was slightly drunk and his head was killing him-he just wanted to go to sleep and forget today ever happened. However, there was a problem that was contributing to his growing migraine, and that problem was sitting right in front of him, practically kneeling at his feet for mercy. More than sleep, he wanted to take care of said issue and call it a night, so he decided to skip the sweet talk and warm up.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, kid. I’m gonna close my eyes and by the time I open them you better have already thought of a way to make tonight up to me, and you better have already put that plan in action. Then, we’re going to bed and when you wake up you’ll regret the day you even thought of talking to anyone apart from me, since you seem to have forgotten who’s been coddling your ass all this time.” He sneered, relishing at the way Y/N’s face went pale.

True to his word, he closed his eyes, glad to see his last view as the pathetic bitch who was about to service him. The feel of slight fumbling on his zipper made him feel even more drunk and giddy as it was pulled down. Maybe the entire evening wasn’t a complete wash after all.

Yeah, he should take her out a lot more.

#yandere hawks #yandere x y/n #bnha yandere #mha x reader #bnha #hawks x reader #hawks smut #hawks x y/n #bnha hawks #mha hawks #kidnapping #tw dubcon #mha #yandere #yandere hawks x reader

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localgenius · 4 years ago

Text

To Love

Is this just pure fluff about getting married to Spencer? Maybe. Is it also just pure self-indulgent writing to make me feel something in these melancholy times? Who knows. Anyway! I hope that you’ll enjoy it! (btw I’ve never been to a wedding, so if I totally wrong about how this works, I’m sorry)

Also, just a special thanks to @reidscanehand for inspiring me to start writing again! I’m a bit rusty, but I overall liked how this piece turned out :)

Spencer Reid x fem!reader (3.4k)

They had truly lucked out on the weather.

The sun was reaching high and low, making everything shine a bit brighter than usual. The gleaming sun was accompanied by the occasional breeze, ruffling hair, cooling skin and making dresses and skirts dance effortlessly in its wake.

There was a constant mutter of voices, a childish giggle, a cough and sometimes the occasional sneeze from the pollen filled season. The laughter was accompanied by the singing of birds high above them, insisting to partake in the joyous celebration taking place in the large garden.

The noise didn’t seem to have any effect on him, though. His mind was somewhere far away from the beautiful garden, far away from the plethora of guests that filled the pews.

His mind was lost somewhere in the beautiful house behind him, behind a closed door. His mind was with her, as it had been for the past two years, five months, 19 days and seven hours.

She hadn’t allowed him to know anything about her dress, her shoes, her hair or even her makeup. She had insisted that everything would be a surprise; one of the only times she could have the upper hand over a genius. He had had a lot of fruitless attempts to catch a mere glance of the dress, but she had been adamant that it would be a surprise.

He could feel his heart beating in his chest, the rhythmic thumping simultaneously calming him and keeping him on edge. Anticipation filled his every atom, making him so much more aware of everything that was happening around him.

He was fiddling with his fingers, running through his vows as many times as he could, to ensure that they were perfect; that he was perfect. Cause that’s what she deserved. And he’d damn himself if he didn’t at least try to live up to that.

Unconsciously his mind slipped back into the house, trying for the life of him to picture her in front of him. In a pretty dress, but an even prettier smile grazing her lips, a smile he had been oh so lucky to be on the recipient end of for the past two years, five months 19 days and seven hours.

Just at the mere thought he could feel a smile pull on his own lips, an involuntary act that he had gotten used to over the course of their relationship.

He may had been familiar with the effects she had on him, but in truth, he could never quite get used to her. How could he? How could anyone? How could anyone ever get used to the embodiment of kindness, of warmth, of love?

He was brought back from his reveries when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, resting heavily to get his attention.

“You good kid?” Derek asked, drawing Spencer’s attention to him instead of his shoes that he had unknowingly been having a staring contest with.

“Uh,” Spencer cleared his throat before straightening his back. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?” a smile weaved its way onto Derek’s face, before clapping Spencer’s shoulder one more time before removing his hand. “It’s not too late to call it off, you know?

A scoff left Spencer’s lips, and he shook his head at the comment.

“As if,” Spencer said, allowing his eyes to drift from Derek to the rest of the guests and the aisle she would be walking down off in just a few moments. Amongst them he saw members from the team, both former and present, and in the front row, just a few meters away from him, his mother sat with her caretaker chatting idly with each other.

Everyone he’s ever loved ensembled in order to celebrate him and the one he loves the most.

“Just saying,” Derek held his hands up in mocking defence, before taking his rightful spot just a few steps behind Spencer. “You nervous?”

“A bit,” Spencer admitted quietly, going back to fiddle with his fingers. “Terrified that she’s changed her mind at the last second.”

This time it was Derek’s turn to scoff, “as if.”

Spencer turned his head to give Derek his full attention. “That girl is head over heels for you, man. It would take 10 wild horses for her not to walk down that aisle.”

Spencer shot him a grateful smile before turning to the entrance to the house, an internal clock beginning to tick down.

“Besides,” Derek mumbled from behind him, “Penelope has been keeping me updated. She’s walking down that aisle, trust me.”

Spencer nodded his head reassuringly to himself. She would walk down that aisle, he would say his vows perfectly, and they would live happily ever after. Just like he promised her all those months ago when he slipped that ring onto her finger.

Before he knew it, the gentle hum of music started to play, successfully quieting the guests.

The first to walk down the aisle was Henry, who had insisted to be a part of the ceremony as soon as he found out that his godfather was getting married.

When Spencer threw the idea of Henry being the flower boy up in the air, she had a smile so big on her face, and had given him a big kiss while nodding yes, yes that would be a wonderful idea.

In his fine white shirt, Henry was meticulously throwing the petals to the ground in preparation for the soon to be bride. Henry’s eyes drifted up to his favourite uncle standing at the end, shooting him a big smile, eyes shining bright behind his glasses.

When he reached the end, Spencer subtly lowered his hand, so Henry quickly could give him a high five before he ran back to his seat in between JJ and Will on the front row.

Next down the aisle was Penelope.

Her blonde hair was matching the sun, and her smile was brighter than Spencer’s ever seen it before. A light blue dress - more subdued than her usual dresses, but she didn’t seem to complain - was dancing around her knees as she walked towards Spencer.

The bouquet in her hands was a bunch of wildflowers thrown together in a beautiful arrangement, aiming to look like the bouquet Spencer had given Y/N on one of their first dates.

The first thing that she had been sure about when they had started to plan the wedding was that she wanted Penelope to be her maid of honour.

It made sense, they had been friends for years, and it was thanks to her, and her self-proclaimed unmatchable love skills, that she and Spencer had gone on that fateful first date. When Penelope had learned that not only had the first date escalated to a second date, but even to a third date, she had been ecstatic. Spencer had never thought he had seen her so happy as when she found out.

Her happiness in that moment had only been trumped when Y/N had stopped by the office to drop something off for Spencer before a case, and there had been a shiny ring adorning her fourth finger.

Both Rossi and Hotch had hurried out of their office at the sound of her screech, only to witness the engaged couple being hugged close to death in Penelope’s grip.

The celebration had been short lived, with the team having to hurry off to catch the plane, but not before the couple shared a sweet goodbye kiss, that made Penelope screech again.

So yeah, Penelope had been the obvious choice for the maid of honour title.

When she came up to the end, she quickly moved to hug Spencer, love and happiness spilling out of her. “Wait until you see her, boy wonder,” she whispered in his ear before moving to her rightful spot, but not before sharing a quick air kiss with Derek.

And finally, the moment had come.

The guests stood up, turning their heads to the entrance as the music changed, along with his heartbeat.

He had just thought that the erratic beating of his heart had gone back to normal, but lord and behold, the moment he laid eyes on her, it was back to beating as wildly as ever.

Her white dress flowed around her, making her look like she was floating on a cloud. Only confirming his theory that she was a real-life angel.

Time seemed to move in slow motion, while simultaneously moving way too fast. His heart was filled with conflict. A part of him could forever live in that moment, just observing her while she smiled so brightly at him, smiled like this was everything she’d ever wanted. Smiled like he was all she’d ever wanted.

Another part of him wanted to run down and drag her up to stand with him. To get all of these formalities over with just so he could kiss her and call her his wife.

As she got closer, he could see the way her arm tightened around her father’s. Her eyes gleaming from happiness and tears, and the smile that was so wide, that he was sure it would split her face in half.

He was sure a similar smile was present on his face; he could feel it in the way his cheeks were hurting in the best way possible.

And finally, she was there, right in front of him, as if it had always meant to be. Spencer was quick to put out a hand to her father, receiving a firm but kind shake in return before he moved to go sit with her mother on the front row.

And suddenly, it was just them. Just the two of them; a boy and a girl so utterly in love and was about to declare to everyone willing to listen.

“Hi,” she whispered softly, letting him take her hands in his.

The mere action of letting his thumb run over her soft hands helped calm his beating heart.

“Hi,” he whispered back, just as sweet.

Her hands were cold in his, presumably from the hours of preparation inside of the air-conditioned house. She looked down and let her fingers glide in between his, as the preacher started to talk.

And Spencer hates to admit it, but for once, if JJ or Derek asked after the ceremony, he would have to admit that he wouldn’t be able to recall what was said. All of his attention had been solely on her; the way she gripped his hands tighter from time to time, a sign of impatience, the way her eyes flew around his face, from his eyes to his lips, and the way she discreetly shuffled on her feet. She wanted this as much as he did.

And finally, it was time. Time for him to try to tell her about the love that fills his entire being every time he’s with her.

He softly cleared his throat before tightening the grip on her smaller hands.

“Y/N,” he started softly, letting himself bask in her smile for just a moment before daring to continue. “I met you two years, five months, 19 days and seven hours ago. With other words, my entire life changed two years, five months, 19 days and seven hours ago.”

There was a chuckle going around the guests, and she let out one as well, because of course - of course he knew that. How could he not?

“Before I met you, I had become content with the idea that I was likely going to be alone for the rest of my life. And I was okay with it. I had my mum and my team. The only family I thought I would ever be lucky enough to have.”

At this he took a quick glance down to the rows of guests. His mum was smiling with tears in her eyes, hand interlocked with her caretaker’s. JJ had a smile so big on her face, while she was squeezing Will’s hand for dear life. Emily, Alex and Rossi were sitting together with proud smiles on their faces as they watched the young genius proclaim the love, they always knew he had inside him. Hotch was sitting with Jack, a bittersweet smile on his face, as he remembered a wedding a long time ago.

“But then,” he turned his attention back to her, “then I met you. I met this wonderful girl who didn’t seem to think that it was strange when I told her information about her favourite flower, she just laughed and told me to tell her more. I met a girl who passionately discussed existential philosophy with me on the first date, and somehow, I managed to get a second date.”

He could feel tears starting to trail down his cheeks, likely matching those trailing down hers.

“I remember making a promise to myself, and to Penelope,” he made eye contact with the maid of honour over his bride’s shoulders, and saw happy tears falling like a waterfall from her eyes, “that I would dedicate my life to loving you. Because I think that’s what I’m meant to do. I could give you a statistic about love, but Morgan said it’d be weird to have a statistic in my wedding vows,” a laugh broke out through the guests again, and a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder. “So, I’ll just say that I could tell you all the theory about love, but I could never tell you how it feels to love you. How it feels to be loved by you.” He closed his eyes and brought her hands up to his lips before kissing her knuckles gently. “I love you; I believe I always have, and I promise that I always will.”

He turned and took the ring from Derek, who to his own great shame had tears streaming down his face, before sliding it onto her finger.

“Wow,” she said gently, separating their hands briefly to try to get her tears under control. “I can’t possibly live up to the words of a genius, but I’ll give it a shot.”

Relocking their hands, she straightened her back, and let her nerves exit her body through a sigh. “Spencer, I’ve spent years longing for love, waiting for it being my turn to be hit with Cupid’s arrow. And when I was ready to give up, a friend insisted that I gave her co-worker a chance. Just one date. And that was the best decision I’ve ever made. I’ve spent my entire life reading, analysing and writing love stories, which I’d always thought would give me an advantage when I had to write my wedding vows. But when I sat down to write how I love you, I simply couldn’t. There wasn’t a way that I think I could ever tell you how much I love you. Because, to quote Jane Austen ‘If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more’.”

Spencer could now feel the stream of tears coating his cheeks, and he was doing everything in his power to hold back the sob that was threatening to burst from his chest.

“Two years, five months, 19 days and seven hours ago I met the love of my life. I met a boy, so willing to love me for me, and I swore to myself to never let him go. I swore to make him feel as loved as he makes me feel,” she took a deep breath before finishing off. “Spencer Reid, it’s a privilege to be loved by you, and an even bigger privilege to love you. But I will never be able to tell you just how much I love you, but I promise, that I will love you forever.”

She turned around, taking the ring from Penelope, whom by that point was as ready to sob as he was, before sliding a ring that matched hers so perfectly onto his finger.

The preacher cleared his throat before happily declaring: “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Dr. Reid, you may kiss your bride!”

And before he could help himself Spencer grasped her face in his hands and let his lips lock with hers.

Her hands found his waist as he leaned over her, forcing her to lean back, a smile spreading across both of their lips as they sealed the deal.

The moment was filled with cheering and applause from the guests, as the newlyweds pulled apart to share a big grin with each other.

She threw her arms around his shoulders before giving him another big kiss, before they finally started to walk their way down the aisle together. Hands happily intertwined, smiles brighter than the spring sun and hearts filled with more love than they’ll ever be able to put into words.

The spring sun had set and had been replaced by the moon and her stars.

Guests were sitting around the tables laughing, eating, drinking and sharing stories about the lovely couple who hadn’t seemed to be able to take their eyes off of each other ever since the ceremony.

They had had their first dance together without any bumps on the road and had spent the rest of the evening basking in the love that surrounded them.

As all of the guests sat around, enjoying the last part of the three-course meal, there was clinging on a glass, a little down the table from where they sat.

“Hello,” Derek said as he stood up with his glass of champagne in hand. “I’m Derek Morgan, best man, in case anyone doesn’t know.” A laugh travelled through the crowd at the charm and confidence of Derek Morgan. “And I promised pretty boy here that I would hold a speech, but I also promised to make it as non-embarrassing for him as possible. So, if you want the embarrassing version, just let me know.” Again, laughter broke out, and Emily was quick to signal that she would very much like a copy.

“I’ve known Spencer for nine years now give and take, and in those nine years I’ve witnessed your ups and downs. I’ve seen you at your lowest, and now, along with everyone else here, I get to see you at your highest,” Derek shot a smile down to Spencer, noticing the way the groom tightened his arm around his bride.

“I remember as if it was yesterday, the day Penelope excitedly came in to tell me that she had set Spencer up with her neighbour. A lovely girl with a passion for books that could even rival Spencer’s, and was in the midst of getting a PhD in English lit. A match made in heaven to quote Penelope,” Derek laughed along with the guests as Penelope blushed and rolled her eyes in her seat next to Y/N.

“And I admit, I was sceptical. Penelope has always had a passion for love, and I had witnessed a few bad blind dates orchestrated by her. But lord and behold, this was the time that she proved herself to be the best match maker of them all as she claimed herself.

“The morning after the date I saw Reid walking in with a certain skip in his step that I hadn’t seen before. He used his phone, which was a dead giveaway that something was up. And during that day I was called down to the Batcave by Penelope, who was bursting with excitement, when she had found out from Y/N that the date had turned out well. Very well in fact.”

The entire party shifted their gazes between Derek and the newlyweds, intrigued by the love story unfolding before them.

“And when I finally had the pleasure of meeting the infamous Y/N I finally understood Penelope. Because I witnessed two soulmates having found each other. I think that it’s rare for two people to match as well as you two do,” Derek said, a lump clogged his throat and tears threatening to spill, directing his attention to the groom and bride. “You two have lucked out and have found each other - you have found a love that the rest of us only dream about.”

Derek watched as Spencer leaned his head against Y/N’s giving a gentle kiss on the top of her head, all while Y/N eyes was watching Derek stand with the half full champagne flute in hand.

“So, I would like to propose a toast to Mr. and Mrs. Reid, or Dr. Reid and Dr. Y/L/N, so please raise your glasses with me,” the mass of guests raised their glasses in unison, and repeated after Derek when he called out:

“To love!”

“...is there anything on earth or heaven would have made me so happy as to have made you mine long ago?” - Lord Byron

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine

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teruthecreator · 3 years ago

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sweet surprises

lord forgive me for the cringe i’m about to post. i fully blame this post and this post for planting the seeds of berdley having a crush on kris in my brain. also shouts out to izel for listening to me go insane at 3 AM about this.

anyways, here’s a thing.

______________________________________________________________

Excitement is in the air.

Unlike the usual calm monotony of life at school, things recently have been quite...electric. Not because of the portal to the Dark World hidden behind the door of the closet, or the adventures had by a select group of students through the portal in the Librarby a few days ago. No, this isn’t about that.

This is about the Sadie Hawkman’s Dance. The once-a-year phenomenon where the school puts on its best interpretation of a formal dance for the incredibly small number of students who attend class. Students buzz in excitement for the event, preparing their most formal outfits and getting ready to dazzle their friends and fellow classmates with their dramatic entrances into the auditorium.

And, of course, there’s the all important ritual of asking someone to the dance.

There’s already been a few proposals made this week. Jockington rolled into class like a hula hoop and asked Catti to be his “best bro” for the dance, to which she happily agreed. (And by that, I mean she looked up from her phone, smiled, said not a single word, and went back to typing.) Temmie loudly announced to the class that she would be taking her egg, which was somehow...embarrassed that she mentioned it. And, of course, Noelle finally managed to work up enough courage to ask Susie to the dance. It was done in an incredible display of candy canes that spelled out the phrase: “CAN(E) YOU BE MY DATE TO THE DANCE?” Unfortunately, Susie was about halfway through scarfing the display down before she realized what it said. She then began choking on one of the candy canes out of disbelief, which wound her in the nurse for the rest of the day. But, when she could speak again, she very quietly agreed to Noelle’s proposal (and, if you happened to be a fly on the wall in that room, you could hear a tail thump rhythmically against the doctor’s bench as she did so).

Kris was pleased with everything. They were happy to see their friends so happy together. A long time coming, if you asked them. And they’d be just as happy attending the dance solo, since they’ll undoubtedly be dragged along by Susie. They’d never gone to the dance before--never had a reason to, truth be told. But with their newfound friends, they may just enjoy being a wingman for the night.

...Speaking of wingmen, Berdly will probably be going solo as well. Unsurprising, but Kris makes a mental note to ensure the bird will be in attendance. As much as he is kind of a lot sometimes, he’s their friend. And Kris is going to make sure all of their friends are having fun at that dance!

They walk into class thinking of this (surprisingly early, for a change), which is why they almost miss the massive display sitting boldly atop their desk. They freeze the instant it catches their eye and, for a second, they almost believe it isn’t real. Like some leftover thoughts of the Dark World lingering in their vision. But, after wiping their eyes and seeing that it’s still there, they decide to approach and...investigate.

The display is expertly crafted by someone who clearly knows their way around a glue gun. It is a heart-shaped arch that is decorated with a myriad of printed illustrations of Super Smashing Fighters Melee characters, all having cut-outs to hold different bars of chocolate. There are also numerous origami hearts glued around the characters on the arch, in colors spanning across the rainbow. The arch is painted in swirls of blues, pinks, and reds and covered with a border of glitter that sprinkles onto the desk when Kris reaches out to pluck a chocolate bar from its perch. On the desk itself is a big origami heart that says “TO KRIS” in gold calligraphy. It is by far one of the coolest, nicest, cheesiest things Kris has ever seen.

They look up from the display to see if anyone else is seeing this shit, and that’s when it all clicks.

Because sitting at the front of the classroom, fidgeting way more than normal, is Berdly. He keeps interlocking his ankles underneath his desk before unlocking them and kicking the air, turning around every half-second or so to try and catch Kris’s reaction. From the brief moments Kris can see the front of him, they notice he’s not in his usual white collared shirt and black khaki shorts. Instead, his shirt is buttoned all the way up, with a nice blue bowtie tied around his neck. He also traded out his khaki shorts for a pair of dress pants that look to be a tad too long for his legs. He keeps reaching up to smooth out the feathers on his head, which immediately stick back up from stress.

Now, Kris may be a straight B student, but they’re not stupid. Context clues are a very good thing, and all signs point to Berdly as the culprit of this public display of...affection?

Beyond Berdly is Ms. Alphys at her desk, who shoots Kris a look of deep understanding and maybe...guilt? She looks at Berdly for a split second and shrugs her shoulders, indicating he was probably in here long before she was and so she had no way of stopping him from leaving it there.

Kris looks back down at the display and picks up the large origami heart. As they begin to unfold it, they see a sprawling letter written in the same flashy calligraphy. Kris squints at the letters--they’re dyslexic, so everything kind of just looks like spaghetti on paper. Still, they’re able to make out the largely printed question of “WILL YOU GO TO THE DANCE WITH ME?” with no issue.

Huh, guess they won’t be going to the dance alone after all…? It’s a little confusing as to why Berdly would want to go with them, though. Like, they’ve hung out a little bit--usually whenever Berdly wanted a “worthy rival” to play video games with, he would come over and Kris would whoop his ass for a few hours. And, of course, there were the recent events in the Cyber World; but Kris is pretty sure them and Susie had thoroughly convinced Noelle and Berdley that that was all a dream. So, why them?

They’re lost in this train of thought for so long that they don’t even notice the other kids enter the room until they suddenly hear:

“Yo, Kris???????? What the heck is this thing????” Susie’s voice doesn’t startle them, but it is loud enough to get them to look up. Susie is standing next to their desk, looking at the display with genuine amazement thinly masked by disgust. She’s also loud enough to basically stop the whole class (who were all muttering amongst themselves about it anyway), which gives Kris only a second to gaze around the room before--

SLAM!

The door to the classroom slams shut, leaving one seat unoccupied.

Berdley’s.

“This thing’s got chocolate on it????” Susie continues to marvel at the display while Kris looks at the door, frowning. They feel...bad. It isn’t Berdley’s fault for trying to fit in with the other kids' proposals; he admitted to feeling like he needs to do more just to stand out enough for people to acknowledge him back in the Dark World. And this thing is really...thoughtful! The characters are all ones Kris typically mains, or ones they know Berdley mains, which means he remembers things about Kris. And the chocolate is a given, but it is nice to be able to stock their personal snack stash with some fancy stuff. Ultimately, it’s very sweet, and Kris can’t help but feel a little guilty for not saying anything immediately.

They turn and lock eyes with Ms. Alphys, who looks extremely out-of-depth with this situation. She makes a number of gestures from them to the door in a flustered way of saying I have absolutely no idea what the hell is going on please help me Kris I know I’m asking a lot of you but I don’t know how to deal with teenage angst I’m like thirty-five. They sigh, standing up and walking past Susie (but not before giving her a stare that warns her if a single chocolate bar is gone that they will be holding that over her until the day she dies) and following Berdly out the door.

It doesn’t take Kris very long to follow the trail of labored breathing to where Berdley is--in the abandoned classroom, hyperventilating as he teeters on a breakdown. Luckily, when Kris opens the door, it seems to put a halt to his spiralling because he just kind of...freezes. Like a deer caught in headlights. Or a Berdley caught in Kris-lights. Kris takes this moment to let the door shut behind them, trapping the two in here. Together.

“U-Uhhhhh, hi--he--Um. H-Hello, K-Kris…” Berdly attempts to put on his usual bravado, but his voice betrays him brutally by squeaking and cracking on every syllable. Kris can’t help the smile that comes to their face.

“Uh, hey,” they reply with a wave. Berdley continues to stand there and stare (almost like he wasn’t expecting Kris to care enough to follow him) before the present circumstances return to his mind and he begins breathing hard again.

“I-I-I-I, uh...I was. Um. J-Just, uh. G-Getting some fresh air! Y-Yes! The classroom can be s-so stuffy sometimes, I’m sure y-you--you, uh...you agree?” Berdley makes a valiant attempt at hiding his panic, which Kris almost takes pity on. But they don’t think the monster will feel any better if they just pretend what happened back there never happened.

“Yeah. I liked the display.” Kris says simply. Berdley stands stock-straight at that, looking even worse for wear in the “being normal and completely cool” department.

“O-Oh??????? That ol’ thing????? I, um--well I just--y-you see, I--uh. Um,” You can really hear the gears in his head turning as he attempts to come up with an excuse. “I-I-I just thought you w-would appreciate the craftsmanship of!!! A t-true artisan, such as myself!!! So, I!!! M-Made it!!! COMPLETELY PLATONICALLY, OF COURSE!!!! I-I would never imply that my intentions w-were anything other than for bro-sies, i--You didn’t read that whole card, did you?”

“I can’t read,” They mean this as a joke, but they can see Berdley seriously consider this for a second too long. “Dude, I’m dsylexic. I can’t really read cursive…” Berdley freezes up once more, which makes Kris realize they haven’t really projected that as loudly as they might’ve thought.

“Oh! Right! How could I forget! That you’re! Dsylexic!” Berdley’s smile is stapled to his face as he begins to rhythmically knock on his head. “And I! Wrote! That! Entire! Note! In! Cursive! Which! You! Can’t! Read!!!” Kris steps forward in an attempt to keep Berdley from bashing his own skull in, but that only makes Berdley more tense, so they take a step back. “I-I just--The note isn’t important! None of it’s important actually can we forget this interaction ever happened okay? Okay yes that’s great have a wonderful day Kris I will be returning home to sitinmyroomandneverreturntothecorporealrealmalrightgoodbyeforeverKris--” He attempts to sidestep around Kris and out the door, but is very easily intercepted.

“Stop.” Kris grabs him by the shoulders, which seems to shut him up for a second. “Can you just tell me what’s wrong?” Berdley gapes at them as his face steadily grows redder, which makes Kris feel as if there’s something on their face. But he quickly shakes it off, going from completely neurotic to...dejected.

“I just…” He starts, trailing off immediately. “You deserve to have a big proposal, same as everyone else. I-I see you in the back of the class, just...watching. And I, uh, felt it was time to...give you the spotlight! But that was silly of me, wasn’t it?” He looks off to the side at the floor, smiling sadly. “After all, who’d want to go to the dance with me…? I-I’m alone every year, standing in the background. Just kind of...taking it all in...and th-thinking about how it’d be...nice to be a part of it. But that’s...not probable. It was just nice to think about taking you to the dance because you’re--well, you’re nice to me, and you’re funny, and you actually listen to me when I’m talking, an-and you’re a good person and an incredible gaming legend...but I shouldn’t have put it all on you in front of everyone...I’m. I’m sorry, Kris.” He won’t make eye contact with the human, but Kris can still see the tears collecting in his eyes.

“Berdley, that’s stupid.” Kris says, which Berdley cringes at, “Why wouldn’t I wanna go with you?” That part is...not what Berdley was expecting. He looks up at Kris, unsure of where to go from here.

“U-Um…? Because of all the previously stated things? Like me being a complete loser who nobody likes?”

“I like you,” Kris replies immediately, leaving Berdley’s feathers sticking straight up as he flusters. “And I like your display. It’s...really sweet.”

“E-Even if you can’t read the note?” Berdley’s voice cracks.

“I mean, I could read the: WILL YOU GO WITH ME TO THE DANCE part, so, like. Yeah.” Kris shrugs. “Plus, you got me chocolate. Nice chocolate. Nobody...gets me things like that.” They smile, a light dusting of blush across their face. “I’ll go with you.” Berdley’s entire body seizes up for the third time, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“W-W-w-W-w-w-w-w-W-W-W-w-w-w-Wh-Wha-wh-w-w-wha-wha-w-wh-Wh-Wha-wh-Wha-wha-w-w-W-W-W--” Berdley continues to struggle with the word “what” for a solid minute and a half before he’s finally about to manage a: “What?!” Kris can’t help but laugh.

“I said that, Berdley,” at this, they move their grip from his shoulders to his hands, “I will go to the Sadie Hawkman’s dance with you.”

The circuits in Berdley’s brain struggle with this frequency for an extended moment before his face erupts in the giddiest smile Kris has ever seen the bird monster sport. He even begins to jump up and down, taking Kris along with him, as he cackles. It is a surprisingly cute display that Kris finds themselves blushing a bit at. It’s nice to be this...cared about.

“I-I--We have to start thinking of outfits immediately!” Berdley blurts out, returning to their usual demeanor. “I was thinking of some complimentary color schemes on the way to school today which I will be happy to show you at lunchtime. I’m also a master with a sewing machine, so if you are unable to procure an outfit that meets the color requirements, I would be delighted to take your measurements and--w-wait, don’t read into that phrasing, I just m-meant that I could make an outfit for you! B-But I’d need your measurements, and--Oh, goodness, hasn’t class started already, Kris?! We should head back, but--” He looks from the door to Kris and back again a few times before finally settling on something.

“I’lltalktoyouaboutthislaterseeyouinclassKris!!!!!” He says this right before he gives Kris a solitary peck on the cheek before bolting out of the abandoned classroom, leaving Kris blinking at the Berdley-shaped cloud he left behind. Their hand gently grazes the spot on their cheek--luckily not actually pecked by his beak, but more of a quick-kiss kind of peck--and feel their heart skip a beat.

Huh.

That’s...different.

They elect to not dwell on that feeling any longer and head back to class. They have to make sure Susie hasn’t eaten all of the chocolate on that display.

They wouldn’t want to make Berdley go through the trouble of re-proposing just so they could rightfully claim their other sweet surprise.

#deltarune #deltarune chapter 2 #kris/berdley #kris dreemurr #kris deltarune #berdley deltarune #ignorance cloud on #LORD FORGIVE ME FOR BEING CRINGE ON MAIN. I JUST LIKE THINKING THOUGHTS #LISTEN..........I JUST THINK ITD BE FUNNY. IF KRIS HAD THIS PATHETIC GAMER ALL HEART EYES OVER THEM #also the dance aspect is based on one of the posters you can see inside the school. i am Pretty sure that is what its called #if i was off by like a similar-sounding word i need everyone to do me a favor and pretend im right bc this is cringe enough already #i edited this ONCE at 3 AM last night. i am doing no more than that #anyways here u go izel enjoy ur food.

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kal-djarin · 4 years ago

Text

Attached

Fandom: Star Wars

Date Posted: January 30th, 2021

Pairing: Jedi! Reader x Obi-Wan Kenobi

Warnings: none that I know of?

Request: nah

A/N: so this is my first time ever writing anything so I am so sorry if it is terrible, I didn't have the guts to proof-read it. Also, sorry if the romance feels rushed, I tried to time it as best as I could. Please let me know how I can make my writing better!!!

Word Count: 4.4k (I DIDN'T REALIZE IT WAS SO LONG UNTIL I FINISHED)

Obi-Wan Kenobi has always had an addictive personality, to say the least. He had a way of making light of any situation with his sarcastic quips and quick wit, even during the most gruesome of battles. Maybe this was the cause of your ever-growing infatuation with the reputable Jedi or perhaps it was the way he always had a hint of rebellion in his eyes, despite his groomed appearance and strict code-abiding ways.

As Plo-Koon’s padawan, you weren’t able to see Obi-Wan as often as you wished, but it made even the smallest of interactions memorable; just making eye contact with the man while walking through the halls of the Temple resulted in sleepless nights. Even Anakin began to sense your constant flustered state whenever his Master walked into the room, no matter how hard you tried to keep those feelings out of your force signature. He teased you constantly and would always try to see how embarrassed he could make you in front of Obi-Wan.

Once you and Anakin underwent the Knighting ceremony, he went as far to tell you to follow your heart and confess your feelings for him.

“Y/N, you can’t keep walking through life bottling up every emotion you feel!” Anakin said, exasperated

“Isn’t that the whole point of being a Jedi,” you say, not at all surprised that it would be Anakin telling you to rebel against the Order.

“And anyways, unlike you, Anakin, not all of us decide to go against our entire upbringing and marry a senator.” you pointed out, effectively shutting him up about the subject.

It was inconceivable just to think about revealing your feelings to Obi-Wan. There were too many factors against you and the idea of being rejected by him after years of secret pining would be devastating. The worst part is that you know he would reject you in a gentle and kind way, making it impossible for you to hate him for it.

Not only were attachments forbidden by the Jedi council, but Obi-Wan was known for his adherence to the law and there’s no way he would break it for anyone, especially you. You were only a newly knighted Jedi and probably completely off of his radar, if he even had one. There was only one solution for your feelings for Obi-Wan: try to avoid him until they begin to fade.

But since the Maker has a vendetta against you, you, Obi-Wan, R2-D2, Anakin, and his padawan, Ahsoka, were assigned to leave Coruscant for a mission on Naboo. Senator Amidala was having a ball to celebrate the Festival of Light and there were rumors regarding a potential attempt on Senator Organa’s life, so the Order offered to send some Jedi to ensure the safety of the guests and Padmé.

The trip is going to be about a week long, so you mentally prepare being in close quarters with Master Kenobi. When you arrive at the hangar, you are pleasantly surprised to see the ship that was being boarded by Anakin and Ahsoka was bigger than what you expected. You board the ship with a new-found confidence in being able to complete the mission without embarrassing yourself.

“How is the whole avoiding Obi-Wan thing going for you, (Y/N),” Anakin teases once he sees you enter the cockpit.

“Why are you trying to avoid Master Kenobi?” Ashoka asks, looking between you and Anakin confused.

“Anakin I swear to-”

“Our beloved (Y/N) here has a crush on him.” Anakin interrupts and before you can yell at him for sharing that embarrassing information you hear a set of boots walking up the ramp. Your heart stops and you say a prayer to whoever is listening that Obi-Wan did not hear your conversation.

“Is everyone about ready to leave?” Obi-Wan’s accented voice rings out, coming closer to the cockpit.

Feeling yourself heat up from embarrassment, you quickly turn around and face the pilot seat in front of you in an attempt to avoid seeing him. You release a relieved breath, not sensing he heard anything. He walks in and once you calm down and realize how rude you must look, you slowly turn back towards him. He greets you with a smile and you can’t help but return the gesture. That breathtaking smile alone makes you feel like a flustered padawan again but you realize that if you are going to get through this mission and over your feelings, you must overcome your want to shy away.

“Hello Master Kenobi. Yes I believe we are all ready,” You say; your words were stiffly said but at least they weren't a stuttering mess.

He nods in acknowledgment and sits down in the pilot seat across from where you are standing. Anakin closely follows and sits in the adjacent seat, but not before stifling a laugh at the glare you give him for almost revealing to Obi-Wan how you feel. You sit behind Anakin and Ahsoka sits beside you. Anakin starts the ship and begins to fly towards the Chommell sector, where Naboo resides. Once you have left the atmosphere, he initiates hyperspace travel.

Once in hyperspace, Obi-Wan excuses himself and leaves the cockpit to meditate. Right when the door to the cockpit shuts Ahsoka snaps her head towards you.

“You have a crush on Master Kenobi?!” she whisper shouts, but it is still loud enough to facilitate a small internal freak out from you.

You don’t respond and keep looking out the window, contemplating whether or not to jump into the void of blurring stars in order to avoid this confrontation. Ahsoka, on the other hand, takes your silence as a confirmation to her statement.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ahsoka exclaims to you and Anakin, mostly in disbelief that you never mentioned this and that Anakin was able to keep a secret like that to himself.

“Well it’s not exactly something I’m proud of, Ahsoka,” you say, turning towards her.

“We’re Jedi.” you state solemnly, “It doesn’t matter who knows about our feelings; it doesn’t change the fact that we will never get to act on them or even truly experience them.”

“I know, but maybe you could-” Ahsoka starts but you are quick to shut down any false hope she could make for you.

“Ahsoka, there’s nothing you can do, I just have to get over it,” you say a bit harsher than intended. You and Ahsoka don’t have the most conventional of Padawan and Jedi Knight relationships, but then again neither did her Anakin. Since you were still a young Knight, you two were more like sisters, making you feel infinitely more guilty for taking your frustration out on her

“Look, Ahsoka, I’m sorry, it’s just that I don’t want to get my hopes up over something that will never happen”

“I just don’t like seeing you hurting, (Y/N)”

“You could always tell him.” Anakin chimes in,

You look at him, annoyed with his ever present need to pull the trigger, and then turn back to Ahsoka.

“I’ll be fine, I always am,” you assure her, but honestly you say it more to reassure yourself.

****

A couple of days past and you successfully have limited your time with Obi-Wan as much as physically possible. He was a very structured man and figuring out his daily routine was easy, so all you had to do was go to a part of the ship he wasn’t, or in worst cases, meditate so he couldn’t interact with you even if he wanted to.

But of course, Anakin, always being the meddler, picked up on your perfectly coordinated avoidance of his Master. He decided to “spontaneously” take Ahsoka to the back to do more training, leaving you and Obi-Wan to man the cockpit.

You approach the metal doors, mentally preparing having to spend the next couple of hours or so with the Jedi Master.

“Master Kenobi.” you greet as soon as you walk in.

“General (L/N), how nice of you to finally join me.” He says with a sarcastic edge but the smile on his face shows he means nothing by it. “In fact, I’ve hardly seen you this entire trip.” He states, matter-of-factly.

You nervously laugh while sitting down in the pilot seat next to him, in an attempt to release some stress over the fact that he noticed. The worst part is that there is a sick kind of rush of pleasure you get from the fact that he noticed you were missing.

You face forward, trying to ignore the way he is watching your movements.

“How much time until we reach Naboo?”

“According to the navigation system, about 23 hours, allowing us to arrive about…7 hours before the actual festivities.” He responds, looking at the display before returning his gaze to you.

“You seem unsettled,” He continues and you meet the concerned look in his eyes.

“I-I’m just…preparing myself for the mission,” you quickly come up with an excuse, slightly cursing the force for putting your emotions on display.

“There’s no reason to worry, at least from what the Council and Anakin have told me, but then again, Anakin is not known for his accuracy of judgement of how difficult a mission may be” Obi-Wan replies while grimacing, most likely remembering his padawan’s past misjudgments.

“There is something to be admired about Anakin’s lack of self-preservation,” You joke, starting to loosen up at the fact that Obi-Wan didn’t pick up on your lie.

You feel a sense of pride go through you when you see him laugh at your attempt of humor.

“Yes, Anakin has al-” He starts but is quickly interrupted by an angry series of beeps coming from the navigation system. You check the monitor and don't see why the ship is freaking out, until hundreds of small dots appear on the radar.

Obi-Wan is quick to react and begins to prepare the ship to enter the asteroid field. It doesn’t seem to be too congested but enough where you begin to worry.

“R2, take control of the steering!” He shouts and is given a series of beeps of affirmation by the astromech

You enter the field and suddenly wish you remembered to buckle up; R2’s steering is jerky and all over the place, but at least the ship is still intact. You grab on to the armrests of your seat as tight as you can and hope R2 will be successful.

Obi-Wan, as outwardly calm as ever, says, “Hope you don’t mind a bumpy ride!”

His sarcastic words force a laugh out of you. Even still, despite the fact you could be facing imminent death, he expresses dry humor.

The field seems to stretch on forever and R2 navigates through it without error. Finally seeing the end approaching, you begin to loosen your death grip on the chair. To your horror, R2 sharply jerks the ship to the left one last time, throwing both you and Obi-Wan out of the pilot seats. Landing with your back on the far wall, your eyes shut on instinct when your head slams into the metal. It’s not until you feel breath fanning your face and open your eyes that you realize that you weren’t only one who fell over here.

Obi-Wan’s hands are pressed against the metal beside your shoulders, caging you in. His arms are bent at the elbows from absorbing the impact of his landing, making his body even closer to your own. His nose is close enough to touch your own and you can feel his legs tangled between your own.

His eyes widen in shock and you begin to see the parts of his cheeks not covered by his trimmed beard turn a rosy pink. You would almost find it cute how his ears were becoming a bright red if it wasn't for your own embarrassment. It only makes matters worse when you watch Obi-Wan slowly glance down at your parted lips, still taking in the image of you pressed against him. If he could sense your unsettledness when you walked into the room, there is no doubt in your mind that your force signature is screaming your feelings. The seconds felt like hours and it seemed that both of you were completely frozen. You are so lost in the moment that you hardly react quickly enough to separate from him when the metal doors to the cockpit slide open.

Anakin’s annoyed shout entered the room.

“What the hell was that!” Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice the flustered state of both you and his former master.

“I-it w-was an um…” his voice trails off as he keeps looking at you.

“An asteroid field! It was an asteroid field,” you quickly say in an attempt to fill in his words.

“Thanks for the heads up,” Anakin says sarcastically, still oblivious, and heads to the back to make sure Ahsoka was alright.

It’s only then when you begin to feel the throbbing in your head. Your facial expression must have given away the pain you are currently in, since Obi-Wan quickly sits you down and looks at the place where your head hit the wall, making sure you had no serious injuries. Throughout the entire examination, he didn’t meet your eyes once and he didn’t have the same surety in his movements like he usually did. Once Obi-Wan finished, he quickly excused himself and left the room, leaving you more confused than you had been.

Not even a minute later, Anakin pops his head in, quickly rubs R2 affectionately on the head, and then turns his attention to you.

“What the hell did you do to Obi-wan, he looks like he’s seen a ghost.”

***

After the accident, Obi-Wan was now the one avoiding you. He would excuse himself whenever you entered the same part of the ship as him. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for making him so uncomfortable, even though it wasn’t your fault.

You were going to apologize to him, but by the time you arrived on Naboo, you realized the moment had already passed. Senator Amidala greets you right when you walk down the boarding ramp. You and Padme have always had a close relationship, especially since you are one of the only people who actually knows about her and Anakin.

“Master Kenobi, General (L/N), General Skywalker, it’s always a pleasure to see you,” Padmé said in her always regal and kind voice.

“Senator Amidala, in need of our assistance once again?” Anakin teases her, but still tries to keep the outward formal relationship displayed.

Padmé playfully rolled her eyes and escorts us into the

building that we are supposed to rest for the rest of the trip in.

She brings Anakin to his room first to his dismay, but quietly reassures him that she’ll be back after making sure you, Ahsoka, and Master Kenobi are settled in. Obi-Wan still hasn’t made eye contact with you or even truly acknowledged your presence. Once Padmé shows him to his room, she goes to the two doors across the hall, and lets Ahsoka into one and opens the other.

“and here is your room (Y/N).”

You walk inside and just like everything else on Naboo, the place is absolutely beautiful.

“I’m going to send up some dresses for you to choose from for the ball tonight and we could get ready together, if you want.” Padmé says, seeming excited at the idea of dressing up with you.

“Sorry Padmé, I was just going to wear my robes.” You tell her, while still preoccupied with exploring the room.”

“Didn’t Anakin tell you? To ensure that the supposed assassins don’t realize that they have been compromised, you all are supposed to dress in normal clothes.”

***

After hours of being poked and prodded by some of Padmé’s servants, you finally were ready for the ball. You looked beautiful when you looked in the mirror, but you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable because of this sudden change of appearance. You couldn’t remember the last time you dressed like this and your head still couldn’t wrap around the image it saw in the reflection. The dress you decided to wear was floor-length with a slit that stopped at your mid thigh and was a light blue. The top was a bit more modest but not by much. It was more risque than what you expected to wear, but Padme insisted that it look beautiful on you; also the slit allowed you to strap your lightsaber to your thigh, keeping it accessible, but still hidden. Your hair was in an intricate half-up half-down braid so it looked formal enough for the ball, but if you needed to engage with the potential assassin, it wouldn’t get in the way. As much as you protested, Padmé insisted on you borrowing her jewelry and makeup.

By the time you all finished, It was time to head to the ball. You, Ahsoka, and Padmé all arrive together, and quickly scan the outside for anything suspicious. You head inside and immediately people begin to swarm Padmé and thank her for hosting. You and Ahsoka excuse yourselves and begin to scan the crowd for Anakin and Obi-Wan.

You spot the back of a strawberry-blonde head next to Anakin’s always messy hair talking to a senator you didn’t recognize and begin heading towards them. Ahsoka gets there first, quickly getting Anakin’s attention and talking to him. When Anakin sees you he looks impressed.

“Wow, you clean up nice.” Anakin jokes, making Obi-Wan turn to see who he is talking to. When he sees you his smile falters and his eyes widen a bit. His cheeks start to redden.

“It’s just weird for you as it is for me, trust me” you say trying to overcome the sudden rush of self consciousness you feel.

“N-no you look…radiant, General (L/N).” Obi-Wan breathes out, his eyes scanning your body, slightly widening when they catch your upper thigh peeking through the slit.

You instantly flush at his words and look down in embarrassment from such a compliment from Obi-Wan.

You catch a glimpse of his shined shoes and realize that he, too, is not wearing his Jedi robes. Your eyes trail up his whole body and see he is in robes, but they appear much softer than the rough ones issued by the order and they resemble what a senator would wear. He looks absolutely breathtaking. “And you look…” your voice trails off in shock, “...very handsome, Master Kenobi”

Pamdé finally joins you, unintentionally saving you from the awkward tension. Anakin greets her and as always he instantly appears calmer and more relaxed in her presence.

You awkwardly sit in on their conversation, trying to distract yourself by scanning the room for anything or person out of place. Suddenly, the music began to shift to slower and people began to pair off. Anakin started slow dancing with Padmé, making sure that there was enough room between them to avoid any suspicion.

Obi-Wan walks into your field of vision.

“Would you like to dance with me...to blend in of course.” He says while raising his hand in an invitation.

“I-I would love to.”

Obi-Wan’s rough hand encloses your own and he leads you to the dance floor. Once, there his other hand comes around and rests above the small of your back and yours over his shoulder, hovering over the skin, scared to touch him. You start to slow dance and Obi-Wan glances over at your stiff hand, and his mouth breaks out into a grin

“Relax General (L/N). You are allowed to touch me.” He says quietly.

Your eyes widen at his sudden boldness, but comply nonetheless. He readjusts his grip on your hand so that they woven together and you place your hand on his shoulder. You look at him with uncertainty, but he gives you a small smile of encouragement and nod to approve of your actions. The longer you dance, the more you relax into it, and only internally freakout at his hand sliding a bit lower to the small of your back and his body moving much closer to yours.

You can’t imagine he isn’t seeing the emotions you are trying so hard to contain in your force signature. Your mind is freaking out at just how close Obi-Wan’s body was to you. Your body, however, wants to completely submit to the feelings and melt into his. By the time the song ends, you two are so close that you can feel Obi-Wan’s shaky breath on your cheek, and it all becomes much too overwhelming.

“Excuse me.” you quickly say, removing yourself from Obi-Wan.

You quickly shove your way through the crowds until you find doors leading out to a balcony. You open them and take several gulps of the fresh night air in an attempt to calm yourself. You hold onto the railing and stare out into the starry Naboo sky, trying to make sense of what the hell just happened. Suddenly, you feel the doors open behind you and sense Obi-Wan’s presence.

“Did I upset you, General (L/N)?”

“I can’t do this right now, Obi-Wan” you mutter, dropping the pleasantries of titles.

“And what exactly is this” He questioned, his voice sounding more desperate than you have ever heard before.

You turn to face him and see that his facial expression matches his tone: desperate and concerned. His eyes search your face as if he can find what you're thinking if he just looks hard enough.

You shake your head in disbelief.

“Do you think this is a game, Obi-Wan” you demanded.

His facial expression warped into one of confusion.

“A what?” He replies, seeming taken aback.

“A game. Do you think toying with me is fun? You just want to see how flustered you can make me, huh?”

“General (L/N), I don’t understand where all of this coming fro-”

“I am attached to you!” you interrupt, not realizing what you are saying before it leaves your mouth. Your eyes widen and you watch in horror as Obi-Wan comprehends what you just said.

“You are attach-” Obi-Wan starts, trying to understand the meaning behind your words but before he can, a loud crash is heard from inside the building. You rush past the frozen Jedi, relieved for the unexpected interruption. You attempt to shove down all of your feelings so you can evaluate the situation going on inside the ballroom.

People are fleeing from every which way, making it damn near impossible to understand what exactly is going on. The lights go out, making the room break out into even more chaos. You finally see Ahsoka, who is hovering over Senator Organa’s body. Thinking the worst, you rush over, but are quickly relieved to see him alive. Ahsoka notices you and fills you in.

“A sniper hidden in one of the interior balconies attempted to assassinate Senator Organa, but they only hit his blast vest, thankfully. Anakin is scanning the area right now to see if he can find them before they escape”

“Stay here with the senator, I’m gonna look around and see if I can find anything,” You say, running off to scan the outside of the building. Once you get out there, you see Anakin in pursuit of a tall figure running in the direction of a small single-person starship. You join in the chase, catching up to Anakin. “It’s a bounty hunter, she may have information on who wants Senator Organa dead!” He yells, not at all winded by the sprinting he is currently doing.

She gets to her ship, quickly hopping in and starting up the engine. You and Anakin jump onto the wings and ignite your lightsabers to try and disable the ship from leaving. The ship begins to hover just above the ground and veer left and right in an attempt to throw the two of you off.

“Where the hell is Obi-Wan!” Anakin swore while trying to maintain his balance.

“Finally ready to admit that you need me, Anakin? I thought I’d never live to see the day,” Obi-Wan suddenly quips, as if the last twenty minutes never happened, and uses his lightsaber to effectively damage the ship's engines. The bounty hunter tries to jump out, but Anakin quickly grabs her and throws her to the ground. The entire time that the girl is being put into custody and brought to the holding cell, you avoid Obi-Wan completely, mortified that you confessed how you feel for him.

When the whole ordeal is taken care of and she is set to return to Coruscant with you guys to be questioned there, Padmé insists that you, Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka stay another night to rest. You quickly take her up on that offer, thankful that you can try to ease your embarrassment with another night with a hot shower and plush bed.

You head straight to your room, not bothering to talk to anyone, and immediately take a shower. You sit there under the scalding hot water trying to process what you have done. When you get out, you change into your pajamas. You try to relax, but quickly realize that you need to do something to resolve the unsettled feeling you have in the pit of your stomach. As much as you hate to admit it, you need to talk to Obi-Wan. You just have to say that you didn’t mean what you said and that it was just word-vomit, no true meaning behind them. You open your door and are about to step out until you realize that the man you want to see is right there, with his hand raised, about to knock on the door. His eyes widen in shock at the sudden opening of the door but before he can react you quickly try to explain yourself.

“Master Kenobi! I-I was just about to come see you. You see, I truly didn’t mean what I said earlier. It-t m-must have been the stress getting to m-” You ramble but quickly are cut off by the feeling of Obi-Wan’s hands cradling the sides of your face.

You look up in surprise but see his eyes holding a questioning look, asking if this is alright. You quickly nod and his lips are on yours. Obi-Wan’s kiss is just how you imagined it would be like: Soft and sweet and with his beard tickling your cheeks. His hands stay on your face as he pulls away all too soon and rests his forehead against your own and catches his breath.

“I have grown quite attached to you, as well, (F/N).”

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan fluff #obi wan oneshot #obiwan #star wars #star wars fanfiction #obi wan x jedi! reader #starwars x reader #star wars prequals #clone wars #clonewars #firstfic #obi wan x reader #obiwan x reader

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mitigatedchaos · 3 years ago

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Alternate Universe Kendi

[ @arcticdementor ]

So what can one propose that promises to start fixing the race gaps, not in some future point but right now, that can compete with CRT Wokeness, in regards to persuasion? (Particularly persuading powerful elites who’ve already staked so much on CRT and anti-racism? How is it in their personal interest to endure the loss of face and switch over to your alternative from what’s working for them quite well so far?)

[ @iteratedextras ]

The only remedy for past discrimination is present discrimination. The only remedy for present discrimination is future discrimination.

- HBD Kendi

A dialogue (HBD Kendi is voiced by CEO Nwabudike Morgan),

HBD Kendi: Antiracism requires us to close outcome gaps between races. Inaction is a policy, and a policy which promotes inequity, which means that inaction is racist. Childrens’ similarity to their biological parents in adulthood is apparently much more powerful than existing social and environmental interventions, such as lead remediation or Perry Preschool.

HBD Kendi: Therefore, Antiracism requires us to immediately begin a family planning program that increases the relative fertility of the most healthy and successful members of minority groups, so as to converge outcomes in health, education, earnings, and longevity.

HBD Kendi: To hesitate is racist.

HBD Kendi: What really matters is the experience of the median minority child, and we can alter that experience by altering the distribution of minority children, ensuring that the typical minority child is more likely to be born in a stable, two-parent household with significant wealth.

Liberal Susan: ...what?

Liberal Susan: That’s terrible! Suppose you didn’t know who you would be born as in our future society - would you really want to take chance that you would be one of the people who was not favored to reproduce?

HBD Kendi: Of course! What would anyone give to guarantee birth into a healthy, stable, wealthy, two-parent family? What would anyone give merely to increase the odds? What do people give now merely to enter the United States?

Liberal Susan: I wouldn’t make that choice.

HBD Kendi: But I would.

Liberal Susan: But what about the right of everyone to have children?

HBD Kendi: We aren’t prohibiting anyone from having children, and in fact the total number of members of the ethnic groups in question will increase. Therefore, this cannot possibly be genocide, as no one is being killed or sterilized.

Liberal Susan: But you’re deliberately using government program to alter the distribution of genes in the population - that’s eugenics!

HBD Kendi: Every government program inherently has some impact on fertility, even indirectly just by changing relative costs or the benefits of having children, therefore, every government program could be considered a “eugenics program,” including all existing welfare programs.

HBD Kendi: However, we are not assuming a genetic causes, merely taking advantage of an observed correlation in outcomes to perform a supercharged social intervention - one worthy of the seriousness of the problem. Who is to say it isn’t the result of some difficult-to-measure environmental X factor? Why shouldn’t we take advantage of it?

There are three means to reject HBD Kendi’s argument.

1) “It just reinforces Whiteness.”

The first is to propose that the cause of the apparent heritability of outcomes is “due to proximity to” something called “whiteness.”

“Whiteness” in this sense is a hegemonic ideology which favors an arbitrary set of preferences which reward “white” people for essentially aesthetic reasons, with no worthwhile practical or moral redeeming value. In this case, increasing the fertility of minorities who are successful under this system is essentially rewarding random people for no reason, which would be an injustice.

However, attempting to pin down “whiteness” tends to wind up labeling “objectivity” or “time as a commodity” or random bits of being bad at management or general human nature as “whiteness,” which also tends to self-negate - if statistical measurement is “white,” then using statistically-measured differences in wealth to make the case against “whiteness” is also “white,” and thus invalid.

While not really sensible, this argument may be politically viable.

2) “It’s too expensive / it won’t work.”

If these results are not the result of “whiteness” and thus not merely enforced aesthetic preference, but are the results of social or environmental causes, this does not negate HBD Kendi’s argument that we should use the most powerful social intervention available.

The second means to reject HBD Kendi’s argument is to argue that his program will either be ineffective or too costly. However, it is possible that his program will be cost-effective, as he has multiple possible paths to increase relative fertility, and doing so may even be long-term revenue-positive. This argument is not sufficient; he can argue that the scale of the problem, and the value of solving it, more than justify giving him funding to make the attempt.

3) Negate “Antiracism.”

The third is to reject the primary premises of “Antiracism” - that we should treat races as first-class moral entities that supersede the rights of individuals, and that we must equalize the results of “races” as statistical aggregates.

#racepol #wasp nest pinata festival

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ibijau · 3 years ago

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Futures Past pt8 / On AO3

Meng Yao's future is dealt with.

To say that Lan Qiren was disappointed in his nephew for helping Nie Huaisang escape into Yunping City would have been an understatement. It was made quite clear to Lan Xichen that he would face punishment of his own for this misbehaviour. Real punishment, too, not just copying texts as had become standards for small infractions. Still, Lan Qiren listened to that tale of a corrupt merchant scamming people with fake manuals, which greatly irritated him, and thus forced sect leader Huang to care as well and deal with it immediately.

It was wrong to think maliciously of anyone without proof, and even more so if the person was an elder. Yet as they all walked toward the market Lan Xichen couldn’t shake the feeling that had he been alone when news of that crooked merchant reached him, Huang Quiling might not have cared enough to do anything about it. After all, he hadn’t asked Lan Xichen for any details about this business, and instead appeared intent on continuing his conversation with Jiang Fengmian about borders and trade.

Lives were on the line, Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao’s futures depended on this day, and nobody cared.

They didn't care because they couldn't know, of course, but logic wasn't helping Lan Xichen's ever growing anxiety. He only calmed down when they all reached the place where the others were waiting, and found that everyone of any importance was still where he had left them.

While Lan Xichen was gone, things had changed a little in the market. Most of the earlier crowd had dispersed, tired of waiting for more entertainment, and the market street was almost back to normal. Those few curious folks who remained were trying to inconspicuously listen in as Nie Huaisang chatted with, or rather at poor Meng Shi. The unfortunate woman looked deeply uncomfortable, but didn't dare openly disrespect the young master who had confirmed her son's potential for cultivation by walking away.

She couldn't leave yet, anyway, not until she'd gotten her money back for those fake cultivation manuals. From what Lan Xichen could see, Jiang Cheng and Meng Yao were taking care of that, the two of them counting money with that crooked merchant. Here and there Meng Yao would glance at Nie Huaisang, as if something he said attracted his attention, but each time Jiang Cheng brought his attention back to the task at hand.

When Lan Xichen and his elders came close enough to hear, the distress made sense: Nie Huaisang, after all this time, was still discussing the many failings of Jin Guangshan. Lan Xichen wished he were surprised, but there really was that much gossip going around about that man. Most people just didn't usually discuss all of it at once out of respect for a sect leader.

“And then, da-ge said that Jin zongzhu brought in dancers,” Nie Huaisang was saying to a rapt audience, insensitive to the discomfort of Meng Shi next to him. “Da-ge said it was getting embarrassing to watch when Jin Furen arrived, and she made such a scene because apparently her husband had promised to consult her about all the entertainments at the banquet but he brought the dancers without tell her. So then, she… oh, already?”

Nie Huaisang, so cheerful while telling his story, turned a little pale at the sight of Lan Qiren. He looked around for something to hide him from his teacher’s angry glare, and had to settle for slipping behind poor Meng Shi. Lan Xichen refrained from rolling his eyes, and directed his elders' attention where it was actually needed.

“Here is the man,” Lan Xichen announced, motioning toward the merchant. “He has been selling fake cultivation manuals to people.”

“Fake talismans as well,” Jiang Cheng said, lifting a few before crumbling them in his hand. “And he has been doing this for a while. How long, did you say?”

“We started buying from him last year,” Meng Yao explained with a polite bow toward the older cultivators. “But he started coming to the market the year before that, and already offered the same wares. We assumed he had received permission to sell those items, since...”

Meng Yao trailed off, glancing toward sect leader Huang before bowing deeper as if in apology.

Strictly speaking, no sect could be expected to be aware of and to deal with every crook that operated in their territory, so Huang Quiling couldn't be blamed for that situation. At the same time, it would be considered shameful for any sect to have someone selling fakes in its own hometown of all places, and for so long. It spoke of unreliability on their part if people would rather go to a nobody on the market, or else it meant that they priced their services much too high for common people. It also meant they didn't care about commoners, who surely had to have complained about that merchant before. Either way, it wasn't a good look for Huang Quiling, and he would have to act properly to clean this stain on his reputation.

But instead of scolding the merchant or threatening him, Huang Quiling only had eyes for Meng Shi, who was glaring at him defiantly.

“So it's you again,” sect leader Huang muttered. “Meng Shi! Haven’t I told you to stop bothering cultivators?” he turned to the other two sect leaders and gave a small apologetic bow. “I’m sorry that your boys got caught up in this. Meng Shi is just a local whore who’s convinced herself that her bastard has what it takes to be a cultivator. Completely delusional, the boy will never amount to anything. You can't judge that merchant's wares just because the bastard of a whore didn't become an immortal from reading it. I'm unsure the boy can even read.”

Meng Shi, proud as a queen until then, went pale. Lan Xichen felt her shock and horror as if they were his own. He turned to glance at his uncle, worried he might side with Huang Quiling, but to his relief Lan Qiren instead appeared annoyed at the sect leader. It was probably only the coarse language that he disapproved of, and the public nature of this confrontation which he must feel stained all their reputations, yet Lan Xichen felt emboldened anyway.

“Huang zongzhu, have you tested Meng gongzi?” he asked. “We checked on him, and found he has potential.”

“What would mere boys know about these things?” Huang Quiling snapped at him. “Which one of you tested him?”

Lan Xichen hesitated, and glanced at the other boys. He hadn’t come anywhere near Meng Yao yet, and couldn’t lie about that. But if he said it was Nie Huaisang who had checked on Meng Yao, and after his horrible performance at the Night Hunt the day before, it wouldn’t be much of an endorsement. Lan Xichen himself only trusted Nie Huaisang’s assessment because he knew from that other future what sort of cultivation genius Meng Yao was.

“I’m the one who checked on him,” Jiang Cheng boldly lied. Or perhaps he really had checked, dubious as well of Nie Huaisang's assessment, because he continued: “For someone not born from gentry, his potential is not to be dismissed. It might be on par with Yunmeng Jiang's first disciple, if he were just taught properly.”

Huang Quiling, so disdainful a moment before, lost all of his confidence. He glanced at Jiang Fengmian whose face showed no particular expression, except perhaps mild curiosity now that Wei Wuxian had been mentioned. Lan Xichen wasn't sure what to make of that. He hadn’t often been near Jiang Fengmian except at the occasional discussion conference, and of course in the other future they had never gotten to work together as sect leaders. According to gossip, Jiang Fengmian was something of a pushover, who loved quiet and peace more than he cared about justice, but on occasion he could show strength of character if the mood hit him.

"What does his skill matter, with a mother like that?" Huang Quiling claimed, refusing to admit defeat. "No self respecting sect would knowingly take in the son of a whore. It'd be like teaching a pig to walk on two legs, dressing it in silk, and calling it human."

"People ought to be judged on their actions rather than their origins," Lan Xichen retorted, which caused sect leader Huang to glare at him with bulging eyes, his face dark with a rage so strong it robbed him of his words. Even without looking, Lan Xichen knew that his uncle too had to be shocked, that there would be hell to pay for this later. But then, if he was going to be punished, he might as well go all the way. "Just because you don't have the talent to teach someone,” he said, “don't assume a skilled teacher can't do it either."

Huang Quiling looked on the verge of having a Qi deviation, gaping and frothing at the mere boy who dared to insult him so openly. He wasn't the only one to stare, either. Nie Huaisang, the Jiangs, the Mengs, and above all Lan Qiren were looking at Lan Xichen as if he'd suddenly grown a second head.

A very rude second head, at that.

Lan Xichen just couldn't help it. Back in that awful future, the man he would have become had also been enraged and saddened at the unfairness of the world, particularly with regards to Meng Yao. If people hadn't judged him so harshly for something he had no control over, if instead they had taken notice of his skill, of his hard working personality, of his determination…

In that future, Lan Xichen had never dared to speak up, believing in the virtues of inaction and of leading by example, the way he'd been taught to behave. So far in this current life his attempts at being more active hadn't really worked so well, only ensuring that Nie Huaisang made a terrible friend in Su She and started hating Lan Xichen much earlier, but maybe this time, just maybe...

“Lan-xiansheng, your nephew is rather opinionated for a boy his age,” Huang Quiling complained. “I have heard a great deal how well behaved the young heir to Gusu Lan is, but it appears some reputations are undeserved.”

“My nephew will be dealt with,” Lan Qiren calmly replied, which dampened Lan Xichen's moment of rebellion more than anger could have. “And he will present excuses to you. Right now, Xichen.”

“But Lan gongzi's right!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, coming out from his hiding place being Meng Shi. Under Lan Qiren's glare he shivered, but didn't give up. “I mean, he's right at least to ask if Meng gongzi was tested,” he mumbled. “And he's right to say it's not fair if nobody will teach him just because of his family! I've read our histories, you know. I know people didn't want to teach some butcher any cultivation because it's unclean work, and now we're a big sect. Isn't it the same? And it's not just us, right?”

His eyes darted toward Jiang Fengmian, who smiled at the unsaid accusation.

The official history said that Yunmeng Jiang had been founded by a group of rogue cultivators. They had tired of wandering, and established themselves in a small port which soon thrived thanks to their presence and influence. As far as founding stories went, it was a very respectable one.

The less official story was that their founder had been the leader of a band of thieves who had picked up a trick or two and figured that cultivation paid better than robbery. Lan Xichen had never been interested enough in the subject to do any research, but he had a cousin with a taste for history who swore that annals from that period corroborated the second version more than the first. If so, it wasn't much better than being descended from a prostitute, though enough time had passed that it didn't matter so much anymore.

“I see my nephew won't be the only one who needs to be dealt with,” Lan Qiren remarked in an icy voice. Nie Huaisang, having used up all of his courage in standing up to his teacher, hid again behind Meng Shi, trying to make himself small.

“Boys must stand for something, it's what youth is for,” Jiang Fengmian replied with good humour, before gesturing toward Meng Yao. “Come here, boy. Let's see what all the fuss is about.”

“Jiang zongzhu, you're not serious!” Huang Quiling exploded. “That boy is just...”

“I'm only curious. If his proximity is intolerable, then perhaps you might help my son check those manuals to see if they are real or fake. Jiang Cheng, help Huang zongzhu while we deal with this side of the problem.”

Huang Quiling went pale from rage at being ordered around in that manner, but with Yunmeng Jiang the larger and more respectable sect, he still obeyed. He stomped toward the merchant's stall in a manner Lan Xichen found lacking in the dignity to be expected of a sect leader. Meng Yao, for his part, hesitated to obey Jiang Fengmian's order until Jiang Cheng pushed him forward. Huang Quiling radiated hatred when Meng Yao passed by him on his way to the other sect leaders. He looked as if he might have tried something, or said some other insults, but Meng Yao wisely made sure to leave as much space as possible between the two of them, which wasn't easy in a crowded market street.

“Come closer, child,” Jiang Fengmian requested when Meng Yao hesitantly stopped a few steps away from him. “I am going to put my hand on you to check your meridians. It might feel a little odd... but if my son tested you, you know that already, hm?”

Meng Yao nervously nodded glancing back toward his mother who smiled encouragingly. He only shivered a little when Jiang Fengmian put one hand over his heart, and even less so when Lan Qiren did the same after being invited to do so by Jiang Fengmian.

“I suppose the children have a point,” Lan Qiren conceded, his expression turning somewhat warmer. “How old are you, boy?”

“I'm sixteen, Lan-xiansheng.”

Instantly, Lan Qiren's expression darkened again.

“Too old then. If you'd been two or three years younger... and even then it would have been difficult. It's best to start young.”

Meng Yao's shoulders slumped down at the news, while all of Lan Xichen's hopes were crushed. He knew that his sect preferred younger disciples, though he suspected it had less to do with actual cultivation, and more with the fact that children took to discipline better than teenagers. Still, he had hoped that Meng Yao, with his potential... but Lan Qiren's word was final in these matters, with only their sect leader having a right to contradict him. Meng Yao couldn't be brought into Gusu Lan.

Which meant another option would have to be considered.

With dread curling in his guts and a choking sensation tightening his throat, Lan Xichen looked at Nie Huaisang still half hidden behind Meng Shi, and found the other boy staring right back at him. Nie Huaisang no longer appeared as furious at him as he had been before, but that might have been because he was preparing his own move, ready to ruin all of Lan Xichen's efforts. Nie Huaisang opened his mouth, surely to offer again that Meng Yao be sent to Qinghe, but missed his chance to speak.

“Yunmeng Jiang has never looked down on older disciples,” Jiang Fengmian said with a pleasant smile. “It can be a challenge to learn cultivation with a late start, but anyone who cannot take a challenge has no place teaching in the Lotus Pier. Sixteen... it could be worse. One of my own shidi was in his thirties when he joined us, and still did well enough for himself.”

Lan Xichen shivered, his body tensing further at this proposition.

Perhaps it was because he knew already, but the resemblance between Meng Yao and his father, between him and his half-brother also, was quite striking to him. It was possible that Jiang Fengmian hadn’t noticed, but unlikely when he often dealt with Jin Guangshan. Even if he really saw nothing, his wife was well known to be a very close friend to Madam Jin. There was no way Madam Yu wouldn’t notice that their newest disciple resembled Jin Guangshan, and since she was said to be a tyrant and the true ruler of Yunmeng Jiang…

“Are you sure this is wise?” Lan Qiren asked. “Even if that boy can be taught, his family…”

“His mother taught him well enough that he would take the defence of a stranger even in a fight he couldn’t win,” Jiang Fengmian said. “Or so your nephew said before. A good heart is what matters.”

“But half of Yunping City could be his father,” Huang Quiling argued, who'd paid more attention to their conversation than to the cultivation manuals he was meant to inspect. “From the lowest beggar to any drunk merchant with too much money to waste.”

“His father is a cultivator,” Meng Shi said, striding to come at her son's side. “He said he would return for A-Yao, but…” She glanced at Nie Huaisang who had followed her to hide again behind her. He had shared so much gossip earlier, it would have been hard for her to keep her hopes up. She sighed. “I only want for my son to live up to his potential. If he can be a cultivator, then that’s... good enough.”

“Is your son under any contractual obligation?” Jiang Fengmian asked.

“He's not,” Meng Shi vehemently decried. “He's free.”

“That will make things easier. If that is fine with you, I will accompany you two to your place of residence. We can talk about certain details while your son packs, and then he will come to Yunmeng with me. Would that satisfy you?”

Meng Shi, speechless, could only bow deeply before her son's new master. Meng Yao did the same a few times, before hugging his mother, both of them too stunned by this good fortune to even smile. As they held each other's hands tightly, Jiang Fengmian gave his son a few things to do while he was busy.

Huang Quiling too appeared quite stunned by this turn of events, and a good deal less pleased than the Mengs, but he wisely kept quiet about it. Lan Qiren's refusal to teach Meng Yao on account of his age would save Huang Quiling some face, since he could now pretend he had the same issue, but it wouldn't surprise Lan Xichen is the relationship because Yunmeng Jiang and Yunping Huang remained tense for a while.

Lan Xichen couldn't quite feel sorry for it. He didn't like people who thought they were allowed to be rude to their inferiors, and hoped that sect leader Huang would learn something from this experience.

Then, having given his son instructions, Jiang Fengmian walked back to Lan Qiren to bid him goodbye, explaining he expected his schedule for the day to be so changed that they might as well separate for good right then. Lan Qiren agreed, but frowned as he glanced toward Meng Yao.

“That boy's father, with his looks...” he said in a voice low enough the Mengs might not hear, but still clear enough for a cultivator's ears.

Eavesdropping was forbidden, but Lan Xichen found he couldn't help himself. Neither could Nie Huaisang, who leaned toward the two men to hear better.

“Probably. I'll have his mother confirm it,” Jiang Fengmian said in a similar tone. “but it won't change things. Even if my wife doesn't like it, I would be a fool to pass a chance to teach a boy of such potential. And Jin zongzhu would never admit any relation, so it'll all be fine.”

Lan Xichen let out a deep breath, relieved that things had worked out so well after all. He would have preferred to have Meng Yao in the Cloud Recesses, where he could have watched him closely and made sure he didn't go again down the same path as before, but the Lotus Pier wasn't an awful option either. They'd managed to turn someone like Wei Wuxian into an honest enough man, so they might know how to deal with Meng Yao as well.

Even when Lan Qiren reminded his nephew and Nie Huaisang that they would both be harshly punished for their bad behaviour, Lan Xichen found that he didn't mind, not when there was a good chance they had saved Nie Mingjue's life.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #jin guangyao #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #double time travel #I am... finally done with Yunping City...#This took so much longer than I wanted it to take...

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seihun · 4 years ago

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7:53pm // can i be your boyfriend? — a bbh social media au

ϟ prev ◂ part 19A ▸ next

ϟ pairings: byun baekhyun + oc:reader

ϟ word count: ahaha

ϟ notes: i am so sorry for dropping arguably the climax of this whole au and then going ghost for three weeks 😬😬 why you all put up with my clownery is beyond me. i don’t have much to say here except thank you to all to lovely anons who encouraged me and to all the readers who stuck around waiting for this. i apologize that this is completely over the top drama, but hey that’s college. (lowkey inspired by real world experiences haha) enjoy 🥺

Sehun can hear Minseok and Baekhyun asking rapid fire questions behind him, but he’s too busy seeing red to focus on them. He follows behind Johnny almost uncomfortably closely, ensuring that the younger boy is in fact leading them in the right direction and not trying to pull at fast one on him.

Sehun swears on every deity above him that he’ll knock out Jongdae if even half of what Johnny has said so far is true. He couldn’t care less about Minseok reasoning with him to slow down or Chungha telling him to calm down. He’d had it up to here with the games.

It was almost a decade in the making anyway; he’d be the one to knock the lights out of those two one way or another. He doesn’t care to be rational or relax.

Jongdae and Jongin not only had no considerations for your feelings or dignity as a person, but for Kyungsoo’s either—or rather, Baekhyun’s, kinda—either. They’re willing to cross a line—and for what, Sehun’s not really sure. To make a point? Get validation? Piss him off?

At this point, it didn’t matter. Sehun was relishing in just the mere thought of seeing Jongin’s stupid surprised face when he walks in the room. So, imagine his disappointment, when he doesn’t get to see the idiots’ stunned expressions; because you seem to have beaten him to the punch.

“—Are you out of your mind? Jongdae, I’d expect this shit from you, but—”

“[Y/N]?” Sehun blinks, taking in the scene in front of him: your finger pointed at a very nervous looking Jongin, whilst a panicked Jaehyun sunk behind his laptop screen, with Jongdae leaning against a desk—looking far too nonchalant for Sehun’s taste—and Kyungsoo standing just a bit behind you, “Kyungsoo?”

“Sehun?” you question, eyes widening as you look past him to see possibly every person you know at the university filing into the room, all with similar murderous expressions on their faces, “Chung—Minseok? Baekh—what—”

“What are you doing here?” The two of you ask at the same time.

“I—Johnny messaged me,” you explain briefly, “I didn’t believe it, but then I caught Jongin walking into the building, so I followed him.”

Sehun narrows his eyes. “Johnny messaged me too,” he explains, stepping forward and in Jongdae’s direction.

“What a lovely family reunion,” Jongdae sniggers, looking over Sehun’s shoulder, “Junmyeon, long time no see, buddy. You look well.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sehun growls, stepping directly into Jongdae’s line of sight.

“You all need to relax,” Jongdae lolls, crossing one leg over the other and resting his palms on the desk, “I tried explaining that was just a prank, her little boyfriend over there wasn’t gonna get hurt or anything.”

Jongdae nudges his head in Kyungsoo’s direction, whose eyes are now wider than Sehun has ever seen them before. He looks briefly to you, watches as your eyebrows crinkle together.

“Boyfriend—are you talking about Kyungsoo?” you ask Jongdae, then snap your head towards Jongin, “Is that what this whole thing is about? You think we’re together so you were gonna try and publicly humiliate him?”

Sehun might not have gotten to see Jongdae’s surprised face when he walked in the room, but he thinks seeing the shorter boy’s eyes go wide with horror at your words is even better.

“You’re not—?” Jongin stutters, gesturing towards you and Kyungsoo.

“No we’re not!” you screech, turning swiftly to Kyungsoo, “No offense or anything.”

Kyungsoo shrugs, “None taken.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, you imbecile. I don’t have a boyf—well, I kinda—it’s none of your business, anyway!” You shout, stomping your foot.

“Then—who—but we saw you!” Jongdae counters. Sehun takes a deep breath, counts to three in his head, remembers that murder is a crime.

“It’s called having a friend, you should try it sometime,” Sehun says, in lieu of breaking his jaw.

“[Y/N], look, I—I’m sorry, we—I didn’t know,” Jongin apologizes hurriedly, taking a step forwards towards you. A little too close for Sehun’s comfort; too close for Chanyeol’s too, by the way he pushes forward towards him. “We’ll go and change everything back right now, I swear—”

“That’s not the fucking point!” you cut him off, making him pause in his place, and effectively stopping Chanyeol’s strides too.

“First of all, I don’t know what or how you’d have been changing anything. Yeah, we send them to the TA’s, but then the head TA compiles them into one PDF for the showcase,” you explain frustratedly, “So nothing you changed would have shown up anyway. Not to mention we submit the final versions 24 hours beforehand. It’s protocol to make sure students don’t change anything, and the board can review for plagiarism. I used to think it was a stupid rule, but I guess I was wrong.”

Sehun watches as Jongin, Jongdae, and Jaehyun’s mouths fall into tiny o-shapes. An embarrassed blush spreads across the latter’s face as he attempts to quietly close his laptop screen. In his periphery, he can see Johnny pulling his hood over his head. Sehun rolls his eyes. He’d deal with Johnny some other time; he’s not off the hook in his book yet.

“But you were willing to completely sabotage Kyungsoo on the odds that I was dating him,” you continue, but your tone is different now. Sadder than before; not quite disappointed, but almost somber, like you’d come to a harsh realization, “I tried to get you to come with me to this for two years, Jongin. I can’t even count how many times I’d rambled to you about how much of an honor it would be to give my own presentation—about how many opportunities and important people there are here tonight—and you were willing to ruin that for Kyungsoo? For what? For what! I don’t fucking get it!”

Jongin shakes his head, has a jerk reaction to move forward and try to comfort you. “I’m sorry—it was wrong, stupid! I just… I just wanted to have your attention for a little bit.”

Sehun’s seen this scene before; the one where Jongin upsets you, and then somehow makes you believe he’s the only one who can comfort you from his own wrongdoings. He’s a smooth talker, Sehun will give him that, but he’s seen it all before. It almost hurts him to watch it unravel at this point; he can’t even think to look back knowing Baekhyun’s about to witness it, too.

But it doesn’t play out like that; not like it has before. Jongin doesn’t get close enough, but you’re already stepping back, almost stumbling into Kyungsoo.

“You did all this for attention?” you cry out in disbelief, “You wanted to embarrass me in front of my entire faculty and all my friends, for my attention?”

Sehun watches you ball up your fists, the somber timbre of your voice gone; now filled with a kind of anger and frustration he doesn’t think he’s ever heard from you in regards to Jongin.

“Jongin, when we were together I couldn’t hold your attention for more than a few fucking weeks, and now you want me to give you mine, completely undivided? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

It’s a good look on you, Sehun thinks. He likes what he’s hearing, he likes what he��s seeing; he likes this scene much better.

“[Y/N], I—” Jongin reaches out again, but you’re already moving back. Sehun smiles; you might not even realize it, but ironically your backwards movements were a huge step forward.

“Don’t touch me,” you seethe, turning your back to him. You make eye contact with Sehun briefly, then Chanyeol, then some of the others; you look at Baekhyun the longest, a kind of silent message—before sighing.

Jongin doesn’t hear you though, because he tries again, extending an arm, and aiming for your shoulder; but all he gets is a fistful of his own shirt in Chanyeol’s hands.

“She said not to touch her,” the blonde growls, shoving Jongin backwards, letting him stumble into a few desks before standing upright again.

“I—we have to go,” you mumble, shooting Chanyeol a thankful expression before pulling Kyungsoo with you by his sleeve to the door, “Soo and I should go prepare with whatever time we have left.”

You pause at the door, briefly, looking at Baekhyun again, nervous; but it’s all smiles in the shorter boy’s eyes. “We’ll be out there when you guys are up, promise,” he says to you.

That seems to be enough to put a smile on your face, small as it is, before you and Kyungsoo walk out of the room completely and back to the presentation hall.

It’s quiet with you gone now, a palpable tension in the room with Sehun and Chanyeol staring down Jongin, Chungha grilling Jaehyun and Johnny, and Jongdae and Minseok looking like they’re three seconds away from ripping each other’s hair out.

Sehun kinda feels bad for Baekhyun, caught in the middle like this. He sticks close to Junmyeon, the only other neutral party. Well, neutral enough.

“So you’re the boyfriend, then, huh,” Jongin is the first to speak, eyes aiming for Baekhyun, “Dae got it wrong.”

Baekhyun brings a hand up to his neck, “Uh, well… kinda? Not that—it shouldn’t really matter to you, now, anyways.”

God, does Sehun wish Baekhyun was the trash talking type right about now. He sighs; he supposes it’s for the best that he isn’t.

“Well then you should watch out for blondie, and eyebrows over here,” Jongin warns him, “They never let her think for herself. Not to mention, Sehun follows her around like a lap dog, probably because he’s in love with—”

Jongin doesn’t get the chance to finish before Sehun’s fist collides with his jaw, knocking the older boy over, and leaving him hunching over one of the empty desks. Jongin barely gets the chance to gather his bearings before Sehun’s got his fist in his shirt, and pushing his back into the blackboard.

“This is the last time I’m going to tell you to shut that dirty mouth of yours and leave her the hell alone,” Sehun orders, voice so low it could be a whisper, “Do you understand me?”

Jongin only has the strength to groan in response. “I fucking mean it, Jongin, or so help me god,” Sehun’s mouth twitches, his free hand almost coming up to hit him again, but he’s pulled back by Chungha.

He looks at her, huffing as his resolve washes away, and lets go of Jongin completely, not caring for the way he stumbles around to find a desk for support to hold up his weight. Jongdae looks entirely too un-punched for Sehun’s liking, but he’ll leave him to Minseok. For now.

“Do you fuck around with [Y/N] like that because you’re jealous of her?” Baekhyun asks, his question leaving them stunned.

He directs his gaze to a hunched over Jongin, Sehun stepping out of the way with Chungha at his side to give him a better view. All eyes are on Baekhyun, now.

“You don’t like that she has friends who care about her. And you didn’t like that she might have cared about Kyungsoo like you want her to care about you,” Baekhyun reasons, “She has people who love her in way than one, but it’s obvious you don’t have any real friends. Not anymore, at least.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jongin replies, voice strained with coughs in-between his words.

Baekhyun frowns, hands in his pockets. Sehun’s never seen him like this either.

“I think you do,” Baekhyun corrects him, “I think you know you fucked up so bad—not just with her, with Sehun, and Chungha, and Chanyeol, too—they were all your friends before, right?”

Jongin doesn’t answer him, but Sehun nods at Baekhyun in confirmation. His lips fall into a pinched line.

“I used to think you and Jongdae were different,” Baekhyun drawls, “But I get it now. You both had people who loved you, but you thought it was unconditional right? You thought no matter how badly you fucked up, they’d forgive you. But you’re wrong.”

“Sehun doesn’t fight for her blindly; she does the same for him, for Chanyeol, and Chungha, too. It goes both way, like any functioning relationship,” Baekhyun continues, “She was even willing to do the same for you. And Minseokie for Jongdae. But they don’t have to, not if you don’t keep up your end of the bargain; love isn’t unconditional like that. They don’t need you, either of you, but you want them to. Badly.”

It’s evident Baekhyun’s words put a sour taste in Jongin’s mouth, but just enough strength for him to pull himself upwards. “And what makes you think you’re so much better that she’ll need you instead?”

“Nothing,” Baekhyun shrugs, “Because I know she doesn’t.”

Sehun finds himself smiling at Baekhyun’s words, looks around to see that everyone else seems to be in agreement.

“Come on,” Chanyeol speaks up, “We have to be out there before Kyungsoo is up.”

They all nod in agreement, everyone filing out the room. He doesn’t think to look back, not caring for the four left behind. Sehun throws his arm around Baekhyun’s shoulder as they walk towards the presentation hall.

“You know your little speech was pretty kickass and all,” Sehun starts, “But let’s talk about the boyfriend title, shall we? Or, rather, lack thereof.”

Baekhyun chuckles nervously, gone is the serious tone in his voice from before. “Well I didn’t want to call myself her boyfriend because I’m not!… Yet… And, also, she didn’t before!”

“Because you have to ask her, dumbass,” Minseok interjects from behind the pair.

“I am going to!” Baekhyun squeals, composing himself as he realizes they’re now inside the lobby, which means inside voices, “Or, well, I was going to. I don’t think now is the time, anymore.”

Sehun frowns, removing his arm from Baekhyun’s shoulder. He’s probably right. With the way things have gone tonight, he doubts you’re going to want to do anything but go home and eat your weight in fried rice when this is all over.

Still, looking at Baekhyun and Chungha groan over the lack of use of their “beautiful masterpiece of a sign” as they take their seats has him smiling. You and Baekhyun are good; official couple terms or not.

As soon as the showcase was over, he and the others met you and Kyungsoo outside of the building, with a mountain of hugs and compliments.

Junmyeon shoves a bouquet of flowers into Kyungsoo’s hand, forces him to take pictures with all of them, and Baekhyun even gets a piggy back ride from his friend for all of three seconds before he’s thrown off of his back. Baekhyun also brought a flower crown for Kyungsoo, but none of them could keep it on his head for more than a minute; now it sits atop Maize’s instead.

Baekhyun also gifts you a flower crown, albeit a little bit bigger, and more expensive than Kyungsoo’s, which you accept happily, along with telling him how much you’d loved his very bright decorative poster.

Chanyeol, Sehun, and Chungha, however make his little grown seem obsolete, as they shower you with baked treats, an expensive looking yellow rose bouquet, a homemade sash that reads “best presentation,” and falling confetti from a small confetti gun that Chanyeol had managed to wrangle into his pockets.

By god do you have some good friends.

“Thanks for the… everything, guys,” you say, speaking for both you and Kyungsoo, “I know we wanted to go out to eat after, but honestly, I think I need to call it a day.”

Baekhyun’s hunch turned out to be right, much to Chungha and Chanyeol’s chagrin; both of whom seemed to be looking forward to eating out as a group. The complaints soon settle into small talk, everyone agreeing that tonight had been a whirlwind of events, and some greasy take out and two respective movie nights at Junmyeon and your apartments would suffice.

You’d all get together to celebrate some time later in the week, and at that point there would likely be even more to celebrate for, as it would be after a joint interview you and Kyungsoo were offered for your work in the showcase.

Baekhyun thinks about the other posted rolled up in the one you’d seen, both currently in Chungha’s possession (who’d promised to keep it safe until he was ready to use it again). He’d have another opportunity to ask you, he was sure of it.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you snap him out of his train of thought, loosely wrapping his hands in yours. Baekhyun crinkles his eyebrows as you continue, “That tonight didn’t go as planned. With—”

“You don’t have to apologize!” he cuts you off with a light chuckle; however, you seem startled, confused even by his reaction, “Babe, you did absolutely nothing wrong; you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you reply, unsure of yourself, “I don’t know, I just—if they’d thought to go after you instead, who knows what they’d of done and—”

“[Y/N],” Baekhyun calls—that laugh of disbelief still airing through the syllables—wrapping his fingers around yours more firmly, “You’re not responsible for his actions, you know that?”

“I know, but still,” you frown, “I should have known he was up to something. I know I kinda told him off but I just—I don’t want anything to happen to you as a result of their antics, you know?”

“I think the punch Jongin took to the face should prevent them from bothering you again,” Baekhyun chuckles as you eyes go wide.

“Punch—who punched him! Not that he didn’t deserve it, but I told them not to punch anybody. Was it Chungha?—I keep telling her that’s not safe, even if—”

“No it was Sehun,” Baekhyun fills you in, “I don’t think you could have prevented it. Seemed like a long time coming.”

“Yeah, I—I guess it was,” you say, finally, “I know. I’m sorry—about being sorry for them, then.”

Baekhyun laughs from his stomach this time, removing his hands from yours to wrap an arm around your shoulder, pull you into him, and press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re cute.”

Baekhyun sees that you’re about to open your mouth to reply, when you’re cut short by the flash of a camera. When he looks up he finds the culprit to be none other than Chungha, who’s holding her phone up right, and lets out a disappointed groan.

“Ugh, I didn’t get the kiss,” she whines, shoving her screen in Chanyeol’s direction before flipping it around to face the two of you, “You guys look pretty cute still, though, so you’re welcome.”

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” you say, a worn out lilt in your voice as you slowly pull yourself from his hold, “I need a nap. And egg rolls paid for by Chanyeol, so time to get going.”

“But I just volunteered to pay for the later celebration dinner!” Chanyeol exclaims, pouting excessively.

“Don’t worry, Junmyeon can pay when we all go out to eat,” Baekhyun grins, “Won’t even leave a dent in his pockets, right hyung!”

His comment is enough to make everyone chuckle, except Junmyeon who merely shoots him an unamused glance; but Baekhyun knows it means no harm. As if he’d let anyone else pay for a meal.

This information seems to pique Sehun’s interest, however; as the taller boy finds himself stalking towards Junmyeon and wrapping a friendly arm around his shoulder. “Is that so?” Sehun starts, dragging Junmyeon along with him and prompting the rest of the group to start walking towards the parking lots, “I don’t think we’ve met yet, hyung, I’m Sehun.”

“I think I’ve been replaced,” Minseok lolls, watching Sehun and Junmyeon’s silhouettes as they walk ahead.

You chuckle, finding yourself walking between him and Chungha, Maize on his other side, as you head towards the cars. “Don’t take it personally,” you tell him, “Anyone who’s older with a bank account is of interest to Sehun. At least as far as lunch goes.”

Minseok laughs lightly at that, the four of you making small jokes at Sehun expense about his need for companionship and affection in the form of food. It’s a few minutes later when Chungha jokes that if Minseok really needed a new friend to dote on, he should get to know Chanyeol better.

“Hey, Chan, you hear, Min—” you call out to the taller boy, turning your shoulder to face him, but he’s not there. Neither is Baekhyun—not anywhere near the rest of you, anyway.

You stop completely, and turn around, prompting Maize, Minseok, and Chungha to do the same. In the distance, you can see Baekhyun and Chanyeol; it’s as if they hadn’t seen the rest of you walking ahead. And, unfortunately, it looked like the two idiots were… dancing in the middle of the street.

“You think they’ve been hitting the whoah this entire time we’ve been walking?” Maize questions, staring ahead at them like they’re a spectacle. They might as well be.

Chungha sighs, “Probably.”

“I think Chanyeol and Baekhyun are gonna be a little busy becoming best friends,” Minseok laughs, “It looks like they’re already half way there.”

“What could they have possibly been talking about that led them to dancing like that?” Chungha questions.

You’re next, crossing your arms and shaking your head, too. You have to admit, it makes you smile a little bit. That doesn’t make them any less embarrassing.

“Do you see why I avoided introducing them to each other now?”

ϟ tag list: @artfulbarnes @bat-shark-repellant @baek-byunies @baeklooming-day @bbh-kji @cosmins @etsjusoa @exuwu @elyxion1485 @fifiaaaaaa @haechanspudu @honeyboocal @httpschoisan @junkfoodwriting @just-a-sad-writer @j-pping @joyfulponyoafhuman @kokomaesadie @kkpoptrashhh @littleflowercrown13 @loeytingz @marina-del-rey98 @mangobaek @minseokscock @miraculyfe @mochahyuck @oasissehun @ohwosehun @p-polaroid @peachesyeol @peacherparker @penguinsoo-l @rikachusworld @sakura-uji @shesdreaminginoverdose @sekshi-namjas @smolpeyy @strawberrychannie @takoyakkun @to-all-the-stories-i-love @vaiva @writingindaisies @xiutingmyself @xxbluestrifexx @yourexotextplus @zaez

ϟ more notes: once again sorry about the long wait hehe but i hope you liked it!! also, friendly reminder that the taglist is closed!! also, yes i’m sorry this is part 19A which means there is a 19B but it’s not written so don’t worry you won’t have to read through my excessive commas anymore LOL

#exo smut #exo fluff #exo reactions #exo scenarios #exo imagines #exo fanfic #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun x reader #exo fake texts #exo x reader #chanyeol fluff #sehun fluff #sehun fanfic #FINALLY SHE'S HERE #exo college au #jongin fluff #*cibyb

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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

Text

tell you i miss you but i don’t know how

word count: 2.7k

warnings: insinuated fem!reader, a singular swear word, it’s kinda angsty i guess

recommended listening: the story of us | taylor swift

a/n: long time hockey fan, long time reader, first time writer. i’ve been thinking about posting for a while and decided to bite the bullet. no time like the present i suppose. tagging some folks i feel might be interested (but there’s literally zero pressure please feel free to ignore) @matbaerzal @davidpastrsnack @troubatrain @jamiedrysdales

Breaking up was for the best.

You repeat the phrase like a mantra. It’s the first thing you think when you wake up, in the back of your mind as you sit in your cubicle, and verbally repeated anytime you pass a mirror. Deep down you know it’s right; you and Tyson aren’t on compatible lifepaths, and that’s okay. You just wish it didn’t hurt so much to say goodbye. He’s an easy person to miss, with his infectious smile and quick wit. Tyson’s the only person who’s made you laugh so hard tears roll down your cheek; the one who always picked up a bag of pretzels on his way home from the rink so you could have a snack after work. Though you didn’t expect to get over him quickly, you had no idea you’d still miss him nearly a year later. Or that it would hurt so much every time you see him in public.

♠♠♠♠♠

The bar offers a reprieve from the brisk Denver wind. October has been unusually chilly so far, but the bodies packed like sardines in the open room create all the heat insulation you need. It’s a Friday night and you’re hoping to unwind after a stressful week at work. It’s audit season, meaning you’ve had to pull crazy late nights as you read over the financial records of the firm’s junior partners. Today was particularly terrible, with the computer system crashing, and you really need a drink. Your friends are supposed to meet you, but a text confirms that traffic is heavier than they anticipated and they’re running late.

Not wanting to waste precious time, you head straight for the only empty space at the bar. A bartender a few years older than you sees you approach and leans close to hear your order over the thumping bass. “Could I just grab a gin and tonic?” you ask, and she smiles before turning away to make your drink. A minute later a drink is placed in your hand and you scour the venue for a table. A small booth is available in the corner; the perfect size for your party. It turns out to be the perfect spot for people watching, and you casually sip your drink and occasionally scroll through instagram while you wait. A text from your friend alerts you everyone is fifteen minutes out. Though it’s pretty crowded everyone seems to be congregating on the dance floor so you don’t hesitate to leave your table and order a second drink.

This gin and tonic goes down easier than the first, and soon you’re on your third. There’s still no sign of your friends anywhere and the balls of your feet ache from the heels you wore to the office today. You abandon your plan to meet them at the door, firing off a text giving your location in the venue. Once sitting down, you take off your shoes and rub at your feet. Why did you choose today to abide by the dress code? You typically wore a discreet pair of sneakers and wished you could go back in time to change your shoe choice.

“I see you’re still drinking gin and can’t wear heels for more than two hours.”

His voice sends shivers down your spine. You look up to see Tyson smiling down at you, and the room spins around you. The entire reason you picked this bar was because it was the only one the boys didn’t frequent, but it seems they’re here anyways.

“I’m consistent,” you say, trying to keep your voice even. The sight of Tyson makes your heart clench. He looks good, glowing the way that means the team came out with a win and that he played well and put up some points.

Tyson nods to the empty seat across from you, and against your better judgement you allow him to sit. A small section of your brain thinks he’s going to confess he’s been miserable the last few months, that he’s still madly in love with you. It seems to be the part controlling the rest of your body. “That’s one thing that’ll never change. How’s work?”

You hum wistfully, wishing he wouldn’t make small talk. How is this so easy for him? “Busy,” you sigh. “It’s audit season so the department is swamped. The boys still causing issues?”

“They’re annoying as ever.” He smiles at you again. The sick feeling in your stomach doesn’t subside. Tyson gives you a quick recap of the Avs’ season so far, and you half pay attention. You’ve gone to great lengths to avoid seeing him: switched the way you drive home, where you hang out with friends, what grocery store you go to. It’s a little ironic he’d find you here of all places.

Idle chatter occurs for a while. Tyson’s talking to you like he’s reuniting with a childhood friend, not an ex-lover. As much as you find the conversation uncomfortable, you can’t turn him away. You miss sitting with him, talking about anything under the sun. Life hasn’t been as bright since the break up. No matter how hard you try, nothing fills the Tyson sized hole in your heart. In a twisted way his presence is comforting, a reminder of what once was. Eventually his teammates realize he’s gone missing and come to whisk him away.

“See you around Y/N,” Tyson says, a little bewildered because J.T is dragging him by the belt loops.

All you can croak out is a feeble “Yeah.” He doesn’t look back once he’s away from the table. You shouldn’t have expected him to; he seems to be doing fine. Well even. Every step he takes breaks your heart a little more, and you curse yourself for missing him and down the rest of your drink.

Your friends find you crying in the bathroom and usher you home.

♠♠♠♠

Despite being separated from Tyson, you’re still close with some members of the Avalanche extended family. Mel Landeskog continually reaches out, ensuring you’re doing the best you can given the circumstances. It isn’t easy when your ex-boyfriend is the pride of Denver, plastered over every billboard in a fifteen mile radius of the city. When she called to ask if you’d emergency babysit Linnea while she ran errands you jumped at the opportunity to help.

“Thank you so much,” Mel says, cooing to her daughter who’s comfortably placed in your arms.

“It’s not a problem,” you insist, “I’m just glad I can finally start repaying you for everything you’ve done for me.”

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, telling you to text her if you need anything picked up at the store. You’re then left alone with the baby who is luckily one of the happiest you’ve ever seen. The first hour or so is spent entertaining Linnea with various toys and games. Her smile and laugh melt your heart, and your mind briefly flashes to conversations you had about children with Tyson. You push them from your mind, not wanting to lose your focus. The child in front of you is the one that matters, not the hypothetical one from times past. Around two she gets fussy; a bottle and quick diaper change satiate her.

“You having fun pretty girl?” you coo. “I’m not always the most exciting to be around.” She doesn’t respond; just looks up at you with heavy lids. You pull her closer to your chest, rocking gently back and forth on your heels. Within minutes she’s soundly asleep and you head upstairs to place her in the crib.

Back on the main floor, you settle into the corner of the couch. The baby monitor is on the coffee table and you keep your laptop at a low volume to ensure you’d hear anything. You sift through the mess in your inbox, deleting promotional emails and replying to those that need your attention. After killing half an hour, you quickly check on Linnea before scrolling through social media. According to twitter the Avalanche are on a six game winning streak and are looking to keep it alive. You honestly could care less about hockey anymore; it’s a painful reminder that Tyson is no longer yours. In truth you’re happy for the team because they work hard and deserve it. Other social media platforms yield nothing of interest and you soon feel yourself nodding off. Looking at the clock you realize there’s about an hour left in the baby’s nap, so you let yourself sleep.

A knock on the door startles you awake. Careful not to cause a commotion that could wake Linnea you head in the direction of the entryway. The knocking increases as you approach, and you open the door to a disheveled Tyson.

“What are you doing here?” You didn’t mean for the question to come off so rude, but it does.

He pays it no mind. “Is Gabe home yet?”

“No,” you sputter. “I’m watching Linnea while Mel stepped out.”

Tyson looks stumped. “He should be home by now. We had plans to unwind before the game.” You make no attempt to stop him from entering, and he takes his shoes off without another word. Aimlessly trailing behind him, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he heads to the guest room. “I’m gonna take a nap, have Landy wake me up when he gets home.”

“Can do,” you sigh, but it falls on deaf ears. Tyson’s already got the door shut, and you imagine he’s climbing under the covers, blissfully unaffected by your presence. You can’t say the same. Knowing he’s less than fifty feet from you sends you spiraling. Flashbacks of pre-game cuddles grace the back of your eyelids, and you rub your temples furiously to get rid of the images. It doesn’t help. You want nothing more than to not be bothered by how much you miss seeing him. You miss the way his hands felt entangled with yours and how sweet his voice sounds in the morning. Being this hung up on a person so long after a relationship has ended can’t be healthy.

The baby monitor crackles, signaling the baby, and the only reason you haven’t fled, is once again awake. Linnea’s room is bright and cheerful; the perfect hideaway from Tyson. Sometime during your tenth reciting of Green Eggs and Ham Mel returns. She finds you upstairs and giddily sweeps up her child, missing her terribly even though she was only gone for a couple of hours.

“Did everything go okay?”

You nod. “She was a dream. The happiest baby I’ve ever seen. She might need to be changed soon though.”

Mel nods. “I saw Tyson’s car in the driveway, did he meet Gabe?”

“He’s actually asleep in the downstairs guest room,” you whisper, scared he’ll sense you’re talking about it, and by extension thinking about him, missing him.

“Oh. Shit.”

That’s the understatement of the year. “Yeah.” You quickly help put away the groceries before heading out, not wanting to disrupt the routine more so than you already had. Really though, you want to be as far away from the Landeskog’s as possible before Tyson wakes up. You’ll have to do a better job of avoiding him in the future, you decide on the way home. You’re heart can’t take seeing him this frequently – or at all.

♠♠♠♠

You would rather be anywhere than the Pepsi Center. It’s the first time you’ve been in the arena since breaking up with Tyson and you’re downright miserable. However, you promised your younger brother you’d take him to a game the next time he visited Denver with your parents and you aren’t about to break his heart. Ryan is borderline obsessed with the Avalanche and hockey in general. At eleven he’s showing significant promise and you know he works hard.

“Ry, slow down,” you huff, desperately trying to keep up with him. The kid is swaying through the throng of people at lightning speed, desperately trying to make it to your seats to catch warmup. Wanting to make the experience special for him, you purchased seats along the glass across from the Avs bench. Your brother halts, tapping his foot impatiently as you join him and match his stride.

Contrary to what Ryan thinks, your seats have not been stolen and warmup is just starting. His winter jacket is soon placed on the seat, revealing the too big jersey underneath. The number seventeen nearly sits at his elbow and the name-bar is askew because one side keeps slipping down, but your brother’s happy. He’s preoccupied with watching players do passing drills, hands pressed against the glass, and you allow yourself to look around. Virtually nothing has changed since the last time you were here. The banners are still the same, the energy electric. One small difference is your seating arrangement: the better halves’ box is no longer a luxury you have available to you. A quick glance in that direction confirms they’re enjoying themselves, laughing and no doubt in the midst of planning the next off-season wedding.

Ryan grips the hem of your sweater to get your attention. “Look Y/N,” he squeals, “Tys and J.T are coming over!” Sure enough, the two friends are making a beeline in your direction. Tyson waves and Ryan eagerly reciprocates. You’re reminded just how much he misses Tyson; they were the best of friends whenever they could get together. Another piece of your heart breaks in that moment, as you realize you aren’t the only hurting from the breakup.

“You’ve got him in the wrong jersey Y/N,” J.T smirks. “Think he’d look better with thirty-seven plastered all over.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll remember that Compher. You got the spare change lying around to buy him one?” There’s no malice in your voice; you truly miss joking around with him.

Tyson throws a puck high enough to clear the plexiglass. “Ry-Guy, catch!” It lands unceremoniously at Ryan’s feet, but he beams as he picks it up. The two boys share a makeshift fist bump and quickly catch up with each other. It’s been over a year since they’ve seen each other at this point, and Ryan has so much he wants to talk about. J.T tells a joke that makes the younger boy laugh, and Tyson turns his attention to you.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he says, doing his best to convey his sincerity. The energy of the area and the adrenaline have Tyson shaking slightly, and he rocks back onto his blades.

You study his facial features as you inhale. He’s still incredibly handsome, just slightly more defined, like he’s growing into himself. “Likewise,” you exhale. You know you shouldn’t lie but you can’t help it; for Ryan’s sake you need to pretend that seeing Tyson doesn’t make you want to curl into a ball and cry. He smiles sadly, like he knows you’re putting on a show. He probably does – you’ve never been good at hiding your emotions from him. Has been able to see how much you hurt every time you interact?

Ryan recaptures Tyson’s attention for a few final moments before he has to return to the locker room. With a high-five and a promise to call soon he skates away, leaving your brother to gush about his idol. The game goes better than you could have ever imagined; the Avs gain a landslide victory and Tyson gets a hatrick. After each goal he points in your direction and Ryan goes berserk. You catch yourself smiling, proud of his accomplishment, before you realize you won’t be at the celebratory afterparty. That isn’t your life anymore.

The traffic out of the arena is terrible, and Ryan’s asleep in the backseat before you hit the interstate. In some sort of daze you think about what you’d be doing with Tyson right now if you were still together. Maybe you’d be getting ready to make an appearance at a club to celebrate the big game, but it’s more likely you’d be pressed together on the couch, watching a nature documentary to unwind. It’s moments like that you miss most; where you were both too comfortable and enamored with each other to care about your social obligations. A single tear escapes and flows down your cheek. One turns into ten, and soon you’re sobbing over lost love.

♠♠♠♠

Tyson Jost isn’t someone you could ever stop loving. He’s the human equivalent of the sun, and even now your life revolves around him. It’s centered on missing him, sure, but that’s a part of him nonetheless. You can only hope it gets easier to deal with.

#tyson jost imagine #tyson jost x reader #tyson jost fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites

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a-smile-hides · 4 years ago

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FORBIDDEN - I.R.

Pairing: Ivar x reader

Sum: Ivar is forbidden to meet up with the woman he likes to, one day, make his mate

Hello 😊 So, I recently noticed that I now have 200 followers and for that: thank you all for sticking with me! Really, this has been so much fun so far! A while ago I bumped into a post of @rosepetals-flyingbirds. They came up with a writing challenge and I wanted to do something, but then I got sick and kind of forgot about it… Oops. But now that I am better and with this 200 followers-thing I thought why not? Thus, I randomly selected one and just wrote whatever came to mind. It is an alpha x omega one, but without the smut. Not comfy writing that. I’m not used to writing something from the omegaverse, so I made it a bit of my own. Mixed with all kinds of stuff. It’s kind of focused on the time before a man becomes an alpha. Hope it is not a problem haha. Honestly, it was kind of an experiment. I worry too much, I think. It is set around season four, when Ivar was still a young man. Still cute and vulnerable. Remember that? Haha. Hope everyone enjoys – and again: thank you xxx

The prompt: 46 – “This is chaos”

---

At the edge of the forest, near the remains where according to the stories, the great Ragnar Lothbrok used to live, sat Ivar the Boneless. His eyes were closed as his chest went heavily up and down. His jaw clenched while low curses passed his lips.

The young man was fed up with the world around him. There he sat. A crippled wolf. Not respected by anyone. The only one of the brothers that had not left his home. The only one that was not a true alpha yet.

At birth, it becomes clear in the first days if the child is to be an alpha or not. It was no surprise to anyone that the sons of Ragnar were destined to become alphas. And so, they were seen and respected as the dangerous and fearsome alpha’s they were meant to be. Björn and Ubbe had each left Kattegat to start their own pack with their mate, Hvitserk was still looking around for the one that could bare his pups and Sigurd had found his mate a few days ago. The mark on his neck was still fresh when he turned his back to his hometown.

And so, Ivar was the last and only son of Ragnar left in Kattegat. His trades had started to manifest already. He had become more aware of the harsh, cold wind that blew through the trees, yet he never felt cold. As the young prince made his way through Kattegat, he would often be overthrown by a sudden want to mark this territory as his. But most importantly, his senses became aware of possible mates around him. It had been a cloudy but pleasantly warm day when his nose first caught a whiff of your scent.

Ivar was sitting under a tree at the edge of the forest, that day. His fists clenched by his side while his mind pondered for possible answers why his trades manifested so slowly. He could feel the alpha inside of him grow with each passing day, and still with one look at the eager man, you could see and feel he wasn’t a true one. It was that sudden wind that carried your scent that made his pondering come to an end. Immediately captivated, Ivar had quickly crawled into the forest, not caring about anyone seeing him. His only goal was to find the source. It took him some time, but eventually he arrived at the end of the forest, far away from the heart of Kattegat. There, Ivar first laid his eyes on you. A young, beautiful omega. Ivar had quickly hidden himself behind a tree. He was careful not to let himself be found by his own scent or betrayed by the growing alpha inside of him who seemed rather pleased with the view. Like this, Ivar was able to take a good look at the one who seduced him to this place. Ivar couldn’t help himself, but a fine grin appeared on his face. He knew right then and there that he wanted you to be his.

The snap of a twig made him hide again and you grit your teeth in the direction of the sound, but as the intruder stepped forward Ivar watched how a relieved smile grew on your lips. Ivar growled lowly as a man stepped towards you. He was tall and broad. A wide grin was plastered on his face that was lathered with scratches and dirt while he proudly showed off the rabbit he had caught. Gritting his teeth, Ivar closed his eyes. He would never be able to attack this man… Not yet at least.

The young prince was more than glad to hear the word “sister” pass the brought man’s lips. Ivar’s eyes fell on your neck. He found no evidence of a mark. For some reason, you had no mate by your site yet, no alpha that had claimed you…

After that day, Ivar kept tracking your scent and looking at you from a place hidden in the shadows. It wasn’t easy. Every day he found you and the man you called your brother somewhere else. It looked like it was only the two of you, never staying anywhere more than a day.

With all those ‘visits’ it was inevitable that Ivar could keep his presence a secret. And on one surprisingly cold morning, your eyes met his when he was trying his best to hide himself behind a small bush. The frightened look you greeted him with, made him doubt himself, but he quickly got up and crawled towards you. He knew his legs could scare you off. But the man was too determined.

He wanted you. And what he wants, he gets.

Ivar’s determination was a real source of irritation for your older brother. When the two men first came face to face, he had laughed at the ‘crippled boy’ and asked you to change your mind. Still, Ivar stubbornness and capability to track the two of you down, made him change his mind. After a while, your brother had to acknowledge that whatever Ivar lacked in speed or physical appearance was nothing compared to his mind and urge to prove himself. And so, he let the two of you be.

Ivar looked up at the sky above him, snorting as he reminded himself of the unfairness in this entire story. During the past months, he had watched how his older brother Sigurd presented one gift after the other to the girl he now may call his mate. He gave her everything her heart could desire, until the day came his eyes turned red and he placed his teeth in the small bonding mark on her neck. Right now, Ivar was going through the same process. Almost every day he showed up with a small present, but to his annoyance your neck remained empty of his mark. Sighing out, he looked down to your resting figure on his chest. One of your hands was resting on his chest, playing with the collar of his shirt. A corner of his mouth turned up as the grey band on your wrist caught some sunlight, making it shine brightly. This together with the pendant around your neck were one of his many crafts that he used to keep your interest solely on him.

Ivar suddenly growled lowly, his face became dark as his whole body tensed up. If the Gods were not joking around before, then now they were straight up laughing in his face. For the only woman, aside his mother, that truly showed interest in him was you. And due to his mother’s love, he was hindered from enjoying yours.

Aslaug saw Ivar as her God, her love, her everything. And that gave him many advantages, but also held him back. A treasure is meant to be protected. And Aslaug was sure to protect hers from any potential harm.

And in her eyes, that ‘harm’ was you.

It was ridiculous to think that she saw danger in your eyes. But once convinced, it was impossible to change her mind. As a sole ruler and a woman, Aslaug may look fine and vulnerable, easy to be ignored or overthrown. But the queen has a few tricks on her sleeve to ensure her position would not be lost to the first man or woman that grew tired of her reign. She is known to be a master with words and always kept a practically close eye on her people. This together with her family heritage and famous background has allowed her to remain in the top position for all these years.

Ivar had shared this information with you but was surprised by your lack of caution. However, his mind was not eased, and his restlessness only increased. For he knew what kind of hidden power his mother possessed. She was not a witch like so many accused her of being, nor had she mages hidden in the forest with whom she could bargain with. No, her power lay in something much more simpler.

With a light chuckle, you brushed your finger along his jaw, effectively making him snap out of his racing thoughts. Ivar pursed his lips.

“You never take anything serious.” He grumbled, his eyes scanning the area while his nose tried to detect any indication of your brother, who went out hunting for food.

The small smile on your lips widened until your teeth were on full display. “I know when it’s time for fun, Ivar”

Ivar scowled and turned his head to the side.

“You should start having fun as well. Might safe your face from an everlasting scowl.”

That made Ivar growl again, although this time more playfully as he pushed you back and tried his best to hover above you. His movements were limited due to his legs. And once again, they made him hiss out in pain as he held himself up with his arms. The dark look on his face warned you not to make any bidding. And you had to bite your lip to follow his command. Ivar muffled a chuckle while he licked his lips, a futile attempt to hide his smirk.

“Oh, the things I will be able to do…” He whispered out.

Maybe it was the thoughts than immediately went through your brain or the fact that he was so close, but a tiny, almost nervous giggle passed your lips. The sound was like music to his ears and made the young wolf eyebrows raise. The confusion on his face, that only seconds ago looked so terrifying, made your laughs only increase.

Ivar dropped his head, one hand grabbed your side and squeezed lightly while his mouth curved into a smile. How was he ever going to get you under his control?

But then your sweet and light giggle got muffled by the deafening sound of a horn being blown somewhere far away. The sound made you and Ivar sit up. Your eyes dashing around in frantic search for your older brother. You hoped that whatever was out there would not get to him. While Ivar’s worst fear had come true. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight as he looked at you with saddened eyes. He knew what that sound meant.

Hidden in a chest in his mother’s chamber lay a long, curved horn. The object was part of her family heritage and was promised to him once he came of age. Although the object may appear fragile and uninteresting, the piece was famous for the consequences when a wolf would blow on it. A wolf trapped inside a situation where he or she can see no escape from, may blow on that horn. In that way, the Wolvenhorde, an ancient family of wolves will come to their aid. They are the most powerful and feared pack out there. And Aslaug had the power to call out for them.

With a firm grip on your arm, he turned you towards him. His face had become pale, and his nostrils flared as his voice got lower with every word that passed his lips.

“Listen. She knows. That – That horn was a signal. A signal to an ancient family. I’ve warned you of -“

You shook your head. “But, Ivar-”

“No!” He shouted. “This is chaos. You don’t get what we’re up against. You must leave. Flee. I-I” His voice broke. “I cannot protect you against them…”

A shiver went down your spine at the sight of your lover. The man sat broken on the ground; his eyes focused on the forest in front of him where the sound had come from, while his hand pushed you away from him. All this time he was dreading it, praying, and hoping to never hear that horn. He was counting the days until his eyes would turn red and he would be true alpha. Then he would be able to turn his back on this place, just like his brothers had done, and live his life like he wanted.

But now his mother had still power over him. And somehow, she had found out he had left her to be with you. She had used that horn to find her son. The Wolvenhorde was summoned. And their goal was to get rid of the thorn in her eye: you.

---

Thank you for reading xxx

Tag: @fairyofvoid

#vikings #vikings imagine #ivar the boneless imagines #ivar the boneless imagine #alphaivar imagine #alphaivar #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar imagine #ivar imagines #alpha!ivar #writing challenge

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an-svu-sideblog · 4 years ago

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Women of SVU Week - Day 1

Priorities

Characters: Kat Tamin, her girlfriend, Fin Tutola, brief Olivia Benson

Warnings: language, almost smut but not quite

Dua Lipa blasted from the phone lying on the bathroom counter amongst scattered makeup brushes, eye shadow palettes and fake lashes. The bass sounded thinner than it should through the small speaker.

Kat leaned forward toward the mirror, her mouth forming a small “o” as applied her eyeliner, tapering it to a perfect wing. “Is Kristina bringing her new girlfriend?” she called.

“What?” a voice called back from the adjacent bedroom.

Kat finished her makeup and strode into the bedroom, leaving her phone near the sink. “I asked if Kristina was bringing her new girlfriend.” She approached the bed where her girlfriend was perched on the edge, currently pulling sheer tights up her calves. Kat reached into her purse and began shuffling around for her earrings.

“Which new girlfriend?” Jo asked derisively.

Kat paused, wrist deep in her purse. “Wait, another one? Isn’t she dating that nurse from Queens? The one she brought to the Halloween party?”

“Turns out the nurse was fucking an EMT so that didn’t end well. Now she’s dating a girl she met at that bar uptown. You would’ve met her at the New Years party if you had been there.” Jo’s statement had little vitriol in it, but it stung nonetheless. The frequency at which Kat was suddenly called into work was often a source of contention in their relationship.

Kat tried to ignore it. “Okay, what does this girlfriend do? She’s not another bad tattoo artist is she?” she asked, half-joking. “Kristina doesn’t need another Chinese character that says ‘water buffalo’ on her ankle.”

Jo laughed snidely. “No, this one is an Instagram influencer. Don’t let her start trying to sell you her miracle juice cleanse mixes. Kristina says her intestines haven’t been the same since.”

“Noted.” Kat replied with a wince. “I’m just glad she has someone. She’s so busy all the time; it’s good that she can make time for a girlfriend.”

Jo didn’t reply.

Earrings in place, Kat gave her tight dress one last adjustment and turned to face her girlfriend. She threw her hands out to the side, asking for Jo’s opinion. Jo smiled and lifted herself off the bed to close the distance between them. Kat, already in her heels, gazed down at her girlfriend, her hair hanging down to frame both their faces.

As they met, Jo ran her hands across the smooth fabric that was hugging Kat’s hips and pulled her body even closer.

“You look so good,” Jo said, her voice low. “You’ve been so busy lately. I’m glad I finally have you to myself for a night.”

“I’m all yours,” Kat matched her tone and leaned in for a kiss. Their hands roved over each others bodies as the kiss deepened. They pulled each other close; any space between them was too much.

Jo started pulling Kat toward the bed, craning her neck to ensure their lips never parted. “We’re going to be late,” Kat murmured into the kiss.

“So?” Jo retorted with a smirk. Their knees met the mattress, and Jo pushed Kat down to sit on the edge of the bed. She straddled Kat’s lap, her dress riding dangerously high around her thighs. Kat’s hands slid slowly up her girlfriend’s legs and hips, tracing the folds and seams of the dress now bunched around her waist.

Jo gently gyrated her hips to the still-blaring pop music from the other room. Kat moaned slightly into their kiss.

“You’re fucking kidding,” Jo said with a sharp sigh. The music had suddenly been interrupted and replaced by a harsh vibrating sound against the porcelain counter.

Kat paused, her eyes still closed as if she could ignore the ringing phone. The woman sitting on her lap was more determined to ignore the unwelcome distraction. Jo kissed her harder. Kat allowed herself to succumb for a moment before her rational brain won out.

“I have to get that,” she said ruefully.

Jo groaned and leaned back to give Kat a disappointed look. “You said you had off tonight.”

“I did have off, but if we catch a case I have to go.” Kat lightly patted her girlfriends thigh, a gentle request for her to vacate Kat’s lap. “C’mon, I have to see who it is.” Jo didn’t move. “Jo,” Kat added with a stern look.

She let up, and Kat rushed to her phone, her heels clicking on the tiled bathroom floor. It was, of course, her Sergeant. When she returned to the bedroom, her face said everything that Jo needed to know.

“I’m sorry,” Kat insisted, grabbing her bag off the bed. “I’ll make it up to you I promise.”

Kat was rushing too fast to see the utter defeat on her girlfriend’s face. Jo didn’t say anything as she watched her girlfriend disappear from the apartment.

***

The fluorescent lights of the precinct were a harsh contrast to the darkening sky outside. The squad room was mostly empty as she arrived. Only Fin and Benson had arrived so far, and Benson was busy in her office preparing to brief her squad.

Fin looked practically scrubby in his jeans and button-up compared to Kat’s elegant and very low-cut dress. She hadn’t had time to go home and change, and he didn’t waste the opportunity to comment.

“Which club is missing you tonight?” Fin asked with a sly smile on his face.

“None you’ve heard of,” she retorted.

Fin winced dramatically, “I’m not that old!”

Kat smirked. “When’s the last time you stayed out past 11pm?” His wounded silence was answer enough. She moved past him, still smirking at his defeat. “I have clothes in my locker; I’ll change before we start.”

Kat returned from the locker room, looking much more professional. She shed her party clothes and adopted her usual steely attitude, now ready for the job. The only tell that her night out had been abruptly interrupted was the heavy makeup that still adorned her brown eyes.

Benson briefed them on the situation. A brutal rape/homicide had culminated in the victim stumbling, bleeding, into a corner store. After being rushed to the hospital, she died in surgery. The victim was left with no wallet, no ID. There were no solid suspects.

With no leads on where the girl came from, Benson directed Fin and Kat to start at the corner store.

***

In the midst of an unhelpful interview with the store clerk, Kat felt her phone vibrate several times in her pocket.

After discovering no helpful leads, Fin thanked the clerk for their help and they moved to leave. He and Kat stepped back out into the cool night air, hypothesizing what to investigate next with such little info.

Kat ventured a glance at her phone and felt her heart jump into her throat as she read the notification.

from: Jo <3

9:21pm

[I’m sorry Kat, I can’t do this anymore. I don’t feel like a priority, it’]

The preview ended there, but Kat had seen enough. A surprising mixture of emotions cascaded over her. She felt disappointed, confused, and overwhelmingly indignant. A breakup by text? Seriously?!

Fin had gotten ahead of her on his way back to the car. He quickly realized she hadn’t kept up. “Tamin, you have an epiphany or something? Let’s go.”

She wordlessly closed the distance and joined him in the car. She worried her expression was giving away too much, but she couldn’t seem to collect her focus enough to erase the emotion on her face. Her heart may as well have been on her sleeve.

As the car pulled away from the curb, Kat started out the window, hoping her Sergeant wouldn’t pry.

“You good?” Fin asked after a long moment of silence.

She internally cursed the occupational hazard of having coworkers who were very insightful. “Fine,” she replied shortly.

“You’ll do your job better if you’re not distracted.”

Kat paused a moment to consider the veracity of his statement. He was right, annoyingly, and she knew he was also implying that talking about it was the remedy to the problem of distraction. Giving up on hiding her sour expression, she turned to him. “Well, I’ll have a lot more time to do my job. I won’t need time off for date nights anymore.”

“Did you just get broken up with by text?” he asked incredulously.

Kat lifted her phone and gave it a little shake to indicate that she had indeed.

“That’s cold. You’re too good for her,” Fin said adamantly.

She scoffed in response. She knew he meant well, but it sounded like the kind of compliment that a mother gives: genuine, if not cloying, and completely subjective.

“I’m serious. The job is hard, but you deserve someone who can handle it just like you do. I lucked out with Phoebe; she knows exactly what the job is like. Not everyone can get it.”

“I just don’t know if it’s worth it. Dating is so much time and effort. Meeting someone you’re actually interested in seems impossible, and then as soon as they realize the work schedule is insane and unpredictable they bail.” She let her eyes follow each street light as they drove through the city. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the job. I just don’t know anymore...”

“Once you find that someone, it is worth it.” Fin’s voice was softer than Kat was used to hearing it. The seasoned Sergeant with a killer quip ready for any perp was being uncharacteristically soft. “Even if you only get to see that person for a few minutes when you wake up or for a quick coffee at lunch, it’s worth it. For both of you. The right person will get it.”

Kat felt the anger in her ebbing away, leaving only the sadness in its place. “Thanks Sarge,” she told him sincerely.

“Now you owe me fifty bucks. Therapy’s not cheap.” He said this with an even, serious tone, but the shit-eating grin on his face said otherwise.

“Ha ha,” she replied sardonically. “Don’t quit your day job.” Her tone was dry, but she was thankful for his attempt to lighten her mood. It worked, if only for a moment.

The details of the surrounding city faded from her focus as Kat tried to push the breakup from her mind and refocus on the case at hand. She failed and instead, she found herself re-living every suddenly canceled date, every small argument, and every time a tough case had consumed Kat’s mind and prevented her from being fully present during what little time she had with her girlfriend.

They say hindsight is 20/20, but it felt like these memories were viewed through the wrong prescription lenses; whatever the opposite of rose-colored glasses are.

She unlocked her phone once more and swiped the notification away, willing her eyes not to read the letters as they scanned the preview once more.

She does deserve better.

#wsvu week #kat tamin #svu #law and order svu #fin tutuola #my fic

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mommymooze · 4 years ago

Text

Sleep Doctor

Hubert X Reader. Warning: blood war violence, rudeness, bad dreams

You are often compared to Mercedes, both of you are talented in healing, as well as both of you have doting, motherly personalities. Both of you are nurturing, protective, supportive, bakers of treats, a trusted confidante.

There are differences of course. Her faith is in the goddess, yours is in the human spirit. Your reason magic is powerful as well. You don’t have a creepy brother, just a lazy sister. You cook delicious meals, you love brewing potions and concoctions. While she is laid back and chill, you are assertive and firm. You give advice and then enforce it.

Mercedes suggests that someone get more sleep, rest, take their time to recover. Maybe gently remind them after a few days if she stills sees dark circles under their eyes. You tell them they need more sleep and that you will be waiting for them at their room to make certain they sleep that night and perhaps the next two or three nights.

Linhardt enjoys sharing duties as the healer for the Black Eagles Strike force with you. His favorite taunt is to use your name as a threat. “If you do not rest that leg and let it heal, I will advise (y/n) of the situation.” Everyone is quite aware that Emperor Edelgard fully supports your extremely strict and regimented methods to ensure that the Strike Force is in tip top condition.

One of your pet peeves is finding injuries long after a battle is over. Linhardt will only leave his minor wounds untreated if he is too tired to get to it. Dorothea does very well seeking treatments promptly. Petra has a great understanding of the responsibility of your body being a temple and to keep it in constant repair. Bernadetta only hides injuries if she feels that she has made a mistake and tries to use it as self-punishment. Caspar is highly maintained and checked by Lin, so he’s in great shape. Emperor Edelgard is preened by the healers every time she returns, to make sure not the tiniest scratch is left unattended lest she get an infection. Ferdinand does frequent the healers, however he has been known to often get infections, not understanding the seriousness of the smaller, less important wounds he has received in the germ and disease filled conditions of war.

Then there is Hubert. He stands and gives reports to his Lady, while his own blood is pooling at his feet. His mindset is Duty Before All Else. Immediately upon arrival from a mission, he must report to Emperor Edelgard, then he may stop by the infirmary, but more likely will return to his tent or quarters and write his reports of the mission results.

At first you try reasoning with him. Advising him he is losing enough blood that by the time his report is finished his body is completely exsanguinated. You attempt to physically remove him from the Command tent and he strikes you with magic. Trial and error provides the answer for your most successful method of treating the irritatingly stubborn man. Healing him upon his arrival, during his report to the Emperor upon his return. The moment Hubert warps to her tent you are summoned from the infirmary. Your materials already await you in the command tent.

“Stand over here on these towels.” You order the dark mage.

“I must present my report…” Hubert angrily chastises you.

“I tire of my carpets being stained, do as she says.” Edelgard orders, he complies.

You remove his cape, cravat, and outer coat. You stand behind him as he is advising the Emperor of his latest completed duties in the never-ending effort to win the war for the Empire. You in turn untuck his white and red stained shirt from his pants and pull it up in the back clipping it out of your way. The blood has dried around his undershirt and you cut it loose from the stab wound that is just at the base of his rib cage, thankfully below his heart by a few inches. Had the assassin had a better angle, well, the Spymaster would not be with us right now.

Pressing a cloth that is thoroughly soaked in alcohol onto the wound to remoisten and allow removal of the remaining undershirt material as well as cleanse the wound preventing infection, you apply firm pressure into the hole and begin removing the soiled cloth from the deep stab wound as you hear him exclaim.

“…and then we proceeeeek!..Flames woman! Trying to finish the job!” The dark mage yells, his left arm coming back to smack you away as the burning sensation of the liquid goes deeper into his flesh.

You easily duck his attack as you remove the foreign materials, making certain the wound is absolutely clean. Minor deep healing spells take care of the immediate damage. There will still be bruising to his left kidney. You pull out needle and thread to pull the two sides of the wound back together, making it easier for the healing spells to take hold and lessen the scarring. That particular wound finished, it is not difficult to trace another slice into his flesh, this time blood is soaking into his shirt collar as he sustained a dagger’s blade to the side of his head just behind his ear. Head wounds bleed profusely, if they do not penetrate the skull they cause little problem as long as they are cleaned. A nice curved needle allows you to pick up the skin on each side to bring them back together again. A final healing spell there and the bleeding subsides.

Your hands glow lightly as they run along his body, searching for any additional injuries. The stubborn mule of a man certainly will not reveal any weak points. Two ribs on his left front are heavily bruised, healing spells correct that situation. Finding no other serious injuries, you return the cape and coat to Hubert, pat him on the shoulder, and proceed to the infirmary.

The trouble with being at war is that it is prohibitive to good sleep. There are quite a few members of the Strike Force that have issue with sleeping, some nights it is interrupted by dreams or memories of personally tragic events during the war, others cannot get to sleep in the first place, their minds tormenting them with frightening thoughts. While in Enbarr or at Garreg Mach, you are available to assist your fellow Strike Force members with issues of nightmares, night terrors or simply general insomnia. Your schedule is changed to accommodate the availability for such. You are available from sunset until 5 or 6am to assist with these issues. After that you return to your room to sleep until noon. The guards patrolling the areas are trained take notice if someone is calling out loudly in their sleep. There is also a physical sign, a request for assistance, by placing a red card slightly peeking past the bottom of the door, alerting them to retrieve you to the location for necessary assistance.

Your counsel at night is always kept between you and the patient. Having someone there to talk to is the best medicine for most parties. A trusted ear, a caring heart, letting them know they are not alone, simply being there is at times the answer to the current situation.

Hubert again, is the one most difficult to work with. His living space is highly covered in magic spells and sigils. The layout is such that if he is screaming in his bed it would not be heard through his closed door. He is not one to ask for help unless it is from complete desperation. Only by observing the reticent Spy Master can you tell that sleep has been evading him more than normal. His eyes are sunk further back into his skull, the blackness seems to surround his eyes. He taps his feet to keep his body moving, reminding himself to stay awake. This dedicated, enervated man is your most challenging patient by far. As today’s strategy meeting concludes, you request that he remain behind to discuss a matter with him and Emperor Edelgard.

“Hubert, when was the last time you slept.” You ask, hands on your hips.

“Three days ago. There is no time for sleep when you are running a war.” He answers.

“There is only so long before your body will take what it requires. The next battle is less than a week away. It is critical that you sleep now.” You plead, looking to Edelgard for support. “I agree. Hubert, pass along what duties you can and carve out time for sleep every day until the battle. Provide both of us a schedule of when you will set aside time for rest.”

Hubert stands, bowing to his Emperor and glaring at you sharply before he leaves the room.

You have found, through trial and error, ways of making him sleep. Forcing him into specific routines that subconsciously prepare him for sleep. Once he is in bed and relaxed usually a palm resting on the back of his hand is enough to make him lay still enough to drift off. Sometimes he is more agitated, so you will read to him dissertations regarding the history and foundation of white magic in a monotone voice. The text is very dry, of no interest to him, yet the words distract his thoughts enough, allowing sleep to take him.

Today was no such day. Overtired and restless he shifts in his bed anxiously.

“Tell me a story.” He finally requests.

“I did not think you a fan of fairy tales or knights.” You reply softly.

“You have a large family. Tell me a story of your youth.”

You begin to weave the tales of your younger days. The family going into the woods to pick buckets upon buckets of blueberries, your brothers getting distracted by seeing who could climb the highest in a tree, Mother panicking that they would fall and break their arms and legs. Scrubbing the purple from your siblings before getting them to bed then helping mother preserve the berries in wine bottles to enjoy during the winter. You are softly retelling these events until you realize he has fallen asleep.

It is not dark in the room, the curtains are pulled close to reduce the sunlight. You pull out a novel to read. Hubert is a quiet sleeper. He’s not like Caspar who crawls around and tangles himself in his sheets while he slumbers. You look up from your book as you see Hubert moving his feet, giving a weak kick. He is pulling his arms up to his chest and his face is drawn into a frown. You drop your book. Your hand brushes his cheek softly as you try to gently wake him from his nightmare.

“Hubert, I’m here for you. Everything is all right. Shhhh.” You softly whisper.

The dark mage startles from his sleep, his eyes wide. He looks about the room finally realizing he is within his own bedchambers. He looks very distressed, his hands trembling. You instinctively pull him into a hug, holding him tight against your chest as you lay gently on him.

“Breathe, just breathe.” You urge him, taking long slow loud breaths to have him match yours.

It takes a while before he finally begins to relax again. You know you can’t stand hunched over him much longer, so you walk around the bed to lie next to him on top of the covers. You pull him to face you as you card your fingers through his hair and encourage him to relax. The exhaustion of his body takes over and he falls asleep again.

You awaken after a short nap due to movement under your arm. Opening your eyes you find Hubert looking back at you. Instinctively you slowly pull your arm from across his chest back to yourself.

“Did you rest well?” you whisper.

Hubert rolls onto his back. “Surprisingly, yes. My headache is gone.”

You quietly slide out of the bed, straightening your clothing. Making your way to the other side, you return the chair to its proper place and gather your things.

“Do you often accompany your patients in their beds?” Hubert asks, a slight sneer in his voice.

“Never.” You reply. “You are a…special case.” You reply, closing the door behind you.

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

The next day Hubert is much more coherent at the morning strategy meeting. Once the meeting adjournes, the Emperor requests that the two of you remain behind.

“I notice an improvement today.” Edelgard smiles at the Minister of the Imperial Household.

“Of course, My Lady. I refuse to disappoint you.” He respectfully bows.

“We are scheduled today from 10pm until 3am. Granted, 5 hours is not much for the average person, but to Hubert’s tortured soul it is quite the luxury.” You quip, causing Edelgard to giggle.

The dark mage scowls in your general direction. You both excuse yourselves as the Emperor has another appointment to attend. You join him as he heads toward his office.

“Was it so horrible to rest yesterday? Do you not feel some improvement?” You inquire.

“You were witness to my sleep. It is anything but restful.” He grumbles.

“Which is currently the point of my assisting you.” You respond in a logical manner.

“If there is nothing further you require, I have significantly less time to complete my duties. I bid you good day.” Hubert sniffs as he heads to his office.

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

You are waiting outside of Hubert’s quarters for his arrival. He arrives 15 minutes late. There is no apology for his tardiness. He completes his routine for preparing for bed and finally pulls his covers up to his chin, only to stare at you. You’ve brought knitting to keep you company, a quiet pastime.

“Do you need a diversion?” You ask softly.

“No.” He responds, continuing to stare daggers at you.

A few minutes later he decides to stare at the ceiling.

“Why do you do this?” Hubert wonders aloud.

“For your health of course. Sleep is extremely important. Your body needs the rest, so does your mind. It affects your nervous system, your immune system. All creatures need sleep.” You answer matter of factly patting the back of his hand.

“Why do you care?” he asks.

“I’ve come to know everyone very closely. You are my work family and my friends. I would be devastated should anyone die from something I can possibly prevent. Just as you protect us all from spies, assassinations, poisoning, and the like, I do the same protecting everyone from sickness, injuries, infections etcetera. There is only one Hubert Von Vestra. I would like to see him live past the end of the war. “

“Hmpf.” Is his only response.

Hubert closes his eyes as you quietly knit. His breathing slows as he drifts into the land of Nod. You silently slip from his room to check on the other occupants of the Imperial Palace to find that it is a rather quiet night and there are no disturbances amongst the Strike Force. You return to Hubert’s quarters to see him still resting, which is surprising. You know he is a light sleeper, however even if he woke up, he remained in bed. You count that as a victory. As 3am nears, you head out to retrieve a carafe and water, preparing coffee in his parlor just at the time he should awaken.

“One moment.” Is heard coming from the door to his bedroom. A few minutes later Hubert emerges from his bedroom dressed for work and looking shockingly more alert than you have seen him in the past two weeks.

“Thank you for doing this for yourself as well as for the rest of us. I will see you again this evening.” You articulated as you gather your personal items to leave. You swear you almost hear a soft ‘thank you.’ from Hubert as he locks his door and heads to his office.

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

Hubert is working until midnight tonight, never a regular schedule for himself, his duties rule his sleep schedule. You leave Ferdinand’s quarters in time to head to the kitchen and obtain a cup of coffee before you must meet with the dark mage. Ferdinand sleeps well most of the time, however as the war becomes more brutal and savage, he is plagued with nightmares more frequently. After you were called to his room this night, he finally agreed to take a small sleeping potion. The thought of dark circles under his bright and shining eyes is like having storm clouds blocking the sun. He is the source of the Strike Force’s positive energy. They need him brightly shining in the lead, a beacon of hope.

Your arrival at Hubert’s door is matched with his. His posture is much improved, not hunched over barely able to stand. He greets you with a nod and waves you into his quarters. You pat his shoulder as you walk past him. He prepares for bed and once he is under the covers calls you into his bedroom. He has already placed the chair in its normal spot, close to the head of his bed. Taking your seat you place your hand on top of his. His hand does not move.

“You keep touching me. Why do you do that?” Hubert asks, staring at the ceiling.

“It is another one of the basic needs of humans. Some need it more than others. Certainly you have observed in battle, when the Professor is encouraging Caspar in the middle of a fight, if Caspar receives a simple pat on the head, he can rush forth taking out several squads of enemies at an amazing pace. When Bernadetta is extremely anxious, sitting next to her with a leg or shoulder touching her, she visibly relaxes. Emperor Edelgard relaxes with gentle hugs. Ferdinand prefers a one armed hug when being comforted through a tough time. The professor responds to hand holding and shoulder touching. Dorothea gets herself anxious and worked up sometimes, then only a full squeezing hug can get her to settle enough to speak with her.

“I was not aware of such needs, nor of your detailed observations of our team members.”

“I must admit, you are my most difficult patient in this regard.” You smile softly.

“Explain.” He says flatly.

“Beyond contact with our Emperor, you do not touch others nor does anyone touch you.” You begin. “Even when contact with another is made, it is not skin to skin, always to clothing, always with gloves. Certainly your upbringing, family history, interpersonal relationships, work schedules, work agenda and severe lack of personal time factors into this.

When one is in the infirmary, healers constantly touch the patients. Verbal reassurance is good, physical touch is required, and is extremely reassuring. When a patient is unconscious, the body still reacts to touch. When Petra was heavily injured a few battles ago, Dorothea was there for hours holding her hand, stroking her cheek. The body does react, relaxes. Somewhere in her brain, she knows someone is there for her and she needs to get better in order to rejoin them. Unconscious patients still tense up, faces furrow. Touch causes them to relax, leading the body to focus on healing.

On the battlefield, I am shocked at the condition I have found a fallen person, yet they are still alive, simply because someone else is there with them, touching them, encouraging them to hang on to that precious thread of life for yet a moment longer. That comrade being there has performed a miracle. There is no other way to explain it. Reason magic is cast through verbal incantations, physical movement, mental intentions. Healing magic is through touch, with the exception of physic, because no rule is absolute. “

“Hmmm. Continue.” Hubert watches your face closely, turning his palm to yours, taking your smaller hand into his without thinking.

“Now my observation of you, Hubert. I have heard you say that you are unworthy of anyone being close to you based on your workings below the surface, your bloodstained hands, duties you have carried out in the darkness. I disagree. You are not to judge your own worthiness. Only others can perform that task. They will base it on their own life, experiences, beliefs, circumstances. If they cannot understand you and appreciate you for who you are, all of you, then perhaps they are not worthy of you. The Emperor knows you, knows what you do for her, suspects what is done outside of her vision, yet she is there for you, accepting you for who you are, as you are. Over these years of war, all of the members of our team have learned more about you, perhaps scratching beyond the surface of you, yet they are still here. They still support you, believe in you, rely on you. They find you worthy of their protection, their support. Tell me of one person in the Strike Force that has not helped you in a battle. I certainly can tell you about how many I have had to piece together after they shielded you from certain death. I have lost count of how many holes I have patched up on you are a result of your protecting each and every one of them.”

“Physical Attributes are difficult to overcome…” he argues.

You laugh at the thought. “Have you never heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? Beauty is found within? To me, my mother is the most beautiful woman in the world. Having so many children her stomach never went back to being flat and fashionable. She has spots on her face from being in the sun. Wrinkles in her hands from working them hard for many years. Her nose is crooked because she broke it as a child and never had it properly healed. Most people on the street would look at her as the typical matronly old woman, but to me she is more beautiful than any goddess, I would not change a thing. My sister was being courted by Bernard, her now husband. Bernard was awkward, tall and lanky. At first I noticed he was all knees and elbows, his teeth seemed to be too large for his mouth. But my sister loved him, and he loved her. When I last saw him, I saw a tall handsome man that would do anything for my sister, just looking at him you could tell he adores her. When he looks at my sister, his smile shines bright and I consider him beautiful inside and out. Ask Dorothea how far good looks will get you. She is a beautiful woman, however knows that beauty fades. She has found someone who loves her for her. That when she is old and wrinkled and gray, they will be there for her and she for them. “

“I have much to think about. Good night.” Hubert says softly closing his eyes.

You remain holding his hand until it relaxes which is not until he is in a deep sleep. He sleeps quietly and restfully. A very good rest for him indeed.

The next morning Hubert joins you in his parlor, sitting at the table with you as you silently enjoy the first cup of morning coffee together.

As you pour a refill, you finally break the silence. “Today we prepare, early tomorrow we leave for yet another battle. I know you will not sleep tonight, if you wish to try, even for an hour or two, I would be happy to help.”

Hubert briefly scowls then retracts it to a minor frown. “I can sleep on my own. I do not need you as a crutch.”

You place your hand atop his now white gloved hand. “I am not a crutch, I am an enforcer.” You smile.

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

You are too busy the night before leaving to think about Hubert. Ferdinand has a particularly strong night terror. Bernadetta had a major panic attack. Linhardt could not find a comfortable place to sleep, wandering and laying about all over the palace. You would find him in the middle of a pathway, taking him to a more secluded and safer place to sleep only for him to move to a different poor location for slumber. You finished bottling your last batch of healing potions and pots of salves for minor wounds and burns. You begin filling the wagon with as much bandages and bindings as you could stuff into it. You and the other healers riding in the wagon will take turns sleeping, resting now because once battle starts, you would not sleep for perhaps two days or more.

A few more days on the road, scouts have returned stating there is a small army preventing anyone from passing, apparently a mix of kingdom and church soldiers. A brief strategy meeting is held and soon the caravans realign, with the support teams like yours toward the rear. A few more hours at a slow pace as they advance to the enemy location. Now explosions are heard as the mages on both sides attack, the infantry running in behind the Cavalry and the fliers doing their best to snipe from the skies. Your group hurriedly throws together the medical tent, secures a location for water, sets up cots, supplies. Ready for patients, you head out toward the field of battle. Those that are no longer fit to fight are sent your direction. You assess their condition, stop severe bleeding and direct them to the correct tent location. You see a Meteor spell go off in the middle of the battle, sincerely hoping that is Dorothea and not the enemy that is the source. You watch Linhardt in the back lines, healing who he can, keeping them on their feet. You want to go out there and help, but you remain at your post.

The battle continues until sunset. You are surrounded by patients. Fortunately nobody in the Strike Force has serious injuries, or at least they have not yet made it to the medical tent. You finish cleaning the slicing wounds of a very young, perhaps 17 year old, soldier’s arms before sewing the sides of the wounds back together and then casting a healing spell on them to remove the final trace of any visible wound.

“(Y/n)” a deep voice comes from behind you.

“How are you doing Hubert? Is there somewhere I am needed?” You ask, looking absolutely exhausted.

“Do you have any healing spells left in you?” He asks, a frown on his brow.

“No, That was the last one.” You say, cleaning up your surgical tools. Before you look up, he takes hold of your arm and warps you to a tent.

“Now it is your turn. You are in desperate need of sleep. There are buckets and towels to wash up and your bags are there to change clothes.”

“I sleep in the medical tent in case they need me…” you state, confused by this.

“You are out of magic, let those that can heal remain. I will step outside, you will clean up and prepare for bed.” Hubert exits, closing the tent flap behind him.

In spite of the rudeness, it feels nice to wash the blood and grime off and change into clean dry clothing not soaked in someone else’s blood. Sleeping away from the injured is much much quieter, you think as you change into bedclothes and sit on the cot.

“Done.” You call out.

Hubert enters the tent, bringing a tin cup full of water as well as a waterskin. “You must drink this. You have not had a drink since the first patients came in.”

“I’ve been preoccupied.” You gratefully take the cup and drinking the entire contents quickly.

“Now rest. Go to sleep.” His voice is quite assertive.

“Stay with me a bit?” You plead.

“Demanding woman!” He huffs, pulling the chair next to the bed to sit close by.

“Is everyone okay? Have they been checked out?” you ask.

Hubert grumbles. “Of course they are. Many have been asleep for four hours or more. Now hush.”

You suddenly sit up. “Have I stolen your bed? I can’t do that to you.”

He hesitantly touches your shoulder. “You need to rest. Stop fighting me.”

You frown and lie back down. “Could you lie next to me for a bit? Its…chilly.” You begin scooting to one side of the cot, until it threatens to tip over from having the weight all on one side.

“You are relentless.” He frowns.

You nod and lift the cover for him to join you. He lies on his back, you on your side facing him. You lift his arm bringing it around your back as you place your head and arm on his chest. Without opening your eyes you tell him, “Yes this is necessary.” You settle in next to him and quickly relax, falling asleep.

#fe3h x reader #fe3h #hubert von vestra #fe16 #feth #Fire Emblem Three Houses

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imaginedhaven · 4 years ago

Text

Rules of Engagement: Chapter Seventeen

Link to Masterpost

It’s here! It’s finally here! This one fought me more than I thought it would, but I’m pretty happy with it now.

I hope you enjoy!

~*~*~

It had been three days since Aelin had killed Maeve.

For three days, Aedion had sat in meeting after meeting, being forcibly reminded of why he preferred to command through action. Their every move and every piece of evidence had been thoroughly analyzed by the dark-haired demi-Fae that appeared to be the de facto leader of the former blood-sworn, and it was more than apparent that he found it lacking.

He hadn’t even been able to check on Aelin, though Whitethorn’s absence implied that she had yet to awaken. Aedion sighed; he supposed he should get used to thinking of the warrior as Rowan, given his relationship to his cousin. That would take a great deal of adjusting.

Truly, he wished Aelin would just wake up. He understood that the amount of magic she must have used would take a great deal of energy from her, but the sooner she awakened and the sooner she could talk to the group of Fae currently interrogating him, the sooner he could return home to his family.

At that thought, he couldn’t help glancing over at one of the males across the table in particular. He had never expected that he would meet his father, and so he had never given much thought to what he would do should the situation arise.

Years ago, or perhaps even a few months ago, he would’ve been unable to respond to the situation with anything other than anger. A large part of him still was angry that this male had seen fit to just walk away from his mother, and hadn’t even bothered to make contact as she had been dying. But now that he had not only Lysandra to consider, but Evangeline as well, everything was changing for him.

He could still blame him for swearing a blood oath to someone he had to have known had a sadistic streak, but what if Aedion had already sworn himself to Aelin and she had threatened to use his connection to his family? There was very little he wouldn’t do to protect Lysandra; it had been that way for years now, ever since she had come to the palace. It was a little more surprising to realize how quickly Evangeline had carved herself a little spot in his heart right next to Lysandra’s.

Perhaps, he thought, he could understand the male’s position. Even if he couldn’t agree with the end result.

Finally, he glanced over at the irate demi-Fae leading the continued interrogation and belatedly realized he had been asked yet another question. “For the fourth and last time, I only have copies of the letters and the passage of the book Aelin was referencing. We agreed there was an inherent risk in bringing the originals to someone who would be interested in destroying them.” He resisted the urge to feign a yawn; the leader was already angry enough as it was. This line of questioning was so boring, though. It might have been a clever tactic on someone else, but Aedion had been questioned before and had questioned others before. They would have to try harder than this.

“Then where, exactly, are the originals?”

“That secret rests with my cousin. If you want to risk Whitethorn’s wrath and attempt to wake her, you’re more than welcome to do so.” In fact, Aedion would have loved to witness such a confrontation by this point. Anything had to be better than repeatedly answering the same handful of questions.

The demi-Fae male growled, and Aedion growled right back. He had played nicely for his cousin’s sake thus far, but he was quickly losing patience with all of this. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Rowan so carefully guarding Aelin until she woke up, he might have simply carried her out himself and booked the next ship across the sea, consequences be damned.

The other male—Gavriel—his father—finally glanced up from the copies he had presented to them. “He’s not likely to give different answers at this point, Lorcan. Perhaps we should focus on ensuring a smooth transition of power? Maeve had no heir, and evidently no legitimate claim to our throne, and we need to determine what that means for us.”

The leader grimaced. “Mab’s line goes through the Ashryver family. The direct female descendant is his fire-breathing bitch princess. Mora’s… Whitethorn will know which of his cousins has the most direct claim.”

“It’ll go to Mora’s line, then,” Aedion commented. “Aelin won’t have any interest in ruling a land she’s never visited before.”

“Won’t she?” The leader was suddenly furious, dark eyes narrowed and darker power surrounding him. “Perhaps that’s why she came, after all.”

“It would mean war if she did,” another of the warriors pointed out calmly. This one, to the extent of Aedion’s knowledge, had been absent during the confrontation itself, and had yet to speak. “And it doesn’t make sense for her to begin with Doranelle, were she to become a conqueror. The Wastes would be an easier target, or perhaps Adarlan.”

The demi-Fae whirled around to glare at the speaker, then quietly grumbled to himself. Aedion took advantage of their distraction to quietly slip away.

It didn’t take someone with Aedion’s heightened senses to recognize that another had followed him out of the room, and it didn’t take a particularly wise man to guess who it had been. For a moment he contemplated not responding at all, walking away without acknowledging his presence, but finally he sighed and turned to face his father. “She died, you know,” he said, surprising even himself. “She didn’t have to. The Fae could have healed her, but she wouldn’t go.”

Gods, he wished he wasn’t having this conversation alone. Aelin might know what to say, and Lysandra…

Best not to think about her, not right now.

His father had frozen still, and vaguely he wondered if he could have felled the male simply by tapping his shoulder. He didn’t reply verbally, but that was all right. Aedion didn’t need an answer from him. “I realize now she was protecting me. From you. From your queen. From all of it.”

The golden male winced. “Aedion—”

Perhaps he had expected to feel anger or rage at the sound of his name on his father’s lips, now after all these years. Perhaps grief would have been a more reasonable expectation, sorrow for all the years missed. Perhaps even joy, for having found the male his mother had never once spoken of.

Instead of any of those, Aedion felt empty. His chest was hollow, and his voice devoid of all emotion when he replied, “I can’t do this right now.”

He left his father standing in the hallway, staring after him as he retreated to the rooms he’d borrowed.

~*~*~

Rowan sighed and glanced once more at the bed where Aelin laid, wishing he would see that she had awakened but knowing she would still be sleeping. She had drained so much of her power, and so much of it had been for his sake that he still felt a twinge in his chest if he dwelled on the thought for too long.

The instant Maeve had exposed herself, Aelin had surrounded him with a ring of fire to keep the shadows at bay, dropping the protective shield only when she needed his power to finish what she had set out to accomplish. It was something he would have done for her, if his power had been of a sufficient threat to the dark queen, but a large part of him was embarrassed that he had been surprised enough to require the assistance.

He knew Aelin would never blame him, though, not after all of the revelations she had made that day.

Perhaps the others would believe it if he told them he had been so surprised by the reveal of Maeve as a Valg queen and not Fae at all. She had long been cold and cruel, but she had done such an excellent job of hiding the truth that he knew he would never have guessed. Aelin had, though, and when she woke up he would have to ask her what had given her cause to suspect.

It was likely to be equally believable that he had been stunned into silence and stillness by the gift of his own freedom. He had hoped, certainly, that she would find a way for them to see each other again. The thought of being parted from his carranam forever had been one that he had found unable to bear, and so he had avoided thinking about their inevitable split as much as possible. Perhaps, though, that should have given him cause to guess the revelation that had shocked him beyond all others, the single word that had caused his mind to fall completely silent for the first time in decades.

Mate.

Even as he had heard the word fall from her lips, though, he had known the truth of it. If he was completely honest with himself, part of him had suspected for quite some time, though he had always found yet another excuse, yet another reason to go on believing that he was wrong. Even now it was a struggle to believe that this could all be his.

Had Lyria ever been his true mate? Could Fae have more than one mate through the course of their lives? There was so much he didn’t know. He wasn’t certain if anyone in Doranelle would be able to tell him now. He supposed it didn’t matter now. Regardless of whether she had truly been his mate or whether he had been so terribly, terribly wrong, she was a part of his past that he couldn’t be rid of even if he wished to be. It was lucky, he supposed, that Aelin seemed to understand this, just as he understood the history that had led her to him.

As he had done so many times previously during these three long days, he strode over to the bed where Aelin lay pale and still, one hand reaching out to gently stroke her hair away from her face. This time was different, though, in that she made the softest noise in her sleep and her face turned to rest against his palm.

Rowan felt something within himself crack with the almost-painful joy that filled him with such a simple gesture, and soon he was sitting on the bed beside her. In response, she shifted again, and soon he found himself seated against the head of the bed with her face pressed against his hip and her arm thrown across his thighs. Another happy little sound fell from her lips, and a slight flush returned to her cheeks, and Rowan smiled down at her sleeping form. The movements and the sounds and the color returning to her were all signs that her magic had restored enough for her body to allow itself into a more natural sleep, and when taken together they indicated that she would awaken soon.

As delighted as he was that soon she would be awake, he also felt a small thrill of trepidation. After all, the last conversation they’d had before she left for Doranelle had gone so terribly wrong, all because he’d panicked. The brief conversation they’d had on the way here indicated that he had a lot to make up for. He intended to do so, but he wasn’t sure of the best way to start.

Her hand shifted higher up on his thigh, and he couldn’t quite suppress the resulting shiver. As much pleasure as even such a simple touch brought to him, though, he knew that if he allowed it to continue he would have little interest in actually talking to Aelin once she woke up. He carefully shifted her hand back down to its previous position, lingering for a moment to caress her hair once more before relaxing back against the head of the bed.

She didn’t seem to notice, or react to the movement beyond a tiny little sigh, and he allowed his mind to once more wander to what on earth he could say to her to counteract the way he had once frozen at her touch and then fled. Perhaps the best way to prove his intentions would be beyond what he could express with words, and only time would be able to show that he intended to stay by her side forever.

Aelin’s hand wandered upward again, and he gently caught it in his own, glancing down at her once more and immediately getting lost in turquoise eyes ringed with gold and dancing with wicked humor.

~*~*~

The first thing Aelin had noticed as she began to wake up was the comforting scent of snow-covered pines. For a brief moment, she had wondered if perhaps they had already returned to Terrasen, but as she had opened her eyes to an unfamiliar bed she’d finally recalled what had happened.

Gods, it was embarrassing to realize she had fallen asleep right at the most inopportune moment, though she supposed it was fortunate that it had been with Rowan. Of all people, he would understand the toll that magic could take.

It appeared that he had stayed with her throughout however long she had slept, for she was wrapped around one of his legs with her head pillowed against his hip. She shifted slightly, blushing faintly as the movement caused her hand to brush the inside of his thigh and quickly feigning continued sleep as he moved her hand to a more appropriate placement. It was only a few moments later, though, that she decided she would not be put off so easily. Not when everything had finally come out into the open, not now that they knew they were mates and she knew that he wanted her.

She had waited quite long enough for this.

The second brush of fingers across his leg was far more deliberate, and this time when he took her hand and glanced down at her she didn’t look away, holding his gaze and watching his expression change from bemusement to shock to something so warm she couldn’t help but melt at the sight. Rather than say something truly embarrassing, however, she grinned up at him. “Why, Prince Rowan, I must say this wasn’t quite what I had in mind when you said you were taking me to bed.”

“As much as I would hate to disappoint you, I was hardly going to bed an invalid,” he retorted, though relief was shining clearly in those beautiful green eyes. The rough amusement of his voice was belied by the gentle touch of his fingers in her hair, carefully tucking a stray lock behind her ear.

Aelin sat up with a groan. “How long did I sleep?”

“Three days.” He pulled her into himself, her back to his chest and her hips nested between his thighs, and she turned her head to smile up at him. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his fingertips brushing along her jawline.

“I’m feeling like there’s a promise my mate has yet to follow through with,” she teased, though the suddenly-serious expression on his face caused her own easy smile to falter. “Rowan…”

“How long have you known?”

She supposed that was the easiest question he could’ve started with, though she still drew in a deep breath before replying. “From the moment I fell into your arms after escaping Arobynn Hamel’s home and realized it felt like I was home,” she replied. “I was… I wasn’t certain at first, given that you’ve already been mated, but then the night before I left…”

He grimaced then, and it was her turn to reach up and touch his face. “I panicked, then,” he admitted. “I regretted it almost immediately. And then when I returned—to apologize, or to do something at least to try and make it right, and found you missing, it was like a piece of myself had gone with you.”

“I couldn’t tell you what I was doing,” Aelin said by way of apology. “You would’ve been forced to stop me, by the oath that once bound you.”

“I understand.” His fingers slid under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “But next time you leave in the middle of the night, your only two options are telling me where you’re going or taking me with you. Am I clear?”

“So demanding,” she purred. “Luckily for you, I have no intention of ever being parted from you for any lengthy period of time again if I can help it.”

She leaned in then, determined to finally, finally kiss him, but he stopped her with a gentle hand pressing against her shoulder. “Aelin, I…”

“I know,” she said. “We can talk about it as much as you want later. But right now, I don’t know when we’ll next have a moment like this again, and—”

His lips were on hers then, and rather than attempt to continue the conversation she slid her hand to the back of his head.

She had thought she knew what it was to be kissed. She had done exactly that with Sam on countless moonlit nights, and then once again with Dorian. It had always been pleasant enough before, but Aelin was quickly coming to realize that kissing Rowan could hardly be described by such an inadequate word as pleasant. No, kissing Rowan was everything—his ice colliding with her fire, the sensation both taking her breath away and fanning a flame that resided deep within her core. It was better than she could’ve dreamed—and she had dreamed of this, she could admit it to herself now, had spent long nights twisted in her sheets and waking up gasping at imagined sensations.

He pulled back, just long enough to take a breath, and she couldn’t quite help the noise that escaped her then. Nor could she help the urge to crush her lips to his once more, an urge she succumbed to happily. She tangled her fingers into silver hair, holding him close to her, though he seemed to share her desire to remain close if the arm wrapped around her waist was any indication.

A muscle in her side twinged, and he pulled free of her once more as she winced. Before he could say a word, though, she turned in his embrace, straddling his thighs and resting one hand on each side of his face. “I’m fine, Rowan,” she reassured him. “Better than fine, even, unless you get it into your head to do something as stupid as stop—”

His lips brushed her jaw then, and she couldn’t contain the gasp that left her. She allowed her head to fall to the side as his hands skimmed up her sides, slipping under the fabric of what she belatedly realized was his shirt. “If that is what my queen commands, then I can only obey,” he smirked.

She shivered, and spent a dizzying moment wondering what she would need to do to ensure that he never stopped calling her my queen. “In that case, your queen commands that we not leave this room until we have no other option, or until I say otherwise,” she grinned.

He laughed, the sound all dark tones that resonated deep within her and made her toes curl. “I’ve spent three days wondering what words I needed to say for you to allow me to remain at your side,” he admitted. “But if you would rather I do my persuading with teeth and tongue…”

He nipped at her neck then, the sensation immediately recalling a day in the sparring ring what felt like forever ago, and Aelin moaned. “I think that sounds like a brilliant idea.”

~*~*~

Rowan wasn’t entirely convinced that this wasn’t some sort of dream, even as Aelin leaned in to kiss him again. He had spent so long carefully convincing himself that this very thing wasn’t within the realm of possibility that he almost didn’t know what to do now that it decidedly was.

He wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass him by, however. Gods knew he had squandered enough chances by now.

With that in mind, he carefully flipped them so that Aelin was sprawled on the mattress, golden hair spilling across his pillow in a way he’d been longing to see for longer than he cared to admit. She glanced up at him, lips pursed in a blend of confusion and irritation, but before she could say a word he was kneeling over her and kissing that confused frown away.

Her skin tasted just as he remembered from that one time he had bitten her, all floral jasmine and simmering embers, and it was enough to drive him mad with longing. His hands once more slipped under the shirt that was covering her—his shirt, into which he’d changed her so as to prevent her from sleeping in riding leathers—and she rose to meet his touch, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

The shirt had to go, and it was only a moment’s work to tear it open, leaving her fully exposed to his gaze. He had seen every inch of her before, of course, stolen glances while working to heal her as well as that morning she had gone to look at her own scars. None of those moments compared to this, with her warm and wanting beneath him. The flush of her cheeks spread across her chest as well, accenting the curve of her firm breasts tipped with rose-colored peaks. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, and as his fingertips swept up the plane of her toned stomach and along her ribs she let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a whisper of his name.

He had to taste her again then, and from there he allowed himself to kiss along the curve of her neck and her shoulder before dipping lower. A flick of his tongue over her nipple granted him a startled cry and a breathy please, and he obediently took the hardened nub of flesh into his mouth as his hand stroked back down her side to caress her thigh.

At the barest suggestion from his fingertips she spread her legs for him, and he slid his hand between them, tracing circles on her inner thigh until she was begging him for more with her words as well as her movements, the arch of her hips all the more appealing for its artlessness. Slowly, he allowed his fingers to wander ever closer to the slick skin awaiting him at the juncture of her thighs, not quite allowing himself to touch just yet. Her fingers twisted into his hair in response, tugging sharply enough to make him hiss and glance up at her.

She pulled him towards her once again, and he followed where she led eagerly, kissing her once again. As his tongue brushed against hers, though, he realized that perhaps there was one more thing he needed to say to her before this could carry on any further. “I love you,” he whispered into the skin of her neck, smiling as she shivered in response.

“You love me?” she asked, voice husky from their current activities.

He pulled back, just enough to look into her eyes as he replied. “To whatever end.”

She surged up to meet him then, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she kissed him again and again. “I love you,” she breathed between kisses, “and you are mine.”

It was his turn, then, to shiver at her blatant claim of him. “I am yours,” he agreed, “just as much as you are mine.”

And then he was kissing his way down her body, past her breasts and along her stomach. He had just reached her navel when she seemed to realize his plan with a gasp, her fingers returning to their position in his hair as he finally slid his hands up her thighs to part them further and lowered his head between them.

She tasted just as perfect here as she did everywhere else; perhaps even more so. Even more rewarding than her taste, though, was the sharp cry of his name accompanied by a tug on his hair as he flicked his tongue against her. He laughed against her skin as her hips rose to meet him, allowing his hands to slip under the curve of her hips to pull her ever closer.

Before long, she was alternately praising him and cursing him as he continued to tease the tiny nub of flesh tucked between her thighs, hips almost thrashing in his firm grip. “Please,” she begged, and Rowan glanced up at her to find her chest heaving and her cheeks red from pleasure and exertion. “Rowan, please, I need—”

Her head tossed back with another cry then as he slowly pressed a finger into her, curling it slightly to stroke against her from the inside. “More,” she begged as he licked over her once again, and he obediently added a second finger beside the first. Her hips rolled against his hand and his tongue in an undulating motion, her grip on his hair tightening further and her spare hand sliding up towards her breasts, then faltering and falling to fist in the sheets. Her moans and pleas rose in pitch and in volume, and soon her core was tightening around his fingers and her voice broke on a shout of his name.

He pressed one more kiss against her flesh before she was pulling him up again, and he carefully removed his fingers from her before allowing her to guide him back in for yet another kiss to her lips. Her hands slid down his back, pausing when she reached the trousers he still wore. “These have to go,” she demanded, and he grinned in reply.

“As my queen commands,” he said as his own hand fell to the first of the buttons that fastened the trousers around him.

~*~*~

Aelin was positive that she had died and gone to the Afterworld. It couldn’t be possible to love someone this much, to feel this much pleasure at their touch. She was already falling apart, already burning inside, and they had barely begun.

He definitely knew what he was doing—she had suspected as much, given that she was far from his first, but to believe that and to experience it were different things altogether. She knew that she was far from his level of experience, and though she knew he wouldn’t judge her for it she knew she wanted to at least try to make him feel as good as he was making her feel.

It was this thought that emboldened her enough to wrap her hand around the length of him once he had bared himself for her, stroking once and marveling at the sensation of such soft skin over something so firm. He hissed in response, pressing forward into her grip, and she couldn’t keep a smile from her face. “That feels good?”

He nodded, elongated canines grazing her skin as he nuzzled his face against her neck. Before she could do anything else, though, his fingers encircled her wrist, halting the motion of her hand. “You don’t have to,” he began.

Aelin responded by arching one of her eyebrows. “And if I want to?”

“You wouldn’t rather save this part of yourself, in the event you need to make a more politically expedient union?”

Irritation flared in her then, and she instinctively leaned in and nipped at his neck. “I would rather make my own decisions, and I’ve decided I want to share this with my mate. Though if he keeps being a bird-brained idiot, I might change my mind.”

He laughed then, and she was about to unleash an irritated tirade on him when he simply said, “I suppose that’s fair.”

“I should certainly hope so,” she retorted, cutting off any reply he could’ve made by moving her hand along his length once more and reveling in the resulting gasp.

The minor argument had done nothing to diminish the arousal she felt, and judging by the weight of him in her palm and the lust shimmering in his eyes he felt the same way. She watched as he lowered his head to see the movement of her hand on him, and then suddenly he pulled her close once more in a kiss that stole what was left of her breath away.

His fingers brushed between her thighs once more and she moaned into his mouth, hooking one of her legs around one of his to tug him ever closer. “Please, Rowan,” she pleaded, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears. “Please, I—”

Words failed her then, but he seemed to know precisely what it was she was asking of him regardless. In a smooth motion he braced himself above her with a hand beside her head. The other slid down her side and then moved away to help him guide himself into her.

Gods, and she had thought being filled with his fingers was perfection. This went so far beyond that sensation that she didn’t have the words to describe it even if she had found herself miraculously able to speak. Instead, she whimpered something that sounded vaguely like his name and clutched at his shoulders, feeling the muscles of his upper back ripple as he rolled his hips slowly against hers.

When he was fully inside of her his lips found hers again, and she kissed him back, desperately trying to cling to some semblance of reality. Then he began to move and she was lost.

Her head tossed back, baring her throat to him, and her fingertips dug in at his shoulders at the delightful friction of his thrusts. With a groan, he traced the curve of her neck with his lips and then his teeth, and Aelin slid one of her hands into his hair to keep him there, dragging the nails of her other hand down his back. He growled in response and his hips slammed into her, but his teeth at her neck remained so surprisingly gentle, and the dichotomy of it only fueled the fire burning within her.

She opened her eyes—when had she closed them?—and as she tugged on his hair so she could look into his eyes the fire within her rose up, as hot as the burnout but infinitely sweeter. Keeping her gaze locked on his, she deliberately arched her neck, giving him silent permission to do what he was so clearly longing to.

His teeth sank into the skin of her neck and release crashed over her like a wave, leaving her trembling in his grasp and shouting his name for all the world to hear. His found him soon after, and then it was her turn to hold him as he groaned into her neck and spilled inside of her.

She let out a soft whine as he eased his teeth from her skin and began planting soft kisses over her face and neck. “Gods,” she managed. “I never thought… I couldn’t have imagined…”

“I couldn’t have either,” he admitted, pine-green eyes softer and warmer than she had ever seen them.

A swell of affection rose in her at the sight, and she couldn’t keep it from spilling out into words. “I love you.”

He smiled, truly smiled, and it was like watching the sun rise. “I never thought I would have the privilege of hearing those words from your lips.”

She laughed softly. “It is a privilege, isn’t it?”

He nipped at her neck again, but she only laughed harder. “What would you say,” she asked, “if I told you that my first demand of you as both my mate and my blood-sworn was that we do this as often as we can manage it?”

He chuckled and rolled his hips again, and she gasped with the realization that he had hardly even softened. “I would say we would find it difficult to get any work done,” he replied, and soon after that they were both lost in each other once more and there were no more words.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou

#haven writes #rules of engagement #rowaelin

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