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static-fanatic-1 · 3 years ago

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Hello, I hope you are doing well today. I was wondering if I can get a semi-angst hc of Pakunoda, Illumi, Milluki, Silva, Chrollo, Kurapika and Shalnark + Setsuno, Overhaul, Chronostasis, Tamaki, Endeavor, Shinsou, Aizawa and Shiggaraki with a s/o who hates them, but once their children gets kidnapped they beg and cry to the boys/girls to find their child and bring them safely home. Hopes that makes sense. Please and thank you.

Pakunoda:

She hates seeing you in pain, in ANY pain, so this doesn’t sit well with her at all. It hurts that you hate her, but to her it doesn’t matter as much as her undying love for you. She is sweet, and she knows despite keeping you captive, you are cared for. This includes your and her child. She will tear the world to shreds with her lovely heels.

She will be more methodical in ending whoever took her child, and no harm will come to the sweet baby. She will not use this against you in anyway, she would rather you love her naturally. So when da baby is returned, she won’t tease you or ask for something in return. She just wants to comfort you both and tell you everything is okay now.

Illumi:

Like Paku, Illumi cares about both of you, just in a really different way. He “loves” his kids more as a tool and as a successor to his lineage, not like he loves you. So when his kid is taken, there will be hell to pay.

He doesn’t really think much on the fact you are begging him, though it is a nice change to your typical screaming. He won’t brag, boast, or use it against you, for the most part anyway. He might be robotic, but he still is smart. He will keep your children in mind next time you try anything too risky.

Milluki:

He doesn’t care about his kids, they are spoiled little shits in his eyes. He probably didn’t really want kids in the first place, but one thing led to another and here they are now. So when they are taken, he sees it as an inconvenience, but also an opportunity once he sees how distraught you are.

He makes it into a big deal and boasts about how only HE can save your kids. HE is the only reason you will get your little babies back. And don’t worry, he will make sure you inderstand that. He will ALWAYS use this against you at any moment of any day. He wants you to know you need him.

Silva:

He doesn’t care about your kids, to him they are an end to a means, and another way to keep you with him. So as much as he knows his kids can take care of themselves, or at least he wants them to be independent through whatever means, seeing you hurt makes him take initiative. You are devistated, fine, he’ll save your kids.

Silva makes quick work of whoever took your kids, and makes sure to savor it. Once he’s done, he lets you take a moment to be happy for your kids being safe, but don’t expect to be in the clear. You will have to give him something in return, and knowing his sex drive, you probably wouldn’t like it. But your kids are safe, so everything is fine, right?

Chrollo:

Like Silva, Chrollo doesn’t care about your kids. A means to an end, to keep you locked with him. Though, he really does care about you, so he will do anything to make you happy.

This means getting that little bundle of attention-stealing-shitness back. Anything for you to get on his good graces. Besides, he has the whole troupe that loves the kid, so they will all pitch in to find the little one. I don’t think he will use this against you, mainly because you should already knows nothing will get between the two of you, not even your child.

Shalnark:

Shalnark is a strange one, to me he seems like a mix between Chrollo and Pakunoda. He cares, a lot, but if anything was to come between you and him, he wouldn’t mind making a point. Still, seeing you in so much emotional pain makes him jump into action.

He calls up his best friends to help find the poor sap who took his and your kid. Yeah, they won’t last long. Shal takes great care in handling the little one to make sure they aren’t too scared. He also spends a lot of down time after to bond with the both of you. Maybe this wasn’t a good thing to you, but to him it only brought you closer together.

Kurapika:

Really big family man, whoever took your kid must have been the most stupid person to walk the earth. He is defiantly on your side with getting his kid back, so he won’t use this against you as much as the others might. Instead of bragging or boasting about how you need him to keep you safe, he will want a little something in return.

He might be on your side, desperately wanting his kid back, but he wouldn’t waste an opportunity to get a little treat from you. He will manipulate you to feel guilty, like it was somehow your fault, just to get something from you. Wether it be some bonding time, or something more suggestive, he will get it through manipulation. Of course he’d love to bond some more with your kids after he retrieves them, just don’t think you are safe around Kurapika.

Setsuno:

This poor guy had a terrible relationship before you, so there is no way in hell he would let what happened before happen again. He hates the fact you hate him, but he refrains from hurting you in anyway, this includes your kid. He will leave the room, break things, anything other than touching you and both of your kid.

When someone takes the baby, you aren’t the only one pissed off. Setsuno is furious, so he will do anything to get your kid back. He calls his friends just in case, and the three of them destroy whoever laid hands on his baby. Setsuno is happy to have everyone together again and he’ll take this time to bond with the both of you. Just don’t push him away or else he’ll remind you who saved your kid.

Overhaul:

Overhaul finds children to be dirty, they are nasty things that need so much attention. With that being said, to an extent, he treasures his kid. He wants them to be just like him, so he takes his time to teach them everything there is to know about ruling the underground. Again, his kid is an end to a means, but he does think of them a bit more than most of the others on this list.

When he kid is taken, he is frustrated for a few reasons. One is because he taught his kid to use their quirk (if they are old enough to have it by now), and two because he has to waste his time trying did of dirty things. Though, seeing you beg for him to save your baby makes it more worth his time. Much better than when you grit your teeth and turn the other way. So when he gets the baby back, he makes sure you understand what he went through to appease you.

Chronostasis:

Another one that actually likes his children and treasures them. Chronostasis is more of a family man, taking care of the children, getting groceries, the usual stuff to help around the house while you are there. He doesn’t keep you stuck, he just uses his profession to threaten you. But other than that he acts like a normal father when he doesn’t have work to do.

Taking his child is a really bad thing. He values work a lot, so he will put work first, so he will only leave to find his kid once overhaul gives him the go. He might get help, but in the end it doesn’t matter. He will tear anyone apart to find your baby. When he does, he brings them home and smiles at you, taking as much time as he is given to comfort the both of you. Everything can go back to normal now, just ignore the spots of blood on the bottom of his white jacket.

Tamaki:

Such a shy guy, he doesn’t do much to your hatred against him, he kinda just lets it happen while apologizing profusely. Though he doesn’t let you go. He does, genuinely, love his kid. In a way it gives him a sense of pride that he helped create such a beautiful baby. So when they go missing, and you grip his shirt and beg for him to find them. Tamaki is relieved you finally need him, but so frustrated at the same time.

He wants to sulk and cry through his frustration at loosing his kid, but your begging doesn’t allow that. Instead he asks his besties for help and makes sure to hurry. He’s so happy to get his baby back he can’t help the tears of joy falling from his face. When he comes back home you both cry and hold your baby as close as you possibly can.

Shinsou:

I think Shinsou has an inner demon when he is a Yandere, this is when it shows itself. He loves his kid, and is a really relaxed guy when it comes to the both of you. It’s just when his patience is pulled by someone out of his obsessive behaviors is when it becomes a problem.

He goes on his own, after all he is a hero not many know about, and his ability is insanely powerful. He will find the people resposible and tell them to “jump off this building” or “go kill yourself”. Things that will force them to get their hands dirty and stay away from his kid. He comforts his kid, tells them everything is okay now and that the two of them are going home to see you. Y’all can all watch a movie too, get take out and simply take it easy.

Aizawa:

He is almost exactly like Shinsou, or Shinsou is almost exactly Aizawa. The biggest difference is Aizawa has less patience, and isn’t afraid to get a little sadistic. With that said, you are more likely better “behaved”, though you still have some fight in you. Your kid is one of your joys in life, so when he comes home from work and sees you begging for your baby back, he’s happy.

He goes on his own and takes out whoever was involved. He doesn’t kill, he isn’t that reckless, but he definalty beats them to a bloody pulp until the police arrive. He does the paperwork, and then happily takes back his kid. Aizawa will make sure you know he did this for you and he will make sure you only think that. He loves his kid, a lot, but if you think you owe him more love, then that’s a win for him.

Endeavor:

Enji thinks his kids are weapons, I mean, that’s obvious right? He does care, but more as it would be a waste if something bad were to happen to them. Also, they are keeping you stuck with him. So yeah, when they are taken he gets pretty pissed about it.

Enji kinda rubs it in your face too, I mean you are begging for his help. You NEED him to save your kid. He won’t tell you he would get them back either way either, he wants you to think you owe him. So expect listening to whatever demands he wants from you. Not much time to appreciate your baby being safe.

Shigiraki:

Crusty man actually kinda likes his kid. In a way it’s like he has a distaste for them but can’t help but have a connection with them at the same time. Even Shigiraki doesn’t think he would be too distressed if something happened to his kid, but he was wrong. He takes it personally, and your begging makes him even more pissed. How dare they?!

Shigiraki makes a huge deal out of it, the entire league (those close) will be involved to cause chaos to the idiot who hurt his kid. It will be all on the news, how much carnage he caused, but not a single person will know it was because of his kid. He will boast about how he defeated the final boss for you and his kid, and he expects you to reward him. After you reward his efforts he will relax with the two of you, taking in the warmth from your love.

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heliads · 4 years ago

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Rainstorm

Y/N and Newt have been best friends ever since she arrived in the Glade. However, she might find that her feelings over the blond boy have changed, especially after the events of a rainy day.

masterlist

There’s a great clamoring around you, the tearing and shrieking of metal. You feel like your head is being pounded by an anvil, and you clap your hands to your skull, desperate to stop the pain. You realize you’re moving, the floor beneath you swaying as it is dragged up by some unseen chain. There are boxes around you, crates of something that you can’t see in the dark. The worst part isn’t the echoing din, or the insufferable darkness lit by sporadic bursts of fluorescents. The worst part is that you have no idea how you got here.

After a couple of seconds, you force yourself to stand up straight and look around. There are boxes littering the ground, yes, but you’re in a larger box yourself. Is that what this lurching, moving metal room is? There are four walls and a ceiling that seems to press in on you with every waking second. Just as you come to this conclusion, the room stops moving with a sudden jolt that sends you to the ground. Panic crests over you and you throw yourself to the edge of the room, hiding behind the stacks of boxes just as the ceiling is lifted away.

Bright, overwhelming sunlight flows into the room like a wave. You squint, careful not to make a sound even as your eyes water from the sudden light. You can see the dim silhouettes of a group of people standing over the room, looking in on you. They must not see you, because you can hear dim snatches of conversation being tossed back and forth in the space above you. “Shouldn’t there be a greenie? Where’s the new kid?” You have no idea what a greenie is, but you do have a sickening feeling that they’re expecting someone, someone who will turn out to be you.

After another moment of indecision, a boy jumps down into the room, causing the floor to shake slightly from the impact. He peers between the crates. Your breath comes harsh in your chest as you realize he must be looking for you. Your hand closes around something in an open box, and as you pull it out slowly, you realize your fingers are clenched around the grip of a knife. It’s not much, but at least you have a weapon.

The boy calls out to you now. “Hey, we know you’re there. There’s always someone in the Box. You can come out now, we’re not going to hurt you.” He takes a couple of steps closer, and you realize there’s no getting out of this. Might as well use the advantage of surprise while it’s still in your court. You stand up suddenly, stepping away from the shelter of the boxes. You point your knife towards the boy’s throat. For a second, the two of you stand there- you with your blade, him with a look of surprise coating his eyes.

Now that you’re both standing in the sunlight, you can see more of him. This boy has light dirty blond hair and warm brown eyes. His hands rise by his sides the second he sees your knife. “Hey, there’s no need for that. We’re not trying to hurt you.” Then his brow furrows and he takes a step forward, surprise overwhelming his previous hesitation. “Wait. You’re a girl.” You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be a girl?” The boy glances up at the silhouettes of the others still standing over the box. “Back off, guys. She’ll be fine.”

He looks back at you. “Let’s start this over. My name is Newt. You’re in the Glade now, with a few other shanks. I’m just surprised because they’ve never sent a girl up before, that’s it. Now, can you please put down the knife? What would you do with it, anyway?” You keep the blade up, feeling slightly defensive. “I could use it.” Newt lowers his hands, humor outweighing any sense of self-preservation. “For what?” You gesture with the blade. “To, I don’t know, stab someone. It’s a knife, what else would I do?”

Newt grins. “Maybe not stab me? We’re going to be here for a while, I’d appreciate it if you didn't kill me immediately.” You lower the blade at last, reaching over to put it back in a nearby box. “I’ll consider it.” Newt offers you a hand to help you out of the Box. “Can I help you up? You can trust me, you know.” You consider him for a second, taking in everything you know about the boy. He looks at you encouragingly, smiling with all the peaceful freedom of a dove, and you relent. After a second, you stand blinking in the sunlight, turning in a slow circle to stare at the massive walls surrounding you. “What is that?” Newt comes to stand beside you. “That’s the Maze. Keeps us all stuck in here. Once a month, the Box sends up some new sap. This time it’s you.”

You glance around you at the other boys pretending to do their work. “There’s not that many people here. How long has this been going on?” Newt shrugs. “I’m not entirely sure. Maybe six months or so? Alby’s been here longest, he’ll have a better answer. Alby’s in charge here, by the way. I’m second in command.” You nod. “And you really don’t have any other girls here? That’s awful.” Newt laughs. “Don’t worry about it. I have a feeling you’re going to fit in just fine around here.”

Newt, as it turns out, is right. You talk and laugh with the other Gladers like you’ve known them your entire life. Conversation flows freely that first day, and after a few hours, you already remember your name, taking joy in turning it over in your head like a smooth stone from the river. You make fast friends with Minho, the runner, after he hears the story of how you nearly stabbed Newt back in the Box. Alby talks Glade politics with you, Gally seems to tolerate you far more than the others. However, your closest friendship will always be with Newt.

Maybe it’s because he was the first friendly face you saw, the reason you ever agreed to enter into the Glade at all. Maybe it’s because Newt hands away his trust like a gift, free of charge. You couldn’t stray from him if you tried. You exchange quick chats and stupid jokes in between shifts, and you find that you look forward to every minute shared with the blond second-in-command.

One day, Newt and his track-hoes are forced to give up their gardening to retreat underneath haphazard awnings from an encroaching rainstorm. Even the builders have hurried away, trading in their bricks and wooden slats for the dry cover of the few buildings in the Glade. You lean against a tree conveniently growing underneath a cloth shelter, eyes alight as you watch the rain pour down over the Glade. A faint smile plays on your lips. Newt walks up beside you, an eyebrow raised as he takes in your peaceful expression.

“You know, I’ve never seen someone look this happy over a bloody thunderstorm. We’re all forced indoors and we can’t do anything, and you look like someone’s just won you a million pounds.” You turn to face him, grinning. “I just think it’s nice. You’re the track-hoe, I thought you’d be happier about it. If it doesn’t rain, all your plants die. Honestly, we should both be celebrating.” Newt shakes his head in horror. “You’re ridiculous. I mean, look at Gally. He seems like he’s going to kill somebody just because of a few clouds.”

You reach out a hand, feeling the burst of the fat raindrops against your palm. “You want me to be like Gally and hate everything in the world? Not a chance.” Newt watches you, an amused expression entertaining itself on his lips. “I’m not asking for that, I’m asking you to stop looking so excited about a rainstorm. You’re making the rest of us look like miserable downers.” You grin at him. “Maybe you are. Have you considered that?”

You crane your head out from the awning, gazing up as the drops rain down upon you. “I’m going out there. Come with me.” Newt scoffs. “And be soaking for the rest of the day? Not a chance.” You look at him, a mock pout tainting your eyes with incredible sorrow. “It’ll be fun. Not everyone has to be a miserable downer, you know.” You reach out to grab his hand and pull him into the rain, but Newt dodges your grasp. Instead, your hand darts down to his pocket, and you steal his prized pocketknife, holding it up teasingly before him. Newt lunges for it, but you run out into the rain-drenched clearing, forcing you to run after him.

Newt’s carried this one knife around with him for what feels like forever. He uses it for everything- gardening, threatening greenies, lending it to Chuck for the boy’s latest carving project. It won’t rust in the rain, but it will be important enough to him so that he’ll follow you out into the storm, away from his shelter. You sprint through the clearing, Newt chasing after you. You can hear him shouting. “You’re a terrible friend, Y/N, you know that?” You risk a glance backwards, feeling a laugh bursting on your tongue when you realize he’s only a few feet away from you. “That’s just mean!”

Eventually, he catches up to you, reaching out an arm to stop you in your tracks. You come to an abrupt stop, still doing your best to hold the knife away from him. Newt laughs to see your last-ditch efforts. “You’re insane, you know that? Absolutely insane.” You beam at him, feeling the rain pour down over you. “Maybe so.” Newt lunges for the knife and the sudden shift in balance makes you slip on the soaking wet grass. Newt leans over, catching you, and for a second you feel like you’re frozen in that moment, his arms around your waist and the rain pounding around you.

Then he’s straightening up, knife held triumphantly in his palm. “Told you I’d get it back.” You grin at him. “That wasn’t the point. We’re both out here now.” Newt looks up, as if finally realizing that you’ve goaded him into leaving the tent. He tosses a playful glare your way. “I thought we were friends.” You laugh. “We are. That’s why we’re having such a good time.” You tilt your head up towards the sky, taking in the crisp, clear freshness of the rain. Newt groans, but you can see the smile he’s unsuccessfully trying to hide. “Maybe it isn’t that bad. Not all of it.”

When you look back, you see his smile, the rain pressing his hair against his face. You can feel your own breath coming sharply in your chest after the running, the cool of the rain against the heat in your cheeks. You’ve never felt this way around him, and you can’t figure out what it means until that night, when you lie awake for hours, mind still turning around the storm from earlier. The truth comes to you after a while, letting itself in without so much as a knock. You love Newt, no matter how much you’d like to hide it.

The only problem is that Newt would never feel the same way about you. He constantly refers to you as his friend, even his best friend, and that’s all you’ll ever be. The fault lies solely with you, for falling in love with such a sunbeam of a boy and expecting that he’d look back at a matchstick of a girl, someone who’d light up only to die out seconds later. The only thing you can do is try to get over your little crush, hoping you can snuff it out like a candle.

This proves to be more difficult than you’d thought. Your first attempt is to just forget the whole thing ever happened. This plan runs into the ground as soon as you look at him the next morning, and feel all of your heart’s pounding rush over you. Your only idea after that is to edge slightly away from him. Maybe the distance will keep your mind from turning to him, from falling in love so easily. You still sit with him at mealtimes with all your other friends, but you don’t run to him at every break. Honestly, this is for the best. He probably thought you were too clingy anyway, this is just making things even better.

Yet it still hurts when you feel his absence, like a phantom limb that should have always stayed by your side. Maybe you’re just kidding yourself, but you could swear that Newt looks for you when you’re not there, like there’s a one in a million chance that he just might feel the same way. After about a week of this, you’re sitting in a quiet, empty part of the Glade on a rest break when Newt approaches you. He doesn’t say anything at first, just sits down right next to you. From the second you saw him, you noticed the crease in his brow, the look of unhappiness that seemed to permeate his every movement. Whatever he’s about to say, it won’t be good.

Newt fixes you with a quiet stare. “Why are you avoiding me?” The question, so blunt and straight-forward, demands an answer. You’re not sure that you want to provide one, so you try to steer away from his interrogation. “What are you talking about? We sit at the same tables at meals. We talk all the time, actually. We’re talking right now.” It’s a nothing answer, and Newt knows it. “We’re talking now because I came up to you. We used to spend a lot more time together, and then you decided that I wasn’t good enough for you.”

Your eyes widen. “That’s not what I thought at all! I-” You break off, wishing you could hold your tongue for once in your life. You almost gave it all away. Newt sees this sudden silence and presses it. “You what? I was closer to you than I was to anyone else in the Glade, and now I barely see you a couple of times per day. There’s always a reason, Y/N, and I would like to know why.” You sigh, but keep your mouth shut. Maybe he’ll hate you right now, but it will be better than the disappointment and even disgust when he finds out that someone he sees as a sister has fallen in love with him.

Newt’s voice is quiet. “I guess this was a mistake. You what, regretted all of this? You’re trying to pretend that we were never friends?” Your eyes flash. “I never regretted a thing. I loved you, and it was a stupid mistake that I’m trying to fix. Is that what you wanted to hear?” There’s silence for one heartbeat, two. You look away, furious with yourself. Then there’s a hand on your cheek, guiding your face back to his. Newt’s lips are on yours now, and you stifle a gasp of surprise.

At last, he breaks away, a smile dancing across his face. “You could have said that a lot earlier, you know.” You stare at him. “You liked me? You actually-” Newt chuckles softly. “Have for a while. I was trying to tell you, but you made it so bloody difficult sometimes.” You feel like you can’t think straight. “I can’t believe I never figured that out.” Newt’s smile is intoxicating. “I’m glad you know now. Makes it a lot easier to do this.” When he kisses you again, it’s even more breathtaking than the first.

#newt #newt imagines #newt x reader #tmr #tmr imagines #tmr x reader #maze runner #maze runner imagines #maze runner x reader #tmr newt #tmr newt imagines #tmr newt x reader #maze runner newt #maze runner newt imagines #maze runner newt x reader #scorch trials #death cure #thomas brodie sangster

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its-deputy-caleb · 3 years ago

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Hullo, I hope you're doing well! You absolutely don't have to write this if you don't want to, but these days I've been feeling down and pretty insecure due to being asexual, and I was wondering- How would Lady Dimitrescu be with a partner who turns out to be asexual and sex-repulsed, but is still interested in her romantically?

Heyy anon, firstly don’t ever feel bad about being asexual! everyone deserves to be themselves and most importantly deserve to be comfortable as themselves. I apologise that this took so long but i hope it’s okay nonetheless.

A lot of people asked for an asexual reader so I’ve decided to do all the lords in this post :)) enjoy.

Alcina Dimitrescu

When Alcina started dating you she learnt early on about your asexuality when you both discussed topics of limitations and boundaries for the two of you.

She understood that it was something that make you nervous but she was never anything less than kind and comforting to you about it.

You both found other ways to be intimate and show how you loved each other. Alcina loves to cuddle you, carry you in her arms and put a gentle hand on your head when you walk beside her.

Sometimes it’s much simpler than a huge display of affection and she will lace your fingers together at the dinner table and that’s all the two of you need.

She loves to kiss the back of your hand and it always makes your heart swell with love and adoration for her because of how she has to bend all the way down and practically kneel but she does it for you because you’re worth it.

Some nights you fall asleep on top of her with your head on her chest. She’ll be reading to you by the fire place and only stop at the sound of soft little snores where she picks you up and carries you to the bedroom you share.

She’s fully aware that you don’t feel comfortable or like intimacy that’s sexual which has never bothered her at all but that doesn’t stop her from cuddling you all night long.

She’ll have you wrapped in her arms, a blanket tucked over you and she’ll place sweet, gentle kisses to your forehead and temple.

Donna Beneveinto

When you told Donna that you were asexual she was nothing but supportive and it never affected your relationship in the slightest.

While Donna herself isn’t asexual she’s tended to prefer non sexual intimacy which is one of the reasons why she made you feel so comfortable and loved.

She took your hand in hers, stroking her thumb over the back of your hand and told you that it was okay to be asexual.

Instead the two of you spend time cuddling or walking through her gardens hand in hand or with your arms linked.

Donna will tell you every day that she feels so lucky to have you in her life and how you being asexual has never changed how she feels for you.

One of Donna’s favourites is for you to place your hands over her cheeks. She’ll instantly lean into you and kiss your palm and it’s a way of validating the both of you. The act only solidifying that you loved and accepted each other no matter what.

Donna loved when you rested your head on her shoulder which happened a lot when you had picnics or were sitting on the porch watching the waterfall together.

Her heart always filled with joy to know you were comfortable around her and weren’t scared of her. She always followed through by wrapping an arm around you and kissing the top of your head.

Salvatore Moreau

Salvatore panicked at first, not understanding what asexual meant and instantly jumped to the conclusion that you didn’t like him at all.

However after taking his hands in yours and slowly explaining the nature of being asexual he came to realise that you still loved him and well, he never really stopped loving you from the moment he saw you.

He was always respectful and even borrowed some books from Alcina and Donna to learn about how he could make you comfortable.

But really how he learnt was by spending time with you and talking to you. You spent many dates walking around the reservoir, sitting in a boat to watch the sunset and exploring the village. All while you did this, you shared little intimacies like kisses on the cheek, hand holding and the occasional snuggle when you stopped to rest.

Sal was in awe of you and being the old romantic sap he is, you showed him just how much he could love you without any sexual acts. It wasn’t that he wanted sex, he just always thought of a relationship from one perspective but if he got to spend time with you he was happy and it made him happy that you trusted him enough to tell him.

The more you grew into the relationship the more he learnt and every day you saw the way his eyes lit up when he looked at you. He’s just so totally in love that all he wanted was to see you happy and spend time with you.

Not only that but he desperately craved your physical attention and you never failed to make his heart melt by your gentle touches.

Karl Heisenberg

To your surprise Karl was really understanding when you told him you were asexual. You thought that he would’ve been angry or repulsed but he simple knelt down and took your chin in his hand, causing you to look him in the eyes. He brought you in for one of his bear hugs and reassured you that it was okay.

He actually really enjoyed not having a sexual dynamic in your relationship. Karl has been through so much that the little touches and kisses was all he needed, all the both of you needed.

Underneath all that hard and broody demeanour he’s actually a total softie and the two of you end up spending your nights slow dancing in his workshop after a day of working tirelessly.

He’ll flick his wrist till some old vintage song plays through the radio and you’ll rest your head on his shoulder, your arm draped around his waist or shoulder while you rock slowly.

Sure you both smell like sweat, grease and oil but just being close to him is all you could ever ask for. Not only that but you know he’s always had trouble sleeping and it makes him sleepy.

The two of you love to play with each other’s hair and cuddle on the old worn in leather couch of his living quarters. Either one of your heads will rest in the others lap while you spend the afternoon lazing around.

Karl has never failed to remind you of how much he loves you and that just being with you makes him happy. He’ll kiss your cheek and tell you that you should never feel ashamed for being asexual because he loves you no matter what.

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #salvatore moreau #salvatore moreau x reader #resident evil headcanons #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil #asks #prompt

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animeomegas · 3 years ago

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Could I please request how would the naruto omega boys act after having a nightmare? For example, how they would want comfort from their s/o, or how would they get that comfort if their significant other is away on a mission?🙏🏾🙏🏾

(Of course you can! I hope you enjoy it~)

Naruto –

Naruto gets quite sad after a nightmare. All his enthusiasm and joy for life gets sapped out of him until he’s just miserable. He feels awful and down and he really could do with some comfort, so if his alpha wasn’t already shaken awake by his nightmare induced flailing, he makes the decision to wake them up.

The best way to comfort Naruto is with some simple cuddling. Just hold him in your arms and tuck the blankets around him. Don’t push him to talk but listen attentively when he does (and he normally does). Just… being there for him goes a long way. No one was there for him when he had a nightmare when he was younger, and it really makes him feel better.

Of course, those abandonment issues mean that Naruto doesn’t like waking up alone after a nightmare, but he is used to it. At first, he always holds your pillow and breathe in your scent while he tries to fall back to sleep, but it never works. Naruto normally ends up wandering to the kitchen and getting something to drink or making some ramen to calm himself down, stewing somewhat in bitterness that he’s alone to deal with it. After his drink/snack, he does manage to fall asleep while holding your pillow, but he’d much rather you were there with him.

“I dreamt about, well, about when Neji died, but you were there too, and I know it’s stupid,” Naruto rearranged himself on your chest so he could look up at you. “But I was really scared that you were going to get hurt or something too… I’m glad you’re okay…”

Sasuke –

Sasuke has awful, awful nightmares. Mostly about the night his brother murdered his family or the day he killed his brother. He often wakes up disorientated, panicked and upset, his scent is normally bad enough to shock his alpha awake with him. But if for some reason they don’t wake up, Sasuke will never wake them, always trying to comfort himself, to his detriment.

The best way to comfort Sasuke is to make him feel safe. Sit behind him to cover his back while he stares at all the entrances and exits into the room, never box him in or restrain him, and on really bad nights, move him into his nest where he can more easily defend himself and feel a lot safer. When he calms down, don’t speak too much, he’s likely embarrassed enough already, just tuck him back into bed or into his nest and hold him at the back of his neck. The firm pressure puts him to sleep every time.

When Sasuke wakes up from a nightmare alone, it takes him a much longer amount of time to calm down. He throws himself out of bed and into the corner of the room (somewhere more easily defendable) and he just rides the panic for as long as it takes for him to be too exhausted to continue. Oftentimes, he falls asleep like that, jammed into the corner, neck bent at a funny angle. They are rough nights for him, and they happen far too often. He can normally keep the nightmares under wraps while on a mission, he never enters a deep sleep during missions so it isn’t hard to avoid them, but at home they always plague him. He doesn’t like it when his alpha is on a long mission, he doesn’t like it at all. He’ll try and get a mission of equal length so that he isn’t left behind.

“It’s alright,” you cooed into Sasuke’s ear, massaging the back of his neck in the hopes that would be enough to settle him into his nest properly. “You’re safe, my omega, alpha will look after you.”

Shikamaru –

Shikamaru wakes up from nightmares tensed for a fight, and when he realises that he’s in bed, the tenseness melts away into a desire for something to drink or smoke. The bedroom has an attached balcony, so Shika will normally grab some cigarettes and step out into the cool night air to sort out his thoughts.

The best way to comfort Shikamaru is to leave him to think alone on the balcony, but be ready to welcome him back into bed when he comes back in. You could stand on the balcony with him, he won’t mind, as long as you don’t speak or crowd him too much, but the important part is after that. He needs a little affection when he crawls back into bed, some chest rubs perhaps, to settle him enough to fall back to sleep. Shikamaru never talks about his nightmares, but this is something you can do to lessen the load in a different way.

When his alpha isn’t there, much the same happens, but Shikamaru often spends longer on the balcony and occasionally forgoes going back to sleep entirely, simply deciding that if he’s awake, he might as well get some work done. He tries not to even think about the fact that his alpha isn’t there, it will just make him feel worse, so he avoids it.

“You’re cold,” you complained after taking Shikamaru into your arms. He had just slid into bed after twenty minutes standing on the balcony.

“Sorry,” he said, his head flopping onto his pillow. “I’ll warm up in a minute.”

Shino –

Shino hardly moves during or after a nightmare, nor does he make a sound, so his alpha is unlikely to be woken up without Shino waking them on purpose, which he rarely does. Shino normally shuffles around awkwardly for a bit, trying to get closer to his alpha without waking them up, gently placing his head on their chest for a bit of comfort. It is at this point that you are most likely to be woken up.

The best way to comfort Shino is to pull him properly into your chest and stroke his hair while he settles himself. Pretend you don’t know anything is wrong and understand that if he does want to share anything about the nightmare, he’ll share it the next morning, not in the moment.

If his alpha isn’t there, Shino will normally grab for their pillow and hold that to use their scent to soothe himself back to sleep. If they’ve been gone long enough that the scent on the pillow is faded, Shino will huff a little and go and take something out of his nest to hold instead. He doesn’t really like taking things out of his nest but needs must. If he’s super upset from his nightmare and his alpha has been gone a long time, he might just crawl into his nest and spend the rest of the night there.

“It’s a cold night tonight, huh?” you murmured sleepily as you tucked a recently awakened Shino’s head into your neck.

Shino hummed in agreement but was seemingly focused on pushing his whole body as close to his alpha’s as possible.

“Get some sleep,” you murmured before pressing a kiss to his head and drifting off back to sleep.

Neji –

Neji is a light sleeper, so normally he is able to wake himself up before his dreams turn from unnerving to horrifying. Normally, but not always. When he does have an awful nightmare, he awakes with a soft gasp, blinking rapidly to try and remove the horrible images that are still firmly placed in his mind. When that doesn’t work, Neji normally gets up and makes himself a cup of tea, sitting in the kitchen to drink it.

The best way to comfort Neji is to come with him to the kitchen but let him brew the tea in peace. When he sits down at the table, take his unoccupied hand and hold it, drawing patterns on his palm or running your thumb over the back of his hand. That rarely fails to calm him down. If Neji isn’t calmed by that, it’s likely that he had a nightmare about losing you, so scoot a little closer and sneak an arm around his waist. He prefers a little more contact with his mate if he’s had a dream about losing them, after all. If it’s late enough in the morning, Neji will probably just decide to get up for the day and he’s a difficult person to coax back into bed unless he was hit really badly by the nightmare.

When he wakes up alone, Neji does the same thing, but he doesn’t sit at the table for as long, choosing instead to just get dressed and ready for the day, even if it’s 03:00AM. He doesn’t want to wallow in his thoughts alone, so he powers through, as he’s always done.

“Do you want to head back to bed?” you murmured against Neji’s hair, placing a kiss there to end your question.

Neji hesitated before shaking his head.

“Then let’s get dressed and we can head to the market before the morning rush, my love, come on now.”

Iruka –

Iruka wakes up from nightmares with a shout on his lips, an arm automatically reaching out for his mate to ensure you’re okay or to protect you from whatever he was dreaming about. When he realises that it was all a dream, he flops back onto the bed with a sigh, annoyed that his precious sleep has been interrupted. He relies on his good sleep schedule to keep him functional under his insane workload, so he uses sheer force of will to send himself back to sleep on most nights. But if his nightmare was particularly rough, he always tucks himself into his alpha’s arms. His pride certainly won’t keep him from what he needs to sleep, so he lifts up his alpha’s arm and tucks himself in, too grumpy and overtired to care if he’s disturbing them. He lets out a nice little purr when he’s situated himself perfectly and will happily take any and all comforting touches from his alpha if he wakes them up.

The best way to comfort him if to give him those soft, comforting touches, and avoid grumbling too much at his heavy-handed attempt at cuddling haha. A little head massage goes a long way with Iruka, and while he’s the biggest advocate for talking through most things in a relationship, he likes to leave the conversation for tomorrow, so verbal exchanges should be short and sweet.

If his alpha isn’t there, then Iruka will continue trying to will himself to sleep until it works. Failure isn’t an option.

“’Ruka, what do you want? It’s the middle of the night,” you groaned, tiredly rubbing your eyes.

Iruka growled lightly at your question, but didn’t otherwise acknowledge your statement, instead continuing to arrange himself in your arms.

You couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face as he finally settled.

“Happy now, ‘mega?” you asked, massaging the back of his head. Iruka’s purring answered that question well enough.

Kakashi –

Kakashi’s nightmares are horrific and very frequent. But they’re also very complicated. How he reacts depends on the type of nightmare, his general stress levels, how far into the relationship he is, etc. Generally, they perturb him enough that he can never go back to sleep afterwards and he is very reluctant to ever share any of the details of his nightmares. If he wakes himself up, Kakashi is prone to shutting down emotionally to protect himself. If someone else wakes him up, he can react violently before he realises where he is, so as upsetting as it can be to watch Kakashi in a nightmare, you learn that waking him up isn’t a good idea, because Kakashi would never forgive himself if he hurt his mate in a post-nightmare stupor. Once he’s properly awake, Kakashi might try to train or go and sit by the memorial stone.

The best way to comfort Kakashi is to make the room he’s sleeping is as safe as it can be. Scent the air so that he wakes up to your scent rather than just his own panicked one, make sure all the doors are shut and curtains drawn and remove any covers that he may be tangling himself in. When he wakes up, give him space to collect himself, but talk to him so that he can recognise the sound as not hostile. Very deep into the relationship, he’ll allow you to give him some water and tuck him back into bed with some gentle words and simple affection. If the relationship isn’t that strong yet, then there’s almost zero chance he’ll stick around long enough for such things.

When Kakashi wakes up without his alpha there, he trains, trains and trains some more to burn the negative feelings from his mind. If the dream was about his alpha, Kakashi can sometimes get halfway through packing an emergency bag to go and rescue you before he realises how foolish he’s being. He’s never been very good at properly comforting himself.

“Kakashi, it’s just me here with you,” you promised him, standing away from the bed to give your disorientated mate some space. “Only us, it’s safe, ‘Kashi, it’s safe.”

Itachi –

Itachi is a master at supressing his painful emotions, and after nightmares is no different. Itachi is still and silent upon waking up from a nightmare, and unless you were already awake, there is no chance that you would notice him waking up in a melancholic mood. Itachi won’t ever wake his alpha up either, putting their own needs and comfort above his (as he always does).

If you did happen to be awake and notice his nightmare, the best way to comfort Itachi is firstly to ask him if he’s okay. He’ll always say he is, but it really means a lot to him that you care enough about him to ask. After that, there are many ways to comfort Itachi, but making him a cup of tea and brushing his hair is always a safe bet. If he’s really torn, he’ll accept some cuddling and physical affection instead of tea.

When his alpha isn’t there, he simply represses everything, gets up and dressed, and sharpens his weapons or takes a trip to the nearest town to stock up on some more dango and green tea. Itachi is used to doing things alone, but he really needs someone with him sometimes, and he is eternally grateful that, despite everything he’s done, he has someone who can care and be there for him.

“Here, my love,” you passed Itachi a cup of green tea before sliding into your bed behind him, brush in hand.

“You don’t have to do this, it’s late,” Itachi whispered, looking down into his tea.

“I love doing things like this with you,” you reassured him, already playing with his hair. “Let me worry about these things, Itachi, just enjoy your tea.”

#naruto #a/b/o #omegaverse #itachi #kakashi #neji #sasuke #shino #shikamaru #iruka #alpha reader #alpha!reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #naruto x reader #nightmares #omega x alpha

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azritesx3 · 3 years ago

Text

First Real Friend - LM & F!Reader

Description: These common white sterile walls just became a bit brighter, thanks to the Devil.

Rating: G

Warnings: None

AN: A request from a friend of a friend! Hope you feel better soon, darling! Hospitals ain't no fun! Hopefully this 'lil Lucifer fic helps you out! PS: Sorry it’s so late!!!

Request: “...something fluffy, like the reader is in the hospital and she basically lives there because of a long term illness...Lucifer comes into her room by mistake once, while looking for Chloe’s room...he looks around and sees personal items in reader’s room and realizes she’s been there for quite a while, alone, her family isn’t great, and to her surprise he starts coming everyday. He brings her little gifts and sneaks in her favorite food, and basically he just makes her feel like someone cares about, but he learns that her own family doesn’t even come to see her.”

AO3 /// Wattpad

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

Lucifer strolls through the hospital doors with a large bouquet of various flowers and a confident smile on his face. He feels...good. He's never had a feeling like this before, though he supposes saving a human life would be fairly different than any erratic drug or sex. This is a soul after all, and he's just so used to torturing and using souls.

He strolls down the halls and opens the door he was looking for--

And stops.

He's not in the Detective's room, that's for sure. Her room is a plain old boring hospital room. The room he's currently standing in the doorframe of almost looks like a normal bedroom.

The patient of the room looks up from their position on a large bean bag. She cocks an eyebrow up and marks the page she left on in her book with her finger:

"Wrong room?"

"Uh…" Lucifer is baffled for a quick moment before regaining his composure, "Yes! Terribly sorry!"

The patient smiles and returns to her book, which Lucifer takes as his leave. The next room he opens is the correct one this time. He places his superior flowers with the rest of the others, then sits in the uncomfortable metal chair next to the Detective's bed side.

Lucifer watches the Detective's peaceful sleeping face, thinking back on the short time they spent together. Soon the Detective stirs awake, the two have a short talk, and Lucifer leaves before catching a serious case of IBS at the family scene playing before him.

Before leaving the hospital he stops for a minute in front of the mysterious patient's room that he intruded upon. He peeks through the slightly open blinds, taking in once more a room that looks more like a well lived in bedroom than a hospital room. He spots the patient now on her bed, sleeping. Peaceful...but…

"Hmm…"

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

Three days later

You sit at your mini dining table, eating a hearty breakfast while watching some game show entertainment. Your hospital door opens while in the middle of a bite. You look up and stop chewing at the sight of the same strange man that opened your door by mistake a few days ago.

"Lost again, pal?" You ask after swallowing. Your face has an amused look again like before.

"No. I'm here to see you, in fact." The British man smiles, holding a similar looking bouquet as he had days ago.

"Um," You're not sure what to think, "Why?"

The man huffs a laugh before strolling into the room, shutting the door behind him, "You've been on my mind for the past couple days, darling. Curiosity catches the Devil."

He places his flowers on top of a small dresser of yours nearest the window, then comes to stand next to you. He holds out his hand and smiles down at you, "Lucifer Morningstar, a pleasure."

You shake his warm hand with a smile of your own and introduce yourself. You motion to the chair across from you and he sits, "So, why is lil old me on your mind Mr. Morningstar?"

"Lucifer is fine, darling." He folds his hands together on your little eating table, "I've never seen a hospital room look like a bedroom before. Makes me think that you've been here for quite a while, and that's such a shame for such a beautiful young woman."

You sigh, like this is some kind of usual nuance for you, "Alright. Just tell me what article you're for and I'll answer your questions."

"Pardon?" Lucifer asks, confused.

"Your article?" You say pointedly, "Or whichever company my adoptive parents are trying to get in the good graces with?" When Lucifer continues to look at you puzzled, you stare at him quizzically, "That...is why you're really here isn't it? No one just decides to talk to some random hospital patient for fun."

"Well, I'm definitely not no one. I'm the Devil. Completely different spectrum."

"Uh huh...ok...totally not weird at all," you say skeptically, "So, why are you here, Lucifer?"

"Like I said before, curiosity. Is that...all right?"

You stare him in the eyes, and the man looks genuine enough. Weird, but genuine.

"Sure, I guess. Not like I'm doing anything else."

"Wonderful!" Lucifer's face instantly brightens up, and you can't help but notice his excitement and joy is contagious, "So, tell me about yourself darling, and I'll do the same!"

So, talk and talk you two did. All the way until visiting hours were long since over, and he was here in the morning!

You give him your background, a sad sap of a story. You're an abandoned baby. Left on the doorsteps of an orphanage. No information on your real parents or family. As you grew up the caretakers noticed how often you'd get sick, and how easy it was for you to get hurt. After many tests you're diagnosed with numerous things, causing a very weak immune system and fragile bones. Your caretakers believed no one would take you and you'd be stuck at the home forever. Fortunately for them, a rich couple came by and took pity on you. You thought you'd actually get a family, but that wasn't the case. This couple took you in to further increase their financing in their businesses and lives by using you as a charity. They taught you how to act and talk for the cameras and reporters, and you picked up on it quickly.

Yeah, it wasn't the best kind of life. You didn't have a normal family, but at least you were alive. The loneliness sucked at times, but you figured that's a small price to pay for staying alive and having some kind of life. It's not like your rich parents didn't do anything with you. They cared, just...not in the normal sense.

Lucifer gave you his story too. His insane story. God, angels, wars, becoming the Devil. You were starting to think he was some preacher, who just really believed. But you humored him, for he and his stories were incredibly entertaining. And who knows, maybe it was all real.

Suffice to say after that first day together, you two became fast friends and Lucifer became a very frequent visitor. Sneaking in a variety of your favorite things, some...illegal things, and even just sneaking you out for a night on the town.

Your first real friend, and you his.

#Lucifer Morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer netflix #lucifer #azritesx3 #azookiex3

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dreamsclock · 4 years ago

Note

...au where dream dies at the final disc confrontation, (loosing a cannon life during the minecraft hit, but didn't tell anyone)

Also can I take check anon?

i’m not the proudest of this ficlet bc i wrote it while sick ndkjncdk, but i hope it’s okay anyway !! :)

warnings: major character death, permanent death, grief, emotional distress, murder, trauma, crying, hurt no comfort, unhappy ending

And the villain drops dead, because at the end of the story, all good villains do.

Sapnap watches, stares numbly as he does so — it’s easy to be big talk by donning armour and joining in group discussions about killing Dream, harder to keep up his strength in those ideas upon seeing him, impossible to comprehend when Dream sinks to the floor, dead. It’s not graceful, it’s not even dignified: his death is messy and inelegant and makes Sapnap want to laugh, hysterically, at the falseness of it all.

Because it’s a joke, isn’t it? It has to be a joke.

Dream doesn’t die so easily.

...His Dream doesn’t die so easily.

And yet there he lies, unmoving, to prove otherwise: Sapnap is at his side, because of course he is, though he doesn’t quite remember how he’d got there, and he’s prying at his mask with hands that shake too much to be his own. Nothing feels real — disconnected from his own body, the mad desperation that possesses him speaks through his mouth, croaks out a “turn away” that has people obeying automatically, all of them stunned.

It’s not supposed to be this easy. And fuck, it hasn’t been easy — not for Tommy, who looks like he’s going to collapse any minute, not Tubbo, who is mute and exhausted and bleeding worryingly heavily from his shoulder, not for fucking any of them, and somehow Sapnap still can’t believe Dream would die so easily. The fight hadn’t even broken out. There had been no big fight: he’d surrendered, dropped his weapons and armour, and died.

It has to be a joke. This can’t be Dream.

Sapnap stares into the face of his best friend after removing his mask and sees that it is. No impersonator on earth could fake Dream’s face, because he’s the only one who’s seen it, because Dream’s face is unique in the happiness it brings Sapnap. The same joy is drowned out now by a tidal wave of thundering horror: a sharp overwhelming thudding of his heart that sings your fault your fault your fault your your your in an off key rhythm he can’t dismiss from his head.

He’s only dimly aware of the ragged noise that leaves his lips, only dimly aware of collapsing over Dream’s body, seizing his hand with a desperate urgency and trying to will him back to life through sheer force of desperation alone. And it doesn’t work, obviously, but the fact it doesn’t only leaves him feeling worse.

Try harder, he urges himself, and then the thought returns that you should have tried harder with him before, and leaves him sobbing, breathing in the familiar scent of Dream’s hoodie and unable to comprehend the reality of the situation.

Dream is dead. He’ll be back, because he promised never to leave him alone. Dream can’t come back. But he will. Dream is dead and gone and it’s your fault and it’s my fault and Dream promised he wouldn’t leave my side he promised it would be him and George and me forever and this is not forever and

“Sap,” Quackity whispers, and he’s tugging him away from Dream, turning him to cry into his arms instead, “Sap, hey, come on, I’ve got you, I promise I’ve got you.”

He doesn’t say it’s okay, because for Sapnap it’s not, and both of them know it. Sapnap crawls into his arms and doesn’t once let go of his iron grip of Dream’s hoodie, clenching his fist hard enough to hurt inside it and feeling the world crumble apart around the three of them. Quackity doesn’t say it’s okay, because despite Sapnap being so eager to fight Dream, despite him training to put a sword through his stomach, he’d never wanted it — Sapnap hadn’t wanted this, hadn’t expected it, and nothing will ever be alright again.

The others are moving out. Taking Tommy and Tubbo back to base. And Sapnap is frozen. Quackity doesn’t try to move him. Inexplicably, he misses Karl.

(He misses Dream. There’s nothing inexplicable about that. He misses Dream, and he misses his best friend, and he misses his brother.)

The villain lies, dead, unmoving, long into the night until Quackity manages to coax Sapnap to his feet and into picking Dream up to take through the portal.

The server rejoices that night. They celebrate, they dance: Tommy laughs in dizzying relief and Tubbo cries in happiness to know they’re safe.

Sapnap digs Dream’s grave alone, and buries him without a funeral.

It’s not what his best friend would have asked for, but it’s the best he can give him.

(He cries alone, to the distant sound of music, until the sun begins to rise and it starts to rain.)

#> my asks !!#> my writing !!#tw major character death #tw death #tw grief #tw permanent death #tw emotional distress #tw murder #tw trauma #tw crying #tw hurt no comfort #tw unhappy ending

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marjansmarwani · 3 years ago

Text

somehow we’ll be okay

9.3k || ao3

Gabriel and Owen process their guilt, the 126 comes together in the face of (another) tragedy, and Carlos and TK find comfort in each other. ---- A 2x12 coda, in 3 parts

This took me an entire week to write and I'm not even sure what it is anymore but here it is.

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

The shrill ringing of a phone shattered the silence of the Reyes home.

They had just been settling down for the night when the call came and Gabriel muttered a curse under his breath as he rolled over in bed to grab the offending phone from the nightstand. He frowned when he saw the contact info on the screen.

“Owen?” he said in greeting, “Is everything okay? It’s a little late for a social call.”

“Gabriel!” The fire captain's voice was tense and distant. It sounded as if he was driving, and fast. “Have you talked to Carlos at all tonight?”

“No,” he responded, sitting up in bed, nerves suddenly on edge, “Why?”

“I don’t think Raymond was done. Do you remember what he said? ‘I’ll take what matters the most from you. At first I thought he meant the 126, but I think there was more; and I think he was talking to both of us.”

It only took a moment for Owen Strand’s frantic words to process and when they did Gabriel felt a cold chill was over him. “The boys,” he said quietly, fearfully, and he felt his wife shift beside him, sitting up and facing him with a concerned expression.

“I think so,” Owen confirmed grimly. “I’m on my way there now but TK’s not answering. It keeps going to voicemail.”

“I’ll try Carlos,” he said, desperately hoping there was some other explanation for them not answering, anything but the worst fear Owen had just painted for him. He went to hang up, but he hesitated. “Owen…” he said instead, not sure what exactly it was he wanted to say.

“I’ll call you as soon as I know anything,” the other man promised and despite everything, Gabriel took comfort in knowing that he and Andrea weren’t alone in this fear. He thanked him again before ending the call and switching to his recent calls list.

“What’s going on?” Andrea asked him, eyes roving his face for any clues. He didn’t answer right away as he tapped his son’s name and held the phone up to his ear, praying to hear his voice answer. Instead all he got was the mechanical ringing before his voicemail picked up.

He lowered the phone and met his wife’s eyes.

“Owen thinks that the arsonist isn’t done with revenge yet. He thinks that he had a more personal goal in mind; something that would affect both of us.”

He knew he didn’t have to spell it out for her - Andrea had always been smarter than him, after all - and when she placed a hand over her mouth he grimaced, reaching over and squeezing her arm gently as he tried calling Carlos again. It was the same as the first time, so was the next. He could feel the fear and desperation growing within him, but he didn’t know what else he could do. Their son’s home was nearly 20 minutes away from their house - he’d never make it in time to make any difference. He could only hope that Owen would get there in time; that his actions wouldn’t cause him to lose what was most precious to him.

He stood abruptly from the bed, pacing the floor of the bedroom as he dialed again. Again he got the voicemail and it took every single ounce of his self-control to not hurl his phone across the room in frustration. He took a shuddering breath and sank onto the bed, running a weary and shaking hand across his face.

He felt the bed shift as Andrea moved closer to him, “Talk to me, corazón,” she murmured, a hand rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“He’s not answering,” he told her dully, “and neither is TK.” He sighed again and leaned forward, putting his head in his hands.

“That doesn’t mean we have to assume the worst,” she reminded him gently, “not yet.”

He nodded dully and reached up to cover the hand on his shoulder with his own. They waited in silence on their bed; joined together by their hands and their fear as they waited for Gabriel’s phone to ring. The moments passed like sand through a clogged hourglass; each one lasting for its own small eternity as they all piled upon each other.

Finally, his phone rang.

He snatched it up from where it was resting on his knees but paused over the screen before answering. He needed to know - they both did - but this could very well be the moment that changed their life forever. With a glance at his wife who gave his shoulder another comforting, supportive squeeze, he answered, putting it on speaker.

“Owen?” he asked in a shaky voice, “What happened? Are they okay?”

“We’re okay, dad.”

Nothing else could have made him feel the rush of joy and relief that hearing his son’s voice through the phone did in that moment. He sagged in relief, turning to Andrea to see her eyes glistening with unshed tears. He gave her a watery smile before he turned his attention back to the phone in his hand.

“The house is gone,” Carlos continued; voice low, rough, and a little shaky, “but we’re safe.”

“That’s all that matters right now, mijo,” he told him. “Everything else we can handle in time.”

On the other end of the phone he heard Carlos make a noise of agreement that was cut short by a cough. He frowned and shared a glance with Andrea to see his concern reflected in her expression.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be in a hospital?” he asked.

“The paramedics checked us out, dad. And then TK’s captain, when they were done. We’re fine, really.”

“Are you sure? Because…”

“We’re fine, dad,” Carlos repeated; his voice soft, but firm.

Gabriel took a breath, steadying himself. “Okay. Your mom and I are on the way, we’ll be there as soon as you can.”

“Yes, sir, see you soon.”

The almost professional tone in his son’s voice hurt. He knew that it was likely a shield; a way to keep himself together in the aftermath, but he needed him to know. He had come so close - too close - to losing him, he needed him to know. “I love you, son,” he said, voice tight as he said the words he didn’t say enough.

“Love you, too.”

With those words Carlos ended the call and Gabriel felt as if all the energy had just been sapped from his body and he sank down onto the bed once again. He heaved a deep breath and rubbed at his eyes. He could feel his wife looking at him, so he voiced the thought that has been ricocheting through his mind since the moment Owen had called: “This is my fault,” he admitted quietly. “I could have cost us our son, or could have caused him to lose someone he loves.”

“That’s not on you, Gabriel.”

“Yes it is - of course, it is,” he argued. “He did this to get back at me, to make me suffer. It’s completely on me.”

“Did you want to hurt Carlitos? Or TK?”

Gabriel looked up sharply, meeting his wife’s gaze with wide eyes, “Of course not!”

“Then that’s not on you. Yes, someone awful did this to hurt you; but that doesn’t mean you did it. I’m not saying I agree with what you and Owen did,” she reminded him in case he did not recall the rather heated discussion they had had earlier in the kitchen about keeping secrets and not considering the possible collateral, “but you didn’t start the fire. Someone terrible did it of their own free will and that’s on them, not you.”

Her gaze was steady as she spoke to him and her words firm: she believed what she was saying and there was not a doubt in her mind. He wished he could say the same.

But if there was one thing he knew about her after over 30 years of marriage it was that there was no arguing with her once she made up her mind. So he simply nodded and offered a weak smile. They sat in silence for another few moments before she stood up, walking up to him and placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Get dressed,” she told him gently, “let’s go see our son.”

He nodded and rose on shaky legs, sighing as he turned to his dresser. His emotions were still swirling inside of him; turbulent and unrestrained. He couldn’t believe they had come so close to losing their son and until he saw him with his own eyes a part of him would insist on believing they had. So he threw on the first shirt and pants he found, discarding the pajamas he had been wearing on the bed without a second thought. The small details could be handled later; all that mattered right now was getting to Carlos.

They were in his truck a few minutes later and the half-hour drive to Owen Strand’s house was spent mostly in silence as they each worked their way through the night's events. When they arrived Andrea barely waited for him to put the truck in park before she was opening her door and climbing out and striding towards the house. He followed quickly behind and the front door swung open as they approached, revealing a tall man Gabriel had never seen before.

“You must be Carlos’s folks,” he said with a nod, “they’re in here.” He stepped aside without a word and Gabriel offered him a nod of thanks, but couldn’t find the words as he stepped through the doorway and got his first sight of his son: sitting at the counter, miserable and soot-covered with his hands clutched around a mug of tea as his eyes tracked something across the room.

Gabriel followed his gaze to see TK - equally filthy and absently pacing as he spoke on the phone.

“I’m fine Mom, I promise,” Gabriel could hear him saying even as his eyes traveled back across the room to Carlos. “We both are.”

He offered Carlos a small, reassuring smile before he turned away, continuing to speak to his mother in low tones. Carlos hadn’t even noticed their presence yet, too focused on his boyfriend to catch much else, but when Andrea stepped closer and murmured his name he turned to face her quickly, eyes widening at the sight of them.

“Mom,” he said quietly, “dad.”

And then Andrea had her arms around him and he all but crumpled into her embrace, shaking as he let out a sob. Andrea whispered reassurances and Gabriel stepped closer, not wanting to intrude. But the moment he got close enough his wife released Carlos from her embrace and as he straightened he made eye contact with Gabriel.

“Dad,” he began, but Gabriel didn’t give him a chance to speak. He simply stepped closer and pulled his son into a hug, clutching him tightly.

“I was so scared, Carlitos,” he admitted, “and I am so, so sorry this happened.”

“It’s not your fault dad,” Carlos muttered and Gabriel shook his head. He was about to argue the point further when another voice interrupted.

“He’s right, Mr. Reyes,” TK said, joining them in the kitchen having finished his phone call. “It’s not your fault - or my dad’s. It’s just something that happened. It’s shitty, yeah,” he admitted, “but it wasn’t anyone’s fault. You couldn’t have known.”

Any more discussion was halted by Andrea stepping forward to pull TK into a hug as well.

“Who is or isn’t to blame doesn’t matter,” she said firmly as she hugged TK as tight as she had Carlos a few moments before, “what matters is that you are both safe.”

“You’re right,” TK agreed from her embrace, his eyes finding Carlos, “that is what matters.”

There was more to his words, as if he was trying to convey a message that only Carlos would understand. Whatever it was, Carlos seemed to understand as his body - still in Gabriel’s embrace - lost some of its tension. A comfortable silence settled over the four of them, the low tones of the other man on the phone in the corner the only sound.

Footsteps from the stairs soon interrupted that silence and a moment later, Owen Strand turned the corner.

He smiled weakly at Gabriel and Andrea before he turned his attention back to the boys, “I put some stuff in the guest room at the end of the hall: some extra clothes and towels. I’m sure you’re going to want to get cleaned up, feel free to use whatever you find in the bathroom.”

TK nodded as Andrea released him, “Thanks dad,” he said gratefully, stepping towards Carlos. He approached and Gabriel let him go as TK held out a hand.

“Come on babe,” he said softly, “let’s go get cleaned up.”

Carlos nodded and took the offered hand, allowing his boyfriend to lead him down the hall towards the stairs. As they walked by the other man ended his phone call and called out to them.

“The others know now,” he said, “and they’re on their way, just so you know.”

TK smiled fondly and nodded, “Thanks, Judd.”

Then he and Carlos disappeared up the stairs.

Andrea looked at Owen, “The others?” she asked.

“The rest of the 126,” Judd explained as he joined them at the counter. “I was about to call them anyways but they saw it on the news first so…”

“They want to come and see that they’re okay for themselves,” Owen concluded with a nod and a small smile, “They’re good like that.”

His smile faded though as he looked at Gabriel and Andrea.

“I am so sorry,” he said. “I should have realized it faster. It was right in front of me and I almost missed it. Even as it stands I was almost too late.”

“You’re no more to blame than I am,” Gabriel told him, “I had the same information and didn’t even think of the possibility until you called me. But really we should be thanking you for saving them. From what it sounds like if you had been a minute later or if they had to wait for a fire company...”

He trailed off, the awful possibility settling over him. They had come so close to losing the one thing that was most precious and it was only thanks to either sheer luck or a miracle that they hadn’t.

Owen nodded, but his expression didn’t change. They were silent for a moment before he spoke again, “I still can’t help but feel like this is my fault. If I hadn’t gotten involved maybe none of this would have happened - especially not this.”

Gabriel went to reassure him, to tell the other man that he was wrong, but he stopped. He knew that Owen wouldn’t believe him, because he didn’t. This was their fault; regardless of whether or not their children blamed them. If they hadn’t gotten involved they wouldn’t have had a target on their backs and they would still have their home.

“It takes two to make a team-up,” he said instead, nodding when Owen met his eyes. He saw understanding in his gaze; the knowledge that this was a guilt they were going to have to live with, but that they could shoulder the burden together - and make sure nothing like this ever happened again.

---------

“Is it just me or does this place feel different?” Nancy asked as she surveyed the once familiar bar.

“Does anything feel the same?” Marjan asked wearily from beside her, taking a sip of her water as she joined the paramedic in glancing around the room.

“That’s because nothing is,” Paul reminded them, “and because it’s been a weird few weeks.”

Marjan scoffed at that, “Weeks? It’s been a weird day. Our captain got arrested for arson, our fire station was blown up by said arsonist, and then it turns out that was in retaliation for the sting operation our captain secretly put together with our friend’s Texas Ranger dad and included his staged arrest. What part of that is not completely fucking bizarre?”

Paul titled his drink towards her in acknowledgment while Nancy shook her head. Mateo took a sip from his beer. “I’m just glad TK and I managed to get the house cleaned up before shift today so Cap didn’t have to come home to that,” he declared.

“Speaking of which,” Nancy said, “has anyone heard from my partner? Or his better half?”

Marjan shook her head, “He said he was heading home once we got the all-clear to leave. And given the discussion that he and Cap had before he left, I have a feeling he and Carlos have a lot of talking to do.”

“They’re going to need some time,” Paul agreed, “after everything.”

“I still can’t believe it was all a setup,” Mateo mused with a shake of his head, “I mean I knew Cap was innocent, I just had no idea he was in on a conspiracy.”

“I just can’t believe they didn’t at least tell TK and Carlos. I mean…” Nancy trailed off, but they all knew what was left unsaid and they had all heard the scene at the firehouse.

“I guess they did what they thought they had to do,” Marjan reasoned with a shrug.

“Doesn’t make it right though,” Paul reminded her darkly.

“No, it does not,” she agreed, looking back down at her glass.

There was silence then as they all let their thoughts wander, all processing the day. It’s only by chance that Majan looked up and happened to glance towards the bar. The hand absently stirring her water with her straw froze and her sharp intake of breath caught Nancy’s notice.

“Marj?” she asked, looking over to the woman sitting beside her. “What’s up?”

Marjan didn’t seem to be able to form words because she settled for gesturing vaguely to the bar, and they all followed her gaze to the tv playing idly in the corner. The news was on and there was footage of a structure burning brightly as crews battled the flames. The sight of a burning building would have been familiar to the assembled group regardless, but this particular building was familiar for an entirely different reason.

Nancy paled and the grin abruptly slid off Mateo’s face, leaving a look of horror in its wake. Paul cursed and pulled out his phone, swiping it open and tapping on TK’s name. It went right to voicemail and they all watched tensely as he scrolled further down the list to Carlos’s name before repeating the process with the same result. The three firefighters exchanged dark, scared looks. The scene on the tv was grim and they all knew first hand that with flames like that, time was key. There was a very small window to escape before escape became impossible, and they all hoped their friends had managed to find that window because the alternative was too awful to think about.

Nancy hadn’t said a word and Marjan turned to her only to see her trembling and clutching her glass too tight.

“Nance?” she asked gently, only to get a vigorous shake of her head in response.

“No,” the paramedic said softly, but firmly. “No. I can’t lose another partner. Not...not again. Not so soon.”

Marjan glanced at the others briefly to see her own pain reflected on their faces. Then she turned to Nancy, placing a comforting hand on her arm, “Hey,” she reminded her bracingly, “we don’t know anything yet. And TK knows what to do in a fire, he would have done his best to get them out as quickly as possible. Don’t count them out yet.”

She gave the other woman a smile that was shakily returned. She turned back to the other two, hoping they had a solution or an idea of what to do next but any conversation was interrupted by the sound of Paul’s phone ringing.

He answered it the moment the caller id flashed onto the screen, picking it up before the first few notes of his ringtone died out.

“Judd,” he asked quickly, “we just saw the news, do you…”

He trailed off as their acting captain spoke on the other end of the line, listening intently. After a minute, he relaxed.

“Thanks, man,” he murmured, “we needed to know. Yeah, we’re all together right now.” He listened for another minute before he nodded, “Yeah, we’ll head over there shortly. Thanks, man, really.”

With that, he hung up the phone and the other three stared at him expectantly.

“Do not make me turn to violence Strickland,” Nancy told him after a few more moments of silence, “because I will.”

“They’re okay,” he told them and the resolution to the tension that had been pressing on them rippled across their table.

“Alhamdulillah,” Marjan muttered softly and Nancy’s entire body seemed to sag as she leaned forward, placing her head into her hands with a shuddering breath.

“Do they know what happened?” Mateo asked, and Paul nodded grimly.

“Arson,” he replied, “retaliation from Raymond; revenge against both the men who arrested him.”

“Ranger Reyes and Cap,” Marjan provided softly, shaking her head. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Paul agreed, “it’s a whole mess. And the house is a total loss. But,” he reminded them all after another few moments of silent contemplation around the table, “they’re okay. Judd said they're all at Cap’s house now, and I told him we would head over there.”

He looked around the table to see if there were any objections but as he expected, there were none. He nodded and took another sip from his beer before setting the still half-full glass down on the table and standing up. The others followed suit and they migrated to Marjan’s car in silent agreement that there was no need to take 4 separate cars and a shared desire to get there as quickly as possible.

They drove in silence and when they arrived, Mateo led the way in through the front door. They followed him into the kitchen, looking around at the small gathered crowd at the counter. Owen stood up and offered them a smile, “hey guys.”

“Hey Cap,” Mateo said while Paul added: “Good to see you not arrested.”

Owen laughed weakly before gesturing towards the others at the counter, “These are Carlos’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Reyes.” They nodded at the tired-looking couple who smiled back as Owen concluded his introductions of the new arrivals to the Reyes.

They all stepped further into the kitchen at Owen’s insistence before Marjan asked the question that was on everyone’s mind: “Where are they? Are they really okay?”

“They are,” Owen confirmed, Judd nodding his agreement beside him, “but shaken, understandably. They’re upstairs now, trying to get cleaned up.”

“It could take a while,” Judd said lowly and the others nodded in understanding - they were all too familiar with the struggle of trying to scrub the remnants of a fire from your skin but that was from a stranger’s fire; someone else’s tragedy. None of them could imagine what it must be like to have the reminder of your home being destroyed clinging to your skin.

“Man, I can’t believe this,” Mateo said with a shake of his head and it was clear that was a sentiment shared by the rest of the group.

“Is there anything we can do?” Marjan asked, looking from Owen to the Reyes. “I want to help, I just don’t know how we can.”

Owen shrugged helplessly, “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Give them time, I suppose. Be there for them. They’re going to have to start over and that’s not going to be easy.”

There was a heavy silence over the group as they all considered the task before their loved ones. It seemed insurmountable; too much to take on.

“But they have each other,” Andrea reminded the group, “and all of us. It doesn’t make it better, but it does make it easier.”

There were small smiles and nods of agreement at that and before long they fell into comfortable chatter while they waited. The conversation wasn’t uncomfortable, but none of their hearts were in it. All of their collective focus was on the pair currently upstairs and despite repeated reassurances that they were fine, none of the newly arrived group would truly be able to believe it until they saw them with their own eyes.

Nancy in particular seemed agitated, shifting on her feet and glancing up the stairs every now and then. Marjan could almost feel the anxious energy rolling off of the other woman from where she stood beside her. She knew that they were all worried, but she also knew that Nancy was still healing from the loss of Tim. It had hit them all, but none more than her; rightfully so. The thought now that she could lose her new partner - the one she had finally let into her heart - was clearly affecting her, manifesting itself into an anxiety that would likely not fade until she was able to see TK herself.

Marjan held out a hand anyways, finding Nancy’s under the lip of the counter and squeezing it. She met her surprised look with a soft smile that widened when Nancy relaxed, some of the tension leaving her body at the touch and the knowledge that her burden was shared.

Hand still clasped with Nancy’s beneath the counter and away from curious eyes, Marjan turned her attention to where Paul was talking through the case with Ranger Reyes and their Captain. Given everything she had heard she had expected more enthusiasm in the retelling of their sleight of hand to trick the arsonist into walking into their trap. But they were subdued as they talked, almost regretful in hindsight. Given everything, she supposed that was more than fair. She just hadn’t been sure they would feel the same way.

There was nothing like almost losing the people you cared for most in a disaster of your own making to deflate an ego, she supposed.

She met Paul’s eyes briefly and his expression told her that he had thoughts that she would likely hear later. She tried to tune into the conversation, willing herself to focus on what was happening right before her, but she couldn’t seem to pull her attention away from the stairs and her friends somewhere on the other side of them. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Judd’s reassurance that they were fine, but she had been a firefighter for a long time. She had seen the footage of the flames and the skeleton left behind in the aftermath of their fire on the news and she knew that there was a wide gulf between fine and okay.

And until she saw them she had no idea where in that gulf they were treading, or how well they were keeping their heads above water.

It’s still another few minutes until they hear footsteps on the stairs. All conversation dies in an instant and all gazes turn to the stairs to see them descending: hand in hand and miraculously in one piece.

She’s the first to get over the surprise, dropping Nancy’s hand in favor of closing the distance between them and pulling TK into a gentle hug. He returns it and she allows herself a moment to absorb the fact that he is safe and whole before she moves on - both needing the same assurances from Carlos and knowing that Nancy is at her heels and needs this just as much as she does.

Carlos’s smile is so dim when he looks at her that she squeezes him extra tight. He seems to melt just a bit in her arms and she feels a pang for her friends. Though they are both whole and mostly unscathed it was clear they were not okay. But that is something that would come, she supposed, with time. She couldn’t help but shake her head, voicing what everyone else was thinking: “I can’t believe this happened.”

“I guess there’s no saying what a revenge-motivated arsonist will do,” TK said with a shrug. There was silence after as no one seemed to know how to respond to that until Paul, who had been studying them, spoke.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be in a hospital?” he asked them in a skeptical voice, “You don’t sound good and you look like you’re about to fall over.”

“Thanks, Paul,” TK said with a roll of his eye but his words only further served to confirm that his voice was still raspy from smoke. “And we were checked on scene: both by the 129’s team and Captain Vega. We’re fine, really.”

“Maybe we should sit down though,” Nancy suggested, studying her partner and Carlos with a critical eye.

TK shook his head at her but didn’t fight the migration as the group moved to the living room and they settled on the sofa together, just as they had at the intervention all those weeks ago. In some ways this was earlier similar: the group gathered in the Strand living room, the somber mood in the air. But it was TK and Carlos at the center now; both whole and unhurt, but so far from okay.

They fell into easy conversation as they sat, falling into their usual patterns and habits like breathing. But Marjan made sure to watch them as they all spoke and she saw the way they clung to each other, even if it wasn’t physical. They were far from alone but it seemed that to each of them the other was the only one in the room that mattered. She couldn’t blame them for that and it didn’t surprise her.

But a glance around the space revealed just how many people were in their corner and just how much love and support was ready for them to grasp onto whenever they wanted and whenever they were ready. She hoped that it was soon because she didn’t like the thought of them shouldering such a burden alone - even if they did have each other.

She supposed they would come to see that and that they would take the hands that were offered to keep them from falling. All in good time.

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

They ascended the stairs in silence, hand in hand, neither of them speaking until the door to the bathroom was shut securely behind them. In the security and privacy of the enclosed and private space, TK stepped closer to Carlos, reaching out a hand to frame his face and gently run his thumb across his cheek.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently.

Carlos shrugged non-committedly, “Okay, I guess. I just really want to get clean.”

“If there’s one benefit of my dad’s obsession with skincare, it’s that there are plenty of soaps to help with that,” TK told him with a grin. Carlos gave him a smile in response, but it was clear his heart wasn’t in it by the way it didn’t reach his eyes; Carlos’s smiles always reached his eyes. TK let his own grin fade and let his hand fall from Carlos’s face down to his shoulder.

“Why don’t you get undressed,” he suggested gently, “I’ll go grab whatever my dad left in the bedroom for us.”

He gave his boyfriend’s shoulder a light squeeze before stepping away. He was about to move to the door when Carlos’s hand reached out and grabbed him. He turned back to the other man, to see his surprise mirrored on his face.

“I…” Carlos began but trailed off as if he couldn’t quite find the words he wanted to say. TK had a feeling he understood though.

“I’ll be right back,” he assured Carlos, “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Carlos held his gaze for a moment before nodding, letting his hand drop as TK stepped away again, heading once more for the bathroom door. He opened it softly, slipping out into the hallway and closing it behind him. He crossed to the guest room and barely even stopped to glance at the items left on the bed. He simply gathered them all - a haphazard bundle of towels and clothes in his arms - before turning on his heel and heading back to the bathroom and Carlos. He knocked once, lightly tapping on the door before he opened it to reveal Carlos. He had removed his shirt in the time TK had been gone but now he was simply staring at his bare chest and arms in the mirror, his gaze tracing the lines of soot winding across his body. TK set down his bundle and stepped closer, his own reflection appearing besides Carlos’s as he met his eyes in the mirror.

“I always find it’s the smell that’s the worst,” he murmured. “That’s the part that always got to me.”

“It feels heavy,” Carlos said dully. “Like it’s clinging to my skin and it’s always going to be there.”

“We can fix that,” TK promised him.

He gently pulled Carlos away from the mirror, helping him to remove the rest of his clothes before he turned on the shower. Then he removed his own clothes, tossing their smoke-filled and singed clothes into a heap next to the bathroom door to be dealt with later. He reached a hand back into the shower to check the temperature and when he was satisfied he reached for Carlos’s hand, guiding him into the shower and the stream of warm water.

He grabbed one of the soaps off the ledge and squeezed some into his hand before beginning to rub it against Carlos’s body.

“It may take a few tries,” he told him, “but we’ll get it all off.”

He scrubbed at his skin gently, making circular repetitive motions up his arms and across his chest. Carlos watched him quietly, allowing him complete control as he washed away the remnants of the night. TK could see his eyes tracking the soot as it faded into the water and traveled down to the drain.

“And just like that, there goes what’s left of our home,” he said darkly.

TK froze, looking sharply up at Carlos and meeting his eyes.

“Hey,” he reminded him, voice firm, “as long as we have each other, we still have a home.”

Carlos’s expression turned to one of surprise before he wilted, leaning closer to TK. TK abandoned his scrubbing in favor of wrapping his arms around the other man and allowing the warm water to wash over their intertwined bodies.

“My home is you, Carlos, it has been for a while,” he said, his words loud and clear in the confines of the shower and their embrace. “Nothing can change that. As long as we have each other, we’re going to be okay.”

His words settled around them like the water droplets bouncing off their skin and Carlos nodded. TK tightened his embrace, clutching his boyfriend tighter for another moment before he pressed a kiss onto the top of his shoulder blade and stepped away; not straying further than the hand still on his shoulder would allow. He studied Carlos, taking in the glint of his warm brown eyes and the slump of his shoulders.

“Are you okay to finish?” he asked softly, receiving a nod in return. He grabbed the soap again and resumed scrubbing them both, methodically removing the reminders from their skin.

Carlos was quiet as he worked but TK had the sense he was studying him, almost as if he was trying to solve a riddle.

“How are you so okay?” he finally asked. “We almost died an hour ago and you’re fine. How?”

TK slowed in his motions as he considered, trying to find the right way to explain. He settled on a shrug: “I don’t know if I am okay. I don’t think it’s really hit me yet. Besides,” he added as he moved his hands up to Carlos’s hair, “I’ve been trapped in fire hundreds of times. It’s scary but after a while, you get used to it.”

He paused to get more soap and to find the right words. He needed to explain, but he wasn’t sure how. He didn’t want Carlos to feel any less for his reaction, for his fear.

“I remember my first time in a house fire,” he said eventually as he squeezed the last of a bottle of shampoo into his palm. “I was maybe a week out of the academy and though you go through training and simulations, nothing can quite prepare you for the real thing. It was a bad one, too: an old house in Bushwick that went up like a tinderbox. I made it through fine, but I was probably shaking for at least an hour after. And that was with training and gear in a stranger’s home. That wasn’t my home, and I wasn’t trapped with the person I loved; worried I could lose them. You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling, Carlos; however you are feeling it. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Logically I know that,” Carlos agreed. “But…”

“But knowing it is different from actually feeling it,” TK suggested, receiving a nod in return. He smiled sadly at the other man, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Sometimes I wonder if your shoulders hurt from trying to carry the weight of the world on them,” he told Carlos softly. “And that’s who you are, I get that. You always want to look out for others; always want to make sure everyone else is safe and happy. It’s why you became a cop and it’s a big part of what makes you who you are. It’s one of the things I love about you.” He paused to smile, running his hands across Carlos’s broad chest: newly clean and red from the scrubbing before he continued.

“But sometimes you need to feel things too, Carlos. Sometimes you have to lean on someone else. And I know I might not always do such a good job of reminding you, but I can be that someone you lean on when you need it. I want to be. We’re a team, right? And that means we take care of each other. So whatever you are feeling now, you are not alone. I’m here for you - every step of the way. And if I need it later, when this whole mess finally processes, I know you’ll be there for me too.”

“We lean on each other,” Carlos agreed softly, and TK smiled at him again, reaching behind him to shut off the water.

“Always,” he promised him, leaning forward to press a light kiss to his lips before he exited the shower, “no matter what.”

They dried and dressed silently, pulling on borrowed clothes that felt almost foreign against their freshly washed skin. TK spared a glance at their discarded clothes, still in a heap by the door. He debated throwing them out, but he couldn’t bear the thought. They were the only thing they still had that was theirs, after all. He gently picked them up and placed them in the hamper, making a mental note to try to wash them tomorrow, to see if they could be salvaged. Then, task completed, he looked back to Carlos.

“You ready?” he asked. Carlos took a deep breath and nodded, offering him a smile that still didn’t reach his eyes, but it was closer.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

TK nodded, but hesitated at the door.

“If it’s too much, if you need to step away,” he began, “tell me. I’ll find an excuse. And even if I can’t everyone will understand.”

Carlos nodded and reached for TK’s hand, winding their fingers together.

“I’ll be fine,” he promised. “Just, stay with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured Carlos, squeezing his hand gently and holding his gaze for another moment before they headed downstairs to where their friends and family were waiting for them.

The sound of chatter drifted up the stairs as they approached, but it died as they reached the bottom of the stairs and when they entered the kitchen, all eyes turned to them. The familiar gazes were filled with sympathy and relief, and TK forced a smile; holding Carlos’s hand a little tighter.

“Hey guys,” he said and his words seemed to be the catalyst needed to break the spell. Marjan is the first to approach, pulling first him and then Carlos into a gentle hug. Nancy is right behind her, squeezing TK tightly and holding on for a few moments longer.

“You really need to stop with this almost dying every other week bullshit,” she muttered into his shoulder, “I need my partner.”

He chuckled softly, returning the hug, “I’ll try my best, Nance,” he promised.

“Good,” she told him, pulling away and blinking away the tears that were slowly filling her eyes, “Because breaking in a new one is a lot of work. I don’t have that in me again this year.”

He gave her a smile as he pulled away, pulling Carlos into a hug and lingering there as well, murmuring something to him in low tones. He was pulled away from their moment by Paul appearing before him, wrapping him into a hug. The other man didn’t say anything, but he looked at TK for a long moment as he pulled away, his analytical gaze taking him in. TK offered him a half-smile, and Paul nodded before stepping closer to Carlos. The next hug was full of forceful enthusiasm and TK smiled fondly as he found his footing again after Mateo nearly bowled him over.

Once they had all gotten their hugs in his team stood back, taking them in. Marjan was the first to speak, voice low in disbelief, “I can’t believe this happened.”

TK looked past them to where his dad sat watching them. Their eyes met and TK knew that they were both thinking the same thing: this could have been avoided. He had meant it earlier when he said it wasn’t his dad or Gabriel’s fault. Neither of them had started the fire and he knew that. He didn’t blame them for the fire.

But there were other offenses and other hurts they had caused when they had charged into a situation with no regard for how it might affect anyone else. He didn’t feel up to broaching that subject just yet, he knew he would have to. He suspected Carlos would have some feelings on it as well, once the shock had worn off a bit. For now, they could dance around it and he could let his dad’s silent remorse be enough.

“I guess there’s no saying what a revenge-motivated arsonist will do,” he said eventually, pulling his focus back to the group before them.

No one seemed to know what to say to that, and he couldn’t say that he blamed them. Instead, he tried for a smile as he took Carlos’s hand in his own again. He could feel Paul studying them both and parried his questions about hospital visits. They were fine - or at least as fine as they could be.

The suggestion to move to the couch was a welcome one however and he tugged lightly at Carlos’s hand, guiding him to one of the couches. He let Carlos sit before he settled in beside him, pressing against his side to both provide and receive the reassurance that they were both there. The conversation ebbed and flowed around them and while TK interjected from time to time he mostly let it all wash over him. He and Carlow were both here; they were both safe. Their friends and families were with them and whatever would come they would face, just like he had told Carlos earlier.

Now if he could only get himself to believe it.

The conversation is light and not too hard to follow (purposefully so, he’s sure, and he appreciates it) and soon they are joined by their parents and Judd as they migrate from the kitchen. Judd comes up behind them and places a warm hand on TK’s shoulder.

“I’ve gotta get home to Grace,” he tells them. “She sends her love, and probably some food tomorrow too, if I know my wife. But hey,” he paused to squeeze TK’s shoulder, looking between him and Carlos as he spoke, “you let me know if you need anything, okay? Anything at all, just ask.”

TK and Carlos both nodded. TK was about to thank his friend, but Carlos beat him to it, “Thank you Judd,” he said earnestly. “For the offer and for earlier. I…” he trailed off, looking at TK before clearing his throat and trying again, “I don’t know how to ever thank you for that.”

“And you don’t need to,” Judd said firmly. “Not only is it my job, but it’s what you do for family and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’d rather I never have to though, so let’s all try to avoid fires in our off hours from here on out, yeah?”

The last bit was directed at the room at large and pulled a few chuckles from the others, but when Judd looked back down at them his expression was soft and his smile sincere. He put his other hand on Carlos’s shoulder and gave them each a comforting squeeze before he moved his hands, giving the rest of the group a wave before he headed out the door.

“We should probably be heading out soon too,” Andrea said regretfully. “It’s getting late and you boys are going to need sleep after everything and I’m sure Owen doesn’t need a houseful.”

“On the contrary,” Owen countered immediately, “I love a houseful. And it just so happens that I have an extra guest room, if you’d rather stay.”

Carlos’s parents didn’t respond right away and TK watched as his dad’s expression softened before he spoke again, “I’m sure you want to stay close, because I know I do. There’s no reason you should have to leave just because we ended up at my house. You are more than welcome to stay, really. That applies to all of you, really,” he added in a heartier tone. “Obviously not Mateo because he already lives here but you all are welcome too, always.”

“As tempting as that is and as much as I appreciate it, really, I’m pretty sure you’re out of guest rooms cap, and my place isn’t that far,” Marjan responded, and Paul and Nancy nodded.

“What Marj said, Captain Strand,” Nancy said awkwardly with a nervous smile.

“Likewise,” he said. “I do really appreciate it though, and you can bet I will be over here tomorrow to check in on you two.” At Marjan and Nancy’s pointed looks he sighed, “ We will be back tomorrow.”

Owen first glanced at TK and Carlos and upon their nods, he smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he confirmed, smiling at the group.

They all rose then, extending their goodbyes, reminding them of the standing offer. Anything you need was repeated over and over again but TK knew that they meant it. There was no false sincerity or empty words here - not with these people, not for them. Eventually, the three of them headed out into the night and Mateo headed off to his room leaving TK and Carlos alone with their parents.

There was silence in the wake of Mateo’s door closing, for a beat. Then Andrea Reyes, who had been studying the boys as the others made their exit looked first to her husband and then to Owen.

“If you really don’t mind…” she began, but Owen cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“I don’t mind,” he assured her. “In fact, it would make me feel better.”

There was something unspoken that passed through their parents, confirmed with a smile from Carlos’s mother and a nod from his father. But his focus - whatever portion of it that wasn’t honed in on Carlos and the presence of him beside him - was soon interrupted by a yawn that caused all eyes to turn to him. He could feel his face turning red as he stammered.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude but…”

“But it has been a long day, and you boys have been through a lot,” Andrea finished gently. “You should go to bed, you need rest. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Carlos shifted beside him and TK could see him gearing up to argue, whether about his parents staying or the fact that they were fine, but his dad cut him off.

“Listen to your mother, Carlitos,” he said gently, “you know as well as I do she’s always right.”

Carlos still looked like he wanted to argue, but TK placed a hand on his knee drawing his attention back to him and he smiled. Carlos held his gaze for a few minutes before he relaxed and nodded before standing and offering TK a hand. TK took it with a smile, allowing his boyfriend to pull him off the couch. No sooner was he on his feet than Andrea Reyes was before them, offering them each a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

“Go get some rest,” she told them softly, “we can start to figure everything out in the morning.”

TK glanced over at their dads who both wore sad but sincere smiles. He studied them all; their newly meshed families that had blended so well trying to place this in his head with everything else. He couldn’t but he knew that he would, in time.

For now, he allowed himself to be led to the stairs by Carlos and with one last wave to their collective parents, they disappeared up them; shutting themselves into the privacy of their temporary bedroom. The sight of the bed was enticing and TK flopped onto it, suddenly aware of how quickly all the energy had left his body now that there was no more goal to push towards. He heard a small chuckle and the sensation of the bed dipping beside him as Carlos sank onto his side far more gracefully and once he was sure he had settled he rolled so he was facing the other man.

“So,” he began, “our parents are having a slumber party.”

Carlos chuckled and TK grinned at him before the mood turned more somber again.

“This is all kind of surreal,” Carlos admitted after a moment. “Not only did our house burn down but I’m now spending the night at my boyfriend’s dad’s house with my parents staying in the other guest room. It’s just a lot to take in. Especially…”

Carlos trailed off and TK shifted so he had a better view of his face. “Especially what, Carlos?” he prompted softly, running a gentle hand down his arm, watching as he tried to get his thoughts in order.

“I’ve never doubted my parents love me,” he said after some time, “not for a moment. And I know now that they don’t have a problem with me being gay and they are supportive of that, and us. I even know how much they like you,” he added with a smile, pulling TK’s hand closer and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

TK grinned at him but knew that there was more he wasn’t saying. “But?” he prompted.

“But the thought that they are here, that both of our families are together? I’m just having a hard time processing that, I think. It’s a lot very quickly.”

TK nodded, “That’s understandable, babe. So much has changed recently and you’re allowed to struggle with that, I will never judge you for that. But it’s a good thing, right? Our families getting along?”

“It is,” Carlos assured him quickly. “Though,” he added dryly, “I’m not sure how much of our dads scheming we can be reasonably expected to survive.”

TK groaned and tucked his head into Carlos’s shoulder, “Don’t remind me. I’d like to think they learned their lesson…”

“But it is hard to say with them,” Carlos agreed. “Which is why I think we need to talk to them about it, soon.”

TK pulled back from Carlos and placed his head back on his own pillow with a sigh, “You’re right,” he agreed, “I’ve been thinking the same thing. I just couldn’t handle it tonight.”

“Me neither,” Carlos confirmed with a nod. “But I suppose they’ll both be here tomorrow, we can try then.”

TK hummed in agreement before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. It wasn’t even that he was ready to sleep yet. There was just so much in his head and he didn’t know where to put it all. There was noise coming from every corner of his mind and he couldn’t seem to drown any of it out.

“Ty?” Carlos’s asked, his gentle voice cutting through the dark and silent room, “How are you doing?”

TK took a moment to think, to try to organize the mess in his mind. There was really no concrete answer to give, but he turned again so he was facing Carlos before he did his best to answer.

“I’m upset,” TK said after some consideration. It took some time to find the right words for everything he was feeling. “And annoyed at our dads and still so scared at what could have been. I’m overwhelmed with everything we have to do now, with the idea of having to start over. But mostly,” he added, knowing that what came next was the strongest truth of all, “I’m worried about you.”

Carlos furrowed his brow, “Why?”

“Because it was your home, Carlos.” He shook his head as Carlos opened his mouth to argue, “I know it was our home, but it was your home first. You’re allowed to be upset about that Carlos.”

Carlos was quiet for a moment, absentmindedly running a hand down TK’s arm as he considered, “You’re right,” he said eventually. “It’s hard. That condo was the first place I could really be myself, the place where I started to build my life. The place where we started to build our life. And I’m upset about it - it hurts to think about. But then I think about what could have been and...I really didn’t think we were going to make it out of there, TK.”

His voice grew thicker and tears filled his eyes once again but TK reached across the space between them to gently brush them away.

“But we did,” he reminded him firmly. “We did and we’re okay. We may not have a home anymore, but we have each other.”

“Which means we will always have a home,” Carlos agreed, echoing his words from earlier. “And I know it’s not ideal, but now we get to start something new together. It’s going to be scary and hard and it’s not going to happen quickly, but we’ll make it work. We have family and friends to help us, and we have each other.”

And as they lay there in a spare bed at TK’s father’s house; friends and family alike waiting in the wings to offer them love and support and the man he loved more than anything else in the world whole and safe right beside him, TK knew what Carlos said was true. He moved closer to the other man, readjusting so his arms were wrapped around his torso and his head rested on his chest; the steady beating of his heart a steady companion to help and hold off the fears hovering so close by. It was a reminder too; that they had both made it out and that he wasn’t alone. That he never would be.

There were so many uncertainties and unanswered questions but there was one thing TK Strand knew for sure: as long as they had each other, they would be okay.

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nectarous · 4 years ago

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TOOTHSOME ⇋ OJIRO ARAN X F!READER.

TAGS: strangers to soulmates. suggestive themes [no smut]. constant changes of pov. slowburn fluff with angst ending.

W/C: 3.3K

SUMMARY: a simple study of intimate bonds and tasting love.

⇦ SEWER SOULMATE SYNDROME COLLAB MASTERLIST ♡

there’s something about the world that’s absolutely and wholly dull. waking up to blistering rays glaring through open windows, working at a lackluster club, coming home to your barebones apartment that you’ve never bothered decorating. you only look forward to collapsing into a steaming bath, dreading the fact you’ll have to repeat this all over again once the sun starts to peek up from the horizon.

it’s what’s deserving of such an uninspiring, miserable personality. you’re not interested in much outside of the bubble you crafted. you’re indifferent to the fickle things; love, bonds, and that mouthful of flavor when you meet your soulmate for the first time. it doesn’t interest you in any capacity.

you know that there’s a lot to be desired with you. your people skills need tinkering and while your work ethics are respectable enough, all you can think to describe yourself is boring.

you’re interested in surviving and supporting yourself. living long enough to enjoy yourself, but short enough to not have to work hard—you’ve never been interested in the company and passing affections of others.

the idea of a soulmate is a delicate one to some, daft to others. you’re more indifferent on the topic, leaning closer to disdain, about the idea of a fated second half.

how naïve you are for thinking that you’re lucky enough to escape it, unaware that in a short twelve months, it’ll only take one stranger to ruin your perception of love, of the world, of yourself.

just like everyone else, you’ve been taught about soulmates, raised around the idea that finding them would finally open you up. from an outsider's perspective, you understand how they work, how they feel. you’ve spotted that glazed over look in their eyes more times than you care to count. you’ve witnessed soulmates bumping into each other for the first time, seen how eyes light up, and heard the crashing of heart beats from across rooms. you swore you could hear them salivate at the taste of each other’s presence.

you’re certain that’s something you’ll never experience. you hope you’ll never meet them, hope that they're dead or far away in some other continent, or that they’re as much as a homebody as you are. you covet to be in the majority that never meet their soulmate, and have to settle for yourself and

you’ve made it this far alone. why bother searching for your other half now?

• • •

even at 27, aran’s still hopeful he’ll find the person he’s supposed to spend his life with. it’s a silly little fantasy, one that has settled deep in his core, meeting the love of his life and instinctively knowing. all through his teenage years, he’s been teased for being a hopeless romantic. but who could blame him? what’s more serene, more absolute than the idea of finding the person who will love you for who you are, for the rest of your life?

his romanticism has mellowed out over the years, and he’s become a reasonable man with a successful career and lifelong friends and a dog he spends a fortune on every month. he’ll let life take its course, pray for the best, and continue on.

everyone has a soulmate. he hopes it’s only a matter of time before he meets his. but it’s not a necessity for him.

• • •

the first time you see him, your soulmate, is outside some onigiri shop, bathed in the purple shadows of sunset. you instantly turn the other way, stumbling into some random convenience store and ignoring that lightheadedness, and the urge to gag at the rich flavor soaking into your mouth, hoping he doesn’t feel your proximity.

all of a sudden, you’re not that hungry anymore.

• • •

aran feels it. his knees grow weak, his heart swells twice as big, there’s a pressure in his sinuses that almost has him stumbling back. and then that feeling’s gone. when he looks around, no ones there, but the residual feelings still linger.

this is the taste of aran’s soulmate. he always expected love to taste like bubblegum or the strawberry mochi he used to split with his sister. he expected to savor the color pink, or red, delicate colors that remind him of spring and joy.

instead, there’s a bitter, heavy metallic soaking into his mouth; like antimony and lemon rinds. it clashes against his taste buds causing his face to scrunch up in distaste.

it tastes like gray.

• • •

the overwhelming taste in your mouth is pastel green, tooth-decaying sweet, and tart. it drips down your throat, makes your gums and your heart ache and throb. it feels like you’re going to choke right here, in the snack section of a convenience store.

granny smiths, heavy molasses and acerbic echoes of sumac sticks to the insides of your cheeks. the emotions so saturated it starts to burrow deep in your teeth.

you hate how warm it makes you feel.

• • •

you recognize him immediately when you’re flicking through the channels waiting for your dinner to reheat. of course the universe decides to pair you up with a fucking olympic volleyball player with amazing things going for him. you can’t change the channel, can’t ignore that he looks a little too good panting and covered in sweat. his voice rumbles smooth, his eyes glimmer, his quiet chuckle makes you throb.

you’ve been laying in bed and trying to push out the sneaking thoughts of him, trying to erase the green flavor that creeps back in ever since.

it’s been two weeks since you’ve been anywhere near that shop. the fear that you’ll bump into him again is… overwhelming. but you’re exhausted, working through the day for the second time this week. and of course, you forgot your umbrella at home, forcing you to run through the muggy rain in a ratty shirt and soggy sneakers.

you told yourself you’d take the long way home, but now that cutting through this block will get you out of the rain faster, knowing it’ll get you back home in time to catch that cooking show while you take a bath, tempts you too much.

but of course, nothing that life hands you seems to go your way.

and of course he’s out there again. out of all days. you hope he’s not some mindless sap that waits outside of the shop everyday, aching for the chance to bump into his soulmate and live happily ever after. that might be the only thing that would make this soulmate bond even more painful.

you really should’ve just gone the long way home.

he looks happy and, you begrudgingly admit to yourself as you wait for the crosswalk to turn green, even more handsome than on your tv. big. he’s on the phone, protected from the rain under the shop’s awning. the taste of green’s already oozing it’s way back in.

apparently, that perspective ability you admired while watching one of his first matches bleeds outside the court too, because he immediately makes eye contact with you. eyes widen, he hangs up immediately, and his hand raises in a wave.

and the first thing you can do is run.

• • •

he can sense that his soulmate’s near, that sharp tinny taste overpowering the onigiri osamu forced him to finish. it has his nose crinkling up before he whips his head up, staring at a girl. his heart soars a bit, finally he gets to meet you, before crashing down upon seeing that expression of horror on your dripping face, before you trip your way into some alley. he doesn’t second guess running into the sheets of rain, not hesitating at the sudden chill of rain.

he can tell that you’re scared, terrified, disgusted at the idea of having a soulmate. is it because of him?

the taste of each other is overwhelming, gunmetal grating and foiled and loud crashing into his. can barely swallow it down, eyes rolling back.

you can’t handle the onslaught of pungent syrupy sour, it’s soaking into your head more than the rain. it makes you hunched over and soaked, retching bile and the remnants of breakfast, you want to die.

you want to tell him to fuck off, let you drown in apples, in the vomit and the rain, but he’s insistent. he keeps a polite distance, a safe distance, from you. arms flex in his soaking pale t-shirt while he looks at you like some kind of wounded, rabid animal.

“let’s get you warmed up, ok?”

that tart taste eats away at the rancid bile in your mouth, and you hate to admit that his charcoal eyes start to slowly thaw you.

you’re a mess of chattering teeth, goose pimpled skin. your nipples are poking stiff peaks into your shirt and your fingers are shaking, but he politely ignores both, stepping over the puddle of vomit to pick up your dropped bag, hot hand on the small of your back as he leads you in through the back entrance of the onigiri shop.

two identical faces, the only thing separating them is the shock of pale blond hair, are watching you from a distance as aran presses soft cotton into your arms and leads you into the locker room. they both feign boredom as you shuffle by them, but even in your bleak state, you can’t ignore that interested glimmer in their eyes from behind the register.

the sound of slopping clothes dropping against the cold tile makes your skin crawl, your eyes sting, and your head ache like it was just banged into the concrete. you don’t know whether to be humiliated or thankful, unsettled or grateful that ojiro aran’s actually nice. such a simple word. just these last 10 minutes has proved his heart of gold and, as you tread back into the main room, you think you’re going to cry.

no one talks as you collapse and curl up on one of the farthest seats, as you start to lose yourself in the sounds of thunder and the stifled radio, the cold bleeding it’s way into your brain. you can start to feel yourself dissociating, vision starting to blur, losing yourself in the numb.

the delicate placing of six onigiri snaps you out of it, aran’s look of concern makes you curve over your knees as you drag the plate closer. his eyes tickle at your soul, baring deep into your bones, as if he can see how much you're hurting, how much you don’t care. compared to him, you look like a drenched rat, hair still damp and feet bare.

you really might cry.

because it hurts. the thought that he’d treat you good like this, every day, for the rest of his life. you can tell he’s kind, the way he sets down a cup of tea and brings you some food. the way he offers you a change of clothes. he’s a gentleman, and you feel pity for him, that he’s attached to you.

the tilt of your lips in gratitude probably translates more as a grimace than a smile.

he waits until after you finish eating to start talking, “i’m ojiro aran.”

“i know,” you respond back. “that volleyball player.”

your droning voice doesn’t make him flinch back as you hope.

“i hope i’m not overstepping, but i can tell that you’re not the happiest with — ” finally he hesitates, flicking the sugar packets, eyes tracing over your face. you make it a point to not return the eye contact.

“look. i’m not sure if it’s because of me, or you’re not happy with the idea of soulmates in general.” he overlooks the way your fingers twitch around your mug. “and i’m not going to force you to do anything, because i can tell that you’re on edge right now.”

he lowers himself so he’s not towering over you, balancing on his toes, still toying with the condiments on your table.

“to tell you the truth, i’m a bit of a romantic,” something sweet starts slipping into his voice. “i can tell that you aren’t. we don’t have to rush into anything, say the word and we can forget we ever met. but i think this can work out. we just need to pace to our comfort levels.”

and as you stare into his eyes, him squatting in front of you and holding your still shaking hands, the utter care, eyes almost pleading, and a soft smile that he’s emitting, it makes you feel peace for the first time. the stains of melancholy in your bones start to fade, and pastel green leaks from the sides of your cheeks making the corners of your lips involuntarily twitch up.

maybe, just maybe this’ll work out.

• • •

it’s been months, and aran’s learnt more about you than you know. he’s picked up that you despise physical affection just as much as the rain, but that you crave the heat from his body.

he thinks about you constantly. he replays your ‘dates that aren’t dates’ on repeat at practice, printing your face in his head on his morning runs, and he welcomes that metallic bitter that comes with you before he goes to sleep.

you’re standoffishness is soft and appealing at first glance, like antimony you taste like. the more time he’s in your presence, the more that lack of intimacy burns at his eyes, and his lungs. his hands sting with rejection every time you inch and shrug away from his touch or grimace when he laughs at your half-jokes. he knows there’s a separate woman bedded underneath. he saw her at the restaurant, he sees it whenever you watch the sunset. he notices it most behind the closed doors of his apartment.

he’s come to appreciate your hands. your hands convey the things you’re too nervous to say. he can feel the adoration pulsing underneath the fragile skin in your fingers and your wrists, whispering the things you can’t always say out loud. they speak to your sense of comfort with him, the vulnerability you only show with him. the way they sneak under his shirt to run down his smooth back when you're cold, only to pull back and hope he didn’t catch your slip up.

he notices the chipped polish that you pick at when you're stressed over deadlines. how your hands shrink in comparison to every part of him, tracing the callouses and scars from decades worth of volleyball. he loves how you bring his hands up to kiss on his knuckles after hours in bed, before you make up excuses as to why you can’t spend the night.

much to your annoyance, it makes him want to try that much harder.

• • •

love. a complicated, sinister, four letter word you never thought you were built for. you think about it a lot, in tandem with aran. probably too much to be healthy. he’s the first thing you think of when you wake up, plaguing your mind as you work, and leaving you always wondering what time he goes to sleep.

it's embarrassing. the three hours you spend with him every weekend has turned you into some sort of sap, haunted with his musky scent, that soft smile and that embarrassing craving for him to pat your head again. like your some fucking puppy. and you swear, that syrupy green apple taste is stained into your taste buds, it’s seeped into your bones and ruined you.

the last thing he deserves is you. you know that. but he doesn’t think that, he’s letting that metallic taste run him around lovesick. he makes you feel blistered; every touch and adoring glance burns into your flesh in permanent, achy reminders. he has your number, knows where you live. but he respects you and the distance you’ve placed.

he’s getting too comfortable too quickly, and he keeps surprising you with how patient he is. he’s adaptive, tenderhearted, almost philanthropic with the way he took in the charity case of you.

it didn’t pan out the way you expected the first few months. you expected failure, for him to snap at your constant rejections and complaints. apparently, experiences with his childhood friends prepared him for you.

he's too helpful of a person, wanting to talk about feelings and cooking you food when you didn’t ask for it. it scared you, how fast he accepted this soulmate thing, how fast he was able to care. his hugs lasted too long. he's suffocating you in adoration and care, and you can tell he’s almost to the point of being in love with you.

poor aran. you’ve been destined to be with this man, who’s been destined to be alone since birth, all because the universe promised you to him.

you know you’re going to destroy this beautiful bond that the universe crafted. you’re bitter and mean and unable to open yourself up to him; he almost knows nothing about you, and you know almost everything about him. you know how his younger sister wants to become a physical therapist, how the owner of that little onigiri shop has been one of his best friends for almost two decades. and you know his favorite food’s ritz crackers, that he’s a morning person. he loves dogs and hates horror films, and his two greatest joys are his family and volleyball.

there’s an unspoken hint that he wants you to join the former.

and it’s unfair; who wouldn’t fall in love with that scar on his neck. you try to focus on his bad parts, of which he only has one. his stupid dog, adzuki. that mammoth of a german sheperd that follows you around, places it’s paws on your lap when you come over for dinner.

he laughs every time you grimace at him, looks like we both have a weak spot for you.

• • •

you shatter his heart on the first year anniversary since you’ve been bonded. you were already dangling by a heart string, and that little band of gold and red he gifts you is where you force yourself to draw the line.

all you can think about is how you need to abandon him before either of you get too attached. you’re teetering on the edge of ignoring your gut instincts, of collapsing into him, wanting to let him see the shattered pieces inside you. but then he’ll do something as mundane as calling you over for dinner, and you remember.

he terrifies you.

there’s a reason you haven’t spent the night again. the intimacy of you and him, and his ugly dog, and that picture frame of your date at the beach hung right next to one of his family portraits.

he loves too much and too hard, he’s too intense. he makes your skin prickle in hot fireworks, the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight with unease. he’s beautifully passionate about everything he lays his eyes on. he lives life to the fullest and all of a sudden, you want that too. he makes you crave domesticity, waking up next to warm umber hands tracing patterns in your skin, cooking breakfast together, a house in tokyo. a wedding band on your finger.

this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

you remember the dulling of gray eyes, and his hunched over figure bathed in the ashy violet rays of the sun setting. you try to hold onto that flavor of green before you swallow it for the last time, saliva and tears welling up, before you press one last kiss on his cheek before stepping out. pastel green fades to emerald fades to black. you can’t taste apples or sumac anymore.

no, as much as you wanted to be, you weren’t built for love.

#aran x reader #aran fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu!! x reader #soulmate collab #aran #collabee <3 #this is my 1000th post... im leaving #ty sm to lee + emi for editing my 3am ramblings :*#and 2 annie for hosting the collab wooo

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kingexpl0sionmurder · 5 years ago

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Missed Connection - Shinsou Hitoshi

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder Rating: NSFW 18+ Warnings: Unprotected sex, blowjobs, dirty talk, poking fun at fakes who shop at UO and wear band t-shirts for bands they don’t listen to, terrible poetry, Kaminari is a weirdo. Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi/F!Reader Words: 4,554 AN: This is for the bnharem server collab, the theme is pen pals! We were able to write basically anything as long as there was some kind of communication/writing/texting etc! This is the first time I’ve written for Shinsou and I head cannon him as a fucking closet goth so don’t at me. Collab Masterlist (Please go check out everyone else’s contributions!) My Masterlist Buy me a Ko-fi -- When his phone started ringing, Shinsou was tempted to throw it halfway across the room. Whoever thought it was okay to call him at - he turned to squint at the clock on his bedside table - 10 in the morning on his day off, better have a good excuse. He frowned at the screen once he’d found his phone, and sighed.

“The world better be on fire, Kaminari.” His palm rubbed over his face as he pressed the phone to his ear, his eyes closing again.

The blonde chuckled, full of energy as usual. “Aw, come on ‘Toshi! It’s not that early.”

A million ways he could kill his friend and make it look like an accident flashed through his mind. “You know I like to sleep late on my days off.” He left it at that, no further explanation needed. Kaminari knew he stayed up impossibly late on his off days, crawling under the covers only when the sun started to rise.

“You want to hear this, I promise. I wouldn’t call this early unless it was important.” Shinsou listened to the sound of a keyboard clicking through the phone, waiting impatiently for his friend to continue.

“So, you know how I sometimes like to fuck around on the internet?” This was a rhetorical question. Of course he did. “Well, occasionally I like to browse through Craigslist, and this morning I was in the missed connections section, and I found something interesting.”

“Why do you look through missed connections?” He didn’t really care, he just thought it was kind of...weird. But, then again, this was Denki, so he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Kaminari huffed. “Dude, sometimes it’s so sad to read how they saw someone and thought there was a connection. It makes me wonder if they ever find each other.” He was quiet for a moment like he was deep in thought. “But then sometimes, it’s like ‘You farted in the produce section and I’d still date you, let’s go out’ and it kind of loses the romantic appeal.”

“You’re a sap. Also, gross.” He found himself drifting off, bored with the conversation already. “Do you have a point?”

“God, you’re impatient! Listen, I was scrolling through the ads and I found this one, I think you should hear it.” Clearing his throat, he began to read.

“You were the sleepy purple-haired man in the cat cafe on Main, I was hiding behind an orange tabby by the window. I was staring, but I wasn’t trying to be creepy. You just looked kind of lost, and the black and white short hair on your lap seemed to have all your attention. Oh, I think his name is Socks. Isn’t that unoriginal? Anyway, I’ve seen you there a few times and I want to know more about you. If you see this, please respond.”

Shinsou sat up in his bed, ignoring the sharp pain of his muscles protesting at the sudden movement. “What the fuck?”

“This is about you, isn’t it?” Denki’s excitement was clear. “You’re the only sleepy guy with purple hair I know who frequents that cat cafe on Main Street.”

“How long ago was that posted?” Hitoshi felt strange, restless energy flowing through him. Someone had noticed him and decided that he was interesting enough to want to get to know? He wasn’t anything special, and he kept to himself mostly. What did this even mean?

“Last night! When did you go to the cafe?” He didn’t even wait for a response. “I’m forwarding this post to you, and you better send them an email! It’s been too long since you’ve dated someone, ‘Toshi, and I’m concerned.”

Unfortunately feeling more awake than he wanted to be, Shinsou shifted until his feet were on the floor. “Yesterday afternoon. And it hasn’t been that long.”

“It’s been like a year, dude.” Kaminari sighed. “Okay, I sent it. Please write back to them. Let me live vicariously through you in this weird turn of events.”

Shinsou sighed and said goodbye, ending the call and staring off into space for a minute. He needed coffee before he could even think about reading it for himself and then maybe responding.

Uh, hello.

I can’t help but feel like this was about me? I’m not even really sure what to say. This feels weird. You could have come over and said hi, maybe. I don’t bite. I might have stared at you and made things awkward but I feel like it would have been a surefire way to talk to me instead of posting this on craigslist of all places and expecting me to see it.

You’re lucky I have a friend who likes to scour the dark recesses of the internet for entertainment purposes and happened upon this post.

-Shinsou

How do I know this is really the person I’m talking about? What were you wearing when you went to the cafe? That’s like the only way I can be sure you are who you say you are.

The only reason I didn’t come over and talk to you was that I had Oliver on my lap and he is a grump and didn’t want me to get up until he was good and ready. (That’s the orange tabby’s name, by the way.) By the time I was able to coax his fat ass off of me you had gone.

Honestly, I’d let those cats climb all over me like their own personal cat tree all day long and not complain about it, but I digress.

I didn’t expect you to find this or reply, it was kind of my way of convincing myself that I’d given it a shot, even though I really hadn’t done much.

-Y/N

I was wearing the following:

A Joy Division t-shirt depicting the cover of Unknown Pleasures, which is arguably the most cliche t-shirt I own. It’s become one of those shirts that people wear who have no idea who Joy Division is, they just like it for the aesthetic. (I’ll have you know I happen to know who they are and like their music very much.) This shirt was more than likely covered in cat hair.

Black jeans, which were probably covered in cat hair as well.

Black boots, a staple of mine.

I am a closet goth. I don’t know what else to say. I won’t deny it. I’ve learned to embrace who I am. I happen to know that Oliver is a grumpy shit, so I am not surprised he kept you pinned down for so long. That cat has been known to knock people over and purr loudly while “making biscuits” on their chests for hours at a time. I’m glad to know that you survived his assault.

So what are you going to tell me about yourself now? I have confessed to you about my goth status, so I demand something in return.

-Shinsou

Yeah, it was you.

I was hoping that you actually liked Joy Division and you weren’t one of those Urban Outfitters aesthetic people. I can now rest easy. I like them too, but I really like New Order more? I hope this isn’t the end of our budding friendship.

I will not say that I am a goth, though I have goth-like tendencies? Or I just appreciate the music. Whatever. I don’t have, like, a pet bat or anything. I own a pair of Doc’s, though.

I have been on the receiving end of one of Oliver’s attacks before, so you don’t have to tell me about them. I have experienced his pushy demeanor on more than one occasion.

So, something about me? I don’t know. I spend a lot of time in that cafe because I love cats, but that’s kind of a given, isn’t it? I usually bring my laptop and make an attempt to work on my homework, but it’s usually futile. I’d rather pet the cats.

Oh, I guess that counts as something right? I go to college. I’m an English major and taking a fuck ton of creative writing courses. What about you?

-Y/N

An English major? That sounds like fun. I think if I had a need to go to college I’d have liked to take something like that. I have a friend who writes ultra depressing Gothic poetry, that would be right up his ally as well.

I’m a pro hero, hence why I didn’t need college. Saving people is something I’ve always wanted to do, especially since I was always bullied about my quirk as a kid. It kind of made me more determined, I always wanted to prove those assholes wrong, you know? So, here I am.

I’m glad to know we can wear matching Doc’s together, and that you don’t keep a bat as a pet. As cute as their faces are, they’re not very easily domesticated.

New Order is fine. The real question is, The Smiths or The Cure? Your answer to this question will be what determines the longevity of our friendship.

-Shinsou

This is the worst question you could ever ask me. How could you do this? I could never choose between them. Both? The answer is both.

I hope your next email will not be your last.

Bats are cute but they always seem to dive bomb my head when they’re around. Not that I go places with bats often, but I used to go camping as a kid and they always did that. It was not a good time.

I think it’s amazing that you’re a pro hero! You’re really out here, fighting the bad guys and saving people and then coming into the cat cafe and petting kittens and drinking coffee like a normal person. I think it’s admirable how hard you worked to achieve your dream. I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m proud of you. Why were you bullied for your quirk? You don’t have to answer that if it makes you uncomfortable.

I wish I could write ultra depressy Gothic poetry. Here let me try:

The night is black like my soul Clove cigarettes burn slowly My life is Meaningless

How was that? Do I get a gold star? Or a black skull? Which is appropriate?

-Y/N

I’m printing that and sending it to Tokoyami. Thank you for making my entire existence with that poem. I’m breaking out the red wax candles and putting on “How Soon Is Now?” right now.

You get a star, but it’s a pentagram. We have to keep with the theme.

My quirk has to do with mind control, so I was always told I was meant to be a villain. You can imagine what that could do to a kid’s psyche, being told by peers and adults alike that you weren’t hero material, when that’s all you wanted. It’s okay though, I did what I wanted and they can eat my ass.

Sorry if that was too raunchy, but it’s how I feel.

If my earlier comment wasn’t proof enough, I prefer The Smiths, but I cannot deny the impact of Disintegration. Lullaby is a really great song.

That being said, this will not be my last email, so you can breathe easy.

On a semi serious note, I really enjoy talking with you. We have a similar sense of humor, and you like cats which makes you automatically better than most people. Would you like to get coffee sometime? I know a nice place that’s quiet and filled with fluffy kittens...

-Shinsou

—

I’m glad I haven’t lost your friendship due to my opinion. I know how important that feud can be to some people. People get very passionate about it. Kind of like with Blur versus Oasis, or Brand New versus Taking Back Sunday. I hate that these are the only examples I can think of.

It wasn’t too raunchy. Those people can most definitely eat your ass. I’m glad you have decided to use your powers for good. You’ll have to explain to me how your quirk works sometime.

I shall treasure my shiny pentagram sticker with my entire heart.

Isn’t Tokoyami the Jet Black Hero: Tsukuyomi? He looks like the type to write Gothic poetry. I am not even mildly surprised.

Even though the way we met was unconventional, I’d like to think I’d have gotten up the courage to speak to you the next time I saw you in the cafe. Somehow this is better, though. It makes for an interesting story, you know?

I’d love to get coffee. I think I know the place you’re talking about. Let me know when.

-Y/N

—

Shinsou was nervous. It was stupid really. He’d been exchanging emails back and forth with you for a few days, and even though you’d barely revealed much about each other, the easy banter through your messages was comforting. He felt like the two of you would be compatible. He just hoped that he was able to keep the conversation going in real life.

When he entered the cafe, he ordered his usual and picked his normal table towards the back. Socks, his favorite black and white companion, was at his side almost immediately. He let his hand drift down to scratch behind her ears, his gaze fixed on the door as he waited for you to arrive.

Out of habit he was a little early, but he figured it would be easier this way. He had no idea what you looked like, but you knew him, so he knew you’d come over when you got there, and it would make things less awkward.

A few minutes later he saw the door open, and he immediately knew it was you. Black Doc’s and thigh high stockings, a black skirt and an oversized deep red sweater adorned your body, a leather jacket over your shoulders and your hair tucked under a black beanie, cheeks pink from the chill of the autumn weather outside. You were pretty, and he felt his nerves increase tenfold when your eyes met his, a smile gracing your face.

He watched as you ordered a drink at the counter, the paper cup clutched in your hands as you made your way to his table. He stood up when you approached, letting himself appreciate you up close. “Y/N?”

“Hi, Shinsou.” You were so much shorter than he was, and he found himself having to gaze down at you when he was standing at his full height.

“It’s nice to put a face to all those emails.” The way you blushed under his attention made his heart flip. “Please, sit.”

You nodded, sliding into the seat across from him. He sat back down, his hands moving to grip his coffee cup.

“This is kind of weird, isn’t it?” You looked down when Oliver made his way over, rubbing himself against your boot. “I almost feel like I don’t know what to say.”

“I know what you mean. We could just sit here and email each other, if that would make you feel better.” Your laugh was like music to his ears. “I’d rather hear your voice though.”

Your face was red when you looked back up at him. “I have to agree.” You leaned your elbow on the table, your cheek cradled in your palm. “Tell me more about yourself, Shinsou.”

“It’s Hitoshi. You can call me Hitoshi.”

—

If anyone would have told him that the night would end this way, he’d have said they were insane, and should probably get themselves checked into the nearest institution.

But here he was, his face pressed into the spot where your neck and shoulder met, lips ghosting over soft skin, his calloused palms sliding underneath your sweater. You were purring, your head thrown back and your fists clenched in his t-shirt, your back pressed against the wall in the hallway that led to his bedroom.

“Fuck, ‘Toshi.” You mumbled, pressing yourself closer to him. “Bed?”

You didn’t have to ask twice, his hands sliding down to lift you up by the backs of your thighs, his cock hard and straining in his jeans as you rutted against him. He turned himself and began walking toward his room blindly, his eyes still shut as he sucked a mark into your neck.

He pulled back so he could peer over your shoulder and maneuver your bodies through the doorway without bumping into anything, laying you back on the bed.

The events of the night were a blur, your coffee date turned into him taking you out for ramen at the restaurant down the street, and then he asked you back to his apartment to show you his record collection.

It was mostly a ruse though. You’d been flirting back and forth, the both of you getting bolder as the night went on. He was only half surprised when you’d entered his apartment, barely removing shoes and coats and hats before you spun around on him, pressing him against the door and kissing him like your life depended on it.

He rested on his forearms, poised above you, looking over your flushed face and kiss bruised lips. Your legs wrapped around his waist and pulled his hips closer, making him groan. “Impatient?”

Your hands moved to cup his face, pulling him down toward you. “Very.”

He wasn’t expecting your strength, caught off guard when your lips crashed into his, your body pushing him over until he was on his back and you were straddling him, knees on either side of his hips. You ground down against him, moaning when his hips snapped up reflexively. He was happy to give you control for a while, especially when you sat up and grabbed the bottom of your sweater and pulled it over your head. The view was spectacular.

He let his hands wander, tracing along the lines of your thigh highs from under your skirt, and up to the lace at your hips. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, the devilish glint in your eye was not lost on his as you shifted down his body, fingers swiftly working to unclasp his belt and undo the button on his jeans.

You slid off of him, and he lifted his hips to aid you in pulling his pants down his legs, his boxers following. His cock was achingly hard, the tip angry and red as it sprung free from it’s confines, nearly slapping his stomach. You eyed it greedily, and he was lost for words when you surged forward, delicate fingers wrapping around his length and stroking him, your tongue peeking out to taste him.

Amethyst eyes rolled back when you took the tip in your mouth, tongue swirling around the head, a low moan sounding from the back of your throat. The warmth and wetness that surrounded his cock when you closed your eyes and bobbed forward had him breathless, his hand threading through your hair, and his palm resting on the back of your head. He kept himself steady, fighting back the urge to buck his hips and push you down further on his length.

Shinsou bit down on his lower lip, his stomach muscles tensing as he tried to keep it together. Kaminari had been right, it had been a while since he’d been with someone, and he wanted this night to last as long as possible. The sweet and innocent look in your eyes as you looked up at him through your lashes, your mouth enveloping him all the way to base, was nearly too much for him to handle, his hand tugging at your hair gently to pull you off of him. “I’m not going to last if you keep that up, kitten.”

You visibly shivered at the pet name and he grinned, loving the feeling of being able to invoke that reaction from you. He scooted forward when you sat back on your knees between his spread legs, his arms circling your torso as he worked at the clasp on your bra, pulling the straps down your arms when he unclipped it. Strong hands gripped your waist and moved you to the side as he stood up, reaching under your skirt to tug your panties down your legs.

He took a moment to consider what he’d do next. He wanted to taste you, it was only right for him to return the favor, and he was almost certain you would taste as sweet as you looked. Another part of him wanted to hike up your legs around his waist and slam inside of you, desperate to hear you moan his name as he pounded you into the mattress. As he contemplated what to do, reached back and pulled his shirt over his head, and then let his hands wander up to the apex of your thighs, digits sliding through your folds. You gasped, falling back onto your elbows, back arching as he toyed with your clit, letting his long fingers slip inside your heat. “So wet. Just for me?” Eyebrows raised, he teased you.

“Fuck, Hitoshi, please.” Breathless and panting, you gazed up at him, biting your lip.

“Please what? Tell me what you want.” You would make the decision for him. “Would you like my mouth or my cock? I’ll let you choose.”

Huffing, your hips rutted against his hand impatiently. He kneeled on the bed between your legs, adjusting his arm and adding a second finger in with the first, his thumb finding your bundle of nerves again. He listened to your breath hitch, and your quiet mewls, pride filling his chest that he was the one coaxing those noises out of you. Finally, you breathed deep and answered him. “Fuck me, Hitoshi.”

Ignoring the protesting whine that left your lips when he removed his fingers, he brought them up to his mouth, maintaining eye contact with you as he sucked on them, tasting you. “You’re delicious, kitten. I’ll have to make sure to taste you properly later.”

Wasting no time, he lifted your legs up to rest your legs over his shoulders, one hand on his cock. He lined himself up with your entrance, grabbing at your hips and pushing himself inside you. If he thought your mouth was hot and wet and basically everything he thought was heaven, he was mistaken. This was it. This was everything. He wasn’t even inside you all the way and he was fighting back the need to cum again, cursing himself and breathing deeply. He leaned forward, forearms on either side of your head as his mouth crashed against yours, all lips and tongues and teeth, his need for you growing tenfold as you wiggled your hips in an attempt to feel more of him.

Groaning, he bucked forward, filling you up, the both of you sighing in relief at the feeling. He gave you a moment to adjust, lips moving down your jaw and tongue laving at the mark he’d left on your neck earlier. “You feel so good, kitten.”

“Toshi, you can move…” Your hands were gripping his biceps, nails leaving crescent shapes in his pale skin, breathing ragged as you clenched around him.

Hissing, he followed your instructions, hips pulling back until he was almost completely out, before sliding back in. Your arousal made the glide easy, your back arching underneath him. He started a steady rhythm, grunting quietly and letting the feeling of you pulsing around him keep him grounded. He let one of his hands wander, shifting his weight so he could ghost his palm over your side, fingers pinching your nipple and rolling the hardened bud between them. You keened, chanting his name like a prayer, the sound of blood pounding in his ears almost masking the sound.

It spurred him to move faster, his chest tight, sweat pooling at his temples and between his shoulder blades, purple locks sticking to his forehead. His gaze was locked on you, and it stole his breath. Your chest and neck were flushed, the most beautiful sounds spilling from your lips as he fucked into you. It became clear to him that he wasn’t going to last much longer, and neither were you.

“Hey, kitten. You gonna cum for me?” He shifted back to his knees and trailed the fingers on his left hand down your stomach, coming to rest between your parted legs. “I want to hear how pretty you sound when you come apart.” He kept a firm grip on your hip to keep you from sliding away, rolling his hips and rubbing tight circles on your clit.

“Fuck, Hitoshi!” The effect was almost immediate, your body and lungs seizing, eyes rolling back as you fell over the edge, your cunt clenching around him like a vice.

Falling back over you, his thrusts became sloppy as he chased his own release, barely able to move with how tight your pussy was gripping him, your orgasm still rolling through you. He felt your hands on his face, guiding him to kiss you again, fingers carding through his hair and down his back, your nails raking red trails down his back. He felt like he could barely breathe, lost in you. “Y/N…”

He felt his muscles tense, and moved to bury his face in your neck, his hips stilling as he came hard, filling you up with his release. You squeezed around him again, and he sighed into your skin, eyes closed as he tried to regulate his breathing.

Rolling over to the side, he hissed when he pulled out. You chuckled, and he turned to look at you, a lazy smile on his face. “What?”

“Is that what you call showing me your record collection?”

Snorting, he propped his head up on his palm, leaning on his elbow, his free hand reaching out to push a piece of hair away from your face. “You attacked me, remember?”

“I couldn’t help it!” Protesting, you blushed. “I wanted to kiss you from the moment I walked into the cafe.”

It was his turn to blush. “Yeah?”

Shrugging, you turned on your side to face him. “Mm. Can you do me a favor?”

His body was still buzzing, muscles loose and pliant as he shuffled closer to you. “Anything.”

“Can you thank your friend for being a weird internet troll and finding my post?”

Shinsou coughed a laugh, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Please, I can’t do that. It’s all he’d ever talk about for the rest of our lives if I did.”

You leaned up and kissed him, your fingers pushing back his hair.

He hummed against your lips, feeling content, shifting himself on the bed and wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you into him. “Maybe I’ll send him a text later. For now, I have other plans.”

Kaminari’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, and he picked it up, eyes widening at the message that appeared on the screen.

Toshi: I owe you a crate full of Pokemon cards and my eternal gratitude for being a weirdo meme king who trolls the internet.

Denki: Oh, you’re in a good mood. Did you get laid?

Toshi: Fuck all the way off.

Denki: That’s a yes. You’re welcome.

2K notes · View notes

utterlyhopeful-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Midnight Magic

A/N: Wrote a smutty part 2 to accompany you lovely folks! 🥰🥰

MASTERLIST

Henry Cavill x Reader

Also, if I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 1855k

Warnings: MUCH PROMISED FLUFF, dirty talk, implied smut, foreplay, kissing, language, teasing

***********************************************

Y/N wasn’t someone to demand attention but tonight was a different story entirely. Whether it be the holiday magic in the air or the sheer happiness exuding from her beaming smile, they’d never know for sure. She glazed into the fireplace awaiting the arrival of her midnight kiss to show up. The embers flickered uncontrollably creating a spellbinding illusion of comfort. The cerulean blue hue of her dress was majestically magnificent, custom designed to perfection leaving little to the imagination. Paired with a sexy high slit revealed the majority of her right leg; just enough access.

This New Year’s Eve Henry had the peculiar notion to get dressed up as if they were enjoying the evening out. Y/N almost died of happiness then and there seeing the childish reflection in her husband’s hypnotic orbs. 2020 was one helluva year and though it brought them closer than ever as a couple, Y/N wasn’t blind to the hardships occurring throughout the world.

His loins stirred excitedly as lust glazed over his features growing semi-hard. The only barrier holding them from going at it like teenagers. He licked his lips in anticipation eager to have his wife all to himself. No lavish parties or parades of people to entertain this year, just the lot of them, alone and horny. He continued admiring her from afar pouring two flutes of champagne for the pair.

“You look positively scrumptious this evening, Mrs. Cavill.”

Henry silently crept from behind sneaking up unsuspectingly slow. Goosebumps riddled her gorgeous skin rippling in masses. His breath ticked the tiny, delicate hair adorning her neck shooting a pleasurable surge to her limbs. Both endlessly love drunk on one another. His sensational touch alone kicked every sense into overdrive, heightened every emotion he emitted. Y/N reached back entangling her fingers with his newly deemed ‘quarantine curls’ she’d loved to tug on. Small bites traced down her neck leaving small marks in his wake of destruction.

“May I add how delectable you are in a tuxedo, Hen? My god, my poor ovaries must be working overtime.”

A salacious smirk broke out on his lips eyeing her lustfully.

“You haven’t the finest clue what I want to do to you right now, my love.”

Her hips grinded back on their on accord knocking the air from his lungs. All his remaining blood rushed to the tip of his cock as his belly stirred in playful chaos. They swayed back and forth to the melody playing in the background both reflecting on their last year together.

Henry lined himself up with the shell of her ear wrapping his bulky arm firmly around her waist drawing her as close as possible.

“I’m truly astounded this is our 12th year celebrating as a couple.”

Y/N smiled thinking back when they first met. The year was 2008, Henry was a newly promoted regular to a Showtime series called The Tudors. Y/N was a brilliant writer, the brains behind the complex operation. Henry considered her the beauty and brains; Y/N hated when he talked down about himself saying she’d never once doubted the man who became a wonderful husband and even better daddy.

One unparticular day he’d spotted her struggling to balance a pretty hefty pile of scripts and tumbled right into him. Luckily, his super-size and strength kicked in just in time catching the eye of the attractive stranger. In that moment, Henry knew there was something about this woman he craved to figure out. He was just the lucky bastard on the reciprocating end.

“And thank god your parents volunteered to take the kiddos for the evening. Some private adult time is just what the doctor ordered. We owe them BIG time.”

Y/N winked leading him to decipher the meaning behind her blanket statements. She stepped from his grasp breaking his hold on her. He whined at the loss causing Y/N to eye him curiously.

Oh, you little tease.

Henry’s frisky nature broke through lighting the atmosphere around them. Due to the ongoing pandemic and what not, Henry and Y/N found themselves in wintry London at their main hub of a home. Henry’s roots were deep-rooted and his plea so passionate as she agreed to move across the world with him. Their lives halted for the better allowing the family to spend more time than usual as a unit. Though initially hectic and overwhelming, they were secretly thankful for these little moments with their four children. It was a time they so dearly valued at their imaginative ages.

“Oh, I bet my pops could sense the sexual tension oozing off you, darling. You smell mouthwatering.”

“Hush! Besides it is completely natural to pursue a sexual relationship with my husband outside of our children. Gotta keep you coming back for more…”

“Oh sweets, you have no earthly idea how bad I want to fuck you every day of my existence. You are absolutely divine and somehow all mine.”

“I can’t take all the credit. Nobody’s ever made me cum the way you managed to figure out. You play me like a damn instrument.”

“With pleasure.”

“Ugh, you’re insatiable.”

“Oh, come on. Your sex drive is just as insane as mine. Admit it!”

Y/N bit the inside of her lip collecting her thoughts. Henry pried and teased her ribs forcing her to his whims.

“Fine, fine, you win! I’m a ravenous feign when it comes to you. You’d think having kids would cool my jets but then I see these gorgeous faces I birthed and it’s like I reset. Poof, just like that.”

“Well you’re a phenomenal Mum and quite the MILF too.”

Henry inhaled her perfumed scent taking a long sip of bubbly; anything to keep him from combusting.

“Let’s toast, love. We must.”

“My my, how time flies when you’re having fun.”

Her manicured fingers reached for the chilled glass looking up at Henry and his three-month-old beard. She rose her glass slightly higher in preparation for his speech. Her eyes gleamed with pride as she admired her husband.

“Thank you for loving me, Henry. Seriously, you changed my life in so many profound ways.”

The sap in him was beginning to show as his eyes watered with unshed tears; “My love, it is I who should be thanking for you the unending shower of love and affection. You are the beautiful mother of our four wonderous kids who are the absolute lights of my life because of you. You’re a woman worthy of many praises than my silly ramblings. Cheers to you and for another adventure of a year!”

She swatted his chest immediately shutting him up; “Don’t say that! I am just as equally lucky to have found someone who gets me for …me. It’s a wonderful feeling to have you by my side even if I did have to kiss a few frogs.”

“No doubt I the best possible selection.”

Y/N played along jesting back; “I wouldn’t go that far, maybe the easiest?”

Gob smacked Henry’s wit was rapid fire; “If memory serves, you were there too. And just as ravenous.”

“I was about to get nailed by an insanely hot British man. Can you blame me?”

“One look from you and I was a bloody puddle. I had to recite rugby players to keep from losing my shit.”

No matter life’s challenges the past years of their lives, their resolution to stay equals and lovers was stronger than ever. A sinful glow overcame Y/N as she stared directly up at him; “Cheers to you fucking me stupid then?”

“As you wish.”

She refused to glance away maintaining his smoldering gaze; her Y/C eyes screamed sex. His pupils dilated just as his heart speed up voraciously. Both subconsciously tilted their heads oppositely neither daring to move first, unwilling to yield. Y/N challenged his masculinity testing him. Many words could be used to describe Y/N but priss wasn’t one of them.

“Oi, you are a true keeper.”

Y/N checked the matching wrist watch completing her outfit; “T-minus 15 seconds until 2021 is here.”

Still unbreaking of her gaze, Henry stayed silent taking in the beauty of his wife. He could stare at her for the rest of his god given days and die a spectacularly happy man.

10,9,8

“Oh Hen, another marvelous journey with you. Can’t wait to see what 2021 has in store for us.”

7,6

She stared down at his inviting pout unable to look away nor did she truly want to.

“Maybe thinking about another baby?”

Her eyes bulged from her skull as shock illuminated from her pores.

“You’re joshing me?”

His lack of response was more than confirmation enough.

5,4

“There’s something so ridiculously sexy about you being pregnant. I always knew I wanted kids but with you, oh with you I want to have as many as humanly possible. Our very own football team.”

Confusion stamped her features at his terminology. Sometimes Henry forgot they were from different countries.

“Football as in soccer. You know the game with the checkered ba—”

Y/N cut him off; “Jeez baby, save your mansplaining. I’ve been on this side of the pond long enough to understand your oh so clever references.”

3,2

The pros and cons bounced around in her head, doubt never far behind but the mischievous joy coming off him was tantalizing; “Let’s do it.”

2,1

Cheers rang ecstatically from the television as fireworks commanded their attention but they only had eyes for one another. Henry closed the gap kissing her feverishly. He was forever seared into her brain ruined for all other men. Lost in the moment, Y/N barely had time to set her glass down untrusting of her own balance anymore. Henry followed shortly behind. Now with her newfound freedom, Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck locking him in place. His questioning tone was almost cause for concern before his façade shattered.

“Really? I do so enjoy seeing you round with my babe. So, fucking irresistible.”

Henry’s jacket was long removed strewn over the couch. That left him standing only in his tight button up and trousers. Y/N merely leaned back his direction bringing his attention towards the zipper aligning her spine. Henry chuckled undoing her dress too easily watching the zipper flair apart. He couldn’t resist admiring the flex of her muscles and how striking she was. Tugging the material over the curvy hips, Y/N noticed Henry was far too overdressed.

“Take off your clothes, now.”

“You bossin me round, babe?”

His muscular tush ignited in minimal pain as her hand connected with his ass whipping rather harshly. A small red welt appeared instantly. Henry stood shocked as Y/N’s smug smile decorated her face.

“You really shouldn’t push me. I don’t like my authority questioned.”

Henry’s mood shifted at her use of roleplay knowing he was in for a well and good night. Henry stripped removing his boxer briefs last. Y/N strutted towards her bedside dresser pulling out a pair of metal handcuffs. Dangling them in front of him, she grinned bashfully; “You’re going to sit your ass on that bed and I’m going to tie you up now. Got it?”

~~~~~~~~~

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mymedicine · 4 years ago

Text

Love and Other Drugs

or, 5k of new bf harry

moodboard/inspo tag + my masterlist

sum - yacht parties are cool and all, but harry really just wants to spend more time with his girl

warnings - alcohol (have I even written a fic where both mc’s are sober the whole time yet lmao), light sexy stuff (lil bit of ch*king k*nk if you squint), swearing probably, harry being a little shit, fluff to the maxxxxx

notes - good lord, this fic has been the absolute death of me. I stg, murphy’s law is real. anyways, the driving home scene is completely inspired by real life events that once made me swoon, but now I am lonely and so so tired so pls be nice to me thx much love <3

“Hold still!”

Harry whined and craned his neck away from his girlfriend’s hand, but he wasn’t able to go far with his back flush against the car door. “No baby, we’re already late!”

“But you’ve got jam on you!” Y/N cried. She reached her fingers up to rub the reddish marks off of his face, but, once again, he turned his head away like a stubborn child. “And we wouldn’t have been late if you hadn’t spent two hours combing your hair.”

“S not jam, it’s lipstick,” He insisted, deliberately ignoring her second (valid) point.

“Whatever. It’s on your cheek.”

Y/N made one final attempt to clean him up, but this time, he managed to escape the circle of her arms. He ran backwards toward the dock, taunting her playfully as he went, “Come on, baby!”

“Harry!” Given no other choice, she frantically pushed the lock button on the car key and chased after her child—er, boyfriend. She winced as her high heels hit the asphalt, feet aching against the gold sandals already. He’d slowed down a little to give her a break, but she was still panting as she yelled, “You can’t go to a fancy yacht party with lipstick on your face!”

He finally stopped running—thank God, because they were right in front of the ship and the last thing Y/N needed was to embarrass herself (or rather, be embarrassed by her man-child boyfriend) within sight of all the famous people that would surely be onboard already.

“But I like it.” He pouted as she reached him, entwining his fingers with hers before she could use them to try to scrub his face again.

Before she could reply, a familiar Irish accent boomed over the loud purring of the boat’s engine, “Harry! Y/N!”

Y/N really hoped someone was keeping an eye on Niall tonight. It was barely dusk and he already looked a little too buzzed to be leaning over the railing on the top deck. She craned her neck up to look at him, giggling to herself at the flush in his cheeks and the blonde mess on top of his head.

“Welcome abooaaard!” He waved far more aggressively than was necessary.

“Happy birthday, Niall!” Y/N yelled back at him, blocking the bright sun with one hand—a hand she discreetly wrestled out of Harry’s.

Harry, too, looked upward and was squinting into the sky. The sun was just beginning its descent into the horizon, and soon the evening would be hanging behind the silvery moon. In the mean time, the sky was bright and painted with delicate strokes of soft pink and peachy orange.

While Harry waved back at his friend, Y/N took advantage of the distraction—and his exposed cheek.

Without warning, she hurled her hand up to his face and swiped at the pink mark as hard as she could.

“Hey!” Harry whipped his head back to her, mock hurt written all over his face.

Y/N flashed him a cheeky, victorious smile. “Got it!”

September in south Florida was as hot and humid as summer anywhere else. Even out at sea, with the cool ocean wind surging throughout the top deck of the yacht, it was plenty warm enough for the guests to enjoy the outdoors.

“H, can you hold my phone and keys in your pocket?”

Harry was standing awkwardly near the railing of the boat, fiddling absently with the plume of lace and chiffon on his black top. He still had a faint reddish mark on his cheek (she wasn’t sure if it was leftover lipstick or just irritated from her rubbing at it) that Y/N, despite the turmoil that had ensued over it, found very endearing. She always thought he was handsome. She had since the first day they met four months earlier. But tonight, he was positively glowing. He shined in the fabulous black number, his skin further brightened by the setting sun and the utter joy coursing through him (the entire flute of champagne he’d already downed certainly didn’t hurt, either).

He took the phone and keys from her while she admired him, happy to help her but not without a smart remark: “You should’ve worn the dress with the pockets, love,” he chastised her playfully, a smirk dressing his berry lips.

Y/N’s eyes widened, “You said you liked the pink on me!”

Choosing her dress for the night had been an ordeal that rivaled even Harry’s complicated hair routine. She’d originally chosen a black long sleeved one with pockets that was comfortable and appropriate and matched Harry’s own all-black ensemble (which he’d had picked out for weeks). Her boyfriend rejected the black dress, pointing out that she’d be hot it in because “It’s practically summer in Miami, love.” Instead, he chose a silky pink number, midi-length and tight in all the right places with a tastefully low cowl neckline. She’d dressed it up with a few gold bracelets and a single pearl earring in her left ear that, to her satisfaction, matched Harry’s. And yeah—it didn’t have pockets, but Harry liked it and it made her feel sexy and that’s all that mattered.

Harry hummed with a tight lipped grin. “Yeah, you’re right,” His tone was innocent, almost regretful as he looked her up and down. The pink sunset behind her was highlighting her figure just right, wind rushing through her hair, exposed skin supple and tempting. Harry was mesmerized by her.

His hands moved on their own accord to gently hold her by the waist. “Your ass looks really cute in the silk…I reckon the color makes your skin glow a bit, too. And matches your makeup, and looks nice with my earring…” He continued spewing some breathy compliments at her, even after she sort of stopped listening when a waiter holding a tray of delectable looking hors d'oeuvres caught her attention.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Of course, honey,” she replied (mostly) honestly. He was always a mushy little sap for her, but she truly did love the way he appreciated the little things she put effort into. “Thank you for noticing those little details.”

“You’re welcome. Know ya don’ just do it f’me though,” His ring clad fingers drummed against her waist, the metal cold through the thin silky material she wore. “Love that about you.”

Y/N cracked a smile in spite of the nervous shiver washing over her at his words. She couldn’t help but notice it was already the second time he’d said that word since they’d embarked. He was treading dangerously close to the vast, uncharted l-word territory. He’s a little buzzed, she reasoned with herself, despite also knowing it was silly because he’d only had a single champagne. But then again, he was a lightweight—and judging by the way he suddenly dropped her waist to chase down a passing waitress for two more glasses, he wouldn’t be slowing down any time soon. If he told her while he was drunk, would it really count?

He returned to her side, keeping one flute for himself and presenting the other to her. “Thank you, honey,” she said, grasping the stem of it (even though she still had a half full one resting precariously on the railing behind her). It was a fitting nickname for him, she thought. She hadn’t really meant for that to become her little pet name for him, but he loved it just as much as she did. “You’re sweet.”

“You’re sweeter,” her boyfriend hummed happily, “even when you’re checking out that waiter…”

“No! I wasn’t!”

“You kinda were,” He smiled cheekily at her.

“Was not.”

“’S alright, baby. He’s handsome. You’re allowed to have a little look.” But the way he held her protectively by the hip betrayed his words.

“You know I only have eyes for you,” If that wasn’t a hint, she didn’t know what was. “I’m just hungry. He was holding bacon wrapped shrimp, I think.”

“Mmm, me too,” Harry replied, the interaction already forgotten in favor of a savory snack. He tugged on her hand so they could follow that waiter, grumbling as they padded around the crowded deck. “Niall’s a fuckin ass for not serving dinner at an evening party.”

“Oh give him a break! It’s his birthday.” she let him pull her toward the middle where more people were gathered around the bar and admiring the decor—

“Is that an ice scultpure?”

Harry was right. It was a giant clear sculpture of a guitar made entirely out of ice. People were around it, admiring the intricacies and mingling and sipping on expensive looking drinks.

“How long you bet til it melts?”

“Not before Niall accidentally knocks it over,” Y/N laughed and gestured toward the man of the hour, who indeed was stumbling over his feet while trying to maintain a conversation with a group of several strikingly beautiful looking people—models? Probably.

It was obvious that Niall hadn’t planned this for himself. The whole thing was far too elegant and classy. His drunken ramblings were entertaining, sure, but he stood out amidst the black tie formals and live R&B music floating around the large deck of the luxurious vehicle.

Harry chased down the waiter and grabbed shrimp skewers for them both while Y/N continued quietly giggling at Niall’s antics.

Minutes drifted into hours as alcohol, shrimp skewers, and joyful conversation flowed liberally about the deck. Y/N had separated herself from Harry—much to his drunken dismay—to go and mingle with some of the “famous people.” She did it all on her own, confidently striding over and striking up a conversation with anyone worthy of her attention.

“Long time no see, mate.” Mitch’s voice interrupted Harry’s inner thoughts surrounding his girlfriend. He tore his eyes away from her and turned to face his friend, who was standing with his own girlfriend beside him.

“Been busy,” Harry replied.

Sarah’s eyebrows rose as a grin spread across her cheeks. She glanced at Mitch, who wore a matching one.

“You both have been quite busy, yeah?” Sarah cocked her head toward where Y/N was, grin widening along with Harry’s eyes.

Harry hid his smile in his glass, taking a large gulp of the bubbly. “What d’ya mean?” He asked innocently.

“We saw you staring at her, buddy.”

Well, fuck. He can’t exactly deny that. He was indeed watching her as she mingled with a group of people—exceptionally beautiful people. She fit in perfectly with the models, her smile bright and dress shiny, hips swaying tantalizingly to the beat of the drums. She engaged effortlessly in what looked like an exciting conversation with A-listers and held their attention with sweeping hand gestures. Even from across the deck, he swore he could feel her joy. Light just radiated off of her and sent a gentle flutter through his belly and a heat wave through his heart.

Sarah studied him. The way his eyes twinkled and his cheeks flushed with happiness…it was obvious. “You love her.” She deadpanned.

Harry shrugged in response, a knowing smile on his face which he didn’t bother to hide this time.

“You do!” It was Mitch this time, who wrapped an arm around Sarah and looked at her with the same happy smile his friend wore.

“No comment.” A twinge of jealously bit his heart as he watched a handsome brunette lean down to whisper something in his girlfriend’s ear. He frowned instinctively, picturing the man muttering flirtatious compliments or dirty suggestions to her like he should be doing right now.

Sarah continued to watch Harry watch Y/N, unsure if he was even listening anymore. “It’s alright to admit it. Love is a beautiful thing.”

“Don’t listen to her,” said Mitch, “it’s a drug!”

“Hey look!” Harry shouted a distraction, pointing somewhere behind the two of them. He spotted two waiters bringing out an impressive tiered cake swirled with white frosting and topped with those sparkling candles. “It’s time to sing for the birthday boy!”

The boat erupted in a cacophonous rendition of the birthday song as the cake was placed on top of the bar. Night had fallen over the deck, making the sparkly decorations shine blindly bright against the moonlight. Meanwhile, Niall was dancing hysterically among the crowds, even singing along to his own birthday song in a drunken spree. At the final, …to you! he performed a dramatic bow and roared, “Thank you, beautiful people!”

Applause died slowly as Niall began grabbing peoples’ faces to kiss their cheeks in thanks. Y/N looked around for Harry, quite certain that her boyfriend would be perfectly willing to accept a kiss from the birthday boy, especially when he was inebriated. Sure enough, she caught sight of him wrapped up in an embrace with the blonde, a wide smile on his face as Mitch and Sarah laughed hysterically at the interaction.

Harry accepted the cheek kiss, just as his eyes met hers over Niall’s shoulder.

“Y/N!” He screeched and broke the embrace. He started running over to her in an uncoordinated stride, limbs flailing and most definitely spilling alcohol on other peoples’ expensive clothes.

“Y/N!” he slurred, finally reaching her side, “Gimme a kissy!”

She laughed. “You just got kissies from Niall, honey.” “But I want your lipstick on me. Yeh wiped it off.” He frowned deeply, no—melodramatically as his hand cupped his own cheeks where the pink lipstick mark once was.

She called him a little baby but obliged anyways, stamping a firm lip shaped mark on one of his flushed cheeks. He grinned wildly in response and looked at her with that look in his eyes that she absolutely adored. He was looking at her like she was royalty, like she hung the moon and commanded the sea and granted miracles upon mere mortals such as himself.

“Wish I could give you one too…” Harry trailed off, eyes wandering around the room. “Maybe then all those hot models and waiters would leave you alone.”

“Aw, you jealous baby?”

He nodded shamelessly and, with a pouty look, tucked her into his arms. He pressed a series of hard kisses on her cheeks and temples, squeezing the silky pink fabric at her waist. The feeling made her heart squeeze in the most delightful way—chest tight and warm with…with love.

“Wanna go check out the lower deck?”

And Y/N hadn’t known this man too long, but it was long enough to know that he had anything but innocent intentions with his sweet request. She was still only nursing her third glass of bubbly, but Harry’s suggestive stare and wandering hands seemed to ignite the slight heat flowing through her veins into an inferno.

It engulfed them both as Y/N’s back hit the inside of the door to the lower deck bathroom.

Harry’s lips were soft and playful and sexy all at once—just like him. He trailed hot kisses down her cheeks and jaw much like he had earlier, only now there was no audience. No need to hold back. Only hot, sweet skin swathed in pink silk and black chiffon.

“You marked me already, ’s my turn.”

Just when she was feeling a little too sober, Harry’s words drenched her in the heat of desire. This was definitely a bad idea, but it didn’t sound like one when he put it like that.

His fingers slipped from her jaw and followed his lips down to her throat, enticing her with a gentle squeeze—a warning? Or a promise for later? Either way, this bathroom escapade was fucking sliced bread and she was putty in his hands.

He sucked harshly on the supple skin of her neck without warning. A gasp slips out of Y/N’s mouth and Harry’s ringed thumb pressed deeply into the center of her throat in reprimanding. His other fingers gripped the crook of her neck, just enough to make her head spin and keep her body pliant.

Meanwhile, his other hand slithered down the smooth silk to her waist, his hold on her heavy and warm. Harry’s swollen lips retracted from her bruised neck, not before pressing a few gentle pecks to the hickeys to soothe the pain.

Y/N felt dizzy with pleasure and enveloped in love. She couldn’t help but chase his lips for a few more desperate kisses as he pulled away from her neck. She suddenly wished she could admire the marks he’d left, but the glazed, hungry look in his eyes would definitely suffice. The little bathroom felt ten degrees warmer—leaving Harry looking hot and flushed and absolutely irresistible.

“You okay, baby?” Harry whispered in the tiny space between them, words slightly slurred and dipped in bliss.

Y/N nodded aggressively, letting her hands wrap around the back of his neck where his skin was hot and hair curled adorably. “Please kiss me again.”

He did as he was told, of course. His lips moved tenderly with hers and his hands trailed lower, gently caressing her waist and hips. His fingers started a course back up to her ass, this time taking the fabric of her dress with them.

Y/N’s head felt light as a feather, no thoughts besides Harry…Harry’s hands…Harry’s lips…Harry…

She curled her thighs around his hips and he responded effortlessly, hoisting her up by the backs of her thighs and pressing taut between the cold bathroom wall and his own hot chest. The temperature in the room seemed to rise impossibly then, the sounds of breathy moans and gentle sucking kisses seamlessly diffusing into the heat and surrounding them in a delightful symphony.

Y/N was thrilled by the way Harry’s tongue tasted like champagne—as sweet and plushy as always. She decided then that she would never get tired of the feeling of his mouth on hers, of the dizzying joyful feeling his lips gave her every single time.

“Harry…honey…”

“What ’s it pretty girl?”

The pet name in his raspy accent went straight to her core. She let out another shameless whine, squeezing his waist tighter with her legs.

“I need you, Harry…”

“Hm? Need what?”

She groaned—now he wanted to be a tease. After he’d gotten to give her the hickeys like he wanted.

“Harry, please.”

“‘M just messing, pretty girl. I know what you ne—“

Suddenly, a loud crash rang out in the little cabin. Y/N let out a screech and sprang away from Harry, landing awkwardly on her stiletto heels. Wide eyed, she and Harry both looked up toward the source of the sound. Muffled shouts followed, in the midst of a horrible shattering sound, like broken glass, or hail or—

“The ice sculpture!”

They were both wide eyed and panting and a little sweaty, hair tousled and lips swollen red.

“Oh shit,” There were more muffled shouts and some shuffling of feet above them. Even through the ornate ceiling of the bathroom, it was clear there was an ordeal going on up there.

Breathy pants lingered between them, and the room suddenly felt even smaller, even more swelteringly hot and stuffy. Of all things to ruin the heat of the moment…a fucking ice sculpture.

They looked at each other blankly, as if to say what the hell do we do now?

“Let’s head back up while everyone’s distracted.” It was Harry’s alcohol-induced idea, cooked up in his foggy brain.

“There’s no way we can go back to the party like this.” Y/N gestured between them—the sweaty foreheads, messy hair, skin dotted with hickeys, and most prominently, her boyfriend’s obvious arousal.

Harry sighed, glancing down at himself. “Let’s leave then.”

“What, you wanna swim home?”

Harry frowned, “Huh?”

“We’re on a fucking boat, dumbass.”

Harry looked away from her with wide eyes and burning cheeks. Right…Absently, he thought it was funny how she could go from making out with him against the wall of the bathroom, practically begging for more, to mercilessly making fun of him, all within seconds. His thoughts bled into his expression, a happy smile tugging on his lips as he thought about her and her unparalleled sex appeal and her cute laugh and her mock insults and her more and more.

And just like that, he was laughing. His wild laughter seemed to echo in the small bathroom. Despite their hot rendezvous being rudely interrupted, Y/N swore she could smell the happiness in the room—almost as poignant as the champagne on his breath.

Seconds later, she couldn’t help but join him in happy laughter.

Turns out, the fallen ice sculpture was even more of a hazard than they’d initially realized—so much so that the captain of the yacht demanded an early return to shore and a continuation of the party on land. Many patrons were disappointed by the early end to the yacht cruise, not including the birthday boy himself, who Y/N would be surprised if was still walking at this point.

As they sailed back toward the shore, Harry was nursing yet another flute of champagne while Y/N clung to him in the boat’s interior—half because she wanted to cover his erection from any passerbys, and half because she just really wanted to hold him. He’d also managed to produce a slice of cake on a porcelain plate, which he’d presumably snagged when he left her on the couch to find more alcohol.

“You look cute,” she mused at him while he chewed the forkful of cake she’d just slid into his mouth. She was sideways in his lap, bare feet rested on the arm of an expensive looking couch. She vaguely realized that this area of the boat was probably off limits for guests, but fuck it, she thought, no harm no foul.

“Hm?”

“I said, ‘you look cute.’” Y/N repeated. He really did look cute like that, with his face flushed and hair messy and a tinge of lipstick still lingering on his cheek.

“Oh yeah,” he mumbled with frosting still between his teeth, “I heard you the first time.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying. I take it back.”

“You can’t take it back!”

She gathered another forkful of cake and brought it up to his lips, “I just did.”

“Fine then,” He said, “I’ll just toss you overboard. Out of sight, out of mind.”

At that, Y/N gasped. She quickly turned her hand away and brought the cake into her own mouth, licking her lips for extra impact.

“Noooo!” He held her by the hip and dragged her even closer to him, as if she were about to get up and actually go overboard and take the cake with her. “I’m sorry baby, you’re cute, too. So cute. Like, so cute that I can’t believe you like me.”

Like? I think I more than like you.

“I can’t believe it, either.”

The words were on the tip of her tongue, dancing around in the tiny space between their lips like electricity. Harry leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, sucking on her bottom lip as if trying to pull them out of her.

Yet again, they were interrupted. This time by a loud horn blare and the captain’s voice over the intercom. “Land, ho!”

“Finally.” Harry sighed in relief, already trying to stand up from the couch, “Can you take me home now, please.”

“We can’t just leave when the party’s still going! What about Niall?” Y/N pressed her hands against his chest to slow him down.

“Niall won’t remember a damn thing.”

She considered his words. He wasn’t wrong; Niall had already knocked over the ice sculpture, after all.

“Take a left here,”

“Here?”

“Ye—wait, no.” Harry slurred, shaking his head from the passenger seat.

But his girlfriend had already turned the wheel to the left, inevitably sending the car in the wrong direction, again.

“Shit, M’ sorry baby.” he said with a drunken giggle.

“Good lord Harry…”

She threw the car into a random driveway, grumbling as she executed a clumsy K-turn.

She could hear the cranky frown in Harry’s voice as he groaned, “You’re a shit driver.”

“Well you’re a shit navigator!” Y/N looked over and gave him a pointed look. But the look only fell on his droopy, half-open eyes. “Where the fuck do I go?”

A beat of silence passed as Harry’s head lolled around. He hummed a bit, imitating the low rumble of the car’s engine. Finally, he murmured, “Keep goin’ straight.”

“Are you sure?”

He didn’t reply, just turned to look at her with that mischievous drunken smile.

“Aw fuck, no. We passed it up.”

“Harry!” She couldn’t help but laugh. Despite her annoyance, his antics were amusing. “Are you sure you actually know where you live?”

“Of course I know where I live!”

Y/N sped into another middle-of-the-road U-turn, and Harry dramatically fell into her lap with a low yell.

“Slow down, you minx! Gonna get us killed!”

“You’re so dramatic, Harry. If you’d just tell me where the fuck you live!”

“Can’t remember.”

She craned her head up to ceiling, letting her own eyes fall shut as she inhaled her frustration.

“Okay, fine. It’s that blue one over there.” He gestured vaguely to the right, but it was too dark to see the colors of the houses anyways.

Y/N let out her deep breath, “Somehow I don’t believe you.”

His growing smirk gave him away. After only a few seconds, his foggy brain would not allow him to contain his giggles.

“Harry!” she whined. He was always kind of silly and clingy, but the excessive alcohol made him an actual baby. He was still laying in her lap over the center console.

“Why are you like this?”

He pouted, feigning hurt. “Maybe I just wanna spend more time with you.”

Y/N’s fingers loosed on the wheel. She slowed the car to a stop against on of the curbs in the quiet neighborhood, poised under the soft light of a street lamp. Her annoyed expression softened and the familiar urge washed over her—the urge to kiss his cheeks and tell him she loved him and squeeze him tight and never let him go. How could one person be so annoying yet so fucking adorable?

She pushed his hair back (not without thinking about how he would’ve scolded her for messing it up at the beginning of the night when he had been sober, but now he was far too drunk to care) and wrapped an arm around his neck. It was definitely an awkward position and Harry couldn’t have been comfortable like that, but he didn’t seem to mind. He held her arm in both hands and snuggled into her lap as she cooed at him. “Aw, baby. You could’ve just told me.”

“But we’ve only been together for a little bit…and I don’t want ya to get sick of me.”

“Could never get sick of you, honey. Not even if I wanted to,” she said earnestly, continuing to stroke her fingers gently through his curls.

“Really?”

Now if that wasn’t a hint…this man was even stupider than she thought. In spite of his endearing idiocy, Y/N still could not resist the urge to just love him.

The idea that he could possibly love her back crossed her mind several times, especially in the past few weeks.

But they’d only been officially for a month and a half…was it too soon? Would she scare him off? Was there some unwritten rule of love to wait until they’d at least seen each others’ homes? Although, if she did tell him now, Harry was so drunk he may not even remember. If it went horrifically wrong, maybe she could forget it happened. (No, she definitely would not ever be able to forget if that happened, but the lie comforted her a little nonetheless). But if it went well, she’d be more confident telling him again when he was sober tomorrow. And at last, she didn’t even think she could hold the words in for another second while he was cuddling into her and kissing her arms like a baby kitten.

“I love you, Harry.”

“You do?!”

Suddenly, he seemed alarmingly sober.

“Ugh, yes. How could I not?”

He looked appalled, really. As if the idea of her loving him was absolutely insane. “Well, I annoy you, I kiss you in public, I drink too much, I spend way too much time on my hair, I’m not as handsome as that waiter…”

“And you’re pretty stupid.” Y/N interrupted with her own addition to the growing list.

“Yeah, you’re right. I am pretty dumb…But,” he paused, flipping over in her lap to look her in the eyes, “I did get one thing right.”

“What’s that?” She asked, fondly stroking his gelled hair with trembling hands.

“Falling in love with you.”

And loving him was that easy, as easy as sipping champagne and eating cake and falling overboard. She loved his flamboyance, his confidence, his kindness. She loved his silly tattoos and his bunny teeth and the little scar under his chin and the faint lipstick stain on his cheek. She loved the way they teased each other like children. She loved the way his mouth felt against hers. She loved the way he adored her. And so, she couldn’t help but smile wide.

“Alright, let’s add you’re super cheesy to that list, too…”

thanks for reading! please reblog if you enjoyed <3

feedback is welcomed, encouraged, and highly appreciated!

#harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #boyfriend!harry #yacht!harry #harry styles #my writing #i know shes a lil babie one shot but please be nice i have slaved over her

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minaslittleone · 3 years ago

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The Sarahs as plant mums (AHS & Ratched)

Like many people I've become an avid plant mum over the course of the pandemic (much to the chagrin of those in my life who have to hear every time one of my babies sprouts a new leaf), which got me thinking - what kind of plant mum would each of the Sarahs be?

GIF: illuminated-blue

Billie-Dean Howard

Image: winterkindfotographie

Billie-Dean is much more partial to flowers than she is to caring for a whole plant. She is definitely the kind of person who always has fresh flowers in her home but also takes the time to trim and rearrange the bouquet as she places it in a vase, rather than merely unceremoniously compacting the existing arrangement into a vessel. She also definitely has a secret cut flower food recipe (passed down to her by the ghost of a Victorian housekeeper whom she met while filming a special of her show at a mansion in the UK) which keeps her cut flowers looking immaculate for a full week. If her schedule permits it, her favourite thing to do on a Sunday morning is to stroll the farmers markets and choose individual types of flowers and foliage to bring home and arrange herself from scratch. She finds the process of trimming each of the stems and finding the perfect position for each individual bloom incredibly cathartic.

Her favourite flowers are bright and cheerful. She is particularly drawn to things like tulips, gerberas and lillies, but finds softer more delicate blooms like carnations frustrating and overly dramatic, she definitely appreciates a bit of tenacity in her flowers. She also has no time for strongly scented blooms, and particularly despises the way roses seem to emit a sickly sweet odor after only a few days. Billie finds scents and perfumes in general to be quite cloying and overwhelming as smell is one of the ways she is often viscerally affected when she makes contact with ghosts. She unfortunately associates most strong smells with encounters and so sweet smelling blooms hold little appeal to her, she much prefers fresh neutral scents. The one exception is lavender which she does find soothing. After a particularly taxing week it is not uncommon for her usual bright cheerful blooms to be replaced by simple posies of lavender and rosemary as she recenters herself.

Lana Winters

Image: toms-cacti

Lana is undoubtedly a plant serial killer. Which is totally unsurprising since whenever she gets fixated on a new story she often forgets to feed herself, let alone feed and water her plants. That doesn't mean she doesn't appreciate them though. She loves the way little office plants bring life and vitality to her workspace, that is until they inevitably whither and die from lack of water, or from being burried under piles of paper but that doesn't stop her trying.

Eventually Lana discovers that she and succulents are well suited. It actually makes a lot of sense when she thinks about it - they're both a little prickly on the outside (but only to protect the softness underneath) and both are stubborn to a fault. Lana is particularly fond of the slightly larger cactus she keeps on her desk (which is incidentally the first plant she managed not to kill) and often finds herself talking to him to help work through the flow of her ideas or to overcome writer's block. Spike (as she creatively named him) really is a very good listener and a talented editor to boot.

Still there are times when Lana wishes she had a greener thumb and could expand her collection beyond succulents. As much as she loves Spike and his prickly friends, she really wishes they would grow just a bit quicker so she could experience that new leaf joy even just once. She completely dissuades herself of those feelings though when she returns from a week long book tour to find a weird bump on the top of Spike. Her first thought is that after all this time she's finally managed to kill him and that she really is as terrible a plant parent as she had feared. However, those fears completely dissolved the following morning when she returned to her office to find that Spike's bump had begun to open into the beginnings of a beautiful pink flower. For a minute she could only stare on disbelief, not quite comprehending what was going on however, that quickly gave way to a giddy childlike grin when she realised that she must be doing something right. That, and her little man really did look very cute with his flower top hat.

Cordelia Goode

Image: chickadeegreen

Cordelia doesn't just have a green thumb, she has ten green fingers. She absolutely adores plants and having living things around her, especially since the greenhouse has always been her place of peace and sanctuary. She finds it incredibly cathartic pottering around the greenhouse when she gets a few spare moments away from all her duties as supreme/headmistress/mother to a house full of girls. Most of the plants she keeps in the greenhouse are solely for practical/ medicinal purposes but she does keep a few plants in her room and office which she finds soothing. She is particularly fond of philodendrons and pothos with their easy going nature and relaxed growth pattern. She loves the way they seem to make themselves at home anywhere and every time she spots new leaves unfurling it makes her smile. She tries to make an effort to see the beauty in their imperfections and use them to remind herself that everything doesn't always have to be perfect.

Since her supremacy the plants in her personal spaces have thrived unlike anything anyone has ever seen, seemingly feeding off Cordelia's magical aura. Any time any of the plants in the greenhouse are waning she will take them to her office for a few days of rehabilitation after which they will always be positively bursting with life. It is not uncommon for her to find new additions appearing in her little infirmary if Mallory or Misty have noticed that a particular plant is in need of a little TLC.

The flip side to this is that any time Cordelia over taxes herself, while she may be an expert at schooling her features and hiding it from her girls, it will show in her plants. After too many late nights dealing with running the academy or too many days spent funneling all of her energy into everyone around her (and subsequently completely neglecting herself) the plants in her office (and room) will start to lose their vibrancy as well. The first victim is usually the heartleaf philodendron on Cordelia's office bookshelf (the first plant she allowed herself to bring into the space after ascending to the supremacy) which seems to be particularly attune to her moods, especially when it is feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy sapping her magic. Conversely it's the monstera deliciosa in the corner of her office that seems to be the first to wilt when its physical stress or exhaustion plaguing the supreme. Zoe now automatically takes stock of the plants in Cordelia's office every time she enters, knowing it's the only true indication she's likely to get that the supreme herself might be in need of some TLC.

Bette and Dot Tattler

Image: geopsych

Bette has always been drawn to flowers, she thinks they're terribly romantic. From bouquets of flowers from gentleman callers to sweet cottage gardens behind white picket fences, teeming with blooms of assorted colours, Bette thinks flowers are a beautiful symbol of normality. She desperately wants to have a garden or even a window box that she can tend to, however that particular desire is not entirely compatible with living in a trailer.

What she does have though is a small collection of African Violets sitting on their kitchen windowsill. They were a present from Jimmy after Bette's first performance singing in the freakshow. Though she might be completely tone deaf she is fiercely determined, so after months of practice she had finally managed to learn "dream a little dream of me" enough to hold the tune (with Dot gently humming it alongside her to keep her in pitch). A few days before Bette was due to perform Jimmy had quietly pressed a note into Dot's palm after dinner asking which type of flowers Bette preferred so that he could get her a bouquet for her first performance. Dot's heart warmed at that, seeing the man that she loved so tenderly care for her sister. Later that evening she had pressed a note back in reply that Bette loved anything pink, cheerful and romantic, however she also ached for flowers the she could keep beyond the length of time a bouquet would last. So maybe a flowering plant would be better. Jimmy of course bought both, handing Bette a beautiful posie of assorted pink coloured carnations along with a terracotta pot of African Violets. Bette had thrown her arm around Jimmy's neck and squeeled with excitement at the sight of her flowers while Dot had offered him the warmest, proudest smile as she mouthed "thank you" against the backdrop of her sister's excited ramblings.

Given how long Bette had pined for flowers and how excited she had been to receive them it is unsurprising that she is a devoted plant parent. She waters her flowers once a week like clockwork, adding water to a saucer underneath the pot and letting them drink the water up through their roots just like Paul had shown her. Apparently African Violets don't like to get their leaves wet. Bette would even go as far as to take her flowers out for some sun if she felt the conditions on their windowsill weren't right at their current campsite. Her little pot of flowers really did bring her so much joy.

Dot may not have shared her sister's passion for flowers (finding them mostly to be needless and frivolous) but in the end she was the one who responsible for the expansion of her sister's flower garden. When Paul had originally shown Bette how to care for her flowers he had also mentioned that they could be propagated which had fascinated Dot. The idea you could just take a leaf and it would grow roots and become a completely new plant was amazing to her. But convincing Bette to let her try it out for herself definitely proved to be battle. Bette certainly wasn't keen on allowing her sister to chop into her precious flowers while Dot couldn't see why her sister was being so protective, the little plant certainly had plenty of leaves to spare, especially if it could give a whole new plant. Unsurprisingly the disagreement escalated to a pair of very raised voices which is what ultimately drew Jimmy into the argument. After managing to calm down both sisters Jimmy revealed to Bette that the tiny pot plant had originally been her sister's idea because she knew how much she wanted to have flowers of her own. Dot confirmed that she does know how important the flowers are to Bette and that she would never want to hurt them, she was just excited at the possibility of being to make more of them for her sister and be able to give her the windowsill full of flowers that she had always dreamed of. Bette couldn't help but relent after that. A few months later and Dot has become quite the propagation expert, to the point where their windowsill is beggining to fill up with juvenile plants as well as fresh cuttings just beginning to take root. Bette smiles every time they catch her eye, not just at the beauty of the flowers that she spent so long pining for but also for how they symbolise her sister's love for her. While they may still bicker bitterly from time to time, Bette knows that no one will ever love her as much or as fiercely as her sister does. Dot still has no real interest in the flowers themselves. She does still find propagating rewarding, especially watching her little babies start to grow and flourish. But mostly she just enjoys watching the way they make her sister smile.

Sally McKenna

Image: jeremiahsplants

Sally is obsessed with carnivorous plants and you can't convince me otherwise. She definitely discovered them on Instagram and loves all the funny shapes and crazy colours that they come in. Sally would never be content with a plant that looks like a plant - no her plants need to look like vicious little aliens. The fact that they're natural born killers is also a nice little bonus. She loves how they subvert the natural order of things - insects should eat plants not the other way around.

When she first discovered plants online Sally got really upset that she'd never be able to go out and buy any of her own. It was Iris who mentioned that maybe she would be able to order some online - big mistake. Sally is nothing if not obsessive and her room now rivals Poison Ivy's lair with the number of plants she has crammed in there. The sheer number of babies in her collection doesn't mean that she neglects them though, no Sally is absolutely an A level obsessive plant mum - only the best for her babies. When she discovered that carnivorous plants prefer distilled water to tap water she started ordering it by the gallon, and as the best lit positions in her room started to fill up she definitely ordered grow lights so that none of her babies suffer. The grow lights also give off a slight purple glow which makes her room look like a rave which is absolutely a feature and not a bug.

Sally has also been known to go hunting for food for her babies, especially since her collection has grown and she worries there isn't enough to go around. Iris and Liz frequently find her collecting dead flies from window ledges to take back to her growing brood. She offers them to her babies with tweezers as a mother bird would to her chicks. The last time Iris had an exterminator spray the Cortez Sally accused her of trying to murder her babies with poison and absolutely ordered fruit flies online (intended for feeding pet reptiles rather than pet plants but meh) to keep her collection going until she could be absolutely sure that the offending toxins had dissipated.

It goes without saying that Sally has a separate plant Instagram account which she updates on nearly a daily basis with photos of new growth or just progress on her collection. She definitely has a great eye for plant photography and for making her babies come to life on the screen. One of her favourite things to do is film feeding videos with her largest Venus Flytrap "Fang" (who incidentally has his own Instagram account: @Fangstagram). Watching plants move so quickly will never get old to Sally and she has definitely been known to tease some of her smaller flytraps into snapping shut just for her enjoyment. She tries not tease them too much though, they are her babies after all.

Audrey Tindall

Image: savannahs-succulent-garden

Like Lana, Audrey is another serial plant killer, but for complete different reasons. Audrey, bless her, kills her plants with far too much kindness (and water). She so desperately wants a house full of the beautiful lush plants she sees all over Instagram so she tries her darnedest to be the best plant parent ever. Her problem is that every time she sees leaves starting to yellow or wilt she assumes it must be from lack of water (rather than the fact that their roots are already rotting from far too much).

Initially she fell into the trap of picking up plants she thought looked cute on Instagram or in the garden centre, without really knowing much about caring for them. Needless to say this didn't end well (multiple times). She thought she had cracked it when discovered the subset of house plants refered to as "hard to kill". Unfortunately, most of those plants are very resistant to neglect but not to Audrey's smothering type of plant parenting. Finally she discovered peace lillies which do actually like to have wet feet and appreciate all of her affection. She's slowly collecting other spathiphyllums in all shapes and sizes now that she's feels confident she's got the hang of them. She gets so excited every time one of them grows a new leaf or flowers - such a proud plant mum.

Now that she's growing a little more confident with at least a subset of house plants she will occasionally post photos to her Instagram. She's still pretty insecure about her plant parent abilities though and it doesn't help that she will occasionally get haters telling her she's doing it all completely wrong. She tries not to let them get to her but sometimes they really do get her down - all she wanted to do was share the joy that her plant babies bring her and she's doing her best to do right by them. After one particularly brutal bout of trolling it's actually Sally who defends her. Audrey has been following Sally's plantstagram since she first started getting interested in plants so the fact that Sally even acknowledged her kinda blows her mind. Sally tells people in no uncertain terms to back off Audrey or she will set her carnivorous babies on them. The two strike up a fast friendship after this and through Sally's guidance Audrey eventually begins to grow more confident as a plant mum. For her birthday Sally definitely sends Audrey her first baby Venus Flytrap with the absolute insistence that it be named "Audrey II".

Ally Mayfair-Richards

Image: swordsintheforest

Ally has never really seen the appeal of house plants nor does she have the time (or the headspace) to look after them. She does however have a fully stocked herb garden growing in window boxes in the kitchen to have everything within easy reach for cooking. She also loves the fresh clean smell of the basil and rosemary wafting through the house on the breeze if she leaves the windows open, particularly if it has rained. She may even admit that she's beginning to see the appeal of having the greenery around the place from an aesthetic standpoint as well.

Given how busy Ally is juggling being a senator, running a restaurant and being a single mum (plus whatever wink wink nudge nudge cult stuff she's up to on the side) it's not really surprising that it's Ozzie who's taken to caring for the herb garden most of the time. He's always been such an inquisitive kid and Ally loves watching the way his face lights up over simple things like flowers and new growth. Ozzie is particularly obsessed with propagation and there is always at least a handfull of his experiments on the windowsill. Whether it's an avocado seed he's trying to get to sprout or basil cuttings he's trying to root, he always has some new scheme in the works. Ally usually just smiles and ruffles his hair (so proud and glad that she has such an amazing and we'll rounded kid after everything that he's been through). As long as he leaves her enough basil to make pesto with, she's happy for him to play to his heart's content.

Wilhemina Venable

Image: leafyleafs

Plants have never been of any interest to Wilhemina, she considers them to be unnecessary sources of dirt and clutter. They serve no practical purpose so she has no time for them. At least until she becomes the somewhat unwilling recipient of one. As far as office secret Santa presents go, she supposes, the lilac coloured orchid is actually quite inoffensive. However she can't shake the feeling that it must have been bought for her as some kind of challenge, that someone at Kineros is secretly watching to see how quickly she will kill it because someone like the imperious Ms Venable is obviously incapable of the kindness or tenderness necessary to keep something as beautiful and delicate as an orchid. What she doesn't know is that it was actually from Mutt, because while he is usually too coked out of his mind to show it, he is actually quite fond of her. And he knows her well enough to know that she would never accept a gift from him directly so each Christmas he rigs the office Secret Santa to get her name so he can her something (and also partly because he doesn't trust some of the interns not to get her something crude on a dare given the anonymous nature of the gift). He also knows her well enough to realise that she would appreciate the elegant beauty (and obviously the colour) of the orchid but would never cede to the frivolity of buying something like it for herself.

Despite the good intentions of the gift, Wilhemina can not fathom the idea that it was genuinely meant for her enjoyment. Obviously someone is toying with her but she will not be beaten. Wilhemina Venable may not know the first thing about orchids but she will be damned if whoever gave her the wretched thing manages to get a laugh out of it at her expense. So she learns. Mina is nothing if not fiercely independent and resourceful so she scours the internet for information on orchid care and reads everything she can find. And of course she succeeds (because anything else would be unacceptable to her).

After six months her little orchid is still alive and thriving in her office and privately she would have to admit that she has grown quite attached to it. Compared to other plants she finds it to be quite neat and tidy, and there is something elegant and refined about its arching growth habit which she finds quite beautiful. Over the course of her research she has of course come across the tremendous variety of orchids available. She of course is drawn to all of the different tones of purple blooms but also finds herself unexpectedly drawn to some of the darker, more gothic varieties. She tries to tell herself that it is merely an aesthetic appreciation, that they hold no actual allure to her, but she keeps finding herself drawn back to them. She almost buys herself one on *so many* occasions but the idea of doing something so frivolous just for her own pleasure and enjoyment is so terrifying to her that she always chickens out. Eventually she caves though, buying an indigo coloured orchid on sale at the grocery store, abruptly rushing home with it before she can change her mind again. She spends the entire rest of the day second guessing the decision but the next morning when she opens her eyes to the delicate purple blooms tenderly placed on her night stand she can't help the gentle smile it brings to her face or the warmth that settles in her chest.

After that her collection slowly grows. She still struggles with buying things for herself simply for pleasure but she is getting better, and the sick guilty feeling in the pit of her stomach seems to appear less and less each time she does it. So her collection of orchids grows, mostly including those with particularly dark blooms or interesting and unusual shapes (though there are definitely a couple of lilac and lavender coloured blooms in there as well). She also begins to expand to other dark leaved plants as well, like certain begonias and definitely a ZZ raven. Like with the orchids, all of her new acquisitions are thoroughly researched and she is determined to succeed in their care.

Mutt will sometimes catch her glance fondly at her little desk orchid as he passes her office. He is genuinely glad to have given her something that seems to bring her such contentment. If only he knew the true extent of the gift he had given her.

Mildred Ratched

Image: bidoctor

Mildred has no idea about plants of any kind. Or at least she didn't before Gwen. Her childhood certainly wasn't filled with simple pleasures like planting flowers or playing in a vegetable patch, and any indoor plants or flower arrangements were merely things she was forbidden to touch and harshly punished if she damaged. So inevitably these things inspired a far greater degree of anxiety and tension in Mildred than they did joy or contentment.

But Gwen loves gardening. She had memories as a young child of helping her father in their backyard, returning of an evening covered in mud, much to her mother's dismay. Gwen's strong nurturing nature made her a very capable gardener and she derived a great sense of contentment from it. On some level Mildred wished she could help Gwen as she pottered through their garden of a weekend but she wouldn't have a clue where to start. In fact, the nasty voice in Mildred's head whispered, she would be so much better off without you, you'll just ruin everything, you're far too useless to be of any help. So as Gwen worked Mildred would watch, pretending to pay attention to her novel but really trying to find the pattern and reason to Gwen's actions so that maybe, someday, she wouldn't be quite so useless.

Mildred did, however, enjoy accompanying Gwen to the nursery when she went to collect supplies for their garden. Mildred may not have the faintest idea what any of the plants were called or how to care for them but she did find it peaceful to walk through the rows upon rows of different shades of green. She was continually fascinated by how many different shapes, sizes and colours they seemed to come in. Sometimes Gwen would catch her staring curiously at a particular plant but Mildred would always decline when Gwen offered that they could take it home with them.

One particular Saturday in spring Gwen found Mildred tenderly righting a small yellow marigold which had been knocked over by other nursery-goers as they riffled through the display to choose the brightest and most beautiful blooms. The poor little plant was somewhat lopsided and some of its leaves were slightly crushed from where it had lain, still there were the beginnings of golden yellow petals starting to peak from within the confines of its buds. Gwen watched as Mildred delicately unkinked the worst of the damaged leaves, fingers ghosting over the flowers that had yet to bloom. This time when Gwen suggested that they take the battered little plant home with them Mildred suddenly became very interested in a thread dangling from the cuff of her blouse as she muttered "Wouldn't it be easier to just choose one that isn't crushed? One without so much damage?". Gwen gently reached out, linking her pinkie with Mildred's, cursing that anything more would have been unacceptable in public. She gently squeezed Mildred's slender finger in her own until her gaze lifted to meet Gwendolyn's. "Never" she breathed. "The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all". She felt her throat tighten and eyes begin to burn as she watched Mildred's eyes begin to glisten and that *damn* dimple on her chin begin to quiver. "I wouldn't have the faintest idea of how to look after it", Mildred's gaze dropping again to the poor bruised little plant. Gwen squeezed their intertwined fingers once more, coaxing Mildred's eyes to meet her own. "I can show you, if you'd like?" Mildred's teeth began to worry her bottom lip as she considered. "What if I can't? What if I kill it?" "Sweetheart, you won't and I'll be there with you every step of the way. We can do it together." Mildred seemed to consider this offer, turning back to gaze tenderly at their little friend, before meeting Gwen's eyes. "Ok" she murmured, "together".

After that, every time Mildred and Gwen returned to the nursery Mildred would inevitably leave with a battered looking plant that she was determined to rehabilitate. Gwen, true to her word, patiently guided Mildred through the basics of plant care and Mildred, unsurprisingly, quickly became very proficient. Her tiny, dextrous fingers, used to dealing with needles and surgical instruments, were incredibly adept at staking and repositioning bent and battered plants as she helped them to heal. Soon enough, one end of their porch became entirely dedicated to Mildred's patients, so much so that Gwen began affectionately referring to it as Mildred's ward. And in spite of her initial fears Mildred had become quite the proficient gardener, with her little rag-tag bunch of plants, all twisted and pointing in slightly odd directions, forming the most beautiful and beloved garden Gwendolyn had ever seen.

#sarah paulson #lana winters #cordelia goode #bette and dot tattler #sally mckenna #billie dean howard #audrey tindall #ally mayfair richards #wilhemina venable #ahs #mildred ratched #ratched #ryan murphy #plant mum

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