#or 'support the weight of my head on my neck for longer than 30 minutes without experiencing extreme pain' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

homoose · 4 years ago

Text

Atlas

Summary: Three times that Spencer needed support, and one time he gave it. Lightly insp by the song Atlas by The Dip.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: heavy on the fluff, a lil bit of angst

Warnings/Includes: brief mentions of general anxiety/trauma/mild depression

Word count: 4.4k

———

Spencer pressed his fingers so far into the sockets of his eyes that Y/N thought he might actually jam one of his eyeballs into his brain. He was hunched over his desk, reading through the file of the case he was consulting on. Even on his mandatory 30-day leave, Spencer couldn’t fully tear himself away from hunting monsters.

Y/N moved from where she had been leaning against the doorframe, walking further into Spencer’s office. “Another headache?” She sighed, wrapping her arms around Spencer’s shoulders and pressing her warm cheek to his temple.

Spencer hummed. “Just need another cup of coffee.”

“Honey, you’ve been awake for almost three days,” Y/N sighed. “What you need is a gallon of water and 12 hours sleep.”

He leaned back further into the circle of Y/N’s arms and covered her hands with his own. “I can’t—the team needs this consult before they leave on Monday.”

“And just how long have you been reading this page?” Y/N questioned. When Spencer didn’t respond, she continued, “Mmhm, that’s what I thought. When it takes Dr. Reid two minutes to finish a page, something’s up.” She patted his chest. “Even the biggest brain needs a break.”

“Actually, there’s very little evidence that brain size has any correlation with measured levels of intell—” Spencer started.

“So you’ve mentioned,” Y/N chuckled. “My point still stands. I’m gonna make you a cup of tea and a snack, and then we’re gonna take a nap.” She kissed the top of his head before releasing her hold on him and moving to the kitchen.

Y/N filled the kettle and placed it on the stove before scrolling to find the playlist she had curated for days like this. The melancholic sounds of the Moonlight Sonata came through the bluetooth speaker as she pulled a wooden cutting board from the cupboard. Y/N dug through the bag from her earlier grocery run. She began placing the crackers, dried fruit, nuts, and cheeses on the board, taking time to arrange each piece just so. When she was satisfied with her work, Y/N turned to reach up on her tiptoes into the cupboard for her secret weapon. With a small smile, she placed it in the very center of the board. The kettle had barely begun its whistle when Y/N snatched it from the stove, cringing with a glance toward the door of Spencer’s office. She pulled his best-loved mug from the dish rack and dropped a fresh tea bag into it, covering it with the steaming water.

As the tea steeped, Y/N moved to the living room, crossing her arms as she contemplated the space. Although it was much darker than Y/N’s own living space, it was still far too bright to be comfortable for Spencer’s light sensitivity. Y/N made a mental note to find a suitable set of blackout curtains before retrieving a blanket from inside the trunk-style coffee table. She carried one of the kitchen chairs over to the window, quietly setting it underneath the curtain rod. Stepping up on the seat of the chair, she tossed the blanket up, trying to layer it up over the curtain. It took a few tries, but Y/N got it up and over the rod, adjusting it to block as much of the light as possible. She hopped off the chair, landing on the floor with a quiet thud.

“You didn’t have to do all this.” Spencer stood outside his office, hands in his pockets and honey colored eyes settled on Y/N’s face as she turned to him.

“I know.” Y/N padded across the hardwood. She grabbed Spencer’s hand and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. She shrugged, pulling him into the kitchen. “I don’t mind. I like taking care of you.” When they reached the table, she popped an almond into her mouth with a grin.

Spencer’s eyes moved over the cutting board, lips turning up in a small smile—the first one Y/N had seen in days—when they landed on the Jell-O cup. He picked it up and peeled back the lid. Y/N held up her mug of tea. Spencer let out a laugh and tapped it with his Jell-O. “Cheers.”

When the board held only crumbs and the mugs were empty, Y/N stood from the table and pulled Spencer to his feet. “Come on, nap time.”

“Y/N, I appreciate the thought, but I really have to finish—”

“Nope, sorry, that’s not part of the deal.” She gently pushed him toward the couch. At Spencer’s resistance, Y/N huffed out a breath. “Spence, you need a break. I’m not even asking you to go to bed. Just lay on the couch.” She lifted a hand to cradle Spencer’s face. “Unlike the brain size thing, there is actual research that says your brain doesn't function properly when you’re tired. And you, my love, are t-i-r-e-d.”

Spencer allowed himself to be lowered onto the brown leather couch, rubbing at his eyes. “Just twenty minutes.”

“Mhmm.” Y/N reclined next to him on the couch, grabbing the throw blanket draped over the back. “I’ll set the alarm.” She held out her arms. “C’mere.”

Despite himself, Spencer didn’t hesitate, winding his arms around Y/N’s middle and laying his head on her shoulder. She tucked the blanket around the both of them and wound their legs together.

“The alarm’s set?” Spencer mumbled, already falling under the spell of sleep.

Y/N pushed her fingers through his hair and scratched lightly at his scalp, smiling when he hummed happily and burrowed his face into her chest. “Setting it now,” she assured. Maybe she set it a little longer than 20 minutes, but Spencer didn’t need to know that.

⧭⧭⧭

Y/N rolled over toward the nightstand and reached out, clumsily running her hand across the smooth table to grab the ringing phone. When her fingers wrapped around the device, she pulled it towards her only to have it jerk abruptly out of her hand when the charging cord reached its limit. “Shit,” Y/N muttered as it clattered to the floor. She emerged from under the duvet, leaning off the side of the bed and dragging her hand blindly across the floor. Finally, clutching the phone in one hand and pushing herself back into bed with the other, Y/N swiped to answer the call. “H‘lo?”

“Hey.”

At the sound of Spencer’s voice, Y/N was suddenly wide-awake. “Spence? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I just—um. I know it’s late, sorry. Are you—? I just—God, you have to work in the morning, I’m sorry. I can—it can wait.”

Y/N paused a moment to make sure he was finished before asking, “Do you need me to come to you, or are you coming here?”

Spencer let out a sigh of relief. “I can—I’ll come to you.”

After thirty minutes of groggy pacing, Y/N opened the door to Spencer, hair frizzy and clothes rumpled from a long flight. She stepped back, allowing him into the apartment and then closing the door behind him. Spencer dropped his go-bag on the floor and ran a hand over his face as Y/N turned the deadbolt and secured the chain. She had barely turned around before he was latching onto her, completely enervated. He burrowed his face into the crook of her neck, and Y/N wrapped her arms tightly around him.

Y/N shifted her weight slowly back and forth, moving the two of them in a gentle swaying motion. She rubbed a hand up and down Spencer’s back, soothing and rhythmic. Spencer let out a shaky breath, and Y/N felt the collar of her shirt becoming damp. She brought a hand up to Spencer’s head, stroking his hair and repeating a familiar mantra: “You’re safe. I’m here. You’re safe. I’m right here.”

Y/N lost track of how long they stood there, swaying and soothing and shattering. Maybe minutes or maybe hours later, Spencer pulled back, head lowered and swiping his arm underneath his nose. Y/N reached out to grasp his face in both her hands, lifting it and sweeping her thumbs under his eyes. When Spencer finally looked at her, Y/N saw the golden irises were shining and ringed with red. “I love you.”

“I love you. So much.” Spencer circled Y/N’s wrists in his hands. “So much.”

She pressed one, two, three chaste kisses to his chapped lips. She dropped one kiss onto the tip of his nose, drawing out a hesitant smile. “Wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head. “No.” Y/N pursed their lips, and Spencer sighed. “I—I will talk to someone, I promise. But I just—I don’t want it in here. In our space.” Y/N wound her fingers through Spencer’s, pulled his arms down, and tugged him closer. “Honestly, I just want to sleep with you,” Spencer admitted. Y/N wiggled her eyebrows and Spencer laughed. “You know what I mean.”

Y/N tried to pull a pout but just ended up smiling. “Fine. Come on, spoilsport. Let’s go to bed.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It was just… not a good day for her.” Spencer leaned back on the couch and scrubbed his hands over his face.

Y/N sat next to him on the couch. She couldn’t find the right words. “I’m so sorry, Spence.”

“Pragmatically, I know that there’s nothing more I could be doing. She made it clear what she wants, and I can’t force her to take medications or try new treatments.” He looked down at his hands, fingers tracing the lines of his palms. “But some days I—I just can’t… reconcile that this is what her life is now. Just… remembering less and less every day. Being confused and agitated all the time. I mean, all the time.” He paused and drew his lips into a thin line. “Not knowing who I am. That happens much more frequently than it used to.”

Y/N reclined back next to him on the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table and pressing her shoulder to Spencer’s. “Even if she doesn’t always remember, you do. And if there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you are irritatingly persistent,” she joked. “You won’t ever stop trying to remind her. And that’s the best thing you can do for her.”

Spencer nodded, dropping his head onto Y/N’s shoulder. She tilted her head, an idea flitting across the front of her mind. “Hey, here’s a thought. You know that scrapbook your mom made? Every page is a story from her life. But she stopped around the time you were like, ten, right?”

“Yeah. There’s… not much in there after that.”

“Ok so, what if you picked up where she left off? You have so many great stories and memories with her. You could put some of your journals and articles in there, too. Pictures of you and the team. That one of you and Ethan in New Orleans. Ones with Henry and Michael. Maybe one of you in the lecture hall.” Y/N sat up. “Writing her letters is great, you should keep doing that for sure. But did you know that visual aids—like, particularly photographs—can help stimulate memory recall in Alzheimer’s patients at any stage?”

Spencer smiled. “I actually did know that.”

“Ugh of course you did. Couldn’t just let me have this one thing.” Y/N rolled her eyes, though Spencer caught the hint of a grin underneath the feigned annoyance. “Seriously, I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner. I have a ton of scrapbooking stuff,” Y/N said, scrambling up from the couch and into her bedroom.

“You do?” Spencer furrowed his brow. “I’ve never seen you scrapbook.”

“Eh, yeah, it was a phase,” she called from the bedroom. “Scrapbooking paper’s expensive as fuck, so it was a short-lived hobby.”

Spencer chuckled, listening to the sounds of Y/N rummaging through the bedroom closet. There was a muffled thud. “Everything okay in there?”

There were a couple more bumps and bangs, and then, “Ah yeah, here we go.” Emerging from the bedroom, Y/N wheeled a huge black roller bag over to the couch. She unzipped the top pocket and Spencer peered inside. “Oh so you meant, quite literally, a ton of scrapbooking stuff.”

“Look, my ADHD goes all out when it comes to starting new projects.” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “It’s the, you know, finishing projects that we struggle with.”

The pair went about die cutting, arranging, gluing, and giggling. Y/N scoured the depths of the internet (namely Penelope’s Facebook page) for photographs of Spencer—in costume at the BAU Halloween party, in his tuxedo at JJ and Will’s wedding, a selfie with Penelope at a Dr. Who convention, a candid of him doing magic for Jack and Henry, and even one of him singing karaoke.

Spencer worked on laying out the pages, gluing down frames and choosing decals that reminded him of his mother. He wrote a short synopsis on each page, summarizing his degrees, his work, and his friends. By the end of the afternoon, they had more than a dozen pages for the new book.

“I need one more picture,” Spencer said.

“I thought I got one of everyone? Or is there another karaoke picture that I don’t know about?” Y/N gawked over the top of the laptop from her spot on the couch. She was never going to let him live that down.

Spencer laughed. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s the only photographic evidence of that night.” He turned and smiled up at Y/N from where he sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by scraps of paper and the remnants of sticker packs. “I need that one of us at the Cherry Blossom festival.”

“Oh. Well, um.” A blush crept up Y/N’s cheeks. “Coming right up.” She sent the photo to the printer, standing to retrieve it from her desk.

It was quiet in the room apart from the sounds of the printer, rhythmically whirring and inking the memory into life. Y/N absentmindedly chewed the inside of her lip, waiting for the final strokes of the photo to be laid. She turned back, photo in hand, to see Spencer smiling at her, soft and warm.

Over the course of the afternoon, he had swapped his shoes for a pair of fuzzy socks, and his contacts for his glasses. Y/N’s heart actually ached at the length of his sweater sleeves, covering all but the tips of his fingers. The picture of domesticity, Spencer patted the floor next to him. When Y/N sat, he took the photo from her hand, meticulously adding glue dots to each corner before pressing it down onto the page. He lifted his arm, tucking Y/N underneath and pulling her close. “Thank you. For all of this.”

“You’re very welcome.” Y/N snuggled a little deeper into his embrace. “All right so let’s see this masterpiece.”

When they arrived at the last page, Y/N was still incredulous over the details of the karaoke story. “Okay, but there has to be a video somewhere.”

“Oh, I’m sure there is. And you will never, ever see it.”

“Penelope Garcia is a tech wizard, and she is not above a bribe,” Y/N warned.

“What a coincidence, because I am also not above a bribe. Especially if it keeps that video from ever seeing the light of day.” Spencer laughed and squeezed Y/N’s shoulder. “I think this page is my favorite.”

Y/N and I at the Cherry Blossom festival. Y/N is kind, thoughtful, and passionate. She never fails to make me laugh. She’s always up for cloud watching with me, although she prefers altocumulus formations to the cumuliform heaps. We read together almost every night. You both love King Arthur and the Legends of the Round Table, particularly Tristan and Iseult. I could write a million more words about her and it wouldn’t be enough. When I was little, you told me that love is a world of its own that lives in the heart, not in the head. I know exactly what you mean.

⧭⧭⧭

Y/N tossed under the duvet, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to find a comfortable position. She had been sleeping for so long that her lower back was aching, the type of pain that twinges like the ticking of a clock, steady and incessant. She rolled over onto her stomach, stretching her whole body and reaching to turn the alarm clock toward her—3:27pm. She huffed, burying her head in the pillow with a loud groan. She had called out of work to have a productive day at home, and instead she slept the day away.

Y/N threw the duvet off and sat up. She tried not to let the guilt of calling out creep in. Instead, she shuffled into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. She resolved that small victories might be all she was capable of today.

She pulled her favorite sweater from the hook on her bedroom door, wrapping it tightly around her as she stepped over the threshold into the living and dining space. This is why she had stayed in bed so long. Y/N had been spending so much time at Spencer’s that she had been able to ignore the declining Depression Room™ facing her now.

Three days’ worth of dishes were piled in the sink. There was a stack of unopened mail about a mile high on the kitchen island. The trash and recycling needed emptying about a week ago. Jackets and shoes were strewn about the place—over chairs, the back of the couch, all over the floor. The coffee table was littered with granola bar wrappers, an old McDonald’s bag, empty gatorade bottles, and the dirty containers from last night’s takeout. Her desk was overrun with unfinished lesson plans, professional development books that needed reading, and spelling tests that needed grading.

Y/N knew she would feel better once she started, but she also knew it would take her all day to get the apartment looking even halfway decent. Since she had spent so long in bed, she had even less time to get it done. She was failing to fend off the guilt of calling out, particularly since she hadn’t actually gotten any work done. Compounding her guilt was the fact that Spencer’s apartment was always so clean and cozy. His job was a thousand times more demanding than hers. His life had more trauma and daily stressors than she could even imagine. And still, Y/N was struggling with basic adult tasks. She couldn’t understand it.

Just hang the jackets up. Throw away the junk mail. Wash the pots and pans first, then the plates and silverware. It will take four minutes to take the trash out. Spelling tests need to be in the grade book before the end of the marking period.

The door buzzer sounded and Y/N nearly jumped out of her skin. Running a hand through her hair and cringing at the greasiness, she crossed to the intercom and pushed the button to talk.

“Yes?”

“Hey!” Spencer’s chipper voice crackled through the speaker. “I tried calling you but couldn’t get through.”

Y/N was immediately torn between relief and panic. She was desperately in need of a hug and his company, but she was also mortified imagining what Spencer would think about the state of her apartment, the state of her life. “Y/N?” His voice broke through her musing.

“Yeah, sorry!” She tried to school her voice into something resembling normalcy. “Sorry, I—my phone died and I just— well, yeah.”

There was a pause, and then a tentative, “Can you buzz me in?”

“Oh, um.” Y/N turned and surveyed the apartment. There was nothing to be done. If she said no, Spencer would know for sure that something was wrong. “Sure, yeah yeah, hang on. Just—just a minute.”

Y/N moved quickly around the space and gathered the jackets and shoes into her arms. She fumbled with the door handle of the coat closet, tossing them in haphazardly and closing the door. There was no time to do much of anything else. She jogged back to the intercom, pressing the door button and then roping her hair up into a bun, hoping she could mask how dirty it was. She could hear Spencer coming up the squeaky stairs and felt her eyes start to water. She tilted her head back to keep the tears at bay.

Even Spencer’s knocking sounded happy. And of course that only made Y/N feel worse. She plastered on her best smile and opened the door. “Hi.”

“Hey!” Spencer stepped past Y/N, kissing her cheek and dropping his bag as he entered the apartment. “We had a paperwork day, and I write reports about as fast as I read, so I’m always done early. How was your day?”

“Um, you know, it was ok.”

Spencer’s eyes tracked over her face. “Did something happen?”

“No, no, I just wasn’t feeling great this morning. I called in, just hung around here.”

“You could have called me.” Spencer stepped closer. “How are you feeling now? What were your symptoms?”

“I’m fine. I was just, um—just really exhausted.”

Spencer studied her face a moment. “What’s going on?”

“Hmm? Nothing. Nothing, I’m fine.” Y/N cursed her wavering voice for betraying her emotions.

“Y/N, you have never once, in all the time I’ve known you, failed to answer your phone. I almost thought you were going to tell me to go away before you buzzed me up.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Did I— Did I do something to make you upset?”

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling more awful by the minute. Of course Spencer would worry it was his fault. “No, no, Spence, not at all. I just—um.” The genuine concern on Spencer’s face was enough to have it all spilling out. “I get like this sometimes. I can’t focus on anything or don’t feel motivated or whatever, so I put things off, and then they build up until there’s so much to do that I don’t know where to start, so then I don’t start anything, and then I feel bad about being lazy and not getting things done, and I get so overwhelmed that all I can do is sleep for like, fourteen hours like I did today, and then the whole day is gone and I still haven’t accomplished anything I was supposed to—”

“Whoa, whoa, c’mere.” Y/N hadn’t even realized she was crying until Spencer pulled her into him. He locked his arms around her back so tight it almost hurt. She was vaguely aware of the volume of her sobs, but she couldn’t even bring herself to be embarrassed. It was a completely visceral moment of release, one that she might never have permitted herself without Spencer’s prompting. Now that the floodgates were open, there was no stopping the rush of everything she had allowed to build up. She spent so much of her life being the one who helped, always listening, supporting, and comforting the people around her. She was good at it, and she liked being someone that others could count on whenever they needed her. She just didn’t know how to listen to, support, and comfort herself.

Eventually, her mind and body began to slow down, plunging from the emotional high. When Spencer felt her breathing return to that consistent rhythm, he loosened his grip around her. He left one arm firmly around her waist and used his other hand to rub circles on her back.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N mumbled into his chest. “This is so stupid. Compared to the stuff you see every day—”

“No— no.” Spencer pulled back to force her eyes up. “Don’t do that. Just because horrible things happen to other people doesn’t mean that what you’re going through isn’t hard. Y/N, do you hear me? Don’t diminish your own pain because you think someone else has it worse.” He cupped her chin gently in his hand. “What can I do to help you right now?”

“You already have helped,” Y/N sniffed. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Y/N... you’re not fine. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It—it’s okay to not be fine. But seeing you in pain hurts me, too. And I need to be able to do something about it.” He cradled her face in both hands. “You help me all the time. Please, let me do this for you. Let me be here for you.” After a moment, Y/N nodded and that was approval enough for Spencer. “What did you eat today?

“I um, I didn’t yet.” She sniffed. “I slept pretty late.”

“Okay, well it’s after 4:00pm. We’ve got to eat something.” Spencer ran his hands down Y/N’s arms. “I’d cook for you, but we already know how that story usually ends. How about takeout from the Indian place? They’re usually pretty quick.”

Y/N nodded again. “I need to take a shower, too.”

Spencer kissed her forehead. “You hop in the shower, and I’ll call in the order. It’ll be here by the time you’re done.”

When Y/N emerged from the bathroom, hair damp and skin smelling like lavender, the familiar aroma of curry and tandoori was drifting through the apartment. The coffee table was cleared and the kitchen table set with the takeout boxes and mugs of tea. The trash and recycling were freshly emptied. Spencer stood over the sink finishing up the last few dishes, the pots and pans already laid out to dry. He was quietly singing along to a familiar song—one of their favorites. His voice was sweet and soft and slightly off-key, and her heart panged in the best way as he sang:

Don't put the world on your shoulders 'cause you know it ain't your load to bear alone.

Y/N waited until the final notes of the song faded out, padding quietly across the kitchen floor. “You didn’t have to do all this,” Y/N said, wrapping her arms around his middle.

Spencer dried his hands before turning in her embrace. “I don’t mind. I like taking care of you. And I learned from the best.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and spoke against her skin. “You can even have the last Jell-o.”

Y/N smiled, quick and genuine. There were moments when life crashed over her, relentless waves breaking her down into grains of sand. And in those moments, this man forever grounded her to the truth—that she was treasured and deserving and whole— all of her, just as she was.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminals minds self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #homoose writes

1K notes · View notes

sunshineseung · 4 years ago

Text

Little Secret Part 2 // Changbin

🍄 | genre: smut mini-series ☁️ | pairing: Seo Changbin x female!reader 🌿 | wc: 3.6k 🌸 | includes: virgin!reader, kinda romantic, lots of smoochin’, lil bit of begging, reaaally soft sex, oral (f!receiving), consent :), protected sex, aftercare? ig

v Please read part one first! v

“Alright, I’m gonna go. Thanks for having me over.” Changbin thanked his closest friend, always polite and courteous to Jisung for allowing him to come over so often.

“Cmon, you know you’re always welcomed here.” Jisung cleaned up their mess of popcorn and chips, tossing the bowls into the kitchen sink before helping Changbin leave. “See ya tomorrow in the studio, right?”

“You know it!” Changbin waved to Jisung as he entered his car. His car started with a hum, and the Bluetooth connected to his phone and continued where his Spotify left off. Ignoring whatever song was playing, Changbin dropped his forehead into the steering wheel as he faced the text message app in his phone. He patiently waited for you, staring at the bright screen, until he saw the familiar ellipsis text bubble appear in the lower-left corner. His face lit up with glee, and he felt his heart start beating out of his chest.

Changbin knew all too well that you had a crush on him. You made it more than obvious, stuttering over your words whenever he talked to you or hiding in your room whenever he was over. He and Jisung would joke about it in an attempt to brighten an otherwise problematic situation, but deep down, Changbin liked it. He liked the way you stared at him when he would be shirtless around your house. He liked the way you would go quiet in your room whenever he would start to talk purposefully loud about his sex life. He even liked it when he would go upstairs to use the restroom and hear your little moans of his name from inside your bedroom. He was always such a tease to you, and he couldn’t deny that he liked you too, but not in the exact same way.

Changbin lived alone. He had his own apartment downtown, and although he was known for DJing at parties, he would spend a lot of nights alone, left to his own thoughts. To combat intrusive or self-destructive thoughts, he would jerk off, obviously. And as much as he tried to focus on the pornography in front of him, he would always end up closing his eyes and letting his mind wander to you. The image of you riding him, bouncing on his cock as your chest rose and fell, was a go-to for him whenever he needed to cum fast. The thoughts of you doing sinful things with him never appeared until the beginning of this school year when he saw you carry a package to your room that was not-so-discretely a package from a sex shop. He always thought of you as extended family, being his best friend’s brother and all, but after imagining what naughty things might have been in that box, his mind was set. You were the only girl that could satisfy him.

He knew his experience would frighten you, but he wanted to ruin you more than anything. Jisung had never seen you with a partner, and although this was second-hand information, Changbin would love to take your virginity, making you cum over and over again anyway he can.

This was his chance. He never knew how to make the first move on you without Jisung noticing, but if this was how it had to be, then this is how it had to be.

You walked out to his car after sneaking past your brother, taking a seat in the passenger seat of Changbin’s car, refusing to look at him, although Changbin’s eyes were focused on you. He smiled gently, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Look, I said I’m sorry.” Changbin placed a hand on your shoulder and you gulped loudly. You could have sworn you felt your heart to a frontflip.

“Changbin,” your voice was quiet, scared of what was about to happen, “if you don’t want to do this, then I-”

“Y/n, you have no idea how much I want to fuck you.” You were speechless. You darted your eyes to meet his, and his gaze was dripping with sincerity and lust. “Let’s go back to my place. You can sleep over, I don’t care. I just want you right now.”

“Wa-want me?” You bit your bottom lip, unable to believe the current situation you were in. The boy you’ve had a crush on since middle school was about to fuck your brains out until the sun came up. Your mind was foggy, but not foggy enough to refuse Changbin’s advances.

His right hand rested on your thigh the whole 30 minute drive to his apartment, and you almost started shaking just thinking about what he was going to do to you. All your filthy fantasies were about to come to life, or you hoped they would.

Despite your excitement, the thought of Jisung finding out terrified you. Although you fought constantly, he was always protective. He would never let anyone lay a finger on his precious little sister. The only person that could bully you was him. If he knew what his best friend was about to do to you, he’d explode out of anger.

Changbin knew this. He knew damn well what he was doing would upset his best friend, but he couldn’t let this go any longer. Changbin would make lewd jokes about you infront of Jisung, each time resulting in Jisung fake-puking and threatening the older’s life if he were to ever even think of fucking you.

Ah, if only he knew.

You arrived at Changbin’s apartment. The elevator ride to the third floor was silent, but Changbin stayed close to your side the entire time. Your mind was still a mess, but Changbin’s presence made you a little bit at ease. As painfully horny as he made you, he was still your first love. You loved to be around him.

Once inside of his apartment, Changbin eased you in and welcomed you, giving you a quick “this is the living room” tour. You sat on his couch per his request and nestled back into the soft upholstery. Everything smelled like Changbin (unsurprisingly), and you almost fell asleep the second you sat down before Changbin sat next to you and leaned into your ear.

“This is your first time, right?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. His voice was deep and hardly above a whisper. You felt so hot, and the atmosphere was so hot, and when you looked at him, he looked so hot. Holy shit. This is happening.

“Yeah, but that’s okay, right?” You leaned away from him, afraid he would pounce on you at any moment. He noticed the fear in your eyes, and his glassy eyes reverted to his soft, warm gaze. He laughed it off, gently placing his hands on your hips and pulling you onto his lap, earning a quiet yelp from you.

“Of course that’s okay, baby.” His nickname for you melted your heart. You blushed brightly, and Changbin thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He felt his chest get tight as a smile stretched across his face. “Tell me if it’s too much, alright?”

“Alright, Bin.” He leaned in, and you realized you hadn’t kissed anyone since Junior prom (Don’t tell Jisung! It was a one time thing!). What if you weren’t good enough for him? What if you were bad at this? What if-

Then his lips were on yours. He waited patiently for you to get more comfortable, never moving on until you began to kiss him back. The kiss was so light and sweet, something Changbin hadn’t experienced since high school, but it honestly made his heart sing. He was the one that was supposed to be teaching you! What the fuck was this? Your hands quickly found their place on his shoulders and the back of his neck as you pulled yourself closer to him. You could feel him semi-hard under you, and you gently pushed your body down to feel more of him without thinking that he would also feel you push down on him. He pulled back and hissed, cursing under his breath. You tried to apologize, but before you could utter a word, his eye contact made you speechless.

“Eager, are we?” His smirk made your heart drop. God, he was so good looking it made your brain error. Of course you were eager, but you didn’t want to fully submit immediately. You were always a baby to him, so this could be your chance to have him see you as more mature, right?

“I just wanted to feel you.” Your sweet little voice made Changbin swoon. He knew you were innocent, and as much as he wanted to ruin you, there was an angel on his shoulder telling him to be gentle and caring. He wrapped his arms around you and brought you into another kiss, this time greedier and heavier than the last one, but you felt safe in his arms.

Changbin’s lips on your jawline felt like nirvana. He was so gentle with you, yet still domineering enough to make you entirely pliant in his arms, not like you’d know what to do if he actually let you be in control. You felt his kisses become rougher as he began sucking hickeys onto your neck. You arch your back and lean into his body, giving him full access to your neck. His hands went from supporting his weight at your sides to exploring your body, feeling you up over your shirt as slowly as possible.

“Take this off, princess.” Changbin tugged at the bottom of your shirt, hoping you get the hint. You nodded and hastily tossed your shirt off, exposing your braless chest. “Oh? Nothing on underneath?”

You looked down and covered your chest with your arms. Fuck, why were you so nervous? You’ve wanted this for years and now you’re shy? Changbin grabbed your wrists and slowly pulled you away from yourself, again exposing your chest to him. His face was unreadable aside from the casual smile that made your head spin.

“So beautiful.” Your face was as red as a tomato. His hands moved from holding your wrists to holding your hands, keeping you from covering your body. “This is what I’ve been missing out on this whole time? Damn, I should have done this sooner.”

He looks to you for any sign of discontent, but your soft puppy eyes tell him everything he needs to know, and he knows you need him. He dives his head into your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue circling the sensitive bud, and takes your other breast into his hand, gripping your nipple between his fingers and twirling it gently enough to make you keen. He was so good at what he was doing, and you couldn’t help but moan and whimper, especially when his teeth began to tug at your nipple.

Switching his head from one breast to the other, he briefly makes eye contact with you, and your adorably innocent gaze is enough to make him fully hard, his cock begging to be let out of his sweatpants. You looked so good, and the spit dripping from your chest lead down to where he wanted his mouth the most: your cunt.

His heavenly touch left your chest, and you whined from the lack of stimulation before he stood up from the couch, taking you up in his arms in the process. He carried you to his bed, placing you down softly on the sheets. The smell of his overwhelmed you as you sunk into his pillows, quickly becoming blissed out and ready for more.

Changbin joined you on the bed, taking his position between your legs, kissing your tummy and moving down to the waistband of your pants. You knew what was coming, but you didn’t know if you were ready. Your heart was beating out of your chest as Changbin looks to you again, lightly tugging at your pants.

“Bin, c-can you turn off the lights?” You point to the switch on the wall, and Changbin giggles before getting up and switching them off. The street lights from outside his window illuminated the room just enough for Changbin to still see the warm glow radiating from your body. He took a second to look at you, legs spread wide and chest arched up. Your eyes were glued to Changbin too, who had a noticeably large bulge in his pants. It was then that you realized you wanted this. You were ready for anything Changbin wanted to give you, to do to you.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby.” He comes back between your legs, and you raise your hips for him to slide off your shorts. The underwear you had on was nothing special, but Changbin loved it nonetheless. His fingers pressed your wet panties into your even wetter cunt, making the area fully drenched in your slick. You whined, desperately wanting more stimulation.

“Please fuck me, Bin.” You didn’t know you had it in you to be so vulgar, and neither did Changbin. His eyes go wide as he looks up at you. You were so desperate, tears were lining your eyes.

“Not yet, babe. Let me taste you first.” He slides your panties down your legs, adding them to the rest of the clothes. Now you’re fully naked, and fully at Changbin’s disposal. A single finger runs through your folds, and you whine when he begins to play with your clit, making small, calculated circles around the nerves.

While your eyes are closed, he leans down and lays on his stomach to become eye-level with your pussy. His fingers leave your clit only to be replaced by his mouth, sucking and licking at your clit. You buck into his face subconsciously, and he can tell how much you love it by the liquid dripping out of your cunt. One finger slides in with ease, and when he bends it, you arch your back even more, and Changbin quickly finds your g-spot.

“Bin, more, please.” Changbin could bust in his pants by how much you’re begging for him, but he loves it. Your voice gets so high-pitched and whiny every time you try to speak, but he loves it.

He adds two more fingers, now thoroughly stretching you out. The drag of his fingers is insane, and he can reach deeper inside you than you ever could. You push onto his hand, subtly riding his fingers as he pumps them into you. His mouth is still attached to your clit, lapping you up like it’s his last meal. You feel yourself begin to become undone, and you throw your head back from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Bin, c-close.” That’s all you can squeak out before Changbin sucks harsher at your clit, pumps faster inside you, and makes you cum on his face and fingers. Your cum coats him as you shake from the most intense orgasm you’ve experienced thus far. You moan his name loudly, and hearing you curse so much is beyond sexy to Changbin. Your sweat reflecting the street lights, your back arched with your perky titties standing up, your beautiful moans and sounds. It’s all too perfect to be true.

“Good girl.” Changbin takes his fingers out of you and sits up when you’re through your orgasm. He sucks off his fingers, tasting your sweet cum. The sight was too much, and you wanted nothing more than for Changbin to finally fuck you and take your virginity. “Is my girl ready for my cock?”

“Y-yes Changbin, please, I need your cock.” You raise your hips, this time to get his attention back to your most sensitive area. He looks down and notices your neediness. Changbin’s shirt flies over his head and joins the rest of your clothes on the floor. He’s sitting between your legs on his knees, giving you a moment to ogle at his sculpted body, which you did.

You’ve seen him shirtless before, but this time was different. Now his body was over you, not across the room or in the pool. You subconsciously reached out to him, leaning forward and running a hand down his abs, stopping at the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Changbin laughs, but you get unbelievably embarrassed in a matter of seconds, leaning back and covering your face with your arms. Changbin pins your hands above your head and leans down to kiss your blushing face all over until finishing on your lips, his tongue dancing with yours. “Don’t be shy, baby. Just calm down and let me take care of you.”

That smile. It was so sincere. You felt like he cared. Immediately, your heart burns with passion as you lean forward to kiss him while still being held down by his hands. His hands move down your arms to your chest, feeling you up one more time before you feel his hands leave your body. He breaks the kiss and leans to his bedside drawer, pulling out a condom.

Without missing a beat, he pulls his pants and boxers down his thighs, his cock springing free. It’s a lot bigger than you had imagined, but that’s okay. You wanted him more than anything, and judging by the precum leaking out of his tip, he wanted you too.

Changbin slides the condom down his shaft, making sure to pinch the tip of the rubber. He leans down and holds your hands at your sides, entwining his fingers with yours. You try to take deep breaths to calm down, but now that he feels so close, your heart feels as if it could burst out of your chest at any moment.

“This might hurt, but it will feel good, I promise.” He runs his tip through your folds, getting the head wet with your juices before lining up with your entrance. “Do you trust me, Y/n?” You nod, but that isn’t enough for Changbin. “Words, baby. Do you trust me?”

“Yes!” All you can do is whimper and squeak, a mixture of anxiety and excitement bubbling inside you. “Yes, Changbin. I trust you.”

Changbin pushes his member into you, stretching you around him. It feels like you’re about to be split in half, like your lower half could just fall off. Fuck, was it painful. But as Changbin bottoms out, he just waits. He waits for your face to go from pure pain to pure pleasure. You’re biting harshly down on your lip, holding in any whines from the pain. After a moment, you let out a moan and push down onto his cock as if it wasn’t already fully inside you.

“Bin,” your glassy eyes meet his, “move.”

His thrusts are slow and steady, making this the most enjoyable experience for you. Although you’re far from an orgasm, Changbin is scarily close. Your cunt feels like it was made for him. You’re tight, so fucking tight, but just enough for Changbin to still fit. He looks down and catches his cock disappearing into your dripping hole. The sight is filthy, and he loves it. If that wasn’t enough to make him close, your pretty moans were.

He knew your face was pretty, but your sounds, dear god your sounds. You sounded like an angel. Whenever you moaned his name, Changbin could feel his heart flutter. You sounded so damn pretty, like the best song he’d ever heard.

Changbin’s thrusts became more sloppy as he struggled to hold back his impending orgasm. You just looked so hot. The way your face scrunched up when he thrusted into you, moaning and whining with every moment. Your chest bouncing in rhythm to the sound of his balls hitting against you. It was all too much.

You felt Changbin’s cock throb inside you, and you instinctively tighten around him. With a shaky breath, he cums inside the condom. His pretty little high-pitched groans as he came made you smile, thinking to yourself, yeah, I did that.

He pulled out and disposed of the full condom. You held your arms out to him as he watched you sleepily make a little grabby hands gesture towards him. You looked so cute, how could he not cuddle with you?

Then you realized you had to pee.

But you came back as fast as you could to cuddle with him, pulling yourself into his chest, hearing his heartbeat and making your breathing in sync with his. His warmth enveloped you. You felt like you belonged there, laying in his arms with a gentle smile on your face as you were nodding off to sleep.

Changbin watched your eyes flutter shut, admiring how adorable you looked in his big arms. He wanted to talk to you, make sure you were okay, but you were already asleep by the time he collected his thoughts. All he could do was pull you closer, taking in the sweet scent of your messy hair.

Changbin was always hooking up with girls and going on dates, but nothing ever stuck. Recently, he’s been keeping to himself, and whether he’d like to admit it or not, it was because of you and his wicked thoughts. His feelings towards you for the past few months have always been of sexual attraction, nothing more. Now, actually having you in his arms, he didn’t know if his feelings were entirely rooted in lust or if he wanted something more… no. There’s no way Changbin was going to catch feelings for his best friend’s sister. No way. No fucking way.

How would Jisung react if he found out? How would he even find out? If you wouldn’t snitch, neither would Changbin, and you both subconsciously agreed to never utter a word to your brother. There was no way he could find out. No way. No fucking way.

🍓🍰🐤🍀💐🍯

An hour ago, Jisung got an alert on his phone. It was way too late for one of his booty calls to be texting him. What the fuck would alert him at this hour.

Life360

Y/n arrived at Changbin’s Apartment.

No way. No fucking way.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids #skz #kpop #kpop smut #changbin smut #seo changbin smut

269 notes · View notes

heart-strong · 4 years ago

Text

Are you Miserable?

Summary: Spencers out of jail, Scratch has been caught and Aaron and Jack are back. Spencer's boys are back, so when Penelope offers to take Jack for the night they cannot resist, but the night does not go as anticipated.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x enby Spencer Reid , hurt/ comfort

CW/TW: Sexual Assult, Childhood Sexual Assult (mentioned) prison arc (mentioned), Aaron in witsec (mentioned), intrusive thoughts flashbacks

WC: 2.3k

———

Spencer Reid was in love desperately and since they got out of prison their next goal to get their boys back. Aaron and Jack were now seconds away from them.

“They haven't arrived yet genius?" Penelope scurries through the double doors with JJ and Dave in tow.

"Em went down without me, she said they wouldn't get up here if I went down there." they bounced on the balls of their feet.

"I agree with Emily," Dave added.

With that, the elevator dings, and the three people are reviled to the team. Aaron and Jack Hotchner’s smiles matching inch for inch. Suddenly Jack is throwing his full weight into Spencer’s arms. Aaron's then squishing the boy to their chest and is kissing Spencer’s mouth in front of everyone on the level six FBI floor.

"How have you gotten hotter?" Aaron whispered.

"Prison roughed me up, babe. "Spencer answers, squatting down to talk to Jack. "What do you think, have I changed too much Jackie?"

"I think you look tough like daddy, Spencie. I'm glad we're back though daddy’s been miserable."

"Jack you weren't supposed to tell them that.” Emily giggles at the young boy.

"Sorry, dad. "Jack blushes.

"Okay, I need hugs." Penelope runs up. "I missed you boys." she scoops Jack up." Now, Jackie, you and I are going to have a sleepover. We can’t have daddy and Spence miserable for any longer."

"That sounds so fun!" Jack hugs Penelope tight as Aaron hugs Dave hello. Falling quickly back to the rhythm of the BAU and rejoining the team before he and Spencer head to dinner for the first time in a year.

---

"Ahhh Aaron," Spencer moans in complete pleasure and basking in the presence of Aaron on top of them.

"God, fuck Spence-," Aaron moans into Spencer’s neck while the pair’s legs are intertwined and Aaron works on his partner’s shirt, kissing lower to make a new hickey on Spencer’s pale collar bones. "My Pretty Spencer.” he punctuates with a bite.

While feeling Aaron once again in such a needy way after him being gone for so long, Spencer can't help being overwhelmed. 'I'm just out of practice’ Spencer thinks as they card their hands through Aaron’s hair.

"Mmm Ar, your hairs so long with a year of me not pulling on it." they laugh opening their eyes and looks to the ceiling.

"I hate it, love." Aaron breaths.

Spencer smiles at the comment but knows it won't happen tonight. They hold to the man on top of them because maybe finally having him back in Spencer’s arms it will make the inmate’s words they yelled at them lessen. From the nightmares and intrusive thoughts that Spencer has dealt with since the early days in the prison. But now they’re thinking about it and Aaron's hands are not Aaron’s hands. Aaron’s body is not Aaron’s body. And more of the air leaves Spencer’s lungs. The hips lips legs begin to envelop their body as they gasp for anything. 'But Aarons home, he needs this'.

"God fuck," Aaron wines rolling his body above them. "You are so lovely. I missed you, Spence." His hands force Spencers shirt to move up their chest.

‘This is Aaron, this is my boyfriend.’ they repeat in their mind. ‘The men are still in prison, I am here with Aaron.’ But as Aaron’s other hand is going for his belt. The jumpsuit buttons and they can feel of the stiff mattress as it floods back to them when Milo, no Aaron, unbuckles their belt.

"No," Spencer stiffens and Aaron is off their body, at the other end of the couch in the blink of the eye.

"Baby?" Aaron asks.

Spencer gasps as their chest feels the calloused fingers of Milos on their body. And as they look up to Aaron’s face, 'he'll still love you, you've watched him for years supporting victims.' they think.

"Spencer, Spence can you breath a bit better?" Aaron asks. “Darling in through your nose, out through your mouth baby."

Spencer listens to Aaron and scratches the tears off their faces. When did they start crying? After they start breathing better Aaron goes to the kitchen and gets glasses of water. Spencer accepts it and drinks the entire glass before they look back at their boyfriend.

"Spencer do you want to talk about this now?"

"I was sexually assaulted again, in prison."

"Okay first I love you and this doesn't change that, second may I hug you, you can say no if you don't want me to." Aaron is standing hesitant.

"No, I mean, yes you can. Please Aaron, can you hold me?"Aaron sits down next to Spencer placing his glass next to the empty one and envelope Spencer’s shoulders for a few seconds and then leans back continuing. "Just like before, when you told me about your father, I do not care darling. Now I do care because you should not have had to experience that, I wish I could get your father in jail Spencer."

"Aaron don't you don't,"

"No Spencer Reid, your father touched you when you were five. You knew Jack at five imagine someone touching Jack then, that anger you feel is the same I would feel and do feel. I think about killing him."

"Aaron, you can't say that," Spencer says.

"Why not? I do, if I had known at the time and met your father, I would have killed him during the Riley Jenkins case, I would have stayed."

"Aaron, it not that I don't appreciate the thought, because I do. I really do, you cannot imagine 5-year-old me realizing that what William was doing to me was abusive and not what fathers did to their children how used and unloveable I thought I was,"

"Spencer Diana Reid, you are so very loved." They both smiled at the name. Six months after the two got together Aaron and Jack accompanied Spencer to the courthouse to change their middle name. Spencer had told the team and their boyfriend about their father, then all the hospital visits happened. And every time Spencer had to say 'Spencer William Reid’ they had to hold down bile. Aaron caught onto their discomfort and brought up the idea of changing their name.

"I know that now, but I have you and Jack and the team and Henry and Michael. Aaron, I do not feel loveless now. But, god, okay I have my boys back, and I could not let you not know that it happened again."

"And I assume the guards did nothing."

"The guards did shit, believe it or not, Calvin Shaw found me and brought me to the infirmary."

"Spencer, baby I'm so fucking sorry.” Aaron grabbed their hand and Spencer could feel his shaking. “I do have to ask, have you gotten checked?"

"Aaron,” Spencer scoffed. “Do you think I would have been rolling around with you for the last hour if I hadn't or it came out positive!? No, I would have told you immediately."

"Spencer I had to fucking ask." This is not what Aaron wanted. He honestly wanted, when the elevators opened and he laid eyes on 'roughed up' Spencer, to take the love of his life to the bathroom and ravish them. But then Spencer seemed to be a melancholy aura. And then less than 30 minutes ago they stiffened like the dead bodies they see with the job. "Baby, can we step back please."

"Yes sorry I just, Aaron I wouldn't risk your health babe, sorry I got angry there, I just want your body." Spencer blushes. "I thought, it’s you, and I've been abused and scared almost every year since joining the bureau. Like I should be fine, but that's not how this," they point to their brain, "Works."

"Spencer you do not have to justify yourself to me. How about I make some popcorn, get some tea, you get some jammies on. I will too and we just watch a movie."

"That would be very nice." Spencer grabs Aarons’s thighs and kisses their boyfriend. "I missed you and your use of 'jammies' is beyond adorable.”

"Spencer, have I introduced you to my son Jack Hotchner he's 13?” They both laugh and Aaron kisses Spencer back, carding his hand through their unruly curls.

"Mmm hum, "Spencer hums from the feeling "Touche handsome. I'll be back."

After Spencer leaves Aaron goes to the kitchen preparing the hot water and snacks, knowing how to navigate Spencer’s apartment after years of movie nights with his partner. Some time passes, he has dumped the popcorn in a bowl and two cups of tea are steeping when he hears bare feet padding into the kitchen.

"You still like peppermint and apple mixed? I saw you had them and made it without asking."

"Do you know who you're talking to, yes, may I hug you?"

"Please." before he has the chance Spencer presses their body to his back and nuzzles their nose to Aaron’s hairline. After years after real-life jump scars, the pair did not hug from behind without permission. Spencer’s slender arms wrap around Aaron’s middle.

"Did you pick out something to watch baby?"

"There's a documentary about Polar Bears that looks nice," Spencer says.

"Sounds good, "Aaron rubs Spencer’s arm as they tighten their grip." Do you want to bring these to the coffee table and I'll go change?"

"Sure babe, I missed you so much," Spencer says as he started kissing Aaron’s back.

Aaron turns in Spencer’s arms and finds them in an FBI Acadamy t-shirt too big and too worn out for it to be Spencer's. His FBI shirt.

"Did you miss me or my clothes baby?" Aaron laughs as his partner.

"Your clothes that smell like you.” Spencer blushes. “You see, I have some of your clothes but,"

"They don’t smell like me anymore?" Aaron nods as Spencer’s fluffy hair robs his neck. "If I just hold you you don't have to wear my clothes and I never plan on letting you go."

"Aaron Hotchner you are going to spoil me to death."

"No I will spoil you till the day you die, that's different." Aaron brushed Spencer’s curls out of their eyes. "I'm going to go change baby."

While Aaron is changing Spencer turns on Netflix and pulls up the documentary and bundling up in a blanket. Aaron joins them letting Spencer curl to his body as if the two were magnets to the other. This is what Aaron needed when he saw Spencer, his partner at his side and warm on his body. Over the years after the two got together Spencer would fold to Aaron’s body and sometimes Jack would sit in between them. While the loss of Hailey was painful for everyone on the team, Aaron was happy with Spencer and it made it easier to love them when Jack was also with the two, having fun and calling Spencer ‘Spencie’. Jack would explain to his teachers that ‘My Spencie is picking me up today’ and while it was confusing at first they quickly came to realize that Jack’s father’s partner was nonbinary. And Aaron of course did not care, just about having Spencer at his side and being able to love them.

Spencer ends up falling asleep, their fist clutching Aaron’s shirt and it has been years since Aaron could carry Spencer to bed. So he runs his hand through the beautiful curls atop their head and stops once Spencer's eyes flutter open.

"Hey," Spencer rubs their eyes." Did I fall asleep?"

"Yes, baby. You are so pretty you know, my pretty Spencer." Aaron smiles down at the crinkles in Spencer's cheeks.

"And you, my darling boyfriend, are comfortable."

"Okay my pretty one, brush teeth and bed."

"Aaron you know I am your partner, not your son?"

"Give me a break, the past year I have mostly only hung out with my son."

- - -

Aaron exits the restroom and finds Spencer with a book and their glasses on. "Hey Spencer before we go to bed can we chat?"

"Yes of course, but also I am quite sleepy you know."

"yes, I'll be quick," Aaron laughs and sits at Spencer’s feet. "I know we started that conversation and I feel like we dropped it quickly."

"Babe, you don't need to," Spencer sits up grabbing Aaron’s hands.

"Spence, for my brain I do need to, so can I?"

"Of course Aaron go ahead.” Spencer closes his book. "Can I snug while?"

"Come here baby," Aaron reaches out for them, and Spencer crawls into his lap and wraps their legs around Aaron’s hips. "Okay seriously though, you are my everything and your father did not deserve having you. And I hate thinking about if he had stayed. I love you so much and the shit that happened to you in there doesn't change a thing."

"Thank you for saying that babe." Spencer blushed. "I can't imagine not having my boys back."

"I'm very glad having you back too, I really was fucking miserable."

"Are you miserable now?"

"No."

"Then can we snuggle for the rest of our lives?"

"That sounds fantastic baby.”

Spencer kisses Aaron with a nod." I will say Ar, I want Jack back and I want us to move in together, we've been together for years and I love Jack. Jack loves me. Not to toot my own horn, but like I get to love and receive love from the Hotchner boys."

"Spencer Reid, you fucking beat me to the question.” Aaron fakes disappointed hitting his forehead on Spencer’s shoulder. “Jack asked if we could move in when we came back. But I think it’s a bit too late to go get him tonight though. So for now, snuggles?"

"I like snuggles!"

Spencer pulls Aaron on top of them and catches his mouth. Aaron Hotchner was the person or man for them. Aaron thought the same for Spencer, Spencer loved his kid and his kid was the person Aaron loved them most in his life. The pair fell asleep intertwined in the sheets. And when the sun rose the first thing out of Aaron’s mouth was, "Hey my pretty Spencer, do you want to go get our boy?"

"Our boy? God, I love the sound of that, yes."

51 notes · View notes

i-love-side-characters · 4 years ago

Text

Do You See It Differently?

Pairing: Various Relationships

Characters: Various Keeper of the Lost Cities Characters, One-Time OCs

Genre: Angst

Summary:

“Once you’ve seen there is another perspective, you can never not see that there’s another point of view.”

― Ellen Langer

TW: Death, Character Death, Injuries, Blood, Disease Mention

Word Count: 1.8k words (1,817)

Additional Notes:

You should be proud of me, this is all canon!

Or at least based on canon events

Okay you shouldn't have expected so much of me

This is terrible i am so sorry

no beta we die like nixx's happiness when me and pyro are coming up with angst

Tag List: Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

@bronte-deserves-better @councillor-bronte-is-best-boy @cadence-talle @an-absolute-travesty @bookwyrminspiration @keefeinnit @mallowmeltz @ultralazycreatorfan @everyonehasthoughts @mistythegenderqueermess @imaramennoodle @rainbowtay-11 @we-need-more-empathy @catboyruy @we-wont-dissapear @we-have-no-bananas-today @loverofallthingssmart @a-lonely-tatertot @thesandsofdawn @enbies-and-felonies @fire-sapphics @jadenightthewriter @alabestrine @sunlight-in-a-bottle @damischs @pyrokinetic-loser @pyrarayn @towishuponashootingstar

Read below the cut!

you've read the stories.

the ones with the obstacles beyond compare.

the true loves and dramatic battles.

the heroes, valiantly fighting against evil.

they're inspiring tales, to be sure.

but have you read the other stories?

the ones about the villains?

about the families?

about the kings?

about the children caught in war?

those, my dear, are the stories that truly matter.

they are the stories that go untold.

they live and die with them.

and that, is the true tragedy in this tale.

•·················•·················••·················•·················••·················•·················•

"careful!"

her lips twisted into a smirk, dark eyes tracking her daughter sprinting through the city.

"brilla! come back here!"

the little girl laughed, turning smoothly and running back into the arms of her mother. "mommy, did you see how fast i was?"

"yes darling, you were so fast!"

she squealed, wriggling out of her arms, running back into the crowded market.

"ms. sakh?"

she spun around, squinting at the amour-clad guard. the queen seal glowed brightly, it's shimmer enhanced by the golden city. "yes?"

"if you could come with me." his voice stayed even, solid. a queensguard through and through.

she didn't move, twisting to see her daughter playing in the peace fountain. two guards shadowed her, not interrupting, but keeping a trained eye on the little girl. "what's wrong? what happen?"

the queensguard shook his head. "the queen needs to see you, ma'am." he reached out, gently steering her towards the glittering palace.

she glared at him, wrenching her arm away. "tell me what's going on."

his face darkened, eyes filled with sadness. "i'm so sorry to tell you this, ma'am. but at 4:30 today, your wife, brielle sakh, was killed on duty at an elven residence in the lost cities."

the woman's eyes widened, her basket falling to the floor in a dull thud. tears spilled over her cheeks as she stepped back, shaking her head. "no. not brielle―"

"i'm so sorry." he said, reached out again, gently guiding her toward the palace. "let's go."

it seemed darker somehow. the palace. the city. it no longer shimmered bright and gold. the shadows shifted and grew, twisting darker and darker, until they lunged forward and swallowed her whole.

he stepped out onto the stone balcony, glaring out over the city.

he could feel every pulse in his body, the tattoos scrawled across his head. they shouldn't carry weight. the elder kings decided that they didn't want the weight of a crown on their heads. that's why the tattoos became what they were.

apparently their plan didn't work.

he could feel the weight of every black swirl, every black scar.

and he could see them too.

he had already visited the hospital. he watched the shamans cover another body. children's limbs mangled, mothers and fathers crying. soldiers standing stiff, black eyes watching every body leave the room and desperately trying to convince themselves that they didn't know who was underneath the white sheet.

and now he was watching hundreds, thousands of black bodies digging at the rubble, each one helping the other rebuild.

"dimitar."

the queen walked over to him, placing a rough hand on his shoulder. "you need to sleep."

"no, i don't." he twisted away from her, feet pounding down the stone steps. the cool wind thrashed his cloak back. mud squelched under his feet, sharp bits of debris cutting into his gray skin.

they bowed as he walked by, some clapping their arms to their chest, but all looking with black, unfathomable eyes. he cut through the crowd, stopping in front of their leader. "romhil― ro."

"father."

he nodded, drawing himself tall. "get back to work."

he bent over, ignoring the ache in his back as he moved the debris. he was with his people now, not with the others. and it was a sight to see. a king, shoulder to shoulder with a peasant.

and only one thought caught the king's mind.

this can't go on.

the pages felt heavy. rough.

it was his favourite book. he had memorized it's every detail. the roughness of the cover, worn after years of use. the last few pages, lighter than the others due to a lack of paper. the gold lettering, smudged where his the oils on his skin had touched. and it was the book itself too. the way the words flowed, like music, ensnaring you and pulling you in further.

he smiled and stroked the cover, noting the ink stains from over a thousand years ago. his sister had done that. he'd yelled at her for weeks.

he stood up, nearly tripping over the stack of scrolls tossed on the carpet, wincing as the document's edge tore clean off. he'd have to get it repaired.

dust flew in the air, the delicate rolls dusted in gray. they had been sitting there for ages. maybe it was time to read one again.

he reached down, shaking off the dust and settling back in the armchair, twisting himself until the lumpy chair was perfectly supporting his body.

and then he was thrown into the story again, grabbing him and pulling him in closer, until there was no world, just him and his words.

the sun rose and fell, and rose again, and fell, and time didn't matter anymore because he was safe.

and then he wasn't.

a sharp knock sounded at his door, making him flinch and drop the newest tome. it slammed onto the ground, knocking over empty cups and crushing papers.

"uh― i'm― i'm coming! just uh― give me a minute!" he yelled, hands shaking as he stacked the books as best he could. "coming! i'm―" he gulped, hurrying to the door. "i'm here, i'm― bronte?"

"fallon." the councillor said, trying to smile. "may i come in?"

"no. i mean― it's quite a mess― you probably shouldn't. councillor."

bronte nodded, his jeweled crown glowing dimly in the evening sun.

"what do you want, bronte?" he sighed, desperately trying to comb his hair back.

he sighed, running a hand down his face. "did you know about luzia, fallon?"

"what about luzia?"

"that she's been committing treasonous acts that violate several treaties and―" he hesitated, and then, much more softly. "and could put her in exile?"

his soft, dark eyes met piercing blue ones. even though the councillor was younger, he still cowed the other. he stumbled back, slamming the door closed, turning back inside. his dark eyes scanned over the room, the piles of papers, the overturned mugs, the drawn curtains, the mess, the chaos.

how the mighty have fallen.

it was a sharp sound, echoing off the walls. she smirked, throwing another stone towards the ground. and then a deeper echo, the echo of footsteps over the hard stone.

she tilted her head, her dark hair falling over her pale face.

two footsteps. one ridged and firm, the steps of a guard trained from birth to kill. the other was uneven, accompanied by the soft clink of chains.

she shook her head, shoving the sound out her mind.

but it came back.

the footsteps pounded into her brain, her mind analyzing each shift in the pattern, a click of a chain at a different time, a step falling a second too late. a breath too heavy. a rustle of armour.

a low hiss escaped her throat, pale skin breaking as she clawed at her arms. she closed her eyes, but it was still bright, too bright, loud, too loud.

and then the smell. the sweaty, musty odor, mixed with the sharp smell of blood. but something else―something different―

she tilted her head back, lips curving into a lazy smirk. the fragrance wafted inside, the salty smell of the sea, the scent of the wind. outside.

the guard appears first. black eyes, a controlled stare. near seven feet tall. deadly weapons at his side. scars ripple down his face, down his neck, two inches wide and dark against his scaly skin.

he barely paid her any attention, turning around to motion to the others. back was the click of the chains. two more guard appeared in the door, with someone else between them.

someone new.

she watched them carefully chain him to the lumenite wall. they didn't know what they had just done. what they had just started. they just stalked away, leaving just the two of them.

their eyes met. his lips curved into a smirk, nodding at her from his own little cell. it was hard to keep herself from smiling. she had grown old here. lived and died here. seen nobody come in and nobody go out.

it seemed that would change.

she gasped for air, bolting up in bed. this wasn't new. another nightmare, more fires, more sugary smells. another night without them here.

small tears trickled down her cheeks, landing on the silky sheets.

it had been a weeks.

she threw off the covers, crawling out of the bed, letting her feet sink into the soft carpet. light streamed into the dark bedroom, moving gracefully with the watery sky. the roads of the city were empty now. everyone was asleep.

"except you." she muttered, glaring at the city.

she couldn't say she hated it here. it was gorgeous, not to mention luxurious, and the people here couldn't be nicer. but it wasn't right.

she hummed under her breath, sliding down to the floor, smiling as a large ball of fur slunk over to sit on her lap.

"hey there marty." she whispered, stroking his fur. "i bet you miss home, don't ya? they don't have temptation treats over here."

he blinked his large, dark eyes at her, meowing softly.

"yeah, it's weird for me too. but we're safe." she said, sending a commanding glare the cat's way. "sophie's got us covered, alright?"

another soft meow pierced the silence.

"mhm. i completely agree. she is definitely in love with that teal-eye guy."

the lights flicked off outside, the sounds of shuffling feet echoing through the room.

she nodded, giving the animal a small kiss. "yeah, it's very interesting. and don't be scared. mom and dad are fine, i promise."

now the lights in the streets were turning off, bathing the city in a blanket of darkness. "they'll be fine."

she climbed back into the bed, pulling the sheets tightly around her. shadows danced over the gray-purple walls, fading into the darkness of the night.

she hadn't made a wish like this since she was 6. her grandma, and something called cancer. all she had known back then was that it killed people. that was 7 years ago. and now she was wishing again.

hopefully this time it would work.

so now, what do you think, my dear?

do you still think the king is a monster?

that the recluse does not care?

that the child is safe?

do you see the others in this tale?

do you see it differently?

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #mine #my writing #tw swearing #do you see it differently?#here take this pile of shit #and please avoid the ending its terrible #actually please just avoid this fic in general #but you gotta give me credit im living up to my url #side characters >>>>#*chokes* the q u e s t i o n m a r k s #i really said /punctuation/

37 notes · View notes

fleckcmscott · 3 years ago

Text

Stepping Stones - Chapter 2

Chapter links: 1

Summary: Y/N and Arthur share a delightful life, one that isn’t perfect but wholly theirs. When his struggles take a serious turn, she's surprised by the toll it exacts. Though the steps they'll have to take aren't easy, walking them together makes all the difference.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Struggles with mental illness

Words: 3,739

A/N: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for offering to beta-read this story and her encouragement. Her contributions have been invaluable! Also, thank you guys for your support! I hope you continue to enjoy this story. And don’t worry: there may be angst - but there’s love, too.

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask! I’m still working on requests and Way Back Home!

Y/N wasn't used to being searched. It'd last happened at the District Courthouse when she'd gotten in the wrong line and nearly wound up in the jury room for a murder trial. At least the stout woman in Arkham's visitor entrance lobby was more pleasant than the bailiffs.

Unassuming in a white polo shirt and black pants, her nametag introduced her as Gladys, and the split "I Can Help!" sticker along the top cemented her as a fixture. She was friendly for a Gothamite, commenting on the sunny weather while unceremoniously dumping the contents of Y/N's handbag onto a plastic table pad. Asking about the ride over as she politely ignored tampons and confiscated a nail file. She spelled Y/N's name back to her before jotting it on the sign-in sheet and offered a genuine smile. "You have a nice time with your husband, dear. Just check out with me before you leave."

Visitor's badge pinned above her left breast, Y/N adjusted the collar of her red silk blouse, ensured the heart pendent around her neck was centered, and pushed through the door marked "Visitation."

Her kitten heels click-clacked across the checkerboard linoleum floor. The cafeteria was large, like an elementary school gymnasium without the scoreboards. Lack of funding had turned the once pristine walls to the off-white of a bathtub that had seen too few scrubbings. Large windows dotted them in sets of two, each covered with grate from the inside. Metal fans were riveted to their frames, a poor attempt to compensate for the lack of fresh air. To her left, six rows of steel tables stretched halfway across the room, about a third full of staff and patients, family members and friends. A metal buffet stood to her right, along with a sign stating a menu of beef cutlets and gravy would be served at 5:30 PM. A pony wall separated a family area on the far end. She spotted a patient with his wife and daughter watching cartoons together, ones that were old enough for Y/N to have grown up on.

It struck her how average the place felt, similar to the hospital back home she'd spent far too many hours in. It made sense: the people here were patients like any other, even if they were under lock and key. When she headed to the aluminum coffee urn on a rickety steel cart, there was a woman, around thirty, making conversation with a new wave chick, holding a ragged teddy bear and pulling her hair. Their eyes met and Y/N attempted a friendly smile. Once she'd purchased two cups, she sat by a window and crossed her legs, foot swinging back and forth as she sipped the stale liquid.

She tried to quell her nervous anticipation. Due to his time of admittance, Arthur's forty-eight-hour observation period had stretched late into Thursday night, well after visiting hours. Tasks big and small had punctuated the wait. One of Arthur's clients called to confirm a birthday party, and Y/N, hazy from lack of sleep, explained there'd been a family emergency.

Then it dawned on her that she'd have to find Arthur's gig list, which meant rummaging through his desk, a private space she'd respected since presenting him with it for their anniversary. Thank god he no longer locked the drawers, because she had no idea where he kept the key. (There were only so many hiding places in their three-room apartment, but she had no desire to search every nook and cranny.) The yellow legal pad resided in the top left drawer, under a prop catalog and kraft paper notebook. After ringing Gary and asking him to fill in ("I'm not sure I can do all these, but I can mention them at HaHa's." "That'd be great but don't get yourself in trouble. And, please, leave out Randall."), she telephoned eight households and three businesses with his contact information and apologies.

She worked extra hours in the evening to make up for the time she'd inevitably take off when Arthur was home, an arrangement that wasn't strictly legal, but she didn't see the harm in. Her colleagues graciously ignored the number of personal calls she made, to ask how Arthur was doing and learn about policies. While he wasn't yet rational, staff said, he was cooperative. Well, mostly cooperative. He'd eaten breakfast and referred to everyone as sir or ma'am, but he'd also caused a ruckus when he'd come to and found his wedding ring missing. They'd made an exception to the no jewelry rule and given it back. Personal clothing wasn't permitted, either, besides underwear, and toiletries were out of the question. It irked her - he deserved the dignity of his own hairbrush - but she didn't want to single him out by arguing for further favors. So she shuttled over a week's worth of briefs on her lunch break, chest tight as she gave it to the man with headphones at reception.

Despite the setting, despite the weight of not knowing what mood he'd be in, a thrill bubbled through her veins. Whenever a silhouette appeared behind the glue chip glass of the patient entrance, her pulse skipped. Y/N knew it was silly to expect a lot this first visit but she couldn't help it. She missed him. She missed him. Like it had been thirty days instead of three.

It took about six minutes for the door to crack an inch, and a full ten seconds for it to open completely. An orderly propped his weight against it, pointing in her general direction with his head. She stood and smoothed her palm down her A-line skirt, ensured the hem was at her knee. Maybe it was selfish, perhaps even foolish, but she hoped the surprise would be a highlight of Arthur's day, make him feel better, and she hoped seeing him would be one of hers. He was still her partner, after all. Still her Arthur. That would never change.

Clad in white scrubs and white shoes and about twenty feet away, Arthur stepped over the threshold and scanned the room. She gave him a modest wave when she caught his eye. His approach was more tentative than she would have liked, his steps shorter than usual, fists balled at his sides. As he drew closer, she noted the oiliness of his hair, the two-day black and grey stubble on his chin. His crow's feet had grown deeper, his eyelids slightly purple. Exhaustion dripped from every pore. The cut on his forehead had scabbed over into a thin line, quite modest considering its origin and how much he'd bled.

But he was as beautiful to her as always. The hint of a smile tipped her mouth. "Hi, Arthur."

"Hi," he said lowly. A reservation she barely recognized clouded his light green irises.

Part of her began to suspect popping in like this had been a mistake. Giving up wasn't in her nature, however, especially when it came to the love of her life. She forged ahead, closing the gap between them. Dr. Kellerman had advised her to let Arthur set the pace of their visits, to offer support while respecting his boundaries. Yet, touching him had become as vital to her as breathing, and it didn't occur to her to ask for permission before she reached to cup his face.

His skin felt papery under her fingertips, and red, flakey spots of dermatitis bloomed next to his nose and below his eye. He smelled of cheap bar soap and detergent, though whiffs of his woodsy masculine scent lurked underneath. But his clothes were clean and fit him well, better than half his own wardrobe. "I'm so happy to see you," she said, tracing his sharpened cheeks.

He nodded weakly, lips pursed into a grimace of disbelief. "Good."

"I got us some coffee. We can sit here or on one of the sofas."

"Here's fine."

She took his hand and led him to their table, itching for him to entwine their fingers, lamenting a little when he didn't. While he followed closely, his posture radiated tension like an oven radiated heat. Rather than the gait they'd adopted over the years, he moved as if he was afraid to touch her, as if he feared she'd disappear. Or reject him. Once he was situated and stirring sugar into his cup, she sat beside him and bumped their legs, refusing to let his fears go unchallenged. "How's your room?"

"It's okay. Just me. I'm not there much." He blew lightly on his steaming brew. "I haven't seen this part of the hospital before."

Y/N arched her brow. "No?"

"Penny had trouble getting over here to visit. When I had episodes."

Flabbergasted, a huff of disapproval escaped her. Arthur had been in out Arkham six or seven times, and Penny hadn't made it over once? According to Arthur, she'd been sick for a while, but what about twenty years ago? Even later, they hadn't had any money, which meant she would've had to care for herself while he was away. If she had had the wherewithal to go through the process of committing her son, couldn't she have at least called a cab? Y/N pushed her ire aside, not wanting it to affect Arthur. "Did you see your therapist today?"

"Mhm."

"Is he good? Does he listen to you?"

"He's fine."

She took a long drink. "Did you get the underwear I brought over?"

"Yeah." he sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. "They wrote my name on the waistband."

"I'll get new ones," she said, tapping her chin in contemplation, opting for a little cheer. "Donahue's has a racy number from Mad Mod. How'd you feel about zig-zag bikinis in maroon?" Instead of the laugh she'd craved, the incredulous smirk he saved for ridiculous suggestions, his knees quaked, bouncing and bouncing, freshly wound springs in bleached cotton.

None of this was going as she'd pictured.

Self-consciousness was atypical for her, a personality trait she'd shed in her late twenties after a failed marriage and the beginning of her parents' declines. Being with Arthur felt secure, open, even during his worst days. When he'd discovered his mother's Arkham file, learned the details of his abuse. Or the weeks after she'd passed and any chance of finding out more about himself, the truth about his father and chance to get a crumb of paternal affection, had died along with her.

Gathered at this table with her husband and bad coffee, old insecurities returned with the force of a subway careening at full speed. She sought to encourage him but didn't want to dismiss his feelings, harken back when he'd been burdened with "Happy." Her questions were obviously getting on his nerves - she was at a loss as to how he'd react to more of them. Their banter had vanished. The clues she had to follow were based on an old map, comprised of well-worn paths to joy she could walk with her eyes closed. Now those paths were overgrown with weeds.

But she wouldn't stop trying to trim them. Some shears were in reach: a woman's magazine lay abandoned on a nearby table, famous for its relationship quizzes and bedroom advice. She snagged it, scooted her chair closer to Arthur, and flipped through the glossy pages until the headline "Are You Meant To Be?" screamed in bright pink font. She cleared her throat and read aloud. "'You and your husband are shipwrecked on a desert island. You can take any household item with you. What item would you bring?'" She paused, then went with what first came to mind. "Toothbrush. I can't expect you to kiss me when I-"

"Why are you acting like this?"

Her gaze locked on him. "Like what?"

"Like I haven't fucked everything up."

Automatically, she reached for his thigh, not heeding the angry twitch of his jaw. "You haven-"

He batted her arm away, inadvertently knocking the magazine to the floor. "Don't lie to me," he rasped. "I don't like you seeing me like this. I don't want you to have to come visit and pretend." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, an anger she recognized as shame dripping from every word. "Can you please just go?"

Pain lanced through her, pain she hadn't felt since her father, deep in the throes of dementia, had accused her of stealing from him. Her lashes lowered to hide her hurt. Arthur acting like this was proof of how out of sorts he was, how much he was struggling with his illnesses. But it didn't make his behavior any easier to take, even if she firmly believed it should. She had to try to accept him as he was in the moment. To forgive him and herself for pressing him too far, too quickly. To listen to his request for time, the way he'd listened to hers after the Murray show, giving her the gift of patience and understanding. A gift he also deserved.

Pushing herself to stand, she glanced at the orderly and lay a gentle palm on Arthur's back. To her relief, he didn't retreat. "I'm here if you need me," she said softly. "If you feel up to it, give me a ring. We could both use a joke or two." Fingertips caressed his distended shoulder, and she pecked the crown of his head, breathed in the oily musk of his scalp. Not entirely pleasant but him all the same. "We'll see each other soon. Get some rest and remember I love you."

~~~~~

"This woman wandered in off the street the other day. Pointy-toed shoes, fur coat, pillbox hat like she thinks she's Jackie Kennedy..." Perched on Y/N's side of the bed, Patricia dunked her orange pekoe teabag, gave it a good squeeze, laid it on her saucer. "She wanted to sue the Wayne Estate for damages to her Bentley, because Thomas Wayne had broken a legally binding oral agreement - she must have read a legal thriller and gotten haughty - to fix the potholes in Old Gotham when he was mayor. I told her to complain to Public Works, but she decided to camp out at your old desk to clip her nails. Finally, Matt had enough and offered her a phone call to Gotham PD or ten bucks for her trouble." She shook her head with a chuckle. "What a jackass. Retirement can't come soon enough."

"Don't wish your life away," Y/N retorted, inadvertently quoting a pamphlet she'd gotten from the Arkham gift shop, "Care for the Caregiver." The title had made her balk: Arthur bathed himself, fed himself, knew who she was. But it had been a straw to hold onto, albeit feebly. She retrieved a curved, wooden hanger from the closet and stuck one end in the arm of her freshly ironed blouse. "Besides, you've been working since you were sixteen, right? I give it a year before you'd go stir-crazy."

"Actually, I've been thinking about taking a class or two at the learning center," said Patricia.

"Oh, really? What kind? Pottery, advanced baking, conversational Spanish?"

"How to find nicer friends."

Hand on her hip, Y/N smirked over her shoulder to find Patricia's teacup raised for a toast. "Let me know what you learn," Y/N said, hoisting the laundry basket onto the bed. "I could use a few pointers." She batted the older woman with a dress sock, then fished for its companion. She shook them out. Aligned the cuffs and toes, smoothed the nylon with the side of her hand, folded the fabric into thirds. The top drawer's left ball-bearing slide stuck when she tried to pull it open, and she made a mental note to ask Arthur to take a look at it.

Without warning, a profound sense of loss swept over her, flushing her cheeks, her forehead. He'd been gone almost a week, the longest they'd been apart aside from conferences and training. Her days had been blessedly busy but dragged on nonetheless, slow as the secondhand on her watch when the battery had to be replaced.

Arthur had gotten in the habit of leaving a note whenever he had an early gig or errand to run, just a few words stating where he was, that he'd be home later, that he loved her. Though she knew he was in Arkham, she couldn't stop her heart from expecting one when she made morning coffee. She ached to pull him inside before he lit a second cigarette, and for his teasing kisses when he'd resist. The way he brushed his teeth from side-to-side, eschewing her method of small circles and daily flossing. Last night, a hot flash had kept her awake, and she'd longed for the feel of his strong, slender hands rubbing refrigerated lotion into her calves, a trick he'd learned to quiet his mother when she'd gone through what he politely referred to as The Change.

Y/N had never wanted to love someone so much she needed them, but Arthur had made it safe. And now here she was, anguishing over a stubborn piece of furniture. She gave the knob another good, hard heave until it popped off into her palm. With a groan, she slapped it on the top of the dresser, between his wallet and her jewelry box.

A gentle hold on her elbow halted her. "The clothes'll keep," Patricia said.

The compassion in her voice, subtle chords that would sound like judgement to others, loosened Y/N's stance. Granted permission for her to take a break from coping and give into grief. Slinking down onto the mattress, she picked up Arthur's blue house pants from the mound of panties and trousers and hugged them to her breast.

"Your anniversary is coming up," Patricia continued. "Will Arthur be home for it?"

"Yes. Three weeks is all the insurance will pay for, and Dr. Kellerman said we were lucky to get that." Most patients were discharged after two, even if they had nowhere else to go.

"How is he? Do you think he'll be ready then?"

"I'm not sure. He barely comes to the phone." She'd tried letters, too. Written on her office letterhead, declarations of her support and affection that were as stilted as the motions she regularly drafted. Something for him to read when they couldn't speak, when they couldn't touch. But he hadn't responded.

Although Y/N was the sole person he'd added to his list of allowed visitors, he hadn't signed the release. Sure, she'd learn the details of his care if a court remanded him, but she wasn't about to have him declared legally incompetent, not unless everything went to shit. But she had deduced his schedule by calling and asking if he could come to the phone. He's in group, Mrs. Fleck, the charge nurse had let slip. Or, You can try in an hour. He should be out of one-on-one by then.

Therapy three times a day. Safety and daily living skills. Goal setting before bed. No wonder he hadn't had the energy to say good night.

"I know what you're going through," Patricia said. She stretched to put her empty teacup on the nightstand. "When Robert got back from Korea, he kept his distance. Buried himself in starting his business, was gone most nights on extra late repair jobs, worked, worked, worked. It was nearly a year before he really came home. But he made it and Arthur will, too."

The intimacy behind the disclosure was a welcome invitation, a hook that tugged at Y/N's core and confirmed honesty would be all right. She drew a shaky breath, fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of Arthur's pajamas. "I thought I'd seen everything. Losing my mother, going out of my mind with my father. Those were finalities I couldn't prevent." Rapid blinking fought the wetness of her eyes. She swiped at them with the heel of her hand. "If you had seen him, Patricia... I just hope Arthur understands. I don't want him to think I wanted him to leave."

"Listen to me." Patricia adopted her mentor tone and hugged her tight around the middle. "There's no way he'd believe that. Remember when we doubled at Kao Wah? When we were in the restroom, and he ordered your favorite dish without having to ask what it was? He adores you." She swept her hand through the air as if she could sweep away Y/N's woes. "You promised to take care of him through everything. You did what you had to to keep him safe. You couldn't have done anything else, Y/N. Don't doubt yourself."

After some moments Y/N nodded. "You know, my parents had a swimming hole on our property. When I was young, I used to skip stones across it and make wishes. For my doll's arm to mend, for my parents to say safe, for my sister's surgeries to go well." She chuckled and dabbed at her cheeks with Arthur's house pants. "I guess it was like praying, which I never had use for." The slightest smile edging her lips, she turned to Patricia. "Let's go to Gotham Park and throw some rocks."

~~~~~

The next morning, eleven percent of her worries cast away by a currently sore right arm, Y/N walked past Sherwood Florist, a closet of a shop around the corner from her office. Storefront freshly washed, robust floral arrangements on display in large, spotless windows, and an owner in horn-rimmed glasses checking the temperature of the nearest cooler, she decided to stop in. Yes, the florist told her, an expression of dubious curiosity on his face. They delivered to Arkham. Just include the patient's full name and ward in the address, and it'd be sent this afternoon.

She chose a squat, plastic vase filled with daisies and a yellow enclosure card with a bumblebee in the lower left corner. A bit cutsie for her taste, but it was the only neutral choice among birthdays and congratulations. She pondered what to write, pushing back the urge to ask him to reach out. A minute later, she put her pen to the cardstock. "I miss you like thread misses a needle. (Good thing you're the comedian - that was terrible.) You're not alone in this. You have my whole heart. - Y/N."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics @iartsometimes

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

25 notes · View notes

lilchibi-chan · 4 years ago

Text

Hawks Mafia! AU x Reader

Part 2. Here is part 1 and thanks so much for the support on the first post.

It’s the next morning and you wake up around 10:30. You decided to call your boss and inform her about what happened last night and that you would most likely be taking some time off. She was very understanding and told you to take as much time as you needed. She was still willing to pay you the same amount for the time you would eventually miss. You thank her for her kindness and she informs you that it’s no problem at all and she thinks of you as one of her own.

You had started working at the diner to help pick up what financial aid didn’t pay for and you were set on quitting after you graduated, but you couldn’t find the heart to leave. You grew to love the people that came in and your boss. You’ve even spent holidays with her the times you couldn’t get home. You start thinking about all the memories you have working at the diner and suddenly your phone rings. It’s Hawks.

“Hello,” you say, a small hint of tiredness still in your voice

“Mornin’ baby bird,” he says so happily that you can basically see his smile on your side of the phone

“Morning,” you say, a yawn escaping your mouth

“So what’re you doing right now,” he asks, genuinely curious

“Well I was about to get a cup of coffee and make myself something to eat,”

“Well how about instead of doing that, I kidnap you and take you out to eat,” he says, pleased with himself

You smile and let a small laugh escape your mouth.

“I would love that, but I’m not even close to being dressed.”

You take a look at the clock and its 11:15

You take a moment to think about it and think that this could be a good thing.

“How soon will you be here” you ask

“Look out your window, humming bird”

You go to your window and open the curtain. You see him, standing outside his car, which is below your window.

“How-when-”

“Don’t worry about it, baby bird. Just go get ready and I’ll see you when you get down here”

“How should I dress”

“For brunch”

He hangs up right after and you go through your closet trying to figure out what to wear.

You finally decide on a white mock neck bodysuit, light wash skinny jeans and a pair of nude patent leather pumps.

You quickly shower and get dressed, then put on light makeup. You grab a jacket just in case and your purse and head down to meet Hawks.

He smiles as soon as you walk out and rushes over to help you down the stairs. Once you make it down, he walks with you to the car, still hand in hand and opens the door for you.

“Such a gentleman,” you say, somewhat mockingly

“Only when I need to be,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders and a cocky smile, that you can’t help but smile back in response to

“So where are you taking me,” you ask curious

“It’s a surprise” he says with a side smile

“Don’t worry baby bird. You’ll see soon enough”

With that, he drives off. After 15 minutes, he pulls up in front of a hotel. He opens the door for you to exit the car and puts a hand out for you. You take his hand and you enter the gorgeous hotel. He walks straight in past reception and walks to the restaurant that is on the same floor as the lobby.

The host automatically escorts you both to a private room and your mind starts to wander. You figured he was rich and in some type of position of power, but you were still unsure of how much he actually possessed.

After the host leaves you two, Hawks pulls out a chair for you to sit down. You thank him and take a seat. After pushing you in, he takes his and hands you a menu.

As your analyzing the menu, you can’t stop thinking about Hawks and what he does. You wanna know more about him, but you also don’t wanna pry if he’s not open to talking about it.

“What’s going on, baby bird? I see those wheels turning in your head,” he says with a smirk

“Ya know for a guy, you’re quite observant”

“I have to be. Ya never know with people. You always gotta watch your back. Especially in a position of power”

“W-what do you do exactly,” you ask, piggybacking off of what he just said,“I noticed when we walked in that you were treated like literal royalty and when you would come to the diner I noticed your clothes were a lot nicer and clean cut than most of the business men that would come in. I figured you had a lot of money, but judging from the way you were treated,it’s more than I initially thought.”

“Well, I “do” a few things. As a matter of fact, I own this hotel. I also own a couple more around the country, we’re looking to expand to others. I have a few businesses I run. Fashion, modeling, and marketing. You could say I’m a man of many talents,” he says with a cocky smirk

You let out a small laugh and the waiter comes in with champagne and some food. He places a plate in front of you with pancakes, eggs, bacon and some syrup on the side. As well as some apple juice, just in case you didn’t want the champagne.

“I ordered ahead for us. I hope you’re okay with your order,” he says hopefully

“It’s fine,” you say smiling

It was a huge plate of food, but you were starving so you were gonna be able to at least finish half and have some for later at home.

Once you both finished at brunch, Hawks took your hand and you both walked out together to his car. He has a very gentle touch when holding your hand. Almost as if, you’re the most precious,fragile thing he could ever hold. Like one small move and you’ll break instantly.

You didn’t even notice, but you were staring at your hands together.

His touch was warm and his hands were soft, despite their rough and manly looking appearance.

You start to admire the details of his hand and the rings he had on.

He let go of your hand, which snapped you out of your trance.

He opens the door for you, then proceeds to the other side of the car as he usually does.

He’s about to pull off, but receives a phone call.

“Hello,” he says stern

The warmth that once filled his was now gone and there was a cold look in his face. Judiging from that, you were convinced what he was just told wasn’t good in the slightest bit.

“Baby bird, I have to drop you home. Something came up at the office and that I need to take care of like right now. I’m so sorry,”

“I could go with you. It’s not I really had anything planned for today,” you say, trying to brighten his mood

He softly smiles at you

“Today’s not really the best day and I’d much rather show you around when I’m in a better mood. How about...I bring you some dinner tonight? Let’s say 8?,” he asks hopefully

“That’s fine,” you say smiling

He kisses your hand

“Thanks, hummingbird. I won’t be late. I promise,” he says, gripping your hand a bit tighter

He drives off and takes you home. He watches as you enter your building, just as he did last night.

He pulls off and makes his way to his office....

Or so you thought

Meanwhile with Hawks

He makes it to a warehouse that’s an hour outside of the city. He made sure to turn his phone off, so that he wouldn’t be found by anyone.

He enters

“Where’s the fucker at,” he asks fuming

“Right inside,sir” Tokoyami says, following Hawks as he makes his way further inside the warehouse

Hawks walks further in and there he is, hand cuffed to a chair.

“Nice to see you, Twice”

He says nothing

“Aww, cat gotcha tongue...don’t worry, we’ll change that,” Hawks says with a menacing smile

He takes off his rings and puts them onto a silver platter that Tokoyami held out for him.

He picks up a steel rod and starts swinging it around,feeling its weight in his hand.

“So Twice, I heard from a little bird, that you’ve been trying to steal my inventory and trying to embezzle money from my company. The funniest part about this is you thought I wouldn’t find out.”

“Ya know if I wasn’t hand cuffed to this fucking chair right now, I could kick your ass,” he says with a smile

Hawks laughs

“Ya know Twice, you would be a better boss if you weren’t so FUCKING sloppy. I mean c’mon. You’ve been in the game longer than I have and you pull something as stupid as trying to steal from me. It’s honestly embarrassing”

He runs a hand through his hair.

“Twice, I’m a nice guy. I really am, so here’s what I’ll do. I’m gonna let you off with a warning.”

He lifts up the steel rod and cracks Twice in the knee.

“Try that shit again and I will break both of your legs or kill you, depends on how generous I’m feeling...Shadow, get him out of here”

Tokoyami does what he’s told and uncuffs Twice’s hands and feet from the chair. He drags him to the back door of the warehouse and throws him out.

“So what now sir,” Tokoyami asks curious

“Now, we prepare for war. Twice isn’t gonna back down that easy just because I threatened him. He’s gonna use whatever he can to get me and what I’ve built. He wants to be number one and he’ll stop at nothing. Little does he know, I’m one tough bastard and I’m gonna fight for what’s mine. Call everyone and have them meet at the house in an hour.”

“But sir, it takes an hour to get back in the city and it’s rush hour by now so-“

“So it should be no problem for everyone to get there on time. Now go call them”

“Yes sir”

With that, Tokoyami exits the warehouse to call the rest of the members.

Hawks makes his way to his car and drives back to the city to make it to his penthouse.

He ends up beating everyone there, but he did drive a little above the speed limit and took some shortcuts he knew, that way he wouldn’t be stopped by police on his way there.

He takes the elevator that only he has access to and goes straight to his penthouse.

He pours himself some scotch as soon as he gets in. He doesn’t usually drink much, but today warranted one. A stiff drink at that.

Soon there were knocks at his door.

“C’mon in boys,” he says, drink in hand

“I’m sure Shadow already briefed on the situation at hand. We’ve dealt with some pretty rough bastards before, but none of them compare to Twice. As I said to Shadow, he’ll use whatever he can to get to me, my business and people I care about. Make sure to never have your guard down and protect yourselves. Brief everyone on your location before and after you leave. I may be hard on you guys, but I’m not gonna lose any of you to him just cause we were ill prepared.”

“You got it boss. Ain’t nothin gonna get past the great King,” Bakugou says

“Yeah boss, we’re the manliest that you’ve got,” Kirishima says

“I knew I could count on you, King and Red”

“M-me too boss. I know I look weak, but I won’t let anyone or anything get to you, us or the people you care about,” Deku says

“Thanks, Deku. I never thought of you as weak by the way. I don’t judge a book because anyone is capable of anything.”

“R-right,” Deku says

Everyone else agrees to follow Hawks’ orders and to be extra vigilant in the coming days. They couldn’t make stupid mistakes. Although Twice is injured, he still has skilled assassins under his thumb and one slip up could cause anyone’s demise.

After everyone leaves, he decides to shower and wash the day off of him. He lets the hot water flow down his body, almost as if it was melting ice off of him. His mind drifted to you and he smiled, but that smile quickly faded when he realized the life he was bring you into and what would happen if Twice ever found out about you and where you live.

He couldn’t tell you about this side of him. He knew you would view him as a monster. This lifestyle was basically an unforgivable one that ended a lot of his relationships in the past. He knew there would come a day when he would have to fess up eventually, but that day wasn’t going to be today. He wants to be able to live in the happy moments he has with you and make them last as long as he can.

Picture 1: Human Tokoyami by ChigoPlush on DeviantArt

Picture 2 by Kiro_Tktr

Hope y’all enjoyed!! I know it’s super long, but I figured I owe you guys that, being that it took so long to come out. Thank y’all for the support on this new fanfic and I’m also wondering if we should give it an actual name. Leave me a comment or reblog with what you think the name should be, if there should be a name.

Tag list: @rozebudx @cpaperheart

99 notes · View notes

kopikokun · 5 years ago

Text

Happy with You

Request 17: Jaemin + “Why are you naked?” (109) + “Put me down!” (153) + “There’s only one bed...” (154)

Contains: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, (Sort of) Enemies to Lovers, a whole lot of 🧀

Pairing: Jaemin X Reader, feat. Mark+Renjun

Wordcount: 2.3k words

“You’ve got to be kidding me . . .”

Your gaze falls onto Renjun, who snickers at your misfortune.

“This game is rigged! You rigged the game so I’d have to be in the same room as Jaemin didn’t you?” You wag your blue-ended popsicle stick at Renjun. He shrugs indifferently.

“We rented out four rooms this time ‘round so we’re in pairs this trip, which is already considered a luxury in my books.” Mark slings his arm around your shoulders, his left hand dangling your keys before you. You grab them with a huff. “And it’s only for two nights before we hit the road again, so it won’t be too bad.” He flashes a smile at you and you frown. You know what Mark says is true, but this pairing is coming at the worst possible time. You deeply regret choosing to pull your stick last.

“I don’t know about you guys,but I’m going to head in now. I bet Haechan’s already stolen all the freebies.” Renjun grimaces. “Goodnight.”

His farewell is returned, courtesy of you and Mark. You tail Mark back to his shared room with Jeno, mocking a pout when he ruffles your hair and bids you adieu as well.

“Make sure you and Jaemin turn in early tonight, okay?” he reminds, calling out to you once you’ve walked a few steps from his room. “The line’ll be really long tomorrow so we’ll have to be there by 6:30.”

You make a sound of acknowledgement, continuing to trudge down the dimly lit hallway. Road trips have been a tradition for you and your friends. Every year, the eight of you would go on a one week long trip, traversing all sorts of weird locations. You’d usually rent out only one room, or if you were lucky two, but this time the rent was cheap and with all your money combined, the eight of you had managed to rent out four rooms with change to spare.

You don’t hate Jaemin, not by a long-shot, but being in such a cramped space with him has a strange sort of intimacy to it, which is something you can’t handle at the moment. You’ve been trying to deny it, but you’re pretty sure that you view Na Jaemin as more than a friend. Actually, you definitely do. And that frightens you.

You don’t know when it happened. Ever since you and Jaemin have known each other, you’ve never gotten along - at least not in the typical sense. You two don’t abhor each other, it’s just that you’re always bickering or teasing one another. Sure, you share a few similarities but despite that, you’re almost constantly at each other’s throats. Your little disagreements are frequent enough that even one a day is considered as a major improvement.

And yet, along the way, you’ve to grow fond of him. You started to see him in a different light. You can’t pinpoint exactly when these feelings began to surface. They weren’t sudden; they were gradual. They crept up on you and sprung when you were most unprepared.

Maybe if he wasn’t so close to you, you’d confess. Then at least if he rejected you, you wouldn’t be reminded of the fact every day, and if things became too awkward you could cut him off. But you and Jaemin are together almost daily. Confessing would just muddle things. If he rejected, there’d be a barrier between you two. The two of you would be constantly walking on eggshells. No matter how much you two would try to remain as friends, things would just be . . . different. Slowly, you two would drift apart, which is the very last thing that you’d want to happen.

You’d rather bury your feelings than lose Jaemin.

Suddenly, the door separating you and your room seems daunting. You sigh shakily. It’s fine. Like Mark said, it’ll only be two nights. Nothing will happen. You inhale deeply before unlocking the door and swinging it open, shutting it behind you.

“Hey, Mark, did you take my—”

There he is. The man of the hour. The man you’ve been hiding your feelings from. The man who’s butt-naked with his ass on display?

“Oh my God! Jaemin!” You instinctively shield your eyes from his . . . ass. “Why are you naked?”

Jaemin’s head immediately turns 180 to gawk at you. “Fuck! What— Why—” He scrambles to retrieve a pillow from the bed in an attempt to salvage his dignity. His frame turns to face you as the pillow is positioned atop his crotch. “Why are you here?”

You take a cautious peep from between your fingertips, eventually letting your hands fall to the side. You’re not sure where to look. His body is fully exposed from his toes to mid-thigh and from his navel to his head. You settle on retaining intense eye-contact, but catch your eyes wandering to his toned stomach more times than necessary.

“What do you mean why am I here? I’m your roommate!” you whisper-shout incredulously. “I should be asking you why you’re butt-ass naked!”

“You’re my roommate? I thought it was going to be Mark?”

“So, you wanted Mark to see your bare ass?” You can’t help but arch your eyebrows in challenge.

“That’s not what I meant!” Jaemin flushes an even deeper shade of red than what he already is. “It’s just— Mark’s seen me naked plenty of times when we we visit those public baths, so I wasn’t rushing to get dressed because I thought you were Mark.”

You furrow your brows. “Why on—”

“Wait,” Jaemin interrupts, “before you say anything else, can you close your eyes while I put something on? I’m literally clenching my asscheeks right now in shock and it’s kinda cold in here anyways.”

“God, ew, gross. Fine, just be quick about it. I don’t want to have to look at you in all your naked glory any longer.” You turn to face the door once more, allowing Jaemin the privacy to cover up.

“Oh, really now? It seemed like you were enjoying it earlier,” he teases. You groan, but you’re glad that he can’t see how his comment made you turn crimson. He’s not wrong.

After a minute or two of rustling, Jaemin tells you to turn back around. He’s no longer naked and is now adorning a pair of pajama pants, a sweatshirt and a goofy grin.

“Sorry for flashing you earlier. I honestly thought you were Mark.”

“Why would you even think that? We pulled our sticks randomly.” You narrow your eyes in suspicion. So, the game was rigged.

“Renjun texted me and said that Mark was with me and you were with Renjun.” Jaemin scoffs. “Obviously, he lied.”

You purse your lips. That sneaky little bastard. “Whatever. I’m going to go get changed and delete what just happened from my memory.” You fake a shudder. “I might have nightmares tonight.”

Jaemin says something in response but you can’t hear him very well after you’ve scurried away into the bedroom and closed the door. You can’t believe that just happened. And once again, of all people, it had to be Jaemin. It seems like God really has it out for you today. You face the bed, ready to hop in to bask in the sensation of the lush duvet and forget—

The bed?

You halt mid-run, frozen in place. That’s not right. There’s only one bed. There should be two, right? You rush to check where the narrow door adjacent to the bed leads to, only to be greeted by the marble tiles of the bathroom.

You slip into your pajamas at the speed of light, nearly tripping over your pant leg. In fact, when you race towards Jaemin a look of befuddlement etched onto your features, half of your shirt is tucked into your bottoms. Jaemin readjusts your top for you.

You stare up at him, cheeks burning and eyes wide. Jaemin scoffs. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“There’s--” you look back at the bedroom, the single bed seeming to exude this malicious aura, “there’s only one bed.”

You wait for his reaction. An exaggerated gasp, a retch, something he’d normally do under such circumstances, but instead, Jaemin smiles shyly. “I know.”

His expression makes your gut curl. He looks, dare you say it? A little happy. You shake the thought away. No way. He’d never. It’s only your oxytocins speaking.

“You’re- You’re not bothered?” you sputter, taken aback by his nonchalance. “I thought you’d be horrified!”

“I mean, it’s not like that’s the only place we can sleep. I can take that long armchair. We don’t have to be in the same bed.” Jaemin feigns a look of utter surprise. “Wait, no way. Do you, do you want to sleep in the same bed as me?”

All your blood rushes to your face at such a fast rate that it almost makes you stagger. “I mean, well--” You can’t deny that you had certainly imagined it. Jaemin with his arms around you, his warm breath fanning the juncture of your neck, his lips brushing against your shoulder--

Your face grows even hotter. You need some holy water.

This time Jaemin appears genuinely surprised. “Wait, you did? Oh my God, you did, didn’t you?”

Your laugh sounds a little too forced, which it is. It is very much forced out of your throat. “No, I-- No, I didn’t.”

“You did! Your face is getting red.”

Your hands fly to your cheeks as the warmth blooms against your fingertips. “No, Jaemin! I did not!”

“You so did.” He laughs full-heartedly. “Oh my God, you’re so cute.”

The comment sounds so strange coming from him; especially from him. Your face is probably beetroot red by now, Jaemin’s comment only making it worse. You lift your fist, threatening to strike him in the chest before he scoops you up into the air, throwing you - somewhat effortlessly - onto his shoulder. You say somewhat because he did stumble slightly when you swung your arms around in protest.

“Na Jaemin!” You pound his back with your fist. “Na Jaemin, put me down!”

And put you down he does, although unintentionally. After one particularly forceful twist of your body, his grip on you loosens, and in an attempt to save you from a fall, he too comes tumbling down after you. The impact is made less painful as you break your fall by supporting your weight with your arm. Thank God, the floor is carpeted or else it would have been much worse.

Regardless of the slight discomfort, you and Jaemin make eye-contact with each other, splayed out on the floor and begin laughing like mad. You laugh like you’ve just been told the funniest joke in the world. You laugh as if you’ve got no worries whatsoever. And for a moment, just a brief moment, you do forget all your worries. You forget that you’ll have to be awake in five hours, you forget that you’ll be exhausted tomorrow, you forget that your love will forever go unrequited and you let it all slip through your fingers, because right now, in this moment, as you stare at Jaemin who’s cackling alongside you with tears springing in his eyes, with his cheeks dusted with pink and with seemingly no worries at all, you’re happy, really happy.

Your fit of laughter dies and Jaemin returns your gaze. You’re happy to be alive, happy to have met him, happy to see him smile, happy to have shared so many memories together, happy to love him, even if your feelings must be shrouded in darkness. You’re really happy.

You look at Jaemin. You really look. You study his face. His eyes, his nose, his lips. You don’t just study his face. You study him. He can be brash, forward, a little teasing, but he’s caring, kind, patient, responsible. You love everything about him. You love him. God, you love him.

Jaemin’s hand reaches out to you. His eyes are curious.

He hesitates right before his hand cups your cheek and he pulls away, unsure, frightened. You hold his gaze and bring his hand to your cheek again, leaning into it. You find comfort in the palm of his hand. It’s a small gesture, but it brings you such intense joy. You relish in this feeling, fluttering your eyes shut and hoping it never ends.

There’s a pause. Your heart beats once. Twice. “I think I love you.”

Your eyes snap wide open at that. Jaemin pulls his hand away from your cheek, and it instantly feels cold. He props himself up into a sitting position, carding a hand through his hair, his gaze glued to the floor. “Nevermind, forget I said that. Sorry--”

“I think I love you, too.” Jaemin’s sentence stops dead in its tracks. His eyes remain on the floor. “No, I know I love you. Shit, I know this is sudden, Jaemin, but I just, whenever I’m around you I just feel so different. I don’t know when it happened or how, but I just love you. Plain and simple.” Plain and simple, your ass. This is far from plain or simple. This is the furthest thing from plain and simple in your eyes.

You stop yourself from saying anything further when Jaemin raises his head to look at you. You steel yourself and face him, refusing to shy away. Refusing to cower when all you want to do is run, run, run.

Another pause. Your heart thumps once, twice, thrice.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nod.

Half-an-hour ago, you would have never seen this coming. You would have never guessed that you’d be sat on the floor with Jaemin, your lips locked together. His lips are soft, warm, kind, sweet. The tenderness of his kiss soothes you and makes your heartbeat accelerate all at the same time.

His kiss is a confirmation. A reaffirmation. They assure that you love him, and he loves you too, and that whatever may happen, you’ll be by his side and he’ll be by yours.

Because he’s your best friend. And he loves you.

want to request? go here!

524 notes · View notes

joonkorre · 4 years ago

Text

its crazy late but

@drarrymicrofic prompt: blanket fort

(there’s no plot. none. just dudes being guys, guys being pals)

(caution: not very micro, more like a one shot. a whole lot of anecdotes. i’m writing this under a blanket with snow beating at my window, so of course this has to be very soft and warm. you have been warned)

“Hello?” Harry says into the dark. He’s just gotten home and instead of seeing the familiar orange hue of their beetle-shaped lamp (a gift from Luna, of course), there’s a single sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. Nothing else seems to exist in the living room but the echo of Harry’s greeting. Tangerine and sage drift into his nose, followed by the bitter tang of smoke. The scent of Draco’s favorite candle, newly extinguished.

Draco just left. Discovered a breakthrough in his research and fled to the Ministry lab, maybe.

Harry sighs. Unlaces his boots and hangs up his coat absentmindedly only for it to crumple onto the floor. Another sigh. He bends and retrieves it, deciding instead to throw it in the laundry bin. Might as well; he’s been trudging around in Dayhound mucus for hours and neither his dragonhide boots nor coat were spared.

Walking into the kitchen, Harry grabs a glass from the drying rack and pours himself water from the pitcher in the fridge. It’s ridiculous how a simple act like this can drain his energy so, but it does. Curse breaking isn’t a walk in the park; even walking hurts, considering the amount of magic he expends on shite like a 500-year-old wailing locket on a day to day basis. Exposure to different kinds of magic - dark, Old Magick, elemental, countlessly and endlessly more- for 8 hours straight more often than not result in a fierce ringing in his temples and pinpricks on his skin.

After years of doing it, he can scarcely tolerate one Portkey trip from wherever he’s assigned to back to the main headquarter before getting uncontrollable shivers. Another 30 minutes on the metro, then a 10-minute walk home. In addition, Harry has to sleep for at least 8 hours every night to replenish his energy. Morning comes, he wakes up, Apparates to the headquarter, and the cycle continues.

Why does he even stick with curse breaking at this point? Right, a wry grin graces Harry’s lips, Draco thinks the uniform is hot. Oh, and can’t forget the job benefits, insurance, whole nine yards.

With the glass now rinsed and settled once more on the drying rack, Harry drags his feet to the bedroom. The clock - an antique Draco stole from his cheating ex - hits 7:18 PM, but getting ready to go to sleep sure sounds like a decent idea. Harry palms the back of his aching neck and winces. He’d go shower, scrub the dirt and tension off his limbs, and maybe heat up the leftovers from two days-

“There you are. I was wondering how much longer drinking water could take.”

Harry looks up from his slippered feet to see Draco. Or, more specifically, Draco’s silhouette. Behind some kind of white cloth. A white cloth that’s conveniently placed where the focus of the bedroom should’ve been.

The relief at seeing his husband evaporates.

“What,” Harry says, “where’s our bed.”

Draco’s silhouette crawls to the opening of the cloth… tent-shaped thing. Pewter grey eyes peer at him behind strands of near-platinum blonde, its icy color soothed by the orange tint of… ah, so he’s brought the bug lamp in here. Neat.

“I,” Draco answers. Pauses. “Might have brought it somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else.”

“Yes.”

Harry shakes his head. An exasperated chuckle escapes his lips.

“Is ‘somewhere else’ the recycling center?”

“Why,” Draco flops down on the floor, appearing tired of holding himself up on his elbows for more than 10 seconds. It’s peculiar to see, the gesture a bit ungraceful for someone like him. Harry is helplessly in love amused. “Do my ears deceive me? Am I being confronted, cornered, accosted for being a good husband? Were the 5 minutes it took to Shrink and Levitate the wretched old thing away from our safe haven worth your condescension, dear lover?”

“I guess I did say I hate-”

“Correct!”

“-the headboard. Nothing but the headboard. Yesterday. While I’m half asleep. Baby.”

“Oh, pish posh, I hate it too! In fact, I’m doing us both a favor disposing of the entire thing altogether.”

“God, however can I thank you? I mean, you did rid us of our bed where we sleep on.”

“You can thank me by taking off those horrid gears faster and come here,” with that, Draco crawls back to where he was sitting before.

“You love these gears,” Harry says, hanging his harnesses and tool belt in the closet and walking into the bathroom for a quick shower, “you love them against your ba-”

“Put a lock on that filthy mouth, Potter, what will the Daily Prophet think?” Draco’s yell almost drowns out the shower spray. Harry laughs, his stomach hurting for the right reason at last.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Draco is leaning out from the tent thing.

“Come, get in, get in,” he beckons with a hasty wave.

Harry points to his wet hair with the hand holding his towel. Draco clicks his tongue and waves his hand more aggressively.

His husband’s level of theatrics is directly proportional to how slow Harry is at doing what he says, so he nods, fondness overflowing, and obeys.

“What’s all this?” He crouches and crawls in, eyeing the collection of pillows and quilts surrounding Draco and what would be Harry’s seat. It seems that he had also lugged in the chairs from their dining room to provide some structural support for the tent.

“A blanket fort, lover,” Draco says, his gaze tender. Harry’s finger tips tingle with every touch of cotton, linen, silk, as he gets situated. It’s been years and years and years and years, and Harry can never get used to, can never take for granted, the weight of his husband’s undivided attention.

“Huh,” he says, sitting down with an ‘oof’, “isn’t this for kids?”

“A blanket fort is a blanket fort,” Draco takes the towel from Harry’s arm and puts the throw pillow Ron knitted in his lap. He hits a button on the laptop in front of them, and Harry’s favorite jazz collection plays. He blinks. He thought Draco would play his questionable atmospheric-white-noise-POV-you’re-having-tea-in-a-gothic-vampire-library playlist, the weirdo.

Velvety smooth sax flows through the air. Harry exhales, easy and content, and lets Draco tilt his head. He towels Harry’s hair, massaging unhurried circles on his scalp and varying the degree of pressure. In no time, his head lolls forward, eyes closed, chin a breath away from his well-worn shirt. A slender, pale hand cups his cheek and holds his head up and steady. Meanwhile, the hand’s owner leans out of the blanket fort to get something.

“Ow.” A grunt. Harry smiles; most likely a cramp from all the leaning.

Then, his husband reseats himself, this time with a smell. A mouth-watering, delicious smell, tickling the back of Harry’s nose. He opens his eyes to see Draco lifting off the lid of a ceramic bowl perched on a tray, steam floating out and fogging Harry’s glasses. It’s purple yam soup, topped with chopped up shrimp and ground beef.

“Your usual order from the Viet place nearby whenever Pepper-up isn’t sufficient,” Draco murmurs, placing a spoon in Harry’s hand, his words warm against Harry’s temple. Huh, he didn’t think Draco would notice. “You said today you’d deal with those disgusting booby traps you showed me, thus I reckoned I should put the yams on our counter into good use.”

Harry stares at the soup, stunned. Draco must have taken his expression as something else.

“Oh, right,” he says, “I heated it up on the stove, but you were taking atrociously long so I casted a Heating charm. Let me take it off, okay?”

Draco flicks his hawthorn wand, a hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder as if he could see the prickling running up Harry’s nape.

He turns to look at his husband. When Harry’s career was starting to take its toll on his magical core, Draco didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into Muggle living. Easier said than done, and it took months for him to stop frowning at the “absolutely bizarre, Potter, bizarre” appliances, but he got there in the end. Despite his constant bitching about everything, Draco not once raised a word about the drastic switch, effortlessly guiding Narcissa to gossip about the Albescu clan’s abhorrent matriarch when she asks about how he’s faring.

“Gosh, I,” Harry says. Mumbles, really, into Draco’s collarbone, filling his brain with the woodsy aroma of potion making that no amount of expensive body products can mask, “that’s lovely, baby, thank you.”

“Eat,” Draco says, rubbing his chin on the top of Harry still-damp hair and messaging his tense neck. Harry knows he’s breathing him in too. “Or I’ll have to heat it up in the kitchen again, and forgive me but I’d rather stay here for the next 12 hours, at least.”

“Lazy arse.”

Draco laughs, a momentary rumble of his chest, then moves forward to click something on the laptop. Harry’s on his fifth spoonful of pure comfort when the jazz music stops, and on the blank wall opposite from their blanket fort is the title card of a movie. Strange, Harry didn’t even notice the mini projector. He squints.

“Why is there Korean subtitles?”

“Lover,” Draco tosses a napkin at Harry’s crossed legs, “what is watching movies online without the occasional bout of piracy?”

“Pira- piracy,” Harry chokes, the hot soup stinging his palate, “we have a Netflix subscription.”

“You can’t find shite like this on Netflix.”

“Of course we can. Baby, we don’t know anyone who’s good at computer stuff and can deal with the viruses.”

“There’s no virus here, I checked.”

“How,” Harry stresses, “and again, piracy.”

“Sometimes,” Draco says, lowering the speaker volume, “not doing crimes… is worse.”

“What the fuck,” the main character, a square-faced woman with a python around her neck, has a monologue in a completely different language. “What the fuck? Is that Italian?”

“Yes, but I’m French.”

“And?”

“And they’re both Romance languages. I can understand certain words and translate it for you.”

No, he can’t.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Keep eating,” Draco settles amid the pillows, long hair settled on his satin-clad chest, white against emerald. Harry sneers at him - an unfortunate habit he’s gotten from Draco - and turns to watch the movie.

True to his words, Draco translates every dialogue and mimics the characters’ voices with zeal, contradicting his stoic expression and somber, interlaced hands, looking like a cranky judge having to deal with reckless teenagers on their anti-authority phase. Harry can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing, and soon enough he’s woven a story about how the thriller-mystery they’re watching is actually a vicious custody battle over a duck. For each of Harry’s occasional snicker at the absurdity Draco has thought up is a playful kick at his ribs.

Minutes pass. With Harry’s bowl now emptied, he puts it on a chair and goes to wash up.

The moment he sits back down, Draco’s big toe pokes at his spine. Getting the memo, Harry grins and reclines on the pillows. His left side is flushed against Draco’s right, the kinks in his neck eased off from the angle. They, as per usual, gradually get closer to one another, and at some point, Draco lays his head on Harry’s chest and ear on his beating heart. It’s calming to him, Draco had said when Harry asked, on the third night of their honeymoon. With the war long behind them, there was nothing to fear. Only the constellations existed as their witnesses.

“You died, Harry,” he had whispered, full and tipsy. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, despite all the shite I made you go through.

“You were so far away in Hagrid’s arms, I couldn’t see your face,” the night had been blinding, but his eyes had found Draco’s anyway. “It felt like my heart died with you.”

Harry had kissed his forehead and hugged him close. His heart had always been there for Draco to take.

“What’s up with the blanket fort?”

He has a lapful of Draco, a lungful of peach and cedar scented shampoo, and the sleepy timbre of his husband’s voice against his chest. The Italian movie is the last thing on Harry’s mind.

“I wasn’t aware of its existence growing up,” Draco says. “Having anything other than an immaculate bed when one wasn’t sleeping was uncouth, see, so you could imagine my surprise when Teddy demanded to play in something as messy as a fort so often.”

Harry doesn’t need to imagine it; he had witnessed it himself. Draco, freshly released from a two-year sentence in Azkaban, mellowed and tentative, yet determined to reconnect with his mother’s sister and his nephew. Harry had been wary too, standing in the corner of Teddy’s bedroom, staring at the fuzz of blonde on Draco’s shorn head and his weak gait. Teddy, the darling boy with his clumsy hold on Draco’s thigh, afraid that the haggard man would trip without help, had led him to his play area.

“Fort, fort,” the boy had screamed in Draco’s ear, but he hadn’t flinched. He had nodded and gone along with Teddy’s babbled directions, then sat back on his heels and fixed a wide-eyed stare at the monstrosity Teddy had called a fort (his designing skills were, unsurprisingly, underdeveloped at the mere age of two).

Swiveling his head, he had gawked at Harry, who had still been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, confusion and hysteria in the arch of his aristocratic brows.

It had been the first time he had looked at Harry in the eye for years. In seconds, it was 6th Year all over again, with him watching Draco pushing his food around with a fork from across the room, unable to look away. Obsession, a voice unlike Hermione’s helpfully defined, had slithered up and under his skin. It had remained there for years, stubborn and ardent, an emotion he had tried to leave behind time and time again. He’d never succeeded.

It’s Draco, after all.

“He never let anyone but him enter the fort, remember? Back when he’s still making us build it for him?” Draco’s fingers tap a random rhythm on Harry’s stomach. Harry tightens his arm around him, shifts a bit. “So many forts and I still didn’t know what it’s like to be in one.”

Somebody downs a shot in the movie. Harry doesn’t quite register it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a proper one either until now. Didn’t have enough space in the cupboard. Plus, the hanging around the beds at Hogwarts felt pretty cozy by themselves.”

Draco hums. “Mhmm, I say. Another ‘first’ for us.”

Harry glances at the crown of his head. The man doesn’t sound surprised; Harry wagers that he already knows and decided to make one for the both of them today.

They continue to watch the movie in silence, whites and blues and purples flooding his sight, until Draco yawns and Harry blinks his eyes shut for far too long.

“Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Where, then? We have no bed.”

“I still maintain that I made the right choice”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so rash for an academic.”

“Well, in my professional opinion, sleeping in a blanket fort every blue moon does wonders for one’s quality of sleep,” Draco gets up on his elbow to smirk at Harry, “we can look at other beds tomorrow, can’t we? Now hush. Rest.”

“Ha,” Harry says, at least 5 more words to follow up on that just on the tip of his tongue. But then Draco runs a gentle hand through Harry’s hair, taking his time with it, the remaining hints of Harry’s migraine from work fading with every curl of hair carefully unknotted. He mumbles this and that, silly, insignificant things, engrossed in his task, and Harry listens carefully as his eyelids lower.

Draco takes off his gold-rimmed glasses (so sweet and soft Harry can barely feel it), cleans them and puts them on a chair. Through half-lidded eyes, Harry watches him cover them both with a quilt and return to Harry’s chest, curling up like a cat. Draco’s arm is around his midriff, peach and cedar pervading his senses anew, and Harry forgets whatever he was going to say.

Cold ankles pressed against bare calves, Harry is already deep asleep when the credits roll.

#drarry #drarrymicrofic #drarry fic #fanfic #harry potter #draco malfoy #blanket fort #oneshot #3k words #draco would be the type to get mushy mushy in private and call harry shit like lover darling my love #harry would say draco baby and babe everywhere #thats it hes uncreative like that #and draco wouldnt even care #both of their love languages are acts of service so draco doesnt need reassuring when he knows harry would burn cities for him #they love each other very ardently that simple gestures communicate entire sonnets #and theyre cool with that #good for them #joonkorre writes

33 notes · View notes

watchingreadingandthinking · 3 years ago

Text

Maria and Liam part 3

6 weeks later

Living with Liam has been like a dream. The romance they had as teens was nothing compared to the deep love they share for each other now. He pampers her too always massaging her back and her feet. She has still been working but only 8 hours a day. She is thinking it maybe time to quit though standing, walking, and bending for 8 hours is pure agony and she has a lot of contractions recently.

Maria finishes up her shift and she can hardly move. Her back as been aching even more than normal and she has been having a lot of cramping too. Liam is waiting to pick her up like he always does. He notices how pained she looks and how she is rubbing her belly and hold in her back and rubbing it with her fisted hand. He can’t stand it before she even reaches the parking lot he is out of the car taking her in his arms on the side walk. She sighs as he begins to deeply massage her lower back and hips swaying back and forth. Maria sweetie you are miserable he says gently. It’s time to quit this job and let me take care of you. I can’t stand to see you in pain. You’re right Liam she admits as she rests her head on his shoulders with her arms around his neck letting him support some of her weight as he deeply rubs her back on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. It’s time to quit she says with a quiver in her voice. He kisses her temple and then guides her towards the car one hand still rubbing circles on her lower back. He helps her into the car and then drives home. When they get home he helps her inside and gets her situated on the couch then he rubs her feet and legs as she rest with a heating pad on her lower back. She rubs her belly where she is still feeling some cramps off and on. She hasn’t mentioned them to Liam she really hasn’t thought anything about the cramps. With all the pampering she falls asleep. She wakes a couple hours later with a strong pain gripping her abdomen and her back. Liam is no longer sitting with her. When the pain passes she gets up and goes to look for him. She finds a note in the kitchen saying one of his patients is in labor and he had to go in to work. The note has his usual message at the bottom - call me if you need me, I’ll be back soon, and I love you to the moon and back always! Maria is hungry so she starts to fix herself something to eat. As she is spreading the Mayo on her sandwich another pain grips her. Ahhhh she moans as she leans on the counter swaying her hips back and forth. What is going on she wonders, maybe I just overdid it at work today she thinks as the pain lets up and she heads back to the living room to eat her sandwich. Halfway through her sandwich another pain grips her. Once that pain has passed she starts thinking…. She has been crampy all day, her back has been killing her all day, and now she has had 3 strong pains in the last 30 minutes. Oh no she thinks I might be in labor and Liam has been called into work with another patient! She decides to call him and just see what he says. Liam she says with a hitch in her voice as he picks up the phone. Ree honey what’s wrong he says in his reassuring voice. I think I might be in labor she squeaks out. Ok honey deep calming breaths he croons, you are ok my lovely, you are almost full term with twins it’s time for this. How far apart are your contractions he asks her. I don’t know she sobs but I have had 3 in like 30 minutes. Ok he says gently then we still have some time, i want you to go take a warm bath and I’ll be on the way home ok? She chokes back a sob but what about your patient she asks. Oh ree he says you are my number one priority my colleague can deliver her baby I need to take care of you and our babies… ok Liam thank you she says hesitantly ahhh she screams as another contraction starts in her belly radiating to her back. Ree honey deep breath in and little breaths out Liam says gently I am leaving the hospital now ok. When this contraction passes you go take a warm bath and I’ll be there as soon as I can ok babe the snow may slow me down but I’ll be there as soon as I can I promise. I love you ree. I love you too Liam please hurry I am scared! I know honey go relax in the tub and I’ll see you soon ok? Ok she sniffs. They hang up and she looks out the window the snow is really coming down. She hopes Liam can make it to her she needs him. She sinks down into the warm water and feels instant relief. She closes her eyes and relaxes as she waits for the next pain to hit her.

6 notes · View notes

queenharumiura · 4 years ago

Note

"Good evening, are you Mrs Miura Haru? Oh, so we request your presence at the hospital, your husband is in comatose and we wanted to talk about this with you." The hospital nurse told in the phone, as Haru knew that Hayato did really went to work in a dangerous mission, he was missing for a few days now, as it seems the first news she received. [TYL Hayato]

[Unprompted ask]- You wanna hurt me this way? FINE. Let’s see what I’ll do. //rubbing hands like a fly

Warning: Death mentions for sure, violence?

It has been days since she’d been told that they lost contact with her husband after he’d gone on a particularly dangerous mission a while back. It was an understatement to say that she was a mess. In front of others, she made sure to keep a strong front to keep them from worrying, but once she closed the door behind her, she’d always collapse to the ground.

From a young age, Haru had always known about Tsuna and the others playing a mafia game, but she also knew that the ‘game’ was all too dangerous sometimes. That much was evident in the way Gokudera and the others would sometimes disappear for a period of time and return injured.

She also happened to know that Tsunayoshi Sawada was dead. This wasn’t common knowledge as it was kept under wraps to prevent mass-hysterics, but it was hard to hide the news from the wife of the right hand man. Sleep? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept. Even if she tried, she’d find herself waking up every 20 to 30 minutes to check for messages on her phone.

Did they find him? Was he okay? Was he--? She always stopped herself from thinking too far, too afraid that her thoughts would bring it to reality. It was slowly killing her, keeping secrets from people. Kyoko and Hana had no idea that Tsuna had died, and she couldn’t tell them anything as this was highly confidential information. She only found out by accident.

It still upset her to this day to think that such important information was going to be kept from her, but she could understand why. After hearing about his death, she would have the occasional nightmare of the others succumbing to the same fate.

It would be a lie to say that she wasn’t afraid of dying a painful death, but she was even more terrified of dying before Gokudera and being the source of further grief. He was already tormented over failing to protect his boss and now he had the extra pressure of filling in for the boss.

His work load had doubled… maybe even tripled, and she couldn’t bring herself to nag at Gokudera like she used to. How could she when she knew why he had to do all this extra work now that Tsuna was gone? All she could do was support him from the side, making sure he took some time to eat some food.

Now days she found herself spending time in his office, where he spent most of his time. It smelled a lot like him (and his cigarettes) and she kept this room tidy if nothing else. That way, this room would be ready for him to work at the moment he arrived. She used to joke about how he was married to his desk, affectionally nicknamed ‘desk-chan’.

Haru would try to distract herself by doing other things, but she never could bring herself to finish anything as her thoughts would always drift back to her missing husband. The weight on her ring finger felt heavier each passing day with no word about his whereabouts. If you asked her, she couldn’t begin to tell you how many times she’s cried since being told Gokudera went missing.

Did she try to go out to find him? You know her, she did try. Was she stopped before she could begin? Yes. The others knew her too well. She was in effect kept on house arrest to ensure she wouldn’t do something ‘stupid’. It wouldn’t be good if Gokudera comes back and finds out Haru died because she was rash.

In her sleep deprivation and the stress over what was happening all around her, Haru found herself sinking deep into her thoughts, reflecting on her life. She could’ve had a simpler life. One where she could be married with kids by now. One where she wouldn’t have to worry about getting a call that her husband died, being a widow at not even her 30’s. Did she regret it? Not as much as you would think.

Regardless of all the hardships, she loved her husband and she was here for the long haul.

This was something she didn’t speak to others very often, but there was a time when Haru thought that she was useless and unnecessary. It wasn’t necessarily anyone’s fault but her own. She was weak. It wasn’t Kyoko’s fault that Tsuna liked her and only seemed to have eyes for her. Likewise, it wasn’t his fault for liking Kyoko, she’s perfect, after all. No matter how hard she tried, he wouldn’t ever look her way, not in the way it mattered most, anyways.

She found herself comparing herself to Kyoko and started to think that she was lacking. Maybe she was being a bother. It’s simple to say her self-confidence was hurt, but the self-loathing was far worse. She loved her friends too much to ever blame them for anything. Even a whisper of a thought for such a notion would send Haru reeling with self-hatred. Her relationship with Gokudera did help her build herself back up.

Sometimes, she wondered if she was really right for him. She was holding him back, wasn’t she? He always had to worry about her safety and stress about what would happen to her if she were ever caught. (Simple, Haru would sooner kill herself then let herself be used as a hostage. Of course, he knew that, and that’s why he worried.)

More than that, she started to fear that she was something like a bad luck charm. Maybe it was that if she loved someone, she had sentenced them to death.

Ring Ring

Ri- “Hello?” Haru immediately answered the phone that was on Gokudera’s desk.

Haru listened to the woman speak on the other line, and she almost forgot how to breathe. Gokudera… was alive… but he was in a comatose? How bad was his situation? Her whole-body breaks into shivers as the fear surged, chilling her blood.

“Yes, I’m his wife. I-I’ll be right there.” She couldn’t help but shed tears in relief upon knowing that he wasn’t dead at least. How dark, to find relief that your husband is in a comatose. No longer able to jump into dangerous situations.

At least, he’s alive.

[time skip bc I can]

Haru rushed into the hospital and she was directed by the nurse at the front desk on where to go. She spoke to the doctors before she rushed to his room to see him laying there, looking as if he’s sleeping peacefully. She doubted that to be true. She subconsciously touched the base of her neck.

She’d experienced it first hand, how when he sleeps for too long, his nightmares come to plague him and he is prone to lashing out violently at the nearest person in his perceived sense for danger. That… was a cause of a meaningful conversation with him. At the time, he was more shaken than she was.

If it was her, she’d be willing to die for the sake of her husband. There was no doubt in her mind, but in that situation, it’s different. She would die for her husband, but she wouldn’t die by her husband. He already tormented himself over failing Tsuna, but to add on almost killing his wife by almost strangling her to death because of his trauma?

She sat beside him silently, taking his one hand in her own, sobbing for who knows what number it was that day. He felt warm.

“You promised you’ll come back, but I didn’t think it’d be like this, Baka-dera.” She sobbed quietly, clutching onto his hand for dear life. “If you die too, what do you expect me to do?” What would happen to the Vongola? She knew very little about his work as he kept his work private, but she was a learned individual.

If she had to, she could read the backlogs of all the paperwork and get a feel for what needs done. Don’t underestimate your wife who only attended the most prestigious schools in her younger years.

A bitter laugh escapes her, “Who am I kidding. If you die, I don’t know if I could live on without you.” She meant this both emotionally and literally. If even the right hand man were to die, the Vongola was on a fast track to death, and as his wife, she would surely meet a gruesome end.

Well, if she were to die, at least she’d be with her husband. That’s something to look forward to if push comes to shove.

“Bad man, by the time you wake up, my head will be full of white hair from all the stress you gave me.” She could only crack a joke in a situation like this because that’s how she coped.

Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly wiping her tears away with her hands. “Right, your wife isn’t weak, is she? If you’re out of commission, then I have to take over. I’m sure you’d yell at me for this, but guess what? You can’t speak up to stop me.” She paused, as if hoping he’d wake up and call her stupid like he always would.

Biting her lower lip to stop the quivering, “I knew what I was marrying into. Let me take on the responsibility this time. Who knows? I might even do a good job. If not… don’t keep me waiting too long.” The unspoken words being that she intended to do her best to help the Vongola while he was out of commission. If she died in the process, she could at least say she did her best and feel no regret.

Sparing one last look at him she pulled out her cellphone to dial a few numbers. First and foremost, the others needed to be notified of his condition and they needed to move him to a more secure location.

You know? The duty of the wife is to look after her husband in sickness and health.

I’m your wife until death, and death may come for one of us sooner than we thought.

I’m sorry for being selfish, but I hope it comes for me first.

After all, people still need you here.

More than me.

#Thehandworld #answered ask #Thanks for the ask!#Haru speaks #((Muse; Gokudera))#((wow this turned out a lot more tame than I thought. consider yourself lucky for me being kind))#((I'll do my best to destroy you with the other 2))#((Also I really hope readmore works for mobile if not-- whoops))#dark themes here #death TW

2 notes · View notes

puddygeeks · 5 years ago

Text

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 30: Uɴғɪɴɪsʜᴇᴅ Bᴜsɪɴᴇss

Masterlist

Episodes: We Are Grounders - Part 1, We Are Grounders - Part 2

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Chapter Thirty

The camp was bustling with people who prepared to leave, but we remained rooted to the spot. Once Clarke stormed away, we were left staring at each other with no desire to move. I tried to force some words out in support of him, but I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I didn’t know if I could find any strength to share.

“For what it’s worth, I want to stay…”

I quickly trailed off as I felt my breath hitch and a single tear slipped out of my carefully controlled facade. I bit my lip in an effort to contain the wave of feelings that was crashing over me but it was too late. Bellamy noticed my reaction and pulled me to a quiet spot so that we could talk without the audience of camp.

“Hey, you’re okay, it’s okay.” He spoke soothingly and put his hands on my shoulders as he leaned down to meet my eyes.

At his kind gesture and concerned eyes, I finally cracked under the pressure. The tears flooded suddenly from me, pouring down my cheeks and I shook violently all over. I was completely unable to consider my actions as the storm exploded in my mind. I threw myself into his chest and he wrapped his arms tightly around me with no hesitation. Although our enormous height difference had been nothing other than an inconvenience until now, especially when I was furiously yelling upward at him, in my despair it became an unexpected blessing. As he squeezed me into him and I tucked my head under his chin, I got the sensation that he was my shield against the world. There was a sense of safety that was foreign to me and it allowed me a moment that I didn’t realise I needed until now, a chance to express weakness. Since our arrival on Earth, I had been exhausted by the constant illusion of strength that I depended on and it was a welcome relief to drop the act for even a few minutes. I closed my eyes tightly as I burrowed my face into his chest and was comforted by the warmth of his body that ran slightly warmer than my own. I was jolted by the image of him dangling by his neck which was burned behind my eyes and not even the safety of his arms could remove it.

“I lost you.” I whispered in a terrified voice and he pushed me back to peek down at me in confusion. “For a few seconds, I lost you.” I confessed as I met his eyes and he furrowed his brows. “When I climbed through the vent and saw you there...I thought you were gone. That image of you hanging, I feel like it will haunt me forever.” A small sob escaped my lips and I abruptly could not manage any more words.

“But I’m not gone. I’m still here thanks to you. You saved my life today, again.” He clarified firmly as he stared into my eyes and carefully brushed away a tear from my cheek.

“It was my fault!” I exclaimed causing him to frown. “I defended him when you wanted to throw him out, I put you in an impossible position and I was cruel to you. Only for it to turn out that you were right all along and it nearly cost you everything!” I hissed in a stressed stutter as I sniffed back any further tears.

“No. It’s not your fault.” He argued in a tone of disbelief as he assessed my expression. “He wanted to kill me because of the decisions that I made. This was on me.” He insisted and I felt guilty for making him reflect on his mistake with Murphy again. I stared at him for a few seconds, absorbing all of the details of how he looked, committing them to memory for fear that one day I might truly need it. He was perfect in the soft afternoon light, even with the worry that dominated his face as he studied me. I couldn’t control the fear that gripped me as I gazed upon him and I realised just how close I’d come to losing him.

“Bellamy, I know that you had to save Jasper and I really am thankful for that. But please, don’t ever take a risk like that again, I don’t think I could go through that- to not be able to get to you-” I stumbled over my words as I strained to explain the panic that I’d felt and fresh tears rolled down my cheeks just at the thought of ever experiencing a repeat of this type of situation. He gently wrapped me in his arms again and my chest wracked as I wept against him.

“Shh.” He soothed, rubbing a hand gently on my back whilst I whimpered. He was tender and comforting as he allowed me to calm down in my own time. I couldn’t tell how long had passed in his embrace and he made no effort to rush me. The world seemed to stop around us as he held me in the quiet bubble of safety and my heart raced when he placed a feather-light kiss on my forehead. I finally felt the shaking in my body slow to a stop and the chaos in my mind subsided. I took a few deep breaths in an effort to regain control and when it was clear that I had settled, he cleared his throat.

“We should probably start packing up, it sounds like the others want to get going as soon as possible.” Bellamy suggested in a soft voice and he patiently waited for me to move first. I reluctantly extracted myself from him and he released me back into the cold air.

“I don’t want to leave, this is our home.” I whispered as I met his eyes with a regretful expression. I was glad that I was finally calm enough to express my thoughts and I could tell from his reaction that he was pleased to find that I was on his side.

“Neither do I.” He sighed in frustration and rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. “But, no offence, I don’t think you and I can fight off the grounders, just the two of us, even with your killer shots.” He commented playfully and I managed a small laugh. I noticed that his eyes lit up at the sight of it and it made my stomach flip.

We stood in comfortable silence for a few lingering moments and I explored him with a fond smile. The heat that radiated between us was suffocating, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from him. I was drowning in his deep-set, whisky brown eyes and they gave me the sensation that I was being drawn into him. I couldn’t recognise my own thoughts as my body moved without my consideration. All of the things I’d been told to do by everyone else no longer mattered, all the advice filtered away into silence and my mind offered no guidance. It was as if the world around us fell away until it was just him and I. I stepped closer to him with a desperate need to feel his touch and he obliged as his hand fell naturally onto my arm. My breathing hitched at the contact and I regarded him with sultry eyes. I slowly shifted my weight onto my toes, raising myself up into his space and my hand settled gently on his shoulder. My instincts led me to apply slight pressure, guiding him down to meet me and as he did, our faces grew close enough to feel his hot breath on my skin. This time, my heart wasn’t hammering; my hands were steady, my nerves relaxed and every moment felt exactly right, like it was meant to happen. I felt the tip of my nose touch his cheek and our lips brushed so slightly that I couldn’t feel anything other than the sensation of electricity as it shot through my body.

“Bellamy! Indigo!” A sharp call interrupted us and I jumped back, startled out of the moment. “Come on, we need to go!”

I cleared my throat awkwardly and felt my face burning with heat as the world returned in a crash around me. I couldn’t manage to meet his eyes and instead I stepped past him without another word. I jogged over to Octavia who was inspecting camp for us but I was reassured to find that she didn’t seem to have noticed us yet. She seemed relieved as I reached her.

“Come on, we need to get our tent packed and I’ve got a present for you.” She stated and I forced a smile despite the overwhelming temptation to glance back to Bellamy.

I followed her back to the tent with a heavy feeling of unfinished business. We tried to be efficient in packing, ensuring that we had stowed rations, water and plenty of weapons. Octavia presented me with an assault rifle, assuring me that I was ready for the upgrade and that I would need it for the journey. It took very little time to pack our modest possessions and we left our tent for the last time. I parted from Octavia to check on Raven and wandered into the dropship to find Finn and a couple of others rushing to put together a stretcher. I glanced around worriedly in search of her.

“What’s happening?” I called out to Finn as I observed the commotion that filled the tightly packed space.

“Clarke cauterised the wound but the bullet is still inside.” Finn answered over his shoulder as he worked. “She can’t walk or she’ll move it. We’re gonna carry her.” He stated firmly and I raised my brows at his words. I moved closer to the surface that Raven was lying on and peeked down at her with a heavily guilty expression.

“I shouldn’t have left you, I’m sorry.” I breathed, hardly able to meet her eyes without feeling a surge of anxiety. The calmness that I’d felt with Bellamy had already dissolved and I returned to stressing over the consequences of my choices. She reached over to take my hand in hers and squeezed it firmly to draw my attention to her face.

“Hey, don’t do that.” She asserted, leaning forward to force me to meet her eyes. “You did what you had to. I’m gonna be fine.” She confirmed as she smiled at me supportively and I sighed.

“I should be the one reassuring you right now.” I confessed guilty and she chuckled under her breath before flinching from pain.

“Indie, we need to get going.” Finn cleared his throat and spoke in a hurried voice. “We’ve gotta get her ready to move.” He ordered and I nodded back at him in acknowledgement. I smiled appreciatively at her and squeezed her hand one last time before stepping out of their way.

I couldn’t stand to watch how delicate she was as they lifted her into the stretcher, so I returned outside to find Octavia. I scanned the stripped, bare looking camp as people started to gather together to leave. I felt a sense of reluctance as I reflected that this would be the last time I would see the place that I now considered home and before I could think twice about the decision to leave, it was time. I noticed that Bellamy was searching around for someone as we organised into a planned formation. I hid in the crowd, sticking closely to Octavia as I tried to avoid his notice. I couldn’t pretend that I hadn’t almost kissed him a few moments ago and the idea of discussing this at such an emotionally charged time was overwhelming. As the gates opened and we all filed out, Octavia and I walked side by side. I wasn’t sure how we ended up leading at the front of the pack and I was relieved to hear quiet pockets of conversation happening around us. Octavia shot at an analysing look at me and I prepared myself for a grilling.

“You alright over there? You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind?” She quizzed in a poor attempt at a light tone. I could easily identify the warring emotions in her eyes that she tried to cover with a brave face and I smiled weakly at her in a similar manner.

“I’m fine, it just feels strange to be leaving. It’s been insane here, but it finally feels like home.” I sighed in an avoidant manner. I didn’t consider it lying, it was troubling to leave our camp for uncertain shores. I couldn’t discuss the issues with Bellamy whilst we were so crowded with people so I stuck to the simple issues. I tried to keep my guard up as I spoke, scanning our surroundings for any sign of grounders. “Plus, I can’t let go of the niggling feeling that we’re leaving Monty behind.” I confessed as I acknowledged the knot in my stomach.

“I know what you mean.” She sighed deeply and I peeked at her in concern. “Finn says there’s no way Lincoln survived with the odds that were against him, but I still feel like I’m abandoning him.” She breathed and I could easily recognise the reluctance that was in her eyes now I took a moment to examine her.

“Hey, your boyfriend’s a grounder Octavia, I wouldn’t count him out. Last time you said goodbye, he turned up again just in time to save our friends. I get the feeling we haven’t seen the last of him.” I stated firmly and my words earned the hint of a smile in the corner of her lips. “Now, I just have to convince myself to feel the same about Monty.” I muttered, as I returned my attention to our surroundings. “Maybe I’ll even get really lucky and we’ll run into Murphy.” I added bitterly and noticed that my grip on the comically large gun in my hands got tighter. Octavia glimpsed at me with her brows knitted together in worry and I could sense that she was assessing me.

“That whole thing with Bellamy really messed you up, huh?” She probed and I flinched at her perceptiveness. I maintained a careful measure of the anger in my voice as I answered her.

“For a minute when I first got to him, I thought he was dead. I’ve never been so terrified.” I whispered, before shaking my head violently to dislodge the agonising memory that replayed in my brain. “But what made it worse was that I trusted Murphy, I gave him a second chance. I defended him, I patched his wounds, I fucking comforted him. I need to pay him back for that.” I spat with a fury that rose like acid from my stomach as I remembered his convincing little act.

“Well, I hope you get your chance.” She commented and I was surprised to find bitterness in her tone too. “I certainly wouldn’t mind getting a few hits in.” She added, gritting her teeth as she spoke and I remembered her frantic cries on the radio whilst I hid in the bottom of the dropship with understanding.

“I’m pretty sure there will be a queue.” I chuckled darkly under my breath and she nodded back at me with amusement.

We continued in silence through the forest with our eyes trained on our surroundings as we gripped our guns nervously. Octavia stopped abruptly on the spot and held a hand up to halt the following group. I raised my gun to stare through the scope and held my breath as I scanned the area in nervous anticipation. There were several panicked comments from behind as those around us strained to see what had alarmed Octavia, but like the rest of them I couldn’t see anything. In a flash, something shot through the air and planted itself into the face of the man standing behind us.

“Grounders!” Jasper yelled in a deafening roar, spiralling the group into a panic.

Octavia and I fell into positions to navigate the group back towards camp, with people rushing frantically to get behind the walls. As we reached the gates Jasper ran ahead of us and positioned himself on the wall to cover our return. Octavia placed herself at the gate to guide people inside and I witnessed Bellamy out of the corner of my eye. He climbed up beside Jasper to cover the gate, so I quickly took a position on the other side to provide full covering fire if needed. The gates slowly dragged closed as the last of our people filtered inside and I continued to stare out between the trees, scouring for any sign of movement. I could hear Bellamy, Clarke and the usual leadership building into an argument over whether to stay or go again and I glanced over at Jasper. As it seemed we were the only two people that were still on watch for an attack, I opted not to get involved this time and allowed them to fight until someone was victorious. I couldn’t deny that I was pleased when they agreed to stay and fight, as I felt that running was the wrong choice from the beginning.

“Okay then. This is what we’ve been preparing for, kill them before they kill us. Gunners to your posts. Use the tunnels to get in and out, from now on the gate stays closed.” Bellamy addressed the crowd assertively and they immediately sprang into action, running to their assigned posts.

I glanced around nervously at the bustling camp. I’d learned the routes to the foxholes, but I was busy setting up landmines as part of Raven’s crew the night that groups were assigned and I suspected that Bellamy hadn’t assigned me a role on purpose. I witnessed him halt Octavia in her tracks as she headed for a tunnel with a sword that Finn had gifted her from Lincoln. I seized the moment to sneak past whilst he was distracted. I followed Jasper as he moved with a determined purpose and I overheard Octavia firmly informing Bellamy that she was a grounder now. I smiled in amusement at her newly developed confidence and was proud that she had finally found her place. As I neared the exit from camp, I had to pause as she jumped into the tunnel just ahead of me. Unfortunately, she carried Bellamy’s attention with her and he reached out to snatch my arm in the first second that he registered my presence.

“No, not you too.” He spoke firmly but the grip that he clung to me with revealed his desperation. I met his eyes with an apologetic expression but I couldn’t deny my frustration with him for even attempting to keep me out of this.

“Come on Bellamy, you said yourself that you need my aim. It’ll take everyone we have for us to survive this.” I argued in a bid to reach his sensible nature but he simply furrowed his brow at me regretfully.

“I know, and I understand why you want to fight but…” His voice trailed off and his gaze fell to his boots as he shuffled awkwardly on the spot. “Does it have to be you two?” He asked as he met my eyes with an insecurity that was unfamiliar on him.

“You don’t have to worry about us, we can do this.” I responded with a reassuring smile and I gazed at him sympathetically. I understood his concern; I hated the idea of him and Octavia fighting, but when I considered what would happen to them if the grounders got inside, I knew that I had no other choice. “I’ll stay with Jasper and see you back here when we win.” I expressed, squeezing his arm with a smile and he finally loosened his grip on me with an anxious look. I turned from him and rushed into the tunnel before I could think twice.

Once in the cramped space of the foxhole with Jasper and Harper, we waited in nervous silence. The radio Jasper was holding crackled and he held it up for us to hear.

“All foxholes, listen up.” Bellamy’s voice announced and I sat up straighter as I waited for instructions. “Keep your eyes and ears open. Inflict casualties, as many as possible. You can hold them off for long enough to make them turn back. That’s the plan.” He cut off abruptly and I could only imagine the argument that was currently taking place between the leadership.

“So our plan is to scare them off?” Harper repeated as she glimpsed between the two of us in disbelief.

“We don’t have enough of anything to kill them all.” Jasper explained and his eyes grew wide as his fear became clear in his movements. I realised that this was difficult for him and I wished that there was a way to protect him from the fight that was unfortunately inevitable.

“We don’t need to kill them all.” I stated firmly, drawing his attention to me. “We just have to kill enough to make them think that we will.” I smiled in an attempt to reassure them, despite my own reservations about the reliability of this plan.

We waited for what seemed like hours as the tension grew thick in the air. Harper kept watch whilst Jasper gave his best effort to build my confidence in the new gun. I hadn’t had a chance to even test firing something this size and we didn’t have the bullets left for me to practice. We got comfortable sitting with the muzzles of our guns pointing out of the shelter and kept our eyes keenly trained for any sign of movement. Jasper suddenly tensed and I caught the distant sound of drums as his eyes widened.

“We can do this Jasper, you’re not alone.” I whispered as I met his terrified eyes and he nodded back shakily. I could feel a slight tremble in my hands and took a long, slow breath to steady myself.

“I see them, they’re moving!”

Stirling’s frantic voice on the radio alerted us to the start of the battle, but we couldn’t see anything in the area surrounding our foxhole. There were several other panicked responses as other foxholes identified grounders but from the information that was given, no one seemed to be able to hit them. We waited, staring at the trees until I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. Within seconds they descended on the area and Jasper was shooting in a panic.

“They’re everywhere! Harper, get down!” He panted as he sprayed bullets at random in every direction and I could barely hear over the incredible noise of the gun. “We need backup!” He called down the radio in a fluster, joining the flurry of manic messages that flooded through. I put a hand on his arm and shook him to get through his shock.

“Jasper, stop shooting! We don’t have enough bullets to fire at random!” I yelled in an effort to reach his logical nature and he caught sight of me with a panic stricken expression. “Don’t shoot unless you know you can hit them, otherwise let the landmines do their job!” I ordered firmly and he nodded back nervously.

We resumed our positions, waiting for the movement to return after Jasper had scared them off as we watched down the barrel of our guns. It was barely seconds before grounders sprinted past us again and a bomb exploded just ahead of the foxhole. We glanced at each other in an elated mixture of surprise and excitement.

“Raven, our mines actually worked!” Jasper announced into the radio in an ecstatic voice. We high fived in a moment of childish delight and grinned widely at each other. It was comforting to experience a fleeting moment of friendship in the middle of the chaos and I was thankful that I’d chosen to follow him.

“Jasper, we need you in the dropship right now.” Clarke’s voice declared over the radio at the perfect timing to force us back into reality and my face dropped at the realisation that he couldn’t remain at my side.

“Negative, we can’t give up the west woods.” Bellamy argued in an overly aggressive tone and although I knew that he was speaking from a tactical perspective, I couldn’t help feeling that some of his reluctance to allow Jasper to leave was because he knew that I was here.

“The west woods are mined Bellamy, the grounders just figured that out!” Clarke’s sharp voice responded and her impatience was clear even through the radio. “Jasper get in here.” She demanded and I felt my stomach churn as I considered what could cause such a desperate reaction from her. I had to force my mind to remain focused as I wondered if some part of the plan had already gone wrong. Before Bellamy could continue to make excuses, I snatched the radio from Jasper’s hands.

“Who said anything about giving up, we’re still out here!” I taunted in a determined tone as I smiled at Harper and signalled to Jasper to go. He assessed me for a long moment in concern, before reluctantly tearing himself away and climbing into the tunnels towards camp. “Harper and I have got this, girl power and all that shit.” I smirked in the hope that I could inspire confidence in her nervous face. I leaned over to offer her a fist bump with a playful wink. She slowly bumped her fist against mine and a small smile crept in at the corner of her lips. “Only take the shot if you’re sure, make every bullet we have left count, alright?” I recapped assertively.

“I see one, there! There!” She exclaimed as she pointed ahead and I stared down the barrel at the rapidly moving blur as it passed through the trees. I held the gun tightly in place and was ready to shoot at any sign of threat, until another mine went off and I widened my eyes in understanding.

“They’re drawing our fire!” I breathed as I kicked myself for not analysing their tactics sooner. “Harper, keep an eye out but don’t shoot unless it comes at you.” I spoke sternly and although she was obviously terrified, she nodded in acknowledgement. I snatched up the radio that Jasper had left on the floor and took a deep breath to prepare myself to take control of the situation. “All gunners! The grounders are not attacking, they want us to waste our bullets. Don’t shoot whilst they’re just running around, let the mines pick them off and only shoot when you absolutely have to!” I quickly passed the information so that I could stow the radio and resume my grip on the gun.

“Indigo's right, don’t fire until you’re sure it’s an attack!” Bellamy’s reply was prompt and I smiled involuntarily. I was reassured to hear his voice, not only because I enjoyed knowing that I’d been able to prove myself but also because it meant that he was still safe. “Repeat, do not fire until you’re sure.” He confirmed and I glanced over to smile at Harper, only to find that she was shaking from head to toe. I sighed sympathetically at her.

“You can do this, we’re not gonna let them past. I’ve got your back.” I reassured sternly, before returning my focus to the space in front of the foxhole. I observed several grounders emerging from the trees and just as I was lining up my aim, I realised that they were leading a hoard that was crowded into a tight formation.

“Shit.” I spat under my breath as I felt dread creeping down my spine. “Okay, take slow shots, make sure you get a grounder in the face with every single one.” I gave my instructions clearly to Harper and she met my eyes with horror as she clocked the approaching force. “The second you’re out of bullets, you get back up those tunnels and you don’t look back.” I ordered and I was proud to discover that she wasted no time in following the command. I switched the radio on and leaned it against a surface so that I could talk and shoot at the same time. “West foxhole, the grounders are attacking! At least 50 in a unit right in front of us! We’ll use the ammo we have and pull back. This is it gunners, hold your ground and make them pay for every life they’ve taken from us!” I reported in the hope that I could inspire confidence as I stared down the scope with determination. Harper was as efficient as I demanded, but by her fourth shot she was done. She regarded me with wide, terrified eyes.

“Go, get out of here, I’ll be right behind you!” I shouted forcefully. I was only on my second shot and had no intention of quitting whilst I could still shoot. She surveyed the group that was closing in, then peeked at me with a final reluctant glance before she frantically jumped into the tunnel. I took a deep breath and attempted to stay focused on the rapidly approaching horde. I knew that once they passed this checkpoint, there was nothing left between them and Bellamy. I was the last stand at protecting him and everyone else I cared about, and I knew that I had to bring down every last grounder that I could. I fired again, resulting in a shot that hit one of the troops directly in the face and they sank to the ground in a satisfying manner. Three shots. I moved my barrel to focus on the next target with a determined fire in my gut. I took another steadying breath, finding it hard to keep calm as I acknowledged that they were barely metres away. I squeezed the trigger and another shot launched from the barrel, landing squarely in my target's chest. They stumbled in a shocked reaction but quickly recovered to continue marching toward me. Four shots.

“Indie, what are you still doing in there?! Get out!”

Bellamy’s frantic voice filled the space and I realised with horror that the radio was still on; he could still hear me shooting. I aimed one more time at the same attacker’s face, imagining him reaching Bellamy to bully myself into remaining in the foxhole despite the growing risk. My heart skipped a beat as I squeezed the trigger and the bullet flew right on target, stopping one more grounder dead. Five shots. The gun jammed in a telltale sound and I realised almost too late that they were right on top of me. I dove into the tunnel in blind faith just as they reached the foxhole and the leading grounder swung an axe into the centre of it. I barely escaped the assault by a couple of inches and slammed closed the entrance to the tunnel behind me. I noticed with horror that I’d left the radio behind but I had to force myself to concentrate on manically crawling through the tight space to reach camp. I had to get in, find another gun and get to Bellamy before the grounder’s forces did. I knew that there were only two others with him at the final position and that it was impossible for them to last against the numbers that were stalking toward them. Every part of my mind focused on getting to him as I rushed through the tunnel and I felt my chest tightening with anxiety. The same thought echoed over and over in my mind: I can’t lose him.

28 notes · View notes

cluttermind · 4 years ago

Text

Without A Parachute (4/?) - Smoke and Ashes

Summary: Emma worked tremendously hard to give herself a better chance. From group homes, to living in her car, to ivy league student, this English Major’s only solace was escaping her reality through books. One night, Emma comes home to find a small package with only her name on it written in beautiful calligraphy. The package contains a thick, brown leather journal. Emma soon learns that the fiction she writes in the journal eventually becomes reality. Will Emma learn to control this gift, or will she fall too fast into the temptation to change too much? With the help of her good friends August, Robin, and Elsa, and the mysterious, intriguing bartender of The Jolly Roger, Emma discovers just how easy it is to lose control, and how difficult it is to pick up the pieces.

Rating: M

Words: 14,041 total / 3,559 Ch 4

Read on ao3: Beginning | Current

Note: I thought this would take a lot longer to write than it did. This one kind of wrote itself.

I'm adding a trigger warning as the end of this one is a little dark. I hope you enjoy it either way! Things are really starting to move forward plot wise :)

TW: implied attempted sexual assault and under-aged drinking.

Chapter 4

“Smoke and Ashes”

I heard the church bells from afar

But we found each other in the dark

And when the smoke does finally pass

We will rise above all the ash

- City and Colour, We Found Each Other In The Dark

“It’s open!” August shouted from the kitchen of his large studio apartment. Emma opened the door and stepped in. “Emma! You’re late!” Ela and Robin called out hellos from their spots around the coffee table.

“Yeah I didn’t sleep much last night. What’s for brunch?” She asked, walking to take her seat next to Elsa on the floor in front of the couch.

“Chocolate chip pancakes” Elsa said, licking her lips. “Hurry up, August! I’m starving!” She whined dramatically, nudging Emma.

“Yeah August. Hurry before we perish.” Emma played along with Elsa, attempting to rile August. Robin chuckled, rolling his eyes at their antics. He was sitting across from Elsa, his laptop already open on the coffee table, typing away at a paper due in a few days.

“Nope. You were late. You can perish.” August retorted, flipping pancakes to be added to the growing pile next to him.

Emma gasped playfully. “Rude.” She pulled out her macroeconomics textbook just as her phone buzzed.

Killian Jones: Leaving before I wake up? Classy, Swan ;)

Emma Swan: I left a note!

Killian Jones: But without a kiss goodbye

Emma grinned at her phone like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Emma Swan: Then I guess it wasn’t goodbye ;)

“Well, well, well.” Elsa toyed, “Who are you texting Emma Swan?” August finally finished making an enormous pile of pancakes and brought the tray over to the table. Robin helped by running to grab some plates and silverware.

“Oh uhm Ruby.” Emma lied. “We’re joking about how awful our econ professor is.”

“Well I’m more interested in what the hell happened on Thursday,” Robin chimed in, handing Emma a plate. So much for being in a bubble.

Emma took a deep breath, hugged her knees to her chest and gave them the CliffNotes version of the story. Elsa rubbed her back the entire time. Saying it out loud somehow didn’t crush her they way it had before, as if the words no longer carried the weight they once did.

“Emma that’s awful!” Elsa nearly yelled when she finished speaking. “Don’t listen to a word he says. What kind of professor does that?!”

“What did he say to you after class?” August asked between taking bites of his pancakes.

“That I don’t have what it takes to be a writer.” Emma said, pausing, Killian’s words from last night echoing in her head. You get to make your own choices. Make them based on what makes you happy. “But he’s wrong.”

Her friends, being the wonderful, supportive people they are, stood strongly by her side. Yelling to each other how ridiculous this professor is, how he shouldn’t be a professor, and how brilliant their friend is. In that moment, Emma felt the least alone she had ever felt - surrounded by intelligent, kind, and loving friends who taught her what it means to be a part of a family. Because that’s what they were to her. They were her family. Her beautiful, ridiculous family.

After the yelling had died down and the excessively large pile of pancakes had been eaten, they spent all day studying, taking only a few short snack breaks. Before they knew it, it was dark outside. It was usually around now that they’d quit for the night, having finished enough to go the rest of the weekend relaxing. August nearly slammed his book shut, making the rest of them flinch.

“Geez, August. What’d the book ever do to you?” Robin asked.

“It existed.” August quipped, dramatically. “Can we be done? I need to be done.”

“I think I’ve done all I can for this weekend too.” Elsa said, closing her laptop. “What’re we doing tonight? Movies? Pizza?”

“I could go for a drink, honesty.” Robin responded, mirroring Elsa as he closed his own laptop.

“Drinks anywhere that also has food is usually expensive.” Emma stated.

“Yeah I guess.” August paused. “Oh! What about The Jolly Roger? It’s not that expensive right? Plus if I remember correctly, their onion rings are insane.” August was nearly salivating remembering the onion rings. The last time they had gone together was sometime last semester to celebrate the end of midterms.

“Right! I forgot how good those were.” Elsa responded. “Okay if we’re actually going out I need to change.”

“I’m so hungry. You look fine. Let’s just go.” August responded. Emma giggled about how the tables have turned since this morning when they were the ones complaining about being hungry.

“I’m not going to a bar in leggings and a sweatshirt.” Elsa threw her things in her bag. “Emma and I will meet you guys there in an hour. I have this beautiful dress that you just have to wear tonight.”

“Oh this isn’t an outing outing! We’re going for food!” Robin groaned.

“If we’re going to a bar, we’re going to a bar . It’s been way too long since we actually went out.” Elsa claimed. There was no arguing with her. She was pretty determined to make this happen. Plus, she wasn’t wrong. It had been a while since they went out together. She considered texting Killian to make sure he was working, but she knew he would be since he took yesterday off and thought she’d surprise him.

Emma shrugged and grabbed her things while August grumbled, grabbing the remote to turn the TV on for a bit. She followed Elsa out the door. At Elsa’s dorm, she handed Emma a simple, low cut, black dress. It was tight, ruched, and hugged her in all the right places. And the glitter got everywhere. Despite Emma’s protests about the glitter, Elsa insisted she wear it. She also insisted that Emma let her do her makeup and that she wear the black heals that ‘go so perfectly with it it’d be a cardinal sin not to wear them.’ Eventually Emma got to look at herself in the mirror, her dainty gold chain with a small gold book charm falling against her bare chest above the deep neckline of the black dress. Elsa was right, the shoes did go perfectly. And her red leather jacket actually pulled the look together.

Except it was freezing outside. Like actually freezing. All she wanted was her sweatshirt that was in her backpack that was now sitting in Elsa’s room.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Emma said, shivering as they waited for the bus.

“Oh come on! It’s not that cold. Plus you look great.”

“August might kill us. We’re so late.”

“We’re 20 minutes late.”

“We’re 30 minutes late Elsa.” Emma laughed as Elsa shugged, clearly not caring about August’s desire for food as they finally stepped onto the slightly crowded bus.

“August will live.”

“I’m more concerned about Robin having to deal with him.” Really what Emma was nervous about was seeing Killian. Butterflies filled her stomach when she thought about seeing him in something other than jeans and a sweater.

15 minutes later, they walked through the doors of The Jolly Roger 45 minutes late. Emma was grateful for the warmth of the pub. She instantly spotted August waving them over. He and Robin had already ordered and had food in front of them.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” Robin joked, drinking the last of his beer.

“Blame Elsa.” Emma playfully nudged her friend next to her.

“Fine fine. This round’s on me. Emma help me with the drinks?” Elsa said, leading them to the bar.

That’s when Emma saw him, handing a customer a drink at the bar. Part of her wanted to run and hir, the other part of her wanted to run to him. He looked up from his customer and looked in her direction. She swore her heart nearly stopped when he smiled at her, eyes drinking her in.

“Swan.” Killian said, grinning at her as they approached. “Isn’t this a surprise. I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

I did say it wasn’t goodbye earlier, didn’t I? Emma thought.

“You two know each other?” Elsa asked.

“Aye. We do.” Killian said.

“Killian owns the pub. I come here to study during the week when it’s quiet. Sometimes he feeds me.” Emma said. Killian raised an eyebrow at her. “Okay fine. He feeds me a lot. Killian this is my friend Elsa. Elsa, this is Killian.” Elsa was staring wide-eyed at Emma, mouth open, silently screaming how did you not tell me about him?!

“Nice to meet you lass.” Killian said politely. His eyes, however, never left Emma’s and Elsa turned her attention back to him. “What can I get you?”

“4 beers and 4 shots of tequila.” Elsa chimed.

“Grilled cheese?” Killian asked Emma.

“With onion rings apparently. The thought of Smee’s onion rings were making August drool earlier. And make it two.” She responded as Killian poured their shots and set them in front of them. Elsa carefully grabbed three of them, letting Emma know she’ll meet her back at the table. Emma downed her shot quickly, wincing as the clear liquid burned her throat. Killian’s gaze sent a warmth up her neck and to her cheeks.

“You look nice, Swan.” He said eventually, pouring them each a shot. Killian held his glass to gently tap it against hers. They both downed the shot.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Aye, I know that, love. But I wear this every day.” Killian leaned forward on the bar in front of her. “So what’s the fun fact of the day?”

Emma looked confused. “The what?”

“You usually greet me with a weird fact whenever you come in here.” He paid attention. He listened to me , Emma thought. Part of her thought he never paid attention to the random things that came out of her mouth. She smiled. He was listening.

So she took a risk. “The whole button down, vest, fitted jeans thing really works for you.” Emma flirted.

Killian took the bait, smirking and raising an eyebrow at her, his voice dropping to a place she hadn’t heard before. “That black dress is really working for me. And I happen to quite like the red leather, love” Emma blushed bright red, her face matching the color of her jacket, and Killian pushed back against the bar, standing straight again. “Your friends are waiting for you. I’ll have Ruby bring your drinks in a second.”

“Tell Smee to rush that grilled cheese. I’m starving.” Emma said as she walked away, returning to the table her friends were at.

“Excuse me but who was that? What was that?” Elsa asked immediately.

“He’s the owner. I told you.” Emma stated, trying to avoid that conversation. “We’re friends.”

“Yeah, okay.” Elsa scoffed. Ruby brought over their drinks and another round of shots, and Elsa’s attention was suddenly elsewhere.

“Hey Emma! The shots are on the Captain.” Ruby said as she set everything down. “Anything else I can get you?”

Emma looked over at the bar to see Killian wink at her. She smiled and rolled her eyes at him. “I think we’re good."

For over an hour, they ate a little too much, drank a bit, and gossiped a little too much about the rumor going around the English Department that a student was sleeping with a professor. After a while Elsa went to get another drink and Robin went to talk to some friends in one of his classes, leaving August and Emma alone at the table.

“Elsa’s flirting with the bartender.” August commented.

Emma's eyes went wide with . . . jealousy? Not that Emma had any reason to be jealous. Killian could flirt with whomever he chose to. They spent one night together, literally sleeping. It didn’t mean anything. Did it?

August noted her confusion and nodded his head in Elsa’s direction. Emma turned to look where he was motioning to. Elsa was leaning forward on the bar talking to Ruby. They were giggling and Elsa was blushing, sipping on her drink.

“She looks happy” Emma smiled. “And they’re definitely flirting.”

“Oh yeah they’re not subtle at all.”

A song came over the speakers that Elsa and Emma both love. Emma watched as Ruby bothered Killian into turning the volume up and Elsa looked back at Emma, grinning from ear to ear. They had danced to this song hundreds of times in Elsa’s dorm and August’s apartment. Elsa nearly ran over to her, pulling her to her feet. They were nearly screaming the lyrics at each other, their hips swaying with the music. It wasn’t long before most of the pub was dancing with them.

Killian laughed as he watched Emma. He had never seen her this carefree, this full of life. The sight of her with her friends having fun sent a shiver of warmth through his body. As unsettling as that was, he couldn’t take his eyes off her, wanting to save this image of her forever.

“Dance with her.” Ruby said to him, pulling Killian out of the trance Emma had put him in.

“What?”

“Go dance with her. I’ll manage the bar for a bit.” Ruby held her hand out for his phone so she could keep the music going. He rolled his eyes, handing it over. As the song ended Ruby kept the energy going by putting on one of her carefully curated dance party playlists.

Killian snuck up behind Emma, hands grabbing her waist from behind. “Hi, love,” he said into her ear, laughing as she squealed from the unexpected touch

Emma turned her head back to smile at him, recognizing his thick accent. “Killian!” She laughed, clearly a little tipsy by now. Emma leaned back against him, her body still swaying with the beat of the music that somehow keeps getting louder, her ass moving fluidly against his hips. Elsa bounced away, making her way over to Ruby at the bar, leaving Emma and Killian as alone as two people could be in a crowded pub.

Killian ran his hands up her sides, entirely lost in Emma and the music. She turned around, laughing in his arms. Her hands rested on his shoulders and his found their place on her hips, pulling her close to him.

She was singing along to the music entirely off key on purpose And he laughed at her, his body moving easily with and against hers. Killing kept her tight against him. If he wasn’t working, if they weren’t in a crowded room, Emma might find her hands wandering places other than where they were playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Killian’s blue eyes locked on hers and she struggled to catch her breath. Emma’s entire body was humming in reaction to the way he looked at her and the way his hands rested possessively on her hips. Suddenly Emma crashed her lips against his, pulling him closer to her. Shocked for a brief second, Killian’s eyes shut as he kissed her back, his passion, his eagerness matching Emma’s. His arms wrapped tightly around her and the world fell away around them. Emma’s entire body was on fire as she kissed him. She kissed him like she had been waiting to kiss him her whole life. He kissed her like she could heal every broken piece of him.

Then the song changed and Killian pulled back.

“Wow” Emma breathed, finally releasing the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding for so long.

“Aye." He grinned. "I have to get back to work, love,” Killian said, a tinge of disappointment noticeable in his voice as he stepped back, putting distance between them. “To be continued.”

Emma smirked at him as she made her way back to her table. August was lost in the crowd, as was Robin. She finished off the rest of her drink before joining Elsa, who was clearly oblivious to everything other than the cute bartender in front of her. Emma bumped her with her hip playfully.

“So he’s hot .” Elsa whispered, barely loud enough for Emma to hear over the music.

“He’s not bad.” Emma smirked before confiding in her friend. “I kissed him.”

“Stop.” Elsa gasped. “Tell me everything.”

“Oi, love. I didn’t take you to be the type to kiss and tell.” She heard Killian tease. Her face went bright red. She hadn’t realized he was standing so close or that she was talking as loud as she was.

“Eh it was average.” Emma teased back, pretending to ignore him while she continued her conversation with Elsa. “He could use some practice.”

Killian raised his eyebrows at her, and leaned in towards her across the bar. “Is that a proposition, Swan?”

“Potentially.” Emma’s head was starting to spin. “I think I’m going to head home though. I have a bit of a headache.”

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Elsa asked.

“Nah it’s just a few blocks. I’ll be fine. You have fun.” Emma said. “Do you know where August and Robin went?”

“Robin left a few minutes ago with that girl from his philosophy class. I think her name was Regina?”

“Hm go Robin.”

“August’s at the other end of the bar with some guys I don’t know.”

“Ah well, I’ll let him be. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” Emma asked, pulling Elsa into a hug.

“Definitely.”

Emma grabbed her jacket, bracing herself against the cold as much as possible. Everything was spinning around her. She didn’t remember having that much to drink. Her head was killing her. She stumbled a bit. These damn shoes . She felt sick, and dizzy, and weak. She heard footsteps behind her. Her legs gave out beneath her. Someone grabbed her upper arm tightly - too tightly - to keep her upright. Emma flinched at the pain in her arm. Suddenly her body was flush against another's, someone who she didn’t recognize.

“Let go.” Emma protested as much as she could but her body was betraying her.

“Shut up,” the man snarled at her. His voice was dark and rough.

It hit Emma like an earthquake, slow and confusing at first before the earth split beneath her. It hit her that this wouldn’t end well. There were few versions of stories like this that did. As a writer, as a woman, she knew. Emma didn’t know when she started crying. The cold wind felt colder against her wet cheeks and the dread of what would come next filled every fiber of her being.

And while she wasn’t religious, a familiar prayer popped into her head, a shadow of a memory from some of the religious-based group homes she had found herself in.

Hail Mary, full of Grace

She wanted to jerk her arm out of his grip, hit him wherever she was able too. She couldn’t tell if it was the fear or something else that was paralyzing her.

The Lord is with Thee

He walked her a few steps forward, her feet dragging against the sidewalk. No. No. No. Please. Even her voice was betraying her. His grip on her arm tightened when she tried everything she could to pull away.

Blessed art thou among women

Her body was trembling yet her mind was blank. Thoughts beyond the plea to a God she didn’t believe in were unable, unwilling to form. Emma refused to think about anything beyond the time it took for one foot to be dragged in front of the other. She couldn’t remember the next line of the prayer. She skipped it. Everything was simultaneously happening too fast and too slow.

Hail Mary, Mother of God

She could barely keep her eyes open or her body standing. She had to lean against him for support. This made Emma sick to her stomach. Tears fell faster as she begged to see tomorrow.

Pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death --

“Swan! You forgot your phone!” Killian called as he ran out to catch Emma. His voice cut through the night, interrupting the final word of her petition.

“LET HER GO!” She heard Killian run towards her.

The man in the hoodie cursed when he heard Killian’s voice and ripped Emma’s necklace from her neck. “I’ll get you one day, pretty. One day you’ll really fall and I’ll be waiting,” he whispered harshly. The man tossed Emma to the ground, discarding her from his grip, before sprinting away. Her head hit the concrete sidewalk. Pain and relief and fear and disgust and guilt washed over her.

Killian was kneeling at her side in an instant. “Emma, are you okay?” His accent was thick with concern as he lifted her head off the sidewalk. Everything was still spinning. Everything was still slipping away.

She opened her wet eyes to see Killian close to her. Everything was going dark. Everything was spinning. The only thing in focus was Killian’s blue eyes. Emma felt like she was drowning and the world around her was going dark.

Even though she felt herself sinking deeper, Killian’s touch, his presence, his voice gave her the strength to allow the word she’d been wanting to scream for the past minute and a half finally escape her lips.

“Help.”

#cs ff #cs fanfiction #Without A Parachute #Captain Swan #Killian Jones #Captain Hook #emma swan #AU college #AU modern with magic

21 notes · View notes

jenroses · 4 years ago

Text

Useful adaptive stuff

So, up front, my issues include: EDS, POTS, RA, sjogren’s and a number of other issues which make me tired, dizzy and in pain a lot of the time. I’m going to list some things that help me, and other things that I’ve tried that haven’t helped me as much. YOUR MILEAGE WILL VARY but I welcome and encourage people to add to this with things that work for them. Below the cut: More comfortable computing, lightweight power wheelchairs, showers, and medication management.

First issue for me is making computers and especially typing work. Requirements: elevated legs, neutral neck position, minimal shoulder stress, neutral hand and arm positions on bad pain days.

I used to do my computing from a recliner, but it was very hard to position a laptop or monitor in a good space, even with a stand. What works better: an XL twin adjustable memory foam bed (would replace with full if I had the space) next to a wall, with a laptop mounted to the wall on an arm. The adjustable bed frame was <$400, the mattress was about the same, the wall mount was $60-70.

This all requires a USB keyboard or two. Why two? Because I can get a Logitech K360 for $20-ish most of the time, but split keyboards cost $90 or so usually. I don’t always need a split keyboard, just when I’m in a bad flare or changing meds. But two $20 wireless keyboards ON SEPARATE DONGLES will work as a split keyboard, just prop everything with enough pillows and your hands in relaxed, natural positions near your hips with each keyboard angled just right. It takes me about 5 minutes to adapt so that it’s natural to use two instead of one, but I touch type. The K360 is particularly good for “bounce and clickiness”... it’s quiet but not silent, and gives good feedback for key presses but doesn’t require a lot of pressure. They’re also pretty resiliant to dropping, kids, and liquids, though my resident product testers have managed to test a few of them to destruction. When I was using a recliner I had a bad habit of putting the keyboard behind my head and then being surprised when it rocketed off the back like a catapult and it still lasted a year or more being dropped (or flung) multiple times per day.

It also requires a good mouse. Track pads and laptop keyboards are from the devil for ergonomics. I like the Jellycomb upright mouse. It’s a natural, wrist-friendly thing to use, and does not exacerbate my wrists or hands. It works best for me on a green pillow that sits next to me on the bed. Other super useful gadget is the Logitech K480 wireless bluetooth keyboard. This is heavy enough to be stable and can act as a stand for a phone or tablet, and lets me type in my wheelchair without coping with a whole laptop. It’s sturdy, stable, and can be synced to 3 devices via a little wheel. It makes my phone an actual useful tool for Google Docs.

Second issue for me is getting out of the house

Dizziness, a tendency to fall off my feet and six different conditions with “fatigue” as a side effect had me 90% housebound even before Covid19. Insurance paid for a big power chair (magic words are “occasionally have a hard time getting to the bathroom) when I was sicker than I am right now, but I have no good way of getting a 434 pound wheelchair in and out of my minivan, which complains and acts like it has no shocks when I transport the thing the hard way (ramp, husband, tears, hypermobile party tricks are required to get the thing into my vehicle).

But 97% of the time I don’t need the heavier chair for errands, though it’s a godsend for getting out in the neighborhood and conventions. What works better for me is a lightweight folding power chair. There are a variety of these, but they all have a similar design. The batteries go in the supports of the chair. The chairs run 40-50 pounds without batteries, the batteries add about 8 pounds each. They have kick brakes in the back which can turn the chair into a manual transport chair. Even at my tiredest, I can unlock and lock the brakes, tip the front of the chair up while standing behind it, and wheel it into my minivan without a ramp, without folding it. Alone. And on bad days, whoever’s helping me to the car is usually happy to roll the thing in for me... and they’re shocked at how easy it is.

But traveling, it went easily onto the plane without getting broken, and fit in every single taxi we tried, even sedan ones, folded. Better, the one I have, the Electra HD, has a wider seat (I added my own better cushion) and a higher weight limit (400 pounds) than some models. I’ve seen this general class of chair as low as about $1800 and mine was more like $3200 because higher weight limit. This thing means I don’t have to factor in my ability to walk into whether or not I go somewhere. With a helper, I was even able to tackle the Underground in London last year, though I would not repeat “going down 7 flights to Piccadilly” with my husband and a random stranger shlepping the thing while I hobbled after it again. It’s light enough that random strangers can and will help you lift the thing in a pinch. Battery life is LONG.

A big, solid power chair is very nice if you have to be in it all the goddamn time and are only taking public transport on accessible buses. I can lie down with my big chair. But I don’t usually need to do that when going to the store or the doctor. A lightweight chair is far more essential to getting out of the goddamn house for me, a part-time wheelchair user.

Third issue is showers

I find showers exhausting and while I can take a very fast shower without losing it for the rest of the day, if I want to dye or cut my hair, I need to be in there longer than I can stand. So I sit. There are cheap, comfortable plastic bariatric shower chairs for under $30. I think mine is a Carex? Also, a shower with a handheld unit is a lot easier to get clean with. I like the kind with a dual head so that I don’t have to choose between water on my head and getting the rest of me clean. Shower chairs are something worth getting for almost anyone who ever has to shower tired, disabled or not.

Fourth issue is sorting supplements and medications

I have tried the little flip top pill minders with 7, 14 or 28 slots. I have tried jumbo versions of same. I have tried little 2x3 plastic baggies. I have tried dixie cups and then pour into the plastic baggies. I have tried the rainbow cups that screw into each other but are never around when you need them. Best solution for large numbers of supplements (the number of vitamins I take is not large compared to an average multivitamin but I can’t take multivitamins, I have to take the individual things. Which gets bulky.) For a while I was using plastic condiment cups, like people use for ketchups in restaurants that don’t use packets, but I didn’t like the idea of using plastic all the time, even if I do reuse them several times each. FabriKal Greenware has a “portion cup” that is cheap and does the trick. They’re made from plants (it’s a sugar-based polymer that requires commercial composting, but otherwise it functions like plastic without being a petrochemical.) This is good because I can make a variable number of cups (25 seems to work best at this point), filling is easy (just line ‘em up and drop things in) and the lids pop on without too much trouble, and they stack. Mot people won’t need more than a 2 oz cup. Don’t forget lids.

#Mine

7 notes · View notes

disasterdeacy · 5 years ago

Text

Forbidden Fruit Part Two

A/N: Here we go my dudes! I set myself a goal to get this out and posted by the 4th of July, so 2 days later isn’t too bad! Australia is amazing and I’m having a blast, but I’m still sorry this took a little long to get out to y’all! I might make a few more in this series, but as of right now this is the end of Forbidden Fruit! Thanks so much for reading and loving it, remember to reblog and comment, they genuinely make my whole day when I read them! Disclaimer: I do not own Lady Chatterly’s Lover by D.H. Lawrence Word Count: 7.2k Pairing: 1998!Brian May x Younger Reader Summary: The 4th of July has come to Windlesham, and Y/N is ready and fed up with Brian’s teasing. Willing to risk it all, the two mismatched lovers spend the day making their own fireworks while trying to avoid being caught. Warnings: Infidelity, Age Gap, 18+, Unsafe Use of Kitchen Furniture, Don’t Fuck Beside Food Plz, Definite FDA Violations

Brian had never seen as sight more beautiful that the one in front of him when he walked out of the patio door the next morning. Y/N was sat in the porch swing, a red sundress covering the body he’d spent the whole night dreaming of. Her hair was still a little damp from the shower he’d heard her take a few hours earlier. She was like him in that respect, last one to bed and first one to wake. The older man didn’t know if it was a normal occurrence, Y/N staying up until 4am, only to wake at 6:30, but he hoped that it wasn’t. Not because he was concerned for her health, which he was, but for much more selfish and indulgent reason. He hoped, desperately; almost pathetically, that Y/N had been kept awake with thoughts of him, just like he had been kept awake by thoughts of her. But not even in his wildest, most realistic dreams from the night before did the young woman look this beautiful. The sun hadn’t bene up for very long, only an hour tops, but the orange light was directly behind Y/N, casting her in an ethereal, seemingly heavenly light. Her arm was bent at the elbow, clenched fist supporting her head which was buried in a book. Her legs were also bent up beside her in the swing, tucked nicely under the fabric of her sundress. She just looked comfortable, relaxed.

Brian stood in the doorway, simply watching, no, admiring, the young woman in front of him. She looked so innocent, so much her age, no evidence of the actions from the night before present on her. If anyone outside of Brian had seen Y/N that morning, they’d just think that she was a beautiful, relaxed young woman...not the sexual temptress and goddess that Brian knew her to be. Y/N could feel Brian’s eyes on her, had been able to feel them since he had come out of the damn house and onto the patio. She didn’t want him to know that she knew he was watching her, she wanted to see how long it was going to take him to make a move. Brushing a damp strand of hair from her shoulder, Y/N sighs a little, adjusting herself so her legs are flat out in the swing, her dress riding up until it’s barely covering her thighs. She smiles a little into her hand when she hears Brian’s little intake of breath followed by the patio creaking a little under his feet as he makes his way to her. Only when he is standing directly in front of her does she tear her eyes away from her book, wide smile in her face as she takes in his appearance. He was dressed very similarly to how he’d looked the night before, black athletic shorts paired with a tank top of the same color.

“Good morning Mr. May, how did you sleep?” She knew exactly how he’d slept, she could hear him tossing and turning all night, much like she had. God, she just couldn’t get the image of him jerking off, his face buried in her panties, out of her head. Even if she couldn’t see it happening, she knew exactly what had happened when he’d come back down to the pool 20 minutes after she had left him, hair wet, dressed in pajama pants and a Bart Simpson t-shirt that looked vaguely familiar. The two hadn’t said another word to one another the rest of the night, Y/N electing to spend some time with Louisa and Emily, Brian locking himself in his studio, neither one wanting to risk a fumble in front of Anita or the kids. Brian laughs, moving her legs onto his lap as he takes the seat beside her, hazel eyes warm and gentle. “Morning love, would’ve slept better if you were beside me.” He leans over, pressing a kiss to her neck, his dark curls tickling the delicate skin.

Y/N almost drops her book at his actions, shock coursing through her body, mingling with excitement and arousal, creating a cocktail of moisture in between her legs. Sucking in a deep shuddering breath, just trying to steady herself, Y/N laughs gently, moving her head backwards to lay against the back of the swing, giving Brian permission to continue his ministrations. “Then why didn’t you come crawl into bed with me?” She knows its cheeky, a little bratty, and its just what Brian needed to hear based on the sigh he releases against her neck, arm moving to rest behind her, pulling her closer to him.

Picking up his head just a little, he brushes a bit of hair from her shoulder, smiling at the book in her hands.

“Read to me, if you don’t mind”

Brian’s words are as soft and gentle as his eyes, making Y/N blush harder than she had the night before. There was just something so intimate about the way he was sitting with her, arm loose around her shoulder, head nearly leaning against her’s. She couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at his eagerness, her heart fluttering like the hummingbird that had been keeping her company all morning.

“Are you sure? You might find this kind of book a little boring.” She’s teasing, knowing that the paragraph she was about to start reading was anything but boring.

His laugh mingles perfectly with the calls of a morning bird, making Y/N’s blush deepen as he places a delicate kiss to her shoulder blade, voice warm and teasing when he speaks. “If I’m not mistaken, this little book was banned for obscenity and indecency for 30 years darling…” His lips are suddenly less sweet, harder, needier… “So I sincerely doubt that this is going to be a boring read..”

He smirks into her neck, his own heart beating like a bat in a birdcage “Besides… if it means I get to hear your voice, I could listen to you read a phone book Y/N.” The way he says her name, barely a whisper, more of a plea to hear her voice than anything else. She blushes hard under his gaze and the feel of his lips on her skin, stammering a bit as she begins to read.

“His body was urgent against her, and she didn’t have the heart anymore to fight…” Her voice hitches in her throat, Brian’s teeth had decided to make an appearance as she started to read. “She saw his eyes, tense and brilliant, fierce, not loving. But her will had left her. A strange weight was on her limbs. She was giving way. She was giving up…” Brian’s hand inched its way from her knee upwards, grazing the delicate skin of her inner thigh.

“B-Brian, what are you…” Y/N trails off, voice breathless, eyes glassy with arousal. It’s not like she didn’t want this, god did she want it, but they were on his back porch, and his wife and kids, including her goddamn best friend, could just waltz out at any fucking moment… and she was pretty positive that seeing his father with his hands up his best friend’s skirt wouldn’t have the most positive impact on Jimmy. Brian chuckles into her neck, his calloused fingers dangerously close to her naked core… fuck, she really should’ve worn panties.

“I’m going to make you regret what you did last night baby girl… making me cum twice in less than 10 minutes.. giving me your soiled panties to sniff like a dirty fucking slut…” His voice is so calm, steady, and had it not been for the context of his words, Y/N would’ve thought that he was just asking what she wanted for breakfast.

“If you stop reading one more time, I’m not going to let you cum honey.. got it?” For a threat, it was whispered awfully soft and kind, but Y/N understood perfectly and just nodded her head, chest heaving, legs spreading involuntarily.

Her voice is shaky as she continues to read. “She had to lie down there under the boughs of the tree, like an animal, while he waited, standing there in his shirt and breeches, watching her with haunted eyes…” Brian’s fingers are extremely close to her dripping core now, gently running along the crease of her inner thigh. It takes everything in her body, every single ounce of self-control and restraint in her body to keep her from ceasing her reading.

“He too had bared the front part of his body and she felt his naked flesh against her as he came into her. For a moment he was still inside her, turgid there and quivering. Then as he began to move, in the sudden helpless orgasm, there awoke in her new strange thrills rippling inside her.” Brian moans at the words that Y/N was reading, how soft and weak her voice was. Fuck, she was the epitome of an angel, a creature sent to earth to bring good will to man, and based on the way his cock was training against his shorts, begging to be touched by the soft skin of Y/N’s hands.

“Rippling, rippling, rippling, like a flapping overlapping of soft flames, soft as feathers, running to points of brilliance, exquisite and melting her all molten inside. It was like bells rippling up and up to a culmination. She lay unconscious of the wild little cries she uttered at the last. But it was over too soon, too soon, and she could no longer force her own conclusion with her own activity.” Y/N squeezes her eyes shut right when Brian’s fingers finally slip inside of her sopping wet cunt, the noise obscene and completely out of place against the soft morning glow that was cast against the two. She keeps reading though, the threat of Brian not letting her cum prevalent and weighing heavily in the back of her mind.

“This was different, different. She could do nothing. She could no longer harden and grip for her own satisfaction upon him. She could only wait, wait and moan in spirit and she felt him withdrawing, withdrawing and contracting, coming to the terrible moment when he would slip out of her and be gone.” Brian can’t help but let out a hard moan against Y/N’s neck, sucking the area behind her ear as hard as he possibly could, almost as hard as her cunt was clenching down on his fingers. She felt like heaven on a Saturday morning, tight, wet, insanely hot, and unlike anything he’d ever experienced in his 51 years of living. Her legs were completely spread wide, cunt on display for the whole world to see if they so pleased. Brian had to resist the insatiable urge to drop to his knees in front of the swing and suck the juices that were running down his hand straight from the source… but he knew he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t risk Anita or any of the kids running downstairs and seeing him eating Y/N’s young right pussy.. no, he had to be smart, disciplined..

“Whilst all her womb was open and soft, and softly clamouring, like a sea anenome under the tide, clamouring for him to come in again and make fulfillment for her.” Much like Lady Chatterly herself, Y/N was close, so desperately close to cumming around Brian’s fingers, her walls clenching him like a vice, desperate to be pushed over the precipice. Yet, she never stopped reading, even when Brian’s fingers sped up, free hand moving to grope her breast through her dress, and his teeth began to nip at her jugular, she persisted.

“She clung to him unconscious in passion, and he never quite slipped from her, and she felt the soft bud of him within her stirring, and strange rhythms flushing up into her with a strange rhythmic growing motion, swelling and swelling til it filled all her cleaving consciousness, and then began again the unspeakable motion that was not really motion, but pure deepening whirlpools of sensation swirling deeper and deeper through all her tissue and consciousness, til she was one perfect concentric fluid of feeling, and she lay there crying in unconscious inarticulate cri-” She clenched tight around his fingers, book falling to the ground as her arms reached over involuntarily, wrapping themselves tight around Brian’s shoulders, mouth wide no noise escaping her throat despite the obvious throws of pleasure she was experiencing. She knew it was cliche, to say that she saw stars, that she felt her entire body constrict into itself… but she did, his fingers were still inside of her, pressing hard into her g-spot, prolonging her pleasure. Brian’s lips halted their harsh assault on the young woman’s neck, instead opting to place gentle kisses to the area, not wanting to overstimulate her too much. He couldn’t remove his fingers from inside of her if he wanted to, her muscles still clenching him tight as her upper body went limp, her head dropping to his chest, mouth open and heaving heavy sighs against his exposed armpit.

“B-Brian.. I..” Before she could even get a word in, the sound of pots and pans clanging together in the kitchen caused the two lovers to spring apart, Brian’s fingers slipping from Y/N’s cunt so fast it made her head spin. By the grace of whatever deity was looking down on them, Y/N somehow managed to fix her skirt, grab the book, and look semi presentable by the time the door opened and Emily darted out, wide smile on her face.

“Dad! Y/N! Anita wants to know what you want for breakfast.” They both breathed a sigh of relief that it was only Emily, because had it been any other member of the May family, the flushed faces, heaving chests, and general disheveled appearance of Y/N and Brian would’ve given them away. Brian just smiles, hiding his glistening hand behind Y/N’s shoulders.

“Whatever she’s making would be lovely honey, just go tell her to make sure to cut Y/N up some of that cantaloupe we bought yesterday!” Emily giggles and nods, running back inside to yell her father’s words at his girlfriend. Y/N lets out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in as soon as the door closes, dropping her book back against the patio as Brian lets out a loud rumbling laugh. She jolts at the sound before joining him, completely dumbfounded that what had just happened actually happened..

“Mr. May, I swear to god, we’re going to get caught if you’re not careful…” Her eyes are wide, full of mischief and excitement.. she loved this, the whole forbidden nature of their relationship, or whatever they could call it. The risk that they were taking was a big one, and the fear of getting caught was only making her want it more. Brian just laughs, leaning over to place a chaste kiss on her lips, hands moving to cup her cheeks. He winces a little when he realizes that his fingers are still wet with her cum, frantically pulling them away from her to try and wipe them on his shorts. “Shit, I’m sorry love, you probably don’t want that o-”

His words are cut short when Y/N reaches forward with lightning quick reflexes and grabs his wrist, pulling his soiled fingers into her mouth where she licks every single drop of herself from him, eyes never leaving his. Brian almost cums right there, watching this beautiful young woman do something that he hadn’t seen done in 30 years. He lets out a little whimper, making the young woman smile when she grazes her teeth over the long digits as she moves to stand, her free hand reaching into Brian’s shorts, squeezing his cock before turning her back and walking towards the patio door, pausing for a second to send him a teasing wink.

“Be a good boy today Mr. May…”

Breakfast passes relatively without incident, save for Y/N purposefully dropping a grape down her sundress, her eyes never leaving Brian’s as she pulled it from her bra, popping it into her mouth, allowing her fingers to run over her bottom lip as she pulled them from her mouth. Brian shifted uncomfortably in his seat, cock standing straight up in his shorts, the mesh fabric not exactly helping to keep his issue inconspicuous. It isn’t long after she takes the final bite of her cantalope that Y/N stands from her seat, smile on her face as she darts her eyes between every member of the family before landing firmly on Brian’s, mischief playing in them as she spots his crossed legs, a feeling of pride blossoming in her chest. “I’m going to go ahead and get the grill started if that’s okay Mr. May, wanna make sure that its nice and hot by the time we decide to lay everything down.” Her tone is light and polite, and to everyone else at the table might’ve seen like the innocent declaration of a young woman who just wanted to help out. However, Brian knew exactly what she wanted, could see the unspoken request in her eyes as she played with the delicate rings on her fingers. He was about to offer to come and help her, to make the excuse that he just didn’t want her to get burnt, until Emily shot out of her seat, latching herself to the older girl’s side, begging her to show her how to light the grill properly. Y//N tried to hide the disappointment on her face at the interruption, but she just slaps on a smile and wraps her arm around the younger girl’s shoulders. “Just promise you won’t stand too close to the fire okay? We don’t need you losing any eyebrows before school starts back.” Emily laughs and nods enthusiastically, pulling Y/N towards the door, not even giving her an opportunity to look back at Brian. The sight is one that makes him smile and laugh a little, Y/N was as kind and giving as she was h gorgeous, always giving his youngest daughter as much attention as she did his oldest. Jimmy laughed at the two, popping a strawberry in his mouth as he turned to his dad, eyebrows furrowing at the fond look on his face. He had noticed the way his best friend and dad interacted the afternoon before, the way his dad’s hands just couldn’t seem to leave Y’N’s waist after he pulled her from the pool, how they lingered on her back during dinner, how her eyes never left his during breakfast... hell, he would’ve been a complete dumbass if he hadn’t noticed the bright red flushed cheeks that adorned their faces when they returned from the patio that morning. The oldest May child knew that something wasn’t right, that something was going on between Brian and Y/N, but he trusted his best friend and his father, trusted them not to do something TOO scandalous. He wasn’t a naive idiot, he knew how his dad was, he knew about his proclivities, about his lifestyle. However, he also knew that Y/N wasn’t some lovestruck groupie. His best friend was smart, had a good head on her shoulders, and wouldn’t do anything that would potentially hurt herself or her friends and family. So, Jimmy keeps his mouth shut, munching on his breakfast as his dad clears his throat and pushes himself from the table. “I’m gonna go write up some emails before we start cooking.” Meanwhile, outside, Y/N and Emily were having the time of their lives lighting the grill. Anita, Louisa and Jimmy had joined them a few minutes after they’d first exited the house. Emily was currently brandishing the starter fluid, soaking the charcoal while Y/N laughed and held the matches tight to her chest. “Alright pyro, keep that up and we’re gonna blow the hot dogs into the stratosphere. The five of them stay outside for a bit longer, Y/N getting more and more restless with every second that passes. After a while, the young woman stands and announces that she’s going to head inside and start working on the ice cream, adamantly refusing any help, citing that it is a “secret family recipe”. The three May kids and Anita laugh at her antics, and wave her off, causing her to breathe a sigh of relief as she heads into the house. Making a bee line for the freezer, Y/N removes the bag of ice, cream, and milk before lying it all on the counter, dragging the machine she’d brought with her from York onto the counter beside the ingredients. Plugging in the machine, she pours all of the necessary items into the mixing cylinder, emptying the ice bag into the bucket before furrowing her brows, trying to find the rock salt that Jimmy had brought with them. Upstairs, Brian was actually genuinely trying to type up emails, however, his brain just wouldn’t allow him a moments peace, constantly showing him images of Y/N’s lust wracked body, writhing underneath him as he pounds into her tight young pussy, the noises obscene... He pushes his glasses off of his face, rubbing his hands over his eyes as he sighs. Just as he was about to say “fuck it” and pull out his already half hard cock, he hears a commotion in the kitchen and smiles. If lady luck was on his side, it would be Y/N standing in there, red sundress straps teasingly falling off of her shoulders. Pushing himself from his chair, he heads out of his office, which was conveniently located a few doors down from the kitchen, and rests his shoulder against the doorframe, cock hardening at the sight in front of him. Y/N was bent over looking in the cabinet beside oven, a noise of triumph falling from her lips as she spots the rock salt container, reaching forward to take it. Brian seizes his opportunity, moving forward before he can stop himself, arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her up into a standing position, his cock rubbing into her ass. The young woman lets out a small gasp of shock before it dissolves into one of pleasure when she realizes what was going on. “Mr. May, I-” She doesn’t even get to finish her sentence before his lips are on her neck, cock thrusting hard against her ass. “No love, no talking, not after that little show at breakfast this morning.” His voice is low, dangerous, and teasing. “Dropping grapes in your top, licking your spoon...made me get a fucking hard on right there at the table.” She lets out a breathy chuckle, proud of herself for having such an impact on him, but Brian didn’t find it funny at all. Moving his hand upwards, he grasps her throat tight, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to get her attention. “You think that’s funny do you love? Think its funny that you almost made me cum in my pants in front of Anita and the kids? God, you’re such a dirty little slut Y/N, and I’m gonna fuck you so hard today...gonna make you regret your little cheekiness..” Giving his hips one last thrust against her ass, Brian places a gentle kiss to her neck and unravels himself from her, just in time for Jimmy to come barreling through the door asking for the shrimp and veggie burgers. The grilling of the food took no time at all, with Anita, Louisa, Emily and Y/N staying inside the whole time fixing greek salad, potato salad, baked beans, mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, green beans, and so much more. Before long, everyone is sat at the table, bellies full, plates empty, wide smiles on their faces. Y/N and Jimmy were joking around about one of the archaeology professors and trying to convince Louisa to go to York so they can get a better flat. This goes on for a good hour and a half before Brian gets tired of waiting and decides to move things along a little bit. Smirking, he slides off his flip flop and moves his foot under the table to rub against Y/N’s calf, causing her to choke a little on her Rekorderlig. Jimmy claps her on the back a few times, laughing out something about her having one too many. Y/N just laughs lightly, eyes meeting Brian’s in a kind of challenge which only causes his smirk to deepen and hands to grip the sides of his chair a little hard. Darting his eyes from Y/N’s to the kitchen window, he smiles widely when she nods and stands. “Ice cream should be done by now.” Her voice was light, not at all betraying the anxiety inside her as she stood up, hands brushing off the crumbs from her sundress. “Oh, I’ll give you a hand l-“ Anita didn’t even get the words out of her mouth before Brian had risen from his chair, a small smile on his face as he made his way over to Anita, pressing his hands into her shoulders gently, keeping her in her seat. “You’ve helped make every single thing on this table today, let me give Y/N a hand.” The younger woman had to physically stop herself from moaning out loud, bringing her thumb to her mouth and biting down just enough to cause her enough pain to keep her body from reacting outwardly to the way her internal organs were physically dissolving into a mushy mess. Instead, she smiles, an innocent wide eyed look overtaking her face as she gazed over at Brian, her hands clasped in front of her. “Oh, Mr. May, you don’t have to...” Brian just smiles at her, walking around the table, standing beside her before wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “You’re our guest, and you’ve lugged a 30 pound contraption from York to Surrey, just to make us ice cream Y/N. The least I can do is help you scoop it out into bowls.” He hopes it’s not obvious to the others, the way his eyes are burning with lust, the way his adam’s apple is bobbing up and down as he attempts to swallow back the moan threatening to escape at the bead of sweat running down the valley of her breasts. And while it might not be obvious to the rest of the May family, Y/N was all too familiar with the look that Brian was giving her. It was a look which caused heat to pool between her legs and wetness to coat her inner thighs, one that made her let out a shaky chuckle before heading towards the door, wanting to get away from Anita and the kids before she pushed him to the ground and rode him in front of them. Brian caught on to her not so subtle signal, and immediately followed after, holding the door open for the young woman, hand lingering on the lock for a split second before he decides not to go for it... he would just have to be careful. Y/N immediately goes over to the ice cream machine, her bottom lip pulled tightly into her mouth, teeth digging into the plump skin. She was trying desperately to not smile or moan out in anticipation, only wanting Brian to come over and fuck her like her life depended on it. She was trying to distract herself, not wanting to seem too overly eager, like he had been. Y/N wanted Brian to come to HER to show HER how badly he wanted her, and she didn’t have to wait long. As soon as she pulled out a bowl from the cabinet, Brian’s hands were on her hips, pulling her hard against his chest, his cock digging into her backside. It was so much like what had happened a few hours earlier, but now... now the two were going to fuck and be fucked, come hell or high water. Neither one of them had enough self restraint and care to even think about what would happen if someone walked in on them, the scandal that would ensue. They only cared about one thing, and one thing alone. Brian’s cock, sliding hard and fast into Y/N’s hot cunt. “M-Mr. May! P-please, I need your cock.. Please..” She didn’t usually beg, didn’t class herself as someone who would EVER beg, however, in this moment, the man she’d been lusting over for years standing behind her, cock hard and throbbing against her backside while his entire family sat a mere 10 feet away behind a door...she was willing to get on her goddamn hands and knees and kiss his feet if that’s what it took. Brian lets out a whimper in response to Y/N’s begging, and the way her ass was grinding into him. He’d wanted this since he’d pulled her out of the pool the day before, wanted to have her in his arms like this, completely at his mercy. Bending his head just slightly, Brian latches his lips to her neck, biting, kissing, sucking, doing absolutely anything he can to leave marks and claim her as his. Because that’s what he wanted, he wanted this young, gorgeous, intelligent, incredible young woman to be his and his alone. Consequences be damned, he’d never felt so much unbridled desire to be with someone before in his life, and he was going to do whatever it takes to make sure Y/N stayed with him. “We don’t have a lot of time, certainly not enough time for me to do all the things I want to you..” He trails off, his heart leaping a little when she leans back and rests her head on his shoulder, her own lips moving to the delicate skin of his neck. “B-but I need to fuck you Y/N. I need to feel your right cunt pulsing around my cock. Fuck honey, I need this like I need fucking air, and I want to make you f-feel so good.” His words go straight to Y/N’s cunt, causing her to let out a little moan against his neck. “Then fuck me Brian, fill me up with your cum baby, wanna feel it filling me up.” She had never allowed a man to cum inside of her before, but at this point she didn’t fucking care. “Fuck honey, you can’t tell me things like that...” Bringing his shaky hands to the hem of her dress, Brian pushes it up around her waist, groaning loudly when he sees her bare ass. “No panties? Did you plan this honey? Did you fantasize about me bending you over against this counter,” To drive in his words, he presses her against the countertop, pushing her face into the cool marble. “Pushing my cock inside your tight young cunt while my children and partner sit outside and eat the food that we made especially for you..” While talking, he’s pushing down his pants, just far enough so that he can get his cock out and fuck her properly. Y/N’s hands are tightly gripping the corner of the counter, her eyes trained on the window in front of her. She could see the entire patio, the way Anita was silently eating her salad while Jimmy and Louisa threw pieces of hot dog bun at Emily. “B-Brian, they’re gonna s-see us.” Her voice wasn’t scared or timid, but breathy and full of anticipation. She wanted them to see, or at least she wanted to be able to see THEM while Brian pounded into her relentlessly. The older man just chuckles, leaning over to place a kiss on her exposed shoulder blades. “Let them see love... let them see how fucking hard I am for you Y/N.” He grips the base of his cock, slapping it hard on her exposed entrance causing both of them to groan at the feeling. “I haven’t been able to get this hard, this many times, in 5 years darling... and it’s all because of you.” He pulls her ass hard against him, groaning almost pathetically when she grinds into him eagerly, a gentle moan falling from her red bitten lips. “Please Mr. May... need t-to feel you inside of me now..” She isn’t embarrassed at how needy and wanton she sounds, loving the way her words and moans cause his cock to twitch against her. “You’re so fucking needy for me honey, so desperate for my cock.” Through gritted teeth he speaks and slowly guides himself into her hot and wet center, causing her to gasp as she feels the delicious stretch of his cock inside of her for the first, and certainly not last, time. His calloused fingertips are hard as they dig into her hips, giving him the leverage he needs so that he can thrust into her as hard and fast as they both needed She grasps hold of the windowsill, having decided that the countertop just wasn’t giving her the necessary grounding that she needed to keep up with his hips. “M-Mr. M-May, you feel so fucking good inside of me! Goddamnit, stretching me so good..” His arms come up, wrapping around her waist as he pulls her upwards until her back is firmly pressed against his chest. He can barely think straight, his cock sliding in and out of her so fast that he’s glad the ice cream maker is still going, because the sounds from their skin slapping against one another hard and fast... it would draw attention. “God, you’re bloody perfect angel... s-such a tight, b-beautiful pussy!” He moans, his pace beginning to hasten, his breath hot on her ear, his teeth nibbling gently on the lobe. Loosening one of his hand’s hold on Y/N’s waist, he lets it fall toward her pussy, his fingertips finding her clit immediately. He doesn’t waste a single second of time, his orgasm is already approaching, and he refuses to cum first. Y/N whimpers as he plays with her with one hand, the other coming up to hold her by the throat, just keeping her pressed to his chest, not wanting her to fall against the counter. His hold is gentle but firm against her throat, and she tilts her chin enough for her to place her head into the crook of his neck, but it isn’t there for long. Brian moves his hand up a bit more, grasping her chin gently, forcing her to look out of the window at his family. “You like knowing that I’m fucking you in my kitchen while my family sits outside? Look at them Y/N.. look at how happy and excited they are out there, waiting for their ice cream...” She whimpers, head trying desperately to fall back against his shoulder, but Brian won’t let that happen. “But here we are, my cock buried deep in your weeping little cunt, completely ignoring them.. god Y/N I would leave my partner if 12 years for you, to have this cunt in my life for the rest of time..” His words shock him a little, but he means them. He and Anita had been having some issues for quite some time, and this, whatever it was with his son’s best friend, just solidified the fact that his romantic relationship with her was over. Y/N is also a little shocked at his words, but the pleasure building inside her belly knocks the words she was going to say right out of her head. Instead, she rather pathetically whimpers out, “I’m almost there! B-Brian.. Please!” Her hips are moving hard, rolling to meet his own impatient thrusts. His fingers moving faster against her clit as she jerks her head from his grasp, turning around quickly and wrapping a leg around his waist, propping the other on the counter top. She knows she’s going to be sore as all fuck in the morning, but the way the angle changes sends her into an earth shattering orgasm. Brian’s eyes widen at her movements, and the way her hips never leave his, how his cock unsheathes from inside her cunt. Whimpering himself, he tightens his grasp on her waist, pulling her as close as he can against him as he pounds into her. “Cum for me Y/N, p-please honey, I wanna feel you l-let go against me..” His teeth are gently nipping at her ear as she breathlessly moans out his name, mouth falling open when he latches his lips against hers, tongue slipping in uninvited but not unwelcome. “Go on love, let go... please!” His voice is desperate against her lips, weak and pathetic. He’s so close, so painfully close to painting her walls with his cum, his fingers moving against her clit at the same breakneck speed as his hips slamming into her. She doesn’t need any other encouragement, her breath hitching in her throat as she sobs out a moan that sounds vaguely like Brian’s name, shuttering against him as he whimpers into her mouth. Feeling her clenching down like a vice on his cock, feeling the tears of pleasure run down her face, it sends Brian over the edge into the most intense and blinding orgasm he’s had in decades. His cock throbs and spurts wave after wave of white hot cum into her waiting cunt. His thrusts start to slow just slightly as the both of them ride out the high that washes over them like a goddamn cold bucket of water, his hand moving from her clit to join his other one grasping her hips. He groans and she moans into his hair as she tries catch her breath, but with his cock still moving in and out of her sensitive cunt it’s almost impossible. “B-Bri.. c-can you s-“ Before she can even get the words out, he’s slid out of her quivering cunt, causing her to let out a gasp of shock at the sudden emptiness she feels, and the abruptness at which he’s just left her. “Wh-“ She furrows her brows, but upon hearing the patio door open, her eyes widen and she hastily throws her sundress over her lap, moving to stand beside the ice cream maker, bowl in her hand as she looks over into the mixer, back turned to whoever has just entered. “Now what’s taking the two of you so long? You’ve got three very sugar deprived children outside waiting!” Anita’s voice is light and full of amusement, and Y/N sucks in a shaky breath before letting out a little laugh, not daring to turn around as she speaks. “Oh! It just needed a few more minutes to get nice and thick. Should be ready any second now!” Brian has propped himself up on the counter beside Y/N and the ice cream maker, elbows propped up against his knees in an attempt to disguise the still half hard cock he had just managed to get back into his shorts when Anita had opened the door. God, he was eternally grateful for looking out the window when he did. “You go on back out and we’ll take care of the sweets doll.” His tone is light and not at all betraying the actions he’d just been involved in not even 30 seconds earlier. Anita smiles at them and nods her head, heading back out the door, telling Emily, Jimmy and Louisa that it would just be a couple more minutes. The sound of the door closing causes Y/N and Brian to both let out loud sighs of relief, the two lover’s eyes meeting for a second before they dissolve into a fit of laughter. Brian hops off the counter, wrapping his arms around the younger woman, his head resting against her shoulder as she threads her hands through his hair. Y/N couldn’t believe that she’d just done that... that she had fucked Brian May, her best friend’s father, against the counter in his goddamn kitchen while his partner and children ate basically in the next room. “Jesus fuck Brian, that was too close for comfort.” Her words are a bit shaky, the gravity of the situation crashing down on her. She didn’t want to ruin a family, and she certainly didn’t want to lose Jimmy, but... whatever she was feeling for Brian was more than just lust, and she knew that. Plus, what he had said to her about leaving Anita.. that was probably just heat of the moment words, but she couldn’t help but think otherwise.. Brian laughs lightly, sitting up just enough to look into her eyes. “We’ll just have to be more careful next time then won’t we..” He brushes his hand through her hair, eyes gentle, a small smile on his face when he sees the shock on her face. “N-next time?” Her brows furrow, butterflies erupting in her stomach at the possibility that he wanted the same thing she did... to keep this going for as long as possible. Leaning down, Brian places a deep and finalizing kiss to Y/N’s lips, his hands cupping her cheeks, her’s moving up to hold his gently. The kiss said more than he ever could, that he wanted this, wanted her, it confirmed to Y/N that she was getting into something bigger than herself, and that she was about to enter into a world of insanity and secrecy. She couldn’t wait. Brian pulls away from her just a little, smiling as he rakes his eyes over her figure, taking in a shuttering breath when he sees the white liquid that he’d squirted into her a few moments earlier, running down her leg. Dropping to his knees without a second thought while Y/N begins to scoop the ice cream into bowls, Brian licks a stripe from her calf up to her cunt, sucking up every single drop of his cum that had managed to escape her pussy. Y/N is completely unprepared for the sudden feeling of his mouth against her sensitive cunt, moaning lightly as he cleans her. Placing a delicate kiss to her clit, he pulls away after he was certain that she was as clean as she could possibly be, aka clean enough that she wouldn’t drip in front of the kids or Anita. Brian drops a kiss to her nose before turning to the ice cream bowls on the counter, taking a bite of the creamy frozen vanilla treat, moaning at the taste, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s lust blown ones. Smirking, he takes 4 of the bowls from the counter, leaning in to drop a kiss to her lips before moving to whisper in her ear.

“You’re sweeter.”

Tags: @meddows-taylors @doubledeaky @toomuchlove-willkillyou @rogerina-deacon @leah-halliwell92 @goodoldfashioned-rogerboy @brianmayoucease @rogertaylors-lipgloss @mariekuuuuuh @unofficialbillnye @stephydearestxo @danamaleksworld @dereones98 @glasgowkisschelseasmile @awkwardangelshezza @bellamy1998 @psychosupernatural @warren-lauren @womanwithahotdogstand @oujiacallme @simonedk @ellywritesfics @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @sam-mercurry-sixx @toomuchtellyneck @asgardianvamp21 @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @amore-libre @marvelstuck @softboydeacon @a-queen-on-her-throne @horrorsinwonderland @roger-bang-the-drum @frannyxc @mrsmazzellotaylor @reedusteinrambles @drowseoftaylor

#brian may x reader #brian may #queen #bohemian rhapsody #1998 Brian May #my writing #brian may x you #brian may x oc #series #brian may fanfiction #queen x you #brian may imagine #queen x reader #queen imagine

258 notes · View notes