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redrobin-detective · 4 years

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because I could not stop for death

because I could not stop for death / he kindly stopped for me / the carriage held but just ourselves / and immortality ~ Emily Dickinson

Danny Fenton was dying, properly this time.

Somehow, in the back of his head and in his worst nightmares, he knew it would end this way: bleeding on the floor of his parents’ lab where it had all began. He was so hot he felt like his skin was on fire, blood and ectoplasm were dripping all over him and his lungs and heart were working overtime to try in vain to keep him alive a moment longer. He’d imagined at the time that there would be more screaming but death, in the end, was turning out to be a quiet little affair. A lonely table set for one.

“Danny, Danny come on, you-you gotta slow down your breathing, just relax, for me, please,” Sam moaned, more than making up for his lack of noise. She was shaking and touching him all over, his chest, his face, his hair. Normally she jumped right into action but she had to know, deep down, that there was nothing she could do. All that was left was to watch her panic and cry, it wasn’t his favorite image.

“Vlad!” He heard Tucker scream cry into the phone, “please it’s Tucker, Danny’s dying I think. The Fentons had some new invention, something about his core, please we don’t know what to do!”

Ugh Vlad, he was probably going to be so happy Danny was on his way out. He wasn’t looking much forward to his last images being his archenemy gloating. Tucker hung up and reached down to grasp Danny’s hand so hard it hurt. “Don’t worry dude, Vlad’s coming. He knows so much about you half ghosts that you’ll be fixed up on no time.” Right, Danny was already dead. If calling Vlad, feeling like he did something, helped Tucker move on then he’d deal with it.

Danny tilted his head to the side where Sam’s fingernails were carding through his hair. It was getting harder to see with the blood pouring out of his eyes but he looked at her, and tried to memorize her face. He’d never been able to tell her how much he loved her, that any day spent with her was a blessing. Tucker too, his best bro and a part of his soul. His best friends in the whole wide world, through thick and thin. God, he was going to miss them.

“Glurk,” he said, trying to convey those feeling but the fluids in his mouth and airway made it impossible. “Blerh.”

“Shh shh shh,” Sam soothed, “it’s okay, don’t try to talk.”

“Daniel!” He heard Vlad’s voice shriek as he materialized in front of the portal. Sam and Tucker were violently pushed out the way. Danny wanted to be angry at his loved ones being taken away in his final moments but anger was for the living, he barely had the energy to breathe. This death was too long and too short all at once. He made eye contact with Vlad who all at once lost the frantic edge to his tone and and instead knelt on the floor. “Oh my dear boy. What did they do to you?”

“What is going on?” Sam demanded, shoving her way back in. Danny was glad, he could see again like this. “Why aren’t you doing something!”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Vlad said in a flat, monotone, he picked up one of Danny’s hands and patted it gently. “His core is dying, it’s like a ghost’s heart. It contains their very essence, it is from which everything they are comes from. If Jack and Maddie somehow disrupted it then there’s nothing anyone can do to save him.”

“But he’s human too,” Tucker defended, grabbing Danny’s other hand. His human warm skin burned but the contact felt so good, he twitched his fingers closer to his friend’s. “He-he doesn’t need a core, he’s already got a heart. So, so he doesn’t have powers, we can do normal again.”

“You-” Vlad hissed before taking a calming breath. “The accident that made Daniel like this irreparably altered him. His core was as much a part of keeping him alive as his other organs, without it, his body is shutting down.” Vlad turned down to look Danny in the eye and saw true, genuine grief in those hateful red eyes.

“I cannot imagine the agony you are going through, I’m so sorry. I’d say it will be over soon but,” a hitch that sounded almost like a sob if it was coming from anyone other than Vlad. “But you’ve hovered on the edge of death for years, son, and you’ve always been such a fighter. You have minutes at most but those minutes are an eternity when you’re suffering.”

Sam and Tucker’s sobbing blended together in the background, Vlad was saying something with a miserable, stunned expression. The swirling of the portal in the background seemed louder than anything, louder than his heart beat pounding and pounding as it ran it’s last race.

“Daniel, Danny,” he focused his eyes back on Vlad who had a stubborn, unhappy set to his brow. “Do you want me to make the pain stop? An ectoblast to your chest will end your life instantly.”

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Sam shrieked, coming back into view and looking like she was trying to fight Vlad off. “You do anything to him and I’ll kill you!” Tucker just sat and stared at him, like he too was trying memorize Danny’s face.

“It’s a mercy, Samantha or do you want his last moments on earth to be drowning on the blood in his lungs.”

“Sam, he has a point. I don’t- I don’t think we can fix this.”

“No! No we always fix things, I’ll do it myself if I have to!”

Danny’s vision was starting to go, more black than anything else. He closed his eyes and readied himself for the inevitable.

“Time Out,” Danny opened his eyes and found he was no longer in pain. He was standing up and apart from where he’d previously been lying. Sam had her hands in Vlad’s face and the older hybrid was snarling something at her. Tucker was midmotion trying to stand up, presumably to get Sam but the three of them were frozen in the moment. Danny turned and found Clockwork floating, looking very out of place in his parents lab. “Good evening, Danny.”

“You that short on cash that you work part time as a grim reaper?” Danny quipped out of habit. He looked down at his body and grimaced a bit, that wasn’t a pretty sight. No doubt traumatizing for Tucker and Sam. God how were they going to explain this to his parents? “Gonna ferry me across the River Styx? I don’t have two pennies but I think I have a bloodied $10 on me.”

“You’re core is dying and you have 17 seconds left in this world before all your organs give out and finish the process you began when you turned on your parent’s ghost portal,” Clockwork explained as he changed into child form.

“O-okay,” Danny said shakily, trying to be brave even when he was so, so scared. He was going out whether he wanted it or not but he refused to leave crying. “Nice of you to come say goodbye then but, uh but unless you have something to say then you should let me go back. No one knows better than me that you can’t outrun death. Thanks but I’m uh I’m ready.”

Clockwork stared at him for a bit, not sure how long, time was weird like this but he changed forms a few times. “You’re quite the remarkable young man, Danny Fenton.”

“Uh thanks,” Danny added, once more looking at his body which had, according to Clockwork, a 17 second expiration date. “What’s going to happen? Am I going to become a ghost? Does heaven or hell exist for someone like me?”

“I don’t get to decide what happens, I merely see options,” Clockwork stated easily, taking his time. “If you die naturally you’ll become ghost, a mere shadow of who you are now and one who would fade fairly quickly. You don’t have strong enough anger or regrets to tie you in the real world for long.” Not great but okay he supposed, hell for his friends and family though. “You could let Plasmius deliver his mercy kill, destroying what’s left of your ghost core and ensuring you do not come back.” Better, probably won’t help the Fruitloop’s instability but he can’t save everyone.

“That one comes with it’s own caveat but I’ll get to that in a moment,” Clockwork explained. “There is a third option where you get up off the floor and walk away.” Danny blinked then looked back at his body which certainly wasn’t walking anywhere but into a plush casket. Clockwork opened his hands and the Ghost King’s Crown materialized in his hands. “If you accept your claim to the King’s Cown, it will revitalize your core and your life would be saved.”

Danny blinked.

“By sealing Pariah Dark, you won by proxy and established a legitimate claim to the throne. The Zone has been without a king for millennia, most have forgotten the old rules. Those who remembered were not too keen on a half-ghost child assuming leadership and kept you in the dark. If Plasmius ends your life then your claim transfers over to him, which he is aware of. It had been his plan all along to trick you into defeating Pariah so he could steal the Crown from you at a later date, a much easier opponent.”

Danny’s mind was overloaded with information, he didn’t know what to focus on first. He stared at his 17 seconds from death face and tried to process it all. Crown? Claim? Vlad?

“Of course,” Clockwork tutted, “he didn’t plan on your dying and in such a gruesome fashion. If he kills you and takes your claim, he would spend his remaining years ruling the Ghost Zone in a just, controlled fashion for your memory. He destroys all the stable portals and keeps the ghost and human worlds separate.” Clockwork became and old man and titled his head, “it’s not a bad timeline, all things considered.”

“And if I take it?” Danny asked quietly.

“You’re compassionate, brave and motivated, you have all the makings of a revolutionary king,” Clockwork smiled. “The Zone would experience and unprecedented era of peace, there would be positive interactions between human and ghosts for the first time since life and death split into two. Your name would spoken with reverence for the rest of time.”

“But I don’t want to be king,” Danny frowned.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Clockwork stated. “Which is why I am giving you the choice. If you pass peacefully there will be no one to claim the Crown and life will continue on, ghost attacks and all. If Plasmius kills you, he becomes an effective but unmemorable king. If you take the Crown, you can get the chance to tell Sam and Tucker how much you love them.”

Danny rubbed at his face, he didn’t want to die but he’d be sealing away his entire future with a move like this. He didn’t even know if the Crown would let him go with death, maybe he’d die and be stuck as the Ghost King until his core finally gave out lord in who knows how long. Eternity was an awful long time to carry such a responsibility. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, too afraid of the answer.

“Is there ever a timeline I became an astronaut?” He asked instead. Clockwork hummed, seemingly unsurprised by Danny’s non-sequitur.

“Yes, in one of the few universes where you never walked into the portal. You never go into space what with human politics putting a halt on the programs but you work for NASA. You leave Amity Park at 17 and don’t come back save for your parents’ dual funeral.” He paused and Danny felt read down to his very bones, “from the moment you became half ghost you were always heading for this moment. The circumstances varied but it always came down to you and the Crown. Time is straining to continue, to see how this drama plays out. Will you accept it and all the joy and grief that comes with it?”

Danny looked over at Vlad, still mid-sneer but there was a scared desperation in his face. He and Vlad sniped at each other all the time but Danny didn’t really hate him and he didn’t think Vlad did either. Leaving him alone, plus making him be king was a heavy burden to put on his enemy.

Sam and Tuck probably wouldn’t recover from this, he’d put them through so much already but he just knew that they’d never be the same. Could he do that to them? Take the easy way out and leave them to suffer? Mom and Dad didn’t deserve to come home to a dead son, the truth would come out and they’d never forgive themselves. Jazz certainly wouldn’t, she was 2 states over at University but he could already hear her angry, grief-stricken screams.

Death, death was quiet. It was quiet and merciful and sad, but it was also easy. And Danny Fenton had never once taken the easy route. He reached out and took and the crown before shakily placing it on his head. He gasped, throwing his head back as his core swelled, taking up residence once more right next to his heart. Clockwork smiled, looking like the cat who ate the canary.

“The Crown of Fire, pardon me the Crown changes with each core, the Crown of Ice is now yours as is the Zone. Your reign begins now but so too does the rest of your life. People are waiting for you. Time in.” Danny slammed back into awareness on the floor of his parents’ lab, the floor he’d almost died on twice.

He sat up as cold radiated off his body, causing frost to crawl down his arms and along the floor. Sam, Tucker and Vlad, who’d been frozen up until now, jumped back to life. There was a new, familiar weight on his head that he didn’t dare acknowledge.

He squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent goodbye to a quiet, normal life. It wouldn’t be all bad, he could be happy like this but the Crown still felt like a iron manacle around his neck. But he got used to the ghost powers, he could get used to this too. Maybe one day he won’t look at the stars and say ‘what if?’

“Danny!” Sam shouted, throwing herself into his arms soon followed by Tucker. Their warm weight, their relieved sobs, their shaky breaths in his air, now this was something worth living for. He squeezed them tightly.

“But how dude, you were at death’s door!” Tucker asked, still not letting go.

“You accepted the Crown,” Vlad said evenly, “I wasn’t aware you even knew about your claim. Who told you?”

“You don’t know everything, Vlad,” Danny sighed, sitting himself upright. Ugh his shirt was covered in blood and ectoplasm. He needed to trash these clothes before his parents freaked. And find a way to hide the floating ice crown on his head.

“Even an old man can be surprised every now and again,” Vlad said wearily. He stood up to his full height before startling Danny by dipping down to one knee. “Then allow me to be the first to welcome my new king and wish him well.”

“I thought you wanted this,” Danny questioned.

“I do, I did,” Vlad said, unusually off balance. “To be quite honest, I’m not sure how to feel about it but, right now, I’m just immeasurably happy you’re alive, little badger. Now I best be off, enjoy your kingdom, my liege, I’ll be sure to come bother you some time soon.” Vlad disappeared in a swirl of pink leaving just him, Sam and Tucker still clinging to him.

Danny may have a kingdom, a job he didn’t want and his whole life decided in a spur of the moment choice, but he also had something very important. He squeezed his friends tightly.

“I love you guys, thank you for being my friends even though I have the worst ideas for activities. Dying? On a Sunday night? How lame is that?” Sam laughed, a bit hysterical but it was real and it made Danny feel weightless.

“Don’t do that again, buddy,” Tucker breathed into his shoulder. “So you gonna explain what just happened and why you’re apparently the Ghost King or something?”

“Yeah, yeah I will but let’s get changed first. Mom and Dad will be home soon and I think I’m going to need to have a conversation with them about my new job.”

#danny phantom #i was watching forever phantom and said 'i should kill danny' and then i fucking didn't #im obsessed with ghost king danny as end game #Im not sure this is the route I would want to go but I want him to end up woth tje crown #its bitter sweet bc its a *lifelong (possibly afterlife) commitment that he didnt get a choice in #he will be happy and he will be a good king but it wasnt his choice and he'll always regret it a little #i love clockwork but he's a bit shady and will always work in favor of the timeline #anyway happy fucking sunday bitches #have some homemade angst #also i typed this directly in tumblr and almost hit the power screen on my computer instead of backspace #god was trying to stop me from publishing but i overcame #Only did one quick edit Im too tired to care anymore #lmk if you want it on ao3

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wheelsup · 3 years

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the taming of the shrew | one

he is more a shrew than she

penelope reveals her plan to get you and spencer together. unfortunately, her plan has a few hitches.

A/N: again, big thanks to @homoose for being my helpful beta reader, and to YOU for reading it now.

category: fluff, spencer reid x fem!reader, series

wc: 4.1k

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Penelope came back to your place the following night, bearing a new bottle of wine and a collection of materials she mentioned were integral to executing the plan.

Very quickly into Penelope’s explanation of this Genius Plan –– her words, not yours –– you remembered what it was she did for work. Officially, she was some sort of technical computer-y person for the Federal Bureau. As you knew her, she’s a danger to society and anyone with a traceable digital presence.

She managed to construct a comprehensive list of every place in D.C. and Virginia that her friend liked going to, along with the approximate times in which you were most likely to find him there. Approximate meaning, exactly which days he visits and the roughly time of day, down to a mere one hour margin of error.

You scanned the list over, shocked at its detail. Where he cut his hair, got his coffee, bought his books. His favorite restaurants, the chess clubs he’s a member of, his local hospital.

His local hospital?!

“I’m not going to need to know that, am I?” you paused.

“Probably not, but it comes in handy with this job,” she shrugged with a nonchalance that was rather alarming.

There had to be a dozen more places on the sheet –– ranked, in order of his (assumed) preference for them. Penelope calculated it based on the frequency of his visits, their average duration per session, and how often he’d mentioned about the place.

“What?” she tossed her palms up, taking offense when you asked her if she had evil plans to take over the tristate area. “Hang out with him long enough, you tell me if you pick up a knack for researching or not.”

Researching. Mining private data through questionable methods. It’s a small difference to Penelope.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side, Penelope,” you muttered under your breath, flipping the sheet back and forth. “You could ruin my whole life with ten minutes on a computer.”

“I wanted to be thorough,” she defended, shrugging. “And I’d only need five.”

You laughed through your nose, giving the paper one last scan. “You left out one important thing, though.”

“No, I put his home address on there,” her brows wrinkled together as she pointed it out on the sheet with one hot pink polished finger.

“His name,” you berated. “Jesus, you think I’m going to show up at his home?!”

“Again! I’m thorough,” she cried at your accusatory tone. “His name’s Spencer. You’ll like him when you meet him.”

You didn’t doubt that Penelope’s friend was a likeable guy, but you weren’t exactly dying to go out of your way to meet him. You told her that you’d get around to it when you had a chance and left it at that.

And two weeks later, you found yourself in need of a caffeine fix that your tea kettle wasn’t strong enough to satisfy. You started on a new piece late the previous night, and midnight rolled into four in the morning, which pushed you into the arms of seven o’clock. Reinforcements were needed.

Throwing on a large sweater to cover up your messy clothes and grabbing the closest pair of shoes you could find, you originally planned on heading to your usual spot just around your street corner. Just as you were leaving, the list, still sitting untouched in the exact spot that Penelope left it in, caught your eye.

It’d been a while since you told Penelope you’d help her out. Enough time had passed that you now felt like there was an invisible deadline over your head.

Maybe it won’t hurt to try something new?

Besides, meeting someone at a coffee shop seemed like an easy, foolproof way to go about this. From all the movies and romance novels, you knew that cafes are the pinnacle of meet-cute situations. Or, in your case, a meet-forced.

Regardless, it should’ve been simple enough, and it would’ve gotten the favor off your shoulder.

You scanned the sheet for the cafe Spencer would be at on a Thursday at 8 a.m., and got there with barely five minutes to spare before he was expected to show.

It was just your luck that he had to pick a cafe practically as far from your home as he could get, and the transfer train had to have a delay that made you walk the last three-quarters of a mile there. Call it crazy, but you didn’t expect to actually have to put in work for this. You expected it better be worth the hassle.

You took a seat in the back of the cafe to catch your breath as you waited for him to show up. Sitting in the booth, with your head down so you coudn’t be seen, the plan started to feel stupid all over again. You were running around the city, spying on this stranger, and for what?

The silver bell hung over the door frame interrupted before your thoughts could travel down that path of questioning. It rang each time a new patron enters, and within the next twenty minutes it rang only eight or nine times. None of them appeared to be Spencer.

You were prepared to call this one a failure and leave, when you realized your colossal mistake. You only had his name, and no idea what he looks like. So unless he happened to wear a name tag around you could’ve already missed him. You realized then that there were more than a few flaws in this plan.

Keeping an eye on the door, you dialed Penelope’s contact as a swarm of new patrons flooded in.

“How am I supposed to know what he looks like?” you whispered into the phone, failing to cover it with a hand cupped over the speaker. Penelope was confused for only a second by the apparent lack of context.

“Oh! He’s tall, has mousy brown hair but he cut it recently. It’s like… missing on the sides, but it’s all there in the front!” she explained.

What the hell does she mean missing?

“Pen, brunette? That’s like all the guys in here…” You took a look around the full cafe; various men typing on computers, taking calls. All of them looked the same, from their brown hair to their khakis and puffer coats. “You’re going to have to give me a little more than brown hair.”

Penelope struggled to explain and with each new feature she gave you, your mental picture of him got more clouded. “He’s skinny! Dresses like a vintage teddy bear!”

“Does he have kind of like… a hot English teacher vibe?” you quirked your head, spying a man approaching from the sidewalk and drinking him in with your eyes. Tall, brunette, clad in corduroy head to toe with a plaid sweater vest underneath. Vintage Teddy Bear F/W 1978 collection.

“Yes! He teaches sometimes! And you think he’s hot?”

Your mouth gaped even though she couldn’t see you. “No, I - I didn’t say that. I said he had the vibes of a hot teacher.”

“And how different is that from saying he’s––”

“Pen, I gotta go. Your guy’s walking in.” You put the phone away before she could pick apart what you said.

The bell on the front door rang as he came in and you stared intently at his face. If this was like the movies, he’d turn his head right then, at the perfect time, and make eye contact. He’d fall madly in love from the first look, and your work would be done. You sat at the edge of your seat, burning holes into his skull, waiting for that moment.

But alas, he never looked up from the linoleum flooring as he walked up to the counter. With a groan, you slid out of your booth and quickly hopped into the line before anyone else could claim the spot behind him.

New plan: eavesdrop, order the same coffee as him, and pretend to go for the cup at the same time. Laugh about the coincidence, how if you share the same coffee order you must certainly have a lot in common, and have him fall in love with you.

But you overheard him rattle off his order and were absolutely horrified. Black coffee, extra sugar. Like, extra, extra sugar.

You were going to need a second change of plans.

You eyed him up and down, searching for something you could approach him about. He was donning black converse under a fitted pair of dark brown corduroy trousers, with a blazer to match, and a deep green plaid vest underneath. On paper, this outfit shouldn’t work. In practice, it… really did.

A little too well, given how good he looks in it. More fashionable than a federal agent ought to be as required by dress codes, right?

“Can I help you?” you heard, and it poked the bubble of your thoughts. Your head shot up to meet his for the first time, eyes wide as heat crawled up your face.

“Uh. No ––” Shit. You didn’t even realize how long you were staring at his legs. Long, long legs. And shit, why did you say no? That was your opening to talk to him.

The man –– Spencer –– nodded his head slowly, uncomfortably, and turned away with a forced grin. He grabbed the coffee cup placed on the counter and you thought now was the time to say something. But by the time you thought of it, he’d already picked up his cup and made his way to the door.

The stupid silver bell mocked you as he left.

The first attempt left you slightly jilted, but a few days later you found yourself in need of a few grocery items. You just happened to be in his neighborhood that day, and though it was very much out of the way of your own, you didn’t plan on it being a problem. He’d never see where you lived anyways, and he’d never need to know how unlikely this chance encounter really was.

You had Penelope text you the address of his regular grocery store, and upon arrival, felt immediate concern. It was not a grocery store. It was a convenience mart slash liquor store at the corner of the street, below a building of worn apartments.

As you walked through the aisles, the only things you found were a large assortment of wines that took up half the small store space, an aisle of candy packets and chips, a section for household supplies, and one measly aisle for canned and boxed foods.

Cereal, instant noodles, soup cans, pancake mix… nothing very fresh.

Spencer seemed like a pretty scrawny guy. You now believed it might’ve been from the fact that his food choices were so off-putting that he simply didn’t eat. It wasn’t your place to be concerned, but you decided that if you ever ended up taking him out, a farmer’s market might be good for him.

You loitered around for perhaps longer than necessary. The inquisitive shop attendant asked if you need help –– as in, why are you still here, get out of my store –– and you told her you were just really conflicted on which detergent brand you needed. Finally, the man you were after arrived at the scene.

“Hi, Dolores,” he greete with a small wave. The attendant, Dolores, greets back with a positivity that she sorely lacked when talking to you. Dolores has favorites, apparently.

An unexpected panic settled in your stomach and you quickly turned back to your selection of fabric softeners. You weren’t hiding, you just didn’t want him to catch you staring again. You picked up your two props, pretending to read the labels on the back and compare the chemical formulas on each of them, when you saw him out of the corner of your eyes.

He went into the aisle in front of yours, and over the short shelves you saw the back of his head sweeping over the modest food section. He turned around to inspect the other side of the aisle, and you ducked your head even lower. It was in vain. He spotted you anyway.

You fixed your eyes even harder onto the bottles, afraid to look anywhere else. He shuffled out of his aisle and turned the corner into yours. You started sweating a little.

“Uhm. Excuse me,” he said.

“Yeah?” You looked up from your bottles, putting on your best caught-off-guard face. Like you were a girl in a movie, reading a book on the beach (not detergent labels in a liquor store) and your romantic interest just noticed how beautiful you looked doing it, deciding he had to introduce himself.

“Can you… can you move…” he asked, gesturing to the section of cleaners that you’re blocking.

Never mind.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” You burned up, moving out of his way. He reached for what he needed and you peeked down to inspect the contents of his basket. Organic whole wheat bread, cream of mushroom soup, and somehow, he’d managed to find the only two apples this place must carry. At least there was light at the end of the dark, dark tunnel.

He tossed a bottle of Snuggle fabric softener and you raised your brows. Given that he was “grocery shopping’’ in a three-piece suit –– a good one, too, black trousers, vest and blazer with an eggplant purple shirt and lavender tie –– you would’ve expected him to simply send his clothes out for dry cleaning.

“Snuggle, huh?” you said. He gave you a confused look. “Oh, uh. I was looking at these. Couldn’t pick between the two.” You raised your two bottles of softener; Snuggle and Tide.

You needed him to know you weren’t just saying Snuggle to insinuate that you would like to do that to him. You remembered Penelope telling you he had a degree in chemistry or some sort of science field, and asked, “Is… is that one like, more organic? I was trying to read the formulas but I don’t… I don’t recognize the chemicals,” you trailed off. You could see yourself losing his interest the more you spoke. He barely looked at you as he grabbed whatever else he needed.

“I don’t know… I just like it,” he bristled. You looked down at the bottle and flipped it over to the front. It had a drawing of a teddy bear on it. How fitting.

You go to comment on it but yet again he’d made an escape, already at the checkout counter and unloading his basket by the time you looked up again. You rolled your eyes, wondering if it’s even worth it to follow him into line and see if he sparks up a conversation this time.

You could tell that he wouldn’t. So you gave him the space to buy his items and leave.

You didn’t really need the detergent, but Dolores gave you a pointed look before you could even think about putting it back on the shelf. You ended up buying the detergent, a loaf of bread, and two packets of sweets out of guilt.

As you took the train home, digging into your packet of sour peach rings, you began to doubt if you can carry out Penelope’s request.

After two failed attempts, you were prepared to tell Penelope that this just wasn’t going to work out. You didn’t expect it to be this difficult to talk to Spencer nor did you see yourself getting closer to him anytime soon. It would be best if she just found someone else to do it.

You caught her in the hallway, leaving her apartment just as you came home from the store. It seemed like as good of a time as any to let her know how unsuccessful your escapades were going. With your tail between your legs, you approached her with the intention of breaking the plan off.

But the second she saw you, it was like she could read through you. She clocked what you were about to say and before you could, she gave you a warm hug. It was the first one you’d ever received from her, actually. And she thanked you for trying.

It didn’t make you feel guilty, per se, but it definitely made you feel weird about telling her the news. So you bit back on telling her what you were really going to say. She didn’t need to know the details of your failure, or the fact that you were seconds away from giving up on her friend.

Maybe you didn’t need to give up right away.

After all, you did only talk to the guy twice. Don’t they always say the third time’s the charm?

You left the conversation at just that –– letting her know that you’re happy to do this for her, even if you aren’t really –– and slinked back into your apartment. The list, buried under the magazines and paint tubes and half-full cups of cold coffee on your table, called for you.

If by any stroke of luck you happened to share one interest with this guy, you promised yourself to give it one more try.

According to the list, that overlapping interest was the wonderful world of Gatsby Books –– a small, locally owned bookstore residing in the heart of D.C. ’s arts district. That neighborhood was smack in the middle of your’s and Spencer’s, and it was where the gallery you showcase at was.

You’d been meaning to get down there for a while now, anyways. It really was the cutest bookstore in the world; inside it lived a white, bushy-furred cat named Gatsby, and he was always there. After all, it was his bookstore.

It wasn’t such a burden to make your visit fit Spencer’s schedule, really. And it would make Penelope happy if you did. So on Saturday afternoon, you took a lovely walk through the sunny arts district of D.C., a smile on your face and a tote in hand for all the books you were planning on hauling back.

The smell of paper and coffee greeted your nose at the door, and you practically fell into a trance, letting it lead you through the aisles of the store without much thought of where you wandered. Not that it mattered, you could’ve roamed the shelves aimlessly all day long.

In the mystery and thrillers section, you found Gatsby. He jumped down from his perch on a step stool and weaved between your legs, greeting one of his long-time regulars. He was such a good shop owner.

“Hi, Mr. Gatsby.” You smiled and bent down to give him a little head scratch when he started running off in the other direction, taunting you into following him.

He rounded the corner and came to a stop at a pair of boot-clad feet; your eyes moved up to find your favorite employee (after Gatsby, of course) restocking the shelves.

“Miles!” you whispered, but he still jumped out of his skin. He turned around, hand still over his chest, and sighed when he realized it was just you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” you laughed.

“Hey, long time, no see. Back for some more recommendations?” You ‘ooh’ed at his offer.

“I was just gonna say, the ones you gave me last time were so good. I finished them in, like, a week.”

“Really?” He smiled, brows happily up his forehead. You nodded in assent. “Okay, well I’ll give you more this time, see if the list’ll last you a little longer than that.”

You grinned eagerly, following him to the shop counter where he pulled out a stack of bright green post-its and a pen.

“I’ve actually been waiting for you to come in, I already had these in mind for you,” he mumbled, scrawling across the paper quickly. He handed the note over, and it took a moment to decipher the chicken scratches.

“Okay, first you gave me Al-Shayk and Bradbury. Now you’re giving me Chaucer, Dickens, and Doyle,” you recited the note, giving him a teasing look. “Are we just going through the alphabet, Miles?” you joked.

“Honest mistake. But I’d be happy to give you all the other twenty-two letters of the alphabet if needed.”

“I might hold you to that.” You nodded, folding the post-it in your palm to prevent the sticky backing from gunking up. It’d make quite the good bookmark for later. “Thanks for these!”

“No problem, just a part of the job.”

Nonetheless, you thanked him again before disappearing back into the aisles. You found Miles’ books as well as a few of your own and nearly lost yourself in the rows of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, until you made a turn. Standing in the middle of the next aisle was Spencer.

A week ago, he was the whole point of coming to the store. That day, you completely forgot about it, and it stopped you in your tracks to see him there. He was just standing in the middle of the walkway, staring blankly at the shelf in front of him.

“Excuse me,” you grinned, “Could you move?”

You thought it was a cute reference back to the laundry detergent fiasco, a chance for you to turn the tables, but he had no reaction to it whatsoever. His face was straight as he merely pivoted his shoulder out of your way as you reached for the book you needed; The Narrative of John Smith.

His eyes narrowed at you and his nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was called for because you grabbed the last copy they had in stock.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want this?” you asked, waving the book in his face. He was just standing there for so long, you didn’t think he actually wanted anything since he never picked it up.

“No,” he said coldly.

Contrary to Penelope’s review, he didn’t actually seem that warm of a person. But you smiled tightly at him, letting a forced laugh fill the stale air.

“I… I swear I’m not stalking you,” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. Technically it was a bit of a lie, but he didn’t need to know. It’s just something people say when they have the happy coincidence of running into a stranger so often.

“What did you say to me?” he bit. His tone was sharper than you felt like this conversation deserves.

“I mean, I’ve just been seeing you around a lot… it was, like, a joke? Like, ‘ahh watch out, I’m stalking you!’ you know?” With each second he stared you down, you felt your throat dry out, getting more flustered as you felt the need to over explain yourself.

“Maybe you should work on your comedy routine,” he barked, his voice just faintly cracking. He shoulder-checked you as he rushed out of the store in long strides and a brisk pace.

What in the absolute fuck.

You couldn’t stay in the shop for another minute. You dropped your stack of books at the counter with Miles, giving him a rushed apology for leaving them behind as you stormed out of the shop and headed in the opposite direction of where Spencer ran off to.

The air outside was now frosty as the sun disappeared behind the horizon; the wind nipped at your hot cheeks as you charged home. There weren’t enough words to quantify the anger you felt. Your mind ran rampant with how much you now hated this man.

Not only did he bite your head off for no good reason, but he publicly embarrassed you at your favorite place and had gone so far as to bruise your shoulder to make a point. And you know what? If he really wanted you out of his way, you were more than happy to leave him the hell alone for the rest of your life.

You reached into your jacket pocket for your phone and dialed Penelope.

“Hey! How are––” she cheered.

“It’s off.”

“What?”

“It’s off. I’m not dating your fucking friend.”

“What happened? I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding––” she started in a panic. She pleaded that you overlook whatever went wrong and promised that she’d have a talk with Spencer about it. She’d try to encourage him into the direction that you need.

None of that registered in your brain, hot blood filling your ears instead of her words.

“He’s a fucking ass,” you spat. “The more I see of him, the less I like him, and… I’m pretty sure we’d rather kill each other than date at this point. So yeah, I’m done.”

☆

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid slow burn #spencer reid series #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid enemies to lovers #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds series #criminal minds fic #doctor spencer reid #dr reid

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yionji · 3 years

Text

Scream and cream

A/N: Hiii!!!! ^_^ I started this as a lactation kink but I ended up doing this.I almost always take 1 day to write things like this (though y'all notice my fics are usually vague </3)in this one I took almost 2 days, it's longer than usual,free to point my grammar error pls.... see the tags 😩 before reading,I hope you like it,<3

Tags: lewd faces,grimace,out of it,big ass,big tits,lactation kink,boing,blowjob,forced blowjob,blackmail,someone hearing,pressed throat,deepthroat,big cock,large cock,Moans,doggy style,on your back,male dom,curse,Degradation,Break the cutie,cute reader,bukkake,unprotected sex (duh),cervix hiting,tight pussy,painful,cock warming,screams,creampie,squirting,facil,female student,fingering,first time,forced orgasm,forced stimulation,Overstimulation,trusts,passed out,hair pulling,choking,Academy uniform,licking,Pervert,dirty talk,insults,spiting,extremely wet,Breastfeed,mind fuck,cum dump,naked,oral,rough sex,scream,creamy pussy,twiching pussy,poor grammar,strong pervert male,teacher x student,Transfer student,nipple play,sensitive,skirt fetish,Virgin reader,Narrated Hentai,bad narrated(?).

Pairings: Gojo x F!student

Summary: Y/n has a curse that increases her libido, which in turn prevents her from fighting, she keeps it a secret until her friend, Nobara, gets fed up and tells the teachers about the situation and what needs to be done to remove her curse.

"Y/n has a curse and she has to be fucked to remove the curse."

Those were the words that came out of the mouth of your friend, Nobara.

While you closed your eyes in sorrow.

"Her curse is annoying, doesn't let her fight, doesn't let her sleep" she was fed up with you not saying it and complaining all day long.

"How did this happen to her?" asked Gojo.

"You see when we went to that school I think it happened."

"How do you know someone has to have relations with her to cure her curse?"

"The curse told her."

They went, I mean Nobara dragged you with her to where nanami and gojo were so that at least they could help you.

"Is that true y/n?" The two men looked at you .

"Yes" a shy yes came from your lips.

"if that's true why don't you do it when one of your classmates? If it's not that serious, Toudou or megumi could help you" said nanami.

"You're kidding right? Those slugs would be distracted from what they're doing" said nobara.

"Then y/n I will help you, I am your sensei, besides I am in charge of you" gojo said with a smile.

"No, I'll do it" nanami said to gojo standing in front of him.

Gojo clicked his tongue, approached him almost whispering with a smile from ear to ear, "I understood that you had to go take care of some business out of the country".

Nanami sighs, walked away and turned around, approached Nobara's ear.

"In cases like this you should have spoken to me in private."

Then he said to you.

"If he does something to you that you don't like, just call me and I'll come."

"Y-yes."

Gojo went to your room he took the blessing out of his eyes and waited in your room.

"Took you a while y/n."

He made you sit on his lap,gojo was very happy and encouraged.

Y/n nodded somewhat sheepishly, "just do it."

That reaction made him a little sad.

"Look baby, if you are nervous it will be more difficult, first I want to make you feel good, when I am done you will be very happy," he said encouraging you,

You nodded with a smile as his lips moved over the soft curve of your breast, brushing dangerously against your nipple. "Gojo, please...".

He paused and his eyes widened "so the curse makes you breastfeed too?" This is astonishment ,he thought to himself.

"You need me, huh?" he asked, his voice like a teasing purr against your chest as he looked down at you. "Tell me what you need me to do, y/n".

"Please...I want you to drink my milk, Gojo, there's too much pressure," you murmured y/n wrapping an arm around his shoulders to squeeze him close.

Finally, he pursed his lips over the firm bud that craved his attention. you sighed as he ran his tongue over it, while his hands slid down the nape of your neck. His smooth muscles slowly explored your skin. Just as she was about to offer him a reminder of how he had ordered you to try, he gently took the entire nipple into his mouth and pressed the sensitive bud against the roof of mouth with his tongue. You moaned , after a moment, your sweet milk began to flow, his fingers stroking the back of your head as he sucked on your breast. The pleasurable buzz of yours, made his stomach squirm in the best way. When he moved against you, his hard cock brushed your thigh through your pants and you moaned. He squeezed his erection by grabbing your ass under your skirt.

He started breathing harder, squeezing your waist tightly as he rubbed his erection against your wet pussy over your panties. Cojo sucked hard on your nipple, a squeal came from your throat when he bit you, he laughed and apologized while still holding your nipple in his mouth and playing with the other with his free hand.

"Your nipples are very sensitive."

You began to feel a great, and roll your eyes, it felt so good.

sucking on her soft and delicious breasts, small and pink nipples. She is so happy.

Things heated up quickly

Gojo took you by the waist and laid you down on the bed.

"But what a small waist" compared to him you are so small.

He slipped his fingers between take of your panties and opened your pussy lips.

Y/n was already soaking wet and his fingers were covered with juice as he withdrew them and began to caress your clitoris.

a spasm ran through your brain and you closed your legs and came in his fingers.

"What a creamy pussy... you're very delicate,it's your first time,isn't it?"

"A-ah yeah."

Electric spasms of excitement began to run through your body.

"C'mere"

You looked down and saw that the entire crotch area was taut with a huge, rock hard erection. You tugged the material very gently from the belt of his pants. You were anxious to see that beast, though. You started to get even wetter, dripping wet, when his cock popped out of his pants like a huge python. Tonight was going to be the night you would have the tallest man with the biggest cock you had ever seen. He was easily twelve inches long and your hand couldn't even go around his girth. You went down to suck his huge, throbbing cock, and it barely fit in your mouth, you only gave the tip a fraction of a lick.

Gojo grabbed you by the hair and flipped you over, you were on your back, he still had you by the hair.

"G-gojo sensei, wait."

"To tell you the truth I wanted to fuck you since I saw you."

You opened your mouth in a worried way and your eyes were dull, you felt that the worst was going to happen to you.

"W-WAIT"

He put his whole penis in your mouth and with his hands he started to press on your throat.

You were gagging and crying.

Gojo's eyes were upturned and he was moaning hoarsely "your throat is great I can feel my penis your esophagus".

His penis wasn't hitting your uvula, it was all the way down your throat and his balls were against your nose, he kept hitting and pressing down your throat very fast.

You felt like your jaw would dislocate, he's too careful to let that happen,he kept it up but all you could do was cry and kick at the air.

He started to go faster, pushed his hips and pressed his thumbs down your throat with all his strength until he reached his orgasm and emptied all his cum inside your throat, and,he came a lot.

He pulled his cock out of your throat "it seemed like you wanted to keep it inside you" his cock took a time to come out but you see every inch of it come out of your mouth. The cum kept going down your mouth, down your throat, and out your nose, you couldn't take it.

As you felt his cum in your throat you too came with a squirt without him touching you leaving a trail of your juices in your bed.

You swallon all his cum.

"Sensei, don't you think the curse is gone?"

"Calm down fucking slut, it's not over yet."

He grabbed you by the hair again as if you were a toy and changed your position, he choke you with one hand and you could only complain a little bit.

'What am I going to do if I stick it in all at once, she's going to scream and cry, I don't think anyone will hear us'.

Gojo looked at your face,he was on top of you,he see your facw makeup ruined, your mascara ruined, blushing, your lips very red, that worried expression, watery eyes and you still had some semen on your nose, letting out little whimpers, black pupils dilated and dull, trying to remove the hand of "the strongest" from your neck. Gojo just breathed and you looked at him, his gaze was like that of an animal, no, not even that, it was terrifying, until he smiled.

"You know y/n you are a whore" and he spit in your face and slapped you so hard it made you scream and that would leave a big mark.

You got your hand on gojo's arm, hoping he would let go and felt the tip of his hot penis in your wet pussy.

"W-wait it's too big for me,don't do it,I can't take it."

"Ayy are you going to cry? The bottle is too big for baby?" he said with a very calm smile teasing you.

You couldn't do anything,just looking at him.

He started to put his fat cock inside you, you closed your eyes trying to calm down. "You can't tell me you don't like it, you've already wet the whole bed".

You opened your eyes and it was true, you didn't realize it but the whole bed was wet with your fluids.

You didn't realize that gojo took advantage of the situation and shoved his entire veiny cock inside you, hitting your cervix, you could almost feel your bowels moving.

You could almost feel your bowels moving. He let out a loud moan, and you cum on his cock, starting to tremble, your eyes rolled back in your head and you couldn't keep your tongue in place and you began to drool, your fleshy wet walls squeezed all over his cock, throbbing around it, as gojo began to laugh.

His penis filled every pussy space

It was the best orgasm of your life.

"I wanna hear you scream"

You couldn't. He came to change your mind.

Your body felt weird but it was great, like you were floating, you were happy.

You were about to tell him how happy you were to have him but a noise came from your bedroom door.

"Hey y/n is everything ok in there?" it was nanami.

Gojo immediately covered your mouth.

What's he doing here, wasn't he going to stay until tomorrow?'

Gojo was angry, he still didn't know that your brain and body were in that state.

"You're going to tell him that everything is okay, aren't you?" To end that "you" he thrust harder into your cervix causing your pussy to release some juices and you turned your head away, you shook your head yes.

"Y/n if you don't answer I will force my way in, open up."

"I'm fine, very fine,"

"Okay, let me know if anything happens."

"Yeees,thank you~"

Gojo waited for nanami to leave and immediately grabbed you by the neck and put you in four and began to move his dick with great force, it was very long and somewhat wide, your arms could no longer hold that position, you just collapsed on the bed and Gojo grabbed you by the hips to continue pushing his dick into your walls.

"Come on y/n you only cum 2 times, don't tell me it's too big for you."

He began to increase the speed of his thrusts hitting your cervix almost penetrating your uterus.

"Aah "a hoarse moan came out of his mouth with his deep voice he said

"This is the best pussy I've ever tasted in my life"

He reached forward placing both his hands on the sides of your head a moan came out of your throat as you clenched your teeth, as he did this he pressed your cervix.

You mind was dizy, your eyes didn't focus, you mumbled a few words, gojo kept on giving small thrusts.

"What?, such a cute lewd faces are you making"

"Fuck m-me more"

"Uh? My needy girl."

"fuck me harder with your cock, take the curse out of me"

He do a sadistic smile on his face,he pulled his cock out of you to push it back in.

"Your pussy is creamy,!"

He exclaimed before pushing his length deep inside you. You screamed at the sudden pleasure. He wasted no time. His hips slammed against you as he sank deeper and deeper with each thrust. You cried out loudly and he leaned forward between thrusts. He rested his elbows on the mattress. Using his hands to grab your breasts and your hair. Fucking you roughly against the furniture, he was rough and made you bang your head against the back of the bed.

You grunted and groaned, getting crazier and crazier.

You became a moaning mess under him. It didn't take long for your orgasm to take hold of you. "slut" He growled in your ear from behind as he continued to fuck you.

"You are a whore ,how does it feel to be fucked by your teacher you just met".

A little out of your mind, you remembered that you met him less than 3 days ago.

"Oh goood." You moaned helplessly. His grip tightened, pulling and groping you roughly. You cried out in a low growling tone,clawing at your back as you felt his orgasm release. You gasped as you felt him tense up. It took a moment for him to relax.

Too many cum in less than an hour. He practically dropped you, you felt like you were going to pass out.

Gojo didn't like to take his cock out of you.

"Uh. Baby." His voice became sweet and loving. He kissed your neck and cheek lovingly. "You're wonderful."

"I can't take it anymore," you said with a deformed but happy grimace on your face.

"Just once one mo-" he saw your back a black shadow formed and ejected from your body and fell to the floor.

Suddenly you felt light and fainted.

"Oh that was your curse...mh." gojo still didn't take his penis out of your tight wet walls, he liked that feeling. He saw you motionless and thought you were asleep and pulled his penis out of you.

He got dressed and covered you with a blanket and then left.

Pretty sick of his part to let you sleep in a bed soaked in your fluids, sweat and semen, his semen inside you.

You woke up and your head was still spinning and you were out of it, you didn't know what had happened but you felt great.

lmao

#jjk #Jujutsu kaisen #Gojo #Gojo satoru #Gojo scenario #Jjk smut #Jjk x reader #Gojo smut #Gojo x reader #Gojo x y/n #Jujutsu kaisen one shot

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mommy-imagines · 3 years

Text

Pretty Boy - part. 3

Content: Mommy Kink. Sugar Mommy. MILF. Protectiveness. Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Insecure Atsumu. Age-play. Diapers. Breastfeeding.

Words: 3.705

A/n: This chapter is to introduce Atsumu to the idea of letting his walls down with Mommy and fully trusting her. There is no smut, but the next one will, for sure.

Atsumu kept his head lowered, pulled his hood over his head, low enough to cover part of his eyes, he was suddenly glad beyond words for Mommy having made him wear sunglasses; There were reporters and paparazzis surrounding the entrance of the place where they held their practices and even worse than the blinding flashes of the cameras were the yells from all sides. Atsumu felt himself freezing to the spot when they finally identified him and instantly he was surrounded. He felt trapped and he didn’t like it one bit.

He didn’t know what to do but then, as if materializing from thin air, Mommy was by his side, her hand firm on the small of his back and her security team forming a wall between them and the screaming reporters, “Ma’am, over here! How long have the two of you been together?” Atsumu cringed, all that he wanted at that moment was to be back home with Mommy, curled up on the large couch in the conservatory, the big windows letting the sun in, he liked the pretty flowers that were placed all around the room.

“Baby?” He heard Mommy’s voice directly on his ear and turned to look at her, he was wearing sunglasses but she just knew that his eyes were wide and frightened, “You’re going to keep your head down and follow me, okay?” She posed it as a question but it was a statement, really. Atsumu nodded and leaned back on her hand. Mommy looked at one of her security guards and then they were quickly walking across the sea of camera flashes and screaming people.

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing that Mommy said as soon as they were safely inside. Her assistant, Alexa, was somehow also there and Mommy handed her her purse and her coat, reaching for Atsumu’s gym bag and handing it to Alexa as well. She largely ignored the other people present, eyes scanning over Atsumu, looking for any sign of him being hurt. Atsumu drew in a shaky breath, looked down and fuck but his hands were trembling; Mommy reached up to his face and took off his sunglasses, her expression turning stormy the moment she identified the look in his eyes as pure distress and panic, “Okay, baby,” She said, her voice pitched low enough only for them to hear it, “You’re okay, no one’s going to hurt you, no one’s even going to touch you; Do you want to go home? All you have to do is say the word and we’re going,” She assured him, right hand cupping his cheek, her forehead touching his own.

Atsumu swallowed around the lump on his throat and shook his head, “I’m okay,” He offered, even if his voice was rough, “I’m going to be okay.” He corrected himself at her disbelieving look.

She gave him one last assessing look before turning around, eyes sharp and furious, “Is anyone going to tell me just what the hell was that circus out there?” She demanded. The room turned silent, enough that it was possible to hear a pin drop, suddenly no one could meet her eyes. Mommy pressed her lips together. “Alexa?” She prompted and her PA was by her side in seconds, having transferred the previously handed objects to someone from the security team.

“It seems that the tabloids have received pictures from the two of you out around town last Friday, ma’am; We have been getting calls all morning asking for an exclusive interview.” She informed, and Mommy didn’t look all too happy.

“Alright,” She sighed, eyes roaming around the room filled with team’s executives and players alike, she turned back to Atsumu, “I suppose that you need to go to practice, I need to get to the office, if Alexa is right about this, my day is going to be hell; What time is practice over?”

Atsumu cleared his throat, still a bit shaken and very much uncomfortable having all eyes on him like that, when he was so vulnerable, “Four thirty.” He informed her, the unsaid Mommy, stay, please don’t leave me here alone! was heard loud and clear by the two of them, for Mommy’s eyes turned sorrowful suddenly.

“Okay, I’ll send a car, Richard is my second driver, he’ll be waiting for you; Also, Vladmir, Maxim!” She called two security guards that were standing near the door; Atsumu chanced a look at them and, sure enough, they were taller than him, packed with muscles that even dressed in suits were possible to see, Mommy kept looking at them, but her hand was rubbing small circles on his shoulder, Atsumu leaned into the comforting touch, “The two of you will stay here with him, don’t let any of those vultures out there near him, do you understand me?” Her voice was stern and authoritative and if it was any other moment than this one, Atsumu would get aroused just by hearing it. But, alas, he was still very much shaken from the shitstorm outside and very much self conscious being on the spotlight.

“Yes, ma’am; They won’t touch a hair on his head.” One of them answered, voice gruff.

“You better hope so,” Mommy responded and then she turned back to Atsumu, her eyes instantly becoming gentle again and her voice turning low so no one else would hear it, “Baby, Mommy needs to go, but if at any moment you feel uncomfortable and want to leave, or if anyone here says anything to you, you can call me, doesn’t matter the time, and I’ll come and get you, okay?” She assured him, her voice not louder than a whisper, but all that he could muster back was a nod, blinking fast enough so no tears would come, “Okay, I’ll see you later,”

And with that, Mommy was calling Alexa back to her side, her own security team, and was out of the door. Atsumu felt a moment of panic when he realized that not only was he alone and away from Mommy when all that he wanted was to be held, but on top of everything he didn’t have a clue as to where Alexa had dropped his gym bag. He turned to the side to go look for it, but one of his new guards handed it to him, “Here, sir;” He said, voice rough but respectful. It made Atsumu feel weird, being addressed like that and in front of people. This whole day just felt off.

“Thank you,” He said nonetheless, because the day might have taken a turn for the worst and he might be on the verge of a complete meltdown, but he was still Mommy’s good boy and Mommy always said that he had to remember his manners because he was a polite boy. Atsumu swallowed again, shouldered his bag and turned around, walking through the sea of people on the foyer, he didn’t lower his head but man, did he want to. He kept going until he reached the changing rooms.

Once he made sure that it was empty, Atsumu allowed himself to sink back against his locker, eyes falling closed and head banging against the metal. He took in a shuddering breath, brought up a hand to rub against his eyes firmly, determined not to cry in the middle of so many people who, clearly, already had more than enough reason to talk about him. Atsumu wanted to curse, just under his breath, a way to try and unwind, but then again, Mommy didn’t like it when he used bad words, said that that was no language for a good little boy to be throwing around. He was screwed.

“‘Tsumu?” He heard a tentative voice sounding from the changing room’s door and forced his eyes to blink open, he turned his head and was faced with Bokuto, Omi and Hinata, all looking at him with shock just barely concealed by their worry, “Are you alright? That shit was crazy outside, maybe you should sit down, man,” Bokuto said and Atsumu gave him a small smile.

“I’m doing good,” He offered, cleared his throat when his voice sounded much too rough to his own ears and didn’t miss the concerned looks that his friends traded, “But thank you; How are things out there?” He asked, motioning to the rest of the gym.

Omi’s eyes were watching him closely but Atsumu was grateful when he humored him with a small grin, “Executives are going crazy, mostly,” His rushed to add more when Atsumu’s eyes grew big hearing that, “Not in a bad way! No! They’re talking about how to turn the press around and how it is actually good press to the team;”

Atsumu nodded slowly, “In the end, they’re all just very much worried about making sure that your girlfriend doesn’t turn her rage to them, I think that I’ve heard something about doubling security. They're all terrified of her!" Hinata added and Atsumu shifted in place. He did not like to inconvenience people at all and now not only was Mommy having to go out of her way but also people he worked with!

He longed for Mommy and he wished that he could just call her and go home - But he knew that he had to stay for practice. They had important games coming soon, plus he didn’t want to give everyone else even more reason to talk about him behind his back, “I suppose that I should change, then;” Atsumu threw them a small smile, grabbed his uniform and went to do just that.

/*/

They were having a small break, just enough time so everyone could catch their breath and drink some water. He was sitting down on a bench, head between his hands, just resting, when he felt his phone vibrate beside him. He turned to reach it, the ID said Mommy 💖 and showed a picture of Mommy hugging him from behind, his face tucked against her neck and a big smile on her face. Bokuto was sitting directly to his side and Omi and Hinata were standing up in front of them, if any of them saw the phone’s screen, none of them said anything about it and Atsumu was grateful for it, especially because he caught the shocked looks they all suddenly tried to hide.

He grabbed his phone, answered the call and went to a corner of the court so no one would overhear his conversation, but he was acutely aware of his teammates staring curiously after him.

Mommy wanted to know how he was feeling, how was practice going, did anyone say anything to him or did he want to go home? Atsumu reassured her repeatedly that he was fine, as far as possible, and that no, no one had said anything to him, at least not to his face.

(He didn’t mention how he had walked by just in time to see a group of his coworkers going over the pictures from the tabloids from their day out shopping, calling him a sugar baby and saying that at least he made good eye candy.) (He didn’t mention that because he knew that if he did, Mommy would drive down immediately; Still, he knew that he needed to tell Mommy about it at some point, because it made him sad and made his eyes sting with unshed tears and one of Mommy’s rules was to never keep secrets from Mommy, especially when they made him sad.)

They said their goodbyes, Mommy told him to hang on just a little longer and then he could go home and she would meet him there and they could cuddle with Toulouse and he could nurse from Mommy.

Atsumu had to say goodbye quickly after that, because thinking about that made his brain feel fuzzy and he couldn’t afford that.

He joined the others and pretended not to notice when the conversations suddenly came to a halt.

/*/

When practice finally ended, Atsumu was the first one out of the court and into the showers, quickly washing himself clean from the sweat, gritting his teeth because he liked it best when Mommy was the one to wash him clean, always in the bathtub with the water the perfect temperature and smelling nice and with bubbles. He scrubbed his hair harder.

Atsumu was quick to pat himself dry and to pull on his clothes. Skinny jeans and a hoodie; Both were gifts from Mommy from the day that they went shopping, one of the bags with Armani printed on it on the many pictures splayed across the tabloids was the one that had been holding his current attire.

“‘Tsumu, wait a moment!” Bokuto called for him and Atsumu noticed that his teammates were just walking past him to enter the changing room while he was ready to bolt, “We just wanted to ask you man, if you’re happy,” Bokuto was looking at him with wide eyes painfully earnest. Atsumu looked to Hinata and to Omi and both of them had similar expressions. “We’re just asking because all day you have been on edge, it's all.”

“I am, I promise,” Atsumu smiled at them, it was a small smile, but a smile nonetheless, “I’m just still a bit shaken from this morning, was not expecting that crowd at all,” He forced himself to give a short laugh, “But yes, I’m happy, I really am.” He told them, prayed to god that his voice sounded as sincere as he felt.

They stared at him for a few seconds and then he was met with three matching grins, “Good! So if you’re happy, we’re happy too!” Hinata told him happily, coming forward to give him a hug, “Also man, I might be jealous of you, she’s just… wow!” He ended, nodding appreciatively, and Atsumu had to exercise some restraint because that was his Mommy! No one else was allowed to think about his Mommy like that! But Hinata didn’t know that and he was being a good friend, so Atsumu laughed softly and nodded at him.

“Does ‘Samu know?” Omi asked him and Atsumu looked down guiltily.

“I suppose that now he does know, but we were planning on inviting him over for dinner this weekend so we could tell him ourselves; Bit too late for that now, I suppose,” Atsumu confessed, mind working a mile a minute trying to figure it out his brother’s reaction. His phone had blown up earlier with texts from ‘Samu, but he didn’t have the nerve to look them over.

“I’m sure it’ll be just fine.” Bokuto told him and was about to say something else when one of Atsumu’s new bodyguards (he couldn’t wrap his head around that concept) appeared by their side.

His hands were crossed firmly in front of him, his shoulders were squared, and he said something on his earpiece before turning forward and looking at Atsumu, “Sir, the driver is here and your car is ready, there is still a crowd upfront so we have worked with the team’s security crew and will be leaving by the back door. We have orders to work around the media so as to not let them get near you and then to take you straight home. Whenever you’re ready to leave, just let me know.” He informed him, voice professional.

Atsumu turned to his friends to say goodbye, all that he really wanted was for Mommy to cradle him close, maybe rock him a bit, but his friends were watching him with raised eyebrows and big grins, “I suppose that I could definitely get used to living like that,” Bokuto joked before coming forward and friendly slapping his shoulder, “Go on man, I bet that you must be drained from this hell of a day, if you need anything, just text me, alright?”

Atsumu nodded and looked at his friend, “Yeah, thanks man,” He smiled. He bid his friends goodbye and followed Maxim as he guided him through the building and out of the back door, straight inside one of Mommy’s town cars.

As Atsumu sinked into the leather seats, he felt his eyes closing. Not much longer now and then he could curl up in Mommy’s lap with his best friend and forget all about this damned day.

/*/

When he got home, Atsumu went straight to Mommy’s bedroom; Undressing quickly and immediately hiding completely under the soft covers. He felt exhausted and sooner rather than later, his cheeks were flushed pink and were wet with his tears.

He didn’t really know why it was that he was crying, it wasn’t like he had never been the center of attention before, but maybe it was the fact that he felt exposed and raw. So wrapped up in his own spiraling thoughts that he was, that it took Mommy pulling him into her lap for him to notice that he was no longer alone, “Oh, baby;” Mommy cooed, rocking him slowly and smoothing his blonde hair back and away from his face, tsking when he gasped for air, “Baby, it’s okay, you’re okay, Mommy is right here and Mommy isn’t leaving,” She cooed at him for long moments, his large hands balling into tight fists where they were bunching up the fabric of her silk shirt.

Mommy continued to hold him close and to rock him slowly until he was all cried out, only then reaching for the bedside table for a baby wipe that Atsumu was not sure where it came from, cleaning his face from tears and wiping his nose, “Are you feeling better, baby?” She asked him, bright eyes looking down at him in worry.

“A bit,” Was his response, voice hoarse from crying, hand coming up to rub his eyes, “How was your day, Mommy?” He asked, voice small.

Mommy looked at him with a small frown, but indulged him nonetheless, “It was fine, as far as it could be; A lot of calls asking for interviews,” She rolled her eyes before sighing softly, “But we won’t be doing any of those, so there’s no need to worry over that.” She informed him and Atsumu felt a bit calmer with that piece of information, “Have you eaten anything?” She frowned heavily when he shook his head no, “I’ll ask the cook to make you something, nothing too heavy,”

“I’m not hungry, Mommy,” He told her, “Can we just cuddle and eat later?” He asked and she hated with a passion how small and unsure his voice sounded.

“Okay, baby,” She conceded, “But you’re eating dinner later on,” Mommy’s tone didn’t allow any objections and Atsumu just nodded; He studied her face when she bit her lower lip as if thinking, before bringing her hand to caress his warm face, “Baby, Mommy wants to try something a bit different tonight; You might not like it at first, but Mommy really thinks that it’ll help you relax, do you remember how you felt last Friday when you nursed from Mommy for the first time?”

Atsumu frowned a bit and Mommy smoothed it over with gentle fingers, “Felt fuzzy, weird but not a bad weird,” He responded, hands coming up to play with the pearls around her neck, hazel eyes studying it intently and Mommy smiled down at him.

“It’s called a little headspace, darling,” She said, hand continuing its motion on his cheek, “That is when you go into a headspace of an age younger than your biological one,” She told him, shushed him softly and held him a bit tighter when he hid his face on her neck, “There’s no need to feel embarrassed, baby; Mommy wanted you to feel like that, didn’t you feel safe? Like you could just relax and let Mommy take care of you?” She hummed once he nodded hesitantly against her neck, hand coming up to cup the back of his head, “Well, now Mommy wants to try something else that might make it easier for you to slip right back into that headspace. Mommy knows that you had a very stressful day, and I think that my little boy deserves to relax now,”

Atsumu swallowed thickly, arms wrapping around Mommy’s middle as he tried to burrow closer to her. He knew that he should feel weirded out, maybe fight this entire dynamic, but should he really? Mommy had done nothing but care for him all this time, she never let him down and she never allowed him to feel self-conscious. He felt Mommy’s fingers cupping his chin until his eyes were meeting hers, he knew that his cheeks were bright red, “Okay, Mommy,” He said, trusting her with yet another aspect of his life.

Mommy kissed his lips softly, gave him a bright smile, “Okay, baby, lay down on the bed, Mommy will be right back;” She said and Atsumu moved to do as told. His eyes watched her with rapt attention as she disappeared inside the walk-in closet and came back with a large bag. She offered him a kind smile as she showed him the first object and Atsumu felt himself go numb with embarrassment as he identified it as a changing mat. Mommy patted his hip softly and he raised his body just enough for her to place it underneath him, “You know, baby; Mommy thinks that maybe you should have your friend with you,” Her voice was tender as she handed him Toulouse and immediately Atsumu hid his face on the soft orange fur. He closed his eyes tightly and felt himself floating away, barely processing Mommy’s actions as she wiped him down, powdered his privates and taped the diaper around his hips.

It was only when Mommy was moving him again, cradling him close to her chest and guiding his mouth to her nipple that Atsumu allowed himself to assess the feeling of having the puffy garment wrapped around him. He felt oddly comfortable - safe, even. He closed his eyes again, brought his stuffie up so it was smushed between his chest and Mommy’s and allowed himself the solace of being in Mommy’s arms.

He fell asleep soon after and Mommy allowed him to break the rule of never skipping meals.

#mommy.writes #atsumu miya #sub atsumu #imagine #atsumu imagines #mommy kink #md/lb

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fallindomino · 3 years

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how i would have changed s2 of hsmtmts

obvious disclaimer but im not a screenwriter or anyth so im not claiming what i want is best, this is just for fun lololol

okay so first of all nini would still have dropped out of yac but she wouldn’t have gone back to east, she would have transferred to north bc she was too ashamed to tell anyone she left at first and maybe she still wants to explore who she is away from ricky and the others

nini could join north’s batb and this way maybe we could have some playful rivalry with lily and nini and more scenes with antoine shdhdjdj also it could have been a great opportunity to flesh out lily’s character so those scenes where she reaches out to ricky and her confession at the end of the season actually make sense lol

speaking of ricky ,,, i think he should have left the play at some point hear me out. he only joined in the first place because of nini and barely wanted to do it at all once he realized he wasn’t gonna be able to perform with her. he could have joined crew and been a manager with natalie or smth considering he rlly does see the theater gang as a second family. also this would leave so much room for ej and ricky development and bants since ej joined the av club and began to pursue film. they could have some convos where idk ricky asks ej how he figured out what he wanted to do after duke didn’t work out and ricky could actually develop some interests that arent the play or nini ,,, maybe fucking art club i mean he did p good on that centerpiece for carlos’ quinceañera.

with ricky not being the beast anymore i think seb should take his place that would be soooo good. and since seb isn’t chip anymore carlos won’t make those snide comments about chip being a small unimportant role and we can just cut that whole fight bc it was dumb and bad. we could still have seb being insecure that carlos is only dating him bc there aren’t really any other gay guys at school. in a heartbeat is great and i did like ricky being supportive in the background it was kinda funny too idk dhdjdjfj

ooh i almost forgot abt rini ahshdj okay so i still think they should break up. but in my version there’s no ricky pulling an ej 1.0 and deleting comments off of nini’s insta, cause with ricky in art club and nini at north trying to figure out what she wants i think one of them would realize that they’re going in different directions and only got back tgt because they made each other feel safe cause what they had was familiar. this could be triggered by ricky mentioning smth abt nini at yac and then nini breaks down and tells him that she dropped out and is at north and doesn’t know where she’s going. and then they can both realize they aren’t good for each other rn and have a less tragic mutual break up.

honestly i really liked the scene of nini taking charge after miss jenn freaked out cause with the character detail of nini giving every person in the cast of productions she’s in a thank you note she just seems really like someone who is suited to lifting others up. this could still be explored at north, maybe she could help lily through her issues that were briefly implied in ep 11 and nini realizes she wants to be a drama teacher and encourage kids to go off book and put themselves into their acting, something she couldn’t have at yac.

okay now ej ,,, so like i said in ricky’s section, more bants between them cause i feel like friendships kinda fell by the wayside due to all the relationships so more friendship !!!! also the scene where ej tells his dad he’s not going to duke shouldn’t have been an ending scene, it should have been fleshed out with his dad pushing back saying how he pulled all these strings to get him in and ej saying he doesn’t wanna go if his own hard work couldn’t get him there. and also more scenes of ej doing av club things !!! and realizing he rlly likes film and wants to do it OMG IT WOULD BE SO COOL IF HE BROKE THE FOURTH WALL AND ASKED THE DOCUMENTARY CREW ABT THE FILM INDUSTRY god i would love that. the only scene we rlly got of ej doing film things was at the quinceañera which made me kinda sad. uhhh also i just wanted to specifically mention how ej got mr mazzara that job at cal tech bc it really showed how he wanted to be there for people not just for gina, who he had a crush on, but for mr mazzara who supported him outside of romance, so i wanna keep that for sure.

gina !!! okay so i mostly liked her arc in this season, the only changes i would make would be to flesh it out a teeny bit (god this hypothetical s2 would have to be like 22 eps at least shdjdjdjfj) anyways besides ashlyn singing home to get gina to stay i think there should be a scene where they actually talk in her room abt how gina feels safer when shes on the run (second chance reference ilysm) hhhh and also a scene of her and carlos actually working out compromises for their choreo cause i liked that bit of development too and fleshing that out would make gina an even better foil for lily, who felt a need to hog the spotlight like gina used to. with gina’s own arc fleshed out her character would feel more whole independently from romance and portwell would be even more rewarding than it is in the current s2. the only thing i would really change abt portwell is that they would kiss !!! in the finale but thats bc im biased.

ashlyn should have gotten a more fleshed out storyline about being insecure about not being a good enough belle or the typical belle. there were some throwaway lines when north did their typical dramatics but the only two real scenes that showed it were when ash talked to big red about it and when she was telling nini she wanted to do a run in “home” bc lily did it. ashlyn should get more screen time where she has to grapple with the reasons she doesn’t feel good enough and big red can still support her but also gina too bc i would like more roommate besties interaction.

kourtney could still date howie, that harry potter shit was cute but there needs to be smth else for kourtney’s arc. idk she’s still into fashion so maybe she could be out here trying to create her own line or smth? this doesn’t have to be resolved in s2 like making a wholeass line takes time and she could work on it into a potential s3. kourtney just didnt get much outside of howie and the stuff at the beginning of the season where she said nini inspired her to be independent and that's why she got a job was just dropped?? so i think that fashion could fill that for her if she’s still dating howie cause like having her whole arc just be the pizza place kinda overlaps w big red’s mini arc abt how he wasn’t settling for hospitality, its what he wants to do with his life.

ik what ur thinking. anna, even if you added more episodes, where would u find the room to add all these plotlines?? well first we cut (most of) the seblos fight, so thats some time saved. honestly most of the time that we r going to gain is going to be from cutting ms jenn’s time. things like ms jenn’s and nini’s car ride would get cut, but mostly all of ms jenn’s romances would get cut down. considering she’s the teacher and isn’t actually a character with an arc how does she have THREE love interests this season?? like all of the weird tension between her and zack can be cut, like just some short scenes of them being competitive can stay. all of the stuff with ricky’s dad can go bye bye we don’t need it. i did like her w mr mazzara so most of that can stay i just didn’t like how he said he would give up cal tech for her, ew no that would be gone.

the MENKIES !!!! this is the last thing im gonna address cause in a perfect world every character would get a long fleshed out arc but then the season would be waaay too long and also im mostly trying to work within material the show gave so this is mostly made up of “realistic” deviations from what actually happened. lol idk what that even means it just makes sense to me. but anyways!! uhhh bro idk i thought them dropping the menkies was funny but it also made the finale really BAD lmao. in this finale, seb is the beast, east still had to deal w the fact that they’re underfunded compared to north but no one is injured, lily is less of a poorly written character and maybe ppl are even rooting for her, and wow i just realized i never actually said what role i think nini should have in north’s show. OOH she could be student director instead of lily cause lily both being in the play while also directing was weird considering omg i just checked and according to her wiki page shes a FRESHMAN?? and they let her be student director? lol hell nah. okay so with all that in mind ,,, the menkies should have been the season cliffhanger instead of portwell. east and north should both be nominated, both schools perform at the menkies, and then the award winner is about to be announced and THATS when it cuts to natalie and the end of the season.

one, this actually gives more tension for a summer s3 as we would be waiting to see the consequences of whichever school won. also i bet people would be wondering if nini’s gonna be transferring back to east or staying at north. people would also prob wonder if ej would be getting the scholarship if east won and what that would mean for his interest in film.

lmao that got longggg and idk if anyone’s even gonna read this but it was fun to do :D

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myhockeyworld87 · 3 years

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Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 24

Word Count: 3,486

POV: Reader

Warngings: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Sorry this is later than when I thought I’d get it out, but here it is anyhow. These two are finally back on track, but what will happen now that the season starts? As always love your feedback and Happy Reading! Let me know what you guys think.

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

Time flew in the twelve short days that you were away from Sid, though if someone had asked him, he would’ve told them differently. He facetimed you at least four times a day, along with numerous calls back and forth and more text messages than you knew what to do with. If you were being honest with yourself, you had to admit that you missed having him around all the time. You’d grown so used to be spending time together over the summer that even these few short days were rather hard.

Most of your time was spent, packing up things to move into Sidney’s house. It was mostly clothes and personal items, as his place was completely furnished, though it did feel weird leaving behind things. You debated about taking different knick-knacks that you had throughout your place, not knowing where to put them in Sid’s. He told you that it was your place now as well and to bring whatever you wanted, but you were still unsure. There was just this pit in your stomach that the two of you would be spending too much time together and you didn’t want to be moving all your furniture back in a month or so. You tried to tamper down that nagging feeling, as you finished hanging up the last of your clothes into your now shared bedroom closet. You had yet to spent the night at the house alone, even though you’d transferred almost all of your things. It just didn’t seem right without Sid there.

His plane was due in a couple hours, and you were frantically trying to finish up unpacking. He told you that he’d just take a car from the airport so that you wouldn’t have to be bothered picking him up, but there was no way you were going to let that happen. With fifteen minutes to spare, you headed off to the airport to await your boyfriend. The luxuries of flying first class allowed you to meet him at the private entrance instead of having to traipse through an endless number of people waiting at the terminal. By the time he touched down, you were leaning casually against the car just waiting for him.

The right side of his lips picked up into that smile you loved so much as he took his first step off the jet. “What are you doing here?” He was down the steps and halfway to you before you could answer.

“You didn’t think I would let some driver pick up my boyfriend, did you?”

Before he even thought about answering you, his lips found yours; crushing them to his as he kissed you as if you were his very life’s breath. “I should’ve known that you wouldn’t.” Another kissed followed. “God, I missed you.”

You were pretty sure the two of you would’ve gone on kissing for quite some time if it hadn’t been for the flight crew interrupting and asking where Sid wanted his luggage. As soon as it was stowed away in the back of the SUV, the two of you took off heading for home. “Did you get everything moved in?” Sid asked, lacing your fingers together as he drove down the highway.

“Surprisingly, yes. I thought I was going to be late picking you up but got all my clothes put away in record time.”

“Excellent, I can’t wait to see what you’ve done with the place.”

Sid was grinning from ear to ear, and you really didn’t have to heart to tell him that you’d moved nothing in but your clothes, so instead you changed the subject making small talk about the almost two weeks that you hadn’t been in Nova Scotia. There was no avoiding the subject once you were home though. “Where’s all your stuff?”

“In the closet.”

“No like furniture and pictures; that god awful lamp that looks like a thousand mirrors were shattered to make it.” You knew he hated that lamp, probably because he thought you broke the mirror and were headed towards an indefinite number of years of bad luck.

“Still at home.”

“But this is your home.” There was a seriousness to his voice that had been absent these last few days as well as on the ride home.

“Yes, but we agreed that I was keeping my place just in case.” Sid closed his eyes but it didn’t stop you from seeing him roll them.

“Yeah, I know, but babe this is OUR home now.” He emphasized the word our as if it was a new concept to you. “I want you to have your things here as well. I told you we could move out anything to make room.”

“I know you did. It’s just…” you trailed off not knowing exactly how to put things.

“What? Do you think this isn’t going to work? Because I can tell you it will, but if you’re having second thoughts…”

“No, it’s not second thoughts.”

When you didn’t add anything more, you could see his mind going into overdrive. “I get it.” He finally said, as if he knew what was in your head when even you didn’t. “We need a new place, one that’s ours and not something that was mine. I’ll call the realtor and we can start looking, or do you want to build.” Sid’s mind was in warp speed now and you were wondering if this is how he processed things on the ice this fast. “I mean you did just finish that house. There’s some really good land over by the practice rink. We could build there, pick a design we both like….”

“Woah,” you told him, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips, hoping to stop the incessant flow of thoughts that seemed to be spewing out of him. “I don’t want to move. You just bought this house, less than a year ago. It’s gorgeous, Sid, and I love the neighborhood. The house isn’t it at all.”

He kissed your fingers before taking them from his lips and cupping them in his hands. You could feel the clamminess there and knew that he was worried about what you were going to say. “Then what is it?”

“It’s hard to explain, but I just didn’t feel comfortable making those changes without you here. It doesn’t have to be done in just a few days; we have time. I just need to get adjusted to being here and then see what I want to bring. I guess you could call it baby steps.”

Sid exhaled his breath, a movement you could visibly see and feel. He didn’t need to tell you that he was relieved you were staying, for that simple act did it just the same. “Ok, baby steps it is, as long as you’re not going anywhere.”

“Well, I was thinking about taking you upstairs into OUR bed.” You gave him a little wink, then pulled him close to your body.

“Mmmm, well, in that case, lead the way.” The two of you spent the next several hours making up for lost time together. In fact, that was how most of the weekend went until Monday rolled around and training camp started. You and Sid adjusted to life together over the next couple of weeks, and despite all your earlier misgivings, being together as much as you were actually strengthened your relationship. You ended up spending more time than you thought at the arena helping with preparations for the home opener where the Stanley Cup banner would be raised in front of a sellout crowd. Which definitely helped give the two of you some space. It wasn’t until the first away game that things got messy.

Sid still sat with Flower on the plane, per your insistence. You were not going to take that ritual away from them. Which let you sit back and chat with some of the other guys, during the flight. You didn’t really see each other until you went to hand out the room keys. Sid took his with a little wink and then made his way to the elevator. It was about twenty minutes later that your phone beeped.

Where are you?

You shot off a quick, in my room, back.

You no sooner sent it than you saw those three little dots pop up, then disappear. They reappeared once more only to go away again. You finally set the phone down then went back to hanging your clothes up so they wouldn’t wrinkle. You’d just finished when you heard the knock at the door.

“Why do you have your own room?”

There was no point in him standing in the hall, so you opened the door to allow him to come in. “Did we not talk about this?”

“No,” and you supposed he was right and you hadn’t actually.

“Sid, this is a work a thing. I’m doing a job and so are you. When we’re on the clock, it’s strictly business.”

He seemed to think this over and that’s when you started to worry. “Ok, remind me what your job is again.”

You rolled your eyes at him but humored him anyhow by answering. “I’m here to act as a liaison, between the players and their families, as well as try to make things a little easier and more comfortable…” you stopped midsentence realizing your mistake.

“Ah, see you said it. I would be more comfortable if you were to sleep in the same bed with me.” He grabbed your waist pulling you close to him, and though you made an attempt, you still went willing into his arms. “I hate sleeping without you.” A cute little pout formed on his pillowy lips and suddenly you were mush in his arms.

“I hate sleeping alone too, but…”

“No buts. I’m either staying here or you’re coming to my room. Everyone knows we’re together. They won’t think anything of it.” His hands were gathering the material of your shirt, then sliding underneath it to caress your bare skin. You hated how he knew all your weaknesses and was currently using them against you. The gentle caress of his fingertips on your skin sent a tingling sensation all through your body. “So, which will it be baby, your room, or mine?”

“Sid,” you protested, albeit weakly. “We really shouldn’t.”

This time his lips went to the crook of your neck, where he dropped one kiss after another making you weak in the knees. “We should.” Another kiss. “We can.” He lightly nipped at the skin there. “We are.” You didn’t realize he’d backed you up to the bed until you felt your body lowering down onto it.

Sid hovered over you, his hips pressing into your intimately. “Wait,” you stopped him and you could see the frown already forming on his face. “We’re still keeping both rooms, and you’re napping alone.”

He sighed, a bit frustrated you could tell, but he nodded his agreement. “Though sometimes you could nap with me.”

“You’re very persistent.”

“You’re just noticing this now.” All you could do was shake your head and laugh at his comment. Of course, you knew he was stubborn on the ice; so why would this be any different. “I guess we’re staying here then,” he added with a wiggle of his brows before he kissed you long and hard. Sid’s hands were all over you, as he removed your shirt then your bra so that he could lavish attention to your breasts. A breathy sigh left your lips as he captured one nipple, his tongue swirling around it and making it taut before gently nibbling on the peak causing you to moan out.

His fingers stole down to your leggings, sneaking inside the waistband and cupping your sex. “So wet,” he hissed out loving the feel of your slickness on his digits. “I knew you wanted me to stay,” he added giving you that signature smirk of him. The retort you had died on your lips, as he rubbed slow circles around your clit. Around and around, they went, setting your body on fire, until your hips were lifting up into this hand.

“Stop teasing,” you breathed out, practically panting with need, as he continued to play with your pussy.

“Oh baby, I haven’t begun to tease you.” There was a wicked glint in his eyes and you knew you were in trouble. He removed his fingers from your body then, only long enough so that he could strip you from the rest of your clothes. He pulled you to the edge of the mattress, then started to trail kisses along your inner calf, all the way up to your thigh.

“Sid,” you whined, but he just smiled as he neared your core.

Instead of placing those luscious lips on your center, he kissed your stomach while his hands stole up and down your inner thighs. He made his way down until he finally reached your core, kissing all around your pussy lips and driving you wild until your hips bucked up. He backed off then. “Mmm, not yet baby. I’m not done teasing you.”

“Please, Sid.” You were outright begging now, needing him as much as you needed the air around you to breathe.

“See, this is why we need to share a room.” You should’ve known he’d work your body up to a frenzy only to point out that he was right all along. You wanted to argue but then he sucked on your clit and your mind hazed over in a cloud of bliss. His tongue worried the little nub, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body and when he slipped two fingers inside you, you thought you saw stars. “Is this what you want baby?”

Oh, how you did. You were so close to cumming and you knew he knew that. “Yes!” That one simple word echoed off the walls of the hotel room, and it was then you realized that you weren’t back in Pittsburgh in your own home and that quite possibly one of the guys could hear you. Instinctively, you clapped your hand over your mouth, as Sid started to pump his fingers in and out of you. When his lips found your clit again, you lost it; falling off the edge into the sea of pleasure.

Sid worked you through your orgasm, then quickly undid his pants pushing them down to the floor before kicking them aside. Cock in hand, he entered you in one swift motion and you couldn’t contain the moan that had been threatening to escape its confines of your fingers. Sid’s fingers dug into your hips as his cock thrust in and out of you; his groans now joining yours and you were sure that anyone passing by would be able to hear what was going on. “Fuck you feel so good,” he hissed out, thankfully in more of a whispered tone. His teeth were clenched as he fought the urge to cum inside you too quickly, wanting you to find that wave of pleasure once again before fulfilling his own needs.

Sid slowed his thrusts to stave off his orgasm, then brought your right leg up to rest against his chest. The angle of his cock hitting you just right, as he moved in and out of you. He heard the hitch in your voice, as he hit your g-spot and knew that you were close. “Cum for me baby.” The words fueled you as his cock pistoned your pussy. Your legs trembled as the second orgasm hit, your cunt squeezing Sid’s dick and sending him spiraling down with you.

A satisfied grin crossed Sid’s face as he lay down beside you on the bed, still with his shirt on. “Aren’t you glad I’m persistent?”

Your laughter filled the room, and while you were definitely grateful for that little escapade; you also knew he had a game tomorrow. “Get under the covers before I kick you back to your own room.” It was Sid’s turn to laugh, yet he followed your orders, stripping his shirt off before following you into bed.

Every away game from there on after, you ended up sharing room. Often getting teased by some of the guys when the two of you had been particularly loud, though Sid didn’t seem to care. In fact, you swore at times he was trying to make you scream on purpose.

Life with Sid was practically perfect. Neither of you seemed to get on the other's nerve, even with spending so much time with one another, which surprised you. If you were being honest, being together only made you love him more. The two of you were so comfortable in your routine you never saw things coming on January sixteenth.

It was the same as any other home game. You and Sidney rode together to the rink before the game with the Capitals, as you always did. Pulling into the parking lot, you gave Sid a long kiss before both going your separate ways. Sid took the same route to the locker room every time, even though it took twice as long to get there and while you adored him and all his little idiosyncrasies; you tried your hardest not to be a part of them, especially after the one time.

It was early in the season and you came across Sid in the kitchen, making his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “That looks good,” you told him offhandedly and he offered you a bite. You took it not thinking much of it, then went on about your day. When they won that night, again the sandwich never crossed your mind. That was until Sid made sure that the next game you were there to take a bite of the sticky sandwich at the exact same time as you had the previous game. Thus, it continued for the next seven home games until they lost and you finally put your foot down not wanting another peanut butter and jelly sandwich for quite some time. Since, then you stayed clear of your boyfriend during his pregame rituals, as much as you could.

So today, like every other day, you were at the locker room well ahead of Sid. “Hi Dana, need anything?” You always checked in with the long-standing equipment manager before all the excitement got underway.

“I’m good but you have a visitor in your office.” You gave him a questioning look, which had Dana adding, “It’s the Caps GM.” A sympathetic look crossed his face before you moved on, wondering the whole time what the rival team’s general manager could want with you.

The door to your office was open, and you saw Brian MacLellan looking at the pictures hanging on your wall. “Mr. MacLellan, it’s good to see you.”

“Hello, Ms. (Y/LN). It’s nice to see you as well.”

“Please have a seat,” you said taking yours behind the desk, trying to hide the nervous tremble that had entered your voice. Your mind scrambled back to your last game in DC, just five short days ago, wondering what had happened to have the GM in your office at the moment. Once he was comfortably seated you probed for a reason as to why he was there. “Is there something I can help you with Mr. MacLellan?”

Elbows resting on the armchair, he steepled his fingers together in thought, and your stomach lurched wondering what either you or one of the guys did that warranted this conversation. “Actually, there is. I’ve talked to quite a few people about your Ms. (Y/N).” Oh god, the timbre of his voice had an ominous quality to it causing you to sit a little straighter than you already were. MacLellan took note. “All good things, I assure you.”

“Well, that’s good to know.” Now if he would only tell you why he was asking about you.

The air in the room grew thick, as the GM leaned back in his chair relaxing a bit. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve been asking about you.” You nodded, not feeling the need to confirm what you both already knew to be true. “You see Ms. (Y/LN), the hockey community is smaller than one would think and it seems your name keeps popping up.”

This had to be because you were dating Sidney. Even though Mario had made no qualms about the two of you dating maybe the NHL did. Sid was practically the face of the league and they probably didn’t want it known that he was dating an employee. You felt yourself shrink back, not that you were ashamed of your relationship with Sidney, quite the opposite. It was more from that you just didn’t know what you were going to say if he told you, you needed to choose between Sidney and your job.

#not so dangerous liaison series #sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby imagines #sidney crosby smut #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #hockey smut #hockey fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey imagines

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fascination-street-writing · 4 years

Text

Somewhere to Begin | Pannacotta Fugo x Ghirga!Reader

He has always adored you, like the sun and the moon and more - but he had a brilliant way of convincing you otherwise.

- 200 Follower Giveaway Piece iii for @idontlikerisottounlessitsnero -

Content Warnings: Not SFW Content, Post Break-Up, Emotional Hurt & Comfort, Regret, & Explicit Sexual Content (Aged-Up Characters)

You had promised your brother Narancia to never involve yourself directly with Passione; even the occasional stay for a meal at Il Libeccio made him antsy, yet you failed to see the harm in sharing a plate of bruschetta with Fugo, or a pot of hot tea with Abbacchio – two of his closest companions. It was only fair that you ought to spend time with the men who gave you unbridled protection at the behest of nothing more than goodwill and magnanimity. Not that you needed such security, but it kept street thieves from picking your pockets, at least.

You had promised him indeed, and now that he lies in the casket before you – clad in the suit from your mother’s funeral that you never thought to see him wear again – you intend to keep it. Giorno had offered to have an outfit tailored for your brother, but you refused him with consternation that your he would not be buried in something from the boy responsible for his death.

“No,” you had told him, cold as the wall of ice that has crept around your heart, while clutching the woolly material to your chest. “This one will do nicely.”

And so, the mortician severed the seam along the back of the jacket and draped a silk sheet over Narancia’s legs so that no one would be wiser to fact that his ankles stick out past the bottom hem of his trousers. It was bad enough that you could not afford the casket on your own. You knew better than to believe it when Mista told you that it and the headstone were paid for with the money yielded from the liquidation of Bucciarati’s assets. If that were true, then why not pay for a new suit, too?

Trish snatches a single white lily from the memorial wreath and tucks it between your brother’s still, clasped fingers. She hides her grief behind a pair of sunglasses that do not match the overcast weather that looms above your heads. You had not wanted to wait so long for the funeral – for two months, Narancia’s body had been left in the morgue to chill on ice, par Giorno’s insistence that the service must wait until his transfer of power over Passione has finished.

Thus, for two months, you had lain awake at night, shuddering at the melancholy and its melody that reminds you how you your brother died without saying farewell – his platonic little soulmate. Giorno may have his victories and suffer for them, but you would not let him entomb Narancia in the mausoleum with Bucciarati and Abbacchio.

“He’ll be buried next to our mother,” you said to the new Don with indignancy. “After everything you’ve taken from me, let me have this. Lascia che mio fratello torni a casa – let my brother come home.”

Your wish was granted, though you suspect it only so because he was growing tired of fighting with you over burial rights and passages. The congregation is kept small, consisting only of yourself, Mista, Trish, a tortoise named Jean-Pierre Polnareff, regrettably Giorno, and a handful of bodyguards, though the latter kept their distance from the immediate service; it would not come as a surprise to you, should you learn that the men in black suits were employed to protect their Don from the mournful sister of the deceased.

The handkerchief clutched in your grasp is damp with past tears. Not even your father had come, despite your pleading that he ought to pay his respects to his only son. Too preoccupied with his floozy of a new wife and her children from two previous marriages than to love his own – you never needed him in your life anyways, because you had Bucciarati. Now, you suppose that you must be a proper orphan.

You do not weep when the casket seals and cleaves the line of sight betwixt you and your brother forever. You do not weep when the mechanical apparatus lowers the coffer made of Osage orange wood into the steel vault that already holds your mother in oak. You do not weep when the gravediggers shovel the dirt mound back over the crest of opened earth.

You do not weep until Mista clasps your trembling hand, pulls you to his chest, and embraces you amidst the anguish that burns you alive. His is the consolation that you needed, but never thought to ask for, though it is not his touch that you long for. One by one, the attendees disperse for the train of luxury cars and you remain alone with the gunslinger who had been courteous enough to come without his oddly patterned beanie hat.

“Why don’t we get going?” Mista urges to coax you away from the gravesite – away from yourself and the suffocating agony. “Giorno’s having dinner for us all, back at the estate.”

You pull away. Rivets of mascara stain his white dress-shirt. “You can go on ahead,” you tell him, not quite liking the way your voice strains in your throat. “I’m not hungry.”

“Then, let’s go grab some coffee or something –”

“I’m fine, Mista.” He frowns and averts his gaze. “I have some things I need to take care of.”

“Oh?”

You tug your cardigan closer to your chest. “I’m going to collect Narancia’s belongings from our dad’s house. Not sure what I’ll do with it all, but I know it can’t stay there.”

Mementos of life, from when things were far simpler and your brother far more alive. Family photographs with tattered edges and holes of where your father should have been, wedged between unread and abused schoolbooks. Worn out blue jeans with patches of fabric scraps from your mother’s old dresses that you had sewn on for him. A collection of empty glass soda bottles. CDs and cassette tapes of Snoop Dog, Tupac, and whatever other American rappers had appealed to his tastes.

“Alright, I guess. Promise me you’ll call when you get there.”

Soon to be packed away in cardboard boxes and to be stacked precariously in the living room of your studio apartment – another gift from Bucciarati – with nowhere else to go. You simply cannot afford to rent a storage unit downtown.

“I will.”

Mista does not offer to help, because he knows you will refuse it. With that, he takes his leave of you in the cemetery. Left to your solitary devices, you clench your fists and stew on hatred and loathing for none other than Giorno Giovanna. You do not blame Narancia for his eagerness to trust the boy so quickly; his charisma, as appealing as it entreats to the willing, is an infectious disease.

If not for Giorno, your brother would have been buried two months ago. If not for Giorno, your brother might still be alive. And perhaps you must resent Fugo too, for what he has done – or rather, the lack thereof of doing; yet for everything, you are incapable of such feelings, as you have always been fond of each other. The optimistic heart within you stands that he has saved you from suffering more – that in his choice to stay behind in Venezia, it only meant you would not have to bury him, too.

Because surely, his unrestrained anger would have gotten him killed – if not before, then certainly after Narancia’s death.

With a quivering sigh, you turn from this dreary place and meet his illegible violet stare. A row of crackling headstones separates you from the boy whom you love more than life itself. Fugo clutches a pretty bouquet of daffodils wrapped with parchment paper and a white-string bow – your favorite flowers, though you wonder whether they are meant for you or your brother’s fresh grave.

You do not know, nor will you ever, as he sets the flowers atop the nearest monument and makes off, as if on sabbatical to you.

And it fills you with nothing more than bitterness.

“Everyone misses you,” Mista confesses between a sip of tea and a bite of strawberry cake. “You should come around sometime soon.”

Nearly a year has passed since the funeral, and you have yet grace anyone from Passione with your presence, with the exception of Mista for weekly sojourns to Il Libeccio to catch up on life – because, as you have learned, much can happen in seven days’ time. With each occasion of crossing the archway’s threshold into the private dining room at the back of the restaurant, you find yourself preening for two heads of black hair – one neatly combed and clipped, the other a sprawl held in place with an orange headband –, taut lips painted in black, and Fugo. And every time, you are left with the kind of disappointment that curdles your soul like sour milk.

“Who misses me, Mista?” you reprimand, pointing your icing-lacquered fork in his direction. “I barely even know Trish, and I have no interest in ever speaking with Don Giovanna again.”

You wish Giorno would call off the bodyguard who trails you every waking hour of the day; it makes you feel like a child who has proven herself untrustworthy to her parent. But you have done nothing deserving of such punishment. You suspect that his intent is an extension of the olive branch treaty that does not exist between you two – a reiteration of Bucciarati’s protection that should not have to be reiterated, because he should not be dead, either.

Or, alternatively, he wants to irk you so far that you might barge into his office one day – fuming with unspent determination to admonish him regarding his dominion over your life – just to trap you in a conversation wherein he might attempt to suspend your animosity towards him. Alas, you are simply not interested; you will scorn him, because it is all you can do.

“Forget I asked . . .” Mista trails off, swirling a dollop of whipped cream with his knife. “So uh, by the way, have you seen Fugo lately?”

Just the utterance of his name has you perking in your seat.

“No.”

“Hm, well, rumor has it, he’s working at the public library. Shaking people down for late fees or something like that.” It is not implausible to imagine Fugo in the position of extorting old ladies and young children for overdue fines – but, you know that it is only a jest. Regardless, he has always been the type of boy to surround himself with books instead of people. “Why not visit him sometime? He’s not affiliated with Passione anymore. Or, not now, at least.”

You stab at a strawberry. It bleeds beneath the weight of your fork.

“I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”

Mista’s question is one that you ought to be asking yourself, as you sit here at the scratched pine desk of the library – pretending to study for an upcoming exam on the history of art in Pompeii – though you look up from your scrawl of notes every few minutes to see if Fugo should pass you by; perhaps pushing a cart of books to be put away, or branding return cards with a plush red stamp to mark the date in two weeks’ time.

You have seen him only once more since his implied attempt of reconciliation at your brother’s funeral. It was by chance that you should wander into the same café as him that day; and by extended odds that – while you stood over his table with a sad smile and a cup of coffee – he stood abruptly and left without finishing his own drink. He had not even bothered to wish you well.

Today, you catch him on your way to the reference section. The look of hurt in his eyes – like salt instead of sugar on the tongue – brings a scowl to your face. “Please, Panni,” you plead, and though your fingers ache to catch his hand with your own, you refrain for you know the gesture is a crossing of the line between you two. “Can’t we just talk?”

“No,” he says, so dry and unrecognizable. “I’m not getting paid to do that. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Panni, I – Please, don’t do this. I already lost my brother: don’t make me lose you, too.”

A fuse switches in his head, and you have been the one to flip it. He clutches the encyclopedia in his hands with such fervor that his knuckles pale, and for a moment, you wonder if he means to hit you with it. And maybe he thinks it too, but he drops it atop the ground as soon as the thought crosses his mind. He takes a step back, as if you have scorned him – maybe, after all, you have.

The cover spills open, and the pages bend against the hardwood floor. You wish he would do the same to you – to disclose his grievances and let you in. Instead, it is the toxicity of acrimony “Don’t ever come near me again,” Fugo warns. “Haven’t you realized by now that I never want to see you again? Get out of my life – get out of my dreams – and leave me alone.”

You will save the tears for when you stand in front of the bathroom mirror tonight before bed to wash away your makeup from the day, amongst other regrets. But you will never understand the guilt that suffocates him – a noose that is just taut enough to keep him breathing – each time he looks at you, and even when he does not. You are everything he has ever wanted and more.

And you are the emblem of everything he has ever done wrong.

“I still care about you,” you tell him with an affirmation that will not fix the desolation. “Doesn’t that mean anything?”

He bites his lip and looks away.

“I know you’re hurting. I am too. So, can’t we heal together?”

“Are you stupid?” You grimace at his words. “I told you to go.”

There is no chance to dispute it, nor to bid him an aggrieved adieu, because he is gone again. Burying him might have been easier, after all; a corpse cannot remind you of what a fool you have become.

And so it seems to you that dying dreams are the best ones.

Adulthood is – as you have found in your years of treading its waters – a dreadful inevitability. You and your brother’s boxes have outgrown that compact studio apartment, though for years, you had made it work perfectly fine. When Giorno pulled the strings to terminate your lease and forcefully relocate you into a sizeable townhouse in the Chiaia district, you wanted to hate him for it – for his reminder that you cannot sever your connection to Passione. Yet, boggled down with university loans, you were in no position to turn down his assistance.

And he knew it, well.

A pretty townhouse located in one of the nicest regions of Napoli cannot bring Narancia back, nor can it attune for every bit of suffering incurred since his death; but if it is a strain upon the aging Don’s wallet, then it is all the better.

On the day of your fourth birthday spent in solitude, you treat yourself to a tub of gelato and a dress from the costly boutique across the street that you will never wear because you have no need to. It will hang in your closest amongst other unworn gowns, still pinched with price tags, that you have impulsively accumulated over the years – a hereditary habit of your mother’s that had caused more than a few spats between she and your father. You know your vice, but there is something so gratifying about it.

You sink into the tweed couch that does not quite match the architect’s vision for the living room – with its crown-mould white walls and hardwood floors the color of wenge; too clean and proper for what furniture you have kept from your former residence. Silver spoon clenched between your teeth as you page through television channel after channel, you balance that melting gelato on your lap. Perhaps you should have grabbed a straw from the kitchen as well.

The evening passes by, uneventfully so. You have spent it spoiling yourself and replying with fabricated enthusiasm to incoming text messages from study mates, who wish you well on this happy day – as if you have a reason to remember your twenty-first beyond the accomplishment of finishing the entire tub of would-be-frozen lemon curd without incurring a single regret or twinge a of brain-freeze. You have gotten rather good at knocking back shots without needing to stop for breaths, too.

At the ringing of the doorbell, you are torn from the real estate program that you have invested so much time these past few hours. Mista, no doubt – come to deliver a gift and takeout because he knows you have not eaten properly tonight. You have no room left in your belly, but whatever he brings will make for a decent meal tomorrow.

You do not bother to tidy up, and when you open the door, you wish you had. Illuminated only by the balcony light stands Fugo with a bouquet of daffodils, a bottle of sauvignon blanc, and a remorseful, sheepish smile upon his handsome face.

Get out of my life – get out of my dreams – and leave me alone.

“Uh . . . “ He trails off before he has even begun, perhaps taken aback by the widening of your eyes and the disheveled appearance that, despite your own judgement, he thinks to be the most beautiful vulnerability in life. He speaks your name with the kind of tenderness that you have not felt since you were teenagers. “Buon compleanno.”

You need not ask how he found you, because you know without question that either Mista or Giorno had told him. “Why are you here?” you ask.

He clutches the flowers a bit tighter. You do not move to take them; however, you have already decided on which vase you will place them in. “I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. And give you these.”

The bottle of wine feels far too heavy in your arms – and the daffodils, as if they might float off in an unforeseen gust of wind. “And, to apologize. For too many things that I can’t ever make right; although, if you’ll let me, I’d like to try.”

“Fugo, I . . . I don’t know.”

“Please, [Y/N]. That day in the library, all those years ago . . . I never stop thinking about the horrible things I said to you. It killed me – it ate me alive; I thought for all this time and before that you hated me, because of what happened to Narancia. Because I wasn’t there to save him.”

“It hurt when you told me to get out of your life, but I listened, and I did it.”

He brings the heel of his hand to swipe at the tears in his eyes. The curling of his other fist is a gesture that terrifies you – although, not for your own sake. “I couldn’t face you. I was scared to look you in the eye, because I thought you hated me,” he mutters like a broken record as his voice cracks with agony. “I thought you hated me, because of him.”

He stops, throwing his head back with a groan. The apple of his throat bobs up and down as he chokes down a sob. He refuses to look at you when he speaks again – too afraid to come undone before he has made his peace with you, his greatest loss. “We were young. Probably too young to even understand what love really meant. But, dio dannazione, you were the most important thing to me, and I understood that more than love.”

His words have always held the capacity for swaying you, as if they replenish the empty spaces within. It is why, as you open the door wider, you let him fill you once again. Fugo contemplates the crannies of your living room, hovering above the couch that you insisted he take a seat upon – he remembers when you bought it, because you had dragged him to the furniture outlet that day. He pretended to be annoyed, though in truth, he was beyond elated that you had chosen him over Mista, or even your brother.

“I guess I should put these in a vase,” you say about the bouquet of flowers. “They’re beautiful, Fugo. Thank you.”

He nods, suddenly entranced by a photograph of Narancia that sits atop the fireplace mantel. You do not notice his unease.

“I’ll grab us some glasses, too.”

You find your vase in the kitchen cabinet niched into the alcove above the refrigerator. Its emerald swirls glisten under the twine of the recessed lights that add no character to the room. So much for a birthday spent in reclusion, you chide alone. Deep within you sits a fire that longs to ignite – to send Fugo away in some thwarted act of retribution for the very loneliness he inflicted upon you years ago; as if to say that the rejection suits you well.

Of course, you cannot deny that your heart leapt into your throat when you saw him standing before the front door, a vision of a man who still held those inklings of boyish charm that you fell for in your adolescence. They say you should not dote over the first person beyond your mother and father to call you pretty; it is weakness to complacency. Your life has never been one of convention – and so by that right, who there is to insist that you must abide?

Bearing a content grin, you trim the stems one-by-one to better fit the vase. In synchronous rhythm to the next, the green stalks bounce from the cluttered countertop to the floor. You have only just stuffed the flowers back into the vase when the shattering of glass resonates its way into the kitchen.

The photograph of Narancia lies amongst bits of broken frame and wreckage. Face buried in his palms, Fugo crumples until his knees meet the ground; he shakes, as if smothered by a chill. When his hands fall to smack the coffee table – baring his grief, in all its pandemonium – you catch them and force his arms around your waist instead; his fingers lock together, holding you in place. He whimpers against your stomach. Already, you can feel the wetness of tears through the fabric of your overstretched shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I’m sorry.”

Your own fingers curl through his strawberry blonde hair – a means of stability as you too have begun to cry. “It’s just a picture frame,” you promise, and it is the grandest thing he has ever heard. But it is more than a box made of wood and glass – it is an impossible longing. “I’m not upset at you.”

“I . . . Okay.”

Mindful of the mess, you rock him backwards until he is lying down. You join at his side, take his hand into your own, and wait in silence for the moment when his misery will dissipate for clarity. Regardless of the circumstances that have brought him here tonight, you are grateful for it – even if your birthday is spent wallowing in irrevocable regret.

Above all else, you know that he has always adored you, like the sun and moon and more – but he had a brilliant way of convincing you otherwise.

Your thumb coaxes over the back of his knuckles. “There’s a crack in your ceiling,” Fugo announces, nonchalant and monotone.

“Where? I don’t see one.”

He raises an unoccupied finger, and you follow its gesture to the corner of the ceiling, just above where the moulding meets. It is no longer than the length of hair from his head, and quite honestly, not an underlying issue of foundational complications. Still, you indulge him. “Oh, wow. I never noticed.”

In this hasty repertoire of patterns, you fall into stillness again. “Panni,” you whisper with the utterance of his endearing name. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He squeezes your hand.

“But it’s getting late. Why don’t you stay the night?”

Truthfully so, you cannot send him on his way in such a state of disarray.

“I can make up the couch for you, if you’d like.”

“Yes, please,” he murmurs.

However, you do not make it far because he has – inspired by a need to express his devotion and apologia – pulled you atop himself, hands braced on your hips as you balance on bent knees and grasp his shoulders. Tenderness is becoming of the boy – no, the man – who looks up at you as if you are the embodiment of everything good that exists in one life to the next. It is a side that he has never shown to anyone other than you.

You covet it like a piece of cherry-flavored candy, even when you lean down to capture his lips and nip at his tongue that likewise explores the long-forgotten caverns of your mouth. It is a distraction of meaning and not; from the broken frame, loss, and perhaps everything in between. Every attempt to catch a breath of air is met with resilient protests of needier touches and not before long, you lie on the couch – shedding your clothing like the skin of the woman you no longer wish to be – and let him in.

Bare chest to bare chest, you cup his hardness as he places his fingers to your untouched folds. You mean to tell him that you love him, but the penetration of unpracticed digits to your core stifles the very thought from your scattering mind. In dark closets and empty rooms, you two have had your share of imprudent experimentation with one another’s bodies in the past – and nothing more than warm, tentative touches that lead to girlish giggles and boyish huffs.

Fugo pinches your nipple, drawing a plush gasp from you; it urges him to do it again until at last you are throbbing with need from your lower half, your pelvis jerking upwards to meet his for the stimulation of wanting. His breath ghosts your face, and you think you smell wine – a drink for good luck, you think, because despite the distress manifesting in his soul, his mannerisms are otherwise as habitual as you might recall from moments of normalcy.

It feels wrong – to be filled with such wanton, salacious desire within the very hour that you have both spent in mourning of your brother and everything else that has been discarded to the wind, to be picked up by someone else. Yet tonight, you will not sleep with Fugo to forget your blue heart, nor for celebration’s sake as you embark upon another year of being – you will sleep with him, because you have grown tired of learning how to end your days without him.

“I haven’t . . .” You trail off, mesmerized by the way his violet eyes look at you; though puffy and stained red from crying, you take them in as he cocks a brow, imploring you to finish your thought. “I haven’t been with anyone else since you.”

“Good,” he sighs, and you think he is trying to hide a smile. “Me neither.”

Braced by his arms, you are flipped onto your stomach. The tweed upholstery bites into the soft flesh of your breasts with each jostle elicited by the curling of a finger within you. You push backwards until you swear you can feel his fingers against your cervix.

“Oh my god,” he groans, flexing out as if to move deeper. “Ti senti così bene.”

“If it feels good, then do something,” you whine, hands dug between the cushions for support.

But, to your chagrin, he takes his time to admire the way your folds pulsate around just two fingers. You glisten like a gem – his gem. Indignant with petty annoyance, you pull away and straddle the lithe, albeit toned, legs that dangle off the edge of the couch. Arms thrown around his neck, you sink down until you have reached your fill of his manhood.

“I did tell you to do something,” you sigh at Fugo’s displeasure, biting your lip as you adjust to the size of his shaft. “Didn’t I?”

He kisses you once and moves grasp your backend. You savor the feeling of him ingulfing you. “I was distracted.”

You would laugh if not for the anticipated bulging inside you as Fugo buckles into your heat. The sight of your jostling breasts with each bounce of you on his cock is a page of some heavenly doctrine – one that he should study and commit to forever. He moves with strength that he reserves for moments of rage, and even his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave bruises for the days to come. You do not mind; they will help you to remember the best night you have had in years.

With a cry that blossoms into a moan that tells him that he has treated you well, you ride out your orgasm and slump against his chest in your own exhaustion. When he reaches his peak, he slides out; you reach for him – dampened with your slick – and finish him until white pearls bead at the tip and trickle over your working fingers.

Foreheads pressed together, you flash tired grins before settling against the cushions, your head pressed to his chest and his arm braced around the small of your back while his fingers trace shapes against your perspired skin.

Panting, his heart skips every few beats – like a song, sung only for you. Content with that which has returned itself to you, you fall asleep to the sound of this lovely little love affair.

| 4966 Words |

#pannacotta fugo x reader #fugo x reader #pannacotta fugo #jjba reader insert #jjba x reader

155 notes · View notes

thisisthefanfic · 4 years

Note

Could I request Captain Rex trying to flirt with you but he’s too bad at it?? Maybe Fives or Kix have to help him!

Thanks!! 💕💕💕💕

Of course!! I hope you like this!!

Busy Bee

Pairing: Captain Rex x reader

Warnings: some innuendos

Rex never thought it would come to this, what felt like the most ridiculous scenario was finally happening. He knew if Ahsoka or Anakin heard about this they’d laugh their asses off, but desperate times called for desperate measures. That’s why he was currently sitting on his bunk, attempting to learn something from his younger vods, Kix and Fives. He had a good reason for this though, they were his last hope in his mission to charm a certain someone: you.

He’d met you on one of the Republic cruisers, following around Admiral Yularen as you tapped away on your data pad. You caught him so off guard he nearly ran into General Skywalker, making him blush slightly as he stumbled, causing you to look up and smile at him briefly. From there he found what information he could on you, learning that your name was (y/n), you were a communications officer being transferred to the 501st soon, you were pretty quiet, and apparently you liked candy considering you always had some nearby. He had all this information on you, but he only really knew one thing, he wanted to shelter you from the world and hold you forever.

Unfortunately he didn’t know what to say to you. One day when you were in the mess hall, he walked by and said “How are you doing?” Hoping to sound suave like in the holovids he watched, but instead it just sounded polite and a bit disinterested, which earned him a “I’m great how are you Captain?” Which only made him flustered. Another time he sat across from you on a transport and only blurted out. “What are you always reading?” Which sounded ruder than he meant for it to, and all you could manage to say in response was. “Um, regulation manuals?”

So here he was, wincing as he listened to his vods snicker and smirk at him as they cooked up “advice” for him.

“Look it’s simple, ask her if she sat in a pile of sugar.” Fives grinned, extremely pleased with himself.

Rex groaned and shook his head. “No that’s too...cheesy.”

“You try and come up with a good one!” Fives challenged as Kix looked at Rex expectantly.

“Err, okay...how about ‘Are you a flower? Because I’m buzzing for you’?” Rex responded.

For a moment they stared at him, and then Fives burst out laughing, doubling over as Kix tried to cover his own grin. “The kriffing hell was that? I could come up with a better pickup line in my sleep!” He guffawed as he wiped a tear from his eye.

“Go easy on him Fives, he’s new here.” Kix quipped before looking back at Rex. “Listen Rex, it’s not always about what you say, sometimes you can do it with a look. Observe.” Kix turned to look at the wall, staring at it intently.

“What are you doing...?” Rex sighed.

“I’m eye-fucking the imaginary woman that this walk represents!” Kix responded, rolling his eyes before continuing. “You’ve got to stare at them a bit, but not too much, and make sure you show your dominance in your look, maybe pose so your pelvis is more prominent—“

“Kix...I don’t know.” Rex interrupted.

“Try it, just real quick.” Kix insisted.

Sighing again, Rex looked at the wall, pretending it was your sweet face as he tried to force his features into an intimidating glower.

“Hey too much! You look like you’re gonna murder the wall!” Kix scolded. “Try just...looking like you usually do but with some I dunno...fuck me vibes?”

Rex relaxes his face again, but the insinuation of sex made him flush, and make a bashful and nervous wince.

“Oh shit he looks like a puppy now,” Kix groaned. “He’s hopeless.”

“What is going on?” A voice jolted the two younger clones to attention as Cody walked in.

“We’re teaching Rex to flirt.” Fives explained with a barely suppressed grin.

“I see, vod, come with me.” Cody shook his head as he patted Rex’s shoulder.

Rex followed Cody out into the hall, where the other clone gave him a sympathetic smile and said. “Listen Rex, I know you want to impress (y/n), it’s pretty obvious, but you’re not Fives or Kix. Despite being clones, we are all different in some ways, and while being a funny guy works for Fives and Kix gets dates from being risqué, you need to be yourself too.”

“But I couldn’t do what they showed me and I don’t know what else I’d do.” Rex frowned.

“Just trust me, it will come to you.” Cody smiled, walking off again to leave Rex to his thoughts.

*********

You’d had a really hard day, and it was starting to show as you marched to your station with a sigh. There was so much going on with the 501st, and you wanted to do your work and spend more time with them, but that hadn’t been working out, especially since you always felt awkward around the handsome Captain.

You had tried to talk to him, but it was always work related, which made the encounters stiff and formal, and a few times he had spoken to you, but your shyness got the better of you. Plus, you were starting to wonder if you made him uncomfortable considering how he fidgeted around you.

Sitting at your station, you prepared for more work when you noticed something on your desk. You tilted your head at the blue box and carefully opened it, letting out a small gasp at the beautiful blue and white flowers wrapped in a bouquet. Next to them lay a small bag, that appeared to be full of small honey candies, ones that happened to be your favorite.

“Who—“ you started, but a small note slipped out into your lap, which you quickly picked up to read.

“Dear (y/n), I noticed you’ve been working yourself ragged—again, so I decided to to try to help. If you haven’t already checked your terminal, I’ll go ahead and tell you that most of your work has been finished, except for anything that might be incoming later. Also I guess you’ve seen the gifts, which I went to the store to get you those candies you like, and the flowers made me think of you and how you’re a perfect, beautiful and sweet person. I think you’re very special cyar’ika, and I’d love to get to know you better. If you want to talk, I’m outside on my break. Thank you busy bee :)”

Smiling, you hopped off your seat and ran off down the hall to go see, feeling your heart hammer against your ribs as you hoped it was who you thought it might be.

Stepping outside, you scanned the landing dock for anyone familiar, and finally a trooper caught your eye. At first you thought it might have been a coincidence, but when he looked up at you with a smile blooming on his face and bright eyes, you knew it was him.

“Rex!” You squealed as you ran to him and wrapped your arms around him, making him wobble on his feet.

“Woah, easy cyare!” He chuckled as he hugged you back. “I uh, guess you got my note?”

“Of course I did! Thank you so much!” You laughed as you nuzzled his cheek. “I like you a lot Rex.”

“I like you too (y/n), and I got you something else,” he grinned as he reached behind him and pulled out a small trinket.

You took it from him and looked it over, seeing it was a small bee pendant on a chain.

“I had some material from my armor and well I thought I’d try to hammer it into a little pendant for you. I painted it too, and well the boys thought it was silly but I thought it might be cute because you’re my little bee an—“

You cut him off to give him several kisses on the cheek, making him sputter as he flushed. “Thank you, I love it!” You pulled back and looked at his face, almost sighing at his big puppy dog eyes.

“You’re adorable.” He smirked as he hoisted you up in his arms and carried you, making you squeal as you hugged on him.

“Well what do you know,” Fives snickered from the sidelines. “It actually worked.”

“I wasn’t expecting the whole candy and flowers bit to still work but, I’ll be damned.” Kix smirked as he shook his head.

“Knock it off you turds,” Cody added as he appeared behind them, making them jump. “He actually did listen to your advice I think, even if it wasn’t as extreme. You should be proud.”

“He’s right actually.” Kix mused.

“Well I’ll go with it!” Fives grinned. “Let’s go to 79’s! On me!”

#star wars #the clone wars #clone wars #captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #reader insert #commander cody #clone trooper fives #clone trooper kix

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amberwild420 · 3 years

Text

one step back, two steps forward (pt. 30)

masterlist

so it begins

The akuma was on loose. It kept firing and freezing anyone in the vicinity. Anyone who came in contact with the akuma didn’t leave unscathed. It was like the life was sucked out of them. The layer of frost all over them made them look like the victim of an avalanche.

The team miraculous tried their best to get the people to safety. They need a chance to get the akuma. Just one moment.

But it turned a nightmare. A scream echoed the area making everyone look. Python stood there a layer of frost all over him. The akuma got a hit on them. Then it started to get worse.

Ryu and honeybee got hit. Chat got hit. Luna tried her best to fight but it was like there is no chance to win. And then it happened. The middle blaster charged and fire.

The sculpture was the only thing left in her place. The akuma tilted it before it shattered. A choked sob left her throat before all went black.

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

Marinette jumped up, panting hard to get her breathing under control. Her eyes moved all around the room. She could hear her own heart in her ears. Tikki was sleeping next to her but now even she was waking up. She floated around her chosen and watched her quietly before an emotion flashed in her eyes.

Pity.

It’s starting Marinette.

Marinette looked up in confusion. Tikki sighed sadly. She didn’t want her chosen to get hurt but it is not helping in any way. They need a cat and fast.

You’re starting to feel the symptoms of the black cat’s absence.

I thought Luna was balancing me?

Yes but barely. She will keep your sanity in check but the true balance is achieved by an active cat. We need to look for a cat, Marinette. Not for just Paris’ sake but also for your sake.

Marinette looked at the work desk, before continuing the commission she was working on.

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The day was normal. Well as normal as it could get. Alya was whining about how she didn’t manage to get anything for her blog, not realizing how she was nearly dead the whole fight. Lila lying and every other person totally into her stories.

Kaylan and Chloe discussed something about the science lesson. Miss Mendeleev tends to give surprise quiz and they were not going to ignore it even if they wanted to.

Marinette yawned before entering the class and taking her usual seat and cuddling with Kaylan who just pulled her against her while still revising the material.

It wasn’t until Adrian came that they looked up. The blond model looked like a mess. His hair were in a mess, dark circles under his eyes and how jumpy he looked. One look at him and everyone knew he was not in himself. Before Lila could launch at his arm, Niño pulled him before coaxing him to open up.

Sighing, Marinette looked away from him and closed her eyes as she rested her head on Kaylan’s shoulder. For some reason she was rather calm right now, considering she remember the nightmare so vividly.

It wasn’t a second later that Chloe leaned against Kaylan as well, resting her head on her shoulder while reading through her notes. None of them noticed the dark look sent towards them.

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

The patrol was quiet. There wasn’t any akuma around, and for once they were finished with the patrol on time. The team of five regrouped at a random rooftop as they did their usual fist bump.

Just as they were about to turn and leave, Luna growled. Faster they could say ‘ladybug’ everyone was on their guard with their weapons in their hands looking directly in the darkness where Luna was glaring.

The time ticked slowly as they waited for the trouble to show itself. The sound of someone landing made them tense even more. That was until the figure showed itself to them.

He was tall, dark and broody. His very presence was intimidating. There is no way they didn’t shudder. Ladybug walked forward, the confident face of ladybug already in set.

Monsieur Batman! What can I do for you ?

Batman looked down at the spotted heroin and grunted as two more figures dropped down from the sky. Honeybee was barely keeping her sequel in as she saw one of the figure.

Wonder woman smiled at the young heroes, a proud expression on her face. Superman looked at the kids with his famous Boy Scout smile.

We want all of you to come for meeting in our watch tower.

Wonder woman begin, speaking respectfully to the miraculous users despite them being young. Batman cleared his throat still not used to it.

We want you to come so we can put every possible suggestion on the table regarding your problem. It isn’t safe for us to be here.

The miraculous team looked at each other before gesturing them to give them a moment. A few feet away Luna waved her hand and a blue glowing cube appeared. The heroes started walking in one by one.

Can you see what’s going on?

Batman asked staring at the cube. Superman shook his head.

It’s magic I can’t seem to look through it. I can’t even hear what’s happening.

They are smart. They know you can look through almost everything and hear almost every sound of the planet.

They are rendering me useless in this situation.

Superman chuckled amused at the kid’s ways of keeping their secret. 15 minutes later, the heroes came out. Giving a nod to each other, they looked at the justice league members.

It would be best if you can arrange it on weekend. We have school in the morning and we can’t miss it. Especially when it’s already hard enough to while dealing with the akuma.

The trio nodded before whispering something about teleportation and disappearing from their sight.

That’s some sick technology they got.

Python whistled. Luna who had been quiet the most, sighed.

While we are close to get actual help, we also have a problem.

Ladybug turned so fast that it felt like a whiplash. Well...............who wouldn’t? It’s Luna they’re talking about. If she is sharing a problem then it’s already beyond their reach.

Don’t tell me you have to transfer or something like that? Did something happen? Are you ok? Are you hurt? Did someone figure out your identity? What happened?!

........ Someone figure out our identities.

............

...........

.............

.....WHAT?!!

The whole team screamed. Ryu took out her sword, honeybee tighten the grip on her top while ladybug brought out the miraculous grimoire.

Actually........I don’t think it is bad.

The team looked at Luna like she had lost her mind. But she sighed before she said a name making them shocked again. Everyone had different reaction.

We need adult help. Something about this whole ordeal because we’re just kids. No matter how mature we are or act we need help. We need someone to talk to and I’m not against that. But still if you think it’s not ok I’ll make sure the secrets remain.

Luna unwrapped the whip before swinging away leaving the rest of the team in silence.

So..................now what?

#One Step Back #two steps forward #Miraculous Team #miraculous ladybug #original character #justice league #ml salt

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years

Text

Don’t Be Scared, I Love You

Summary: JJ is shot and Emily's world stops spinning

Tags: whump, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, fluff, protective emily, NO mcd

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Jennifer Jareau

Word Count: 1.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Emily has always been skeptical of ‘slow motion’ disaster moments. She’s been an active government agent working in the field for over a decade — that’s to say, she’s witnessed her fair share of tragedy — and it’s never quite that dramatic. But when a bullet from an unsub’s gun embeds itself in JJ’s shoulder, for a split second, Emily is powerless to react.

She’s stuck in time: JJ falls slowly to the ground, her hair spreading behind her in a golden halo, and she barely registers the gunshot coming from Derek’s direction, the kill shot that takes down the man she hates the most in the entire world at this exact moment. Blood pounds in her ears as a sinking feeling of dread pools in her stomach, a cold kind of fear spreading through her body and freezing her joints, her muscles, her mind. There is only a singular thought circling through her head:

I can’t lose her.

It’s only when she hears JJ whimper in pain that she snaps back into action, protective instincts clicking into motion as she throws herself down at her fiance’s side, barely registering the impact the cold concrete has on her knees, only focusing on the beautiful woman fading in front of her eyes. Immediately, she lays her palm on the gunshot wound, applying deep pressure in an attempt to quell the bleeding. It’s the right thing to do, she knows it will save JJ’s life, but continuing feels almost impossible when JJ cries out in pain, her face crumpling.

“Jayje, Jayje, baby,” she says desperately, at a loss for words for a moment, “hold on for me, okay? Hold on. You’re doing so well. Oh, God, I love you so much. Hold on for me.” Vaguely, she hears Derek calling for a medic, but every iota of her attention is on JJ.

Deep blue, disney princess eyes meet hers. This is half a relief — JJ is still conscious, she can hear her, she hasn’t lost too much blood yet — and half a curse — JJ’s eyes have always been expressive. Right now they are conveying the pain of the worst agony one can inflict on another, and they are completely coloured with terror. Terror Emily has no way to diminish, no way to ease. How does one refute possibly the most rational fear there ever was?

She can feel herself crying. She vaguely hears the rest of her team around them, but right now her entire world has shrunk down to this moment, to the woman she’s going to marry next year, to the woman she longs to have children with. This is not altogether uncommon. Emily’s world frequently shrinks down to comprise only JJ: when they’re in bed together, small moments when they catch one another’s eyes across the bullpen or in a meeting, evening walks down the brightly lit streets of the city they love so dearly. It’s never as painful as this.

Derek has taken off his top and is moving Emily’s hand to place the balled material over the wound. He takes over applying pressure; Emily only notices this because it means she can focus the entirety of her attention on JJ’s face and not the profusely bleeding hole in her shoulder. The crimson blood dripping from her palm only serves as a reminder of how close she is to losing the love of her life. To being single again, a widow, a hopelessly miserable, never-to-recover, bereaved shell of a human being.

“Emily,” JJ whispers, and she’s crying, too. Her face is not hiding a single emotion raging through her, and while Emily usually finds JJ’s wobbly chin endearing, right now it’s purely agonising. “Emily, I’m scared.”

Emily has to bow her head for a moment and heave a single, shoulder-wracking sob that seems to tear though her throat with the same violence of the bullet that tore through JJ’s shoulder. She blinks the tears away and sniffs once before looking back up at JJ and offering her a watery smile, the absolute best one she can muster, and uses her clean hand to gently comb her fingers through her blonde hair, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her forehead.

“Don’t be scared,” she whispers tearfully, brushing her thumb over JJ’s damp cheekbone, “I love you.”

“Don’t leave me,” JJ whispers back, tears still spilling down her cheeks, as they hear the sirens of the ambulance and a medic rushing into the warehouse, the floor of which will forever bear the stain of her fiance’s blood.

“I won’t,” Emily says through sobs she can no longer contain, “I won’t, darling, I’m here.”

“Promise?” JJ asks, visibly fading just as the paramedics arrive and ask Emily and Derek to make room.

“I promise, baby,” Emily cries earnestly, moving away just enough for the EMTs to do their job, just in time for JJ to completely lose consciousness.

⭐️

The hospital waiting room is warm, but Emily feels cold.

She stares blankly at the wall in front of her, a merciful sort of numbness taking over her body, leaving her far less frantic than the emotional wreck she was in the warehouse. It’s a kind of quiet far from peaceful, but she doesn’t have the energy to care. Her hands are so cold covered in JJ’s warm blood.

Spencer desperately tries to get her to come to the bathrooms and wash it off, but Emily refuses, just in case this is the last thing she has to remember JJ by. In which case, she has revolved to forever have a stained right hand as a permanent mark of her crippling grief. She will be branded by her devotion to JJ, and by the end that devotion came to.

Her only thought is of W. H. Auden’s poem Funeral Blues. It was read at her uncle’s funeral a few years ago. What a funny thing grief is: she could grasp the concept of such emptiness and utter misery filling your life after the death of a loved one, of course she could, but she’s never tangibly understood that kind of grief. She does now, and JJ — as far as she knows — is still alive. If she does lose JJ, though, she knows for an absolute fact that her life will forever lack meaning, lack purpose, lack joy.

Pour away the ocean, indeed, she thinks. Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.

Emily knows, academically, theoretically, the damage a bullet can do. The shoulder is a complex weave of nerves, muscles, bones, tendons, and arteries; really, it’s one of the most complicated pieces of human anatomy, so, naturally, a gunshot wound in that particular area is far from desirable.

Spencer tells her as they’re waiting that the amount of blood JJ lost indicates that instead of the bullet hitting the incredibly delicate network of blood vessels, which would have led her to bleed out in minutes, it instead shattered the joint. This is good news and bad news. JJ is still alive. But she will need reconstructive surgery. She may never regain full range of motion. She will need months, maybe years of physio. Emily doesn’t know if this is what she wants to hear or not, but she vaguely appreciates that Spencer is falling back on his academic knowledge of an incredibly emotional situation as a coping mechanism.

Not that anyone really doubted it, but Spencer is proved right by the doctor that comes to greet the family of Jennifer Jareau six and a half hours after they arrived.

“Ms Jareau’s humerus was shattered, and her clavicle and scapula did not get off scot free, either. Luckily, the bullet missed her large axillary vessels, which is the most consolation I can offer you at this stage,” the doctor explains kindly. “We’ve stabilised her condition through surgery in which we did our best to tidy her shoulder, but she will be needing a total shoulder replacement in the very near future. Though, I understand she resides in DC and is in well-enough condition to be transferred there for the major operation and ensuing recovery.

“I understand… Emily Prentiss is her next of kin?” she asks, consulting her clipboard.

Emily nods blankly, the reassurance that JJ is alive beginning to settle in, weaving its way into her heart.

The doctor smiles empathetically. “I can take you to see Ms Jareau now. Her sedation will be wearing off any minute.”

The world gradually stirs back into colour as Emily lays eyes on JJ, very much alive, blinking sleepily in her hospital bed. Her gown is carefully tucked around the bandage on her shoulder and the fabric sling her arm has made its home. She’s ever so pale, sweat beading on her brow from the pain, but she’s alive. Emily will not have to recite Auden in a Church built for a God she doesn’t believe in while the only person that made her believe in anything lies in a coffin. Alright, she thinks as she walks into the room and sits down next to JJ’s bed, the moon can be unpacked. The sun reassembled.

As JJ manages a smile, though, reaching her good arm out for her fiance, craving physical comfort and affection, Emily thinks that the stars don’t need to be relit. The one in front of her, broken as she might be, long as her journey to recovery is certain to take, is bright enough to put all of them to shame.

Emily can’t help but break down in tears of gasping relief as she clasps the hand JJ’s outstretched for her, gripping it tightly and bringing it to her face, kissing it gently before pressing it to her cheek as her crumpled eyes leak pitifully.

“Hey, don’t be scared,” JJ murmurs in her croaky, post-surgery voice as she echoes Emily’s words some seven hours earlier, “I love you.”

Emily can’t help but laugh happily through her relieved, messy emotion at that, leaning forward to press a warm kiss to JJ’s slightly chapped, pale lips.

“God, I love you so much,” she promises, so much sincerity behind her words that JJ tears up in response. “I’m gonna be here through every step of the journey ahead, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know that,” JJ whispers, as her face contorts, emotion twisting her throat in knots. “I never doubted it for a second.”

And, well. Doesn’t that just say everything Emily needs to hear.

Clasp me close in your warm young arms, While the pale stars shine above, And we’ll live our whole young lives away In the joys of a living love.

- I Love You, Ella Wheeler Wilcox

@strippersenseii @criminalmindsvibez

#my writing #jemily #jemily fic #jemily writing #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #jj #emily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x jennifer jareau #emily prentiss/jennifer jareau

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kris-p-banana-bread · 3 years

Text

Here DOAFP fandom, have some organic, locally-sourced, home-grown pain. This is basically just me, a scarred older sibling, projecting on Bobby, another scarred older sibling. I really reached into my post-loss psyche for this, so I hope you enjoy the headcanons and meta (AKA I hope you shed at least one tear).

It won’t let me link it here so the post that inspired this is under the read more at the bottom ✨

- When I first watched doafp, I couldn't understand Elena's aversion to Sam becoming a prominent figure in her mom's and her life. Now I understand it almost too perfectly. There was never supposed to be someone after Robert. He and Gabi were deeply in love and happy. Robert was it; he was the first and true love of Gabi's life. Sam showing up probably felt like a huge and utterly disrespectful slap in the face of Robert's memory, because he wasn't even supposed to be there. I don't know if that's as eloquent as I wish it was, or if it makes sense, and it probably sounds really mean to Sam, but it's not even really about him. It was always supposed to be Robert; Sam hasn’t earned the right to be apart of or associated with her family

- After Robert dies, Gabi and Bobby make it a habit to find and keep photos and recordings/videos of Robert, even if the latter only has him saying one sentence. They won't make Elena join them for the search, but after they find some of those old audios of Robert, they'll sometimes play them back for little Elena

- Bobby put up the keep out sign (I credit this to a few other blogs for discussing this tho) because that's where he would cry sometimes. He actually used to be pretty close with Elena, but after he put up that sign and started distancing himself from them a bit so they wouldn't see the times he cracked, he got a little more short and jaded with her. It's that, plus just growing into a teenager and stuff. And I'm not saying that he and Elena have a bad relationship, but he's become more snappy and has more walls up than he used to

- Sometimes Elena feels bad because she doesn't always remember her dad's voice. She was pretty young when he died, so even though she recalls it a bit, and the recordings help, it's been a while since she's talked to him in person, so of course she doesn't quite remember what it's like to actually talk to Robert and she's forgotten some of his mannerisms. She likes to think she's all done (she marked the stages down in her grief journal after all) but grief isn't linear or all that rational, so it hits her hard sometimes

- I keep reading as an action close to my heart because that's a strong bond me and my mom shared. She would rec books to me, and we would joke and talk about them, or she would hint to some future event and then refuse to tell me until I caught up to that part. So Elena and Bobby do something similar in their grief. Elena has writing and words, because that's something Robert loved if I remember correctly (but if I’m not and that’s not canon, then I now declare it so) and Bobby has tennis. But besides tennis (I sent a couple anons to @freshlybakedfandoms about it but I'm not sure where she went) Bobby also was taught to play guitar by Robert (I liken it to Devi Vishwakumar and her harp) so when he misses his dad or is just sad, he'll take out his dad's old acoustic and strum

- (This next one is something I also think a lot about so this is pretty much 98% projection) Bobby thinks sometimes about the fact that he was never able to come out to his dad. He hadn't really started growing into that part of himself yet, and he never got to show it to his father. He wonders what he would have thought of him. Would he be angry? Would he dismiss him and say it was just a phase? Bobby didn't think so, but a little part of him insisted that you could never be too sure. After he comes out, Gabi and Cami assure him that Robert would've been so proud of him and would've loved him regardless (Since we know virtually nothing about him, I maintain that Robert was one of those dads who teases their kid relentlessly about their crushes and I think he would've done that with Bobby and eventually Elena)

- When Elena's quince rolls around (if she chooses to have one of course), Sam dances with her during the father-daughter dance. A part of her still hurts, still aches and wishes that Robert were dancing with her too; still knows on some fundamental level that he and Gabi had planned for this day, but he had simply never made it. But she's known Sam long enough that she feels comfortable here. Nobody can replace Robert, but Sam is her family, and it feels right like this.

- I might do some more research and deliberate, but for the moment I'm saying that Robert had cancer, I’m thinking along the lines of colon. My mom was terminal, but idk if I should make Robert terminal? Maybe towards the end. Or maybe he was diagnosed as incurable early on but Gabi kept it from the kids because, tbh, being told your parent is balancing on that kind of edge is traumatic for them. So anyways, I’m going on that assumption for this last point, and I’ll see if I can recover some of my old knowledge and talk about technical stuff later if anybody would like to hear it

- Elena and Bobby were both pretty young. Bobby understood about PET scans and tests somewhat, and knew generally what different answers from doctors meant. Elena mainly just understood what was happening by reading her parents' and brother's expressions when getting lab results in from the doctor. They both remember on some level what it was like when Gabi would leave the kids with Cami and take Robert out to the car (later she would have to help him) and they would all feel like they were holding their breath until they got back and confirmed that everything was ok (and later, the little shocks of fear when the answers were no longer as positive and there was more apprehension and risks. After all, cancer doesn’t deal in absolutes)

- Bobby can still remember Robert when he had to stop walking around a lot. He still remembers the phone call that Cami got from his mom, saying that something had gone wrong, and if this last treatment didn’t work, he wouldn’t have much time before he passed. Still remembers Cami rushing into a room when she got that call, and trying to hide what was happening until Gabi could get home and explain it; but Bobby was a sharp kid believe it or not. He heard about the treatment, heard Cami crying. He still had hope... but when Robert came home in a gurney, when he could barely stay awake sometimes, when his voice was quiet and his skin was a little jaundiced, Bobby felt incredibly empty. But Robert always had a smile for his wife and his beautiful kids, even if it was small and very tired, his eyes still crinkled the same. He always had a smile; right up until they had to say goodnight and get some sleep one night. And then... he passed.

- After he passed, the Cañero-Reeds needed help, and a lot of Gabi’s coworkers would bring food or materials if they were running low. Cami and Danielle would babysit and would distract the kids when Gabi needed a good cry.

- Like you’d imagine, and because of what is sort of implied in canon and in my own head, the kids dealt with it in different ways. Bobby put up that sign, and withdrew. He wasn’t awful, but his patience with certain people got a bit shorter and he was a bit quieter. And he was a really good helper when he had the energy and he cared deeply, but he would sometimes get physically and emotionally exhausted after helping Gabi/Elena/Cami/anybody else with something and would go into his room or mentally tap out to recharge. He took comfort in things that seemed natural and that he sometimes took for granted before, like video games and skateboarding (hehe bobby skateboards. Anybody second me on this?) and clothes etc... and other stuff. A lot of materialistic things or experiences that he would skip out on before. But they bring normalcy back to his life now so he loves them for that.

- Bobby doesn’t wanna think about big themes or anything anymore, which I can’t remember but I think it was Vi (freshlybakedfandoms, again, idk where she is and I hope she’s ok) who said he was a math and science person and I think that as much as that could transfer over to those subjects as well, it’s much harder to avoid existential and emotional themes in English and History class and Bobby doesn’t like it as much as Elena does for that reason. He had to live with the back and forth of his dad’s treatments and tests, so math and science is comforting because it’s more concrete (There could be a million arguments for why he would distrust math and science because of his dad’s passing though, I realize) Ultimately, though, it reminds him of Robert too much.

- On the other hand, after a period of shock and confusion, Elena threw herself into new things. First it was a grief journal, to make sure she was going through the motions. Then she read a lot, and when she felt too alone or like she wasn’t doing enough, like she was stagnant, she’d just find something to focus and persevere on again. That feels like her personality type to me; something is wrong so let’s fix it right away. But that could also transfer sort of negatively into “Something feels off or I’m very sad, let’s get this thing done and be productive so we can put off having to confront that but at least we get work out of it” but I could be entirely wrong (this is based off some of my family members and how they dealt with the loss.) And Elena throws herself into history and english because her dad loved it, and she wants to remember more of him. Because she believes words have power and history is a lesson and that’s incredibly interesting for her

#bear talks #doafp #robert cañero reed #bobby cañero reed #gabi cañero reed #elena cañero reed #camila doafp #sam faber #fun times #sorry?#I can write a cute fluffy fic to make up for it #i cri #also sorry if I made these a bit too much about bobby #I just relate to him as the older sibling #I added some more so if it got out of hand I’m sorry #tell me and I can make it neater #my meticulousness might just make myself do that on my own tho

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shibarirobot · 4 years

Text

Aizawa fic - CH1 - Entrapment

+18 only

Shouta Aizawa x Villain!OC/Reader (?)

I’m going to do my best to keep this fic as ambiguous as possible so anyone can enjoy it. The first few chapters will be tamer to build intruig, but make no mistake this is going to get SPICY. It’s not exactly a reader insert, but I’m going to stay away from describing my lead character, apart from quirk abilities, to make it easy for those that enjoy a reader insert to lose themselves in this fic.

That being said, this fic is centered around a villain who can manipulate electro magnetic frequencies, that’s pretty broad and I’m no science kid, but I’m fairly certain everything I have them do is plausable with this type of quirk, if you have any suggestions for how it could be used or if I have written something infactual to the ability feel free to message me or leave an anon. However, in a made up world of quirks and hot men, I’m not sure it really matters lol. Suspend your disbelief as they say.

Anyways, enjoy.

Four o’clock rolls by so slowly I can feel myself aging. I look down at my watch for the fifth time in the last three minutes and let out a huff. 3:57. No time to start getting anxious. I push even the word anxiety out of my brain and take another deep breath, closing my eyes. Distancing myself mentally from the hum of drunken bar thoughts. This time trying to calm my slightly lifted heart rate as it now feels like time has sped up exponentially, I realize I have no time to take a smoke or even go to the bathroom. It’s about to happen. I look at my watch again and feel the lump in my throat drop to my stomach as I swallow my insecurities and pull my hand up to my hip, skimming my thigh as I go. I can feel this too, the weapon at my waistband that has been pressing hard against my skin and keeping my back rigid as I try to level my breathing. I make eye contact with a tall man across the room from me, already nursing a beer before 4 pm and for a brief moment the air is still, latent energy pooling around me as I suck in another breath and force myself onto my feet. I magnetize my voice and push it into their brains as the stagnant energy from before comes crashing down in waves around me.

“Everybody on the floor! NOW!” I say it, but they feel it, they feel their brains being ripped in half by my voice. The splitting headache that I come to find familiar, comforting even, forced upon these self serving bystanders. The pulse behind my eyes reminds me I’m alive, if nothing more than in a physical sense I am still living. Ringing fills the air as I roar into them again, enjoying watching them all grip their temples and wobble as they start to lose their equilibrium. I’m effectively scrambling their brains and replacing what is left with my own force of will. “I… SAID… NOW!!!!” They drop to their knees, some flopping to the side, giving up fighting, they're all sheep. Fucking sheep that just do what they’re told. Fucking sheep that believe in heroes and laws, it’s all bullshit. Even these citizens know it, but they all fall in line anyways. Because it’s power that they obey. And right now, I have it.

I lock eyes with the man from before and he tries to move to the door, still wobbly on his feet. I smirk a little at his attempt. There’s always one. Always a fool that tries to play hero. He wants to... what? Call for help? Prove he’s not weak? Make up for his otherwise lackluster life? I don't even try to stop him. He barely makes it two feet before the rest of my crew shows up, a power type goon pushing the hero wannabe to the ground in a matter of seconds, the other, deadbolting the door. He never stood a chance and I chuckle to myself, grinning wildly now. I hear a groan from the ground next to my foot and look down, a woman is curled up on her side, one hand grasping desperately at the side of her head, the other gripping the material at her stomach with white knuckles. Her lips are pale and there is a cold sweat dripping down the side of her forehead, tears gathering at the corners of her big doe eyes. She’s honestly quite beautiful and it makes the terror in her eyes that much more satisfying when she looks up at me and whimpers a small, desperate, “Please.”

I stare down at her for a moment and absorb the painting before me. Such raw emotion. True pain. I laugh again, whole heartedly as a chorus of groans erupt from my captive audience, my screeches drilling a hole in their skulls. They don't even know what pain is and they fold at the waist and buckle at the knees, this is just a taste and they can hardly stomach it. While I'm laughing, I wrench my leg back and kick the woman in the stomach. Hard. My boots are steel plated and weighted, 15 pounds each, so I know it hurts. “Stupid bitch! Haha!” She screams, coughs, then hurls. Vomit mixing into her hair. I kick her again then lean down and grab her by the jaw, rubbing hard circles into her cheek as I yank her forward by the neck. Her eyes had been closed, but they snapped open when I did that, the vomit in her hair making it stick to her face. “You look so pretty when you beg, shame it will get you nothing here.” Dropping her head back to the hard, tile floor as I rise, looking down on her in disgust. I spit on her cheek from above and survey the room, all eyes are on me. She starts crying and I kick her one last time for good measure, for her distraction. “Whore.” It falls from my lips and I almost feel bad, but then I don't. I don't feel bad for these people, she would have thought the same thing about me and smiled to my face, not knowing who I am, what I’m capable of. She would have been comfortable in doing so to know her thoughts were private. They wouldn’t have been. I would have heard her, as I’ve heard countless others. I shake my anger away in the moment, getting back to business, now is not the time to let my emotions get the better of me.

Everyone was hearing me before, but now that I’m focused my voice is poignant, rumbling in the back of everyone’s minds like distant thunder. Like the booming voice of god. In this moment, I might as well be god. “Enough theatrics. If anyone moves I will LIQUIFY your brains, got it?!” There’s a prickle of anxious realization in the room as they all come to terms with the fact that I can do it and have a clear disregard for any of their well being. “Good. Now be darling little hostages and lay there in agony while the big mean bad guys rob the place, ‘kay?” My voice had lost the murderous quality it once had as I start to talk to them how an owner would to a new puppy. Lovingly, but condescending.

I now look back to my crew, all people I barely knew, hired hands to make my plan run smoothly, expendable, but crucial. I see they have sealed all exits and my muscle men are manning the door. Well, muscle people I should say. One is a hefty looking mutherfucker with steel brackets around his wrists and ankles. His muscles swell and retract like they're breathing, as if his muscle was an entirely different entity from his body. It’s mesmerizing and somewhat disturbing to watch. The other is a short, toned woman with a spiked, pink mohawk and a killer smile. Her teeth are sharp and platinum and she grins, chomping her jaw to herself. It makes a distinguishable ‘Clang Clang’ when her teeth lock into place with each other.

Knowing they have the hostage situation handled, I make my way to the back of the bar. There is a door in the corner and I reach for the handle as I approach, but a wave of hesitation hits me as I do, something tells me to move away from the door. With a quick dodge, I leap backwards as the door explodes, a fist appearing at the center of the explosion. A hero. Dammit. I was hoping to get this over with before we had a chance for interference. I ‘tsk’ my tongue and toss a scowl over my shoulder. What’s the point of a hired lookout if they don’t even tell you when the ops are coming? When I look behind me I see my lookout, the only person I hired on a quirk specific level, toppled over with a dart in their neck. Fuck. They were supposed to see around corners in the getaway. My eyes scramble around the room to see where it came from but there’s no one, just a small crack in the window where I assume the dart broke through. Someone on the roof.

Frustration overtakes me and I scream up at the ceiling. What’s the point of planning if I have to do everything myself anyways? The scream ruptures into everyone’s thoughts. The civilians. The heroes. The other villains. They all feel my wrath. I stand and kick the hero that had just blasted through the door and my plans in one fell swoop. I've seen him on tv, he’s getting pretty famous, some new chump that can balloon his fists. He really thought a physical quirk could beat me? He grunts then goes slack, some hero. The ones that never get hit can never handle it when they eventually do. I step past his body and again past the debris of the door. There’s a small room back here with metal shelves on each wall and one in the middle forming three neat rows, pilled with bricks of gold, artifacts and a computer on a table in the back. There’s another hole in the wall across from the door, seems as if this loser busted through both walls just for a shitty sneak attack. Easy escape though. Rolling my eyes, I march past the gold and the shinies and dig a flash drive out of my pocket, shoving it into the USB port, it immediately starts glowing red. I kick the chair to the side and lean down, tapping the keys furiously as I transfer file after file to my drive and delete them from the computer's hard drive. When I’m done, I pull the drive from the port, not worrying about ejecting the drive. It will just have to deal. I straighten my jacket and brush the hair out of my face, leisurely strolling back to the hole in the wall.

Something glints in the corner of my eye and my focus is shifted to a beautiful diamond necklace that has to be worth more money than I have ever seen in my entire life. I’m about to take another step when the urge to possess this object takes me over so abrasively I can't even think about ignoring it. My hand darts out to the necklace, making quick work of securing it around my neck. I slip a gold brick into my pocket as well, reveling in the thrill of theft. Unplanned theft that is.

Now that I’m satisfied with myself, I continue my trek to the hole across where the door used to be, leading to the alley, ready to make my one person escape only to be confronted face to face with glowing red eyes, barred behind shuttered goggles.

Thank you for reading my first chapter! I hope you have enjoyed it!

Maybe leave a like...? Just a thought XD

I will be updating this and adding it to AO3 as soon as I get an account (I’m on the waiting list). There will be a link availiable to my new AO3 and other content as soon as I have that ready. Thanks again!

CH2

#my hero academia #my hero x reader #mr aizawa #aizawa x reader #bnha shouta aizawa #fan fic author #fan fic #eraser head #my hero fanfic #aizawa is so hot omg #villian #this is gonna be real spicy #bring milk

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hoe-doroki · 4 years

Text

Illiterate

pairing: Shouto x American fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

wc: 2.1K

genre: comfort, fluff

summary: You did well in the midterms despite missing the first month and a half of school, not to mention all of the previous year at U.A. But being unable to read Japanese makes you feel so stupid. And who comes into the common room after midnight just as you’re about to cry? The boy who hasn’t spoken to you in three weeks. That’ll make you feel better.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Textbook out on your left. Notebook out on your right. Laptop in front. Phone put to the side. You were taking up a whole olive green couch and coffee table in the common room with your materials. But it didn’t much matter, because everyone else had gone to sleep—or if not to sleep, then to their rooms—hours earlier. It was well past midnight on a Monday and, despite the destructive habits that some of the members of class 2-A had, most tried to get a good night’s sleep. It was vital for rebuilding the muscles everyone abused in class every day, not to mention everything else Recovery Girl had mentioned in the mandatory “Health and Wellness” seminar they’d all had to take. You’d missed it, since it had been in the first week of classes, but you had still received the handy dandy pamphlet in your welcome folder a month earlier.

But you were willing to sacrifice a little sleep in order to catch up to your classmates. You might have had an extra two years of high school over them, based on the U.S.’s school system, since you’d just finished junior year when you’d transferred. Technically you hadn’t finished out the year but you’d done all the standardized testing and gotten your final grades. But still, U.A. was much more rigorous than your old school and, in some areas, you had big gaps. You would only be able to fake it in class for so long like that.

You startled when the hallway light went on behind you. There wasn’t a curfew by which you had to be in your room, but you were still half expecting to find Iida behind you, chastising you for being up so late. But it wasn’t Iida—it was Todoroki.

You turned back to your work, hoping that he wouldn’t say anything if you minded your business and didn’t speak to him. Based on your few experiences with the boy so far, it seemed he could be relied on to be quiet. And your strategy seemed to work; you heard him padding in his slippers over to the kitchen and running some water.

Your focus was now broken, though. You looked at the pages you had out in front of you and all the characters started to blur in your head. It felt like the studying you’d just done had left you and that all the hours since dinner had been pointless. The frustration began to bloom again and you felt your face growing hot with it. You were so behind. So not meant to go to school in Japan.

“You should go back to your room.”

Your body stiffened at the quiet voice behind you. If you looked down, you could see Todoroki’s gray slippers. You hadn’t heard him grow so close.

“If I do, I’ll fall asleep.”

“That’s what I mean,” Todoroki said. “You should be in bed.”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed too then?” you shot back.

“I woke up and decided to make some tea. The water’s boiling now.”

It was late enough that Todoroki had already gone to sleep and woken up in the middle of the night. And you had nothing to show for your time but a few haphazard notes and a failing short term memory.

“I just have to stay up a little longer,” you whisper, you throat constricting a little around the simple words.

Todoroki took another step closer and looked at your setup. It was obvious that you were doing work, not messing around or staying up just for the heck of it. Todoroki was one of the brightest kids in the class, in addition to one of the most powerful. Hopefully he would see your efforts and just leave you be.

“Sleep is necessary for processing information by transferring things from one section of the brain to another and strengthening connections,” he said instead. “You’ll learn more if you sleep.”

“I know that, and I will, but just…not yet.”

“Y/N, you placed seventh on the midterm. That’s impressive for a new student.”

You shook your head, wishing he hadn’t said that as hot tears started to wet your lashes. “They let me take the test in English,” you rasped, the words coming out completely pitchless. “I’ve been here over a month and I’m still almost entirely illiterate.”

Everything in front of you was in kanji. You had a stack of grammar books that were meant for toddlers that you wished weren’t in Todoroki’s line of sight. They were only half filled out as it was, since you didn’t even know all the answers for those, much less how to read what everyone else had seen on the midterm.

“Oh,” Todoroki intoned in that simple way of his. “You didn’t know Japanese before you came here?”

You shook your head. “Coming here was pretty sudden, so I only had a couple months to try and learn before I transferred. And so I focused more on spoken language just so that I wouldn’t be a complete idiot. Even though I still sound so American.”

“It’s not so bad,” Todoroki offered.

You give a chuckled weakly. “The first thing you said to me was that my Japanese was bad. Terrible. Actually, you didn’t even say it to me, you said it…around me.”

“Oh, I guess I did,” he said. If you looked at him, you probably could have seen the memory appearing on his face. “Well, I’ve changed my mind. It’s not terrible.”

Even sugarcoating it that much must have been a reach for him, so you could appreciate the effort. You blinked the last of the tears away, grateful that none of them had actually fallen and that Todoroki hadn’t seemed to notice them. “I’m sure your water is boiling by now. You can go. I promise that I’ll go to sleep soon.”

If it had been Shinsou, or Yaoyorozu, who you were beginning to grow close to, or someone like Midoriya, they would have stayed. Maybe even closed your books for you and ushered you up to your room, telling you that you could start again tomorrow. But at your words, Todoroki’s slippers disappeared from view and he went back to the kitchen. It wasn’t especially surprising. He’d barely ever spoken to you, especially since you’d used your quirk on him the first time a few weeks back. And you could understand why. Nobody liked the effects of being hit by your quirk. Or losing a match in less than two minutes. So when just a minute later you were greeted with a cup of steaming tea in front of you, on one of the small spots of table between all your materials, you were forced to look up at him for the first time.

“Would you like to speak in English?” he asked, the words coming out with certainty and only a hint of a Japanese accent over a British one. And they nearly made you fall to pieces.

“Yes,” you breathed.

He sat down on the sofa kitty-corner to yours and you noticed that his mug, like yours, was only half full. You didn’t love tea—you’d never drunk it much in America, but it was ubiquitous here. Yaoyorozu was all but forcing you to acquire a taste for it. Still, the gesture moved you and you lifted up the too-hot cup, blowing on it as you let the light herbal scent waft over to you. Todoroki was holding his mug with his left hand and you wondered if it even felt hot to him.

“I apologize if I’ve been cold to you,” Todoroki said. “The truth is that it surprised me, how you’d used your quirk on me. And that you’d seen it as a weak point after only observing me for a couple weeks. I keep on thinking that my past is behind me, but then it never is. It’s why I’m awake right now.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you said quickly. “I felt really bad using my quirk on you like that. The look on your face—it felt like such an invasion to use sadness against you. I wouldn’t want to do that just to win.”

“Well,” Todoroki said, the ghost of a smile on his face, “you were playing a villain.”

You groaned. “Ugh, I hope I never have to again.”

“Unlikely,” Todoroki said. “All Might creates many exercises like that.”

Your tea was finally cool enough to sip without burning your tongue. The taste of herbal tea was strange, not particularly food or beverage-like to your brain, but you thought you could understand the comfort of it. The hot liquid felt nice on your throat and you realized that you hadn’t had any water for hours. You took another sip.

“You said before that your past is why you’re awake right now,” you started hesitantly. “Can I ask why that is?”

“Just a dream,” he said simply. A bad one if his grimace was anything to go by.

“I’m sorry,” you said, although you weren’t sure if you were sorry about the dream or asking about it. Probably a bit of both.

“No, I actually…” Todoroki looked at you and you were struck by how captivating his gaze was. His blue eye was piercing, one of the brightest you’d ever seen while his gray eye was dark, almost brown, and mysterious. “I wanted to know how you knew. That exercise was meant to show us how we’ve exposed our weak spots to someone new and it would be a missed opportunity for me not to ask you about it.”

“How I knew…that you were sad?” you asked.

He nodded once, eyes still stuck on yours.

“You just…your friends seem like really happy people,” you explained. “Uraraka, Midoriya, even Iida in his way. Or even when they’re not happy, they’re wearing their emotions on their sleeves. But you, even when you’re joining in with them, there’s usually a cloud over you. Like you’re hiding your emotions. And from there I guessed that that came from somewhere. Probably someplace difficult. And when I strategized with Aizawa-sensei and he agreed that it was worth a try.”

“I see.”

“Like now,” you said, looking at his face. “Do you feel anything about what I said? If so, you’re totally hiding it on your face. Blank eyes, relaxed mouth. And, you know, that’s fine, but if you’re doing that on the outside, then, for a teenage boy, I assume you’re doing it on the inside too.”

That brought some expression to his face. Twin creases between his eyebrows, making his relaxed mouth look more like a frown without moving it.

“But I don’t want you to worry about that or what I think about you,” you said quickly. “For my quirk, I have to be really good at intuiting emotions, especially since I so rarely get to practice with people. I have to be super observant and understand something about psychology. Most villains aren’t that sensitive.”

“But some are.”

“Yes, certainly some are,” you said. “But if you want to start working on whatever underlying things you have, you should be doing it because you want to. Not because you want to be a stronger hero but because you want to love yourself more.”

Todoroki gave a little huff that could have been a chuckle. “How American of you.”

“Hey!” Your exclamation is quiet. “You’re the one who offered to speak in English.”

“You seemed homesick,” he said with a shrug.

“I was,” you admitted. “I am.”

“Okay,” Todoroki said, standing up. You saw that his mug was empty while yours was still a quarter full and now tepid at best. He took it along with his own. “You’re going to sleep now and tomorrow you’re going to ask Yaoyorozu for tutoring. She’s excellent and the two of you seem to be getting along. Our class is full of all good, mostly helpful people. You should say something when you need help.”

You shut your laptop, the screen having gone black long ago and began dog-earing and closing your books. Before Todoroki went to the kitchen you grabbed his arm, only to release it a moment later when you remembered people weren’t quite so tactile in Japan as they were in America, Todoroki especially so. Still, you had his attention as he turned back to look at you. “The same to you. You should say something when you need help.”

Todoroki’s lips pursed together, not quite in a smile, not quite a frown, but in acknowledgment. He probably wasn’t fond of you turning your words back on him.

“I’ll…try.”

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renegadepisces · 4 years

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Bright Imagine: Kandomere accidentally meets your family Part 4 FINAL

Fandom: Bright Pairing: Kandomere x reader Tags: slow build, fluff, eventual nsfw Note: also on AO3 as Serendipity & Caffeine

A/N: Thank you all so much for hanging in there. It’s finally finished!

If anyone had told you in the miserable weeks since Kandomere kissed you and fled your apartment that he’d be sitting on your sibling’s couch watching a Disney movie with your nephews and niece curled up between you, you would have started the paperwork to have them committed to a psychiatric facility right then and there.

Weeks had slipped into months since Kandomere kissed you in your apartment. It was enough time for you to be fairly certain that he hadn’t filed a complaint with human resources or asked for you to be transferred to another division. As grateful as you were to still have your job, the time had underscored another, more uncomfortable point. Unfortunately, it was also enough time for you to really miss whatever your relationship had been before that night.

Overnight, he’d stopped coming by your desk and making friendly conversation. In meetings, he always put himself in the seat farthest from you. Almost all work-related communication came from Montehugh now, because apparently even calling you was a mistake.

The word haunted you. With the exception of a few curt greetings and orders, those were the last words you’d heard from him. But you hoped tonight’s plans would take your mind off them. Your sibling and their spouse were taking a long weekend to celebrate their anniversary. You’d agreed to move into their home while they were away and take care of your nephews and niece. Tonight was the first night of what they’d called ‘the long sleepover’, and you were excited to spend some time with them after weeks of pressure at work.

And your mind had admittedly been pleasantly distracted until you’d investigated some suspicious noises coming from the back patio and found two would-be burglars trying to reach a second-story window and break in. Thankfully, yelling loudly that you were a federal agent and waving your stungun at them had been enough to subdue one and send the other fleeing into the night.

Even without discharging your service weapon, the incident still created a bureaucratic headache. Any kind of police response to a law enforcement officer’s home was a cause for alarm. Both the LAPD and the county sheriffs committed units to patrolling the area and checking local hospitals. Your sibling’s supervisor had even volunteered to station a patrol car outside the house all weekend in case the suspects came back.

Most shocking of all was watching Kandomere arrive in furious style in his polished black sportscar. He barely paused to put the vehicle in park before stomping up the drive toward you. Even the most senior officers on the scene had rarely crossed paths with federal agents of his rank, much less the elven commander of the Magic Task Force.

You were pretty sure damn few people had ever seen him quite like this. His usual scowl was harder and more deeply etched into his otherwise handsome face than usual. He seemed to have forgotten his blazer. His vest hung open, unbuttoned and slouching against his expensive button down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, highlighting his bare forearms and the lack of cufflinks or his watch. He’d also seemed to have taken off his tie.

Had he come from his home? Had he cut his night short to rush over to your sibling’s home? He seemed so disheveled that the horrifying thought that he might have been on a date sent your heart plummeting into your stomach.

You nearly spit out the swig of water you'd taken when he fixed the ranking officer on scene with his most polite and unsettling smile and told them he’d personally keep watch. It was irregular, but no one was going to argue with him. Except you, of course.

You were tired. More importantly, Kandomere’s rejection still stung and you weren't keen on being near him in an otherwise comfortable and private space. But all your arguing was futile. Between his infamous intimidation and mentioning that he’d been invited into the home before while casually dropping your in-law and all the kid’s names, he’d convinced the ranking officers to let him watch the house.

As the last squad car pulled away, you whirled on him. Your tone was polite - he was still your coworker after all - but your rigid shoulders and crossed arms practically advertised your displeasure.

“Coffee?” you asked curtly.

He nodded, his eyes seemingly grazing over yours rather than really looking at you, and followed you into the house.

Your nephews were thrilled to see him and you didn’t want to think too hard on why that made you unhappy and, more importantly, what kind of relative that made you. If Kandomere was at all put off by your frosty behavior, he didn’t let it show. Halloween was approaching, and you and the kids had been immersed in Hocus Pocus before you’d heard the would-be burglars’ shoes scuffing against the side of the house. That felt like hours ago. The perfect ease with which Kandomere inserted himself into what was otherwise a perfect slice-of-life snapshot from the suburbs was alarming.

Movie night? Check.

Blanket and pillow fort? Check.

Three excited kids fighting sleep as the TV flickers in front of them? Check.

Hot elven boyfriend staying the night? Not quite.

Soon enough, the boys lost their uphill battle with their own weary bodies. While they didn’t fully comprehend the potential danger of what you’d prevented, the excitement of so many strangers coming to the house had worn them out. Your niece had been put back in her crib about twenty minutes after you’d resumed the movie.

That left you alone with Kandomere, despite the two tiny bodies laying in their make-shift fortress of pillows and blankets. You didn’t dare look at him. For all you knew, he probably found this movie offensive. You knew Halloween was a human holiday linked to Samhain, which was a big holiday for elves. You’d heard plenty of elves complain about hating Halloween and about it being a watered-down version of Samhain. As the final credits finished rolling across the screen, the living room was engulfed in still and silent darkness. Kandomere was the first to break it.

“Seems a shame to move them,” he said, “They’re sleeping so well.”

You kept your silence, considering the options. The boys could sleep through the night in their pillow fort. That wasn’t the problem. But you had to deal with Kandomere. You had planned to sleep in the guest room, but you could hardly let him sleep in your sibling’s bedroom. That was simply too intimate a space for your coworker, who had met your sibling a total of two times, to spend the night in.

“They’ll be fine here. The guest room is made up. It’s the last door on the left,” you told him as you gingerly rose from the couch to avoid waking either of your nephews.

Without saying another word, you gathered up the handful of cans and juice boxes scattered on the coffee table and made your way to the garage. You needed some privacy - just a minute of privacy - to collect yourself. The near break-in was bad enough, your nerves were too frayed to let you sleep tonight. Having to interact with your Kandomere after he rejected you was the gritty, bitter icing on an awful, lumpy cake.

After gently placing the cans and cartons in the recycling bin, you braced yourself against the wall. It was covered in a layer of soundproofing material, which felt soft against your fingers. Your sibling had told you once that the previous owners were musicians and used to practice in the garage, hence the soundproofing. Screwing your eyes shut tightly, you inhaled deeply and exhaled in a huff.

Your frayed and frantic nerves, aggravated by the night’s earlier adrenaline, ensured that you heard Kandomere’s footsteps approaching from the hallway. You hadn’t turned the light on, so you couldn’t see him. It was childish, but you harbored a dim hope that he wouldn’t speak to you.

“We need to talk,” he murmured.

“No, we don’t,” you countered.

“Y/n,” he chided, “I don’t want things to be like this between us.”

“Like what?” you retorted, “There’s nothing between us. Which is why I don’t understand why you’re here.”

“That’s not quite true, and you know it,” He sighed, grimacing.

“Really? I’m surprised we even have a work relationship anymore given how hard you’ve been avoiding me Kandomere.”

You couldn’t see his face in the dark, but his voice wavered enough to tell you that your words hit their mark. Hurt lingered in his tone when he answered.

“I owe you an apology. I handled it poorly. But I’m here because I - I heard the call and had to see you. I care about you, and I had to know you were okay.”

“Didn’t take you for the kind of man to make the same mistake twice,” you hissed. There was less venom in your voice than you’d intended, but you still weren’t proud of it.

Instead of replying, you heard him draw closer. You could feel warmth rolling off him as he neared, despite the general chill that always lingered in the garage, which was less insulated than the rest of the house despite the soundproofing.

His lips crashed into yours as his arms wrapped around your waist. You wanted to argue - this was just as bad an idea as it had been weeks ago in your apartment. But you found yourself leaning into his embrace instead of pushing him away. Finally, you tore your lips from his, panting breathlessly into the nape of his neck.

“The mistake was mine. I should have been more honest with you about my feelings. But I was worried you’d put in for a transfer or file a complaint.” he whispered, not loosening his grip on your waist.

His words brought you out of the reverie of his touch and back to reality. How could he possibly not know?

“Kandomere, you’re not actually my boss. You lead the MTF, but I don’t actually report to you. I was appointed by a completely different division of the FBI.”

He blinked, as if to clear his eyes from some intrusive debris. They glinted like stained glass in the dim light spilling in from the corridor leading into the house.

“What do you mean?” he rasped.

“We work in two different departments of the FBI. The MTF is part of the Criminal, Cyber, Response and Services branch. I was appointed to the MTF to represent the intelligence branch, and I still report to that side of the agency,” you explained.

“So, you don’t actually report to me at all?” He quizzed, pinning you with a sharp, serious gaze that made you feel something like a butterfly pinned to a display.

You nodded.

His features broke into a wide grin. His teeth - sharp and glinting in the dim light like ice under moonlight - were fully visible. In a flash, his weight settled against yours and sent you backward a few inches until you were leaning against the wall.

“This isn’t any less of a terrible idea than it was in my apartment,” you whispered as his lips descended on the soft, delicate skin beneath your jaw.

“Actually, it’s an even worse idea because there are three children in this house.”

“Then you’ll just have to be quiet,” he teased, and put his warm, deft fingers over your mouth before attacking the waistband of our jeans with his other hand.

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