#realized my once a day fasting window was reaching almost 24 hours

[teathattast]

friendly reminder to make sure you're getting enough calories and proper nutrition. your brain can't function properly without it, which in turn affects your ability to have healthy emotional regulation and impacts overall mental health

[ch0lwrld]

nights like these

pairing: taehyun x f!reader

genre: college au, f2l, fluff, suggestive

warnings: shirtless taehyun (refer to picture above because god FUCKING DAMN IT TAEHYUN) also there's probably a lot of spelling errors and things that may not make sense cause I switched between my phone and my laptop multiple times writing this so just lmk in the comments... what you think!

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

you didn’t expect anyone to be at the pool at this hour. it was past midnight and everyone had already said their goodnights so you thought this would be the perfect time to swim. you didn’t get to earlier when everyone had decided to go, far too busy finishing up last minute assignments while everyone rushed to get ready and head to the elevator.

it was supposed to be a relaxing three-day trip for the six of you before school started again. you had all saved up from last summer to afford this trip and make it the best but not last of all the trips you had planned. definitely not last. it was exciting and you loved traveling but if you didn’t finish up the last of your summer class you knew you would never get it done. so you stayed in your hotel room that you shared with hueningkai and he made a promise to bring back up your favorite gelato from the gelato stand in the lobby. it was sweet but you knew it was disappointing you couldn’t make it so you tried your best to finish as fast as you could before falling asleep after hitting submit. you really hadnt meant to but maybe all that lost sleep during the week before had hit all at once.

you were surprised to wake up with a blanket gently placed across your figure. you realized it was already nighttime with the only light in the room being from the moon casting its glow from the hotel window. you looked to your left to see kai already asleep in bed, cozied up between the five extra pillows he ordered to the room once you had checked in. it caused a small smile to break onto your face as you got up and stretched. you took a sip from the water bottle you had brought, the ice still fresh and cool within the bottle leaving a refreshing feeling down your throat.

you limbs ached from the awkward sleeping position you were in but now that you were wide awake you couldnt just go back to sleep. the pool started to seep into your thoughts, and after missing the opportunity earlier today you felt like it wouldn’t hurt to try tonight. the pool is open 24/7 but seeing as its not a very populated hotel you knew there wouldn’t be anyone daring to go this late in the night. better for you, you thought.

you decided to slip into the two piece you had bought awhile back. it was an expensive set for a broke college student such as yourself but so comfortable. your friend had recommended it last summer and you're glad you took their suggestion. it fit your figure well, hugging you at the waist and giving your bust a nice lift. it was in your favorite color and the shape really did it for you in ways you didn't know a swimsuit could. if you saw yourself you would probably take yourself out! not even kidding. after checking yourself in the mirror you slipped on a matching sarong and made your way to the pool.

when you reached the entrance you could only hear the subtle sounds of bubbling from the jets in the water and soft jazz music playing from the hotel speakers. it was nice and really set up the mood for your swim. you were so busy setting your things down and taking your time stepping into the shallow end to realize you werent alone. the person making themselves known with a short call from across the room.

“so you’re just gonna ignore me?”

you yelped almost slipping but your grip on the metal handrail was enough to save you of such an embarrassment. you looked over to see taehyun, shirtless in the jacuzzi area of the pool.

“don’t mind me though.. i’m enjoying the view.”

you gave a subtle roll of your eyes towards his direction when he let out that soft chuckle of his. you took a minute to take him in, shirtless and settled in the jacuzzi. god he looked good. Don’t get me wrong, he always looks good but right now.. in front of you.. he was something else. ethereal. the water droplets just complimenting his firm chest, the shitty lights glistened against his skin that he somehow made look so good.

“why are you even here? its like 1am?”

“i could ask you the same thing”

“okay well i thought you had a bedtime sir”

“just because i keep a well organized schedule doesnt mean anything and stop calling it a bedtime!”

you chuckle.

“whatever.” you say as you sink further into the water, enjoying the way the cool temperature sets all around your body. the water felt good against your skin and you missed the feeling of swimming every summer since away for college.

you chose to float around a little bit in the empty pool for a minute before he broke the comfortable silence.

"how was your nap? i know you must've needed it being a bio major and all."

"uh it was.. good, how do you even know I feel asleep?"

"..kai sent a pic of you to the gc."

"OMG he always catches me at the worst moment" you cried out as you waved your arms at his revelation. it caused a bit of water to splash around and he chuckled at your little action.

"don't worry, it was cute."

"yeah with my face in my keyboard." you retorted back.

he just laughed, that handsome sound resonating across the room and into your heart. if you couldn't even handle it from here you don't know what you would do up close.

"so are you gonna keep talking to me from there or are you gonna join me?"

of course he had to ask. the thought was tempting, especially when you consider the warm bubbling public bath that is the jacuzzi. and before you know it, your body takes charge over your reluctant mind.

you don't know who or what propelled you to start walking up the steps and towards his direction but you couldn't stop now. you needed to be able to handle yourself around him and maybe you would practice that... now in front of his shirtless, sculpted figure.

he looked even better up close, you didn't even know how a person could make the poor lighting so good.

finally, you took the first step, taking all the willpower in you to not shiver against his gaze. you felt how he stared at your figure from head to toe as you slowly submerged yourself into the jacuzzi, allowing the ripples in the water to guide you to a seat in front of him. the jets against your back felt nice, it was something you tried your hardest to focus on without being too obvious you were a little bothered in more ways than one.

you knew you shouldn't think about him like this, having been friends since elementary school. your true day one. that day you had met on the playground was still so vivid in your mind. he had been nearby when you slipped on the vault bar trying to impress your friends with a flip of your own. it was really embarrassing thinking back on it, your friends hadn’t moved an inch from their spots on the bar to check on you so you laid there body still on the red rubber floor and head still stinging from the impact. you wanted to lay there forever, if even your friends didn’t care then you shouldnt either and that meant not getting up. you were gonna close your eyes until a short head of hair appeared above you, blocking the sky from your vision.

“hey are you okay?” the boy you recognized from your class asked. his eyes stared into your own with utmost concern laced within them.

“uh.. yeah”

“here.” he lent out a hand for you to take. you were reluctant at first but eventually took it, he was sweet enough to ask you if you were okay so you might as well.

“my names taehyun!”

“my names y/n!” sharing his cheerfulness.

“wanna go play on the swings?”

you almost said yes immediately but looked back to see your friends still enveloped in their conversation about the dolls that were popular at the time. making a new friend wouldnt hurt, you thought.

“yes!” and took his hand in yours to run towards the swings before anyone else took them.

sitting there in front of him like this was normal. it wasn’t like you’ve never been swimming together its just that.. lately you realized how the term “best friends” didnt seem to fit the feelings you had towards him. and it made this moment feel.. different. you blame your little crush on that fact that he had a massive glowup after highschool and started working out more. his arms toned and bare in front of you glistened in the dim lights the pool room provided but it gave enough to allow you to see how the water droplets slide off of his skin so nicely, everytime he moved to adjust his position they would flex in a way that made you feel… god you need to stop ogling your best friend of all things but you couldn’t with the way he looked so addicting.

you easily slipped into conversation, talking to each other was easier than breathing and he was always someone you loved to listen to. he was so smart and you’ve known that being in several classes together. he always had great advice whenever you needed it and you appreciated every bit that was kang taehyun.

you hadnt realized how close you two had gotten in the jacuzzi until you reached out to push his chest from you after he had made a joke. it barely took anything to lift your arm up to push back his chest and your eyes widened at the contact. you may have let your hand wander a little too long against it, you couldnt help it! but as soon as you realized it you took your hand away. soon becoming embarrassed and slipping your arm back into the water at your side.

“y/n”

“yes?” you refused to look up. you knew there would be a teasing look on his face and you didnt want to give him the satisaction.

“look at me.” he requested. but after you had refused he took it into his own hands, quite literally, and placing his palms below your jaw, pulling your face up to look him in the eye.

“what?”

“nothing. just wanted to see your pretty face again.”

“stop messing around”

“im not though. you’re really pretty, y/n”

your cheeks couldnt help but turn into a reddish hue and your ears perked up at the compliment. he thought it was cute how easily flustered you got at the simplest of compliments.

“cute” he said, as he tucked a loose strand of your damp hair behind your ear.

“dont say things you dont mean, tae. i know you’re only teasing.”

“you think.. i'm just teasing?”

“well.. aren't you?”

“i never thought of it like that.. didnt know it came off that way.”

you felt bad you didnt mean to say anything that would hurt his feelings.

“i-“

“guess i’ll just have to spell it out for you now.” and he winked. god that wink.. it was so cheesy but you couldnt help the butterflies that swarmed your stomach.

you hadn't noticed how the distance between the two of you was nearly gone, your faces just inches apart and noses brushing past one another the more you stayed in this position. he was so close yet so far. you didnt know what to do, looking from his lips to his eyes in an attempt to see what lie beneath them. you didnt know what he was thinking or if it would be okay to

but, he knew what you were thinking, he always did. choosing to speak first.

“i want this. i want you”

“i… but”

“i want you, y/n”

it was enough to pop the turmoil that sat in your stomach and make the first move. crashing your lips onto his and allowing your arms to snake from their stilled position and around his neck. you loved the way you felt him shiver under your touch when you ran your hand through his hair. the way his hands seemed to find purchase at your waist, massaging circles into your hips felt too good to be true. you loved the way he tasted, the familiar minty toothpaste he used still laden on his tongue.

“god, you’re so beautiful”

you never knew you would hear those words escape from his lips. sure he’s called you cute and pretty numerous times before but never in the way he says it now. chests colliding and bodies moving in sync as if it was meant to be like this forever.

his words only allowed the heat against your cheeks to brighten and he knew you were blushing. making it worse as he teased your sides causing u to squirm against his hold.

“you don’t know.. how long.. i’ve been wanting to do this with you. to do this to you.” he said between kisses.

“god, you make me crazy” you couldnt agree more.

maybe it was the heat from the passionate makeout sesh you were having with tyun or the still warm jacuzzi but your senses were constantly on overdrive. completely enveloped in the feeling he gave you. it left tingles down your spine and your brain on 100. your legs felt like jelly with the way he so expertly knew how to hold you, knew how to touch you to make you melt against him. it made you wonder if you knew him the same too?

“WTF get a room!”

you immediately jumped back at the sound of another voice coming from the doorway. but taehyun held you firm, looser than before but close enough for you not to leave his side. you could see the way he stared at the voice with such annoyance.. you knew you shouldnt have been feeling this way especially with a third party now in the room but the butterflies really flew down to your kitty causing you to clench your thighs together.

“go back to your room, beomgyu.”

“yeah yeah i can see. you’re busy.”

“whatever.”

“don’t mind me then!” beomgyu shouted.

he finally looked away from gyu as a big splash is heard from the main pool followed by a few other voices you can tell are getting closer to entering the room. the expression on his face immediately softens as he locks eyes with you. and he leans down to whisper in your ear

“why dont we find ourselves another place… to continue”

god he made you feel so crazy. but you didnt want it to stop.

you followed him like a puppy, still latched to his side hands intertwined. you allowed him to walk you two to his room which was fortunately just him. he had won the bet to have a room to himself and now it really was putting all the benefits to work. (in his favor?)

but once you had got into the room he got shy.

“ah sorry.. maybe you dont want to actually.. continue..” he said as he scratched the back of his neck.

“uh no no dont be sorry i..”

“i wont.. i wont do anything if you say you dont want to”

“i want to. i want you. i really do.. now more than ever im sorry thats its taken me so long to-“

then he places a quick kiss to your lips as he whispers against it, already missing the feel of his plush pink against yours that are probably brazen red. “then we don’t need to waste anymore time now.”

and it was back to the feeling he gave you in the jacuzzi. the jets in the water hitting your back now absent, but instead replaced by the feeling of his strong hands having found purchase on your waist again. you fit into him so well it made him feel dizzy. he couldn't get enough of you. he slowly guided you to the bed, hands lifting your legs up against his instinctually wrapping around his waist as he softly laid you down on the bed. he broke the kiss to place more against your jawline and down your neck to your collarbone. he nipped at areas you didn’t know could arouse you, soft mewls escaping your lips at the feeling of his teeth grazing against your skin. you tugged a bit at his hair, testing the waters. you earned a deep grunt resonating from his position at your chest.

he was wrapped around your finger even if you didn’t know it. anytime spent with you is never a waste, but he would make up all of the lost time you could’ve had together in this position over and over again. but he didnt need to tell you that.. he could just show you instead.

and show, he did.

[crowfootwrites]

Los Guardianes | Part V [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]

Ok, I promise there's a comedown from all the adrenaline after this! And very soon we will see characters other than Cristóbal lol.

Warnings: mentions of blood, drugs, and domestic violence; police interactions; language | Words: 1,900+

Taglist: @chibsytelford @megapeacelovemusic-blog @broiderie @est1887 @mveggieburger

Part IV of Los Guardianes

As you thundered down the alley, you glanced over at a wailing Cristóbal, splashes of crimson quickly drying across his arms and t-shirt from where you had carried him.

“It’s gonna be ok, Cristóbal, alright? I promise. Just hang tight,” you shouted over the strained whining of the engine. He quieted, shaking violently in his seat, but you turned your attention back towards the road, quickly reaching the end of the alley. You made a sharp right, having no idea where to go, but hoping to find a main street quickly.

Luck appeared to be on your side. You kept your eye on the rearview, but you didn’t see anyone behind you yet. You came up on a main street, mostly empty of traffic, and made a sharp left, immediately flooring the accelerator again. Your eyes flickered to passing signs, looking for anything you recognized.

“Fuck!” you growled, squeezing the steering wheel as you passed a sign for the Sun Bowl, panic rising in your chest as you realized you were in El Paso, Texas. You had no idea how you were going to get all the way back to California without getting caught, either by your kidnappers or by police, although at this point, you would have preferred the police. But you also had plenty of experience with dirty cops, and if your kidnappers had brought you here, of all places, it seemed likely that the police would be in their pockets.

You whipped past a sign for I-10 northbound and made for the onramp, revving the engine to merge into traffic. You darted immediately into the fast lane. Traffic was relatively light, but you hadn’t yet decided if that was good or bad. Your eyes flicked keenly between the road in front of you, your odometer, and the traffic behind you, watching for signs of a tail. It seemed like you were clear for the time being, but you hesitated to get too comfortable. It wouldn’t be long before the shattered back window drew some kind of attention.

Taking stock of your surroundings, you realized you had an almost full tank of gas. You wouldn’t be able to make it all the way back to Santo Padre on one tank, and you had no idea how you were going to pay for another. But you relegated that to the back of your mind, a concern for later. There was a balled-up hoodie in the backseat, and you stared blankly at the rosary swinging from the rearview. The glove compartment was empty.

Your eyes tracked the nearest freeway sign, realizing I-10 would take you into New Mexico. From there, you could head towards Phoenix. You didn’t love the idea of staying on a major freeway for so long, but it was the quickest way to get where you were going. From just south of Phoenix, you could take smaller highways towards home, and that suited you better. But the feeling of being chased propelled you forward; you were constantly pushing the odometer and scanning of your surroundings.

You reached New Mexico without a problem, but without a solid plan in place, you sped through it. As you careened down the highway towards an empty desert horizon, you heard Cristóbal’s breathing begin to calm. There was no chance of your pulse slowing or your body settling; you sat on the edge of the driver's seat, your thighs and core constantly clenched, ready for hell when it came.

Around two hours after you left El Paso, you were rapidly approaching Deming, New Mexico, and by then your brain was shouting at you to stop. You wanted to try to find a gas station to get yourself and Cristóbal cleaned up, in case you did get pulled over. You also wanted to check the trunk. While you had certainly been making good time, a sneaking suspicion nagged at you, one that questioned why no one had come after you or appeared to have reported the car stolen.

On the far edge of Deming, once you had passed through the center of the city, you followed signs for a gas station that looked, from the highway, to be mostly empty, in the middle of an empty stretch of commercial buildings and vacant lots. You guided the car towards the back of the gas station lot, behind the building, where you breathed a sigh of relief that there were bathrooms on the exterior of the building. You pulled into a parking space and only once you had scanned your surroundings did you get out. You went around to the passenger side door and guided Cristóbal out, grabbing the hoodie from the backseat.

The lock on the bathroom door was broken, so you pushed your way in, gagging a little at the stench. The sink was filthy, but the water ran clear, and you quickly rinsed your skin, watching the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain. Flashes of the man you killed flickered behind your eyes whenever you closed them, bile rising in your throat. The gnawing in your stomach reminded you that you hadn’t eaten in almost 24 hours. The adrenaline had kept the hunger at bay, but suddenly you were so hungry you felt nauseous. You helped Cristóbal wash his face and hands, then pulled the hoodie over your soiled shirt, zipping it all the way up.

Back at the car, you popped the trunk and your mouth fell open.

“Oh, fuck,” you groaned. Six bricks of cocaine were packed into the back of the small trunk, along with a duffel bag. You supposed that was why no one had reported the car stolen. It made you feel a little better that the cops wouldn’t necessarily be looking for you, but if you did get pulled over, you’d be fucked. You dug through the duffel bag, finding it full of clothes, and your heart lifted when your fingers skimmed smooth leather. You pulled out a black leather wallet, flipping it over in your hands. There was no ID, but there was a singular twenty dollar bill in it, and that would have to do.

Cash in hand, you tugged Cristóbal into the gas station store with you, grabbing a couple of protein bars and a large bottle of water, wanting to hang on to enough money for gas down the road.

You planned to dispose of the cocaine out in the middle of the desert, so you hightailed it out of Deming. A little less than an hour later, you took a tiny offramp and followed a deserted road past a dilapidated gas station out into the barren desert. You pulled the car off into the dirt, sending a cloud of dust up around you.

“Wait in the car,” you told Cristóbal gently, who nodded at you with wide eyes.

Pulling the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands, you dumped the clothes out of the duffel bag and packed the drugs into it, zipping it up. Careful not to touch anything with your bare hands, you slung it over your shoulder and hauled it towards a thick patch of scrub brush several yards from the road. Dropping the bag behind a clump of brush and prickly pear cacti, you booked it back towards the car, heading immediately back towards the highway.

You were approaching Gila Bend in Arizona as dusk gathered over the skyline. You had already gotten off of I-10 and onto the smaller highway that would take you to Yuma. From there it would be an easy drive to Santo Padre, one you had even made before. You had every intention of driving through the night, desperation fluttering in your heart at the thought of home. You were hungry again, and you could hear Cristóbal’s stomach grumbling from the passenger seat, but you were dangerously low on gas.

Pulling into a small gas station in Gila Bend, you went inside the store to pay, bringing Cristóbal with you. When you came back out, your breath hitched in your throat and you froze. A police officer was standing beside the car, inspecting the shattered back window. Flashbacks flooded your brain and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force them out. Through the rapid swirling in your mind, you felt Cristóbal squeezing your hand hard, the touch pulling you out of your trance. Immediately, your mind went into overdrive, laying out a plan.

You approached the car, schooling your features into a timid expression.

The burly, dark-haired officer looked up curiously at your approach, and you caught the slightest softening in his eyes as he studied you and the child clinging to you. He looked young and green, fresh on the job, and you wanted to use that to your favor.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he said, hands authoritative on his hips.

“Evening,” you murmured, dropping your gaze meekly.

“You know it’s illegal to drive with a busted window?” he asked sternly.

You let all of the stress of the last couple of days pour into your brain, breaking the dam behind your eyes. Tears tumbled freely over your cheeks as you looked back up at him and he startled slightly at the sight.

“I’m so sorry, officer,” you sniffled. “My son and I, w–we came from El Paso, trying to get away from my husband. He smashed it as we were leaving. I’m just trying to get us to California so we can stay with my brother.” Your voice caught on a sob, cracking on the last syllable.

The officer’s stance softened and your heart lifted just slightly. His inexperience was showing.

“Who is this car registered to?” he asked.

Your chest tightened as you prayed he wouldn’t run plates or ask to see documentation. “It’s mine, sir,” you whispered, meeting his eyes with your most sorrowful look. “He just didn’t like that we were leaving.” You hoped that you looked wretched enough to prevent him from asking too many questions.

The officer pursed his lips, his thumb lightly tapping his utility belt. “Where you headed to in California, ma’am?” he asked.

“Palm Desert,” you lied smoothly, letting your lower lip tremble for good measure. “I have family there, sir.”

The officer hesitated as he considered what to do next. “And you’ll be safe there?” he asked. “Does your husband know where you’re headed?”

“Probably, sir. Th–they’re the only family I have. But they’re going to help me file a protective order against him. And... start the divorce process,” you mumbled, shuffling your feet in the dirt. You felt a quick pang in your heart as you said the words, ones that weren’t too far from true in another time.

Perhaps sensing that it was a good time to lay it on thick, Cristóbal tugged on your hand. As you glanced down at him, he reached his arms up and you pulled his weary form into your arms, depositing him on your hip.

The officer studied the pair of you intently, then sighed. “Alright. I’m not going to write you a ticket, but once you get to Palm Desert, you need to get that window fixed, do you understand me?”

You nodded fervently. “Thank you – officer, thank you so much,” you stammered, hugging Cristóbal tight. The officer tipped his hat and turned on his heel, making his way towards his police cruiser. Your body felt limp as the rush wore off yet again. Your mind reeled, pushing the limits of what you could handle without sleep. You needed to get home, and soon.

You slid into the driver’s side seat and slid Cristóbal over, helping him buckle his seatbelt.

Praying for an uneventful last leg of your journey, you pulled away from the fluorescent lights of the gas station, headed yet again towards the moonlit horizon.

Part VI of Los Guardianes

[fantasticfemmefatale]

Cold- Spencer Reid

not my gif

SUMMARY: reader is kinda bad at dealing with cold weather lmao, Spencer is rlly sweet, and everyone is happy for once in their trauma-filled lives. i live for this man. there’s some slight emily x reader if you use a microscope, i guess.

WARNINGS: fluff, canon atypical happiness, there’s this one homophobe in it, they should burn

Cold.

It was cold.

Had you left a window open? 

No, the window on your side of the bed was still firmly shut.

Why was it so cold?

You rolled over, on the couch, eyes screwed shut, half desperate for his warmth although you’d promised you’d give him space, after you were nearly on top of him when you two woke up last time.

Oh.

That’s why it was cold.

Sliding out of bed and grabbing your fuzzy robe off the floor, you somehow managed to make it out of the room while only tripping once. You wanted to laugh at him, tell him depressed elephant who? I am graceful after all, loser! However, gloating in his face required having his face nearby.

Where was he?

You thought back to those crappy stories you’d heard from Emily of sleazy guys in bars who’d scramble for a hook up then leave a girl high and dry before sunrise. But he couldn’t do that if you hadn’t hooked up, right? If he was just a friend who’d come knocking at your door at 8:43 for your biweekly movie night, then got stuck at your apartment because of the storm? Although, you wished he was more than a friend.

A sharp hiss resounded from the kitchen, followed by the faucet running, as you padded in. 

“Spence?”

His head shot up fast, like a puppy caught dragging trash through the house. He shut off the faucet with his right hand, and reached for a towel to dry his left as he spoke.

“(Y/N). Hi. Hotch called me saying we had a case, and I told him you were here with me so he didn’t need to call you, and I just thought I’d make you coffee before I woke you up,” he explained with a small, tired smile and equally tired eyes.

“Did you burn yourself?” you questioned, remembering the commotion when you’d walked in.

“Uh, yeah.”

You laughed slightly, one of those sharp nose exhales accompanied by a half smile when you just can’t laugh at the moment. Frankly, you were far too exhausted. You took the mug he was holding outstretched towards you with a grateful smile, returning to your room to get dressed. The warm mug contrasted deliciously with the cold air of your apartment. You didn’t need to tell Spencer that he could change in the bathroom if he needed to; he already knew. After the first time you’d been called in to work while Spencer was staying over, you’d developed a system. He brought his go-bag over with him, leaving it next to the door along with his Converse that you always said made him look like he was still 12. He’d bring two extra pairs of clothes to leave at your apartment, one for when you left and another, comfier pair for your return. Then, he’d gather anything he’d left in your apartment and walk down to his own. It was funny, honestly, how his apartment was just three floors down from your own and yet he refused to leave his stuff there. He’d ramble on about how but leaving my stuff at your apartment saves 9 minutes and 27 seconds, and that’s time we could be spending saving lives, and-

You left your room, dressed in black skinny jeans, combat boots, and an army green long sleeve with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows at the same time Spencer exited the bathroom in Converse, brown pants, a vest, and a button-down shirt. No words were spoken as you two grabbed your duffels from where they were sitting near your door, and Spencer grabbed his messenger bag as well, slinging it over his shoulder in the most uncoordinated way possible while simultaneously trying to open your door, resulting in him on the floor with a loud grunt. You laughed, loud and clear, and you grabbed his wrist and helped him to his feet, opening the door and locking it securely behind you.

The bullpen was colder than your apartment had been, you thought with a shiver as you walked in, with Spencer falling into step behind you. Still slightly groggy and nursing the coffee from Spencer- which you’d transferred to an insulated water bottle prior to leaving- you stayed quiet through Penelope’s run-down of the case and Hotch’s typical wheels up in 30. 

On the plane, you sat on the couch with Spencer, careful to leave an inch between you two. In the two years you’d known each other, he’d warmed up enough that you could touch him some, but you tried not to do anything more than the occasional hug or shoulder pat when the time called for it. Right now, nothing was calling except sleep. Just by looking outside the window, you swore you could practically feel the frigid night air of Wisconsin, the lovely location of today’s deranged criminal, a kidnapper. When you voiced your feelings about the cold to Spencer, he spewed facts from who-knows-where about different places the air could possibly get into the plane, meaning you weren’t just making up the feeling. You listened attentively, knowing how much it meant to him when he didn’t get cut off for once. After all, he just wanted to help.

The plane landed, and you were the first one out.

Cold.

It was cold.

And you forgot a jacket, idiot.

Morgan chuckled as he passed by you, clad in a t-shirt, no less, saying, “Cold, baby?”

“As if.”

You were in an interrogation room. 

It was less cold than the rest of the precinct, but still chilly.

The woman in front of you, a blond, small thing, looked to be no less than 20. And yet, she was kidnapping the children she babysat for after their parents returned, then trying to pass them off as her own. She was kidnapping the children of same-sex couples, a religious fanatic who believed that being anything but straight was worse than murder. Wow.

Screw homophobes.

Honestly, the case had wrapped itself up fairly well, complete with a glittery red bow, once Penelope- thank god- had figured out that each family had used the same babysitter at least once. Rebecca Umbrige. To be fair, the team had spent a while focusing on the same-sex couples aspect of it, only to change paths after all that turned up from that was dead ends. Then Rebecca came into the picture and brought everything together nicely. 

With that red bow, of course.

Still, one more thing was needed.

A confession.

Emily was in the interrogation room with you, watching as you took the lead. You were hoping to get something out of her through subtle hints at attraction between you two, and it worked, eventually.

All it took was holding Emily’s hand. Sad.

Emily laughed as Rebecca was dragged out of the room in handcuffs, earning her a stern look from Hotch when the two of you left as well.

Ugh, why did the rest of the precinct have to be so cold?

The plane ride home was uneventful, and so was leaving the bullpen after the last of the paperwork was finished, just before midnight three days after you’d left. Until, at least, Spencer jogged up to you, brown curls waving wildly in the D.C. wind, asking, “Wanna go out?”

“Like a date?” you asked, incredulous. If it was a date though, you wouldn’t  be upset. You’d had a not-so-small and not-so-sneaky crush on him for almost the entire time you’d known him.

He stopped suddenly, speaking so fast it was a miracle he could get the words out at all.

��Slow down, Spence.”

“I just meant, maybe we could go get hot chocolate, or coffee, or whatever, and then just walk around D.C. or something? I don’t think I can sleep right now,” he blurted, brown doe eyes watching you expectantly in that way that made your heart flutter.

“I’m cold”, you said, almost pouting like a child.

He laughed for a second at that. “We can stop by your apartment first and change if you want.”

26 minutes later, according to Spencer, the two of you arrived at the doorstep of a slightly shady 24-hour coffee shop that Waze had been all too happy to lead you to. After getting some surprisingly good lattes, you two wandered aimlessly around D.C., occasionally bumping shoulders from how close you were. He’d tell you the history behind different buildings and monuments you passed, and you’d interrupt every few minutes because oH MY GOD SPENCE THAT HOUSE LOOKS LIKE A FACE!, or, LOOK THAT CLOUD LOOKS LIKE A BUTT! 

Spencer laughed every time you got distracted, letting his eyes linger just a few seconds too long on your face when it lit up like a kid’s on Christmas, wanting to commit your face without stress, or fear, or anger to memory. Moments like these didn’t come often in your line of work.

When you realized it was starting to snow, Spencer swore he’d never seen you look this stunning, bundled up in one of his sweaters that you’d stolen months ago, with rosy cheeks and a red nose to match, eyes glimmering with excitement and lips spread wide in a smile and you spun around, eyes on the sparkling sky above. 

Eventually, he said, “(Y/N)?” in a voice barely above a whisper.

Your head whipped around, and you stopped suddenly, all your attention focused on Spencer, something that never failed to make him feel cared for. “Yeah?”

He didn’t answer, instead slowly reaching out to hug you, the first physical contact between you he’d ever initiated. His arms around your waist were uncertain, and he haltingly rested his head on your shoulder, thankful you couldn’t see him grinning like an idiot. As soon as you hugged back, he pulled you in closer in a bone-crushing hug that you could’ve sworn made time stop. 

“(Y/N)?” he mumbled against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I know I said this wasn’t a date, but if you wanted it to be one, maybe it could be one?”

“I’d like that, Spencer.”

Cold.

It was cold.

But with Spencer holding onto you like there was no tomorrow, you were much, much warmer.

[anime-alyssa]

after the hurt - childe x reader

warnings: smut, emotional hurt, nothing really major. 

also on a03 - buy me a kofi?

To think you had grown to feel something for him, just for him to betray you like that. When he came to find you afterward, you were not going to show him the mercy he wanted.

You were absolutely exhausted - the day’s events taking a toll on your body as you laid in the bed that you had gotten in Liyue. Ningguang had given you and Paimon your own rooms in a luxury hotel as thanks so you both could relax and recover after the disaster that was the night. Physically you were exhausted but you were also mentally exhausted as well - the flashes of the betrayal of Childe - if that was even his actual name, you didn’t know at this point - coming through your mind. 

You couldn’t believe that you had trusted him - let yourself fall for him over the past couple of months in Liyue. Paimon wasn’t too sure about him from the beginning, but you were determined to see for yourself if he really was all that bad. Sure, he was a Fatui agent - but he didn’t seem like he was trying to hurt you or anything. 

No, not hurt - just use. Used you for information for his own personal gain, used you for pleasure. Had it meant nothing to him at all? Probably not, you thought as you changed into some sleep clothes that were provided for you. Whatever, he was probably long on his way from Liyue with Signora in tow after their conversation with Zhongli. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you got under the covers and laid down, trying to get your brain to shut off. To think that only two days before you were laying in his bed with him, letting him take the stress away of getting sucked into the Rite of Parting ceremony. 

“Don’t worry about it - I’ll take care of you tonight.” His words echoed in your memory as he had followed up on his promise, only for you to face him 24 hours later. You had won, taking him down successfully, but Paimon couldn’t quite understand why you were so emotional about it despite winning. Neither could you, but it was only after seeing him when the whole thing was over, the small lovebites fading away on his neck and the way he looked at yours to see the same, that you realized it: you had fallen in love with Childe. 

It was ridiculous - you didn’t have time for that. The only thing you needed to focus on was going to see all of The Seven to find your brother and somehow keeping yourself and Paimon alive to see it through. But Childe came in and swept you off your feet in a way that you hadn’t quite expected him to, his smooth-talking and touches in all the right places making you tremble. 

You almost wished you could have said more to him earlier, but you were still hurt. He had looked at you like he had wanted you to say something to him, but Zhongli did all the talking as you had a lot of questions for the archon. You think he almost did it on purpose, having picked up on your mood due to something he had said to you before you departed from him. 

“I’ve found that in my many years of living, sometimes forgiving is the best way to move forward. There is no need to dwell on the past when there are things to work for.” the retired Geo Archon had told you. Paimon then lectured you about knowing that Childe was trouble, to which you promptly shut the door in her face, and now here you were. 

There was a chill in the room that you don’t remember being there previously. Did you leave the window open? You could have sworn that you had shut it - actually, you know that you hadn’t even opened it to begin with. Cursing yourself for putting out the light, you had no choice but to sit back up to see what the deal was - when you were promptly shoved back down, a hand over your mouth as you were thrust backward. 

“Don’t scream.” Childe’s voice sent shivers up your spine as he climbed on top of your body, his nose practically touching yours. His eyes were wide as he removed his hand slowly from your mouth.

“What the hell - why are you here? Why did you break into my room?” you asked him as he got off you, sitting on the edge of the bed. You sat up to meet him, trying to build your resolve now. He wasn’t going to get his way - absolutely not.

“I wanted to see you before I left, and I knew you weren’t going to let me in otherwise.” he said. You let out a scoff as he tried to reach out to you, shock going across his features when you pushed his hand away. 

“Well you’ve seen me. Now go.” you told him. He let out a sigh, a hand going to the back of his neck. 

“So you’re still mad.” He replied. 

“Still mad? You - you used me! Paimon was right - I never should have even trusted you in the first place.” you ranted and raved, letting your anger spill out. He was silent as you talked, unmoving next to you. “Did it mean anything at all to you? Was that all just a lie too?” you asked him. 

“I did what I had to do for the Fatui - but listen - none of us was a lie, it’s still not one.” Chile said, turning to face you more and eyes growing wide. He looked like he was emotional - seriously? You almost had to quite literally shake the thoughts out of your head, reminding you that he literally used you for Fatui gain - for Signora’s sake, a person who hurt your friend. 

“You say that like there’s anything left.” you muttered. Was there something left? You actually hated to admit it, but you did have something still for him - you were in love with him still, despite it all. By the looks of it, he still felt something for you too. Was everything romantic between the two of you genuine - and how could you even trust him anymore? Your head was spinning so fast with thoughts that you didn’t even notice him come closer to you until his fingertips were on your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“I know there’s something left on my side. But if you say there isn’t anything left on your side, I’ll leave, and you won’t see me again,” he said to you. That had your mind reeling even more - was he seriously saying that he still felt things for you? So he was telling the truth in that regard - or was he - “I’ll respect it, even if I don’t think you’re telling me the truth. I know you’ll tell me what you think I deserve to be told, for your sake.” he said sadly, running his thumb over your cheekbone while you stared at him in awe. 

Okay, what the fuck, Childe? As if you weren’t having a hard enough time trying to not immediately give into him because of your love for him, now he comes out with that Romeo and Juliet type speech? But he also just confessed that he had feelings for you still - it came from him first. You hadn’t known Childe to be emotionally vulnerable since you’ve known him, so maybe he was being honest? 

Your mind made up its mind before you could fully even process your actions. You grabbed Childe by his shoulders and threw him backward onto the bed, slightly propped up as you straddled his waist. He looked shocked but didn’t say anything - or get the chance to - as you leaned down and pressed your lips to his - harder than you probably should have in the moment. He didn’t argue, letting out a grunt as his hands found their way to your hips, letting your mouths move against each other before you pulled away from him. 

“I - I love you, Childe.” you admitted to him quietly. Childe looked up at you wide-eyed with a smile, about to speak before you cut him off. “But what you did… It can’t be forgotten so easily.”  you said back to him. 

“Let me make you forget it for the night.” he said to you. Ah, there he was - the Childe you knew who almost always wanted to get laid. You knew that would work and that he was likely leaving in the next day - so you’d be stupid to not take him up on the offer. Plus your position was incredibly suggestive right now - wait a minute -

You tested the waters for a minute, bringing your lips back down to his and letting your hips grind down against his. Childe shamelessly let out a groan, his hands on your hips gripping you tighter as you wound him up the way that you knew best. You continued your movements until you felt him rock hard beneath you, body stiff and panting once you pulled away from his lips. 

“You… you are - ” he choked out, not able to form any sort of thoughts at the current moment. Childe knew that you were assertive in your own way, but this was something he hadn’t seen out of you before. Was this your revenge? Hell, he’d betray you ten times over if this is what happened after - 

“Quiet, Childe. I’m in charge tonight.” you said to him, slipping your hands under his jacket and snapping the button off. It opened to expose his chest, letting your fingertips move over the lines of his abs gently as he took a shaky breath in. “You will do as I say, it’s the least you can do. Right?” you asked, eyes flickering to meet his. 

“Ye - yes.” he choked out as you ground into his hips again. He was holding you so tightly you swore there would be bruises where his fingers were digging into you. You nudged yourself off him and next to him on the bed.

“Take off your clothes.” you told him. Childe quickly got up, nearly stumbling over himself, and undressed. He started with the jacket and shirt that you had already undone and then moved to his pants, bringing those down quickly, minding his Vision that he kept on the belt. His boxers were saved for last as he couldn’t have ripped them off fast enough, his cock springing free. 

Beads of precum decorated his head as you inched yourself closer to him, one of your hands wrapping around the base of his shaft. Childe let out a quiet gasp that turned into a throaty moan as you ever so slightly pumped him. HIs eyes rolled into the back of his head and his hands balled into fists at his sides, at his limit for teasing already. 

“Do you want me to suck your cock? Do you deserve it?” you asked him, mouth grazing over his head and hand still gently pumping and squeezing his shaft. Childe let out a moan above you that you swore all of Tevyat could hear. 

“Archons, yes baby. Please.” he begged above you. How quickly Childe, one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, succumbed to you was music to your ears and all the more teasing you were going to do was gone as your lips encased his head, tongue gliding over his tip slowly. “Oh fuck yes.” Childe moaned as your head bobbed on his length, tongue licking up the underside of his cock as you continued to suck and pump him. 

His moans were music to your ears, sending vibrations throughout your own body that had slick starting to form between your own legs. You started to suck faster, focusing on his tip, letting your tongue swirl over the beads of precum that seeped out as Childe let out a guttural moan, panting for breath. His cock hardened in your mouth slowly, signaling his near release. You released him with a pop, backing up and licking your own lips. 

“What - baby - please - ” he began to fight, body aching at his orgam being taken away from him. You stood up and began to undress, starting with your top. Childe’s eyes went wide as you visibly saw his cock twitch. 

“Lay back down on the bed.” you told him, throwing the top to the side and sliding down your shorts. Childe did as you said, laying back on the bed where you had been previously. You went to go straddle his hips again, but had another idea first. He didn’t seem like he was in the mood to say no, so you slowly crawled your way up his chest until your core was lined up with his mouth. “Let me ride your face, Childe.” you said as his hands found their home back on your hips.

“Oh baby, it would be my honor.” he snarkily said back, not able to speak for much longer as you lowered your core to him. He dragged your center closer to him as his mouth devoured your heat, a moan now leaving your lips as shocks of pleasure started to shoot through your body. 

“O - oh - fuck Childe, right there…” you moaned out as his lips sucked on your clit, hips grinding down into his face. His tongue swirled over your bud as he sucked, jolts of pleasure consuming you as you cried out his name. His hands on your hips helped you fuck yourself against his mouth, quickening your pace as you felt your core beginning to tighten and heat up. One of his hands left your hip as it snaked closer to your clit, Childe moving his mouth away from your bud. 

“Chi - oh fuck!” you all but screamed as his tongue was promptly shoved up inside of your cunt, fingers dancing over your bud nearly making you come on him right then and there. Your hips ground deeper into his mouth, thanks to his guidance as you were now way too hazy to even try yourself, making his tongue enter you deeper as he sucked on your cunt for all it was worth. “Ah - ah - gonna - Childe - ah - coming!” you moaned, feeling everything inside you finally snap as your cunt spasmed around his tongue, orgasm hitting you like a mountain as you fucked yourself on his tongue. 

You panted for breath on his face, riding out your high as Childe continued to run his tongue through your folds, cleaning up your orgasm from between them. You whimpered above him as he kept going and slowly you felt the heat start to build in you again. Without a second thought, you lowered yourself from his mouth and brought your aching center over his cock. 

“Do you need me yet?” he asked. The answer was yes, but you weren’t letting him know that flat out. 

“Shut the fuck up and let me ride you.” you said to him. With that, you sunk yourself down on his cock, bottoming out in one motion. The both of you let out filthy moans that you were sure the rest of the hotel could hear. You gave yourself time to adjust as his cock twitched inside of you, remnants of Childe’s earlier deprived orgasm coming back to life. “Fuck…” you whined. 

“Baby, please - move - I’m trying here - ” he begged. He really was trying to let you take the ropes, you could see that. The amount of restraint he had tonight was impeccable and something you had never seen him have (he literally fucked you against a Statue of the Seven one night because he was impatient). With a small groan, you started to rock your hips against his, his cock completely filling you at every thrust. “Shit, you feel so god damn good…” Childe breathed. 

“Childe, touch me - I need you to touch me - ” you said to him as your thrusts quickened, overcome by the need to reach another high again so soon. Childe’s cock was always so thick and snug inside of you that every movement was hitting deep inside your needy cunt, curving to hit places that you didn’t even know were inside of you. You could feel his cock grow harder and thicker inside of you at the request, his fingers going over your still sensitive bud and beginning to roll it between them. “Fuck!” you moaned, placing your hands on his chest and fucking yourself on his cock. 

The moans of the both of you echoed off the walls, Childe panting below you as the sounds of you slamming your hips down against him were prominent. You were a shaking, sweaty mess above him as his other hand left your hip and went to one of your breasts, taking your nipple in his fingers and pulling. You felt yourself clench around his thickness, a cry leaving your lips as he thrust up into you. 

“I can’t - fuck I can’t do it!” Childe growled. You were too busy whining to notice, Childe sitting up with you in his lap in one fluid motion and beginning to piston himself up into you. His hands both moved to grip your cheeks, lips going to your neck to start sucking marks into your skin. You let out a scream as he fucked up into you, cock hitting all the way to your cervix and filling you completely with every powerful thrust. “Fuck you’re so tight - so fucking tight - beautiful - love you so much baby - so fucking much.” he moaned into your skin. 

“Ch - Childe - ” you cried out his name as you felt yourself about to have your second orgasm, body beginning to tremble first around him as your thrusts matched his to get you there. “Touch - touch me - so close - need to come - ” you begged him now, a hand in a fist in his hair as you yanked, making him moan. He quickly listened as his thumb harshly circled your clit once more - sending you over. “Fuck - Childe!” you screamed his name, feeling yourself come undone around him once more, white-hot ecstasy taking over your body. He let out a moan as he struggled to fuck you through your high, the feeling of your cunt spasming around his rock hard cock enough to make him come. 

“Oh fuck - oh fuck baby, I’m cumming - cumming inside - oh fuck!” he cursed, hips stuttering against your pulsing core as he emptied his cock inside of you with a moan of your name. You were panting for breath on top of him as you felt him twitching inside of you, spilling himself deep into your body. His lips trailed up your neck gently, peppering soft kisses while you both came down from your highs. You were both silent for a few moments, Childe laying you both back on the bed, bringing the blankets up over your bodies, until he spoke up again. “I meant it, you know. I love you.” he finally broke the silence, a sigh escaping your lips.

“I know you did. It just… it hurts still. I trusted you, loved you, and you hurt me.” you said to him, sitting up slightly straighter to look him in the eyes. He didn’t say anything, bringing his lips to yours and rolling you under him as he gently kissed you once more. 

“I swear, I’ll never do it again, and I’ll do anything to prove it to you.” he said, running his thumb along your cheekbone gently. You relaxed into his touch as Childe placed a kiss on your forehead, coming down back next to you on the bed and taking you into his arms. He was gone when you woke up the next morning, as you expected, but left a note saying he’d be back before he left - your heart flipping inside of you and a groan coming from your travelling companion. 

She’d just have to deal.

[harryhandstan]

I am so excited to finally be posting this for y’all! Thank you so much for all the hype and support it is very much appreciated. :) this is my piece for @goldenbluesuit​‘s Christmas Fic Challenge! my prompt was the song “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” from the movie Frozen and I hope you all enjoy how I’ve incorporated it into my Dad!Harry series. You don’t necessarily have to read the other parts to understand this one, but I’ll link them below in case you want to re-visit them. 

I Want Your Belly ❄ Wonderful and Warm ❄ Washed Away in You 

Thank you to @tbslenthusiast​ and @heartbreakweatherharry​ for reading over this for me and giving me such amazing feedback! 

Word count: 2.3k

You still couldn’t believe the little wonder that had been created by you and Harry existed to be yours. Things hadn’t been perfect, far from it, but it was definitely a new and fun adventure you were both eager and terrified of.

The first challenge presented was finding a name perfect enough to fit your son. He was alive for 24 hours before you discovered one you and Harry were absolutely sure of. Even seeing it written on his birth certificate made your heart swell with pride.

It’s your mother who asks first, “Well, are you two gonna make a formal announcement to the press before us grandparents get to know the name of our grandson?”

“Think we’ve made them wait long enough, Harry.”

He smiles at you from across the hospital room where he sits in a chair, the baby resting peacefully on his chest. You’re propped up in the bed, wrapped in the soft pink robe given to you by him just a few days ago. Anne sits nearby, a proud grin on her face at the sight of her baby with his.

His eyes dart from the baby to you, “You wanna tell them or shall I?”

“You tell them. You’re the one that found it, been bragging about it all day too.”

“Alright then,” He gently lifts the baby, turning him to where the whole room can see him, your son’s face now scrunched up by the light from the window shining on him, “Ladies, meet your grandson, Sterling Edward Styles.”

“Oh, you didn’t,” Anne giggles, reaching over to pat your leg, “You’ll never hear the end of it, love, letting him name the baby after himself.”

“Hey! S’her idea to give him my middle name. I picked the first,” His features switch from temporarily offended back to beaming, “Wanna tell ‘em what it means, darlin’?”

“Sterling means ‘starling’, or as Harry likes to call him..”

“Our little star.” 

5 weeks later, your son certainly lives up to his name, charming everyone he meets. Sweet smiles and coos at strangers from his carrier when you’re at the grocery store or falling asleep in Auntie Gemma’s arms when she comes to visit. You were not surprised he already had his father’s charismatic ability to make everyone fall for him so quickly.

With Harry’s schedule as busy as it had been, it hadn’t been easy to adjust to life together as new parents. As much as he had tried to push things back or reschedule to have more time off with you, there was only so much that he was in control of and he was away from you and Sterling more than he liked.

So it’s no surprise when he comes home one evening and the space you share is mostly already decorated for the winter holidays. He smiles warmly to himself when he hears you singing along to the movie playing from the tv, peeks around the corner to see Sterling tucked away in his swing, his eyes open and bright. Your back is turned so you don’t hear Harry approaching, continuing to sing aloud as you work.

“We only have each other, it’s just you and me, what are we gonna dooooooo?” You spin around, expecting to only see Sterling watching you, yelping when you find Harry, giggling at the shock on your face.

He bends to look out the window, “Could be wrong, but I think you have to have snow to build a snowman, yeah?”

“You’re early! I wanted to surprise you,” You weave your way around boxes to greet him, “Left the tree for the 3 of us to do together though.”

“S’nice of you.” His hands remain in his pockets as you move closer, tired eyes looking down at you, lazy smile as you work your arms around his waist. He doesn’t make you wait long, freeing his hands from his pockets to wrap around you. 

He buries his face in your neck, “Missed you today.”

“We missed you too, H.”

He pulls back, turning to look down at Sterling, his arm still holding you close to his side, “He’s growing too fast. Can’t believe he’s already 5 weeks.”

“5 weeks and 3 days,” You remind him, “All the mommy blogs say we have an infant now.”

“S’that s’pose to mean? ‘Course he’s an infant.”

“Just means he’s growing out of his tiny baby stage.”

He directs his attention back to the movie playing, laughing as he teases you, “Least y’could’ve done is found a proper Christmas movie t’play while you put up decorations.”

You shrug, “It’s close enough to count. Plus he LOVES it. Think Elsa might be his favorite.”

He can’t resist anymore. As comfortable as his son may be swaying back and forth in his swing, he bends to scoop him up, one hand cradling behind his head and the other behind his back to easily support him. Sterling clearly doesn’t mind, a grin developing when he realizes who it is disturbing him.

“Don’t care what anyone says, bub. Y’ll always be daddy’s baby.”

You never doubted Harry’s capacity to love his son, but you definitely questioned his expertise and knowledge of the basics of caring for a child. He had become somewhat experienced now, tackling late night diaper changes and early morning feedings or anything else in between without complaint when he could. 

Though he had done great, you were never too far away that you couldn’t offer assistance when he needed it. So when he gets a rare day off and suggests you let him stay home with the baby while you run errands, you’re hesitant.  

“Do ya not trust me?”

“Of course I do. You know I do. I just don’t want you to get overwhelmed.”

“S’just for a few hours, right? You can write out a list of his schedule if it makes y’feel better.”

Sterling’s stretched across your lap, dozing off while you try to finish the last of your breakfast. Harry stands at the counter, drinking coffee out of a bright pink mug. You look between your almost sleeping son and then back up to Harry, chewing a bite of toast as you contemplate the idea.

He doesn’t take offense to your hesitation, quite the opposite actually. He adores the sight of you, Sterling’s face squished against your chest; one of his hands tucked under his chin, the other wrapped around your side, his little fist holding tight to your t-shirt. It’s the purest form of love in his eyes, to see the bond between mother and son grow and deepen with each day. Makes him reminiscent of his connection with his own mother, fills his heart with so much joy knowing he had chosen someone that would give his son the same sweet upbringing he had.

He makes his way back around the counter to you, a hand resting on the top of Sterling’s head as he bends down to kiss the top of yours. He moves his hand, repeating the act of affection to the top of the baby’s head. 

“Really proud of you, y’know that right, baby? Been so amazing watching you take care of yourself and our little boy, never doubted for a second you were meant for this, but it’s been more incredible than I could’ve ever imagined.”

“Proud of you too, H. Know you’ve had a lot of guilt about being gone, but Sterling and I love you so much. He already lights up at the sound of your voice when you FaceTime us from set, and I see the way he grins at you before he falls asleep when you’re here to tuck him in at night.” 

His eyes meet yours, sees the moment you make your decision to say yes, deep exhale of warm breath trapped between the two of you, “You have to promise to call if anything happens, if you need anything at all. Don’t care how small it is.” He nods firmly, further setting your mind at ease, “He should sleep most of the time I’m gone, but I’ll prepare another bottle just in case I can’t get back in time.”

You feel silly for feeling so protective, and you were thankful to have Harry as your partner on this journey. His patience and support had been more than generous, covering you and Sterling in more love and adoration than you’d ever known could exist from one person. He kisses you again, on your lips this time, a hand cupping one side of your face before gently lifting Sterling from your arms, shushing and bouncing him a bit when he starts to whimper from the sudden change in his comfortable position.

“S’okay, bubs. Daddy’s got you, g’nna have us a lil’ boys day while mumma’s gone.” 

You rush through whatever tasks you had scheduled that seemed so important that morning. Suddenly the groceries you needed and last minute presents you were dropping off at the post office to mail to out of town family didn’t matter, nothing did but getting back home to your boys.

It’s quiet when you shut the door behind you, almost too quiet. As much as you always prayed he would, Sterling never slept through his morning nap, so you’re surprised at the possibility of him still sleeping peacefully. Not that he was old enough to make too much noise yet, but still the silence worries you enough that you don’t even take the time to put away the groceries. You set the bags on the kitchen counter, making your way through the house to the living room first.

All your concern fades at the sight of Harry on the couch, Sterling snuggled in his arms with his back pressed against Harry’s front, his little body covered in a red and white striped onesie with a reindeer on the front, matching pair of green socks on his tiny feet. It’s such a comforting image, you once again question why you had any doubt at the thought of leaving the two of them alone. Harry hasn’t noticed your presence yet, or if he has he hasn’t said anything, and you’re content to keep it that way for a few more minutes to observe the vision set before you.

You notice the movie that’s playing, it’s the same one from a few nights ago that Harry teased you for. You cross your arms, quirking one eyebrow upwards before you repeat Harry’s words from that night out loud, “Boys day, huh? Could’ve at least found a proper Christmas movie to watch while I was gone.”

“I’ve decided you’re right, it does count. I can see why he loves it so much.” He looks up at you from where you lean over back of the couch now, a soft “hi” falling from his lips, tilting his head up to accept the kiss you offer. Sterling coos, and when you look down, he’s looking up at you too. 

“Mommy missed you too, baby boy.”

“Come sit with us, lovie, watch the rest of the movie.”

“Gimme a minute to put the groceries away and I will.”

“I’ll pause it and come help.”

“No, stay,” You run your hand through his hair, pushing the curls away from his face, “There’s not that much, I got it.”

You work swiftly to put everything away, taking a minute to change back into your pajamas before you rejoin them, curling yourself against Harry’s side under his free arm. Sterling’s dozing again, most likely falling into a milk coma from the bottle he had just finished, but it doesn’t stop the two of you from continuing to watch the same movie together. You offer to take Sterling or put him in his swing, but he just shakes his head no, clinging tighter to him and you.

“S’my favorite part, this song.”

“What? It’s the saddest one. Elsa and Anna’s parents die in this one.” 

He shrugs, careful not to shuffle Sterling and disturb his sleep, “Maybe, but s’catchy, gets stuck in my head more than the others.” 

He begins humming along to the intro music, nudging you softly to persuade you to start singing along with the character on the screen. You sit up, dramatically clearing your throat before you do. Harry knows more of the words than he cares to admit, but would rather hear the lyrics sung by you. He giggles at you as you even change your voice to mimic the silly parts.

“It gets a little lonely. All these empty rooms. Just watching the hours tick by…”

Harry provides the tick-tock part, clicking his tongue off-tune to the ones playing in the song. That’s enough to make you laugh out loud, temporarily forgetting the sleeping baby now resting on Harry’s chest. He shushes you playfully, his body shaking through his own laughter thankfully soothing Sterling enough that he doesn’t wake up.

You compose yourself as the song turns slow and mournful, tucking yourself back to Harry’s side again. His hand works around to cup your waist, squeezing lightly to pull you closer, the vibrations of him humming along again a comforting rumble against your body. His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper as he sings the last notes of the song.

“We only have each other. It's just you and me. What are we gonna doooooo?”

Your eyes scan the whole of the room. Your boys nestled together next to you, the tree in the corner of the room the 3 of you had decorated together a few days before, the pile of presents that had already accumulated underneath it. You spot your favorite ornament, a silver star with Sterling’s full name engraved on the front, “Baby’s First Christmas” etched on the back. Sterling’s first present from your family sent from home. Well, what used to be your home for the holidays. A smile spreads across your face at the simple happiness and realization that this is your home now. 

Harry, Sterling, and you; sun, moon, and star, spending your first holiday together.

 //

Thank you all for reading! As always likes/rbs/and comments are more than welcome. Tell me what you think here!

tag list: @taintedwonder​, @cock-a-doodely-doo

[sadachmesarthim]

C-cowboy starker? What if cowboy starker, I mean? I think... cattle driver Tony maybe, and ranch hand Peter,,, always wanted to write about this but I’m shy 🙈

mid-writing edit: i’ve spent half an hour on this and my computer is literally lagging with how fast i’m typing. i really hope this makes sense because holy shit, i love cowboy starker. anon, i need you in my inbox every single fucking time you have an idea about starker. idk if it’s in passing, idk if it’s super fleeting and doesn’t make sense. anon, you are my muse

ohhhhh my god anon i ,, love this idea so much i’ve actually thought about this a bit ngl you don’t even know how much i like western aus

okay so hear me out:

i’m thinking brokeback type shit, right?? but just a tad different like be honest who doesn’t like the whole bbm trope yfm and twink jake gyllenhaal is my baby okay okay okay sorry babe i’m still crossfaded as fuck and i could talk about that movie for days anyway back on topic

- no okay but think of it - tony, he’s recently divorced and morgan, his baby girl, his one and only daughter, she’s 19 now and seeing this absolute gentleman of a roughneck. his house is empty, he isn’t paying child support anymore, he doesn’t have this bitchy redhead on his ass 24/7 about getting a job in the city

- because tony hates the city, hates that his father dragged them away from the mountains and prairies he remembers from his childhood. hates what the city gave him - black eyes and mean names and disappointed parents

- so tony high tailed it the fuck out of dodge the second he turned 18. abandoned school, abandoned his family, took his beat up ford out to montana and disappeared. married this nice girl, virginia pepper, worked construction to support her while she went to school. had a pretty baby girl a year or two later. moved both of his girls out to a ranch he bought with their tiny savings, got a couple’a cows and a horse and made friends with a neighbor with a bull

- but eventually, pep had bigger dreams. they were both young when they got married, didn’t look past the immediate sexual compatibility to see that their futures were well and truly not going to go well together

- so she left the ranch, took morgan with, and made her way to the city. became some big lawyer or doctor or businesswoman or something, tony didn’t know. didn’t really care because the child support invoices still came every single month like clockwork. 

- so instead of focusing on his distant daughter and his ex wife that wouldn’t listen to him and his family that just... didn’t understand, he threw himself into the wildlife around him

- became closer with those neighbors that had a bull. eventually came to an agreement and let him free with his girls

- built a very solid herd of highlanders in a handful of years, slowly attracting the attention of more and more owners wanting to trade, to buy, to sell 

- and maybe one year, he realizes, he’s in a bit too far over his head with this. he has 100 of these four legged fuckers, he has 50 acres to take care of by himself, he has horses to feed and shoe and groom. he has fields to plant and water and harvest if he wants to feed any of the animals mentioned above

- so he reaches out to his neighbors, puts feelers out and sees if anyone knows a farmhand who’d want to help him out, maybe live on the property full time for a bit. and when he gets a call back his heart breaks a bit, because oh my god he wasn’t prepared for this

- a kid, can’t have been more than morgan’s age, has responded to him, and he’s good with his hands mr. stark, and he knows his way around animals mr. stark, been takin’ care of ‘em for his whole life now mr. stark 

- and this kid is ,, he sounds so innocent and sweet there’s no way tony’s gonna say yes before he actually meets him 

- so tony gives the kid his address, tells him to come out and give things a once over before he makes his mind up

- so peter does. he comes out, introduces himself, looks around the property with tony. and tonys heart hurts, because this kid, this kid that’s standing right in front of him, is almost skin and bones and looks like he’s about to crumble into dust and blow away in his hands

- he brings peter into the house, brings him coffee, offers him food. even after peter politely declines he brings over some bread to share, maybe a slice of pie?? maybe tony can cook and bake. he has a sweet tooth after all, and he’s been on his own for the better part of two decades. 

- and he really gets to know peter. they sit, they talk, until the sun dips down and the open mountain chill takes over them

- and peter tells him that he’s been on his own for a couple of years, that his parents died when he was young and that his aunt and uncle took him in on their ranch. that he grew up around animals, working, helping out

- but when they died the property was repossessed by the bank and peter’d all but ran with ben’s keys and the clothes on his back. he’s been on the road ever since, going from missouri to texas to wyoming to montana, all in search of work, never staying in one place longer than a few months. 

- he doesn’t tell tony that he’s secretly so, so tired of life on the road. doesn’t say how elated he was when he heard someone was looking for a fairly long-term live in farm hand. because that’s something he knew, something he was good at. 

- he also doesn’t tell tony that his heart skipped several beats in a row the second peter laid eyes on him, and that he really wants to work for the gorgeous man in front of him

- it’s finally dark, his coffee cup is long empty and abandoned and peter’s just spilled nearly every single deep dark secret he’s ever had. tony’s closing the windows, and peter makes for the door. he’s taken up enough of this beautiful kind man’s time, he should leave before he stays even further past his welcome

- but tony’s stopping him, blocking him from the door, lightly grabbing his wrist and turning peter to face him fully

- and he’s asking begging pleading  telling peter he should stay, that the spare room upstairs is warm and not going to be used anytime soon. that he still needs a farmhand and, as he sees it, peter’s already here

- secretly, tony can’t stand to see him leave

- he couldn’t handle letting his man this... kid, really, leave. not when tony could provide for him. not when he could feed him until his edges soften and his cheeks round out and his tummy gets squishy. not when he could work him into a sweat outside, watch that paperwhite skin turn a rich tan under the summer sun

- not even when he realizes the sudden care for the orphan in front of him is slowly becoming less familial, less platonic, and more... instinctual. base. greedy. 

- because who better to make sure this kid is looked after than tony? tony, who has work-worn hands and time-softened eyes and cooking skills any bachelor would die for

- it’s honestly not even that shocking to him when peter says yes

- not when he takes his hand off the doorknob and immediately turns, immediately breathes out a “yes, yes of course mr. stark, thank you so much mr. stark, i’ll do whatever you need me to, you’re incredible mr. stark”

- and it all immediately goes to tony’s dick head because fuck, that was not the intended reaction but it was absolutely welcome, what the fuck

- so tony takes him upstairs, gets peter settled in the guest bedroom right across from his own

- and when he goes to bed that night he absolutely does not touch himself while thinking about the barely 20something thats maybe 10 feet away. doesn’t think about what peter said earlier, with tony’s hand wrapped around his wrist

- absolutely doesn’t cum with peter’s name on his lips, biting down on his knuckles so peter doesn’t hear

- and peter absolutely doesn’t cum with three fingers in his ass, tears streaming down his face, listening to the creaking mattress springs and heavy breathing from across the hall. of course he doesn’t

- and of course they don’t get along well. of course not. of course they don’t work together like they’re telepathically connected, not even needing to speak to know what the other is thinking. it’s like peter can read his mind, knowing exactly what needs done when

- but it’s not just tony. peter can tell before anyone else when the farrier needs to be called. when one of the girls is pregnant, even before she starts showing. knows when one of the cattle dogs has a hurt paw without even seeing him. can tell when it’s going to rain, so he knows whether or not it’ll be a good day to cut the alfalfa fields

- it’s a little freaky to be honest but tony doesn’t hate it. it’s really useful with everything on the farm, and it’s... it’s nice. having someone that can so effortlessly understand him. 

- it’s also like peters... totally unaware of it. like he doesn’t even know he knows things he shouldnt know. which blows tony’s mind even more. 

- it kinda turns him on, and he finds himself with his hand around his cock wondering if peter knows he’s getting off thinking about him. like, more than once. maybe even more than once a week. definitely more than once a week. 

- and maybe peters kind of catching on, a little. that maybe his feelings toward his employer/landlord/new friend are shared

- it also doesn’t help that he gets uncontrollably aroused every time tony goes to bed. like. every... single... time...

- peter always knew he was.. attentive. but he didn’t know it would manifest as literally feeling tony’s arousal through the fucking walls

- and it doesn’t help that peter’s filling out. he’s getting darker as the months get warmer, he’s getting significantly more meat on his bones now that he’s eating more and working more

- and it really doesn’t help that tony is getting eyefuls of the half naked ranch hand almost 24/7. it’s really not his fault that peter works better without a shirt on

- and maybe it comes to a head one day. maybe they’re picking up alfalfa bales from one of the fields and they stop to take a break and tony just ,, can’t handle sweaty, tan, barely-a-twink-anymore peter.

- and peter can feel it, with his ,, unique senses, that tony’s watching him. like, a lot. like, way more than normal even 

- so he decides to play it up a bit. he takes his shirt off, he throws his gloves in the bed of the truck and balls the tee in his hands, wiping his face off with it and sighing deeply

- and he knows tony saw that because he could fucking hear tony’s breathing change and he smirks a little bit, because that’s enough confirmation for him to know for sure

- so he looks up, and he meets tony’s eyes, and they’re wild and feral and tony looks like one of the wolves that tried to take out one of their cows last winter - hungry and ready to devour what was in front of him

- and peter just looks at him, a little incredulous, and finally speaks up: ‘you gonna get over here ‘n kiss me, or what?’ - and tony fucking breaks

- he turns the truck off and slams the door when he gets out, grabbing peter by the neck and fucking dragging him against tony’s clothed body

- “do you know what you’ve been doing this whole time?” 

- of course peter does, tony, you fucking moron. he knows and he’s been trying to get you to rip him to shreds, dumbass. you’re just oblivious

- but tony still can’t help but see the tiny young man that walked up on his doorstep those years ago, can’t help but want to protect him and keep him safe and warm and fed 

- so of course tony wanted to go slow, and wanted to be gentle with peter

- but pete was having fucking none of that, because oh my god tony i’m not 19 anymore please just fuck me already and been wanting you for way too long and please tony just--  and he grabs tony’s hand and makes him squeeze even harder

- and it’s hot, and it’s messy, and it’s not even really sex, just them rutting and grabbing and jerking each other off up against the door of tony’s truck, belt buckles undone and jeans just barely tugged down

- and tony’s basking in it, watching peter’s eyes screw shut and his pretty plush lips open and the little ‘aah, nngh fuck, tony’s that push their way from his throat

- and he knows, the second they’re done here, they’re abandoning their work for the day and he’s taking peter back to the house and he’s going to show him what this is like for real, what it means to be touched with intention and love and emotion behind it - not just a quick handjob standing in the hay field

- and he does. he worships peter’s body when they get back to the house

- he kisses every single part of him, nips at the tiny bit of excess fat on his stomach and thighs and hips, relishing in the fact that peter is his, his to take care of, his to keep safe and healthy and happy

- and eventually, the guest room opens up again. peter’s stuff slowly moves into tony’s room. he stops getting paid, but that’s okay

- because why would you get paid to work on your own farm? 

[ab1tofsp1ce]

A Warmer Refuge

Chapter 8: Counting on it

Masterlist HERE

A/N: I feel like I’m spamming but oh well, here’s another (short) part!

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.7K

Warnings: Insinuations of violence

Description: You planned on waiting patiently until Din returned, but apparently there’s someone else on this planet with a different plan.

I sat in the apartment for two, then four, then six hours, pacing around, looking out the window, exploring every inch of the two rooms available to me. But, in a way that I hadn’t been on that equally suffocating ship, I was inconsolably restless. I needed to do something, anything, and although I had Din’s advice echoing in my head, there was only so long I could follow it for. Finally, I felt myself crack. Well, he was almost certain to use his whole 24 hours, and if he didn’t then I’d leave him a note. Scribbling on the back of a scrap I wrote that I had gone out to get supplies and inquire about work. I left it on my bed, grabbed what I needed, and locked the door behind me.

When I first climbed the stuffy staircase up to this apartment, Din’s secure presence had distracted me from my surroundings. But now that I was alone, I was aware of just how helpless I felt. As I stepped out into the shared landing space in front of the stairs, I could hear strange banging from my left-side neighbor’s apartment and could smell something smoky leaking from under the door. I tried my best to block it out, beginning my descent down to the alley outside.

It was late afternoon now, although you could barely tell. The sky was so grey it gave no indication of where the sun hung – for all I knew, this planet could have more than one and I would be none the wiser. On Yak’ish Temeen the sky had always been blue, except for the thunderstorms that came in the wet season. It was a strange sight for me, to look up and only see grey, and I hoped it wasn’t too common of an occurrence.

The alley was much quieter than some of the others we had walked to get here. In a doorway across from mine, two children in cloaks played a strange board game whilst their grandmother sat weaving a basket behind them. I looked down the alley to my left and saw an Elomin, of which I had seen many of on Yak’ish Temeen. She was sitting on a crate, leaning against the wall and eyeing me shamelessly, so I darted my eyes to my right and determined that as my path of choice.

I had always had a reasonably good sense of navigation, a miracle considering I spent my entire childhood in one small carousel. My grandfather used to say I got it from my grandmother. She wasn’t Grat’anarian, and had grown up as a mechanic’s daughter on an outpost near where the Solstice Festival was held annually. During this time, all the carousels of the nation would meet for two weeks of celebrations, matchmaking, and trade. They had met there when they were fourteen, and my grandmother had been traveling with her older sister to sell spare parts to the visiting Grat’anarians. At the time my grandfather was, of course, far too young to marry, but every year until he was, they spent those whole two weeks together. My grandfather laughed shamelessly when he told my brother and I about how he skipped out on every religious ceremony and feast to sneak away over the dunes with my grandmother and watch the stars all night long. My grandmother, in typical fashion, would swipe my grandfather over the head and remind him not to incite us to skip out on rites as he had, and my brother and I would laugh at his expense. But he would always tell me how much I reminded him of my grandmother when she was my age, and would tell me I was destined for great things. I never believed him, of course, and I never thought that my navigational skills would come in use for anything beyond the weekly trip to Yemi’natar’s marketplace. And yet, here I was, trekking the streets of a foreign planet countless parsecs away.

I kept my focus on the landmarks I passed; certain stalls, how many turns I took, the buildings that flanked my path, so as to ensure I could find my way back – the last thing I needed was to get lost.

I finally returned to the main streets, where the crowds thickened and jostled me slightly as a made my way to the marketplace. The food here was foreign to me, and I assumed it was because I was used to the traditional Grat’anarian cuisine. But, I tried my best to figure out what I would like based on my sense of smell, and picked up enough supplies to last a couple of days. At this point, I had become far more aware of the biting wind on this planet, as I had on Utaran. I browsed through clothing stores, picking a couple of outfits that I liked – comfortable and practical for both the weather and my profession – and the owner let me change in the small booth at the back.

Profession; that reminded me.

“Is there anywhere I can find a ship mechanic around here,” I asked the owner after briefly explaining my situation.

“Head down to the docks,” he said. “They might have some odd jobs but there’s not much work around here. Unless you wanna work for the New Republic.”

Ha. Not likely. I thanked him as I paid, but I ducked out back into the street I felt cold water drops on my face. Fantastic, I thought. What great timing. I paused for a moment, considering whether I should check out the docks or if it was a task for another day. But something nagged at the corner of my heart, the reminder that, despite the fact it was unlikely, Din could be back in my apartment right now, waiting for me. I really didn’t stand a chance after I thought that, and my mind was made up as soon as the thought came into my head, so I began to make my way back the way I had come.

I wasn’t sure at what point I realized I was being followed. In truth, maybe I had felt it the whole time since I had left the apartment but had dismissed it as my general nerves. It was around now, though, that I really began to notice it. Something, or should I say, someone kept catching my peripheral vision, but every time I turned back there was nothing out of the ordinary. I tried to quell my beating heart and not get ahead of myself, but I subconsciously begin to walk faster. For the first time in a week, I was truly alone. It was now that it hit me how vulnerable I was. I didn’t even have that stupid dagger Din had given me on Utaran; I was pretty sure I left it in Raggard’s arm when I stabbed him.

When I left the main streets and found myself in the claustrophobic and quiet back alleys I realized how much danger I was in. My walk quickened, and before I knew it I was almost jogging. I spared a look over my shoulder and saw a man and another creature, walking calmly about 20 feet behind me. I looked ahead. I was so close to home, and once I got inside, I could shut myself in safely – I hoped.

I spun the corner onto my alley, which was completely empty, except for two silhouettes at the end. They weren’t walking towards me, but even though I couldn’t make out their faces I knew they were staring at me. I kept walking, sweat dripping down my forehead (or maybe it was rain). And then, unable to take it anymore, I broke out into a run, trying not to slip on the muddy ground. Finally, at my apartment building, I swung myself through the doorway and sprinted up the stairs as fast as I could. I wasn’t sure if they were still behind me, but I didn’t take the time to look – I just focused on my feet. I barrelled up the last flight of stairs, reaching the top and looking up, only to be greeted by the Elomin from before, who was leaning against my door and twirling a small knife in her hands bemusedly. She looked up at me and smiled slyly, as if she had been expecting me. I backed up, heart pounding, and turned around. But it was too late. The man and the creature who had followed me from behind were at the bottom of the flight, standing guard. I turned shakily back to the Elomin.

“What – what do you want?”

“Not even a hello? Or an invite in for some spotchka? You gave my friends some good exercise, running like that.” I didn’t respond, my voice caught in my throat. She raised an eyebrow calmly, seemingly finding my fear entertaining.

“Well, that is fair enough… we haven’t even introduced ourselves! My name is Ostalo.” She extended her hand, but I did not take it, to which she shrugged and retracted it. “Tell me, what’s your name, my dear?”

“You – you haven’t told me what you want. I have – I have credits, but I don’t – I don’t have anything else.”

She chuckled under her breath, turning to look down at the knife in her hand that she was playing with. “You’re right,” she said, a disturbing softness in her tone. “You don’t. But he does.”

My stomach dropped, but I played dumb. “Who?”

“That Mandalorian warrior you were with before… really such a shame he had to leave you behind… you wouldn’t happen to know if he’ll be back again?”

I gulped. “Of course he will be! In fact, he’ll be here any minute… and if you –” I felt the two burly men behind me, closing in. I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince, her or myself. “If you take me, he’ll track you down… he’ll find me!”

She chuckled slightly, sheathing the blade and slipping it back into her pocket, before flashing me a grin with shining white teeth and pointed eyes.

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

[doesitsparkjoytho]

Old Dog, New Tricks

Words: 2100 POV: Hank A short piece exploring the events leading up to and just post-epilogue (good ending). Fluff/feels. This can be interpreted however you like. (You can also read on AO3)

...something about the bright blue thirium against the snow—hell, it fucking glowed in the dark…. He’d barely driven two blocks before he had to swerve to a curb and open his door to puke.

“Are you alright, Lieutenant?”

Hank really looks at the android now, and is pained to see the bullet hole, the blue blood now dried along his shoulder, spattered like neon paint along the front and sides of his usually neat jacket. Connor is filthy, his hair is a mess, his clothes are frayed and torn in places. It’s a miracle he’s alive.

Alive...

Connor follows Hank into the kitchen, and his eyes quickly scan the counters, table—likely analyzing what’s changed since he was last here. Hank looks at him, slightly abashed. The last time Connor was here, he wasn't exactly concerned about the state of his house. He'd barely been aware that Connor was even in his house, let alone been concerned about how he'd gotten in (the window was still broken, and Connor's request to Cyberlife to reimburse the expense would likely never be processed now).

"Do you eat?" Hank asks. It sounds stupid as he asks it, but it feels good to ask regardless. And honestly HANK is hungry. But even without opening the fridge, he realizes he has next to nothing edible, except perhaps to android standards. With all his favorite fast food places almost certainly closed, he isn't sure what he’ll do.

"I can eat, but I have no need or desire to,” Connor replies. He looks perplexed, but doesn't say more.

Hank smirks. "Can you cook?" It’s funny imagining Connor, who he's seen so often licking blue goo from floors and sprinting after deviants, cooking.

Connor's face scrunches slightly. "I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it." Now he smirks. "If you're that desperate, I'm sure Sumo won't mind if a few of his cans go missing. It's probably preferable to whatever I'd manage."

"Haha, very funny, Connor. But unlike you, I do actually need to eat. Eventually." He trails off on this last word.

It's then that Hank realizes how fucking tired he is. What time is it, anyways? 10:27am. The past 24 hours feel like a fever dream. He also hasn't slept since.... When the fuck did he last sleep?

After he and Connor split ways at Cyberlife tower, he went to the park and tried to calm his nerves. However, for the first time in a long time, he found himself unable to drink even a beer—felt he might be needed, and that he’d have to be ready. Sharp. And that thought made him even more anxious, more agitated.

So he got back in his car and drove around the city, trying to find somewhere with a TV. His phone was a useless brick with communications shut down nationwide several days prior. The streets were deserted, stores and bars closed. Not even looters wanted to chance encounters with deviants, apparently.

He did pass several groups of soldiers and androids, and he felt sick when he inevitably imagined Connor kneeling in the snow, a machine gun pressed to the back of his head. At one point he witnessed such an execution, and something about the bright blue thirium against the snow—hell, it fucking glowed in the dark…. He’d barely driven two blocks before he had to swerve to a curb and open his door to puke.

“Are you alright, Lieutenant?”

Hank really looks at the android now, and is pained to see the bullet hole, the blue blood now dried along his shoulder, spattered like neon paint along the front and sides of his usually neat jacket. Connor is filthy, his hair is a mess, his clothes are frayed and torn in places. It’s a miracle he’s alive.

Alive.

Hank smiles and leans back against the counter, crossing his arms. "So what now?"

Connor looks tired, if that's possible. He inhales sharply and looks away. It’s such a human trait, looking away to think. As if staring while your brain is churning isn’t polite.

His eyes dart back to Hank, worried. “I don’t know. For the first time, I don’t have a mission. That…‘voice’ in my head is quiet.”

“That’s how humans feel all the time, Connor. We have no idea what the fuck we’re supposed to do. But finding that purpose? That’s what makes us human. That’s free will, Connor.”

You gave me a purpose again.

One side of Connor’s mouth pulls into that familiar smile, as if he can read Hank’s thoughts.

“Well, for a start, why don’t you go clean yourself up?” Hank suggests. “You look like you got shot.”

Connor peers down at the hole in his shoulder, taking in his disheveled appearance. “You’re right—I’m a mess.”

“I have some clothes that might fit you, from when I was uh….younger.”

“I suppose mine aren’t really suitable any more,” Connor replies. Without hesitation or ceremony, he removes his jacket. But he holds it gently, folds it so that the “RK800” and serial number in iridescent silver faces up. Stares a moment.

Getting sentimental, Connor?

Before, Hank would have said this aloud, jokingly. He wonders what Connor feels, about to relinquish one of the few things he has, one of the only things that has ever identified him.

You’re more than a number now. You don’t belong to Cyberlife.

Connor looks at Hank and holds his jacket out to him. “Will you put this somewhere for safekeeping?”

Hank smiles. “Sure.”

With that, Connor starts towards the bathroom. But he stops. “You wouldn’t happen to have a soldering iron, would you?”

Before Hank can ask ‘what the fuck’, Connor adds, “for my shoulder.”

“Ah, shit. No. Is that how you normally fix yourself?”

“No. Normally I’d return to Cyberlife and have them repair me.”

“It doesn’t...hurt, though, right? You’re fully functional and all?”

Connor smiles. “I’m alright, Lieutenant. I suppose I wanted to fix it more for your sake, so you’ll stop looking worried.”

Hank scratches the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. Before either of them can say anything more, Connor continues down the hallway.

Hank follows, heading into his bedroom as Connor turns into the bathroom. He opens the closet and reaches for the far right side. He has some old t-shirts, a couple button-ups, even a black suit jacket. He hasn’t worn it since…. But he grabs it anyway, thinking that perhaps Connor may still prefer to wear a jacket. Hell, Connor probably doesn’t even know what he prefers at this point, but at least he’ll have options. More than anyone’s ever given him. He grabs a pair of old jeans, too. He even considers a tie, but decides it’s time for Connor to loosen up a little.

He heads to the bathroom, and finds Connor standing before the sink, staring at his reflection. He hasn’t started to clean himself up.

“I, uh, found a few things,” Hank says from the doorway.

Connor turns slightly, and Hank approaches. He offers the clothes, and Connor takes them.

“You need anything else?”

“Just this,” Connor replies. He takes up Hank’s barber style razor, and holds it at chin level.

Hank starts forward, fear punching him in the gut.

But in a flash, Connor has the edge of the razor against his temple. It’s then that Hank realizes he’s going to remove the LED.

Connor looks at Hank in the mirror, and Hank nods.

With a flick of the razor the LED drops, and Connor catches it with his left hand. The spot on his temple quickly recolors, leaving no trace. He pinches the disc between his fingers, looks at it a moment, and then drops it into the trash.

Connor turns to Hank and smiles.

Such a simple thing, the LED. But standing there before him, without that or the jacket—he looks human. If he hadn’t seen the flash of white beneath the skin, Hank would briefly wonder if it was all a show. He’s seen cops go undercover so well and for so long that he barely recognized them without the cover.

As Connor picks up the shirts to examine them, Hank turns to leave. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Hank grunts a “mmm” in response and pulls the door mostly shut.

Suddenly his house feels foreign, like when you return from a long vacation and everything smells different.

Overwhelmed, he sinks heavily into the couch.

Will Connor stay with him? He’ll offer, of course. He can use the couch, or I could convert the garage…. Wait, he doesn’t even sleep, does he? Well, he needs somewhere to be, or else he’ll just be....here, all the time.

But what if Connor decides to live with the androids? Will he leave Detroit?

Fuck, what will he do? He’ll never return to DPD, not after attacking Perkins, letting Connor into the evidence room. He’d tossed his badge and gun on Fowler’s desk to avoid being arrested—although he won’t be surprised if Perkins decides to press charges, tries to get him thrown in jail for assaulting a federal agent. What’s the minimum sentence for that? Six months? A year?

Not worth worrying about now.

Seeing Hank on the couch, Sumo raises his head.

“C’mere, Sumo.”

Sumo slowly gets up from his bed and pads his way over. Hank pats the couch, and Sumo jumps up to lie down next to him. He places his head on his leg.

“That’s a good boy, Sumo.” Hank scratches his head, gives him a solid pat on the back.

Without androids doing pretty much all of the labor, he imagines the country will be in chaos shortly. Stores will be ransacked, people desperate for supplies. Terrified of androids, who will all soon be aware—alive—will humans flee the cities? Surely some androids will be angry, seek justice for years of slavery and abuse. Will Detroit become a capital for the androids?

His thoughts are interrupted by Connor approaching from the hall. Before he can turn to look at him, the android steps around to the front of the couch. He’s wearing the old Knights of the Black Death t-shirt, once black but now a faded dark gray. He’s rinsed his hair and apparently tried to towel dry it because he looks a little like a cockatoo. Gone is the dirt and the blue blood. He’s kept the rest of his outfit the same, but he looks like a kid in his 30s now.

Kid, Hank? You old fuck.

But something about seeing Connor like this fills him with hope. Hope for the world, but most importantly, for himself. He feels alive for the first time in three years. There’s plenty to worry about, sure, but it all seems distant.

“I put the other clothes on your bed,” says Connor. He holds up his white shirt, stained with blue. “I’d like to keep this, if we can get the stains out.”

“Just toss it in with my stuff.”

Connor looks around.

“Shit, sorry—the washer’s in the garage, the door at the end of the hall.”

“Ah.”

“Here, just put it down. I’ll wash it later.”

Connor sets the folded shirt on the arm of the couch, and looks at Hank. His expression softens. “I haven’t thanked you for what you did,” he says. “Not just at the station, but back with the other Connor. It—he—would have killed me.”

Hank grimaces. “It’s my own damn fault he was even there, Connor. I should have realized it wasn’t you.”

“I doubt you could have. At any rate, thank you, Hank. For everything."

Is that the first time he’s ever called him by his name?

Hank smiles. “You’re welcome. You’re also welcome to stay here, Connor, for however long you want to. I, uh...wouldn’t mind some company. I’m sure Sumo wouldn’t, either.”

Connor looks at Hank, smiling that half smile of his.

Hank doesn’t have a word for what Connor is to him, but he knows that he loves him. And he hopes that he’ll stay, at least for a while.

“I’d like that,” Connor replies.

Hank smiles. “First rule of living here, Connor: If Sumo is lying on you, you don’t have to move.”

“I think that’s a fair rule. Can I get you something?”

“No, no. At some point I’ll have to go out scavenging for lunch, but right now, I just want to sit here.”

His eyes feel heavy, as heavy as Sumo’s head on his leg. The house is quiet, snow gently falling outside.

He feels the couch sink slightly as Connor sits beside Sumo, and he opens an eye to see the android curling up like a cat at the other end of the couch, laying his head on Sumo.

Tears sting Hank’s eyes, and he shuts them tighter to keep them at bay. But his heart is full to bursting, and soon he’s quietly sobbing.

He would risk his life again for Connor, and again, and whatever number of times circumstances demanded. He would gladly go to jail for his role in the android revolution because Connor is free. Alive. Whatever price fate might demand of him, he’ll pay it. Because for the first time since he can remember, he’s whole.

[cxmetery-gates]

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER SIX: PICKUP TRUCK THOUGHTS

SUMMARY: Lynn takes a moment of solitude to put things into perspective, all thanks to a friend’s truck and some clouds. WORD COUNT: 2.8k NOTE: Not me falling of the face of the internet for a couple months. Whoops! WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

"YOU REALIZE IT'S A SERIOUS problem at this point, right?"

"At least it's not crack."

The two familiar voices catch both mine and Gabe's attention. With the doors open, legs sprawled out wherever they're comfy, and some early 2000s alternative music jamming from the speakers, we genuinely look like high school delinquents. All we're missing is a cigarette hanging from our lips.

My back aches as I pry my upper half to sit up straight, a chorus of popping following my movement. I brightly grin at River and Ellie and my feet reach the black pavement. It appears Ellie just rolled her eyes at River's sassy remark. I begin to ask what they were talking about before I notice something being shoved back in the boy's backpack: his new Obi-Wan Kenobi lightsaber. Part of me isn't surprised, but the other half is wondering what reason he has to carry it around at school. Regardless of the reason, we all have our quirks: it took me until the eighth grade to leave my replica of Harry Potter's wand at home.

Geeky things, I guess?

I can only guess what River was telling Ellie when it comes to his devotion to Star Wars. There isn't an existing number to count how often River and I find ourselves on the topic of space battles and the Skywalkers.

"What's up, friendos?" I ask as they draw closer. A sudden chilly breeze lifts my hair and bumps along my skin. It's almost a frustrating sensation, it being the middle of August. It looks like I'm the only one who feels it, as my teeth are the only ones that chatter. Since my arms are tightly holding each other, I barely have time to react to Ellie's next reaction.

Ellie drags her feet dramatically until she goes limp in my arms. "I wanna go home and sleep."

I stumble back at the weight added, wriggling my arms to hold her steady. The last thing I need on the first day of school is a concussion. "Christ— well maybe if you get off, we can take you home."

River piles his backpack into the back of Gabe's truck, the loud thump startling Ellie, and looks at us with a confused stare. "Weren't– Weren't we supposed to hang out today?"

The girl in my arms rises to her feet, groaning. "Shit, I forgot. My mom said she wants me back home after school as soon as possible. You know, groundings and all."

"Next time, don't get into an accident." Gabe sends her a smirk.

Ellie narrows her eyes and mocks his response, crossing her arms and leaning on one leg. A small chortle parts my lips as I lean up against the truck next to River. After her bickering, Ellie continues. "Go get ice cream or something in my memory. I just have to get back before I'm killed, which should be any day now."

"I call your funeral playlist," I reply. Looking up while my fingers stroke my chin comically, I add, "A ton of 80s pop with a dash of Gaga?"

Booping my nose, Ellie smiles. "You know me too well."

We all file into Gabe's small truck— well, almost all of us. Since the truck is a three-seater and police like to patrol this area, there is always a sacrifice who gets to claim the back of the car. This time, it happens to be me. Once I was lying flat on my back, a blue tarp was pulled over my body, coming right above my nose. Oh, the perks of old, short pick-up trucks roaming a town with endless police...

Sliding open the window, Gabe's voice calls out. "You good back there?"

"Yeah, I'm fucking peachy," I reply.

There's the sound of laughter before the engine kicks on. At that moment, my paranoia starts to kick in, starting with my heart beating fast in my chest and palms getting sweaty. Not once have any of us gotten caught, but I can't help but think the day we are, it's my ass going to jail. I've never bothered to look at the laws relating to seat belts in other states, but here, the law is highly enforced. Not only would I get fined and definitely put into a cell, but I have no doubt Gabe would endure the same fate.

Nice way to put yourself in one of these states, I chastise myself.

I almost groan, but I can't be sure if I'll cause one of the friends up front to worry. So, I exhale and inhale rhythmically like I was taught. Looking straight ahead, all I can see are blue skies and puffy white clouds. Occasionally, a tree or two will enter the scenery. I'm barely blinking as I try to put shapes to the clouds, some more impossible than others. Despite having an imaginative mind, the figures aren't creating a picture for me to follow.

I like to remember how easy it was as a child to create something out of nothing. An empty napkin roll wasn't just cardboard; it was a telescope that needed color. Our dolls weren't acting on our behalf; they were doing it themselves and showing us their lives. Every cloud wasn't just a random array of water droplets but rather, a visual story to be told. I want to know what causes all of us to lose that form of innocence. Ways of thinking like pessimism or optimism, that's easy: once too many shitty things start to happen more than the good, one is likely to form a biased view or vice versa. But, why do we stop playing with imaginary friends? Or act out intense battles on the playground? Even the smallest blip of innocence, like cloud-watching, becomes warped.

Sometimes, it's easy to pick out that moment in our own lives where we find ourselves becoming grown-ups and leaving childhood behind, but the shitty part is that it isn't just me or Ellie, River, or Gabe who go through trials. It's not just the kid who loses a parent or the girl who was taken advantage of. Everyone has their wars. And in the end, we lose, becoming a part of the system that inflicts these damages.

These damages I speak of tear us apart. They mold us into shapes beyond recognition. No longer a funny shape or a distorted animal in the sky, but dark, heavy, and so close to bursting. And when we finally let go, after all the waiting and rolling, we seem to explode, leaking and oozing our pain, our torment, us. And when it's over? What's left? I guess there are two options: remain on the ground to seep into further nothingness, or rise once more, only to break again, again, and again. But life is such torment and full of trials, is it not?

Funny how staring at a cloud can put life into perspective.

My brain is overrun by these thoughts that I don't even realize Gabe's truck is rolling to a stop. I finally take notice when car doors swing open then shut.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," River says leaning over the side of the truck to get a look at me.

Rolling my eyes with a grin, I swat at his shoulder, which misses as he recoils. "Shut up, loser." I sit up, tossing the tarp to the side as I move to stand. River smirks and offers his hands to help me down. Without hesitation I take them, swinging one leg over the side and the other following before I made a short leap to the ground. Because neither of us apparently can avoid embarrassment, we're both holding each other's hands after I land. A rosy blush spreads across his entire face— no doubt mine as well— before I take the initiative to lean backwards, focusing on Ellie who crawls from the side door.

"Speaking of losers," Gabe sighs. I can't help but feel the reddening in my cheeks, assuming this asshole is talking about River and me, but I notice he's looking at Ellie, now swinging her backpack around one shoulder in her driveway.

She notices that all of us are looking, causing her to freeze. "Why does everyone hate me today?"

I smile bringing her into a goofy hug. "We just miss you. Don't get into any more accidents, please?"

"Yeah, yeah," she snorts, hugging me back to the best of her ability, considering I have her arms pinned down at an odd angle. "Alright, leave my driveway before I actually get you guys killed."

Gabe, River, and I say our goodbyes before filing into the white truck, heading God-knows-where as a worn-down engine sparks to life. Looking over at River, who sits to my right in the passenger seat, I send him a glare that he doesn't see since his eyes are focused on what lies beyond the window— or lack thereof.

While his hair barely covers his neck, mine flows down to my mid-back, meaning having windows rolled all the way down and speeding down a highway won't lead to the best outcomes for my hair. But I can't complain too much: River's hair going crazy in the wind is both cute and a bit funny. A small smile graces my features before a thin lock of hair enters my lips.

Glancing over at the driver, I notice how only locks of hair toward the ends move slowly despite the windows rolled all the way down, as if the strands are wearing a shield against the wind. I wonder how Gabriel keeps his hair so still before making the dumbfounding realization that he wears that beanie 24/7 and who knows how long he goes without washing his perfect hair. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen the boy without the hat. I guarantee no one would recognize him without it.

"So, where are we heading?" Gabriel asks when we reach the stoplight before entering the populated part of town.

I exhale, leaning my head on the headrest of the seat. "Well, I for one could go for something frozen. Maybe a burger, too."

"Didn't you just eat lunch?" River asks, humorously smiling in my direction.

"And had coffee literally less than an hour ago," Gabe adds.

Sending a blank look to River (whose smile widens) then over to Gabe, his eyes never leaving the stretch of road ahead of him (at least one person in the group can do that), I huff, my eyes shutting closed and I bring my shoulders up into a shrug. "I don't know what you both have against me and my food and drink consumption, but you better knock it off."

There's a small hum of laughter to my right, sending a slight shiver down my neck. "If we left you alone for a week, there's no telling how much you'd put in your system," River tells me as if I don't know that already.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, Bob and Jillian, I don't need you to berate me."

══════════════════

Twenty minutes later, the three of us find ourselves outside a burger joint. In one hand, I have a burger waiting to be devoured and in the other is a frozen strawberry lemonade. Nothing says summer like this combination. We're sitting the parking lot eating our meals, more specifically in the back of the truck. From my phone, I have a playlist plainly called "Chill" playing from the nearly-blown speakers.

"I never thought food could taste so good," I moan as the burger slides down my throat.

"You're acting like you haven't eaten in a week."

Sending Gabe an eye-roll, I reply, "It might as well have been."

There's a moment of silence before River brings up a topic not discussed in a couple weeks. "Do you guys wanna come over and jam for a bit sometime this week? We haven't done anything in a while."

One summer a few years back, the trio of us learned we can play different instruments. I have been playing the guitar and drums since I was younger, thanks to a musically gifted grandfather. Gabe and River both had a knack for guitar too, though Gabe had more experience with the bass guitar and River had some training with piano. While our jam sessions are nothing too serious, as none of us want to be in a band or write our own songs, it's become a fun and stress-reducing way to hang out when silence would otherwise fill the atmosphere. The last time, we figured out how to play the theme songs of our favorite movies using a ukulele and bongos. It was something I didn't need to hear, but I'm glad I did.

I nod my head. "Yeah, we can this weekend if we aren't being drowned in homework by that point."

Gabe also agrees with a nod, his mouth full of fries. "It's a maybe from me: Mom might need to borrow the truck since hers is wearing down."

River turns his dark brown eyes over to me, capturing an embarrassing scene as lettuce pokes between my stuffed lips. Great. "Well, I guess I can hang out with you if someone can't show."

While I playfully punch his arm, I send a look over to Gabe who hides a smirk in his straw. He catches me looking as River goes on about one of his classes. Sending me a wink, I narrow my eyes knowingly: his mom just got a brand new truck. Mr. Matchmaker goes back to this food, making a statement on how hot River's finance teacher is, causing the boy to make a very uncomfortable face.

Despite the long talks we shared in the back of Gabe's truck, I find myself zoning out hardcore once again. I can't figure out why exactly my mind had wondered, but I do know where. My thoughts go back to Trinity's face, remembering how she would sit next to me against the side of the truck the very few times she decided to make time for my friends. There's a ghost of warmth in my palm like fingers squeezing when the short snippet of a memory expels from deep inside my mind. I don't know why I thought of it. It just appeared, causing a droplet of woe to fill my gut.

Like my friends have told me before, I need to let this go. There's no use in holding on to something, or rather someone who isn't coming back, especially someone who was never good for me in the first place. Glancing up, I spy on River munching and talking with Gabe. A blush covers my cheeks when I remember how utterly embarrassing it was when I broke down in front of him over a stupid girl. He told me there are worse things to worry about.

"Like climate change?" I asked, sniffling into a pillow. I hope he washed it after that encounter. Hell, he needed to lysol everything down after my mopey ass walked through the place.

River smiled warmly at me, pulling me into a giant bear hug. Sometimes, I want to ask for one of those hugs again. "I was going to say people who like pineapple on pizza, but climate change is also a concern."

I remember crying not a second later, but that was due to the thought of polar bears facing extinction.

Contrary to knowing how wonderful my three best friends are, I'm also aware that there are certain things I can't share. I don't want to overbear them with my problems that should have been solved months ago. The fact that I'm still getting small flashbacks and thoughts of her is pathetic, and I'm aware of that fact. On the other hand, it isn't like my group of friends will give up and leave if I spill my guts, right? I shouldn't be scared of expression my thoughts, feelings, and emotions to my closest friends. And yet, here I sit, undecided on what to do.

Christ, do I need to get my priorities straight.

When my eyes break away from their trance, all I see is Gabe and River entering a heated discussion, about what I'm not sure. With my thoughts still in a bit of limbo, I'm shocked back to reality when they both leap from either side of the vehicle, rushing to pull items from their bags.

Under any other normal circumstance, it would be concerning to see two dudes arguing one moment then reaching into their bags the next. I'm willing to bet the next logical calculation for a stranger would have been to get away, fearing the queue for guns or knives. But I know these losers. Even if they are fighting or wanting to kill each other, there is only one way they can settle their differences.

"Soon, you will see the way of the Jedi," River exclaims while thrashing his blue lightsaber through the air.

"Shut the fuck up, you nerd!" Gabe flicks out a red lightsaber, taunting the other.

"Oh, my God," I say with no emotion in my tone, watching as red and blue shamelessly slash at each other in battery-produced light in a burger joint parking lot.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

TAGLIST:

@khadineberry​​

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED, LET ME KNOW!

[geekydane]

Talk to me - Tommy Shelby x reader  - chapter 7

Masterlist

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

It's was weird packing clothes in a duffle bag to bring with you out of your apartment. It suddenly reminded you of the Langstons again. They didn't let you pack your own stuff. It suddenly just appeared at your apartment one day when you got home from work.

You didn't know what you pack to this... Sleepover? What was going to happen? Tommy was standing downstairs in your living room waiting for you, but you were starting to grow uneasy. You wanted to help Tommy in every possible way because he had treated you so well, but your anxiety started to creep in on you. He was still a man and you knew for a fact that he wasn't God's best child. In the short span of time you had known him he had killed two men. Why weren't you afraid of him? You were sure he would be able to hurt you... Right? Was it wrong to let him in and help him?

"Do you have everything you need?" you jumped when Tommys voice was hears from the door. He pushed open the door to your bedroom slightly and looked quickly around until he found you sitting next to your bag which was sprawling on the bed. Your thoughts must have been easy to read on your face, because Tommy suddenly looked all shy and took of his hat.

"You don't have to do this if you don't feel comfortable with it. It was just a thought now that it worked before"

Tommy looked down and a little defeated. It must be hard for him to be a man of such power and then ask a mental woman for help. Your previous thought about him ever hurting you disappeared and you took in a deep breath and closed your bag and right a knot on the strings. As you stood, Tommy finally looked up and straightened as you neared the door.

"Ladies first." he said and stepped aside.

He led you back to the Shelby residence, but you noticed how you were walking another way than you used to walk to work. This time it was smaller streets with fewer people nodded towards Tommy and acknowledge the great Mr. Shelby of Birmingham. Still, people noticed him everywhere like he was some kind of celebrity. You didn’t realize you were already at his house, when he limped the stairs up to an unknown door. You looked up at the stone façade and realized that it must be some kind of back entrance that you didn’t know of. You were only used to seeing the house from the front. He locked up the door and let you go in first. It was an unfamiliar hallway but it had the same colours and matching interiors to the rest of the Shelby house.

You were wondering why he let you in through the backdoor. The family knew you very well but maybe this was too much to Tommy to let them know about the two of you. It wasn’t like you were lovers from two rivalling families like the infamous lovers Romeo and Juliet. You were two broken souls that help each other find a way to make every day less sufferable. At least his brothers would understand. You walked up a spiral staircase to the first floor. You remember leaving through this hall, but in the other end with the grant staircase to the ground floor. You didn’t need Tommy to lead you to which door was his. When you reached the door, you turned around to see if he was right behind you he smiled sweetly at you and opened the door for you.

The smell was familiar to you. You had spent a good 24 hours in there a few days before. The whole room was Tommy. His musky Aqua Velva aftershave, the cigarette smoke and the smell of fresh sheets. You wondered who changed the sheets, because you didn’t think Tommy to be one that changed them himself.

“Let’s not make this more awkward than it is. Get yourself ready for bed like you use to and I’ll change in the wash room.”  Tommy cleared his throat before he left the room and let you alone. You shifted a little, didn’t know what to do with yourself. You walked over to the bed and sat down. The bedding was changed since your attack. You hadn’t noticed much about the colour back then, but now it was blue tartan. You would have remembered that because it was very unusual for normal people to have colours beddings. But you guessed that Tommy wasn’t really a normal man. You sighed for yourself and did as you were told. You changed into your knee long classic night dress in a pastel blue. It was very old and you were suddenly nervous to be seen in it. It was one of the only things that you from before the whole kidnapping episode. Once you were confident and wore it around the house. Your father who was a little old school called you a scoundrel when you and your friends ran past him and his business partners in your night dresses on a hunt for sweets in the kitchen. Now the dress was the only night dress you owned and you covered yourself with your arms.

What might Tommy wear for bed, you thought. Last time he slept in his clothing next to you. What if he was naked? Oh god, what if he thought you might be naked too? Last time you wore a much more modest night dress that wasn’t yours. Was he expecting that? All those thoughts went through your head when the door cracked open in the other end of the room.

“Are you dressed y/n?” The way his voice sounded went well with the shy expression he wore earlier. There was a silent following. Was he expecting you to answer? Your pulse rose as you sat there. The anxiety spotted your thought before Tommy yet again cleared his throat.

“I mean, if you aren’t dressed, then throw something at me, just not something too expensive.” He chuckled and you thought it was the first time you ever experienced that. He sounded like a young boy out on trouble. It did lighten your mood entirely and you smiled at him as he stopped around the door. He wore short legged knickers and a sleeveless undershirt in a matching colour. Of course he wouldn’t be naked. Where was your head at?

“All this anticipation makes me less tired, but I have a long day tomorrow with meeting that I hope you will attend as well, miss y/l/n. So this better work.” He didn’t hesitate when he walked to the same side of the bed as you sat, and sat down next to you. What was he doing? Was think more than just sleeping? Was he expecting you to…

“I’m sorry that I might boss you around, but I already sleep on the side of the bed. I hope you don’t mind jumping to the other side.” You blinked a few times and nodded slowly and got up. As you stood up you heard Tommy take a deep breath in. You turned to see his eyes fixed on your bare legs. Your bare legs full of scares. Scares from nylon ropes you had fought against for many days you were held captured. You hadn’t even thought about those until then. You crossed your arms over your cheats like that would help anything and hurried to the other side and sat with your back to him.

“I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.” He said. He was wringing his hands in his lap for a moment before turning to you. You watched him from the corner of your eye, but quickly turned away when he started to pulled his shirt over his head.

“Y/N, look.” He said silently. It took you a moment to reacts because you couldn’t think what might happen next. Tommy caught your eyes with a wary look through his lashes. He put his right hand over his heart and you didn’t understand before he rubbed the area over his heart and lowered the hand. There on his chest was a tattoo. Black lines forming a half-circle reminiscent of the shine, coming from the rising sun. But there in the middle was a scar, perfectly round and slightly darker then the skin surrounding it. Without asking you know it was a gunshot. He had been shot right above the heart and survived.

“I don’t think I need to tell you want it is. But I can tell you that it was damn painful. But the scar is just a memory of what happened to me in France. It doesn’t mean anything anymore. It’s just an imperfect spot on my skin. I embraced it by getting my regiments tattoo around it. Some of the others thought it a little odd – said it was more fitting for the upper arm… Maybe I just like to do my own thing, even though I was a part of a fellowship and wanted a reminder for that.” He let his fingers run over the scared skin and your eyes was transfixed on the movement. He let out a hint of a laugh.

“What I’m trying to say is... everyone has their scars. They simply mean that we made it through something terrible. It means that we survived and it does not make you any less beautiful.” His words was beautiful but the look he send you made you look away from him and fumble with your hair to distract yourself from the reaction his word had on your entire body. You hadn’t been called beautiful since your dad made you twirl around in front of his desk, when you went and showed him a new dress.

“Lay down with me, ey? I’m not gonna cross the middle of the bed. I will not touch you unless you want me to, okay?” He continued totally unaffected by the huge compliment he just gave you but you guessed he was used to compliment women more than you were used to receive them. He lifted up the duvet on his side of the bed and settled in. You couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he didn’t put the shirt back on. You sighed and removed the duvet from under you and let your legs slide under it, letting your scars on your ankles disappear out of view. You nuzzled a bit around until you lay parallel to Tommy and looked over. Tommy caught your eyes and gave you a hint of a smile.

“You okay? Can I turn off the light?” He reached out to his bed side table on his side as you nodded and the moment after it was almost dark. Only a little light from the moon shone in through the window, but it wasn’t enough for you to be able to see Tommy. You only knew he was there because he was moving around and when he finally settled you could hear the steady breathing. It was calming to you but you still couldn’t sleep. You didn’t know if he normally would fall asleep so fast or if it was you that had the wanted effect on him.

You didn’t know how long you had been laying there awake and listening. You had closed your eyes a long time ago and just relaxed in this new strange feeling or lying next to Tommy. The fact that you could reach over and actually touch him… But a the next beat he started to twitch and turn in his sleep. His before so calm and steady breath because a heavy panting with no rhythm. He slammed his fist into the madras making you jump. Was he having a nightmare? You were supposed to chase those away! You sat up and looked at the silhouette of the struggling man and started to panic. What should you do? Should you wake him up? Wasn’t that for the best or would the nightmares go away by themselves? You sat for a moment before you couldn’t take it anymore and reach out for him. You caught his arm as it was about to slam down in the madras again. He went stiff immediately, like his body was alert but still breathing heavily. You shook his arm to see if he was awake but he was still far gone. You moved over so you could hold onto both his arms and shake him. Finally he reacted but in a way that frightened you. His hand caught your upper arm and made you release your hands on his arms. With the other hand re reached out and pulled the light cord. The unnatural yellow light fell on the whole room, making the shadows longer and the look in Tommy’s eyes wilder. He stared at you so intensely for you were about to cower away from him but it only took a beat before his eyes shifted to guilt. His iron grip on your arm immediately loosened.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just… startled. When you grabbed me I thought…” He squeezed his eyes shut like he was in pain and maybe he was, just not physical. The hand on your upper arm didn’t feel like a threat but a reassurance. It was just you and him. There was no danger. No one that wanted to harm you. Without thinking you let your hand find his cheek and you let your thumb stroke over the light stubbles that were invisible for the eye. Slowly it was like you worked out the tightness in his expression and he opened his eyes to look at you with such sadness.

“I had just hoped it worked. It worked before…” He mumbled more to himself than you, you realized but you let your hand slide to the back of his neck and gave it a little squeeze. You didn’t know how to calm him down after this and maybe he wanted you to disappear now that you found out that it didn’t work. But you let go of him and lay down again, signalling for him to do the same. Without a word he did as you. Both of you on your sides, looking at each other, not a word were spoken. An idea popped into your head as you laid there like you had done before. Something was missing from the scenario from all those night ago. You reached out your hand between you two as an invitation. Tommy caught on immediately or he just wanted to, either way he took your hand.

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

It was strange how you didn’t remember what happened next. You just woke up in the exact same position. It did mean that your body was a little stiff for not moving the entire night, but that also meant that you must have been sleeping through the night without waking up and shifting. Tommy’s and your hands were still intertwined and Tommy was still fast asleep. Tommy’s Westclox alarm clock hadn’t rung yet so you just laid there and tried to not smile. You hadn’t had must to smile about since your incident and your fathers dead, but the fact that this one thing might have actually worked the way that Tommy imagined made you feel like you had yet another reason to keep going. You were actually useful for something instead of sitting in a room alone all day, like you had did for a few years at the Langstons.

Eventually the horrible sound of the alarm clock went off and Tommy almost sprung up the bed, pulling his hand from yours to make the clock silent. After a beat he turned to you.

“Good morning. Have you… slept well?” He sounded almost disoriented as he blinked a few times. You nodded as best you could with your head still deeply buried in the pillow.

“Good. I slept surprisingly well expect that… one episode.” He cleared his throat, almost sounded embarrassed. His act made you realize how comfortable you were still in his bed while he was fidgeting around. It made you feel like you should be doing that too and maybe get up and leave. You did your job and there wasn’t any more to read into it. You quickly got up and walked to the sofa where you placed your bag the day before. You pointed to the wash room before Tommy could say more. You closed the door behind you and sighed heavily. It was only as awkward as you made it, and you just made it a whole lot more awkward by hurrying out from there. You looked around and found that you had lucked yourself into Tommy’s personal wash room. It was all dark wood and musky air. You realized that you hadn’t brought any new clothing, so you had to put on the clothing from the day before and hurry home before work and change. If you came in the same clothes two days in a row, people would suspect that something was up.

You tried to brush out your hair with your fingers as you left the wash room. There in the middle of the room stood Tommy only in his knickers and with a cigarette in his hand. You could feel the heat in your cheeks as you quickly turned away. You could hear Tommy chuckle behind you.

“Well I’m sorry that I’m not dressed yet, but my clothes are in the wash room. It was momentarily occupied by someone else.” He explained himself. You nodded to the wall and felt a little stupid. Just a few hours before he had shown you his chest voluntarily, why should it be any different this time?

“If you don’t mind, then let’s not make this a one-time thing? I think it would benefit both of us and our work.” Tommy sounded like a real businessman and you couldn’t do anything but nod again. When he used that tone he was very convincing and it could be dangerous.

“Good. I will come and get you at your apartment after work until we find some other agreement. Let Lizzie or Ada follow you home as usual.” He then extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray and disappeared into the wash room. The conversation was over and you needed to leave.

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

It felt weird when you walked into the office not long after. You had run through the streets of Birmingham from the Shelby resident to your apartment to quickly wash yourself and get a new dress and stockings. When you nodded to Polly that bid you good morning was all you could think about I just sneaked out of your house through the back entrance not even an hour ago. Were you paranoid or was she looking at you any different? You looked after her as she strolled into her office and closed the door. It was something you imagined. You didn’t even smell like Tommy’s room anymore. You had washed and made sure to use a real Eau de parfum to cover any scent that might linger. You got started working immediately to distract yourself from all the wandering thought.

Usually Tommy was the first in the office in the morning but even Lizzie came in before Tommy finally came thought the doors to the front room. He bid the two of you good morning and gave you a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. What was that supposed to mean? It wasn’t until midday that Tommy called on you to join him in his office.

He was leaning against the front of his desk with his hands in his pockets. You closed the doubled doors behind you and waited for him to say something. It took a moment of him just staring at you questioningly before he started.

“I have a hard time reading you now that you never speak up. I don’t know if we ended this morning on good or bad terms. You just left.” You took in a sharp breath. Was he afraid that you might be angry at him?

“I understand if you don’t want to do this. It will not affect your job here. I just need to know.” He said straightened up and walked to you and from his pocket he reviled a pen and an unused piece of notepaper. You took it from him but just stood there for a moment. How on earth would you be able to write down a sentence that would cover everything that went through your head that morning without making it seem like you were crazy? You walked around him to his desk and wrote a few things and regretted them, crossed it out and started again until you found the right word and handed him the note.

I didn’t mean to

My head is just

I think it helps me too. We’ll figure it out.

And you really meant it. Because even though you had been hyperaware on Tommy the whole time, you hadn’t had your own usual nightmares either. Tommy folded the note and put it back in his pocket.

“Glad to hear that. Now, miss y/l/n. I need you to stay put. I have a man coming in with a new business proposal. I need both your eyes and ears on that man. Your notes too of course. It would be interesting to get your view on a man’s behaviour in a tense business situation. Maybe you can gather something I can’t.” Yet again Tommy turned into the businessman he was within seconds.

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

Note: Got carried away by the fluff. This chapter should have been much more than that but i ended up with 3600 words of... this... idk. 

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

Taglist:

@im-the-colourless-sunshine @fearthequeer595 @sununicorn @i-love-you-green​ @imnotsomewhore​ @imnotuglyimjustpredebut @hi-there-x​ @namiknows​ @imnotsomewhore​ @captivatedbycillianmurphy @irishgirl1995​ @stalker83005​ @stressedandbandobessed7771​ @tuliptx​ @stydia-4-ever​ @ladymelissastark​ @yoheyyosup​ @calciferthelivingfire​ @actorinfluence​ @theamuz​ @affection-rabbit​ @jenepleurepasbaby​ @mango978​ @csigeoblue​ @independentgirl​

Sorry but some of the tags doesn’t work!

[sit-down-and-shut-up]

cold- s. reid

warnings: none

words: 1698

summary: reader is bad at dealing with the cold lmao, spencer is an adorable idiot of a genius, and these poor people are happy for once in their trauma filled lives

Cold.

It was cold.

Had you left a window open? 

No, the window on your side of the bed was still firmly shut.

Why was it so cold?

You rolled over, on the couch, eyes screwed shut, half desperate for his warmth although you’d promised you’d give him space.

Oh.

That’s why it was cold.

Sliding out of bed and grabbing your fuzzy robe off the floor, you somehow managed to make it out of the room while only tripping once. You wanted to laugh at him, tell him depressed elephant who? I am graceful after all, loser! However, gloating in his face required having his face nearby.

Where was he?

You thought back to those crappy stories you’d heard from Emily of sleazy guys in bars who’d scramble for a hook up then leave a girl high and dry before sunrise. But he couldn’t do that if you hadn’t hooked up, right? If he was just a friend who’d come knocking at your door at 8:43 for your biweekly movie night, then got stuck at your apartment because of the storm? Although, you wished he was more than a friend.

A sharp hiss resounded from the kitchen, followed by the faucet running, as you padded in. 

“Spence?”

His head shot up fast, like a puppy caught dragging trash through the house. He shut off the faucet with his right hand, and reached for a towel to dry his left as he spoke.

“Y/N. Hi. Hotch called me saying we had a case, and I told him you were here with me so he didn’t need to call you, and I just thought I’d make you coffee before I woke you up,” he explained with a small, tired smile and equally tired eyes.

“Did you burn yourself?” you questioned, remembering the commotion when you’d walked in.

“Uh, yeah.”

You laughed slightly, one of those sharp nose exhales accompanied by a half smile when you just can’t laugh at the moment. Frankly, you were far too exhausted. You took the mug he was holding outstretched towards you with a grateful smile, returning to your room to get dressed. The warm mug contrasted deliciously with the cold air of your apartment. You didn’t need to tell Spencer that he could change in the bathroom if he needed to; he already knew. After the first time you’d been called in to work while Spencer was staying over, you’d developed a system. He brought his go-bag over with him, leaving it next to the door along with his Converse that you always said made him look like he was still 12. He’d bring two extra pairs of clothes to leave at your apartment, one for when you left and another, comfier pair for your return. Then, he’d gather anything he’d left in your apartment and walk down to his own. It was funny, honestly, how his apartment was just three floors down from your own and yet he refused to leave his stuff there. He’d ramble on about how but leaving my stuff at your apartment saves 9 minutes and 27 seconds, and that’s time we could be spending saving lives, and-

You left your room, dressed in black skinny jeans, combat boots, and an army green long sleeve with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows at the same time Spencer exited the bathroom in Converse, brown pants, a vest, and a button-down shirt. No words were spoken as you two grabbed your duffels from where they were sitting near your door, and Spencer grabbed his messenger bag as well, slinging it over his shoulder in the most uncoordinated way possible while simultaneously trying to open your door, resulting in him on the floor with a loud grunt. You laughed, loud and clear, and you grabbed his wrist and helped him to his feet, opening the door and locking it securely behind you.

+++++

The bullpen was colder than your apartment had been, you thought with a shiver as you walked in, with Spencer falling into step behind you. Still slightly groggy and nursing the coffee from Spencer- which you’d transferred to an insulated water bottle prior to leaving- you stayed quiet through Penelope’s run-down of the case and Hotch’s typical wheels up in 30. 

On the plane, you sat on the couch with Spencer, careful to leave an inch between you two. In the two years you’d known each other, he’d warmed up to you enough that you could touch him some, but you tried not to do anything more than the occasional hug or shoulder pat when the time called for it. Right now, nothing was calling except sleep. Just by looking outside the window, you swore you could practically feel the frigid night air of Wisconsin, the lovely location of today’s deranged criminal, a kidnapper. When you voiced your feelings about the cold to Spencer, he spewed facts from who-knows-where about different places the air could possibly get into the plane, meaning you weren’t just making up the feeling. You listened attentively, knowing how much it meant to him when he didn’t get cut off for once. After all, he just wanted to help.

The plane landed, and you were the first one out.

Cold.

It was cold.

And you forgot a jacket, idiot.

Morgan chuckled as he passed by you, clad in a t-shirt, no less, saying, “Cold, baby?”

“As if.”

+++++

You were in an interrogation room. 

It was less cold than the rest of the precinct, but still chilly.

The woman in front of you, a blond, small thing, looked to be no less than 20. And yet, she was kidnapping the children she babysat for after their parents returned, then trying to pass them off as her own. She was kidnapping the children of same-sex couples, a religious fanatic who believed that being anything but straight was worse than murder. Wow.

Screw homophobes.

Honestly, the case had wrapped itself up fairly well, complete with a glittery red bow, once Penelope- thank god- had figured out that each family had used the same babysitter at least once. Rebecca Umbrige. To be fair, the team had spent a while focusing on the same-sex couples aspect of it, only to change paths after all that turned up from that was dead ends. Then Rebecca came into the picture and brought everything together nicely. 

With that red bow, of course.

Still, one more thing was needed.

A confession.

Emily was in the interrogation room with you, watching as you took the lead. You were hoping to get something out of her through subtle hints at attraction between you two, and it worked, eventually.

All it took was holding Emily’s hand. Sad.

Emily laughed as Rebecca was dragged out of the room in handcuffs, earning her a stern look from Hotch when the two of you left as well.

Ugh, why did the rest of the precinct have to be so cold?

+++++

The plane ride home was uneventful, and so was leaving the bullpen after the last of the paperwork was finished, just before midnight three days after you’d left. Until, at least, Spencer jogged up to you, brown curls waving wildly in the D.C. wind, asking, “Wanna go out?”

“Like a date?” you asked, incredulous. If it was a date though, you wouldn’t  be upset. You’d had a not-so-small and not-so-sneaky crush on him for almost the entire time you’d known him.

He stopped suddenly, speaking so fast it was a miracle he could get the words out at all.

“Slow down, Spence.”

“I just meant, maybe we could go get hot chocolate, or coffee, or whatever, and then just walk around D.C. or something? I don’t think I can sleep right now,” he blurted, brown doe eyes watching you expectantly in that way that made your heart flutter.

“I’m cold”, you said, almost pouting like a child.

He laughed for a second at that. “We can stop by your apartment first and change if you want.”

+++++

26 minutes later, according to Spencer, the two of you arrived at the doorstep of a slightly shady 24-hour coffee shop that Google Maps had been all too happy to lead you to. After getting some surprisingly good lattes, you two wandered aimlessly around D.C., occasionally bumping shoulders from how close you were. He’d tell you the history behind different buildings and monuments you passed, and you’d interrupt every few minutes because oH MY GOD SPENCE THAT HOUSE LOOKS LIKE A FACE!, or, LOOK THAT CLOUD LOOKS LIKE A BUTT! 

Spencer laughed every time you got distracted, letting his eyes linger just a few seconds too long on your face when it lit up like a kid’s on Christmas, wanting to commit your face without stress, or fear, or anger to memory. Moments like these didn’t come often in your line of work.

When you realized it was starting to snow, Spencer swore he’d never seen you look this stunning, bundled up in one of his sweaters that you’d stolen months ago, with rosy cheeks and a red nose to match, eyes glimmering with excitement and lips spread wide in a smile and you spun around, eyes on the sparkling sky above. 

Eventually, he said, “Y/N?” in a voice barely above a whisper.

Your head whipped around, and you stopped suddenly, all your attention focused on Spencer, something that never failed to make him feel cared for. “Yeah?”

He didn’t answer, instead slowly reaching out to hug you, the first physical contact between you he’d ever initiated. His arms around your waist were uncertain, and he haltingly rested his head on your shoulder, thankful you couldn’t see him grinning like an idiot. As soon as you hugged back, he pulled you in closer in a bone-crushing hug that you could’ve sworn made time stop. 

“Y/N?” he mumbled against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I know I said this wasn’t a date, but if you wanted it to be one, maybe it could be one?”

“I’d like that, Spencer.”

Cold.

It was cold.

But with Spencer holding onto you like there was no tomorrow, you were much, much warmer.

[wolveria]

Unable to perceive the shape of you - Ch. 6

Pairing: Connor x f!Reader x Nines

Summary: After breaking the RK twins out of the MarineLife facility, you were determined to return them to the ocean before getting caught by your employer.

What you hadn’t counted on were the brothers deciding you belonged to them.

Prompt: Mermay! (Shape of Water/Splash AU)

Word Count: 2.9k

AO3

When Nines offered to drive, you tried to say no. There was no way he knew how to drive, but he insisted he was a fast learner, and you were barely able to stand.

Connor had explained the reason why with his cheeks tinged an adorable blue. Something about ceta semen having a ‘sedative’ effect on humans. Your response was to give him a goofy smile and tell him that meant you were ‘drugged on his cum.’

His face had gone an impressive shade of blue as he’d led you out to the car.

It turned out Nines was a decent driver, or seemed to be from your limited view of the backseat, your head resting in Connor’s lap. He hadn’t exaggerated about the strange aftereffects, though in all honesty, you didn’t mind. Connor’s fingers trailed lightly across your hair, fingertips rubbing your scalp, you thought you might have died and gone to heaven. Even the pain in your legs was unnoticeable, something you hadn’t experienced in years.

You were going to joke if ceta semen had magical healing properties but you fell asleep before you could, and by the time you woke up, you were sober and aching again. Not a magic cure-all then, but a temporary, effective distraction.

It would have been scientifically interesting if you hadn’t been so shocked at your own behavior. You’d had sex with, not one, but both of them. You hadn’t planned for it to happen, and now that it had, your stomach churned terribly with nerves.

As if that wasn’t complicated enough, you had the two bite marks on your shoulders that meant something very specific to ceta behavior. Were they aware of what the marks meant? They’d bandaged your shoulders with the supplies meant for them, and apart from apologizing for biting you (“I don’t know why I did it,” Connor had said, brows furrowed), they hadn’t said anything else about it.

They couldn’t possibly know. According to the records, they’d been wild-caught very young and hadn’t been old enough to be taught by other wild cetas. It had just been instinct, nothing more. You weren’t going to tell them that cetas only bit during sex to mark their chosen, lifelong mate.

What would be the point in telling them, anyway? It wasn’t like you were a viable mate to begin with. Plus, you would reach the coast by the end of the day, and they would be gone from your life forever. Leaving you only twin scars to remember them by.

You buried your face against Connor’s thigh, wishing you were drugged or high or whatever. The biologist in you wondered why their semen even had that affect. Was it simply a mismatch of biology? Or was it a way to actually lure and capture their prey, like a spider with a web.

If so, you were a thoroughly captivated fly. Connor’s fingers had started moving in your hair again, and your eyes were already half-closed as you fought to stay awake.

You couldn’t stay in Connor’s lap forever, unfortunately. Rubbing your eyes, you pulled yourself into a sitting position, wincing at the sharp pain in your spine from the awkward position.

“What do you guys want for lunch?” You stretched and cracked your back, wincing as you you stared out the window at the slanted sunlight. You frowned. “Or… dinner. How long did I sleep?”

“A few hours,” Connor said, tilting his head. “You seemed tired and we didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oh.” Your cheeks warmed uncomfortably. You were supposed to be taking care of them, not the other way around. “We can stop for something to eat then—“

“We can’t stop.”

Nines voice cut through yours, short and tense in a way that was unlike him. When your looked at him, you realized the tablet attached to the dashboard was on, muted but on a 24-hour news channel.

“What?” you asked. “Why not?”

“Show her.”

Connor leaned forward and tapped his finger on the screen. You’d forgotten he said something about stealing smartphones belonging to the techs to use them, and he definitely seemed comfortable using technology.

He sat back but stayed close, his knee pressed against yours. The news segment played, unmuted now.

“Today in what can only be described as an egregious theft, two Ceta sapiens were stolen from the research facility known as MarineLife. It’s suspected that this woman, an employer of the company, is responsible for the missing creatures.”

You stared at the blond newscaster as she read your name aloud, and when they showed your employee pictures on the screen, the car slightly spun around you.

“If you have any information of the whereabouts of this woman, contact the proper authorities immediately. Do not approach the suspect as these animals are dangerous and highly aggressive.”

“They know what my car looks like,” you said once the news clip ended. “The police will have my registration. We have to ditch the car. Find a new one. Steal one, or, or something.”

Connor said your name, but you barely heard it.

“I should have thought of this. I should have anticipated—“

“It won’t be a problem for now,” Nines said, effectively cutting you off again. “I have been using your GPS to keep us on rural farm roads. No one should stop us.”

“What if they do?” you asked faintly. You didn’t miss the way Nines gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“We will make it to our destination. I won’t allow anyone to get in our way.”

You shivered and wrapped your arms in front of your stomach. The warmth of Connor beside you wasn’t enough to ward off the cold feeling of dread tucked along your spine.

Since going into cities with your car and showing your face was out of the question, so was NYC. You’d planned to drive them to the beaches and let them go there, directly into the ocean. Now having to evade authorities, Nines drove the car further north of the city toward the Hudson.

True to his word, you only stopped for bathroom breaks. Aside from sunglasses you didn’t have anything to hide your face, so you were careful to avoid cameras, even as Connor assured you they were interrupting the feeds with echolocation bursts.

At least ten hours from when you’d left the motel that morning, you finally arrived at your destination, a mystery to you since Nines wouldn’t say where you was going. Between him and Connor, they’d completely taken over the journey and you didn’t have much say in the matter. You’d convinced Nines at one point to let you drive, and after a couple of hours of magnifying leg pain, you gave up and let them handle maneuvering the backroads of New York.

You should have been impatient to get them to freedom, but you couldn’t help but be relieved, if not a little confused, when Nines turned down another backroad deeper into the maple and birch forest.

You narrowed your eyes at the road but couldn’t read the sign you passed in the darkening twilight.

“Where are we going?”

In the rearview mirror you watched as Nines’ eyes flickered to Connor’s in that way of silent communication. As if to prove your suspicions, Connor turned to you and answered in place of his brother.

“Someplace safe where we won’t be seen for the night.”

Racking your brain, you tried to think but couldn’t think of any places in the area that would fit that description. It wasn’t until the car passed other parked vehicles, some of them trailers and campers, that it finally clicked.

“Oh.” You rubbed your aching knees. “I don’t have any camping equipment. Just some blankets, and it’s going to get chilly.”

“We will make due,” Nines said in his usual dismissive manner.

You didn’t know if he meant to come across as so cold, but it didn’t stop you from leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms, pointedly looking out the window. You were growing self-conscious, even anxious over what had happened the night before. Neither brother had mentioned it, when it had filled your thoughts for most of the day.

Connor gently nudged you with his elbow. He’d been beside you the entire time, either in the backseat with you or in the front seat as you’d driven. Practically connected at the hip all day, even he hadn’t mentioned anything about last night, and the tension in your stomach wound tighter. A taut bowstring about to fire or snap in half.

So it was no surprise when Connor touched you, you flinched hard in your seat. His brown eyes went rounder and he moved closer.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” You gave him a quick upturn of your lips. “Just tired.”

Connor’s brow sharpened as he studied you closer. You tried not to squirm in your seat. The bumpiness of the dirt road, if it could be called that at this point, helped cover the movement.

Nines turned the car into the forest and carefully maneuvered the vehicle through the trees until he came to the edge of a clearing. He put the car into park and turned off the ignition.

The sudden silence, without the sound of the engine or traffic or city noises, was an uncomfortable pressure on your ear drums.

Desperately needing to fill the dead air, you asked, “Are you sure you two don’t want to leave tonight?”

Connor slightly tilted his head but Nines’ shoulders stiffened from where you could see them under the headrest.

“The Hudson isn’t far,” you continued, forcing yourself to sound neutral, as if each word didn’t hurt somewhere in your chest. “We could be there in less than an hour, and you could follow it out to the sea. You could… go home.”

Connor shifted in his seat and slightly leaned forward, brows so sharp there was a crease between them.

“What about you?” His eyes searched yours, his teeth worrying the inside of his cheek. “They’ll catch you. Punish you for helping us.”

“I’ll be fine.”

It was almost funny how your lies had changed. You were the one without hope now. Trapped in a pool of water with no way out. But the lie was as necessary now as it had been then in order to protect the twins.

“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

Connor opened his mouth but Nines cut him off.

“You want us to leave, then?”

You were completely taken aback by his hostile tone.

“What? No. Of course not. Nines—“

He was already moving, shoving the door open and shutting it hard behind him. You quickly lost sight of him in the dim tree line.

Your mouth hung partway open, at a loss of what to say.

“He’s scared.”

Connor’s words were delicate and his eyes soft, moving from where his brother had disappeared and down to your face.

“He’s afraid to lose you. We both are. We know it’s unavoidable if we go back home.”

“If?” Your voice rose slightly, your chest tightening. “There is no if. You-you have to go back home. There’s no other option. You can’t—“

Connor reached out and took your hand from your lap, twining it between his, leaving you warm and without a voice.

“Maybe… we could find a way to work.” His words were slow and careful but his expression was one of lingering hope. “We can survive on land so long as we’re hydrated frequently. With our abilities we could easily disrupt ATMs and cameras, so money and moving around won’t be an issue. The Canadian border isn’t far, and we—“

His words had sped up, the excitement in his voice building, and it hurt you to have to cut them down.

“Connor, you can’t.” You squeezed his hand tight, pleading with him to understand and not make this difficult. “You and Nines have to go home. You don’t belong in this world. Why would you even want to stay when it’s been nothing but cruel to you?”

He tilted his head and angled his brows upwards.

“Because you’re in it.”

Your mouth opened but no words came out, and you were left like that, gaping stupidly at him.

Connor leaned closer, a gentle tug teasing his lips.

“Did you really think we would leave you behind? Let the humans lock you away after you risked your life to save us?” His expression folded into something slightly pained. “Nines hasn’t told you, has he? What they were going to do to him after I was sent to the breeding facility.”

You shook your head, mouth too dry to speak as your gut twisted. You hadn’t actually thought about it, but knowing your employers, it couldn’t be anything good.

“They were going to kill him.”

A darkness passed over Connor’s face, one that was rare to see but genuinely frightening.

“‘Destroy him,’ is the phrase they used. Afterwards, they planned to take him apart. Disassemble him to learn more about our species.”

Connor searched your face. “Do you understand, now? We owe you our lives. The both of us.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Your words had to fight past the lump in your throat; your grip on his fingers must have been painfully tight. “This isn’t about me.”

Connor raised his other hand to tangle his fingers in your hair and leaned forward as if to kiss you. Instead, he leaned his forehead against yours as his hand cradled the back of your neck.

Somehow it felt more intimate than a kiss, sharing the same breathing space with him and feeling the heat radiating off his skin through his clothing. A tremble rippled down your spine when Connor sighed and you felt the puff of air against your lips.

“We’re not abandoning you.” The smile tugged at his lips again. “Especially Nines.”

You frowned at the very confusing statement. If anything, you felt like the tension between you and Nines had gotten worse since last night, and you couldn’t understand why.

Connor caught sight of your frown and raised a brow. “You’re important to him. Have been since we first met you. You… treated him like a living being. No one else at that place did. You even gave him a name.”

You remembered it all too well. On the official research documents, the twins were labeled as RK800 and RK900, and they’d never bothered to give Nines a name. Dr. Stern had given Connor his name, and you’d found out why the other brother had been left as ‘RK900’ late one night while you were cleaning the offices.

Dr. Kamski was tucked away in his office also working overtime, but there was an open bottle of whiskey on his desk. It had been obvious he’d had more than a sip, and you imagined that was the only reason why he’d started talking to you.

“Do you know why we gave a name to the cute, little one, and not its larger, aggressive sibling?” He’d smiled with the same warmth as a shark. “Temperament. Everyone loves Connor, or as much as one can love a wild animal. But its twin, that hulking beast… well… there’s only so much you can do with a vicious creature like that.”

Dr. Kamski had leaned in uncomfortably close, smiling in a way that didn’t meet his eyes, and said, “You name the family pet. You don’t name the livestock.”

You hadn’t known exactly what he’d meant at the time, but knowing now what they’d had planned for Connor and Nines, it made you sick down to your bones. You wanted to hide your face from Connor, at the gentle look he was giving you. It was undeserved.

“Yeah,” you grumbled. “I named him like a pet.”

“He didn’t see it that way. Still doesn’t.” Connor’s thumb rubbed across the back of your knuckles as if to soothe you.

“Aside from me, you were the only other person who’s ever been kind to him,” he added, a teasing edge to his voice. “I know you care about him too.”

“Of course I do,” you said, it wasn’t even a question. “That’s not… not the issue, Connor. I don't want you two to be caught because of me. It’s not worth it.”

Connor slightly lowered his head, giving you a piercing stare that turned his brown eyes into dark stones.

“I think that’s for us to decide.”

Connor leaned forward and pressed his lips against your forehead. Unable to resist or deny him anything, you closed your eyes and basked in the warmth, leaning into the touch. Already your internal walls were breaking down and you wanted to tell him yes, you would stay with them no matter what.

But you couldn’t make that promise, not when it put their lives at risk.

“Just think about it, okay?” Connor’s smile was so faint it almost wasn’t there, though the sadness was. As if he knew the thoughts running through your mind as there wasn’t anything he could say to stop them. “There’s still time.”

Pulling away from you, Connor opened the door and got out of the car, leaving you cold and alone.

A glimpse of your life without the RK twins in it.

Next Chapter

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Irresistible/Immovable

Yesterday, the DIWS Discord server went a little feral after a discussion of handholding this was my result. As always, I’ve taken something of a soft-angst approach, after the bus ride back to London...

Also available on AO3

The bus arrived in London, rolling to a stop a block from Crowley’s flat.

“Seemed fair,” Crowley whispered. “The streets get narrower and there’s no place to turn around…”

Aziraphale wasn’t listening. Still staring out the windshield, past the driver. He hadn’t moved for at least three miles.

Crowley reached up and tapped his shoulder. No response. He tried again, pushing harder, shaking until Aziraphale finally blinked and turned, just a little. “Come on, Angel. Time to go.”

Another gentle push and Aziraphale finally slid out of his seat, standing in the aisle. Crowley clambered out after him, unfolding.

All through the long, terrifying ride they’d said hardly a word to each other. Crowley knew he should, offer some reassurance or show of courage, something to make Aziraphale feel less hopeless.

He didn’t have it in him, no strength to spare, no words, no hope. He’d offered his flat for the night. Beyond that, well, his mind buzzed with ideas. Impossible ideas. Ones that would take a being far more powerful and confident than he to enact.

This morning he’d offered to run to the stars. Perhaps that could still work, fleeing forever, across the infinite emptiness of space, never again to rest, to laugh, to enjoy the taste of food. In its own way, that was as frightening as oblivion at the hands of their former sides.

He led the way up the aisle, down the steps, but Aziraphale didn’t follow. Instead, he paused beside the bus driver, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for…” he seemed momentarily uncertain. The driver was still in a daze; in five minutes he would realize he was in London, not Oxford, and wonder why. “Yes,” Aziraphale patted his shoulder again. “Thank you.”

From the side of the street below, Crowley felt the faint tingle of a miracle echoing down. A small blessing, protection from harm, a promise of a turn of good luck in the next 24 hours.

Amazing, Crowley thought. Even after all this, he still has strength to spare. He watched Aziraphale step down, slowly, to join him on the street.

Crowley’s hand hovered – almost touching his shoulder – wishing to draw some of that infinite steadiness into himself.

“This way,” he said, pushing his hands into his pockets as he walked into the darkness. “Not far.”

After a dozen steps, he realized he was walking alone.

--

Aziraphale stood on the street corner, staring at the sky.

London at night never became truly dark, not the way that little Oxfordshire village had, or indeed the way London had a mere century before. All that new electricity, all those signs and streetlamps and 24-hour Tesco’s. The edges of his vision seemed to glow amber as the light from windows bounced off the air, reflecting down. Giving the city a halo of sorts.

Under the right circumstances, he might have found beauty in it, of a kind.

Instead, he felt lost, adrift.

“We should have stayed,” he murmured. “No stars.”

“What’s that?” Crowley’s voice was strangely distant, but it took the click of only a few quick steps across the pavement to bring him back. He hovered, almost in sight, tossing his head in that way he had.

“Just that…I’d hoped there would be stars. In the end.” He laughed a little, or at least made a sound like laughing, and wasn’t that close enough? “I might see them when they drag me back to Heaven. Some of the rooms look out on the night sky. They don’t get used as much these days but…but I could try and ask. Do you think Gabriel would allow a last request? Or would that just make him…make him angrier…”

“Hey.” Crowley’s hand pressed into his back, gently, just below his ribs. “Don’t…don’t say things like that. We’re going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Aziraphale stared at the blank sky above. “There’s no one to appeal to, no higher authority, no…no clever way to get out of it…”

“Oi.” His eyes flicked down, just a little, just enough to see that Crowley stood close – very close – eyes uncovered, staring directly into Aziraphale. “We’re going be fine. Do you hear me? We’re going to walk home, we’re going to talk this through, and we’re going to figure it out.”

“How can you say that?” Aziraphale was surprised at how calm his voice sounded. “There’s…nothing to figure out.”

“There’s the prophecy,” Crowley said. How could he have so much energy? How could he still move, still shuffle his feet as if in his endless dance, everything in motion except that hand, resting on his back. “Choose your faces wisely? Playing with fire? Agnes wouldn’t have sent us that prophecy if there was nothing we could do.”

“Perhaps.” His eyes drifted up to the empty sky again. “Perhaps it was only intended to…give us a chance to…prepare ourselves, I suppose.” He tugged on his waistcoat and tried to imagine himself facing Gabriel and Michael with dignity. He might be able to muster dignity. Defiance was asking a bit much, but he could try to face his punishment standing tall.

“Out of the question.” The hand drifted from his back, brushed his elbow. “Because I already lost you. Three times, actually, and you know what? It sucked. So I’ve already decided. Not happening again.” The hand returned to Crowley’s pocket; his other lifted the glasses, pressing them back into place.

“Crowley…” he remembered a voice in the strange white darkness, as he’d scoured the Earth for a suitable body. A familiar voice, filled with pain, but still going on. A lifeline in that endless void. “I’m…I truly am sorry…”

“Nothing for you to be sorry about,” he said, turning away, voice as cool as ever. “Just. Don’t give up. I have ideas, but they won’t work if you give up. So just…don’t.”

Crowley started walking, and Aziraphale struggled to keep up. He tried, struggling to go forward, but his legs shook, he stumbled, would have fallen, but he reached out and caught Crowley’s elbow.

The demon froze.

“I’m – I’m so terribly sorry.” Aziraphale stepped back, brushing his hands against his coat furiously. “I – I – obviously, I didn’t – It won’t happen again!”

“It won’t,” Crowley said, and without quite facing Aziraphale, he held out his hand.

The angel stared at it for a long moment.

Perhaps he was misunderstanding. Perhaps Crowley intended a miracle of some kind and was – oh, warming up or some such thing. Perhaps…perhaps…perhaps…

Aziraphale brushed his fingers across the palm, uncertainly, pulling them back. He’d almost expected it to burn. It did, in a way, a tingle all across his fingertips, a jolt up his arm and directly to his heart.

He tried again, this time letting them slide until his palm was pressed against Crowley’s, and started to wrap his fingers – no, surely not—

Crowley’s long fingers closed around his hand. “Is this…better?”

“Ah. Oh. Um. Yes?”

“Don’t let me go too fast.”

All Aziraphale could do was nod. Crowley started walking again, and with a tug on his arm, the angel found himself following, pulled in his wake, as he always was, the most natural thing in the world.

Crowley was as brilliant as the stars he’d once made, and all else fell to the force of his gravity – humans, and cities, and Aziraphale.

It wasn’t a bad thing, to be in the orbit of such a marvelous creature. One foot followed the other, on and on, into the night.

--

Crowley wanted to get inside as soon as possible. They needed to talk, needed to plan, and that couldn’t be done in the open. He felt exposed here, vulnerable. Every instinct was to dart for cover, for darkness, for safety.

But as he walked, he felt the tug at his arm, and glanced back to see Aziraphale, still holding his hand, still struggling to keep up.

He slowed his pace, until the angel was beside him again. Their shoulders brushed, and just for a moment he felt anchored. Grounded.

Aziraphale’s eyes were glued to the sidewalk before them, deep in thought.

“Now what?” Crowley asked, wishing it didn’t sound so angry, but he couldn’t stop himself sometimes. He needed to move.

“Nothing,” Aziraphale said quickly. “I’m perfectly fine. Just…”

He squeezed Crowley’s hand, and it was hot, beyond anything he’d ever felt, hotter than the fires at the center of stars, hotter than the heat of Falling when everything was torn away, hotter than damnation, hotter than salvation – that little bit of pressure ignited everything in him.

Then Aziraphale pulled his hand away, and left him cold.

“I – I – I had a thought…” Aziraphale twisted his own fingers in front of him. “About the prophecy. What if…what if choosing our faces…” He stopped, illuminated in the orange-yellow light of the streetlamp. “What if it means that…that only one of us need be destroyed? That perhaps there’s some way I can…I can sacrifice myself…”

“No!” He darted over, grabbing Aziraphale’s shoulders. “Look at me, no. I told you, you – you’re not allowed to give up!”

“It’s not giving up. It’s – it’s the logical solution. Heaven would of course wish to see me punished. If they make me Fall – through the-the Fires of Creation, then Hell would have me to…to…” He swallowed. “I think both would be satisfied with this solution. And you could…”

“We’re not doing that,” Crowley growled desperately. “And I have just as much a right to – to sacrifice myself, anyway.”

“No, dear. I don’t think Gabriel would care much for your death, I’m sorry to say. This is the way that makes sense.” He looked up, and there was a strength in his eyes, the strength of all the earth, unmovable, implacable, powerful enough to outlast eternity.

Without realizing what he was doing, Crowley brought his head to rest against Aziraphale’s shoulder, wrapped his arms around the angel, trying to absorb that strength, wondering what it would be like to have it flow through his veins.

“Angel,” he whispered. “We can’t. I don’t…What would I do? With you gone?”

“Crowley, I’m sure you could…”

“I’m not strong enough. I don’t know…without you…” He thought of himself, sitting in that bar, waiting for the end of the world. There had still been that drive to do something deep inside, but without Aziraphale, he was adrift. Lost. “Don’t make me go through that again.”

His voice sounded weak, desperate. Crowley had never begged, not for anything, not even when they cast him out of Heaven. He begged now, pleaded, deep in his heart.

Aziraphale shifted in his arms, and he felt those soft, powerful hands settle on his back, rubbing gently as if he were precious, as if he were delicate, as if he might fall apart.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered.

“Of course not,” Aziraphale said softly. “How foolish of me.”

Crowley stood there, leaning on him, drawing that infinite calm into himself, until he was ready to go on.

--

Very suddenly, Crowley pulled back, stepping away, fading into the darkness while Aziraphale remained in the light of the streetlamp.

Had he ever seen Crowley in such a state? It shook Aziraphale to his core.

For the first time since stepping off the bus, he looked directly at his friend – not at the sky or the earth, glancing from the corner of his eyes. Directly into those black lenses, into the heart of the being he had bound himself to, slowly, irrevocably, for millennia.

He thought they were opposites, destined to forever be pulled together and repelled, dragging each other back and forth through eternity. The light and the dark. The order and the chaos. Forever cancelling each other out.

But it wasn’t like that at all. Everything he felt – all his fear, his uncertainty, his doubt weighing him down – he could see echoed in Crowley, transformed into a limitless energy that could power them both.

Crowley stood in shadows, created by the light of the lamp; the lamp only existed, only had purpose, because of the darkness.

They weren’t opposites. They were halves of a whole, part of each other. Reflections of a sort.

Aziraphale stepped forward, his toes on the very edge of the shadow. Crowley stepped closer to meet him, light reflecting off his glasses, his tie, his fancy watch.

“Thank you, my dear,” he said, straightening his bowtie. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Any time, Angel.”

Crowley held out his arm, offering his elbow, and Aziraphale wrapped his hands through it. Pulling close. Feeling the heat pour in along his side where they pressed together. Finding the will to keep going.

They walked together up the street, the irresistible force and the immovable object. Arm-in-arm, completing each other.

Perhaps together, they could bend even Heaven and Hell to their will.

--

Thank you for reading! Also available on AO3.

[peakatseven]

🎸 happiness, because this song is my spirit animal lol

And if you'd like you could do these too, I'm super indecisive so I couldn't shortlist oops. You don't have to do them all, I'm just horrible at choosing:

🌕 across our great divide, there is a glorious sunrise

📖 +📜 I'm curious

Congratulations on 700!!

u gave me a reason to go back and review some of what i already wrote for this novel which comes in really handy the day before camp nano starts SOO thank you so much ily <3 i dont have my guitar with me rn so i cant do the cover just yet, im sorry, BUT i can do this:

here’s a lil snippet of my work in progress “Swing By The Lake”. I’m really proud of how this scene turned out even though i put off writing it for the longest time because i hate writing sex scenes. it’s not an actual sex scene, but it pretty clearly leads to that. kindda weird that this is the first thing that you’re gonna read from me because i NEVER write sex scenes but whatever it’s actually pretty significant to the plot because it’s the start of Charlie realizing how much she actually cares for Agustina which is just... *sigh* perfect

things u should probably know before this: charlie is a 17 y/o girl who’s vacationing in this beach town where she met Agustina, a 21 y/o photographer from Argentina who is also on a trip in this beach town. they’ve been hanging out at the cliff of the hill that separates each other’s houses for most of the summer, both at sunrise and sunset because that’s just what people do in the argentine provinces and its also romantic af. it also kindda fits the feeling of your writing prompt so its a win win! i hope you enjoy this :)

~ i’m celebrating reaching 700 followers!! so if u want to, you can send me some of these and ill do my best to create something cool for you! ~

Charlie opened her eyes after what felt like a few seconds. The room was still dark, but she was restless. Looking out the window, the moon shined full and bright over the still ocean. In a split second decision, she grabbed a sweater before heading down to the beach. With her shoes on her hand, she walked along the shore. The water ran up to her calf sometimes, a bit too cold when mixed with the fog that filled her lungs. Charlie wondered whether it was too late or too early to be out by herself, but there was no better hour to sort things out in one’s mind. If it was truly Noemi who had seen Charlie and Agustina together at the beach, why hadn’t she come to tell her parents already? Was she really going to keep the secret for Charlie without her even asking? It was hard to believe. Noemi must be up to something, waiting for the right time and way to say it. Or to gather evidence. But, why? Was there really a chance for Charlie to deny her accusations and get away with it? As all the possible—and impossible—scenarios came to her, Charlie collected pebbles from the shore, her long nightgown served as a great bag to store them momentarily. She came to realize that it was near impossible to be anxious or fearful in such a calm atmosphere. Alone in the beach, under the stars and surrounded by mist, touching the water while collecting stones. Silence only being interrupted by the ocean against her freezing legs. It was as if God tried to comfort her with nature. As she kept walking, there were more and more stones underneath her feet. So much so, that by the time she came to the end of East-Watch beach, it hurt to walk barefoot. Charlie got away from shore and sat on a stone at the bottom of the hill. The same one where she’d had breakfast with Agustina almost 24 hours prior. She put on her sandals and made a split second decision. It almost didn’t come as a surprise when she found Agustina sitting on the cliff, just like the time they were both there for the first time. The foreigner couldn’t see her, but she was most certainly aware of her— the stones bounced on one another as she walked. Charlie sucked in a breath and walked slowly closer to Agustina. She wasn’t sure if what she was doing was right, it was a much wiser decision to just leave and never talk to her again. Deny everything Noemi might claim once they were back home and forget that whole summer even happened. It was a wiser and safer choice. Yet there she was, hand over the lady’s shoulder, almost touching. “Why are you here?” She said without turning around. Her voice was cold, colder than the fog or the ocean. This one froze Charlie inside out. Silence. “If you are not going to say anything, you should just leave.” Charlie breathed in to speak, but her mouth didn't obey. She remembered the last time they were together and how abruptly she'd run away. Agustina had nothing to do with Noemi, she didn’t know how terrifying it was to see her at that beach. And to top it all, Charlie avoided her when she walked, probably the entire way, to The Saltbox Inn just to see her. What was there to say after hurting her in such a way? "I'm sorry doesn't cover it." She finally spoke, sitting down and leaving the stones just behind Agustina. She didn't turn, but her breathing was louder. Faltering. Charlie hadn't noticed from afar, but Agustina went there to cry. "Oh, Agus." She said as she sat down behind her and embraced her into a hug that wasn’t reciprocated. "I'm so sorry." "Why are you here?" Agustina's voice was weak, it broke Charlie to hear such a light-hearted lady like Agustina be in such pain. And it was because of her. "I couldn't sleep." "Why?" Charlie took in a deep breath. "The other day, I thought someone from my town was there and saw us." Charlie said, she rested her forehead against Agustina's hair. She meant to go for a kiss on the cheek, but she was turned away. "So you naturally pushed me and ran off." Agustina scoffed. Charlie was speechless. She hadn't really been thinking at the time. Hell, she barely even remembered what actually happened. "And

then you never came back or called. And then when I walked the entire way to your place… you saw me, and ran away as fast as possible. Again. Of course I'm sorry doesn't cover it." "But I am sorry, Agus, please tell me what can I do to make it better?" Charlie's own voice cracked a little. She felt awful for hurting the girl beside her, she'd done nothing but given her the best summer she'd had in years. "Charlie." Agustina sighted and covered her face with her hands, shaking herself away from Charlie's hug. They were still side by side at the cliff’s end, their legs lightly brushing against one another as they swung with the wind. But to Charlie, not hugging Agustina felt like they were miles apart. She sat back before speaking. "Come here, please." Charlie begged. Agustina lightly turned her head, giving Charlie a chance to catch those slightly swollen green eyes. In an attempt to lighten the situation, she grabbed one stone and threw it over the cliff. It bounced off of a stone and then made it to the calm ocean, which brought a hint of a smile to Agustina’s face. "Please." She offered another stone out to the Latina, who grabbed it and sat back and rested her back on Charlie. Charlie pulled her closer, just enough so she could hold her with both arms around her waist. The sun must have been rising at that moment, because Agustina's face lit up in all the shades of blue. She threw the stone over the cliff, but Charlie didn’t hear whether or not it reached the ocean. She was too hung up on how Agustina’s lips looked especially soft from the side, glistening with what remained of her tears. Charlie brushed her thumb over the lower lip as softly as possible. "I'm sorry." She whispered before going for a quick kiss barely on the side of her mouth. "I'm sorry." She repeated and leaned closer, asking for permission. Agustina slightly turned and that was enough. Unlike any other kiss they had shared before, this one felt like they were both savoring every second. They were both so depraved of the other that every moment, every move was sacred. "I'm sorry." Charlie whispered as she moved from Agustina's lips to her jaw, drying the new tears with her own lips. She kept apologizing in between her approaches. All she wanted was to make Agustina feel better. She did everything she could think off to comfort her. Charlie kept kissing every inch of Agustina’s exposed skin, staring into her eyes before going further— silently asking if it was okay to do so. Charlie let her body take over without giving much thought to her actions. They were soon enough throwing their clothes aside, condemning everything that dared come in between them. There was nothing Charlie wanted— needed— more than to be closer to Agustina. As close as humanly possible. She needed to take the pain she caused away. “Charlie.” Agustina sighed when Charlie reached her stomach. She used a tone Charlie had never heard before. It reminded her of the prayers sung at Church, delicate and desperate with a hint of fear. Charlie froze. “Is this okay?” Agustina let out an audible sight, caressing Charlie’s cheek with her fingers, softly guiding her to look up.  Agustina’s eyes were still a bit red, but they were also a slightly darker shade of green. “I-” She looked for the right words to speak. “You don’t have to do this.” “But I want to.” Charlie answered without missing a beat. She smiled shyly at the older girl, looking down as she soon realized what she had just said and what was about to happen. “But… I don’t know how…” She trailed off, resting her forehead on Agustina’s belly. “It’s okay,” She whispered. “I’ll guide you.”

[artificial-daydream]

reach the zenith

Rating: T Fandom: Bleach (Ichigo x Rukia) Summary: They both had a fight and for the whole week, Rukia decided to avoid him like the plague. Ichigo would have tried to approach her faster if only she didn’t have different alpha’s scent marks covering her every day. Pissed was putting it mildly. (ABO Verse)

Notes: Participation of IchiRuki month, day 3 and 12. Also posted this on my ao3. Majorly inspired by @everything-withered ‘s work, “Push My Luck”.

Big thanks to @hesesols because halfway through this fic, I was on major block but their participation pushed me to struggle through it.

Today sucks. No, scratch that- this whole week sucks.

Right at the corner of the hallway, Ichigo can see the person he has been looking for these past days. He can recognize those pair of violet eyes anywhere in the crowds. However, before he could actually approach her, she had fled from his sight- again.

He sniffed the spot Rukia had been. The stink of another alpha was thick enough to overlap her own scent. Ichigo snarled- That’s it. He didn’t care if Rukia was still mad. He had to talk to her.

To live up to his determination, he stormed out to the places Rukia usually went to the university. However, the omega in her was so fast to figure out how near he was, he didn’t even catch anything besides her leftover smell.

A vein popped on his forehead. She thinks she can get away avoiding him like this? Oh no, today she won’t. Ichigo could barely hold his anger for a second, let alone another 24 hours.

Ichigo sighed. He was about to go crazy with all these pent-up frustrations. They both had a fight and for the whole week, Rukia decided to avoid him like the plague. Ichigo would have tried to approach her faster if only she didn’t have different alpha’s scent marks covering her every day. Pissed was putting it mildly.

This was all Rukia’s fault. Usually, he would let her cool off a bit before actually chasing her down, but his patience was running thin. She really had the nerve to let another alpha marked their scent on her just to drive him off. Contrary to her belief, the scent of another alpha taunts him. If he knew who the alpha was, he definitely would have ripped their head off.

He almost fist-bumped himself when he discovered her figure from the distance- near enough for him to recognize her, but far enough for Rukia to not discover him. This was it. His chance was handed to him on a silver plate; he just had to figure out the best approach so she could never squirm her way out.

The best course of action was the last thing expected. Ichigo decided to face Rukia upfront, and once she was caught off guard, he had his grip locked on her wrist; firm enough to keep her movements in bay.

His eyes glowered, his teeth gritted. “Where do you think you’re going?” He knew the woman in front of him would not be fazed by his intimidation; or even if she was, she would never show it. Yet there was something inside him roaring to be shown- to be acknowledged by his partner and needing attention.

The stink of another alpha was thicker once they met. He noted that she didn’t even try to conceal with blockers. The actuality nerved him. He felt her slight shudder when he instinctively growled. “Where I’m going is none of your business.” Violet eyes glared back unwaveringly at his strong stare.

“Look, Rukia,” Ichigo began, “the least you can do is tell me what went wrong.”

“Nothing went wrong.” Rukia replied in matter-of-fact tone.

“Then what the fuck are you so pissed off about?!”

“I am not pissed.”

Ichigo glares, “Don’t lie. You are mad because of what happened with Senna.”

“What happened? Oh, how you were on top of Senna that night when you knew she had been pining on you since the first semester?” Rukia fumed. “That has nothing to do with me.”

“You say that,” Ichigo began, “but you doused yourself with another alpha’s scent right the very next day.”

“That is an entirely different matter,” Rukia justified, “and you have no right to inquire about this subject.”

Ichigo scowls, “You don’t understand-”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Rukia cut off sharply, “and I don’t want to so just fuck off.”

You know Rukia was intensely furious once she emphasized swearing words in public. This time, he didn’t try to resist when she tried to break off his grip and walked away.

-----

It came close on blowing out of proportion.

The moment he interrupted, he wasn’t even trying to. Ichigo didn’t even plan on bothering her tonight, he only wanted to take a look of her from afar. He assumed he should wait for Rukia to calm down by the weekend and maybe the next Monday, they could talk. The plan was thrown out of the window, however, once he saw Rukia on the barstool with someone next to her.

At first he was only watching, his eyes attentively trying to make out their dialogue. The insistent alpha was coming close- too close to actual cross personal boundaries. At first it was palpable how much Rukia constrained herself. The crossing line was the moment that alpha actually tried to cop a feel.

It didn’t take long until Rukia decided to kick the alpha in the shin. Ichigo restrained himself on butting in because he knew Rukia could handle herself and for the love of Chappy, everyone knows how much she needed to blow off her steam. His plan went well until he saw Rukia getting hurt; the alpha actually dared to attack back and land a punch on her.

He just, snapped.

Everything went red. He didn’t think when he furiously launched. Ichigo didn’t even realize what happened after- his thoughts were filled with unyielding killing intent. He tried to calm himself but he was downright enraged. His shoulders were rigid, his throat felt tight. His whole muscles were tense and his eyes flared with full animosity.

A tug was felt on his sleeve. The familiar sweet scent reaches out slowly, crippling his senses and altered his attention. The alpha he just attacked fled in such hurry at the chance, lost in the crowds and forgotten by the more important presence across.

Once his head was starting to get clear, the first thing he felt was pair of soothing palms cupping his cheeks. His sights were still blurry and his knuckles felt sore.

“Ichigo, focus.”

And he did.

Once his sight was centered into one point, the blurry lines slowly came into apparent picture. The first thing he noticed was pair of violet eyes staring intensely towards him, locking him with the gaze that pierced something within him. He was heaving, gasping for air as sweats trickled his facial features- his whole body was trembling.

“Rukia,” he instinctively called out, flinching at his weakened voice as he frantically scanned her whole body. He searched for any possible bruises or scratches, but his roaming hands were halted before he could finish his attempt.

“You fool,” she barked, “you are more hurt than I am.”

He didn’t even realize until she stated so. Now that his attention averted to his own self, he noticed his sore knuckles were dripping with a mixture of his wound and the opponent’s blood. The sight was enough to make an eleven-year-old to grimace but-

“This is nothing,” Ichigo replied, “you’ve seen me ten times worse.”

Rukia frowned. She opened her mouth as if she was ready to counter back but then paused with no words coming out of the syllables. She decided to settle with a sigh, eyes still glaring as she tugged his shirt to follow her- so he did.

She led him to the parking lot, telling him to get his ass inside the car before drove it herself. The whole journey was filled with silence, then Rukia decided to drag him inside her flat so she can tend to his wound. Again, Ichigo complies- most of his intention was to make sure her flat wasn’t raided with the stink of another alpha.

He was ecstatic to learn it wasn’t. The living room was filled with the usual scent, no leftover of another person’s sleepover which meant Rukia did not actually sleep with anybody else. Once Rukia left to retrieve her first aid kit, Ichigo sat on the couch- the usual spot he trademarked inside Rukia’s flat.

Rukia came back with a box of kits with her. Once she began to treat his hands, Ichigo decided to break the silence.

“So,” he began, “you didn’t bring anyone here after all.”

“Bold of you to assume we weren’t doing it in his flat instead.” Rukia countered, head not looking up as she still concentrated on the task at hand.

Ichigo growls, “did you?”

“No.”

It was to be expected. No matter how angry Rukia was, she would still have common senses. There was no way she would actually bring herself to another alpha’s flat just to piss him off. Still, Ichigo needed to ask for confirmation anyway.

Once Rukia finished her treatment, she was about to head to the kitchen and return the kit. Before she could, her wrist was locked by Ichigo, his amber eyes now filled with certainty as he speaks, “We need to talk.”

The tone was final; without room for Rukia to argue. He was tired as hell and he was sure Rukia knew that. Probably being most of the reason why Rukia actually relented despite a full week of stubbornness.

“I don’t think there is anything we actually need to discuss.”

“Rukia,” Ichigo groaned in frustration, “tell me. What was the actual reason you have been avoiding me?”

There was the silence. It was always that pause of silence whenever Ichigo guessed something right. Something was bothering her but he didn’t know what.

Rukia sighs, finally relenting. “I know what you want to say.”

Ichigo furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “What do I want to say?”

“Don’t do this, Ichigo. Senna already reached out to me.” She said. “I just- I just needed time to prepare-”

“Hold on,” Ichigo cut her off, “Prepare for what?”

“For bracing myself to actually listen to you,” She inhaled, eyes averting his stare as she proceeds to say the next word, “because you want to say that Senna is your true mate.”

Ichigo blanked out, thinking he had actually heard that wrong. “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

“… That you and Senna are true mates.”

“And how the hell did you come up with that conclusion?”

Rukia frowns, “what do you mean? That night at the party proved everything.”

“You mean by me falling on top of Senna, either of us fully clothed, with no single strand of hair misplaced?”

“Wha- Fine, I was there before you two started, so what?” Rukia huffed. “Not changing the fact you two actually did the deed.”

“Oh my God,” Ichigo gaped, “you can’t be this stupid. I never did anything with Senna, there was nothing going on between me and her.”

“What?” Her brain trying to register the sudden take of information, “that can’t be, Inoue testified and everything…”

“I can’t believe you actually believed in Inoue.”

She glares, “Inoue likes you, Ichigo. Why would she actually said that about you and Senna if she wanted people to believe you like her?”

“Because,” Ichigo breathed, “she wanted us to grow apart,” then he actually delved deeper, “because I love you.”

Her eyes glisten in the soft flickering light, “you drank too much.”

“I didn’t drink. I was at the bar because I wanted to watch over you.”

Her train of thoughts stopped its tracks. Love was a heavy thing to weigh on, especially for Ichigo. He did not confess with a ‘like’, it was as if he was so sure about the way he was feeling- about where this was heading. Rukia couldn’t help but wonder how long had he known and controlled it by himself. Alphas were known to be adversely possessive.

Rukia did not immediately reply because this was not what she prepared herself for. There was Ichigo, her best friend in this lifetime professing his actual feeling they both had never bring up in their relationship.

“You can’t say that out of the blue,” Rukia muttered, “we never talked about any of this.”

There were many things to consider between them. What was the becoming of their relationship? What will go differently? What if they decided things were not working out- will they still be friends then? Even if they were, will things ever go the same?

 “I’ve got to get it off my chest,” Ichigo admitted, “you keep speculating each time and I know this might ruin everything, but we can’t keep pushing it down- I can’t keep pushing it down because it’s driving me crazy. And,” he took a deep breath, “and if you don’t feel the same then-”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down your horses,” Rukia quickly cut him off, “and you say I’m the one who keeps speculating.”

Ichigo arches an eyebrow, “so does that mean you feel the same?”

“It’s funny, isn’t it.” Rukia considered with a glint of amusement. “That we both knew, but never said anything.”

“Never felt like it needed saying.” Ichigo’s gaze was intent, a finger teased over her lip as he leaned closer in half-whisper, “would you like me to say it now?”

Rukia hummed, slightly parting her lips in complement as she decided to reduce the distance between them. Once they were mere few centimeters apart, she swore her stomach did a flip.

“Maybe after,”

Then their lips met.