#as i often feel dizzy and easily tired after a short walk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

husbandohunter · 4 years ago

Note

You know ur small predicament post?? you should make a reverse version where s/o is smaller!

A Smaller Predicament [Genshin Impact x Smol!Reader]

Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo

Synopsis: Not only did you shrink, you went pocket sized as well!

(A sequel to "A Small Predicament")

(A/n): Sorry for the long wait anon, and I kind of added a twist to the scenario for more diversity hahaha hope you don't mind >_<. And why is Childe the poster boy for this series lmao.

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

Childe

When Childe walks in, he doesn't see you....until he looked down. He almost crunched you beneath his feet if it weren't for your constant flailing of arms and screeching voice. He blanks out for a hot minute as you clung onto his toes, doesn't dare to move an inch because he's so petrified (even though there's nothing to be afraid of??). But honestly if Childe moved right now, he might accidentally flail you to the side and that's the last thing he wants.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU??" He screamed so loud it nearly blew you out of proportion. Seems like he's going to have alot of adjusting to do. Childe is a tall man (canonically the tallest) and he knows how impulsive he can get which is why he bought a handmade dollhouse from one of the Liyue merchants for you to stay in.

Though there's something about your tiny size that makes his heart flutter. With your face so small with a pair of eyes far too big, *clutches chest* "My oujo-chan is so cute" -Childe probably. He won't stop saying them over again and you were growing tired of his gushing reactions. He can't help it. He wants to spoil you rotten. You fit right onto the flat of his palms, the way you just snuggle up againts his finger and he just- swoons, might tear up (bruh).

Toys may be for kids but for Childe it was now his favourite pass time. While you navigate around the wooden dollhouse, he pitches in by moving around the furniture to make it easier for you. Offers to carry you through the rooms like a personal elevator. And please, please let him tuck you to bed. He has to pinch his fingers to grab the blanket. It's so adorable to him.

Loves it when you snuggle up against his collar. He thinks it would be the best area for you to be nearby him since the risk of you getting hit by anything (or him) by accident is very slim chance. Sometimes he pulls up his collar so that you're more comfortable and cradled within. He would have to avert his eyes down rather than turning his head if he wanted to look at you otherwise you'd be hit by his chin and that would hurt.

The poking sensation with you by his neck can bother him since he's veeeery tickilish there. Plus, Childe can get easily sweaty so have fun with that.

You have a feeling that he wasn't so pleased when you transformed back. You might be right. Actually, you are right. He secretly has an extra potion hidden somewhere...just in case.

Diluc

Mortified, his soul just left his body. To think things couldn't get any worse ever since he turned into a child to the point no one took him seriously, now you're literally the size of an apple. Oh god what if his bird suddenly swoops in and gobbles you right up? Or the wrath of the wind comes by, swirling you away towards a tornado. Needless to say, Diluc grew paranoid over your well-being ever since.

Due to your extremely small size, he will ensure that you are supervised by him (except at night where he has places to go). In otherwords, you're slipped into the inner pocket of his coat. It's super warm, you can fall asleep (and feel his heartbeat awww). Diluc doesn't like keeping you in places where people can see you, it would be too easy for outer things to access your tiny form (or maybe he secretly likes the feeling of you in his pocket.)

And he's such a gentleman about it. You noticed how careful he moves among his footsteps because he's worried that you might get dizzy. Diluc guards the pocket at close parameter, keeping an eye on things so he won't bump into them. As if he was treading on thin ice (you even suggested it was best to leave you home but he's too overprotective for his own good).

You're like his little assistant. Diluc does so much paperwork through out the day and although the act was small, he finds it endearing how you would help bring the papers back to it's rightful pile or pushing the ink bowl towards him. Or during his shifts at Angel's Share, crawling around the glass utensils and trying to find a specific wine beverage on his shelf. Of course that only happens when the shop is closed, how is he going to explain to his patrons that you shrank and now live in his pocket?

He dislikes the thought of you wandering too far. It's so easy for you to get lost especially when the mansion is so large.

At night you now sleep atop the fluff of the pillow. Diluc is a calm sleeper so he won't have to worry about hitting into you. However he radiates warmth so you just subconicously roll towards to his face. He usually wakes up with you sprawled over his nose. He can hardly breath (careful, he might just sneeze too).

This all happened because of the experiements you participated with Albedo. Diluc ensures that doesn't happen again. It will take some tencaious effort to convince him otherwise.

Scaramouche

Fuck this guy. He treats you like his new pet, a new toy (though you technically are one). He has this arrogant, smug and sadistic look as if he was a predator looking at his prey and grabs you by the collar before dangling you up in the air.

"Hmph, looks like the tables have turned," he says while toying with your state. You tell him he's just angry because he's short himself and mad that everyone else in the Fatui organization is taller than him. Scaramouche demon face activated. He's about to devour you. (Maybe you should keep your mouth shut this time. Honestly your relationship with him is pretty weird).

His hat is so fun to play with. You'd swing around like Tarzan using the strings that were hanging from it. His head was your playground now which annoys him to an enourmous extent because it makes him look ridiculous. Scaramouche will have a hard time catching you since you move around so much. Climb around him, especially the back of his neck. He'll start wheezing when you tickle him there.

The type to put you in a box but also the type to keep you on his shoulders. Being relied on makes him feel taller (lmfao). Scaramouche seemse to have developed a habit to poke your cheeks whenever he needed your attention and you bit him back once when he pushed too hard that you nearly fell off. Despite your size, your teeth still hurt. He threatens to put you back into the box if you don't behave and the outcome ends with a full out brawl as he tries to grab you again while you run around, pulling the strands of his hair to climb on top of his hat. (This is literally Tom and Jerry wtf.)

After transforming back, he outwardly admits his disappointmen. Scaramouche says it suits you better (when he actually meant that he highly prefers you small). You marked his words, keeping an extra vial for your own entertainment in the near future.

Xiao

Xiao was face-palming against his forehead real hard about this. For the love of Rex Lapis, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time? First it was the child incident, now you're the size of his finger? Good grief, looks like he will have to keep an eye on you from now on but at the same time he's scared to get too close, you are nothing but a tiny mortal in which he would have to double his effort to look after.

He lets you sit at the crown of his head rather than anywhere else. You insisted since it was easier to see everything at a nice distance (plus he's short so you won't have to worry about him bumping into door frames). You noticed that Xiao also has a little strand sticking out from the center (ahoge) and you sometimes grab onto it for stability. Turns out he's quite sensitive there and winces when you pull too hard.

For the remaining week as the antedote was being prepared, Xiao became extremely aggressive over your well-being, he looks as if he's ready to massacre everything in his way...which he did. Clears out the monsters off the path before going on daily strolls with you, you wouldn't have to lift a finger from now on. No one except for him is allowed to hold you unless they're a trustworthy person. You could feel his sharp eyes glued on you like a hawk when walking into the grasp of Zhongli's hand.

You once accidentally tripped into his almond tofu when he wasn't looking and he almost ate you. Turns out being small made his job as your gaurdian ten times harder (especially when you're the clumsy type). If you were to fall off the table, he would have to catch you right? Xiao often bumps into furnitures in the process...ouch!

He's very soft. It's all over his forehead, his mouth, his eyes. When he looks at you, his tense eatures melted away and there's an invisible fondness over them as he cradles you in his palm. The way you snuggle in them is lke the most precious thing in the world.

When you turn back, there's a wave of relief. He was really stressed out you know?

Zhongli

His first thought is to get you as far as he can from the Funeral Parlour before Hu Tao finds you. Who knows what that child might have in mind. Zhongli takes one of his empty tea pots and urges you to go inside, or carries a tea cup with you in it, he likes placing you on objects while carrying you around.

Zhongli realizes that you can no longer use the household items like before so he has to remake them to your standards- especially when he realized he doesn't have the mora to buy you a dollhouse. He improvises. Takes a handkerchief to make your blanket, his cups for your bathtub, Zhongli had to cut the foot into byte-sized too. But in terms of clothes, well he had to make them as well. Living thousands of years would mean he would have lot of experience. Sewing was one of them luckily. But that would mean he has to take your measurements as well. In the end, most of the things he made were dresses since they were alot easier.

You like to sneak in between his shirt and his vest tucked behind the coat he wears. Unfortunately Zhongli doesn't seem to have visible pockets (most likely the reason why he doesn't carry mora either), though if you don't hold on tight you might just slip down his vest and right to his stomach. It makes him chuckle when that happens even if the amount of effort to get you out took more than he thought since his attire is quite complicated to put on. If you really want to climb on him, he'll find a seperate pouch (but realizes it won't be a good idea when there's alot of pick-pocketers in Liyue streets).

All of a sudden he reads you bedtime stories. It's some sort of inner instinct that tells him he's taking care of a child now (he's right though). You realized that his voice was equivalent to a thunder's roar due to size difference. He would have to whisper now.

It will always be part of his precious memories when you turned pocket-sized. Zhongli still keeps the clothing he made somewhere in his closets too.

Kaeya

Amused by this eventful situation. Absolutely thrilled! He's not evil like Scaramouche but this new version of his s/o is both adorable and fun at the same time. You're so easy to tickle, just one poke using his finger against your hips makes you yelp. Sometimes he twirls your hair or taps your forehead gently despite your protest, he's so handsy like always in an affectionate yet annoying way.

Kaeya picks you up and places you among the fluffy comfort of his feathery scarf. You sneezed, the last time he cleaned it was before he went on a mission with the knights. Though you have to admit, it's the best feeling in the world. It's so soft you might sink deeper into the fabric. He likes to put you in places where he can talk to you easily, sometimes on the table while he downs on his wine. Normally you have to take the bottle away before it gets too much, now you have to push it away which he finds very entertaining at your futile attempts.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" you tell him. Since you turned byte-sized, he can't seem to stop playing around. Takes his two fingers and pretends they're legs walking across the surface. You would turn around and he halts, Kaeya sends you his signature grin. When he promises that he wouldn't do anything funny, you would let him hold you. Since hugs are out of the equation, Kaeya gives you his finger instead to wrap your arms around. He can't get enough seeing you like this, things he couldn't do when you were normal-sized. he enjoys your reactions way too much.

His favourite pass time is helping you brush your hair because the hairbursh is too big for you to handle. Kaeya ensure he's handling things delicately but he would love to help style it for you as well. Pretty please? At this point one request turns to another because he's having way too much fun. But it couldn't be helped since you would need his assistance in almost everything so there's really no escaping.

You were so happy when things were normal again but Kaeya would bring this up again during your conversations (how next time he would like to put you in his drinks while you're wearing a swim suit).

Albedo

Legit blurted out if he could put you on a hamster wheel.

What about trying out the little maze he just made?

Or participating in a race against slimes of different elements?

No? Okay, then he'll just turn you back.

Albedo isn't going deal with this as along as he can help it (especially when he remembers what Klee did to him when he turned small.)

5K notes · View notes

duskholland · 4 years ago

Note

hi ! could i request a prof!tom smut where the reader gets tired of tom teasing her w his sexy outfits in class (literally still crying over the black turtleneck) and so for payback she wears like a short skirt and a crop top or something and right after class , he f*cks her in in his office 😳

the turtleneck :D this is very nsfw -- minors dni!! smut under the cut.

prof!tom fever night

extended warnings ↠ breeding kink, sir kink, rough unprotected sex, hair pulling. a bit of degradation (calls her a whore once). please practice safe sex!!!

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Professor Holland’s eyes are on you, firm, unmoving, and as minutes stretch together, you find yourself moving uncomfortably in your chair. The skirt you’re wearing isn’t long enough to cover the full length of your thighs, and your skin rubs against the coarse plastic of the chair as you shift from side to side, squeezing your legs together as you try to control your arousal.

Tom looks incredibly hot, and it’s his fault that you’re in this position to begin with. He’s been teasing you, every week for the past two months, strolling into class wrapped up in a delectable outfit that makes your thoughts plummet. He’d started out with tight t-shirts but had soon seemed to realise that you find the long-sleeved ones more attractive—something about the allure of seeing his figure compressed by soft fabrics, his muscles bulging out prominently and seductively against the material. You’d begged him to stop teasing you, only for him to smirk and continue it every time.

So, you’d had enough. You’d decided that if Tom was going to tease you, you’d tease him back. Before leaving your flat this morning, you’d slipped into a skirt and a small t-shirt. Professor Holland likes them—you know he does: he’d told you as much as he’d fucked you the other week, needy hands pawing at the plaid material as he’d groaned into your neck. Just the memory has you shifting around in your seat.

Tom’s reaction when you’d walked into class with the skirt flapping around your thighs had told you that you’re in for it. If there weren’t already students in the room, you know from the glint in his eye that he would’ve bent you over his desk right there and then and taken you. Instead, Tom’s been resigned to extended staring and a clenched jaw. He’d had to sit behind his desk when you’d feigned a yawn and let your arms stretch above your head, the material of your t-shirt springing up and the outline of your bare nipples straining through the shirt.

“Well, everybody, I’m feeling particularly generous today, so I think I’ll let you go early,” Tom speaks, voice gravelly. His lips twitch into a small smile when the students around you release sounds of appreciation. “Have a good weekend.”

Tom doesn’t even have to look at you for you to know that he wants you to stay behind. You’re so used to him now that you know to pack away your things, then walk to the door and lock it. When you turn back to face him, you startle as you see him already standing, hands on his hips as he glares at you.

“And what, exactly, do you think you’re doing?” he asks, slowly walking from beyond the desk. He’s in the outfit that started this ridiculous teasing, all those weeks ago: black turtleneck, striped dark trousers. With his hair swooped out of his face and his watch hanging from his wrist, you find yourself gulping as he carefully strides towards you.

“Nothing?” you try, smiling innocently. Pushing away from the door, you let your fingers float down to the hem of your skirt. “Do you like it?” you ask, raising a brow. You do a short twirl. “I put it on just for you, sir.”

Professor Holland growls, and a moment later, he reaches out and grabs at your wrist. Your head spins, a little dizzy from your show, and you’re glad for his iron-clad grasp as he hauls you over to the desk at the front of the room.

“No, darling, I don’t like it,” he murmurs. He bends you over the desk with ease, your palms resting over the front of the cool wood as he smooths his hands over your ass. Easily, Tom flips your skirt up, and you find yourself moaning as he grabs handfuls of your flesh. “Do you think this was funny, eh?” he coos, voice dark. “Did you think this was a good idea? Walking into class in that tiny little skirt and top. You know I could see your nipples through your shirt, yeah? Everyone else could too.”

You moan softly when he steps closer and you feel his cock pushing through the front of his slacks. “I know,” you say. You pause to bite your lip as you feel him step back, then hear the metallic sound of his belt unbuckling. “I did it as payback.”

“For what?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“All those outfits you wear,” you murmur. You gasp as Tom knocks your legs apart and roughly pushes you down, your covered nipples pressing into the front of the desk. You look back, craning your neck until you’re able to smirk at him. “Thought if you drive me mad wearing that,” you say, inclining your head towards his turtleneck, “I’d get revenge. Did it work?”

“Am I mad?” When you nod, Tom chuckles. There’s a deep red flush to his face, and your eyes gravitate down to his cock as he pumps it in his hand. With nimble fingers, Tom knocks your thighs apart, spreading them with ease. He plays with your cunt, toying with your bud for a few moments before slipping two fingers into your hole. As your walls pulse around him, he easily works you open, licking his lips with his pink tongue. “You could say that I’m mad, darling. Yeah.”

Without further warning, Tom swaps out his fingers for his cock. You moan loudly as he slides into you roughly, the ache making your eyes roll back. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust, instead, just reaches up and pushes his wet fingers into your mouth. Your taste bleeds out across your tongue as he starts to thrust into you. Your walls, warm and pulsing, slowly stretch to accommodate him, leaving you a writhing mess on his desk as he fucks you ruthlessly.

“Did you… Did you know how fucking hard I was all lesson, darling?” he murmurs, voice hard, lusting. He moves his free hand onto your waist, the other still weighing down your tongue, gagging you. “My cock was aching for you, sweetheart. Couldn’t stop thinking about bending you over the desk ‘n taking you in front of everyone.” Tom pauses, chuckling coolly when you moan. “I felt you clench then, darling. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like everyone else to know what a little whore you are for your professor.”

You can barely think, too lost in lust as each slam of his crotch against your ass releases the sound of your arousal into the air. As his tip catches against your g-spot and continuously stimulates your most sensitive area, you feel yourself swelling near to an orgasm.

Finally, Tom pulls his hand from your mouth, stopping briefly to smear your saliva over your lips. His hand goes into your hair, pulling on it until you groan.

“Professor,” you whine, voice broken and breathless. “Touch my clit, please,” you beg. “Want to cum.”

He reaches down, easily doing as you request and grunting when he feels you clench in response. You can feel your climax burning in you, churning in the pit of your stomach, threatening to burst free as you try to control the volume of your cries.

“Darling,” he murmurs, voice thick. He’s fucking you so hard and so fast, your eyes rolled back. “I’m going to cum in this pussy,” he warns. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you feel me for days.” He presses your hips further into the table as you writhe, holding you in place as you receive waves upon waves of unrelenting pleasure. “You want me to fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, on the verge.

Tom growls. “My little needy thing,” he murmurs. “Cum for me, love. Let me feel you squeeze around me.”

You dissolve a few moments later, losing grip on the table as you climax with a loud moan. Your chest heaves, nipples brushing over the desk as Tom ruts into you, chasing a high that he’s rewarded with a few moments after you. The sensation of his fingers rubbing your clit coupled with the feeling of his cock pulsing as he empties his load into you makes you spasm, your high stretching out for several moments as he fucks you through it. You only come down when Tom pulls out from you, your cunt aching in the most delicious way, clenching around his cum.

Tom hauls you up from the desk with ease, pushing you up and onto the table before cupping your face in his clean palm and observing your face carefully for signs of damage.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, running his thumb over your lower lip. You kiss the tip of it and Tom bites at his lip, leaning down so he can kiss you. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, still breathless but able to appreciate his turtleneck with your fingers. When he pulls back, he’s smirking. “If I’d known you like my jumper so much, I’d have worn it more often,” Tom teases.

You roll your eyes, shivering as aftershocks pang across you. “If you wear it anymore than you currently do, I think I’ll go crazy.”

He brings his lips up to touch your nose, tenderly leaving a kiss to its tip. “Maybe that’s what I want, eh?”

“You want me to go crazy?”

Tom shakes his head. “No,” he says. “But I do want to spend more time with you in here, fucking you against my desk.”

You chuckle, biting your lip as you look back up at him. You can feel his cum slowly dripping from you, warm and thick.

“If you want that to happen, all you have to do is ask.”

#im feeling things #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader smut #professor!tom smut #prof!tomfic #tom.filth #smut #myblurbs #tomblurbs #q

607 notes · View notes

arvinsescape · 3 years ago

Text

Snapped tension.

A/N: Okay, so a few people wanted a Part 2 of the BBQ blurb. (Found here). I also wanted to write it, so here we go. I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: You’ve been best friends with Tom for years and you’d had a few moments of tension throughout your relationship and it finally snaps.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (unprotected sex, wrap it up, condoms are a very good barrier from many things, such as unplanned pregnancy and STI’s), Oral (Fem! R). Minors do not engage.

“Okay, I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.” Harry yawned, you’d been sat around the firepit for a while now, chatting mindlessly, none of you were sure what time it was.

Most people hummed in agreement.

“I’m not tired.” Tom whispered in your ear and you shivered. “Wanna come back to mine? It’s closer. Night cap?” He asked and you nodded.

As you and Tom got up to leave, you saw Grace shoot you a wink, you bit your lip with a smirk in reply. The walk back to Tom’s was short, he might have travelled the world but he never moved too far away from his mum and dad’s house.

“Ladies first.” Tom said as he held the door open for you.

“Such a gentleman.” You teased.

You were sat in his living room, sat closely, the tension back and thick in the air as you looked at one another.

“Do you mind if I go for a shower? I can smell the smoke on me?” You asked in a low voice. Tom hummed in response as he nodded his head.

Tom had decided he was also going to shower and used the guest shower whilst you used the one in his en-suite. Tom finished before you did and when you entered his bedroom, he was in nothing but his boxers, your towel wrapped around you.

You felt your heart beat racing as he looked at you, freshly showered and topless, he looked so good. He’d been driving you wild all day, you felt yourself grow wetter as you looked at him, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

“I much prefer that outfit on you.” Tom said as he moved closer towards you.

“Likewise.” You said, your mouth had gone dry, god he was gorgeous.

He stood in front of you as you looked up at him through your lashes, you wanted to kiss him so badly. You looked at each other for a while, eyes flicking between each other’s eyes and lips.

“I swear we’ve been here once before.” Tom whispered, lips grazing yours. You stood frozen waiting for him to make a move. “Do you want me to kiss you princess?” He asked and you frantically nodded, the heat between the two of you rising.

Tom captured your lips in his, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before he took it between his teeth and pulled back from you slightly before releasing it.

“You have no idea, how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He spoke again, lips still ghosting yours and you couldn’t stop yourself as you practically jumped on him, lips meeting his in a hot and heavy kiss. Tom wasted no time in pinning you to the wall, hands had a firm grip on your waist as yours found his hair and he groaned as you tugged slightly.

“Can I tell you something else?” He asked as you nodded your head. “I was so gutted that night we almost slept together but never did. I’ve dreamt about making you feel good, having you fall apart on my tongue, fingers, cock so many times.” He said and you felt hot, so incredibly hot with his words.

He nipped at you neck as you moaned, he took the towel you were wearing and ripped it off, it fell to the floor. His leg moving between your own as you ground down almost pathetically against his thigh.

“You’re so wet. Wanna taste you.” He said as he kissed down your body, getting on his knees for you as his hands found your hips again. He placed a string of kisses across your hip bone as your breathing grew harder, you had been waiting for this for a long time, that tension between the two of you snapping as he nudged his nose against your clit.

You let out a moan as he licked a smooth stripe with the flat of his tongue through your folds.

“Taste so good.” He mumbled before he dived in, lifting your leg as he put it over his shoulder, hands firmly on your hips as he pinned you to the wall. Your head thrown back against it.

“Shit, Tom.” You moaned as he nuzzled into your wet heat, nose nudging your clit as you tried to grind against his face but couldn’t because of his firm grip on your hips. “Feels so good.” You moaned and he groaned into you as you gripped his hair again.

He continued his almost expert licking and sucking on your clit as he brought you towards your high, he took one hand from your hip and trailed it along your thigh, only adding to the sensation. He trailed his fingers up and down your raised thigh, nudging your entrance every so often and you wished he’d just plunge them in, fuck you with them.

“Tom, please.” You begged, it was pathetic and you knew it, you were so needy for him. “Please I need your fingers.” You said as your entrance tightened around nothing. Tom groaned again and slid his fingers easily into your heat, you moaned at the contact as you tightened around them.

Tom moved his free hand to grasp your breast in his hand and you took the opportunity to grind against his tongue, you felt dizzy as your orgasm approached, this was the best oral you’d recieved in so long. He sucked your clit as his fingers stroked your g spot and you cried out.

He moaned as you tightened around his fingers, your orgasm washing over you as he fucked you through it, hand moving to hold you steady as your legs shook. When you came down from your high, he placed kisses up your body before landing his lips back on your own, the taste of yourself making you moan as you panted heavily against him.

“Did so good for me. Fuck you sound hot, hotter than I’d imagined.” He said as he ran a hand up your body, cupping your cheek. “So fucking pretty.” He kissed your cheek as your breathing returned to normal.

Once you were ready again, you pulled his boxers down as he kicked them out of the way, you looked him straight in the eye as you spat on your hand before grasping his hard cock in your hand, wetting it thoroughly and Tom’s eyes widening slightly.

“Such a filthy thing aren’t you?” He said as you pumped his cock a few times. His eyes blown completely wide with lust. “Gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.” He said as he lifted you, legs wrapping around his waist as he entered you easily. “So fucking wet.” He said as he gave you a moment to adjust to him.

“Tom, please move.” You begged as you moved your hips slightly into his. Your wish was seemingly his command as he drew his hips from your own before snapping them back into yours, eliciting a moan from you. He grasped your hands in his, pinning your wrists above your head in one hand as the other grasped your thigh.

You were both breathing heavily and moaning as Tom fucked you into the wall. The cold wall a stark contrast to your hot body. Tom adjusted himself slightly until he found your spot again, making sure to hit it with every thrust, your head falling onto his shoulder as you moaned, feeling your second orgasm approach. He felt you tighten around him and moaned.

“Shit, that feels amazing.” He groaned as he continued to fuck up into you. His lips finding your throat as he sucked harshly at the skin, sure to leave a mark. He dropped your wrists as he pinned you completely to the wall with his hands on your hips, your hands finding his back as you clawed at it, you’d never had sex like this.

“Tom, I’m gonna come.” You said as your head found his shoulder again, his lips finding your ear as he nibbled at the lobe.

“Come for me baby.” He spoke, voice dripping with lust as you released your orgasm, it washed over you in the best way. Moaning his name as your fingernails dug into his back and this spurred his release. “Fuck, Y/N.” He moaned as you felt hot streams of his come paint your heat.

His head found the crook of your neck as you both came down from your highs, he placed kisses against your neck and shoulder as he held you through the aftershocks of your orgasm. He was resting most of his weight on you and you embraced it, wanting him as close as possible.

“Probably gonna need another shower after that.” Tom laughed into your neck and a wave of exhaustion and emotions came over you that you couldn’t explain. You’d both finally done it, let that tension snap and now you wondered where it left you. He was still inside you as a tear slipped down your cheek and onto his back.

“Hey.” He said as he pulled back to look at you worried look in his eye. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He panicked as he placed his hand on your face, smoothing his thumb over your cheek.

“No,” you shook your head as a few tears fell from your eyes. “I don’t want this to change anything.” You spoke quietly as Tom studied you, concerned look on his face.

“Baby, this changes everything.” He said softly as he rested his forehead against your own. “I hope this means we can be more.” He said as he kissed at your tears.

“I’ve liked you for so long Tom, I just. I’m sorry I don’t know what happened, a lot of emotions all at once I think.” You laughed lightly and Tom smiled as he kissed you again.

“I’ve liked you for ever, Y/N/N, for as long as I can remember.” He said, the three words were on the tips of both of your tongues, neither brave enough to say it yet. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.” He said as he carried you into the bathroom.

Once you were showered and dressed in one of his shirts he pulled you into his chest as he kissed the top of your head, both of you tangled up in bed.

“Can I take you on a proper date?” He asked quietly as he ran a hand through your hair. You grinned up at him.

“I think that sounds like a really good idea.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine

185 notes · View notes

merakiaes · 4 years ago

Text

In The Heat Of The Moment - Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Requested: By @forgottenword

Prompts: #3 from the common trope-list.

Warnings/notes: Unprotected sex. Wrap it before you tap it, kids. I’m extremely bad at writing smut so I apologize in advance for the shitty quality😩 I want to stress that my smut requests are CLOSED, this was an only exception because I liked the concept, so please don’t send in smut requests because hey will be deleted. This turned out a lot longer than I planned but oh well. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think. Thank you <3 NOT PROOFREAD

Wordcount: 7175

Summary: When having a fever and being caught in the rain, you’re bound to be freezing and in need of heat. And what better way to get warmed up than by sharing a bed with your boss?

You and Aaron Hotchner had never gotten along as well as co-workers should in your line of work. You were great agents, great people, when you were separated. But when you were together… Well, let’s just say that it was never a pretty sight.

You had joined the BAU around the same time and despite only being beginners back then, you were both great at what you did. But putting you together on your first job was everything but a match made in heaven.

You were a bit younger than him and you were used to being criticized by men your entire life, so when working with Hotch turned out to be no different, you became competitive and determined to show your worth to him and your fellow agents.

You could easily just shoot your enemy if you ever felt threatened in the field, but when it came to Hotch, your co-worker, your only line of defense was your quick-witted sarcasm.

In Hotch’s eyes, you behaved like a child from the start and he wanted nothing more than to just have you transferred, but the longer you worked together, the more used to it he got.

He still didn’t like it though, not one bit, but it was bearable back when you’d had Gideon to step in and calmly settle your differences whenever those popped up. Which, let’s be honest, was often.

But now he was gone and Hotch had stepped up to take the leading position, and even though you hadn’t been interested in that position, yourself, you hated that he now had the higher ground and the perfect shot to make your life a living hell just like you had, knowingly, made his.

If you wanted to go to the crime scene, he sent you to question potential witnesses. If you wanted to question potential witnesses, he sent you to the crime scene. If you specifically asked to do something, he made you do the exact opposite and if you specifically asked not to do something, that’s exactly what he forced you to do. And now that he was your superior rather than your equal, you were in no place to argue, no matter how much you wanted to.

You wouldn’t go as far as to say you hated each other; you respected him and he respected you, but you just couldn’t stand each other and the way the two of you always seemed to criticize the other’s capability of getting the job done.

He always underestimated you and condescendingly shook his head at your every move, and you just couldn’t help but run your mouth about how he did everything wrong when you were with him.

It could be amusing to see you bicker, to say the least, but eventually, the team was starting to get tired of the way your disagreements and inability to work together was constantly threatening to ruin the case, so they were more than relieved when, finally, the two of you were beginning to settle down.

When Haley filed for a divorce, you were the only one on the team who didn’t change your entire persona. While the others walked on eggshells around him, always afraid to say the wrong thing and make him snap, you remained your usual big-mouthed, snarky self, never letting him catch a break.

Up until then, you had never been anything other than a major pain in his ass, but under these circumstances, the fact that you didn’t go out of your way to feel sorry for him provided a kind of security for him.

You approached him about it once after a case on which he had shown himself more agitated and reckless than usual, telling him that he could talk to you if he wanted to, but after that, you just left him alone to deal with everything the way he wanted to.

Knowing he had the support but also being given the choice to choose on his own rather than having the support forced upon him was just what he needed and in your own, dysfunctional way, you grew closer because of it.

He started to willingly take you along during cases while he sent the others to deal with other aspects, as opposed to the past where the last thing he wanted was to be stuck with just you, knowing you’d find some way to go against his wishes just to spite him.

He’d always known that you were a great person and an even greater agent and profiler, even though he would never admit it out loud, but it was only after his divorce that he really came to see you in a different light.

However, despite his newfound fondness of you, there were still rules to be followed; ones he, as a leader, could not look past if broken.

One of the most important rules were that you couldn’t get attached or emotionally involved in a case. Being able to remain objective was of the utmost importance in order to not risk jeopardizing the entire investigation and this specifically, you’d never had a problem with.

You felt for the families and victims of course, but you knew that in order to do your job, you had to close yourself off to the grief they were feeling. Struggling with this was more common for the others on the team, but you did alright.

But then there was the rule that emphasized the importance of staying at home or at least in the office if you ever happened to get sick, and the most important rule, at least for you, not to lie or go against your boss’s orders. And you had broken both of them.

It had started out with a light cough and a runny nose; nothing too alarming seeing as it could easily pass for allergies, which just so happened to be the excuse you used when confronted about it.

Eventually the cough disappeared and your nose dried up, leading you to believe that the excuse you had been telling everyone for three days straight could actually be the truth, but then came the fever, out of nowhere in the middle of the night.

You laid awake trembling and sweating through your sheets both at the same time, and yet, you pulled your ass out of bed the next morning and got to work, completely ignoring the fact that you were obviously not well.

And as was only natural, the light fever got worse and brought several other complications with it as you kept pushing yourself in the field. You became short of breath easier and your ears started hurting, bringing back the terrible memories from your childhood back when you’d get the worst ear infections on a frequent basis for years.

But you’d just been invited into a new case, one that took longer than they usually did and one that you just so happened to get attached to, against your better judgement. You kept getting sicker and you tried your hardest to hide it, because you just couldn’t leave your team in those desperate times.

You were also, as you always had been, too stubborn to admit the fact that you needed help and rest, and so you sucked it up and pretended that you were fine, something that seemed to go unnoticed as the others were just as caught up in the job and determined to get to the bottom of the case as you were.

And you did, get to the bottom of it, as you always did. You solved the case, identified and tracked down the unsub and went in for the arrest.

Hotch and Prentiss went around the back and you and Reid went in through the house while Morgan and Rossi stood by the police cars, waiting for Hotch’s orders to come in.

You and Reid were the ones to find the man first, catching him off-guard and holding him at gunpoint until Hotch and Prentiss appeared from the back and handcuffed him.

You were able to complete the arrest and save the hostage before anything could happen to her, and luckily, the state you were in hadn’t affected the case nor your ability to work.

But once everything was safe, you subconsciously let down the façade you had been putting on for the past few days and as you walked out of the house, a sudden wave of dizziness hit you and sent you falling to the ground before you had even reached the cars.

Morgan, having had his eyes on you when you walked out, was the first one to witness it and rushed to your side, alerting your fellow team members. By then, you were knocked out cold from the exhaustion and as the medics at the scene rushed up, they noted aloud that you had a very high fever and had to get to the hospital.

You were rushed there in the ambulance that had originally been for the hostage should she have needed to be treated, and as you laid unconscious, Hotch sat by your side, glaring at you despite the fact that you couldn’t even see it.

Luckily, your carelessness hadn’t come in the way of the case as you hadn’t hit rock bottom until it was all over, but in a worst case scenario it could’ve affected your ability to properly do your job which was exactly why the rules said you couldn’t work when sick.

But despite the fact that everything had worked out, you had gone against the rules by hiding your sickness and working despite it, which was the sole reason of your sudden collapse and also the reason that Hotch was now forced to drive all the way back to Quantico as the doctor hadn’t cleared you for flying with your ear infection, and it was safe to say that he was not happy about it.

“You put the entire team in danger today.” He spoke for the first time since you had sat down in the car, in which you had been seated for the past forty minutes.

Forty, painfully slow minutes of thick and tense silence, both of you just waiting in dread for the argument that was sure to come.

But even then, now that the silence had been broken, you didn’t feel any better.

“I know.” You replied simply from where you sat beside him in the passenger seat.

You stared out the window lazily, slumped in your seat and breathing slowly, each breath fogging up the glass and dimming the view of the darkening sky outside.

Your ears picked up on the sound of crunching leather, no doubt being caused by Hotch’s grip tightening on the steering wheel. “Is that all you have to say?” He asked bitterly. Annoyance was radiating off of him and the tone in his voice only made its existence more evident.

An unintentional sigh of exhaustion left your lips and for the first time, you dared to turn your head to look at him. “What do you want me to do?” You asked. “I made a mistake and I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” He wasted no time in answering, not even bothering to look at you, and this time you could see with your own eyes how his grip on the wheel hardened, his knuckles turning white.

You turned your attention back to the window and let out another long breath through your nose, but Hotch was nowhere near finished.

“What if your fever had caused you to black out in the middle of the arrest? You could’ve been ambushed from behind, too weak to fight back, and died. Reid would’ve been on his own, without backup, and could’ve died.”

Once again you turned your head to look at him, your face wiped free of emotion as you stared into his side profile.

“It’s of the utmost importance that we’re always on top of our game. We can not afford to take chances like these. You can’t-“ He sighed, sparing you the briefest of glances. “You can’t lie to me, to us, about the state of your health. By doing so, not only are you endangering yourself, but you’re endangering us all. The team, and the hostages. I won’t be able to look past this, my hands will be tied of it comes down to an evaluation.”

He wanted you to feel guilty and you understood, because you knew that you had been stupid and reckless and that you had behaved inappropriately and done what you just couldn’t do in this line of work. But no matter how deep and thick the guilt settled in the pit of your stomach, you knew his threats of ‘not being able to look past it’ were empty.

After all, he had done the exact same thing on more than one occasion since the divorce; gotten so indulged in the case at hand that he had recklessly and inappropriately broken protocol, because of which he had taken a lot of heat lately.

But still, the string you were still holding on to, the string of getting to keep your job, was short and weak, and the only thing keeping you quiet, something Hotch was taking full advantage of.

He kept scolding you for at least five more minutes, but you weren’t listening to any of it, too distracted by the painful pressure in your ears and completely out of it, barely even able to hang on to reality in your disoriented and feverish state.

The heat in the car was cranked up to the max, and yet you were shivering in your seat, shrinking back into your thin sweater as far as you could in a desperate attempt to preserve your bodily heat.

But no matter how hot your skin was to the touch, you were freezing, and it wasn’t until the weather outside took a complete three-sixty turn, forcing Hotch to put his disapproving scolding on hold in order to concentrate on not driving you into a ditch in the blinding rain, that he took the time to take note of your state.

In any other case you would’ve been all too aware of his eyes on you, but right now, you could barely even stay awake.

The pain in your ears was for the most part gone for the moment, but the fever only seemed to have gotten worse, and it showed in more ways than one. And it was in the way you had barely said a word to him, which was a near never-occurring thing, that Hotch realized that you really weren’t well.

An unsure silence fell as a blanket over the car for a moment as his eyes kept flickering back and forth between the road and you, where you were barely able to keep your own eyes open.

“Are you alright?” He finally questioned and he waited for a long moment for you to answer, and when he got none, he cautiously moved his hand out to touch your knee. “(Y/N).”

Your eyes shot open and your head whipped around to face him at the sound of your name and the feeling of his hand on your leg. “Hm?” You asked in an absent manner, instantly regretting your hasty movements when your head started throbbing.

“Are you alright?” He repeated, eyebrows creasing in worry when you raised your hand to your forehead and closed your eyes.

You took a steady breath, trying to calm your spinning head, before carefully shaking it. “No.”

“Are you ears hurting?”

“My head.” You took another breath, squeezing your eyes shut at the painful jabbing at the side of your head, feeling them sting like they would when you’d spent hours upon hours crying.

Hotch watched from the side as you rubbed your forehead and temples, taking note of how hard you were squeezing your eyes shut and how badly you were shivering. Slowly but surely, he felt the anger he had previously been feeling melting off.

He said nothing else, giving your sullen face a last glance before turning his attention back to the road in front of him. But his hand didn’t move, remaining at your knee where his thumb rubbed soft, absentminded circles as an attempt to offer you some comfort.

For a second it made your heart flutter like never before, but soon enough, you’d forgotten all about it, only being able to focus on how incredibly shitty you were feeling. Not only physically, but mentally too, because Hotch had been right about everything he had said.

You were sweating like crazy, feeling trapped in the car where you couldn’t escape your thoughts and the guilt that was getting bigger by the minute, and you wanted nothing more than to get out and breathe some fresh air.

So when Hotch stopped at a gas station to fill up the tank and get some water and painkillers for your head, you did just that, not even being able to process the fact that the rain was still pouring down until it was too late.

You stood with your back leaned against the car, hugging yourself tightly and shivering even more than before as your clothes were now soaked, but the crisp air felt nice and was a blessing for your aching head.

Hotch came out of the gas station three minutes later and spotted you immediately, wasting no time in breaking into a run in your direction.

“What are you doing?! You’re already sick!” He yelled over the sound of rain harshly colliding into the exterior of the car.

You didn’t have the energy to fight back, simply continuing to rub your forehead. “I’m sorry, it was so stuffed in there, I needed to get out.” You mumbled silently, and he sighed, walking around you to open your car door.

“Get back in the car.” He ordered, and you did as told, allowing him to help you inside and waiting for him to close the door behind you before leaning against it.

He quickly got in in the driver’s seat and wasted no time in starting the car and cranking the heat up the little way further that was possible, throwing the bottle of water and packet of painkillers into the backseat.

“You’re shaking, we need to get you dry and warm.” He said as he fuzzed over you, silently urging you to take off your outer layer and helping you do so.

He drove out of the gas station once you were properly situated again, holding your hands in his in an attempt to warm them up.

You drove for a while longer and soon enough, Hotch took a right and parked the car. But you were half asleep and completely out of it, barely even able to process that he’d left you until the door you were leaning against opened, causing you to fall right into his chest and forcing you awake.

“Here, take this.” He wasted no time in draping you in a thick, scratchy blanket that you’d never seen before.

Nevertheless, you didn’t protest, getting out of the car and staying glued to his side as he walked you in the direction of the hotel you were now apparently parked in front of.

Once you reached the door to the room you guessed he’d fixed you for the night, he unlocked the door, ushered you inside and locked the door behind you.

Out of pure instinct, your hand moved to the light switch right next to the front door, only to discover that the power was out.

You were still dizzy, your skin burning hot but freezing to your core, but you were awake now, and all you wanted was a hot shower, so your second instinct was to head into the bathroom to test the water, and just your luck, the hot water was gone, as well.

Shivering, you turned back to face the entirety of the room, the only light in sight being the light of the moon streaming in through the windows and Hotch’s phone as he used it to find his way around.

“There’s no hot water.” You deadpanned, hugging yourself close and standing still in the middle of the room.

“The power is out and there’s a flood down the road, the woman at the counter said it could take a while for it to return so we’ll have to make do with what we’ve got in the meanwhile and get you out of your wet clothes.” Hotch wasted no time in replying as he busied himself with un-making one of the two beds.

He didn’t even spare you as much as a glance but you watched him for a moment longer, taking in his hurried movements as he ripped the blankets of the bed you presumed would be his, instead placing them on the bed with your name on it.

You knew he could feel your eyes on him, but when he didn’t turn around, you let out a breath through your nose and uncrossed your arms from over your chest, instead beginning to undress yourself.

And let me tell you, that’s not an easy task when you’re shivering like a chihuahua and have an a hundred and three degree fever and the current strength of an infant.

Your arms were heavy, almost too heavy to lift, and your fingers trembled when you began working on the buttons of your shirt. You tried your hardest to see what you were doing but the lack of light in the room made it hard, and the more you strained your eyes, the more intense your headache and dizziness got.

By now, Hotch had finished setting up your bed and turned around to see you struggling, taking a few small steps in your direction.

“Do you need help?” He asked, and you dropped your hands to your sides.

“Yeah.”

He walked up to you and wasted no time in getting to work on your buttons. You watched his face the entire time, even in your feverish daze being able to pick up on how hard he was trying to focus his eyes on his fingers in a respectful manner.

Once the last button came undone, you turned around and allowed him to pull the article of clothing off your body, the snug fabric releasing a creaking sound as it was pulled off your wet skin.

Hotch wordlessly walked over to the desk placed in the room and hung the shirt over the back of a chair, while you went to work on your pants.

Luckily, this piece of clothing only had one button and you managed to get it undone without too much trouble, sitting down on your bed and pulling them off – this part taking a bit more struggle seeing as they were stuck to your skin just like the shirt had been.

But you managed and wasted no time in crawling under the multitude of blankets that Hotch had neatly piled up on the bed, tucking yourself in as tightly as possible and pulling them up to your nose in an attempt to fill the inside of the cocoon with warm air.

It worked to an extent, your skin quickly regaining its previous heat and feeling so hot to the touch that one could’ve easily thought that you were on the verge of burning up.

But it did nothing to warm your core, and no matter how hard you tried keeping the shivers at bay by relaxing your body and keeping your breaths steady, it was to no use.

You laid there in silence for a good moment, becoming unaware of your surroundings once again, including the pair of eyes burning into the side of your face from across the room.

Hotch watched you closely while he followed his own advice and discarded his wet shirt, unbuckling his belt, hanging it on a chair and kicking off his shoes and socks.

Dressed now only in his damp slacks, he moved to grab the bottle of water and painkillers that he’d gotten from the gas station, and continued to the side of your bed, where he crouched down in front of you.

“Take this.” He instructed and you opened your eyes, pushing yourself up with all your might so that you could take the outstretched items from his hand.

You swallowed the pill with two gulps of water and fell right back into bed once he had taken the bottle back, pulling the blankets up to your nose again.

He stood back up to his full height and as a strong shiver went down your spine, the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“I need more heat, this isn’t enough. You’ll have to lay with me.”

Hotch’s face pulled into one of mild surprise at the sound of your unexpected words, and he instantly started protesting. “I don’t think-“

But you interrupted, staring up at him with those angry eyes that he so often found himself at the receiving end of. “I’m freezing my ass off and you’re cold, too. I’m not about to let you sleep without blankets. It’s just until the power and hot water comes back.”

He stared back at you, face ever so stoic. “Fine.” He gave in, and only then did you soften your glare.

You closed your eyes as he began removing his pants, slowly scooting back on the bed to make room for him, and you couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief when he lifted the covers and slid in next to you.

Your skin was hot with fever but somehow, his was even hotter, burning you to the touch.

You were still freezing, but as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, you instantly found it easier to relax, your shivering toning down a great deal.

Out of pure instinct, you snuggled further into his chest and you could feel on the stiffness of his body that he was uncomfortable and unsure of how to react in the situation you’d so inconveniently found yourself in.

Opening your eyes as far as your heavy eyelids would let you, you found him to be staring up into the roof. But the second he felt your heavy gaze on him, he turned his head to the side to meet your eyes.

Heat flushed through your entire body and you had been aroused enough times to recognize the feeling.

You knew all of this had started off innocent, a person simply trying to warm up another person as an act of kindness and basic human decency, and you never would’ve had these impure thoughts about him in any other situation, but your body was reacting on its own to the feeling of his skin against yours, and so was his.

Your faces were close to each other, mere inches apart, and before you were able to stop yourself, you leaned in closer and brushed your lips against his.

He retaliated immediately, pulling back and looking down at you with an unreadable expression written all over his face.

He told himself that the fever was making you confused and disoriented, but when you moved back in for a second attempt, this time with a lot more clarity in your eyes and confidence in your movements, he didn’t pull back.

You remained still for the entirety of the kiss, your lips just pressed against each other’s with little to no extended movements. When you came apart again, your breaths were heavy but the sound of your heart beating loudly in your ears was the only thing you could hear.

You stared into each other’s eyes and your eyes momentarily fluttered shut when he brought his hand up and grazed your lower lip with his thumb.

And then his lips were on yours again, and this time you just kept going.

His hands cradled your face and you laid down flat on your back, wrapping your arms around his neck and opening your legs to allow him to move on top of you. You pulled him impossibly close, a surge of sudden energy bursting through your entire body.

He was a gentleman at heart but he didn’t bother asking you if you were sure, knowing better than anyone that you were more than capable of telling him if you weren’t. You were both adults, you knew exactly what you were doing.

You’d had your fair share of rendezvouses throughout your life, but none had left you feeling like this.

Passion, desperation, fervor, urgency, impatience, hunger, eagerness, and every single other synonym that could be used to describe the lustful attraction between two people were currently battling in your body.

But more present than any other feeling was the anger; anger directed at you, fueled by the way you had put yourself and your entire team at risk by lying about the state of your health, and anger directed at him, fueled by the way he had always underestimated you and doubted your abilities.

You were both furious in all ways possible and neither of you had any plans on stopping, his hands already making their way down your body and heading straight for the direction of the place where you needed him the most.

His hands were warm but yours were cold, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as they traveled his arms, chest, shoulders and neck.

One of your hands stayed at his neck, tracing light touches over his throat and jaw, while the other one moved down the length of your own body to meet with his where it was hovering above the line of your underwear.

You grabbed a hold of it and pushed his palm flat against the bottom of your stomach, urging him to continue, and he didn’t waste a second, dipping his hand inside the waistband of the thin fabric that was still wet from the rain and resting uncomfortably against your skin.

Breath getting caught in your throat and heart palpitating in your chest, you pushed your head back into the pillow, your eyes falling shut at the pleasurable feeling of his fingers finding your core, your lips coming apart in the process.

Instead, his face bent down and nuzzled the crook of your neck, lips leaving slow kisses behind as he adjusted his hand.

It obviously wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d like though, the wet fabric getting caught on his skin and causing a frustrated sound to escape his throat.

“These need to go.” He mumbled into the skin of your shoulder and you eagerly nodded, completely ignoring the headache that was still going strong.

You raised your hips to allow him access, and he wasted no time in pushing the underwear off your legs, leaving you to shake them off your feet.

They got lost somewhere underneath the numerous blankets but you couldn’t care less, your hands hurrying down to the waistband of his boxers.

He drew in a breath at the feeling of your icy cold fingers, but made no move to stop you, helping you in ridding himself of the only remaining clothing he had on and then moving on to unclasp your bra, carelessly throwing it onto the floor and latching his lips back onto yours.

His hand returned to your heat and just like he had done mere seconds before, you sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers dipped in, running a line up your folds before pushing their way inside.

He hooked his finger down into your entrance to gather some of your wetness, bringing it up all the way along your slit and stopping only when he reached the sensitive bundle of nerves that was just throbbing with need.

That’s when the first moan of many to come left your lips, being muffled into the kiss and your stomach exploding with butterflies.

But just like with any other aspect of your life, you were impatient, so when he pushed a finger inside of you, you broke free of the kiss and shook your head, reaching your hand down to stop him by his wrist.

“No, you’re going too slow.” You panted, pulling his hand away and looking into his darkened eyes. “I need you, now.”

Your voice thinned into a whisper toward the end and you brought your hands back up to his face.

He remained still for a few seconds, just looking at you with his usual stoic expression and pursed lips, but the soon dipped down to meet your face again, brushing his lips against yours so lightly you could barely feel it, before pressing down with more force.

What started off as a close-mothed kiss quickly turned into an open-mouthed one, and you moved down on the mattress, raising your legs to wrap them around his waist as he positioned himself at your entrance.

He wasn’t fully erected yet, as was to be expected seeing as you had barely touched him and things had moved so quickly, but the second he was fully sheathed inside of you, that changed in an instant.

The feeling of being filled so perfectly caused your face to screw up in pleasure and he couldn’t help but let a small groan slip past his lips, really showing how long it had been since he last partook in sexual activities.

But he wasn’t the only one who had gone untouched for a long period of time. When you worked a job as stressful and time-consuming as yours, it was hard to find enough spare time to get out and meet any potential lovers, so it was safe to say that it had been just as long for you as it had for him and it didn’t take long for you to let out a moan to match his own.

He wasted no time in starting to move, encouraged to do so by the way your legs tightened around his hips to pull him in deeper.

You clung to him with all your might as he slowly but surely picked up his pace and found a good rhythm, squeezing your eyes shut and being reminded of the fever you still had when feeling the brims of your eyes sting.

Your hands moved to grasp at the back of his head and you pressed your lips against his, baiting a groan from his throat when tightening your grip on the strands of raven hair you held between your fingers.

His movements were confident and his lips moved skillfully from yours to your jaw, down to your neck before settling in the crook of your neck.

One of his hands moved from the mattress to hold on to the headboard of the bed and his toned arm flexing and unflexing right over your face was without a doubt the most attractive sight you’d ever seen.

“Hotch...” You moaned out between thrusts, and he grumbled in return.

“Aaron.” He corrected you darkly, and you drew in a gasp of air at the sound.

“Aaron-” You began repeating, but was quickly cut off by your own moan and after that, no more words were spoken.

The heavy breaths he released in the crook between your neck and shoulder only added to the already existing dampness on your skin, courtesy of the fever that you had almost forgotten was still there, and it was only now that the heat that had previously been restricted to the outer layer of your skin caught up with the rest of your body and made its way into your core.

The only sounds that could be heard was the heavy rain smattering on the metal ceiling outside your room, mixing in with the pants and low moans and groans escaping your lips, the creaking of the headboard that Hotch was holding on to for dear life, and the slapping of skin on skin.

He didn’t slow down once and not as much as a word was spoken, every emotion and feeling instead being voiced in sounds of pleasure and the occasional kiss when he brought his head up from your neck for air.

You got completely lost in the pleasure and you had no idea how long you went on for, but soon enough, you were beginning to get sore, the pleasure starting to switch into a mild discomfort.

But as if right on cue, the guttural groans muffling into your damp skin became more frequent, and before you knew it, Hotch’s entire body tensed up as he reached his climax and released inside of you.

But you weren’t quite there yet, never having been able to orgasm just by penetration.

You didn’t know how he was able to do both at the same time, but as he rode out his high, Hotch brought his hand down from the headboard and in between your bodies at the same time, heading right for the throbbing bundle of nerves where he wasted no time in getting to work.

That was the final touch you needed for your stomach to begin to turn. The combination of the way he was hitting the perfect spot over and over again and his thumb showing no mercy was so intense that you reached your high in no time.

You pressed your face into his neck just like he was doing yours, your fingers tugging on his hair so harshly that you probably crossed the line between pleasurable and painful. But he didn’t make note on it, picking up his pace as a string of curses left your lips, blending with your moans and mixing with his name, something he was clearly liking the sound of.

And just as you toppled of the edge, bright flashes flashing on the inside of your eyelids as your entire stomach pulled into a tight knot, the lights in the ceiling of the room flashed as well, the radiator over by the window buzzing to life as the power returned.

Talk about timing.

He kept on pumping into you with sloppy, lazy thrusts as you rode out your high and as soon as he felt you relax around him again, his entire body slumped against yours in a moment of exhaustion.

You laid limp, chest rising and falling in quick pants as you caught your breath. His hand moved up to hold himself upright by the head of the bed and your hands remained at the back of his neck, fingers gently pulling through his hair that was now damp with sweat.

After a moment of silence, he moved off of you, allowing you to properly breathe.

“How’s your head?” He asked.

His voice was strained and it was clear that now that the arousal was gone and everything was over and done with, neither of you had any idea of how to act.

Pulling one of the blankets up to your shoulders and holding it in place over you previously exposed chest, you cleared your throat.

“All good.” You replied breathlessly and just then, reality came crashing back down, an involuntary shiver going down your spine and rocking your entire body as it became aware of the chilliness of the air around you.

He caught on to this at once and turned his head to look at you with a deadpanned expression. “You’re still shivering, you should go take a warm shower before you go to sleep.”

His words brought a small snort from your lips. “I’m not shivering, I’m trembling. There’s a difference.” You answered, raising an eyebrow. “But I won’t say no to a shower.” You sighed, and as you wasted no time in beginning to get out of the bed, Hotch averted his eyes to the roof to give you some privacy.

The cold air hit you like a train when you removed the blankets from your body, your shivers becoming worse now with the layer of drying sweat on your skin.

It wasn’t until you stood up that the fever came crashing down on you with full force again, a spell of hot dizziness taking over you. You had to hold on to the wall beside the bed to regain your composure and once you did, you began walking, only then realizing how sore you really were.

As quickly as your quivering legs would take you, you walked into the bathroom and flicked on the light in the ceiling before heading straight for the shower.

As you turned on the faucet this time, you were pleased to discovered that the hot water had returned along with the power, and you closed your eyes in satisfaction even when the water had yet to touch any other part of your body than your fingers.

You remained standing there for a moment, holding yourself upright by the sink while waiting for the water to reach the perfect temperature.

You then brought your hand back to yourself and turned back around as you let the water run behind you.

Hotch was still in your bed, now having moved into a sitting position and absentmindedly fiddling with the watch on his wrist, seeming to be deep in thought.

And you were a profiler. You could tell with no struggle at all what was bothering him; guilt, most likely directed toward Haley as he had just been with another woman for the first time since the divorce.

The fact made you feel all kinds of feelings, and you slowly walked back to the doorway, on which you leaned as you continued watching him from a distance.

“I’m still really cold, you know.” You commented lamely, hoping that he’d take the hint on what you were trying to say.

His head slowly turned in your direction, his eyes tired and lips pulled into a straight line. His eyes wandered your still naked form for the briefest of second, but he quickly caught himself and averted them to yours.

“I thought you said you weren’t cold anymore.” He answered in a monotone voice, and you raised your eyebrows in return.

“Did I? I don’t think I did.” You played, absentmindedly tapping your fingers against the wooden doorframe.

He stared at you for a second, not seeming to care about you in the slightest anymore. But tthe way his lips then pulled into a small smile when looking at you showed you that he did, in fact, catch on to your intent.

And when he wordlessly got out of bed and started walking in your direction, leading you into the shower with a featherlight touch to the small of your back, you knew for a fact that the moment of passion you had just shared had been much more than just an act executed in the heat of the moment.

But if you thought that you were off the hook regarding your irresponsible behavior during the case just because you now happened to have your boss wrapped around your finger, you had another thing coming.

Tagged: @must-be-a-weasley-92 @zizzlekwum @cozytruecrimeaddict @lovelynervouskingdom @rousethemouse

(If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, send me a message, ask or leave a comment)

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch imagine #hotchner #hotchner imagine #hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #emily prentiss #derek morgan

1K notes · View notes

bloodypapercut · 4 years ago

Text

s.b. headcanons

hellooo, me again! enjoy angels and treat urself today <3

word count: 1.9k

-he will do anything to pull you away from whatever it is you’re doing whenever he wants attention

“COME TO MY DORM OR I’LL LIGHT A BUNCH OF CANDLES AND FALL ASLEEP!” “no don’t burn down hogwarts sirius, sod off, i need to study.” “don’t you love me??” “yes, now that that’s settled, go away.” “you’re breaking my heart darling.” he’ll pout throwing a hand over his heart while leaning on you “you’re breaking your own heart. just wait a bit longer, you big baby.” “nope, that’s it, i’m doing it! tata now!” “sirius no-!” “bye y/nnnn goodnight, unless you decide to graciously visit me in bed” “you’re really gonna burn down hogwarts because i won’t cuddle you?” “you mean YOU'RE going to burn down hogwarts because you refuse to stop studying and cuddle me.” “it does work like that!! you’re so childish.” “i’d prefer the term determined if you will.” “sirius- wait no don’t go upst- and he’s gone,” *waits a bit* *dashes upstairs and barges into the room* *sees there are no candles lit* “i’m offended, you thought i’d actually do it, but since you’re here let’s cuddle.”

-whenever he’s hanging around the other marauders on the field he’ll see random flowers and start picking them, ignoring their teasing while flipping them off “sirius has gone soft!!!!” “sod off wankers at least i have someone.” “i do have someone!” “lily hates you james.” “for now you twat.”

-he can’t wait to give you the flowers “oh- thank you? for the um..weeds?” “weeds? they’re flowers, look, petals and all.” he’ll dramatically pick a petal of a flower and blow it into the air, sighing as it slowly falls to the ground “nooo don’t make that face, you know i love them, they’re pretty.” you’ll open your arms for him and he’ll gladly reciprocate, burying his face between your shoulder and neck ”yeah like me.” he’d mutter in a childish voice

-“did you just lick my lips?” “your chapstick tastes good”

-whenever he’s drinking something and someone makes him laugh you can expect him to spray everywhere

-if you’re putting on lipstick he’ll ask you to kiss him on the cheek because he wants people to see, then he’ll ask to use the lipstick too because he wants you to have one as well

-every time you come out of the bathroom after getting dressed, without fail he’ll hype you up whether you’re wearing your uniform or a normal outfit or your sleeping clothes. he’ll narrate you as you walk out the room, asking you to do your model walk.

-you’ll dress each other sometimes, he usually picks fishnets and a skirt with one of his shirts and you’ll get him to dress like henry winter from the secret history (sirius in dark academia fashion, i think so)

-you two paint your nails together

-you both impulsively cut your hair, it’s utter chaos. it consists of you two screaming, hiding under a blanket, freaking out at the hair in the sink, then realizing you both look really good

-you have matching silver rings and necklaces

-he’s very devious, he always has something up his sleeve

-he gets jealous really easily, if someone is looking at you he’ll stare them down and whisper in your ear “someone’s checking you out.” “really? are they cute?” he’ll shoot you a warning look before picking you up and running off to do some um activities

-he’s very protective, he trusts you deeply but he knows that there are people who are willing to do anything to upset him and the only way someone could upset him is if they harmed you in any way. he will always stand up for you, even when you’re not around. he despises anyone who even looks at you the wrong way. this has led to many fights and detentions

-he’s the most supportive and accepting person ever. he knows what it’s like to feel like an alien in your own body, to not be accepted by those you thought would be there no matter what, he understands what it feels like and though he will never understand how you feel completely, he will do everything in his power to help you and to make you feel safe and loved. if you open up about your struggles, your sexuality, your identity or anything at all, there will not be a single part of him that’ll judge you. he’ll just listen and smile, feeling so grateful that you trusted him enough to open up to him

-he’ll randomly break into your room in the middle of the night “get your fine ass out of bed, we’re going to hogsmeade.” “it’s 4 in the morning what could you possibly want at hogsmeade?” “i’m hungry, now hurry up.” “why don’t you sod off and steal some or rem’s chocolate? i’m tired.” “i already finished it c’monnnnn i know you wanna.” “you’re so lucky that i love you sirius.”

-he always keeps you on your feet, there was never a dull moment with him and frankly, it was hard to keep up, no one knows where he gets all this energy from.

-it’s hard to really know what he’s talking about at times, he just says words sometimes and when he’s done he looks at you expectantly

-his energy levels fluctuate a lot though, one minute he’ll be running around the room chasing you like a zombie, the next he’ll be sitting down talking about cultural anthropology

-he likes trying to see if he can trick you into eating foods you hate. for example, he’ll try and feed you olives by claiming they’re grapes or something, which obviously doesn’t work so he just shoves it in your mouth (olive slander is welcome here)

-when you two kiss it’s so intense, even if it’s supposed to be a short peck before you head off to class he’ll put both his hands in your hair and pull you closer, refusing to have a kiss less than 10 seconds

-when he hugs you he spins you around until you’re both about to fall from dizziness

-he’s so coquettish, even when you’ve been together for so long he’ll stroll up to you and use a horrible pick up line, or he’ll wink at you from across the room or shamelessly flirt with you in front of everyone, which never fails to amuse you

-sirius either sleeps for 17 hours straight or 3 hours, there is no in-between. he’s also a very heavy sleeper, it’s so difficult to get him up in the mornings if you two are late for class. he doesn’t really care that he’s late but for your sake, he drags himself out of bed, under the condition that you have to take a nap with him right after class.

-he hogs the blanket and when you try and pull it back he will just grunt and say “you’re so hot why would you need it?” which you’d just scoff at and throw yourself on him until he acquiesces to share the blanket with you

-the train ride to hogwarts is filled with laughter, the kind where it hurts to breathe and you keep adding things that make you both reel over. the other marauders are slightly confused, but they start to laugh as they see your faces turn red while tears slip from your eyes.

-you are such an energetic couple, you bounce off of each other and anyone who hangs out with you two feels like they’re babysitting

-if his hands are cold he’ll press them on your thighs, neck, or your stomach just to make you jump, which is the catalyst in you chasing him around the room while throwing things at him

-he pokes the side of your face so much you’re convinced you’ll get a dent, he also flicks you so much that by the end of class there's a red mark on your cheek

- “you smell so good love.” “stop sniffing me, creep”

-he likes carrying you bridal style everywhere, it’s so unnecessary and extravagant that it just works because it’s sirius we’re talking about

-you two play fight so often people are genuinely concerned because they’ll just walk into the common room and see you straddling him as you cause havoc on his face with a pillow or he’ll have you pinned under him as he relentlessly tickles you

-calling him fleahead just to rile him up

“why can’t i have a pleasant nickname? like mr. darcy, am i not like your mr. darcy??”

-him calling you cherry or mars because you blush a lot around him (he likes to tell himself it’s because of his undeniable charm)

-sneaking off to the astronomy tower together to listen to music while you’re under a blanket and holding hands, talking quietly about your home lives or anything that’s bothering you, letting the wind run through your clothing, causing the two of you to shuffle closer together

-he’s seldom quiet so when he is you know there’s something wrong. you never push him as he’ll open up on his own terms and when he’s ready, but you always make sure that he knows you’re there

-he’ll usually walk into your dorm shutting the door quietly, taking his jumper off, and curling up in your lap as he grabs your hand, your other one going to his hair immediately. his cries are silent but they don’t last long, only for a couple of minutes before he looks up at you and kisses the side of your mouth before going under your covers and hugging your waist tightly.

-when you walk in upset or crying he’ll immediately be gripping his wand asking who he’ll have to hex, it brings a smile to your face and you just shake your head before trudging towards him, your mood washing over you again. you straddle his lap and bury your face in his chest, trying to calm yourself down. his hands would immediately go to rubbing your back or stroking your hair. when your breathing starts to go back to normal he’ll hold the back of your neck, making you look up at him, he just wanted to see your face because even when you were sobbing he thought you were the most breathtaking person on earth.

-you two always shower together or take baths together and they’d be filled with horrible attempts at flirting and messing around

-drunk sirius is a disaster. he will trail after you like a lost puppy, he will hug your legs if you try to leave which leads to him being dragged on the floor as he grips on your calf for dear life. if you somehow manage to free yourself from his grip he does the most outrageous and embarrassing things to get you to come back. (imagine sirius drunkenly singing common people by pulp or the letter by the boxtops, using his bottle as a mic and prancing around the common room doing an idiotic dance)

-drunk sirius barges into your room screaming “i'm an english man!!” or singing parklike by blur (if blur existed at the time)

-so many polaroids, he has a box filled with them. it gives him comfort when he’s back at home

-he stares at you a lot

-he always greets you with a kiss on the back of your hand

-at first you were apprehensive about being with sirius for several reasons but you gave him a chance because you wanted to formulate your own opinion. he proved everyone around him wrong and it took you by surprise to see just how committed he was. he not once hid the fact he liked you, he made it very known that he wanted you and only you, even if it was embarrassing on your behalf

(can you tell i heavily associate sirius with damon albarn?)

#sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black imagine #sirius black headcanon #maurauders era #sirius black x reader #harry potter

277 notes · View notes

heavenunderthemoon · 4 years ago

Text

Ten Fingers, Ten Toes: JJ x Male Reader

Sent in anonymously: Reader and JJ are married and he works for the fire department. They have to work together for a case with an arsonist. While visiting the suspect's house, he smells gas and tells JJ to be careful. As they slowly approach the house the suspect has a gun to their head with the cooker on. JJ tries to calm the unsub down but it doesn't work so he points the gun at JJ and the reader tackles him from behind before pushing JJ out of the house before it blows up."

disclaimer: I have NEVER written anything x male reader before so please, please, please be gentle with me.

warnings: fire, explosions, injuries, violence, angst.

Words: 5,589

It was rare that you and JJ ever met up on duty. So rare, in fact, that it just hadn't happened. In your ten years of marriage, it hadn't occurred even once. Arson charges in Quantico weren't rare, there just weren't that many serial arsonist charges for the BAU to pick up, and even so, your fire station wasn't in the districts that it had occurred the three times JJ's team had been called. But, this time was different.

The BAU arrived in its usual fashion, two separate government-issued SUV's, black and shining, dark as the soot that no doubt remained on your face from this morning's bout of firefighting. It had been a tough one, ventilation becoming a bit risky when your team noticed the roof was easily collapsible, but Station 13 had gotten the job done, as they always did. Your hands paused in their movements of shifting debris when the doors on the SUV's began to open, one of them revealing a rather familiar blonde figure, their bright blue eyes scanning the scene rapidly.

You smiled, knowing what the agent was looking for.

Letting out a low whistle, you made your way to the woman who's shoulders instantly relaxed when she saw you, eyes lingering on the damage done to the place. You knew precisely what was going through her mind, simply because it often rang through yours.

You both worked dangerous jobs, one running into fires and the other chasing down psychopaths who had a penchant for murder. Worrying about your spouse practically came with the marriage license. It had been something discussed extensively on both ends before you had gotten down on one knee all that time ago, asking for her hand in marriage. But, despite the multitude of reasons not to and the fears of what would come forth in the face of it all, there was a singular reason that made you both forget the rest; "I love you", You had said when she had asked, a shrug that told her how simple of an answer it was, but the look in your eye telling her that your love for her wasn't simple at all. Not really. It was convoluted and complex and deep and consuming and that was enough for her. That was more than enough for her.

So, each day when you went off to fight your fires and she went off to fight the monsters, you both reminded each other of that, of that love, that feeling of taking a leap, praying for a happy ending in which you both came home alive each night just to do it all again in the morning.

Except, now, here she was, and here you were, both of your battles being condensed into one.

"The calvary's arrived." You praised with a smirk.

Her blue orbs, intensified by the dreariness of the burnt surroundings, glanced over your body.

God, those eyes. Those eyes that you had fallen in love with, fallen so extremely and irrevocably hard for. Two glistening, gleaming, and just about every other synonym for glistening and gleaming under the sun, orbs that were like two little tiny pools of water. Water, a bit ironic given your occupation of fighting fires, but water all the same. Except, it wasn't exactly water, because you didn't think of water when you saw them you just thought of JJ, and that feeling you got around JJ. That fuzzy feeling in your chest, that dizzy feeling in your head and that tingly feeling in your legs that made you feel like you couldn't walk. The eyes that elicited those feelings were on you, checking for damage, scanning for injuries.

The turnout gear still laid heavy on your figure, but you stood tall beneath the weight of it all, accustomed to the sheer mass that it added. It was covered in ash, and stitched in tightly woven thread on your coat's breath pocket was your name. "Captain Y/N L/N", it read.

JJ remembered how you had received that promotion last year, the ceremony that Henry and Michael had tottered along to, how you had hoisted Henry up on your shoulder, Michael on your hip, insisting that your wife come by your side for a picture, one she cherished dearly. It sat in her wallet now and the weight of it in her jacket pocket felt heavier now for some reason.

When her eyes came back to your face, she frowned, her fingers coming up to rub your cheek. "You look like hell."

Worry. That was the look on her face, scanning the remnants of the house that had recently been ablaze but was now just smoldering ash. Your team packing things up as JJ's got to work, picking their way through the remains, asking Station 13 questions so to jump start their investigation.

"Thank you, darling, I just got back." You quipped cockily and she rolled her eyes, a twitch of her lips to indicate that she wasn't all too irritated with you, really. Just for show.

Her hand dropped, landing in her crossed arms as she faced the house, eyes narrowing as she entered her work mode, something you found rather amusing. You had rarely seen JJ in her work mode, and she you. You both liked to keep those versions of you separate, tucked away in the attic space of your minds, dirty blemishes to be hidden when around each other not because you were hiding secrets but because your demons, both of your demons were just something you needed to fight alone. The ghosts that followed JJ home after cases, whispering in her ear, nipping at her heels and the flames that engulfed you after calls, burning your eyes, searing your skull.

"So, what happened?"

You nodded, settling into work mode yourself. "We got the call around 5:30 am, house fire, one alarm. Family was asleep in the house, barely had time to notice anything was wrong before it was up in flames-"

"Carson family." She breathed, eyes flickering to you sympathetically. "Are they-"

"Alive and stable." And for a moment your chest swelled with pride. It hadn't seemed a possibility that morning, for the entire family to walk away as fortunately as they had. Sure, their entire house was gone, vanquished in nothing short of forty-five minutes, but their lives, each and every one of them, had been saved and it had everything to do with your team. A flash of that morning, the little girl in your arms, the mask around her face- your mask that you had taken off and given to her, just to give her lungs a few moments of relief- and her fingers clutching your turnout coat as you carried her out of the burning building. Those were the moments you lived for, the moments that made you proud for the occupation choice. "The parents got the worst of it, third degree burns, smoke inhalation damage, but nothing that the hospital can't fix. The kids are fine, I heard their grandparents are staying with them at the hospital until their parents are given the all clear."

She nodded, a bounce of her blonde hair. "That's good."

"It is," You nodded, motioning for her to follows you as you began your walk to the west wing of the house. "We thought it might've been a freak accident, faulty wiring or maybe a gas leak from the stove, but one of my guys found this." The two of you stopped, her shoulder lightly grazing yours.

Her eyes followed the gesture your hands made, landing on an object on the floor. There, covered in soft and ash, discarded on the floor of what used to be a beautiful two story home, was a bottle, its liquid remains only droplets now, the cloth poking out of it burned to shreds.

"Make-shift Molotov cocktail? You're sure?" She bent down, pulling on a latex glove and picking it up cautiously, turning it around in her hands before signaling one of her guys to come a grab it.

You had met the team, of course, you knew them quite well actually. Derek nodded at you, the two of you sharing a brotherly pat on each other's back before he was grabbing the evidence, scooping it into a plastic bag.

"Yep. When I saw it I called you, figured it might be the beginning of a string of fires."

The blonde sighed. "Smart call." There was something else in her voice, concern, stress, everything in between, and your own eyes narrowed, something that made her chest flair with warmth.

She never had to say anything. She didn't have to say that getting your call at seven in the morning, a time she usually spent feeding the boys before turning them over to the nanny who would inevitably be relieved at the end of your twenty-four hour shifts but was interrupted by that incessant ringing.

You had changed it from the default ring almost two years ago.

"What are you doing?" The blonde had laughed, reaching for the phone you had swiped out of her hands but you held it above you head, your figure towering over hers and her laughter had made the chuckle rumble in your throat just the way she liked it.

"I've gotta change it, so you know it's me."

You had fixed her with that stare, the one she knew you gave your team, the "I'm the Fire Captain and you have to listen to me" stare, though you knew it had never worked on her. To her, she said, it looked like you were constipated, but it always made her roll her eyes with that shit-eating smile, so you did it anyways.

"Yes, because in a world with Caller I.D., I will never know it's my husband." Tired of standing on her tippy-toes, she had slumped against your chest defeatedly, taking in your warmth, listening to your heartbeat as she listened to you choose that god forsaken song that she knew that you knew she hated- one that you two had fought over its validity as a song on one of your first dates when it came on in a sandwich shop.

"I'm Henery the Eighth I Am..." Played from the woman's speakers and she groaned, hitting her forehead against your chest in a playful headset that had made you roar with laughter.

"Perfect."

It had been that terrible, dreadful song, the song that would always remind her of you that interrupted her morning and made her heart stop because you never called her on shift unless something was wrong. Unless the fire had nipped at you a little too roughly, unless you were sitting in a hospital bed getting patched up. She had answered that call with a dry throat and almost forgot how to breathe until your voice telling her you were okay reached her ears. "I'm okay, but I think you should see this."

And now, at a time she should be focusing on her job, focusing on telling Aaron Hotchner what her husband just told her, focusing on the family that had luckily made it out unscathed, she wasn't. She was focusing the man before her, her man, her Y/N.

She was focusing on you because for once she was seeing your world, your world past the nice and cozy firestation that she had seen before, polished and clean. That fire station you had showed her on one of your days off, giving her a tour, silently telling her that you were okay, that you were always going to be okay. Now, she was seeing your team, people she had met before but now under your authority, placing all the gear they had used meticulously back into the rigs, and you, covered in soot with that look in your eyes. That look that made her hate you and fall back in love with you every time. The look of a hero. Because heroes are the ones who run into the burning buildings not away and the thought of you running into a burning building, somewhere you would go and not come back and leave her and Michael and Henry in the lurch made her sick to her stomach.

And you saw that.

"Hey," You said softly, noticing that far off look in her eyes. "Hey," You repeated once you noticed she hadn't responded the first time, lightly grabbing her shoulder. "I'm fine. We're all fine. Look," Your eyes were boring into hers, those baby blues that your sons had inherited because, god, they were spitting images of her and it was something you reveled in. Your fingers wiggled out of the gloves, ripping the other off and wiggling your newly exposed fingers to the woman. "Ten fingers, ten toes. I'm good."

It was silly, something you two had always recited, a mantra of sorts, when one of you injured themselves. A tiny little saying, one that said "I'm still alive, I'm still kicking, and you're not getting rid of me that easily", without saying it at all. Picking her up from the airport after she called to tell you of her injuries, her small smile at the concern that would always be evident on your face no matter how many times she assured you. And she would take your face in her hands, make you look her in the eyes.

'Ten fingers, ten toes.' She would say with a playful smirk, wiggling them against your cheeks and you would smile, resting your forehead against her and now she did the same. A sigh on defeat or relaxation or maybe just a release of a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

She looked at you, eyes narrowing playfully once more. "You're cheating, I can't see your toes in those boots."

You laughed, that hearty rumble she adored and the two of you set to work.

Everything would be fine.

Everything was not fine.

"Are you mad at me?"

Frozen grass crunched beneath your feet. It was a cold day, winter still biting at Spring's heels and the brisk air was enough to make you wish you had more cover than the leather jacket slung over your shoulders. And if you were cold you knew JJ was (The girl was raised in a warm climate and basically declared it was winter anytime it hit below seventy degrees.). A quick glance to the blonde- who was apparently very cross with you at the moment- met you with a rather terse look, her lips pursed, eyes forward as she surveyed the side of there house, gun raised before her.

The last day and a half had been spent working hand in hand with the FBI.

It was almost like a game. The BAU spent their time assessing the victims, analyzing patterns, attempting to predict where the arsonist might hit next, though it was a game of cat and mouse because they hadn't perfected it, not yet. And your Station was getting called, putting out every fire just to jump to the next and when the team had finally determined a suspect, JJ was declared to be on the group to survey their house, it hadn't even taken you a moment to suggest your team join as well.

'Fire safety,' you had told Hotchner, 'Wouldn't it be safer to have us by your side in case he gets set off?' and much to JJ's chagrin, he had agreed. The fire rig itself was set up two blocks away, lights and sirens off, just waiting to be called upon, your team inside of it.

That was one of the perks of being Captain, you supposed. Calling the shots, getting to pick and choose when you ran into the fire, delegating your skills to the most high-priority situations and, yes, while you told your Station that the high-priority you were attending to was a possible additional fire as you approached the arsonist's house, they all knew the real reason. They knew it was the blonde by your side, no matter how angry she was with you.

"Okay, so you are mad at me." You nodded at confirmation of your previous question, one that had gone unanswered, and were met by a sharp glare before her eyes were back on the house.

The neighborhood itself was rundown, an area of town about to be lost to construction, properties being seized by the government, one of the arsonist's assumed triggers. His house was one of the only ones left on his block, sagging defeatedly on the corner of the street.

The other pair, Spencer and Derek, from the BAU crawled amongst the property, paired off and speaking into their walkies, both of them attempting to see inside of the house, cautious of how to approach.

"I'm not mad, I'm focusing."

You snorted. "Well that's funny, 'cause your focusing face and your mad face have a hell of a lot in common."

It wasn't a moment longer before she was huffing, pausing in her movements before tossing a glance to you over her shoulder. "Stop messing around, Y/N-"

"JJ-"

Her state was almost as cold as the weather. "No, this is serious. There's a killer in there and you're out here joking around-"

"JJ-"

And her gun was lowering itself for just a fraction of a second, eyes fixing you with that stern gaze of hers that she normally used with the children but still managed to make you feel just as intimidated as they probably did when it was used on them.

"You volunteered to come with us to catch a serial killer-"

"I know-" You tried, but you knew that look in her eye, that rise of an octave. The tone that let you know that she wasn't mad, she wasn't angry, she wasn't even furious, she was terrified.

And damn, you hated that. You hated that she was terrified, because you were terrified too. You had been ever since Hotchner had told her, Spencer and Derek to check out the possible unsub's house. Ever since those words had left his lips it was as if your mind had gone blank, something JJ would claim it perpetually was, but it wasn't. Usually, your mind raced about a million miles per hour, never slowing, never seizing, except for that moment, that moment that had made your stomach drop and throat clog. That moment that had you volunteering to go with her without hesitance because you were scared, scared because this was what she did on a daily basis and yes, while you thought about it, talked about it, and apparently had gotten over it long ago, you hadn't really because this wasn't just something you got over.

Having your wife chase serial killers wasn't something you could just be okay with and if you were given an opportunity to go with her, to watch over her, to look out for her, god damnit you would.

"You chose to put yourself in danger. It's different when it's your job, but, god damn it, Y/N, you don't have to be here-"

And whatever she was going to say next was interrupted, the porch light flickering on, that dim yellow bulb cackling under the sheet of ice it was buried in. The back porch became illuminated, revealing a broken rocker chair, it's left arm chair giving way due to mold or rot, caved into the smooth seat of the chair. It sat limply on the porch, those floorboards creaking in the winter wind and the two of you froze, her gun rising.

"Stay here."

Under different circumstances you might have laughed.

Under different circumstances, you might have thrown your head back and let loose that deep, throaty laugh that JJ always said was contagious.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

You couldn't help the dumbfounded expression covering your face, watching as your wife, your best friend, the mother of your children, began to climb the stairs of a serial arsonist, demanding for you to stay put. You couldn't help that swell in your chest, a swell of anger, no doubt, not at her, because you had known precisely what kind of person she was when you married her. You had known the minute you had met her in that crowded, smelly bar, the both of you both coming back from a long day at work, her tired eyes meeting yours and that wicked smile pulling you in.

You had known from just that first look that she would be hard work. And she had proven that every step of the way. She had proved that by demanding a background check before you two officially went on your first date (that first night in the bar didn't count, she said matter-of-factly.), or by all of her weird quirks and tics. Like, for instance, if you got her skittles she would patiently wait while you picked out all the green ones (They taste like toilet bowl cleaner and the longer they're in there with the other ones the more the taste will rub off on the good ones). Or that how if she vacuumed she absolutely had to have precise vacuum lines (if they weren't perfect, she started over, no matter what.). Or even how she set seven alarms in the morning, snoozing each and every one because she knew eventually you'd get too agitated by the constant interruptions to your sleep that you'd wake her up with your groans and force her out of bed far better than any alarm ever could.

You had known that she would be hard work, yes, but you also knew that she would be worth it. Every smile, every kiss, every laugh, all of it. And so when she told you to stay put you could hardly reign in your outrage enough to keep your voice to a hushed whisper.

"No, I'm coming with you." And your foot began to raise, began to make its way onto that creaky, rotted, in need of a paint job floorboard of a porch before JJ was stopping you.

"No. You might be a Captain, but out here, I call the shots. Stay here and don't do anything stupid." And she was slipping into the back door before you could grab her. Before you could pull her into your arms and stop her.

And you were alone, alone with only the porch light flickering every so often, threatening to give way, that snow underneath your boots clinging to the soles of your shoes the longer you stood there.

How long had you been standing there, staring at the back porch door? You wracked your brain, trying to remember if JJ had said anything to Reid and Morgan about going into the house? Had she called for backup? You wished you had a communication piece on you, wished you had some way to make sure that JJ wasn't in there alone because, yes while you trusted her wholeheartedly, you didn't trust a batshit crazy arsonist who had started a string of fires.

Your nose twitched, snapping you out of your thoughts.

What was that smell? That smell, sharp to the nose, stinging your eyes, making the back of your neck hairs stand erect-

Your feet were moving, moving carefully and efficiently, trying not to make a noise but trying to get into the house as quickly as possible.

Gasoline.

That was what you could smell. You had smelled it a million times before, and this smell was no different, except it was. It was different. This time was a million times worse than any other time you had smelled it because JJ was inside the house. She was inside the house that reeked of gasoline, inside a potential explosion, and you needed to get in there as quickly as possible and so your hand was pulling not he back door and you were lurching inside the house.

"Trevor, I just want to talk, okay? Put the gone down-"

The back door let into the dining room, the inside of the house looking just as dilapidated as the outside of the home. Family pictures were strewn about the walls, each hanging just as crooked as the next. The glass was covered in dust, so much so that the pictures weren't even recognizable underneath, and the roof tilted at a downward angle so threateningly low you worried it might just collapse with the mere addition of your body inside it.

You could hear voices beyond the wall of the dining room, JJ's first, and it made your heart beat a little less frantically (though that wasn't;t saying much because right now you were pretty sure your heart was doing a line dance), and then the unsub's- Trevor.

Your hair brushed the wall as you peeked past it, clinging to that wall like it was a lifeline and in that moment it was. In that moment, it was the only thing separating you and the man pointing a gun at your wife.

When you saw the scene your throat struggled to contain the bile rising at the sight of it. Trevor stood nearest to you, his back to you completely, in fact. A dirtied t-shirt, one covered in scorch marks and ash hung loosely on his figure. He was small, smaller than you had imagined an arsonist to look like, which, you supposed arsonists don't particularly have a look, but still, he didn't look...evil and you had always supposed that bad guys looked evil. But this one didn't. No, other than his dirtied shirt he looked like a normal guy, except, of course, for the gun pointing at his temple.

There was a clicking sound filling the air, that familiar clicking sound that made you divert your attention to the stove, confirming your suspicions immediately. The gas was on, leaking it into the house and your head was already beginning to ache at just the smell.

And then there was JJ.

She noticed you immediately and she made a damn good job of covering that. Briefly, her eyes met yours, and you didn’t need words for you to understand. There was rage at you for following her, guilt because somehow she thought this was her fault, gratefulness because maybe she wouldn't have to leave here in a body bag and fear because what if your children grew up without both of their parents?

"Trevor, listen to me-"

Her voice was steady. How was her voice so steady?

"No! I'm done talking to you bitch!"

And just like before, just like when Hotchner was ordering JJ to go to the unsub's house, time slowed. Time slowed, and it became a long, torturous, eternal moment that made your mind wipe straight clean once more because there was really only one thing that could make it do that and she was standing right in front of you. The girl that had seen you from across that crowded bar, a bar that she later said was disgusting and dirty and made her boots stick to the floor, but would always pull you to because it was sentimental and they made good burgers. The girl who had answered your marriage proposal with "What took you so long?", which, would've been acceptable had your proposal not been asked three months to the day when you met her (Hey, when you knew, you knew.). The girl who talked through movies, beat you in poker, ate all your fries when she said she wasn't hungry and just a million other things that you hadn't even known you remembered until that moment when suddenly her very being was being threatened.

That girl was having a gun pointed toward her, and so you reacted.

Your body tackled the man before you easily, causing you both tp fall tp the ground in a jumble of limbs and grunts and the gun wasn't leaving his hand so easily but none of that mattered because you saw your chance.

You saw your chance for one more tackle and damn JJ was going to be extremely pissed at you, but it didn't matter because you were doing it before she could even register your movements to protest it. Your body slammed into hers, twisting your body in mid-air, preparing it for the impact it would surely take through the boarded up windows that were about to become a bit more open than before.

The wood splintered across your back, your head throbbed at the hit, but you barreled through just as you heard Trevor yell and, stupidly, predictably, unfortunately, he shot and as soon as he did, the heat from the bullet related to the gasoline in the air.

Your bodies hit the snow in record time, yours on top of hers, and the sheer heat from the blast was enough to make you never want to hear the words "Liar, liar pants on fire", again.

Breathing. Breathing and sirens and ringing, a horrible ringing in your ears that was quickly subsiding and a pulsing through your head that was not. You peeled yourself off of her with a grunt, your back landing roughly next to hers, the snow quickly clinging to the back of your jacket.

The two of you stayed that way for a moment, just a moment, because you both knew Derek and Spencer were just around the corner and if they found you two lying on the floor their first reaction would be to think you were both dead (partially because of your position on the floor and partially because of the fact that your left eyebrow was singed off and you were pretty sure your head was leaking out some blood onto the blanket of snow beneath you). In that moment, that tiny brief moment, your hand grasped hers, squeezing it, before sitting up with another groan.

She looked...like crap. Her hair was wet and frizzy, nose red to the bone, cheeks covered in dirt of ash, wood littered across her bulletproof vest, and her pony tail had loosened to the extent that half of it was just pouring onto the side other face. But she still looked beautiful to you.

“You did something stupid.” She said exasperatedly, reminding you of the last thing she told you not to do before leaving you alone but it hardly registered to you.

"I had to." You said quietly, so quietly that your ringing ears even had trouble hearing it but the squint of her eyes let you know she heard you just fine. "Earlier, you said I didn't have to be here."

You were not a quiet man. You just weren't. You were loud and brave and funny and JJ had always adored that about you but she loved these moments too. These moments where you were quiet, reserved, and afraid, because it showed her that you weren't just some pompous meathead charging into fires irresponsibly. It showed her that even the bravest of the brave get scared, and that fear was what would stop you from making a decision that would leave her in a world without you.

Her eyes softened. "You know what I meant-"

Your bottom lip quivered, hands going up to attach themselves to her cheek, just to feel her, to know she was real, that she was there, that she was alive. "I cannot lose you. I know that you do this everyday, and I know that you are good at your job, and I know that you probably had it handled back there, but damnit JJ, I was scared, okay? I'm sorry, but I was scared and I needed to be here, I felt it in my bones, okay? I just-"

All of the emotions from that night. All of the anger, the fear, the adrenaline, all of it left you, left you in the sob that had formed in the base of your throat, leaving you feeling hollow and empty as the world passed around the two of you. You could barely register your team rushing into the building, the hose spraying into the house, JJ's team approaching the two of you, because it was just you and her. You and her, and that was all that mattered to you.

Her hands clung to yours, piling atop her cheek and embracing the warmth it gave her, leaning in to let her forehead touch yours, your salty tears falling into her cheeks but she didn't say a word about it.

"I can't lose you." You repeated it again and it sounded so small, so lost that JJ was locking her eyes with yours.

"You didn't." A pregnant pause, a lick of her lips, a small beginning to a smile that looked so wrong given the state of her surroundings, and a tiny breath let out. "Ten fingers, ten toes."

Her thumb was reaching for your cheek, swiping the pad of it across it, clearing away the remnants of the tear that was trailing down the side of your face and then following it with a kiss, a small peck at where the tear once stood.

"Ten fingers, ten toes." You exhaled.

message me to be on my taglist!

Hope you enjoyed:)

-Toby

#jj x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau #Jennifer Jareau x male reader #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds

226 notes · View notes

abbysfrenchbraid · 4 years ago

Note

Because of personal experiences, can I get some headcanons or a scenario of Abby with a gf that gets tired really easily? Also I just wanna get this out there, I am really glad your blog exists

Thank you so much for your kind words, they really mean a lot. I hope this is similar to what you imagined 💌 (I hope you like poetry!)

about 2k words of fluff and a little angst at the beginning. content warnings for language, ableism.

“This is it, Y/N. I’ve let this behavior slide too many times.”

Your heart dropped and your breath caught in your throat. Trying to fight back tears, you forced yourself to answer.

“I’m so sorry James, I can’t help it. My body just can’t work for hours without break, I’ve tried everything.”

You threw a soapy towel back into the washtub and took a step towards your supervisor.

“Please don’t throw me out, I don’t know where else I could do my part!”

“Well, you certainly aren’t doing your part here.”

He was speaking the truth; he had caught you way too often, crouching in the corner with your head between your knees or sitting on the floor against the wall half asleep. You couldn’t help it; this was your third job at the stadium and every time you had managed to get yourself fired. It had nothing to do with the laziness your previous bosses had accused you of or with simply not wanting to work. Your body just seemed to work against you.

After more than an hour of standing, there was no way for you to stay standing up and working at the washing station now, the hard bodily labor was just too much for you. You constantly felt like you were going to faint, no matter how much you ate, drank and slept. As soon as you were unsupervised, you’d have to sit down or take a break because you couldn’t hold yourself upright anymore. It was becoming harder and harder to find acceptance from others and a place where you could work and contribute to the WLF while also taking care of yourself.

James rubbed the back of his shaved head and sighed.

“I’m sorry, I seriously don’t see how this is doing any of us any good. You should report in with task management tomorrow and see if they can give you a less physically straining job. I’m not sure how I feel about your little dizzy spells or whatever, but if you’re actually not fit enough for work, you should find something else.”

The rage that started boiling in your stomach sent hot tears down your cheeks. This wasn’t fair. You loosened the ties on your apron and tossed it on a table, then you left without another word.

The only person who didn’t constantly batter and scold you was Abby. She had met you in a stairway, sitting on the steps and leaning your head against the cold railing to stay conscious. The blonde had practically sprinted up the stairs toward you and asked if everything was okay; after you had explained, she had nodded and offered you her arm on your way back to your room. From that day on, she had checked in almost every day, bringing you snacks at work or dinner from the cafeteria when you were too exhausted to go yourself. She had believed you without hesitation and made it her purpose to help you out wherever she could.

Ignoring the surprised faces of the people you walked past, you stormed to your room. You were lucky to live alone, even though it was just a shoebox of a room. You had a bed, a locker, and a tiny window that you ripped open before throwing yourself on your bed.

You hated having to rely on others for support and you had spent the last year mostly on your own, hiding your condition and isolating yourself from others so they wouldn’t notice and judge you, even though the story of you falling asleep and taking too many unauthorized breaks at work had already made its rounds.

With Abby it was different. You knew she never wanted anything in return, she just liked to spend time with you and knew what it was like to be the odd one out, the one everyone had already heard about. In return, you liked to give her little drawings of her and her friends, short comic strips and poems you wrote when you had some time to yourself. She loved sitting on your couch and listening to you talk about poetry; although she was a big reader she had never really gotten into that genre.

She had gained your trust in no time and was the first person you really told everything that went on in your head. Well, almost. You hadn’t dared to tell her about how her presence made you feel like you were flying, how your heart sometimes started racing when she looked at you and how all you wanted sometimes was to fall asleep in her arms after a long day.

Your pillow was wet with tears and your head was pounding from crying for too long. Great. You reached under your bed and felt around for the water bottle you had accidentally kicked under there earlier. As you gulped down the lukewarm water, you finally felt the knot in your throat release its grasp from your airways.

Exhausted, you turned over your pillow and pulled your blanket up. This day was fucked anyway, you might as well declare it complete and hope to wake up in a better mood tomorrow.

It was dark when you awoke, disturbed by a quiet squeaking noise and the beam of light shining through a crack in the door. A big figure was squeezing through the gap and softly closing the door again. The light from under the door was just enough to see Abby tiptoeing toward you.

You couldn’t help but smile and pushed yourself up onto your elbows. She immediately froze in her tracks.

“Fuck, did I wake you? I just wanted to check on you and bring you some dinner.”

You switched on the lamp next to your bed and soft light illuminated the room. Abby had a burrito in one hand and an apple in the other. She looked genuinely sorry.

“It’s okay, I’ve been sleeping for hours. I just had a terrible day, that’s all.”

She immediately sat down next to you, putting the food down on the bedside table and brushing a strand of hair out of your face with a worried smile.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

Her sweet concern brought back those stupid tears and you were too distraught to fight them. You shook your head and cleared your throat.

“No, I just got kicked out of work. Again. I honestly don’t know what to do. Maybe admin will just throw me out completely tomorrow.”

Abby squeezed your hand.

“Bullshit. I’ll talk to them. Why are they making you work these stupid hard labor jobs anyway? They could put you somewhere you can use your head instead, you’re the smartest person I know!”

She gently brushed her calloused thumb over your cheek.

“These assholes are not worth a single one of your tears, Y/N. James can honestly go fuck himself.”

You snorted and Abby beamed at you, happy to have gotten through to you.

“Hey, how much have you eaten today?”

You thought for a second, then you answered: “Some oatmeal for breakfast? I left work before lunch and came straight here.”

The wolf sighed and shook her head. “You’re terrible at taking care of yourself, you know that?” She handed you the burrito. “Here, it’s still warm.”

The first bite was delightful and you let out a moan without thinking. Blood shot into your face immediately as both of you stared at each other for a second, then Abby broke out in laughter.

“See? You’re practically starved. I should have gotten you two of those.”

She suddenly straightened up.

“Oh, I completely forgot!” She pulled out a small paperback from her back pocket. “Manny gave me this. Some fling of his gave it to him and he doesn’t know shit about poetry and never will. He remembered you liked poems so he said to give this to you.”

“You told him about me?” you asked in astonishment.

“Of course I did, we’ve been hanging out every day for the past few weeks! Do you have any idea how amazing you are? How much you’ve taught me?”

With your mouth full, all you could do was smack her shoulder and give her a doubtful look.

She looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers into each other.

“I mean it, Y/N. I know you don’t think of yourself as very interesting or fun to be around, but you’ve made my life so much better just by spending time with me. Even if you’re always falling asleep on me,” she added and grinned.

You didn’t bother trying to be witty and grabbed the book instead. The title surprised you.

“Selected Poems by Sappho. Why the hell would that woman give this to Manny?”

Abby shot you a questioning look. “Why not?”

“Abby, Sappho is the OG lesbian. All her poems are just about yearning for the touch of a lady lover.”

“Oh.” Now it was the wolf’s turn to blush. “I had no idea.”

Sitting up, you turned so you could lean your back against the wall. You tapped on the bed right next to you.

“Come on, Abs. Let me tell you about Sappho, then.”

Hesitating only for a brief moment, Abby took off her boots and scooted closer to you.

You spent the next hour reading her poems and telling her stories about women and romance in Ancient Greece. The blonde listened attentively, asking a few questions here and there. After a while, you felt your eyelids growing heavier and your concentration dwindling, as much as you tried to keep it together.

Abby gently laid a hand on your knee.

“You tired, babe?”

Your head flew around and you stared at her; had you heard that right? Abby gave you a shy smile.

“I can try to read some of these to you until you fall asleep. Only if you want me to, of course.” She shook her head as if trying to get rid of a thought. “I should just go. You need to get some rest.”

Before she could get up, you had already placed your hand on her underarm.

“I’d like that. I’m sorry for just drifting off like that all the time, it’s got nothing to do with you.”

She cocked her head. “Don’t apologize for that. No one can just change the way they feel.”

You slid underneath the blanket and, following an impulse, rested your head on Abby’s thigh. You could feel the heat underneath the fabric and her muscles twitched involuntarily as the wolf took a deep breath and opened up the book again.

deathless aphrodite of the many colored throne,

daughter of zeus, weaver of spells, I entreat you.

do not with grief and anguish

tame my heart.

Drifting away into that wonderful state between waking and dreaming, you let the words of Sappho, spoken by the soft voice of your most trusted friend, the woman who took care of you and listened to you, the wolf that was tame only for you, sink in.

Do not with grief and anguish / tame my heart.

There were so many things in this world that made life harder and turned people bitter. You would not be one of them. You would not tame your heart. You would let it speak freely, you would let it burn for the woman cradling your head and protecting you from anything the world could throw at you. Tomorrow you would tell her. Tomorrow.

stars around the beautiful moon

hide back their luminous form

whenever all full she shines

on the earth

silvery

All your life, you had felt connected to the moon. Its unwavering beauty, its consistent waning away and returning in full shine, it had always assured you that no matter how bad things got, they would turn around for the better. It would be okay. You would be okay, more than okay with Abby by your side.

let me know what you thought (especially if you requested this!)

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson fanfiction #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby tlou2

198 notes · View notes

alyssaallyrion · 4 years ago

Text

Title: the course of true love (never did run smooth)

Rating: M

Summary: A soulmate AU in which Itachi and Shisui aren’t soulmates, but love, as usual, finds a way.

Written for ShisuIta Week 2021 Day 4 Prompt: Soulmate AU

ao3 link

Chapter 1

Itachi feels the ground under his back – a sudden pain of fall resonating through his body, knocking the air out of his lungs. Wincing, he opens his eyes and draws in a sharp breath. Shisui is over him, the red of his eyes slowly fading to black.

“Looks like I win again,” Shisui says, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Itachi lies – he’s still a little dizzy from the fall, “One more match?”

“I don’t know about you,” Shisui smiles brightly, “But I most certainly need a break. Not all of us can be as relentless as you.”

Shisui leans forward, offering Itachi a hand to help him up. With a sigh, Itachi grips Shisui’s forearm firmly, letting Shisui heave him to his feet.

“Let’s get some water,” Shisui offers.

Itachi hums absent-mindedly, distracted by the way Shisui’s hot skin feels under his palm. Suddenly coming to his senses, Itachi realizes that his hand has lingered longer than it should and instantly releases his grip on Shisui’s arm, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks.

In truth, Itachi too could use a break – they’ve been sparring for hours now, since the early morning – but Itachi has always felt an almost painful need to show Shisui that he can keep up with him.

Itachi wipes his forehead with the backside of his hand, wicking away the sweat. Summer has finally come to Konoha, filling the air with warmth and light. Training on the hot days was harder but necessary – years of serving in the ANBU have taught Itachi that being prepared for any conditions is essential to the survival and the success of the mission.

Itachi and Shisui walk to the posts on the edge of the training fields, where they left their belongings. Picking up his water flask, Itachi takes a large sip. The water is warm, having sat out in the sun all day, but it still feels refreshing.

“Your last move was excellent,” Shisui smiles, wiping his mouth with his hand, “I barely dodged it. Who knows, maybe with a little more practice, you’ll be able to get me one of these days.”

“Are you afraid?” Itachi chuckles, taking another sip of water.

“I should be, shouldn’t I?” Shisui laughs softly, “You are a genius after all.”

Itachi rolls his eyes and brings the flask to his lips again.

“Itachi, hold still for a moment,” Shisui says suddenly, “You have leaves in your hair.”

Itachi hardly needs Shisui’s help, but he likes Shisui’s touch, so he does as he’s told. Shisui runs his fingers deftly through Itachi’s hair, making a quick work of the offending leaves. Itachi almost regrets that there aren’t more of them so that he could feel Shisui’s touch for longer.

“There you go,” Shisui smiles, pulling his hand away.

“Thank you,” Itachi murmurs softly.

“Oh, I’ve almost forgotten,” Shisui says, closing his water flask. Reaching into his bag that rests on the ground, Shisui produces a small, rectangular box, “I’ve got you these.”

A smile blooms on Itachi’s lips as he realizes that Shisui has gotten him sweets from his favorite dessert shop in the village.

“Why did you get me sweets?” Itachi frowns, accepting the gift.

“It’s almost your birthday,” Shisui grins widely.

“My birthday isn’t for another week,” Itachi protests as he unwraps the ribbon.

“That’s true,” Shisui shrugs, then meets Itachi’s gaze, “Maybe I just like to see you smile.”

Itachi hopes that the color brought to his face by hours of sparring is bright enough to hide the blush rising in his cheeks. As he opens the box, he’s almost overwhelmed with the lovely smell. He wants to try the sweets so bad, but he knows he can’t just yet – the hour’s getting late, and Itachi had promised his mother that he and Shisui will be home in time for dinner.

“It’s too bad it’s almost dinner time,” Itachi sighs, looking wistfully at the sweets.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Shisui smiles mischievously.

Itachi glances between his best friend and the sweets in the box. The temptation is too much to resist.

“You’ll have to eat some too then,” Itachi says, “Just so you’re also implicated.”

“You really thought this through,” Shisui laughs as Itachi offers him the sweets.

Itachi cannot help but smile as he tries the candies – they are delicious and taste of sweet cherry and vanilla. Itachi has always had quite the sweet tooth – if it were up to him, he could likely eat his weight in sweets. Itachi wants to thank Shisui for getting him the candies, but when he glances up at him, the words die on his lips as his breath hitches in his throat.

Shisui’s mouth is sticky sweet from the sugary glaze coating the candies. Itachi watches, mesmerized, as his tongue darts out to collect the sweetness, unfamiliar yearning rising in his chest.

Then Shisui shifts and the spell is broken. Itachi shakes his head, chasing away the strange feeling. <em>What has come over him?</em>

The sun is setting slowly over the village, painting the sky red and orange. Itachi doesn’t want to walk home – the exhaustion from having spent the day sparring finally catching up with him – but he knows that his mother will be cross with them if they are late.

“We should go,” Itachi says, “It’s almost time for dinner.”

Shisui doesn’t argue.

They collect their belongings, then take the short way to Itachi’s house. The Uchiha compound is quiet in the early evening hours – most people are at home having dinner with their families before bursting back out onto the streets to enjoy a warm summer night.

They walk side by side through the streets of the compound, and Itachi feels at ease – as he usually does when Shisui is by his side. When Shisui looks at him, he doesn’t see the clan heir or the ANBU captain or a genius shinobi – he only sees him, Itachi.

“I wonder what your mother has made,” Shisui says, distracting Itachi from his thoughts, “But then again, all her cooking is amazing.”

“You know,” Itachi looks over to Shisui, “You might be my mother’s favorite dinner guest – I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as enthusiastic about her food.”

“Well then they must not understand anything about good food,” Shisui replies easily, “Homemade meals prepared with love are always the best!”

There is a wistful expression on Shisui’s face, and Itachi’s heart clenches. Shisui is an orphan – both his parents died when he was really young. <em>He must miss them so…</em> For all Itachi’s issues with his father, he is really grateful to have a family.

To distract Shisui from his thoughts, Itachi nudges him lightly.

“Maybe you should get married then,” he says, teasingly, “If you pick right, you could get all the homecooked meals you want.”

“And devastate half of Konoha?” Shisui laughs, glancing at him, “Such a cruel suggestion, Itachi.”

He knows that Shisui’s joking, and, yet, Itachi’s heart drops at his words – with Shisui’s good looks and charming personality, it was little wonder that so many were smitten with him. He knows he has no right to feel this way, and still, he cannot help it – he hates the thought of Shisui with someone else.

They turn the corner and find themselves outside of Itachi’s home.

“Itachi, is that you?” his mother calls from the kitchen as soon as they enter the house.

“Yes, mother,” Itachi responds as he and Shisui take off their shoes and head to the kitchen.

Mikoto’s standing by the stove, somehow tending to three different pots at the same time.

“Hello Shisui,” his mother smiles, glancing over her shoulder, “You two came just in time – the dinner is almost ready. You better be hungry – I’ve made way too much food or three people.”

“Very are famished and very excited for the food,” Shisui replies easily, earning an even brighter smile from Mikoto.

While Itachi’s father has always been somewhat apprehensive around Shisui, realizing, perhaps, that his primary loyalty was to the village rather than to the clan, his mother has always adored him.

“Is Sasuke not here tonight?” Itachi asks, frowning.

“He’s over at Kushina’s house,” Mikoto shrugs, “With Naruto.”

Itachi smiles – it’s good that Sasuke has friends his age.

“Do you need help with anything?” Shisui asks Mikoto.

“Just carry these to the table,” Mikoto nods at the few platters resting on the counter next to her.

They do as they are told.

The dinner goes well, and, as his mother recounts a story from her days as a kunoichi in response to Shisui’s amusing tale from the recent mission, Itachi finds himself wishing they’d have evenings like this more often.

“Itachi,” his mother says softly, distracting him from his thoughts, “You are unusually quiet today.”

“I’m just a little tired,” Itachi shrugs.

“I can only imagine,” Mikoto frowns, “You have been out training since the early morning without any rest. Training is important – but you two should take better care of yourself!”

Shisui shoots him a glance that can only mean, “I tell you that all the time.” Itachi rolls his eyes at him, saying without words, “Look who’s talking.”

They help Mikoto clear the table after dinner. Itachi lingers in the kitchen with his mother for a moment as Shisui heads back to the dining room to get more plates. Once Itachi puts cups into the cupboard, he turns around and notices his mother look at him intently.

“Mother, is something wrong?” Itachi asks, confused.

“No,” Mikoto shakes her head, “Not at all. It’s just that time flies so fast. I feel like only yesterday you were a tiny child in my arms, but not you are almost a man grown. To think that you are turning sixteen in a week – old enough to get your soulmate mark…”

“Mother,” Itachi interrupts her instantly.

Smile leaves Mikoto’s features, replaced by a concerned expression.

“Right,” she says, “I’m sorry.”

Itachi doesn’t want to talk about soulmates – especially not around Shisui. Everyone in the village had their soulmate mark appear on their sixteenth birthday, but, somehow, in a cruel twist of fate, Shisui never got one. Itachi always thought this unfair – Shisui was an incredible person and deserved to be loved.

Itachi remembers the day of Shisui’s sixteenth birthday all too well. Shisui was supposed to return from the mission late that night, but Itachi’s heart was fluttering with nervous anticipation, and he realized that he could not wait till the morning to see him. Instead, he got Shisui’s favorite cake and went to his apartment to wait for him there.

Time stretched slowly, and it was well past midnight when he’d finally heard the front door open. When he saw Shisui, Itachi felt a lump in his throat – his friend looked utterly exhausted, and there was a strange sadness in his gaze. Itachi’s never seen him look like that.

The instant Shisui’s eyes fell upon Itachi, his face lit up.

“Itachi!” he exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to be the first one to wish you happy birthday,” Itachi smiled at him.

It wasn’t technically Shisui’s birthday anymore since it was well past midnight, but Itachi thought it was close enough.

“Thank you,” Shisui breathed out, walking over to Itachi and pulling him in for a hug. Itachi’s heart fluttered in his throat as he buried his face in Shisui’s chest. Only one question was burning in his mind, but somehow, Itachi couldn’t find the courage to ask.

The thought of Shisui having someone else’s name on his skin burned his heart. Back then, he thought it was because they were close friends – after all, it was not uncommon for people who have just found their soulmates to spend time with them and neglect other people in their lives, at least for a while. Itachi always loved spending time with Shisui, so the thought of being apart from him was painful. It took too long for Itachi to realize that this wasn’t mere jealousy of a friend – that he’d been in love with Shisui all those years.

Once he had let Itachi go, Shisui headed to the shower, as he usually did after the mission. Afterward, they settled at his kitchen table and ate the cake Itachi brought. Itachi noticed a deep, fresh scar running up Shisui’s forearm, and his breath hitched in his throat – so close to the artery, it’s good that they had a medic on their team.

Itachi looked Shisui in the face, the question burning on the tip of his tongue. Finally, he could not handle the uncertainty any longer.

“So…” Itachi started slowly, “Have you…?”

Shisui met his gaze calmly, then smiled.

“No,” he shrugged, “I didn’t. Looks like I don’t have one.”

Itachi looked at him in stunned silence. Shisui’s tone was so casual that it seemed he was talking about the weather and not about not having a soulmate. Itachi felt conflicted – a part of him was overcome with sadness for his friend, but another, selfish part, was almost relieved. There was another feeling niggling at Itachi’s heart that he could not yet– now he knows it was the anguish of not being Shisui’s soulmate.

The next few days passed in a strange haze – Itachi was both terrified and hopeful that the mark could still appear. But days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, then years, and Shisui still never got a soulmate mark.

People were, of course, surprised and sympathetic – it was almost unheard of for someone to never receive their soulmate mark. Shisui was the pride and joy of their clan, and everyone was waiting with bated breath to find out who his soulmate was, and, when it turned out he didn’t have one…People haven’t looked at him the same.

It always angered Itachi – to him, Shisui was the most incredible person. What did it matter if there was no soulmate mark on his skin?

Dread rises in Itachi’s chest at the thought of his own fast-approaching birthday. Ever since he learned that Shisui didn’t have a soulmate, he has hoped that he, too, won’t get a soulmate mark. He didn’t need a soulmate mark to tell him who to love – for so many years, he’s only loved Shisui, only wanted Shisui. And Itachi would never let some stupid mark change the way he feels.

The thought of someone else’s name on his skin makes bile rise in Itachi’s throat. He wants to be with Shisui - or no one at all. He knows that Shisui – his selfless Shisui – will never be with him if he got someone else’s name, all in a misguided attempt to make Itachi happy. But what if being with Shisui is all Itachi ever wanted?

Itachi pushes the thoughts away – there is nothing he can do now, with his birthday still a week away. His exhaustion finally catches up with him, making him dizzy. His mother notices immediately and shoos Shisui and him upstairs to sleep.

They part at the top of the stairs – Itachi heads to his own room and Shisui to the guest quarters. When they were younger, they used to sleep in the same room whenever Shisui stayed over, but with time Itachi’s parents thought it more proper that each had their own space.

In his room, Itachi switches into his sleeping clothes and crawls into his bed. He’s exhausted, yet somehow, sleep doesn’t come. Despite the warm day, his bed feels cold, and he keeps twisting and turning, trying to find a comfortable position. Itachi gives up with a sigh, then gets out of bed and heads out of his room.

He knows he shouldn’t do this – not now that he’s realized that he has feelings for Shisui, but he cannot stop himself. Not when sleeping in Shisui’s arms always felt so safe and comfortable. He wonders briefly if it’s improper but pushes the thoughts away – when he and Shisui are together, nothing ever feels wrong.

Itachi finally reaches the guestroom and opens the door quietly. Shisui is lying on the futon, fast asleep, his curls strewn across the pillow, his mouth slightly open.

“Shisui,” Itachi murmurs, stepping into the room.

Shisui shifts slightly then opens his eyes.

“Itachi,” he whispers, voice hoarse, “Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah,” Itachi nods, then gestures at the futon, “Can I…?”

“Of course,” Shisui smiles, moving to the side, “Just don’t poke me with your elbow again.”

Itachi scoffs, crawling into the bed next to Shisui. They’ve grown quite a bit in the recent years – once upon a time, this futon was big enough for both of them to sprawl out without touching, but now they end up pressed close together. The warmth radiating from Shisui makes Itachi’s skin tingle as he shifts closer, leaning against Shisui’s side.

As soon as Itachi’s head touches the pillow, he starts to drift off.

“Comfortable?” he hears Shisui whisper against the crown of his head.

“Yes,” Itachi mumbles sleepily, “I wish it was always just the two of us.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Shisui replies softly.

With that, Itachi finally falls asleep.

#itachi uchiha #shisui uchiha #shisuitaweek2021 #shisuita #shiita

26 notes · View notes

pleasantwizardphilosopher · 3 years ago

Text

Just you and me

So, I finally gathered the courage to write something and went for a SuperCorp fanfic, because clearly I am supercorp trash. I haven’t decided whether to post it in AO3 or not but if I do I’ll let you know. English is not my first language so if you get any mistakes or some parts lack cohesion please let me know and I’ll try to fix it. This fic goes by the idea that Kara is a very good scientist, she deserves that much, Lena’s background is canon-like. There are no dialogs, only feelings and senses, hope you like it.

*********

Finding yourself stuck in time is hard, at least that’s what most people would feel like under such circumstances, but not for Lena, not right now, where every single piece of “normalcy” her life had is just beginning to crumble, like a piece of sun-dried bread, or the way eggshells crack after someone steps on them, painfully, noisily, in a million pieces, most of all and beyond everything, they shatter unrecognizably and irreparably. Maybe the cold that such pain leaves behind is what led her to run, maybe it was the sudden fear and tiredness that was left in her, like cold steel in her bones, maybe it was the emptiness that started consuming every truth she thought she knew. It did not matter, she fled, running as fast as she could in those 7-inch Louboutins. She never looked back, not even after her flight landed in National City, not even after setting foot for the first time in her new penthouse in the middle of the city. She never regretted it, at first it was rough, sure, like every bumpy road is, yet, after the first glance she ever took at that blonde hair that day in the park, all doubts were erased off her mind.

*********

It was the end of August, the chilly air that announced a cold winter ahead blew her hair, ruffling it in her face; filling the streets, waking scattered orange and brown-ish leaves that had fallen from nearby trees, whistling on its way through the now almost-bare branches. The wind left behind the soft aroma of wet dirt, freshly baked bread and upcoming rain, heartwarmingly, filling her lungs easily with every breath, puffing visible clouds when exhaling. It was certainly nostalgic, the kind that makes you feel warm and cozy and at the same time makes your eyes prickle with unshed tears. Kara felt that pull, as usual, for everything good her life has had, and everything it had taken from her. She stood on the sidewalk, towards National’s City Central Park, glancing around her, taking in her surroundings when her gaze landed on a particular someone, dragged to her as if her eyes were mere pieces of steel and that woman were a huge neodymium magnet; She found herself staring at a sight she’ll always remember, because at that moment, when she first saw her, she felt a different kind of pull at her heart, the kind that screamed “caution!”, but in the good way, hopefully.

Long before she knew her name, what made her laugh, what made fer fidget with her fingers nervously, but above all, long before she had met that woman with dark long silky hair, forest-green eyes and pearly skin. Long before that gorgeous human being, with such power emanating from her, yet such caring, hopeful eyes, crossed her path, long before she made her feel like flying without actually leaving the ground, mostly, who she would grow to love, maybe, maybe she was fantasizing too much, who could blame her, it surely was a sight to remember.

*********

When the double doors slide open, she’s expecting a no-nonsense, powerful, cold-blooded, cocky-demeanor CEO, what she’s definitely not expecting is for such CEO to be almost precisely all that shaped and carefully placed in a stunning, raven-haired woman, whose green eyes could pierce through your soul and would probably make you spill your darkest and deepest secrets, those that also hide so much fear, making her want to walk over there and pour all her support into a hug. Kara swallows. Nevertheless, there is also something else to this woman’s aura, her posture is perfect, clearly carved into her from a very young age, and her smile is polite but stiff, almost practiced, and still, Kara can feel kindness emanating from her, true deep kindness and care. Something brings her to the present again, her breath hitches, those beautiful eyes are staring intently into hers with curiosity and a hint of amusement. The woman in front of her has managed to steal her breath twice now, which is not something she, the founder and co-owner of a start-up company. Harvard graduate and Kryptonian, finds happening often, she has faced great threats, from grumpy bankers to out-of-space threats as Supergirl, yet, Lena Luthor has managed to make her heartbeat go erratic with a simple gaze.

The soft scent of an expensive perfume fills the office, something akin cinnamon, vanilla and a little scotch (?). It is dizzying and a little distracting. She somehow manages to go through her proposal for the CEO without stumbling too much and, fortunately, without rambling. Lena seems fascinated by the proposal and agrees to the terms without major modifications to the contract. After both signing, they shake hands, and maybe, just maybe, they linger a little more than needed, both enraptured by the softness of the other’s hand. Lena pulls away first, fingers tingling, feeling the tips of her fingers warm and a lingering scent of something floral, it is electrifying, like a low current cursing through her veins, making her get goosebumps all over her arms, but she doesn’t mind, as her attention is captured by those ocean blue eyes that seemingly hold the weight of the world. She certainly is nowhere close to getting tired of them.

*********

When they signed this partnership, they did not expect it to turn this way, at least Kara didn't, or so she muses while sitting on the ledge of her rooftop. She truly just meant to get funding and maybe get to work a little up-close with the brilliant, certified genius of a woman. Sure, she is gorgeous and incredibly sharp-minded, as proven by so many magazines’ articles having bothered to analyze both qualities deeply and thoroughly; but after that first sight of her, with such strength and determination to her pose, with each powerful step, with every sway of her hips, albeit hiding so much hurt, sadness, and a great burden, brought to her by her last name; a burden that Kara has somehow come know so well, such need to be understood, because, the truth was, that no one had ever lived through loss the way they did. One lost her world, her culture and way of life, but found love and compassion, whereas Lena was denied both from a very short age, living a life without love, compassion, and affection, in a household where the outside cold wouldn’t enter, as the inside was icier.

The cold nighty wind startles her, it brings to her mind memories of bight smiles, so hard that certain dimples showed, laughs so hard that some wine would be spat on a very white leader couch, sunny days filled with an assortment of foods and a wonderful voice, filling every corner of the room with its melody and a slight accent, becoming more evident when emotion takes a rightful place in her voice, one that comes from a very pale yet very compassionate woman. She has to tell her, it's been just over a year since they first met, but she knows it is time, with them growing closer, she has to tell her she is Supergirl. And yeah, she definitely did NOT expect things to turn this way. (Maybe she kinda did).

**********

When she asked Kara if she understood the quantum mechanics behind the surface plasmon resonance their platinum nanoparticles showed, she wanted to be shaken, mad even, because why wouldn't she, the to-be youngest member of the Science Guild on Krypton? Of course, they didn't have the same metals as they did on Earth, but they understood the physics behind the phenomena. Okay, Lena did do not know her identity, yet, hopefully, but she did have a Bachelor in Mechatronic Engineering and a Master Degree in Advanced Materials, she definitely may have crossed paths with the concept. But hell, how can she be mad when those bright, summer-trees green eyes look at her with such glint of excitement, with a twinkling sparkle or curiosity? Those eyes that were looking at her with a look you give someone you know gets you, beyond understanding your words, those who truly get a grasp of your language, of who you are, what makes you shake with the excitement of a new discovery, a greater challenge. It was then that Kara knew that she could read Lena the way no one had ever done for her, she could grasp what she needed in every moment, what she was thinking, but she also got her sciency stuff, the theoretical jargon, upcoming theories, the physics behind phenomena and she shared her love for technology that could make humans' lives better, longer, healthier. They shared, compassion, vision, passion and... Kara was now almost certain, love.

At least she thinks so, what else could those stolen glances be? She looks up, just to find those forest-green eyes glinting with determination and concentration while those agile slender fingers handle tools and twinkle their way around the solar panel’s circuitry. She is so enraptured by her skills that she mistakenly adds way too much platinum sulfide to the solution, turning it suddenly black and bringing her out of her stupor as the contents boil, violently spilling all over the place, filling the air with a slight scent of iron, evaporated water and burnt plastic. Green eyes break contact with the panel to look towards where strong hands work frantically to turn off the hot plate she was working on, dropping her tools she reaches a hand to help Kara, concerned green eyes looking for any kind of burn injury or spill that may need to be taken care of. After making sure everything is (mostly) okay and that it was just a failed reaction, Kara is suddenly aware of a soft hand pulling her away from the table, vanilla and cinnamon fill the air around her, like a soft embrace, that turns real when Lena pulls her into her arms, a soft bubble surrounding Kara, making her a little giddy and peaceful at the same time. Flowers, fresh-cut flowers is what Lena smells, while she hugs Kara tightly, it is normal to get worried for your best friend after a lab incident, no matter how small, she tells herself, and while it maybe is, it is definitely not normal the way her heart felt like stopping the moment she saw the hot contents of the Erlenmeyer flask spill all over the place, fearing for Kara, feeling it creep up her spine and settle like cold ice on her stomach and lungs, making it hard to breathe.

When strong arms surround her and pull her in tighter, she realizes she has started shaking and hyperventilating, embarrassed she hides her face in the crook of Kara’s neck, and everything fades outside this moment. It is just them, vanilla, and flowers, Kara murmuring sweet nothings into Lena’s ear, hearing her heartbeat even out, and her breathing become normal; and Lena trusting that this person, whose arms seem to be able to lift a bus, whose laugh makes her heart warm and fuzzy, whose smile lights her world and makes her feel safe, cared for and understood; will never let her fall. And perhaps she is right.

**********

Yup, it is definitely love. What else could it be? That snowy January, between hot cocoa and soft muffins, she knew. She is hovering outside her lab, on the outskirts of town, where it was less likely that someone caught her both personas; peeking through the windows, she sees her, Lena is coding the interface that would allow them to take the most efficiency and durability out of the technology they had designed, the mechanical and chemical part was almost done already. She is typing, eyes narrowed in concentration behind thick rimmed glasses, the tip of her tongue poking from a corner of her mouth. And Kara knows, she wants to caress those hands when they were trembling from the winter cold, but also kiss them after a long day working with her computer, she wants to rub her feet after a day filled with meetings and kiss her every time her brilliant mind comes up with a solution for an impossible problem. But above all that, she wants to hold her and whisper into her ear comforting and loving words when she has a nightmare regarding Lex, she knows it’s a common occurrence. She wants to see her crumble knowing that Kara would always hold her and support her, kissing her lovingly every time her insecurities get the best of her. She wants her to feel safe, protected and loved in a way she always deserved but never got.

She sighs, this is it and she knows it, there is not moving forward without coming clean about Supergirl, because, staring at Lena, she knows there is no going back either, looking the way her agile fingers dance around the keyboard as if she were writing a letter to a friend instead of a state-of-the-art software to power and control their recently developed solar panels. She thinks of how beautiful of a soul Lena is, she has such a big heart, she has a huge weight on her shoulders for being a Luthor, a burden which Kara would love to lift from her since it is not hers to carry, it shouldn’t be. Furthermore, she cares so much for the world and the people in it, even for the ones that are not human, unlike her family she is truly kind and compassionate.

Here goes nothing. Kara flies through the lab floor-to-ceiling windows towards the desk where Lena is working, placing beside her the paper bag containing hot cocoa and muffins for her. Due to the cold, the soft warm homey smell soon starts filling the room. Lena looks up smiling, expecting to find Kara behind the treats, but instead, bright green eyes lock with glassy baby blue eyes, trembling lips and fingers fidgeting. Lena stands. She is instantly shaking, whatever it is that could possibly turn the unyielding hero into a crying mess must be of great concern. She steadies herself by grabbing the edge of the table to keep her knees from buckling, knuckles turn white. Green never leaves blue. And just when she is about to ask the hero what brings her here, a strong hand comes to the small of her back to steady her and keep her upright. She has never been this close to Supergirl and at that moment when every sound seems to shut and the air stills, she knows.

She knows why those sky-blue eyes always inspired her such calm and confidence, why she always felt safe in those arms that could bend steel as butter. Because in that moment, when the warmth emanating from that hand starts filtering through her clothes, warming her, her senses are also filled with a smell of flowers, mixed with chocolate and bread, and a hint of mint; when a single tear escapes those ocean blue eyes, she crumbles. She crumbles under that gaze filled with pain and sorrow, filled with such regret that she could feel it creeping through herself, nestling in every corner of her body, making her feel slump and heavy. She also sees intelligence, compassion and strength, qualities she has come to be very familiar with under a blue setting. And so, she grabs the hero’s suit in her fist and buries her face in her chest, a single heart-wreaking cry filling the air. Kara shatters then, knowing how much pain this is causing to a soul that has been betrayed over and over again, who has been abused and pushed to her limits. She knows she is picking an open wound with a stick, and she hates herself for it, for using the same trust Lena gave her against her. They slide to the floor, never letting go of each other, tears falling freely through both their cheeks. Lena breaks into heartbreaking sobs and Kara holds her tighter, as if trying to keep her from falling into pieces, from breaking apart, rocking them both back and forth softly. Lena just cries, screaming from time to time, gripping the fabric so tightly that if it were regular fabric, it would be tearing down by now, but it isn’t, just as the woman holding her, the woman she most certainly is NOT in love with, is not a regular human. They stay there, holding onto each other, never breaking eye contact, the hot cocoa and muffins long forgotten.

**********

She really isn’t mad. She isn’t. So maybe she has been slightly avoiding Kara, but she isn’t mad. Despite her first-instance outburst of emotions, she realized she really isn’t angry at Kara from keeping the Supergirl thing a secret from her, yes, she was deeply hurt and upset but she understands the reasoning behind it, albeit she wishes Kara had told her earlier in their relationship it also makes perfect sense for her to hide it until making sure their relationship was well-founded and strong.

She is quite lost though, there is a small hint of emptiness inside her chest from that day which smelled like chocolate and bread, at first Lena thought she might actually and finally be broken, her heart having taken so many hits already. But the pain eventually faded, and that emptiness never left, on the contrary, it became more present, so much that she was now almost used to it. Like a lingering rock in the bottom of her stomach, or a ball of cotton in her throat, constant, bearable but persistent. And now, as the snow starts melting outside her office she wonders why. She knows why though; she just likes to pretend like she can fool herself.

The morning sun is hitting her office’s windows, warmer than it has been for the past few months and as the first drops of melted snow start to fall from the rooftop to her balcony, the pretense falls to pieces, and she falls along with it. She fumbles with her balcony door and stumbles outside, not even bothering to grab her coat, as soon as she steps outside, she is hit with cold, humid air and slippery floors. Taking huge gasps of cold air to fill lungs that seemingly do not want to be filled.

Maybe this is all she needed, standing on her balcony and glancing at the city, the morning sun casting a bright yellow light over her face, warming her skin softly, while her side in the shadows gets colder every passing second. It is enough, hot and cold, day and night, light and darkness, she always wondered to which side of the scale she tipped the most, she used to believe she was all shadows, a Luthor, and Kara was light, all goodness, she smiles at the irony, a Super. However, while she is taking in the city, calm and almost quiet since it is so early, bright light hitting the buildings and cold, contrasting shadows hiding smaller streets, cars, and people, she gets it. Kara was never all light, and will never be, she has on her shoulders an unbearable pain that will never go away and with her powers come hard choices that no one should ever have to make. And she, she is not darkness, she is both, and she can choose which side to feed, and she wants to choose light, just not any light, one that is personified by blonde hair and ocean-deep blue eyes that she could, and does, get lost into. Maybe, she can bring a certain light to Kara as well, maybe they both deserve it, they deserve each other. Letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding she turned on her heels towards her office and out of it, directly to a certain warehouse on the outskirts of town. The balcony door left open, melted snow glowing gold from the morning sun, dripping into Lena’s office.

**********

Disappointment is that what she feels, no, sadness, for sure, she knew things could go sideways with the whole reveal show and yet, the clench in her heart won’t go away easily, and she knows she absolutely has no right to feel that way, she made that choice, just as she has made every other choice before it. She is tempering with her suit, waiting for her cell culture to finish growing so she can properly test their absorption properties. Soft pop music plays in the background, filling the warehouse with soft notes with a cheesy vibe, the mid-morning sun streams from the windows, lighting the space with an orange-ish golden glow. She finishes her upgrades with a tired huff, never one to hate working on something she surprises herself with such reaction. Groaning with frustration that has nothing to do with her projects and a lot to do with a certain pale powerful, wonderful, CEO.

She walks towards the windows, letting herself bask in the mid-morning light, feeling her powers recharge and her body start buzzing with energy. She clenches her fists, as the warmth caress of the sun on her skin makes her heart ache, missing another entirely different kind of warmth. She leans against a wall and lets her body slide to the ground, bringing her knees to her chest, she closes her eyes, letting herself get lost in the feeling of the sun kissing her skin, softly, almost hesitantly, she can almost picture a certain brunette, softly stroking her cheek, a sweet lovingly caress. A single tear rolls down her cheek from her closed eyes, knowing that such caresses may never be from her, a faith written by her own hand, resulting from her choices, as hard as it is. Letting her straining superhearing and expanding its reach she hears the hustle and bustle from downtown a few kilometers away, she hears the honks of the cars and the heavy panting from people running late for their work, such mundane thing that she may never truly get to live and experience. As her hearing expands, she finds herself focusing in a very well-known heartbeat, one she can distinguish above the sea of heartbeats that flood the city; it is beating absurdly fast, and her first reaction is to focus on her surroundings to find out whether she is in danger or not.

She hears heavy puffs of air, heels clicking steadily and determinately on the pavement, closer with every step, and is she running? Her breath hitches when realization dawns on her, she IS running, towards her. While her mind screams for her to move, to do something, her body is frozen, unresponsive, breath caught in her throat, she absolutely does not understand what is happening and doesn’t know what to expect from the woman that is now reaching her. Before she can dwell on it further, a feminine soft hand with slender cold fingers is touching her knee softly. She is panting from the effort, her breath smells like back coffee and mint, hitting Kara’s face warmly, making her head spin; a slight scent of grounded coffee beams mixed with Lena’s favorite scotch emanates from her clothes, she smells strangely like home; her red lipstick matching her flushed cheeks from running, and Kara cannot help but let her jaw fall open in awe at the sight.

She grabs Lena’s wrists softly and stands up bringing her along. Kara finally gathers her courage and looks at her eyes. She feels like sinking under her gaze, not out of fear, it’s nothing but love and warmth what she sees in those jade-green eyes, feelings she doesn’t feel worthy of, specially not when coming from the Irish goddess. Just when she’s about to close her eyes again, uncapable of keeping her gaze, Lena hooks a finger under her chin and makes her raise her eyes up to hers again. Insecure, scared-like blue puppy eyes find soft-looking bright emerald eyes. It’s understanding what she sees now in those deep green eyes, the same ones that seem capable of reading her like an open book. She lets out a sob, and Lena lets go of her chin, going to grab her hand, bringing it to her lips and kissing her palm tenderly.

The breeze brings to Kara’s nose the scent of Lena’s shampoo, smells like rainy days and autumn leaves, and, as usual, no words are needed when Kara moves her hand from Lena’s lips to cup her cheeks, bringing her other hand up. And, what else can she do other than lean forward? So, she does, she leans forward and kisses her forehead, its soft, tender, like a butterflies’ kiss, just barely brushing her skin, trying to convey her love for her beautiful Genius™ mind, for her brilliance, stubbornness and compassionate selfless soul. She then brushes her lips softly on both her eyelids, trying to convey all the love and regret she feels regarding the way she did Supergirl secret-related things. She parts slowly and watches as Lena opens her eyes fluttering open slowly, bringing her hands up to grab the wrists of the Kara’s hands that are still cupping her face, thumbs softly stroking the inside of the kryptonian’s wrists, she lets out a shaky breath, blue eyes looking at her so lovingly tenderly, with such determination and strength, unyielding as sapphires, she feels no questioning in her heart, this is where she is meant to be, she turns into a mushy puddle and lets herself be drawn into the Girl of Steel.

Kara leans forward and kisses her nose, giggling quietly, Lena simply melts into it feeling a soft warm breath that smells like chocolate and honey, suddenly, the emptiness in her chest melts like ice cream on a hot summer day, leaving nothing but love and warmth, like the one from a fireplace on Christmas Eve. She lets out a shuddering breath, relieved. They lock eyes again, and finally all those unspoken questions find an answer. They lean forward at the same time, their lips meeting in the middle, fitting perfectly against each other. It is warm, tender, loving, and everything it should be, the way every cheesy romantic comedy says it’s like. They pour all their love into that moment, lips moving against each other, chocolate-honey and black coffee.

When they finally part, it’s like breathing for the first time, lungs grasping for oxygen, freshly cut grass, concrete and sun-provided warmth, and it is perfect. Like taking a breath after holding it underwater for a long time, except you never truly knew what breathing was like, until that life-altering breath. They breathe in sync, foreheads touching, Kara’s hands go down to wrap around Lena’s waist, pulling her closer, Lena rests her head softly on Kara’s chest, nuzzling into her neck and closing her eyes, letting herself fall into that fierce love, like an all-consuming fire, she’s been too afraid to open herself to, to be vulnerable. They stay there, enjoying each other’s embrace, the hustle and bustle of the city blind to a beautifully blooming love.

**********

Kara is very clumsy, it does help her keep up her façade, albeit it is also a personal trait of hers. And right now, as she trips on nothing, while standing nonetheless, she makes it extremely evident. Forest green eyes look at her amused from the other side of the door. How does Lena expect Kara not to fall face first to the ground when she is dressed looking like THAT. Wearing a deep red drees that falls softly just below her knees, strapless, leaving her back and cleavage on display, her hair up in a neat bun and her signature 7-inch black heels, Kara definitely stopped breathing, not that she needs to anyway. She stands up awkwardly, taking the dust off her khaki pants and dark blue blazer. Lena cannot hide a smirk after pulling such reaction from no other than Supergirl.

The CEO pulls Kara into her apartment, it smells like vanilla and apples, probably resulting from the many scented candles that Lena likes to light around her apartment. The only light comes from said candles and several Christmas-like light strings that are hanging from the ceiling, giving the place a warm cozy glow. Kara smiles lazily as she leans down to kiss Lena, catching a glimpse of bright emerald eyes melting glimmery before falling shut. She smiles into the kiss. She pulls apart slightly and kisses the tip of Lena’s nose, the raven-haired woman lets out a soft chuckle. Kara grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers, and leads her to the door. Today it’s dinner date day, they are celebrating the successful launch of their joint solar panels project, the best performance ever achieved thanks to a certain Kryptonian’s platinum oxide nanoparticles; and 10 months of full-on dating. As Kara closes the door of Lena’s apartment behind them, the warm smell of the candles fills the hallway and follows them into the elevator, a fluffy plush blanket, a protective mantle surrounding them.

**********

drip…drip… the constant crash of raindrops against the windows surrounding them, rain pouring heavily around them, drowning the usually loud noises of the city’s rush hour, washing away the strong smell of smog. They are tucked under a bus station stop, at least Lena is, Kara is already dripping, since she stubbornly stood outside the small protection the roof offers so Lena and other humas could take cover, she doesn’t get sick anyway. Lena is shivering, although it has been a remarkably hot summer, today was quite a cloudy day and it rained for the most part, resulting in a temperature drop of several degrees. The brunette leans into Kara seeking for her abnormally high body temperature to warm herself up, but the Girl of Steel has other plans, since she cannot fly Lena to their apartment, she might as well take the best out of the situation.

Just as Lena is dropping her full body weight into her, she slides away, pulling Lena’s hand with her, directly into the downpour. Lena gasps when the first heavy drops of the cold water hit her, feeling her clothes get soaked almost instantly, she feels the raindrops roll down her skin and further dampening her clothes, the smell of the rain fully hits her now and when she lifts her eyes from where they were looking at the floor not to trip, she sees Kara smiling her signature megawatt smile at her, completely soaked and intertwining their fingers playfully, so Lena smiles, smiles so hard her dimples show. She lets herself be dragged by Kara, running under the rain, feeling the cold sweeping into her bones, and feeling more whole and filled with happiness than she has in a very long time, if ever.

Kara jumps over a puddle with all the grace of a gazelle, letting go of the CEO’s hand, such displays of her true nature still wonder Lena, just when she is about to make the jump herself, Kara stops and abruptly turns towards her. The world stops. Or maybe she is the one that freezes, the only thing she can hear is the rain pouring heavily around them, and her heart beating erratically in her chest, ringing in her ears, the smell of rain mixes with Kara’s floral perfume, she is getting closer now. The brunette starts shaking, and it has nothing to do with the cold water still running down her body. Kara stands in front of her, soaking wet, dirt all over her jeans from playing in the rain, her hair falls in wet dirty blonde strands around her face, her eyes as baby blue as always are dim because of the raindrops that coat her glasses, and in her soaking hands she’s holding an astonishingly made silver ring, two intertwined silver strings hold one small bright emerald in the middle, the inside of one of the string, in almost unreadably tiny letters reads “You are my hero”. The simplicity of the stone in contrast with the intricate design of the ring.

Lena forgets how to breathe, but Kara understands, so she just waits there, with the most loving smile ever seen stamped on her face. When Lena’s out of body experience ends, she simply nods enthusiastically. And so, the world starts spinning again, the honks of the cars return, engines roaring and muffled conversations, all muted by the rain, washing over them as reality sinks in, they are choosing each other, even when the world has tried to pull them apart repeatedly, furthermore, against each other, for them, none of it matters, just them, here and now, kissing for the first time in hopefully many years to come. Lena lets her hands drape loosely around Kara’s neck, feeling the grounding weight of the ring on her left ring finger, hot against her cold skin, the same way Kara’s hands, which hold her together.

#supergirl #supercorp #fanfic #karlena #kryptonian #i wrote this on a whim #please give me feedback #this is my first fic #be kind

19 notes · View notes

nalgenewhore · 4 years ago

Text

dearest one, my darling dear

series masterlist, elide x lorcan, alternate canon au, word count: 3782

Iron claws whizzed, a mere centimetre from his face and Lorcan quickly snapped his head back, returning the blow with a swirling arc of his gleaming hatchet.

The witch, with hair darker than a starless night, nimbly spun away, striking back once more with her nails and a dizzying flurry of kicks.

They fought viciously in the make-shift training ring, icy mud slipping beneath them. Neither ceded ground, always fighting back, never giving in. His magic buzzed around him, but Lorcan didn’t touch it.

Steel and iron screeched, paining his delicate ears, as Elide stopped his sword with her hand and twisted it from his grip. It was sent spinning away. She slashed with her other hand, easily ducking his hatchet. A snarl ripped from her throat as the tip of it grazed her cheekbone and Elide launched herself at Lorcan.

Her arms encircled his middle and Lorcan fell down with a surprised grunt, his back crashed into the unforgiving ground.

Elide gripped his wrist and slammed it down, forcing his hand to open. His axe skittered away and Elide quickly pinned his elbows down with her knees, her chest rising and falling erratically. Those iron fangs of hers glinted as she grinned triumphantly, “I win.”

A large cry, mixed with outrage and elation, went through the crowd that had gathered. Lorcan saw the flash of coins being exchanged and smiled up at his wife, “Well done, witchling.”

Her pale cheeks were marked with dark freckles and splattered with mud alike. The cut on her high cheekbone was already healing, tinged a pale blue as her skin stitched itself together. Elide cackled and retracted her teeth as she shoved off him and stood up, offering him a dirty hand.

Lorcan groaned slightly as he accepted her hand and stood. He stooped to kiss her cheek, just over the cut, “Apologies, my heart.”

She chuckled and collected his weapons, passing them to him. “I’m only surprised I let you get that close.”

He jokingly held his hand to his heart, “Do you really think that lowly of my abilities?”

Elide simply hummed and pulled him with her out of the ring, so that her witches could train. Lorcan loosed a low laugh and they dumped their outer garments in front of their vardo before they slipped off to the springs behind.

Steam rose from the collection of pools. The witch pulled her loose undershirt from her body and stripped her leggings, leaving them both in a neat pile before she stepped into the hot water. A low, rasping groan slipped from her round lips and heated Lorcan’s blood.

He joined her after leaving his mud-coated garments beside hers. Elide slowly floated over to his embrace and leaned back into his chest. Her head lazed back onto his shoulder when Lorcan wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder, his stubbled cheek fitting against Elide’s soft, smooth skin.

Neither said a word as they washed their bodies and hair and relaxed, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

Lorcan redonned his pants and tossed his shirt to his wife. Elide gratefully caught it and slipped it over her now-pliant body. It grazed her mid-thighs and Lorcan stared at the hem for longer than he cared to admit.

Elide laughed and walked back to the carriage, her hips swishing from side to side. He sunk his pointed canines into his bottom lip to control himself and dutifully followed. She paused at the curve of the path and cocked her head to the side, “Taking our sweet time, are we?”

In response, Lorcan sent a shadow of his power to pinch the curve of her ass and laughed darkly when she squeaked at the feeling, her cheeks tinged blue as she blushed. Before he could be reprimanded, Lorcan ran and picked her up, hauling her over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

Elide yelped and slammed her fists against his back, “Put me down.”

He didn’t listen and with his arm banded like a vice over the backs of her thighs, Elide couldn’t move unless she really wanted to. Honestly, she preferred this. It was far easier than walking.

With his long legs and purposeful strides, Lorcan was setting her down on top step to the door in a few short moments.

Elide pushed the door open and walked in, going to their trunk to root through it for suitable clothes. Lorcan stepped in, having to duck his head and curl his broad shoulders to fit. She chuckled at the sight and stood up after he’d closed the door, sliding her hand up his chest as she rose onto the tips of her toes and kissed him.

He hummed and slid his arm around her waist, dipping her slightly. “Don’t get distracted,” Lorcan murmured, his teeth grazing over her full bottom lip. “The gathering is tomorrow.”

She pulled back, a brow arched, “You would go an entire day?”

Shrugging, Lorcan tossed something behind her and grinned wickedly, “Wouldn’t you?”

Her sly smile, phantom fangs glinting over her white teeth, told him enough. They stared at each other, lust and desire rolling beneath their skins, so close to snapping. Elide, who had always possessed far greater self-control, shoved a bundle of clothes into his hands, “You should tend to your blades.”

Lorcan laughed quietly and kissed her cheek, “Of course. I’ve got to keep them sharp for the reunion.”

Elide snorted and they both dressed efficiently, not wasting any more time. She would have to speak to her second and third today, reinforce the plan and make sure her witches would keep themselves in line.

Lorcan was dressed first and left Elide on their bed, a mirror propped on one of the trunks as she did her braids.

He sat on the steps and cleaned the mud and grime from his sword with a rag. Next to him, there was a bucket of water that he dipped his whetstone in. He dragged it over the edge, grinding down the nick left by his darling’s nails.

Satisfied, he put it down and picked up his hatchet. Lorcan always got a little melancholy when he handled the weapon, thinking of its twin hanging from another male’s hip.

It wasn’t often that Lorcan yearned for his old life. And no matter what, there was nothing that could convince him to trade it for the one he now lived.

Shing went the stone as he put it to the edge. Oddly, the sound had always soothed him, having spent centuries in war camps.

Shing. Shing. Shing.

His ears twitched and his nostrils flared delicately as he scented a group of people approaching.

Preternatural stillness settled over him and he glanced over his shoulder, still sensing Elide inside.

The dark, death-blessed demi-fae looked up as three pairs of ungraceful feet thudded across the clearing of flattened grass.

Their vardo was set separated from the others - to grant the clan matron and her lover privacy.

Iskra Yellowlegs’ brutish face stared at him, that cruel sneer twisting her thin lips like always. “Half-breed.”

Lorcan didn’t deign her with an answer. It took more than calling him a half-breed to anger him. Inside, he sensed his wife stiffen and her near noiseless footsteps stole over the carpets they laid over the wooden floorboards.

“We come for Elide Blackbeak.”

He rapped on the door with the blade of his hatchet, a subtle pattern that to the untrained, seemed like a normal knock. Idly, he summoned his dark power and let it play, seeping from him and dancing around.

The three Yellowlegs muttered protective spells and he bit back his chuckle.

Shing. Shing. Shing.

The door opened and Lorcan felt Elide behind him. He didn’t shift, only flicking his eyes, planning an exit, keeping her as covered as he could. “Iskra Yellowlegs. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Elide ached to reach out to Lorcan, to touch his shoulder and have his powerful body beneath her ground her, but she controlled herself. He was her weakness, and everyone knew it. It would only make it worse.

“Is that why you keep him around, Elide? To summon you like a good little mutt?” Iskra’s indelicate ignorance of Elide’s question didn’t go unnoticed.

The Blackbeak witch bristled at the insult, her iron nails threatening to break through, but she let nothing show on her face. “Isn’t that all males are good for?”

Elide stepped down to the stair Lorcan was sitting on and he looked side-long at her, promising to show her later what, exactly, males were good for .

Looking forward to it, Salvaterre.

“I come to remind you of the gathering tomorrow.”

“Surely one of your underlings is good enough for that,” Elide responded. Before Iskra could answer, a smirk curled the corner of Elide’s lips, plush like a fresh piece of fruit and just as sweet. “Oh,” she practically purred, sliding her hand down Lorcan’s arm to take his hatchet and study the blade, “I forget how incompetent your witches are. My mistake.”

Lorcan couldn’t help his laugh that time and lazily braced his corded forearms against his spread knees, his large, scar-flecked and bronzed hands loosely clasped between.

Iskra glared at him and bared her teeth, which were rusted and cracked, “Does that animal of yours ever speak?”

He carefully put on a face of blank unknowingness as the Yellowlegs heir switched to the common Ironteeth tongue. Lorcan looked at his wife, as if asking, Am I really that pretty to be taken for that stupid?

Her eyes glittered with mirth, Go on then, love. Answer her.

“When he wants to,” Lorcan spoke, his pronunciation immaculate.

Their insipid, yellow tinged eyes widened and Elide made a dismissive motion with her hand. “The Blackbeak clan will be there. Run along now. My animal tires of your presence.”

The Yellowlegs were quick to scurry back to their broken-down camp. Elide sat down next to Lorcan and turned his face towards hers, “You’re alright?” Her eyes searched his face until he nodded and kissed her shortly. “Good,” she whispered. Elide pulled away and stood up, “I have to meet with Manon and Asterin.”

“I’ll check the caravans and the horses.”

They parted, each to their own duties.

Neither saw the other for the rest of the day. Night was just beginning to fall when Elide’s meeting was finally over. The Yellowlegs’ visit had rattled them. There was no feasible reason for them to drop by for such a puny reminder.

They had seen Lorcan, seen them still soft with intimacy, and seen how he spoke their language.

Her heart fluttered anxiously and she retracted her nails and flicked them out, repeating the motion over and over.

The moment she turned the corner, Elide saw a trail of smoke coming from their van’s iron stove. A small smile ghosted over her lips and she walked faster, still glancing around to check before she pushed through the door.

Lorcan was sprawled on the soft floor, reading a book with a frown on his brow.

“Hello, there,” Elide said softly.

He looked at her and shared a grin as he rose to his feet. “Hello, witchling.”

Elide hummed and melted when Lorcan slid his big arms around her waist and tucked her into his chest. She rested her cheek on his shoulder and whispered, kissing the side of his neck, “Did you make me dinner?”

“Nah, I ate with the Thirteen and we saved you some.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” she whispered, “let me get changed and we’ll eat?”

“Yes, Lee,” Lorcan murmured, spinning her to their clothes trunk. He grabbed her a bowl and served her the richest of rabbit stews, sweet cornbread beside it and a mug of strong tea.

He poured himself some tea, too, and splashed whiskey into both mugs. Elide padded over to the built in couch, wearing a pair of loose shorts and a wool sweater of his, her hair loose in a low bun.

Lorcan passed her the bowl and the mug, sitting down next to her. He folded his leg between them and Elide moved so that her side was resting against his front and his thigh was behind her back. “How was your day?”

“Good,” he said, his chin on her head. “Everything’s packed and ready. Horses are feeding and sleeping. Brooms are protected.”

“Oh, good. Thank you.”

Lorcan kissed the top of her head, “My pleasure, Elide.”

The matron ate quickly, until her stomach was warm and full. She took the last bit of cornbread and cleaned the remaining drippings, holding it to his lips. Lorcan accepted the bite and kissed the pad of her thumb. She smiled.

After, they drank their tea. Elide talked about her worries and they sat in a soft silence. Lorcan gently put their mugs away and carried Elide to bed.

He settled her down, laying beside her to hold her to his chest. Elide whined in protest and turned to face him, her brow pressed into his chin. Her head was cradled by his bicep, her nose scrunched against the tattooed muscle.

Lorcan’s blackened heart melted at the softness. That he was the only person she let see this… this peace of hers. He pressed a kiss to her brow and fell asleep, dreaming of nothing in particular.

They woke when the sun shined through the light curtains. Elide rose with a crackling spine, her arms stretched above her head with a satisfied groan.

She clambered over him and dressed in her blackest of leathers, her raven feather braided into her hair. Elide left him with a quick kiss, “Don’t sleep too late, we’ve got to go.”

Lorcan cursed at her, his words muffled by the pillow, and told her to get off his dick. She laughed and flicked his ass on her way out.

“Devil witch!”

“Devil fae,” she called back, closing the door and walking away. Already, her witches were packing. Little wee witchlings ran about, holding their cloaks and laughing. Elide caught one and lifted her up, tossing her into the sky. She caught the toddler and carried her against her hip, holding another’s hand. “Come along, my babies. We’re going to a war council, whee!”

The meeting didn’t run long and just as it ended, someone popped their head in, “Council? Everything is ready. Sun’s… mid morning.”

Elide turned and smiled at her husband. His face softened when he saw the children and the walking child toddled over to him. Lorcan picked her up and bounced her, “Hello, there. Aren't we a wee ‘lil lassie.”

The babe giggled and clapped her hands, squealing when Lorcan tickled her toe. He laughed and cooed over her as he waited for the witches.

Soon enough, they were riding. They’d decided to leave their camp and a young coven was left behind to guard.

The gathering was to be held atop a plateau, golden grasses rustling around the flat of black granite. The Blackbeaks were the last clan to arrive and they arrived wordlessly. Elide glared at whoever dared to stare at Lorcan for longer than was necessary.

They all quickly submitted under her violence-promised look and she smirked. Lorcan shook his head at her display of possessiveness and felt her claiming deep in his gut.

He dismounted from his horse, Farasha, first. The black beast stomped her hooves, making them clatter against the hard rock, and huffed, her exhale turning into steam. Lorcan rubbed her nose and whispered something to her. Her eyes were still wild and rolled around to see everything, but she calmed slightly as her rider soothed her.

Elide looked down at him from her own horse and her eyes sparkled when Lorcan offered her his hand and helped her down.

No one could ignore the magnetism and energy roiling around them as Manon and Asterin flanked their matron. They walked in a diamond to the centre, other Yellowlegs and Bluebloods parting for them. Lorca walked at the back and his power manifested itself, curling around the second and third like smoke.

It seeked out Elide, slinking around her hips like it wished to pull her back into her husband’s safety. A viper’s grin spread across Elide’s lips and she heard the heavy clinking over her love’s weaponry.

The witches were not permitted to bring their weapons to gatherings, but Lorcan, as fae, was free to do as he liked. What he liked was to wear as many weapons conceivable. They were all ancient, like him, and the witches he passed could sense it deep in their bones.

Elide stopped when she reached the rough circle that had been formed. Her iron fangs glinted in the hazy sun when she smiled, her eyes gleaming. “Good morning, Matrons.”

That Yellowlegs hag spat back, “It’s far past morning , Blackbeak.”

A look of mock surprise appeared on Elide’s face, “Oh, oh, no. Do forgive us. We’re terribly sorry.”

The matron’s wrinkled face twisted in rage and she prepared to spew something nasty, but the ever-calm Blueblood matron cut in, her strawberry-blonde hair shining in its braids, “This is a peaceful gathering, Matrons. It matters not when the Blackbeaks arrived.”

Elide smiled politely at Petrah. As babes, it had been fated that they would be rivals, as clan leaders, but the two of them had always understood each other on some basic level. They didn’t fight, both understanding they wanted for the same things. “Shall we begin then?”

The other matrons nodded and though the Yellowlegs grumbled, they took their seats on the makeshift thrones they summoned. Elide was the only witch who summoned two, of equal size and vestige. She took Lorcan’s hand again as he escorted her to the seat and took his right next to her, silent. He propped his elbow against the armrest and leaned his chin on his fist, the tattoo on his left ring finger proudly shown. If one looked to Elide as she pulled her gloves off, they would see the matching marking on hers.

Like always, Lorcan did not speak as the meeting went on. Iskra glared at him, anger and disgust in her eyes. Elide occasionally glanced at her, wondering when the day would come, the one where Iskra made one too many remarks on her husband and Elide would be allowed and even encouraged to respond with claws and fangs.

Like the rest of her unorganised and undisciplined pack of weaklings, Iskra let her emotions fight for her and as a result, was sloppy.

Elide would very much enjoy smashing her face into the ground.

After a while, Elide reached out for his hand and slid her fine-boned fingers through his, her thumb stroking over the back of his hand. Quiet joy radiated from a strand of that death magic as it flitted over to her, like a butterfly. She watched as Petrah rapped the butt of her staff on the ground, “It is clear to us all that the Yellowlegs covens have been ignoring the treaty lines. Your witches are not allowed over the ruins of Morla. That is Blackbeak lands, and to the south of the forest, is Blueblood.”

The Yellowlegs matron scowled and scoffed, “We are nomads. This land should not be bordered.”

“It would not have to be,” Elide said drily, her snake-like eyes snapping to the matron, “if you could control your bitches. You signed the treaty, Matron. Your lands are to the north, and to the north only. That is the ruling.”

For a short while, the Yellowlegs attempted to argue, but Elide and Petrah quickly finished it. There would be resentment and neither clan would be able to relax their guardings, but the Yellowlegs would not dare break their word.

Manon leaned into Elide’s ear and whispered something low. Iskra studied them. Elide nodded, agreeing with her second’s strategy. The Thirteen would leave soon after, to prepare the camp and double their protections. They would employ Lorcan’s powers to shroud them.

“It sure is a shame, Elide,” Iskra said, voice haughty.

Her second slid back to her position and clasped her hands before her. Elide cocked her head to the side and Lorcan went eerily still. “And what, exactly, are you talking about?”

The clan heir shrugged and stood up, casually scraping the dirt from beneath her fingernails with the tip of her dagger. “It’s a shame that you had to settle for that when you had Manon.”

Lorcan’s hand tightened in hers, telling her to let it go, but Elide could not.

A roar that shook the stones beneath them tore from her throat. Elide launched herself across the plateau and when she landed, the ground trembled. She relished the power that rushed through her legs. Faster than Iskra could react, Elide grabbed the back of her head and brought it down, smashing her knee into Iskra’s face.

They heard the sickening crunk of the Yellowlegs’ nose. Iskra howled in pain and Elide used the distraction to twist the witch’s arm behind her and shoved her to the ground.

Before Iskra could turn, Elide dug her knee into her back and wrenched her head up before slamming it back down into the rock. Iskra whimpered in pain and Elide leaned down, her metal teeth grazing the shell of Iskra’s ear, “If you speak about my husband again, if you dare even look at him, I will skin you alive and wear your piss-coloured pelt as a cloak.” She slid her hand down to the back of Iskra’s neck and dug her nails into the skin, blue blood slipping down. “Is that understood?”

Iskra nodded and Elide shoved off her.

She didn’t look back at the witch as she peeled herself off the ground and walked back to Lorcan. Pride shone on his face and his eyes stormed with a mixture of carnal hunger. Elide stalked towards him and fit herself between his legs. She gripped his throat, her sharp nails digging into his sensitive skin, and pushed his head back.

The kiss she pressed to his full lips was biting and claiming, marking him. Lorcan gave into her command, his hands ghosting over the backs of her thighs, searing even through her leathers.

Elide pulled herself away, their lips reddened and love-bitten. I love you .

Forever and always .

She sat down in her seat and regarded the others, daring them to comment.

As they sat, it was almost too difficult to look at them, to look at the full-force of their love.

They were Death incarnate and love triumphant.

A goddess and her consort, put on this earth to roam for eternity, always together, forever home.

☽ ☼ ☾

an: we deserve clan matron!elide n house hubby!lorcan.

@mythicaitt @werewolffprince @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @thegoddessofyou @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @claralady @neonhellas @darlinminds @readingismyonlyhobby @autophobiaxx @silversprings28 @myshadowsingeraz @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @elriel4life @always-in-a-daydream @jlinez @ladywitchling @mariamuses @darklesmylove

#im a good person i deserve this !!!#i woke up yesterday and decided to write the most self indulgent thing ever.#elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore

94 notes · View notes

not-all-dead · 4 years ago

Text

angstpril day twenty-three, part two: alone

CW: very bad mental health issues, intrusive thoughts, depression, death, more death, the second being a su*cide, super super super super long (again)

part one is here, and the sequel short is here

fic under the cut

She was at a party, but she wasn’t really there. She’d been feeling like that for a while now, months, years, she couldn’t tell anymore. It was an odd feeling, like she was disconnected from everything around her. People moved and talked and danced and her body went along with them, but she was nowhere to be found, not really anyway.

So there she was, at yet another party, there in body but not in mind. She was standing by the drinks table, sipping a strong, clear liquid from her glass, when someone she didn’t recognize came up to her.

“You’re Kya, right?” they asked.

she nodded, staring into space and only half-listening to what they were saying. That is, until they mentioned her father.

“...and I heard about Avatar Aang taking ill and was all like ‘No way! That’s terrible!’, because he’s like, the Avatar and everything, but then I remembered seeing you around and thought ‘Hey, isn’t she the Avatar’s kid?’, so I decided that whenever I saw you around next, I’d say something. So yeah, I’m so sorry to hear about your father, and I wish all the best for you and your family,” they smiled at her despite her distant expression, waiting for a reaction for a long moment before their expression changed.

When Kya noticed them raising an eyebrow in confusion at her silence, she shook her head and forced herself to focus.

“S-sorry, I uh- my father’s sick?” she stuttered, meeting their eye cautiously.

“Oh, you- you didn’t know, I’m so sorry, uh-,” they paused and looked around, pretending to see something across the room.

“My uh- my friend just came in, I think, I think I should just,” they stopped and scurried away, leaving Kya alone to understand what had just happened.

“Avatar Aang taking ill.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about your father.”

“You didn’t know.”

Kya downed the last of her drink and wove her way through the crowd, easily avoiding bumping into people without really having to look.

“You didn’t know.”

She broke out into the cool night air and took in a deep breath.

“Taking ill.”

She rushed down the steps of the venue, starting on her walk back to the hotel.

I didn’t know.

She made quick work of the walk, arriving back at her room in under a half an hour.

Dad’s sick.

She collapsed backwards onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling, her head spinning.

Dad’s probably dying.

She gasped, her own thoughts surprising her. She closed her eyes and pushed the thought away, trying to convince herself he wasn’t that sick. That he’d be alright.

Her eyes remained closed as she sifted so that slightly more of her was on the bed. Once she was relatively comfortable, she sighed heavily and let herself give in to the alcohol for the night. She slept deeply, but couldn’t keep herself from having nightmares about her father, standing in her bedroom, a corpse rather than a living man.

She woke in the morning with the sun streaming through the hotel’s large windows and the sound of voices in the halls. She rolled onto her side and gazed at the carpeted floor, but didn’t move to actually get up. Her mind was blank, her eyes unfocused as she stared at nothing in particular, unmoving on the bed. She drifted in and out of a light sleep, her father’s face consistently appearing behind her closed eyelids as she did.

She wanted to cry, wanted to sob like there was no tomorrow, but she couldn’t. Her body was too tired, her mind too lost. She could see what was around her, and knew she should be going back to Air Temple Island, but… but first she had to get out of bed. And that was seeming more and more impossible with every passing minute.

Get up.

Get up, get up, get up.

She rolled over again, curling up so that the now very bright sun coming through the windows hit her back. Her eyes traced over the clothing she’d thrown on the floor days before, quickly becoming heavy again. This time, she fell back into the deeper sleep she’d had before.

“You should have been there.”

“How could you betray me like that.”

“I never really loved you, anyway.”

Her eyes opened groggily and she blinked away her father’s rotting face. She sighed quietly and ran a hand over her face before turning to look out the window. This time she pushed herself up so that she sat cross legged in bed, though she still couldn’t bring herself to actually get up.

The sky had darkened again, the dull night creeping up on her quickly. Her stomach growled in disagreement with her having not eaten since the party… however long ago that had been. She sighed again and let herself fall to the side, her head landing heavily as she did.

Everything felt so out of reach. She knew there was a buffet downstairs, where she could easily satisfy her hunger. A train station in town that could bring her more than halfway home. Paper and a pen in her drawer that she could at least write home with. But the longer she stayed in bed, the farther away everything seemed.

The drawer was miles away every time she’d look sideways at it, hoping this time the effort of opening it wouldn’t be too much.

Smells from the buffet would occasionally waft up, reminding her of how long it’d been since she’d had any food or drink. Each time her nose caught one and her stomach complained, she felt more and more deserving of the hunger.

She could hear the trains going by reasonably often, and began to count them for lack of anything else to do. The higher the number climbed, the more and more she saw Aang’s sunken face watching her with disappointment.

She counted the trains silently, her arm falling asleep under her. She lost count every once in a while and had to start over, and the entire time her eyes continued to close, periodically pulling her into nightmare-ridden sleep. The sun rose and fell again, and then again a third time, before anything changed.

First, there were voices outside her room’s door. New voices, familiar voices, not just the cleaner or the cook.

Then, there was her door opening. She kept staring into space, not bothering to look at who it was. It wouldn’t matter soon anyway, so what point was there?

But then there was a man crouching in front of her bed putting a hand gently on her cheek. She forced her eyes to look at him, recognizing him as soon as she did, but still not saying anything. Still not finding the will to get out of bed.

“Kya…” he said quietly, looking at her with a great deal of sadness in his eyes.

She couldn’t help but be jealous of her uncle at that moment.

At least he feels sadness.

At least there’s something more behind it all.

She turned her eyes away from Sokka, who sighed and stood to his full height again. He left her as she was on the bed and began moving around the room, opening and closing drawers and packing all her things into her suitcase. It didn’t take him long, her limited belongings helping with the quick cleanup. He set the packed suitcase on the bed and walked back around so he could look Kya in the face.

“We have to go home, Kya,” he started gently, trying not to be too forceful to the clearly distressed woman.

When she didn’t respond, he crouched in front of her again. He pushed her hair out of her face and then placed his hand over hers, pressing slightly in an attempt to get her to look at him. Her eyes remained glazed over, though, and she still said nothing.

“Can I please bring you back to the island?” he asked.

Still, no response. Kya wasn’t sure what she was waiting for, if she was even waiting for anything. She didn’t want to go back, because that meant accepting the reality of what was happening. But she didn’t want to miss saying goodbye to her father, either.

Saying goodbye.

She blinked a few times and looked at her uncle, her eyebrows drawing together. Her eyes flitted around the room and she pushed herself into a sitting position, pulling her knees to her chest and hanging her head.

“Kya?” Sokka asked, moving so that he was seated on the bed next to her.

He put a hand on her back, watching the minute changes that danced across her face. When she settled back into her blank, seemingly emotionless state from before, he spoke again.

“Almost everyone is already on the island. I-,” he sighed before continuing. “I know how hard it is, Kya. I know how much it hurts. But believe me, it hurts more when you don’t get to say goodbye. So, so much more, because then there’s a regret that you can’t get rid of. My mother- your grandmother, neither Katara or I got to say goodbye. Her death was so much harder than dad’s, because we had the chance to talk to him before he went. I would hate for you to have to live with that regret, Kya. So please, let me take you back to Air Temple Island.”

Kya looked down and nodded, taking a moment before letting her legs fall over the side of the bed. She let out a long, heavy sigh, and Sokka placed his hand over hers again.

“We’ll get through this, alright? All of us, together,” he said before standing.

Kya stood slowly after him, closing her eyes against the dizziness that suddenly hit her.

“Woah, there,” Sokka said, grabbing her around the shoulders to steady her.

Kya mustered up a weak smile but kept her gaze down, straightening herself and nodding to signal that she was okay to stand on her own. Sokka walked around the bed and grabbed her suitcase, turning back to her and watching her walk slowly after him.

“When was the last time you ate something?” he asked, eyeing her frail and unsteady form as she walked.

Kya shook her head and looked up at him, a hint of guilt gleaming in her eyes. Sokka pursed his lips then smiled, throwing his arm over her shoulder again.

“Let’s get you some food before we head home, yeah?” Sokka looked at her out of the corner of his eye as she gave a single nod.

They walked down to the buffet on the main floor and Sokka got himself a plate of food alongside Kya. Kya was absolutely ravenous and ate more than even she had expected, not leaving room for herself or her uncle to say anything. Once they finished Sokka went to the desk up front to pay before going back to Kya so they could leave. He held out his arm for Kya to take, which she did tiredly after a moment.

Neither of them spoke on the way to the train station. Sokka talked to the person at the ticket office to buy their passes home, but then fell back into silence as they headed towards the platform. They found two seats when they got on the train and took them, Sokka looping his arm over Kya’s shoulders before they both fell asleep. They slept for the majority of the train ride, Kya not having nightmares for the first time since she’d heard that Aang was sick.

“Tickets, tickets please,” Kya heard a nasally voice calling, pulling her out of the dreamless sleep.

She looked over at Sokka, who was gazing quietly out the rolling hills they were speeding past. He turned his head to her when he felt her shift, a small smile tugging at his mouth. He reached into his pocket and grabbed their tickets, giving them to Kya and looking behind them at the ticket master.

“You okay to give those to him?” he asked, looking back at Kya.

Kya nodded and he turned back to the window, letting out a sigh. Kya fiddled with the tickets in her hands, keeping her gaze cast down as she waited for the ticket master to get to them. When he did, she failed to notice until he cleared his throat above her.

“Tickets?” he asked, tapping his foot impatiently.

She jumped in her seat and looked up at him, blinking a few times before realizing what he was asking. She handed the two tickets to him and he scrutinized them, stamping them reluctantly before handing them back to her and moving on.

The train pulled into Republic City’s main station a little under a half hour later and practically everyone got off. Sokka led Kya outside to where a taxi was waiting for them. They got in and sat wordlessly for the entirety of the drive, raining silent as they rode the ferry over to Air Temple Island and then walked up the long path to the temple. Just before they got to the temple, Sokka stopped Kya, pulling her in for a hug.

“Your dad will be so happy to see you, Kya,” he said against her head before drawing back to look at her.

She looked like a shell of herself, the bright and energetic girl she’d once been lost deep in the numbness that now encompassed her. She met her uncle’s eye briefly before looking at the ground, turning and walking the rest of the way to the temple. She heard Sokka following her, but didn’t turn back to him. She hardly even looked up when her mother came running down the hallway to greet her.

“Kya!” Katara cried, wrapping her daughter in a tight hug.

Kya stood stiffly, not returning the hug or greeting her mother back. She closed her eyes after a few seconds, sinking slightly into her mother’s embrace, only for Katara to pull away all too soon. Her mother cupped her face in her hands, forcing her to look up at her.

“Oh, baby…” she murmured, glancing at Sokka who was standing just behind them.

Kya pulled away from her mother and hung her head, walking to a nearby pillar and leaning lightly against it. She stopped listening as her mother and uncle talked for a minute, though she did notice how often they looked over at her. Katara hurried down a long hallway when they finished speaking, while Sokka turned to Kya.

“Katara’s going to see if Aang’s awake, so we can go in and talk to him,” he said, taking a few steps towards her.

Kya kept her eyes trained on the ground, wrapping her arms around her stomach. She didn’t want to see her father dying. Not now, not ever. Even so, she followed her mother and Sokka when Katara said Aang was awake and wanted to see them. She remembered what Sokka had said to her the night before in her dingy hotel room, and figured she could at least say something to her father. When they stopped outside his door, though, she suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breath.

Katara had left them at the start of the hallway, wanting to give them space to see Aang on their own. Sokka had been about to open the door when he noticed Kya’s sudden change in demeanour, turning to her and placing his hands on her shoulders right away.

“Hey,” he started, glancing around them.

“Kya, hey, it’s alright. Let me go in first, okay? It’ll be okay, you’re okay, just… sit here for a minute,” he stepped away from her and grabbed a metal chair from a few doors down, placing it by Aang’s room for her.

She took the seat gratefully, bouncing her leg and clasping her hands tightly in front of her. Sokka went into Aang’s room and she tried to listen to what they were saying, but kept losing herself in worry.

Dad’s dying.

He’s really dying.

I’ll probably never see him again after today.

When her mind finally became too much to sit alone with, she shoved up from the chair. She stopped briefly before opening the door, peeking her head in just slightly. She watched her uncle crying into her father’s shoulder for a long moment before Aang noticed her, pulling back from Sokka. Sokka wiped his cheeks before he turned and saw her, smiling and waving for her to come in.

He put his hand on Aang’s shoulder as she took a single step into the room.

“I’ll miss you,” he said to her father, just before turning and gliding past Kya.

Kya dragged herself over to the chair by Aang’s side. She paused for a second and looked at her father, huffing lightly before sitting down. She didn’t care if he noticed something was wrong or not, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. That is until he turned his hand so his palm was up and looked at her with an overload of concern.

“Hold my hand?” he asked, as she looked up to meet his eyes.

She lifted her hand and curled her fingers in with her fathers, her face practically going slack as she stared blankly ahead. She tried to focus on what was going on in the moment, but found it impossible with her thoughts criticizing her so loudly.

“Kya, what’s wrong?” Aang asked, the sound of his voice distracting her from her mind for at least a few seconds.

She opened her mouth to respond and took a deep breath, but couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Finally, after what felt like hours to both of them, she found her voice.

“Dad,” she whispered, looking up at him again.

He looked back at her sadly and she couldn’t help but beat herself up for it. She didn’t want him to feel bad on her behalf, and yet here they were.

She watched as he tried to take a deep breath but instead started to cough, getting himself under control after a moment but still wheezing slightly. She felt her eyebrows draw together almost imperceptibly, but had too little energy to show her concern any more. She could tell by how he looked at her how empty her eyes were, his own eyes dulling with each passing second.

“Tell…” he trailed off, trying to muster up enough strength to finish his sentence before continuing.

“Tell everyone I love them,” he said, barely louder than a whisper.

Kya furrowed her eyebrows as Aang slid down in the bed just barely, his eyes watching her with sadness.

“Dad,” she whispered again, panic growing in her chest.

“Dad,” she said louder as he closed his eyes, his face relaxing.

She pushed out of the chair and leaned over him, putting her hand on his cheek. Her eyes were wide with shock and she grabbed his shoulders, shaking him harshly. When he didn’t respond, she whipped her head around the room for some source of water, only to come up dry. She turned back to her father, breathing far too quickly, and raised her shaking hands to his chest.

He’s dead because of you.

She started making compressions on his chest, trying hard to keep his heart beating. With every compression, she felt more and more panicked, her vision blurring with tears.

They’re all going to blame you.

They’re all going to hate you.

She let out a sob and her elbows gave out, and before she knew it she was kneeling on the floor by the bed. Her hand slid back over to his, grasping it tightly as she sobbed. She had no idea how long she was there before someone called to her from outside.

“Kya?” they asked just before opening the door.

Kya turned her head to see a shocked Tenzin standing there.

“No…” he whispered, looking between his father and sister.

Kya watched as her little brother became quickly very pale, only finding the strength to move when his eyes closed and he went limp. She caught him just in time, sinking to her knees with him, sobs still tearing through her body.

Katara heard Kya’s cries as she walked down a perpendicular hall and immediately knew what had happened. She rushed to Aang’s room, bursting through the half open door and taking in the scene before her. She knelt down beside Kya, taking Tenzin off of her lap before looking over at Aang. Kya saw her mother’s eyes fill with tears and had to hold her breath against a loud sob.

Just then, Sokka came rushing in, along with Bumi, Suki, and Izumi. Suki dropped to her knees next to Katara while the other three gathered around Aang. Kya pushed herself up from the ground and all but ran from the room, trying to escape the chaos of the others and of her own mind.

They all already hate you.

Shut up.

They’ll never forgive you.

Leave me alone.

You killed your own father, you monster.

I didn’t- I didn’t kill him.

But you couldn’t save him either, and what is that if not just as bad?

She ran across the courtyard in front of the temple, finding her way to the trail that led up the mountainside. She kept running until her lungs burned and her face was dry of tears, the view from the edge of the mountain’s tallest cliff filling her with an incredulous sense of awe. She didn’t realize someone had followed her until she heard the sound of fabric shifting behind her.

“Don’t,” she warned through gritted teeth, stepping closer to the cliff’s edge.

“Kya,” her mother’s voice said softly, a thickness to it that told Kya she was crying.

“Mom, please, leave,” Kya rasped, not looking back as she inched still closer to the edge.

“Kya, no, just-,” Katara cut herself off with a blood curdling yell as Kya stepped from the cliff.

“Kya!” She shouted, running to where her daughter had stood moments before and falling to her knees.

Kya looked up at the sky as she fell, an odd peace spreading through her body. It dissolved when she heard her mother’s scream, her heart abruptly shattering with the realization of what she’d done.

“Mom,” she whispered into the wind, just before her body slammed against the rocks below and her mind went black.

26 notes · View notes

echoghost1 · 4 years ago

Text

The Baldr to My Odin

Word Count: 2300

For: @sailor-toni

Summary: Pariah has recently acquired a son and wants to get to know him better. This is a sequel to Fool's Errand!

You can read it on AO3 or down below the cut

Pariah leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom and watched him sleep. After all the things that had happened in his afterlife, he never expected to find himself in this situation.

Never in all his wildest dreams, and he had his fair share during his entombment in the sarcophagus, did he picture himself as a father.

His son sighed in his sleep and rolled into a new position. The boy’s mouth fell open and the small breath that escaped made his fringe billow slightly.

Pariah couldn’t help the fond smile that graced his features and crinkled the scar under his eye. There was so much he wanted to teach the boy, so much he wanted to see the boy do for the first time.

There were so many ‘first times’ he had already missed.

Adoption was both a blessing and a curse in that way. He wasn’t sure what the child had experienced already. He really didn’t know what things he didn’t know about.

Although that was in itself its own challenge. It could even be fun to discover these things.

Pariah was drawn from his musings as he felt something encroaching on his territory. The boy gasped in his sleep and woke instantly. He jumped up from the mound of overstuffed pillows and blankets and hovered above the bed, awake and alert.

“You sense that too?” he asked.

Phantom looked to him and nodded, “Please tell me you were expecting visitors?” he asked with worry tilting his brows together and mouth into a frown.

Pariah simply shakes his head, “Let’s go see who this intruder is then, shall we?”

The boy nods and floats along in Pariah’s wake.

Once they reached the entry hall they could hear some fool shouting at the closed doors. Their words are muffled by the thick wood and stone bricks but the intent is easily grasped.

“Doesn’t sound like a welcoming committee.” quips the boy, “I was kind of hoping it would be someone with presents.”

“Why would there be presents?”

“Well, I was recently adopted so that’s like a birthday, right? And I was crowned Prince, so maybe a party for that too?”

Pariah laughed good-naturedly, “I suppose a coronation ball could be arranged, but we should wait on that a little. I did raise a bit of hell when I woke up after all. Let them lick their wounds before telling them to celebrate our good fortune.”

“I guess that’s fair.” the boy relents.

“Good. Now, wait here while I greet our unwelcome guest.”

Pariah waits until Phantom has landed silently on the stone floor before finishing the journey to the door.

It opens with a thought and reveals a small band of animalistic warriors. Their bright white fur glistens just like the snow from the frozen wasteland that they call home.

They hesitate upon seeing him there.

Good.

He makes quick work of the small army but decides not to finish them off completely. That’s an awfully violent thing to do with his son watching.

It was also completely unnecessary. He merely needed to show them that he was still the king. He was still just as powerful as he had always been.

It would be easier to let them run away and spread the news than to let the rumor spread slowly if they didn’t return.

He waited until the last of the icy beasts had disappeared on the emerald horizon before he turned back to his keep.

“Were those yetis?”

“Yes? They are the denizens of a region called the Far Frozen. Old enemies of mine from before your time.”

The boy simply nodded before changing the subject. “I don’t see many ghosts use ice. Is that a common or uncommon thing?”

“I would say uncommon. Fire tends to be the most common elemental aspect.”

The pair walk back into the keep and Phantom continued his curious line of questioning. “What do you think I’ll be?”

Pariah paused in the hall and thought, “It’s hard to say,” he paused again and looked down at the boy, “You haven’t shown any inklings towards anything? Wait,” he looked the smaller ghost over, “When did you achieve ghosthood?”

“Uh, if you mean when did I become a ghost?” Pariah nodded and the boy continued, “I guess that was about a year ago, I think? Maybe a little less.”

Pariah just blinked as he tried to process the information. How could such a young ghostling be so strong? He couldn’t believe that something the equivalent of a baby had nearly bested him in a one-on-one battle?

And he’s so little.

Where does he even store all of this endless bountiful power?

And there’s no reason why he wouldn’t get more powerful as he ages.

“Uh, Dad? You okay?”

Pariah blinks and refocuses his attention on his overwhelmingly powerful child, “Yeah, I’m fine.” He takes a breath to recenter himself so he can stop worrying his son, “I just hadn’t realized you were so young.”

Again, the joys and surprises of adoption.

“Let’s get you back to bed.”

“Aw come on! I just had a nap. I’m not tired.” the boy pouts as he floats to sit cross-legged in the air.

That was unexpected. The boy had been so obedient earlier, what changed?

The battle.

Had he been that ready for a battle he now was wide awake? That must be it.

“Have you ever used a sword before?”

The boy crosses his arms so his elbow resting in his hand and a finger to his lip as he ponders, “Well I’ve held the Fright Knight’s sword a couple of times and there was this one time I used the neck of Ember’s guitar to fight Youngblood when he had a sword. Other than that, no.”

If anything was constant about this boy, it was how full of surprises he was.

“Well then let us see how much you have to learn.”

The boy floated upward and beamed, both literally and figuratively, with excitement.

How was it that this child was exactly what he had always wanted despite having never wanted one before he found him?

He was both powerful and graceful. The fluidity of his movements as he flew along besides Pariah as they walked to the training grounds made him wonder if maybe the boy was made for this. Was it his destiny to be a ghost? Born only to become something greater?

So rare and seemingly impossible. He was a perfect dichotomy.

Pariah grabbed two short swords, tossing one to the boy, “Let your training commence.”

===============================================

The pair dueled for several hours. Pariah made sure to hold back just enough to not overwhelm the child, but not too much so that he wouldn’t learn anything.

“I’m impressed with how well you are picking this up.” Pariah encouraged as he went in for a quick counter-strike on the boy’s unguarded left side.

“Really?” Phantom replied as he just barely dodged out of the way.

“I don’t give compliments just to stroke egos.”

“Isn’t that a waffle?” the boy says as he parries

He nearly misses the easy block in his confusion, “What?”

“Oh wait, I’m dumb.” The boy lowers his sword as he floats backward in thought, “I’m thinking of Eggo’s. Am I hungry?”

Pariah doesn't think he can continue this lesson if the boy is so distracted. Although it was very wise of him to float out of range while he lowered his guard. He sheaths his sword into the course dirt beneath him, “Are you hungry?”

“No?” He hums to himself in thought, “maybe if I think about it more.”

“Are you often unsure of your own needs?” he asks gently taking the sword away from his son and placed it near his own.

“Sometimes. I think I just get distracted by other things, you know? Like if I’m super focused on something I literally can’t think of anything else. Bodily functions included.”

“Ah, I see.” Hyperfocus was great for battle, but could easily be an Achilles heel if not monitored.

“Wait that actually made sense? I’ve tried telling other people that but they didn’t know what I was talking about.”

“I’ve felt the same way myself. A good way to keep that in check is to be around people you trust. That way if you work yourself too hard, they can pull you out of it.”

The boy smiled. He had the sweetest smile.

But then he wavered, his body sinking to the dirt below as he tried to steady himself.

“Whoa, I got kind of dizzy for a second there.” he blinked and shook his head as if that would make it go away. Instead, he stumbled forward into Pariah’s waiting arms.

Pariah brushed back the boy’s fringe and noticed he was much warmer than before. They might have been training for an extended period but he was sure he hadn’t worked the boy that hard.

“The suit.” the boy’s breath was shaky as he gripped onto his father for support. “I think it’s still on. I, it,” he stammered and his words started to slur together, “gotta get it,” he was panting now, as if the effort of standing was more strenuous than an uphill run, “get it off. Gonna,” he looked up and his eyes were full of fear, “please?”

Before he could finish the boy passed out. Pariah easily scooped him up and took him back inside.

He took the boy into his bedroom and gently lay him in the nest of blankets and pillows. He ghosted his hand down the boy’s arm. The energy of the armor buzzed and he could feel it as it tried to leech from him as well.

The boy was right, the armor was poison. Donning it was dangerous, but the thought of leaving him exposed seemed even more so.

Especially after they had already been attacked once before since he had been here.

There was only one ghost he could think of that would have the answers, but he wasn’t someone he was ready to see just yet.

Phantom whimpered in his sleep and Pariah sighed. He really hoped this wouldn’t backfire.

Pariah went to his study and picked up the broken pocket watch. He clicked the release on top to open the small timepiece. The glass was cracked and the time was stopped. Stopped at the moment he had been betrayed.

Pariah pushed down his resentment and wound the clock.

“I didn’t think I’d be receiving a call from you so soon,” a familiar voice spoke from the doorway.

“So soon?” Pariah turned to face his guest, “Was it truly inevitable that we would meet again?”

Clockwork smirked that knowing smirk of his, “Of course. Now, what’s the question you want me to answer today?”

“Don’t you already know?”

“Yes, but I do prefer to hear it from you.” he admitted then added, “In real-time.”

Pariah shook his head, “It’s easier to show you.” he led them to the boy’s room and waited.

“Do you really need my advice on this?” Clockwork asked. His tone wasn’t demeaning, just curious.

“I don’t know which would be better for him. I feel both options are equally terrible.”

Clockwork hummed to himself as he floated closer to the boy.

Pariah tried his hardest not to get defensive. He did his best to not attack someone he had just invited into his lair. It was difficult to just stand back and let someone as powerful as Clockwork be so close to his child.

Difficult, but not impossible.

“Remove the armor.” He turned to Pariah, “Unless of course, you wish to kill him outright?”

“If death is the result of inaction, that doesn't sound too terrible.”

“For you maybe, but he isn’t going to like it.”

“He’s already a ghost.”

“True. But he’s also a child, he’s still alive. The living aren’t all that excited about the concept of death.” Clockwork floated back over to Pariah, “besides he’s currently the most perfect anomaly. Would you really wish to destroy that?”

“I suppose that is true.” Pariah easily walked past the other ghost to his son’s bedside. Certainly, he was strong enough to keep the boy safe without needing to swaddle him in such dangerous protection.

He reached forward and through the armor. He pulled the boy up and out of the cursed metal and relaxed with the child.

Using his other hand he waved the offending armor aside with his ghostly energy and placed the boy back down to rest.

Once he was settled in, he transformed back into his human form.

This didn’t make Pariah feel any more at ease but he resisted putting the armor back on.

“Let the boy rest. He’ll be alright.” Clockwork consoled as he hovered dangerously close to Pariah himself. “You know, fatherhood looks good on you.”

Pariah turned to the purple-clad timekeeper, “And what exactly does that mean?”

“It means it’s been an awfully long time since we were alone and I think there’s a lot we need to catch up on.”

Pariah did not miss the coy implications of that statement. He was merely taken off guard by them.

“And what makes you think I forgive you?”

“Time heals all wounds.”

“Even the sting of betrayal?”

“Especially that.” Clockwork’s smile softened, “Now come, let’s give the boy some privacy while we get reacquainted.”

Surely a private conversation wouldn’t be too bad. He had missed the company of the other, but he didn’t think they would ever be as close as they once were.

Clockwork wasn’t one to move too quickly, there was no reason to worry about any trickery or line crossing.

They walked back to his study, it was Clockwork’s favorite room after all, and talked casually, like old friends.

He missed this.

#phic phight #phic phight 21 #Danny Phantom #ghost adoption #Pariah Dark #Dark Ages (ship)#but just a tiny bit hinted at the end #sailor-toni

20 notes · View notes

itsgrishaverse · 4 years ago

Text

DEVIL TEARS ♞ MICHAEL LANGDON 002.

heavily inspired by favorite book; au. without losing the sense of the main canon character.

Summary; As unpredictable as a dream, Michael Langdon shares an intimate moment with the enemy at the edge of his death. It woke up a certain curiosity — and possibly obsession with you.

this is so short because, I want to see if it’s a good idea and if you all will like it! certainly it will turn into a fic so if you’d like to be in the taglist, let me know.

Favorited by the gods was a concept out of her hands. Favorited would mean to be special, to believe in any kind of speciality would refer to the existence of any God. She didn’t believe in either. The woman with gold eyes; as bright as the sun, was a dreamer. That’s what she often told herself. Enough to believe it. A dreamer didn’t always control what was shown, a dreamer didn’t have to explain herself or abilities. There was an underlying pleasure feeling at the thought of no explanation, belonging to no one, being no one. Even if it was farther away from the truth. How long could one pretend? A dreamer could also stop dreaming, she whispered.

It all went back to that night, no matter how busy or tired you found yourself. It chased you like a starving dream ━━ only that it wasn’t one. It was real. It happened, and every time that you allowed yourself to think about that certain event, it became more real than possible. Like a part of you; a flower, the thought crossed your mind. Blooming inside you.

The possibility of how such events would’ve turned out if you didn’t save that man’s life also crossed your mind. It has been six months already and yet... the sensation of his fingers against your skin wouldn’t leave you. How tight his grasp remained as you hunched down, examining his wound. It was firm, tight, impatient yet hopeful. Wide dilated pupils looking at you. He clung to you as if his life depended on it. And that night, it did. The world became unstable, lost in an ocean of bones and smoke even before the day you were born. Your kind against the crows. A group; no. Legion of people that found pleasure in power and control and a certain liking for degrading, making your kind their servants. Rumors that they bonded with witchcraft also ran in the wind. That’s how you met earth, that’s how you lived in it and that would be too how you left it the day that your soul escaped your body. Everyone would die, eventually. Others did it sooner than their time. Unfortunately. Others’ death visited in your dreams before it happened. It was a painful promise and while fate couldn’t be always avoided, you still allowed them the knowledge of how you saw them dying. To prevent anything.

Sometimes they would ask you if you’ve dreamt of your own death. You never answered.

Walking in your room with thoughts still bringing down walls of your mind, the clothes you often wore were easily discarded. A pair of tight black jeans which matched with the buttoned up shirt and the coat. It was something worn whenever it meant going outside because of duty. As soon as you turned around, the sight of a red wine dress laid out in your bed caught your attention. It carried a note with simple words. “Wear it. It’s not from me, but him. How adorable and considerate of him, right? Red is your favorite.” The handwritten let it known that your mother has written it —— and she was talking about the man she always brought up whenever you were around. One of the high family’s son and future leader in your clan, after your father, if he happened to be absent one day. The fact the man who would arise from someone close to you’s death had the courage to court you made it kind of morbid. Yet, nothing would change when it came down to rules embedded for so long. His name was Duncan.

Inside bathroom, in the bathtub filled with warm water, muscles relaxed. Your body welcomed it as well as your mind. A breath of peace. One hand was raised in front of you out of instinct, long fingers stained by dry blood mark you. It wasn’t yours, but someone else’s who was found out in the streets a couple of hours ago. Begging for help. Matthew and someone else hurried over as soon you called them, both of your hands pressing against his wound in an attempt to prevent him from bleeding out. He didn’t make it. Those last words still rang in your ears. He whispered “crows.” Crows. Crows did that and they would keep doing it. No matter what. It was either them or you.

But was it always like that? Adversaries? The night you found one man from the opposite clan laying down on the floor, bleeding out. The night you chose to keep it a secret to save his life, it wasn’t him against you. It was him and you.

flashback.

Slow, yet steady steps alarmed Michael Langdon about someone else’s presence in the building. He was on the edge of dozing off at the tiredness and the constant pain digging into his side. A wound caused by a quick shift and blade, someone else who has been skilled enough to reach him. That night was one of the bloodiest he had witnessed, his people were dead as well as everyone else who stepped inside that place. Not even three hours later. He remained on the cold floor, his shoulders against the wall. Between keeping himself awake and not dying, his mask has been taken off. Dropped by his side, revealing golden silk long curls, sticking to his forehead by sweat. The masks they wore whenever out in public were in the shape of a crow. You never took them off to reveal your identity, that was one rule written by him, the main representative and leader. Rule which was broken by himself. Everyone was dead either way.

Three minutes later. As expected he caught the glimpse of someone else’s figure wandering around. Hunched down before one of the bodies only a few feet away from him. Uncertain of whatever they were doing to them, his right hand gripped his own blade weakly. He couldn’t do much, but it didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be an attempt to have a worthy death. For him and his position. Four minutes. He observed the figure stand up this time, turning to face him. As eyes met through dim lights, confusion hit him as surprised must have hit the other. A female. She froze in her place, it made him guess she certainly didn’t expect someone to be alive at this point—— the fact it was probably the first time she had seen someone without their mask didn’t cross his mind that second. It was because of both reasons.

She didn’t move. It sent a cold shiver through his spine not knowing when she’d attack him. If he blinked once, would they still stand there? If blinked twice, would they then attack him? He didn’t blink, but attempted to speak. His voice came out hoarsely. “I’m ready.” Why for? He didn’t know. “I’m ready for death.”

That certainly did catch her attention, enough that she stepped closer —- hesitantly, and lowered close enough to the body by his side. Wait. What the hell was she doing? Ignoring him? “Well.” Her accented voice reached his ears. His head turned to cast her another glance, keeping blues on her. She ran one hand along the corpse’s chest as if looking for something. Another wave of confusion hit him. It must have been one of her people, as soon as he saw her taking a necklace from them. “I am not. Death must be really boring, don’t you think? For young people like us. If you are as young as you seem. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Michael couldn’t see his own face at the moment, but he was certain he probably looked perplexed. Because he was. Everything made him feel dizzy, uncertain of its way. If there was something he was certain about, apparently, was that he having a conversation with someone who was supposed to kill him the first time they saw him. And he, attacked them. Or probably use her as a way to save his own life. His thoughts were snapped out upon catching her hunching down before him this time, his breath caught. Fingers tightening around the material of the blade. Her neck was exposed, how easily it would be stab her and kill her there, immediately. He would die, but at least he would’ve taken another life with him.

“Show me your injury.”

“So you can make it worse?”

“No.” She shook her head and he found himself wanting to run his fingers through her hair. How stupid of him. Irrational. “So I can heal it.”

“Why would you do that?” He mocked with a brief breath. Allowing a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “I am not your friend.”

She seemed thoughtful at his previous words and for a second, Michael thought that they might have changed their mind. But instead, a surprised grunt left his lips at her following actions. He felt her reaching out for him; her fingers touched his briefly, pulling his own hand away from the wound he has been pressing on. Lifting up his shirt.

“That doesn’t look good at all. I will have to clean it and you will be quiet for me, think you can do that?”

“How do you know I won’t kill you as you try to heal me?” Michael pressed on as if awaiting for a possible reaction out of her. She just gave him another glance; locking eyes, before looking down at his wound again.

“I don’t. But then, you’d be a hell of an idiot. If I die, you die here. Now I need you to—-“ Whatever she did, it earned a loud wince from the blond male. He deserved it. He knew it. And so did she, by the small smile that hid at corners of lips. He saw that. “To stay quiet.” She added.

The next consisted of him gripping onto her. Long fingers wrapped up around her arm as if he craved to feel something close to him. Perhaps they did. There was an odd feeling of comfort. Shown by kindness for the first time, Michael Langdon just didn’t know that yet.

“Y/N!” Someone else’s voice echoed in the room from the other room. Close to the door . Catching both of them by surprise. She was quick to glance behind her, before turning her attention back on him. “Where are you?”

“Don’t say anything. Don’t make any noise.” She whispered to Michael, her hand gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. Perhaps that’s what surprised him the most. She knew he could die there too if someone else found him before he managed to find a way out. Perhaps that was her way of saying farewell. “I will leave with them and you will be able to get out of here.”

That was the last time he saw her. And she left without being aware Michael Langdon’s life was saved, the reason of everyone’s wrath.

After the warm shower, you stood before the mirror. Dressed in the gifted red dress, which complimented your figure and curves. Tonight it was meant to be special, it was the first moonlight festival. A celebration where upcoming weddings were announced. A lovely evening to be courted by someone. A fitting evening to be someone else in the masquerade ball. You told yourself that tonight, that’s what you would do. Forget about the things that have been haunting you for so long and welcome open doors for the future. And maybe, finally, meet the handsome man who has been kind enough to give you a present. It would be a change, maybe for better.

What you would find out later was that the same blond male whose life you’ve saved six months ago and somehow found its way back into your mind, wandered around the same place as you those exact same minutes. In your home, amongst your people, hiding behind a bird mask. Observing, searching for something —— looking for you.

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #cody fern #michael langdon #ahs fandom #fanfic #ahs apocolaypse #drasangel writers

86 notes · View notes

satoruvt · 5 years ago

Text

the color of you - you (7)

thank u for reading. this was an amazing ride. i hope this last chapter is as meaningful to u as it is to me.

pairing → keigo takami x reader

word count → 3249

summary → you’re not really dating, so you can’t really be in love with him... right?

song inspo → kill my time and best years by 5sos and the Tiniest bit of eight by iu x suga!!!

this chapter → y/n’s sad, two cute girls, a text, a talk, kisses, a happy ending for our favorite idiots in love.

warnings → super emotional sex at the end lol

It’s taken a while for you to get to functioning level. A while, you think, because it’s been two weeks and you just now are starting to take note of the dirty dishes in your sink and the pile of laundry in the corner of your room that you haven’t washed yet. Because it’s been two weeks and most nights you lay in your bed and sit there and stare at the wall. Because it’s been two weeks and you still replay what you said, over and over in your head, because it’s been two weeks and you have to will yourself not to cry when you see Keigo on news reports on TV or in the local newspaper.

A while. And you’re still not… okay, yet. It might take a while longer to get there.

The days go by quickly. You spend your time baking, like usual, but it’s lonesome now. It was never lonesome before Keigo - tiring, sure, but it never made you lonely. He never helped you out anyways, he sat on top of your counters and snuck spoonfuls of cake batter and icing like a brat (and pouted when you said no more, like a brat). And when you’re not baking, you’re scrolling mindlessly through social media. Or crying. Or laying in your bed. Or all three, at once, on the worst nights, because this shit sucks.

In retrospect, you have no idea why this hurts so much. Keigo and you, despite legal arrangements, were never really dating. He was never yours to lose. He was a friend, when it came down to labels. Fake boyfriend, if you really wanna be technical. That’s it, though, nothing else - you two are - were - friends.

Still, it hurts. It hurts a lot. It hurts so much sometimes you think you feel it physically; some nights ago you thought about it and almost-felt a bright flash of pain over your heart, like your brain expected it to happen but it didn’t. You cried for a bit after that. Ran yourself a bath at near-three in the morning, soaked emotionlessly in the hot water in the quiet. It didn’t make you feel much better, not really, but it soothed you at least for a short time.

You’re walking to Angel Cakes (the clouds are painted different shades of gray, so you hurry just in case it starts to rain) when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Your music stops - a call, it seems - and when you pull your phone out to see the number you see it’s Keigo’s publicist. You figured it was coming, but - again - it’d been a while, so it still takes you a bit by surprise.

You don’t even get to murmur out a greeting before the guy’s speaking. “Why did you call it off so suddenly?”

You blink, sigh, don’t even bother with a hello anymore. “I just… couldn’t do it,” you answer, and it’s at least kind of true. Vague, but true.

Keigo’s publicist sighs, this time, and you can almost see him pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, well, legally, you’ve only got three weeks left to keep this up. You don’t have to talk to him often, but don’t make it obvious something happened. Do you think you can do that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“If it really bothers you, I won’t pressure you. Neither will Hawks. But I hope you stick around for what little time is left.”

The call ends with a gentle “okay” on your end, and then his publicist thanks you and hangs up. By the time you put your phone back into your pocket you’ve arrived at the bakery. You walk through the front, offer a few of your employees a tight-lipped smile, then make your way directly into the kitchen.

The day is so slow and so fast at the same time. It seems to take hours to mix ingredients, but proving dough for three and a half hours seems like fifteen minutes. That’s how it’s been lately - slow and fast and stagnant and flowing all at the same time. You stopped, but the world didn’t, and it makes you dizzy to try and catch up. Somehow it happens, but you feel barely there.

You’re usually just in the kitchen most days - you are the head baker - but all you’re doing is waiting for a few batches of cupcakes to cook, and it’s a busy day, so you decide the front of the house could use some help. You tell one of your employees to go on their break while you take over at the register.

The customers come and go; you write down names, call out orders and hand out pastries and coffees. Two girls walk in at one point - memorable, since one of them has bright pink skin and they’re both wearing UA uniforms, you recognize - and you smile at them when they come up to the counter, but they don’t order anything.

“Can we have a picture?” The pink girl asks, eyes blinking at you. You furrow your brows.

“What? Why?” is your first reaction, and the other girl - who has pink cheeks and a cute bob - speaks.

“You’re Hawks’ girlfriend! We love you,” she says, adding the last part shyly, and both of them look up at you hopefully.

Her words send you into a brief moment of thought - you miss Keigo. You’ve known that you do, it never leaves, it’s always in the back of your mind at the very least, but seeing these girls, knowing they’ve followed yours and Keigo’s relationship, knowing they fully believe you and him are together… it does something to you.

Nonetheless, the gesture is nice, and it makes you smile genuinely for the first time in a while. “Okay,” you agree, chuckling at their delighted giggles. They turn around, the pink girl holds her phone out to catch the three of you in a photo, and you throw up a peace sign and the cutest face you know how to do. As icing on the cake, they both order something to go, too. You call out a thank you for your support as they exit through the doors, grinning back at you.

The thought of Keigo lingers in your mind as your employee from before comes back out and you retreat into the kitchen once more.

You need to tell Keigo.

If he doesn’t already know. You need to tell him, because ever since those girls visited the bakery, you can’t stop thinking about it. You need to tell him because regardless of how much easier it is, you hurt him by not just explaining that he didn’t do anything, and there’s only, like, two weeks left until the contract is done, and if he never wants to see you again, he won’t have to.

You need to tell him.

You unlock your phone, finding your messages app and then Keigo’s contact. He’s sent a few texts since the two of you last talked in person (all asking if you’d be willing to sit down and talk) but he hasn’t sent anything in a while. Before you lose the little courage you have, you type out the message and send it.

y/n

can we talk?

Keigo responds almost immediately, and somehow it makes you feel worse about everything.

keigo

Yeah, of course

You tell him to come to the bakery after closing tomorrow, and he says he’ll be there. You put your phone facedown onto your sheets and breathe.

The next day isn’t slow and fast. It’s just fucking fast. Fast enough that it seems like only a few hours pass between when you get there and closing, and then you send all of your employees home and you’re wiping down the counters and waiting for Keigo to show up. Because you’re talking to him today. Because you’re going to tell him you love him. Wow.

You’re turning your open sign over so it projects “closed” to the outside world when you see him. He stands outside the doors, watching you watch him, and when you make eye contact with him it’s like a breath of fresh air and pollution all at once. Both of you stay where you’re at, still, until you see him offer a small smile and you don’t feel as tense, not anymore. He opens the door and you move to throw a dirty rag behind the counter.

“Hey,” Keigo says after a moment. He stands in the middle of tables, hands in his pockets, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Hi,” you respond, and God, it’s so awkward. “Um, do you - do you want anything? I could make coffee, or - I have, like, two leftover donuts from today, I know you like them.”

“No, I’m okay. Thanks.”

It’s so awkward. You nod, then gesture to an open booth in the dining area for both of you to sit. Keigo does and you follow, sitting on the opposite side. You get strange deja vu from it. There’s silence for a moment, but then you can’t stop yourself from speaking, opening your mouth a few times to get the right sounds formulated in your head.

“I’m so sorry, Keigo,” you say quietly, meeting his eyes. He looks confused, brows furrowed. “I didn’t mean to - to do this, I never thought I would, I’m just - God, I’m so sorry. I fucked everything up. I did this to us.”

“No, what?” Keigo responds. You fiddle with your fingers on your lap. “This wasn’t just you, what are you talking about?”

Your heart is pounding. You want to look at him, to see him, drink him in because you’re pretty sure it’ll be the last time you’re able to, but tears sting your eyes and you can’t see properly, so you keep your head down. “It was,” you murmur instead, wiping whatever’s slipped out as briefly as you can before looking out the window. The street in front of Angel Cakes is empty. In your peripheral vision you see Keigo tense, lean away from the table between you.

“You have to say it,” he tells you. He knows. He knows, he knows - time moves in slow motion, when you turn your head, when he blinks, the way he sounds when he speaks.

“I love you, Keigo,” you say. It comes out so easily. Too easily. It feels so right to say it, even despite the circumstances.

It’s so quiet. It reminds you of the night of the conference, and you know what’s going to happen. He’ll leave. You know it’s coming, he -

“Really?” Keigo asks, and why is he grinning like that?

“Yeah, I -”

“Holy shit. Holy shit - Y/N, me too. I love you too.”

What?

Keigo laughs like he’s relieved and you can’t move, can’t breathe, all you can do is look at him. He looks so beautiful and you blink yourself out of your trance, licking your lips before you speak again.

“You - too? You feel the same?”

“Yeah. Have for a while.”

A moment passes, but then you furrow your brows - “Why the hell didn’t you say anything? Do you know how much time that could have saved both of us?”

Keigo laughs, and it’s genuine and you know it is because his eyes crinkle at the ends. He shrugs, remnants of a smile still on his lips, when he finally speaks. “I thought you knew, and you didn’t feel the same. I figured that’s why you were acting weird, why you told me to leave after the conference.”

You need to move. You stand up, exit the booth, pace a little before stopping. “No, I…” you pause, running a hand through your hair. “I realized how I felt and thought you didn’t feel the same at all, and I didn’t want to tell you and have it ruin everything, because so much is at stake with your image and the bakery -”

Amidst your ramblings, Keigo had stood up as well, standing in front of you. He shushes you and you let him, looking up at him.

“So what I’m understanding is that we’re both fucking idiots?” He questions, and you let out a breathy laugh.

“Yeah,” you say, still smiling. “I think so.”

The two of you just stand there for a moment, basking, before the thought hits you: you can kiss him. You could kiss him before, sure, but that was… for his image, for the contract. You can kiss him for you. You can kiss him because you want to.

You barely lean forward, but Keigo seems to get the message. You go slow - you don’t want to scare him away, you don’t want to scare yourself away. You want to remember this forever. But you close your eyes and feel your way through it, sigh when your nose bumps his and then you’re kissing him, for real, for you. And it’s so much better than it ever was before, because you know he loves you, he loves you.

It’s short, but you let yourself sink into it, fall into Keigo like you never let yourself do before. His arms wrap around your waist as yours come around his shoulders and you stay like that for a minute, feeling and breathing and loving, before the two of you break away.

“You’re really good at that, hero,” you say, just like the first time, and Keigo grins. A thought crosses your mind and you take half a step away from him. “So, um, the bakery’s closed, and I was just gonna head home but would - do you - do you want to come with me? To, uh, to my place?”

You’re sure you sound stupid, stuttering and fumbling over your words, but when you meet Keigo’s eyes he looks like he couldn’t be more enthralled by an invitation. So you grab your things and lock up Angel Cakes and the two of you are at your apartment in fifteen minutes flat.

You unlock your door, throw your things down on the couch and turn around to face Keigo, who’s still at the door.

“Be honest,” he starts, “did you bring me here to kill me?”

“Obviously,” you answer quickly, and he laughs and you laugh and it’s so much better than before because he pulls you close again and presses giggly kisses against your lips and you do too. And then giggly kisses turn to kisses, and kisses turn deeper.

They’re deep enough that it’s getting kind of hard to breathe correctly, and when his hands move on you you sigh. He turns his mouth down to kiss at your neck and you swallow, relishing in the feeling of his tongue against your skin, before letting out a hoarse call of “bedroom,” which you feel Keigo grin at.

He stops his assault, though, and lets you lead him to your bed. You gently push him onto it, get him to sit down, then pull away enough to take your shirt off and when it’s off he just stares for a moment. It makes you a bit too aware of the fact that you’re here, with Keigo, and this is very obviously leading somewhere, but then he makes cute grabby hands at you and you giggle as you situate yourself between his legs.

It takes little time for both of you to strip down completely, never leaving each others’ hold for more than a few seconds. You end up under Keigo as he preps you, curls his fingers into you until you’re mewling and gasping into his open mouth.

“Keigo,” you call, but more to ground yourself. Euphoria shoots from your core to your toes to the top of your head. “Please, I - I need -“

“What do you need, sweetheart?” He’s murmuring, silvertongued and sweet, “I’ll give you anything, just ask.”

A million cheeky responses run through your head but then one of his fingers rubs over your clit and you want to sob. “You. You, Kei, only you, just -“

Keigo groans, pulling his fingers away from you only to mumble a disgruntled “where the hell are the condoms” and when you giggle breathlessly he sends you a playful glare. You reach a blind hand to your bedside table, pull open the drawer with a bang and don’t even bother to shut it after you’ve pulled out a condom.

He’s quick to put it on (and you pretend you aren’t absolutely mesmerized by his hands as he tears open the package), and once he’s pressed up against your entrance he looks up at you, a lingering question of “you’re sure?” and you nod.

“Love you,” Keigo gasps as he enters you. “God, I love you.”

His words make your heart swell and he pauses, letting you adjust to him before you ease him into a rhythm with a gentle roll of your hips. He feels like honey, warm and slow, taking his time with you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He feels so good and sounds so beautiful and you love him, you love him, you -

Neither of you are rushing, and there’s no need to. You’re already close, your sighs and whimpers rising. You look up at Keigo and sweat shimmers on him like gold, drenched in the lingering blue light of the sunset - he reminds you of the world. Beautiful and true and glowing. You tell him you’re close and your voice is wrecked with emotion and his eyes are bright, bright.

“Thank god, I was never gonna last long,” he says, and you chuckle as best you can, air stripped from your lungs with every drag of him inside of you. “You drive me crazy.”

One of your hands runs down from around his neck, traces up until it rests on his cheekbone. He looks so gorgeous like this - gentle yet exasperated, hair curling wildly around his face and mouth hung open. He leans into your touch and moves his hips faster, and the one hand that isn’t occupied with touching him runs down between both of your bodies until your own fingers reach your clit, tracing circles until you explode.

Your orgasm rips through you slow and sweet like something you’ve seen coming from miles away. As you come down from your high, Keigo’s just reaching his, and you swear to any deity you can that it’s the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see. His wings unfold and spread in a flash of bright red, eyes clenched shut and he moans, letting himself fall further on top of you. He doesn’t let his entire body weight collapse onto you, and you lazily pull your arms around him as he shudders under your touch.

The two of you lay there like that for some time, simply basking in each other. Eventually Keigo pulls out of you and disposes of the condom, and the second he gets back into bed he’s curling himself into your arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You close your eyes and smile into his hair.

“I love you,” you tell him. “Thank you for letting me love you.”

“You’re welcome,” he responds, and you scoff, but he takes himself out of your neck to look directly at you. “Thank you for giving me a chance to be loved by you,” he says. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

All the colors in your universe appear in him.

230 notes · View notes