#consider asking your doctor to order you a sleep study!

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 299

cha boy is starting on a cpap machine for the first time tonight

it turns out, that when i sleep, my cringe-ass larynx blocks itself up, and i STRAIGHT UP STOP BREATHING for up to 20 seconds at a time! of course i have always managed to start back up again, but as u might imagine this doesn't lead to great sleep quality

so wish me luck on getting that Good Sleep for once. god gives his toughest battles to his sleepiest warriors and all that.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Epilogue: It’s Not Over ‘Til You’re Underground]

A/N: We've finally reached the end of the Oregon Trail, besties!!! Enjoy this one last treat to celebrate the conclusion of Martyrs 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Both the series title and epilogue title are lyrics from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Word count: 4.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Autumn is the harvest, ripping up roots, preparing for the starving time of winter, and so you step through the threshold of your new life as the world is ending again.

“I knew the chances,” Sophie says when you tell her what happened; but she can’t look at you, because of course she wishes it was Rio who made it to Odessa instead, and you don’t blame her. She breaks down and leaves the house, and you sit there—silent, sorry, self-loathing—for a long time with Rio’s weeping parents and Aegon’s arm draped across the back of your chair. But then Sophie comes back inside, and through tears she says it’s nice to meet you in person at last, and then she asks if you’d like to hold Rio’s son.

Here it is commonplace to see M16s and AR-15s, marijuana growing in gardens, a myriad of flags flying from homes—Don’t Tread On Me, Trump 2024, American flags, rainbow flags, porcupines of the Libertarian Party—and order is maintained by an elected council of longtime Odessa residents. For anyone to be allowed into the community, somebody already here must take responsibility for them, and so the seven of you—eight, counting Ice—spend the first few months sleeping on Rio’s parents’ living room floor and eating meals out of their cellar, enough self-stable food to last for years. You join the construction crew and help build houses, Cregan cuts down trees and fishes and hunts, Helaena shows Aegon how to garden and Sophie teaches Luke to bake bread. There are no doctors here, but there are several unlicensed midwives and a veterinarian named Ian Whitted. Rhaena studies under him—attending every appointment and taking copious notes in the spider notebook Helaena gifts her, sharing what she learned from Aemond—and before long her sutures are quicker and cleaner than Ian’s. Daeron, considered too young and inexperienced for the most dangerous work, is posted with his compound bow inside the village to serve as a guard. He resents this until he realizes there are far more women to flirt with here than out in the forest where wolves and bears prowl and the dead rove with incurable hunger.

You work from dawn to sunset; you work so you have no time to think. The baby doesn’t feel real, and neither does Aemond being gone, and the future is so unimaginable you’d rather not try to imagine it at all. Because you’re a good shot, they want you for patrols and raids of nearby towns to search for supplies, and you take every shift you’re offered until Rhaena says you have to stop. She tells you that each time you leave, Aegon watches the door until you walk through it again, that it’s not good for him, that it’s not good for you either. She says you can’t keep running from what’s happened.

“I’m not trying to run away,” you tell her where she’s cornered you by one of the wells, lilac twilight sky and glimmers of stars, hoots of owls and children laughing as they roast marshmallows over crackling fires. “I’m trying to find my way through.”

“Fine,” Rhaena replies firmly, no room for argument. “But you’re going to do that in here where it’s safe.”

The new houses have wooden walls and kitchen fireplaces made of stones, beds with feather mattresses, plots for gardens and pens for ducks, chickens, pigs, sheep, goats, turkeys, cattle. Helaena and Cregan move into one cabin, Rhaena and Luke share another, and you have the last to yourself, the first time you’ve ever lived alone. Aegon and Daeron float around between the houses, more often than not ending up in yours as the sun is dipping below the tree line into the west, Daeron carving wooden cutlery with a hunting knife, Aegon cuddling with Ice on the deerskin rug, luring you into disastrous baking attempts and games of Uno and telling stories about Washington D.C., Djibouti, Key West, Corpus Christi, Chinhae, Diego Garcia, Saratoga Springs before the dead began to walk.

Thanksgiving dinner is at Rio’s parents’ house, Sophie’s baby sound asleep in his blue sling, candles flickering and Ice lying beneath the table to gulp down scraps that fall to the floor: roasted turkey, hazelnut stuffing, buttered carrots, mashed potatoes, pickled beets, salad with homemade ranch dressing, pumpkin pie for dessert.

“God, I miss chilidogs,” Aegon mutters beside you, and you laugh—a real laugh, loud and helpless, a lightness flooding into your arteries and the marrow of your bones—for the first time since Aemond died.

“You have to try this,” Sophie says, pouring you a small glass of moonshine distilled with apples and cherries and cinnamon. Everybody else has already had a taste except Aegon. He doesn’t drink anymore, doesn’t smoke the weed people grow here, only keeps a few tobacco plants in your garden to enjoy on rare occasions.

“I can’t,” you tell Sophie, staring at the amber-colored moonshine. You are over three months along and will be showing soon. It materializes all at once, shifts from a hazy apparition to something in full focus: next Thanksgiving you will have a fatherless infant of your own.

Sophie is puzzled. The glass of moonshine waits untouched on the table. “Why not?”

“Because I’m pregnant,” you say.

Aegon chokes on his pumpkin pie. “You’re what?!”

And everyone except Helaena drops their forks and leaps up to engulf you: How long have you known? How far along are you? Why didn’t you tell us? How can we help?

You stop lifting heavy things and stay off of ladders. Helaena brings you kale and mushrooms, Sophie knits you baby clothes, Rio’s mom makes you candles infused with essential oils, lavender, chamomile, ginger, and you lie and say they make a difference. Aegon helps you build a crib; you don’t need his help, but still, he insists. Smiling to himself, he etches two words into the headboard: Mini Chips. Wheat is planted in the fields to the north of the village. Scrap metal is scavenged for the blacksmiths to melt down to make nails and bullets. You learn to sweeten desserts with honey instead of sugar and to hold your hand flat when you feed the baby goats so they won’t nibble your fingers. You wait for winter to thaw and summer to come back around again.

It is what people would call a bad birth: hemorrhaging and lots of stitches, Rhaena squinting in the glow of the flashlights trying to piece you back together, rain outside and no lidocaine. You can’t stop crying. You feel like you’re going to die, and you’re shaking too badly to hold your own child, and you want Aemond. He would know what to do, he would know how to make the world go quiet. And the truth that he will never meet his daughter hits you over and over again like cold lethal waves, like bullets that pierce the heart.

Aegon is here instead, and you want to cling to him but you can’t; if all the others could die, so can he. But even when you look away from him to stare at the wall he stays, his hand clutching yours and never complaining even when you squeeze it hard enough to leave bruises that paint him maroon and indigo, tilting glasses filled with fresh pomegranate juice against your lips, asking Rhaena and Ian what you will need from him as you recover. Slowly the house empties and everyone goes home, but Aegon stays through the night and never leaves again.

Harmony cries a lot, as if she already knows she’s lost someone. She has trouble nursing and only sleeps for a few hours at a time. People are always coming in and out of the house: Sophie with handknit clothes and blankets for the baby, Helaena with flowers and fruit and vegetables, Rhaena with loaves of Luke’s fresh-baked bread, Cregan with firewood. At first Aegon is better with Harmony than you are. You love her, of course, and you mourn for the life you cannot give her; but you can’t shake the feeling that someone left her on your doorstep, this fragile bewildering creature you are so unequipped to soothe. Yet Aegon picks her up and she stops crying. He carries her around the house and murmurs nonsense—rules of golf, sailing knots—and she gazes up at him mesmerized; and in the peace that grows from him like weeds, wild and inevitable, you can heal.

Aegon helps you walk for the first week after the birth. He brings you meals, overflowing plates you can never finish. He respectfully averts his eyes when you nurse the baby and when he passes the bedroom as you’re changing clothes, slowly and inelegantly, every muscle feeling shredded. He falls exhausted into bed beside you with his arms crossed over his chest so he won’t reach for you in his sleep. You keep waiting for him to start craving marijuana and moonshine, to meet someone who makes him wayward again while you are left here alone, morose and unglamorous and bleeding. You care about Aegon—entirely, violently—but you are convinced you’ll never love a man again. Perhaps love is something that is always doomed to be broken, ruinous, poisoned.

When Harmony is about four months old, you begin to see Aegon differently. You can’t stop staring at the way his hair shags over his eyes when he’s bent low in the garden, you hide behind walls and listen each time you catch him singing to himself, you feel a dark desperate sense of loss when other women flirt with him, though Aegon is never more than polite in return. You find excuses to touch him, and he always acquiesces: Let me bandage the cuts on your hands, let me dab honey on your sunburn.

One night you wake to find Aegon with Harmony in the kitchen, humming and rocking her in his arms as he paces back and forth across the wood floor in his bare feet, the full moon radiant through the window, the fireplace crackling. He glances over when he notices you standing in the doorway and says: “I think this is the only thing I’ve ever been good at.”

“Aegon?”

“Yeah, Chips.”

“I’m in love with you.”

At first he is startled, and then he smiles in the firelight, a slow mischievous curve of the lips that puts stars in his eyes and shows his teeth. “Took you long enough.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly ten years ago, you were learning how to be a builder at Class A Technical School in Gulfport, Mississippi, salt and sun and sweet tea and humidity that lies heavy like a second skin you can’t shed. Today you are hammering nails into boards that will be a wall of the new meeting house, twice the square footage of the old one. The community here keeps growing.

“Watch out for your fingers, Zack Attack.”

 Zack looks over at you. He’s a kid, nineteen, and he’s only been here a week. He left Beaumont, Texas with a group of thirty people, one of them the cousin of a council member here. Twelve were left when they arrived. “Huh?”

“You’re holding the nail too close to the bottom,” you say. “If you swing the hammer and miss—and you will miss, everyone does sometimes, even me—you’ll crush your fingers against the wood. But if you hold the nail up near the top, the hammer will kind of knock them out of the way as it comes down, and you won’t have to worry about Rhaena or Ian popping your bones back into place.”

“Oh, cool! Thanks!” Zack readjusts his hands. “Where’d you learn to do all this?”

“The Navy.”

“Right. That makes sense.” He gives you a crooked, conspiratorial grin. “I heard you’re a good shot.”

“I am, I guess.” You don’t do patrols anymore, but you’re on the list of people to call when there’s a security breach, and you go because you have to. If Odessa is ever overrun, that will be the end of the life you’ve made here. The last scare was two months ago, a hoard that wandered up from the south, probably out of Klamath Falls. Someone knocked and you answered, leaving Aegon standing in the doorway with troubled eyes, Noah in his arms asking: Where Mama go? And Aegon had told him She’ll be back soon, buddy, but of course no one had known if that was true.

Now Zack says admiringly: “A real killer.”

You smile and give him a slap on the shoulder as you start climbing down the ladder. “I’d rather be a builder.”

“You heading out?”

“Yeah, my kids probably miss me.”

“See ya tomorrow. Bring more of Aegon’s raspberry crumb muffins.”

You laugh. “If there are any left.”

Down on the ground, bumblebees orbit tufts of wildflowers and cats prowl for mice. Sitting cross-legged on the grass are kids rubbing nails against bars of goat milk soap; it makes them go into the wood easier. They play the same way you did as a child: in the dirt, in the wild, tracking animals and building dams in the creek. They wave as you pass by. Everyone knows each other here. Everyone knows what you can do with the Beretta M9 in your holster.

Beside one of the wells, Daeron is helping a flock of tittering, blushing women pull up their buckets and plucking stray blades of grass and pine needles out of their hair. He is easily the most eligible bachelor in Odessa, and in no hurry to take himself off the market. By the schoolhouse, two teenagers are petting Ice as they listen to Aegon’s pink Sony Walkman and rap along to Gold Digger: “You will see him on tv, any given Sunday, win the Super Bowl and drive off in a Hyundai…”

But at Sophie’s house, the song you hear is Darius Rucker’s Wagon Wheel, drifting from a battery-powered boombox containing one of Rio’s dad’s cassette tapes. Aegon is already here and dusted with earth, your children clamoring around his legs as he chats with Sophie at the edge of the garden: zucchini, snap peas, tomatoes, strawberries, spinach, potatoes, cucumbers, carrots, kale. When Aegon sees you, he lights up and says to the kids: “Look! Look who’s here!” And you crouch down and open your arms so you can catch all three of them as they barrel into you on small, wobbly legs.

The second birth was much easier, the third only lasted an afternoon. Opal, three years old, is named after a gemstone that Sophie told you symbolizes hope and clarity; Noah, two and with unruly blonde hair like Aegon’s, shares a name with the man who started over when the world flooded and all the generations before were lost. You pick him up before he can trip over his own feet.

“Mama, come see!” Harmony shouts, grabbing your free hand and dragging you to a hutch full of fluffy, multicolored rabbits. Aegon is walking over to join you, his hands in his pockets and a soft smile on his lips, long blonde hair and stubbled cheeks.

“Are these the new meat rabbits?” you say without thinking, and Aegon widens his eyes at you.

Harmony peers up with a worried frown. She’s getting too smart to be shielded from such harsh realities. “Why did you call them meat rabbits?”

Aegon swoops Harmony off the ground to distract her. “Because they’re so excited to meet you!” he says as she giggles and kicks through open air.

“What are their names?” you ask to change the subject.

“Arrax,” Opal says in her toddler lisp, pointing to a grey one. And then, indicating a rabbit with long, reddish-tan fur: “Morning.”

“Those are such nice names!” you gush, a bit perplexed. Children have a certain mystery to them, one foot still in the Great Beyond, wherever souls wait to be born and reunited.

“And this one is Sunfyre,” Harmony announces proudly, reaching through the wire to scratch its straw-colored coat.

“Sunfyre?!” Aegon says. “Well now you’re just making shit up.” A pause. “Stuff. You’re making stuff up.”

“And Sunfyre is married to Dreamfyre.”

“Cute,” Aegon says. “Incestuous, but cute.”

“The post-apocalypse dating pool is limited,” you remind him.

“Have you met the Texas people yet?” Sophie asks you as she wanders over to the hutch in a handknit yellow dress, wearing elephant earrings that Rio once mailed home to her from Djibouti.

“Yeah, some of them are working on the meeting house. They seem really nice. And apparently they know how to barbeque, so that’s exciting. New recipes!”

Sophie smirks. “When they dropped by to introduce themselves, I had to have the whole conversation again.”

“Well…you did name your kid Otter.”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Sophie says, chuckling, showing her palms. “I did not name him Otter.”

“You named him Bryan Otter Osorio. And you call him Otter.”

“Because he’s a little kid and it’s a perfectly fine nickname for now! And then when he’s older…you know…he can decide who he wants to be.”

You smile. “Sure.”

“I think it’s great, personally,” Aegon says. “I’m hoping I’ll get to name my next one Softshell Turtle.”

“Absolutely,” you deadpan. “And what if it’s a girl?”

“Softshell Turtle is obviously unisex.”

Sophie is laughing and shaking her head. “I hate you guys.”

Helaena and Cregan arrive to pick up their children, two sets of twins, all named after species of butterflies: Skipper, Adonis, Tiger, Sara. Rio’s parents bring them outside to the garden to be collected. They and Sophie like to keep the house full of children, especially now that Otter is getting older. And when they need meat or firewood or their roof patched, they know who to ask.

“I’m so sorry,” Sophie tells Helaena and Cregan as they wrangle their brood. “I’m mortified. Adonis ate Harmony’s oatmeal raisin cookie and made her cry, so Otter smacked him in the head with his golf club.” Aegon has carved miniature, lightweight clubs out of pine wood for each of the children; they zip around putting acorns and walnuts. “Adonis was freaked out but I think he’s fine now. I couldn’t find a bruise or anything. Again, I’m so, so, so sorry.”

“You okay, buckaroo?” Cregan asks, and his oldest son—brunette man bun, already pestering his dad to take him hunting—nods adamantly.

“Duh. It didn’t even hurt.”

Cregan guffaws and turns back to Sophie. “See? No harm done.”

Otter trots out of the house, rubbing his eyes like he just woke up from a nap. Harmony immediately runs over to hug him. He’s already six inches taller than her and is always giving her gifts that end up on the fireplace mantle at your house: flecks of quartz, pinecones, bracelets woven from buttercups.

Sophie asks Otter: “Did you think about what you did earlier?”

“Yeah,” he replies cavalierly.

“Would you do it again?”

“Probably.”

“Oh dear,” Sophie exhales, exasperated.

You beam down at Otter. “He’s exactly like Rio.”

“Yeah,” Sophie says wistfully, combing her fingers through his dark curly hair. “He really is.”

Rhaena and Luke happen to be strolling by and stop to say hello. Luke teaches English classes at the schoolhouse, founded the Cultural Preservation Committee, and writes and directs a new play each month. When he is in the lull between original ideas, he draws from pre-zombie pop culture. The June production is Free Britney.

“Hi!” Rhaena says, waving. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?” All the adults offer greetings and confirm they’ll swing by her and Luke’s cabin in a few hours. Then Rhaena shields her eyes from the sun as she sighs incredulously. “Do you realize there are ten women due in the next two weeks? I spend all day rushing around because they’re panicking about Braxton Hicks contractions. If I get one full night’s sleep between now and mid-July, it’ll be a miracle. Am I the only human alive who knows how to use the rhythm method? I explain it! I give lessons!”

You laugh and say: “I think people just really want babies, Rhaena.”

“They’re so sweet,” Helaena coos as she snuggles Sara against her chest.

“Gotta repopulate the planet,” Cregan adds.

Rhaena is disturbed. “I don’t feel ready for that.”

“Totally cool,” you assure her. “Helaena and I are keeping the average up.”

That night, logs pop and hiss in the fireplace and wind howls outside through the forest. On the walls are photographs of Aemond and Helaena and Daeron, drawings that the children have scribbled of you and Aegon. Propped in one corner of the living room is Aegon’s acoustic guitar; Harmony’s current favorite song for him to play is Big Girls Don’t Cry, though a slightly censored version of Fergalicious is a close second. Tomorrow is Aegon’s birthday. You have a cake hidden in one of the kitchen cabinets—cinnamon, honey, buttercream frosting—that you baked this morning before leaving for the construction site, along with 35 small homemade candles dyed green with chamomile. Every year he assumes you’ve forgotten, but you never do. You’re so thankful he was born. You are eternally finding new ways to convince him of this.

All five of you cuddle up in the big bed for story time. You begin as you always do, struggling to capture the kids’ attention as they crawl around giggling and rolling on top of each other: “Hey, hey, everyone look at me. You remember what we say.” Harmony knows this part my heart, Opal has the words mostly right, Noah gives it a solid effort as he mauls on a teddy bear Sophie knitted for him. “You’re beautiful. I love you. You’re doing the right thing.”

“What story should Mama tell tonight, huh?” Aegon asks as you open the book of fairytales borrowed from the makeshift community library, another one of Luke’s projects. “The Little Mermaid, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Beauty and the Beast…oh wait, I think I might be in that one…”

Harmony says to you: “Tell the story about how Aemond saved us from the tower.”

Children understand death here. People get infections, people succumb to cancer or heart attacks or strokes or diabetes, people go out on raids or patrols and never come back, one man contracted rabies from a bat bite and was—at his request—euthanized via gunshot. Harmony is aware she had a father before Aegon, but that he had to go to heaven early, and so Aegon is her father now and loves her completely. She knows Aemond’s face from the photographs Helaena took from the beach house on the Pacific Ocean. She knows the kind of person he was from the stories she’s been told. Harmony envisions a fantastical castle keep instead of a stark metal transmission tower draped in dead wires, and she’s a bit unclear on the chronology of when she entered the picture, but she has heard about the journey to Odessa. Aegon’s map, annotated with glittery green gel pen ink, hangs on the kitchen wall.

You close the book, looking at Harmony: your hair, Aemond’s eyes. “Okay. I can tell that one.”

“Mama…” Her little forehead crinkles, questions she is at last getting old enough to start asking. “Why do some people have to go to heaven before they’re old?”

You hesitate, trying to decide how to explain; and now embers are glowing hot and scarring in your throat. It’s a fire that cools and rekindles but never burns out. Aegon speaks instead. “Because they’re heroes, Mini Chips,” he says gently. “They go to heaven so other people get to stay here longer. Aemond went to heaven so you and your mom could live here in Odessa with me.”

“So Otter’s daddy was a hero too?”

Aegon leans down to kiss the top of her head, his eyes shining. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Not just a hero, you think. A martyr. Someone who dies for a cause.

Harmony is patting your arm with her tiny outstretched hand. “The tower, Mama. Tell us about the tower.”

Now you are there again with Rio: sixty feet off the ground and clinging to metal beams hot enough to put blisters on your palms, cascading June sunlight and wild emerald fields, blood and madness behind you, the mirage of Oregon ahead, believing without reason that someone out there will save you.

And they will; they will.

[hvnnibalecter]

PUMPKINS AND CHOCOLATE. | S.R

surprise gift for my dear friend zo, @rhaerhaenyra.

PAIRING : Spencer Reid x GN!Reader.

RATING : FLUFF. PURE FLUFF.

A/N : English isn't my first language, so it is possible that there is some grammatical errors along the way.

summary : maybe you should have told Spencer that you were planning a movie night for halloween, with your favorite movie on the subject, and you probably should have told him it wasn't really considered as the most typical halloween movie ever made in the industry.

𖹭 Some people become incredibly gloomy as soon as the temperatures drop, winter depression according to specialists. However, autumn was your favourite season, the changing colours, the long days under the covers drinking hot chocolate.

Of course, it wasn't necessarily pleasant to have to put away summer clothes at the back of the closet to swap them for jackets and sweatshirts. However, you preferred sweatshirts to swimsuits, the sun was becoming far too aggressive to be appreciated anymore, no one wants to have sunburn that prevents you from sleeping properly.

So in itself, you were rather delighted with this change of season. A cup of hot chocolate in your hands, you ate marshmallows directly from the package, the promotion on the second package purchased had been too tempting for you to go home without it.

So that's how two hours later, you found yourself in the kitchen eating marshmallows with hot chocolate. Spencer was supposed to be home in ten minutes, you pulled your phone out of your sweatpants pocket to text him, asking if he had any plans for tonight. When he answered no, you felt a smile creep onto your lips, maybe it was time to educate Doctor Spencer Reid on Halloween movies.

Spencer had come back grimacing, you had raised your head from your sketchbook before frowning while he took his things out before understanding where his grimace came from, he had ink on his favorite shirt.

Spencer had started his first year at Quantico University, of course the former profiler had decided to be a criminology professor and you had pointed out to him, that ninety percent of the students, female -of course-, were only there for his pretty eyes.

He had raised his head and frowned, refuting that his students were in his class to study. Of course Spencer didn't realize that his students were too busy looking at him to take real notes on the subject. After eating a home-cooked meal, a roast chicken with seasonal vegetables -carrots, pumpkin, potatoes and green beans-, you had prepared yourself for the evening movie, putting on a sweatshirt ordered on Etsy with black cats and pumpkins.

Spencer had put his plate in the sink before approaching the couch, he put an arm around your shoulders while you launched the Disney+ app on the TV, Spencer frowned.

"Since my husband seems to be unfamiliar with the most famous Halloween movie, I think it's time you savor the experience properly, you smiled while looking at Spencer, let's educate you, my dear doctor."

"I don't think Friday the 13th is really considered a Halloween movie, Spencer replied with an innocent look. I thought you couldn't stand seeing blood in movies?" he added with a lifted eyebrown.

It was more fun than you expected it to be.

"Come on, I'm not talking about Friday the 13th, Spencer, you replied with a laugh."

Oh, Spencer seemed to be at a loss for words, he just watched the TV while you pressed the button to start the movie, he looked back at you when the opening credits announced the movie.

"The Nightmare Before Christmas? he asked in surprise. Isn't that a movie for kids?"

"Oh, Spencer! This is one of the most wonderful movies, Zero is absolutely adorable." you whined while looking at him, Zero was truly the sweetest thing in your opinion

"Zero?" Spencer replied, the genus was definetly confused now.

Of course, the scene that was playing on the screen was with Zero, so you motioned for Spencer to watch the TV, he bit his lower lip before deciding to watch the movie without making any comments, after all who could make any scientific comments or data, variables etc on a Tim Burton movie? You glanced at Spencer after settling down against him, hugging a cushion against you, Spencer Reid seemed to be absolutely enchanted by the movie. It was a memorable fall evening, maybe you'll remember to buy him a Pumpkin King mug when you stop by Target to do some shopping.

[kalifornia1025]

The Three Students Pt. 2 (SPOILERS)

Pt. 2 notes, let’s go!!

Starting off with John being the disaster drunk that he is…I’m not surprised John would be the ‘I lOvE yOu GuYs So MuCh” drunk

I forget John is a snorer (worth noting that Sherlock HATES people making noises in their sleep INCLUDING snorers, but somehow doesn’t have any problem with John’s snoring)

Mariana and Kayleigh bonding over Taylor Swift was sweet (not a Swiftie myself, but still sweet)

At least John isn’t the only one that ‘overdid it’ while at Oxford. Sherlock honey you were up until 5am, GO TO SLEEP!

‘Sleeping Beauty’ - hehe John’s our Sleeping Beauty (as he looks like shit, I imagine)

Poor John is gonna be SUFFERING through that hangover

Oh?? John’s drunken adventures gave them a clue? Good for him, I suppose?

Oh God, I just KNOW the speech is gonna SUCK

John, stop losing your shoes!! 

‘A very particular shoe’…hmm 

Prometheus mention? Must be to make up for them changing from the original Greek exam in the og story! Really good connection between the myth and the current case

Ew shut up Miles, that isn’t ‘speaking your mind’, that’s just being an arrogant prick. Humble this piece of shit, Sherlock!

Sherlock: “Oopsy, there’s a lie”, YES SHERLOCK get his ass!

It’s the moment we’ve all been expected: the big speech! Poor Sherlock, he’s so nervous

Good on him for switching over to something he’s more confident in: the current case!

Yes Sherlock, get in your element! It’s so sweet hearing him get so into the case and explaining his deductions, and I LOVE all Sherlock Holmes deduction scenes where he explains his thinking!

Personally I think Sherlock would also make for a GREAT professor (ironic considering a certain professor becomes a problem later on…)

Sherlock: “Oh deary deary”, stop being so cute, Sherlock!

Hehe yes Sherlock, make that SMALL MAN admit his real height! (He’s not even that short, but he deserves to be bullied)

Nice callback to Sherlock looking for ‘a very particular shoe’ while getting shoes for John! Knew that was gonna come back up later

Kayleigh, You did all this in order to go to a TAYLOR SWIFT CONCERT?! I will say, Swifties are committed

“Only through a Doctor from Swindon and an Accountant from Sociedad have my studies in the human condition had become all the more enlightening” d’awwww Sherlock you love them!!

Oh God oh no Sherlock no don’t read that IT’S THE BAD SPEECH AHHHH THE SECONDHAND EMBARRASSMENT

HA Sherlock still being the snack thief he is!

Aaaaand that’s it for the Three Students case! This was a fun one. Not in my top three for the podcast’s cases, but definitely a fun one. 

I don’t know if alcoholism is thought of differently in the UK (especially when it comes to UK university norms) but even as an American I can tell that alcohol is becoming far more relevant to John than him just ‘partying like a student’. Reminder that he was drinking a beer in the middle of the day during pt. 1, and this was BEFORE they stepped foot at Oxford! Personally…I hope the podcast recognizes this as a real problem; same goes for Sherlock’s drug addiction. I really don’t want these things to just be running jokes. I’m not asking for full episodes of rehab or whatever, I just want them to ACKNOWLEDGE that these are problems. 

Anyway, great case and now it’s just waiting for the next one. Fingers crossed we start getting to the meatier cases soon!

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (19) Weather

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 19)

Summary: Rosie is heartbroken. Sherlock and John are furious and sad. An invitation from the elderly Holmes couple, brings back sweet memories, and might be just what the doctor ordered.

Nineteen Years Old

I was devastated and utterly heartbroken when David ended it with me. We’d been a couple for almost a year, and I was still so in love with him. I had failed to observe, had let sentiment cloud my mind, lulling me into a fantasy coated in pink and gold.

I wasn’t the only one affected by this. Dad muttered curses under his breath, while Papa alternated between fury and sorrow. He blamed himself for not seeing who David really was; a young man, too insecure about himself, needing female attention around the clock, which I was unwilling to give. I had my studies, homework, jiu jitsu, family, and my friends to consider as well, and I hadn’t wanted to spend every spare minute with David no matter how much I loved him. In my opinion, I couldn’t be blamed for needing to see other people, whom I also loved, and to maintain my interests. It was part of who I was. Nevertheless, I cried myself to sleep every night to the tones of Papa’s soothing violin.

***

The next weeks went by in a daze, though I managed to study for my upcoming exams, much thanks to the sessions in the dojo, which helped clear my mind of the fog. Finally, the last exam was history and the summer lay ahead of me like a blank canvas. Me and David’s plans for going to Dublin, were obviously abandoned. Luckily, our flight tickets and hotel reservations were refundable.

Congratulations with finishing your exam, love! Are you free to have dinner at home tonight?

Dad’s request piqued my interest, as he most likely knew it would. I had no plans and answered in the affirmative. 

The day was sunny and pleasantly warm, which I felt always was the case when I had to sit inside a poorly ventilated classroom to pour all my wisdom into the exam forms.

“Let’s go to get ice cream,” I proposed to Liwia and Leyla who accompanied me out of the old school building.

“Covent Garden?” Leyla asked.

“Covent Garden,” Liwia and I agreed.

***

“How are you, Bee?” Papa asked when I returned home a few hours later. 

“Not that bad actually. Glad to get the exams over with,” I said.

“Chocolate chips and raspberry,” Papa stated out of nowhere.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” I muttered fondly.

“I guess not,” he admitted a bit sheepishly. “Sorry, if that…”

“It’s fine, Papa,” I assured him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Is Dad cooking or is it takeaway tonight?”

“Neither. I am cooking,” he informed me, cupped my face and kissed my forehead.

“Oh! Must be a special occasion, then,” I teased.

He huffed and told me I could help instead of being sassy. I laughed, went upstairs with my school bag and changed into a pastel green dress. When I came back, Papa ordered me to make a vinaigrette and the salad. We worked in companionable silence, while classical music streamed out of the speakers.

***

“My compliments to the chefs,” Dad sighed contentedly when he’d all but licked his plate.

Papa and I stood and bowed, making lavish and silly gestures. The white wine made us pliant and relaxed. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed sharing a lovely meal with my parents. In the last months, David had always been a part of it, or at least occupied a fair amount of my thoughts. And in that moment, I felt something heavy fall from my chest. I was free and had a whole summer ahead of me to do with as I pleased without having to consult David if he approved, wanted to be a part of my plans and what not.

“So, what’s all this about?” I asked.

Papa smirked, seemingly satisfied that I hadn’t been fooled about the intent of this dinner. 

“As clever as your Papa, aren’t you?” Dad praised. “I would expect no less.”

He straightened in his seat and leant forward to catch Papa’s hand. Papa nodded and turned to face me properly.

“Granny and Pops have invited us to France next week. They obviously didn’t include you because of your initial plans with…”

Papa clenched his teeth and gripped Dad’s hand tighter.

“It’s fine, Papa. I’m getting there. No need to call in the cavalry,” I assured him and stroked his arm. “Tell me more. I haven’t been there in ages.”

“When you were eleven, I think,” Dad mused.

“Twelve,” Papa corrected him, which earned him a kiss to the back of his hand from Dad and a giggle from me.

***

The house Papa’s Grand-Mère originally owned, had been inherited by Granny. A small villa close to Cannes. Théoule-sur-Mer was secluded and far less crowded than the more famous sites of the French Riviera. 

Being back brought treasured memories to mind. The warm and sunny weather, how Dad taught me to swim, Papa taking me snorkelling looking for exotic sea species, Pops reading The Little Prince in French, while simultaneously translating each paragraph, Granny’s coq-au-vin, quiche Lorraine and bouillabaisse. If there was any hint left of my heartbreak, it evaporated the second I dived into the crystal-clear water.

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @raina-at

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[mavrintarou]

Lord Sakusa Kiyoomi [2]

A little belated but I owed Sakusa a second part.

Warning: clingy Sakusa; mild smut (is that even a thing lol)

Note: if you’re new, welcome, Kiyoomi was my first HQ Lord series kick off, check out my masterlist for some of the other characters :)

First part

.

You let out a hesitant sigh, noticing the second servant stationed at the gates casting you a desperate gaze.  “I must go,” you say to Lady Kudoh, gently returning the infant to their mother’s embrace. “I shall return before my husband sends a third messenger to fetch me, or worst… he decides to come himself.”

Lady Kudoh nods her head with a smile, “understandable. Please come revisit us.”

You have become friends with the neighboring Lady as you helped her deliver her baby a few weeks ago. The village doctor could not make it in time, and the Kudoh servant had rushed over, pounding on the Sakusa’s gates, pleading for your help.

Smoothing your kimono over your bulging belly, you rise to your feet and make your way toward the gates. Yui, a Sakusa servant, looks visibly relieved, exhaling, and trails behind you.

Returning to your chambers, you are informed, “Lord Sakusa is currently taking his evening bath.”

You nod and announce your presence outside before sliding the bathroom door.

Kiyoomi’s well-defined back greets your gaze as he sits in the expansive tub. The room's moisture-laden steam accentuates his hair's curliness, making his locks even more pronounced.

“I’ve returned, my love,” you chirped, sliding the door closed behind you. Moving towards him, you approached with curiosity, leaning to steal a glance at his face.  

He was clearly upset.

Though unspoken, you could discern from Kiyoomi’s demeanor that he disapproved of your absence upon his return from a weary day of toil. His body language conveyed his discomfort, reinforcing the fact that he preferred your presence upon his arrival.

Firstly, his concern stemmed from not wanting you to venture outside as your due date for childbirth was only a few weeks away.

Secondly, after enduring a day filled with meetings he considered boring, he desired to savor the remaining hours in solitude with you. This could entail relishing the afternoon over tea and engaging in meaningful conversations or finding solace in his study as he penned poems. At the same time, you immerse yourself in reading books on medical cases.

Or that it could just be cuddling… that would result in passionate sex.

In general, he didn’t like being apart from you at any time of the day.

What made him paranoid about your absence was when you had gotten up in the middle of the night to find something salty to eat. Kiyoomi awoke, finding you absent from his embrace, triggering a heightened worry within him.  

You found some dry squid and were munching on it when the commotion outside the central kitchenette caught your attention.

“Find her!” You hear Kiyoomi’s voice roar. His servants scramble to search the compound, but none are headed your way.

“Find who?” You asked, chewing a mouth full of squid.  

Kiyoomi only narrowed his eyes at you and inhaled sharply.

Since then, you were ordered not to leave the chambers in the middle of the night without him.

“My Lord… er… Ki – yoomi…” you hesitated, noticing his continued glare as you addressed him by his title or full name. “Omi,” you quickly corrected, “I won’t leave without your company or acknowledgment. You were sleeping peacefully, and I didn’t want to disturb you … don’t be mad, please?” You accompanied your words with a pleading look, knowing full well that Kiyoomi was susceptible to your puppy eyes, causing him to relent each time.

He lets out a defeated sigh, his tone softening. “I don’t like being separated from you; please wake me up next time. I will fetch…” his face scrunches at the squid in your hand, “whatever it is you are craving for.” He pats your head, which he often does when he realizes he’s been overly dramatic with you. “I love you.”

Of course, you have to say it in return. “I love you too.”

Kiyoomi finally looked up at you, and the frown on his forehead disappeared.  He splashed his face with water before asking, “what took you so long?”

You slowly crouch down, and Kiyoomi scowled at you, “don’t – “

You ignored him and got to his eye level. “I was only there for a little bit?” You were only there for no more than an hour before the first servant came over to call for you, and you assured them you’d return in a bit, and less than ten minutes later, the second servant came to fetch you. “I just went next door to visit Lady Kudoh and her baby.”

Kiyoomi looked away, sulking and mumbling something under his breath.

“What was that?” You leaned closer into his face.

“I’m your baby.” He muttered, cheeks flushing.

Only after your intimate wedding did you realize the extent of his possessiveness and clinginess. While you didn’t mind those behaviors, you had no issue reminding him that it was all right to have moments apart; Kiyoomi still grappled with comprehending that boundary.

He was a work in progress, and you attributed this particular behavior to his upbringing. Growing up, he was accustomed to being granted anything and everything he desired.

“You are my baby,” you cooed, rubbing his ear lobe. “For now.”

Considering his possessiveness towards you, you often wonder what he would be like when the baby arrived. While his enthusiasm for your pregnancy and the baby’s impending arrival was evident, you couldn’t help but question whether his possessiveness would persist once the baby was born.

“Come bathe with me.”

You nodded your head at his request and stood up, groaning.

Kiyoomi stood up abruptly and helped you stand, “I told you…” he mumbled under his breath. He quickly turns you around to undo the knot of your Obi belt, tugging and pulling the material loose before letting it fall to the floor. He pulls off your kimono, dropping it on the floor. Holding his hand out, “hurry before the water gets cold.”

He helps you carefully step into the tub and begins to wash your body and hair.

Afterward, you squeeze the water and twist your long hair into a bun at the top of your head before turning around to sit in between his long legs as you both relax.

Kiyoomi rubs your belly under the water, and you feel the fluttering movements from your baby against his palm.

Resting your head against his shoulder, you sigh. “I’m ready to give birth.”

“Any day now, right?”

“Yes, any day now.” You answered. You didn’t tell him about your minor contractions this morning or even last night.

There was no need to alert him, but your belly has been fluttering with constriction tightness that you believe that your baby may arrive earlier than expected.

An unexpected pain pierces your lower abdomen, but you bite your lip to muffle your groan.

Or had you meant to moan as Kiyoomi’s fingers danced between your legs, faintly circling your clit.

And that’s when you remember earlier when he stood; his cock was already semi-hard.

And now it was hard, pressing against your back.

A low moan escapes your lips, “Omi….”

His finger presses further, giving you the right amount of bliss.

Suddenly, he swishes from behind you and lifts you out of the tub to sit on the ledge. He grabs his kimono and drapes it over your shoulders. He gives you a wicked smile before widening your leg and kissing your inner thigh.

Your legs are hooked over his shoulder as he continues to nip and leave red marks along your inner thighs until he reaches your core.

As soon as his mouth touched your core, Kiyoomi feasted as if it was his last meal.

When he added his fingers, gently sliding them in and out along with the work of his lips and tongue, you were sure you had gone to heaven and back.

Your high was suddenly a mixture of pleasure and pain, and you squirmed under his mouth.

“Omi…” you whimper, pushing his head from between your legs, but he only digs his fingers deeper into your thighs, holding you still. “Omi… Omi wait… stop…”

You pushed his head away, and he glared at you as you disrupted his meal.

Something didn’t feel right…

You gasped as you heard a pop and a gush of water squirt from between your leg, barely missing his face as he flinched backward just in time.

Immediately, you cried out in pain instead of pleasure.

.

Each time you heard the soft cries of your baby, you would open your eyes to see Kiyoomi cuddling his son and cooing him so he wouldn’t disturb you as you tried to get the rest you needed.

After hours of being in labor, your son finally entered the world.

Even in your exhausted state, you wanted to see him.

After cleaning him, the midwife wrapped him in a blanket, passing him to you.

His cute little cry made you cry, “it’s okay, it’s okay…” you cooed, kissing his forehead. His dark hair, curling in different directions, tickled your nose like his father’s.

Kiyoomi barged in immediately, still upset that he had to wait outside as you suffered the pain without him. The midwife wanted him out. His eyes burned with tears as they landed on you and the bundle in your arms.

The moment he held his infant, Kiyoomi fell in love a second time.

As you tried to recover, Kiyoomi never left his son’s side, shooing the nurses away.

Except…

“He… he might be hungry.” Kiyoomi swallowed nervously.

Sitting up carefully, you smiled and held your hands out to him. “Bring him over here.”

Very carefully, Kiyoomi kneels and passes his utterly small son to you. Like a child, he watches with curious eyes as you pull your yukata open and brings your infant to your pucker-leaking nipple. Naturally, like his father, he latches on and starts to suckle.

“He’s just like you.” You teased, looking at Kiyoomi. “What should we name him?”

Kiyoomi’s large hand brushes his son’s curly hair, “Seichi, Sakusa Seichi.”

.

“Kiyoomi…” you moaned as he was buried between your legs.

Three months later, Kiyoomi needed you.

When your son was put down for the night, he pounced on you like a starving beast.

Memories of the night you gave birth came flooding back, and you burst out laughing, immediately covering your laughter.

“What’s amusing?” he inquires, raising his head, his lips and cheeks still bearing traces of your wetness.

You shake your head, choosing not to remind him of that night, unwilling to revisit the memories it holds.

You yelp as he nips your inner thigh.

“Tell me,” he ordered softly, tongue soothing out the sting of the red mark he had just added to your skin.

Pushing yourself up on your elbow, you look at him, “remember the last time…”

As if the light bulb went off in his head, “oh gosh, yes….”

“After you got kicked out, I remember the midwife asking, ‘My Lady! What are these markings on your thigh?’.”

. . .

E/n: I giggled writing about the water bursting...

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[vaguely-concerned]

Garashir ficlet, PG, context is that Garak is about to go do… Something on his own (specifics very much ????? but probably something foolhardy and secretive and doomed ala Improbable Cause) and Julian is Not Having It this time. Probably fits into some of the later seasons vibes-wise. 

Julian said tightly: “My Kardasi might still need some work, but — ”

“Oh, no at all, considering how recently you started your studies your efforts are downright impressive, if, ah — charmingly archaic at times. If that’s to be laid at anyone’s feet it should be mine, probably, remind me to recommend you something written within the last few centuries sometime soon.” 

Giving this attempt at diversion exactly as much consideration as it deserved, Julian completely ignored him and finished his own line of thought: “ — but at this point I have a veritable doctorate in Garakese. There’s something you’re not telling me.” 

“Many things, I’m sure. If I’d known you had any interest in the optimal soil composition in which to grow Lovalan roses, I would have gladly shared my insight. All you had to do is ask, my dear. In the spirit of cross-cultural knowledge exchange, I always stand ready to chip in and do my par — ”

“Elim.” 

That made Garak blink, just that split second too long, even as his face remained perfectly still and smiling around it. It was subtle enough that an unaugmented eye might not have caught it, but Julian’s did.

No longer bothering to hide his own desperation, Julian pressed on: “Elim, please. You’ve got me worried with this. I want to help in any way I can, and — and I don’t like to think about what might happen if I can’t.”

There was a moment of silence between them in which Julian could hear his own quickened breathing too loudly in his ears. 

“That’s… characteristically kind of you, Doctor,” Garak said eventually, voice slightly hushed, like someone trying not to wake a sleeping child in another room. “But there is nothing to worry about. Really.” 

“Brush me off if you really feel like you have to, but please, at least do me the courtesy of not going out of your way to insult my intelligence while you’re at it,” Julian snapped. “How stupid do you think I am? How do you expect me to just close my eyes and sit back like nothing’s wrong while you — ”

Garak sighed. “You’re right, that was unworthy of me. Please, put it down to old habit, not a lack of respect. Very well, then let me rephrase what I was trying to say slightly, in order to be more precise — whatever might or might not be going on, there’s absolutely nothing you can do, and I really would rather you stayed out of it. Knowing you to be safely out of the line of fire would provide me with infinitely more comfort and utility than anything you could actively do to help. Which, again, is nothing.”

“But — ”

“Julian. Please.” 

Julian would have been thrown less off-balance if Garak had punched him square in the jaw. “Oh, that’s a dirty trick,” he said, unsteadily. 

“And here I thought ‘turnabout is fair play’ was a guiding Human principle,” Garak said, and his tone was light but his eyes were soft and very sad. “I see I have been misinformed.”    

The idea that Julian’s initial exposure to the Cardassian language leaves him speaking it like the equivalent of a Regency era novel or something to contemporary Cardassian ears in the beginning is a headcanon that is so dear to me  

[syngrafaes09]

I Can Help With That | Dr Strange x Y/N

“That is definitely a new strategy to pick up guys.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Never seen someone studying Fitzgerald’s neuroanatomy in a bar unless you have developed some new strategy to pick up brainy guys with that.”

Masterlist

Warnings: Little smutty

“I’m buying this place,” Tony announced as he drained another glass of whisky.

“You can’t,” Natasha hissed from his side. “You’ll only piss off Pepper more.”

Tony groaned and looked at Stephen, “Does this mean I can’t party at the tower nor buy myself a bar?”

Stephen smiled and nodded, sipping his martini. 

“Can’t you do something to change her mind?”

“My god, Tony,” he exclaimed indignantly, “I can’t believe you want to use me for such petty purposes.”

“You are no fun doctor,” he mumbled and ordered another drink then glanced at the crowd. “How about I find someone to get you laid, and you help a little in return?”

Stephen shook his head. “I can get laid without your help. Besides I agree with Pepper, you indeed need to party less.”

“Oo look at them,” Tony discreetly pointed to a group sitting a little away from them, “those two are totally eye-fucking you.”

Stephen sighed and turned a bit to give them a quick glance. Not my type, he thought and finished his martini. 

“Anyone thinking of hitting the dance floor? Thor asked, sliding off his stool, to no one in particular.

“I’m,” Tony and Natasha answered in unison, following suit.

“You are acting all grumpy today,” Tony complained before leaving, “just get laid, get things off your head and you’ll be fine as fuck. Oh look, one of them just left for the washroom.”

Tony wasn’t wrong. The recent attacks had left him spent. But he still wasn’t interested in sleeping with someone, not yet. After two shots of tequila, he handed over his card, waited a moment and walked towards the smaller section of the bar, the one with less loud music and small round tables.

That was when he noticed her. Technically, he noticed the book first. 

“That is definitely a new strategy to pick up guys.”

She looked up from her reading. The perfect doe eyes. A beautiful dark shade of chocolate, swirling to blend into caramel at the iris. He suddenly forgot what he was supposed to do here.

“I’m sorry?”

It took him a second to say, “Never seen someone studying Fitzgerald’s neuroanatomy in a bar unless you have developed some new strategy to pick up brainy guys with that.”

“Not interested,” she frowned and continued reading from her book.

Had she outright rejected him? That too him?

Breathe, Y/N. breathe. She reminded herself as she tried to focus on the pathway of the spinothalamic tract. He might be all sexy with that voice and looks but that’s not going to help you pass the exam.

She sensed the chair beside her move, and soon he was staring at her like the tempting Lucifer.

“So you aren’t trying to pick up anyone?”

“No,” she replied, not daring to look at him. “I have lost my keys to my apartment. And my roommate is supposed to be here. So, here I’m waiting.”

“Why not enjoy yourself while you wait?”

She marked the page and put the book down, finally looking at him- she forgot what she was supposed to say. He was totally gorgeous and, as he had said, seemed ‘brainy’ with those white streaks. He raised one perfect thick eyebrow at her. What had he said? Something along the lines of enjoying,  she guessed.

“I have got exams in a few weeks. So trying to make up for the knowledge I haven’t gained.”

Having got her attention he smiled at her. And she loved the way his orbicularis oculi produced those radiating lines at the lateral angle of his eyes, “And in what subjects are you lagging?”

Y/N reprimanded herself. She was going crazy. Nevertheless, she answered him, “Biochemistry and neurology.”

He nodded and glanced at her book. “I can help with that.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can help you with neurology,” he said, then added, “Only if you would like that.”

“Why? Are you the ‘brainy’ professor?”

“Not exactly, unless you consider a former neurosurgeon ‘brainy’ enough.”

Her jaw dropped. “I, uh,” she struggled to string her thoughts together. Great. He was not only gorgeous and sexy but also super intelligent. And she had fucked up well.

“I’m sorry. You’re absolutely ‘brainy’.”

He grinned. She felt her heart doing an erratic happy dance, “I would be more than grateful for your help, but I’m sure you are not here to pick up a student to tutor.”

“I wasn’t, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

Sweetheart? If she was going crazy then, now she would be certifiably insane. “Y/N L/N. And you might be - doctor?”

“Stephen Strange,” he replied and watched her eyes going as wide as they could.

“The Doctor strange?”

“Yes,” he laughed, “I’m the Dr Strange. So, would you like some help?”

She nodded.

“My place is nearby,” he tilted his head, “And this is hardly any place to study. Shall we?”

“Sure,” she murmured and stuffed the notes and book into her backpack.

“Do you fancy a walk? A cab? Or just a portal?”

“We can walk.” He nodded and held out a hand to her, which she took.

The walk was brisk and quiet as they hurried, heads down against the wind of the late night. She looked around the neighbourhood, realising she had passed them quite a handful of times while taking the late-night walks.

“My apartment is another few blocks away,” she said, after they settled on a couch beside the staircase, in front of a fireplace.

She watched him snap his fingers, and embers erupted in the fireplace. Showy, she thought as he settled next to her.

“Well, that sounds great, doesn’t it? You can visit me anytime you need my help.”

“There would be a next time?”

“Don’t you think there will be?” He asked, slightly disappointed. “Is this a one-night stand?” Common. Don’t be so desperate. Get a grip!

“I don’t know,” she shrugged her shoulders, “In time you’ll realise I’m not your type,” she gave out a nervous chuckle.

Cute. “And what do you think is my type?”

“Bold, sexy, graceful and… experienced?”

“I like cute, shy and naive as well.”

She was pretty sure her cheeks were red, and in no time her body was spontaneously going to combust into flames. 

He reached out a hand and pushed her curly brown hair behind her ears. His hand skimmed across her neck, pausing at her pulse point, which had been going crazy ever since she met him. “Why don’t we get started? Weren’t you doing the tracts?” 

Back to earth, Y/N. 

He grinned, and his hand dropped. Her skin burned everywhere he had touched. 

“Yeah,” she was immensely proud to conjure a reply.

By the end of the third hour, she was considerably tired. 

He was explaining various cases of misdiagnosis of Parkinson’s he had seen when felt she couldn’t take any new information anymore. But she waited with forced patience for him to finish.

“Stephen, I don’t think I can study anymore.”

“I know,” he said, taking the book from her hand, and placing it on the coffee table. His coat jacket was long gone, and every flex of muscle under the fabric of his white shirt tossed her in a puddle of embarrassment and arousal.  “Tea? Coffee or hot chocolate?”

Definitely coffee. She needed the caffeine to walk back- Her thoughts were lost as he rolled up his sleeves. Oh, those veins… those long, long fingers. She could feel her hormones having quite clearly their night out.

After he conjured them two cups of coffee, he heard a sharp intake of breath followed by an ‘Oh my God’. 

“You know, you can stay the night here.”

Y/N gripped her cup tighter. What an attractive way to embarrass oneself in every possible way in a few hours! The sorcerer and mind-reader fact had completely slipped out of her mind.

“Just like a one-night stand?”

Stephen hummed. “Minus the sex part, if you wish.”

When she didn’t speak anything for a long minute, he spoke, “I wasn’t reading your mind the entire night, if that’s what you are upset about.”

“Very gentlemanly of you,” she said, sagging in relief. 

Then he turned down the lights. It was dark with just the light from the fireplace. They talked about trivial matters, getting acquainted a little, her minor routine and his sorcerer duties.

“You’re a great teacher, you know?” she said, fishing her things into the bag.

“Really?” He grinned and she felt it shoot right into her stomach. Get a grip, she reminded herself.

“Yeah. you explained things in a better and easier way. I don’t think I would have been able to cover half of the topics-”

“Y/N,” he interrupted her, “I wasn’t looking for you to shower me with compliments. It’s just that I never thought of myself as much of a teacher in any field of work. I can teach myself but others - I'm not any good at that.”

“You underestimate yourself.”.

“Everyone who knows me a little would beg to differ.”

Sitting still for a minute, she watched him sip from his cup, she didn’t know what to say to that. “I should get going,” she said, finally getting up.

He frowned. Looked at his watch. And she noticed a flicker of disappointment in his features.

“It’s too late. But if you insist, I’ll walk you home.”

Y/N didn’t like the juxtaposition of reason and passion in her situation. She swallowed her nerves. “I guess I’ll stay then.”

He smiled, took her hand, and pressed his lips against the inside of her wrist. Her whole body shuddered. He pulled her back to the couch, then closer, until she was pressed against him.  She felt all her organs dropping right on top of her uterus like all their supports were lost.

She looked at his lips. Tread lightly, he reminded his desires. “It could always be a one-night stand minus the sex,” he assured her.

She chuckled and rested her head on his shoulder, “I don’t mind the sex part.”

His eyelids fluttered when her hand came up close to his face. Hot fingers pressed into his burning skin as traced his jaw before settling on his chest. Oh god, he had forgotten what a touch could do.

“Besides, I ought to make it up to you to ruin your evening.”

Stephen’s eyes had darkened as he stared at her. Her breath hitched. Have I done something wrong?

“You didn’t ruin my evening. I was looking for a distraction.”

“I was certainly not the sort of distraction you were looking for.”

“You were definitely the distraction I didn’t know I needed. Talking about things that my life used to revolve around wasn’t morbid. It was refreshing. You don’t have to do this because you-”

He was cut short as she closed her mouth over his.

Stephen held her close with his free hand when she pulled away from the kiss. He carefully placed his cup down. Then kissed her again, slowly, deeply and tantalisingly. At that moment she felt the geometric sum of all her nerve endings going crazy. 

He pulled away, ducked his head, and placed a hot kiss on her neck.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he stood and offered her his hand like before.

Y/N examined the bookshelves flanking the bed as Stephen peppered kisses on her neck. There were a few volumes of classical literature, few books of modern literature, some medical books and the rest -  the bulk -  of them, she guessed, were of sorcery.

His hands slipped under the sides of her shirt. Her back arched in response, however, he pulled her back to him, until they were plastered. She could feel every ripple of muscle even through the fabrics.

You are awesome, she reminded herself.  Not insecure. A bit shy and inexperienced maybe. He had said he liked that. So no big deal.

But when his hands slid forward and downwards, she was super conscious of the little pudge that sat above her jeans. The dimpled flesh on her thighs. Work out regularly right from tomorrow. 

Dying… Dying to taste every inch of her skin. He never thought he would get this desperate. He had wanted to take off their clothes slowly, dramatically, however, he snapped his fingers getting rid of them at once.

Y/N grasped at the sudden assault of cold air.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen said, whirling her around, “I’m a little too eager.” His hand reached up and weaved through her subtle curls as his lips moved hers.

Feeling the hard length of him poking her stomach, she moaned, giving him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue and deepen the kiss. 

She pulled away for a breath and he trained soft, wet kisses across her jaw, neck and chest before gently nibbling at her nipple. Her fingers tugged at his hair, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

Then they heard a noise. Three steady knocks on the bedroom door. “Strange,” the man bellowed. Another two knocks.

“What is it, Wong?” Stephen groaned. “Don’t come in.”

“Get in the bed,” he instructed her as he conjured a pair of sweatpants.

“I have been trying to reach you for the last twenty minutes. Why aren’t you answering the phone?”

“Because I haven’t heard it ring.”

She watched in frustration as he slid out of the room, closing the door behind him. Their voices grew dull.

Y/N waited. Ten minutes. Thirty. Then another hour. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand and sighed. It’s three in the morning. Maybe he’s not coming back.

Getting out of bed, she looked around for her clothes. She peeped into the foyer. Dead silence. Great! She was in a perfect stranger’s house all alone without clothes.

Continuum: Pivot

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

More Precious Than Rubies: Part 4b

This is an alternate timeline story that has a Rafael Barba track and a Sonny Carisi track. The two paths split off in part 3.

WC: 3390

TW: Angst; end of relationship drama.

AN: The prompt was "I miss her so damn much, and it’s killing me that she’s gone!"

Sonny wasn’t sure that there was anything more he could do, but he thought about you all the time.  As a public defender, there was always a good chance that you’d drift through the precinct, your heels clicking on the tiled floor and your jaw set and ready to brawl with Barba.  When it happened, Sonny could only watch in admiration at how relentless you were. 

And if he enjoyed the way your various twill or Italian wool skirts fit you like a glove, no one needed to know about that other than god and the priest who heard his confession.

He didn’t have anyone to talk to, really.  Amanda was a lost cause, too wrapped up in her own issues.  And Sonny wondered if she’d ever really loved anyone or been in a real relationship.  She seemed to go through men – no shame – but there was no common ground between that and a committed relationship.

The best support he had was Bella and, god help him, her fiancée Tommy.  Sonny had never been much of a fan of Tommy’s, but the man had gotten his life in order after a stint in jail for drug charges.  He worked hard and loved Bella, which was the best Sonny could hope for his sister.  And now that she was pregnant, he hoped it would be enough.

Sonny went over to the couple’s place one Saturday night to cook for them.  Tommy was a lost cause in the kitchen, and Bella was well into the third trimester – complete with swollen feet and a ravenous appetite for their ma’s chicken marsala recipe.  Sonny was only too happy to oblige.

After dinner (said chicken marsala, a mixed green salad, and crusty rolls – all wolfed down by Bella with an appetite that made Sonny smile), the trio sat in the tiny living room and sipped the rest of the red wine that Sonny had brought.  Bella helped herself to half a glass; Sonny had objected, but Bella had given him an earful about how her doctor said that half a glass of red had heart benefits that outweighed the negligible potential bad side effects, and furthermore, if he was such a fucking expert on pregnancy, he was more than welcome to carry the future Baby Sullivan for the next month and a half.  Sonny had looked to Tommy for support halfway through her tirade, but the man wisely averted his eyes and carefully studied the label of the wine bottle until Bella was spent.

There was a heavy silence for a moment, then Sonny’s younger sister asked, as if she hadn’t just yelled at him, how Sonny was doing.  Just like when they were kids:  screaming and pinching each other one minute, friends the next.

“I’m fine,” he replied, but Bella saw right through it.

“Liar.  You look tired.  You sleeping?”

Sonny shrugged.  “Usually.  Some of the stuff I see at work makes it hard.”

Tommy made a sympathetic noise – he had been assaulted repeatedly by his own parole officer and was in therapy as a result, so he knew at least a taste of what SVU dealt with.

“You need someone to go home to,” Bella declared with authority. 

Sonny winced and tried to hide it behind a sip of wine, but his sister caught it. 

“You seeing anyone?” she asked.  “It’s been a while since you got dumped.”

He ducked his head and considered not telling Bella about your recent reappearance in his life but decided to go ahead and tell her.  She’d find out anyway, and maybe she could offer some insight from the female perspective.  When you’d broken up with him over a year ago, Sonny had leaned heavily on his younger sister, crying to her about the loss of you.

So he told her all the news:  how you marched into the precinct one day as a public defender, how you went to lunch with him and accused him of emotionally cheating with Amanda, how you made polite small talk with him and sometimes looked sad when you saw him.  How he didn’t know what to do now.

“She probably still has my number blocked,” he finished.  “And I doubt she’ll go to another lunch with me.  I see her all the time now but can’t get through to her.  I wish…I wish I could just let her know how I really feel.”  He sighed and scrubbed his hands down across his face.  “I miss her so damn much, and it’s killing me that she’s gone!”

Tommy made that sympathetic clucking again, and Bella looked sad too.  You had only met Sonny’s entire family once, but you’d spent time with Bella a handful of times after the two of you clicked instantly.  Sonny had pictured a future where the two of you were married, and Bella and Tommy were married, and your respective children could grow up together, cousins as close as siblings. 

“Well, if you can’t talk to her or call her, you could always write her a letter,” Tommy offered.  He rarely spoke up at Carisi gatherings, and both Sonny and Bella looked at him in surprise.  Tommy shrugged.  “You know, at least you can get your feelings out on paper.  You don’t have to send the letter.  But if you do….” He trailed off, uncomfortable.

Bella cocked her head at her fiancée.  “That’s actually a good idea,” she said, and Tommy beamed.  They both turned and looked at Sonny expectantly.

“Maybe,” he conceded. 

“C’mon,” Bella wheedled.  She punched him lightly in the arm.  “Girls love romantic gestures like that.  And who writes love letters anymore?”

“Maybe,” he repeated, but he was already composing the opening lines.

-----

He typed out all of the drafts on his personal laptop, revising and rewriting and sometimes deleting and starting over entirely.  It took him a week to get a final version ready.

He thought about Bella’s line about romantic gestures and stopped at a stationary store.  He bought some nice, heavy paper edged in a dark blue that reminded him of the sweater you were wearing when he first met you.  He bought a nice pen too, and then he got to work.

If you hadn’t gone to that lunch with him and opened up a bit about where you had been when you broke up with him, Sonny would never even consider writing you a letter.  But you had, and it had given him a slender bit of hope that you’d be open to hearing more from him.

It took a few tries.  His cursive was out of practice, and the first few attempts resulted in misspellings and ink blots.  He kept writing it out until it was perfect though, even if his hand was cramped and aching from writing so much.  Bella was right – who wrote love letters anymore?  If he couldn’t give you anything else, he could at least give you one, perfect love letter.  You deserved that much, at least.

*******

You were feeling great – you had spent the morning at a sexual cybercrimes conference.  You had seen Barba, implied that his coworker O’Dwyer was smarter than him, and then delighted at how offended he looked.  Of all the ADAs you had to deal with on a regular basis, Barba was your favorite to wind up.  You practically skipped back to your office, where a mountain of new cases waited for you.

You shut the door to your office and shed your suit jacket in the airless little room.  You kicked off your heels and slipped into a pair of sandals and settled into your chair. 

You started with the interoffice mail:  standard memos and policy changes and an updated public defender contact list.  There was a retirement card being passed around for an older paralegal who was ready to hang it all up and move to Boca Raton. 

You moved on to your regular mail.  There was the usual junk that slipped past your admin.  A plea for a donation from Fordham.  Some letters from past clients. 

At the bottom of the stack was a manila envelope with your name printed carefully across the front.  No return address – another client, probably.  You opened it and slid out another envelope of heavy, creamy paper.  Your name was written across the face in familiar handwriting.  Your stomach dipped when you recognized it.  Sonny.

You thought about tearing it open then and there, but you got a call to go to the 5th precinct, so you tucked it into your satchel.  It was probably safer to read it at home anyway.

-----

The letter sat in your bag like unexploded ordinance, but you got through the day.  You rushed home, skipped dinner, and poured yourself a tumbler of wine to the brim.  You settled onto your couch, took a deep breath, and opened the letter. 

The paper was heavy stock and gorgeous.  The handwriting was careful – nicer than Sonny’s usual scrawled signature or block printed notes from college.  He’d obviously put time and thought into whatever he wanted to say.  So you took another breath, took a few deep swallows of wine, and read it.  It said:

You probably think that we first met when we both went bowling with our mutual friends, but that wasn’t the first time I’d ever seen you.  The first time I saw you, we were in the same class a semester earlier – Investigative Criminal Procedures.  It was a huge lecture hall, and you always sat about five rows ahead of me.  Of course I noticed you, because you are beautiful, but it was a fight you had with the professor that made me realize how much of that beauty came from deep within you.  Maybe you remember?  Professor Graham had some controversial thoughts about search and seizure, and you shot your hand up, didn’t bother to wait for him to call on you, and then you launched into an impassioned tirade that tore every one of his points apart.

My first thought after that class was that if I ever was in trouble with the law, I was going to hire you as my lawyer.  My second thought was that I was certain that I loved you.

When I finally met you that night at bowling, you see, I already was in love with you.  And you were so friendly and happy, laughing at your own terrible score – I only fell harder.  When I went home that night, I made a vow that I’d make you mine, and for a blessed while, I had.  But I lost my way, and I lost you in the process.

I don’t want to dwell on what I did wrong because I replay it every day of my life.  I just want you to know that I regret, every day, how I neglected you.  How I took you for granted.  How I assumed that you’d wait around for me to get my act together.  How I didn’t put you first or make you feel how special you are to me.  I’ll always regret how I failed you.

But I want to say all the things now that I should have told you when we were together. 

You are, as I said, beautiful, both inside and out.  You always manage to make my heart stop every time I see you, whether you’re in your work suits or in your comfortable pajamas.

You have so many amazing things going for you.  You’re easily the smartest person I know, and you have both book smarts and common sense.  You’re always able to get to the easiest solution to a problem.  You’re abilities in the courtroom as a public defender just proves this.

You have an amazing sense of humor.  You always seem to be able to find the humor in the situation, and you always made me laugh.  And you manage to tease people in a way that builds them up and doesn’t tear them down.  It’s a gift.

You have an amazing heart.  You always show care for your clients, and before that, care for your friends, for me, and even for the strangers who cross your path.  You never seem to judge – you give the homeless man money with the same love you give to your friends when they need you.  I love that about you.  You don’t make people work for your love:  you just give it freely, even when they don’t deserve it.  You certainly gave it to me far longer than I deserved it.

If I had to describe you in a single word, it’d be “rock.”  You were always my steady foundation, my touchstone for when things seemed too hard.  You supported me when I wanted to give up on law school.  You supported me when the NYPD was moving me from precinct to precinct and I wanted to give up on being a detective.  You saw me at my worst moments and kept me grounded and gave me hope.  Sometimes I felt my faith failing me, but I never stopped believing in you.  And no matter what happens, I never will.  

More than anything, I want to you know – really know – that I loved you then and I love you still.  I know why you probably won’t believe that, but it is true.  I know I didn’t give you enough proof of that fact, and I regret it.  I know that you think there was another woman with a place in my heart, but that wasn’t the case and still isn’t the case.  How could there be room for anyone else there, when you took it so utterly and completely?  And when you have it still?

I hope this letter did not upset you.  It was not my intention if it did.  These are all things I should have said a long time ago, when I still had you, and it’s no one’s fault but my own that I have to write them down and send them to you now. 

If nothing else, I want you to know that I loved you completely then, that I love you completely now, and for the rest of my life, I’ll love you just as much.  And as such, I want you to be happy, no matter what that looks like. 

It was signed, “love always, Sonny.”  But you could barely read it through the tears streaming down your face.

You probably read it twelve more times before you went to bed, and since you were unable to sleep, you read it twelve times more.

-----

You saw Sonny across the courtroom a week later, but he just nodded at you and gave you a small smile that didn’t reach his bright blue eyes.  You nodded back and smiled. 

You were working on your own response, in letter form to keep it true to his own letter.  You approached it a lot like your law work – you wrote out an outline and built it from there.

It took you a few weeks to craft the perfect response, and you carried it in your bag for another week.  You didn’t want to mail it to him.  You figured, after the way you’d dumped him, you owed him a hand-delivered letter.  It was the least you could do, especially after he made the ballsy move of even reaching out at all.  And you had to admit that there was something romantic about getting a love letter.  It was a stark contrast to your last attempt at dating, when a guy you’d gone on a first date with texted you a week later with an unimpressive dick pic.

Then you got a call about a client in the 16th who was arrested and about to face arraignment in a day.  You checked your bag and made sure the letter was there.  If you saw Sonny, you vowed to hand it to him then and there.

********

Sonny was tortured by that stupid letter.  You never responded.  He knew deep-down that you might ignore it, but he had some stubborn hope that you’d reach out to him.  He had a stupid, recurring fantasy where you rushed over to his apartment in the middle of the night after reading his letter, tearfully admitting that you still loved him too. 

He saw you once in court, and you nodded at him in greeting but didn’t say anything.  He resigned himself to finally admitting that it was over.  But at least you knew how he felt.  Maybe it gave you some comfort or closure.

-----

It was another grey day in Manhattan.  Well, it was July and sunny, but Sonny didn’t feel particularly up to his nickname.  Amanda was just starting to show in her surprise pregnancy, and she was an irritable, nauseous mess.  Fin and Liv had collared a potential serial date rapist who was preying on Hudson University students, and he sat in the interrogation room after asking for a lawyer.

The elevator dinged, and Sonny heard the familiar click of heels.  He felt his stomach drop while his heart soared, an uncomfortable feeling.  The feeling of possibility that would probably just disappoint him.

You breezed past him and Amanda and strode into the interrogation room where Barba was waiting.  Sonny heard first some low voices, then louder ones as you and Barba got warmed up and then traded snappy retorts as you tried to find a compromise.  Everyone, including Sonny, knew how to read the situation now:  if you marched out with your head tilted and Barba strolled out scowling, it was no deal.  If you marched out with a smile and Barba strolled out scowling, there was a deal.

Today?  You marched out with your head tilted in defiance, and Barba fell in step with you for a few strides, trying to salvage some deal.  Sonny smiled to see it.  Barba never seemed flustered by anything, but you had a way of making the ADA seem rattled.  You just shook your head at him….until your eyes fell on Sonny.

You started to smile, but your eyes slid over to Amanda and Sonny saw it all in slow motion.  He saw your smile falter as you took in his partner’s pregnant belly, and he saw you make a giant assumption about who made it that way. 

“Shit,” he muttered, and he watched you practically sprint out of the bullpen.  Barba, for his part, looked confused and started to follow but stopped.  Sonny went after you and nearly caught up thanks to his long legs, and even though you kept jamming the elevator button, he managed to get his hand in and stop the doors.

He called your name, but you shot him an angry look through tears that were welling in your eyes.

“Let go of the door,” you said through gritted teeth.  Your voice had a shaky quality as you fought the urge to cry.  “Just let me go.”

“No,” he replied.  “I know what you’re thinking….”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” you retorted.  You punched the button on the elevator a few more times for good measure, then you reached into your bag.  “I’m thinking that I’m a fucking idiot.  That’s what I’m thinking.”

“It’s not like that,” he pleaded, and he felt his own eyes fill with tears.  You were so distressed; he just wanted to reach out and hold you, but when he extended a hand, you visibly flinched from it.

“I don’t care what it’s like!” you wailed, and you pulled a folded piece of paper – no, pieces of paper – out of your bag.  You tore them in half, and then again and again and again until you couldn’t tear anymore.  Then you threw them at him, and Sonny realized that the confetti was your reply to him.  Or had been.  He knelt to pick up the pieces of torn paper, and the elevator, finally released, closed its doors and carried you out of the building.

He couldn’t chase after you.  You were too hurt by what you saw – or thought you’d seen – and he was on such thin ice anyway.  All he could do was gather up the tiny pieces of paper from the dirty precinct floor.

And take them back to his desk.  And start to put them back together.

[clementinesandwine]

Sick Day

✧˖° includes~ fluff Gyutaro x Fem Reader; modern au

While you had spent your day cuddled up in the house, movies on and food delivered, Gyutaro went to class. Now, you didnt actually want to stay home and were actually very anxious, as missing class meant missing important material. And what if Gyutaro didnt get all the side notes discussed in class? How would you be able to study efficiently? In all honesty, you couldnt remember the last time you skipped class, but when Gyutaro came to pick you up this morning, he was adamant that you stay home. 

“You look like shit,” he said, as you opened the door. 

“You look lovely, too,” you state with a smile. Gyutaro smirks and pats your head. 

“Really though,” he starts. “You don’t look well.”

“Yeah, that would be because I’m sick. I just can’t miss class, you never know whats gonna happ-“

Gyutaro put his hand on the center of your chest and pushed you back inside. He was instantly anxious, knowing your weak, little body was fighting off some illness. And he didn’t want you to work yourself up in class when you weren’t feeling well because you might just die. So, with little effort, he picked you up and brought you back to your bed. 

“Gyutaro, I’m fine, seriously. I can go to class,” you said. You were getting frustrated because you knew this whole scene would make you late, which stresses you out more than missing class all together. Walking in and everyone staring? Absolutely not. 

“Sorry, weakling, but I can’t let you go to class. If I learned anything from human health class, its that humans need to rest when sick.” Gyutaro really didn’t understand why humans get sick, and considered it to be more of a character flaw than anything. He watches as you try to stand, but places his hand on your shoulder and pushes you down again. 

“Gyutaro, please?” you ask, looking up at him with the biggest puppy eyes you could muster. 

“Y/N,” he says sternly. 

“Gyutaro,” you say with a cheesy grin. 

You know you won’t win this argument, especially when he raises his eyebrows at you. “Stop treating me like a child,” you say sternly. 

“I will. When you stop acting like one.” You lay down. “Fine! But I’m not staying home because you said so, I’m staying home because I want to!” He smirks at your announcement and leaves the room. In the kitchen, Gyutaro is putting the teapot on the stove. He heard it helps this kind of situation. He begins to look around for something to eat, that way you dont feel sick on an empty stomach, but remembers he doesn’t really know how to cook. Ultimately, he decides to order in some food. The tea finishes and he brings it to you. 

“Here, drink this. Google says it will make you feel better. And take this.” 

He hands you a box of medicine he had taken from your bathroom. You slowly grabbed the items, still mad that he was making you stay home, but appreciative that he cared this much for you. He proceeded to grab your laptop and put your favorite show on before kissing your forehead and heading out the door. 

“I’ll go to class for you and get you some notes so you dont go crazy,” he says, looking at you with a smirk. You smile back and he leaves. 

Not even 20 minutes later you get a text from him. 

G: Are you dying? I looked up your symptoms and one of the causes says cancer. Have you been to the doctors recently?

You giggle to yourself and respond, reassuring him that you would be fine and it was just a little cold. That didn’t stop his worrying, though, and you received plenty more texts with the same sentiment. You also kept getting deliveries, whether it be food or hot chocolate or even blankets. 

Y/N: You can stop door dashing/insta carting me. I’ll be alright. 

This got you no response, and you decided to take a nap. 

𓂂𓂂𓂂

Gyutaro opened the door slowly. He hadn’t gotten a response from you in maybe two hours, so he assumed you were sleeping. His assumptions were confirmed when he peaked through your bedroom door. A blush crossed his cheeks. You looked so cute all cuddled with the blanket he sent over. There were candy wrappers, cups, and to go bags all over, making him smile. He knew you would need all that. Gyutaro quietly cleaned the room and climbed into bed with you, moving your hair from your face and kissing your cheek. 

You rolled over to snuggle into his chest and he swears he would do anything to protect you, even if you were just a weak, little human. He is unbelievably grateful that you chose to be with him. You are so gorgeous. Since the day you met, you had shown him nothing but kindness, always complimenting and sticking up for him. You are the reason he had become so confident in himself. He had become the luckiest guy in the world when you gave your heart to him, so of course he is going to make sure you are well taken care of.

[mostly-hannibal-memes]

Hannibal Fic Recommendation List - Hurt/Comfort

Hurt/Comfort fics

Back to Overview

Never Conquered, Rarely Came by thisisthefamilybusiness Will is in an abusive relationship but can't see a way out - he's tried to leave before, but his partner is in law enforcement and always manages to track him down while pretending to be the understanding, forgiving, loving type. One day, Will stumbles across an ad in the Classifieds of the cleverly worded cannibal-seeking-fresh-meat-but-veiled-as-private-cooking-classes type, and decides to answer. Hannibal is pleased when his ad bears fruit, then surprised when his intended dinner apparently knows exactly what he's in for." Words: 3,242 Chapters: 2/2 Rating: Mature Warnings: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

And So I Raise Me Up From Sleep by bendingsignpost Will should call Hannibal and ask for the last time Hannibal saw him. Except that isn’t exactly a landmine Will’s ready to walk over just yet. No, he should call Alana, but nothing says I want to be your stable boyfriend like I’m either hallucinating or sleeping with someone else. Words: 10,941 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

we rise in the dying by euphrasie “Sexual assault was just something that happened to the victims I studied. It was never personal,” Will said, walking over to his makeshift evidence board. He touched the thin red string and followed the length of it; from his decision to stop off on the way home, to the sad box of a room he had woken up in, covered in the marks of men he couldn’t remember. “Sometimes I think maybe it didn’t happen, maybe I’m making this shit up.” It was a week before Hannibal’s trial when Will awoke from an attack he couldn't remember. Words: 63,374 Chapters: 9/9 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

Even Through The Pouring Rain by Redlineriot Hannibal comes home after a late night at the office to find Will sitting on his porch in the rain. Words: 2,793 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Assiette by coffeeandcas When Will finds nothing but exhaustion in the world, Hannibal is there to provide all the comfort he needs - in all the ways he's never considered before. Words: 3,086 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

in a mirror, darkly by LadyMerlin “I wasn’t expecting you,” Will says, moving to the small kitchen that has become familiar to Hannibal. “I’m afraid I don’t have much in the house. Can I get you a coffee? Or perhaps, I could order a pizza?” Hannibal wrinkles his nose at the suggestion, and is almost surprised by Will’s ensuing laughter. It’s increasingly rare these days, and all the more endearing for it. “Yeah, I thought that’d be your reaction. Sorry, Doctor Lecter, I don’t have anything else to eat.” Oh, Hannibal thinks, the irony. Words: 2394 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Absolution by raiast When Will wakes up from a surprisingly unsettling dream, there's only one place he can go to ease the ache inside him. Or the one where Will stops being a dumbass and starts being honest with himself. Words: 1613 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

The House Call by orphan_account Answering this prompt on the kink meme: Will calls Hannibal in the middle of the night in a complete panic. Hannibal keeps him on the phone as he drives out to his house. Bonus for Hannibal still being in his pyjamas & is just wearing a coat over the top. Can be Will/Hannibal if you want. Words: 1820 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

[phoenix-d-shunko]

Whispering Inferno, Part 8

Zeke rn :

Zeke's insides twisted with realization. His actions as the Cimmerian had finally caught up with him, and he felt the guilt tearing him apart as he glanced at Kai—her form beaten up, pale, and broken, all because of him. The calls from Mei barely registered until she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Zeke? What's wrong?" Mei asked, concern etched on her face.

"Are you sure she said the Cimmerian?" Zeke hoped against hope that Mei had misheard, that there was some mistake, anything to absolve him.

"Yes. Those are the only legible words I remember her saying tonight. Why? Is something wrong?" Mei had no idea what was wrong. Kaida ended up as collateral in Zeke's fight, a realization that made him sick to the stomach.

"It's just... it's the Cimmerian. That man is a living horror. I can't believe what Kai has gone through." Zeke lied to Mei, concealing the full extent of his connection to the Cimmerian. There had been reminders that his deeds had consequences, but this was too much.

Suddenly, something snapped inside him. He pushed the pain aside, focusing on one emotion – anger. He needed to get Mei out of there.

"Mei, you need to go sleep. Go back to your dorm. I'll stay with Kai." Zeke found himself giving orders, trying to protect Mei.

"What?! No! I'm not going back to sleep. I'm staying here! Gosh, Zeke! My sister almost died! I know you're looking out for me, but I'm not 15 anymore, okay?! I-" Mei stopped mid-rant when she saw Zeke shaking, literally trembling with fury. Maybe all Zeke needed right now was some space.

Mei knew Zeke cared for Kai, though she wasn't sure in what way. She hadn't considered the impact of seeing Kai in such a state on Zeke. As far as Mei could think, she had just painted a target by revealing the Cimmerian was behind the attack. Of course, Zeke was going to seethe.

"Okay!" she exclaimed, understanding, but not willing to back down. "I'll go to the fricking dorms." Zeke had already begun to reprimand her for her language, but before he could say anything, she interjected again, "But I'm coming back in an hour. I'll bring some stuff I had of Kaida's from when we were kids, and I'm gonna make this sad room look a little bit better for her when she wakes up. Until then, take care of her! There's no way I'm going to the damned dorm. Heck, I'll even study here for my finals."

With zeal, Mei stepped out of the clinic, leaving Zeke alone with his overflowing rage. He headed to the doctor's area, cordoned off with curtains in the room, where Kai's ragged breaths were still audible. "Only if Mai knew," Zeke thought as he headed to the scrubbing station, letting the water run. He needed to cool off, or he would end up expressing his anger in the wrong way.

Glancing up in the mirror, Zeke saw a husk of a man that the two girls had known. Things had changed. He wasn't the same person. Before he could control himself, Zeke's iron-laden fist crashed into the mirror, shattering it into a hundred tiny pieces. So much for control. Zeke conjured his iron mask, reached for his comms, and Grant answered on the other side.

"Yes, My lord?"

"I told you idiots to keep a perimeter." Grant gulped as he heard the Cimmerian's voice booming with fury.

"But Sire, you commanded them to leave as soon as you reached." Grant presented facts, hoping the Cimmerian would see reason.

"I want footage from last night. Everything."

"As you like it, My lord."

"And I want a hunt on Incendra. I want her to be brought to me."

Zeke was beside himself. The revelation about Incendra left him seething with anger. Not only had she failed to use her healing abilities on Kai, which could have prevented this entire ordeal, but if the footage revealed what he suspected, there would be consequences far beyond mere sparring.

In the midst of his fight with Incendra, Zeke had been so engrossed, enjoying the battle's intensity, that he hadn't noticed her underhanded move until the last second. His attention had been consumed, and he hadn't registered Kai's predicament until much later. The realization hit him like a freight train—Incendra had not only bested him but left Kai to suffer and potentially die.

His thoughts drifted back to Kai, lying in the clinic bed, her body battered and broken. His blood ran cold as he heard her delirious muttering. It was a stark reminder of the consequences of his actions, the collateral damage incurred by those caught in the crossfire of his alter ego, the Cimmerian.

In the chaotic ecstasy of battle, he hadn't even noticed Kai's distress. The darkness enveloping the scene, though a contributing factor, wasn't solely to blame. Zeke couldn't escape the guilt that clawed at him—how he had become so absorbed in his own enjoyment that he had failed to see the peril Kai faced.

"The Cimmerian...did he get me... untie..me untie...me," Kai muttered, her voice a desperate plea for release. Zeke was jolted back to the present, his heart aching at the sound of her pain. The weight of his failure settled heavily on his shoulders as he vowed to do everything in his power to make amends and ensure Kai's safety.

[husbandhannie]

sticky notes

how they interact with your post-its

pairing: vocal unit (seventeen) x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of minor medical issues in joshua's part, sleep issues in seungkwan's

words: 930

a/n: these are getting longer with every unit reaction. oops? and yes, i'm pushing the fwb!jeonghan agenda here too. also, the joshua and seungkwan post-it uses are based on my own experiences - they're not meant to offend anyone who suffers from these issues.

taglist: @itsveronicaxxx @zurikyo @husbandhoshi

hip-hop unit performance unit

JEONGHAN

you're somewhat fluent in korean (you can easily converse with fwb!jeonghan), but you still come across a lot of unfamiliar words in the language - you specially struggle with different forms of the same word, not having encountered similar forms in the other languages you know. every time you come across something unfamiliar, you write it down on a note that sticks to your desk - looking all the words up when you have the time and energy (which is not often, considering you're busy with work and studying). one day when you left your room to take a call, jeonghan read the notes and found himself smiling at how adorable and committed you were. picking up a pen from your desk, he answered your questions in the simplest words he could, stopping when he heard you come in. you read his additions later that week, feeling your heart flutter and wondering - not for the first time - if there was more between the two of you than you had decided.

JOSHUA

you've always been particularly prone to having medical issues - nothing too serious or too unmanageable, just too frequent. vitamin deficiencies and muscle pain in different parts of your body visit you like a cycle. to manage appointments and treatments, you write them down on post-its - scribbling symptoms, appointment times, prescribed treatment, doctor's advice and so on. the first time joshua reads one of these, he has no idea he's looking at something private - it was right there on your desk in your bedroom, where you had invited him. he quickly stops when he realizes what he's reading, apologizing to you for crossing a line. you wave him off - it's not like you keep this a secret, this is just a part of your life. since then, joshua reads them whenever he gets the chance, trying to remember the medicines you're prescribed (so he can make sure you take them when he's there), and specific doctor's notes (so he can help you follow them; like ordering more protein for dinner if your doctor asked you to increase your intake). you're fairly responsible and don't need him to help you, but it warms your heart that he cares.

WOOZI

you like trying your hand at different hobbies - knitting, baking, digital poster making, calligraphy, and so on. you don't aim at being very good at them, you just like the process of learning something where you can create something at the end of it. your post-its reflect these hobbies, they change every couple of months - baking recipes adorning your desk one month, and calligraphy samples the next. recently, you've gotten into learning guitar - and you've done alright so far, having gotten the basic chords down. woozi only got to know when he saw the guitar in your room - the two of you hadn't spent a lot of time together recently because he had been busy with a comeback. he saw your notes when he came to your room to pick up his phone from the nightstand, smiling at your half-technical questions, and focusing on a particular note. when you get ready for bed later than night, a note catches your eye; below your scribbles of "chords for hug chorus??" were some letters written neatly in woozi's handwriting, followed by "i know a producer who can help you with this :)".

DOKYEOM

you've always struggled with working out. every time you start a new routine, you struggle to keep it up after a couple of weeks, and just end up dropping it. this time, you've decided to start small (sticking to just jumping rope and few crunches), and to keep a log of how much you work out on post-its next to your bed. it seems to have worked so far - you're almost two months in and haven't skipped many days. you suspect that your boyfriend's encouragement has a lot to do with it too, especially the scribbles he pencils in next to your entries - a "wow baby 3 weeks!!!!" when you hit three weeks of skipping, a "hi hottie" when you hit a week of crunches, and a "hey love, take it easy a little" when the number of crunches you do increases drastically suddenly.

SEUNGKWAN

you've been struggling with sleep lately. not just one problem, you've been facing a whole host of issues - like not being able to fall asleep, waking up at odd times when you do manage to sleep, and nightmares or very vivid dreams that make you wake up dizzy and tired. you don't know what to do to solve your problems - so you start by just keeping a record of them, hoping to see positive changes as you try different things to sleep better. your nightstand now has an array of post-its that contain your sleep log in tiny scribble. you've mentioned what you're doing to seungkwan in passing, you don't think he pays it much attention. but ofcourse he does. he tries to come home earlier when he sees you've been getting less sleep (you've told him you sleep better when you can feel his warmth), he tries to get you to talk about what's stressing you out when he sees you're having nightmares, and tries to get you tired when he sees that you've been waking up at odd times (like encouraging you to join him and his members on a hiking trip). when your sleeping habits start coming back to normal and he mentions the improvement in the logs, you're surprised because you didn't think he paid attention to it. almost offended, he says, "ofcourse i pay attention. i pay attention to everything that's about you".

[jinkoh]

See you soon

Hui x female Reader

Tags: hurt/comfort, meeting again, ambiguous (hopeful) ending, college/science? au

word count: ~2,5k

a/n: Happy Hui Discharge Day ♥️ I drabbled this a while ago and thought it was good timing to post it now. (Not really proof read - sorry >_<) It's also a bit of a love confession to ptg and their friendship tbh. I hope you enjoy it~

Masterlist

When Hui first met you, he'd already accepted his scholarship to do his PhD abroad. It wasn't the kind of thing you think about for too long— being able to study at a renown university abroad AND do his PhD— that kind of chance didn't appear so easily. Of course, he'd miss his friends, but he'd only be gone for two years since he'd be able to write the last bits of his doctor's thesis from Korea.

But after meeting you, only four months before his departure, he started to question his decision. Would he have still said yes if he'd known you earlier?

You were new at the faculty, switching over from a different university in order to pursue your research further.

Hui's friend Changgu had immediately adopted you as part of the group and brought you along whenever everyone met up.

Hui wasn't sure how or why, but the two of you hit it off immediately. You just clicked from that first evening you met at the shabby bar everyone always went to. It was embarrassing to admit, but Hui still remembered the scarf you wore and the drinks you ordered, even after all this time.

He was sure there was something more between the two of you. You felt like home and comfort to him, but there was also this tension, they way your gazes lingered a little too long on each other and they way it made his heart flutter.

There was no doubt in his mind that you were feeling the same.

But he didn't make a move and neither did you, the shadow of his approaching departure looming over both of your heads.

He didn't want to leave with painful memories of breaking up, nor did he want to ruin what you had by trying out a long distance relationship. Maybe, if he'd gone to Japan or something. But he would be a continent away, a 16 hours time difference between the two of you. That couldn't work and he'd rather leave like this than to taint the beautiful memories between the two of you.

You seemed to think so too, never crossing the line even if there were a million chances to do so. It was like an unspoken rule between the two of you.

When the time came for him to depart, his friends wanted to see him off at the airport. But he declined, feeling like it would be too painful to bear.

Instead there was a small gathering the evening before he left where he said goodbye to everyone.

Well, almost everyone. He knew it wasn't very mature, but he didn't tell you the date of his departure. You came to the party thinking you had a little longer, thinking you could come to the airport and say goodbye then. Because you trusted Hui to tell you. Why wouldn't he?

The answer was easy, he was scared. The thought of saying goodbye to you was just too terrifying and painful to him.

On the day of his departure, everyone was still scattered over the shared flat, sleeping off the alcohol. Only Shinwon was awake already, since he'd volunteered to be Hui's driver. Hyunggu had also offered, but considering the amount of wine he'd consumed yesterday... Yeah, no, Shinwon was a good choice.

"You ready to go?" He asked, his voice hushed in order not to wake Wooseok who was asleep on the floor of the living room.

Hui glanced at his suitcases again and then took a last look at the flat. It'd be weird not to live here anymore.

Shinwon looked at him and shook his head in amusement. "Don't be so dramatic, it's not like you'll never come back here."

Hui shrugged. "What if you decide to give up the flat until I'm back?"

Shinwon shrugged. "Nah. Even if everyone moves out, I'm sure at least Wooseok and I will hold the fort."

Hui had to chuckle at that. He could imagine it pretty well, though it would be good if someone stuck around to do the dishes...

"Okay. Let's go then."

"You sure you don't wanna wake the others and say goodbye again?"

"Nah, it's okay. We said goodbye yesterday."

"Who said goodbye?" A sleepy voice came from the hallway, accompanied by shuffling steps. Changgu looked up at the two of them, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. "Are you leaving, hyung?"

"Yeah, it's time."

Changgu nodded slowly, before shuffling closer and hugging Hui tightly. "Take care," he mumbled. "And have a safe flight."

Changgu put so much weight on Hui's shoulder, it almost felt as if he was going to fall asleep on him.

"I will," Hui replied, hugging him back tightly before trying to pry him off, which only succeeded with Shinwon's help.

The drive to the airport went by way too fast. Hui told Shinwon he could just leave after dropping him off, but Shinwon stuck around. He said it was to help with the luggage but Hui knew him better than that. He simply didn't want to say goodbye yet. Maybe that was also the reason why he volunteered to drive in the first place.

It was almost time to say goodbye, Shinwon and him hugged around the twelth time now. Both of them had cried and maybe it would have been embarrassing in front of someone else, but they didn't worry about keeping face.

Just when Shinwon decided it was time to go for real, an angry voice sounded through the airport.

"LEE HOETAEK!"

Hui flinched and turned around to see you walking towards him with angry steps, your eyes and nose red from crying.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

Hui stared at you in confusion. "Uh, I—how?"

At that moment Changgu walked up behind her awkwardly. "Sorry, hyung, I accidentally told her..."

Both Shinwon and Changgu said goodbye (again) and left in order to give the two of you some privacy before Hui had to leave.

"Did you really think you could leave without saying goodbye?"

He shrugged, looking at the ground. "Maybe?"

"Why would you do that?!" instead of angry you sounded mostly hurt now, your voice thick with tears.

"I just- I didn't want to say goodbye." He sniffed too.

"Then let's not say goodbye. Let's just say see you soon?"

"Soon," he let out a breathy chuckle. "Sounds good."

“You have to bring back some souvenirs for me.”

“Of course.”

“I heard they have tasty chocolate over there.”

“I’ll try it.”

You wiped your eyes. "I'm really, really going to miss you," you said, stepping closer to hug him.

He was taken off guard for a moment. Sure, you had hugged before, but never like this. Not for so long, not so closely.

He hesitantly raised his arms to hug you back, wrapping you tightly in his arms. "Me too."

You stayed like this for a while, sniffing into each other's shoulders.

"You know," you mumbled after a while. "The people around us will probably think we are dating since we're making such a scene."

 "If we dated I'd say all the romantic stuff." He chuckled, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "You have to wait for me. Don't look at someone else. Don't fall for someone else." He tried to make it sound like a joke, but he felt as if his voice betrayed him.

If only he could say these things for real, if only he'd taken the leap and asked you out.

But now it was too late, that was not the kind of question you ask minutes before leaving for two whole years.

So he just laughed, sad and bitter before he raised his voice again. "Let's stay in touch, yeah?"

"Please."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

You didn't stay in touch though, and maybe both of you had known that the moment he'd turned around to go to his gate.

He wanted to text you or call you or even write you a letter. But he didn't know what to say. He knew what he wanted to say. I love you. I miss you.

But he couldn't do that so he said nothing at all.

You didn't contact him either, so any update he had about you, like how you got a job at the university's new research project, was something he'd heard from Changgu.

He was busy with his thesis, having to work day and night, but that's how he liked it. He didn't want to waste this opportunity, even more so since it felt as if he'd given up so much to be here.

It was a good way to distract himself too, thoughts of you hunting him in every calm moment.

Hui tried his best to keep himself busy, always working on something, being with someone, going somewhere. But despite his best efforts his thoughts came back to you ever so often.

He kept buying small souvenirs that reminded him of you, knowing full well he'd probably never get to give them to you. But he simply couldn't help himself.

When the time came to go back to Korea, he had mixed feelings about it. He would miss the friends he'd made in America, but even more than that he had missed his friends from Korea, had missed you.

But what if things had changed while he was gone, what if he'd come back just to see that everyone moved on without him?

There was no use thinking about it too much though. He would have to just let it happen.

Hongseok had offered to pick him up from the airport and somehow, the way he'd asked so naturally like "Hyung, when do you land? I'll pick you up." had given Hui a bit of comfort. As if even if things had changed between him and you, at least his friends were still the same.

The moment he stepped out of the door after picking up his luggage, he wasn't just greeted by Hongseok though. Instead, the whole gang was waiting there for him, holding up cheesy posters with his name and welcome home written on them. It was ridiculous and maybe someone else would have been embarrassed (well, Hyunggu clearly was) but Hui loved it. He loved it so much, it almost moved him to tears.

As he scanned over the familiar faces with a big smile, he quickly noticed that it wasn't exactly the whole gang. You weren't there. But what did he expect after two years of radio silence?

The guys had driven to the airport in two cars, since they obviously couldn't all fit into one, and somehow it warmed Hui's heart that they'd gone through the trouble for that.

Yanan, Wooseok and Yuto drove back with Shinwon while Hyunggu, Jinho, Changgu and Hui squeezed into Hongseok's car.

On the way back to flat he was quickly updated about this and that, though since he'd stayed in touch with everyone there wasn't really that much to update each other on.

It was a fun ride though and it made him feel as if he'd never been gone at all. Hyunggu connected his phone to the bluetooth speaker of the car, having Jinho immediately cringe at the music choices, while Hongseok started to sing along and Changgu just laughed at their antics.

Truly, this was what home felt like.

Things at the flat had changed a little, but just like Shinwon predicted, he was holding the fort.

Hongseok had moved in with his girlfriend by now (to no ones surprise since they'd been dating for years now) and Jinho got himself a little closer to his workplace. Changgu and Yanan had also moved out and were sharing a small apartment now.

But everyone else was still living in the flat.

"Honestly though," Hyunggu said with a roll of his eyes. "Everyone is here so much, I don't know why they even bothered to move. I think they should still pay rent."

One perk though, was that everyone had a little more space now, getting to have their own rooms instead of sharing with someone else.

Hui got used to being back really quickly. Just as Hyunggu had said, the guys were still coming around the flat a lot and he also got to see some of them at the faculty often.

The only person he hadn't seen yet was you but he felt like he couldn't ask about you either.

The souvenirs he'd bought for you were still sitting in his room, kept safe in a small box on his shelf.

Almost a month after his return, there was a small gathering from the people working at the faculty to celebrate one of his professors getting a prize for a research he'd published.

Since Hui was well liked among everyone, they also took it as a chance to celebrate his return to Korea.

Of course, you were there too.

You didn't sit next to him, but Hui couldn't stop glancing at you from time to time. You never met his gaze though.

"So, how was America?"  one of the professors asked, while pouring Hui another drink. "I'm sure you left behind a lot of broken hearts, huh?"

Hui chuckled awkwardly, finding the topic a little uncomfortable. "Ah, uhm, actually-" he started, but then he saw you getting up at the other table, excusing yourself to take a smoke.

"Sorry, if you'll excuse me for a moment," Hui quickly mumbled and went out after you.

You were leaning against the wall of the building, eyes closed.

"You don't smoke." Hui said when he stepped outside and you raised your head to look at him.

"Maybe I started." You said with a shrug. "Two years are a long time."

Somehow the thought of you changing and becoming someone else, even if it was only small aspects of you, hurt him.

"Did you?"

"...no."

He felt himself breathe out in relief before he leaned against the wall next to you.

"You didn't text me," you said after a while.

"No." Hui nibbled at his lower lip, a nervous habit he hadn't been able to shake. "You didn't either."

You let out a bitter laugh. "No, I didn't." And then, a little quieter: "But I wanted to."

Hui's head shot up at your words, looking at you with big eyes.

"Really?"

You met his gaze then, swallowing thickly before you replied. "Every day."

"Me too."

It was silent for a while, both of you unsure what to say. Maybe both of you had been idiots for not staying in touch.

But maybe it wasn't too late to pick things back up?

"So, how was it?" you eventually broke the silence.

"Well it--," Hui interrupted himself. "Do you really want to talk about that?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. But we have to start somewhere right?"

Start.

The word echoed in Hui's head like some kind of spell. Maybe the two of you really had a chance.

It didn't have to be as lovers, you didn't have to start dating.

Just the prospect of having you in his life  again was enough.

Hui smiled. "The chocolate over there tastes terrible."

Masterlist

[hercleverboy]

stars

spencer reid x fem!reader

summary ↠ spencer and the reader watch the stars and talk about their future.

category ↠ fluff

warnings/includes ↠ none

word count ↠ 1.7k

dedicating this fluff fest to my wifey, @alltooreid thank you for not only your creative input on this, but also for being there for me when i needed someone. much love <333

“And so I named the stars one by one, after every favourite memory of you.” — Stephen Stilwell

“Isn’t it beautiful?” She whispered, eyes staring up into the night, drawn to the little specks of light dotted in the clear sky. They were laid on the soft grass, blanket beneath them as they looked up together, beaming smiles on both their faces.

He grinned down at the woman who rested her head on his chest, his arms wound tightly around her. “It certainly is. I’m surprised the sky is so clear tonight, I really didn’t think we were going to be able to see much.” He admitted with a little laugh.

She chuckled at that. “You didn’t think we’d see much, and yet you still let me drag you out here at an ungodly hour so we could watch the stars?” She asked, shuffling slightly so she could look up at him.

“Of course. You’re cute when you’re excited, I didn’t have the heart to tell you that the probability of the sky being clear enough for us to see anything was only around 37%.” He explained, intertwining their hands together. “But there you go again, proving me wrong.”

“Hm. Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” She joked, making him roll his eyes.

“I am! Unless you too can recite the Bible from memory? Or the manual for our microwave?” He joked, causing Y/N to give him a gentle shove.

“Can I ask you something?” She whispered, looking up at him.

He breathed out. “Anything.”

They were quiet for a little while before she spoke again. “Do you ever think about our future?”

Spencer’s breath hitched at the question.

Of course, he thought about their future. All the time. Marriage, kids, a big house with a white picket fence, perhaps even a dog. It was the ‘apple-pie’ life he’d dreamt of, more than he’d like to admit.

He gave her a squeeze, one of reassurance.

They’d been together for two years. Two years that had simultaneously been the best and worst of his life. In those years he’d nearly died after being shot in the neck, he’d lost Alex, Kate, Gideon, and the team was still under immense threat from Mr. Scratch. And somehow, admist all the chaos, he’d met this incredible woman who had helped him through it all. The last few months in particular had been rough for him. With Morgan leaving the team and his mother’s condition worsening, it had certainly made him reconsider everything he had in his life and also reminded him of not only what he’d lost, but what he’d gained. 

Y/N sighed, but still gave Spencer a smile. “It’s ok. We don’t have to talk about it, I was only wondering.”

“No, no. It’s ok. I’m just trying to gather my thoughts, is all.” He assured her, moving to sit up straight. Y/N sat up too, Spencer reaching out and grabbing one of her hands to hold tightly in his. “I think about it all the time, truthfully.” He mumbled.

“You do?”

“Of course, I do. You’re it for me, Y/N.” He gave a small smile, his gaze dropping to their intertwined fingers. “It’s just, I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

Y/N nodded, urging him to continue.

“I’ve been thinking about my position at the BAU.” He stated firmly. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly in shock, surprised at the confession. The way he said it was so sure, so certain. He’d evidently been thinking about it for quite some time.

“Ever since Morgan left, I’ve been going over it again and again in my head. I understand why he left. His family needed him and it’s honestly the most admirable thing I’ve ever seen him do. I just wonder,” He paused, biting down on his lip in thought. “Would it be wise for me to make the same decision he did?” 

Y/N frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean— Y/N I love you. I want us to get married, have children, I want us to have a life together. And after watching Morgan, seeing how he gave up the job for his family, don’t you think I should do that too? For you, for us?” He explained, eyes finally meeting her worried ones.

“Woah, woah Spence. Are you saying you’re thinking of leaving the BAU?” She clarified, moving a little closer to him.

Spencer nodded. “I know, it seems crazy right? At first I couldn’t believe that I was even considering it but I’ve thought about it a lot and it just, it seems like the right thing to do.” He gave a small shrug. ���If we’re going to have a life together I want our family to be my priority, and I just don’t think I can do that while I’m still doing this job. I’ve seen it all first hand. I watched Hotch lose Haley, I watched Morgan nearly lose Savannah, all because of this job.” 

Y/N shook her head slowly, much to Spencer’s surprise. “Spencer... I won’t be the reason that you leave a job that you worked so hard for, a job that you love so much. What about the team? They’re your family- “

It was Spencer’s turn to shake his head, cutting her off mid-sentence. “You’re right. The team are my family, but so are you. And if they care about me like I know they do, they’ll support me with this. And as for jobs? There are plenty out there that I’ll enjoy. I’ve actually been thinking of getting in contact with Alex, maybe asking about teaching opportunities at Georgetown.”

Y/N looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing as she studied his face intently. He avoided her eyes, small smile pulling at his lips.

She smiled back, a knowing look on her face. “You’ve already spoken to Alex about it, haven’t you?”

Spencer chuckled with a nod. “You know me too well. I spoke to her last week. She said there’s an open spot as the head of the Criminal Psychology department. The job is mine if I want it.”

Y/N gave him a grin, squeezing his hands. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He nodded, but that wasn’t enough for her. “No, I need to hear you say it. I need to know that you’re not going to resent me in a few years because of this.”

He was quick to shake his head, pulling her toward him as one of his hands came up to cup her face. “I would never resent you.”

“So, this is what you want?” She asked once more, just so she knew he was absolutely sure. 

He nodded adamantly. “I want you. I’m only ever going to want you.” He murmured the words so softly that it made Y/N’s heart ache. “Now, and for the rest of my days.”

With joyful tears building in her eyes she nodded, enveloping him in a hug as he kissed the side of her forehead.

Spencer let out a sigh accompanied by a teary smile. He gave her a squeeze, his hands soothing along her back as he looked up at the stars. “Did you know, there’s an old Buddhist saying that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. We’re supposedly, quite literally, bound together through space and time. Isn’t that cool?” He rambled, earning a chuckle from Y/N.

“That is really cool.” She agreed. 

“You know I’m a man of science, but how else is it possible that you came into my life at a time where I needed you the most?” He whispered the last part, as though he was afraid to be so vulnerable as to let the words leave his lips. “Do you- do you think it’s possible that the stars brought us together?” 

She grinned, tilting back her head slightly to look up at the stars with him. “Yeah, I think so.” 

*

Spencer looked down in awe at the baby girl pressed against his bare chest. Josephine June Reid, barely three days old and already she had her father wrapped right around her tiny finger. Nothing he’d ever felt before compared to the feeling he had when he looked down at her, his little girl, his daughter. She slept peacefully against him, her little chest rising and falling rhythmically as his hands soothed over her back, gently rocking her. 

There was a soft knock on the nursery door, his tired-looking wife pushing it open. “Spence?”

He looked up, and offered her a warm smile. “Hey, you’re supposed to be resting.”

Y/N gave a sleepy grin, moving toward them. “You know that we’re supposed to sleep when she does, right?”

He snickered at that, raising an eyebrow at her. “You only gave birth three days ago. You know I’m going to tell you to get back into bed, right? Doctor’s orders.”

She held her hands up in a mock surrender, placing a kiss on the side of Spencer’s head. “I know.” 

It was silent for a moment, the new parents just staring down at the little life they’d created, filled with such a warmth, such a happiness that they’d never felt before. 

“I can’t put her down, not yet. I don’t want to let her go.” Spencer whispered, bringing up a finger to soothe over his daughter’s cheek. “I love her so much.”

“I know. She loves you too.” Y/N assured, watching with joy at how Spencer was with their daughter. He really was a natural with kids.

“You really should go back to bed, love. You need all the rest you can get.” He warned in a playful tone.

Y/N chuckled a little with a nod, bending down to press a gentle kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “I’m not going to fight you on that one Doc, I’m exhausted.” She ruffled the curls on her husband’s head, offering him a warm smile. “Love you. Come back to bed soon, yeah?”

Spencer nodded, promising he would.  

Before Y/N left the nursery, she turned back to her husband, calling his name softly. “Spence?”

“Yeah, love?”

“Do you regret it now?” She whispered, her fingers fumbling together as though she was afraid she wouldn’t like his answer. “Do you regret leaving the BAU?”

The question made him frown, it made him think. Did he regret leaving? 

His eyes flickered between his wife and the beautiful little girl against his chest and he smiled slightly at the realisation. This was everything he’d ever wanted, here, right in front of him. Every decision he’d made, every moment of heartache, every person he’d lost, they had all lead him there. To that very moment. 

And for that, he was so incredibly grateful. 

“No.” He replied, his voice as sure as the day he first mentioned leaving. “Not even for a second.”

He supposed he had the stars to thank for that. 

[strawberry--bride]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Haunted Dark Bridal ー Sharon’s Route [PROLOGUE]

Monologue

The most painful thing in this world,

is losing your home. Your place-to-be.

No matter how dire the situation,

if you are surrounded by people who love and care for you.

No obstacle is invincible. 

Then ーー Where do I belong?

Having long lost the place I once considered home.

I spent many years in a place which would provide for me. 

I had food, a roof above my head, a warm bed to sleep in at night.

But could I truly call this my home? 

Those doubts would lurk in the back of my mind, keeping me up at night.

Until one day, I was made a special offer. 

If I complied, I would be given the thing my heart longs for the most.

ーー A new home.

Location: Sakamaki Manor ;; Outside

Sharon: This is the place, right...?

( Woah...Amazing. I’ve never seen a house quite this big. They even have a garden! )

*Knock knock*

Sharon: Excuse meー! My name’s Sharon. I’m supposed to move in here today! 

...

...

( No response...? How strange. They should have been informed through the Church. )

*Knock knock*

Sharon: Hello...? Anybody home...!?

Sharon: ( What to do...? There doesn’t seem to be anyone home right now. It’s already getting dark. I can’t just stand here all night either. )

*Creaaaaak*

Sharon: ...Huh? Did the...door just open by itself?

( Does that mean I can go inside? I feel a little hesitant just entering someone else’s home butーー I was told I could live here so it should be fine, right? )

She enters the manor.

 Location: Sakamaki Manor ;; Entrance Hall

Sharon: Just as I thought, the inside is equally spacious. I can’t imagine just one person living in such a large house all by themselves. Cleaning must take quite some time as well.

She puts down her suitcase.

*Thud*

Sharon: Phew...

( ...It’s so quiet. Almost as if the house is deserted. I wonder if the owner is out at the moment? In that case, I should probably wait in the living room. )

Sharon looks around.

Sharon: I guess it’s...that way?

*Rustle*

Sharon: ...!!

( I...Did I just...step on something? It felt...strangely soft and... )

???: ーー Oi.

Sharon: ...Kyah!

Sharon: ( A person...!? Oh my gosh. I just arrived here and the first thing I do is step on someone! )

???: ...

Sharon: I’m terribly sorry! I didn’t think there would be someone lying on the floor and...!

( ...Speaking of which, what were they doing down there anyway!? ...Sleeping? No way, right? When you have a house this large, you definitely don’t need to use the floor as a bed... )

???: Haah...

Sharon: Oh no! Are you feeling ill, perhaps? In that case, I shall call a doctor right away!

???: ...You’re loud. How am I supposed to enjoy my Rachmaninov when you’re screaming the place down? 

Sharon: Rach...mani...? ...E-Either way, if you’re not feeling sick, then what were you doing on the floor?

???: Wasting his time away listening to music rather than making himself useful, per usual, I would assume. Well, I suppose it is best not to have any expectations of this man in the first place, as he will only let you down in the end.

Sharon: ...!? 

( A voice...? Out of nowhere...!? )

Sharon: ...Wah!!

( Where did he come from...? )

???: Now, who might you be?

Sharon: Ah...I’m sorry! My name’s Sharon. I’m an orphan at the Catholic orphanage downtown. I was told by our related Church that the resident of this manor has been so kind to take me in. Are you...perhaps the owner?

???: ...I see. It seems you are the next...sacrifice.

Sharon: Excuse me?

???: Nothing. I was simply talking to myself. ...Ahem. My name is Sakamaki Reiji. The second eldest son of this family and one of the residents here. ...The man you had the ‘honor’ of meeting earlier is Shuu. While you may not suspect so given his deplorable behavior, he is - quite unfortunately - my elder brother.

Sharon: Reiji-san...and Shuu-san, was it? It’s a pleasure meeting you both!

Shuu: ...

Reiji: I assume that is your luggage over there? A room has been prepared for you. We will have one of our servants bring everything upstairs.

Sharon: Thank you very much!

( Thank god...So there wasn’t any mistake after all. )

Sharon: Oh! Right! I actually brought a little gift with me! They’re homemade muffins I made this morーー

*CRASH*

Sharon: ーー ning...!?

Startled by the loud noise, she drops the box with muffins.

*Thud*

???: YOU FUCKIN’ BASTARD!! I swear once I get my hands on youーー! 

???: Ahaha! I can’t believe you actually fell for that one! Lame-o!

Reiji: ...

Shuu: Haah...

Sharon: ( H-Hold on, hold on, hold on! Eh? Eeeeh!? I’m not dreaming, right!? That person just punched a hole through the wall!? )

Reiji: Ahem. ...Allow me to introduce. The one who destroyed the wall is the youngest son, Sakamaki Subaru. Next to him is Sakamaki Ayato, the eldest of the triplets. 

ーー You two, explain this situation at once!

Ayato: ...Che. Reiji. I didn’t do anythin’! Not my fault that Subaru ate those prank chocolates I left out on the kitchen counter.

Subaru: Fuck off! You definitely did that on purpose! ...I can still feel my mouth burnin’...!!

Sharon: ( ...Prank chocolates? I guess he means those filled with mustard and other spicy condiments, right? I didn’t know people actually bought those. )

Ayato: Of course! I was hopin’ to catch Kanato. Can you imagine what kinda face he would make when poppin’ one of those bad boys in his mouth?

???: ...Say, did you hear that, Teddy? ...I hope Ayato sleeps with one eye open tonight. He might just run into...unfortunate accident.

Sharon: ...Eh!?

( Another person just appeared out of thin air!? )

Ayato: Keh. The lunatic’s here.

Reiji: Sakamaki Kanato, the middle triplet. 

...Kanato, If you wish to commit a homicide, please do so outside of the walls of this manor. It takes forever to remove blood stains from the carpet.

Kanato: I don’t recall having to take orders from you.

ーー However, you’re lucky as I happen to be in a good mood right now. I believe I heard someone mention muffins? 

Sharon: ...Ah, yes! I made these myse...Huh? ...Oh.

Shuu: It’s not blood, but I think the carpet will need some cleaning regardless.

Reiji: Good grief...

Sharon: Oh no...! The box must have slipped from my fingertips when I heard the sudden crash and...

Ayato: Ah-ahー Look what you did, Subaru. It’s always the youngest child causin’ trouble.

Subaru: HAAH!? All of this started ‘cause you left those stupid chocolates out!

Sharon: ...They turned out really good too. What a shame.

Subaru: ...!! ...O-Oi...You...Um...My bad.

Kanato: ...Unforgivable. 

Sharon: Eh?

Kanato: ...HOW WILL YOU MAKE THIS UP TO ME!?

Sharon: ( W-Why is he getting upset at me all of a sudden!? It was obviously just an accident!? )

Um...I’m not sure...I could make some new ones later?

???: There, there, Kanato-kun~ Relax! Even if the muffins were wasted, there’s a delicious snack just waiting to be devoured...

*Rustle*

Sharon: ...!

( Someone wrapped their arms around me from behind!? )

???: ...Right here~ ...Nfu~

Sharon: ...Eh!?

( I-Is he talking about me!? )

Reiji: ...And finally, the youngest triplet, Sakamaki Laito. 

Ayato: Oi, Laito! No way you’re gettin’ the first taste again! I still haven’t forgotten last time!

Laito: Eeeh~? It’s not my fault you’re so slow, Ayato-kun~ However, if you’re so insistent on taking a bite out of her, I wouldn’t mind sharing, you know? I’m sure it’d make for a refreshing and thrilling experience~

Ayato: Geh! In your dreams, you perv!

Sharon: ( Taste? Bite...? Why are they talking as if I’m their food!? )

Excusーー

Shuu: ...Strawberries.

Sharon: Eh?

Kanato: What are you talking about? I don’t see any strawberries around.

Reiji: Shuu. Explain yourself.

Shuu: Your panties. They had strawberries on them.

Sharon: ...!!

( When did he...!? Ah! When I stepped on him...! )

Ayato: Pfftー!! Strawberries! How old are you, five? That’s hella lame!

Laito: Hm...~ Strawberries are not bad but with such a lovely body, I’m sure you could pull off something a little more erotic~

Subaru: ...

Laito: Oh, my bad~ I forgot baby bro was in the room. I suppose talking about a woman’s underwear is still a little too much for him to handle.

Subaru: S-Shut up...!!

Reiji: ...Enough! No more on this topic! ...Haah. Is it really that much to ask for you lot to behave? Just for one day?

Ayato: ーー Anyway, Reiji. Who’s this chick anyway? Tonight’s dinner?

Sharon: D-Dinner...!? I’m sorry but...Why are you all talking as if I’m food or something!?

Ayato: Shut it! Nobody asked for your opinion, Ichigo Pantsu.

Sharon: I-Ichigo paーー!? I have a name...! ...It’s Sharon.

Ayato: Yeah, yeah. I-chi-go Pa-n-tsu.

Laito: Hm~ This Bitch-chan does smell sweet just like strawberries. Perhaps I should call you ‘Ichigo-chan’ instead~?

Kanato: She really does. I’m sure her blood would taste just as sweet...Oh? What’s that, Teddy? You’d like to have a taste? Fufu...Good idea. I was just feeling a little peckish myself.

Reiji: Haah...I shall be in my study room. ...Ayato, Kanato, Laito. Please treat our new resident with some respect. It would be a shame to lose another one so soon.

Sharon: ...Wait, please! I’m afraid I don’t quite grasp the situation yet!

Reiji: Haah...Good grief. You must not be very smart, are you? Did you truly believe you would be allowed to stay here for free?

Sharon: ...Eh?

Laito: Nfu~ He’s right, Ichigo-chan. Everything in this world comes at a price. In your case...That would be the delicious blood pumping through your veins...

Sharon: M-My blood...? 

Ayato: Heh. You seriously haven’t realized?

Kanato: Teddy...Humans are truly so foolish, aren’t they?

Subaru: Che...Stop beatin’ ‘round the bush already and just tell her.

Shuu: We are Vampires. So the only thing a human such as yourself would have to offer, is your blood.

Reiji: In return, you will be allowed to stay here in this manor. Food, clothes and all other daily necessities willl be provided as well.

Sharon: Vam...pires? That must be some sort of joke, right? It was the Church who arranged this place for me! They would neverーー! 

Besides...Vampires only exist in fairytales!

Reiji: Good grief. This is why I simply cannot deal with humans. Not only are they incredibly foolish, they are horribly naive and trusting as well.

Subaru: In other words, you were set up. Just deal with it.

Sharon: ...

( No way, right...? This has to be some sort of mistake? Or a bad dream...? )

Shuu: Pwaah...Anyway, you guys do as you please. I’m going to my room to nap.

Subaru: I’m leaving too.

Reiji: Well then, if you’d excuse me now.

The three of them leave.

Sharon: ...

Laito: Oh dear~? Is that despair I see in your eyes? You poor little thing! Don’t worry, Laito-kun wil make sure to comfort you. After all, there is no better cure for betrayal than pleasure.

Ayato: Don’t be so down, Ichigo Pantsu! It’s not that bad of a deal! You get to offer your blood to Yours Truly after all!

Kanato: Fufu...I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. If you’re lucky, you might even make it into my precious collection one day~

Sharon: ...!!

She suddenly pushes them away.

*THUD*

Ayato: ...Woah!?

Laito: ...Aah~ Not bad, Ichigo-chan! I like myself a feisty girl at times!

Kanato: Ugh! ...What are you doing!? I nearly dropped Teddy just now.

Sharon: ...

She runs upstairs.

Location: Sakamaki Manor ;; Hallway

Sharon: Haah, haah, haah...

( Say, God...? )

( Is this my penalty...? )

( Are you punishing me for my crimes of the past...? )

Monologue

I just kept on running and running.

As said question repeated itself inside my head.

That must be it.

Those guys were exactly right. 

Humans are foolish. I was foolish. 

Foolish to believe I would be given a new home.

After all, people like me.

ーー They don’t deserve a happy ending.

ーー PROLOGUE: END ーー

[ Dark Prologue ] ->