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ennoshawty · 3 years

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HQ CAPTAINS AS THINGS

i was bored and felt like doing a crackfic thing but i didn’t have any solid themes or good ideas

SO I PRESENT TO YOU - THE CAPTAINS. AS THINGS. IDK HOW TO WORD THIS BUT YOU’LL SEE AS WE GO ALONG.

warnings: VERY LONG, slandering a crybaby oikawa (lovingly), mentions f!reader, shitposting, mentions of violence in kita's, (a bit) yandere!kita, cursing, unedited, me being an idiot

officer!daichi

we are: vigilante/troublemaker

loving the enemies-to-lovers trope so much

nah bro you ain’t full criminal (bc my preppy ass could never) you just do the small vandalism things y’know like drawing peepees on government buildings and knocking over bins

u literally confessed to him by spraypainting the entire billboard by his workplace “I LIKE YOU” like way to go girl

He didn’t appreciate the creative graffiti but he rlly likes u so all u had to do was clean it and then next thing u know yall are out on a cute cafe date

but let’s talk about before yall got together

he’d CHASE u thru alleyways when he’d catch you writing “police sux” on the fuckin wall

bro is NOT AT ALL afraid to jump onto the roofs it’s FRIGHTENING to see this huge ass police officer storm after u

HES SO FAST HOT DAMN WOMAN HOW DO U GET AWAY FROM HIM??? USAIN BOLT WHOMST???

you’d almost always get away by a hair - he’s SO SO close

and it frustrates him but excites u oooooo arrest me shawty

and this would continue for a while

but yall have such fun fun banter - you’d tease him and he’d say something back and you’d bolt and he’d chase

some days he’d catch you. but in those times u slip away somehow

he’s having so much fun and doesn’t even know it

and then at one point he doesn’t even care about bringing u to justice anymore. he knows it’s bad for business and it’s unprofessional but he’s so attracted to u

he doesn’t even know it. HES IN DENIAL!!! his mind: “oh i’m just asking about her so that i know her motives” bruh no u just asked about our fav pastry this aint about crime anymore

and when he finally gets it,,,DINGDINGDINGDING SOUND THE ALARMS !!! MAN IS WHIPPED!! he’s more shy around u awww,,,doesn’t even want to chase u anymore but he will still engage in banter w u.

yall get a little peace treaty in the lil crush stage - you both are kinda aware of ur feelings towards each other but don't really wanna mess it up and jeopardize whatever's going on like bros PLEASE JUST KISS ITS INFURIATING

it’s more of a competition to see who will break the other first (and you lost he’s too hot)

he lets u joyride his cop car in an empty parking lot <3 he is the one <3 this is true love

u gotta marry him right now bro no excuses

u are no longer on the crime side of the law,,,u support him and only him fuck the rest of the cops (i’m jk of course...or am i)

u are his badass sidekick <3 unofficially of course until he marries u

u help him with the small things like helping lost children find their parents and helping old ladies cross the street

but you want to do the FUN stuff - chasing thieves and arresting drunkards.

unfortunately, he loves u too much to put u in danger so he keeps u from doing the dangerous things

after some protesting later, he trusts u to take care of urself. and now yall have a competition just like old times - whoever catches the most baddies at the end of the month wins (he WILL scold u if ur too reckless though)

THE TWO OF U ARE JUST GOOD COP BAD COP UHAHAHAHAHAHA

but it’s much more complicated than that - it’s either ur the laidback one and he’s the strict one or ur the fiery one and he’s the person like “calm down”

PLEASE HE HATES BRINGING U TO INTERROGATIONS he’s trying to be serious but you keep making him laugh istg he has to kick u out each time

u still make him laugh when u pout-glare at him thru the glass

bro says he’s not the stereotypical cop but the moment u surprise him with donuts and coffee in the morning he will make out w u right then and there

even though yall dating he still won’t let u play with his equipment

but sometimes u grab his walkie talkie when he’s not looking and prank call the others

and his coworkers know by now they’re like “oh it’s daichis gf” and go along with it HAHAHAHA “this is alpha 1, daichi just contracted ligma, over.” “roger, but what’s ligma? over.” “*inhale* LIGMA-” *daichi takes the walkie talkie back*

his coworkers are chill lmaoooo they love u two as a couple THEY ARE VERY SUPPORTIVE they planned a surprise anniversary party of when u joined the force (unofficially)

the juniors tanaka and noya are jelly ooooo but they respect their captain <3

u loooooove hanging out w the starry-eyed new recruit hinata and he’s bouncing around asking u personal questions “how did you date the commander!!! what’s he like as a bf??” he also accidentally exposes how much daichi talks about u in the office before he drags him away and murders him off camera

he does get u a walkie talkie that’s just connected to his line, tho. for emergencies. it’s ur second phone basically that only has his number in it

daichi LOVES it when u massage him after he’s had a long day but his shoulders are stiff as a statue,,,he’s also super stronk and can carry u anywhere <333

IMAGINE HE HAS A POLICE DOG - he doesn’t, but he’ll get one of his buddies to bring u a k9 unit so u can pet it and when he sees how happy u are he considers getting one PLSSS IT WOULD FIT HIM HELPPP

bro is VERY strict on safety. bulletproof glass in yalls house. alarms + cameras everywhere. trackers on every device. underground bunker. (just kidding lol)

daichi teaches u self-defense and gets u a bejeweled taser for ur bday <333 MARRY THIS MAN RIGHT NOW OR I’LL-

in other words i love daichi and he is husband material WIFE ME UP BUDDY

househusband!oikawa

we are: girlboss sugar mommy

somehow you tamed this bish to becoming your obedient malewife

and by obedient i mean whiny but compliant

IS MORE ATTACHED TO YOUR BLACK CARD THAN TO YOU. I SAID IT. THE TRUTH.

sure, he’s pretty and gives affection sometimes but the only time he’s bein cute and snuggly w u is when a new fendi purse came out and he wants it

his specialty is cooking but he’s so lazy he’s all “just get the maid to do it”

please give ur workers a raise he’s so demanding

when you take him to ur business parties hes ALWAYS bragging about you and ur large house with this and that and his favorite: indoor hot tub. he always brings up the indoor hot tub.

only reason you bring him is cuz he’s pretty and he whines when you leave him alone for too long

yall cant even stay for too long - he’ll practically drag u out of the building and whining that it’s too hot and his suit is too stuffy and to call a limo

he’s not afraid to embarrass u if u dont give him what he wants and he will spit out food at a formal dinner if its not to his liking

probably in competition w househusbands! makki and mattsun about who gets the best house so he’s constantly begging u for an extension to the house “please babe!!! makki has-” “no.”

8/10 times throws tantrums in public and 1465/10 times throws tantrums in the house

he wants to cry for the sake of crying. one time he lost his shirt and he wouldn’t stop bawling for 15 min

please find him a hobby

crybaby . the moment u give him the glare of death it’s over. but he’s got a cute crying face which makes up for his annoying whimpering

like he made the mistake of throwing a temper tantrum in the mall only for you to glare at him with a look that said “we’re discussing this when we get home and you’re gonna get your ass beat” and walk away. immediately stopped what he was doing and he was running after u, sniffling and mumbling apologies

please humble him and have him sleep outside. the couch is too luxurious to banish him to. he made sure of it himself. it’s reclining and has charging ports. he will not learn his lesson that way

does NOT want you to get a pet or a kid or even another sugar baby/househusband - he wants to be the center of ur attention

speaking of which he HATES it when you work for too long or work overseas. when u come back he’ll pout at u and give u the petty silent treatment

don’t bother trying to comfort him he thrives off of it and he’ll keep going so u can keep paying attention to him. if u just ignore him back he’ll come crawling back to u. “WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME IGNORING YOU?? DO YOU EVEN LOVE ME ANYMORE???”

one time yall got into a fight and he was all like “since ur being a rude mommy i’ll just find someone else !!!” inside u were like “oh god finally” but instead u said “okay”

ohmygod he panicked. he was rlly expecting for u to fight for him,,, but he doesn’t want to admit defeat first so he tries to go thru with it but you literally dont care. even when he has his chanel luggage packed and he’s standing by the door ur just like “ok bye bitch”

So he’s trying to stand by the door and wait for u to say that ur joking. ur not.

“fine! I’m leaving now!” “okay.” “...*sniffles*” “tooru, go.” “WAAAAH NO IM SORRY I DONT WANT TO-”

u knew this was going to happen sadly. u even hid the keys to all of the sports cars u own just in case he was actually going to go thru with it

tries to get in the gossip circle with the neighborhood trophy wives but they don’t think he’s cool enough. they like u though. they think ur hot asf and oikawa doesn’t like them no more bc theyre hitting on his ATM. but thanks to that u know all the gossip and shit even though u don’t ask for it

Every time u pass by a store where he thinks he wants something he’ll just cling to u and give the puppy dog eyes. like it could be out of nowhere and u see it and you’re like “where. which store.”

bro once he went luxury he never went back. he wouldn’t EVER step foot into a grocery store ever again congrats he’s been bimbo-ified

beat him with ur gucci belt pls it’s so funny

also please please PLEASE discipline him. tell him it’s NOT okay to just randomly purchase the entire swarovski store or to throw a party at ur house just bc he’s feeling petty about u being at work for too long. ofc he’ll bitch about it but you need to be firm

but don’t worry,,,he’ll get the idea when u take away black card privileges and slap him around (lovingly)

now he has to ask permission like a good boy. he’ll kneel and hug u and give a lil pout and whine

you got a bigass man child i’m sorry maam u should’ve picked tobio or ushi

ceo!kuroo

we are: secretary

bruh keeps it mostly professional during work hours

but that all gets shedded off like a snake when we on break

one minute he’s all “get these papers done by today or i swear on all that is holy i will destroy you” and then later he’s all “hey sweetheart wanna grab a cup of coffee”

flirty flirty FLIRTY FLIRTY AAAAA HES A MENACE

but you’re less than impressed bc y’know when the time clocks out and its time to go back to work he’s ruthless once more

HUMBLE HIM FOOL only when you’re on break though

will NOT stand for anyone else in the workplace bullyin u - NO WAY. only HIM

he’s got TONS and TONS of dirt on everyone in the office - NO ONE is safe so they wouldn’t even dare

RIP janet from accounting

that dumb bitch made the mistake of insulting u to ur face and in front of him. never heard from her again

it’s not even limited to the other employees - he’s not afraid to go off on a potential business partner if they dared disrespect you

bruh tries to call u on ur off days for the most randomest shit and to get ur attention

*picks up phone* “sir?” “ah! my favorite secretary ever! listen, i need you to grab my pens from my desk at the office and bring them to my place.” “...with all due respect, it’s 2 am, sir.”

but u have to comply with his ridiculous demands cuz he’s the bank

and he depends on u completely. as much as he hates to admit it - u have his schedules, itinerary, provide coffee, performance rates, stock info, you name it.

once u were out sick and he had the worst management - he’s not used to working without you

def tries to get some of ur workload off of u bc he’s worried that the stress of working for him made u sick + he doesn’t want to go thru scheduling again

prolly gets bored in meeting rooms and sends u little smirks and wiggles his eyebrows and weird looks while he’s sitting and ur standing in the corner like bruh pay attention

maybe sometimes he’s secretly makin fun of the presenter and doodling on his spare sticky note something funny to make u crack a smile

he’ll tease u for it of course “oh, secretary! you should be paying more attention! what would you do if this was important?” bruh i can multitask now keep airdropping me ur selfies i’m saving all of them (news flash: u dont save his dumbass selfies otherwise his ego will inflate too much)

sometimes likes to pull u aside from work to hug u - you say it’s highly unprofessional but he says it’s his stress reliever

you ALMOST got caught by one of the newbies and he was kabedon-ing you

he tries to play it off (since u were embarrassed too) but u know better,,,DO NOT LET HIM FORGET ABOUT IT he turns red and embarrassed every single time USE THIS TO UR ADVANTAGE !!

never goes into an elevator without you bruh is so attached to u n holds the doors open for you

but you have to open normal doors for him if he doesn’t know how it works (hint: manual doors. “why isn’t it opening on its own?” “sir, there’s a handle.” “but?? what does it do??”)

bruh acts like a dumbass sometimes so you can baby him :/// wtf man just because you’re rich doesn’t mean i’ll- ...wait...how much did you say…? that many zeros? HAND ME THAT FORK YES I’LL FEED YOU COME HERE- HERE COMES THE AIRPLANE BITCH

brings u to overseas trips and he spoils u too

no matter how much you insist that you’re ok he gives u a lot of luxurious items. “think of it as a bonus from me.” NOW YOU JUST HAVE A COLLECTION OF NICE SHOES/BAGS/JEWELRY AND HE LOVES IT WHEN YOU WEAR THEM TO WORK IT MAKES HIM SO HAPPY UGHHHHH

BRUH just a sugar daddy at this point “you have to look presentable for the next focus group so here’s a nice rolex watch” “sir, i don’t need-” “ah ah ah - it’s my treat.”

it’s pointless to refuse him but he still teases u for it like what???? “if i didn’t know any better, secretary, i’d say you’re just doing it for my money and not my fabulous looks and personality.” “exactly.” “hey!”

yall go for drinking parties a lot. whether with the whole branch or just the two of u

KARAOKE W KUROO AFTER A LONG DAY OF WORK <333 becomes a ritual between the two of u

he’s so silly when he’s drunk lmfaoooo goofy ass mf

but that’s only when it’s the two of u. he controls his alcohol around others and his uncool side is only for u <3

also ur the only one he trusts to take him back to his place and handle him

it’s the other way around too - when u drink a lot he looks after you <333

you have a higher tolerance than him and sometimes u have competitions between the two of u on who can drink more but then yall always end up shitfaced

HES the one who has a crush on you

you know the drill - gaslight gatekeep girlboss

he’ll do anything for u but wouldn’t ever admit it he simp

offers u the keys to his estate and offers for you to LIVE with him

bruh just marry me already ok WAIT WE’RE NOT EVEN DATING YOU NEED TO WORK ON THAT SIR-

he’s so awkward tryna confess to u,,,he may be this big hotshot ceo but he’s acting like a schoolgirl in love

probably prints u a confession when he asks u to go to the fax machine lmfao what a nerd

in other words ceo!kuroo is a nerd and you need to top him immediately get that bank

dog hybrid!bokuto

we are: owner

Husky-malamute breed!!! BEEG DOGGIE VERY HAPPY N DROOLY <333

OVERLY HYPER. JUMPS ON ANYONE AND U AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT

he’s well trained i swear but the moment he sees something of interest then i’m sorry you just lost him

please if a robber came in he wouldn’t even attack them he’d just tackle them w hugs

he loves loves loves snuggles <333 u busy? nope!!! hug time!!! cooking something?? oo lemme see!!! whoops look at all those tomatos on the ground. u got a deadline coming up and u really need to focus?? CUDDLE TIIIIIIME- w-wait - huh?? why are u shoving me off?? do you - do you not - huh?!?! WHY ARE YOU LOCKING ME OUT OF THE ROOM?? NO!!!! I LOVE YOU!!! IDK WHAT EXAMS ARE BUT I WANT CUDDLES!!! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME????!!!

the WORST things u could ever do to him is leave him and call him a bad boy

HE CRIES ON THE SPOT </3 HOW COULD YOU </3

soso bummed when u go out of the house without him </333 waits by the door patiently waiting for u to come back </333 sob sob

the moment he hears the door unlock he LEAPS and his tail is wagging like CRAZY

he is SO STRONG. almost always knocks u over whenever he jumps on u

destroys EVERY toy u bring him. u leave him for 5 seconds and there’s stuffing all over the floor and whatever u brought him is nonexistent

tugs on the leash when u walk so much that it SNAPS

loves romping w the other dogs in the dog park but he needs to tone down on his friendliness he almost killed a lil orange chihuahua

gets distracted by EVERYTHING. ooh, squirrel! oo, butterfly! OOO HUMAN CHILD!! MUST EAT!!!

ok while he might be friendly, he still gets super super jealous. you both were outside and u were petting the neighborhood black cat and bruh almost swallowed his head

which u thought was weird bc the two are normally friends and are pretty nice around each other

so now he’s more feisty around him and any other cat that’d get ur attention

If it was a person, then that’s another thing. He’d be very friendly at first but then slowly realize that ur attention is more directed on them than him. then he’d go ballistic

but when u scold him for practically assaulting the poor dude and call him a bad boy,,,he’s lost it

u have to lock him in the other room and he’s crying and whimpering, scratching at the door. all he wanted to do was protect u from that bad bad man who took away his owner’s attention !!!

def snarls at the dude next time he comes into ur house/apartment...dude never came back

“GRRR” “AAAA GET UR FRIGGIN DOG B-” “he don bite” YES IT DO GET UR-”

doggie bokuto rlly tries to be slick...it doesn’t work. like he tries to do that thing when he’s a total demon towards the guy but then act like an angel around u but it doesnt work bc he’s not smooth

doggie intelligence: 2 IQ. one time u got him a puzzle box and hid a treat in it but bruh couldnt figure it out just straight up monched the entire puzzle simply bc he smelled his fav bbq treat in it

speaking of intelligence - he only knows how to say a few words like ur name and incomplete sentences. speaks in barks and whines and sometimes a word

SO BIG THAT HE GRABS FOOD FROM THE TABLE WHEN YOU’RE NOT LOOKING

u had some delicious beef steak? oh dear, where did it go? there’s ur puppy kou with steak sauce all over his lips

big fan of hiking trips, sports, literally anything that involves going out

he LOVES getting dirty outside playing. boi cant control himself from rolling around in the mud

hates baths at first but then he likes how u spray the water on him and giggles awww he likes bath time now

we all know he’s not the brightest pup of the pack but,,,he’s somehow psychic. he knows when ur taking him to the vet

HE THROWS A BIG FUSS ALL THE TIME - sometimes he tries to hide but his huge tail under the couch gives it away

and he knows when ur thinking of taking him on a walk. he also begs u to take him outside by settling his head in ur lap and pouting until u give him what he wants

he likes the big ol doggie sweaters/pjs u buy him...but he always ruins them. no matter how much u buy him, they’re all ruined. he complains how scratchy it is and it feels weird on him

knows LOTS of tricks but if u teach him more than what he already knows he will forget one of them he’s like a damn pokemon

he feels ur emotions :((( if ur mood is down his tail droops :(( and he gives u cuddles and tries to make u feel better

he even likes to make a fool out of himself and be silly if it makes u laugh :((( he’s so precious

in other words i love doggy bokuto

pirate!ushijima

we are: kidnapped

ah yes we’re are captives of the most fearsome pirates of the seas: shiratorizawa

just so you know, tendou was the instigator. he was all “let’s kidnap a noble’s kid and get the ransom money!” (whether you actually are a noble or not is up to you)

thing is, nobody’s willing to pay (if you aren’t a noble) or the pirates really pissed off the folks in charge and are now doing a manhunt

so yeah you aren’t going back anytime soon

but he’s a pretty good sport about it - very hospitable

he notices the little things u like and gets them for u <333 sighs <333

he saw you reading that book? wow look at that, there’s suddenly a stack of them and the same genre he saw you reading

but you definitely shouldn’t test him. he’s SUPER scary when it comes down to it

you saw how ruthless he was with the rogues that had dared to challenge him on sea

mf made them walk the plank

you help on the ship bc u wanna be useful and also shirabu keeps being mean

he asks u to teach the crew how to read cuz theyre dumb as shit and only know water and treasure

speaking of treasure - when he leaves u on the ship to explore a cave, he gets u really pretty jewelry <33 anything u ask for

“oh, welcome back captain. how was your mission?” “i brought back a few trinkets i thought you might like.” *reveals whole chest of priceless gems* “are they to your liking? if not, we can set sail for something else that might interest you.” “I-”

bruh got a pet eagle - u ask the crew and they dont even know how tf it happened

hell, even he doesn’t know how it happened wtf. “oh. one day it flew down to me and i fed it. that’s all.” wtf

equivalent to diluc’s bird - he didn’t even give it a name so he gives u the honors

U name him rigatoni (you got a great naming sense btw)

oh my god oh my god oh my god HE TRIES TO PROTECT U WHEN PPL WERE TRYNA INVADE THE SHIP

it was the first thing he did no cap - burst into ur room and scoops u up <33333

“what the-” “we need to get you to safety. we are under attack.” and holds u close to his chest AAAHSIDHFPSDHFN OH MY LORD YES

HAS THE TEAM GIVE U SELF DEFENSE LESSONS AFTER THAT

tendou tries to give u a sword but ushi says no “she could hurt herself.”

“but ushiwaka! we can teach her not to hurt herself” “...it’s my orders.” “c’mon, be more honest, ushiwaka! what’s the real reason?”

he goes quiet then looks at u “...i’ll always be there to help. she’ll have me.” AOISHSDHFSNDF

HELPPPPP SIOJFDSKFJP HES SO CHARMING AND HE DOESNT EVEN TRY

but the rest of the crew are like “then what’s the point”

but tendou sneaks u a dagger just to be safe

sorry ur apart of the crew now - but they’re like a family even if they did kidnap u

oh whatever your life before wasn’t as cool as this (no offense)

they are given orders to protect u at all costs

speaking of which - ushi isn’t all that great w guns

almost blew his own head off tryna figure out how it works before reon snatched it from him

he brings you with him to towns and cities and he likes taking u to the markets to get you stuff

ushijima tell me your love language is gift-giving without telling me your love language is gift-giving-

he finds out you’re pretty good at bargaining and brings you onshore a lot more

is mesmerized at how you absolutely BERATE the merchant who was tryna rip you off like sis where is this violence coming from??? he loves it??

he also likes to stop by some pretty islands and imagines just settling down in such a nice place w you <333 SIGHS <333 VERY <333 LOUDLY <333

no matter how much he likes you...he will NOT let you drive the boat under any circumstances </3 its his livelihood c’mon man

whenever you have to stay on the ship while he’s away he sends rigatoni to give messages and the two of u talk thru messages

speaking of which rigatoni is fierce and can definitely sink his talons and his sharp beak into any bastard that dares get near you while the captain is away

wakatoshi “swimming is for pussies” ushijima - he’s water resistant

bruh so powerful he walks on water

second coming of christ who

IM JUST KIDDING he does swim but we hardly ever see it

legends say (tendou says) he looks rlly awkward doing it and only knows how to doggie paddle

speaking of our homeboy tendou - he loooves spooking the team (and especially you) with scary stories . don’t worry tho - this is all a ploy to get the beeg pirate husband to comfort u at night ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) he is ur wingman u can count on him. but his suggestions are ridiculous

“Jump off the deck and see if he’ll catch you!” um excuse me- THOU SHALT NOT PUT BIG HUSBAND TO THE TEST

he’s got good intentions...i think…

but everyone literally knows he would dive after you

in other words pirate!ushijima is a softie at heart but goddamn he probably secretly has a pet shark so dont test him or u goin overboard

mafia leader!kita

we are: associate from different group/family

kita highly respects u and yall have been acquainted since u were young with the alliance of ur families

so in a way ur childhood friends but yall do have lil bit of friendly rivalry a bit

arranged marriage whuuuutttt...yeah thats what happened but u love him <3

nobody else knows about ur arranged marriage but you two

POLITE GENTLEMAN <333 !!! HNNNNNNNN his granny raised him right even tho he’s a mafia leader

RICH BOY RICH BOY RICH BOY- ALWAYS DRESSES DASHINGLY AND SMELLS GREAT MMMMMM

he owns the majority of the underground casinos

and has lots of connections with others. countless, might i add.

you on the other hand specialize as an arms dealer so he cherishes your services the most

prob has the traditional tattoos allllll over his back and shoulders w like a dragon or sm and def a fox or kitsune

when u two were little he asked ur favorite flower and GOT THAT TATTOOED ON HIS BACK <3 probably secretly has your initials hidden in there somewhere

u both have a silent understanding of each other and he talks to u more than he does anyone

before he used to smoke but once he figured out that you didn’t like the smell of cigarettes he quit just like that

his underlings, the miya twins are so confused on how kita switches from totally brutal and ruthless to so soft around u

they can’t tease him for it, though, cuz he’d pulverize them

but they want to know more about u,,,you mysterious enigma,,,but kita would kill them if they dared asked about you

so they go to inarizaki’s most secretive informant/cyber mercenary, suna rintarou

and suna knows all about you. he saw you one time and he was curious about who you were and is now rlly scared of you because he dug too deep and you’ve got LOTS of history

he doesn’t dare tell the twins what he found no matter how much they bug him

until they bribe him at just the right price

and when aran finds out and tells kita?? ohhh boy it’s lights out for all three of them

oh my god ,,, would kill for u he loves u so much

one time you were kidnapped and held hostage

bro saw red

MAFIA ANNIHILATION SPEEDRUN ANY % NO GLITCH

he got world record time

wiped out the entire conglomerate behind it - nothing and nobody left behind after that

and of course, made sure you were safe.

yandere? ofc not...i mean...just look at him...so innocent...he would never...sharpening that knife...with splattered blood all over him...

is now joined at the hip with u,,,no matter how much you tell him you’ll be fine now and that you have tons of reliable bodyguards he won’t let it go

“don’t you have to go back to your place?” “this is my duty as both a fellow associate and your future husband.” aww,,,ur so sweet...but BRUH PLEASE GO HOME ARAN IS DOING EVERYTHING OVER THERE

makes sure to build a headquarters DIRECTLY NEXT TO YOURS so that its faster

and it’s not long until he just signs a deal to merge ur factions together (since yall getting married anyways)

and oh my god...ur underground wedding is SO SO PRETTY

absolutely DOESN’T care if he’s smuggling jewels from different countries - he’s having your ring CUSTOM MADE and the way you want it. “the diamond is too small? sure thing, darling, i’ll have it 7 times that size.”

makes sure everything is perfect in ur wedding <333 its very extravagant and even though its not really his style he’ll do anything for you

he absolutely WOULD take your last name if you wanted. FIGHT ME ON THIS

takes you to his private island for ur honeymoon so that the two of you don’t have to worry about work

meanwhile aran is scrambling around the place trying to cover for the both of you

he’s a VERY romantic husband - NEVER takes off his ring even for security. he says its practically a part of him just like you are <3

the ring has a built in tracker connected to an app. possessive? noooo...

in other words this escalated pretty quickly but i aint complaining if it gets me married to kita

--EXTRA EXTRA!! other characters’ roles!!--

officer!daichi:

karasuno squadron consists of:

cops: daichi (duh), asahi (mostly patrol, he hates confrontation), tanaka & noya (mostly accompanied by ennoshita), hinata & kageyama

investigators/detectives: sugawara, ennoshita, yamaguchi, tsukishima, kiyoko, yachi

surveillance: narita, kinoshita, tsukishima too

househusband!oikawa:

makki and mattsun are also househusbands

iwaizumi is a malewife fhasodjkasdhf-

ceo!kuroo:

lev is the newbie that walked in on u two-

janet still a bitch

kenma is his fellow ceo buddy. he also owns a multimillion dollar company and kuroo’s and his have a sort-of contract so you see him a lot in meetings

yaku is like one of the top performing managers so whenever yall have branch meetings he’s there

dog hybrid!bokuto:

kuroo is the black neighborhood cat bokuto almost murdered cough cough i did that on purpose yes i did

kenma is also another neighborhood cat. you don’t see him around that often but now that bokuto got jealous he stays far away.

hinata is the orange chihuahua i briefly mentioned

i couldn’t decide whether akaashi would stay human and be his previous owner or also be a cat/dog/owl. so lets say he’s ur human friend that is your bestie and comes over a lot. bokuto likes him, though. still gets jealous a bit.

pirate!ushijima:

tendou is practically is right hand man

the rest of the team have something to give idk how to explain pirate team members okay-

BUT BUT BUT- they do have sea rivals which are the seijoh pirates. you ran into them one day and oikawa thought you were kidnapped (you were, but you liked it there) so he tried to do you justice and failed miserably. ushijima ragdolled him into the ocean when he flirted w you.

mafia!kita:

the twins are something akin to mercenaries basically. or just plain lackeys.

suna is an informant/cyber mercenary. he gathers information about ppl which is how he knew about you. and he’s a hacker lol.

aran is his second-in-command, omimi + ginjima are his bodyguards

a/n: im going to regret posting this

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu captains #daichi sawamura #oikawa toru #kuroo tetsuro #kita shinsuke #ushijima wakatoshi #bokuto kotaro #x reader

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fumingspice · 4 years

Text

All The Things She Said

Pairing: Lana Winters x Reader

Request: student x teacher au fic with lana, billie or cordelia?

Note: Added in a little sparkle with a soulmate AU. Those who are lucky enough to have a soulmate are assigned a necklace with a small pendant. No one knows where they come from or how they’re decided; they just appear and will match your soulmate’s identically. Also, yes the reader is eighteen, and yes there will probably be a part two.

Requests are open!

Your routine was like clock-work; every morning without fail. 5am you would get out of bed and go on a run. There was no reason, really. You weren't someone who was that interested in athletics, it was just a way to clear your mind and wake up your mind and body before going to school and having the energy sucked out of you.

You adored the way the sky looked this early in the morning as you ran through the country park. The heat gave you an extra kick of gratification as you watched the sky dance in colours of orange and pink, painting everything in shades of gold. The sun crept through the mountain like liquid glory and you couldn't get enough of it.

Realising the time, you made your way back to your neighbourhood, waving at neighbours you often saw at this time of morning.

You saw many of the same people on morning runs that you eventually learned by name while running past them, shouting a greeting and waving as you sped past them. This morning, you noticed that the home a few lots down from your own had been purchased; the new inhabitents were outside, speaking with a contractor.

As you ran, you noticed the woman watching you. Breaking your glance, you made a mental note to introduce yourself later.

The shower couldn't come soon enough as you lathered the cool water on your body. Cold showers after a run provided that little extra adrenaline rush that you needed to get you through the day, and boy would you need it today.

After months of persuasion, you had finally given in to skipping the end of school and heading to a gay bar with your friends Emmett and Heather. Being the model student you were, you had declined the offer time and time again; but after catching your boyfriend with another girl and the subsequent break up of one of the most liked couples in school, you decided that now would be the best time for it.

The school day rushed in and at 12pm on the dot, you and Emmett made your way to Heather's car, where she sat impatiently tapping her foot.

"You two took your sweet time," the blonde muttered, pulling on a pair of sunglasses and revving up the engine.

The plan was simple; Heather's parents were out of town for the week so the three of you planned to stay over. Today would be spent getting ready and having a few drinks before hitting the bar in order for you to have a "drink in celebration" for breaking up with your ex-boyfriend.

The bar was lively, and you could smell the mixture of cheap cigarettes, alcohol and weed and hear the music from the street behind. Emmett compared the similarity of the three of you strutting to the bar to the Sanderson sisters from Hocus Pocus.

Heather nudged you yet again, her elbow hitting a nerve in your ribs and making you bounce.

"Will you quit that?" you snapped, realising your fourth cocktail was making you slightly irritable.

Heather glared at you and pulled you over to whisper in your ear. "The brunette at seven o'clock has looked from her phone to you at least four times," she hissed, releasing you and nodding her head in the direction.

You nodded in understanding and gestured for her to tell you what to do. Picking chicks up at a bar wasn't exactly something you were accustomed to, after all.

"Go up to the bar and order something-" she looked at your outift, "-I don't know. Some business casual-sounding drink. Like an Old Fashioned or something. Make a joke about how much you've drank and if she's warm then ask if she's here with someone. Then go in for the kill and Emmett and I will be your wing-people when you break your seal."

"Break my what?"

Heather practically shoved you off your chair.

You shrugged and walked towards the bar, standing close to the brunette, but not close enough so that she knew what you were up to. The bartender approached and you smiled at her.

"Hey, could I get an Old Fashioned pl-"

"And get me another piña colada while you're making your move!" Heather called, acting more drunk than she was in an effort to hint off to the lady. You glared at her, and in return, for some added effect she lent into full view of the lady, shot her a cheesy grin and gave her a thumbs up.

You spun on your heel to see if the lady had noticed, and to your dismay she had. She looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

At least she didn't look disappointed.

"Was that for me?" She chuckled, taking a tip from her class. You grinned as casually as possible, looking down at your hands. You finished off your order and paid, waiting for Heather to get her drink to no avail.

"You know what, yeah I think it was for you actually," you replied. Keeping it cool was the buzz phrase Heather had been using all day. "I'm sorry but my friend claimed that she had seen you checking me out a few times and was pretty insistant that I come over and talk to you."

You sat in the stool, leaving one between you.

The lady chuckled. "It's fine," she said, taking another sip. "I'd be grateful for the company."

"You're alone? You're more than welcome to sit with my friends and I," you offered.

You cut off immediately by Heather collecting her drink, standing between you and muttering, "don't you fucking dare," into your ear before walking over to the woman and leaning over her shoulder.

"Now, you see, Ms- I'm sorry what's your name? Jesus, Y/N! When you flirt it's basic manners to ask for a name," Heather muttered.

"It's Lana," she replied, smiling at you.

Lana. A pretty name.

"Awh, that's a lovely name actually, I wish my parents liked me enough to call me something like that. Anyways, enough about me. So, anyways, my good friend Y/N here just got two-timed by a piece of human trash that she's way hotter than and everyone warned her against dating but hey- you know our Y/N, she's balls-ier than a dodgey testical. So, all I'm really gonna say is we came here because we really want to get her laid so she doesn't need to feel like she got the short end of the bargain so, you know-"

At this stage Heather was trying to communicate through a series of dramatic gestures. Emmett strod over, took Heather by the shoulders and apologised to Lana before walking your drunk friend back to your table.

You were both a little shell-shocked and you feared that Heather's drunken rant had ruined any sembelance of a chance that you had with getting anywhere with this.

"I- I'm so sorry. She doesn't get out much," you said. Lana's smile returned as she waved it off.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot younger than twenty-one?" she asked. You couldn't tell if she was being genuine or if she was trying to hint that she thought you were younger than your ID said.

You nodded. "All the time," you say, it's not like that's a lie. "How old are you? If you're not offended by my asking."

"I'm twenty-nine. I hit the big three-oh in November," she replied. Lana reached into her bag and pulled out a box of Newport cigarettes. "I'm sorry, I've had a long day and I'm dying for a smoke. Care to join me?"

You sat still for a moment before excepting the offer. The club was absolutely packed and you could barely follow Lana through to the balcony without getting separated from her. She noticed and turned around, taking your hand and keeping you close so that you didn't get lost in the crowd.

Lana lent over the metal fence, cupping her hand over her lighter. You watched how her cheeks sucked in, defining her cheekbones and her jawline. You mirrored her position against the fence.

"Hard day at the office?" You asked, declining the cigarette she offered you. "Thanks but I don't smoke."

Lana smiled down at her cigarette. "I like a smart girl. Stay away from these for as long as possible," she took a long draw. "And to answer your question; I moved into a new house today only to find out that none of the plumbing was actually installed and contractor has no idea why."

"My house was like that too; turns out the pipes are just in really weird places," you replied. You turned to face in the opposite direction, laying your elbows onto the bar and watching the crowd. "What do you do? Career wise?"

Lana blew out a puff. "I'm a teacher. French and English Literature."

Ah great; a French student trying to hit on a French teacher. This was gonna be a fun story to tell the group.

"You're kidding? I'm studying French," you replied.

Lana laughed. "Damn, Y/N. This just has to be written in the stars," she replied, you could sent the well-meant underlying sarcasm in her voice. "You think I have that chance?" You ask, your eyes dart down to her hand. Her ring finger, although bare had an imprint on it as if she had only recently removed a ring. She noticed you looking and brought her hand into a fist.

"Don't look at me like that, Y/N. We're getting divorced," she said. She bit her lip and looked down into the woods beneath.

You felt slightly guilty. "Oh, I'm sorry." Lana shook her head in response.

"I'm in a gay bar for Christ's sake. We definetly weren't compatiable," she chuckled, reaching for another draw of her cigarette. She turned around, some noise in the background catching her attention. Her sleeve dropped a little bit, revealing two bruises at the side of her wrist that she had clearly tried to cover with foundation. Lana turned back around and you dropped your eyes before you noticed, unaware if it was your place to ask.

"If I'm honest, I don't really like bars. I know this really nice café a few places down. Do you wanna come with me?" You asked. Lana's head cocked slightly, her eyes scanned you as if they were looking for some alterier motive. "I'm not trying to get laid, Lana. I just don't like clubs and I don't think you do either."

Lana's shoulders relaxed, as if trying to decide. "Sure," she nodded. "I'd love to."

You walked back in through the bar, telling Emmett what you were doing. He made you promise to turn on your location and to call him to pick you up when you were ready to leave.

"It's nice that you have friends to watch your back," Lana said as you walked down the street. The air was now cold, nipping at your cheeks and nose. Lana slid her arm through yours after asking if it was okay to do so.

The café in question was small; dimly lit, decorated with plants. It was warm inside and the candles lit everything in orange. It was peaceful. You heard Lana sigh with relaxation as you asked her what she'd like to drink.

Two lattes later, you and Lana lay on the same old, green, springless couch. You giggled and talked for what could have been hours.

Lana noticed your Soul Necklace. “I have one too,” she said, touching the stone delicately. “I’ve never worn it though.”

She told you stories from high school and college while you sat and listened to her in some new form of fascination. You could listen to her talk forever. Your head rested on her shoulder, and hers rested on your head. There was an echo of peace which bounced around the both of you.

Eventually there came a moment when you had finally plucked up enough courage in a moment of silence between you to lift her chin with your finger and close in for a kiss. It was short and sweet, but you could still rellish the feeling of her lips kissing back against yours in a gentle passion.

She waited on you while Emmett drove back to get you, with an extremely drunk Heather in the backseat.

"Are you free tomorrow night?" Lana asked before she walked away. You nodded. "Would you like to maybe go out? On a date?"

Her final question was asked with a shyness that you found adorable, and giving her a kiss on the cheek as

The next day you went to school in a good mood. Your run was better than ever. Your breakfast was tastier. The sky was more beautiful. You couldn't contain your giggles as Heather drove you and Emmett to school.

"I cannot believe you've landed yourself a date with a teacher," Emmett said as the three with you walked to your French class. You practically danced down the corridor with happiness. The three of you were slightly late to class.

You pushed the door open harder than you intended, making it crash against the wall with a loud bang. You muttered an apology while your friends laughed at you and the teacher settled them down, chuckling under her breath.

That it until she looked up at you.

And you looked up at her.

Lana muttered a profanity under her breath as she realised that she had asked one of her students on a date.

taglist: @its-soph-xx

#lana winters #lana winters x reader #ahs #ahs imagines #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia goode x reader #wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #sally mckenna #sally mckenna x reader #sarah paulson

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abbysfrenchbraid · 3 years

Note

hi! i love all of your writing, especially your abby fanfics. i know you’re in the middle of your eivor series right now, so pls disregard if you don’t feel like writing this request or don’t want to write for abby, but i was wondering if you could maybe write a hurt/comfort type imagine where abby either comforts the reader when they’re sad or after they have a nightmare. i get really frequent nightmares and love to read fanfics like this but totally understand if you’re not into the idea. all the love and i hope you’re doing well; merry christmas if you celebrate!

so this is half a year late, but I finally have a little more time to go through my requests so here it is! this is also the first time I've actively avoided gendering the reader as I've gotten a few requests for a nonbinary or genderfluid reader. This is not a cop-out on that, I definitely want to write an explicitly nb reader but I figured this would make the reading experience better for quite a few people!

Summary: The reader has recently lost a family member and stranded with the WLF. They struggle with frequent panic attacks and nightmares. Abby notices and tries to take care of them.

CW for loss of a family member (sibling), death and grief, heavy trauma, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares, and struggling to breathe. The nightmares are also fairly violent and creepy so please watch out for yourselves and only read this if you're in a good state of mind <3

I've Got You

The truck rattled as Leah drove it up the road to the WLF stadium. It had been a particularly rough day on patrol. You and the other wolf had run into a group of freshly infected that seemed to have been three families once. The children had been the worst. The youngest had probably been about ten years old before she had turned, her eyes bright blue and her blonde curls matted with dried blood. You had taken care of them all, of course you had. But it had been horrible. You folded your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking.

You had joined the WLF a few months ago after losing your team and your little sister in a clicker-infested cellar you had set up camp in. It had been so fucking stupid, so careless. But everyone had been tired, you hadn’t seen any infected in days, and so only one of you had kept watch. He barely had time to scream before the clicker had ripped out his throat. It had been chaos, madness, everyone scrambling to escape into the network of damp corridors and storage rooms, more and more clickers being drawn to you by the noise.

Leah raised her hand at the armed guards at the gate and they opened for your truck. The sun was setting behind you and most people were inside the stadium now, eating or spending time with friends. Both of you were quiet. Leah’s legs were covered in slowly darkening blood and the smell was nauseating. The tall wolf pulled the truck into its designated spot and took a deep breath.

“Y/N?” You looked up at her. The circles under her eyes could compete with yours, but her face was still as kind as ever.

“Yeah?”

“You take care of yourself today. Take a long shower, get something to eat. I’ll let Martha know to give you a double portion for dinner.”

You smiled faintly at her. This was how it was here. All the wolves had seen terrible things and probably done even worse. They all chose to let it out in training and then leave it behind them. No sense in holding on. You nodded.

“Thanks, Lee. See you in the gym tomorrow.”

The brunette grinned and patted your thigh.

“6 am sharp!” She jumped out of the car and gave back the keys at the checkpoint, then she vanished inside the stadium.

You stayed in your seat. Your fingers had cramped up and you were scared to unfold them, scared you would never be able to stop them from shaking again.

Sierra had held your hand all the way, not letting go as you dragged her through the darkness, fought off four infected, stumbled up stairs you had not come down on, and found yourself in a ravaged theater. You had run all night and only stopped when you were unable to go a single step further. When you had found a small pawnshop that you could lock up safely, you had made a bed of your jacket and a moth-eaten blanket from the theater. Sierra had started to cry. You would never forget the way dread had started to creep into your limbs, seeping into your skin and stretching dark tendrils toward your throat. You had rolled up Sierra’s sleeve and there it was. A relatively small mark, just the puncture wounds from two teeth turned into mean scratches as Sierra had pulled her arm from the jaws of a clicker and kept on running. But it had already begun to fester, the edges of the wound an angry red contrasting the white blisters forming around the site. It felt like the ground had been pulled from below your feet. You fell and fell, unable to speak, to do anything, just staring at the thing that meant the end of the world. The end of your baby sister.

A shout caught your attention - another car had returned to the stadium and was pulling into a spot a few paces away. It was Manny and Abby, everyone’s favorite duo. The attractive joker and the stoic warrior. They were among Leah’s best friends and she had introduced them to you a while ago, all of them welcoming you warmly. It had been strange, being part of a group again, a team. Your heart was still too sore.

So you had quietly pulled yourself out of most of the group evenings, the film nights and game nights and arm wrestling tournaments and what else there was to do. Manny had tried his luck flirting with you a few times and one time you had even joined him for a dance, but after realizing he wouldn’t land with you he had respectfully backed off and now treated you more like a little sister. Mel and Owen had been nice, too, both very secluded when they turned up together, but Owen was funny and enthusiastic and always yelled your name across the cafeteria or the training course when he saw you. He was one of the few people who could make you laugh no matter how hard you tried not to.

Nora was a whirlwind, the smartest person you had ever known and unfaltering no matter what the universe threw at her feet. She liked poetry and hard rock music, big men and even bigger women. You had often wondered whether she and Abby had ever hooked up. But you weren’t sure of anything concerning Abby. Always the stony face, the impenetrable wall, the arms-length smile and polite nod in the hallway. It could be infuriating at times. Especially because despite it all, against all your better judgment, you could feel yourself growing more and more interested in her, constantly looking for her in a crowd and sneaking side glances to see if she was listening to you or laughing at the same things.

The car doors banged and the sound echoed through the small space. Manny was laughing about something Abby had said and walked with a bounce in his step as he approached the counter to hand back his keys. Abby looked like she always did, khaki cargo pants and a black cutoff, her green backpack slung over one muscular shoulder. Some strands of hair had escaped her braid and curled up at the back of her neck, slightly damp from her sweat in the hot summer air. Trying to calm down and distract yourself, you let your gaze wander up her strong build, freckled biceps flexing as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. And then she looked straight at you. You didn’t move, stayed frozen as you had for the last few minutes, wishing you were invisible.

Your face felt hot and suddenly there were tears blurring your vision - what was happening?! Your knees started shaking as well, bouncing uncontrollably as your nails dug into the backs of your hands. Your throat was closing up and your bottom lip was quivering. All you saw were specks of grey and green, all you felt was your body resisting every command and rebelling against you, trying to hold you in place and suffocate you silently.

Suddenly the door opened beside you and a soft, deep voice said your name. You tried to blink the tears away but your vision wouldn’t clear up, panic blinding you further. You began shaking your head as your chest convulsed in a desperate attempt to draw breath.

“Fuck, Y/N, okay.” Abby’s voice was determined and suddenly her hands were on your wrists. Her skin was warm and dry, her grip firm. She softly shook your clasped hands and somehow moved so her face was in front of yours, a mess of green and brown and there, soft pink where her lips moved, speaking quietly and telling you to breathe with her. One hand stayed on your wrist and her thumb massaged the cramped up muscle there, digging painfully into your flesh but pulling you back to her slowly. One hand came up closer and a calloused thumb brushed the tears from your cheek before her hand landed on your shoulder, fingers pressing into your upper back.

“Hey, look at me, look at me, Y/N, you’re okay, I’m here. Can you try to breathe in with me on three? Just stop fighting for a moment, count with me and then we’ll breathe in together. Okay? One.”

You tried to sit up straighter and stop the erratic twitching of your chest, still choking on your breath as you waited for her commando.

“Two. Three.”

Her hand pressed between your shoulders from behind and suddenly you could breathe again, a loud gasp that turned into quiet sobs as you fought to release the air from your lungs before breathing in again.

“There we go, you’re doing so good,” Abby’s hand was on your cheek again, “so good, Y/N, breathe with me, that’s right.”

Your vision slowly returned to you now, though it was still distorted by tears. Abby had half-climbed into the truck, one foot between yours and one dangling out of the open door, her weight held up only by her right leg as she pressed her back against the dashboard. A wet laugh escaped you. Abby shot you a confused look, paired with the hint of a relieved smile.

“What?”

“You’re gonna get a cramp as well,” you rasped, “if you keep that up.”

You slid further to the inside of the broad seat, making room for Abby next to you. She grinned and sat down, one hand still on your wrist. Her eyes went down to your trembling hands, your knuckles still white from your iron grip.

“Okay, let’s take care of your hands, hm?”

Her fingers wandered softly over yours, then she rested one hand over your tangled fingers and pushed her other thumb between your palms, gently loosening your hold. She pulled back each finger slowly, starting with your thumbs and stroking each one as they relaxed. Finally, your shaking hands lay freely on your thighs.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N, don’t worry.” She took one of your hands in her lap and started massaging the inside of your palm. “Wanna tell me what got you there?”

You sighed, breath still shaky with tears.

“Um.. We ran into infected today. Runners. Families, it seemed.”

Abby sucked in a breath and gave you back your hand before taking the other and starting the same gentle procedure.

“Those are the hardest. Kids?”

You nodded and Abby made a soft noise. You took another rattling breath.

“I… I lost my little sister. Back when… before I came to you.”

Her head shot up and she stared at you, shock and sympathy playing over her features.

“Fuck, Y/N, you never said…”

“I know.” You lowered your head.

When you had stumbled out of the woods around the WLF stadium and begged them to let you in, they had stripped you and searched you before bringing you to their leader. After hours of questioning to make sure you weren’t a spy for any other group, he knew about your team and everything you had done in the last three years, but you hadn’t mentioned Sierra once. It wouldn’t change anything anyway. They had brought you to Nora who had patched you up, examined you, and fed you before showing you to your new room. It was a small closet on the base level of the stadium, with only a tiny window letting in some light. You were thankful for a roof over your head and the armed posts surrounding the stadium.

“I didn’t want to talk about her. I didn’t lie to Isaac or betray you. It wasn't anyone's business.” You gave Abby a fierce look. Nothing would change your mind about this. She just nodded, her eyes wide. You sighed, brushing your hands against each other.

“She was bitten. I see her every time I close my eyes. It wasn’t fair.” You dropped your hands into your lap. “I just don’t… I can’t -”

Abby’s hand was on yours again, her fingers sliding between yours.

“Hey. I won’t tell anyone. But I’m here, okay? If you want to talk.”

You scoffed.

“No one ever talks here. You’re all made of stone.”

Abby contemplated this for a few seconds, then she squeezed your hand.

“My dad was murdered a few years ago. Almost all of our families are dead.” Now it was your turn to be shocked. Fuck. You had been so insensitive. “By us, I mean Owen, Nora, Jordan, and me. Owen lost his parents to infected and his brothers to the scars just last year.”

Abby leaned back and stared out of the windshield, the garage now dark except for a few small lamps at the exits.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Of course, I’m in no place to tell you how to deal with it.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re right, you know. We don’t talk about those things.” She looked at you, her gaze so intense you almost pulled back. “Would you like to?”

You forced yourself to hold her gaze.

“I think I would. Now that it’s all… further away.”

Abby nodded, squeezing your hand again.

“Then we’ll talk. You can tell me all about your sister. And… I haven’t talked about my dad in a long time. I think I’d like to tell you about him, too. He was great.”

A small smile played around her lips and you felt a rush of gratitude for this wonderful woman. You could practically see the memories playing through her head behind those green eyes. She blinked, looking back at you.

“Wanna get something to eat? You must be starving. I know I am.”

“Sure.” You shared another smile and exited the car together, fingers still intertwined as you crossed the lot and Abby held the door open for you.

Dinner was already over, but Leah had kept her word and the elder woman at the counter gave you both gigantic bowls of beef stew with thick, coarse bread. You told Abby about your patrol that day and she hummed sympathetically. She knew what it felt like to deal with infected children. After a while, the door to the cafeteria flew open and Manny came in, sleek black hair still wet from a shower. He grinned brightly as he made his way over to you and sat next to you on the metal bench.

“You coming along tonight?” he asked you, drumming his fingers on the table. You raised your eyebrows.

“What’s happening tonight?”

He tutted at Abby and gave her a theatrical frown.

“You didn’t invite Y/N? It’s Mel’s birthday! Owen got his hands on some prime hooch. You celebrating with us?”

You smiled at your plate. The last thing you needed was to get wasted and completely lose any shred of sanity you had left.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll join you. I still haven’t showered and I had a terrible day. I’m just gonna read a bit and pass out, I think.” You gave him an apologetic shrug.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. Read and pass out? It’s a special occasion! You sure?”

“Yeah, but really, thank you for inviting me. Maybe next time.”

He sighed heavily, then he clapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Abby, you need to get moving, girl. We’re meeting in 20 and you stink.”

Abby just raised her eyebrows and shook her head, finishing her stew. Manny's laughter echoed through the empty room as he left.

“Do I really smell that bad?” There was a twinkle in her eye, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. You smiled back.

“Not at all. He probably smelled me.” You grabbed her empty bowl and placed it in yours. “Go have fun, I’ll clean this up. See you at training.”

Abby cocked her head to the side, seemingly not sure what to do. You gave her another encouraging smile.

“Really, I’m fine. Thank you for taking care of me, I owe you. Go celebrate!”

The tall blonde stood up slowly. She still seemed hesitant.

“I’ll come check on you later if that’s okay. And you can always come over and talk to me if something’s wrong, alright?”

Your chest felt tight all of a sudden, but not in the way it had earlier. It was the feeling of reaching for something knowing you’d never have it, of wanting something so bad and only being able to admire it from a distance. It felt like being homesick. You thought of Sierra again and how she had been your home, the only anchor in your life. Fuck, not now.

You shook your head as if to get rid of your thoughts and gave Abby a brave smile.

“Okay. But I’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Okay. See you later, then.”

“See you.”

Abby gave you a last look over her shoulder before exiting the cafeteria and you made your way over to the kitchen. The cooks had already left and a lanky red-haired boy was the only one still there, washing dishes and listening to music on an mp3 player. The metallic sound in his headphones echoed through the peacefully quiet kitchen. He almost jumped two feet into the air when you approached from the side, bowls in your hand.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me! Jesus Christ.” He pressed a wet hand to his chest, the suds leaving a dark print on his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how not to scare you, music and all. Sorry.” Both of you had to laugh and he held his dripping hands out for your dirty bowls.

“Don’t worry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone this late. You just come back from a mission?”

“Just a patrol run.”

You leaned against the counter and watched him clean the dishes.

“Anything exciting happen?” His eyes were bright and excited. He was even younger than he had looked at first, he couldn’t be older than 15. “My brother is on patrols too. Maybe you know him, his name is Danny.”

You crossed your arms and tried to remember the face that matched that name. Danny had been on patrol with Owen for a while when you had first arrived, but now he was stationed on some outpost and you hadn’t seen him for a long time.

“Yeah, I think I do. He’s not here at the moment, right?”

“He’s at the Serevena Hotel. I may be able to visit him there soon, depending on how my training goes.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Training to be a soldier?”

“Of course.” He stood up straight. “I want to do my part, protect our people. Fight the scars.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that. Even though you were thankful the WLF had taken you in and even though you had also participated in rigorous training from the first day on, soon being cleared for missions, you didn’t really have the same loyalty and faith for the organization. The seraphites were your enemies now, of course, but they were just people. You all were. Sometimes you wondered how it could have come to this - so few people left on this earth and here you were, slaughtering each other.

“I hope you can visit your brother soon.” You let your arms fall to the side and turned to leave. “Thanks for the dishes.”

“No problem,” he mumbled, putting his headphones back in.

You were in no rush to get to your room and so you took a few detours, passing the gym which was filled with quite a lot of people getting their training in after work. You looked into empty classrooms, trying to decipher what was written on the board. Would Sierra have studied here? Sat in the front, eager to learn the things you hadn’t been able to teach her? What if you had come here earlier, before it all happened? Could they have protected her better than you had? She would probably be walking next to you now, telling you about her day.

When you finally arrived at your room, you just quickly grabbed a towel, a clean shirt, and some shorts and headed for the showers. The hot water seemed to help somewhat. You wondered what Abby was up to right now. Probably getting drunk and having fun. Was she the type of person who danced? You had never seen her dance before. Maybe Nora would persuade her. There it was again, that heavy, pulling feeling. You turned the water off, got dressed, and went straight to bed. Enough heartache for one day.

You woke up confused, not knowing where you were at first. It was pitch black and there was some kind of noise outside. You reached around you and finally found the flashlight next to your pillow, turning it on and trying to wipe the sleep from your eyes. What was going on?

It had to be after midnight. The lights in the stadium were only on from 5.30 am to 10 pm in order to save power. You untangled yourself from your sheets and got on your feet, swaying a little. There it was again, that strange scratching noise accompanied by a quiet mumbling sound. It wasn’t directly at your door but seemed to come from further down the corridor. There were a few other people living down here in storerooms and sectioned hallways.

Yawning, you walked to the door and opened it ever so slightly, pressing the flashlight to your thigh in order to keep the light down at first. You couldn’t see anything, so you waved the flashlight around the corridor. Your stomach dropped.

At the far end of the hallway, a small figure stood in front of one of the doors, trying to open it to no avail. Small hands scratched at the wood, quiet brabbling reached your ears. This was wrong. Very wrong. The figure hadn’t noticed the light yet. It went on to the next door, trying the door handle and whining in frustration when it didn’t open.

Why didn’t the people inside wake up from the noise? You stood frozen as the figure tried the next door. It was a child, dressed in dotted pyjamas. Its blonde hair was shoulder length and tangled in knots. You slowly pushed your door open wider in order to step out into the corridor. Suddenly, the hinges squeaked and the sound echoed through the hallway.

The child slowly turned toward you. Blood was dripping from its mouth, its eyes were cold. It took a step toward you. You looked down and realized you were holding a gun. Oh. Right. Infected. You were supposed to shoot them.

As the kid made another strange brabbling sound, more blood ran down the front of the cotton pyjama shirt. You raised the flashlight with shaky fingers and aimed it right at the child's face.

Your blood froze in your veins. No. This couldn’t be. You had taken care of her, you had made sure she wouldn’t… wouldn’t turn into one of these… No, you had given her a peaceful ending.

“Sierra.” Your voice was raspy, quiet with terror. “Sierra, what are you doing here, baby?”

She growled. A horribly wrong sound, coming from someone so small and so lovely. Only she wasn’t lovely anymore. She was sick. Infected.

“Sierra!” You spoke louder now, your voice pleading. “Baby, please don’t do that. It’s me, see?” You raised the flashlight to light your own face for a moment. When you put it back on her, she had stopped walking. Her face was a mask of ice-cold fury. When she spoke, her voice rattled like nails in a metal box, rough like chalk on board.

“Y/N… Why?

You sank to your knees.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry Siri, I was so helpless. I didn’t know, I didn’t…”

“You… killed… me.”

She was getting dangerously close now and all of a sudden you could smell her, too. Foul, dead, vile. The smell of sickness and decay. You raised the gun, a war raging between your head and your heart.

“Sierra, stop. Stop.” Tears were streaming down your face. “Please stop, Siri. Don’t come any closer. Stop, stop! Please stop!”

Your little baby sister was so close that you could have reached out a hand and brushed through her hair. You stood up and took a step back.

“I’m gonna have to shoot you if you don’t step back. You’re infected, Siri. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but you can’t, please Sierra. Don’t, please don’t…”

She hissed at you and lurched forward. A shot rang through the air and the girl fell to the floor right before you, her tiny body at your feet, blood slowly pooling around her head. You dropped the gun and it clattered on the concrete floor. You clapped your hands to your mouth and screamed into your palms, crying out again and again, trying to gasp for air. It felt like your heart was being torn in two.

Suddenly there was a hand on your shoulder. You whirled around, but there was only darkness. You let yourself fall to the floor and kept weeping into your hands. Someone gripped your wrists and shook them slightly. You opened your eyes.

Abby was sitting on the side of your bed, her face right above yours and full of worry. You shook your head, frantically looking around your room for any kind of danger. The room was almost dark, light just seeping through the crack under the door. It was still early in the night.

“Y/N? Hey, hey. You’re okay.” Abby slowly let go of your wrists. “You had a nightmare. You’re okay now, I’m here.”

You were still too terrified to speak, so you just scooted further to the side and grabbed Abby’s hand, giving her a pleading look. She understood immediately, kicking off her shoes and climbing into bed next to you, holding out her arm for you to crawl into. You pressed yourself to her side and rested your head on her chest, feeling yourself tremble in her arms. She just held you for a while, letting you listen to her heartbeat until your own body began to calm down.

“Hi,” you whispered into the dim room. Abby stroked your hair while she held you tightly.

“Hey there,” she mumbled back. “Feeling better?”

“Not really.” You looked up at her. She smelled faintly of alcohol and something sweet. “How was your party?”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“It was absolute chaos. I had to escape from there before it could consume me. And I also had someone to check on.” She squeezed your shoulder. You cringed at the thought of her finding you like this, writhing and talking in your sleep, crying out or even fighting her without knowing who was in front of you. You had always had horrible nightmares and Sierra had taken the brunt of them, waking you countless nights and trying to stay brave when you yelled at her or shoved her away in the first moments of consciousness, not yet fully back in the real world. Now that she was gone, they were a hundred times worse. You pressed your forehead to Abby’s shoulder.

“Did I scream?”

“Not really. I just knocked a few times and then I heard you talking, and you sounded so panicked that I thought I should make sure… I’m sorry I just came in like that.”

You shook your head.

“No, don’t. Thank you for waking me. It was… God, I hate this.”

Abby’s fingers combed through your hair, massaging your scalp. It was heavenly.

“Does this happen a lot?”

You snorted involuntarily.

“Every night. Several times. I never sleep through and I never sleep enough.” You wiped a hand over your face. “Sorry, I know I’m not the only one and it could be worse. It’s just… hard.”

“Excuse me?” Abby’s tone made you look up at her. “You’re telling me you have several panic attacks in your sleep every night but it’s fine because others have nightmares, too?”

You frowned. Panic attacks? You’d never thought of it that way.

“Y/N, you’re allowed to complain. To me especially. Remember, we wanted to talk about our problems? Be open about all this?”

She was right. You pressed yourself closer to her.

“I guess, yeah. Thank you for… for being here.”

“Wanna tell me about your nightmare?”

You held onto Abby’s shirt, clenching the fabric in your fist as if she might be ripped from you at any moment.

“I don’t know… I mean, why not. Well…” How were you even supposed to explain all this? How would you ever talk about your sister without freaking out again?

Abby pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you felt the tension in your stomach dissolve. You took a deep breath.

“I can never tell I’m dreaming. This time I thought I heard something in the corridor and I went to see what it was. A little girl was scratching on doors, trying to get in. She looked like the… like one of the infected we ran into today. But I made a noise and when she turned around she was... She was -” You gasped for air, trying to keep your calm. Abby hummed softly, stroking your back and giving you time to think.

“She had the face of my sister. Sierra.” You hadn’t said her name out loud in so long, only in the nightmares. Maybe it was time to rid her name of that terror, that fear, and grant it the love and warmth it deserved. “Sierra was my little sister. We ran with a group the last few years, stayed with them after our mom died. But she was bitten and I had to… I had to let her go.” You swallowed hard. Abby’s thumb drew circles on your back.

“So in the dream… the girl turned around and she was her . And I didn’t know what to do. I begged her to stop, to not come any closer because she was infected, she was bleeding, and -” You drew in another breath and buried your face in Abby’s chest. “She asked me why I’d done it, why I had… and she kept coming and then she attacked me and I - I had to, I had to shoot her.”

Hot tears were burning in your eyes and your throat was impossibly tight again. Abby gently placed a hand on your cheek and turned your face up toward her.

“I’m not gonna tell you it was just a dream because I know it's more complicated than that. I get them, too, sometimes. But what I can tell you is that I’m here, that you’re safe now, that your sister is in a better place and that one day you will be able to speak about her without feeling like you’re falling apart.”

“You think so?”

“I’m sure of it. And now you're with me. We can heal together. I’m here, I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

You raised your head from her chest and turned a little in order to get face to face with her.

“Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this? Why now? I didn’t even think you liked me. You don’t have to take care of me.”

Abby’s features softened and she huffed out a silent laugh.

“I don’t know. I really… You were right when you said we keep everything to ourselves. But some of us do it more than others. And I guess I’m the worst when it comes to showing what I want.”

The sentence hung in the air for a moment. Abby took a deep breath.

“I like you, I really do. I just thought you needed more time. I know what it’s like to suffer and to feel like you can’t breathe. I wanted to give you space. But then I saw you in the car and I immediately knew what was happening. And I finally realized that I wouldn’t make things better by staying away.”

She held your gaze and you felt something shift between you. Her hand on your back came to a halt. You smiled softly.

“I always thought you didn’t find me interesting enough to talk to me. I was so jealous of the others for being this close to you and for making you laugh. I wanted that, too.”

“You’re the most interesting person that’s ever walked into this stadium,” Abby said softly. “God, I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to feel left out.”

You rested your head back on her shoulder.

“You made it up to me already. Really, you saved me today. Twice.”

Abby chuckled.

“Just wait until I have my next breakdown and then you can return the favor. Shouldn’t be long, they get to me every few days.”

You wrapped your arms around her torso.

“Well, then you’ll just have to stay close by.”

She hesitated, holding her breath for a second. You waited.

“Do you want me to stay? Tonight?”

You smiled to yourself.

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

You kept talking for a while. Abby told you about the party and about the cook Nora was currently hooking up with, and you told her about the boy in the kitchen. She recalled training with Danny when she first joined the WLF, laughing about how he had boasted that he wouldn’t lose to a girl and how she had him on the ground in a headlock in about two seconds.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew you were in the truck again, sitting in the passenger seat as the car flew through Seattle at top speed. You looked over and in the driver's seat there was the red-haired boy from the kitchen. His face was determined, a hard mask of concentration. He was panting hard, driving as fast as he could. Arrows were flying around you, soaring through the broken windows of the car and missing you by mere inches. A horse was whinnying. Scars. You immediately pulled out your gun and started shooting at everything that moved outside, hitting at least three people and a horse.

“Sorry,” you whispered as you reloaded. Animals weren’t fair.

You looked up and suddenly there was someone standing in the middle of the street. A small girl, brown-haired and in a red dress. Her back was to you. You screamed at the driver, but it was too late. The truck hit the child and it was thrown against the windshield, making a horrible noise as it cracked the glass and rolled over the roof to the back of the car where it fell to the ground. The truck came to a shrieking halt and you jumped out, gun drawn. The scars had vanished. You and the redhead ran back to where the girl was laying in a heap on the street, so small and fragile. Blood was running through the cracks in the pavement.

You turned the girl on her back and froze when you saw her face.

“Sierra! No, no, no, oh god no, what have we done - Sierra, Sierra, baby, look at me!”

“Y/N!” You heard your name but Sierra’s lips weren’t moving. “Y/N!” You whipped your head around and woke up.

It was dark and Abby had an arm wrapped around you, the other was holding your cheek. You swallowed and struggled for air.

“I’ve got you, hey, just breathe for me, I’ve got you.” Abby’s voice was sleepy and rough, something you'd have never thought you’d have the privilege of hearing. It calmed you down instantly. You dug your fingers into her arm, strong muscle flexing beneath your touch.

“Shhh, that’s right, just hold on. You’re okay.” You melted into her arms, hands and legs still shaking. She made a quiet humming noise in the back of her throat and pressed another kiss to your scalp. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” you whispered and she hummed again in response. You rested your head against her chest and listened to her breaths as they slowly became more regular, chest steadily moving against you. Her heartbeat thumped softly in your ear. Cocooned in the wolf’s arms and serenaded by the quiet symphony of her sleeping body, you finally drifted off to sleep again.

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #abby anderson fic #fanfiction #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #angst/comfort #angst/fluff #manny tlou #wlf #washington liberation front #abby anderson / reader #abby/reader

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wincore · 4 years

Text

sweet tooth | dong sicheng

pairing: vampire!sicheng x reader

words: 2.8k

summary: out of all the inconveniences a vampire boyfriend could pose, there’s about two tonight: a) him losing it at the next person who compliments his fangs, or b) you losing it at sicheng’s 100% blood alcohol content

genre: vampire!au, boyfriend!au, college!au, (tooth-rotting) fluff, comfort, humour

warning(s): mentions of blood, alcohol consumption, college halloween parties

song rec(s): candy - baekhyun // wish you were sober - conan gray

a/n: let’s pretend it’s halloween pls <3 also im sorry it’s so short and more drabble-ish but i wanted to write something gentle and comforting so!!! yeah ^^ also there is no plot. eep.

It’s two in the morning.

Or rather, it feels like two in the morning.

A frat party is a horrible substitute for an actual Halloween party. The alcohol content is through the roof and the number of pairs making out is enough to make you feel queasy. You never knew horror themes had the innate ability to make people so flagrantly horny—you’re half glad you’re not, god forbid, single. Most of your friends were too busy, however, to organize the close-knit party you usually have each year—so here you are, with an invitation from a friend of a friend (of a friend). Your boyfriend might be the only one feeling more out of place than you are.

You glance at Sicheng from the pool table, the cup frozen against his lips while his eyes scan the room from corner to corner. You don’t do crowds and neither does he; though he does have the unwitting ability to charm any crowd he’s in. You’re not quite sure if he’s still unaware of that.

You watch as a girl you can easily recognize from your campus approach him, all smiles and giggles. She says something and you scoff, almost completely certain about what it is she said.

Sicheng might be unaware of it—but you are, and painfully so.

She looks at him starry-eyed and the scent of rum wafting around her. A part of her jacket is off her shoulder, a faint blush covering her cheeks that you can spot even under the dim lights. She’s definitely flirting—you know that because rumours go around faster than assignments in this university. Choi Joohee has a very public, very open crush on your boyfriend.

It’s not like it bothers you. Not at all.

Just a little bit.

Jealousy has never been your thing and you’re half certain what you’re feeling isn’t even jealousy—just a taste of alcohol and the proximity of a Halloween house party.

Speaking of which, the only thing harrowing about this place is the amount of alcohol everyone seems to be consuming—including your boyfriend. Ten dragged Yukhei home a while ago and a part of you is still not confident enough to handle a boyfriend with very pointy fangs and midnight cravings for blood (or juice, as Ten disgustingly phrases it).

Sicheng nods along to something Joohee asks, an eyebrow raised quizzically on her and you assume he’s been zoning out the whole time. The urge to laugh surfaces and you swallow it whole. He’s so cute, even in this state. The lights dance across his face; candy blue, rich purple, saccharine red. The colours don’t help him stand any straighter, or slur his words any less.

You think it’s time to help your boyfriend out. However, the moment you walk through the swarms over to them, Joohee’s face sours. Of course, as the only competition (is it a competition if you’ve already won?) to the object of her affections, you don’t rank too high in her books. It made you a little upset at first, but you got used to it. (“She’ll get over it,” Sicheng had reassured several times. “Don’t worry.”)

People grow, and with that thought, you let it be.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Joohee tells Sicheng and walks away, like he’s supposed to follow her.

You roll your eyes and turn to Sicheng, who’s had a very delayed response to Joohee’s departure. His head is tilted to the side, eyes half-lidded and you’re almost afraid he’s going to drop to the floor right there and then. This is bad. The thing about vampires is that they absolutely should not, under any circumstance, have alcohol. Calling your boyfriend a lightweight is beyond an understatement.

“Sicheng,” you call softly.

He turns to you, taking a moment to process, before pulling his lips into a wide smile. His fangs poke out even when he presses his lips back together, a contemplatory look over him.

“I thought you left me here.” He forces a sardonic smile.

Drunk off his ass and Sicheng still manages to be annoyingly sarcastic.

You open your mouth and close it again. It’s not like you can chide him without letting your fondness show. The Adonis features that grace his face don’t help. Flushed all the way to the neck, a drunk Dong Sicheng is very rare. The last time this happened must have been at least two years ago (and though you weren’t there then, the way Ten and Kun freeze up at the slightest mention, you decided to not ask).

“Why did you drink?” you ask, huffing. “You can’t even smell alcohol.”

There’s a short pause.

“Because you were ignoring me,” he replies, leaning in.

Heat washes into your cheeks. You forgot how unrestrained he gets with alcohol in his system.

Sicheng seems to have enough consciousness left in him to feel somewhat embarrassed, standing up straight and fiddling with his thumbs. You slip your hand into his without delay and pull, trying your best to navigate through the crowd. Is an ordinary Halloween party too much to ask for? Just when you can finally spot the front door, Sicheng stops abruptly, making you stumble backwards into his chest. He smells like the old deodorant he’s been using for a year underneath the smell of beer and… is that blood?

“Where are we going?” he asks sharply.

“Home, Sicheng,” you whine. “You can stay in my bed.”

He stays rooted in place stubbornly, and you wonder what it is now. This is the time you have to wonder if you’re dating a (potentially) immortal creature or a recently birthed baby.

“We should enjoy more. You’ve hardly smiled the past few weeks,” he mutters.

Your heartbeat spikes for a moment, when he brushes the hair from your face. All this time and he hasn’t changed the words he offers to you in private, the care on his lips and fingertips. A room full of people who aren’t listening is the best place to talk.

The first time you saw Sicheng was in the middle of the night, in the dark hallway of your shared apartment building, blood staining his jaw from a bag he’d acquired from med student Wong Kunhang. (You’re very sure that’s illegal.)

Needless to say, you’d fainted immediately after. When you came to, you were met with a man with pretty eyes and fangs poking out his mouth and in a bed that wasn’t yours. There was no blood this time but you screamed anyway, cut off by the man’s hand over your mouth.

“Calm down,” he said, voice surprisingly deep. “It’s not like I’m going to kill you.”

“You were planning to kill me?” you asked, panicking.

“I just said I wouldn’t,” he replied quietly, eyes wide and almost as stressed as you are.

Sicheng heaves a sigh, massaging his forehead. You shake yourself off the memories, tugging at his shirt so you can sit somewhere at least. The alcohol must have numbed his ears too. The low R&B tunes make no sense on Halloween night; even less when they’re played a few bars above the acceptable volume. If you’re not out of here soon, you might lose your hearing altogether.

The couch is slightly less stinky than you would have expected. (You grimace as you think to the last time you were at a frat party and in particular, the vomit.) Beside you, Sicheng mumbles about something you’re not quite sure of, a quiet rant with one-track emotions. It makes you giggle and for a moment, you forget the predicament of being stuck with a drunk vampire boyfriend who has just finished teething.

“Hey, guys.”

You look up to see Jihoon, the very friend of a friend (of a friend) who had invited you to this mess. It’s not like you harbour ill feelings towards him; but the guy has approximately zero ability to read the room. It’s mostly funny.

Sicheng makes a vague gesture that you assume means ‘hello’, sitting up straight so he doesn't look noticeably tipsy. You make light conversation with Jihoon, Sicheng’s arm around your waist tightening reflexively. You don’t plan on party-hopping, no matter how much Jihoon urges the two of you—seriously, does he not see the look on Sicheng’s face? He looks more zombie than vampire.

“You know, you don’t actually have to wear costumes for this, right? We didn’t set a theme,” Jihoon remarks, tilting his head to face your boyfriend. “The fangs are really cool, though. Holy shit. Dude, they look so real.”

Sicheng’s lips twitch but he forces them into a smile, trying to move as far away from Jihoon as possible. The fangs are usually not out and about in the open, slightly retracted during the day. The night, however, keeps him on edge. Sicheng hates the spotlight that only ever shows up for the wrong reasons, and he’d much rather graduate without having to deal with horny vampire-lovers. (It’s not that sexy; and you know from experience.)

The way Sicheng looks makes you wonder how many people have pointed out the fangs tonight. You purse your lips to keep yourself from laughing.

“Thanks,” he responds, voice his usual deep baritone.

Jihoon leaves after being unable to draw any more conversation out of Sicheng, some peace gracing you despite everything.

If you ever write a book on how to deal with vampire boyfriends, the first rule would be to never kiss him at night. The fangs are not as withdrawn then and they hurt. (The second is, of course, to never let them get a whiff of alcohol.)

When Sicheng first kissed you, it was midnight and you were at the convenience store to buy a few lunchboxes and instant coffee mix. You’d yelped when his fang had pricked your lower lip, alarming the worker and around fifteen minutes of (dishonest) explanation later, the two of you had left without buying what you came for.

After fretting for a while, Sicheng had kissed you once more with careful consideration—till the damn fangs got in the way again. It was sweet for a moment—like candy—though, the metallic taste of blood had invaded it afterwards. No matter how awkward or painful it was, your elation outweighed the rest.

Kisses weren’t the only thing interrupted by fangs.

The turtlenecks and scarves certainly raised an eyebrow in your circle of friends. There was concern at first, then teasing and then a whole lot of inside jokes which made you want to smack each and every one of them. (“They’re hickeys, I swear, not vampire bites,” you had informed Ten. “Ew. I did not need to know that.” “Shut up.”)

Even so, Sicheng is warm—always has been, and not on the skin.

You feel pressure on your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck and you adjust yourself so it’s more comfortable.

“Tired?” you ask.

“Not at all.”

You shake your head at his lie. Gently pushing his head away, you get up from your seat and pull him up with all of your strength. Linking your arm through his, you smile at him when he raises an eyebrow. It’s time to get home, you’ve decided and these are times when one vote is enough.

When you reach the front door, stumbling out with your suddenly talkative boyfriend, the autumn breeze hits you. Under the moonlight, the rosy hue over his cheeks is clearer and even more so when he smiles.

“It’s like our first date,” he says.

You smile back at him.

“You were so embarrassing,” he adds.

Your smile drops and you smack his arm, eliciting a soft complaint from him.

Your first date was the only normal thing in this relationship—a date at the amusement park on Halloween, a bunch of kids mistaking your now boyfriend for Count Dracula and caramel popcorn smeared over your fingers.

Sicheng sighs, lowering his head to rest his forehead against your shoulder. The two of you stay like that for a moment or two, the party music finally fading and Sicheng’s warmth seeping into you. You fix the lapels of his jacket absentmindedly, fingers tracing over the material. His hands rest lightly against your back yet still secure.

A kitten lick at your neck jolts you back to reality. You gently push him by the shoulders, finding his fangs bared already. He stays unmoving for a few seconds before closing his mouth and going back to leaning against you, breath falling in waves against your neck.

“I’m not your juicebox, Sicheng,” you snap, frown deepening.

“But you have so much blood,” he mumbles, his forehead hot against your shoulder.

“Sicheng.”

He sobers up a little, pulling back with a stream of pouting apologies. You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling. Despite everything, your boyfriend is such a child sometimes. There’s a short pause.

“But wait, don’t go biting someone else’s neck,” you quickly add, flustered.

Sicheng suppresses a smile.

“So I can have a little—”

“No.”

Sicheng pouts but agrees enough to follow you, the two of you moving soundlessly over the sidewalk. Being alone with him has always been easing; you don’t need a crowd for comfort.

With fingers interlaced, you walk alone with him as the orange street lights cast shadows on the buildings lined up. A few more blocks and you’ll reach your apartment, get to push Sicheng into bed and pray he doesn’t throw up at your front door—and yet still, you walk as slow as you can as if the autumn wind will be gone as quick as it arrived.

The number of people shrink the further you get from the party, and you heave a sigh of relief, glad to be away from, what you and your friends call, the rich neighbourhood. The familiar path to your apartment, no matter the pricing, has much better air to breathe in. It’s past midnight and yet, you can see the city lights in the distance, the ones that never sleep—for the living or the dead.

Something runs into your legs and you jump onto Sicheng, who in turn flinches away with a strangled yelp.

You look down to see a giant golden retriever in a white blanket which you assume is meant to be a ghost outfit. It wags its tail, sniffing around your boyfriend’s legs, making him giggle as he crouches down to pet the creature.

“I’m so sorry!”

You look up to find a young girl holding a pumpkin almost as large as her head, an apologetic look over her head. Some part of you is happy to see a costume, considering you were robbed of yours. (Sometimes you dream of matching costumes but again, the damn fangs.)

“Piri loves people, I’m so sorry if he bothered—oh hey dude, cool fangs.”

Sicheng offers the fakest smile ever, accompanied with a thumbs up gesture. You sigh, apologizing to the girl before parting ways.

“That’s the eighth time tonight,” Sicheng says, scowling almost. “I counted.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. Calm, relaxed Dong Sicheng tends to lose it at repetitive comments with only three sips of beer.

When you reach the apartment building, clouds cover the moon and you draw your jacket closer to yourself. You think for a moment about the inevitability of time and whether you’re even allowed to fall in love this way. You push the thoughts aside almost inevitably. When the time comes, you will have a decision to make—and after everything, it is love which turns people.

For now, you can enjoy this Halloween night with your (literally) one-of-a-kind boyfriend.

You fumble around with the keys, Sicheng looking at you with sleepy eyes as he leans against the wall. He must be worn out from the alcohol by now.

“Hey,” he calls, the words more muffled than usual.

You raise an eyebrow, tugging him inside all the while maintaining your balance.

“You know my favourite blood type?” he continues.

You shake your head. “If you’re thinking of feeding, I’ll get some blood bags from Kunhang.”

Sicheng pouts. “You ruined the line.”

“Huh?”

“Yours. Yours is my favourite blood type.”

Despite the terrible execution of his so-called pick-up line, you find yourself shaking with laughter. You’re not sure if it’s the late night or the October air—the two of you share the silliest of laughter at the doorway to your apartment.

Within the moment itself, Sicheng leans in to kiss you and your hands move to run through his hair out of habit. The taste of beer and the prick of his fangs makes you pull away. You look at each other for a moment before you give in anyway and kiss him against the doorframe.

October ends with memories—your first date, Sicheng’s cooking disaster, and now this. It’s blissful for the few moments the two of you let it be. That is, until Sicheng opens his mouth.

“Oh, by the way, can you apologize to Ten for me? I think I bit him thinking it was you.”

“Sicheng, what the fuck?”

October ends with proximity, sweet as candy and warm as toast—stumbling into bed with all that and more.

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anyoneseenadam · 4 years

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Home: chapter one

azriel x reader (acotar)

summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn’t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast.

warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also some for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing

word count: 2.8k

a/n: this is the first proper fic I have written in so so so long and i’m legit nervous to post it so pls be nice, plus feedback is always appreciated. there are more parts to come, I’m not sure how many yet but i’m going to try post regularly! message me if you wanna be tagged and i’m gonna try figure out how to make a masterlist :)

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The view from your window was beautiful yet haunting. Your eyes roamed over countless wildflowers, yet your stare would linger on a poppy or a Red Admiral butterfly and you were back there. You were tied down and crying, body and brain equally numb until another searing lash stripped your back of flesh, white-hot pain rushing through your body and forcing an involuntary cry to tear from your lips.

You quickly stood, wiping your hands down your skirt in an attempt to quell the memories surfacing, the ones you had desperately tried to supress since you had fallen. You quickly moved, all but running to the bathroom, needing to do something, anything, so long as it got you out of your head. You stopped when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, looking exactly as you felt. The dark circles under your eyes from nights spent with hot tears flowing freely down your cheeks and into your hair and ears made you look ghostly, paired with the dull tone your skin had taken on, losing its natural glow. You looked as empty as you felt, a shell of the person you once were.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you quickly moved away, instead walking to the kitchen, the nausea from not eating overcoming you, yet the thought of eating just made you more nauseous. You found an apple at the bottom of a practically empty fridge and cleaned it softly, then used a blade to cut it into four, forcing it down, repeating the benefits it gave your body as you went, the basic information you had learned in your high school biology class, using the information to push through the sick feeling residing in your stomach, and instead focusing on the energy you desperately needed.

Your gaze drifted to the ajar door that led to your expansive garden, the cottage you lived in itself was small, but your garden was your pride and joy, your power sifting through all the plants in it, bringing them to life in ways of indescribable beauty, nearby animals coming to exist in harmony, safe under the care of their protector. But recently the usual vibrancy of the garden was dimming, the grass turning yellow and the plants wilting. There were no deer napping under bushes and barely any birds taking full advantage of the seed you laid out for them. You pushed past the door and into the garden, the plants brightening as you trailed your hands over their leaves. You found your favourite spot to sit in and dragged your fingers through the grass, smiling despite yourself as it visibly perked up, turning greener instantly. Your gaze trailed to a ruby throated hummingbird that had landed on the special feeder you left out for them, your breath hitching at the red colour, mind instantly returning to the dark, unable to tear your eyes away from the innocent bird.

The first thing you remember seeing was red, red water flowing like blood, red rocks beneath your bent knees, and your skin tinted red from dried blood seeping out of the wounds the chains around your wrists had inflicted on you. You sought to remember where you were, your mind drifting back to how you clung to Annabeth, your stomach aching from what must have been a broken rib, even as she was roughly pulled backwards, even as Percy desperately grabbed her, falling over the edge too, not quite reaching Nico’s shaking hand as he desperately tried to save you. You remembered been torn from their grip during the fall, a Fury hoping for a demi-god it could pick apart, you remember Annabeth screaming they would save you. But you don’t remember landing here, and you don’t remember the chains being attached to your wrists and ankles, or your shirt being removed, a choice you decided couldn’t mean anything good. However, you knew you would never forget the dark chuckle you heard behind you. Or the colour red.

Azriel didn’t know where he was. He knew he wasn’t in his world at least, but that was as far as his knowledge went. He was simply tired after a long mission far away from Velaris and his family and had tried to travel through the shadows to his home. Yet here he was, farther away from home than he had ever been and absolutely exhausted. He stepped out of his shadows and had to blink as the tallest buildings he had ever seen came into view. He absentmindedly took a step forward, then another until he was roughly shoved into, a man with a thick accent he couldn’t place swearing at him. His head whipping around as he got his bearings and moved to follow the direction more people than he could believe were walking until the crowd thinned out.

With less people present he slowed his pace, hands drifting to his pockets when civilians stared, old insecurities that never really left him rising to the surface, and instead took the time to admire the strange world he was in. the fashion in this new world was vastly different to his own, groups of girls congregating in tiny shorts and tight tops, next to groups in which there were girls in all black and boys in skirts. There were men and women dressed sharply talking quickly to no-one in particular, with hands pressed to their ears, there were people in rags begging for money and there were people dressed in ways he couldn’t even fathom to understand. By the time he reached the end of the street he was sure he had seen everything, and walked onto a more recognisable street, one with smaller buildings, unlike the magnificent glass structures, made from stone and wood and with friendlier faces behind stalls filled with food he recognized along with food he had never seen before.

He made his way through the market, losing track of time, the initial anxiety he felt seeping away, if he got here, he could easily return home, right? Instead, he chose to focus on the culture of this new world, determined to tell his family of the wonder he had uncovered, faintly hearing different languages from people’s conversation, and music coming from the open window of what he presumed was a coffee shop. He distantly wondered if they could see his wings, as no-one eyes lingered the way he had grown used to, in fact it seemed they couldn’t look at them, he presumed humans in this world simply had a natural glamour preventing them from seeing fae, that being said however, no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t spot another fae.

Eventually he reached the end of the street and decided he should return home now in order to stop his family from worrying, searching for a shadowed alley so as to not draw to much unwanted attention to himself. He walked to an alley that he decided would do the trick, excited to share this adventure with his family, but stopped short when he came face to face with a girl in a short skirt with incredibly pale skin and fire-like hair leaning over a passed-out man, sucking blood from his neck. She looked up when he approached and he saw that her hair was not just fire-like but literally fire, and her eyes were glowing red, and angry. More alike her then came out of the shadows, he quickly counted six, sighing as he pulled Truth-teller out of its sheath.

Shit. I am not in the mood for this.

You strolled through your favourite farmers market in NYC, the colours that filled the stalls always bringing some cheer back into your life, along with the thought of home-made meals and your practically overflowing basket, filled with fruit, vegetables, bread, and other necessities, but not meat, not since the animals started speaking to you when you first arrived at camp, and nothing red, you still couldn’t face that.

You made a quick stop at your favourite coffee place, opting to get your drink to go, only making polite conversation when you had to, and smiling through any other interaction. You were soon ready to leave, basket and dusty blue corduroy jacket slung over one arm, cup in that hand and your phone that the Hephaestus cabin had adapted in the other, when you heard pained grunts and the cackle of a monster you wished you could just forget already from a nearby alley.

You gave a pained sigh, looking longingly at your coffee before chugging it and throwing the cup in a nearby bin, making your way over to the alley. When you got there, you saw an unnaturally dark alley filled with a gaggle of Empousa surrounding a tall, winged man who was fighting incredibly well but clearly hadn’t gotten the celestial bronze memo, as his blade was defective.

“Long time no see ladies” you said, smirking at the growls that tore from the back of their throats as they tore around to stare at you, recognition in their horrifyingly red eyes. “What no hugs, no happy reunions?”

“You.” The middle one snarled, lunging forward, only to be cut down by the thick, green vine you had grown, intertwined with strands of celestial bronze you kept wrapped around your wrists disguised as thin, looping bracelets, and exploding into dust which you nonchalantly wiped from your shoulder.

“Whose next,” you laughed as three of them leaped at you, two staying behind and keeping the winged man, who had taken to staring at you with an unreadable expression, occupied. You destroyed them quickly enough to see the man falter as one of the Empousa force their talon like nails into his side, twisting it and pulling it out. You rolled your eyes, moving to pick up his slack, wrapping the vine around its neck and pulling until it exploded into the fine dust. The man was on the floor now, clutching his side, as you stalked forward to the final monster.

“You know I really just wanted a chill day,” you complained,

“I remember you,” it hissed, smiling at you with razor sharp teeth.

You fought a shudder and forced the memories down, “I’m glad I made an impression.”

“They want you back you know, we never got to finish playing.”

You snarled and went to move, but it was too fast, and you realised your mistake in waiting too long as it released a piercing cry that must have notified monsters from miles away, “shit,” you muttered under your breath, killing it quickly and moving to the winged man’s side.

“Hey, any chance those wings are good at flying,” you asked, “cause we’re about to be swarmed and I really just wanna get home.” You put his arm over your shoulders and dragged him up, grunting under his weight.

“I-it, poison.” Was all he said, fully leaning on you.

“Shit, okay um,” you racked your brain for an idea, furrowing your brows when you saw monsters start coming around the corner, eyeing you like their favourite toy. The man looked up from beneath his thick, dark hair before cursing and tightening his grip on your shoulder.

“Just hold on,” he said,

“What? Wait no!” you shouted, clinging to his arm as suddenly you were engulfed in darkness, only to suddenly be blinded by bright, hot light, forcing your eyes closed.

When you opened them again, you were on a sandy beach facing an impossibly blue ocean. Your mouth fell open and you turned to ask the man some questions, (or yell at him you were yet to decide) just in time to watch him collapse, falling onto the sand with a soft thud, red blood steadily flowing out of his side, the blood draining from your face at the sight.

Shit.

You stared down at the man in disbelief for at least two minutes. He can shadow-travel. Is he a son of Hades? Gods know I don’t need another step sibling. Also, where the fuck am I? Why a beach? Is it LA? I might marry him if it’s LA. A million thoughts raced through your head as you stared at him, guessing that the unnatural darkness you saw before must have come from the shadows you could now see were surrounding him, protecting him from the light and, when you moved closer, you. From what you could see, he was handsome, if not slightly dead looking, thick, dark hair and a lean, muscular build. Wait dead looking? You cursed jumping into action, checking his pulse, relieved when you found it, before moving to his side using the knife you kept tucked into your boot to hack through the leathers he was wearing in order to reveal the gash.

It wasn’t wide but seemed deep as it was gushing dark red blood, you blanched and screwed your eyes shut at the sight, fighting the memories of your own dark red blood. You opened your eyes purposefully not looking at the cut as you used his torn leathers to put pressure on the cut and start dragging him up the beach to an area you could grow the thin vines you would need as makeshift stitches.

Azriel woke to an extreme discomfort in his side, in a place he didn’t recognise. He pushed up into a sitting position, wincing at the reminder of his wound, and looked around, finding himself shirtless, surrounded by trees on a sandy floor. A girl was sitting cross-legged, staring- no- glaring at him and he felt himself return a confused expression, vaguely remembering her as the girl that had killed the monsters that he could have sworn were completely invulnerable.

“What are you?” She asked suddenly, her bluntness taking him by surprise, but before he could answer she continued, “I mean I’m presuming you’re some sort of child of Hades, given you shadow travelled, but I don’t understand what else, cause you’re defo not part human?”

“Hades?” he asked, frowning at the words he didn’t understand.

“Yeah?” she asked slowly, raising her eyebrows at him as if it was something obvious.

He scoffed, “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“Oh, is that so? No thank you or anything? I mean it’s not like I saved your life and I mean least of all I would expect an apology.” She was rambling as she stared at him in disbelief.

“An apology?”

“Yeah, for getting me stuck here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Fuck if I know,” she threw her hands up in exasperation, “I thought you know, I’ve done enough, I’ll let him find a cure for that poison on his own, I just wanna go home, so I decided lets get my bearings. I’ll find a high place and work out where I am, only to climb to the top of a fucking mountain and realise you got us stuck on a fucking Island!”

He slowly stood, bracing himself on a tree, as she remained sat, levelling him with an unimpressed stare. He shook his head, not needing to babysit this girl, and instead shot up from the ground, flying above the island to see she was in fact correct, there didn’t seem to be land for miles.

Suddenly, a sharp shooting pain went up his right side and he lost control of his balance for a second, all but plummeting to the ground.

“Yeah you shockingly haven’t healed completely yet,” the girl said moving to his side and pushing away his maimed hands from his wound, barely even glancing at the scars, “I have some ideas as to what will cure the poison, but if you want to fly away and leave me to die here, be my guest,” every word was dripping with sarcasm and he fought back a growl at her as she inspected his wound, were he saw he had torn the peculiar, green stitches.

He watched her carefully, not fully trusting her, as she inspected his stitches, furrowing his eyebrows when she significantly paled at the sight of his blood. “What scared of a little blood,” he instantly regretted the biting words when she snarled at him and put more pressure on the wound than was necessary, feeling slightly guilty given she had saved his life, but her attitude was infuriating, and he just wanted a hot bath and food.

“Okay, so here’s what’s going to happen, I’m going to stitch you back up, and then we’re gonna find a lake or some source of fresh water, you’re going to heal extremely quickly so you can take us back home and you’re not going to give me anymore shit? Kapeesh?” The stare she gave him could’ve rivalled his own in terms of intimidation, but instead of challenging her he just nodded, setting his jaw.

“Good. Now, nice to meet you, I’m (y/n),” she said reaching out a hand,

“Azriel.” Was all he said, meeting her small, soft hands in his rough, scarred ones, the difference in texture astounding him, still not entirely used to touch, and ignored the tightness in his chest when she offered him a cocky smirk.

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #acomaf #acosf #acofas #rhysand #feyre #percyjackson #greek mythology #heroes of olympus

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writesowhatnext · 4 years

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the feeling that we’re meeting // sirius black

Summary: Sirius Black has never liked the reader and this he made known. Maybe it’s because she’s a Slytherin. Maybe it was the bat-bogey hex. Strange, though, how things change with a war in full throttle.

Request: hello :) can i have an angst to fluff w sirius pls? (slowburn) post-hogwarts a few years where y/n was one of the main targets along w snape for james’ and sirius’ ridiculing and bullying, and they were just dreadful to her (she was in slytherin) :( but then a few years after hogwarts she joins the order and sirius acts just rlly immature and mean to her but then slowly starts falling for her as he starts noticing little aspects of her personality :) and at the end can there be like a fluffy cuddling scene where she asks him why he was so nasty to her and he talks ab how guilty and sorry he is :) ty babe!

A/N: I liked this request tbh bc it’s so important to remember that sirius is a brill character bc he’s so realistic with his equal good and bad traits – I was a bit liberal with canon context but I can’t say I don’t enjoy a world with James and Lily alive :) Also I listened to ‘For the First Time’ by The Script when I was writing and I agree

Reader: female, Slytherin

Warnings: female!reader, drinking, death eater parents, innuendo I suppose, also long af, injury, parental abuse, battle, deaths

Every time you tiptoed down the stairs of number twelve Grimmauld Place, you had to remind yourself that the war was far more important than whatever colour you’d like to dye Sirius Black’s hair. You considered pink, but thought better of it when you realised, he’d probably enjoy it.

It had been months, but you remembered the first time you set foot into the Black family home like it was yesterday. Following Dumbledore through the strange threshold, your nerves climbing as you heard the strangely familiar voices of the boys that had tormented you till you cried from the other room, you found yourself pulling at your sleeves, desperate to be anywhere else. The silence that fell as you stepped out from behind the Head of the Order was suffocating, and you could feel all eyes were on you. Biting the bullet, you glanced up from the crusty carpet, facing people you’d never wanted to see again. You recognised them all despite the years passed, standing together equally unenthused to see you. Remus was taller, impossibly, than you remembered him and Lily’s face was all angles now. Sirius’s hair was longer and styled differently, more like a muggle’s, but James still had the same half-broken glasses, and Peter the same child-like roundness to his cheeks.

“This, as I’m sure you know,” Dumbledore began, crossing his arms over his front. “Is Y/N-“

“Dumbledore, Sir,” James interjected, his tone as incredulous as his expression.

“You can’t be serious!”

You exhaled sharply from your nose at Sirius’ words, dipping your head when it seemed no one else saw the irony.

“Y/N is an excellent witch and she’ll be an excellent addition to the Order.”

“Sir,” Sirius huffed, shooting you a glare before stepping forward towards Dumbledore. “Her parents are death eaters; you can’t possibly trust her.”

“Remind me, Sirius,” you said, your voice echoing in the room for the first time. “What was tattooed on your brother’s arm.”

Although you were entirely correct, you felt a pang of guilt at the hurt that flashed in his eyes before the ever-familiar Black scowl creased his brow. Dumbledore’s presence beside you suddenly felt less and less comforting.

“She was always excellent in Charms,” Remus said gently. You faced him sharply, surprised to see his eyes so apologetic.

“And Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Lily’s tone was light and you were oddly pleased to see a smile on her face. You hoped that meant you would have at least one friend here.

“I wonder bloody why,” Sirius muttered, storming past you into the kitchen, shoulder hitting yours. You clenched your jaw, biting your lip to avoid saying something you’d reject.

“I hope you will treat Miss Y/N with the respect all allies deserve in this time. She’s risking her life to spy for us. You are all aware of what she’s put on the line for this,” Dumbledore said, an air of finality to his tone before he left you there, in the lion’s den, alone.

“Well,” Lily said, standing up from the armchair she’d been nestled into. She offered you a calloused and freckled hand with a smile. “Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix.”

It didn’t take long for the older members of the Order to trust you; they didn’t care about petty squabbles and rivalries, only the information you could provide. The story, however, wasn’t the same with your old Gryffindor pals. Lily, you accepted with equal parts hesitance and glee, was a fast friend. She had got into the habit of asking you how you were daily and offering you tea in the mornings. Sometimes, after a long mission, you found yourself talking into the night with her.

“Wait, wait,” you said, hand sloppily gripping the stem of an old wine glass you’d found in the cupboards. “You and Potter are married?”

She giggled at your response, leaning her elbow on the armchair next to her as she careened forward, the carpet crunching at the shift.

“Yes,” she nodded, smiling brightly. “I was just as surprised as you, at first, but he-“ a hiccup escaped her lips, earning a round of laughter from you both. “He’s a sweet guy. A tosser, by all means, but loyal and brave and kind.”

You’d never considered James Potter any of those things at Hogwarts, but now, in the real world, you found yourself slowly warming up to him.

“He’s changed, you know,” she said earnestly, suddenly a lot soberer than you felt. “They all have.”

You pursed your lips, taking another sip of the dark wine in your glass.

“Sirius hasn’t.”

She sighed, rubbing her eye with the knuckle of her thumb.

“He’s always hated me.”

Speaking of the devil, a familiar shadow appeared in the doorway before you could carry on your conversation. Sirius stared at you for a moment, his dark eyes locked on your face. He swallowed, mouth curling downwards slightly as he looked at your messy hair and casual position, sat in a place he’d hated for years. Something stirred in his chest and his expression shifted ever so slightly, but before you could question it, he disappeared up the stairs. You huffed, shaking your head as you turned back to Lily.

“See?”

It wasn’t another twenty minutes before James walked in, an amused grin playing on his lips at his wife’s tipsy state.

“C’mon, love. Let’s get you to bed,” he said, gently taking Lily’s arm to lift her up.

“Wow,” she said, whispering very loudly to you. “James Potter with a good idea; there’s a first.”

“Oi!” he laughed, poking her in the ribs and catching the wine glass before she could throw it onto the floor. It would’ve been a shame, you thought sarcastically, if someone ruined such a lovely carpet. He turned to you then, still smiling.

“Cheers, Y/N.”

He shot you a wink before escorting Lily upstairs, her drunk rambling fading the further away they got. You chuckled under your breath, pleased that maybe you weren’t such an outcast as you took another sip. Your mood soured dramatically, though, as you remembered the time, not exactly excited to be returning to your parents.

The next week, you had a few days between missions. Although you probably should’ve been resting at home like everyone else was, Remus included, you ended up on all fours in the Black family living room, pulling up carpet. Remus sat in the armchair at the other end of the room, a newspaper in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. Occasionally, he’d throw a teasing remark at you or ask for help with a tricky crossword clue, but mostly the silence that settled between you was comfortable. You were halfway across the room, surprised you hadn’t thrown up yet at the awful stains on the underside of the carpet, specifically avoiding the one that looked like blood.

“What are you doing?” a voice asked you from the doorway. You looked up, blowing a loose strand of hair from your face as you met Sirius’ eyes. You frowned, sitting back on your feet, carpet still in your hands.

“The laundry,” you replied dryly, a smile tugging at your lips to hear Remus snort into his mug.

“My mother loved this carpet,” he said, a strange look on his face. If you hadn’t known him better, you would’ve mistaken it for approval.

“And a charming family keepsake it is.”

He stared at you for a moment, his gaze steady and unreadable. You doubted whether destroying the carpet without asking him was such a good idea.

“Thank you.”

Without giving you a second to process, he turned left, the front door slamming not a second later. With wide eyes and your jaw on the floor, you looked to Remus, who seemed just as surprised as you.

“Did that just happen?”

He nodded slowly, his brows drawing together. You hummed, matching his frown before you started pulling roughly at the carpet and he returned to his paper.

“Six letter word for a muggle screenplay?”

You didn’t think that much more about Sirius’ gratitude in the next few days, too busy with keeping your lies straight and the war to waste time on why you hated each other. You did notice, despite yourself, that he seemed gradually less and less opposed to your presence. His conversations seemed to dry up less when you entered a room, his glare settled on you less often in Order meetings. As things got more and more difficult at home, the pressure from your parents to get the dark mark growing, it was the small things that helped.

“Y/N,” Peter said one morning, crossing his arms on the breakfast table. You’d warmed to Peter; he was always a little lost, a little wayward. It made you smile most of the time and you couldn’t help the motherly instinct you felt toward him, despite your similarity in age.

“Do you have a spare towel?”

“Why? What did you do with yours?”

A blush covered his cheeks and immediately you found that you really did not want to hear his answer.

“Yeah, I’ll fetch it,” you said, moving to exit the kitchen with a great deal of haste. You’d stayed at the headquarters a few times after hard or early morning missions and Sirius, despite your history, had been kind enough to give you towels to use. You’d been sure, though, that Kreacher, the house-elf, was behind that.

You hadn’t anticipated seeing Sirius in the corridor, muttering to himself as he stood next to the velvet curtain on the wall. His arms were full of what could only be described as junk, the nail of an old bed-frame catching on the fabric. He didn’t notice you behind him as he struggled and with a decidedly irritated yank, he pulled the wooden post free. However, much to his chagrin, and everyone in the house’s eardrums, the curtains fell loose and an extortionately loud screeching filled the air.

“This house is full of blood traitors! Mudbloods!” it hissed, echoing through all the rooms. Seeing Sirius’ arms full, you bent down next to him and gripped the metal rod of the curtain, eager to put it back into place. He jumped a little when he saw you, stumbling out the way slightly, his eyebrows threading together as the high-pitched shouting continued. You took one look at the ugly, yellowing woman in the portrait and shoved the curtain in front of her face, hoping you’d never see it again. It took some jiggling, but soon the portrait was covered and you could only hear rustling behind the fabric, muzzled yells rattling the frame.

“A charming woman, your Mother was. I’m surprised you don’t leave the curtains open all the time,” you said, a distasteful expression tainting your features. Sirius looked at you for a moment, his jaw clenching slightly.

“It’s okay,” you said, smiling a little. “You can laugh.”

He didn’t, but the slight upward curve of his lip didn’t escape you.

“Did you ever have the pleasure to meet her in the flesh?” he asked. Your brows raised at the first real question he’d asked you since you joined the Order.

“No, sadly not,” you crossed your arms and leant on the door. “My parents spoke highly of her, though, which is never the best sign.”

He only nodded, standing awkwardly for a moment before turning to leave. You blinked, before remembering where you’d been going.

“Sirius,” you began, the light tone not suiting his name in your mouth. “Do you have spare towels? Peter-“

Sirius smirked, a strangely handsome expression on him.

“Peter dropped chocolate frogs all over his again,” he huffed, shaking his head. “Just ask Kreacher.”

You barely paid attention to him leaving as you wandered upstairs, in search of the grumpy house-elf. You were pleased to know that Peter’s towel hadn’t been ruined by something more suspect than chocolate, but you couldn’t deny that you were even more pleased that you’d finally had an interaction with Sirius that didn’t involve a row.

Your next interaction, though, was less than ideal. You stumbled toward twelve Grimmauld place with a throbbing headache and shaky legs. Your parents had not been kind when they discovered your treachery, your place in the Order; you were lucky to escape with your life. That’s all you could tell yourself as you dragged yourself up the steps, knocking loudly on the door. It was just your luck for Sirius, of all people, to open it. His expression was at first worried before he realised it was you and a frown settled on his features. As you looked down, trying to concentrate on the swaying floor, you didn’t notice the concern that returned upon seeing your injuries.

“What the blood-“ he began, grunting slightly as you collapsed into him, no longer able to keep your body upright.

You woke the next day in a clean bed with a dull headache. The house-elf shuffling around your room had garnered your attention, and you blinked at him as he placed towels, sheets and clothes in a pile next to the bed.

“Kreacher?” you asked, your voice sore in your throat. “Why am I here?”

“You’re a blood trait-“

You shot him a dry look.

“I mean, how did I get here? Why are you putting clothes out?”

The house-elf sighed, a grizzly sound.

“Master Sirius ordered me to,” he said gruffly. “Said you shall be living here.”

“Oh.”

You frowned, barely registering Kreacher as he made to leave.

“Thank you,” you called after him, earning a grumble in response.

You and Sirius never spoke about the fact that you were now living in the Order Headquarters, in his house, but you never forgot the kindness he showed you. It was a strange feeling, to be grateful to Sirius Black, especially after everything he’d done to you as a student. The topic of your parents didn’t even come up until the night before a particularly difficult mission planning to infiltrate a meeting of death eaters.

“Lily,” you said, sitting on the counter in the kitchen with the others dotted around, even Sirius. “I don’t know if I should come on this mission.”

“What?” Remus asked, placing the chocolate he’d been aiming from his mouth down on the tablecloth.

“I was useful to the Order when I knew things and now,” your voice broke slightly at the memory of the last time you’d seen your parents. “Now I have no information and I might have to… I might have to fight the people that raised me tonight and they don’t have any qualms about killing me or any of you where we stand.”

“Exactly!” James said, moving his arm from the back of Lily’s chair to rest his elbows on the table. “They don’t care about killing us. They killed Gideon and Fabien. You saw what they did to Frank and Alice.”

Your chest tightened. Frank and Alice had always been kind to you; now they were at St. Mungo’s.

“Information or not,” Sirius said, surprising everyone. “You’re a good fighter; we need that.”

The silence that followed his words made you feel like you were missing something as you stared at him, seeing his eyes soft for the first time.

“Sirius is right,” Lily said, nodding. “We have to do all we can; you know that more than most of us.”

The mission had been horrendous.

It had been a bloodbath of proportions you’d never seen before. You’d lost Benjy and Caradoc and Dorcas; people you looked up to. You’d expected losses in a war, you weren’t stupid, but you’d never anticipated the weight behind a spell thrown by your own parents. Despite your own casualties, you’d taken out six death eaters and despite yourself, you were glad your parents weren’t among them. The journey back to the house was a quiet one: Lily busied herself with James’ broken arm and Remus wiped the blood from Sirius’ forehead, dabbing delicately at the cut above his eyebrow. You all disbanded when you got inside, tired and aching, disappearing into your rooms with heavy hearts.

You couldn’t sleep, though, too haunted by the flashes that appeared behind your eyes. It must’ve been past midnight when you tiptoed downstairs, more desperate than ever to not agitate the portrait. You didn’t notice Sirius in the kitchen until you’d shut the door behind you, jumping out of your skin to see him sat there with a glass and a bottle of firewhiskey.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, lifting his glass and taking a swig. You’d come down for tea, but the idea of numbing your senses appealed. He must’ve noticed the way your eyes lingered on his glass and without a word, he reached behind him to grab another, pouring you a liberal shot. You sat down almost tentatively, fingers gliding around the edges of the glass.

He watched with an amused smile as you downed the whole thing, wincing at the burn before you rested it back on the table. He filled it again immediately.

“Rough night.”

“Indeed,” you said, rubbing your eyes and sighing. “I never thought we’d be here.”

He raised an eyebrow, stretching the bandage on his forehead as his lips pressed against the rim of the glass.

“Me and you,” you laughed a little. “Drinking together.”

“Not something I’d have bet on,” he muttered, laughing too. Your smiles both faded as you looked at each other, though, across the plastic gingham table cloth.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

The question tumbled from your lips before you could stop it.

“I don’t hate you.”

You shot him a very dry glance. He shook his head and sighed, putting his glass down a little too loudly before running a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but you.

“You’re a pureblood Slytherin,” he said, running his hands over his face. “And I hated it. I hated anyone that reminded me of this place. And you- you were everything my parents wanted me to be: smart, loyal… dark, I thought.”

You nodded, sipping your drink quietly.

“You were an easy target, too, for a pillock like me. Didn’t have that many friends-“

“That was because they were all stuck-up death eaters.”

“I know that now. It didn’t matter then, though. I was a kid, though, and I thought it was just kids’ stuff-“

“You know, that time you exploded my cauldron in the final Potions exam, I cried for a whole week.”

He had the good sense to look guilty for a second before amusement lifted his cheeks.

“You did bat-bogey hex me for that.”

Your cheeks heated up at the memory, your fingers fiddling with the glass more.

“Which is entirely illegal.”

You smiled, pressed your lips together as you shook your head. It all seemed so long ago; so childish, now. You leant your elbows on the table, resting your chin on your interlocked fingers.

“It was a good shot, though,” you mused, enjoying the way his lips spread into a dazzling grin.

“A bloody good shot,” he laughed. He leant back slowly, tilting his head to the side and biting his top lip. The mood dropped again as he stared at you.

“What?”

“I’m really sorry.”

You wanted to take the piss, but something about his tone or the look in his eyes trapped your words in your throat. You just watched as he stood up, moving towards the sink.

“I made your life hell because I hated my own,” he said, pressing his hands to the counter, leaning forward. “It wasn’t fair. I’m not surprised you hated me, I deserved it.”

You stood up slowly, softly stepping toward him.

“I did hate you,” you said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I hated you for so long it was all I could think about. Even here, I hated seeing your face.”

He turned to you, expression hard and tears sparkling in his eyes.

“I’m not sure if I do anymore.”

He turned around slowly to lean back on the counter as your hand slid down his arm. He caught it gently in his, surprising you.

“I want you to forgive me,” he whispered, staring at you so intensely a lump formed in your throat. You felt like you’d never even met this Sirius before.

“I-“

“I want to earn your forgiveness.”

You were at a loss for words as you looked at him, frozen in place. His hand was warm in your own and you couldn’t, for a moment, think about anything else. You bit your lip and nodded, stepping towards him gently.

“I’d like that.”

You leant into him, your side pressing against his, enjoying his warmth and the new feeling in your chest. You’d been in the war so long you forgot what real life felt like. You felt his hand hover around you nervously before it settled against your back, his hand resting on the counter next to you. And there, with the moonlight pouring in behind you, is where you stood till the sunrise peeked over the horizon; your hands clasped together with Sirius’ arm at your back, silent as you both felt a hope you’d not felt in a good few years.

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imaginesandinserts · 4 years

Text

Irreverent Pt. 47 - Seven Devils

Title: Irreverent Pt. 47 - Seven Devils

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~11K

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You'd just arrived at the airport when you got the call from Clyde informing you that there was a terror alert across the EU and flights were being grounded. He'd coordinate agents on the ground but there wasn't much you could do from the States, so you were off the hook until things got figured out.

Great, now what? *------------* Aaron walked towards the plane with the rest of the team, with Reid already spouting facts around unsubs who preferred to shoot their victims from a distance rather than up close. He climbs up the steps and turning, is greeted by you, seated in your usual chair. "Hey, what're you doing here?" He walks up towards you, the rest of the team following close behind, equally surprised to see you. "EU terror alert," you explain while he stashes his luggage away, nodding hello to everyone else. "Clyde said I'm free for the time being and I was already at the airport. Garcia read me in." "Well, it'll be good to have you, kid." Rossi takes a seat in the aisle across from you guys. "Seems like an all hands on deck sort of situation." Everyone settles in and you can't help but notice the small smile that seems to linger on Aaron ever since he saw you. The two of you had only had the past three days together and throughout that, you'd had a soccer match for Jack, a birthday party for one of his friends, and you'd spent Saturday night with the girls; needless to say, it had been tough to get time together for just the two of you. "Was Jack okay?" you ask, turning to Aaron after everyone had finished talking through some of the case details and started to build a preliminary profile on the Unsub. Aaron nods, but your question catches JJ's attention, who looks to you with her eyebrows raised, the puzzled expression on her face imploring you to explain. You're unable to help the smirk that plays at your lips as you do. "We had a - um - staff meeting this morning that Jack wasn't invited to. He wasn't too happy that the door was locked," you explain, biting your lip and barely stifling your giggles. "A staff meeting?" Emily raises her eyebrows at you and you can just imagine the dirty thoughts running through her mind along with the Wow Y/N only soccer moms call getting railed a staff meeting. You meet Aaron's eye and you can see the soft blush to his cheeks that only you would notice. "I simultaneously regret and appreciate my choice of words there," you murmur to him as he shakes his head in amused disapproval. Derek barks out a laugh in reaction to Emily. "Uh huh. Was it a successful meeting?" he asks, wagging his eyebrows at you, toeing the line at ribbing Aaron as well. "I think both parties were pleased with the outcome. At least according to my notes." You turned to look at Aaron, mirth flitting into your gaze. "Would you concur?" He has a small smirk on his face mirroring yours, no doubt thinking back to the fifteen minutes the two of you had caught together before you had to get ready to leave for the airport - once against the aforementioned locked bedroom door and a second in the shower, before you begged him to relent, otherwise you'd be late. He'd been intent on a third. "Some good points were made. However, we might have to do a follow up to ensure we're still aligned," he drawls, getting far too much enjoyment out of the effect his words and low voice would have on you. You lose it at that, unable to keep a straight face. Follow up indeed. "Gross. I feel like I just watched my parents flirting." JJ groans, pushing up from her seat to go rummage around for snacks in the back. She was due anytime now and would be gone on maternity leave starting the following week. She was already mostly out of the field, staying in the precinct and managing the team from there. You knew, that as a result of that, Aaron was actually out in the field a lot more because he trusted JJ to handle the emotions and politics of local officials far better than anyone else. "Morgan, could you check if we're stocked on the M4 ammunition?" Aaron switches gears towards preparing for the landing, a quick brush of his hand to your thigh in promise that there would indeed be a follow up to this morning's activities. Derek nods and gets up, checking on the rifles stock that was brought along. With an Unsub like this, the team would need to be equally equipped to handle any situations that might arise, especially in a sprawling Texas city where guns were aplenty. "Guys," Spencer pipes up, "I don't think I'm actually allowed to use those." He glances around at the rest of the team apprehensively, as Derek and Aaron share a calculated look at his admission. "You're not," they both tell him almost simultaneously, drawing a snort from both you and Emily while Rossi merely smiles and shakes his head, turning his head back to his notes. Reid looks offended and turns on you at that. "Are you certified to shoot those?" His tone implied that he highly doubted you. "I've been shooting since I was six years old," you inform him, a superior look on your face. "I actually set the Academy record for most weapons certifications earned by a trainee." Aaron presses his lips together to keep from smiling while Emily shakes her head with a laugh at you goading Reid. "I didn't know six year olds were allowed to handle guns." "If you're rich in Connecticut, you can do pretty much anything. Just look at the Kennedys." "Touché."

Spencer grumbles to himself a bit more, slouching into his chair. It was his one weak point and he was getting better at it, really. On pretty much everything else, you're sure he'd have you beat.

You turn towards the research you'd been conducting on your own case with Clyde, in your downtime. Things were starting to fit together in an unexpected manner, and you'd had to bend a few rules to start putting all the different pieces in, but you were finally making some headway. It would definitely be faster and easier if you could enlist Garcia's help or bounce ideas off of Aaron, but your hands were unfortunately tied due to the high level of clearance you'd had to obtain to work this case in the first place.

Aaron watches as your head is bent in concentration, his own focus flickering away from the case ahead. You'd only been home for three days but you'd mentioned that your assignment at last had an end in sight. He's hopeful that that means things will be calming down - the two of you would be around one another more again. While Jack had so far done a good job of keeping the secret, he also gave his father a very telling, excited look anytime he saw you, and Aaron could often see Jack's eyes going to your hand where he hoped a ring would soon sit.

*------------*

All of the bodies thus far had been found at the grounds of various places of worship around the city - a few Churches, a Temple, and a Mosque. It would appear most of the actual killings had happened at a different location and the bodies were then moved and left to be found the next morning by unsuspecting worshippers, children, and groundskeepers. The Unsub was an equal opportunity killer - no discrimination in the religious leanings of his victims.

So far the victimology was all over the board - a college student, a local politician, a priest, a housewife, and a video game developer were the five victims so far. It read like the beginnings of a bad joke. A rabbi, a priest, and a horse walk into a bar…

The Unsub had left the bodies of each victim at their chosen place of worship. That, in itself, felt highly personal so there was a chance that the Unsub personally knew each of their victims. This was supported by the methodology - killing the victims from afar was easier on this particular Unsub's constitution.

The team had been spitballing; attempting to establish a connection between the victims. Reid and JJ were working on the geographic profile. Well, Spencer was at least. JJ kept having to leave to go to the restroom every five minutes. In that moment, you definitely did not envy pregnant women. Bearing children wrecked one's body.

The obvious religious themes were all in scope. The theory at the forefront was that each of the victims was being punished for a perceived sin, and Garcia was doing a deeper dive into their finances and online history while the rest of you got to know the families and the victims personally to wrangle out the truth. This was the most difficult part usually - even if someone was an awful person whilst alive, most people became reluctant to speak ill of the dead.

Trusting JJ to handle the centralized headquarters that the team had set up, Aaron left with you to do one set of the interviews. He wanted to speak to the parishioners of the church where the priest had been found, his body jutting out of the confessional booth. You both noted that it was on the opposite side from where the priests would typically sit, symbolically speaking to the fact that the Unsub considered the priest to be a sinner.

"I mean, he's a priest in a Catholic church," you said as the two of you walked up the pathway to the entrance. "The obvious definitely comes to mind."

Aaron agrees with a grimace. Father Patrick had led a youth group and had been doing so for the past decade. There was a high chance the Unsub could be a current or prior victim of sexual assault at his hands. He could also be someone whom a potential victim had confided in, so your suspect list was pretty wide open for the time being.

As suspected, every conversation you had - with church docents and members alike - was highly complimentary to Father Patrick. He was good with the children, kind to the female staff, had a fairly middle ground interpretation of the Bible; an all-around pillar of the community.

"Hopefully Morgan and Prentiss have better luck."

You nod, buckling in your seatbelt and commandeering the music, electing to actually play the White Album for once, drawing a smile from Aaron. He pulls out of the parking space and heads back towards the precinct. You smile to yourself as Aaron's deep voice croons along to Dear Prudence, his fingers tapping along to the beat against the steering wheel while you look out the window at the twilight Texas sky.

*------------*

"So, the girl, Rachel - total know-it-all, not unlike someone else we know…"

Reid glares at Emily as she trails off with a smirk. Her and Derek had gone to do another set of the interviews at the local university and had talked to classmates and professors to learn more about the first victim.

"We all have our suspicions about Father Patrick, but nothing conclusive there. The Councilwoman was taking bribes to block the legislation around the city's free internet policy per Garcia's research. That leaves Mrs. Abad and Ryan Cohen, the designer. We can't tell what their secret might've been, besides some high balances on a credit card for Mrs. Abad."

The team nods at Hotch, confirming his summary of the case so far.

"JJ and I have narrowed down the field to three epicenters across the city." You're surprised that Spencer gave JJ any credit at all for the work they'd done together. JJ had confided in you upon your return, that she'd told Spencer she was going to the bathroom and had instead taken a twenty minute power nap in a supply closet. Her maternity leave could not start soon enough, and you're glad that she's handling this pregnancy in a much more relaxed manner than the first, allowing herself the time off properly.

"Based on the current cadence, we could have another victim in the next couple of days." Rossi looks around the room grimly. You're all well aware that the window to catch the Unsub before another victim materializes is closing quickly. It also usually tends to speed up once the team arrives on the scene. Makes Unsubs nervous. Eager to finish the job faster.

"Would you say Councilwoman Crane was guilty of the sin of greed?" Derek's brow is furrowed, the beginnings of a concrete thought evident in his question.

You nod, encouraging him to continue.

"Pride for the first victim, Rachel."

You agree again, but this time the rest of them are also following along.

"Seven Deadly Sins," Spencer surmises from Derek's trail of crumbs.

"What are all of them?" Emily asks, looking between Derek and Spencer.

Derek shifts from one foot to the other. "Pride, Greed," he lists off, counting with his thumb and index finger.

"Lust, Envy," Aaron supplies, tacking on to the end of Derek's sentence and prompting him to continue the count.

"Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth," Spencer finishes, turning to write them all down in order on the whiteboard.

The team was finally making some headway.

You stand towards the back of the room looking at the victim board, arms crossed across your chest, leaning against the back wall. "So, let's assume its Lust for Father Patrick. The excessive shopping could be indicative of Envy from Mrs. Abad. You guys did say she lived in a posh neighborhood. Keeping Up With the Joneses lifestyle."

"That leaves Gluttony for Cohen. Kid was pudgy." Rossi had been the one to visit the Medical Examiner, so you all trusted his assessment there.

"They're all in order. Could it be that simple?" Aaron questions, leaned forward in his chair, looking at the board with each of the victims' names listed next to one of the sins.

You contemplate his question as does everyone else. Could it be that simple? An Unsub working down the list of deadly sins, picking out victims that aligned with each one. It would stand to reason, given the working profile - you'd all decided that the Unsub must have an Orthodox religious upbringing, in a militant household.

"Occam's Razor," you answer finally, meeting his eyes, a grim set to your face. This meant there were at least two more victims planned. "The simplest explanation is usually the right one."

*------------*

In the past couple of days, the team had narrowed down the scope of the case, having realized that the Unsub had met all of the victims through various volunteer activities. The working theory was that the Unsub had deemed the victims to all be hypocrites - claiming to be doing charitable works while sinning on the side.

Garcia had cross-referenced volunteer activities between the various places of worship and had come up with charities that all of them supported throughout the city. From there she'd catalogued registered volunteers across all of them, against activities each of the victims attended, however hadn't been able to narrow it down enough.

So, here you were manning the precinct late at night with Aaron, Derek, and Emily. The team was taking it in shifts to see if any missing persons calls came in, with victims fitting into either of the final two remaining sins - Wrath and Sloth. Unfortunately, there were simply far too many options for you to be able to determine who might become the unwitting victim in this Unsub's crusade.

It was calm and quiet, only the whirring of the fan and ambient sounds of the printer filling the silence. The four of you had already eaten and were all nursing hot cups of coffee in order to stay awake in the otherwise empty station. Public statements had been made and hotlines set up in case anyone could provide even a hint as to who the Unsub might be.

Emily was slouched over at the table, her arms cradling her head as another yawn escaped her. Bleary eyed, she looks at you and you weren't much better off, only barely keeping your eyes open, tilting back in your own chair in order to simulate the feeling of tipping over; effectively scaring yourself into staying awake. Derek was seated in front of the laptop, with Garcia on video. The two of them had been playing some game, however it appeared that she'd tired of it, being nearly two hours of a time difference ahead of the rest of you. So now, Derek was just watching her snooze, head bent down to her desk.

You look at Aaron, reading the notes Reid had left behind in order to try and make some sense of everything - uncover something that had slipped through the cracks. His brow is furrowed, head bent in concentration. He'd shed the jacket a while ago and despite the time of year, the Texan climate had forced him to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing delicious swathes of forearm for your perusal. His hands - so large compared to your own, the veins prominent as he flips a page, muscle tensing and flexing as he does. You have to bite your lip to suppress a moan. It was the sleep deprivation. It was getting to you. Yeah, that's it. Not your big, strong boyfriend looking all serious and focused and handsome as he tries to hunt down a serial killer. Nope. Not at all…

You stand up suddenly as your chair tips forward, all four legs finally hitting the ground with a soft crash, cushioned by the carpeted flooring. Loud enough, however, to get Aaron's attention, as he turns to look up at you, the Are you alright? plain to read in his eyes.

"Need fresh air. Gonna go take a walk around the block or something," you explain, shaking your head of the cobwebs that had formed over the course of the past two hours, as the night had slipped into what could better be classified as early morning.

Aaron sets the papers down and turns to Morgan, indicating that he was going to join you. If you thought he was letting you go out alone, at this hour, with a killer on the loose, you were certifiable.

He watches as you slip on your blazer but he doesn't bother with his own. It would be quick and it wasn't too cold anymore. He follows you through the precinct and out the front doors, down the steps, matching your shorter pace easily - he's used to it by now.

"You sure you're alright?" he asks, once the two of you have reached the street. You merely hum tiredly and nod, so he grabs your hand in his, and walks in step with you, turning the corner past the precinct.

It is a little colder outside than it was inside, but his larger hand encompasses yours entirely, making you feel like a child swathed in his warm embrace. The cool air filters through your nostrils, reinvigorating your mind, giving it the jumpstart needed to function once more.

The two of you don't talk as you walk hand in hand down the sidewalk, him walking on the outside as he always does. Only the streetlamps are on, little pockets of light between stretches of darkness. Your mind is at peace. You aren't thinking about this case or your other one. You aren't thinking about any responsibilities and obligations. No worries. Just silent. It's so rare for your mind to be quiet that you relish in it. Allow yourself to bathe in the soundless symphony occupying the chasm in your brain.

As you approach the final turn that will lead you back to the entrance of the station, you find yourself watching Aaron again. He'd been so patient with the entire case with Interpol, despite it taking a toll on him. He'd been pulling double duty - doing all the things he does while also subbing in for everything you're unable to do at home. Him and Jack had sent you a cooking video of the two of them last time you'd been away, as Jack bossed Aaron around in the kitchen and helped him make your chocolate chip cookies for the bake sale at school. You'd sent Aaron detailed instructions, as he'd have to be the one to help Jack brown the butter and ensure he didn't burn himself. You knew he must have been frustrated with the extremely particular list of ingredients you'd sent him, down to the brand of salt flakes (the pièce de résistance of the entire experience) that got sprinkled on top. Yet, he'd tackled it all with aplomb, not complaining to you even once. Jack had confided in you afterwards that Aaron had had to go to three different stores because the salt flakes were a rare item and not every branch of the nicer grocery store carried them. He'd done it though, and Jack had told you they'd turned out exactly like yours. Even Emily had texted you to validate this, asking if you'd come back without telling her when Aaron had brought a batch in for the team the following day.

Aaron feels a tug on his hand right before the turn. You'd stopped and his hand was still holding yours, forcing him to stop as well. You're stood in the shadows, right between two patches of light, your face immersed in darkness, and before he can say anything, he's lightly pushed against the brick wall exterior of the police station building. He lands with a soft oomph. You lean up against him, pressing yourself along the length of him and going up on your toes - utilizing the entirety of your ballet training - your lips meeting his in a heated kiss. He groans into your mouth, hands wrapping around your hips on instinct alone, tongue tracing your bottom lip before gently nipping at it, taking advantage of your resulting gasp to make his way into your mouth, licking every part of you available to him. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around him and turns to hold you against the wall instead, pressing into the inviting warm juncture of your thighs.

"What brought this on?" he hums, moving from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone.

You shiver at his efforts, a flip in your stomach as you feel the edge of his teeth, followed by the soft bite at the bend of your neck. Unable to answer him, lost in the feeling of his lips and teeth against your skin, your hands mussing through his hair, softly pulling and drawing vibrated groans from him.

At the absence of an answer, he pauses, looking up until he has your full attention, meeting your darkened eyes contrasting against your bashful expression. Your breath hitches when his eyes meet yours. "I love you," you muster with some concentration, soft and blissful, pulling his face back down to meet your sweetly puckered lips once more, drawing him into the cacophonous sea of feeling along with you.

By the time the two of you make it back to the conference room that Derek and Emily were sat in, Emily has stood up, leaning flat against the back wall. Derek has moved as well, taking residence in your old chair, leaning backwards much the same way you had.

"What about you guys?" he asks as you and Aaron enter.

You avoid Emily's knowing look. "What about us?"

"This whole thing - case - heaven and hell. You believe in it?"

"I went the agnostic route," Emily adds, stretching and arching her back like a cat. "If it exists, great. If not, no skin off my back."

Derek looks at the two of you expectantly.

Aaron nods quickly, returning to his old seat, feeling a lot lighter than before. He'd grown up Catholic - heaven and hell were ever-present concepts in his home.

You shrug, grabbing your lukewarm cup of coffee and dropping onto the couch. Your family had been more religious for the sake of appearances and connections rather than any true faith-inspired feelings.

Derek chuckles lightly. "Okay, so if they do exist," he says, turning back to Emily who had sunk down to the floor, seated with her legs stretched out in front of her. "Where you think you're headed?"

"Let me guess, you think you're going to heaven," Emily taunts, a mocking grin on her face.

"I do good, I am good," Derek replies assuredly. "Everything else is up to God. Right, Hotch?"

Aaron breathes out half a laugh along with a raise of his brows, which was about as much agreement Derek could hope for there.

"What about you Princess?"

You look at him, slight roll of your eyes to the ceiling. "Pretty sure patricide rules me out for a ticket to heaven," you respond, your words coated with sardonic dismissal.

Heaven. Hell. What did it even matter when you're dead?

It was a good thing that you hadn't looked at Aaron at that, because if you had, you would've noticed an entirely odd expression on his face at your words - he decides to pin his thoughts for a conversation at a later time. Once the case was wrapped up.

*------------*

"Anything you know could help us identify your husband's killer. Were you able to get a good look at him?"

JJ and Derek are running the interrogation on the latest victim's wife while the rest of the team watches from the other room. The body had been found at the edges of yet another church's grounds, marking it as the sixth victim. However, this time, a witness had emerged. The Unsub had taken Dylan Rogers from his front yard at gunpoint and Ashley Rogers, his wife, had seen it all happen from the living room before calling it in to the precinct.

"She seems tense - her shoulders have been hunched this entire time. Her facial expressions have varied from somber to haunted almost." Reid shifts closer as he profiles Mrs. Rogers, studying her body language.

"Morgan said it seemed like he might have hit her. He saw some bruising when she went to the house to pick her up," Prentiss adds, her voice grave.

Aaron acknowledges both Reid and Prentiss with a nod, his eyes fixed on the interaction taking place in the other room.

"Would fit into the umbrella of Wrath." Rossi mused from beside Aaron. All of you continue to watch while JJ brings in a sketch artist to help Mrs. Rogers construct a likeness of the Unsub.

"It must be killing her - if it's true. Having to help find his killer. Imagine the number of times she must've dreamt of hurting him in the same way he hurt her." All of you turn from Emily back to Mrs. Rogers, thinking on her statement.

"She could've left," Reid reasoned distractedly, his expression casually appraising Mrs. Rogers still for any signs that she might be concealing anything.

You find yourself bristling at that, and you've spoken out before you could stop yourself. "You know, it's funny how whenever we see cases like this. Cases where a man continuously beat up his partner, that's the question on everyone's lips. Why didn't she leave? Why did she stay?"

Reid turns to you, his mouth open and ready to contradict you or apologize, you're unsure, but you continue. "We never ask, why didn't he stop?"

Emily snorts from beside you, her lips pressed tightly together as you both watch Mrs. Rogers working with the sketch artist. She turns to Spencer after a look at you. "Because we accept men as monsters. That is their natural state. Those of them that didn't give in to it - we exalt them. We call them good men. Better men. Because they didn't beat us and hurt us and watch us bleed."

There's a tense silence but this is a sentiment that none of them are unfamiliar with. Reid should've known better.

You see Spencer shift uncomfortably, obviously apologetic for his earlier statement. You shake your head slightly and offer him a small smile, reassuring him that he's alright. This kind of stuff, just hits closer to home for some of you.

Your eyes meet Aaron's and he's looking at you with the question in his eyes that you'd expected as soon as you'd opened your mouth. You shake your head at him too, before turning your gaze back to the front.

Aaron watches you for a beat more, his eyes trained to the side of your face, your unwavering eyes set upon Ashley Rogers and your words swimming in his mind. His eyes had asked the question that he already knew the answer to unfortunately. Yet another reason for him to despise Matthew van Doren's entire existence.

"You know, there was a time I thought he was the love of my life." You all can hear Mrs. Rogers talking to JJ as the sketch artist wraps up. "We had that love - that wake up Sunday morning with pancakes and lose yourself in each other under white sheets kind of love. I don't know when it all went wrong."

*------------*

With the aid of Mrs. Rogers' description, Garcia was able to run a digitally enhanced version of the sketch against all known volunteers who had been at most of the events attended by each of the victims in the weeks prior to their deaths. After that, apprehending the Unsub was just a matter of tying together the identified man to each of the victims directly.

The team was able to prevent the final murder, and while that was of little solace to everyone, there was a tiny part of you that felt happy for Ashley Rogers in all of it. Sometimes the exit route we need arrives in the most unexpected of manners, and it is on us to recognize it and seize it for ourselves. You really hoped that Ashley would claim a new and better destiny for herself.

Since it was late, Aaron was unable to get the jet to fly back the same night, so the team was huddled into a corner of the hotel lounge with drinks in hand. While you're thrilled that you were able to prevent the final victim from being taken, this wasn't the best case the team had worked. You can see it in everyone's eyes, the way they hold their drinks, the hushed whispers contemplating if there was something that would've pointed to him sooner.

You feel bad that you aren't even really thinking about this case anymore. Your mind is preoccupied by the contents of the file you've left upstairs in the hotel room. You nod along to Emily and Derek's conversation, glass of wine held languidly in hand while you mentally collate the work you'd done so far. You know you're contributing nothing to the current conversation, and mercifully both of them have left you to your thoughts. Knowing there's not much chance of you being able to distract yourself tonight, you stand and bid good night to them before walking over to Aaron and Rossi, seated over a chessboard with Reid. They were playing two against one and Reid was still the favored choice to win.

"I'm going to head upstairs." You lean in and whisper softly to Aaron so as to not disrupt the game.

He turns his head to look up, brow furrowed ever so much. It wasn't like you to turn in early when there was a chance to socialize with the team. "I can come with." He grabs his drink as though to finish it, but you stop him with a hand to his shoulder.

"It's alright. Stay." You brush a kiss against his temple before nodding good night to the rest of them, intent on making some progress once you reached the room.

By the time Aaron gets upstairs, it is much later. Reid had won but Rossi had insisted on a rematch. Rossi just wanted to see Reid beat just once, however Aaron was wise to not bring attention to the fact that you've never played him. He knows that Reid has asked you, but you've made up excuses to not play. He'd always wondered about that, and having seen the chessboard in the New York apartment had made him realize that there was actually a good chance that you could beat Reid if you wanted to. Reid was a genius. That fact couldn't be denied. He knew everything about everything. You were different from that. Reid was driven by his pure drive for knowledge - that desire to understand the world around him better. You learned with more purpose, intention - with the need to add knowledge and skills to your toolkit, ready to whip out and be unleashed upon your opponents.

He enters the room just to see you exiting the bathroom, a robe wrapped around your body. He can't help but sigh internally at the sight. His soft, fluffy, perfect little personal teddy bear. He couldn't wait to just crawl into bed, already fearing that you'd be on another flight out the following day.

You acknowledge his presence with a smile, while toweling your hair dry.

"Who won?" There's a crooked smile on your face as you watch him take off his jacket and tie. As if you didn't already know who would win.

"Reid. Rossi wants another rematch on the plane." He shakes his head, walking further into the room. Closer to you.

You laugh softly as Aaron reaches you, looking exhausted from the long week and yet, he seems alright. All in all, this case hadn't been absolutely terrible. "Hasn't he learned his lesson by now?"

"He's a glutton for punishment." He steps forward, grabbing the towel from you and prompting you to turn around as he takes over drying your hair with soft tussles, allowing the cloth to absorb water all the way from root to end.

You hum at his actions, letting yourself to be lulled into the peaceful, floaty state that you always enter whenever he plays with your hair. It just felt too good.

"You should just give in and play him sometime." He knows he's pulling at that little thread there, curious as to how you'll react at him having deduced something you hadn't told him upfront.

You merely chuckle softly, seemingly unsurprised that he'd worked that out for himself. His profiling skills no longer surprise you much, especially when it comes to yourself. He could read you like none other. "We wouldn't want Spencer to cry, now would we?"

Aaron bites his lip, preventing a smile threatening to sneak out at that. It was nice knowing he'd been right about that. He'd have to make you play him at least. He needed to see how good you were for himself.

You turn around, halting his actions. You'd gotten a call from Clyde when you'd gotten upstairs and you were already set to fly out tomorrow on a red eye. You'd booked the ticket, making the necessary upgrades on your own dime.

"Tomorrow?" he guessed, noting the expression on your face when you looked up at him, drawing yourself up on your toes and wrapping your arms around his neck, the towel slipping from his hands and onto the floor between your feet.

You nod with a sigh, before coaxing him down, and he's quick to meet your lips with his own, knowing the two of now only have tonight. Tomorrow would be spent on the plane and then you'd have to fly out before he'd get even another hour alone with you. His hands instinctively find your waist, drawing you in flush against him. He deepens the kiss when one of your hands moves from his neck to cup his cheeks, thumb brushing over the peaking stubble around his jaw. You hate leaving like this. You can't wait for it to be over. For there to be no more goodbyes layering his touch and yours.

Aaron hugs you closer, wrapping his arms around you fully, the plush robe giving him far more to grab on to. Your lips against his, moving softly, insistently. You break away, struggling to be on your toes for much longer, so he moves, pushing you up onto the desk and coming to stand between your legs as your lips find their place once more against his, this time hands working at the buttons to his shirt as well.

"Wanted to talk to you about something." He breaks away, allowing you to pepper kisses down his jaw and the column of his neck. If the two of you only had today, he didn't want to risk forgetting and having the issue go stale before bringing it up again. He can feel your mouth, sucking, teeth lightly grazing the skin at his collarbone, undoubtedly leaving marks for him to admire afterwards when you were gone. At your hum, he continues relying on your ability to multitask. "Did you mean it, when you said you aren't going to heaven?"

You pause, looking up at him curiously and being reminded of the question Derek had asked. You hadn't realized it had affected Aaron, and yet thinking back on it, of course it had. Your answer had been entirely flippant. He was so serious when it came to things like this. "Yes. I did." Your voice is measured as you answer him, eyeing him carefully to watch his reaction. Even still, his hands have managed past the tie on your robe and his hands are caressing the bare skin of your sides, drawing a soft sigh from your mouth at the sensation. "By any definition of heaven and God and the Bible, murder isn't exactly condoned."

Had this been a few months ago, Aaron knew that this would have been an entirely different conversation. He could appreciate how entirely blunt you're able to be about how you've framed this for yourself. He might not agree with it, but he can appreciate the honesty. "Bible also says an eye for an eye." He raises an eyebrow at you, indicating that he wasn't about to let this go. Not when it came to the matter of your immortal soul. This mattered to him.

A gasp escapes you as his hands travel up your sides more deliberately, causing shivers against your sensitive skin at the feel of his roughly calloused fingers skimming, exploring, claiming. That's what his touch always felt like. A claim.

You try to focus as you think of a response, hands resuming unbuttoning his shirt and undoing the buckle to his belt. You can see he's already hard and as your fingers ghost over the bulge, he exhales sharply, eyes focused on your hands.

Realizing he wasn't getting an answer from you immediately, he helps you out by undoing the button and lowering the zipper on his pants, taking them off as you watch. You're a little confused by the conversation taking place, but you also knew this going into a relationship with Aaron. Like it or not, he was religious. Your family simply hadn't been much. It wasn't the same religious orthodoxy that Aaron had grown up with, at the very least. He wasn't by any means stringent about it, but some beliefs were innate. Good people go to heaven. Bad people go to hell. As far as he was concerned, you were a good person.

"Heaven and hell - I didn't grow up with that. But that whole eye for an eye thing, I don't think that really applies when it comes to taking a life." You help him slip the shirt off of his shoulders as you speak, the material slipping and falling to the ground as well. Aaron actually undoes the tie to your robe this time, pushing the material off of you almost roughly, eager to expose skin that he couldn't wait to taste. His hands move up to cup your breasts, kneading the flesh - the air in the room and his attentions causing your nipples to pucker, teasing him. He's unable to resist bending down and taking one into his mouth, gently sucking as his fingers tweak the other into submission as well, drawing a keening sound from deep within you, distracting you from your train of thought as you're drenched in the warmth of his touch.

You're entirely bare before him as his mouth moves to the other nipple, hands traveling down, grazing over your stomach and down your thighs, causing them to tremble. He pushes your legs apart, letting go of the nipple, his mouth returning to yours with a renewed fervor. His fingers pick up the evidence of your arousal around them, and he caresses your folds, before entering you with two fingers, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing over it as his fingers scissor inside you, locating the spot that has you arching your back, moans escaping you into his mouth.

Aaron releases your mouth so that he can watch you. Your hands scramble for purchase, bunching into the robe beneath you that soaks up your juices as he continues to work you up. Higher and higher. Your breath panting, breasts thrust up as you can feel the orgasm threatening to overtake your body. It only takes another circular motion of his thumb and the ask to Let go by him, for you to go crashing under the waves, your walls pulsing around his fingers. He watches you fall apart, your arms going up to hug against your breasts as you arch and shake and moan for him, his name falling from your lips repeatedly as he continues his machinations against your sensitive bud, intent on drawing it out. He loves to just watch you like this. Begging him to keep going, your breathy voice urging him on, your gorgeous face, mouth falling open - all for him. His beautiful little princess, entirely at his mercy.

He kisses you again as you come down, your earlier conversation entirely wiped from your mind. But not his. Never his. Aaron could focus and keep track of things in amazing order. He hated that you thought you weren't destined for heaven. It shouldn't matter - such an abstract concept and who even knew, really. But in the off chance it did, he didn't want you to think you'd be excluded. You couldn't be.

Your jelly arms and legs wrap around him and he's already worked down his boxers, revealing his thick, hard cock, eager to be buried inside you. He gathers you up in his arms, pulling you to the edge of the desk, before lifting you up and moving the two of you to the bed, managing to drop you onto it sideways, before quickly climbing on top.

You move your hands to card through his hair, watching him, his lovely brown eyes looking down at you, causing a flurry of emotion in your stomach. He leans down and slots his lips against yours once more, allowing you to get lost in the feel of him. You release him with a gasp, finding it difficult to take in air, and he allows you to breathe as he moves and presses a kiss to your shoulder, entering you in one quick thrust. "Genesis 9:5 says, for your lifeblood, I will surely demand an accounting."

What? You couldn't believe him. He was quoting the fucking Bible while buried in you to the hilt.

"Aaron - "

You're cut off as he moves out, the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit, distractingly. Perfectly. Fuck.

He enters you again, harshly, his cock finding that spot inside you as he does. His voice deep and guttural, a groan falling from his mouth as he invades you fully once more. "From each man, I will demand an accounting for the life of his fellow man."

He was still doing it. How could he even remember to quote the Bible right then?! You couldn't even remember your own name.

You don't have the words as Aaron continues, pumping into you, his hand finding your clit to help you reach your peak faster. Neither one of you would last long. You're already a trembling, shuddering mess beneath him, back arched up, feet planted against the mattress for support, your hands traveling and touching any skin of his they could reach.

You can feel his breath hot against your ear, the weight of him on top of you as he ruts his hips against yours, and you can tell he's close. So very close. His hips stutter as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling softly, just enough. "Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed." He was intent on fucking the verse into you. You release a broken cry at the feel of him. At his words. The passionate, gravely quality of his voice. He finishes with a loud groan, spilling into you, his ministrations against your clit paying off, propelling you towards the precipice as well. Your walls squeeze his cock, pulsing, clenching at the feel of his release inside you. He groans again, dropping on top of you, his hand going down and wrapping your thigh around him, pushing himself further into you still.

He lays on you for a moment longer, the only sound in the room being your breath and thudding hearts, beating in sync.

You're entirely drowned in ecstasy, even as you try to grasp onto the threads of the conversation the two of you had been having. You run your fingers through his soft hair, brushing back the sweat from his forehead, not minding the weight of him on you. He was crushing you entirely and you wouldn't exchange that for anything. No death could be better. Sweeter.

He rolls off of you after a few more moments, dropping next to you on his back, his legs dangling off the side of the bed.

You breathe deeply, before flipping over to lay on your back. You can feel the evidence of both of your releases inside you, but you can't be too bothered to care right then. Your hazy mind has managed to remember the conversation, and you turn your head, tucking your arms underneath to support it as you watch Aaron. He's laid on his back, one arm under his head, eyes closed and chest rising and falling, slowly settling into a steady state.

"If I wasn't going to hell for the patricide already, I'm definitely going to hell now for finding that far too hot." Your voice comes out low and whiny, a near whisper being all you could manage.

Aaron releases a breath of a laugh before he turns to settle on his side, drawing his legs up, moving closer so he's right beside you. So you can feel his skin against yours.

You reach out, your hand cupping his face and he leans in all too willingly, kissing you softly, completely. As he pulls back, you can feel his eyes examining you - searching. Trying to figure out what exactly it is that had you so thoroughly convinced that you didn't belong in heaven. Because he knows you and while at the time killing your father had been awful, he knew that you believed it had been right. Otherwise you wouldn't have done it.

"Can we accept the premise that killing your father isn't a dealbreaker?" he asks cautiously, his hand reaches out, settling into the curve of your waist, fingers curling into the skin. "What is it really?"

You blink, moving into his embrace, hands fidgeting slightly. You're nervous and you're sure he can tell. However, you know you need to tell him. Tell someone. If anyone should know, it's him. You lick your lips and sigh, looking up into his darkened eyes. "You've met my father. If you had to profile him, how would you do it?" Your voice is quiet, timid, unsure.

Your question is met by some apprehension. Aaron isn't certain, however he hesitantly answers you. "Control freak. Narcissist with a God complex."

You nod at his blunt assessment. "Did you ever wonder why my father - why he let me get away with so much?"

He hadn't.

"I broke off an exceptionally advantageous engagement. He did nothing. I cashed out my trust fund and ran away - slutting it up - " He flinches. " - on the cover of every trashy editorial. Crickets. I joined the FBI and he tried to take me out for dinner. Does he seem like the kind of man that tolerates that kind of insubordination?"

Aaron realizes that he should've thought about these questions. He should've thought to protect you from this back then. It was a miss. Especially after finding out what he had about Julian's death. And yet, there had never been anything in your father's interactions with you to suggest that he would do anything to truly harm you. Despite your fear of him.

"Do you remember what you wrote - in my recommendation letter to McKinney?" you murmured, your face right against his. If he moved a millimeter closer you'd be able to feel your nose against his.

Aaron watches you, his brow furrowing, wondering where exactly this was headed. He nods. He remembers. Your skin under his hands is starting to develop goosebumps. Without a word, he grabs you, shifting and maneuvering so that the two of you are laid together, heads at the headboard finally. He pulls at the blankets, draping them over you both and draws you back against him.

You place a quick kiss to his chest in thanks, fingers brushing over the scars that have persisted. Over time, he's become a lot more comfortable having his shirt off around you. It's still not something he will do in public, but around you, he feels comfortable enough. After all, you'd seen them back when they had been much worse.

He nods at you to continue. He has a need to know now. He has to know.

"The night that Matthew proposed to me, Julian and I got into a huge fight," you confess, legs tangling with his as your fingers trace the mapping of lines down his chest and stomach. "He revealed to me that my father - that the proposal was orchestrated. That it was part of some deal between our fathers. That - ." Your voice breaks and Aaron is quick to run his hands soothingly down your back, whispering soft encouragement in your ears, his lips following your hairline. You sniffle and continue on. "He told me that our father gave me away. Without asking. Without talking to me about it. He sold me."

It's Aaron who is lost for words this time. Out of all things, this - this he could not possibly have prepared for. All things considered, you're holding up remarkably, while his mind reels, putting everything he knows about Matthew into context with this new piece of information. He's struck by a tornado of anger towards your father. How dare that man - that awful, cruel man, treat you like property? To be traded and sold at his whims as if you weren't a fully fledged human being of your own.

You find yourself rubbing your hands up and down Aaron's arms, knowing that he must be processing everything all at once. You've had nearly a decade to deal with it and it still feels overwhelming at times.

"I didn't want to believe it, but it made sense."

Aaron opens his mouth to speak - to say something helpful but no words come. You shake your head, reassuring him that it was alright. He needn't say anything.

"So, I woke him up. We talked. I told him I wasn't about to waste my life - being the perfect daughter and the perfect wife. I couldn't."

He nods. He expected nothing less. You weren't some trophy wife.

"Matthew didn't want me to work after we got married. But I wanted something to work towards. Something that would be mine. It wasn't fair that just because Dominic was the eldest son - that he would get it all. Everything. The entire empire. It was the one thing Matthew could never deny me. He wouldn't have dared."

Aaron's eyes widen as the realization begins to sink in. He takes in your gaze - blazing with renewed fire and fury at the situation you'd been in. The fervor within to escape, be your own person within the confines of the life you were in.

"My father - he fought me on it. Because the thing is, sons inherit the earth. Sons and not daughters." You take a deep breath, watching Aaron who appears to have followed along marvelously, because you can tell that he knows exactly what you're trying to say now.

"I showed him, however -- " You nod your head shakily "-- how I had built connections with all the right people. How I was smarter, would work harder, be better than anyone else he could possibly hope for to fill his shoes."

"You'd take over." His voice is low and the words feel reluctant on his tongue. Resigned despite the truth of them.

You nod. There it was - it was finally out there. Your worst secret that no one else had ever known. This secret had gone to the grave with your father. You hadn't even told John, knowing how disappointed he would've been in you - especially so soon after Julian's passing.

Aaron looks at you, taking in the guilt behind your eyes, the fear at revealing this to him. He knows too, that you're right. That if you had applied yourself to that, even half as well as you did to your job, you would've done it brutally well.

"That's why you think you aren't going to heaven," he concludes, his hands still rubbing up and down your back. He can feel your heart beating rapidly against his chest. It wasn't killing your father. It was this. "Sweetheart, you didn't do it, though. You didn't."

"I would've," you argue. "If Uncle Robert hadn't told me, even with Julian dead, I would've. I signed up for all of it Aaron. He trained me. He groomed me. Those things that you wrote in your letter to McKinney - all about how I'm adept at reading people. Because I can manipulate anyone into doing anything I want. He taught me how to do that. That I have an aptitude for navigating politically nuanced situations - because he showed me how to get close to the people that really matter. That I am exceptional at tactical planning - because from that day onwards, he planned out my entire life. And I let him. I helped him. Everything I did, anyone I spoke to, was all part of it. Part of his plans. So when I left, he wasn't ready to let go. He wasn't ready to waste his investment in me." The words leave you like a storm - evidence in the case you'd been building against yourself, carved from marble and sitting heavy against your heart for the past decade. You hated how much of him you saw in yourself.

You're breathing really hard and there are tears clinging to your lashes as Aaron continues to hold you, pulling you in even closer, if that were possible. He couldn't even imagine how long you'd carried this with you. Nearly a decade of guilt and for what? For something you hadn't even carried through with.

"You didn't actually do it," he repeats himself, brushing his lips against your forehead, knowing that right then that's what you need. All the reassurance that he doesn't see you any differently. That he never could. Especially not for this.

"Aaron, I would've been someone the Bureau goes after. Someone you'd have gone after. But the difference is, I would've never been caught."

Again, he knows you're right. Aaron isn't even surprised really at your entire confession - it stood to reason that you'd want the keys to the kingdom. From what he knew of you and your siblings, you really would be the person who was most capable, despite the dubious nature of the job. He's not naïve enough to think you couldn't have done it if you wanted to. You would've been exceptional at it. But you didn't. Given the chance today, you wouldn't. For him, that's what mattered.

He brushes the hair out of your face tenderly, sweeping away all the wisps and baby hairs, holding your face in his hands. "You need to forgive yourself, Y/N. You need to realize that there is a difference between signing up for something and actually doing it. What you actually did, that's what matters. Regardless of the circumstances. That's what truly happened."

You're quiet, so he holds you. He can feel the tears trickling down your face, onto his chest as you bury your head into him once more.

It was an upheaval, telling him all of this. It's Aaron - and despite everything awful that you've revealed just then, he's being kind, compassionate, and understanding. You just told him that you'd essentially signed up to do every evil job known to mankind and he was comforting you. Making sure that you wouldn't beat yourself up. That you forgave yourself. He didn't even - it was as if it didn't even matter to him. How could it not, though? How could it not claw at him, being tangled up with someone he knows to be entrenched in evil?

"You are a good person, Y/N. A wonderful person. This - this one thing doesn't define you. Being good is a series of decisions and choices in that direction. One thing doesn't derail it entirely. That's what amends are for. What forgiveness is for. To show us that no matter what, we always have a chance." Aaron could only hope that you saw yourself the way he saw you. As someone who tried to be good. As someone who was good, through trying alone.

You want to believe him. You do. It sounds peaceful. But how do you know if you've made enough amends? How do you know if you've done enough?

He knows you're struggling to believe him. He wants to convince you, paint it into your skin, emblazon it onto your soul in a manner so unmistakable that you'd never question it again. You're a good person. He needs you to believe it. Desperately.

Aaron tilts your face up by your chin, his lips meeting yours intensely. "You are a wonderfully good person, Y/N" His whisper falls against your lips, forcing you to swallow in his words. Breathe them in. Taste them. Let them settle into your stomach.

He places another kiss to the turn of your neck, tongue peaking out to lick at mark he'd left earlier, soothing over it. "You're a hero. You save people." He will make you believe it.

You watch in awe as he shifts, placing another kiss to the swell of your breasts. "You take such good care of me and Jack." He will make you believe that you're the good he sees in life. Through all the horrors he sees day in and day out, he looks to you and he sees goodness and purity, laughter and joy.

You can feel the tears welling up again in your eyes, for an entirely different reason as you watch him. Watch this man, make his way down the length of your body, reminding you that you conquer monsters for a living. Remind you that you took down your father and in turn prevented him from doing more evil. Impress upon you the importance of everything you've accomplished since then - all the people you've saved, all the happiness you've brought, all the people you've loved.

You can't help but press yourself to him. Closer to him. Because his touch is the forgiveness you can never seem to give yourself. His touch is pure. His touch is good. It is divinity itself. Maybe if he touched you enough, it could make up for it all. Letting his essence cover up everything that came before.

Aaron draws up on his haunches, having just kissed your clit, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. You taste like what he imagines sunshine might taste like. He moves you up with him, into his lap and waits until you've met his mouth of your own volition, before pulling you down onto his cock, seating you fully against him.

You can taste yourself on his lips. You can feel him inside you so entirely, consumingly, fully. He clutches onto you, the drag of him inside you so powerful and potent, the bubbling euphoria encasing you. Your arms curl around his shoulders, fingers in his hair, as his wrap around your hips, helping you ride his cock exquisitely. Vastly, painstakingly slow.

Aaron watches you in his lap, taking him in - his. Mine. Mine. Mine. A chant on repeat in his brain as your wet, velvety walls grip him like a vice. Your beautiful pink lips parted ever so slightly, eyes half lidded. In his lap, against his body, taking his cock. This - this was goodness. You were the source of all pleasure, delight, and happiness that he feels. If that is not goodness, then what is? If the God he calls God didn't recognize you as such, then what kind of God was he? Because he would gladly worship at your altar instead, if need be.

His hands grip you excruciatingly tight against him, unwilling to leave even the semblance of room between the two of you. It was as though he began where you ended and you ended where he began. "I don't care if you believe you're going to heaven or not," he declares, watching you take him. "I'm going to believe it enough for the both of us."

Before you can say anything in response, he draws your attention downwards, forcing you to watch. Watch as he exits you, wet and shiny, drenched in your arousal. Watch as he brings you back down, entering you immeasurably slowly and causing you to clench and flutter around him. His.

You look back up, meeting his warm brown eyes, shining with love and compassion and the utmost respect. Everything that made you fall in love with this man. You watch as he pushes into you, moves you just so - so as to perfectly hit that spot inside you. You tilt your head back on a moan, your body shuddering and your back arching once more, pushing you closer and closer against him. When you return to face him, he looks at you. His eyes fixed on you. That look on his face, was nothing short of reverent.

You come achingly fast, teeth sinking into his shoulder as you shudder around him, taking in his release. He continues through it, pushing his cum back into you in the process, keeping it there, mingling with both of your earlier release.

You're entirely weak as you sit in the cradle of his arms, balancing on his thighs. Your mind is far away and present at once. Present only in him - his touch, his feel, his lips, his words - surrounding you thoroughly.

You are both unhurried in your movements as you clean up together, no need or desire to speak further, content in the silence of one another.

Aaron cleans up the bed, making sure there are fresh sheets, as he watches your tired body put on the small slip you'd left out earlier. Your hair was wet again and he grabs a fresh towel, drying it once more as you lean against him, unable to stand on your own for much longer, your body still sore. He can see the marks he'd left behind blooming and he takes extra care as he urges you towards the freshly made bed. You slip in to your side as he lifts the duvet, quickly climbing in beside you and tucking the two of you into the covers - swaddling your body against his own. He places a gentle kiss to your lips, murmuring his love against them, the echo of his words reverberating against them. You fall asleep first, entirely spent, physically and emotionally. With any luck you'll enter a deep, dreamless sleep. He can hear your steady and even breaths paralleled with the slow rise and fall of your chest, persuading him to join you in slumber.

Even if you didn't go to heaven - if for some God forsaken reason you were denied entrance - he'd willingly, gladly, go to hell with you.

With that final thought, he gives in to the call of your warmth and the sound of your breaths, allowing himself to be drawn into sleep beside you.

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starrybouquet · 3 years

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Ma'am pls I need to know about that sg1/pjo thing you so casually mentioned.. like you cant just drop that on us with no explanation >:/

thank you @spacey-iris for waiting so long for this answer!!! And, here we go...

OMG OKAY HEAR ME OUT BECAUSE THIS IS MY FAVORITE FANDOM IDEA I HAVEN'T SPEWED ON THIS BLOG YET

Full disclosure: in middle school I was Percy Jackson OBSESSED. Writing this post is bringing back memories...ahhh, the good old days before Blood of Olympus came out and I swore off HOO forever...

Going through it carefully, I seriously wonder if Rick Riordan was watching Stargate when he started creating this world. It's no wonder I love Stargate now.

Jack O'Neill = Percy Jackson

I mean, c'mon! It couldn't be more perfect! Both of them are smartasses, have decided it's their life work to act dumb even though they're actually smart as hell. Both of them have ADHD and are VERY fidgety. Jack's a lot more tragic than Percy, because he's fifty instead of sixteen. But they act exactly the same, are loyal to a fault, and wayyyyy too humble. Not to mention they both fall in love with blonde geniuses who laugh at their stupid jokes and are driven NUTS by their dumb acts! Totally the same person.

Sam Carter = Annabeth Chase

I mentioned this already a little. But again, could they be more similar?! Both geniuses who are unafraid to show their smarts. Badass in a fight, and ALSO the person who will draw up a plan to save the world. Both have slightly inept fathers and absent mothers. Both are a little confused when it comes to love, and both of them are tomboys. Plus, they look similar? Like, Annabeth could literally be a teenage Sam Carter? Okay. I'm done.

Daniel + Teal'c = Grover + Tyson

This part isn't quite as perfect, but the combination of Daniel and Teal'c still manages to give off the exact same effect as Grover and Tyson? Daniel's got Grover's clumsiness, Grover's penchant for trouble, but Tyson's innocence. Teal'c has Grover's wisdom and the whole "outsider" perspective Grover and/or Tyson often bring, but he also has Tyson's giant-strongman thing going for him. They both love food in the same way Grover and Tyson love food (okay, now I want a fic where Teal'c tries to eat Louis XVI furniture).

Janet = Thalia

You KNOW I'm right. Same no-nonsense attitude, same attitude towards Jack/Percy. Annabeth and Thalia are besties, Janet and Sam are besties. Okay, Thalia is taller. But with her ability to command the infirmary, Ms. Napoleonic Power Monger could totally pass for a child of Zeus, right?

Hammond = Chiron

I think this one is obvious? Very tired mentors/grandpas who never, never get any time off and have to deal with the fallout of ALL the shenanigans. At least Hammond isn't stuck in a wheelchair outside of the SGC.

Miscellaneous thoughts

does that make...Frank Cromwell...Luke Castellan??

I NOW WANT TO MEET JACK'S MOM MORE THAN EVER IT IS A CRIME WE NEVER GOT TO MEET HIS FAMILY

OH MY GOD IS JUNIPER SHA'RE THAT IS HEARTBREAKING

clarisse is totally maybourne

oh my god walter and siler are connor and travis stoll

Chain Reaction = that early part of Sea of Monsters where Chiron is gone and the camp is just NUTS

who from SG-1 is Zoe Nightshade? idk

Percy is about the right age to be Jack's kid. Oh my god Percy could be Charlie.

Does that make Sara equivalent to Rachel?!

Pete just doesn't exist. Because I don't think Annabeth ever dates anyone else? I like this reality

FUCK SILENA IS MAKEPEACE

Bekendorf (i know i am spelling his name incorrectly, i have not cracked the spines on these books for at least five years, cut me some slack) but anyway he could be...someone who dies...hmm...oh i know! kawalsky!

And - quite obviously - there's a lot of personal parallels for me here too. I absolutely HATED how HOO took advantage of the original characters, and then made fun of them/destroyed their characterization (ahem, ANNABETH). I know lots of people loved HOO more, but for me the last two books especially ruined the characters. Not to mention they kept dangling Percy and Annabeth in front of our noses and then made us read about people who were not them. Funnily enough, 5 PJO books + 5 HOO books = 10 books total! Guess what has 10 seasons? That's right, SG-1! And guess what I refuse to acknowledge the last two seasons of, because said seasons destroyed characterization? Oh look, it's Stargate SG-1!

Speaking of that - if I'm running with the parallel then Landry could be Coach Hedge. And Mitchell can be Fucking Jason Grace--huh, that works well. And I think Vala can be Leo - aka the only one I liked of the new characters! :D

GUYS I NEED TO REREAD THIS NOW

I NEED TO WRITE SAM AND JACK'S KID READING PERCY JACKSON

SELF-INDULGENT PERCY JACKSON AU TIME

#imagine sg1 but with superpowers #poor hammond #asks and answers #spacey-iris #pjo #sg1 #stargate #overdramatic fandom essays #my blogstuffs #this was so fun thank you for waiting

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dragonologist-in-the-making · 4 years

Text

A Second Chance at Love

Pairing: Sirius x reader

Request: Can you do an older Sirius x reader, (she's in her 20s) and they're both in the order and he starts to fall in love with her?she's a badass but also quiet and a sweetheart and brings him so much peace bc older sirius deserves happiness🙄

Hi! I’m sorry if it sounds weird, but I’m honestly in love with this idea! Sirius and the reader have been together for like two years while at Hogwarts and then they broke up and started hating each other. They both join the Order and they have to go on a mission together and it’s like really dangerous. They have to fight Death Eaters and she jumps in front of him to protect him and she gets hurt and they make up, please? I love lovers to enemies to lovers so much!! Thank you, lovely!! (by @i-padfootblack-things)

A/N: Hope you don’t mind that I put these together! I spent sooo long writing this, hopefully it’s actually good haha (pls feedback is very welcome). Thank you for the two requests, this was my first time writing for older Sirius and I hope it went well!! Also, what was the Headquarters in the marauders era? Was there one? Was it Grimmauld place?

Wordcount: 2.4K

The atmosphere in the room was extremely tense, not a breath to be heard as the two old lovers glared at each other across the table. Nobody spoke, wary of what the outcome would be.

Finally, she broke it, pushing herself back from the table with a sigh and a shake of her head. “I’m not doing it.” She insisted, and with that the silence snapped, and shouts echoed around the room.

“Y/N you’re the best two people for the job, you have to!” Lily called at her.

“We can’t be the best two people, we don’t work well together.” She insisted, feeling the anger bubble up at her that someone even suggested she work with him.

“You always used to work flawlessly together.” She pointed out, a defiant look in her bright green eyes.

“Yeah, well, we used to love each other.” Sirius spoke up, the first time he had since Dumbledore had given them both the mission. “Now I think we’re in the exact opposite mindset.”

y/n felt a slight stinging at his words. Did they hate each other? She didn’t think so. Sure, she was uncomfortable when they were alone in a room together, and she found herself rolling her eyes at almost everything he said. But, she still looked for him first when she walked in a room, she listened out for what he was saying, and then agreed with the opposite, no matter what it was just to gain his attention. No, she didn’t think she hated him at all, the animosity she had felt towards him had faded into a mild tolerance, even if he clearly didn’t feel the same about her.

She sat back down in her seat, covering her face with her hand and sighing as everyone else went quiet. She peeked out from behind her hand at Dumbledore, who had remained perfectly silent and perfectly calm throughout the whole exchange, even seeming slightly bemused.

“There’s no other way?” She asked quietly, knowing his answer and wishing it could be something else.

“As I said, you two will be going on this mission together. It shouldn’t be a long one, or too difficult, if that puts your minds at ease.”

“Trust me, I’m going to be doing everything I can to make this as short as possible.”

…

She walked into Grimmauld Place, the soft leather jacket on her arms protecting her from the permanent cold of the house. She walked through the hallway into the kitchen, where Sirius was sat, looking at a small piece of parchment.

He was wearing his old leather jacket, too, the one that he’d been wearing since their days at Hogwarts, the one he would drape over her shoulders when she got cold on their midnight walks, just the two of them. It hung looser on him now, she noticed, likely because he didn’t have a whole kitchen of house elves making him three hearty meals a day, but one house elf, who didn’t much care to give his master anything at all.

“Hey.” She spoke softly, announcing her entrance. “You ready to go?” he nodded, standing up from the table and waving the parchment in his hand.

“This is the address for where to apparate.” He told her, and she nodded, looking over at the paper and seeing an address she didn’t recognise at all. For ten galleons she wouldn’t even have been able to say where in the country it was. Sirius noticed and gave the smallest of sighs, holding his elbow out begrudgingly, offering it to her.

She took it, holding onto the material of the jacket rather than his arm underneath it, closing her eyes as she felt the familiar squeezing sensation of apparition. She opened her eyes again when she felt her feet land on solid ground, jarring her knees slightly, and quickly let go of Sirius’ arm, looking around at the street they were on. She didn’t get to look at the surroundings for long, however, as they heard footsteps approaching and quickly had to dive into a dark alley to the side, hiding themselves from view.

The footsteps grew louder, and voices began to float with them. Sirius looked at y/n, rolling his eyes at the familiar voices from their ex-fellow students. As she heard them speak, she began to pick up on who was there. She could hear Nott and Avery, talking loudly, almost asking to be heard, immediately making her suspicious. She grew even more suspicious at the next voice, but she didn’t have time to voice any of this to Sirius.

“Now that we’ve taken care of that idiot Potter and his precious girlfriend, we can track down Lupin easily enough. Yes, I think we’re making our way through this precious Order quite nicely.” She knew as soon as she heard Bellatrix, and as soon as there was a threat of his friends being hurt, Sirius would be impervious to all reason. She didn’t even get to try, however, he was storming out of the alley to confront them before she had even turned to him, and she scrambled to follow, cursing under her breath at how this was supposed to be an easy, non-combative, mission.

“Stupefy!” He screamed as he burst from the alley, aiming the spell at his cousin who was clearly expecting it, shielding it easily as the horror dawned on the two of them that they had walked straight into a trap, and they were hugely outnumbered.

Numerous curses were immediately fired at y/n and Sirius, and they immediately sprang back to back, shielding them and firing as many as they could in the spare seconds they had.

“I swear to god, Black.” She grunted, throwing up another shield to protect from a curse Dolohov had thrown at her. “You just had to storm out here. Petrificus Totalus!” She allowed herself a brief smile as someone – she didn’t pause to see who – fell down, before another hex was aimed at her and she refocused.

“I’d like to see you sit there and listen about how your best friends have been murdered.” He returned, a sweat breaking out on his forehead from the fight. Although, there were less and less curses being aimed at the both of you, slowly making your progress through the Death Eaters.

“I did, Sirius. They’re my friends too. And they must have known we were coming, they clearly said that just to draw us out.” She saw him turn towards her out of the corner of her eye, saw how he wasn’t paying attention to anyone else around them, even for this briefest of seconds, and saw the red light flashing towards him, heard the accompanying curse, and knew there was no way Sirius could deflect it in time. Instinct made her push him to the side, self-preservation non-existent, as the curse hit her instead, and pain exploded through her whole body.

She felt pain like nothing had ever hurt her before, fresh waves of it rolling through her body and a blood-curdling scream tore itself from her throat to accompany it. All she knew was the debilitating pain, and then blackness.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she was greeted with the view of a dark ceiling, one which could be cleaner, and the faint smell of damp. So, she was back in Grimmauld Place. She pushed herself up, the blanket which had been gently laid over her falling slightly, and saw there was one other person in the room with her, whose long hair was falling in his face, but who looked relieved to see her, for the first time in years.

“You’re awake.” He said, as he stood up and walked to the couch where she was led. She pulled her legs up, creating a space for him to sit in, which he did. “Kind of wish I wasn’t.” She joked, chuckling dryly as she felt the ache in her bones, the remembrance of pain.

“Why did you do it?” He asked, and she knew this was the reason he had been waiting for her. The curiosity burned in his words. “Why did you take an Unforgivable Curse for me?”

“Don’t let your ego inflate too much, I didn’t intend to be in the way too.” She laughed, dropping it quickly as he looked at her. “I don’t want you to be tortured. I haven’t forgotten, you know, what it was like for you to live here, and how hard it must be for you to be back. And even without that, just because we dated once doesn’t mean I want you in pain, now. I still care about you, of course I do.” She spoke quietly, unsure if she was saying too much,

He didn’t answer her, instead he sat there in silence, staring at her. He was looking at her, seeing her in a way that he hadn’t in a long time. He saw the way that her y/h/c hair was falling into her face, and was surprised that she hadn’t tried and failed to brush it away yet, knowing how much it irritated her. He saw how softly her y/e/c looked over him, and he knew that she meant it when she said she never stopped caring. He felt the guilt rise in his chest, though he wasn’t sure what exactly he was guilty for. “I’ll, um, I’ll go tell everyone you’re awake.” And with that, he walked out of the room, his head now swirling confusingly.

Over the next few months, the rest of the Order noticed a dramatic change in the way that y/n and Sirius acted towards each other. When he came back from the store and had brought donuts for everyone, he had one for her, too. Instead of closing the front door loudly and disturbing Walburga’s portrait in the hall, she made a whisper of a sound as she tiptoed through the halls, trying to be as silent as possible. She had begun to frequent the headquarters more, not dashing off as soon as meetings were done or joining Remus when he would pop in for a cup of tea. He had even defended her in an argument, which had ended it quickly, the shock manifesting itself into a silence.

“Come on, y/n, it’s like we’re back at school.” Lily teased as they walked into the – thankfully empty – kitchen. “I thought I was done looking at your sappy eyes for each other.”

“Lily, I do not have sappy eyes.” y/n insisted, sitting on the table and putting her feet on the chair in front of her. “Just because we don’t fight as much anymore doesn’t mean we’re in love with each other.”

“I don’t think you’re in love with each other because you don’t fight.” She rolled her eyes. “I think you’re in love because I watched this happen all those years ago, and I’m watching it happen again now. Sirius talks about you to James, you know.”

“He does?” She started, not expecting that. She couldn’t help being surprised that Sirius was talking about her, and she couldn’t help the butterflies that rose in her stomach as she thought of it. “Aren’t you supposed to be meeting James for lunch?” she reminded Lily, thankful for the excuse to change the topic.

She checked her watch and squeaked, grabbing her bag and running from the house, leaving y/n alone to unpack the shopping and start working on some lunch. She was mid-way through cooking, softly humming a tune to herself to fill the silence, when she heard footsteps heading her way.

“Enough there for two?” she heard his voice before she could see him, but soon his crinkling grey eyes and wide smile were a few metres away from her, leaning against the side.

“Of course.” She answered, smiling back without thinking, quickly turning away as she thought of Lily’s words. “It’s nearly ready.” She finished cooking in silence, Sirius setting the table for the both of them. They sat down, starting to eat, and she didn’t know what to say to him, trying to analyse both of their feelings.

“So, James reckons I’m a teenager again.” Sirius brought up, laughing although he sounded more anxious than happy to her. Her chest constricted, wondering if he’d just been having a similar conversation to her.

“Again? I wasn’t aware that you’d ever grown up.” She teased, but her smile was tight and forced.

“Well, he seems to think that I might be in love, again. With you, again.”

“And what do you think?” She asked, forcing herself to look into his grey eyes, nervous for his answer as the truth dawned on her that she might be about to lose him all over again.

“I think he’s wrong.” And there it was, the blow that seemed to tear her heart in half, for the second time in her life. Before she could come up with some witty retort to play away her pain, he had carried on talking, his gaze still fixed on her. “I don’t think I’m in love again. I think it was easier to hate you than to realise I wasn’t over you, and I didn’t realise that until you took an Unforgivable Curse for me. I’m not in love with you again, because I don’t think I ever stopped.”

She felt like she was about to pass out from the mix of emotions swirling in her head, unable to hold on to one of them for longer than a second. It was decided for her, however, once Sirius’ lips were on hers – how they had gotten there she couldn’t remember – and she felt the pure happiness of love light her up. The kiss was familiar, something she had been missing without knowing, but there was a new edge to it, a resolve to never miss this feeling again. He broke away, settling on his knees between her legs, holding her hands in his, things not changing so much that they didn’t engulf them anymore.

“What do you think?” He mirrored her earlier question, a nervous smile on his face despite it all.

“I think it’s high time that we take James and Lily’s crown and become the best couple.” He laughed, leaning up and pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

#harry potter #harry potter fic #sirius black #sirius black fic #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #padfoot #padfoot x reader #marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader

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wanderingchocolateeclair · 4 years

Text

Here she is!!! I finally got round to drawing her again and I’m actually relatively happy with how she turned out. She is one of my favourite ocs and I love her to bits - I made her almost a year ago when I was thinking about some random EctoLoader headcanons and suddenly had the urge to give them a child...and so then she was designed :D I wasn’t sure if I wanted to post my initial designs as well because I really don’t like the look of my old art but you know why not:

Please keep in mind that these are quite old and um...not that brilliant but they were my first quick sketches of her and I ended up writing a whole entire backstory for her so yeah! (Now that I look back at it I realise I didn’t make her hair poofy enough in the new drawing...also the page ripped and I was really sad about that-) anyway here’s some info about her (under the cut because it ended up a little longer than I expected):

AH I forgot to say!! There are mentions of death and severe injury and other stuff like that in the backstory so please read with caution!

Name -> Yuna Makimi

Age -> 17

Quirk -> “Adapt” - her quirk allows her to adapt certain parts of her body to suit whatever situation she is in. A main example of this would be when she creates little pads on the ends of her fingers which pick up vibrations, enabling her to “see” her surroundings a little better. However she cannot use her quirk to restore parts of her body that are lost/severely damaged (like her legs + eyes).

Occupation -> Student at UA

Current status -> Alive

Family -> Mother (deceased), Father (deceased), Powerloader (adopted dad), Ectoplasm (adopted dad)

Likes -> Dumplings, sitting in flower fields, doing literally anything with her friends + family

More info + backstory:

So, like I mentioned, I came up with her when I was thinking about EctoLoader headcanons and one of these hcs is that after Ecto loses his legs they both go round and pay visits to hospitals and other places to visit the children/patients there - and so yeah.

Yuna was part of quite the loving family, her parents were quite strict but loved her to pieces.

They weren’t the richest of people, and didn’t get along with the rest of their family for whatever reasons, but they were fine together - just the three of them.

That is until the accident that completely changed her life.

At the age of 8 she was caught up in a nasty villain attack as they were driving through the city and their car was completely destroyed. Her parents died at the scene and she was immediately whisked to hospital with very severe injuries.

She lost both her legs and almost all sight in her eyes, her parents were dead and she had nowhere to go, and at such a young age she felt so lost.

2 years passed and still nobody wanted to take her in, they said it would be “too much responsibility” to look after someone like her. And so at that point she had given up on all hope if someday being in a loving family again. Only 10 years old and her life had completely crumbled to pieces.

That is until one day PL swings by on one of his visits and meets this small child who looks as if she never smiles. He speaks to her and she slowly became less shy of this small man that sat in front of her. He decided to visit more often (he was made aware of her situation by one of the nurses that looked after her) and told Ecto all about this sweet little girl who he’d met who was in need of a better life. And over time they contemplated taking her in as their own - they weren’t sure yet but they had thought about it.

One day PL came with a surprise. He had put together a pair of prosthetic legs for her that she had mentioned to him before that she wished she had and that wasn’t all, they mentioned that this time Ecto came along too. She was absolutely overjoyed. She had heard about him and looked up to him a lot, he inspired her to keep going, even though she had lost her legs.

After discussing it with each other, they asked her whether she would be happy to come and live with them, and join a loving family once again. She was taken aback by the offer, as no one had even considered looking after for 2 whole years, but she realised that she was finally offered a normal life again and she was oh so happy with that...and so they adopted her and it was the best decision they ever made.

They helped her get used to her new home and she slowly got more and more comfortable with her new life. Ecto helped her with her therapy, guiding her when she felt lost and confused about what she’s doing. PL helped by tweaking little things about her prosthetics that could help her, and created little items to support her in her walking and her sight. They helped her discover new ways of using her quirk to allow her to be more aware of her surroundings and to help her “see” (she can’t use it to see fully, it just helps her to pinpoint the movements and positions of the objects/people around her a little better).

Soon enough, she was happier than ever, and when she was old enough she brought up her decision of wanting to go to UA. They weren’t sure whether or not she should, for her own safety, but she insisted that even with her disabilities she wanted to try her best at becoming a hero just like them in her own way...even if others believed it was barely possible. And so they allowed it. They taught there anyway so if anything were to happen they would always be close by.

She made a bunch of amazing friends at UA and learnt to handle her quirk in many different ways - expanding it to help her in various different situations. Her classmates would always be there to help her when she needed it but all believed that she was one of the strongest out of all of them - this really made her emotional because it wasn’t something that she ever expected to hear - and hearing this really made Ecto and PL happy, because they had watched as this tiny helpless girl had grown up to become strong, happy and incredibly loved.

And that’s my “little” backstory for her! Sorry its a bit sad and all that but it wouldn’t be one of my backstories if it wasn’t some form of tragic....:/ Anyway have some random headcanons for her->

She cannot ride in a car unless she is holding someone’s hand, this is pretty self-explanatory.

She loves jokes and stupid puns, they make her so incredibly happy it’s unbelievable.

She also loves flowers - they smell nice.

She isn’t entirely blind - she can just about make out shapes and moving objects but without the aid of her quirk she finds it hard to tell the difference between what might be a person and what might just be a large object.

She loves to sing and dance, and she has a beautiful voice, however she gets embarrassed if she gets caught.

She is always happy to spend any sort of time with her dads because with their jobs as heroes, free time can sometimes be very hard to come by.

Sorry how absolutely all over the place this is, I have plenty more headcanons and info about her, but I think I’ve rambled on for quite long enough now! (Plus I kinda just want to post it now because the more I look at the drawing the less I like it-)

Anyway, I hope you like her! She is one of my favourite characters that I’ve made and she makes me very happy. Hopefully, I’ll draw her some more :)

~Eclair

#bnha #eclair’s art #eclair rambles a bit :)#bnha oc #mha oc #my ocs #my characters #ectoloader #ectoplasm #power loader #higari maijima #Yuna #Yuna Makimi #I love her so much #I finally got round to drawing her :)#i managed to muster enough confidence and motivation to actually write out her backstory #so yay!#:) ❤️

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emilythecosmicbun · 4 years

Text

Creepypasta OCs.

Any updates information is on Wattpad WATTPAD: https://www.wattpad.com/story/255861941-creepypasta-ocs-emily-elliot-and-stedge

TW BLOOD, ABUSE MENTION

cottontailprincess is my Instagram and Emilythecosmiccat is my username on some art websites.

They/Them pronouns please

do not sexualise me, my characters or my boyfriend please he isn’t comfortable with that.

okay so these are my two vent ocs.

Emily/Elliot (Bunny.)

one of them, as you know, is my impure agere oc, representing all the sad and flashback parts of everything. I made them to help cope with my thoughts and feelings. They are based off of my appearance and my trauma. They age up with me.

BASIC INFO

Full Name: Emily/Elliot Bunzelle but prefers just Emily or Elliot.

Nickname(s): Bunny, Emmy, El, Em, Princess, Prince, Princette

Meaning of name: Emily (from Urban Dictionary.) An Emily is someone who is crazy inside and out. She knows who her friends are and try’s hard to look after them. She is very pretty but doesn’t always know that. She isn’t always the most popular, but to her that doesn’t matter. She has friends from all ages and they all adore her. She hides her feelings however upsetting they may be.

Meaning of name: Elliot (Urban Dictionary) Elliot is a true master at caring. He teaches how to love and be loved. A man of honour a man of steal. He's as handsome as a Greek God, as strong as diamond, as compassionate as a saint and is as gentle as a father's touch. Elliot possesses a magic within to create a vision in the eyes of all, leaving them stunned at how brilliant and perfect Elliot truly is. A leader, a spirit lifter, a lover, a giver, an Elliot'll leave you speechless with his being, his essence.

Gender: Non-Binary

Pronouns: They/Them

Age:

Currently 19, same as IRL me, though they physically and mentally regress to younger ages, so their age varies. Their main ages are variants of 1+

Date of Birth:

August 21st (Body born in 2001)

Race/Species: English and a Spirit or Entity.

Native language: English (as in England English.)

Orientation/Sexual Preference: Bisexual Personality: Silly, playful, honest, caring, childish, bratty, stubborn, sweet.

Are They Dead: No but they aren't alive either. Somewhere in between.

Any Mental Health Issues?

C-PTSD, due to multiple traumatic events. They frequently experience multiple flashbacks and nightmares, and is usually terrified of leaving their safe space unless it’s with Stedge, even then, they panic.

Triggers: Listed Here. Triggers page on my Carrd.

Powers/Special Abilities: Can float slightly off the ground, is able to phase through walls, spew blood at will, and look "alive" when speaking and comforting children, or just around those they trust.

APPEARANCE:

Looks:

Very young child: Short but very curly/wavy brown hair, a bit lighter than when they are in older looking forms. They wear a pink dress with a white shirt under, and black school shoes. However, they can also just wear a sonic shirt and leggings, or a skirt.

Child: They can vary but their usual look is long curly/wavy brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, blood on their mouth and nose area, tired-looking eyes, pink dress, sometimes a nightgown, depending on the look, they can wear socks, bunny slippers or even go barefoot! Sometimes they wear bunny ears! Sometimes they like to wear sonic gear.

Teen: Depending on the age as a teen, at the point it's "kawaii" inspired things, sometimes just a Melanie Martinez shirt and pants (or skirt), sometimes overalls! They also wore band merch, stuff like that. They have either long brown hair, black hair or multicoloured hair like Melanie Martinez (dyed in variants such as pink, red, blonde (more like light ginger.)

Adult: Band tops, but also ones with cute designs on such as bunnies or kittens, sometimes overalls or dresses, sometimes even onesies, since they can still have the traits of an agere headspace. Short Brown hair, is a lot chubbier than the rest, can be considered mid or plus size.

Height: Varies depending on form and age, but usually smol.

Weight: (UNKNOWN BUT IT VARIES.)

Hair color: Dark brown/Brown

Eye color: Brown

Scars and/or skin conditions: Has a few bruises and a few cuts in some places, but I prefer to not draw them.

Has a skin condition called psoriasis. (I have it IRL.)

Never Seen Without: White Bun, and their three Cream The Rabbit plushies.

Likes:

• Things with peaches (the fruit) on them. (Including peaches and peach ice tea.)

• Bunnies

• Their Caregiver, Stedge.

• Drawing, and colouring in.

• The colour pink.

• Sonic The Hedgehog.

• Porcelain Dolls

• Stuffed Animals

Dislikes:

• Abusers (including physical, mental and sexual abusers.)

• Those who take advantage of vulnerable people.

• People who don’t take them seriously.

• Drama.

• Being abandoned or left alone.

Relationships:

Stedge - Partner in crime, best friend, caregiver and lover. (Depending on age of course.)

Cream.exe (Sally.exe game) - practically twinning, bunny loves to hang out with cream.exe. (my highest kin, apart from cream herself.)

Family Members - Depending on which member, they do have a good bond or a negative one. Bunny loves them on different levels, some of them, they hate. This does not reflect on how (I myself) feel about said family members.

(If you want your creepypasta oc to be friends with Bunny, just ask!)

OTHER INFO:

• They age up with my current age since they aren't dead and they are based off of me.

• I decided to make them some sort of entity since I couldn’t make them a ghost and still be alive lol they age up with me.

•Their “trauma” is the same as mine, which is why I won’t write it in detail here but they are a victim of abuse.

• They are all bloody because its how I feel about my trauma.

• They physically and mentally regressed to the age they are supposed to be, if they are in their child forms, they are an actual child. (Direct reference to my age regression I use to help me cope with my trauma) They prefer to be in this form so they can protect and befriend children. They don't harm children or other victims of abuse. The children usually call them “bunny.”

• When they're in their adult form, they have a partner called Stephen. Someone who they have known since they were 17 years old. When they are a “child” he takes care of them and protects them to make sure they don't ever get hurt again.

• Their sense of justice is what caused them to want to help other children. They never want to see another child go through what they went through.

Any Other Info is on the Picture.

Stedge

Well, I also made a creepypasta oc to represent my boyfriend, someone who I love and trust to help me during those horrible times. He’s like my partner in crime. lmao also his age isn’t rly there because he ages up with his real life counterpart, which will get updated.

REMINDER TO NOT SEXUALISE HIM AS MY BOYFRIEND IS UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THAT.

BASIC INFO:

Name: Stephen

Nickname(s): Stedge, Mr. Bubbles (by Emily/Elliot.)

Meaning of name: Stephen The most beautiful boy in existence. Has stunning eyes, that make your heart fall through the floor when they crinkle with his perfect smile. Is deep, unlike most boys, and extremely intelligent. Has a big heart, and he doesn't realize when he's being taken for granted. Even though he would never admit it, he sometime's can't see what's right in front of him. An over-analyzer, and very stubborn, but he will admit defeat when he has to. Likes to drive girls crazy, apparently. Easy to fall in love with. Hard to figure out.

Gender: Male

Age: Ages up with IRL person. Currently: 19.

Date of Birth:

9th April

Race/Species: English, Human.

Native language: UK English.

Orientation/Sexual Preference: Straight

Are They Dead: No

Any Mental Health Issues? No, None that we know of.

Triggers: None that we know of.

Powers/Special Abilities:

He doesn't have many powers but he athletic and can run quick and has a good amount of strength. He uses a bat and other various stuff.

APPEARANCE:

Looks:

Short brown hair, brown eyes, a bit of facial hair, variants of a black or dark grey shirt, but obviously not only those, sometimes they’re ripped.

Hair color: Dark brown, brown.

Eye color: Brown.

Scars: None.

Personality: He is quite intelligent and mature, behaves childishly in front of Emily/Elliot, cold and serious, is kind, polite, protective.

Hobbies and Likes: • playing the guitar

• skate (skateboarding)

• listening to tunes

• spending time with Emily/Elliot.

Dislikes:

• Abusers, people who take advantage of vulnerable people.

• People who are cruel to Emily/Elliot.

Relationships: Bunny - Best friend, soulmate, would do anything to make bunny smile, frequently gets them stuffed toys and food.

EXTRA INFO:

He is a few months older than me in IRL, his age is 19 right now, along with mine but will be updated.

Stephen is a human, and helps take care of Emily (in their child forms.) since they are a child and very vulnerable in that state due to their trauma, when they’re adult they are romantic towards each other.

They work together as a team when bashing and killing abusers. While he uses physical means, Emily uses mental.

Any Other Info is on the Picture.

WATTPAD: https://www.wattpad.com/story/255861941-creepypasta-ocs-emily-elliot-and-stedge

#my art #agere #sfw agere #creepypasta oc #creepypasta #impure regression #creepypasta child #child oc #bunny #sally.exe #sally exe #sonic exe

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lovelyirony · 4 years

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pls 33.) “He said oh my god you’re piecing it together/You are just a shadow of me/oh my lord you’ve never left the mirror/You were never ever free” Mirror Master with Peggy and Sharon parallels and some Steve/Sharon mayhaps? OR 12.) “It’s on pretty lady/born to be angry/grip of the vice/click on the trigger, girl/sip wine on ice” It’s About Time with rivals to lovers Nat/Maria

Sharon loved visiting her Aunt Peggy. From investigating the various nooks and crannies around the house to the “don’t tell your father I told you this story...” tidbits, it was her favorite place. Her house always smelled of tea and linen, and sometimes Aunt Peggy allowed her to try on some red lipstick.

“With red, you’ll be unstoppable,” Peggy says teasingly. “And who knows what will happen when you’re unstoppable...”

Being a kid means you don’t see a lot of the things that go on behind the scenes, so to speak. Sharon doesn’t know why her mother never likes that it’s Peggy who watches her when she can, doesn’t understand why her father doesn’t want Peggy to tell her what her job is.

She doesn’t know why her mom steers her away from any talk of “being just Peggy!”

“You want to do something else,” her mother says worriedly. “Didn’t you want to be a ballerina?”

“Peggy said they can’t work as a ballerina for very long because of repetition,” Sharon says, frowning.

“Then you can be a doctor. Or a lawyer!”

“Lawyers are boring,” Sharon says, rolling her eyes. “Why can’t I be like Aunt Peggy?”

“Because...just don’t ask,” her mother tells her. She’s irritated, voice getting sharp. Sharon knows that her mom is never a fun person when she’s mad. So Sharon doesn’t say anything, not until her mother is lying down for the night and she sneaks out to her dad’s office.

“Mom doesn’t want me to be like Aunt Peggy. Why?” She whispers, crawling into his lap. He smells like printer ink and the woodsy smell of his cologne.

“Peggy...she’s chosen a dangerous career. It gets her in a bit of trouble sometimes. Your mother doesn’t want that for you.”

“She wants me to be a boring lawyer,” Sharon whines. “I don’t wanna be a lawyer.”

“You don’t have to be,” her dad whispers. “You can be what you want. But with Aunt Peggy’s job...there’s more of a chance that you don’t get to see family as often. She’s lucky that she doesn’t have to move to England or Paris again.”

“She lived in England?” Sharon asks, eyes bugging out.

“Yes, for a bit. You know that we were raised there. She wasn’t there to visit anyone. She had to work the whole time.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun,” Sharon says, frowning.

“No, no it isn’t. But I think saving lives as a doctor could be fun, yeah?”

“Maybe.”

Sharon doesn’t stop wanting to be like Aunt Peggy. Peggy is fierce and Peggy is liked by a lot of people and holds influence.

Peggy Carter probably doesn’t sit alone at lunch because girls called her weird and guys say she’s too much like them.

Peggy Carter has loads of friends, like Aunt Angie and Mr. Jarvis.

If Sharon was more like Peggy, then maybe things would be different and her mom would quit asking her if she wants to invite Mackenzie to her birthday party.

Sharon is very similar to Peggy. Scarily so. She has the same intensity to her gaze, the same drive to help others in her own way. She doesn’t suffer fools easily, and Peggy knows that if she’s not careful, Sharon will end up like her.

And that is one thing that she is terrified of. Peggy knows a lot of the things that have led her to survive are either lucky or questionable. She’s done lots of things she’s not proud of. She doesn’t always check in on her kids as much as she should, doesn’t miss the drifting commentary of not being something/somewhere/someone “again.”

Again. What a damning word, to be something/someone/somewhere “again.”

So when Sharon asks her if she can start training--after all, she was already thirteen and needed to get a headstart if she really wanted to be like her aunt--and Peggy looks at her.

“No.”

“What? Why not?” Sharon asks, sipping the rest of her tea. “Is it still too early?”

“My job is not easy,” Peggy says. “It is not a game.”

“You think...what?” Sharon asks.

“You wouldn’t take it seriously,” Peggy says. “This isn’t some adventure of Betty Carver, this isn’t a Captain America adventure. No.”

Sharon blinks back tears. She can’t cry in front of Aunt Peggy, not here. Not now. She wants to prove she’s not some fucking little kid who thinks this is her thinking it’ll be like Betty Carver, the stupid nurse from the old radio show about Captain America.

“I-I’ll go home now,” Sharon says, voice brimming with tears. She can’t hide it. Doesn’t have the training for it, obviously. “See you later.”

Peggy knows it hurts Sharon. She knows it does, knows that she will never look at Sharon like she usually does. But she needs Sharon to be nothing like her.

Because if she’s everything like her...oh god.

Her mother is relieved. There’s a lighter air to her demeanor when Sharon says she’ll just walk home from school anymore.

“I don’t wanna bother Aunt Peggy,” she says lightly. They can’t know what was said. She can barely think of it without tears coming back up. “Do you think I can sign up for anatomy in high school?”

A doctor. That’s what she’ll be. That’s what she tells herself.

But then there comes a night when she’s home alone. Her parents are on a date night, playfully telling her to not do anything dangerous. She knows they mean have anyone over, light the house on fire.

They don’t think she’ll reconsider her career path.

Aunt Peggy doesn’t think she can do it. She thinks that Sharon is just some kid who thinks this whole thing is some stupidly fun mission and she’ll tell stories by the campfire when she’s old.

Sharon’s not stupid. She still may be a kid, but she doesn’t know why the hell anyone thinks kids are stupid.

She can still pretend like she’s gonna be a doctor. She’ll just need to add some necessary lies. Like saying she needs to study foreign languages to a.) make sure she knows her patients, and b.) get scholarships. Saying she needs self-defense because she wants to work in DC.

“To work on politicians, huh?” her dad asks with a grin. “Don’t pull the plug, they’ll throw you in jail.”

“I won’t get caught,” Sharon jokes.

“Don’t,” her mother warns. “You’ll get us all in trouble one day, I swear. What made you decide to focus more on all this, hm?”

“Future’s important,” Sharon says. “Isn’t that what you always say, mom?”

“So you can listen to that but not me telling you to put away your laundry seven times?”

“Mom!”

Her mother chuckles.

“I’m proud of you, honey. Just think, our next doctor! How fun...”

She prattles on about her insanely-boring Uncle Jimmy, who could make paint beg to dry quicker.

Sharon starts studying, and studying hard. She memorizes languages, at least enough to get by. She starts going to the gym and kickboxing. And she remembers that she wants to do this in spite of Aunt Peggy, because she wants to be there to help people.

She remembers Peggy’s stories of Steve, which always varied with Captain America’s. Steve was a sweetheart who liked to draw and had a surprisingly vicious sense of humor.

“You and him would have gotten along like a house on fire,” Peggy would say, chuckling. “Of course, he owed me a dance...I’m not sure if I would have taken him up on that.”

She would gaze fondly over at Uncle Daniel, who smiles in response and kisses her on the forehead and tells her what’s for dinner.

Steve always did stuff for the right reason. Didn’t matter that he was as skinny as a telephone pole, didn’t matter that he could get around New York by categorizing which streets he got beat up on. He kept going. He kept trying to be the best person he could under the circumstances.

That’s what Sharon likes about Steve Rogers. Of course Captain America most likely ended World War II on a much quicker pace and gave hope to millions, but it was Steve who at the end of the day promised a dance and had smiles on his face that were endearingly familiar to her.

When she goes to college, she goes on scholarship and moves into a dorm. Her mother tries to convince her in vain to join a sorority.

“Don’t you want built-in friends?” Her mother asks. “After all, you know that I still talk to Roberta and Missy from mine--”

“And they’re such a delight,” dad mutters, ignoring the dirty look his wife gives him. “Sharon, do what you want. You wanna join a sorority? Fine. You don’t? Cool.”

“They’re beneficial, Sharon. Who knows how many connections you could get for jobs?”

That makes Sharon pause.

She joins a sorority. Not her favorite thing, but some of these girls have mothers and fathers and family members that sway decisions. And if she wants a favor later, she’ll have to see Lindsey puke out three margaritas in a shitty bar to do it.

Class, of course, is difficult. She plays the part well of studying to be a doctor and finding out it just isn’t for her.

“Oh that’s okay,” her father says. “I wanted to be an archaeologist at some point. Can you imagine how ridiculous that would be? I misplace my socks half the time, I don’t know what I’d do with dinosaur bones...”

Sharon giggles. Says she’s thinking about switching to be a communications major.

They okay it, she’s set. She also has more time to train, practice languages, and get a minor in Spanish.

She keeps a lookout for SHIELD. Listens carefully to what her dad says about Aunt Peggy.

He knows something happened. Neither party will tell him, but something is off in the way Sharon makes too sharp a remark and Peggy hasn’t the faintest idea what Sharon’s actually up to.

“I worry about both of them,” Harrison tells his wife.

“People grow apart some times,” Amanda answers sleepily. “And it’s good that Sharon grew out of that phase where she wanted to be Margaret. Of all things...”

He supposes his wife is right. He sets down his newspaper, takes off his reading glasses, and heads to bed.

Meanwhile, Sharon has ditched her sorority’s party night to interview at SHIELD. She’s submitted her applications under Agent Thirteen, waiting for a response. When she gets an email from someone named “Phil Coulson” to meet at seven o’clock for an interview, she dresses in business casual and waits at a cafe for him.

He blinks.

“Does...does Director Carter know you’re here?”

“No, and I would prefer it if she didn’t,” Sharon says. “Especially since she’s retired and SHIELD is no longer under her eyes.”

Coulson clears his throat.

“Of..of course. May I ask why?”

“Family connections are dangerous things to have in this business,” Sharon tells him, taking a swig of coffee. “I would prefer to avoid it.”

She gets a trial run. She’s put in a course with the other new recruits. Calls her parents and says it’s a boot camp for leadership. (She’s not wrong...technically.) She tightens her ponytail and listens as the senior agents tell them all it isn’t a walk in the park.

“This isn’t some ‘save-the-day’ routine that you get to brag about once it’s done,” Agent Coulson says in that infuriatingly even, boring voice he has. “You’ll have nightmares. You will have to lie to everyone you love about everything. And people will leave you and you cannot blame them for it, you cannot tell them the real reason. Are you ready for that? Do you think you can handle that?”

Recruits nod. Sharon says “yes.” Because verbalizing it? That means you have a dedication. Simply nodding never means what it is. It means you cannot dedicate yourself to a problem, but you think you can.

It is that night when she sleeps on an uncomfortable cot that she understands Aunt Peggy a little bit more. She understands why she couldn’t always be there, why her own kids didn’t like visiting, or so mom had said.

(Maybe why she told you to stay away, her brain whispers. But she remembers her throat burning, remembering that her aunt had told her that she couldn’t train someone like her.)

Sharon keeps that thought away. Better not to have personal connections.

Of course, everyone wants to know why she’s Agent Thirteen.

“You like numbers or something?” One girl asks. “Come on, you can tell me. We’re friends, right?”

They are not friends. Lily seems to think they are because she wants Sharon to let her guard down enough so she can beat her time on the obstacle course.

“Nope,” Thirteen says. “Just call me Thirteen like everybody else. You’re not gonna know it.”

“Fine, be that way,” Lily says. “I’m still gonna kick your ass on the obstacle course, Thirteen.”

Sharon grins.

“Do your worst, Lily.”

(Lily’s worst is...well it’s worse than most everyone’s. She’s rejected from the field academy and doesn’t let anyone see her cry. But everyone can hear it over the steady thrum of the shower.)

“So, why the number Thirteen?” Agent Barton asks. He’s different from most recruits. For one, he’s from Iowa. That in itself is...something. Secondly, he was recruited from an honest-to-god circus where he wore purple sequins.

“Thirteen is my favorite number,” she responds, rewrapping her hands for the sparring session. “Why purple sequins?”

“They were out of hot pink,” Clint says, and she laughs. “Come on, I think if we hurry to the cafeteria we can get a meal that is only questionable and not highly questionable.”

Thirteen scores well on tests involving body language. She reads people like a book. Her aim could use work, but it’s proficient enough to impress. She can turn on the charm, turn on the lies like she’s meant to do it.

(And she’s spent so long lying to everyone around her, is it any wonder?)

When she gets officially inducted, Fury asks her if her aunt knows.

“No, and I would rather she didn’t,” Sharon said tersely.

She understands Peggy now. She understands her in the way that agents are lost and people get frustrated and drop the training because they have a spouse that they love more than life itself. God knows how Peggy balanced it.

She thinks that maybe Aunt Peggy was scared that Sharon would disappear and never return, become like so many others on the wall of remembrance.

Sharon touches Steve’s placard every time she passes it. It’s more tarnished than others, the first one on the wall. Her fingers trace the “S” and the “R” every time, and she smiles as she remembers the stories of him.

People see similarities. The higher-ups don’t spill any secrets to the lower agents, they can’t. But they know that she’s related to Peggy in the way her voice becomes clipped when she’s frustrated, in the ways her eyes flash in rage.

She’s too similar, she knows that.

The comparisons won’t stop. Because she knows she’s too similar. Dear god, sometimes she’s worried that she’ll look into a mirror and see her.

The older agents, the ones that have been in the field and now deal with all the boring paperwork and paper trails whisper to her that Peggy made a lot of the same decisions as she did, stayed behind to make sure the job was done.

“You’re just like her,” Agent Veering says, his spectacles slipping down his nose. “She would be proud of you, you know.”

No, no she wouldn’t. To have someone turn out exactly like you?

Well...you know your shortcomings. You know your failures. You know how you will die, nearly. And someone having that same pattern?

God, Peggy would die.

So she pushes that out of her mind. She focuses on the mission at hand and reads the various notecards on the fridge about “please don’t touch this meal or you will die.”

She’s one of their best. Of course she is, people say. Fury is reminded of Peggy’s legacy, of how Sharon acts. She puts herself out there first, luring people away with expectations. It’s...eerily similar.

Sharon gets a call from her parents. They think she has an office job dealing with communications in security fields. (Technically not a lie. Also not a complete truth.)

“You need to come visit Peggy,” dad says quietly. “Please.”

“What happened?”

“She’s been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.”

It’s a terrible thing. Because it can’t get better, it will only get worse until you have someone who doesn’t know a damn thing.

Peggy doesn’t like all the fuss.

“Don’t worry about me darling,” she tells Harrison. “I’m fine. Just a bit forgetful. I’ll be out of hospital in a week, tops. I’ll be back to work!”

She thinks she’s going back to work a lot.

They actually have to keep her in a special home, one monitored by SHIELD agents. She keeps revealing secrets, ones that people absolutely cannot know.

But on good days, Sharon visits. And on bad days.

“I cannot believe you joined SHIELD,” Peggy says sharply. “It’s exactly what I didn’t want you to do.”

“Should’ve told me to go for it and then told me about the recruit training,” Sharon says. “Would’ve turned me off completely.”

Peggy laughs. She holds Sharon hands.

“Promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t...don’t be like me.”

And it means more now. It’s unavoidable, what Peggy has. And yet there’s always the “what if.”

“Okay,” Sharon says, knowing she is lying. “Okay.”

Sharon cries in her car. For longer than ten minutes. Which is fine, she knows that.

But she gets a call from Hill.

“Thirteen?”

“What?”

“Okay over there?” Maria asks. Sharon can feel the eyebrow raise from here.

“Personal issues. I’ll be okay. What is it?”

“You’re gonna want to get here as quick as possible. I’m talking a hundred miles an hour.”

“What, did Fury finally wear white?”

“No, way better than that.”

They fucking found him. They found Steve Rogers. He’s in a block of ice and he’s alive.

Sharon’s horrified. Everyone else seems to be losing it, smiling and grinning because Cap is back.

They don’t know how badly he’s going to be out of time.

She goes straight to Fury.

“You can’t push him immediately,” she says. “You can’t.”

“And what, you know Cap better than us?” Fury asks.

“I know Steve better than you,” Sharon says, leveling with him. “And this is gonna suck and he’s going to need to learn how to be himself before Captain America is even an option. Trust me. Trust the psychologists who are gonna tell you the exact same thing.”

Fury looks at her for a moment.

“Tell me the difference.”

“Steve is going to run out of that room because you messed up,” Sharon says, gesturing to the woman they’re having going in. “You got the fashion wrong, you got the hair wrong. In the army, her hair would’ve been up and away. You’re also playing a baseball game that he was at. He knows that he won’t be.”

“We’re not sure the state of his memory.”

“He memorized strategies and sites of attack in one glance and could recall even the smallest detail about a stranger, he’ll remember,” Sharon argues.

Steve Rogers runs.

Sharon curses. She fucking knew they’d pull this, knew that SHIELD wanted Captain America back so badly they’d forget that he’s still just a guy.

He stares at Times Square with all of its people, all of the lights, and he looks lost.

“I...I had a dance.”

Fury ushers him back inside. Sharon says nothing.

This does not explain why Steve Rogers gets moved in right next to her apartment.

“What the fuck,” Sharon seethes into her phone. “When I told you to get him help, I didn’t mean me!”

“You’re the one who has the closest connection to him. Seeing your aunt is gonna depress the living shit out of him,” Clint says.

(Yes, she told Clint. In her defense she was wine-drunk, had eaten the best burger to that point in her life, and Clint had made her laugh for ten minutes straight.)

“Is he seeing a therapist?”

“As soon as he agrees to one.”

Sharon knocks her head against the wall. And then goes over to see Steve looking forlornly at the space.

“What’s up?” she asks.

Steve turns, blinking at her.

“Who are you?”

“Sharon. Carter.”

“You’re...?”

“Related? Yes. But that’s not important right now. You need help unpacking your kitchen stuff.”

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you realize how bad new agents are at packing things,” Sharon says. “I’m helping.”

Steve is truly and really lost. It reminds him of when he went through the city for the first time by himself and got lost around a streetcar and he couldn’t find his way back until Bucky had happened to walk by with a cute girl on his arm.

He should really tell Bucky about all of this, he just needs to find--

Stamps. For a man who’s MIA. Or KIA. Most likely the latter.

Then he can’t breathe. And he sits on a chair that’s too modern and he stares at a carpet that looks weird, and Sharon is by him.

“Hey,” she says. “Breathe. You’re here in your apartment. I put away dishes. I’m making you get new coffee mugs because the ones you have are disgusting.”

“Where the fuck do I get those?” Steve asks. “Woolworth’s? Do they even have those?”

“Missed it by a decade or eight,” Sharon says. “No, there are other stores. Better designs, too. Or we can go and paint custom mugs. Ever wanted to see what it looks like to paint ‘fuck you’ on a mug?”

Sharon is pretty sure she’s fucking everything up.

But Steve laughs.

“You can....you can do that?”

“Of course you can,” Sharon says. “Let me show you some stuff...”

Steve is taught the worst and best of American pop culture. He hates rock music for now.

“I’m down the hall, the first room on your left,” Sharon says. “Don’t hesitate to knock for anything. I know you will need things, do not tell me you are fine. You’re not a good actor yet.”

He breaks a wall. A fucking wall. It’s the one leading into her room, and luckily her bed wasn’t against it. He’s covered in dust and wood and plaster, and he speaks a litany of apologies.

Sharon can’t help it.

She laughs.

“Only you would make sure we had a shared apartment,” she says.

“I can fix it I know it isn’t proper--”

“I don’t care about proper,” Sharon says. “At least now I can keep a closer eye on you. We’ll have SHIELD do some renovation work while I show you potentially the worst or best places you will ever go.”

Steve gets a tour of DC. He remembers when there were stories and pictures of President Woodrow Wilson’s sheep “mowing” the lawn. He’s surprised at all the security measures, and is not happy that there is more security on public transit.

“We can still break in if you want,” Sharon says. “But I’ll get you a pass.”

“It’s the future and it sucks,” Steve mutters.

Sharon laughs out loud at that.

“Well I’ll show you something that doesn’t suck, and that is a restaurant that I only take few people to, such as Agent Barton. You’ll meet him later, he’s a real disaster.”

Steve loves the burger place and all of its seedy decorations and kitschy photos of old celebrities visiting.

Sharon takes him grocery shopping. He’s overwhelmed.

“How are there more than one type of orange? How can you afford them?”

“We get good pay from SHIELD,” Sharon answers. “Tell me, have you ever had a strawberry margarita?”

“What?”

“Adding to cart,” Sharon answers. “You’re about to enjoy alcohol, finally.”

“Peggy tell you I hate it?”

“Just figured you would,” Sharon says. “She said the only time she saw you drink was when Bucky disappeared.”

It’s sad after that. Steve’s shoulders hunch in on themselves.

“You ever lost someone?” Steve asks.

“I am,” Sharon says quietly. “Do you want to make a pie?”

“What?”

“I’m going with no,” Sharon answers back. “We’ll make good brownies then.”

Steve’s frame is hilariously slim when you wrap an apron around it. Sharon can’t see she doesn’t admire it.

“This is amazing,” Steve says.

“Quit licking the batter,” Sharon says. “We have to eat these, you heathen.”

“Oh, like you’ll die from it,” Steve answers back sarcastically. “I was frozen for seventy years, I wanna lick batter.”

Sharon nods.

He doesn’t want to see a therapist. Insists he’s fine.

Sharon gestures to the wall that is now tastefully decorated with curtains.

“...fine. But if I don’t like it I’m leaving.”

“Would never force you to stay,” Sharon says. “Keep in mind one therapist is not your end-all solution. Sometimes you need to look around.”

“Do you...?”

“Yup,” Sharon says. “Can’t be as sexy as I am without a few issues that need working on.”

Eventually, Steve finds one.

He shows Sharon his world. He shows her records that he keeps buying off online sites, the player that he swears he can fix up.

“We could probably get you a functional gramophone if you wanted,” Sharon says. “Like yeah it’ll be expensive but we can do it.”

“I want one that’s well-loved,” Steve says. “One with character.”

Not for the first time does Sharon smile.

They sit together at dinner sometimes, and Steve tells her about what Brooklyn used to be, and she tells him stories of how she would climb trees until she couldn’t go any higher, and she used to memorize all of the cassettes and CDs that her parents had. She could still sing along to ABBA with no prompt.

She makes Steve watch Mamma Mia! after that, laughing as he stares wide-eyed.

“This is incredible.”

Steve looks at Sharon like she’s his world. And in some respects, she is. But he can’t get over how different she is from Peggy. And that’s the damning evidence, isn’t it? That she’s a connection, but she’s...she’s not.

She doesn’t wear red lipstick, doesn’t own any. Told him one day that she looked stupid in it. “I’m unstoppable without it, I don’t need it,” she says, and it feels like there’s something more there.

How she reacts in some ways like Peggy would, but how communicative she is with others. How she laughs and makes sure people are comfortable in the situation. Not that Peggy wasn’t any of that, but she was focused on getting to the end, to proving that it was a success. Sharon wanted the same thing, but what mattered was that people were okay.

He doesn’t stay with Sharon all the time. She encourages him to get out “into the big, bad, scary world.”

She meant interacting with college art students, which is quite scary. He agrees. He thinks it’s very cool that you can dye your hair now, and buys the shittiest dye ever.

He dyes his hair blue and accidentally smears some down his neck. He shivers as Sharon traces her hand down, laughing.

“Oh my god. Steve, what did you do?”

“Marcy in my class has pink hair, I wanted to dye my hair!” Steve says defensively. “You left me bored.”

Sharon smiles up at him.

(What would it be like to wrap his arms around her? To hold her and let the universe pass them by?)

He shakes his head out of the thought.

“Ooh, showing off the hair?” Sharon asks, grinning.

“Of course.”

“Nerd,” she teases. “Well come on, I got some ice cream from the store. Your favorite which is disgustingly basic, but here we are.”

“It’s basic for a reason, it’s good,” Steve teases right back. “Need to ask you about my new art project.”

“Shoot.”

“I need to draw someone. And you’re basically the only person I really, um, want to draw.”

“What, afraid that you can’t capture Coulson’s strong personality on paper?” Sharon asks wryly. Steve snorts.

“Oh yeah, his vivacity would fly off the page. Really and honestly, truly.”

“Well, what do I need to do?”

“It has to be a stylized portrait from any historical era,” Steve answers. “And I already have the materials and stuff, we just need to go shopping for some clothing and stuff. Maybe accessories.”

“Okay.”

Sharon thinks her heart is absolutely stupid for beating this fast. It’s been doing this more recently.

Natasha keeps making fun of her.

Steve wants to do a Baroque style, over-the-top goddess style. He has her dripping in drapery and gold chains, thin as can be. He delicately sets a crown that he weaved into her hair.

“You look gorgeous,” he says, blinking. “Just...wow.”

“All thanks to the cute artist,” Sharon flirts back, winking. “Tell me how you want me.”

Silence after that.

But Steve positions her reclining, and she can’t stop herself from raising an eyebrow at him.

“I feel ridiculous, just so you know.”

“You look great, if that’s any connotation.”

“It could be.”

She smiles at him, and that’s the winning expression. “Hold please.”

Sharon tries her best, stilling. Benefit of SHIELD training. She can stay still for hours. Her smile, however, moves.

This is fine. Steve smiles back.

“Break time,” he announces a couple of hours later. Sharon sags on the couch, swinging her legs over.

She overestimates her abilities and the fabric, as one foot gets caught and she falls forward.

Steve’s catching her in a flash. She grins.

“Being my hero, huh?”

“Of course,” Steve says. “Where would I be if I didn’t save the pretty lady?”

Sharon smiles, leans closer.

“Can I...I wanna kiss you.”

Steve blinks. Goes for it.

Sharon smiles into it.

Months later, when everything’s going to shit and Natasha asks if that’s the first kiss he’s had since 1945, he smiles to himself.

“No, it’s not,” he tells her. “You knew that, didn’t you?”

Natasha smiles to herself.

“Sharon’s not gonna be mad at me, is she?”

“Of course not,” Steve says. “Especially after I tell her I convinced you to wear these terrible shoes.”

“Hey!”

When he wakes up at the hospital, Sharon’s standing at the side and Sam’s sitting down.

“On your left,” Steve pants out.

“You--” Sam hangs his head, laughing. “You got me on that one. Got your shield. We don’t know where Barnes is. Your girl is here, by the way. Gotta say, you got lucky.”

“Damn right I did,” Steve says weakly. Sharon waves. Steve tries to wave.

“You got thrown from a Helicarrier, don’t,” Sharon says. She sends Sam off with a goodbye hug and a promise to deliver some dessert as a thank-you.

She looks at Steve.

“You have so much explaining to do. So much. But later.” She takes his hand, kissing it softly. “I was terrified.”

“So was I.”

They sit like that for a moment. Steve turns, seeing the bandage around her arm.

“What’s that?”

“Rumlow’s a bastard with a knife, played dirty,” Sharon says. “It’s nothing. He got crushed under a building. Karma, you know. Whole thing.”

Steve laughs. Winces. Sharon puts her hand over his.

“Get some rest,” she says. “I’ll be back tomorrow to visit and evaluate if you can go home or not.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Sharon rolls her eyes.

“Of course you are.”

She presses a kiss to his forehead.

“I love you, honey. Stay safe.”

“You too.” He squeezes her hand.

Things will be okay.

#HOLY FUCKING SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS IS SO FUCKIGN LONG. WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO #peggy carter #sharon carter #steve rogers #clint barton #yes clint is her bff yes i do what i want #of course i do what would you have expected #lovelyirony writes #any single time jess (not me) requests a prompt from me i just HAVE to go feral #staron

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jaeminlore · 5 years

Text

I Can’t Dream Alone | Renjun

series timeline | playlist

summary: the sound of my lover, a feeling so strong

words: 6k+

category: siren!renjun, pirate!reader, fluff, angst, renjun said i shall call donghyuck squishy and he shall me my squishy, reader is kind of an asshole at first, so is renjun, a bit of one-sided renhyuck in there ngl, i did my best pls don’t be mean

warning(s): mentions of slavery/trafficking, reader is kind of a villain, so is renjun so there you go, attempted murder and vice versa, renjun is scary, this is an odd dynamic i do not think it is healthy at all so don’t go romanticizing it pls, donghyuck has given up and it breaks my heart

author note: *buzz lightyear voice* red flags. red flags everywhere. i do not believe there is one (1) healthy relationship in this story

Renjun is thirteen hundred years old in siren years (that’s thirteen in human years) when the siren’s treasure is stolen. They are pearls from his mother’s tail; her most prized ones. Everyone knows that the amount of pearls on a siren’s tail coincide to the amount of respect one has in the siren’s hierarchy. Renjun’s mother has the most, as the queen of the four seas.

After they were taken; torn from her tail, leaving her in agonizing pain, the grudge against humans began. Pirates, mostly, as they were the ones who took the pearls in the first place.

Renjun learned how to use his voice for evil (perhaps good, whatever way you look at it.)

There’s a song. There are vocalizations that draw humans into the unsafe waters. But it’s a tricky position, even for a siren, as the waves crash and careen against each other. As much as humans can die, sirens can too, and it soon becomes a full war over two small pearls.

Renjun, though just a young prince, is placed on the front lines. Not because he’s a good fighter, or has the guts to drag a man down to a watery grave. Rather, Renjun’s voice is the loudest, and it carries the farthest. So it’s Renjun who must stand (wade) at the frontlines and call the ships in.

Some sirens are killed. Others are taken captive. Then, a new ship never seen before arrives, and it manages to take out the remaining sirens, after braving the storm and taking on the sirens head on.

Renjun is the only one to escape, as far as he knows. He swims away from his home as fast as he can, hiding underwater in the seaweed and behind torrents. If any pirate sees him escaping, he’s dead meat. Siren’s gills filter too slowly for them to stay underwater all the time, so he does his best to stay beneath the surface until his gills reject it completely.

When he’s finally farther away, close to the Western Sea (Renjun can tell because it’s the muggiest sea, and the water is becoming a murky green), Renjun finds a small cave opening. The opening of the cave is underwater, but when Renjun swims in, he realizes that there’s a small air pocket for him to breath from. He floats atop the surface, willing his heavy tail not to sink him.

And then he cries out for his mother, for his kingdom, and for the home he has lost so quickly.

Renjun doesn’t want to be alone forever.

Renjun is seventeen hundred years old in siren years (that’s seventeen in human years) when he meets the human prince of the Eastern Kingdom. He knows this stranger is a prince because there’s a special brand in the junction of his neck. Slave merchants use the brands to keep track of their more important (valuable) slaves. He knows the prince is from the Eastern Kingdom because of his skin’s scent. It’s the same salty and clear scent of the Eastern Sea.

The boy has to be his age. He’s certainly close to death, his body limp over a random piece of driftwood. His entire face dips beneath the surface at one point, and Renjun notices the way the boy’s adam’s apple bops when he finds air again.

He’s swallowing the seawater. Humans can’t do that. Well, they aren’t supposed to. They’re supposed to drink fresh water and stay out of the sun. Otherwise their skin gets raw and it hurts and– and it looks just like the prince’s face.

Renjun briefly thinks about dragging the boy under. Just five minutes, and the boy will become the sea. Renjun can go about his day and not worry about this random prince he’s come across.

Except... he looks fairly innocent. And the brand looks infected. His skin looks horrible, and Renjun knows he’s dehydrated.

So he goes against his nature and wraps his arms around the boy.

He’ll find a more human-friendly cave. Then, perhaps some fresh water and food.

Renjun isn’t sure what he’s doing, he just knows that he doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

You’re seventeen years old when you get the siren’s treasure. The two pearls have been fashioned into cuff links. At first, you felt kind of bad, cheating the clueless couple out of a literal treasure. But it’s a legacy your father has been searching for for years, and you’ll be damned if you pass up the opportunity to make him proud.

It’s hard making the roughest pirate in the sea proud. Known as Mortem, or death, his name rings true.

You’re at the docks, fiddling with the cuff links in a struggle to get them off of the coat. Your father promised he’d be back after his own search for the treasure.

Of course, it’s been nearly a year now, and you’ve been left on land. It’s not because your father doesn’t want to spend his time with you, you’re sure. It’s just that he knows that living on land (in one place) can help an adolescent’s growth.

That’s why he hasn’t visited you in years. You’re sure of it.

You finally get the cuff links off. You toss the coat aside and fasten the pearls into your waistcoat. If your father won’t come get you, you’ll have to find him.

Only you don’t, because you can hear two fishermen speaking in hushed tones about the politics over in the Eastern Kingdom. “The mourning period is over, so I assume they’ll crown the prince’s cousin some time this year.”

“Mourning?” You speak up, alerting the two men of your presence. “The Prince is dead?”

That can’t be. Last you remember, your father had sold the boy out to a couple of slave merchants off the Western port. Then you were dropped off here, and your father left in search of the treasure. There’s no way anyone found the prince, as no one really escapes the slave trades. It’s a secret society with all these corrupt ways of hiding people from ever seeing the light of day again. It’s sick, but it’s how your father makes money, and you like to pretend that it’s more merciful than killing people.

“Not the prince,” the fisherman says. “Ol’ Mortem. The nasty pirate that kidnapped the prince. With him gone, all leads are gone. The Eastern Kingdom still needs a reigning monarch, so the King and Queen can’t really afford the luxury of looking any longer.“

“M-Mortem?”

“Yeah. Finally died off.”

“Oh,” you whisper. That’s why your father hasn’t come to get you.

He’ll never be coming to get you again.

“All for a treasure,” the other fisherman grunts. “‘Took the boy because his ring is made of three pearls. Figured it was the famous siren’s treasure.”

The pearls feel heavier in your waistcoat. Your heart feels heavy in your chest.

You want to ask how he died, where he died, and who died with him. You want to know if there’s anyone in the crew left, or if you’re all alone.

“The things people will do for some money,” the fisherman grunts in disgust.

“Indeed,” you say, voice catching on the way out.

You are eighteen years old when you finally hear the siren’s call. You’ve been sailing for nearly a year, struggling to find the famed sirens everyone talks about. And just as you’re beginning to think they’re nothing but a myth, you hear it.

The voice is cold and shrill, soft and high, enchanting and terrifying all at the same time. It pulls you in before you can even comprehend the fogginess in your brain.

You sail your dingy little boat into the crashing waves. The wind howls, and the sky suddenly seems darker than it’s ever been. You can still hear the song, loud and clear. It seeps into your ears and drifts its way into your chest. You can feel it in your soul: feel the wordless song calling you into the unknown.

And there’s a cove. You didn’t see it before, but your vision clears just long enough to see it nestled against a small island. You steer your boat towards it, and in turn, towards the sirens song.

When you reach the edge, you jump into the water and creep towards the opening of the cave. If there’s a siren in here, they can give you the siren’s treasure, but they could also kill you mercilessly. You’re not exactly sure how to navigate the two options.

You see him before he sees you. His tail is an effervescent pink color. The end is curled into long ribbons, torn up by rocks and whatever else nature must throw at such a delicate surface. And down the back is a trail of pearls, all different sizes and shapes, similar to the ones in your waist coat. The pearls disappear with his tail, melding into pale, taunt skin. The junctions of his spine stick out of his skin, and you briefly ponder the healthy weight of a siren, and what their diet is like.

He’s on his stomach, gaze pointed away from you. With his chin in his hands, he gazes out the other side of the opening. Maybe he hasn’t noticed you yet.

But the he slaps his tail against the water, and the sound reverberates across the cave. You shriek in fear.

“You’re not very subtle,” he says.

Then he turns to you. Seeing his face for the first time sort of makes you wish you could freeze time. Surely it’s the spell of the siren, and not the fact that his eyes are small and clear. Hues of brown and black seem to swirl together in his eyes, and you are memorized up until the moment he blinks. Because then he smiles, and you realize that his teeth seem quite sharp and dangerous.

You are still in uncharted territory.

“I’m Y/n,” you say. The shallow water of the cave sloshes against your worn boats, soaking your tights underneath. “I have something for you.”

His lips curl into a frown. “I don’t accept things from humans.”

“I have–“ You pull the pearls out of your waistband and hand them to the siren. “I have the siren’s treasure.”

The siren scowls at the pearls in your grip. Then, without warning, he snatches them out of your hand and disappears beneath the shallow surface. You watch the colors of his tail fade as he swims deeper into the water. “Wait!” You run into the water, floundering at the awkwardness of the it not being deep enough. “I need that treasure!”

When the siren doesn’t surface, you groan. “Fine, you want to play the hard way?” You take a deep breath and hold it.

Then, you dive into the deeper part of the pool.

You struggle to keep your eyes open as you navigate your way into the murky water. Finally, you notice a flash of pink to your left, so you trail behind it.

The siren unknowingly leads you towards another break in the surface. You gasp for air as soon as you can, struggling to find strength. Your lungs burn and your eyes sting, but you believe it’s worth it when you see what this siren is hiding.

Prince Donghyuck.

It’s him, albeit roughed up and looking worse for wear. But he’s alive, and he’s curled up in the corner of the cave, warming himself up to what small fire he could conjure up in the muggy cave. He’s shivering, but there’s a blanket around his shoulders. Granted, it’s crusted with sea salt, but you assume at this point, it’s better than nothing.

“Prince Donghyuck,” you finally breathe, forgetting the siren’s presence.

The prince lifts his head immediately. Then, when his eyes find yours, he chokes back a sour cry. “It’s you. You’re the one who lured me out of the castle. You said you were a messenger.” His voice cracks at the end, and you can sense the pain. The lost innocence.

You’ve never actually seen what happens to the people your father captures. But now it’s being presented to you in a harsh light, and you have to face the fact that you put him here. “I’m- I’m sorry-“

“Save it,” the prince croaks. “It doesn’t matter if you are. He won’t let me leave.”

You turn back to the siren. He’s circling you beneath the water, and the only reason you know that is because his pearl-crested tail flips angrily, splashing water into your face. You wade nervously. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck whines in a way that says he’s all too familiar with this circumstance. “People have found me, and he kills them. If I try to escape, he pulls me back in, and I’m too weak to fight him. I can’t get home.”

He breaks at that. His shoulders slump forward and he leans against the damp cave wall. “It’s hopeless.”

“Wait,” you say. “If he has killed everyone else...”

Just as you realize what is about to happen, the siren slaps the fin of his tail against the back of your head. You fall into the water, head aching. There’s a burning urge behind your eyes to just close them and fall into a peaceful slumber beneath the sea.

However, you’re still owed a treasure.

Just as the siren circles around, baring his teeth like he’s going to eat you, you pull your dagger out of its hidden place in your boot and point it towards the siren.

He freezes, eyeing the blade. Then he hisses at it, teeth bared. The hiss pierces through your head, even though you’re underwater. It’s shrill and high, more of a shriek than anything, and you’re sure that this is one of those kill-or-be-killed situations.

So you jab the blade in front of you, and slash at the siren when he wraps his tail around you. He squeezes, and it feels like you’ll never breathe again. You stab his tail over and over against until he finally releases, batting you away like a mere gnat.

Still, he’s strong, so you slam against the rocky wall. You can practically feel your ribs break.

You reach the surface and choke on your own intake of air. “Help,” you beg the prince, meeting his tear-filled eyes. “He’ll listen to you, right? He likes you?”

You’re dragged under again. The siren’s nails rake down your chest, piercing your already cracked rips. You want to shout, but the lack of oxygen is making you far too lightheaded to think anymore.

You close your eyes, waiting for the inevitable end.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead, you hear a voice shout a name. “Renjun!”

And the siren lets go, leaving you to weakly try to make it back to the surface.

You feel arms around you, and you let the lack of oxygen make you believe that you are being saved.

Renjun knows bloodlust. He knows the deep carnal urge to kill whoever approaches him. He knows that as soon as you get the chance, you’re going to kill him, so he has to kill you first.

He can only trust Donghyuck. He saved Donghyuck. He took care of him. He practically brought him back from the dead. The only reason Renjun isn’t dying from loneliness is because Donghyuck keeps him company.

In a way, they keep each other alive.

Donghyuck always begs him not to kill; begs him to let the misfortunes humans go. Renjun always tunes him out, because if someone lives, they take Donghyuck home. If Donghyuck is home, Renjun is left alone.

He refuses to be alone.

But Donghyuck has never had the strength to pull someone out of the water before. He’s never tried.

Yet now here he is, hunched over the new human, helping them drink water from canteen.

It’s freshwater that Renjun stole from the mainland. That’s another thing. Renjun has been risking his life trailing up mainland rivers to steal water and food off of smaller fishing boats.

This is how Donghyuck repays him? Rescuing a nothing of a pirate?

Renjun scowls as he peaks up through the surface. He’s baring his teeth, though the two humans can’t see.

Donghyuck is talking softly to the human, in a way he has never spoken to Renjun. He speaks to Renjun like he’s afraid. But that’s impossible. He can’t be afraid of the person who saved him.

Renjun scowls and sinks back beneath the water.

The pirate wants the treasure. There is no treasure, as far as Renjun knows. It’s just a myth made up by pirates. And karma sure does come back to bite, because now this pirate has risked their life for nothing. They won’t get any treasure, and they won’t get out of here alive.

“I have to get you out of here,” you whisper.

It’s nighttime, and water drips into the cave lake like the ominous ticking of a clock. The siren (“Renjun”, the prince calls him) hasn’t been around since he tried to kill you. As long as you stay away from the water, you’re fine, so Prince Donghyuck wraps you in his sea-crusted blanket and huddles you close to the cave wall. “Why?” He licks his dry lips. “So you can sell me out to your father again? Maybe another slave merchant?”

“My father is dead.”

Donghyuck purses his lips. “Can’t say I’m upset.”

“Didn’t ask you to be,” You snap. “Now do you want to make it out of this cave alive? Or are we going to continue bickering when there’s a siren with superhuman strength keep us from leaving?”

“He’s attached to me,” Donghyuck whispers. “You might can escape, if you’re sneaky, but he has eyes on me. He won’t let me go.”

The prince looks weak. So weak compared to the moment you and your father captured him. You remember a spitfire of a boy; someone who fought with every ounce of resolve he had. You remember his tanned skin and his lean muscle. And now, he’s covered in scars and bruises, and there’s barely any meat on his bones. He’s weak; voice quiet when it used to be so loud.

He’s not even giving himself a chance. He’s accepted himself here.

“You’re getting out before I do,” you say. “It was a mistake to take you.”

“Found out that I didn’t have the treasure after all?” Donghyuck snaps, “The one I told you I didn’t know anything about?”

“Yes, that one,” you admit. “Apparently there is no treasure, because I returned it to the siren—“

“Renjun,” Donghyuck provides.

“Renjun. I returned it to him and he gave me nothing in return.”

“That’s what you get for being greedy,” Donghyuck murmures.

“I can get you home,” you say. “We just have to trick the siren.”

“He’s lonely,” Donghyuck says. “Sometimes, if I stay awake long enough, he tells me stories. How there once was an entire fleet of sirens. And now, he’s the last one. He just wants some company.”

You stare at the siren as he circles the lake. The pearls on his tail reflect the light of the moon as it streams through the cracks of the cave wall. “He’ll get some company. It just won’t be with you.”

You are eighteen years old and you sell your soul to the devil. Okay, not the devil, but a terrifying siren with sharp teeth. You figure out quickly that he doesn’t want the prince here specifically, he just wants someone here. He wants someone to fill the holes where silence seeps in.

So you communicate to Renjun that you’ll stay with him. “You have to let Donghyuck go.”

“He’s my friend,” Renjun says. His eyes have softened after a few days of getting used to your presence. “He can’t leave.”

“He has a family,” you say. “They miss him.”

“Families die.” Renjun slaps his tail against the side of the lake. “I want him here. With me.”

“I’ll stay here with you instead,” you bargain.

Renjun cocks his head to the side in confusion. He pulls his upper body out of the water and lies on his stomach. He props his chin atop his hands and blinks up at you.

You reckon that he’s kind of pretty when he isn’t trying to kill you.

“I saved him.” He says, glaring at you. “He’s mine.”

“He isn’t yours,” you balk. “You can’t own someone.”

“Tell that to the merchants you traded me to,” Donghyuck says from the back, his glare matching Renjun’s.

“I’m trying to make it right!” You try to defend yourself. “Listen, Renjun, If you let Donghyuck go, I’ll stay here with you, okay? For as long as you want.”

“Forever,” Renjun says.

“See?” Donghyuck sighs. “It’s impossible.”

“I’ll stay,” you say. Perhaps Donghyuck thinks you are brave for sacrificing your life for his. Perhaps he thinks you are some type of martyr.

But truth be told, you’re planning on killing the siren as soon as you can. Then you’ll sell his pearls, and start a new life for yourself. Perhaps in the Western Kingdom. You haven’t decided yet.

Renjun allows Donghyuck to leave. He even carries him to the closest shore: the Western port.

And when he comes back, he hisses at you, and warns you to leave him alone.

“Gladly,” you mutter, shivering in the dark.

Renjun misses Donghyuck. And he knows he shouldn’t love a human enough to miss them, but Donghyuck was never mean. He never fought back and never raised his voice.

And Renjun doesn’t like you. You’re brash and rude and you fought back when Renjun tried to kill you. He doesn’t trust you at all, and the only real reason he let Donghyuck go is because he knew how much the boy wanted to leave.

You? You could starve to death for all Renjun cares. He won’t be helping you with anything. No food, no water, no hints on how to keep warm in the dampness of the cave. Renjun would rather kill you than live in the same vicinity. “I don’t want you here,” he says rather bluntly.

“Then let me go,” you retort. You’ve been pacing back and forth for the past hour, rubbing your hands up and down your arms to keep warm. You lean down and dip your boat in the water, just to splash the siren.

Renjun scowls at you, water droplets falling down his eyelashes. “I can’t.”

“Why?” You taunt, and a Renjun finds that your voice is quite annoying when it echoes off of the cave walls. “You’ll be oh so lonely?”

Renjun swims around until the end of his tail is facing you. He lifts it up, then slaps it down as harshly as he can. The water splashes all over you, causing you to shriek in anger.

Renjun laughs. “Ha!”

You kick more water at him. “You better keep your guard up, siren boy.”

Renjun knows it’s intended fully as a threat, and you are most likely planning his death right now. Still, he can’t help but stick his tongue out at you almost playfully. It’s been a long time since Donghyuck ever splashed at him, and Renjun likes the way you keep at it, as if it’s a little game for the two of you.

That night, you sleep as far from the water’s edge as you can. Renjun keeps his eyes above water, waiting for you to fall asleep, so that he can too.

“I know you’re watching me,” you say, keeping your eyes toward the moonbeams above you. “It’s weird and creepy, so stop.”

“I’m keeping guard,” Renjun lifts his mouth above of the water to speak. “So... too bad.”

“What? You think I’ll try to escape? I made a promise, didn’t I?”

“Pirates have been known to break promises,” Renjun states.

“Fair,” you say. You fold your arms behind your head and look at the siren. “My ribs are still burning, you know. Why did you try so hard to kill me?”

Renjun shrugs. He can feel goosebumps rise across his bony shoulders when they’re lifted out of the water. “Everyone who comes here wants to take Donghyuck.”

“Why did you let him go then? If you care so much about him?”

“He told me to stop. I don’t have another reason.”

“You like Donghyuck that much?”

“He’s all I have.” Renjun clears his throat and stares down at the murky water. “Had.“

“I suppose this is where I’m supposed to say I’m sorry,” you conclude. “But he’s a prince, and he belongs back on the mainland, with his family and friends.”

“/I’m/ his friend,” Renjun says. “I took care of him.”

“Against his will!” You shout at him, slapping your palms against the damp rocks. “You can’t be a friend to someone you’re holding captive.”

“How else do I make them stay?” Renjun can feel his voice – alone with his resolve – breaking. “How do I make sure they won’t leave me?”

You give him an unreadable look. The scrutiny in your eyebrows is certainly readable, but the questionability is in the way your eyes seem saddened. “I’m going to sleep,” you say. “But there’s a saying on the mainland. If you love something, set it free, and if it comes back, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, then it was never yours in the first place.”

Before Renjun can reply, you turn your back on him.

Renjun brings you an apple.

It’s amazing really, because your ribs hurt like hell, and the rocky floor of the cave does nothing to support that. You would try swimming, to loosen up the ache in your muscles, but you’re still a bit skeptical of what Renjun might do.

He brings you an apple.

You eat it as slowly as you can, struggling to savor the taste that you know will disappear just as quickly as it came. Still, you can’t help but feel a burst of gratefulness in your heart.

Then, anger. He’s still holding you captive. It’s not like he’s doing you a favor by bringing you one (count ‘em. one.) apple.

“I’m going to set you free.” Renjun says as soon as you finish the red fruit.

“Very funny, siren boy,” you toss the apple core at his head, and Renjun bares his teeth at you.

“I mean it,” he growls. “I thought about what you said, and you’re right. I should set you free and see if you come back. Just like I did to Donghyuck.”

“Only because I made you.”

“Do you want to leave or not?” Renjun growls, annoyed at the way you seem to nitpick his every move. “Go ahead and get going. The storm is only going to get worse.”

You make it to the Western Port in one piece, though your lungs are burning, and your ribs are on fire. You collapse onto the deck and close your eyes, hoping for some kind of relief to the pain.

Then. “Oi? Another human washed up on shore?”

“Just like the prince.”

“You reckon they know the prince?”

“Why don’t you ask them?”

“I think they’re dead.”

You’re lifted off, carried to someplace you hope has dry blankets. “I’m not dead,” you whisper.

You can only hope they hear.

News of Donghyuck’s return is all anyone can talk about. You hear the newsboy call out the news from outside of the apothecary. There is a minimum of four different remedies in your bag, for everything from bruised ribs to a nasty cough (which you got thanks to the dampness of the cave.)

According to the newspapers, Donghyuck is still being treated, and he won’t be attending any royal duties any time soon. He won’t even be transported out of the Western Kingdom until King Kun gives him the go ahead.

He also hasn’t outed you as the person who kidnapped him, so that’s a plus. You know it’s only a matter of time, though, so you do your best to keep close to the docks. You never know when you might have to make a quick escape.

You rent a shack just off the Western Sea. It’s so close to the shore that the morning tide creeps in under the front door. You got it for an extremely good price, however, so you try not to complain about formalities.

You boil a pot of broth over a fire pit in front of the shack. It’ll be soaked in the morning, and you’ll have to find more kindling and wood to make your breakfast in the morning. However, it keeps you good company tonight, as the moon draws the tide further and further away.

You hear him before you see him. It’s that same song, haunting in the dark of the night. It’s a call. It’s desperate, it’s lonely, and it’s right on the docks.

And if any merchant finds Renjun near the docks, he’s going to wish you had killed him when you had the chance.

You rush to the docks, following the voice. “Renjun!” You call. “Renjun! It’s me!”

You stand at the edge of the dock in silence, waiting for any sign that Renjun can hear you.

The water is still. The surface is unmoving. Not a single ripple. And then, you see it in your peripheral vision.

Renjun’s head peaks out of the water. “Where’s Donghyuck?”

“Hello to you, too,” you scoff.

Renjun swims closer to you, so you lower yourself into a criss-cross position. You jerk your thumb towards the forest behind you. “He’s in the castle getting treated for all the ailments you bestowed upon him.”

“Can you tell him that I’m sorry?” Renjun blinks up at you. Once again his eyes look childlike and innocent, like he isn’t some murderous entity of the sea.

“I’m not going anywhere near him,” you resign. “He’ll tell them that I’m the one who kidnapped him in the first place. They’ll have me hung! And when they find out that you kept him this long, they’ll sell your tail to make shoes.”

Renjun bares his teeth towards the big, empty forest. “I don’t like humans.”

You grimace. “Well I don’t like demon fish who try to kill me and refuse to get me my treasure, so I guess we’re both out of luck.”

Renjun pouts. He sinks straight down into the water.

You think that’s that, but then he rides up again. “I’m not a demon fish,” he grumbles.

“A treacherous water-dweller,” you amend.

Then Renjun smiles – sharp teeth and all – and you think it’s rather beautiful. Not in a siren way. It’s not bewitching or entrancing. Rather, it’s boyish. It’s like Renjun is a human villager, smiling at you because you’ve made a joke. Nothing more. Nothing less.

You like it. “Come back soon and keep me company,” you say. “Just don’t sing. It’ll call other people in. Just hang out by that shack over there when the tide is high.”

Renjun nods. “Maybe I will.”

Renjun likes it when you leave fish for him. It started the second night he visited, and after that, Renjun has always had a small pile of fish waiting for him on the beach.

“I feel like I’m training a hunting dog,” you bemoan. You’re wading in the water with him, and Renjun thinks it’s amazing that you haven’t tried to kill him yet. Instead, you’re lugging around the fish that Renjun manages to catch, keeping them safe to cook up for dinner tonight.

“Is that an insult?” Renjun slaps his tail against the water, splashing you before you can even reply.

“Listen, you devil-bred dolphin-“ you start, diving for Renjun’s tail.

Renjun has an obvious advantage in the water, but you do your best to keep up as he darts away, trailing a jet dream of bubbles in his wake.

By the time you catch up, Renjun is lounging on a rock. His bare torso is stretched out in the sun, and he seems to be asleep.

You swim over to his face and study the way his eyelashes flutter against the tops of his cheeks.

Renjun opens his eyes then. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper. “I lost the fish trying to keep up with you.”

“That’s okay,” Renjun amends. He closes his eyes again. “It was your dinner, anyway.”

You splash at him, giggling lowly when he frowns at the water now dripping down his face. “Take that, you fiend!”

“Oh, you’re gonna get it,” Renjun says. He flips over and falls into the water less-than-gracefully. Then, he swims up to you and wraps his arms around your torso.

You shriek as he lifts you high and unceremoniously tosses you into the water. “I hate you,” you say, shoving Renjun’s chest when he advances towards you again.

“I hate you back,” Renjun says, no bite in his words.

You wade closer to him and press your palms flat against his chest. “You’re despicable.”

Renjun wraps his arms around you. “You’re a tyrant. I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”

You kiss him. He laughs against your lips, a melody you’ve never heard before. You chase his lips, trying to capture the sound forever in your mind.

You think about Renjun loving Donghyuck, and about you not really loving anyone. You think about the fact that Renjun kept coming back to you, even when he knew Donghyuck wouldn’t be there.

You wonder how the two of you are connected, and if sirens can even feel things the way humans can.

Renjun strokes a hand down your hair, wetting it more. “You’re thinking,” he says. He doesn’t tell you to stop. He just acknowledges it.

“You don’t love me.”

“I know,” Renjun says. “You don’t love me, either.”

You kiss him harder, and his sharp teeth brush against the flesh of your bottom lip, making you jump back in shock. Then, soft, closed-mouthed kisses. Renjun presses his lips against your wet skin, soaking in the sun and the sea and the scent of your skin.

The sharp sound of a bugle interrupts the two of you. It comes from the castle, and from what you’ve read, the sound of the bugle means that Donghyuck is being sent home today.

Renjun must know too, because he visibly deflates. He drops his forehead onto your shoulder. “I’m never going to see him again.”

“Probably not,” you say. “It’s for the best.”

“Yeah,” Renjun whispers. “If they don’t come back, they were never yours in the first place.”

“That’s right.” You say. “He wasn’t anyone’s but the Eastern Kingdom’s.”

“Do you think someone is waiting for him there?” Renjun looks longingly towards the mainland.

You wonder what’s going through his head. You wonder how much he truly cares for the young prince. “I hope so.”

Renjun sighs. “Me too. Really.”

You are nineteen years old, and Renjun is eighteen hundred years old (still eighteen in human years) when Donghyuck calls for the two of you to visit him down in the Eastern harbor.

When he asks for help in dismantling the slave merchant’s system, you dive in. Donghyuck grants you both clemency across the four seas, and you recall as much information as you can remember your father revealing to you.

Though everything is in code, with Renjun’s help, it doesn’t take long to figure out that the codes are short for more unknown geographical regions in the seas.

Donghyuck sends his first fleet out, with Renjun swimming alongside and you manning the helm.

You make your first proper raid where you release people rather than capture them, and Renjun finds a few stray sirens trapped in tanks.

Renjun meets the person Donghyuck loves, and he doesn’t bare his teeth at them the way you thought he might would. He’s kind with them, as he is kind to Donghyuck, and you think they both have healed from the pain.

Renjun lives with his fellow sirens nowadays. He’s a lot more comfortable cohabitating with other fish-creatures. You live on the Eastern harbor, with other sailers. They have the same spirits pirates do, but they don’t take people captive, and they don’t take what isn’t theirs.

You’ll have to get used to it, but it feels like a positive improvement.

Sometimes Renjun brings you seashells. Other times he splashes you with his tail.

You’re both moving on from Donghyuck in your own ways, but you’re thankful that in the end, you can come back to each other.

#dreamwritersnet #nct au #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct scenario #renjun fluff #renjun au #renjun angst #renjun scenario #renjun scenarios #seasons au #always return au #destwrites

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