#i might not feel so bold in just straight up walking away from that kid. after saying stop stop stop repeatedly

[britneyshakespeare]

i have been working with kids for four years and i had to write my first ever note just now about a seventh grade boy being inappropriate towards me. i don't know what the hell this could possibly lead to or what. he was trying to feel my legs repeatedly to the point where i had to stop sitting next to him (and i was subbing for his one-to-one para!!!). he's got high support needs. in that kind of job, you're supposed to sit next to them all day and look over their work.

the teacher whose classroom this was happening in could also tell something was wrong. the whole class was acting kinda crazy because it was the day before school vacation week and there was another class coming in to share projects. so like, he was swamped with keeping order already. but we were sitting two feet away from his podium at the front of the room. the kid was giving him and me a hard time when he wouldn't take out his chromebook as he was instructed. and then when he did take out his chromebook, he immediately, for some reason, places it on my lap. he had been ogling my legs the whole time. he puts his computer ON MY LAP. and i'm just like, stunned, because what the hell? can you not keep it on your own lap, for some reason? i don't even know what to say, i just hold it a little above my lap while i'm thinking why on earth would this be happening? he would NOT do this to his regular para if she were here, would he? this can't be normal.

and the teacher sees this and within a minute places a stool in front of the kid for him to put his laptop on. and i'm like. oh ok. yeah. he notices exactly what's happening and that that's not appropriate. and then when the other class comes in to share projects he tells me "miss b——, you don't actually have to sit next to c—— this whole period if you don't want to." and he grabs me a chair for me to go sit with the other paras in the back opposite corner of the room. like he KNEW. and thank you mr. d—— for recognizing that because i was just kind of shocked and didn't know if i was overreacting in my head to all of this.

when there's a point in the class where the kids are discussing stuff, i privately mention what's happened to the para who's sitting closest to me. and she says that the thing about him calling me pretty is something he's been known to do, but the fact that he kept trying to touch my legs is new behavior. and that's a completely different class of behavior. i was telling him NO, don't do that, and he kept doing it. and the fact that he was calling me pretty repeatedly, even when i was giving him instructions that he wasn't taking. and this is the second to last class before the end of the day, so she says she'll take a walk with him before learning center and talk to him about it, and i'm grateful for that. she does. the kid apologizes to me as soon as i come into learning center. but like. WHAT the hell.

i'm STILL like what the hell. this is unfathomable to me. the other adults who i told about this or who witnessed it were supportive of me. but. what to do??? i wrote a long note to his regular para about this, because i knew she was going to hear about it at least from the first para i told. the second para i told about it after school had a kind of... i'm not gonna say enabling reaction, but i suppose since it had already been "taken care of" (or at least, he had been spoken to and apologized) she didn't really have much to add in the way of discipline. i told her what happened after school and she was just like... a little bit, laughing? like oh, yup, that dog. she at the very least confirmed he KNEW what he was doing, that that was not an accident. she said to me "i had a feeling he was going to develop a crush on you" (me and these other paras were together for most of the beginning of the day too). but it's like. it's not about that.

i have worked with children for FOUR years. children have had crushes on me before; i'm quite unfazed by it. boys from the ages of 5-to-15 have told me i'm so pretty before and asked me to marry them. i've never had them feeling up my legs before. i've never had them making me physically uncomfortable. it's NOT about this seventh grader having a crush on the pretty substitute. he is NOT unusual for that, at all. but i've never had a boy of any age or education level repeatedly touching my knees and thighs. THAT is problem behavior!!!

because what if i wasn't assertive enough with him to tell him to stop? what if i was a girl his age? worse, what if i was an adult who encouraged this behavior? i don't come to the middle school to be a seductress. i had no intention in putting on a pair of tights and a skirt this morning of being viewed as an attractive object, especially not by a pubescent boy. what if i did though? what if his interpretation of me wasn't so incorrect and offensive? what if i let him keep touching me inappropriately and saying flirtatious things to me? me, an adult in my mid-twenties, towards a middle school boy?

in no world would that be ok. if i had been feeling up and overly-complimenting a CHILD at my place of work, holy shit would there be reports about me. so a child acting that way could never be ok either. if it'd be firable for me to be reciprocating that action, then that action should not be happening to me. ever. and that child should never repeat that action again to any other adult again.

like i am simply not there to be treated as an attractive young woman. i put on a skirt that shows too much knee and get paired with a boy, though, and that's apparently just a natural consequence. hooo-ly shit. like i don't know what to do. first of all, the more time passes since this has happened, the more i am just unable to stop thinking about it. i wasn't "hurt" or too emotional in the moment but i'm just still processing it and it gets worse. i'm just more and more disgusted.

i don't know what i expect to come out of this, or the email i sent to his regular para. like, am i gonna have to attend a fucking meeting? what is the precedent that this sets for him? WHY do i feel BAD for him about this? well, because he's a child, of course. a child who has done wrong he may not be able to understand. but he knows WHAT he did. he just doesn't know WHY it was wrong.

and i couldn't even say something to him that was like, "well, how would you like it if i was touching you like this?" because young boys do not understand how inappropriate it'd be. i'm sure this kid thought he was gonna get away with what he was doing at the very least. but probably not unlikely he (being a child with no concept of how wrong it'd be) thought he could get some sort of "positive" attention for treating me like this. either way he was simply doing what he wanted to do, with no perspective of how it would make me feel or that it could be classified as harassment. teenage boys think it'd be awesome if the older attractive woman would reciprocate their affections. they're wrong. i, as the older attractive woman of his affection, cannot be the one to convince him of that, though.

i don't know. i don't know. like it's just so not ok. but if i didn't tell another adult about this, he would've gotten away with it. he would probably do it again. and him being in trouble for it is not the same as him understanding that it was wrong. unless someone has a REAL talk with him about inappropriate attention and consent, it's not unlikely that he'll just repeat the behavior in a setting where he thinks he won't be caught or told on. THAT'S the problem. me, i could just never have to be this boy's para again. in my email, i didn't say that i would never be ok working with or around him ever again. he already knows i didn't like it and i'm not afraid to tell on him; as far as that lesson applies to me, individually, i think he's become too ashamed to repeat that.

i don't know. i don't know. i very much expressed that i, i guess, "forgave" him in the email that i wrote. i clarified that i was writing it for the sake of having it on the record. i think that could potentially be very important for the purposes of preventing further similar or escalating behavior from him in the future. i don't want him to be in trouble. i don't think i will be blamed for this, especially not with how promptly i acted, although i don't know to what extent this will be framed as me thinking i'm a "victim." i'm not... i don't feel victimized. i feel disgusted. i feel afraid for the sake of what could happen to or with him in the future, if he thinks behavior like his towards me today is ok.

i feel like if i end up having to further respond to this, this will be made about me. in a way it kind of was. is? in the moment it was happening, it was certainly about me. because i was the one this boy was giving all this unwanted attention to. but to make the consequences of this about me and to involve me any further, i also don't want. because i said what i said already, i don't care if a student has a crush on me. this isn't about me being the pretty substitute. i'm the pretty substitute all the time, to tons of people. that's not really something i've been concerned about up until now.

but do i have to reexplain my personal embarrassment? that i was wearing a skirt? that he was ogling my legs? really? what more do i have to gain from sharing that, other than having the adults at my place of work confirm or deny me in their heads as the pretty substitute? i don't know. perhaps that's REALLY overthinking it. but i don't want to be the substitute that caused a problem for this special ed kid. i don't wanna be the reason that he can't be around me anymore, the person people think of when they're monitoring how he's acting around girls and young women. i DON'T want to be the one people think of when they think of his past misbehavior. i'm NOT here for that.

that's just fucking humiliating. and in this being a thing that could follow him, i have to be ogled and touched over and over again in people's minds for this to be taken seriously. but for this to be swept under the rug would be even worse, no? i don't know. i hate this. the principal is a nice guy; i wouldn't be surprised if he and/or people from the special ed department reached out to me sympathetically about this. but i don't wanna be reached out to. i don't wanna have ppl i work with tell me "sorry that kid was just so attracted to you he couldn't help himself" like come on. if the kid himself doesn't change then i don't really care to remember this incident. and no one reaching out to me and saying they've talked to this kid will actually prove to me he understands. this is the kind of inappropriate behavior it takes years for people to understand why it was wrong, especially a child who has no idea. i mean come on.

[erwinsvow]

teary-eyed, sniffling, wearing a pretty pink dress with flowers and a little bow just where your necklace hangs above your cleavage—that’s how you looked when rafe saw you tonight. he’d only come to the bonfire to sell, but had been convinced by kelce to linger a little longer, claiming more people were coming. in an effort to make more money, he’d agreed, but seeing you on stumbling legs trying to pour yourself another drink from the keg, he was fully persuaded.

“lemme help with that,” he says, taking the crinkled red plastic from your hand and manhandling the keg tap. he gets it to work instantly, it just needed a harder touch, and he hands you the half-filled cup. you look at rafe with big, fluttering eyes wet with tears. he can see where you cried your mascara off—little marks in the corner of your eyes and tear-marked blush still bright and flushed on your cheeks.

“thank you,” you hiccup, taking another big sip and then pulling the cup away. “this is only h-half.” 

“yeah, think you’ve had enough, hm?” fresh tears well up in your eyes and slip down your cheek, while you make a pout he can already feel is making his resolve weaken. “hey, hey, s’going on? you cryin’ like this over beer?” 

he leads you and your almost empty cup to a log by the fire, sitting you down and watching your trembling body while you wipe away your tears, smudging your make-up even more. the strap of your dress slides off your shoulder, and you set down the drink to adjust it, but rafe uses his own fingers to bring it back up, his touch almost electric, making you jerk your body and knock over the cup with your foot. you look down to watch the leftover beer spill onto the sand, dripping away, and look up at rafe so quickly it gives you a head rush—though that might be the result of how he’s looking at you right now. with his hand still on your shoulder, you choke out an apology.

“for spillin’ cheap beer? nothing to cry over, kid.” 

you’re still pouting—he wishes you would stop. with the glow of the fire reflecting on you and the sweet smell of your perfume and your teary eyes, all combined with that pout and your short dress showing way too much skin, he’s thinking all kinds of things he shouldn’t be, like how much he wants you to stop crying and make you feel better himself.

“y’gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

“why do you even care?” you say, between sniffles, looking down at your shoes. he moves his hand to your face, lifting your chin to look right at him.

“i asked you a question.” you swallow uncomfortably, the fire seems all too warm and the beer feels like it’s gone straight to your head.

“m-my boyfriend forgot our date.” you think rafe should be a little fazed, now that he knows you have a boyfriend—correction, had. 

“all this cryin’ over a stupid date?” 

“he forgot the last one too. and the one before that. and today’s our anniversary.” 

“oh. did’ya dump his ass?”

“yes,” you admit quietly. 

“good girl,” he says, taking a long sip of his own beer. if you felt flustered before, you can’t even imagine how you look now—your face feels like it’s on fire. “so, what, y’came here to forget about him?”

“he’s here, with his friends. somewhere,” you say, looking around but unsure where he went after you had, as rafe put it, dumped his ass.

“oh, so you wanna make him jealous? is that it?” he says it with a laugh, finishing his drink. in hindsight, it was all the beer that made you so bold—you can’t imagine any other reason.

“are you offering?” rafe laughs, tossing his empty bottle aside. 

“don’t ask for things you can’t handle.” you straighten your back on the log, smoothing out your dress and squeezing your tits together in the process, making sure to give him an eyeful. 

“i can handle it. promise.” he gets up, and you think he’s walking away, done with this conversation and with you until he offers you a hand to get up. 

you watch with big eyes, taking his hand and standing. he runs his hand across your back, making you shiver in his grip, and then lower to your ass, brushing something off before giving you a slap that makes you yelp. he brings you in closer, swinging an arm around your neck and pulling you in, pressing a wet kiss to your temple. you can feel everyone’s eyes on the two of you.

“come on, kid, let’s go.”

[eskawrites]

well, kids. i've done it. i've written tales of erathia fanfic. original fic? who even knows at this point

@sweepy-stringbean had the absolutely brilliant idea of not only making Vecna the villain of the fictional fourth movie in this franchise, but also having a flayed Moss/Max "betray" the group by quite literally stabbing Tenar in the back

and, well, it's all just kinda grown from there

(this is also the backstory to that incredible, soft tenlark art that i've been staring at for like three weeks straight. Rae, I adore your work and your mind and everything you've come up with in regards to these beautiful gay fantasy losers)

anyway

-

Tenar’s chambers always seem bigger at night. The bed is too wide, making her feel too small. The windows stand taller, darker, far more imposing than they feel when they’re letting the sun in. The air seems heavier, full of the grief she can never shake, the responsibility she’ll always carry, the doubt that fills every day.

And tonight—and most nights, recently—an inescapable sense of longing.

Tenar is no fool. She might avoid it, might do all she can to deny it in the light of day, but she knows precisely who she longs for, and why. How can she not, when Lark is the one who makes the grief and the responsibility and the doubt a little lighter? Lark can step into the room and fill it effortlessly, without even saying a word. She can bring the light through the windows, can sit beside Tenar and hold her hand and make her feel far from small.

And all Tenar can do is lay awake at night, thinking of her.

Maybe she is a fool. Or a coward, because despite all that they’ve been through, she still shies away from telling Lark the truth.

But in her defense, she really does think Lark should know by now. Everyone in the kingdom has spent the last few years questioning why Tenar chooses Lark again and again—to travel with her everywhere she goes, to sit at her right hand during meetings and ceremonies and decrees, to protect her and accompany her and advise her and challenge her in ways no one has ever managed before. Surely, surely, Lark has figured out by now why she is, consistently, Tenar’s first choice.

Though perhaps that is unfair. If Tenar cannot be brave enough to speak directly, why should Lark have to be bold enough to make assumptions?

Tenar rolls over, tangling the sheets further around her legs. She curls her arm beneath her pillow and tilts her head up to look for the moon through the window. It’s faint, nothing but a barely-there glow behind a screen of clouds.

She is a fool, but she doesn’t have to be. And maybe, just maybe, her room doesn’t have to seem so empty. Tenar pushes herself upright and kicks away the sheets.

Two guards stand outside her door—a precaution of her own doing, but one that she hates. They stiffen to attention when she steps out, then relax with a wave of her hand. She beckons one to come with her and starts down the halls.

Lark’s room isn’t far from her own, but the walk is cold in the castle’s drafty corridors. The guard following her holds his lantern aloft, causing shadows to flicker around the edges of the light. They pass no one.

There is no light seeping through the cracks of Lark’s door when they arrive. Tenar steels herself. It won’t be the first time she’s woken Lark from sleep, and she’s certain it won’t be the last. She can only hope it will be worth it.

But when she raps on the door, no one answers. Tenar waits and listens for any sound of movement on the other side. After a moment, she turns over her shoulder and looks at her guard.

“Have you seen her about tonight?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

Tenar frowns and turns back to the door. She raises her hand to knock again, but the sound of footsteps behind them stops her. The light moves as her guard spins to face the newcomer. Tenar turns, too, and relaxes when she sees who it is.

“Moss,” she says. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Moss’s grin is cheeky, if not a little stiff.

Tenar smiles back. “Looking for Lark, actually. Have you seen her?”

“Not tonight. But I’d be happy to walk with you until we find her. Save you from having to hang out with a stuffy soldier.” Moss smirks as the guard frowns and shuffles self-consciously.

“Be nice,” Tenar scolds her, no bite to her voice whatsoever. She turns to her guard. “You can return to your post. Thank you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” He leaves without another word. The hallway darkens as he turns the corner, taking the lanternlight with him, but Tenar and Moss are both comfortable enough with the dark by now.

“Shall we?” Moss asks, tilting her head down the hall. Tenar nods, and together, they walk away from Lark’s room.

-

Lark leans against the wall across from Moss’s room, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at the closed door. There is no light coming from beneath it. No answer to her soft knock. No sound or movement at all from within.

It’s not unusual for Moss to wander the halls, even this late at night. Just like it’s not unusual for Moss to snap at her friends when she’s frustrated, or avoid people when she’s overwhelmed, or hide what she’s really thinking when she believes her own thoughts to be too weak or vulnerable to share.

Logically, none of it is unusual. But Lark has never really been one for logic. That’s Tenar’s job, and even Tenar has been urging her to just talk to Moss lately, if she’s so worried.

And she is worried. So is Tenar. So are Arren and Ged.

“Fuck this,” Lark mutters to herself.

She adjusts the bow on her back and crosses the hall. The door is locked, but only for a moment. She and Moss told Tenar years ago most of the castle’s chambers were child’s play to break into. They’re working on it, but considering the fact that most of the threats they’ve faced wouldn’t be deterred by a locked door, it’s pretty low on the priority list.

Lark swings the door open just enough for her to slip inside and close it again behind her. Moss is nowhere to be seen, but there are still embers glowing faintly in her fireplace. Lark sighs and walks further into the room.

The desk is a mess of discarded books and crumpled papers. A jar of ink has spilled onto its side, seeping into a stack of blank parchment. The wardrobe is a mess, the door hanging open, clothes spilling out of it. None of this is unusual.

The bed is made—that part is unusual. The sheets are stiff, tucked in neatly. Lark frowns and walks over. The nightstand is empty, the lantern sitting on top of it dark and cool. She turns and walks over to the fireplace instead.

Heat still hovers around the hearth. The coals must have been recently scattered. Lark kneels before them and reaches a hand out. Very recently, she thinks.

She grabs the poker hanging by the fireplace and sifts absently through the embers. She needs to find Moss. She just—has no idea where to start.

She pulls the poker back, and it catches on something in the corner of the fireplace. Lark tilts her head and leans forward a little. A page—crumpled into a ball, half-burnt, but still solid enough for her to scrape out. She picks it up and smooths it out with shaking hands. Ink blots cover most of what hasn’t burnt away, but there’s enough to recognize Moss’s handwriting. Enough to make out a few phrases.

Sorry, jumps out at her. Then, darkness and I’m scared.

I don’t know what’s happening to me.

Lark scrambles to her feet. She stuffs the page into her pocket and runs from the room. Her hand goes to her bow as she starts down the hallway.

She still has no idea how to find Moss, but she has to be here somewhere. The embers are still warm. She can’t have gone far. Lark can still find her. She can still stop whatever this is. She can still help her, before it’s too late.

-

Moss and Tenar don’t speak much as they walk. Moss trails a few feet behind her, her steps so quiet Tenar keeps looking over her shoulder just to make sure she’s still there. She looks pale in the dark halls. Her hair is dull, washed out in the shadows.

“I’m not sure where to look for her,” Tenar admits. Lark has followed Tenar’s lead during most of their nighttime wanderings; she doesn’t know where Lark would go if left to her own devices.

“Perhaps she’s out looking at the stars somewhere,” says Moss.

But Tenar shakes her head. “It’s too dark tonight. All she’d see is clouds.” And she wouldn’t go sit and look at clouds—not when it’s so dark, and there isn’t even the glow of the moon to keep her company.

“She could still be looking for fresh air,” suggests Moss.

Tenar doesn’t think that’s the case, but she also doesn’t have any other ideas. Besides, Moss knows Lark just as well as she does, if not more. Maybe she knows something Tenar doesn’t.

Or maybe she’s looking for an excuse to step outside and have a quiet moment of her own. Something has been troubling Moss, lately. It’s been worrying Lark. It’s been worrying Tenar, too. Maybe, if they have a moment to themselves, Tenar can try to talk to her.

“Alright,” she says. She takes the next left, making her way to one of the balconies overlooking the gardens.

They don’t meet anyone else along the way. Everything is quiet as Tenar leads them through the double stained glass doors and out onto the balcony. The air is cold, biting even for the late autumn night. Tenar shivers as the chill seeps immediately through her nightgown, but beside her—covered only in simple clothes and a thin, hooded cloak—Moss seems entirely unaffected.

It’s obvious that Lark isn’t out here, but Moss doesn’t make any moves to leave. She stands in front of the doors and stares out past the balcony’s railings. It’s too dark to see the gardens. Too dark to see much of anything at all.

“Moss?” Tenar asks softly.

Moss shakes her head. That distant look lingers in her eyes. “I don’t know where she is.”

“That’s okay.” Tenar continues to watch her watch the night. “Is there…something else you want to talk about?”

This time, Moss’s eyes flicker toward hers. Only for a moment, though. Then she drops her chin and looks away again.

“What do you mean?”

Tenar shrugs and turns away. She walks toward the railing, giving Moss space to gather her thoughts, or her words. Or her courage.

“A lot has been going on lately,” she says, keeping her voice light. Behind her, Moss stays silent. “Farmers reporting decay in their fields. Sightings of strange creatures in the forests. Disappearances, in the border villages. I think everyone is a little uneasy because of it.”

“Are you afraid, Tenar?” There’s something almost mocking in Moss’s voice. Tenar almost looks back at her over her shoulder, but then she stops and sighs, letting her head hang.

“I would be a fool not to be, wouldn’t I? After everything we’ve been through…I know better than to doubt my own instincts.” She pauses, then, “You do, too.”

Moss stays silent.

“Moss?” she asks again. No response. Tenar lifts her head. “Please talk to me. I know something has been bothering you lately.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

Her voice is dark—not angry, but furious. Tenar turns and sees Moss directly behind her, eyes dark, a shadow hanging over her face. A blade in her hand.

Their eyes meet, and Moss flinches, her arm jerking to the side even as it thrusts forward.

The whole world shrinks down to that balcony, to just the two of them—to the sharp, blinding pain in her back, and the overwhelming sorrow in Moss’s eyes.

Tenar’s hand moves of its own accord, finding the dagger at her waist and swinging up. Moss’s eyes widen as she stumbles back. She pulls her own knife with her, and Tenar screams as the blade tears through her again on the way out. She feels blood running down her back, soaking her gown. She shoves Moss away with another cry and throws the dagger—not at her, but past her. It crashes through the closed doors, shattering one of the stained glass windows.

They hear voices almost immediately, calling out in alarm. Moss bares her teeth.

“Moss,” Tenar whispers.

It’s like something breaks between them. Moss falters. Fear fills her gaze. Her arm falls, holding the knife loosely at her side. For the first time, Tenar sees tears streaming down her cheeks.

They hear footsteps, light and quick, then, “Tenar!”

Lark’s voice. Tenar could sob. She’s shaking, her legs trembling beneath her. She reaches out for Moss, but that dark, furious expression fills her face again—a look of hatred so cold that she doesn’t even look like herself. Moss backs away toward the railing just as Lark bursts through the doors.

She sees Tenar first. Terror crosses her face.

And then she looks at Moss.

Her eyes dart down to the bloody knife in Moss’s hand.

“Moss,” she breathes.

Moss shakes her head. She takes another step back. Lark starts after her, but she bolts and hops over the railing before she can reach her.

“Moss!”

Lark sprints forward. The balcony catches against her hips, stopping her even as she leans dangerously far over it, reaching for someone who is no longer there. Lark pulls her bow and starts to aim, but she lets out a frustrated growl and lowers it again before she even has the arrow nocked.

Tenar’s legs give out. She catches herself on the railing. She can hear her own harsh, broken breaths in her ears.

“Tenar!”

Lark grabs her and eases her down to the floor, but Tenar shakes her head.

“Moss—you need to help Moss.”

Lark ignores her. Her hand slips toward Tenar’s back, and burning pain courses through her veins. Tenar bites back a whimper.

“We need to get you a healer.”

“Lark, it wasn’t her. There’s something wrong, something—”

“I know,” Lark says through her teeth. “I know, she—but this looks bad, Tenar, we gotta get you help.”

“She’s in danger—”

“So are you.”

“I’ll be fine, I—”

“Tenar—”

“Lark,” Tenar says in the same voice that addresses her people, that orders her council, that leads knights onto the battlefield. “Go after your sister.”

Lark looks toward the railing where Moss disappeared, then squeezes her eyes shut. A tear slips down her cheek. Tenar wants to reach up and brush it away.

Lark’s grip on Tenar tightens. “No,” she says. “Not until you’re safe.”

She looks down again and meets Tenar’s eyes, and Tenar can’t resist it anymore. It hurts. Everything hurts. She can feel the blood on her gown, clinging to her skin. The night is already growing colder around them. Lark is moving against her now, stripping her overshirt and bunching it to press against Tenar’s back, and that hurts, too—enough to make darkness seep in on the edges of her vision.

Moss is gone, disappeared into the night. Something is wrong with her. She’s not herself. Lark knows, and Ged and Arren will believe her, but will anyone else? The guard who escorted her to Lark’s door—he’ll know Moss was the last one with Tenar. Will he think Moss was acting of her own accord? Will everyone else?

Lark is shouting something, her voice cracking as she cries out for help. If the council blames Moss, will they even listen to Lark? Or will they try to stop her from finding Moss and helping her?

“Lark,” Tenar whispers. Lark turns to her immediately, holding her a little closer. “My dagger—by the door.”

“Ten—”

“Please,” she says, because she knows it will work. And it does. Lark gently lays her down, then scrambles across the balcony to grab her dagger.

She returns within seconds. One arm wraps around Tenar again while the other offers her the hilt of her blade. Tenar takes it, then grabs Lark’s wrist.

“What are you—”

“Listen to me,” Tenar says, and Lark does. She always does. It makes Tenar want to apologize. But she can’t. She turns the blade and passes it back to Lark, pressing the seal that rests in the center of the cross-guard into her palm. “Moss needs you, okay? You—you have to protect her. You have to protect your family.”

Lark nods. “I will. You know I will. But Tenar—”

“And you have to protect this kingdom. Promise me you will.”

“I’ve already sworn that oath to you,” Lark says, her voice rough. “Stop talking like this. You’re going to be fine, and we’re going to find Moss, and we’re going to fix this. We are.”

“Lark, I…”

But whatever she wants to say—the words she was finally brave enough to share—fades away as darkness clouds more of her vision. She hears Lark call her name. She hears others, too, people finally running out onto the balcony to help, crying out when they see the two of them lying there in a growing pool of her blood.

Tenar wraps Lark’s fingers around the hilt of the blade and lets go.

“Tenar!” Lark catches her hand before it can hit the stone. Tenar doesn’t respond. She looks over her shoulder at the guards who stand frozen, now, staring at the scene. “She needs a healer! Now!”

It snaps them back into action.

“Sound the alarm,” one of them barks, sending someone else running back down the hall. “And you, run ahead to the ward, tell them what’s happened. You two, help me carry her.”

They all start moving at once. Lark forces herself to let go of Tenar as they lift her and start carrying her away. In the distance, she hears the ringing of the alarm bell, followed almost immediately by the cries of more guards. Torches and lanterns start blinking to life across the grounds.

“Lark!” It’s Arren’s voice, and Ged’s. Lark turns as they appear down the hall, running toward her.

They falter as they pass the guards carrying Tenar away. Ged stumbles a little, but Arren grabs him and keeps pulling him along toward the balcony.

“What happened?” Arren asks. “Tenar, is she—”

Lark closes her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Where’s Moss?” asks Ged. Lark can feel the weight of Moss’s writing in her pocket. Maybe she’s still on the grounds. Maybe she’s tearing through the woods, running for her life. Maybe she’s already met up with whatever force has taken her from them.

Ged and Arren understand her silence enough to know not to ask anything else. Not yet, at least. Not here. Guards still hover around them, scanning the balcony for some hint as to what happened, or just standing there staring at the pool of Tenar’s blood.

Blood that is soaking into the knees of Lark’s pants, still. She pushes to her feet, feeling sick.

“What do we do now?” Ged asks instead.

Lark opens her eyes again, but before she can respond, one of the guards walks up to her.

“I was about to ask the same thing,” he says.

Lark stiffens. She doesn’t want to sit through their questioning now—not when she doesn’t know if Tenar is okay, or where Moss is, or—

“What would you have us do, Your Highness?”

Lark stares. Arren stares.

It’s Ged who breaks the silence.

“Oh, shit,” he whispers, looking down at Lark’s hand. “Tenar’s blade.”

Lark looks down, too. She is indeed still holding Tenar’s dagger in a white-knuckled grip. She hadn’t even realized it.

“What—”

“She put it in your hands, didn’t she?” the guard asks.

Lark forces herself to look up at him. “Yes, but—”

“Then she placed the fate of the kingdom in your hands, as well.”

“I—that’s not—it’s just a blade.” Lark stares at it in her hands. She will her fingers to uncurl and let it drop, but they don’t. She can’t.

“It’s tradition,” Ged says quietly. She turns to stare at him instead. “Especially during wartime. A quick way of establishing succession when a monarch is—”

“Tenar’s not dead,” Lark snaps.

“And if she wakes again,” the guard starts. Lark glares at him, and he holds his hands up. “When she wakes again, she will resume power. But until then…”

He steps forward, then lowers himself to kneel in front of her. Lark shakes her head. Behind him, the rest of the guards lingering on the balcony follow suit, bowing their heads. Ged kneels, too, elbowing Arren in the thigh on the way down so he takes a knee, too.

“Queen Regent,” the guard says to her. “What would you have us do?”

[casspurrjoybell-19]

CLAIMED - Chapter 4

*Warning: Adult Content*     

The newborn Alpha twins were cute and Beta Ortiz tried his best to feel happiness for Alpha Oasis Amador and Luna Berlin Cahill but as he sat dejectedly in the dusty corner of the hospital room on the floor, his mind was in a completely different universe. 

Even as Berlin's brother Tyrus Cahill had the most awkward interaction with the puny Fae kid, Daffodil which under different circumstances Ortiz would have laughed his ass off about, all he could focus on was this deeply unfamiliar, gut-wrenching emptiness that was slowly colonizing every crevice of his mind.

When Tyrus ran out of the room in search of the kid with the yellow hair, Ortiz made his exit shortly after, which brought him to where he is now, laying underneath his black comforter feeling like complete and utter shit. 

Although his wounds from the fight with Alpha Oasis were rapidly healing, his brain kept taunting him by replaying every second of him screaming at his Mate, Pack Warrior Corey Cahill and his face that lacked any semblance of emotion after those harsh words slipped from Ortiz’s mouth. 

While sitting in his corner in the hospital after Berlin gave birth, Ortiz kept subconsciously stealing glances at Corey with the hope of catching his eye and seeing any hint of an emotion towards him at all, even if it was anger.

Somehow, it made Ortiz feel even shittier that Corey didn't even acknowledged that he was there. 

The Beta rather he get angry and scream and yell at him rather than act like he didn't even exist.

The thing that confused him the most was that he didn't understand why he cared so damn much about the Pack Warrior acknowledging him in the first place. 

He fought for months to get the annoying bastard to leave me the fuck alone but now that Corey actually was, Ortiz felt an odd sensation that he'd never felt before.

Did he feel... lonely?

The thought made him sit straight up in bed, shaking his head so hard and fast he thought his freckles might fly off. 

He hadn't felt this level of loneliness since was a kid... since before...  

"No, no, no..."

He shook his head hard again, forcing his brain to halt his train of thought in it’s tracks before it even started. 

With a deep sigh, Ortiz looked around his messy room, glancing at the clock on his bedside table which read 6:42 PM on the bold, digital display. 

Although it was painfully early, he flopped back down on his bed and decided to get some sleep in an effort to calm down his highly overactive mind that seemed to betray him more and more every day. 

He closed his eyes with and groaned loudly, trying to clear his mind and get comfortable in his large bed. 

However, a few minutes later, he found himself curling up into a ball when it occurred to him that it felt so, overwhelmingly... cold and empty.

"What the fuck are you talking about Ortiz, get a damn grip and stop acting like Luna Berlin's needy ass," he grumbled angrily to himself, closing his eyes once again and forcing himself to sleep.

                                                     *****

Beta Ortiz tossed and turned for around 3 hours until he just couldn't stand it anymore. 

He kept waking up every 10 to 15 minutes, feeling weirdly foreign and uncomfortable in his bed which, before Corey's arrival,  had been a safe place for him to come and relax. 

But right now, it was one of his biggest enemies. 

"Fuck him," Ortiz grumbled under his breath again, going to slide off of his bed, but winced a moment later as he felt a sharp pain in his chest following the words. 

‘What the fuck was that?’ Ortiz thought to himself as he rubbed his chest, promptly standing and walking to the door, deciding to go down to the kitchen get some water in hopes of making this chest pain go away. 

However, as soon as his hand touched the doorknob, a wave of anxiety hit him again which sent his brain right back into a spiral of overthinking.

‘What if he was out there? How do I react if I see him? Would he react if I said something to him? Why would I even want to say something to him? I got what I wanted, right?’

"FUCK, get yourself together dude, you're a fucking Beta," Ortiz scolded himself, smacking himself in the face gently before flinging the door open with a scowl. 

He stormed down the large, winding stairs of the pack house. 

Luckily, it was after dinner so he didn't have to worry about talking to the pack members that usually formed large crowds and milled around after meals. 

However, as he walked past the large, tastefully decorated living-room, he couldn't help but stop for a moment and stare at the ridiculous sight before him.

Berlin's big brother Tyrus Cahill was sitting on the floor with tons of little flowers in his lap that looked as if he'd foraged them from the woods around the pack house. 

The puny Fae from earlier sat in front of him as they faced one another, his abnormally large, blue eyes which Ortiz honestly thought were creepy as hell trained on the much larger man across from him. 

Tyrus grinned stupidly as he stuck flower after flower into the Fae's long, yellow hair. 

With each flower Tyrus added, the Fae's eyes got bigger and bigger, reaching a size Ortiz didn't even know was possible. 

His eyes quite literally took up a bit more than one-third of his face, causing his features to look distinctly doll-like and alien, as they tugged down at the inner corner.

"Do you like them? I skipped dinner and picked them for you in the woods because I think you look like a flower," Tyrus beamed as he spoke to the little Fae, staring at him intently as he waited for a reply. 

Daffodil blinked his huge eyes twice, as if he was trying to understand what Tyrus was saying to him before something in his puny little brain suddenly clicked and his entire face turned beet red. 

He looked down at his lap and seemed to wheeze with embarrassment and nervousness as he tried to figure out how to reply to the man who had suddenly taken such a deep liking to him. 

Ortiz was sure he was not at all accustomed to receiving attention from anyone.

"TyTy... so nice. Thank," Daffodil cried out softly, tentatively reaching for the larger man's hand and rubbing his cheek against it, a universal gesture in which Fae express their gratitude. 

The entire Fae race was extremely childlike, loving, and honestly pretty simple-minded. 

But even Ortiz had to admit that the pair seemed to work together nicely since they both shared that last trait.

"When I saw you, I thought you were really, really cute and I don't know why but... I want to be around you more. Can we be friends?" Tyrus asked the Fae tentatively and Ortiz could see the equally abnormally large tears welling up in the Fae's eyes as he pulled back and nodded, some of the flowers falling softly out of his hair and onto the floor between the two of them.

"Daffie don't have friend... After I leave Faire Home with brother I sad because doggies no want to be friend with me..." 

Giant tears silently streamed down the Fae's face but at the same time, he smiled widely through them and looked up at Tyrus. 

It never failed to surprise Ortiz how Fae could display multiple, contradictory feelings at once while also feeling them so deeply.

"Can I hug you?" Tyrus asked, holding out his arms to the smaller man. 

The Fae wasted no time at all and practically flew over and tackled Tyrus, causing them to both fall over onto the floor with the Fae on top of his chest. 

Ortiz was glad they were already sitting on the floor because they were the last two people who could afford to lose brain cells if they fell backwards and hit their heads any harder. 

"Daffie have friend. Have friend," the Fae repeated over and over as Tyrus tentatively wrapped his arms around him as if he would break, both of their faces a bright red. 

When Tyrus very, very softly and slowly nuzzled the Fae's hair and the Fae instinctually purred in reaction, Ortiz took it as my cue to leave. 

The Beta wasn't sure if they fully understood the fact that they were mates, Ortiz knew it would take some time for them to fully come to that realization  but he didn't want to stick around to see if one of their brain cells happened to pop together and they suddenly decide to bang all over the living room. 

Ortiz blanched at the thought but for some reason, watching their interaction also filled him anger as he stomped his way towards the kitchen. 

‘Why do they get to be happy? Why don't I deserve that? Why is everyone in this pack so damn gay?’

He grumbled as he passed through the arch that led to the large, chef's kitchen which was equipped to feed the large amount of wolves in the pack,and sighed as he saw who was sitting at large island in the middle of the room. 

‘Great, just what I need, more chaos.’

"Sweetheart, you have been eating since dinner, please just come to bed already, you know I can't sleep without you," said the larger of the two. 

Danny Cahill narrowed his eyes and looked up at his husband as he held a large pickle in his hand, the other preoccupied with the ever-present black neck pillow. 

The pair were always acting as if they jumped straight out of a dramatic novel and Ortiz would be lying if he didn't say he found it entertaining every now and then but right now all he wanted was a little peace and quiet. 

"I have cravings okay. I want to eat everything I see. I can't help it, you're the one that couldn't pull out... Oh hi Beta Ortiz," Danny said, looking outright startled as Ortiz walked past them towards the cupboards to grab a glass before heading to the fridge to fill it up.

"Hi," the Beta rasped dryly, willing the cup to fill faster from the tiny spout on the front of the fridge.

"Are you okay? I noticed you seemed a bit... hostile the other day. Is there anything you want to talk about? I'm a really good listener," Danny smiled sweetly at him and Ortiz could tell by his soft tone that he genuinely meant those words. 

However, at that moment the Beta felt a hot flash of anger take over him and he narrowed his eyes at the man whose son, Warrior Corey Cahill, Ortiz couldn't seem to get out of his head.

"No. I'm fine," he muttered, pressing his lips together to keep himself from blurting out something he would surely regret, just like how he did at that stupid party.

Danny's expression was one of knowing and understanding and for some reason it pissed Ortiz off even more.

‘He doesn't understand me. No one understands me and no one ever will.’

"Well, let me know if you ever want to talk," Danny replied before returning his gaze to his husband. "And as for you... if you really want to take me to bed then come on and make me." 

Ortiz watched in horror as Danny lifted the pickle to his mouth and stuck out his tongue, licking the thing slowly from top to bottom while staring straight at his husband. 

Raymon Cahill visibly stiffened and his eyes darkened before quickly grabbing his small husband around the waist.

"Bye," the larger man muttered before growling and charging out of the kitchen, Danny's giggles growing fainter as Raymon bolted down the hall and up the stairs. 

The pain in Ortiz’z chest flared and he quickly chugged down the glass of water, feeling the cold liquid wash down his throat and settle the sharp pain to some extent. 

"Fuck," he whispered, filling up the glass of water again to take upstairs. 

He rubbed his chest where the dull pain remained while he padded back upstairs. 

On the way back up, he couldn't help but notice a trail of flowers that left a path of the Fae's movement from the living room, leading to the wing of the house that held Tyrus' bedroom.

Ortiz pushed his door open when he got back to his own bedroom, happy to be away from the commotion that was ever-present in the pack house but once he looked up, he stopped dead in his tracks. 

His breath got caught in his throat and he thought, for sure, he was going to throw up.

Warrior Corey Cahill's sweaty, incredibly muscular back faced Ortiz as he picked something up from the mess of clothes on the floor before turning around and facing his Mate, his under-eyes dark with what the Beta assumed was exhaustion. 

Ortiz was stuck in place, his brain frozen as he tried to figure out how to react. 

Corey’s face was just as stoic and indecipherable as it usually was and he stared holes straight into his Mate’s face. 

The Warrior’s bare chest glistened with sweat, making Ortiz involuntarily tingle inside, as his brain reminded him how it felt to moan against the muscular contours of his man’s sweaty body as he moved on top of him... Inside of him.

In that moment, Ortiz wanted to die. 

The pain in his chest flared to unbelievable heights and he felt so, utterly confused as his mind betrayed him and replayed the events of the mixer in his head like a broken tape, tormenting him and reminding him that... he had hurt him. 

‘I will never love another man like the faggot you are. You're an abomination to this entire fucking world.'

Ortiz’z throat closed up at the memory of his words, choking his words in his throat as he attempted to form them.

"I am not here to talk." 

Ortiz’s heart sank 6 feet deep at Corey's monotone words, still struggling to find his own as he stood frozen. 

His fingers squeezed the glass cup in his hand so hard he could feel how close it was to rupturing and cutting through his flesh. 

"I left warrior training and realized I left my clothes. I am simply returning to retrieve them." 

With that Corey headed for the door, accidentally brushing the Ortiz’s shoulder with his arm as his large body moved past, knocking the Beta out of paralysis when sparks traveled down his arms and warmed him to my toes.

"Wait, I..." 

Corey paused as Ortiz spoke quietly, turning and looking at him expectantly as his lips opened and closed like a fish on land and his words once again lodged themselves painfully in his throat. 

Ortiz hated how expressionless Corey’s face was as he stared at him and it made it that much harder to try to choose what words to force words from his throat, which suddenly felt so dry and parched despite drinking an entire glass of water only minutes before.

A few moments of torturous silence passed as Ortiz tried to will his body to do something, say something to him. 

But of course, his body still didn't listen.

"Hmm," Corey lightly shook his head and turned on his heel before Ortiz could force his body to work and all he could do was watch as the muscles of his Mate’s back rippled he walked down the hall to the wing that his own bedroom resided in. 

It wasn't until Corey was out of sight that Ortiz frowned, stepping back into his room and slamming the door behind him.

‘He's such an asshole. Serves him right. I'm glad he heard what I said.’ 

Ortiz fumed as he set his cup down next to his bed. 

He deflated a little when he remembered how cold and empty it felt the last time he slept in it. 

"How could he just walk away like that?" Ortiz muttered, rubbing his chest because the pain had once again flared up again to an extremely painful level. 

With a frown, he walked to his closet, bending down and reaching far into the back to root around. 

After a few seconds, he found what he was looking for, dusting off the thick layer of dust that had formed before unfolding it. 

He hadn't used his weighted blanket since he was a child. 

Since after...

He shook his head to push away the memory and stood up, flicking off the lights before laying down in the bed and pulling the ten pound blanket over his shoulders. 

It was nothing close to what he wanted, what he craved. 

Nothing close to the warmth and feather light touch that Corey provided when they laid together, or the way the Head Warrior enclosed him in those muscular, tanned arms with scars that showed his dedication to protecting the Crescent Moon Pack. 

‘This is fine. This will do. I don't need him. I won't apologize. I don't need a man as a mate. I don't want a man as a mate.’

Beta Ortiz repeated those lines to himself as he curled up into himself under the heavy blanket, his chest burning with pain.

“I doesn't need him. I doesn't want him.”

But once again, Ortiz’s body betrayed him as he touched his cheeks, only to find them wet with salty tears.

[genshinlover101]

Clovenlip Toadflax - love unrequited

Characters: Rosaria, Eula, Jean x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Synopsis: the aftermath of your rejected confession

A/n: prt 1 of 3 of angst town >:) I was honestly surprised how fast I could write this and it felt like ol’times where I could write like 5 requests in a single day… ahhh the euphoria

Anywaysssss creds to @ghostly-march for her 600 flowers for Hu Tao event :)

Link to the event !!

• Rosaria was like the thief in the night. She was the single shadow that protected Mondstadt in the night while the Knights of Favonius protected it under the safety of the sun. Her mysterious aura so entrancing, her sickly colored skin not appealing to most in Mondstadt, all but you who found her stunning.

• Your mind boggled as you tried everything in your power to court the woman. Struggling to find times that you both had available to even speak to her. Each time however was met with the coldness of her rejection. Your offer to buy her a free drink, take her out, inquires of a new scar appearing on her skin. You were given nothing but the cold shoulder.

• You wondered if she had anyone special in her life, any competition for her affection. But in reality, it had nothing to do with you, nothing to do with anyone else... just her. Romance just wasn’t something she was familiar with, nor would she allow herself to get familiarized with it.

The moon mocked your loneliness as you strolled through the streets of Mondstadt. It became a habit after seeking out Rosaria’s attention for the past month, the dimly light road leads to a tragic end to your unrequited feelings. As you passed the shining Angel’s Share, you heard the laughter of men and women as they drank their worries away. Tempted to enter and face Rosaria for another night.

You thought, maybe... just maybe if you were lucky she’d appear. She’d come for you, wanting your attention, your voice, your touch- wanting you. But you walked passed the closed door, staring at your feet as your eyes glazed over with tears that you wouldn’t dare let fall. Wandering into the dark alleyway between Angel’s Share and another home, falling as you clutched your knees between your chest in hopelessness. Cursing yourself for giving yourself false hope, the echoing laughter in the distance amplifying your small figure. 

That was until you felt an icy cold hand grasp your shoulder, leaning its weight on you. Regardless of who it was, you cowered into your arms, embarrassed that anyone followed you into this corner just to see you look so pathetic. “This isn’t like you at all,” a dark feminine voice told you. Rosaria was all you thought.

Looking up at the woman without hesitation, it was the face you needed to see above anyone else. But the same face that would make you linger on these hopeless feelings. With a cigarette in her hand as she puffed a playful cloud of smoke in your face, a fuchsia-colored flush on her face, you knew she was drunk. “C’mon, it’s a total mood killer to see you so down in the dumps,” she scoffed.

You could tell she was just trying to cheer you up, but she knew exactly why you were feeling such a way. Beating around the bush so that she wouldn’t have to reject you a second time. She brought her cigar to your mouth, offering you a puff. The direct boldness and thoughts of an indirect kiss making you blush. It was obvious you still felt so much for her. “Don’t get your hopes up kid,” she told you straight. “You’re important to me… but not in any sort of way to celebrate.” 

You knew if you inhaled from her fingers, it would be like signing a contract with the devil. Your little crush would turn into a bad habit. You turned away from her offering hands, “Very well,” she praised you in a sultry voice. “I was afraid if you accepted- I might have had to cut you off for good.”

• Eula was the thorns of Mondstadt. Her rich aristocratic background makes her privileged in any way. Too bad it was the Lawrence clan… Many avoid her solely for her last name. You saw through her icy past, however.

• But you weren’t the only one to accept her for who she was. You weren’t the one who made her feel the warmest either. Cowering in the shadows of those who helped her advance socially, Amber who sat down with her every lunch. Jean who helped her rise in the ranks. What did you do besides follow her around?

• You saw how she protected Amber with her life, willing to take an avalanche for her. But for you she’d let you drown in the frozen snow, allow you to tumble down the mountainside. Your confession to her was nothing but a nuisance in her eyes.

“Pass me the salt,” you asked of Eula. Dining at Good Hunters like always whenever Amber was occupied. Of course, you were the second option, falling victim to your feelings once again. As she passed you the small shaker, her greedy touch lingered far too long.

Although it was touching your palm, your fingers wrapped around it, she ceased to let go. Looking at the clear glass shaker as if she were deep in thought. Her eyes hazed and lost, the guilt of leading you on like this consuming her even though she convinced herself this was a friendly get-together like always. “I apologize for making you meet me here like this,” she said with a quiet voice.

“What do you mean?” You asked innocently, knowing exactly what she meant. You just wanted to hear her give you a reason that you could justify in your head. A reason to not hang onto her like always, leaving your obligations with the drop of a hat when she calls your name. You two still held the shaker between your hands, like a metaphorical connection that you could never cross between your hands.

“You’re always so nice to me,” she said letting go of the salt shaker, finally allowing you to use it. “I would ask for your continued support, but I know I can’t. I can’t continue our friendship knowing you want more. At least not now…” she dropped a weight on your heart.

You were fine knowing you would at least be friends, how cruel to not even grant you that at least. But before you could speak up against her will, she spoke over you. “I know if you continue to be around me, the more I’ll be tempted to treat you like nothing happened,” she tried her best to look out for you. “Meet me in three months' due time, if I still mean the same to you then I’ll say my final goodbyes.”

She gripped her thighs, making it hurt her physically as well as mentally to let go of a friend as valuable as you, almost like she was punishing herself. “I can’t exact my revenge when I know I’m hurting someone else in the process, please allow me this at least.”

• everyone loved Jean. Quite literally, everyone, not a single soul dared disagree that she was the most reliable, beautiful, and the indisputable role model of Mondstadt. You were just a pair of eyes staring at her, building an impossible wall of expectations to climb. High off the idea of being important to such an esteemed figure.

• Jean might’ve considered you romantically if you were just a little more observant and honest with yourself. Whenever you talked with her, looked at her, or touched her, she felt like she was invisible. Like you were only staring at the Dandelion Knight, rather than the very flawed Jean Gunnhildr. You idolized her far too much for her to feel like she would find an equal soulmate in you.

• You tried everything to convince her that your feelings were real, not just a fraud. But every time you’d run circles, invalidating her feelings, in denial that you were rejected for such a reason. It might’ve been a trauma response on Jean’s half, But no means no- it didn’t matter how stubborn you were to prove yourself to her.

Ever since you had spilled your heart out to Jean, she had been treating you differently. Avoiding your eyes in crowds when she used to so brightly flash a warm smile at you, walking right passed you in the halls of the Knight’s Headquarters. You felt invisible, growing fed up with such avoidant behavior.

As soon as she passed you with papers in hand, not even glancing at you, you fought with yourself to reach out. “Jean…” you called out to her spontaneously, your hand grasping her wrist. “Did I do something wrong?” You asked her desperately.

“No, absolutely nothing is wrong,” she said shortly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to process some paperwork. I’m a busy person as you know.” She was ready to take off, and leave you with her cryptic response that you’d be tearing apart later that night while you were trying to sleep. But your grip was still on her, loose enough for her to break free if she so pleased, but her ties and friendship kept her stationary. Your hesitation to let her go brought her to the conclusion of how childish she was behaving.

“Honestly, I struggle to find the words to speak to you right now,” she told you warmer than before. “I care deeply for you as a friend, and I want to help you as much as possible. But I can’t help you when I’m the source of your behavior.”

She stayed in your hold, not trying to wiggle out of your grasp like you were the plague like before. Allowing you to touch her still brings a lump to your throat. You wanted to hug her like always, be close to her in any way possible. “Tell me this… if I stay as close to you, will you ever find peace? If I enable you further, will you move on from me?”

“Yes-,” You opened your mouth, confident to say yes for your own selfish needs.

“The correct answer is no.” She finished for you. “I can tell even now by just looking into your eyes what you want from me, and it’s something I can’t give you. The boundaries between us will never be what you want, please accept that, or I will continue to greet you with a cold shoulder until you begin to despise me.”

[ladykissingfish]

drunk Akatsuki hc? 🥺

Ask and ye shall receive! ((Sorry it took so long to get to/finish this. Also get the nagging feeling I did a post very similar to this before but 🤷🏽‍♀️ piss poor memory so))

Drinking with the Akatsuki

Kakuzu

Takes a lot to get him drunk; his alcohol tolerance is pretty damn high. And when he does reach that point, he becomes … very unlike himself. Friendly, smiling, and extremely loose with his precious money. Kakuzu being drunk is the best time to ask him for an advance on your pay, or a personal loan. Another bonus: drunk Kakuzu is storytime Kakuzu. When he’s sober, the others don’t really like listening to his stories because they’re all boring as hell, and are usually centered around some point that he’s trying to nag everyone on. But drunk Kakuzu, well, he’ll tell you about brawls, dangerous stunts he pulled when he was a kid, sometimes even old lovers. He can keep the rest of the Akatsuki enraptured for hours with his intoxicated tales. The morning after a night of drinking is a different tale, though. He’ll remember loaning money to people and hunt them down to make sure that know they have to pay him back, and he’ll deny like crazy any story tidbits that the others bring up to him. Will also go through several pots of pure black coffee in an effort to de-hangover himself more quickly.

Pein

The Pein bodies don’t drink, but Nagato will, very rarely. Beer is his drink of choice, and he’ll opt for foreign rather than domestic. He’s not really the type to get full-on drunk (no matter what he’s the Leader and he carries himself as such), rather he’ll just get slightly tipsy. If he gets tipsy enough he’ll rant a bit to whoever’s closest about pain, and the unfairness of life, and anything else that would put a downer on happy drinkers’ moods. He always hopes that the alcohol will help him to sleep (he’s a horrible insomniac) but most times it just gives him a slight headache while leaving him wide-wake and dry-mouthed.

Hidan

Nobody wants to be around this guy when he’s had too much to drink, because the normally violent Hidan becomes even more so after hitting the booze. He’ll be willing to take on any and everyone, from teenagers to old men. And being immortal doesn’t help matters any; he could literally get torn limb from limb and his mouth would still be taunting his opponents with “Is that the best ya got, bastard??” Drinking also brings out his creative side when it comes to his human sacrifices and Jashin rituals; he’ll think up new (and horrible) ways to torment and kill his victims. Is the type to finally, FINALLY just completely pass out after reaching his final tolerance point, and the others will (reluctantly) drag him to his room and put him in his bed. Not many are willing to do this, however, as most times before he passes out he’ll have stripped himself completely naked.

Tobi

An emotional drunk. Gets sad and cries over practically anything. And it doesn’t take much to get him tanked, either; his tolerance level is embarrassingly low and he’ll be ready to sob after just a couple of glasses of wine. Tobi tries to avoid drinking when he can because he knows there’s a good chance of him dropping his persona and letting the others see Obito Uchiha. In fact this HAS happened a few times, where he’a taken off his mask and everything; fortunately for him the others were so gone that the next day they either didn’t remember, or believed that had just imagined the whole thing. Likes to soothe himself by slurring sad love songs at the top of lungs, joined most frequently by Deidara and Hidan. Will also drunkenly stuff his face with meats, which is a complete opposite from his sweet-loving sober self. He can throw down a dozen burgers when boozed up, the results of which will likely be in puddles all over the floor the next day. Will go to his bed and turn around in circles a bunch of times, like a dog, before finally going to sleep. “Tobi” will be the quietest he’s ever been the next day, as he fights a massive headachy hangover.

Konan

For being such a thin, delicate girl, Konan can hold her liquor right up there with the likes of Kakuzu and Kisame. One might never even know that she’s drunk to begin with; she walks perfectly straight, doesn’t slur her words, has almost perfect reflexes and normal mannerisms. One thing always gives her away, however; drunk Konan is hungry Konan. Under normal circumstances the little lady sticks to a healthy diet and isn’t one for over-indulging in anything. One shot or beer too many, and suddenly the gloves are off. Konan will make pizza, hotdogs, gigantic sundaes, cakes and pies … and devour almost all of it. She’ll share with the others if asked … but most times she’s eaten so much that there’s not much left to share. When she’s finally had her fill, she’ll go to bed … and wake up feeling sick as a dog the next morning. After the nausea passes, she’ll force herself to go for a long run or walk, no matter how much her head may be aching, in order to work off her excessive calorie intake.

Zetsu

Zetsu doesn’t drink, because alcohol interferes with his plant genetics, acting as literal poison to his system. But he enjoys being around the others when they’re drunk, to see the different types of personalities that emerge. Likes to hang around Hidan in particular, as the man’s sacrifices pick up significantly when he’s drunk, meaning Zetsu has more of a smorgasbord of leftovers to pick from

Sasori

As a puppet, Sasori doesn’t drink. But when he was a human, it was a different story. He turned himself into a non-human at a very young age, much younger, of course, than would have been the legal drinking age. But his grandmother kept a variety of wines in their home, and when she was away, he liked to pour himself a glass. Always only a single glass; he was intelligent enough both to know that his grandmother would notice if any larger of a quantity was missing, and, already dabbling in making poisons at this point, he understood the concept of “tolerance” better than most. But the single glass was enough; it seemed to comfort him during those nights when he was missing his mother and father. The wine also served as a brain-opener for him, of sorts: it was over wine that he first got the idea of turning himself into a puppet.

Deidara

Being young and so slender, and not having much experience with alcohol before joining the Akatsuki, the blonde is a bit of a light-weight when it comes to the hooch. He doesn’t really care for beers or ales (he compares the taste to “cat-piss”) and instead goes for the fruity mixed drinks that don’t SEEM that strong … until you’ve had about three or four, and they put you on your ass. Deidara becomes very lovey-dovey when drunk, and not just in a romantic sense. Alcohol makes everyone in the world his friend, and he’s suddenly interested in what others have to say about life and art. He’s even nice to Itachi, going so far as to hug him and tell him that he smells good, something that he will vehemently deny the next day. He’ll go to Sasori and cling to him and gush about how he appreciates his friendship and his guidance, until Sasori gets tired of him and tells him to go to sleep. Deidara can get to his room on his own, but once the door closes, he’s more likely to pass out on the floor than in his own bed. Also, if he didn’t think to tie up his long hair beforehand, he’ll be in for a nasty, messy surprise when he inevitably wakes up to vomit at some point.

Itachi

Itachi isn’t one to ever let himself lose control of his senses, no matter the situation. Therefore, if he’s drinking with the others, he’ll stick to one or two beers or a single shot before cutting himself off for the evening. He plays much of a “mom” role in the group, making sure the others are okay, lending a shoulder to cry on for the emotional drunks, and, if they’re out somewhere, making sure everyone gets home safe and sound. On the rare, RARE occasions he drinks by himself, and lets go of his hesitation, he’s just as emotional a drinker as Tobi (which is quite possibly an Uchiha trait). He’ll cry into his pillow, he’ll sit and lament over the choices he’s made in life. Sometimes he’ll find and put on the saddest song or movie he can think of, just so he has something to get emotional over. Although this sounds bad, this is actually a helpful bit of therapy for him, as it allows him to release emotions that he normally keeps bottled up. He’ll end a night of solo drinking with a cup of tea, then go quietly to bed, sleeping like a rock until the sun comes up and things go back to normal.

Kisame

Right up there with Kakuzu as being a guy that can hold his liquor like a champ. In fact his ability to do so has won him many drinking challenges at bars, as well as a formidable reputation as “one bad ass son of a bitch”. It also helps him confidence-wise; normally the half-shark is very reserved and keeps to himself, as he feels that his appearance is off-putting and scary to “normal” people. But alcohol loosens him up and gets him talking, and being bold, and many people find this switch in personality to be highly attractive. Ladies especially take notice of his smile, his eyes … and his muscles. He even scores several phone numbers from interested parties … but by the time he’s sober again, he never follows through with calling anyone. Also helps Itachi in that he keeps an eye on the others when they drink, to make sure that they’re safe.

[hoonhrt]

EMBRASSE-MOI

: pairing — student! jay x tutor! reader

: genre — fluff, crack 

: song recc. — L’amour by Miel De Montagne 

: a/n — this lowkey sucks but I've been wanting to get work out so I'm sorry if this isn't the best :(( also I'm still learning french so if some of it is wrong pls lmk so i can fix it!! 

Jay was your school’s resident bad boy. blond hair, all-black outfits, cuts class and yells at kids that look his way. you know? the usual. You on the other hand were the complete opposite. straight-A student. A quiet kid who didn’t dare look the ways of Jay Park and his Clique™. So imagine the shock that was felt when the boy you avoided at all costs, walks up to you in the middle of the cafeteria asking for French lessons. 

“You want me to do what?” He rolls his eyes, tired of this conversation already. 

“Can you not hear? I’m failing French and I need to pass or else my parents won’t let me move to France.” He speaks as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“And you’re asking me why?” He rolls his eyes again for what felt like the 100th time. You’re just confused about how he even knows of your existence.

“Listen, all I know that you’re in my French class and that you pay attention, I’ll even pay you I just need to get my mark up.” You perk up to the sound of money. You don’t really need but it’s still nice to have some. Doing this will get you good Karma right? 

“Fine. Meet me at the library every Monday and Wednesday after class, got it?” Jay stares at you with annoyance. He really does not want to be wasting his senior year on stupid lessons but, here we are. He reluctantly agrees and watches you walk away, struggling to hold your books in your arms. He turns around and lets out a deep sigh, wondering if the hot chicks and fancy baguettes in France are really worth this

Minutes turned into hours as you waited for Jay to show up. You waited patiently for hours just for this kid to not show up. Annoyed, you start to pack up your books. You don’t know why you’d think someone like Jay would actually show up to a voluntary tutor session. You were just about to make your way out of the library when you see someone running towards you almost like the flash. As the figure got closer to your still body, you realize it was Jay. Now, bent over in front of you gasping for air with his tongue out like a dog. You stared at his limped-over figure with confusion and slight disgust. 

“s-s-sorry i was… late, i f-forgot about… this.” he manages to speak out with the little air he has in him. He stands up and evens out his breath. 

“what makes you think i’m gonna tutor you now? you wasted my time Park, i have a life too you know.” you snap at him. He stares at you for a brief second before letting out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back and slapping his leg. He sees your serious expression, your eyes glaring at him like an eagle and awkwardly stops laughing. 

“Look, i’m paying you and this is only gonna last for a little while. i just need to pass, that’s it.” His eyes shine with a hopeful gleam, a look that is extremely rare to see from Jay Park. He looked a little cute. You dramatically sigh and start walking into the library, Jay following behind you. 

You settle at the table you sat at prior, re-opening your book bag to pull out your notes. He just watches you do that, not making an effort to even bring out a pencil. 

“Okay, so how much french do you even know?” 

He stares into space, a little hesitant to continue. “Um, i can ask if i can go to the bathroom?” You stare at him with disbelief. You’ve been in this class with him for months and that’s all he knows. 

“THAT’S IT?” 

“Oh and i can say good morning!” you let out a loud groan that catches the attention of others around, causing them to loudly shush at you. Feeling annoyed again, you contemplate if the money was really worth it. You sigh out and start looking for your notes from the beginning of the semester. This was gonna take a LONG time. 

“... and that’s how you conjugate verbs in the past tense, aka passé composé!” You finish off the session with joy. Jay on the other hand has gone completely blank, not remembering a single word you just told him. He stares down at his notes, then at you, then back down at his notes. You can see the struggle on his face and he hasn’t said a word yet. 

“I’m never gonna pass french. This is it. I can kiss France goodbye.” he claims with despair. This already too hard for him and he barely has learned anything. He sets his head on the table and mumbles to himself about how he will never be happy if he doesn’t live his youthful 20’s in France. You sat across from him irritated with his discouraging behaviour and a little sad that you weren’t able to teach him well. Until you come up with a plan that might help him improve much quicker.  

“What if… we hang out this weekend? We can do something and we’ll only speak in French! Of course I’ll help you and all that. But like, maybe? Only if you want to of course you probably don’t wanna spend your weekend with me i dont know you know its just a plan.” you ramble on and on without stopping and Jay simply just watches you. He smirks a little before nodding. 

“How about you put your number in my phone and then I’ll text you when I’m free hm?” he slides his phone across the table towards you and eyes you typing it in. He catches a glimpse of your rose-coloured cheeks and smirks a little more. 

“Okay, uh there’s my number! Just um, text me you know, when you’re free!” you manage to stutter out. Jay just nods at you and again, watches you walk away. This time a slight smile across his face. 

A sudden notification pulls you away from your thoughts. An unknown number that you had a feeling belonged to a particular boy you didn’t think would actually text you. 

042-002-1130: bonjour 

042-002-1130: was that even right

042-002-1130: anyways I’m free on saturday if you wanna hang ig 

042-002-1130: samedi is saturday right 

042-002-1130: it is wow im such a genius 

You let out a snort at his cocky behaviour and reply back, letting him know that you were free yourself and to meet you at the school grounds at 2 pm. 

Saturday shows up as you wait outside the school gates, a picnic basket in hand. An all-black car with dark tinted windows zooms up to you. The window is pulled down and alas, the handsome boy sits in the driver’s seat, ushering you to get into the car with his hand. 

“Woah a picnic basket? Listen y/n you’re cool and all but this isn’t a date,” he speaks and notices you roll your eyes. A smug smile tugging his lips. 

“No you asshole, I have a plan with this.” 

“Tell me,” Jay begins to drive away from the school. The destination is unknown to you but extremely familiar to the boy next to you. 

“In here there is a bunch of food, in order for you to eat, you’re gonna have to say the name of the food in french.” He turns his head to see you looking back at him, a sweet smile places on your face. Jay has always known of you. You sat in the back of the classroom, handed in all your work on time and never skipped a class. You had very few friends and always seemed to be lost in a dream world when you weren’t working. Jay had never been able to speak to you personally as you always avoided him but know he has the chance to actually talk to you, and he doesn’t wanna mess it up. 

The car stopped at the edge of a giant grassy field. The greenery going miles ahead. Trees surrounding the two of you. Jay like a gentleman runs out of the car to open the door for you. You blush at his actions, thanking him silently by smiling at him. 

He directs you to a small spot under a tree. You lay out a blanket for you to sit on while Jay leans up against the tree. You tell him to sit down next to you as you bring out all the little snacks to share with him. He thinks that he could get used to this. 

“D’accord, commençons! Qu'est-ce que ç'est?” (okay, lets start! What is this?) 

You pick up a grape. He thinks for a little bit before answering. “Un raisin.” (a grape) You clap with glee and hand him over the grape. A silence falls between you both, unaware of how to keep going. He picks up a strawberry and brings it to your face. “Tu aime les fraises?” (do you like strawberries?) You eye him for a second, for someone who said he only knows how to ask how to go the bathroom in french, he knows quite a bit. You nod a little, opening your mouth and letting him feed you the sweet fruit. Your face matches the colour of the strawberry and he giggles. You pull out a sandwich and ask him to describe what’s in it. 

“Dans le sandwich, il y a du jambon, du beurre, et de la tomate.” (in the sandwich there is some ham, some butter, and some tomato.) He speaks confidently. 

“Trés bien Jay! Tu es bon en parler francias!” (very good Jay! You are really good at speaking French!) 

“Merci, mon Cheri.” (Thank you, my dear.) you blush even more before and shy away from Jay’s gaze. Jay being the very bold guy that he is, placing his hand underneath your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. You both just stare at each other as the sun sets behind you. Was Jay always this beautiful? His eyes scan over your face seeking for any discomfort, none is to be found. So he makes the move and starts to lean in. You already have your eyes closed and lips puckered out, ready to embrace a feeling you’ve never felt before.

His breath fans over your lips and just before he kisses you he asks “je peux t’embrasser? (can I kiss you?) you eagerly nod and whisper out “embrasse-moi.” (kiss me.) Jay finally places his lips on yours and everything feels right. Your hands find their way to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. You stay in this position with him for a little while before you pull back for air. Both his hands cradle your face, his thumb rubbing across the apples of your cheeks.

“I still have a lot to learn y’know?” Jay breaks the silence. You laugh out loud, falling into his lap. 

“Same time next week then yeah?” He lets out a ‘hmm’ and watches you rest your head against his thigh, playing with the ends of your hair. ‘Maybe France could wait a little’ he thought. 

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Do you think you’ll continue with the lawyer Nessian fic. It was so amazingly written I’d love to read more! I love all your writing anyways I’ll be happy with anything❤️

Ok not *technically* a Drabble request BUT I’m not ready to commit to a full lawyer AU that happens in order however I did just drum up a part 2 that we’ll say is several years before the previous lawyer AU. Nessian teasing in a bar and Rhys being a dumbass.

FYI the lawyer Drabble I’m talking about can be found HERE.

“I’m in love,” Rhys slurred. Cassian, a decent bit bigger than his brother and two drinks behind him, had a gentle buzz so he could only surmise that his brother was well passed sober.

“Congratulations,” Cassian grinned, clapping his hand on Rhys’ shoulder. “May I lay eyes upon the future Mrs. Dumbass.”

Rhys stared at him flatly. Blew a laugh out of his nose. “She’s not marrying you, brother.”

Cassian snorted, casting his eyes around the elegantly decorated little lounge they’d stepped into for the night. Lounge, not bar. Because they were mature adults now looking to take the edge off after a long day of work, not college students looking to get fucked up.

It was different.

It was different because the cocktails cost $20 and were served in actual stemware instead of red solo cups. They were evolving. Growing. Cassian was a lawyer now and Rhys was supposed to be doing actual work for his dad’s company so… no more dive bars.

Now they frequented little lounges where accountants and lawyers and bankers sat in tailored suits and discussed… adult things.

It was all very civilized.

And yet here was his brother. Every bit the horny college student they were trying not to be. Oh well, old dogs and all that.

“End of the bar.” Rhys jerked his head to the left and Cassian grinned.

“Might be a little old for you, champ.”

Rhys wrinkled his brow and turned to look at the grandmother doing a crossword puzzle on the far left side of the bar. A martini glass in front of her. Good for grandma.

“Other end of the bar!”

Cassian smirked. He didn’t need to turn his head, since he’s noticed her the second she walked in, but he still did. Just so he could look some more.

“Ah, you mean the deliciously dishevelled leggy brunette with her suit jacket on the chair beside her who just ripped the pins out of her hair like they personally offended her and then laid them in a neat little pile beside her Kobo?

“Mmm,” Rhys grinned, “I’d like her to rip those fingers through my hair.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “Go for it, brother.”

Rhys grinned wider. “I think I will.” He straightened up, ran a hair through his artfully mussed hair, and pulled on the lapels of his Gucci suit jacket until they were even again.

Cassian snickered into his Old Fashioned. Rhys could straighten his jacket all he wanted. He could pretend he wasn’t drunk all he wanted. It wouldn’t matter one bit.

Not with Nesta Archeron.

Nesta Archeron who hated men that stunk of trust funds and privilege more than anything else in this world.

This would be fun to watch.

Watch her try to ignore him at first. Eyes glued to the page of her book, hand reaching up to wave through the air like Rhys was an annoying fly she could swat away.

Rhys, to his credit, was a clever little bastard. He asked the bartender for a refill of her drink and set it down in front of her then sat himself one stool down from her.

He didn’t move her jacket to sit next to her, which would have had her going feral. He just sat there, waiting.

After a few moments Nesta let out an exacerbated sigh that Cassian could hear from across the room. There was his girl.

Well, not his girl. Not even a little bit his girl, but… someday.

Cassian decided that he was going to Marry Nesta Archeron the first time she kicked his ass up and down a negotiation meeting. It was a couple years ago now. He’d been young and new at his firm. She was young and new too, but the words learning curve were not in Nesta’s vocabulary. Everything she did, she did with perfection.

Including getting rid of men she didn’t want hitting on her.

She said something to his brother that made Rhys’ half drunk, cocky, smile fall halfway down his face.

Cassian would’ve given his left eye to know what she said in that moment. She had a knack for jumping at the jugular and Rhys… oh Rhys. So obvious.

After a few moments and the continual fall of Rhys’ face, Cassian decided it was time to intervene. He knocked his drink back and straightened out his own suit jacket. Armani, still overpriced and designer but not so obvious or try hard as Mr. Up On The Trends with his Gucci. Nesta appreciated classics.

Simple. Clean lines, solid colours, classic. Which was why it was so fun just how attracted she was to his half wild self.

Unlike Rhys, Cassian plucked Nesta’s light grey suit jacket up off the stool beside her and reached over her head to hang it on a coat hook at the end of the bar. Settling himself into the chair beside her like it was exactly where he belonged. Which it was.

She turned around with an indignant shriek and a fire-breathing snarl that narrowed into just a hard glare when she realized it was him. Touching.

“This guy giving you trouble, Nes?”

Rhys choked on his whiskey and Cassian fought his hardest to keep a straight face.

“I so don’t need your saviour complex right now, Cassian.” Nesta scoffed.

“No,” Rhys rolled his eyes. “She was doing perfectly well scaring off everyone in a 10 mile radius all on her own.”

Nesta smiled sweetly, “I was just playing your game.”

Rhys sputtered again. Looked up at his brother. “This devil woman that you apparently already know,” he glared, “is all yours. I’m going home.”

“Be sure to drink plenty of water!” Nesta sing songed after him. Rhys flipped them both off on his way out.

“What’d you say to him?”

Nesta smiled. A pretty, feline little thing. “He said he wanted to chat. Suggested 20 question, which is the lamest, oldest, crustiest line in the book. So I went first. Asked just how small his dick was that he felt the need to overcompensate with the swagger and the gratuitous displays of wealth. He thought he was quite clever to use his question to ask if I wanted to check for myself how not small his dick was and then I asked if his daddy never loved him and that’s where all of that machismo masking painfully obvious and deep seeded feelings of inadequacy and insecurity came from. I was going to offer him my friend’s number before you showed up. She’s an excellent therapist.”

Cassian laughed. Hard. For a very long time. He loved Rhys, but sometimes the kid could use a nice set down. It was always sweeter when delivered by a beautiful woman. Not to mention, Cassian himself had gotten the same ice cold rejection the first time he met Nesta. When he asked if she wanted to get a coffee and she looked at him like something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe. That Rhys was chased off so easily just proved he couldn’t take the heat.

“You know the walking trust fund, I presume?” Nesta boredly sipped the drink Rhys had bought her. And even that was somehow amusing.

“Only for the last couple decades or so,” Cassian grinned. “He’s like a brother to me.”

“Explains a lot.”

“Your insults are more impactful when you clarify which person is being insulted.”

“I was going for the two birds one stone method.”

“In that case, consider me wounded, sweetheart.”

Nesta scoffed, “Unfortunately not mortally.”

“Oh Nesta, if I weren’t here you’d die of boredom and you know it. No one else can run you up and down the courtroom like I can.” Now. Cassian grinned as he watched the word flash across her eyes. He’d never live that first blunder down.

Nesta rose an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you present any challenge whatsoever.”

Cassian signalled for another drink and leaned forward. “Alright, I’ll bite. Who in this entire city can give you more of a run for your money?”

“Vanserra.” Nesta looked him dead in the eye. And managed to keep a straight face. As if that wasn’t the funniest fucking thing he’d heard all day.

“Oh yes, Nepotism and Nepotism LLP certainly has us all shaking in our boots,” Cassian blew out a breath. “What are you working on now?”

“I’m working on upholding attorney-client privilege.”

“So, the Suncurser merger.”

Nesta looked up. “How did you-”

“Helion and I are old friends. I checked the zoning on the lots he was buying before the merger went ahead to make sure the expansion was even feasible. But, as you know, M&A isn’t my thing. So I may have… given him a referral.”

“Are there any rich playboys in this city that you aren’t friends with?” Nesta finished off her drink and pointedly didn’t signal for another. “And if you think I’m going to be grateful to you for sending this my way you’ve got another thing-“

“Helion is my friend.” Cassian repeated, cutting her off. “He believes in this merger and he wants it done right. You’re the best, Nesta. Why wouldn’t I send him to you?”

“It’s not just to get in my pants?” She narrowed her eyes.

Cassian laughed again. “Oh no, sweetheart. When you invite me into your bed it will have nothing to do with work. It’ll be because you’re tired of denying how much you want me.” Cassian leaned in closer, one hand resting on the back of her chair. “Tired of denying the thrill that shoots through your whole body when we lay into each other. In the court room or out.” His nose brushed against hers, just a little, and Cassian felt Nesta tense up. He smirked, mouth just inches away from hers. “Tired of denying how right this is.”

Nesta’s voice was rough, husky. “So your plan is to wear me down?”

Cassian smirked. “My plan,” his hand came up to stroke the silk covered expanse of her upper arm, “is to marry you, Nesta Archeron. But sure, we can start with wearing you down.”

***Feyre and Nesta look physically similar so you can’t tell me drunk Rhys wouldn’t hit on Nesta in a bar before realizing he’d made a terrible mistake and running away thank you***

Also tags yourself, I’m the grandma doing the crossword puzzle with a martini. She’s an icon and she is the moment.

[hoodieofholland]

Hi if possible could you write a image where the reader isn’t famous but is dating Tom, he goes lives on Instagram and starts letting fans join and ask him a questions. You get picked to join and both of you have to try and keep a straight face without giving it away.🙂 doesn’t have to be exactly this is obviously just whatever you feel like! Thank you💕

tom+instagram here we go :)

Hope you like it!!

Warnings: language, that's all :)

"What are you doing?”, you ask your boyfriend through the phone, pressed between your ears and shoulder, while you wandered around the house to get some tasks done. There were noises in the other side of the call, and you could distinguish Harrison’s voice.

“Nothin’, just setting things up for my live. Harrison’s been helping me, you know how I suck at this whole Instagram thing”, he explains, humming as he scrolled through his phone, you on speaker.

You giggle, “I know it pretty well. Think I’m gonna just take a rest and watch you struggling online”.

“Ha-ha, very funny, girlfriend”, he puffs, but you can almost hear his smile behind that sarcastic tone. “But I’d appreciate if you showed up. Who knows, I could just introduce you to all of my fans”.

You take in a sharp breath, contemplating if that was simply a joke or if there was a true desire behind that statement. You chew on your lips and keep silence.

The two of you have been in a relationship for almost one and half an year now, but you managed - only God knows how - to keep discreet about it, keeping it a secret. For his friends, Tom had an amazing girlfriend, whom everyone pretty much appreciated spending time with. For the rest of the world, Tom was a single, charmer and desired young Hollywood actor.

It wasn’t like he wanted to keep you his little secret. It was pretty much the opposite, actually. After your first six months together, Tom had tried to convince you to reveal your relationship, too tired of not being able to show off your love outside the comfort of his house. But you wasn’t willing to do that just yet. And after one and a half year, there you were, still afraid of how things might end up if you told them the truth.

You loved Tom, and you loved the fact the he was such a talented, hardworking man, but the fact that he was also a Hollywood star, known in the whole world, made you feel cornered. You didn’t want people to judge your relationship, to judge you or to give your relationship some kind of approval. You just wasn’t ready to give up your anonymity and become Tom Holland’s girlfriend.

Things were just perfect the way they were. You wanted it to stay like that for a little more time.

But you knew the day would eventually come. It was hard to not be spotted in the street with Tom by your side. You’d never show up in an event together, always making sure to only hold hands or show affection when behind four walls, only when you were pretty sure there was no paparazzi following him. You didn’t like that neither. You wanted to act normal, to have nice date nights with him, to walk outside in summer with Tessa. You just wanted to be who you were with him inside his or your house.

“I was- I was kidding, love”, he said sheepishly, and you could sense the nervousness on his voice, chuckling slightly to hide it from you. “It would be dumb, right?”

You swallow hard. “Uh- no. No, it’s fine. I mean, I’m not ready yet, but it’s alright. I know you were joking”. You curse yourself for being so dramatic about it, but you couldn’t help it. “So, when is it starting?”

“In about five minutes actually. I gotta go now, okay?”

“Yeah”, you smile tightly. “Okay, gonna watch here. Love ya”.

“Love you, darling”.

You both hang up and you sit on the edge of your bed, laying down and closing your eyes, puffing your cheeks out and rubbing your temples. “Damn it”.

Before you can call him back and tell him you were sorry over it, you sit properly on your bed and open your Instagram app, searching for him. After those exact five minutes, he was going live. You smile at the picture of him on your screen. He looked handsome, as always, but added up to the fact that he was far away, in Atlanta, while shooting Spider-Man 3.

You watch as he explains what he was going to do in his live, waving to Harrison right behind him, distracted on his own phone, saying that he was there as a support team. You laugh at how clueless he is. He starts to pick fans to join live and ask him questions. You were pretty surprised that he was allowed to do that, not giving away any spoiler, but he managed it after all.

You were having fun watching him struggle to say some usernames, and kinda surprised at how bold some comments on the bottom of your screen were. He’s single, remember?, you think to yourself and sigh frustrated. You could just go on and tell everybody, put an end to this whole situation during interviews, where Tom was always questioned about his love life and got uncomfortable about it, where you were upset for not being able to tell them to stop shipping him with girls he wasn't interested in, cause he was with you and you only.

But instead, you just sat there, watching your gorgeous boyfriend smiling sheepishly at the camera while a fan asked him about some photos that were taken of him and his co-star a while ago. He shrugged it off and told her they were just friends, but the comments made it very clear they weren't buying it.

"Alright, gonna pick another one, lemme see..."

You get yourself distracted by the concentrated face he put on, a small wrinkle between his brows, and then it happened.

All of a sudden, you see yourself on the screen, half of it filled with Tom's video, just like the previous fan. Your eyes go wide as soon as you realize you're going live with Tom.

"Shit!" He curse immediately, eyes bugging out and looking for something on his screen to take you out of it. "Sorry, I think I just tapped the wrong thing- fuck, how do I-?"

You're startled, looking at his agitated movements as he waves to Harrison desperately, and you try to think about what to do while being completely dumbfounded with the comments going on. Most of them were laughing at the fact that Tom kept being clueless with Instagram, but some of them actually commenting about you.

She's so pretty!!

Omg i think i saw her with tom somewhere

Is she the girl that was at the ffr set and no one new about??

You are about to close your app and leave them all behind, but you can't seem to be able to take your eyes off of the screen. A thought is stuck in your mind, where those people could actually know you, talk to you, and this shouldn't be so hard.

Tom wanted it. He wanted to show the world that you were his girl, wanted to go places with you and not need a whole scheme to protect you from camera lenses.

So instead of just stepping out of this, you decided to wave your hand at them, sit on your bed a little straighter and smile.

"Hey, Tom", you said, leaving it up to him if he wanted to say it now or not. He looked at you with wide eyes, Harrison by his side, a boyish smile plastered on his face.

"Hey, uh, y/u/n" he tried to play it cool, not so sure about what he wanted to do. "Nice user". And just like that, the two of you played along as two complete strangers for a whole ten minutes, until you said your goodbyes and Tom were left alone to end his live.

You felt incredibly happy with the nice comments and about how easy it was for you to make an appearance for the first time. It wasn't like you had just told them the truth, but it was something, and you felt more comfortable about it now.

Tom called you to a video call as soon as he ended the live, equally amazed by how this turned out. He apologized for bringing you to it, and you told him it was fine, that you even liked showing up.

"I think... I think that I'm ready", you said, biting your lips nervously. "I mean, if you are too".

He went silent for a few seconds before saying. "Wow. Really? Yeah, I mean, I'm more than ready. It doesn't have to be like an announcement, we could just, I don't know, go out and just wait till they-"

"Guys!" You heard Harrison shout somewhere in Tom's living room.

Tom turned his head to look at something Haz was showing and the blonde quickly made his way to appear on your screen.

On his phone there was a page with headline: Tom Holland goes live and fans spot his supposed girlfriend, y/n y/l/n.

Harrison scrolled through the page, where a lot of evidences of you and Tom being together were collected, when both of you were spotted in the same places at the same time or even one of you at Far From Home's set.

"Uh, so..." Tom twisted his nose. "I don't think we'll need to tell them anymore".

********

Taglist (add yourself to my taglist, link at navigation)

@dreamy-clousds @pinkrockstar19

@onyourgoddamnleft @spideyspeaches

@miraclesoflove @heavenlyholland

@zspideyy @marlenetough

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@siriuslyslyslytherin @mathletemadison

@tomshufflepuff

[goldentournesol]

Christmas Miracles

(Spencer Reid x fem!Reader)

The one where Spencer and Reader finally get pregnant after 2 years of trying and failing.

Length: 3.2k

A/N: TW pregnancy, thank you for requesting this anon, so sorry this is late, i know you asked for fluff but i added a touch of angst too because: hello, have you met me? also please accept my feeble attempt at a Christmas fic. i sure do hope no one goes through my search history now haha, anyway ENJOY! (sorry if this is crappy) It is officially Christmas where I live so MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!

masterlist

The click clack of her heels against the tiled floor of the hospital almost seemed too loud. She felt as though her presence was too much, but she had promised Kristy she’d be there. It almost felt unreal. Here she was, celebrating the birth of yet another Simmons baby when not a single Reid had been conceived. It might have been selfish of her to have such thoughts, but she couldn’t help it. Not when the one thing she and her husband had been praying for day and night came so easily to everyone but them.

It’s been two years since their wedding and for two years she’d felt nothing but the impending feeling of failure hanging around her shoulders. All she wanted was to give Spencer what he deserved, she knew how much he wanted kids. He didn’t even have to say it, it was evident in the way he treated Henry, Michael, and all the other children of the BAU. 

She’d left her job as soon as Spencer texted her and said she’d meet them at the hospital. She took a deep breath before locating the familiar faces of the BAU in the waiting room.

“Hey!” JJ smiled, racing to hug her first.

“Hi, any news?” Y/N asked, pulling away from the hug and looking for her husband among the faces, smiling in recognition. She spotted him in a chair, adorning a hoodie that was much too large for him with “Washington DC” printed in bold letters across the front.

“No, not yet.” Spencer reached his hand out to her and she stepped towards him, smiling as he stood to embrace her. She pulled back once again and looked at his hoodie in amusement.

“Do I want to know what happened?” She giggled, gesturing towards his outfit. He laughed bashfully.

“I, um, had an...incident with the sprinklers at the park.” She watched as his cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink. She laughed and nodded.

“Alright then.” She took a seat beside him and forced the lump in her throat to break itself apart. But Spencer knew how she felt, of course he knew. Which is why he offered both his hand and shoulder to her as they waited. She gladly accepted both, wishing the heaviness in her chest would dissipate.

About a half hour later, Matt emerged from one of the rooms, announcing the birth of his baby girl. Everyone swarmed around him to give him celebratory hugs, Y/N felt as though someone had to unglue her from her seat. She smiled as wide as her face would allow and hugged him.

“Congratulations!” She exclaimed, trying her hardest not to make it sound forced.

“Thank you, thank you all.” He said, inviting them all into the room, where the wailing  of a newborn baby could be heard. To many it could sound annoying, but Y/N was almost desperate to hear it. Before entering, Spencer grabbed her hand gently and stopped them in their tracks, reaching out to cradle both her hands in his.

“You okay? We can leave now if you want, just say you had an emergency at work or something.” He said quietly to her, knowing how it would make her feel if she were to see this baby right now. He never wanted to push her too far. He could see the uncertainty swimming around in her irises, but his wife was never one to back down from anything she’d promised someone else.

“I’ll be fine, Spence. I promised Kristy.” She whispered and he nodded, although he felt something was off in the pit of his stomach. He brushed it off as she pulled him into the room after her. Her eyes landed on Kristy cradling her baby girl and her heart melted at the sight.

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Kristy.” Y/N cooed, momentarily forgetting about the heaviness in her chest as the baby’s tiny eyes curiously wandered over to her.

“Thank you, Y/N. Would you like to hold her first?” Kristy smiled tiredly and everyone’s gaze fell onto Y/N, an unreadable tension silently floating in the room.

“I-I’d be honored.” She let go of Spencer who watched as his wife carefully scooped up the baby into her arms. His heart swallowed his chest from its swelling. He could barely control the softness in his gaze before Matt came up next to him and grabbed his shoulder, making him smile. The way she carried the baby with so much compassion was a sure sign for Spencer, this woman was meant to be a mother. The mother of his children.

Y/N grinned with slight tears in her eyes as she stared at the baby in her arms, “Hi, baby girl. You’re so beautiful.” She cooed softly as she swayed them slowly from side to side. The baby quieted down in her arms and it was a wonderful sight to see. Spencer’s heart was surely beating its last beats.

“Oh, she loves you already.” Emily said from the far side of the room. The comfortable weight of the baby in her arms had suddenly turned into 7.8 pounds of complete and utter dread. She had allowed herself to think that it was her own child for a split second. 

What a huge mistake. 

A tear escaped Y/N’s eye as she realized she’d have to part with this beautiful gift of life. She forced a smile and handed her back to her mother carefully. No one noticed the shift in Y/N’s mood, too enthralled by the baby, except Spencer, of course. She quickly wiped away the stay tear as she took her place next to Spencer, who had tried to take her hand in his, but she pulled away just in time. He breathed a heavy sigh as she silently fell apart right next to him.

After a few moments of failing to keep herself from falling apart in front of the team, she tugged on his sleeve harshly and he knew he’d have to excuse them. So he did, they said their farewells and were on their way to her car. She handed him the keys silently and avoided his gaze until they were in the car together.

“Sweetheart…” Spencer started, reaching out to caress any part of her, only wanting to provide a semblance of comfort.

“Please--please, don’t, Spencer.” She whimpered softly as she shrunk away from him and into the passenger seat, the tears falling freely now. Spencer frowned deeply and began driving them home in silence.

She wondered if she’d ever have the opportunity to be in Kristy’s shoes. All she wanted, as of right now, was to be a mother. The universe had been so, so unkind to them both throughout their lives. God knows Spencer’s been through hell and back more times than they can count. Despite all that though, Spencer was truly the best support system she could ask for. He never pushed her too far, he always understood her, never made her feel bad for not being able to get pregnant. But that didn’t take away from the way she felt. The way she felt like she was failing Spencer. The one thing her body was made for, and she couldn’t do it. 

Spencer walked them both up to their apartment and put on the kettle to make some tea as she disappeared into their bedroom, probably to take a shower. For months and months, they’d been trying, and nothing seemed to work. It was taking a toll on Y/N and he couldn’t help but feel useless.

It went on this way for about a month, although Spencer and Y/N were getting much better about talking about it, as well as beginning to explore other options. Spencer kept convincing Y/N to get out of the house more, he insisted that perhaps time apart and engagement of individual activities would strengthen their relationship. So Penelope suggested a girls night in at least once a week. They would order junk food, watch sappy movies, and sometimes cry about their lives.

One night, all the women and spouses of the BAU were at Penelope’s, watching a movie and munching on crunchy snacks. Y/N suddenly sat up straight and gasped, pausing the movie quickly from the remote.

“What is it?” Tara asked, looking over at Y/N on the couch.

“What day is it?” She asked, slightly panicked.

“It’s...Saturday?” Emily replied.

“No, no! What day of the month?” She exclaimed, searching for her phone in between the couch seats.

“It’s the 12th, why? Is it someone’s birthday?” Penelope asked, confusion settling in.

“The 12th?!” Y/N exclaimed in shock.

“Y/N, what’s on the 12th?” JJ asked impatiently.

“I’m late! I’m 2 weeks late. Let me check first.” Y/N pulled up her phone and checked her period tracking app. The women all glanced at each other excitedly, “I’m late…”

“OKAY! Stay here, do not move. JJ and I will go get you a bunch of tests! Don’t move!” Penelope exclaimed, rushing up to put on a coat over her pajamas and slip on some shoes.

Y/N stood and began to wring her hands nervously.

“What’s wrong, isn’t this great news?” Kristy asked, her face showing concern.

“Yes! Yes, of course. Just...what if it’s n-not real, what if it’s negative? I-I don’t think I can handle that again.” Y/N said as her eyes filled with tears. Her heart seemed to have stilled in her chest and her throat began closing up in response to her anxiety.

“Even if that happens, we’re right here. We’ll be supporting you through it all.” Tara said, standing and hugging her tightly. The second she was in her arms, she began sobbing. The slightest comfort brought waves of fear and anxiety. Emily and Kristy frowned and felt their chests pull at the sight of her being so upset. Tara smoothed down her hair lovingly and convinced her to have a seat until Pen and JJ returned.

A few moments later, they came bursting through the door, “Alright, did you drink enough liquids, do you have to pee?” JJ asked, unpacking and handing her the tests.

“Umm, I don’t know but I’ve been peeing a lot anyway.” Y/N replied and JJ nodded.

“Okay, that’s a good sign.” Kristy nodded encouragingly.

Y/N moved to the bathroom and took the tests. She opened the door slightly and looked towards Penelope, “Can you come in? I-I’m too scared to look at it alone.”

“Of course.” She stepped in and Y/N left the door open for anyone else to come in. Soon they all gathered in or outside of the bathroom. Y/N sat on the closed toilet and wrung her hands nervously, a habit she’d picked up from Spencer. Penelope waited the appropriate amount of time and looked at the tests that were face down on the counter. She looked towards Y/N for approval and she nodded, holding her breath. She wasn’t a profiler but she was trying to read every single microexpression that crossed Penelope’s features. The room was heavy with anticipation as they all watched Penelope look at the tests.

Soon enough, her face broke out into a large grin, “Guess we’re getting a baby genius!” She exclaimed and everyone cheered loudly in response. 

Y/N was frozen in shock on the toilet as everyone rushed to embrace her, “W-what?” She uttered in disbelief, tears clouding her vision quickly.

“They’re all positive! A baby Reid is in the oven!” Emily cheered, showing her the tests. She put a hand to her mouth to slow down the sobs escaping her. She hugged them all tightly and she knew, she just knew that this happened thanks to the sheer powerful energy of all the women by her side. The thought gave her goosebumps.

“Oh my God! I have to tell Spencer!” Y/N shouted in the midst of all her tears, just imagining the pure joy that would be on her husband’s face as he learned the news.

“If you leave now, you’ll make it before he gets home from Derek’s.” JJ said, checking her watch. Y/N nodded and raced out with the tests, putting on her shoes quickly.

“I love you all so much! Bye!” She yelled into the room before darting out the door.

She stopped by the grocery store to pick up some buns, an empty box, and a pair of the cutest baby sneakers she could find. As soon as she got home, she filled the box with the sneakers and the positive tests. She also placed a single bun in the oven and waited for Spencer to come home.

“Y/N, you here already? I saw the car parked downstairs--is everything oka--” he cut himself off as he found her in the kitchen holding something behind her back. His eyebrows raised suspiciously as he eyed her, “What’s going on? What are you up to?” He couldn’t resist smiling at her smile, the previous anxieties melting away.

“Check the oven, baby.” She said, leaning against the counter across from it. His brows furrowed even more as he peeked inside.

“I don’t get it. The oven’s not hot and this is likely a store-bought bun.” Spencer Reid, despite being a certified genius, he could be extremely oblivious at times.

“Yes, and where is it placed?” Y/N hinted.

“In the oven?” Spencer reached in and grabbed the bun. He turned around to face her, the bun in his hands.

“Yes, exactly! It’s a bun in the oven.” She laughed, giving up. She watched as his face lit up in realization.

“Wait...what?” Spencer said softly in disbelief, placing the bun down on the counter and taking a few steps towards her.

She grinned and pulled out the box from behind her and opened it up in front of him. He took it from her and inspected the test and the shoes with a dropped jaw, “W-we...you’re--” He laughed a wet laugh and placed his hands on her belly, “We’re gonna have a baby?” His voice cracked, tears clouding his eyes quickly.

“We’re gonna have a baby.” She confirmed and he pulled her into possibly the tightest hug she’d ever received from him. His shoulders began shaking in her arms and soon they were sobbing messes in front of each other. She rested her head on his chest and he kissed it over and over again until they both calmed down.

“I’m gonna be a father.” He finally said, smiling down at her with a dopey, lovesick smile.

She nodded, returning the smile, “The best father. Now come on, let’s have a seat and start planning.” She giggled, pulling him out of the kitchen and to the couch.

“You know, it’s thought that the saying bun in the oven originated in 1951.” He began explaining and she suddenly burst into a fit of fond giggles, hoping their child would get his intelligence and definitely his good looks.

At exactly 10 weeks, Spencer insisted that she get her first ultrasound. She didn’t mind, she just wanted him to be there, and with his hectic schedule, it was hard to find a perfect time to go. But alas, they figured it out and Spencer was practically bouncing on his feet in excitement in the waiting room. Y/N placed a calming hand on his knee and smiled reassuringly. They took turns calming each other down. Even though Spencer had read every book about parenting and children within reach, he still felt so unprepared as a first time parent.

“Mr. and Mrs. Reid? The doctor is ready for you now.” A nurse with a clipboard announced, making Spencer shoot up out of his seat and helped his wife out of hers.

Soon, they made it into the office and before she knew it the doctor had already spread the icy cold gel on Y/N’s growing belly. A steady, repetitive noise could be heard throughout the room, bouncing off the walls. It sounded like an underwater heartbeat with a tad of something sloshing around.

“Oh, do we hear that? That’s the sound of the baby’s heart-Oh! What do we have here?” The doctor announced as she maneuvered her way on top of her belly.

“What is it?” Spencer anxiously asked, peering over at the screen.

“It seems as though there are two amniotic sacs as well as two healthy heartbeats! Congratulations, you’re having twins!” The doctor exclaimed happily. The couple stared at each other in an absolute stunned daze.

“Twins?” Y/N had to make sure she was hearing it correctly.

“Yes, a pair of healthy twins.” The doctor confirmed.

“That’s...th-that’s only a 4% chance. This is amazing!” Spencer uttered, hugging her tightly.

Over the course of the next six months, Spencer and Y/N have been living on the absolute tips of their toes. Y/N was extremely clingy at times and Spencer was terrified of leaving her, should he be called in for a case. As the twins’ due date nears, Spencer turns into a shell of himself and instead a home for festering anxiety and fear. He’s terrified something might go wrong. Whereas Y/N could not wait for the babies to be out of her! The day couldn’t come sooner.

Thankfully, serial killers all over the country had decided to take a break for Christmas time. Spencer, Y/N, and her belly were invited to every gathering leading up to Christmas eve. She wished she wouldn’t have to waddle along for much longer.

As the two sat in peaceful silence, listening to instrumental versions of their favorite Christmas music and munching on gingerbread men, something felt off.

“Uhhh, Spence?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” Spencer asked, sitting up, failing to notice the large pool of liquid now under his wife soaking the couch.

“My water just broke.” She announced, feeling her breath quicken.

“Oh-OH!” Spencer shot up from the couch and quickly grabbed the hospital go bag that’s been living by the door for the past few weeks. He put on a pair of shoes for her and carefully helped her off the couch.

“Spencer, it’s Christmas eve, we’ll never find a place in the hospital!” Y/N panicked slightly as she waddled to the door, trying to control her breathing.

“Shh, baby don’t worry about that right now. I just need you to do the breathing exercises we practiced so much, okay?” He said calmly, doing her breathing exercises, prompting her to imitate him. He surprised her by being so calm and composed all the way to the hospital then she remembered he’d once told her that he finds he does his best work under intense pressure.

20 grueling hours later, two beautiful baby girl Reids were born into this world on Christmas day. It truly was a Christmas miracle. The team filed in on Christmas day to find one exhausted Spencer standing and an even more exhausted Y/N on the bed, each cradling a baby girl of their own.

“Oh my, oh, they’re so beautiful.” Penelope gushed, her and JJ leaning over Y/N’s bed to peer at one of the girls. Luke, Tara, and Emily walked towards Spencer, who could not stop grinning. 

Seriously, his face should have been split in half at this point from how much he’d been smiling. There was no one else in this world he’d rather have a child with, and he was blessed with not one, but two enchanting Christmas miracles who will surely steal his heart and never return it, and he’ll be more than okay with that.

[rocket-69]

Ramshackle: 01 - The Kids

Far north of Dead Man Switch* and slightly less far north from the no man’s land that was once Fallon sat a pair of bare rocky mountain ranges. Shallow alkaline lakes clustered against them, cradling a sparse little sleepy town. Those less charitable would call it the middle of nowhere, and if the town were honest with itself, there wasn’t much it could say to argue against that.

A herd of goats trotted through the playground, kicking up dust into the eyes and noses of children at recess. They fearlessly approached the kids, who held their open hands out for them to sniff. The herds free-roamed more than is really safe, and certainly paid for it when a radscorpion or coyote got close to town, but were generally made rather bold and their hooves sharpened in the surviving. In the past few years however, most of them have been tagged and sequestered behind progressively stronger fences.

Some of the herd sniffed and huffed at the lake water, testing a bite of pond scum. Others in the schoolyard grazed on weedy alfalfa bushes, which grew wild after propagating freely outside certain square fields. The goats and horses weren’t the only ones who ate it. Children took to foraging it during walks between the schoolhouse and their homes or other points of interest. Adults grew sprouts, or added home grown alfalfa to soup, salad, and sometimes bread when they were feeling experimental. The people of Ramshackle** could tell people before were intentionally cultivating it, as the deepest rooted alfalfa was all planted in straight rows. At least, that’s what the teacher, Mister Cal***, had told his students.

Mister Cal told them about Fallon, too. The town of Fallon, Nevada had fallen in the chaos after the bombs, once dependent on the military base that bolstered and fed it and yet fed on it. He seemed insistent they learn that history, but Ada wasn’t sure when she would use these random little factoids about it in her grownup- no, adult life. She wasn’t little anymore. She was ten.

She approached a smaller kid and let him sniff her hand, then patted his head as he bleated for treats. She thought for a moment and dug in her pocket for a folded piece of paper. She unfolded it, peeling mutfruit leather and eating most of it before offering it in a flat hand to the kid. He bleated loudly and then aggressively dug into her hand with his fuzzy muzzle.

“Howe cuz.†” A nine year old boy with long black hair tied back in a ponytail approached her. Ada stood a little straighter as she sucked the mutfruit off her teeth.

“Hi Jay.” It’s not that she didn’t like him, she was just older and had to put on some airs.

“Do you have any left?” Jay gestured to the mutfruit leather paper the kid was trying to eat.

“...Nah.” She lied. She was saving another strip for later. It was a thing for her. She liked eating one mutfruit leather on the walk back home after school. Not having anything for that time would throw her off for the rest of the day. Ada stares away from Jay’s gaze, focusing on the kid. She rubs around the little horn nubs.

“What’s Mister Cal like?” Jay seemed insistent on talking to her.

“He’s harder on Abby for chewing gum in class than Miss Wilson was. And he assigns homework sometimes. Why?”

Jay crossed his arms and changed his facial expression, so Ada looked up at him to try to read him.

“Ah, I don’t think you’ll find him that annoying next year. Nicer than Miss Wilson sometimes. Mikey got him to talk about binary for a whole afternoon last Monday.” She felt like she understood how to count in base two, but was not sure she understood how it worked beyond that. But that’s just another weird thing that everyone had to learn even though most people aren’t going to use it, she thought.

“What’s that?” Jay chewed over the word binary in his mind.

“It’s like. If a butcher lost all his fingers but two of them, how he might consider the number two as his ten.” Ada wasn’t sure she explained it right but she wasn’t going to show doubt here. She held out her hands, pointing with both index fingers. “One, ten, eleven, one hundred.”

Jay seemed thoroughly confused. “But what happens to the other numbers?”

“They’re still there. It’s just that a hundred is actually four.”

“Weird.”

Ada put away her hands. She swapped to Ute, “[You hear from your family? Are they gonna go harvest pine nuts this year?]”

Jay smiles toothily when he hears the code switch. Another goat sidles up to the two Numa kids, sniffing at their shirts and pockets. Jay gently pushes her nose away as he responds. “[My mom said we’re gonna go up north again this year. They’ll pick us up of course. How ‘bout your family?]”

“[The Lopezes said they’d stay in town this year, so my dads said we could go.]”

“[Oh cool. We’ll be able to…]” Jay had a coy smile on his face. Ada eyed him with some suspicion.

“[To…?]”

Jay suddenly tagged her and then nearly tripped over another kid, who bleated in surprise at his sudden turnaround. Ada frowned, smiled, then gave chase.

___ *Integration, by its human name. Dead Man Switch is the place where an endless horde of damaged and volatile robots spew from the earth, consuming everything and everyone. **Ram Shackle, by its human name. Ram Shackle is the place where an endless horde of damaged and volatile humans spew from the earth, consuming everything and everyone. ***Short for Calligraphy. †“Hello cuz.”

[unknownwriting]

Same!! Aside from the top 3 you listed, I generally don’t hate any character. Sure, if I see a bad character, I’d either go “Ehhh, I’m willing to forgive you... to some extent” or just “Nope, I dislike you”. But I don’t immediately think of them (except for those 3) when I go to my mental “hated characters” list. Thanks for answering 😊

Also, guessing request are open since your recent post said so, but the description says it’s closed...? I’m gonna take your word for it, and hopefully don’t offend you 😅

May I request Crocodile, Lucci and Kid with a crush on a fem. reader that’s a hopeless romantic? Just thought the dynamics would be adorable with how their personalities are portrayed >w<

As for what I personally classify as a hopeless romantic... it’s not so much the suaveness or charm. Sure, we love ourselves a gentleman that can remind us chivalry is not dead, but it’s more about finding “the one”. And “the one”, which we’re meant to find (kinda like a soulmate), has got to be able to show their sincerity. You can shower me in gold without the most genuine of feelings behind it, and I’d take one look at you, scowl and walk away. Small actions are weighed more heavily if the feelings behind them are sincere. A paper crane with a sweet note on it? My heart would straight up melt.

Figured it’d be interesting since I can imagine them trying to win her over with their perfectly crafted facade only to have her grimace in response since it’s not entirely genuine. We hopeless romantics are “in love with love” and could love practically anyone, but that’s only if they’re sincere.

ｓｕｍｍａｒｙ- having a crush on a hopeless romantic

ｃｈａｒａｃｔｅｒｓ - Eustass Kid, Lucci, Crocodile

ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ - none :)

ａ/ｎ - Hopeless Romantic gang rise up 😫✊🏻 also akdjdid omg I totally forgot to even change the request until I saw your request. Thanks so much i hope you enjoy

unedited

Eustass Kid

This man?? Having a crush?? Not in a million years....well it must’ve been a million years because the Captain of the kid pirates has found himself crushing over a common bartender

There is not anything special about you anyways, just a girl around his age who is stubborn, easy to talk to, and cute. He could find someone like her almost anywhere, but the thing that got him was how stubborn she was.

Kid could flirt all day and try and get you to come with him. But you just wouldn’t come, turning him down each time. It was so frustrating, seeing how you didn’t even flinch when Kid spoke but it was also nice. Kid loves a good challenge.

Of course, didn’t stay on the island the whole time, he still had other things to do, but he did come back often to meet up with her. Kid was not gonna let a perfectly good challenge slip away from him. So it’s easy for y’all to quickly become friends with how often Kid comes by and visits you. It only then did Kid finally realize why you kept turning him down: you were a hopeless romantic searching for the one and as far as you were concerned Kid was not it

When you told him that though all he gave you in return was a confused face and a curse word. ‘The fuck is ‘the one’?’ Kid has never heard anything of the sort, and it didn’t come as a surprise either. Kid was a very loud, mean, frustrating guy who probably only slept around.

Now that the 2 of you got closer, you decided that you could at least tell me, explaining why he doesn’t have a chance. Going over what you imagine your soulmate is just gonna be like definitely grossed Kid out, but he still listens trying to use your explanation as a hint

Long story short it didn’t work that much. Kid was farther from the mark each time he tried. At least that’s what you thought, the more time you spent around the red-haired captain the more selected traits would stand out to you. Traits that you told kid yourself.

Although with the fear of finding the wrong one and only wanting Kid because he’s convent to you, you didn’t say a word not even a peep to him. There would be no way to know that he is the one he’s so different then what you thought. With doubt still sitting in the back of your mind, you decided to keep quiet for now. It wouldn’t be bad to just enjoy his company for a while

Crocodile

LMAOO AJSJSJD I KINDA FORGOT CROCODILE’S PERSONALLY WAS ALREADY TO FAR IN. I’m so sorry but I hope you still enjoy

As soon as Crocodile had laid his eyes on you, he knew exactly what type of person you were a troublesome girl who is still obsessed with finding the one, your soulmate.

He tries his best to stay away from people like you, but it’s hard to do that when your working for him. However he still tried his best to stay away, but then you just always appeared where he would be. You failed the realize it but Crocodile definitely noticed it and just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

From there on out he kept looking at you where ever he went, wondering when and if you would show up. That’s when he finally realized, he has a crush.

It took him a while to approach you and to even get you to talk, but once he was able to, he constantly, being subtle about it, tried to when you over with small gestures of romance.

Which of none has even persuaded you. You had the idea of falling in love with your soulmate. Crocodile can spoil you as much as he wants but that won’t change your mind.

Although the gift he did give you was sweet, somewhat unexpected. Some days it might be a rose, others it might be bracelets, other days it might be a bag of money. Half of the time you thought it was whatever he had on him at the moment.

Aside from gifts he also let a lot of paperwork side which was probably the best thing he could’ve done. But you still did them all, although he was acting very out of character and being unbelievably kind, there was no way you were to gonna take advantage of him.

It frustrated him, it really did. The fact that you didn’t even budge but at the same time he found it very admirable. Having such a strong will and not settling for anything better than your soul mate. It’s a nice challenge that he would definitely accept.

Rob Lucci

Each one of these men loves a good challenge. It’s just a known fact. So when Lucci learned that he was getting a new member on his team he treated her the same way he treated everyone: cold yet with respect. However, he failed to notice just the type of girl you were.

Talkative. Talking to everyone about anything. It’s doesn’t matter who it was you always found a way to talk to them. Whether it was Lucci or Kaku or just some random worker. You always found a way to talk

That was the first challenge. Just getting you to shut up, whether it was by intimation or if it was force, whatever it was, that was his first challenge what came next he has no intention of. You were....actually nice to talk to.

when you were rambling now Lucci could feel his expression loosely and a small, very small smile on his lips. You seemed to be a kinda nice person to talk to and Lucci doesn’t mind you. Maybe you were even nice enough to have a crush on. 

With Lucci’s newfound crush, he had no idea what to even do. Besides a few nightstands, the man has never really been considered with the idea. and to make matters worse, he overheard you talking about ‘the one’ as if he was supposed to know what that means. After asking around a bit he was able to figure it out and concluded that he wasn’t it.

Although he wasn’t ’the one’, what’s a challenge if you don’t at least try. So starting with the first thing he could think of he slowly began to participate in the conversation with you. It was awkward and weird but you thought it was cute in his own little way. At least he was trying.

Surprisingly it didn’t take long for the 2 of y’all to warm up to each other. From there, Lucci was able to learn more about you and just how to win you over. He wasn’t as bold as the other 2 but he did try his best to make it noticeable.

You were definitely quick to catch on to his change and to what he was doing but being strong-willed and all you continued to turn him down. Lucci just wasn’t your type and you felt bad for telling him that but it was true. However, Lucci is not gonna give up on you that easily. Once Lucci accepts and challenges there’s no going back

[sweettodo]

Rolling ⟿ Hisoka x fem!reader

Includes : praising, smut, watersports, consumption of alcohol, use of molly, swearing.

Word count : 4,8k

A/N, I haven’t really written something like this, I’ve never taken molly but I did sorta look it up, I don’t condone using molly, nor do I condone drinking. This smut is for the sole purpose of a little fun night.

••

"And who might you be?"

••

The event was at it’s prime, everyone chatting, drinking, eating, I hated the idea of coming but disregarded those thoughts the second I got ahold of some alcohol.

"I'm y/n, you?" The dark yet beautifully illuminated ballroom created a sparkle from my red gown, etching out my body to my liking. The tall man who stood two feet away from me devours me with his devilish yellow eyes; his charismatic smirk which quickly lured me in for more.

"Hm, I'm Hisoka, but enough about me. You're so exciting to look at, I must admit." I smile and blush, looking down at the rest of my dress.

"Thank you, what brings you here?" I change the subject, standing in the main area of the ballroom, the bar a reach away, I needed it.

"Ahh, just work business, and you?" While he talks, I observe what he's wearing; a black on black suit, his multicolored hair which was more or less intriguing.

"The same, I'm here with my Co. Owner." I smile, a server comes from Hisoka's right, a plate with champagne, he stands in front of us, I graciously take one and Hisoka does the same, thanking the waiter. His eyes slightly widen as he sips from the glass.

"A lady a charge?" He's tilted against the column, we look at each other intently, I kinda liked his vibe.

"Yep, what can I say!" I giggle, he retorts with a light chuckle, his low eyes captivating me more and more.

While you observed the man in front of you, you weren’t the only one, Hisoka was excited. He undressed you with his eyes so sensually, he could have ravaged you right there. The way your hair paired perfectly with your dress, your makeup was to impress others, you didn’t do this for yourself. You wanted people to look at you, Hisoka picked up on your undertoned confidence and he knew that he liked you. You also had a bite to your personality, he liked the power you held.

‘How have I not met her sooner?’

"Do you plan on going straight back to the hotel room? Or another party?" Hisoka shakes his thoughts out of his head, watching the pretty lady raise an eyebrow in return.

‘Another party? Well.. was I not invited or something?’ I shrug.

"I'd head to another party; if I had known one existed." I roll my eyes, he stands straight and turns around quickly, placing the empty glass on the high table next to us.

"It was more of a word of mouth thing; I'd be happy to take you as my plus one? But the scene might be different as you’re used to..."

"Who did you come with tonight?" I ask, changing the subject from the party for a light minute, wanting to be nosy, what if he had come with a woman.

"Just a few friends, god knows where they are." He jokes, I laugh, my fingers rolling the neck of my glass, swirling and swallowing the last sip of alcohol. The hot feeling in my stomach from the drink making me feel more loose and relaxed, ‘I could go with him to a party, where’s the harm?’

"We should." I nod simply, he smiles and wastes no time taking my empty glass from my hand. Swiftly placing it on a servers tray as the kid walked by. He signals for me to follow him. Leading the way and I follow close behind, my hand gently holding up the fabric of my dress so I don't trip, 'he was so tall', and quiet, who the fuck was this guy I've never even seen him before?

"Is it off base if I say that you strike me as very mysterious?" I toss my hunch out there, he looks back at me when we reach valet.

"I'd like to see myself as more of the withdrawn type." He sticks out his hand, I grab it, it was soft, his fingers long and lanky. He led me a few steps ahead when a car pulls up, opening the passenger side door of a black matte Camero; with red interior. 'Nice pick y/n' I do a little jig of accomplishment and slight excitement before he hops in the sports car.

He pulls the car out of park speedily and drives out of the culdesac.

"What do you do for work, Hisoka?" I ask him, he glanced at me, a hand holding his chin while his elbow sits on the middle console.

"I dip into a little of everything, call me an opportunist." He simply answers. There was a big lie right there, I've been able to pick apart things being true or false since childhood; my tack record never really failing me, he didn't need to know that.

"I own an agency, if you were curious."

But he assumed this. He guessed it when he recalled your name during tonights convo, she owned an agency, more like a school for beginning nen users, she raked in millions a year. A firecracker, determined and strong willed woman she was.

"My, quite fascinating, you must be of some talent, yeah?" He asks, a little of a misogynist thing to ask but I quickly shake it off, Hisoka speeds down the highway and I look out the front window.

"I guess." I hum, I glance at his hands, they kinda made me excited- the size...

Minutes later we arrive at a gated neighborhood, he swings his car through the entrance of the gates and I become excited, finally I could really get fucked up.

"Aren't we a little too overdressed for a house party?" I chuckle, he pulls up the the front of the house.

"This isn't your average party babygirl, no one cares what you'll be wearing." Babygirl? A slight cringe at how loosely he used the word. I furrow my eyebrows, before being able to question him someone is swinging open my door along with the drivers side. It was elegant- he looked... so good.

"Not my average party hu-" my mouth falls open a little before I look at him. I knew these some of these people. It was packed. But Hisoka never stopped shuffling through the crowd, leading me down the few stairs and ignoring any welcomes that came his way.

We reach a basement door, he knocks twice before opening it and he lets me in. There were a bunch of couches, a TV, a bar, kitchen etcetera. Everyone looked like they were rolling, drunk maybe?

No. Not rolling on the floor literally. But rolling on some type of psychedelic, or shitfaced for sure. My heart falls in my throat, baffled.

"I don't get into this kinda thing." I nervously chuckle, stepping away from him, he frowns, lifting his hand to my shoulder, caressing it.

"You will soon." I smirks, grabbing my hand and leading me deeper into the foyer. I look around, it looked fun, I wanted to feel it but I would leave myself open to being taken advantage of.

"Drink?" Standing in front of the bar, he pours vodka into a glass, I smirk. ‘Who was this man?’ I liked him, I ignore my slight anxiousness.

"Mhh, gladly; thank you." I hum, taking it from him, right as I'm about to drink from the glass he stops me, covering the opening of the glass with his palm.

"You'll be very- what's the word? Hot, if you drink that by the way." Referencing to the drink, is that what he did for a living, reeled women in to sex them up on molly and champagne?

"You want to take care of me? Hot and bothered Mr. Morow?" I lean into him, his head slightly dipped down so he can hear me, in all honesty, I already was hot and bothered. His bloodlust licking all over my body and seeping into my pores, he smelled amazing, the tone of his voice got me stirring in my shoes.

I look up at him through my thick eyelashes and he bites down onto his lip in anticipation on what was to come.

"You wanna get me vulnerable?" I reach up and scissor the fold of his black blazer, stroking it slightly, "you wanna take advantage of me Hisoka? Coulda’ just told me what you wanted from the jump." There had to have been something in the air.

While on the other end of things, Hisoka’s breath was quickly sucked out in a bit of a shock. His heart thudding a little faster than usual; god he could tear you up.

“I’m stronger than you think I am Hisoka,” I giggle. I was, I was always on my A game.

“What kind of man would that make me y/n?” He smirks, pressing his cheek against mine and whispering, “if I wanted to take advantage of you, I would’ve torn you to pieces before we even got into my car.” I gulp and pull away from him slowly, mustering up the courage and taking a swig out of the cup and his eyes widen, I stop halfway down the drink and press him to drink the rest.

“Go on, drink it Hisoka, you wanted to get me fucked up.” I chuckle, he pushes the cup and pours his own.

“Drink all of it, you wont regret it.”

••

My head was spinning, the walls dipping in and out, swirling, my third eye was 100% open for sure. I sat on the ‘L’ shaped couch, Hisoka diagonal from me sitting comfortably on the corner, we didn’t really talk. Or maybe we were talking? I really was out of it. I didn’t pay attention to the other party goers, there were around 30 people down here.

While he looked over at the wall, I started deep into his soul. The more I looked at him the more I envisioned him on top of me in some dimly lit room.

“Hmm, y/n, if you keep looking at me like that who knows what I’ll end up doing to you.” My eyes quickly snap up to meet his own.

I was so empty headed I didn’t have the capability of feeling embarrassed.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Hisoka’s dick slighty twitched in his pants. He was already pussywhipped.

He needed you.

He looked at me seductively, eyes low. I bit on my bottom lip; a one night stand wouldn’t hurt. It’s been so long, although you were so intoxicated you had no idea how this would go, nonetheless feeling much more bold.

Hisoka was right, you were hot. Your body throbbing, everything was definitely more sensitive, tingling almost.

Hisoka was restless, he knew that he was going to make you his little plaything.

He couldn’t help it; standing, he taps on your shoulder and ushers you up, grabbing your elbow and slightly dragging you down the darkened hallway, it made you dizzy, your eyes spiraling and colors accentuated and it made you see new weird versions of colors, ‘is this real?’

He opens a door and flicks on the light, your eyes needing to adjust to the weird vibrating walls.

You weren’t able to talk much, everything sounded foreign when it left your lips, like a jumble of noises so you held back talking. He shuts the door quickly and walking back towards you, towering over your body. Your heals slip off your feet when Hisoka is pushing you onto the bed, your legs slightly falling open and you stare at him through your lashes, looking like a whore.

He leans over you, his knees pressed on either side of your own, pinning your wrists back above your head, you bite down onto your tongue. Leaning into you, he dives into your neck, bitting and gnawing at the bit. You breathe out a slight whimper; almost undetectable.

Senses heightened, you felt like you could taste him already. He nibbles and licks down the v line of your dress, he radiated a hot and intense vibe, you were stunned. You were also beyond horny.

Hisoka moves his knee up to your cunt, you gasp when he applies the littlest pressure. He pulls up and looks at you.

“I can feel your heartbeat on my knee.” He states, I blush and look away.

“That’s because I’m horny.” I admit, he smirks and uses one of his hands to tuck hair back.

“Are you now... what can we do about that?” He purrs, mouth pressed against your ear and you shivered. Tugging slightly against his grip, he releases you, your hands land on his chest, trailing down and unbuttoning the single button on his black blazer.

“No Hisoka, what are you going to do about that?” You send him a smug look and push him off you slightly, you felt confident so why not have a little more fun than usual.

“My my, are you insinuating you’re going to use me?”the undertone of sarcasm made you laugh, you push up onto your knees and he falls on his back.

“Mhm, I’m going to fuck you until all your kids are dumped into me.” Lifting up your dress slightly so you could straddle his waist, he stares at you with his tongue being pinched by his teeth.

You roll your hips as you tug apart the strings that kept your dress closed, watching him as you smirked, he picked up quickly what you were doing and bunched up your dress from your legs, slowly taking it off and over your body, throwing it to the side, he sits up; and since his legs still hung off the bad, this was easier for him to sit comfortably and as close to you as possible.

His hands tickle down your sides, ending up at your lower back as he pulls you into his grasp tightly, grinding against his dick in the process. You lean back slightly, pushing the blazer off of him and he shimmies it off, you start unbuttoning this shirt and his hands caress your butt, following your tailbone and gripping.

You push off his shirt and he was breathtaking. His toughly toned chest, hard as a rock. Abs galore, his shoulders broad and his biceps huge.

“Let me know when you’re done staring.” You roll your eyes and let him toss the shirt on the floor.

You were definitely disoriented, but aware enough to consent but you were 100% felt empty headed besides the fact you could smell colors. Neither was Hisoka, he looked at you while he sworn you were moving so much more slow, you weren’t; but he thought you were teasing him.

He moves his hands to explore your body, feeling your soft and warm skin. His hands knead your boobs, like it was something he’s never felt before.

You push yourself off of him, “stand up and get on the bed fully.” You demand, he stands, but before he can plop back down, you unclasp the button on his slacks, hesends you a smug glance, looking down at your small hands compared to his wide waist, he was going to absolutely fucking obliterate you and you had no idea.

“You won’t be in charge for long my love, but I suppose I’ll let you have your fun.” Hisoka whispers, you could’ve fallen apart right there, but you held it together for the sake of the challenge he bestowed upon you.

He tugs his slacks off and you watch him with puppy eyes, the air coming from his nose hitched, you didn’t even bother to look at how hard he was, while he stares down at you, your hand climbs the back of his neck, standing on your toes more to kiss him.

Once you guys find yourself deep in a messy make out session, he taps your ass so he can pick you up. You jump a little and wrap your legs around his hard waist, feeling so high up you didn’t even know if he was really this tall or if it could be being literally high off molly altered your state.

He drops down onto the bed, you gasp when his clothed dick slides across your clothed cunt, it sat against your stomach as you looked down and your eyes widen, looking at how... how fucking big he was.

He scooches back so his head upper body is against the headboard.

“You seem intimidated, are you scared I’ll break you?” The smug look on his face made you laugh.

“Nope.” You were lying right through your fucking teeth. You were terrified; his cock was fucking huge.

You roll circles against his throbbing cock as you both took turns sucking and biting on each others necks, he left strong hickies and bite marks all over your chest.

He was so close to coming which was extremely unlike him, he could last for so long and was pissed that the drugs were bringing him so close to the edge.

“I’m giving you a few more minutes before I’m taking control.” He hums, you allow him to take control prematurely.

“Take control of me now Hisoka.” You purr in his ear, he takes action, swiftly pushing you up and slipping your panties down your thighs and shoving you on your back so your head was on the pillows.

He rips your panties off, you kick them off your ankle and his hand trails up your abused chest, hand gripping your neck. You were seeing fucking stars, literally? You didn’t know you were so high; but you did notice the peak was slowly ending.

You stick your hand down and it falls into the waistband of his boxers, he grabs your wrist and throws it back at you. “Don’t touch me.” He snarled, knowing it sounded rude, this was only because he was so close to nutting that if she even do much as stroked him he’d bust.

He tugs at his boxers and while your swollen lips and sliding his tongue in your mouth, you feel his sly hand rubbing your thigh and opening it, his hand grabs the headboard and the other one is holding your thigh open widely.

“You gonna let me put it in?” You whisper a little sassy, he looks at you with mean- intense eyes.

“My love, you won’t be able to as much move when I’m done with you, keep the attitude to a minimum.” He growls, your leg wrapping around his back and as he pins your thigh down, Hisoka knowing you were about to attempt to slam your legs closed.

He slowly slides into your dripping pussy. All he could think about was being enveloped in your hot walls. Savoring the feeling, he had enough self control to slowly enter into you. Your eyebrows furrowing and your mouth falling open, you watch him slowly fill you up.

You couldn’t even think of words, or noises for that matter, your brain drowning in loud red colors and your eyes were only looking at him, you didn’t even know what the room around you looked like. You were spinning, your body felt like it was trembling and twitching. He gives a tiny thrust to finish filling you up and your legs jolt, attempting to squeeze shut when he hits your cervix. It hurt so bad, you wince and your eyes screw shut.

He on the other hand was captivated by your beautiful body and scent, he couldn’t wait to watch you fall apart and drip cum all over him.

Hisoka pulls back, the pain making things feel a little more real; you look into his eyes, his golden eyes, pupils dilated from the drug- as he swears he can feel every nerve in your twitching cunt. Lowly, he lets out a little chuckle before yanking your leg up further and he picks up the pace, it was so sensual. You never made love but if it was anything like this and you didn’t even know the man? This was a culture shock.

You glance up at his bicep, trailing up towards the headboard, his hand clenches tighter on the headboard, you see him begin to white-knuckle the wood and your eyes widen, glancing at him. Seconds later, he has your face twisting into immense pleasure when the pace picks up, he releases your thigh from his grasp and grabs your throat, leaning in and licking slowly down your jawline, the pounding of his cock into your pussy feeling euphoric, your head spun, lacking oxygen, still high, you can tell he had finished his peak, his thrusts becoming more stable.

The snapping of Hisoka’s hips, you were finally able to get the clogged up moans that begged to come out. Finally, when he heard your moan, he began sweating. His hair becoming a little slick, falling down to his shoulders.

“O-h my god.” You groan, your stomach tightening, you wrap your arm around his neck and his flexed arm hold him up neck to your head.

“You want me to fuck you harder pretty girl?” Hisoka grunts, you let out a whine, fingers intertwining into the hair at his scalp.

“Yes please.” You mewl; this is was his moment to really get down to business, he pushes off the rattling headboard. He swiftly gets off of you, but roughly shoving you by your shoulder onto your hands and knees, he rips your arms from underneath you, causing you to fall harshly into the bed; holding them tight while he reaches off the side of the bed and picks up his tie.

His dick sitting pretty between your ass cheeks- hard as a rock, he ties you up. You bite down on your bottom lip, almost sad you couldn’t rub your hands all over him and touch him.

“God, your pussy is so pretty.” He mumbles, pulling your cheeks opposite from each other so he can get the view of the pretty cunt he was about to tear up. He spits onto your already dripping pussy before quickly picking up where he left off, the difference being he didn’t hesitate to pound hard into your cervix. You let out a screech and attempt to move away but he grounds your hips and gives you strong thrusts, not holding back, Hisoka disregarding your little screams from the pain.

“Does that hurt? You’re so fucking tight; no wonder it hurts so bad.” He grits, angrily fucking me. You become more and more vocal, screaming into the mattress. You pleaded for him to untie you.

“Y-you’re fucking ruthless H-Hisoka,” you moan between thrusts, he chuckles.

Hisoka was so close to coming, it took him more willpower then he’d like to admit. He brings his hand up and slams it down onto your ass. The slap ringing through the room.

You let out a throaty groan, tears soaking the bedsheet from your eyes. You had gotten used to the pain, but he filled every crevice in your pussy, you could feel absolutely everything, from his veins to his cock twitching.

You’re so close to releasing, his name falling out of your mouth incoherently and swears following the screams. Hisoka groaned and held down your arch so he could drill into you. You screamed, for mercy? His dick nor himself cared how bad far he was reaching. He brings his hand down again into a hard slap, you cry out and moan. He loved it, encouraging him to go faster. “My god, princess, you enjoy me hurting you with my cock and my hand? What else can I do to you?” You whine and you feel your juices drip down your thigh, you can came and didn’t even know it. Hisoka pulls out and listens to you moan, groan and cry while your legs shake and smirks.

“Untie me please, Hisoka I need to touch you.” You whine, he rubs your ass.

“Hmm well, I could, but I won’t.” He yanks you up by the hair and hair hand runs down your throat, your throat was dry, makeup running down your flustered face. He could come just looking at your face. He never felt that way before, it had to be the heightened senses from the drugs.

He sits against the headboard once again and without untying you he pulls you by your thighs and slowly pushes you down onto his cock. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, hissing when he grabs you by the hips and shoved himself into you.

He stares at your pretty lace bra and disheveled face as he bounces you up and down, your mouth forming a perfect ‘o’, practically going cross eyes he was reaching so deep into you. “Y-you’re so big.” You whine, unable to look into his eyes because you could barely keep them open.

“You’re taking my cock so well.” His chest riding and falling, it wasn’t as fast as he liked but he knew he was filling you up as much as he could, fitting his cock into your pussy as he pleased.

He flexed his back, lifting you still and snapping his hips into you. You practically collapse, hair sticking to your forehead and drool coming from your mouth. You scream and your legs begin to quiver.

“A-Ah! I need to pee” You wail as you feel another orgasm wash over your body, he doesn’t slow down but he remains at the same speed, only making the orgasm stronger, he moves a hand and rubs your bud in a pressurized circular motion. A mixture of piss and cum gushes out of your beaten pussy and you have no control of your body, falling forward onto his shoulder and he catches you.

The sound of wet skin slapping against each other filled the room, not stopping you even whilst releasing. He was so thrilled seeing you squirt all over him. Smirking slyly.

“Do you want me to fill you with my seed pretty girl? Have my kids pour out of that tight little pussy?” He grits, moving you back down onto your back and pulling up your numb legs. He needed to come in you now. Drilling into you like no tomorrow. You begged for him to untie you again and again.

He didn’t listen, brutally fucking you. Fucking you so hard your walls clenched so hard he could barely reach as deep. He was so close, Hisoka panting as he begins feeling dizzy, his dick twitched before abruptly stopping, slowly thrusting after a moment, hitched breathing and sweat dripping into your crunched up stomach.

Coincidentally, the slow thrusts made you orgasm again, convulsing and your muscles twitching as you both chased one of the strongest climax you’ve each had. Sniffling and trying to stop the tears, your ass and pussy still twitching as he pulled out of you, he stared sensually at your cunt, watching his own seed spill out of you.

After a few moments, he stops himself from falling in love with your cunt that he just stretched out to fit his desire. He lifted you up by the tied arm and slipped his tie off your wrists, setting you free.

Before you’re able to do anything, he runs his fingers up your slit slowly and carefully, picking up both of your cum, he lifts his hand and grabs your jaw, you instantly open your mouth and stick your tongue out, he sticks his two fingers down your throat and you suck on them, swallowing some of his seed. “Good girl, I didn’t even have to tell you.”

You wipe under your eyes and he smirks.

“We could stay here for the night, or we can go back to my place?” He hums in question. You just drop your back onto the bed. Trying to compose yourself.

“Yeah.” You sigh, panting slightly, he hands you his shirt and you slip it on and button it up.

This was the first time you were now looking around to see where you were, the high slowly reaching an end. You wondered what time it was, hoping to find a clock. Hisoka looks at his phone, ‘1:30am’ it read. He and you had both taken the drug at 9.

He slips on his pants and opens the foreign closet, he didn’t know what to find but when he saw a black t shirt he took it and slipped it on, it fit. He snoops through the closet and tries to find pants for you. He sees a pair of basketball shorts and tosses them towards you, you catch them and try to move as little as possible.

He sees you struggle to put them on and smiles, biting his tongue to prevent him from saying something arrogant. He was so fucking tickled that he fucked your legs into becoming numb and paralyzed.

He steps over at you and crouches down, he grabs the waistband and slips them over your legs. He should’ve warned you his dick would hurt you so bad, but he was so high he didn’t even think to mention it. Hisoka takes your hand and gently leads you to your feet. You feel like your organs had been shifted and you felt empty and cold.

As you and him quietly make your way through the house, people still resides there and the music was as loud as when you first arrived, no one really paid you any mind; which surprised you because your hair was a rats nest and you looked homeless. Barefoot, you and him walk to his car, more like limped.

“I feel like I’ve been split in half.” You mumble as Hisoka helps you into the car, he chuckles. While shutting the door and quickly making his way to the drivers side, he slides in and instantly starts the car.

He begins to drive down the road and out of the gated neighborhood, he puts his hand on your trembling thigh, glancing over at your wrecked face.

“My love, just wait til’ you see what I have waiting for you when we get home.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Unfettered (aka NHS goes feral) - part 4 - previous parts: on ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

-

Wei Wuxian wasn’t going to lie: it was weird seeing Nie Huaisang smiling again.

It wasn’t that he didn’t remember how Nie Huaisang used to behave when they were all back at the Cloud Recesses, and even before, but that seemed so long ago these days that it might as well have occurred in a past life. The expression just didn’t fit him anymore, like a grown man trying to return to the clothing of his childhood, and yet at the same time it was wretchedly familiar, even welcome – it was as if time had reversed course all at once, plucking them all out of the stream of their lives and returning them to how it used to be long before. Back to simpler, happier times.

It was kind of funny, actually.

Those that had not known Nie Huaisang as anything other than the Pallbearer seemed to be in a state of utter shock, gossiping madly – Did you see? He was smiling! He laughed at someone’s joke! He told a joke! He patted that child on the head and said ‘good job’ and the child didn’t cry even once!

Those that had known him from before only by reputation were, if anything, even more aghast – Do you think he’s going to start pouting and crying at things again? Surely not, I can’t even imagine! The last time he pouted was when one of his fans got stained, remember, after he stuck it straight through that man’s throat –

Those that had known him from before in person…

Well, the reaction was mixed. There was some relief, some distress, and a great deal of pain as they remembered once again how much their friend had changed in the wake of his brother’s near-death – the reminder of his former self was both nostalgic and bittersweet.

Personally, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were working through their feelings on the subject with the help of a lot of roleplaying involving their time at the Cloud Recesses. It was very healthy of them, emotionally, although maybe not so healthy for the state of Wei Wuxian’s waist. Or throat. Or hands…

(No, they weren’t officially married yet, since they were still hoping that they could have a proper ceremony when the war ended, but they were both of age and engaged. And that meant they could go to bed together, no matter what some of the more conservative Lan sect members thought – with Lan Qiren backing them up, which he did with no small amount of eye-rolling and deep sighs and long-suffering resignation, they were free to do as they pleased.)

That, too, was something they owed to Nie Huaisang.

Without Nie Huaisang’s timely intervention, both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng would’ve fallen for the Jin sect’s instigation and turned against each other in an act of mutual destruction that harmed both of them, and everyone else besides. Jiang Cheng would have cut off his own right arm, voluntarily weakening his sect just at the moment when they needed strength the most, and rendered himself without any other choice but to be dependent on Lanling Jin, while Wei Wuxian would have remained trapped in the Burial Mounds in Yiling, getting called the Yiling Patriarch as some people still today did, growing ever more resentful at his isolation and poverty.

(That one uncomfortable month he’d spent arguing with Wen Qing and Wen Ning about whether they should try to grow radishes or potatoes had been very educational, especially since they were both not-so-secretly convinced that the argument was futile and that nothing would ever grow on the Burial Mounds, such that they were just whiling away time until they all starved to death.)

They would be scattered, weakened, unhappy and vulnerable. Wei Wuxian would be sitting there like a giant target until the Jin sect decided, in their leisure, to deal with him the way, in hindsight, they had so obviously always intended to.

Wei Wuxian would have missed his sister’s wedding, probably. He might even have missed Jiang Yanli’s widowing, and the consequences of that were unthinkable.

If Wei Wuxian hadn’t brought the Wen sect back with him to the Lotus Pier as a result of Jiang Cheng’s defiance of the cultivation world’s criticism, Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli would never had the chance to hit it off the way they had, becoming fast friends. If they hadn’t been friends, Wen Qing wouldn’t have been visiting Jinlin Tower to check up on her good friend when the news of Jin Zixuan’s death had first spread.

His murder, rather – Wei Wuxian wasn’t terribly clear on the details, but it wasn’t really necessary. Jin Guangshan had pressed his legitimate son’s filial piety to the breaking point in his pursuit of power, and finally he must have done something to go too far, to cause there to be a real break between them. Jin Zixuan must have made clear that he would not play along, no matter what, and by that point Jin Guangshan already knew there was Jin Guangyao waiting in the sidelines to step up and take his place. There was no other way it could have gone, simply because there was no other reason for both Jin Zixuan and his mother to so conveniently die on the very same day.

If it hadn’t been for Nie Huaisang convincing Jiang Cheng, Wen Qing wouldn’t have been there. Wen Qing wouldn’t have been available to be bold and decisive, the way she was with her medicine; she wouldn’t have been able to persuade Jiang Yanli of the possibility of danger and then to smuggler out of Jinlin Tower and take her on the run in disguise, long before it occurred to anyone else that there might be some threat to her – that the Jin sect might decide to hold her hostage, or worse.

Definitely worse. If Jin Guangyao had had the chance to figure out what only Wen Qing had known back then – that Jiang Yanli, barely more than a newlywed, already carried the next heir to Lanling Jin within her belly…

Jin Guangyao’s ambitions would never have let Jin Zixuan live, a fact they’d all only realized in horrible helpless hindsight, but if Wen Qing had been trapped in Yiling with Wei Wuxian at the time, instead of visiting Lanling, then Jiang Yanli…

Wei Wuxian didn’t even want to think of it.

So, really, it was only fair that Nie Huaisang, who had whether intentionally or incidentally saved so many of them these past few years, finally, finally get what he’d been dreaming of all these years: his brother’s return.

It was only fair that he be allowed to return to being happy.

And yet, at the same time –

“You need to go talk to him,” Jiang Cheng said. His arms would be crossed in front of his chest if he wasn’t currently holding a sleeping Jin Ling, who’d had something of a fright upon meeting the new and improved Nie Huaisang. The poor kid had been convinced that his habitually bitter and vicious Second Uncle Nie was possessed by some sort of fierce but bizarrely friendly ghost. “There’s a war on, for fuck’s sake. He can’t spend all his time haunting the Unclean Realm trying to pretend that he’s something he’s not in order to keep his brother from finding out that he’s changed!”

“It’s not as bad as all that,” Wei Wuxian objected. “I mean, Nie Huaisang’s always run most of the war through correspondence, anyway, and it’s not like we’re totally helpless without him to boss us around.”

“His absence hasn’t been noted by our enemies just yet,” Wen Ning murmured. His arms were similarly full with Wen Yuan – a little older than his friends, steadier and more mature, but a sympathetic crier, and spending a month of his childhood in the Burial Mounds made him more susceptible to fears of possession, not less, so he’d been set off by Jin Ling. And seeing them both in tears had, of course, made poor level-headed Jin Rusong, who didn’t cry easily at all, panic and try to help in a way that only made it worse; Xiao Xingchen had swept him away to the kitchen, and the two of them were currently making snacks for the other two when they woke up. “But it will be, soon. They are already puzzled by the change in tactics.”

Wen Ning’s voice was as soft as ever, his stutter subdued only by the fact that he was with company he liked, but his tone brooked no argument – he’d changed a lot since their youth, too, and knew more intimately than most how some things could not be undone.

The Jin sect, not content with merely killing him, had dubbed his resurrected self ‘the Ghost General’ in an attempt to incite the cultivation world into hating and fearing him. It had been a lie back then, when he’d been doing nothing more than planting radish seeds and babysitting, but now Wen Ning was a general in truth, the leader of their archers and one of Nie Huaisang’s right hands. He was still shy, still didn’t speak fluently and probably never would, but Nie Huaisang had assigned him several capable deputies who understood him even when he had to resort to the type of hand-signs used by the deaf or in covert situations. He was surprisingly popular with the cultivators on their side of the war, although Wei Wuxian acknowledged that perhaps his popularity shouldn’t be that much of a surprise: there was a certain morale-boosting effect in seeing your general continuing to fight even after being struck with enough arrows to create a porcupine.

“Being puzzled by a change in tactics is fairly run of the mill for any enemy facing Nie Huaisang,” Wei Wuxian pointed out.

“Which is why they haven’t noticed it yet, Wei-gongzi. But eventually…”

Wei Wuxian grimaced. “Is it really that dire?”

“Not yet,” Lan Wangji said ominously, and – fine. If even Lan Wangji thought that someone should talk to Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian would go and talk to him.

After all, they were old friends of long acquaintance.

Very long, even.

“I come bearing terms of peace,” Wei Wuxian announced, walking into Nie Huaisang’s study and waving a few jars of wine at him. “Come negotiate with me, Nie-xiong!”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to barge into my room,” Nie Huaisang said without looking up from his correspondence, a little flash of the vicious Pallbearer they’d all grown painfully accustomed to – he had his family’s temper but a cooler head, with rage that burned low and long rather than flaring up hot and burning out.

Wei Wuxian reflected once more on how apt Nie Huaisang’s personal title was. The foolish thought that it referred to the filial piety he showed in mourning the brother that raised him since childhood, the somewhat wiser to the way the attack on Nie Mingjue had forced Nie Huaisang to find the virtue he had previously lacked, but the really smart ones knew that the most accurate interpretation was that those that Nie Huaisang chose to accompany to their end would ultimately find themselves without any path forward but death.

Nie Huaisang’s cultivation was still nothing special, his ability to fight virtually non-existent beyond the most basic of saber forms – a saber he now carried with him often enough, but still almost never used – and he’d rejected Wei Wuxian’s very innovative idea (if he did say so himself) that he try to train with a war fan, both on the basis of it being both too much effort and furthermore thoroughly lacking in aesthetic. As a result, he had no particularly notable talents, and none that could allow him to triumph in a night-hunt or a duel.

It didn’t make him any less terrifying.

“You’ll forgive me,” Wei Wuxian said flippantly, and sat down next to him, looking at the words that filled the page with Nie Huaisang’s lovely, artistic calligraphy. “More spy stuff?”

Nie Huaisang’s lips curled up into a small smirk. “Naturally. The network never sleeps, as you well know. I assume you’ve been sent to scold me about the war?”

“Amazing,” Wei Wuxian said, and nudged him in the side with his elbow. “It’s almost like you have a brain in your head or something. Since you’ve guessed it, I don’t even know what more I need to say…how’s Chifeng-zun doing?”

That got Nie Huaisang’s face to soften, as he’d hoped it would. “Much better. He’s been sleeping and waking consistently, and the mobility exercises are working well, though of course he’s insisting on trying more than he can manage. He only just managed to walk across the room without stumbling yesterday, had to sit down right away after, and he’s already asking about saber training.”

That was very in character for Nie Mingjue.

“I’m glad,” Wei Wuxian said, meaning it with all his heart. “I missed da-ge.”

He owed him so much, after all.

So much more than most people knew.

It had been Nie Mingjue who had found him all those years ago, in the dark days when his parents had died in a night-hunt gone wrong and the money they’d left with the innkeeper turning out to be insufficient to keep him housed or fed for more than a fortnight. Wei Wuxian had been a spoiled, beloved child – even if his parents were rogue cultivators, his father originally a servant, they were famous; there wasn’t a town that didn’t welcome them with open arms. They had never lacked for money, for warmth and comfort.

Wei Wuxian might have had a chance if they’d died in the spring or summer. He might have been able to learn to sleep on the streets during warm nights and used those rich fat months to learn from all the other beggars how to eat refuse, but his parents had died in the winter. Even the beggars chased him away, unwilling to spare the smallest scrap of food or lose any bit of warmth by sharing the spots they had found to shelter from the cold; and when he went to the richer districts that had once greeted his parents with such enthusiasm, wild dogs were sent to chase him away, vicious and merciless…within a week, he had been very nearly dead.

Luckily, when hiring rogue cultivators turned out to be insufficient to deal with the problem, the miserly local landlord that had sent out the notice in the first place had finally given in and written to a Great Sect, begging for aid – as a rich man, he was obligated to contribute to the costs of a requested night-hunt, and the Great Sects, while generally more successful, were typically far more mercenary in that regard than rogue cultivators – and Nie Mingjue had come with his Nie sect, the most willing by far to do the work of defeating evil without charging too much for the privilege.

He’d found the bodies of Wei Wuxian’s parents.

Soon after, he’d found Wei Wuxian himself.

Wei Wuxian had been about seven, then. It had been a full two years before Jiang Fengmian had found him on the very same streets, hiding in the trash with a dirty face and a sad and miserable expression, ready to be picked up and taken home by his father’s old friend, the Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang.

Just as anyone might’ve predicted.

After all, Nie Mingjue had never stinted on sending out spies, even if he never used them.

(He’d released Wei Wuxian of all those old obligations long ago – but Nie Huaisang never had.)

“Da-ge passes along his thanks, by the way,” Nie Huaisang said. “He thinks the array you created to help preserve his life is brilliant.”

“It is brilliant,” Wei Wuxian said, shameless as always. Getting a truly vicious scolding from his little master Nie Huaisang about exactly how close to the line his arrogance had brought him and the Wen sect had humbled him a bit, and the disaster of the Stygian Tiger Seal nearly going out of his control at the Nightless City not long thereafter had humbled him still more, but in the end he was still Wei Wuxian. He was awesome. “Could anyone else have done what I did?”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes.

“He’s not angry at me for misusing Baxia?” Wei Wuxian asked, fishing for confirmation. If there was one thing that his two years in the Nie sect had taught him, it was a near-pathological revulsion at the thought of touching another person’s spiritual weapon – he’d been very nearly more excited to be allowed to put his hand on an unsheathed Bichen than Lan Wangji’s dick, although not quite – and Nie Mingjue was quite justifiably more paranoid than most on the subject.

Even that treacherous dog Jin Guangyao hadn’t dared touch Baxia. The spiritual poison he’d used on Nie Mingjue had been limited to the man himself, and that had been what gave Wei Wuxian the idea for the array he’d invented. Nie Mingjue cultivated with Baxia as his primary, if not only, spiritual weapon, and the disciples of the Nie sect were closer to their sabers than most – and by the end of the Sunshot Campaign, Baxia was a fearsome entity in her own right, possessed of her own spiritual energy.

And as he’d always said, energy was meant to be used.

There was something about the Nie sect’s cultivation style that reminded Wei Wuxian of his innovations in demonic cultivation, although it wasn’t quite the same. They didn’t manipulate resentful energy directly the way he did, but they still made use of it, refining their blades with it until the sabers were very nearly guai, cultivating saber spirits filled with a lust for blood – although the strict disciplines of the Nie sect cultivation path meant that every saber spirit that Wei Wuxian had ever had the fortune (or misfortune) to personally encounter just as absolutist in their disdain for evil as their masters.

Even Nie Huaisang’s saber Aituan was like that, and maybe that should have been Wei Wuxian’s first hint that Nie Huaisang wasn’t as simple as he appeared on the surface.

“It’s fine,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “Really. Da-ge said it was – how’d he put it – a charming contradiction, that his saber get used to cultivating energy for him rather than him for the saber. Though maybe he was just relieved that she was intact, given everything.”

Wei Wuxian grinned and toasted Nie Huaisang, drinking a little of the wine while Nie Huaisang continued with his correspondence.

They sat in comfortable silence for a little while.

“I’m not pretending,” Nie Huaisang said abruptly, and Wei Wuxian, who’d drifted off into daydreams involving him, Lan Wangji, and a very sturdy bathtub, turned to look at him. “I know what Jiang Cheng thinks –”

“Of course you do. I tell you what Jiang Cheng thinks.”

“Shut up, you – you calamity. I don’t need you to tell me what Jiang Cheng thinks, he tells me himself more often than not. He thinks that I’m pretending to be useless because I don’t want da-ge to know about everything I’ve done, but that’s not the case at all. He knows. I wouldn’t keep it from him.”

“I know,” Wei Wuxian said, because he did. Even at his most lazy and self-indulgent, Nie Huaisang abhorred the thought of lying to his brother. “But you are spending too much of your time in the Unclean Realm. We need you back in the field.”

Nie Huaisang scowled. “The cream of the cultivation world,” he said disdainfully. “Can’t they do anything by themselves, just for a few short months? You’d think my brother fought the entirety of the Sunshot Campaign by himself with how little they seem to contribute.”

“Personally, I think that everyone has just taken the Nie sect as lucky cats, and are afraid to do without you,” Wei Wuxian said, batting his eyelashes at him in his most provoking show of earnestness. “Nie-xiong, if I rub your head, does that mean I’ll win my next battle…?”

“Don’t you dare,” Nie Huaisang said, but the scowl receded and he looked amused again. “I can’t wait to send da-ge out on the battlefield again.”

“The Jin sect will trample each other in their eagerness to get off the battlefield rather than face Chifeng-zun,” Wei Wuxian agreed, and couldn’t help his own smile at the thought. “The rumors that he’s returned have already started spreading like wildfire, but you’ve done well to hide him away so thoroughly. It means no one knows if the rumors are right or if you’re just pulling some kind of trick on the world.”

“Who, me? A trick?” Nie Huaisang said, and smiled thinly. “I only wish I could’ve seen the look on that treacherous dog’s face when his spies reported on my unusual behavior. I hope he’s afraid.”

Wei Wuxian agreed.

He had tried many times to imagine doing what Jin Guangyao had done. To turn your hand against the man to whom you had sworn to love as a brother –

He couldn’t even imagine hurting Jiang Cheng like that, and Jiang Yanli even less.

Wei Wuxian owed Nie Mingjue his life. He had sworn fealty to him with all the passion and singlemindedness of childhood, and had never once regretted it. Nie Mingjue had taken him off the streets and brought him back to his sect, he’d taken back his parents’ bodies and buried them with full (if private) honors, he’d given Wei Wuxian training to make him strong and smart and capable. He’d sent him to do work in a place where he would prosper and thrive and be happy, and all the while promised that he would never be trapped – that he would have a way out if the Jiang sect became too suffocating or he was treated too viciously, on one hand, and on the other told him that he could one day petition to be released from his obligations to the Nie sect if he ever found them too demanding.

Wei Wuxian had asked to be released from those obligations after the fall of the Lotus Pier, unable to stomach the idea of reporting on Jiang Cheng now that he was all alone in the world in the way that he had so effortlessly reported on Jiang Fengmian and Madame Yu. Nie Mingjue had granted the reprieve without a second’s hesitation, even though it meant wasting the years and years of investment they’d put into him, even though it would have been a critical moment to have an ear within the Jiang sect’s camp.

Wei Wuxian owed Nie Mingjue everything.

And yet – if the man had asked him to kill Jiang Cheng, he would have said no.

Twin heroes, he’d promised Jiang Cheng, and if for a while he’d thought he would have to give up that promise because of the secret of the golden core that he still kept hidden away, he refused to think it any longer. Jiang Cheng was his brother in all but blood, in all the ways that mattered. Wei Wuxian would stand aside from him if he thought he had to, as he had with the Wen sect remnants; he would keep secrets from him, he would even deceive him, but he would never willingly seek to hurt him.

Jin Guangyao, though? He had attacked Nie Mingjue without even being asked.

He was like some rabid beast, a white-eyed wolf, Wei Wuxian thought. Utterly beyond his understanding.

He deserved to be afraid.

“Speaking of which,” he said, suddenly remembering. “I think I’ve figured out why Jin Guangyao was willing to kill his own heir to further his and his father’s ambitions.”

“About time,” Nie Huaisang said, and while his tone was stern Wei Wuxian was mostly sure that he was teasing. “I put you on that job months ago. What do you think I keep you around for? Your brilliant inventions? Your armies of corpses? Your amazing ability to stun irritating sect leaders into silence with your overwhelming shamelessness regarding Lan Wangji –”

“Let’s not talk about that,” Wei Wuxian said hastily, although the giant grin he couldn’t keep off his face said everything about his shame – or lack thereof – relating to that last one. You get caught doing one little roleplay about the fearsome demonic cultivator Yiling Patriarch being arrested by the righteous cultivator Hanguang-jun and suddenly no one wanted to look you in the eye anymore… “Anyway, according to all the rumors, you keep me around because you want me to raise your brother the way I raised Wen Ning.”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard that one, and I still can’t believe anyone believes it. Da-ge’s a sect leader! Even if you wanted to bring him back, think about the amount of resentment he would have had to feel at his death to rise up again despite all the soul-calming rituals he’s gone through! If he ever became that resentful, he wouldn’t rise up as a ghost general, he’d be a ghost king, and then we’d all be screwed.”

Nie Huaisang wasn’t wrong. Nie Mingjue was one of the most powerful cultivators living – if he rose as a fierce corpse, he’d be able to slaughter an entire village of common people overnight with just the energy in one hand. And if he were then allowed access to Baxia, her power added to his…he’d become a scourge on the world, a true calamity, and they’d need to find a way to appease his anger and somehow lock him away forever just to survive.

Assuming Nie Huaisang allowed something like that, anyway. Wei Wuxian was very happy they had never been forced to face the question of whether Nie Huaisang preferred his brother or his morality, as he suspected no one would like the answer to that. Not even Nie Huaisang.

“Enough speculation,” Nie Huaisang said, and Wei Wuxian twitched guiltily even though he knew Nie Huaisang was not, in fact, a mind-reader. “What’s the story with A-Song?”

“You want the long version with all the proof I found to support it or the conclusion?”

“Start with the conclusion.”

“Jin Guangyao couldn’t risk A-Song growing up into a half-wit on account of being a child of incest.”

That actually surprised Nie Huaisang, Wei Wuxian was pleased to see.

“Incest?” Nie Huaisang said wonderingly. “But how – oh, of course. Jin Guangshan and Madame Qin? An affair or rape?”

“Rape while he was drunk, supposedly, though of course we only have the relevant people’s words for that, and they’re not exactly impartial sources. Could’ve been an affair that had unexpected results, not that anyone would ever admit it.”

Nie Huaisang started laughing.

Wei Wuxian really wished he wouldn’t. It wasn’t the sort of happy giggle that he sometimes let out nowadays when he was thinking of Nie Mingjue’s recovery – it was the jagged vicious bitterness of the Pallbearer, through and through.

“Oh, Qin Su, Qin Su,” Nie Huaisang said, wiping tears from his eyes. “I gave you all the chances in the world, you stupid woman. I hope you’re happy with what you chose.”

“Can I ask?” Wei Wuxian said cautiously. “You never said – you just showed up with A-Song, no Qin Su and no explanation…”

“Says the person who adopted A-Yuan all but sight unseen?”

“I lived with him for a month, it’s different,” Wei Wuxian said. “What happened with Qin Su?”

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “Nothing dramatic. She wouldn’t believe me when I told her that her husband was planning on killing her son to frame his enemies, which is reasonable enough given that everyone knows I’m at odds with him. Even when I offered her proof, she said it was just a forgery – that he wasn’t like that, that she knew him, the real him, that she was the only one who really understood him, even though I’d say the whole cultivation world knows the ‘real’ him by now.”

“Irritating, but understandable, I think – he is her husband, the dashing hero that rescued her so valiantly in the Sunshot Campaign and which she defied custom and her parents to marry. So why all the disdain?”

Nie Huaisang’s lips pressed together tightly with disapproval. “I asked her if she was willing to risk losing A-Song just to show her husband that she trusted him, and she said that she was, because it wasn’t a risk at all. Because she knew he loved her too much to do such a terrible thing without a good reason.”

“Without a good reason?” Wei Wuxian demanded. “That’s her son!”

“Don’t you know that they can always have others?” Nie Huaisang said with a sneer, clearly paraphrasing words he’d heard. “They’re young, in love – it’s all my fault that he stopped touching her, apparently. I took Lan Xichen away from him and he’s so upset about it that he can’t come to her bed, but once the world is rid of me, it’ll all go back to the way it should be…”

“I’ll give her that much: she really loves him,” Wei Wuxian said, shaking his head. The delusions of a person in love, he supposed. He hoped that he and Lan Wangji weren’t quite that bad. “She’ll be in for a disappointment. Given what I found out…he’ll never return to her bed or give her children, not in this lifetime.”

“No, he won’t.” Nie Huaisang reached for his fan. “Thank you for this. I’ll think about how to use it.”

“And?” Wei Wuxian prodded.

“And I’ll come back to the battlefield,” Nie Huaisang conceded, looking discontented, and Wei Wuxian smiled smugly. “You can supervise the Unclean Realm in my place.”

“What? No!” Wei Wuxian protested, his smile disappearing at once. “You have Xiao Xingchen –”

“He’s newly blinded, and out of all the cultivators we have available, you’re the most effective at fighting on a stand-alone basis. Think of it as having some time to bond with your mother’s shidi.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t want time to bond with his martial uncle – or, well, he did, he’d been dying for an opportunity to talk with Xiao Xingchen more or less since the man first made his name known in the cultivation world, but Nie Huaisang’s rules were such that no one outside the most trusted inner circles of the Nie sect was allowed in the familial quarters of the Unclean Realm, or even in the Unclean Realm at all. And that meant…

“But – Lan Wangji –”

“Will not die if he’s forced to be abstinent for a little while,” Nie Huaisang said, and oh, it was on.

“Did Qin Su specify the method by which you took Lan Xichen from her husband?” Wei Wuxian asked, crossing his arms. “I was under the impression that you still referred to him as Zewu-jun –”

Nie Huaisang glared.

Too bad – if the Pallbearer didn’t want to get mocked over his crush on the First Jade of Lan, he shouldn’t have let Wei Wuxian find out about the fact that the torch he held for him was still burning hot as ever.

“Perhaps my information is out of date. Tell me, little master, what means of seduction did you employ to convince Zewu-jun to betray his poor sad little A-Yao? Did you work your wicked wiles on him?”

“Wei Wuxian –”

“Did you play his xiao?”

Nie Huaisang let out an ungentlemanly snort and had to cover his face. “Oh no,” he said. “Oh no. Why did you have to give me that mental image? Fuck you, Wei Wuxian.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you too. Abstinent my ass.”

“I think you’ll find that the problem with abstinence is that it’s not your ass,” Nie Huaisang said, shoulders shaking. “That’s kind of the point. Now go tell everyone that I’ll be rejoining them tomorrow.”

“I will relish their groans of despair,” Wei Wuxian said, standing up. He was clearly going to have to take as much advantage that he could of the little time he had with Lan Wangji before being cruelly locked away. “Oh, is there any news on Song Lan?”

“None,” Nie Huaisang said. “He may as well have ascended into the heavens. Don’t tell Xiao Xingchen, he’ll only worry.”

“I won’t, I won’t. As for you – could you try to lighten up on Zewu-jun? Now that da-ge’s awake again?”

Nie Huaisang frowned.

“I’m not saying forgive him,” Wei Wuxian clarified. “Just – you know that da-ge wouldn’t want you to be so mad at him, especially since you still like him and all.”

“I’ll let da-ge decide that, I think,” Nie Huaisang said, and the humor had fled his face entirely. “It was his assassin that Zewu-jun decided to trust and protect, after all.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, accepting the verdict – he disagreed, but he understood – and turning to leave.

He paused at the door.

“Just so you know,” he said, not looking at Nie Huaisang. “Having trusted Meng Yao doesn’t mean you have to be so mad at yourself, either.”

He left before Nie Huaisnag could respond, but he heard something shatter in the room behind him.

[handsomelyhiddleston]

Dark Queen, Bright King - Tom Hiddleston x Emo/Alt Reader

You and Tom were different. At your core you shared many interests and values as well as your playful natures and senses of humor, but if someone were to see you walking down the street together, they might have a few questions.

“What are you going to wear on the show?” you asked your now husband. You and Tom had been married for nearly a month after dating for about two years and he had finally convinced you to let him introduce you to the world.

“I don’t know, actually.” Tom sat down on the couch next to you and pulled you into his side. “I can’t decide between wearing the most colorfully obnoxious outfit I could get away with or pulling a Ragnarok and wearing head to toe black.”

You laughed, dragging your finger up and down Tom’s thigh. “I can’t lie, the black-on-black suit does make me feel a way…”

“Of course, you pick the black suit.” Tom teased, pulling you into a heated kiss as your fingers trailed dangerously close to his manhood.

You turned to straddle Tom’s lap, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. His hands couldn’t stay still, moving from your legs to your ass to your waist. “I didn’t pick the black suit.” You said, leaning forward to press kisses across his jaw and down his neck. “I think you should wear one of your stunning bright suits.”

“But you said…” Tom tried to reply, already having a hard time staying on topic.

“I said it makes me feel a way.” You pushed Tom’s shirt down his arms and ran your hands slowly up his torso.  “What you’re forgetting…” you pulled your shirt over your head to reveal a black lace bra, “is that you’re always making me fall further and more in love with you just by being you.”

Tom pulled you tighter to him, pressing sloppy kisses to your breasts. “God, I love you.”

The two of you could never keep your hands off of each other. This was the second time TODAY you’d made love. Slowly. Lazily. Just happy to be in each other’s embrace.

As you laid against his chest, still on the couch, and let your breathing slow back to normal you looked up at your husband. “I fell in love with you exactly as you are.” You traced invisible patterns softly into Tom’s chest with your fingertip. “I love how bold and bright and charismatic you are. I love that you like classical music and how excited you get when people ask you questions about Shakespeare and that you’re always the most polite person in the room. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

You could feel a laugh rumble in Tom’s chest. He pulled your hand to his lips and gently kissed it. “I’m ever grateful for that.” Tom twirled a piece of your hair between his fingers as he spoke. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you, either. I can’t wait to tell the world how much I love you.”

“How are you going to break the news that the actor behind everyone’s favorite trickster has finally settled down?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” Tom smirked.

The two of you had met on a Broadway show set. You were in charge of make-up and costume design, and you’d hit it off with Tom straight away.

At first, he found you intriguing. Your style spectrum went from absolute tomboy to fitted dresses, but the color black was the common denominator. You had various tattoos sprawled across your skin and there really was no way to know what color hair you’d show up with the following day. He loved how sure of yourself you were and how little you worried over what those around you may or may not be thinking.

Little did he know, you thought the same of him. First, he was the most attractive person in the room whether he was wearing a ten-thousand-dollar suit or a pair of black joggers and a t-shirt. He always commanded the room with his bright disposition and you’d never once seen him have a diva moment. He was intelligent…not only with information, but emotionally.

One day after a show, while you were gently removing his stage make-up, he kept smiling up at you.

“What’s got you so happy?” you asked.

“Well, we’ve got a week break. First real break we’ve had since the show started.” His answer made sense, but you noticed his cheeks were blushing.

“You get a whole week without having to deal with me smearing things all over your face” you teased, throwing the make-up remover wipes away.

Tom cleared his throat. “I was actually hoping we could make plans?” He reached out and grabbed one of your hands in both of his.

It took you a second to realize he was being serious. “Is Mr. polite and proper asking me on a date?”

Tom laughed, ducking his head. “That depends on whether or not Ms. dark and spooky is willing to give Mr. polite and proper a chance.”

The two of you ended up spending the entire week together. You talked about film scores and music. Horror movie classics and period pieces. Your favorite projects that you’ve worked on. Friends and family. Even though the two of you looked so different, you fit perfectly into each other’s lives. That brought you to this moment, with your husband about to tell the world about your existence.

The Graham Norton show is filmed on a Thursday and aired on a Friday. You were surprised that no one had leaked the news between filming and airing.

“Welcome to the show TOM HIDDLESTON!” The audience, as usual, went wild. Graham always loved teasing Tom and making him blush, so when Tom reached out to let Graham know he wanted to announce something important and that he wanted to do it on the show, Graham booked it immediately.

“Welcome back, Tom.”

“Thanks for having me” Tom answered, greeting everyone else on the couch with him including Eddie Redmayne and Kenneth Branagh.

They talked for a minute about Tom’s latest projects and such.

“So, Tom. I hear you’ve had a lot of big things happen this year?” Graham was genuinely curious what Tom was going to announce.

“That I have.” Tom replied, looking to be thinking about them. “I mean, one…I bought a house outside of London.”

“Wonderful, wonderful. What else?” Graham continued.

“Oh, I also experienced my first mosh pit” he said so casually.

“You did what, dear?” Kenneth interjected.

“Why wasn’t I invited to this?” Eddie asked, laughing at everyone’s reaction. Eddie obviously already knew what Tom was going to announce as him and Tom had been friends since they were teenagers. Eddie was at the wedding, even.

“Hold up! Hold up.” Graham said, waving his arms. “How on God’s green earth did you end up in a mosh pit?”

“Well, thankfully I didn’t end up IN it. For my first go, I just stood very very close to it.” Tom explained, making the room laugh.

Kenneth turned to Tom. “Why were you anywhere near it?”

“Well, my wife had been asking me to go to one of…” Tom started explaining.

Graham did a dramatic double take before reaching out and grabbing Tom’s arm, interrupting his story. “Did you say your wife?”

“Yes, my wife y/n. She loves this band Bring Me The Horizon, and her friend couldn’t make it to the show so she asked me if I would go with her.” Tom had the biggest smile on his face, finally being able to talk about you.

“Screw the mosh pit and the house near London, I want to hear about your wife!” Graham pushed.

“Well, I guess the biggest thing that happened this year was that I married the love of my life.” Tom blushed, looking back at the screen. He had given the production team a few photos to show.

On screen first was a photo from your wedding. You were in a beautiful, gothy, black, long-sleeve, plunge neckline, lace dress and Tom was in an amazing dark red suit with a black shirt.

“You two look incredible.” Graham complimented, watching the photo change.

“Thank you, she’s a million times cooler than I am.” Tom laughed. “But for some reason she agreed to spend the rest of her life with me.”

The second photo was a candid photo from the greenroom where you met. You were concentrating on getting Tom’s stage make-up perfect and he was just staring at you, adoration clear on his face.

“As you can see, I was smitten.” Tom pointed out.

“Is that how you met?” Graham asked. Tom told the story and explained how long the two of you had been dating, then engaged, and then married.

“I’m surprised you were able to keep it private for so long” Graham commented.

As the final photo came up, Tom started explaining. “This is a photo of Y/n at one of my family gatherings.” It was a photo of you on the living room floor with his nieces and nephews. You were laying on your stomach and painting all of the kid’s nails. “We had only been together for a little over a month I believe. We had just concluded the show where we met, and I asked her to come to London with me. She was so nervous.”

“Well, it looks like she had no reason to worry.” Graham said.

“Not at all. The kids never left her side.” Tom replied, smiling as he looked at the photo. “Everyone loved her. Everyone that meets her loves her, to be honest.”

“Well, when she’s ready you’ll have to bring her on the show.” Graham suggested.

“I think having you two in a room together would be dangerous.” Tom laughed.

“Whatever could you mean?” Graham tried to act innocent, and Tom just raised his eyebrows and gave him a *you know what you did* look. “Fine, no fanfiction involved. Honest to God.”

Everyone laughed and the show moved onto Kenneth after Tom received many congratulations.

[spencerreidsmiles]

Skater Boy Spencer Reid

Written by: spencerreidsmiles

Howdy, howdy! I am very slowly going through my remaining requests. This request was for prompts 38, 41, and 47 on the fluff prompt list here. You’ll see them bolded throughout the story!

Also, a short side note that I have no idea how to skateboard at all! This is solely based off my intensive research (/s) on how to skateboard, so if this isn’t accurate, I’m sorry!

Summary - The reader teaches Spencer how to skateboard.

Content Warnings - blood, minor injury, light teasing

Word Count - 1737

MASTERLIST // WATTPAD VERSION

“Skateboarding? Of all things you could’ve chosen, skateboarding?”

“Oh come on, Spencer, you never know, you might be good at it,” you replied, yanking at his shirt sleeve. 

Spencer glanced at you with a slightly withering glare. It was a look you were very familiar with; if there was one thing you enjoyed more than anything else in the world, it was teasing Spencer. It was just so easy to tease him, so why wouldn’t you?

But amidst all the teasing about the skateboarding, there was a part of you that knew Spencer Reid would make an excellent skater boy. 

You leaned closer to Spencer, looking up with the biggest puppy eyes you could muster and a big pout. 

“Remember when I saved your ass? You owe me, Spencer,” you said, emphasizing each word with a poke to his chest. “You said you would do whatever I wanted.”

Spencer glanced away with a pout. “Fine, whatever you like.” 

“Hm, I knew you would say that.” You grinned with satisfaction and squeezed his cheeks. “I’ll see you at the skate park tomorrow! Don’t forget your knee pads!” 

Spencer did not, in fact, forget his knee pads. (Not that forgetting things was something Spencer usually did.) And even though you had told him to bring his knee pads, you couldn’t help but laugh when you saw him walk - no, waddle - up in matching purple knee pads, elbow pads, and a helmet. He looked long and gangly and awkward in his gear with his usual converse and for once, a tee shirt and shorts. You hadn’t ever seen him in any of these clothes before but you had to admit, you definitely weren’t disliking it. 

“You look really good. Color coordinated too,” you said with a big smile as you knocked the side of his helmet with your knuckles. 

“You like it?” Spencer beamed. He did a little spin, the clasps of his helmet twirling around. 

“It’s perfect for you. Honest.” You kicked up your spare board, catching the top. “But let’s get down to business. I’m going to make you a skater boy by the end of the day, Spencer Reid. That is a promise.”

You handed the board over to Spencer. It was old and scraped up from years of use and many, many wipeouts. When you’d first bought it years ago, it was red and shiny, but now the red had faded away, leaving only a wooden board with strips of red remaining. The wheels were still functional, if a bit wonky, but perfect for learning on. 

For someone who claimed to have absolutely zero athletic ability, Spencer was quite good at skateboarding. Well, to be fair, he hadn’t actually started skateboarding for real yet. You started him off by placing a single foot onto the board with the other still fully intact with the ground, but it was a start. He got a feel for what it felt like to bend his knees and push his weight around to move the board. But now he had to put both feet on the board and actually skateboard.

“Y/N, look! I’m doing it!” Spencer said as he hopped around on one leg while scooting with his other on the board. 

You couldn’t help but smile. The childlike glee Spencer was exuding could make anyone smile. He carted himself around the perimeter of the skate park as you trailed behind him, keeping a careful eye on him. 

“Alright, Spencer. Well here comes the hard part. Give me your hands, you’re going to put both feet on the board now.” 

Instantly, Spencer’s smile was replaced with a worried expression. He put his foot down on the ground and paused in front of you. 

“What?” he asked. You brushed aside some of Spencer’s hair that had escaped his helmet, accidentally brushing his cheek as well. Shivers tickled your spine and unfamiliar goosebumps covered your body. 

“Hey, I got you. Trust me, okay?” you said.

“Okay.” Spencer nodded and placed his hands in yours. 

“Now push off with your right foot, then put it back on the board, and I’ll pull you, got it?” you directed. 

With a silent gulp, Spencer did as you said. He bent his knees and pushed off with his right foot before placing it back on his board. You started walking backwards and pulled Spencer forward. Slowly, you started walking back faster and faster until you had started to jog. 

“Spencer, you’re doing it! You’re doing it!” you exclaimed. 

Without saying another word, you let go of Spencer’s hands. And for a minute, he was actually doing it, actually skating around with both feet firmly planted onto the board and arms spread out like wings. You were so busy admiring him you didn’t even notice that he had begun to lose balance and wobble.

“Y/N! How do I stop!” he shouted, reaching his hands out for you.

“Oh shoot! Hold on!” 

You started running back towards him, but you were too late. Spencer had already leaned too far ahead. He started making circles with his hands, flapping around in an attempt to keep his balance. Just as you grabbed his hands, the board kicked out from under him and both of you fell flat onto the asphalt. 

You had your eyes closed while you were falling, so when you opened them to find Spencer’s face only a couple inches above yours and his body on top of yours, you nearly screamed. You had never been this close to Spencer in your entire life. Surely if he was this close, he could hear your heart beating out of your chest, no? You were breathless but you weren’t quite sure if it was because you were being squished by Spencer or because of how close you were to him. 

Spencer, however, was completely frozen. His hands were placed right beside your head and he was staring, just staring, straight at you. His caramel curls hovered right above your face, blowing gently from the wind. 

“Hi,” you said breathlessly. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered. 

“I’ll be honest, you are crushing me right now.” 

“Oh, sorry!” Spencer rolled off of you, landing on his butt, cross-legged on the ground. You wriggled yourself up and watched as Spencer dusted himself off. 

When you finally made eye contact, you couldn’t help but start laughing. You were just replaying the image of Spencer slipping over and over again. It was incredible. 

“That was the most ridiculous fall I’ve ever seen, Spencer, my god.” 

You leaned back, holding your stomach as you laughed. Just before you fell over completely again, Spencer caught your hand. From that single touch, electricity shot from your fingertips into the rest of your body. The sensation nearly scared you for how good it felt, how alive it made you feel. Touching Spencer felt like you were skating without even getting on a board. You never wanted to let go. 

But Spencer did. He pulled back, forehead scrunching as he winced. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. But then you saw it, his poor hands all torn up from the fall. They were rubbed raw with speckles of red dotting his palms. “Oh my gosh, Spencer, your hands!” 

“I’m fine,” he said. He looked at his own palms, flexing it, moving it around.

“No, come here, at least let me clean it,” you said as you stood up. “Come on, I have a first aid kit in my bag.”

You led Spencer to a bench with all of your things. As you cleaned his palms, wiping them with antiseptic wipes and bandaging them, you could feel Spencer’s eyes watching you. 

After years of working for the FBI, going on case after case for years, Spencer’s hands were rough and calloused. There were scars, too many for you or him to remember where and when they came from now, blending in with the creases of his hands. But still, they were comforting, familiar.

“One more try, okay? I believe in you. No more wipeouts.” You finished bandaging his hands with a gentle pat. Spencer pretended to pout, giving you a half-meaning glare. 

“Oh come on, you’re okay. Do you need a kiss to make it better?” you teased. 

“What?” Spencer’s face flushed. 

“I’m kidding.” You pushed his shoulder lightly all whilst thinking that for the first time (or at least the first time you had truly acknowledged it) you weren’t really joking at all. “Now come on, one more try.”

Spencer was more hesitant this time, but he reached for your hands again. He placed one foot on the board, already beginning to wobble. Come on, Spencer, you can do it, you thought to yourself. He glanced at you as he took a deep breath. 

And he did. Spencer soared around the whole park. He was like a natural as he swerved around with outstretched arms. The sound of the wheels sliding against the pavement surrounded you as Spencer removed his back foot from the board and stopped without flying off the board right in front of you. 

“You did it, Spencer!” You ran up to Spencer and enveloped him in a massive hug. 

Spencer returned your hug, throwing his arms around you tightly. His knee pads knocked against your legs as he pulled you closer to him. He smelt of coffee and baby powder under the sweat and dirt and twinge of blood that lingered in the air. As you stayed there wrapped up in his arms, you wondered if it was possible to stay here forever in the comfort you never knew was so close. 

The two of you finally decided to leave when the sun started to beat down on your backs. While Spencer was prepared for almost everything, apparently the two things he hadn’t thought about were guard gloves and sunscreen. Spencer grabbed the board, resting it comfortably under his arm. 

As you went to get your bag, Spencer tapped your shoulder and spoke. “So uh, can we do this again next week?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I would love that, Spencer. And who knows, you might be better than me soon.”

Spencer looked down with a growing smile on his face. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” you said, fearlessly grabbing Spencer’s hand.

You walked away with satisfaction, thinking to yourself only one thing; you were right, Spencer Reid did make an excellent skater boy.

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