#the way you’re meant to pronounce his name is very soft

[kavehater]

You know I actually wonder why some characters don’t have a last name like surely alhaitham ought to have one given he’s just some guy, so should kaveh imagine alhaithams last name is Hassan kinda like the opposite of Hassan ibn alhaytham so it’s like alhaitham ibn Hassan 😭

[hotchs-big-hands]

Because It's You

Aaron Hotchner x plus-size!reader|6.8k words

NSFW minors dni please

Warning(s): deep bodily insecurities, angst but with comfort, tiny argument, sex, mirror sex, body worship, daddy kink, Aaron is a very hands-on kinda guy, fem!reader, naked female/clothed male (for some of it)

Requested by anon:

if you’re feeling up to it, would you consider writing something about plus-size!reader with a b-belly and being totally insecure about aaron seeing her naked (or close to naked)? (You can read the rest of the prompt here!)

Hey Lovey 💖💖💖 I'm very happy and honoured to write this for you!! I'm sorry it took so long to do but I hope you enjoy it all the same :) I have this type of tummy as well and some days I feel bad about it. But we always gotta remember that it's just a part of us and there's no shame in that :) much love! I hope you enjoy 💖

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

Dating Aaron had been so, so dreamy. He was dreamy. You questioned how you managed to garner his attention, but he would just smile and cup your rounded cheeks to press a gentle kiss to your lips. He just knew you were the one the moment he set eyes on you. And so you'd accepted his answer, although you didn't quite understand still. His kisses, his touches, his caring nature took your breath away. Whenever he would return from his job to you you'd feel floaty, ready to rush into his arms.

Sometimes, he would stay at your place or you would stay at his, depending on your schedules and if his son was staying with his aunt or not. It was nice, imagining what it would be like to live with him, cuddling up on the couch, dining together, sleeping in yours or his bed. You'd even given one another a spare key to your homes and had some toiletries set out for each other. Even despite all that... you were holding back.

Aaron was ever the patient and kind man, never pushing you into anything you weren't ready for, which inevitably meant you'd never gone further than, well, making out. Mortifyingly, you'd freeze up if his hands began to wander, straying from holding you close to him to gliding around the front of your torso. He would stop then, and you would end up snuggling and talking instead. A part of you was frustrated with yourself for it.

Of course you wanted to go further with him. You needed him, burned for him. The many times you'd lay in bed alone whilst he was away with work just writhing in the sheets, his name a shivering breath past your lips. It was becoming harder, and harder to resist him. But you just...couldn't. You were scared of him seeing you. Not once had you ever been naked where he could see, not even partially nude. You didn't want him to see you, not wanting the beautiful bubble of your lives entwining to burst when he set his eyes on your bare body.

There was no other way of saying it; you loathed the shape of your stomach. You already struggled enough with the fact that you had a larger body than Aaron. Where a flatter stomach and a more toned structure was on him, a protruding, soft stomach and a overall rounded structure resided on you. But that wasn't the main thing that made you hide from him. An indented band stretching across your stomach in line with your belly button taunted you whenever you caught a glimpse in the mirror, or wore anything more form-fitting. You hated it. Hated sitting down and seeing it more pronounced, opting to conceal it by trying to make your clothing more baggy in that area. You never let Aaron touch your stomach, you didn't want him to feel it, to feel the squishiness of your stomach.

And that's how you found yourself standing in front of your full length mirror that stood next to your bed, still dripping water from a shower, with your towel hanging loosely around your arms after you'd pulled it from being wrapped around your body. You stared at your reflection, grimacing at the image that faced you. It made your lower lip wobble as your eyes drifted down to your stomach where the dip of your belly button was. How...how would you ever let him see? You couldn't. He would hate it, feel repulsed at the sight. Maybe he would have second thoughts about this relationship and break up with you because he wasn't attracted to you anymore. Before you knew it, your reflection blurred into an indecipherable mess and quietly, you began to cry.

"Sweetheart?" You heard from behind you, startling you with a sharp gasp and as you blinked to clear your vision you spotted him in the corner of the reflection. You spun, tugging the towel around you tightly as you sniffled.

"Aaron! You scared me!" You squeaked as you rubbed your hands over your face to try clearing the tear tracks from your cheeks. "I didn't hear you coming in!"

Aaron strode towards you and his hands came to rest on your upper arms, you flinched as you stared at those deep brown eyes.

"I wanted to surprise you, but then as I approached your room I could hear you crying." He explained softly, thumbs stroking your damp skin. "What's wrong, honey?"

Your lower lip wobbled again and you shook your head.

"It's nothing important. I'll be alright in a moment."

"It's not 'nothing' to me."

Your eyes widened a little at his statement, his gaze didn't waver though. With a sigh, you dipped your head and sniffled again.

"I... Can I get changed first? I don't wanna, y'know..."

Aaron's brow creased.

"Feel stuffy in a towel if you have it on for too long?"

"Uh, no..." You trailed off, resisting having to say it. "Don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable? You don't make me uncomfortable." He disagreed, hands moving to cup your cheeks gently. You bit your lip in an attempt to stop it from trembling once more. "Look at me."

Oh, he was so, so gentle. You dared glance at his face again and the urge to cry only hurt more. He sighed gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Sweetheart, I know you've been worried about what I think of your looks. And I know what transpired just now." He said. You tensed, jaw clenching under his hands.

"Aaron..." You wanted to pull away, to disappear from sight. But he held you so tenderly, so full of adoration.

"I know you're afraid of what I'd think of your body."

It was finally out there. Your fear, the dread of him ever being aware of it. You couldn't even look at him, pulling from his grasp and letting out a sob.

"Damnit, Aaron! Why?!" You turned from him and retreated further into your room, tears beginning to stream down your face. "Why did you have to say that?! Why couldn't you leave it alone?!" You cried as you tugged the towel tighter around you.

"(Y/n), I wanted to have a talk with you about it for a while. But finding you crying like this, we need to settle this now." Aaron said gently, not a hint of anger present in his voice. You stared across the room at him, throat feeling tight and sore as another sob bubbled out.

"Oh well, of course you've noticed! I should have been more realistic with myself about that given your career literally calls for that!" It hurt. But deep down you always feared he would have noticed the way you hid from him anyway. Aaron splayed out his hands at you defensively as he took a small step towards you.

"Sweetheart, please come back here." He said, softness oozing from the words. You scrunched your eyes shut but didn't move, your whole body was shaking now.

"You weren't supposed to know, weren't supposed to see."

"It's going to be okay. Just a step, I'll meet you in the middle, alright?"

You whimpered but slowly nodded, allowing your legs to move towards the centre of the room blindly. And then his arms were embracing you, his warmth surrounding you and soothing you.

"There you are, good girl. You're okay." He whispered to you as he stroked your back. You gripped onto him tightly as your tears began to seep into his shirt.

"I'm sorry." You sobbed.

"There's nothing to be sorry for."

He pulled away to take hold of your hand and led you to sit beside him on the edge of your bed. Instantly, you shifted the towel to drape looser around your stomach, cheeks burning with shame when you heard him exhale. You breathed in deeply, nose twitching.

"I... You're right. I am scared. I don't want you to see what I look like." You mumbled, messing with the fabric of the towel. Aaron watched you carefully.

"Why is that?"

You scoffed.

"Because when you do you-you won't want me anymore."

Aaron's thumb brushed the fresh tears away as he shook his head.

"You don't know that. Why would I not want you anymore?" He prompted you. You gritted your teeth as you tried to stay calm.

"M-my body... It's not-you won't find it attractive."

"I disagree."

Your eyes met his, startled again as he observed you intensely.

"You don't even know what I look like unclothed."

A faint hint of a smile graced his face as he glanced at your hands.

"Not fully, no."

What? You frowned.

"What do you mean?" You asked him with uncertainty.

"Sometimes, when we sleep together," he began, taking hold of your hands and cradling them. "I would wake up before you, as you know, and I'd notice your shirt had scrunched up during the night."

You froze.

"Y-you saw..."

"Your stomach, yes. It's...just nice seeing you as yourself, sleeping peacefully without a care or worry in the world. But I...picked up on the insecurity quite early on, sweetheart, so I would pull your shirt back down for you so you didn't wake up in a panic." He admitted softly.

You stared at him, mouth falling open slightly at the confession.

"Y-you still want me as well?"

Hurt flashed in his eyes and he pulled you towards him, embracing you tightly.

"Oh sweetheart, I need you in my life. I love what we have together, you make me feel like everything is going to be okay." He kissed the top of your head and before you could protest he pulled you again, helping you to sit on his lap facing him. You flushed, squeaking in surprise and embarrassment.

"A-Aaron!"

The man hummed quietly, holding you close to him as he pressed kiss after kiss to your face.

"I never want you to doubt how I feel again, sweet girl. It's my fault I never brought this to you sooner."

You trembled in his arms, overwhelmed with an array of emotions that clashed with one another. His words were so heartfelt, so sincere, that they challenged your own thoughts of yourself. You pulled back slightly, keeping your torso away from touching his as best you could. He watched you carefully with those gorgeous, dark eyes.

"I-I... I'm still scared of what you'd think if we ever got, uhm...intimate." You ducked your head again, missing the widened eyes and the bob of the adam's apple in Aaron's throat. His hands gripped you suddenly, making you jump.

"Sweetheart, if only you knew how much I've thought about making love to you." He said in a rumbling tone, one that you'd never heard him talk to you in before and it made you shiver. He tilted your head up to look at him with one of his hands, whilst the other spread across the expanse of your back and pushed you closer to him. You were keenly aware of how nude you were beneath your towel now, your bare slit rubbing against the neat fabric of his slacks. You whimpered.

"You have?"

He kissed the corner of your mouth sweetly, but didn't pull away when he spoke again.

"All the time, sweet girl. But I'll wait for as long as you need me to." He smiled against your lips and you shuddered.

"I...I've been thinking about it too..." You mumbled shyly. He hummed, the sound reverberating through him.

"Oh? Sweetheart, you know you do all sorts of things to me. Please, allow me to show you what you do to me. I want you to know how much I need you," he gripped onto the back of your thighs, dangerously close to your ass and the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You gasped out as he smirked against your lips. "Even if it means I have to fuck it into you until you understand."

Against your will, your hips stuttered forward, grinding your bare pussy across his now noticeably taut slacks as a little whine escaped the back of your throat. Aaron chuckled, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"Will you let me show you what you mean to me?"

You tightened your thighs around his and gripped onto his shirt tightly.

"I-I- please... Need you, Aaron.."

His lips were on yours in an instant, kissing you in the way that made your brain feel mushy and your abdomen to fill with a passionate burn. He encouraged you to roll your hips into him, feeling his taut slacks only harden further the more you moved. Then the towel slipped, falling to rest around your hips and lap and you gasped, pressing yourself flushed chest-to-chest with Aaron. He pulled from the kiss to enquire the sudden movement, only to acutely notice your towel was all but pointless at this point. With his gentle hands, he cupped your cheeks as your eyes met his.

"(Y/n). Are you okay with leaning back? Are you okay showing me your body?" He asked you oh so sweetly, a slight crease in his brow. You shuddered out a breath, wanting nothing more than to turn invisible right now. You closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to calm your racing heart.

"I-I am. Gonna lean back now." You managed to mumble out and Aaron kissed you so sweetly then pressed his forehead to yours.

"Good girl."

You whimpered.

"Hold my hands, please."

You felt his hands leave your face and carefully wrap around your scrunched up hands, holding them securely. You exhaled, then slowly pulled back, eyes still shut tight as you felt the cooler air of the room touch the bare skin of your body. You were in full view now, you knew it. You bit your lip and felt your heart racing under the burning gaze of those beautiful, brown eyes.

"Sweetheart, please open your eyes." Aaron squeezed your hands in encouragement. You drew in a deep breath, then let your eyes flutter open. The look in his eyes... Oh how loving it was. When you locked eyes a gentle smile formed on his face. "There you are. (Y/n), you're beautiful."

It took every ounce of strength not to look down at yourself and grimace, instead focusing on the man before you.

"A-Aaron... You really don't feel, y'know, grossed out by my body?" You asked meekly, earning a squeeze of your hands.

"Not in the slightest. I... I am in awe of you." He murmured as he leaned closely to press kisses to your cheek, slowly moving down to your jaw. "Your stomach is beautiful. I adore it because it's a part of you, and I completely adore you."

You whimpered as his lips trailed along your skin, dancing down your neck now as his hands began to wander to your plush hips, fingers digging into you.

"Y-you adore..."

"Yes."

Before you could say anything more, he was suddenly gripping onto you harder as he shifted you both further towards the centre of the bed and he carefully maneuvered you to lay on your back. Your eyes blew wide in surprise, a little squeak passing your slightly agape mouth as he now pinned you beneath him. The towel had slipped off completely during the move, now discarded and long forgotten elsewhere in the room.

"Aaron!" You yelped, earning yourself a rosy red mark on the skin of your neck your skin from his talented mouth. You felt him smiling against you as his thumbs stroked your plump hips.

"Mhm?"

You attempted to move your arms down to cover yourself but Aaron was faster, gripping your wrists and pinning them to your sides with a slight glare.

"No. I need to see you, sweetheart."

Your cheeks felt flushed as you trembled in his grasp, unable to look away from those beautiful brown eyes, near black with arousal, as they travelled across your bare skin hungrily. You could feel the bulge in his trousers pressing against your trembling, thick thigh as he let his hands slip from around your wrists to the expensive tie around his neck. Smoothly, he pulled it off and tossed it aside, making quick work of the buttons of his shirt now. Your eyes followed his hands, only to become distracted by the skin of his body being bared to you inch by inch.

"F-fuck Aaron- you're so fucking-" you began to sputter, only to be silenced by his lips on yours for a brief moment. He pulled away as he finished undoing the buttons and shrugged out of the shirt with a smug grin.

"Oh no, sweetheart. Tonight is about you."

He kissed you again, letting his hands wander to your shoulders and smoothing over them sensually. You whined when his clothed crotch pressed into your naked slit, feeling his thick bulge throbbing against you. This....this was because of you? You'd riled him up this much? The thought made you squeeze your thighs around him, earning a groan from Aaron. As he pulled his mouth away from yours you gripped onto his strong forearms, fingers brushing through the substantial hair.

"I-I-...." You trailed off and Aaron stroked the soft skin of your shoulders soothingly. His brow creased in concern, eyes flicking across your face as he analysed your body language.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? I hope I wasn't too...pushy. I understand if you want to stop now or-"

"-no!" Your cheeks felt flushed as you glanced away, embarrassed that you'd shouted. He didn't say anything, allowing you time to recollect your thoughts to speak. You drew in a shaky breath. "I... I'm just nervous, that's all... But I, um, didn't expect you to be so..."

Aaron raised a brow.

"So...?"

You scrunched your eyes shut and puffed your cheeks.

"You know what I mean! You're all- I mean I can feel you!" You finally blurted out, surprising him. A little grin broke across his face as he rolled his hips into you.

"Oh? You can feel how much you affect me, hm? You've caused this for a long time, (y/n)." His lips trailed along your jaw and down your neck, slowly making it towards your chest. Your breath hitched as he sucked the skin above your right breast until another rosy red mark joined the others littering your skin. "I couldn't even begin to recount the amount of times I would be away with work, or at home without you needing to fuck my fist wishing it was your pretty little pussy I was fucking instead."

Your eyes widened as his hands moved to grasp your breasts, the pad of his thumbs brushing over your erect nipples and causing you to whimper. Your slit was slowly dripping down to your ass and no doubt forming a wet patch on Aaron's trousers, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

Aaron trailed his nose over your breasts, dipping into the valley between them and humming after every breath.

"Mmm... So fucking good. Will you let me kiss your stomach, sweetheart? Please let me kiss you." He glanced up at you as his nose pressed into the centre of your chest and you swallowed thickly, urging yourself not to cower away. Kiss your stomach? He wanted to kiss it?! Your eyes stung a little. But you finally nodded your head as you gazed into his eyes.

"O-okay..."

He lifted his head just enough to smile at you, then he shuffled downwards slowly, pressing gentle kisses all over your body. You trembled, tears threatening to spill when he focused the kisses around the dip of your stomach, nuzzling against your soft body.

"So beautiful, so heavenly and divine..." Aaron murmured, his hands still making work of stimulating your nipples and causing the muscles in his back to flex with every movement. Your hands came to grab his hair, messing it up as you let out a quiet sob. Never, never had you felt so adored and loved as you did right now. He was showering your stomach with so much attention, unfazed or hesitant about touching it. No one had ever done this before, nor would you trust anyone else to. But Aaron....

The kisses paused, followed by Aaron's hands sliding down to your hips gently.

"Sweetheart? Are you okay?" He asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts. As tears rolled down the sides of your temple you smiled.

"I'm just so... No one's ever been so caring like this." You mumbled. Aaron kissed the area above your belly button.

"You deserve to feel cared for, because I care very much for you." You felt the ache of another lovebite at the cusp of your belly button, then another below it. His mouth moved around the circumference of the skin until a pretty ring of reddish pink surrounded your belly button. Your chest heaved, overwhelmed by his touch and tender kisses, resulting in your thighs trembling.

Aaron's hands smoothed down your body, carefully sliding down your stomach after you nodded at his questioning gaze, travelling down to your large thighs where he gripped onto them firmly, his fingers digging into the plush flesh. Your eyes met his, he paused. His lips were plump, slightly parted.

"Will you let me see your pretty little pussy, sweet girl?" He asked with a gentle smile. You felt yourself clenching, momentarily covering your face as a nervous giggle bubbled through you.

"Y-yes."

"You're cute."

Aaron hummed, then carefully spread your thighs for him further than they already were, until your knees were near pressed against the mattress. His eyes zeroed in on your dewy folds and the clenching of your hole.

"Oh, sweetheart. You poor thing, all neglected down here. You're soaked." He cooed softly as his hands crept close enough for his thumbs to part your folds more, revealing your twitching clit to him. You whined, hips rising from the bed until his forearms pushed them back down gently with a tut. "Now, now. Be a good girl and lay still for me."

Your hands grabbed handfuls of the bedsheets tightly as you pulled your lower lip between your teeth.

"Nngh, please!" You cried out. The corner of Aaron's mouth twitched.

"Please, what? What do you need, sweetheart?"

You pouted at him, eyes wet still and you rolled your hips.

"Please, please touch me! Want to feel you m-make me cum."

The man before you stared wide-eyed at your plea, then his gaze darkened with desire and his hands left your skin. But as your mouth opened to protest his left hand swiped from your entrance to your clit, his middle finger dragging over the sensitive bud and making you gasp out.

"Let me eat you out, pretty girl." He murmured as he shifted to lay down with his face hovering close to your slick. You shivered, never having had anyone want to eat you out before. You managed to nod, head falling back against the bed when his arms wrapped around your thighs and he dragged you to his mouth.

You cried out as his lips sealed around your clit, sucking it softly with a hum, then dragging his tongue across your hole to circle it. You could feel how wet his lower face was as his mushed into your plush mound, whimpering and writhing as his skilled mouth continued. And then he moaned around your clit as he sucked it back into his mouth, tongue flicking it back and forth.

"A-Aaron! Fuck!"

Your hands moved to grip his hair, guiding him as he let go of one of your thighs, only to startle you when you felt a finger slip inside you. You wailed as he curled it upwards, searching and searching. God, his fingers were fucking thick and long, able to reach much more deeper than you ever could.

Then you felt it, an indescribable sensation when his finger crooked into a particular area on the upper wall of your pussy. Your hips spasmed up into his touch and you moaned; fuck, he certainly knew what he was doing. Encouraged by your reaction, Aaron thrust his finger up into that spot repeatedly, sucking your clit harder and swirling his tongue around the poor little bud. The rushing burn within your lower abdomen grew stronger, your body moving in time with his finger and tongue until it overwhelmed you, crying his name as you felt slick gush out and your nerves become haywire. Aaron continued until you were keening, wailing for him to let you catch your breath.

With a wet smack of his lips, Aaron pulled his mouth off from around your now swollen clit but his finger remained inside. Your eyes widened at the wet state of his face, his lips more plump as he grinned cheekily at you.

"Good girl, you did so well for me." He kissed your shaking thigh and you let out a trembling breath.

"I-I-... Never cummed like that before." You admitted shyly, causing Aaron to hum softly and slowly slide his finger out of your twitching hole. You whimpered when slick leaked out.

"Pretty girl, you deserve to cum in any way you want."

Before you could respond, your hole was stretched around two of his long, thick fingers and you wailed out his name, still sensitive and throbbing. He cooed, pressing his lips to your stomach and gripping onto the soft, plump flesh in his large grip. He used the grip to leverage the thrusts of his fingers, foreshadowing the rest of your night. He smiled against your squishy stomach.

"Gotta stretch you out, pretty thing. Daddy doesn't wanna hurt you." He murmured and your body lurched, eyes widening as you clenched around his fingers. Aaron froze, clearly surprised the words slipped from his mouth. "(Y/n) I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. I hope I didn't-"

"T-that was-" you blushed and bit your lip again, another shy giggle bubbling out of you as you spread your legs wider. "It was rly hot. I...wouldn't mind calling you that too." You trailed off with a nervous smile. Something switched within Aaron, his eyes narrowing slightly and darkening into pools of near obsidian, and those two fingers inside you parted, stretching you a little more and making you whine.

"Little girl, you're playing a dangerous game there." He growled, shifting to press his mouth to your neck roughly, biting and sucking the sensitive area below your right ear. You cried out, rolling your hips into the thrusts of his fingers and your hands pulled at the sheets into tight handfuls.

"D-daddy I- fuck!"

His fingers rapidly fucked into you, a wet gushing sound causing heat to spread across your chest but the sounds only urged Aaron on.

"You hear how wet you are for daddy, huh? Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it."

Eyes rolling back, you sobbed as you felt the burn of another orgasm approach again.

"N-need daddy to fuck me! Please! Please fuck me with your cock!" You begged over and over, barely aware of a third finger slipping inside you amidst the thrusts. You heard Aaron groan, kissing down your neck and enveloping one of your nipples between his lips, rolling it between his teeth. In an instant, you tensed up and cried as your second orgasm of the night crashed through your depths and left you boneless, hips spasming with aftershocks. Carefully, Aaron pulled his fingers from your clenching hole and, while not breaking eye contact, he sucked each finger one after the other and hummed in satisfaction.

"Sweetheart, you're so beautiful. Love the way your body moves when you're writhing with pleasure." He praised softly, hands leaving you to unbuckle his belt and unfasten his slacks, of which were stained with your juices and likely his own precum. Your chest heaved with every breath, slowly calming down now and feeling shy again.

"Y-you do?"

The belt discarded elsewhere, Aaron began to pull the black fabric down, revealing the delicious 'v' line of his hips and the coarse, dark hair of his happy trail. He hissed a little when his boxers were pulled down low enough for his straining, thick cock to spring from their confines. You gulped, eyeing the substantial length and girth and the flushed red tip that glistened slightly.

"I think this may be a bit of an indication of how much I enjoy seeing you cum, is it not?" Aaron's strained voice snapped you out of your stare and you squeaked, covering your face with your hands and crossing your legs in the air. He tutted, grabbing your ankles and parting your legs and pulling you towards him until you felt his length against your slit and his balls against the base of your ass cheeks. "Don't you dare hide from daddy, little girl."

Reluctantly, you dropped your hands from your face and instead grasped hold of your breasts, squishing them together with a little pout.

"S-sorry. Just embarrassed."

He cupped your cheek with his right hand, pressing a kiss to your forehead tenderly as your eyes fluttered shut.

"You shouldn't be. I think you're fucking stunning, sweetheart." He smiled and you whimpered.

"I-I can feel you twitching against me."

Aaron raised a brow as he rolled his hips against you.

"Feels different now that it's skin-to-skin, doesn't it?"

"Yeah... I like it, daddy.."

You heard him swear under his breath, hips stuttering slightly at the title.

"Fuck, I need to be inside you, sweet girl. You ready for daddy's cock?" He murmured, kissing your head again. You wiggled your hips, spreading your legs further in eagerness.

"Please! Wanna feel you inside me!" You were so desperate, so ready to feel him inside your aching pussy. Your hips jolted when he rubbed the tip up and down your slick folds, swirling around your throbbing little clit before gathering some of your sticky juices onto his fingers to lubricate his big cock. With a few pumps of his hand he lined the tip up with your entrance, gazing down at you lovingly.

"Ready?"

Your eyes pleaded up at him.

"Uhuh, yeah."

His hand left your cheek and instead curled over your left hand, guiding it to squeeze your nipple as his cock slowly pushed inside you. Oh fuck. Your eyes widened as you stretched around him, gasping out as inch by inch he filled you up.

"O-oh god-" you managed to choke out, Aaron grunted deeply.

"Jesus- sweetheart, you're so fucking hot and wet- so fucking tight around me-"

At only halfway, he paused and let you adjust to his size, watching as you whined and moved your hand to press against your lower abdomen, already feeling stuffed with his cock.

"Aaron- s'good." You slurred, tentatively rolling your hips into him when you felt a little more comfortable. A rumbling sound vibrated through Aaron's chest and he pushed forward, filling you the rest of the way until the both of you felt the skin of his hips and your ass meet. His hands jolted to hold himself up either side of your head, a string of curses tumbling out of his parted lips at the sensation of your tight walls.

"Fucking- god, (Y/n) you're taking me so well. Such a good fucking girl." He gritted, trying desperately to hold back so you could adjust to the full length, despite his instincts urging him to claim you fully until your pussy was melded to his cock alone. Stray tears escaped your eyes at the discomfort as you fought to focus on the pleasure of being so full of him. Finally, your daydreams were no fantasy anymore.

Experimentally, you rolled your hips, biting your lip as you felt the throbbing vein which curled over the topside of Aaron's shaft brush up against the sensitive spot of your hole. Fuck, your eyes met his and he kissed you sweetly, in consequent he grinded his hips into you. You moaned against his mouth, the sensations within not unwelcome this time and you grabbed hold of his shoulders.

"P-please, daddy. You can move now." You whined, fingers digging into the strong muscles. Aaron hummed, sucking on your lip, then retreating, the warmth of his body leaving you and causing you to shiver. His hands gripped onto your plump love handles and pulled out until only the tip remained. A hint of a smile ghosted on his face.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, daddy will take care of you."

As he held on firmly, he pulled you towards him sharply in time with his hips thrusting, bottoming out whilst you let out a cry. Then he thrust again. And again. Each time increasing the pace as your breasts bounced and your soft stomach jiggled. God, he was going to ruin you in the best way, grunting roughly as he pounded into you over and over, eyes fixated on your pretty body. Your hands had fallen to the bed again, fisting the sheets into a white knuckle grip whilst a slurry of noises were forced from you. You felt hot, tingly, so fucking full. The events leading to this moment a distant memory for your mind solely fixated on Aaron. The feeling of his skin on yours, his beautiful cock inside you, the heat of his body, his noises, his scent, the manhandling grip on your body...

"You hear how wet your little pussy is? You're making a fucking mess, sweetheart. Daddy's proud of you." Aaron hissed, accompanied by the wet slaps of his thrusts into you. As embarrassed as you were of just how much your body was affected right now you couldn't deny you loved it. It was no short on erotic, sexy. You hadn't felt so desired as right now. Your eyes struggled to remain open, gazing up at the man you least expected to ever be in this position with. And yet, he was a man oozing raw need and desperation, desperation for you. The thought had your mouth gaping as cute little moans passed through them with every thrust.

"Mmmf~ feel so full, daddy-" you whimpered. Aaron leaned down, his cock deeply thrusting into you now as he pressed his lips to yours again in a sloppy kiss.

"God, you don't know how much seeing your pretty body like this makes me wanna-" he groaned, holding back from finishing his sentence. Instead, pounding quicker into you as slick stuck to him from your oozing pussy. You pouted.

"Wanna what, daddy?"

"Fuck-" Aaron stared into your pleading eyes, a slight pang of guilt coursing through his chest. "Sweetheart, don't wanna make you uncomfortable- oh god!"

You clenched around him in retaliation, watching his head throw back in pleasure as your pussy squeezed his thick cock.

"Please daddy, wanna know what you were gonna say!" You goaded playfully, only for Aaron to move one of his hands to swipe the pad of his thumb over your poor clit. He smirked when you arched into his touch, a high pitched moan echoing through the room.

"Don't be bratty, little girl. You really wanna know? Fine." Lowering his mouth to your ear he hummed. "Looking at your body makes me wanna fucking full you up with my cum, breed you and make you mine."

Your eyes rolled back, back arching and pressing your torso to his. Holy shit. You missed the way his eyes widened slightly as you moved your hips to meet his thrusts.

"Daddy- oh fuck- daddy please! Need it!" You wailed. Aaron chuckled in disbelief.

"Sweet girl, you're more naughty than I realised. You like the idea of daddy filling you up with his cum over and over, do you?" He barked out a laugh as you babbled and nodded your head clumsily, only for his gaze to drift and fixate elsewhere in the room. You tilted your head slightly, brows pulling together.

"What is it?"

Aaron groaned quietly and returned his gaze to you.

"Looking at us in the mirror, sweetheart. You look fucking gorgeous, taking my cock so well." He praised, his eyes hooded. You breathed shakily.

"O-oh..."

He cupped your cheeks.

"You should see yourself, sweetheart. Fucking beautiful, so fucking sexy."

You swallowed thickly.

"Really?" Aaron stroked your cheek as he smiled, stilling his thrusts again.

"Come, sit on daddy's lap. Gonna show you how pretty you are riding my cock." He said. Before you could speak he maneuvered you in his strong arms to pull you upright, his cock still inside you. You held onto him tightly, his cock pressing into you at a new angle which felt oh so good. You shivered.

"Nervous..." you mumbled. Aaron kissed your forehead.

"It's okay, sweetheart. If you don't wanna look you don't have to."

"No, I.... I'm curious."

With a half smile, Aaron helped you pull upwards off his twitchy, glistening girth and you closed your eyes, facing away from him and feeling his hands guide you back down on his shaft. But as his arms hooked under your knees and pulled your thighs upwards and apart, you squealed and your eyes flew open.

Then, your eyes settled on the two figures reflected in front of you.

Sprawled out on muscular thighs, messy pussy flushed red as it was speared repeatedly, you stared at your reflection. For a moment you tensed up, hands blindly gripping Aaron's hips as your eyes trailed over your appearance. Gone was the forlorn, shameful version of yourself from earlier that night. In her place was you in the now; face flushed, hair wild and messy, body littered in pretty little lovebites. Your eyes settled on the rosy ring around your belly button, feeling butterflies flutter within you. You gasped out.

"Oh fuck."

Aaron responded with a thrust, you watched as your body reacted to the sensation. Your head fell back against his chest, releasing a long drawn-out moan as he began to pound into you again. You watched your belly jiggle, your thighs wobble and breasts bounce. God, maybe you could understand why he was so enamored. Grunting and moaning roughly into your ear, Aaron bounced you up and down on his big cock.

"See? You see why daddy wants to breed his pretty girl?" He growled, eyes following your hand as it met your clit to rapidly rub it.

"Ye-ah- yeah-"

"I want to hear you say it, sweetheart."

Your eyes rolled back, flicking your poor clit as the pleasure within began to build, closer and closer.

"F-fuck! I-I see it, daddy! See why daddy wants to-to breed me!" You sobbed as you met each thrust. He rumbled deeply, his balls slapping your fingers and clit, slightly stuttering as he neared his peak.

"Fucking beautiful, say you're fucking beautiful, (Y/n)!"

You wailed, body tensing as you felt pleasure brink on washing over you.

"I'm beautiful! Aaron, please! I'm beautiful!"

His grip tightened around your legs, holding you down on his cock and with a guttural moan in your ear you felt his cock throb and twitch, only to be drowned out by your own orgasm. You were barely aware of your pussy gushing, attempting to pull your hand away from your clit, only for Aaron to let go of one of your legs and cover your messy hand with his, forcing you to continue to stimulate your poor, sensitive bud. Only when you both felt completely spent did he let you go, carefully helping you to lay on your side and spooning you. He remained within your tightened walls, twitching every so often after the last drop of his hot, thick cum spilled out inside you. He wrapped his arm over you, his hand resting on the dip of your belly gently. Slowly, you felt your heart rate level out again, just as Aaron's did, and a content smile graced your tired face. In the mirror, you gazed at your sideways reflection, Aaron propped up on his arm so he could smile at you in the glass.

"Was that.... I hope that was okay, sweetheart." He said softly, thumb rubbing a gentle circle around your belly button. You giggled sleepily.

"Aaron, you literally made me cum three times in one session. No one's ever made me cum even once, let alone three times."

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly before pressing a kiss to your head.

"I'll happily do it again, and again."

You squeaked, feeling him twitch inside you when you wiggled in his grasp and you giggled again.

"Shush! You're cheesy!"

"Only because it's you."

When the both of you were eventually cleaned up, the sheets changed and the two of you curled up together again, you pressed a light kiss to his lips.

"Thank you." You mumbled sleepily.

"Mhm? What for?"

Aaron watched you snuggle closer into his chest with a shy smile.

"You made me feel beautiful."

Returning a gentle kiss, Aaron pulled you to lay on top of him.

"Because you are beautiful, (Y/n). And I'll make sure you remember it and believe it."

And that suited you just fine.

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

I did it!! I finally finished it! I really hope you all enjoyed and I thank you all for reading!! Special shoutout to my beloved @criminalskies for cheering me on and reading some of this for me 🥰💖🥨

Taglist: @criminalskies @modern-mermaid @aaronhotchnersgirlfriend @aaronhotchswife @emptybagofchips77 @crimeshowjunkie @igotanidea @gogococopuffs @prentissesredtanktop @howabouticallyou @lalalove-56 @constantwritingblock @boredelle @powerlvr25 @aad1993 @idkbubs @mrs-ssa-hotch @jesuisbenny @nplumb22 @supercriminalbean @elijahmikaelsonbitch @wowzabowza69 @frostingway @simpingfortoomanypeople @spenciesprincess @creepysweetie @bruhhvv @regulus-black-223048 @brasspistol @0nex-is-dead0 @livingdeadmak @myescapefromthislife @sebastiansstanswhore @bumblebea-xo @hangmandruigandmav @sareim123122 @magical-spit

[imthetunnelunderoceanblvd]

innocence loss

【Quaritch/Reader】

warnings: mini bad plot, breeding kink, physical abuse, choking, oral sex, unprotected sex, slut shaming, rape/non-con., sub!reader, dom!quaritch, vaginal sex, virgin reader, clit fucking?, smut, degration, begging, crying. that’s all i guess.

reminder: don’t like don’t read.

in which: quaritch wants to rob your innocence

a/n: first time posting smut lol.

i do not own any of the pictures i used in this fic, i found them on pinterest. they belong to whoever made/posted them

walking through the forest was an injured quaritch, his face was bloody, he had cuts all over his body, his ikran was tired of flying for days, quaritch had no idea that there was a pair of yellow eyes staring at him until he heard a yell and an exruciating pain on the back of his neck and his vision turned black.

“oh! you’re awake, you’ve been sleeping for days,” he heard a soft voice next to him, he turned his head and saw you, your adorable doe eyes looking down at him, he took in your soft face features, memorizing them, burying them deep deep down in his memories. “who are you,” he said but it came out as a growl “i’m y/n, i actually hit you on the head with a rock i was going to take you to the clan so they can kill you but then i decided against it because you were injured,” you spoke fastly and he chuckled “what’s your name?” he closed his eyes and sighed and snorted “miles, miles quaritch.”

from that day on you started visiting him everyday, it took you a while to pronounce his name right, you grew a lovely friendship, which brings you to these events, you walking around the forest with quaritch.

“do you have any kids?” you asked him and looked at his side profile “yes. yes, i do, why?” he hummed and you shook your head “nothin’ just wondering, do you have a mate?” you narrowed your eyes at him which earned you a chuckle from him he shook his head “no,” he mumbled under his breath, and kept walking trying to ignore you.

you yet asked another question which, clearly, annoyed him “why are you asking so many questions?” he sighed and you hummed biting your lower lip “i don’t know? i mean you’re different, and i wanna know about you? i guess? i don’t know,” you said in all honesty “well, there’s nothin’ you gotta know ‘bout me, except that i’m an ol’ man,” you gasped “that’s insane, you don’t look old, anyways as i was saying.” you said and continued your conversation about how bad you’d love to find your mate on day, sick, twisted, and a dark idea washed over quaritch “what if we mate right here, right now,” he asked and you giggled thinking that he’s joking but your giggling quickly stopped when you saw that his face was turned in your direction.

“what?” you asked smiling “you’re very pretty you know,” he replied. you didn’t know what he meant by that. quaritch began to walk towards you. starting to sense something was wrong, you slowly backed away with each step he took. until your back was pressed against the tree.

with every second passing, quaritch found it harder and harder to hold back. everything about you was so innocent. he was burning with lust, and he wanted you to burn with him. his dick was rock hard, straining against his cammies, his body ready to take you right then and there.

“what are you doi-”

not wasting another second, quaritch shovined you against the tree. you tried to tell him to stop, but was your voice was quickly muffled by his lips latching into yours like a leech, he kissed you roughly, his hands touching every inch on your body, nose bumping into your cheek, his spit mixing with yours. your hands shot to his chest trying to push him off of you, but he was quick to grabbing both your wrists and pinning them above your head. you squirmed under him, and he smiled against your lips, his canines biting down on your lip. your face started turning pruple as your air ways were cut and you couldn’t breathe. the strong scent of sweat on him only made everything worse. after a few minutes of turture, he finally pulled his face away from yours, and you took this opportunity to gasp in air. before you could say anything, quaritch hushed you with his finger on your lip.

“hey, just breathe,” he cooed, his hand on your cheek rubbing softly, trying to calm you down and brushed a piece of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear and smirked. “don’ worry, you’re in good hands, sweetheart. i’m gon’ make ya feel real nice and good, gonna take care of ya,”

you tried pushing him again, but ceased all actions when he shoved his knee between your legs. “stop it, please, don’t touch me! please stop!” you screamed. “no ones goin’ anywhere,” he had a stern look on his face. you gasped when he suddenly grabbed you by the arm and threw you onto the ground.

he quickly climbed on top of you, pinning you down. you continued to struggle, but all your no, please, and stops sounded more like a challenge to him than pleas. he ground into you and you felt something hard press against your crotch. he groaned, feeling the friction between his hard cock and the rough material of his cammies as he rubbed his erection against you. unable to bear the pain in his crotch anymore, he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his cammies in a rush, not even bothering to take them off, pinned both your arms against the ground with a single hand, the other moving your loincloth to the side revealing your folds, the same hand moved over to your chest ripping your top off.

“no, please. please stop, i don’t wanna do this,” you sobbed, unknowing that your pathetic attempt to plead mercy only turned him on even more. he parted your lips using his index and ring fingers and pressed his middle to your opening, he hummed at the tightness, he was right. you were a virgin, just like he had thought. he pressed his bare cock against your pussy and it throbbed at your words, ready to change all that. he looked at you, with wide eyes, at the feeling of your wet cunt. tears ran down your face covering your cheeks making them wet while he rubbed himself up and down your folds, coating his cock in your juices.

“i don’t think your body wants me to stop, does it?” he hummed. You looked away in shame. he lowered his head until he was right next to your ear. his shaved sides tickling your cheeks, his piercing yellow eyes flashing with hunger. “look how fucking wet you are for me, and i’ve barely done anything.” he made a tsk sound. “looks like you’re nothin’ but a dirty slut, ain’t that right sweetheart?” he chuckled

“no,” you choked out. you couldn’t believe it. you were about to get raped right in your own home, the same ground you walked on when you were a child, by a man who’se life you saved.

he rubbed against your folds one more time, the tip of his dick hitting your clit, making you arch your back, before sliding the tip in your entrance. he grunted at the tightness of your cunt, yet your insides seemed to suck him in.

he agonizingly forced himself inside and groaned when he finally bottomed out, feeling how your velvety walls pulsed around his throbbing cock. you began to cry from how bad the stretching burned. despite your wetness, his length and girth made it painful, and on top of all that, he didn’t wait a second for you to adjust, immediately pounding into you.

“please, stop,” you whispered. but it had already been done. he had taken your virginity, robbed you of your innocence. no one would ever want you now, if they knew of all the dirty things quaritch had done to you.

he felt as if all the stamina he’d built all these years had been undone as soon as he felt how tight your cunt was.

“you feel that, princess?” he moaned into your ear pressing on the bulge in your stomach “do you feel how good i’m makin’ you feel? yeah that’s right. that cunt of yours belongs to me now. ain’t no na’vi gon’ make ya feel that way,” you continued to struggle, you kept pushing him in a deseprate attempt to get him off of you. “fuck! yeah do that again.. do just that,” he said as you accidentally tightened your walls around him he groaned again, and you felt his cock twitch. “i’m close, dolly. yeah, jus keep squeezin’ me. just like that. fuckkkk, yeah,” he groaned and your eyes widened when you realized what he said.

“no, please, please don’t do it inside, please no” you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks. “i can’t, please, miles, i can’t get pregnant, please, don’t,” you whisper-begged.

“what if i want to impregnate you? huh? fill you up with my seed, the way your body would change because of me? be my kids mother?” he teasingly asked, smirking.

“no, please,” you begged. you looked at him with wide eyes, praying to eywa that he would have mercy. “please, please, please...”

he sighed, your begging started to annoy him. if he really wanted to finish inside of you, then he will, and you were going to take it, cause there’s nothing you could do about it. he suddenly pulled out of you with a wet pop. he got up and stood on the ground. “on your knees,” you obeyed like a good puppy, thanking eywa that he’d decided not to cum inside you. “open your mouth,” he ordered and you opened your mouth.

he shoved his entire length down your throat in a single thrust, making you gag and choke. he thrusted into your mouth a couple more times before he shoved his cock down one last time, groaning loudly. ropes of thick, hot cum shot down your throat, forcing you to gag “swallow. don’t waste a single fuckin’ drop,” he said as his dick stayed rock hard inside your mouth

you tried to be good and swallow, but it was too much. his cum tasted salty and disgustingly warm, and before you caught yourself, you spat out a mouthful. the substance dripped onto your tits and belly. you quickly covered your mouth, horrified. slowly, you turned to look up at him, but before your eyes could meet his you were being pulled closer to him until you were just inches from him.

“what did i just say? huh?” he barked in your face. “can’t even follow simple instructions. such a disgusting stupid slut.”

“i’m sorry - i - i didn’t mean to. i swear,” you whimpered. he pushed you back onto the ground and you landed on your back with a thud, the rough ground underneath you hurting your sensetive queue

“in that case,” he said stroking his dick “if you have trouble keeping my cum down in your throat,” he looked at you “i’ll just fuck it into your pussy,” he smiled a very sick smile

“no please don-”

before you could finish, he forced himself inside you again. you screamed, your cunt now extremely sensitive, not fully recovered from last time.

your eyes widened as his hands gripped your neck, his hand went down to your belly scooping the sticky liquid with his fingers “open your mouth,” he said and you, once again, obeyed, he shoved his fingers inside your mouth and hummed as your tongue licked up the substance.

his hand snaked between your legs and began toying with your clit, you gasped as he rolled the bundle of nevres between his fingers, pinching it, and rubbing tight circles with his thum on it. no one had ever touched you like this. mot even yourself. when he noticed the way your body reacted, he accelerated his motions, pounding his cock into you harder and faster, the tip of his dick kissing at your cervix making your back arch. you desperately tried to hold back all the noises, but still he forced a moan out of you. his chest swelled with pride. it really stroked his ego to know that even an alien - a pretty one - he forced to have sex with him couldn’t help but be pleasured by him. although by this point, could you even deny that some deep, twisted part of you liked this? liked being pinned down, forced to take him as he did whatever he wanted to you, as he treated you like a toy? you were desperatley waiting for him to touch you everywhere.

you moaned again when his tip hit that oh so sweet spot inside you, a pained whimper followed after as he kept abusing that spot.

“look at you, moaning like a slut all for me, hard to believe that just moments ago you were beggin’ me to leave you, alone,” he tsked. you let out a half moan, half sob. the palm of his hand landed directly on your face “quiet, slut.” he hissed. you shook your head, crying silently. “how would your future mate react if he knew what you were doing right now? his lovely, well bhaved mate moaning like a slut all because of a sky demon?”

he repositioned himself, now thrusting at a different angle, rapidly hitting that spot inside you that made you feel something you’ve never felt before. he enjoyed watching your face twist in confusion and pleasure “what if your parents heard you and came all the way here? huh? theyre gonna find their sweet, innocent little girl all spread eagle on the ground, taking my cock like a good little whore,” you sobbed in fear of that scenario. he nibbled at your ear, making you squeal. he slapped you again. “shut the fuck up, slut.”

his eyes landed on your tits and he let out a loud groan at the sight of your boobs bouncing slightly with every thrust he made. He grabbed at them, kneading them roughly in his large hands. you clenched around him even tighter in discomfort, but that only made it more pleasurable for him. he reached down again, rubbing at your clit and increased his pace. you gritted your teeth, trying to hold back this strange, unfamiliar feeling, but he stubbornly kept going. you climaxed with a loud moan, your entire body shaking as surges of pleasure and guilt rocked through you. quaritch’s face came closer to your boobs, he sucked hard on your nipple while pinching your other nipple, you slapped your hands against your mouth muffling your cries. you suddenly tightened your walls around him, legs wrapped around his torso as his pelvis slapped over your very oversensitive clit with every thrust.

he groaned “fuck yeah, keep squeezing me like that and you’re goin’ to make me cum. i’ll shoot it nice and deep inside you, and you’re going to take it all this time, right doll?”

you nodded, not even fully listening to what you just agreed to. you didn’t even care anymore, too with the pleasure that coated your brain, even if you told him not to, he’d just do it. thrusting as deep as he possibly could, he stilled, his eyes shut and mouth wide open as he threw his head back and released “fuck,” he groaned, his breath hitching, you could literally feel his cock pump load after load of hot cum, right against your cervix, he threw his head back as he sank in the euphoric ocean his climax provided.

part of you didn’t want to believe that someone like quaritch would do something so violating. but part of you was also happy, you’ve always dremt about having kids of your own. you closed your eyes as you felt his hand reach for your queue, conecting your queue with him. the very thrill of cumming inside you was enough to prolong his orgasm, his cock throbbing and releasing again and again.

it felt so satisfying to ruin you, to force you to orgasm for the first time. it was a horrible, guilty memory that would forever haunt you, reminding you of who was really your first whenever you had any intimate moment with someone you truly loved.

when he was finally done, he pulled halfway out, and you felt his cum began to leak down your ass. but he was quick to push it all back in, thrusting hard a couple more times, as if to fuck his seed as deep into you as possible. when he was satisfied, he tucked himself back into his pants, and walked away from you, leaving you laying lifeless on the ground as you’re drained of your pure soul.

you were being consumed alive, the scene keeps replaying in your mind, his odor ligering all over your body.

pov: me when quaritch 😩🕯️🛐

my requests r open if u’d like to request sumth

likes, comments, and reblogs r appreciated. <3

[bonjourxrenae]

🇮🇪 🇵🇱 IREPOL FANFIC ARCHIVE 🍀 👑

Scéalta le Casadh by bonjourxrenae (@bonjourxrenae)

A historical one-shot about their first meeting - what starts as humble research becomes a quiet whirlwind romance:

Doctor O’Connor figured the best way to learn more about a nation was to glean that information from another nation. It had been the only reason Ireland came to Warsaw: to interview Poland, gather information, and help edit the manuscripts. In truth, he had become enchanted by the land during the few months he had stayed in Warsaw. The people were kind and devout, the kind of people Ireland felt warmest around. He had brought his flageolet and played for the children on the streets. The food and the folk dances comforted him, sunrises and sunsets were clear, and the reflection of the moon on the waters of the rivers and lakes had all but taken him under. He had become enamored. He understood what the doctor meant. He had to know more.

M’fhíorghrá / My true love by Felicja_Julieanne (@felicja-j)

A soft one-shot, wherein the two have other plans that don't involve staying at the UN formal:

“You’ve talked with your boss already, right?” “Yeah, but he ditched me the first occasion he had. Why?” Ireland smiles at him. “In that case, he knows you’re here. No one said we have to stay til the very end.” He pulls Poland a little closer, and lets himself rest his head against Poland’s hair. No one is looking in their direction anyway. “How about you run away with me, love?”

Of Irish coffee and milk tea by Felicja_Julieanne (@felicja-j)

A collection of drabbles, ranging from soft and domestic, to angst with character death.

A Game of Guinness Telephone by Husaria (@lithuanias)

Meet-cute Human AU one-shot, in which a stranger buys Ireland a pint at the pub... then promptly leaves before he can get a word in:

Alfred returned with another Guinness. Seán blinked. “Thanks, but I’m not even done—” “Oh, I know,” said Alfred. “This is from—” He gestured towards an empty barstool at the end of the car. “—he just left.” Seán swiveled around to look at the front door. “Who left?” “Some guy. He ordered you a Guinness. I…I thought he wanted to talk to you.” “Who was he?” “Beats me,” said Alfred. “First, he asked if we carried…a…I can’t even pronounce it and then just ordered a Guinness. I think we carry the beer he mentioned…Do we—?” Seán sipped his stout. “Did you get a name?” “Nope. Had an accent. I think he was Polish.” “What’d he look like?” “A bit shorter than you. Blond. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. Oh, and he had a white cat with him.”

The Seal Lord by bonjourxrenae (@bonjourxrenae)

Fantasy AU multi, featuring Ireland as a selkie and Poland as the young dignitary who accidentally summons him:

It was hard to say how much time had passed, or how many tears he’d wept. Get it together, he told himself, slapping his cheeks until his senses returned. Feliks breathed in the salty air, filled his lungs with the chill so deep it almost hurt. While he had the time, he listened to the hush of the waves against the shore, the cry of the gulls overhead… The airy sound of a tin whistle playing close by… Feliks turned toward the sound. In the haze of sundown, he saw him: a tall man with copper red hair bent over a stone, his feet buried in the sand. He was soaked to the bone, dressed in nothing but what appeared to be a large fur skin, glossy from the salt water. As he played, his thin fingers fluttered over the sound holes, trilling every other note. It was a song Feliks did not recognize, yet felt drawn to all the same. As he approached, the sand shuffled noisily beneath his shoes. The strange man drew away from the flute and looked over his shoulder at Feliks, a boyish smile curled on his lips. “Ah, so you’re the one what called for me.”

Sleepless by Felicja_Julieanne (@felicja-j)

A deeply emotional Human AU, in which Feliks realizes he's asexual and comes out to his partner:

Seán walks up to him, and sits on the other side of the windowsill seat. The moonlight shining on his face makes him seem more pale than usual, but it accents all the right angles, and seems to highlight all his freckles. Feliks almost wants to ask to paint him like this. Maybe another night. “Are you okay?” “Yeah,” Feliks answers. Too quick, he then realizes. “I just, uhm. Can’t sleep, I guess.” Seán raises his brows, and smiles. “And my guess, is that you’re lying.” Feliks feels his breath catch in his throat. “Y’know… whatever it is, you can tell me.” “There’s not-,” his first instinct is to defend himself, but then… he doesn’t. Avoiding this conversation has been draining him mentally. As much as Feliks is terrified to bring it up, he wants to talk to someone. He needs to. “I’ve- … It’s been a weird couple of weeks, I guess.” “Is everything okay?” Seán asks with concern. He leans forward, his hand on Feliks’s leg. He smiles with reassurance, but Feliks sees something else in his eyes. He must be worried, and Feliks doesn’t exactly blame him. He’s been way too distant lately. No wonder Seán knows something is going on. Feliks is terrible at hiding things. He turns to the window, resting his forehead against the cold glass, and closes his eyes for a moment.  “No, it’s not.”

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Black Sheep | Chapter One: The Light

Stars Series | Black Sheep

For the very first time in all his memory, the only sound that he could hear was the lulling ebb and flow of the sea. The wind still howled past his ears, the seabirds still called, and if he really tried to listen, he could still hear the distant but ever-present noise of his rowdy brothers - but louder than them all was the sea. He had never felt more at peace.

Percy Weasley was only five years old, but already he found himself to be happier when he was separated from the rest of his family. He loved them, of course, but as the third of now seven children, there were moments when he just had to get away from them.

The days were starting to get colder as summer came to an end, but in this mid-day, he was still able to find a patch of warm sand to sit on. He leaned back into it now, his small, pale hands sinking into the soft sand behind his back. His face was turned toward the sun, his already-bespeckled eyes gently closed. He timed his breathing with the breath of the waves.

He could have fallen asleep like that, and he would have had a shadow not fallen over him. Scrunching his eyebrows together, the young boy opened his eyes.

“Not going to join your brothers in the water?”

“Aunt Tessie!” Percy exclaimed, as if he had been caught doing something wrong.

The old witch’s wrinkled face curved into a small smile at the young boy’s reaction. He must have expected to be scolded, but Letessa Cuffaro wasn’t the scolding type. Percy watched in awe as the hundred-and-one year old witch gracefully sat beside him in the sand.

For a while there was silence, Letessa squinting against the sun to keep an eye on the other four boys down at the shore, while Percy watched her with wide eyes, taking in every detail of her old but beautiful face. She had a very memorable face, and while it would change drastically in the next twelve years before her death, Percy would always remember it this way, with pronounced cheekbones, a sharp nose, and eyes that matched the color of the sea at high noon. If the five year old knew what the word meant, he would call her elegant.

“So, how are you liking Shell Cottage, my boy?” Letessa asked him, a couple of grey hairs escaping from her updo with the breeze.

Percy readjusted himself, looking out across the beach. Bill, Charlie and the twins were all down at the shore, their pant legs cuffed to their mid-calves, though they all still got soaked as they kicked around in the water. Further up the beach, he could see, not too far away, his Aunt Tessie’s Shell Cottage, planted firmly on the edge of one of the cliffs looking out to the sea. It looked like it could be in a painting. He wondered if anyone had ever painted it before.

“I think it’s my favorite place in the whole world,” he finally said, and nodding his head, he confirmed, “Yes, it is my favorite place in the whole world.”

Letessa chuckled, her face brightening. Percy noticed the happy lines that formed in the corners of her eyes when she smiled like that. “I’m very glad to hear that, Percy.” As she said his name, her smile changed a bit. “Do you know, Percy, that you’re named after your great-grandfather?” 

Percy looked up at her with a tender curiosity in his eyes, and for a moment, to Letessa, it felt like she was looking at her brother instead of her great-great-nephew. The young boy looked remarkably like his namesake, and she wondered if he would grow to look even more like him. With a darkening thought, she wondered if he would even get the chance. 

In her life, Letessa had seen many, many dark times. She had lived through the Great Muggle War, seen its atrocities and inhumanities, and saw how it only increased with a second World War decades later. She had seen the rise and fall of the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald, and had buried her beloved husband because of it. She didn’t think it could get any worse than that, but what she and her family were going through now made that all feel like child’s play. 

Never had there been a greater threat than the dark wizard she only dared to call He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He was the embodiment of the wrath of all the century-long built up tension in the world, and not a single person was left unaffected. Just four months ago she had helped her dearest Molly bury her brothers, and now she took in her great-niece and her children, as it wasn’t safe for them at home anymore. They couldn’t see a single shred of light in this dark tunnel.

But as she looked at this young boy, and out at his brothers at the shore, she knew this wasn’t true. They were the light. Letessa smiled. “This was his favorite place, too. It was all of ours. That’s why my husband and I built that cottage - so we’d never have to leave it.”

Percy almost said aloud that he wished he didn’t have to leave it either, but he quickly stopped himself. As much as he loved it here, he missed his home, with all its oddities and chaos. What he missed the most was having all of his family together again - to see them all happy again.

“Your brothers and I are going to go on a walk along the beach,” Letessa spoke up, “would you like to join us?”

Though what she offered was only the illusion of a choice, as he was only five, it made all the difference to him that she had asked. Now, though he enjoyed the peace that came with being apart from them, he chose to rejoin his family.

[chimielie]

having this idea of an hq character (you can choose who it suits the most) where the reader and them are like lowkey flirting and do couple things ig but they both don’t realize that they like each other? like they are just going with the flow, and doing those things for shits and giggles but then when someone else in their friend groups point it out they are like hmm.. and then they give it some thought and then they have an oh shit moment like “yea I do like them” idk if that made any sense (feel free to ignore this too 💀)

note! i have a full fic that’s similar to this concept with akaashi, which you can find here! tysm and hope u enjoy <3

“Why do you call Kenma babygirl?” Shōyō wants to know.

“How about we stop talking for a little while,” Kenma says placidly, eyes glued to his Switch, nudging your hand with his head. He’s lying in your lap, molten-gold locks spread out so you just had to comb your fingers through them.

You don’t answer, head leaned on the window of the train. You get motionsick easier than he does, so you’d taken an anti-nausea pill and fallen asleep within ten minutes, hand still in his hair. He can feel your breathing, the side of his head pressed up against your stomach.

Shōyō, on the other hand, presses on from his seat across the aisle. “Don’t you ever think about settling down?”

“Do you? And be quiet, they’re sleeping,” Kenma says protectively. This is why you’re his favorite friend. When he slides his gaze to his orange-haired friend, he’s kicking at the floor, looking pouty.

“He means you look like a couple.” Kuroo is sitting in the corner where he shouldn’t be able to pass snarky judgment and yet he still does. Incredible.

“Don’t say what I mean!” Shōyō says to Kuroo. “But yeah, that’s what I meant.”

“We look like two friends riding the train together. Two friends who are going to get off a stop early and find their own hotel so they don’t have to deal with their other... acquaintances.”

“A love hotel,” says Kuroo, dragging out “love” into four excruciating syllables and earning himself the lowest rank among Kenma’s three (3) friends yet.

“I’m going to put a hit on you on the dark web,” Kenma says. Kuroo (who doesn’t understand the internet) is deeply, deeply afraid of the dark web.

“I get it,” Shōyō says thoughtfully. “You’re just like two friends—”

“Yes,” Kenma says. For once, he feels understood, listened to, heard.

“Who do all the things couples do but they don’t call it that. Platuney.”

“No,” Kenma drops his Switch to his stomach.

“I think the word is platonically,” says Kuroo, pronouncing it wrong with total confidence.

“You are all idiots,” the beleaguered gamer pronounces. “Name one thing Y/N and I do that I don’t do with one of you.”

“Sleepovers—”

“Takeout and a movie—”

“Animal Crossing dates—”

“Grocery store dates—”

“Who even does that, except married couples—”

“You make tea for—”

“Kissing—”

“You dared me to!” Kenma snaps, way louder than he meant to. He takes in a surprised, short breath, and then glances guiltily up at you, trying to determine whether he woke you up. Thankfully, your breaths remain deep and even, your face peaceful. He’s glad. “We’d never kiss if we weren’t in a situation like that.”

“But you want to,” Kuroo guesses. Kenma presses his lips together, a tight line.

You shift in your sleep, and he’s shockingly, acutely aware of every place you touch. The softness of you and the places that cover bone. He wonders if it was the same for you, when the bottle pointed between you both and you’d flushed but stuck your chin up bravely, and that subtle motion made him brave too.

It was so fast and he was so nervous. He can’t really remember the kiss, but he has your face memorized. He can imagine it.

Shit. He wants to kiss you again.

“Doesn’t matter,” Kenma says, picking his console back up. “Not if Y/N doesn’t want to.”

“What if they do?” Shōyō asks. Kenma rolls his eyes. This is a very annoying train of thought, since it’s derailing straight toward absolutely nothing but endless pining for him. He didn’t want this; he wanted things to be simple.

“They don’t,” he says flatly. He’s so distracted he doesn’t notice your hand sliding out of his hair or the way you stretch, rolling out your neck.

“Don’t tell lies about me,” you say, loud and clear. “I definitely do.”

Only years of lightning-fast gamer reflex training (and maybe volleyball, too, damn it) save Kenma from dropping his Switch right off the seat.

“What?”

[sugarybitterness]

teenage dream - natasha romanoff x reader

request; hi!!! idk if you are taking song requests, but could I request some nat x reader based on teenage dream by katy perry??

word count; 1,386

warnings; black widow spoilers!! mentions of past abuse, trauma and experimentation

a/n; tooth rotting fluff bcs i am forever and always soft for natasha romanoff!! hope y’all enjoy this~ feedback is always appreciated <3

i know you get me, so i let my walls come down // you brought me to life

growing up as a hydra experiment meant you had a pretty nonexistent childhood. the team believed that it was your shared lack of childhood that allowed you and natasha to be so close. the team weren’t all wrong, the fact that both of you had a similar past definitely helped you have a deep mutual understanding of each other. but it was also the thrill of it all, because when you were together, you both felt so free, so alive. you felt things for and with natasha that you never even knew the name of.

natasha has seen you at your worst, literally. beaten and close to death in a hydra cell was not the kind of first impression you’d wish to have with anyone. you’ve seen her at her worst too, when she’s so overcome with emotions that her automatic response was to shut down. but you never pushed, you just made sure you were there, ready to give her whatever she needed or wanted. turns out a lot of times she just wanted to be held, your arms were her safe space. both of you had your walls built high but when it was just the two of you, the walls came tumbling down and you knew that no one else would see you like natasha did.

now every february you’ll be my valentine // no regrets, just love

you used to hate february, because it was the month you got adopted by hydra agents with the promise of a family but instead you were made into an experiment. ironically, you were saved on the 14th of february, something you didn’t learn until you were dragged out by natasha to go shopping for a gift for yourself. she explained that she wanted to commemorate the one year mark of you being rescued and joining SHIELD, who were you to say no? as if you could ever say no to natasha to begin with.

you ended up getting your ears pierced and went home with a pair of emerald green gem earrings which reminded you of natasha’s eyes. you never took them off, not until she gave you another pair of earrings a year later, just that it was no longer just the anniversary of you meeting, it was also a valentine’s day gift. it became a trend, for her to get you earrings every year on the 14th of february. except for the one year she pulled out a ring whilst on one knee to propose. of course you said yes, no regrets, no hesitation because it was natasha and when you were with natasha all you could feel was love.

you and i, will be young forever // you make me feel like i’m living a teenage dream

it was safe to say that your inner child came out when with natasha. with the others, you were always hesitant to act out that way in fear of being judged. but for some reason unknown to you, it was never like that with natasha. while the red room took away most of the redhead’s childhood, natasha clung to several memories from her time in ohio or when she was sent undercover for certain missions as child. she knew that unlike her, you were kept in a cell, the most normal thing you experienced was the classes you had with other kids, kids who eventually didn’t survive hydra’s experiments.

so natasha made it a point to do things with you, bringing you to amusement parks, arcades and all the fun things you had missed out on. not only does she enjoy seeing your childlike wonder, being able to bask in such moments of normalcy feels like a dream most days.

let’s run away and don’t ever look back

loud laughter echoed through the halls as you ran away from wanda who was hot on your tail. you had stumbled onto her cuddling into vision, fast asleep whilst the android was watching a sitcom. you had snapped a picture but accidentally left the flash on, so now wanda was chasing you down to get you to delete said picture.

you made a sharp turn and collided straight into natasha who was quick to steady you. when you heard your best friend’s shouts way too close for your liking, you hurried behind natasha, using her as a human shield. wanda rounded the corner and she gulped visibly when she natasha standing there, an amused smile on her face.

“natttt, y/n took an unflattering picture of me!” wanda whined as she glared at you. you rolled your eyes in response.

“it was a cute picture!” you defended yourself, arms snaking around your fiancée’s waist, knowing wanda wouldn’t dare cross the redhead. natasha just shook her head as she prepared to play peacemaker between the two of you, this happened more times than she could count but she also knew you and wanda would go back to normal within a couple hours or so. the two of you always acted like siblings, teasing each other and getting the other riled up.

my heart stops when you look at me

it was finally the day. after months of planning and praying that no alien invasion would disrupt your wedding, you were finally getting married to natasha. it was a simple ceremony, just the two of you and the avengers family as well as natasha’s family. when natasha received the strange red color vials from yelena, she was quick to track down her younger sister. much to the team’s annoyance, natasha insisted that she wanted to do it alone only allowing you to tag along because god knows what you would’ve done if natasha snuck out behind your back. you and yelena became fast friends, and after the red room was properly destroyed she was recruited into the avengers.

now, as clint walked you out of the back door of tony’s lake house to where the ceremony was being held in his backyard, you could’ve sworn your heart stopped in that very moment. natasha was dressed in a beautiful white dress, it was simple and fit her body beautifully. natasha took one look at you and willed herself not to cry, you looked absolutely breathtaking and she couldn’t believe that you were hers.

i finally found you, my missing puzzle piece // i’m complete

the ceremony went smoothly, and now it was time for the vows. natasha gave hers first, and her grip on your hands was tight as she spoke. when she was done, you were quick to pull her hands up to your lips to plant a soft kiss on her knuckles. taking a deep breath, you started on your own vows.

“natasha romanoff, i vow to be with you through all the good and the bad. to be with you at our happiest times and also at our lowest. you saved me all those years ago, at a point in time where i thought that being in a cell was going to be all my future had to offer. you saw something in me that not even i could see, you believed in me when i didn’t even believe myself. everyday, you continue to save me, love me and for that i am so eternally thankful. i finally found the one person that makes life worth living, you’re the one that makes everything make sense, you are my missing puzzle piece. you complete me in a way i never thought plausible. so thank you for never giving up on me and i vow to be with you through it all, to always be with you whenever you need me. to make you your coffee just the way you like it or tea if it’s late and you want to relax. i will always treasure you and love you, thank you for being my everything, for forever and always.”

when the pastor finally pronounced you two as married, you met in a sweet kiss, tears slipping down both your cheeks.

in a lifetime where it felt like love and a life such as this was simply a dream, the two of you found each other and made dreams become a reality.

[thyshadowwriter]

Lost & Found. Chapter 3.

Ivar Ragnarsson x oc.

Summary: being rescued by Helga in one of the raids and reluctantly tolerated by Floki, a young girl finds herself amidst a strange place with strange people, but if adapting to the cultural shock wasn't hard enough, catching the attention of the volatile and beloved son of the Queen would soon prove to be the ultimate proving. That is if she realizes just how much being around prince Ivar is walking on thin ice.

Author's note: family dynamics and fluff.

Tagging: @youbloodymadgenius

Understandment is hard when you can't speak to each other, but gestures may reach further than words.

--------

A few weeks after they returned, Floki's home had fallen into a strangely peaceful routine.

Floki would do his work, busy with Bjorn's request, while Helga would teach Revna their language for hours a day, every day, their voices being background noise for him.

Helga was radiant with joy. She loved taking care of Revna, spending a lot of time combing the long hair and doing beautiful and intricate braids while talking to her, to which Revna would sometimes reply and even if they couldn't understand each other an odd sort of dialogue would emerge.

While this arrangement made Floki uneasy, he could be thankful for his wife's happiness, she hasn't been happy in a long time. Even if happiness was a passing moment, it hurt him that Helga carried so much sorrow, most of which, if not all, he knew to be his fault.

Now, Revna was sitting on the chair shaking her leg and looking down, Floki occasionally looked at her and he didn't need to understand her words to understand her lately. She wasn't allowed outside yet and that was getting to her.

Helga came with a bowl of stew for Revna and tried to hand it to her.

"Here, I brought you food." Helga said to Revna.

She looked at the food then turned her head away to the floor and continued shaking her leg.

"You need to eat to get better, please." Helga tried to reason with her.

Revna answered with a small grunt, resting her head on her hand.

"What is it, my dear? You were doing so well." Helga said to her stroking her hair.

The girl didn’t answer, but Floki did it for her:

"She's bored, Helga. I think she wants to go out."

The realization dawned on Helga, making her smile kindly to the girl, carefully caressing her head. Poor thing, she had every right to be bored, but Helga wanted her to get stronger before facing the city.

Helga sat behind Revna and cupped her face, making the girl look at her. She spoke softly, trying to make her understand:

"I know you're bored, but you need to get strong before I show you Kattegat" she gestured to the door "I'll show you everywhere, but please, keep eating well and get better."

The girl studied her face for a while, then gave her a pout but accepted the food. She ate slowly and in small portions, an empty stare in her eyes.

That was good, Helga thought, that was great. She begged the gods for another child and they gave her one, a beautiful girl that she had already fallen in love with and would do everything in her power to protect.

Not long after, the door swung open and Ivar came into their room, dragging himself until he was inside and on his usual spot like that was his second home, which has been since the day his mother brought him there.

"Hello, Floki. Hello Helga." Ivar greeted them.

"Ivar." Floki greeted him back, spotting right away the faux innocent smile the young prince had whenever he was up to be a pain in someone’s ass.

Ivar turned his attention to the girl, who was eating and either uncaring or ignoring his presence.

"Revna." He said her name with a slight pitch to his voice and squinting at her. He had her name memorized from the odd fit it made for her, but mainly it was for the fact she slapped his hand. No one in their right mind would dare to do it, and no one that ever as much as said something wrong to Ivar got to live much longer, let alone someone stupid enough to try their luck against him, those he took delight in dealing with. Though to Revna, he probably was just a harmless cripple. Ignorance is bliss, he thought.

Revna, apparently taken back from her thoughts, looked at him. Her dark eyes gazing upon him with a spark of curiosity and interest. She had memorized his face after his first visit, how could she not? The complete stranger with very blue eyes, pale skin and a fingertips rough and calloused like the ones found on peasants, slaves or warriors. This complete stranger that touched her like it was normal or acceptable, the nerve! 

The voice in her mind screamed: ‘Was it normal to him?’, “Is this normal these strange people I’m living with?’, ‘Was that how he acted around outsiders?’, ‘What am I even doing here?’, ‘What will they do to me?’  Questions, questions, they came and went in circles for all these days.

But she put a stop to them for now, like it or not, for good or ill, he was the only other sight she had other than the couple, she could indulge in a quick distraction from the walls of the home she was living in that were starting to feel smaller by each day.

"Ivar." She said, looking straight at him, trying to pronounce what she inferred to be his name as best as she could. Adding a pitch to her pronunciation, just like he did, just because she could.

His eyes widened and he tilted his head to the side, stare fixed on her and her every minimal movement. He was sincerely surprised that she actually spoke directly at him.

His name on her lips was carried by a foreign accent, it sounded different, almost like it belonged to someone else, but her gaze on him, with expectancy in her eyes and a hint of pride on the corners of her lips turned slightly upward left no doubt she indeed meant him.

Ivar heard her before, annoyed and agitated at his first visit, so he hoped to have the same effect, but now that she spoke camly, trying to pronounce his name correctly and seemingly proud of herself for it, she threw him off balance. He had expected the annoyance she had from before, he expected her disgust at him as she wasn't pleased with his touch, why would she want the hands of a cripple on her? He even expected fear from her, but he didn't expect to hear his name slow and soft on her lips, he didn’t expect to hear her trying to reach out for him and how his own name would sound so foreign coming from her lips.

He wanted her to say it again, wanted to hear the strange way his name sounded from her, but he didn’t know how to demand it, so he nodded at her, not really knowing what to say, not that it would matter. She probably wouldn’t understand him anyway.

Revna smiled proudly to herself, a beautiful smile, if he had to say anything, he mimicked her smile shyly, though he quickly felt self conscious under her gaze and looked away, trying to find somewhere other than her eyes to look at, but nothing seemed to quite hold his attention.

Ivar felt as Revna looked away from him and continued to eat, he glanced a few times at her, the shy smile he held gone as she paid him no further attention. He noticed, however, how her legs began shaking in a slow, lazy rhythm. A stream of thoughts began in his mind: ‘Is she playing with me?’, ‘Is she bothered by my presence?’, ‘Does she pity me?’, a frown forming on his face with each thought.

He turned his attention to Helga, who was distracted with the girl's hair:

"I haven't seen her around yet. Why? When are you going to show her off?” he made a pause before adding the last part venomously “Unless she is to be a house slave."

"She's no slave, Ivar. We're adopting her." Helga corrected him, a tad annoyed at the slave mention.

"Then why haven't I seen her outside, hm? If she's to live here as a free woman, then she needs to know her way around."

"It's too soon yet. She doesn't speak our language."

"It’s not too soon, it’s been weeks! And if all the problem is that she doesn’t speak our language, then it’s another reason to do it. She'll learn much faster by experience."

"I'll take her out when she's ready." Helga answered a bit tense. She didn't want to go into detail of why she was so careful but she also didn’t want to lie to Ivar, who by the frown seemed to be growing angry.

"She seems ready enough." He said pointing to her legs.

Revna stopped shaking her legs, staring at Ivar wide eyed and lips slightly parted as she just took the spoon from her mouth. She arched an eyebrow looking lost as a puppy in the forest. Good, Ivar thought. Revna then looked confused from him to Helga, who caressed her face reassuringly.

"So, why don't you take her outside?" Ivar insisted.

Helga couldn't find an answer to stop Ivar's questioning and looked to her husband for help. Floki seemed entertained, holding a smile of his own, but as soon as he felt his wife’s eyes on him and her silent plea he intervened.

"Since when do you care about things that don't involve you?" Asked Floki.

"What?" Ivar countered astonished, "What do you mean by it? Of course it involves me. I was in this home before her, I have a say in whether she can stay or not."

"Is that so?” Floki said amused, “In this case what your mighty self has to say?"

Without missing a beat and with a self assured tone that didn’t transpired his shyness just a moment ago, he answered:

"I say this girl better adapt to our ways else she brings the wrath of the gods down on us..."

"The gods love her, Ivar. They gave her to me." Helga interrupted him. She realized the mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.

"How can you be so sure?" He inquired, renewed curiosity in his eyes.

"I just know it."

"If you say..." he eyed her suspiciously, before continuing to Floki, "...I say she better learn manners. No one should dare to hit a prince and go off unscathed."

Floki chuckled from his spot then said:

"You deserved that one. You could have used some other way of introducing yourself rather than touching someone you’ve never seen before and is not here as a slave. However, I thank the gods for letting me witness your face that day."

"You old fool..."

"Ivar. Be patient with her." Helga said to Ivar softly. She was very aware of how badly he took insults, even when none existed.

"I am patient,” he countered, “but the girl needs manners."

"Ivar..." Called Floki.

Ivar sighed before continuing:

"However, I am willing to forgive her for you,” he said looking at Helga “and an apology from the girl, once she learns how to speak our language, of course."

"Ivar, she's just a child, give her some time, I'm sure she'll adapt." Said Helga, looking at Ivar while she tied the end of one of the braids on Revna's hair.

Ivar lived with them long enough to see she truly wanted that girl to be part of their lives. He had seen the glimpses of sadness throughout his upbringing, the lost gaze Helga had when she thought no one was looking, the unsettling feeling that lurked under the surface when she saw mothers with their newborn babies. Perhaps the surprise wasn't that she took a girl to raise, but that she took that long to do it.

But he loathed the idea that in Floki’s home would live someone that would regard him in the same way the rest of Kattegat did, an outsider to add insult to injury.

"If you say, I'll try to tolerate her. If at least she can pretend to not be annoyed whenever I’m here.” Ivar said as he pointed to Revna.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what about her shaking her legs was irritating him. If it was the repetitive pattern, the slow rhythm, the proximity of her feet to him, or what was to him, a clear display of her displeasure with his presence. Though why would she have smiled at him with that beautiful smile if she was annoyed by him?

‘She’s playing you’, His own mind answered the question.

Both Helga and Floki looked to each other confused as to what he meant, Floki being the one that asked:

"What do you mean by that? She doesn’t even know who you are to be annoyed at you."

He pointed to Revna’s legs, this time the girl didn’t even bother to look at him and continued eating as if there wasn’t an annoyed young man pointing at her for no reason at all. Which bothered Ivar even more.

Floki couldn’t help but laugh. It was like he was a naughty child again that got all pouty and angry until he got things his way. At least he didn’t scream anymore. Not as frequently at least. His boy was maturing.

"She's bored, Ivar. Been like that for a few days, it has nothing to do with you." Floki made a point to emphasize the last part.

Ivar stared at Floki speechless. His eyes open wide, darting from Floki to the surroundings as his lips parted, which pretty much told the boatbuilder that the young prince hadn’t considered a possibility that didn’t involve him. He then rolled his head before asking:

"Then what have you been doing with her all this time?"

"We’ve been taking care of her, Ivar. Teaching and getting her used to us before she faces the others." Answered Helga.

Ivar pondered her words for a while, then agreed with her.

"What does she do in her spare time?"

Floki was quick to answer that one:

"Snoops around the house, messes up my tools… Oh, she also has a fondness for magic tricks, they make her happy like a child."

"Really?”

“Yes. I’ve done a few for her and it never fails to get her attention.”

“That’s childish.”

“She is a child, Ivar. It’s no surprise at all.”

Ivar looked like he just realized what Floki said to him. Turning his attention back to Revna as she looked around the house with that same little pout on her lips. He had of course noticed she was young when he first saw her and when he touched her face. Younger than him, in fact. Skin too soft and face still with some roundess to it, but he didn’t stop to consider what that would mean. Of course she would be like that being so young and housebound, he knew the feeling all too well from the days and days and more days he had to be inside his home because he was too sick to go out without serious risk of breaking his bones.

Looking to Helga, who hadn’t got her hands away from Revna, he knew that was her doing. ‘Why won’t she let the girl out? She’s not crippled.’ was what he thought. He knew it was her because she had the same look his mother had when she would smother him with her love as if he was still a baby and not let him do anything food himself, which only got worse when his eyes would turn blue. He loved his mother more than anyone and anything else, but he hated feeling useless.

Maybe that was what Revna felt. He was strangely relieved to not be the reason for her annoyance. At least not this time.

Then a silly idea crossed his mind. He reached for a pouch of leather he carried and took a coin from it, he then got a bit closer to Revna and touched her foot. The girl gasped startled but relaxed when she looked down at Ivar, who expectantly tried to measure her reactions to him. She tilted her head and arched her eyebrow inquisitively at him, which coupled with the cute pout on her lips made for an adorable sight. He beckoned her to come closer to him.

“Go on, my dear.” Said Helga to Revna as she looked to Helga for permission.

Revna got off of the chair and sat on the floor close to Ivar, close enough to be within arm’s reach, but not close enough to accidentally brush her legs against his, she then rested her hands on her lap and looked at him with curiosity. He studied her expression carefully, searching for the all too familiar signs of pity and disgust but found none of those. Even though he noticed she kept a distance, he was pleased she sat near him.

He then showed her the coin, playing with it between his fingers deftly, she giggled, trying to follow the coin with her eyes and relaxing a bit from her position. He then halted his movements, holding the coin between his index and middle finger, Revna froze in her position as soon as he stopped and looked from the coin to his very blue eyes. There it was, that beautiful smile together with an innocent shine in her eyes.

He then put the coin flat against the palm of his hand, closing both of them into fists and bringing them close to his lips, he didn’t take his eyes off her, enjoying her full attention as she looked from his fists to his eyes. He blew air against his fists and slowly opened them, showing her the palms of his hands, the coin nowhere she could see.

Revna looked at him, giggling happily with a wide smile, a smile Ivar found to be quite beautiful and contagious, making him smile himself, although more reservedly. When she calmed down and silence fell between them, they were looking at each other’s eyes, hers filled with joy and his with pride for being the reason for it.

He soon felt self conscious again and looked away.

[kavehater]

Dehya has no kaveh voice line ? :(

[theirmajesty2139]

The four lords raising trans rose 🏳️‍⚧️

Because I need my self insert trans boy character to be loved

Lady Dimitrescu

"You’re sure you’re a manthing? Ah well I wouldn’t usually tolerate a man in my castle but in this case I am happy to make an exception."

Is just as loving as ever with her teen nephew and dotes upon him with lavish gifts. She has read plenty of mythology and is familiar with what it means to be trans. She will offer him these books to read so he feels less alone. Will help him workshop a name he feels comfortable with although her suggestions are often traditional Romanian names. Eventually rose settles for a similar name to his at birth spelled rose but pronounced 'Roux'. Alcina is delighted that she won’t have to have his initials picked out of his clothes and restitched. Wants to pay for absolutely everything so that her precious nephew doesn’t have to worry about a thing.

Heisenberg

"Aw nice kid! Always saw you as a brave lad anyway, we gotta celebrate, I’ll get the scotch and cigars..... I’m proud of ya."

Adjusts to the new pronouns in a heartbeat almost as if he knew all along. Is absolutely stoked to finally have a nephew to hang out with, the girls never care about his mechanics or put up with his lewd jokes. Has always secretly seen Rose as his kid and is such a proud second dad. Will forget roses age and immediately wants to celebrate like men with whiskey and drunken shenanigans will ensue. Is convinced that after all his time engineering soldats that he can manage top surgery as long as it’ll help his favourite kid, after all Rose has regenerative powers.... when Ethan finds out about this idea all hell breaks loose and several threats are made. He’s not the most responsible uncle but his heart is in the right place.

Donna

"Oh sweet boy! I am so sorry that I’ve been addressing you incorrectly all these years. I’ve only made girl dolls in your likeness I will fix them immediately."

The whole concept of gender has to be explained to her several times before it clicks but after that she’s very supportive. Immediately orders books to research how her nephew feels. When she discovers the existence of dysphoria she loses her mind. Offers a modified version of her pollen that she worked on for days without rest to temporarily make roses body appear the way he would like, this helps. She sews him a whole new wardrobe so he never has to wear a dress again. He soon has a dapper suit and tie, winter jackets, shirts, slacks and boots which are tailored to make him feel handsome. For his birthday she gives him a new doll to replace the old, this time a boy with soft hair in a sailor suit. He is too old for dolls but the gift still makes him very happy.

Moreau

"Oh I know! When your body doesn’t look right or feel how it should, I get it sometimes too..... Wait, you’re allowed to change?"

Is absolutely astonished and soon begins this journey side by side with his nephew. Finding out after a little research on his tv that he is a proud he/they enby. Thinks his nephew is so incredible for figuring it out on his own. Sal is sensitive to other people’s moods and knows the right thing to say when his family members are sad. He is great at distracting rose from his problems and will take him frog hunting in the reservoir. He isn’t well versed in many subjects but he knows a lot about nature. He sits rose down and explains the story of the caterpillar which transforms into a butterfly. Not everyone is born as the person they are meant to be and that’s okay. These things take time.

The duke has been referring to Rose as "the little guy" since he was in diapers despite constant reminders that 'she’s a girl'. He would just smile with that knowing look and respond 'if you say so.'

Miranda............. calls him a slur.

[justcourttee]

hiiiii i don't know if you take prompts or requests or anything, but would you maybe consider writing a sequel to A Moment Too Late? maybe with a happy ending? i love your writing!!

I tried for what I’ll call a happy-ish ending, but I hope you still enjoy it! 

*WARNING* This piece and part 1 mention attempted suicide and can be difficult for some. Please, please, please be sure you feel comfortable reading about this topic before clicking below the title. 

In The Nick of Time

Damian took his first step into the city of love at 4:00 pm.  

He had a general idea of where to begin, but the combination of no sleep and jet lag was taking its toll. He had tried reaching out to her several times on the flight over, but she ignored his every effort. It could have just been the fact that she was in her classes. She may have been suicidal, but maybe she still took her education seriously?

It wasn’t likely, but it helped put his mind at some ease, hoping he still had time. His first order of business was renting a car. Technically speaking, his father had a villa on the outskirts of the city with a multitude of cars to pick from, but seeing as no one knew where he was, he wasn’t eager to tip them off.

He gazed over the taxis lined up, eagerly looking to take advantage of the tourists piling out of the airport behind him. He didn’t want someone to eager, he just needed someone who looked on the brim of exhaustion. His eyes landed on a poor man propped against his car, his eyes drooping like Tim before his first cup of the day. Perfect.

“Excuse me sir, but I’d like to rent your car from you for the day.”

The man peeked one eye open as he glanced warily over Damian.

“Scram kid, it’s a package deal, me and my car. You can’t just rent one or the other-”

Damian smirked as the man snatched the bundle of money from his hand, popping off the taxi light that stood on top of his car. As Damian slipped into the driver’s seat, he motioned for the man to step back over.

“Here’s a couple of extra bills to catch yourself a taxi home.”

The man’s mouth gaped as if he was searching for air underwater. Damian didn’t even bother to see if he would step back from the curb as he pulled off. The one benefit of the agonizing six-hour flight was Tim’s laptop. Damian had managed to hack into each of the high schools around the city until he narrowed it down to three Marinette’s. After looking at approximate ages and distance, he assumed she had to be the first; one Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Her family owned a bakery a little less than a mile from the high school and on the off chance she hadn’t stayed for any clubs or activities, she should be arriving there at any moment. Damian tapped the address into his phone ignoring the multitude of messages he had between his father and Dick.

It was a simple fifteen-minute drive from the airport.

Damian exhaled sharply as he sped down the exit. Fifteen minutes was enough time. It had to be enough time. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  .

“Welcome to the bakery! Is there anything I can interest you to today?”

The woman’s face wore a mixture of fake smiles and exhaustion. It might’ve been enough to fool the average customer, but to Damian, she simply looked one gust of wind from collapsing.

“Uhm, I’m looking for Marinette? Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Is she here?”

Instantly her fake smile dropped and the exhaustion settled into the creases of her face. There wasn’t even a hint of worry at the mention of her daughter’s name from a stranger’s mouth. It irritated him.

“Look, whatever she did now, we don’t have any money for a settlement. Maybe you can work out a deal with her, but we have nothing more to give.”

The woman offered him a half bow before pointing him to a small door at the back of the store. He assumed she meant for him to go through it and without another word, he stepped past her. As he made his way up the countless stairs, his irritation only grew.

He was well aware that there were parents out there indifferent to their children, but his soulmate wasn’t supposed to have one. She was always so happy and carefree when they were younger, abusing the bond whenever she could. He assumed it was because her parents had drilled into her that it was within her right too. But after that short interaction, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Finally, a white door came into view. Hesitantly, he reached out the knob twisting without resistance. Inside was a moderate flat with what appeared to be an attic access. As first impressions went, he thought it seemed like a warm and gentle place to grow up in. Very different from the windowless stone building he began in.

He slipped out of his shoes, placing them beside a pair of light pink ballet flats before taking his first step. Someone was home and by the looks of it, it should be his soulmate. Damian contemplated on whether to call out or not. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he thought it might be worse if he just opened random doors instead. Finally, he settled on attempting their soulmate link once more.

“Marinette? Are you there?”

There was no answer, but he couldn’t be sure if that was just the continued strike from his earlier efforts. Tentatively, he took another step forward, his eyes scanning the apartment. It was pretty much an open concept, so he could see everything quite easily. The only thing that eluded him was the staircase leading above.

That had to be where she was.

“Marinette? That’s how you pronounce your name, right?” Damian sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to hit himself. No matter how he intended it, he sounded like he was some stalker here to kidnap her. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just wanted to talk.”

It didn’t sound any better. Maybe he should've stuck with a gentle introduction through their bond. Speaking out loud only reminded him how terrible he was with people. Animals were easier. Everything that needed to be said could be expressed through body language.

Biting the bullet, he decided it couldn’t get any worse than barging straight up the staircase into the attic. As he pushed open the access, the first thought that crossed his mind was-

“A mess,” clothes were strewn across the floor, remnants of paper scattered within the piles. The walls were a soft pink at one point, but it looked as if someone had taken a paint scraper to them, mere flakes hanging on by a thread. For such a well-put-together apartment, the room almost seemed abandoned.

Pulling himself into the room, Damian left his legs to dangle, his toes longing for the security of the stairs just below him. It didn't seem that she was in here either. He remembered passing another floor, perhaps that was also part of their apartment? Just as he decided to plant his feet back onto the sturdy steps, his fingers brushed over one of the scraps of paper he had seen earlier.

Instinctively, he pulled his hand away from the floor, his eyebrows furrowing. Damian was fairly certain that wasn’t how paper should feel. Reaching back out, he gathered a few nearby scraps. Turning them over one by one, a picture began to form. A group of girls, all laughing completely lost in a moment of time. His curiosity bested him as he pulled himself into the room, gathering each of the scraps he could find.

A half dozen photos was all he could form by the time he collected the larger pieces. Most were group shots, but two were of a blonde guy. Upon further analysis, he determined that he was the son of the fashion dictator Gabriel Agreste. He had seen the boy at a couple of Bruce’s international parties.

Perhaps she thought he was attractive? After all, the photos seemed to be ripped from a magazine, unlike the other four. As he glanced around the room once more, he felt like he had finally found a straw to grasp at. A reason she dropped so far, so fast.

But as much as he gathered from her room, he still had no idea as to where she might be. Her shoes were at the door, but it didn’t seem as if she was anywhere in the apartment. Standing slowly, Damian took a step back toward the access he had entered through when a breeze tickled the back of his neck.

His entire body stiffened as his hand moved slowly to where he kept his emergency kunai.

“Is that you, Marinette? If so, you’re pretty good at masking your presence. I didn’t even sense you approaching.”

There was no response, but now that he knew she was there, it was easier to pick up on her shallow breathing. In one swift movement, Damian flicked his wrist backward, ducking to avoid any retaliation.

A soft grunt earned a glance backward, his eyes widening a bit at the sight. She hadn’t even tried to dodge it. Lodged into her right shoulder was his kunai, and just below it, centimeters away from her heart, was a pocket knife. A bright pink light blinded him and instinctively his arms darted out. When he could see again, a petite figure rested against his frame.

“Marinette?” She was unresponsive, a deep ruby dripping from her wounds. “Marinette!”

What was this panic he felt rising? He’d seen comrades die on the battlefield before, wounds more deadly than this. So why couldn’t he move? Logically, he knew he had to act fast, but his body wouldn’t inch.

“You’re her soulmate, right? Do something!” Damian’s head snapped up, but he couldn’t find where the voice came from. Whoever it was, it was enough to break whatever daze he had fallen into.

“Okay Marinette, I have basic medical training and I can patch you, slow the bleeding, but I can’t remove either blade. Do you understand? I’m going to have to move you, quickly and as stable as possible.” Her breathing was shallow, but her eyelids flickered in what he hoped was a response. As gently as her could, he lifted her into his arms, attempting to avoid moving either stab wound. Her soft grunt pulled at his heart. “Hold on a little longer Marinette, please, I need to apologize.”

The stairs were one agonizing moment after another and as he laid her into the backseat of his rented car, he felt winded himself. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Damian quickly pulled out his phone, cursing as it slid through his hands.

“Dammit, where did it fall?” He frantically searched, his heart rate rising with every passing moment. Was this the world’s way of punishing him? He killed and fought and argued every passing moment of his life. He pushed her away and now that he thought he was making a change, he could just waltz back into her life as if nothing had happened? He wasn’t going to make it.

“Just drive, I’ll guide you.” Had he finally lost it? It was the same imaginary voice he had heard before. Perhaps it was his subconscious, a guardian angel? Could he really trust it? “Drive boy, take a left at the stop sign.”

He couldn’t afford to wait another moment so he did what felt most logical; he drove. The drive was killing him, each painful breath becoming slower, a dagger to his heart as they escaped from her mouth.

“Just leave the car in the front, save my friend.” The only thing keeping him going was the voice.

Damian had barely parked, his feet already slamming on the pavement before the engine had stopped. Gathering her into his arms, he burst through the sliding doors, the fear rising in his throat.

“Help! I need help!” He knew his French was rusty, but he had to try. The nurse tentatively approached him, her gasp needing no explanation. A stretcher was rushed, and as they ripped her from his arms, Damian couldn’t help the anger he felt.

“Be careful with her! She’s going to die if they shift too much!” A security guard stepped over, his hands raised as if he meant to calm Damian. He took another step forward, trying to grip Damian’s arm. “What are you doing? I need to be with her! Marinette I’m right here! Can’t you hear me? I need you Marinette! Please don’t leave me!”

Damian watched as they placed the stethoscope on her chest, grim expressions hastening their step.

“Don’t look at her like that! Help her! Please!” It felt as if his lungs were collapsing, his vision blurring. Why was he reacting like this? He barely knew her. In fact, this was his first time ever seeing her.

“Sir, please calm down. They are treating your friend right now, the best thing you can do for her is sit and wait.”

The man led him to a couch where his legs finally caved, his back sinking into the chair. Damian lifted his hands to his face, wiping the tears he hadn’t even realized he had cried, but it only left his cheeks damper than before. Slowly, he pulled back his hands, his stomach plummeting. There wasn’t an inch of skin left uncovered by the red.

“Oh, oh,” Had he really not noticed how much blood she had lost? He was so focused on getting her here that he didn’t even consider if she would make it. “I thought I could make it, I thought I still had time.”

Damian recognized this feeling rising in his chest. It was the same as when he collapsed on the roof, the same as when he heard from her after so many years of silence. Was this what his mother meant by a soulmate bond being a distraction?

He had never understood why people took the insane challenge of fighting his Grandfather for a chance to leave the league in search of their soulmate. If he was honest, he thought it was a pointless endeavor and he couldn’t begin to imagine how someone believed they could pull it off. But, as his chest tightened with the rising waves of nausea, a realization washed over him.

A soulmate bond was so powerful that even if you just met them, you felt the need to protect them, to care for them. You became vulnerable for them, scared to lose them, terrified of how the world would be without them. It was a terrible weakness and a strong ally.

“Can you walk to the bathroom?” Damian felt his head stir, but it was as if it were being pulled by strings, out of his control. “I’ll explain everything if you could just meet me there.”

How could this voice be so all-knowing? Hadn’t it just surfaced from his subconscious as a way to kickstart his movement again? Yet, if that were the case, why did he find himself rising, stumbling toward the bathroom in a daze?

He slipped into the closest stall, collapsing against the door, the minute it locked. Why did he feel so drained? It was less than 500 feet.

“Do you need to sit down? I know that this must be hard on you.”

Damian’s eyes scanned the stall in search of a source for the voice, but alas, he came up with nothing. Sliding to the ground, he chuckled to himself, his hand clutching his shirt.

“I’ve finally lost it. Todd told me this day would come, but how could a dumbass like him even know?”

“You haven’t lost anything, I’m right in front of you, you just have to push through the veil.”

Damian perked up, squinting his eyes at the space directly in front of him. Slowly, but surely, his eyes focused on a red blur until the floating object came into full view.

“Holy shi-” Two paw-like things pressed his lips together, a disapproving look monopolizing its small face.

“Can you keep it down? And what’s with all this foul language? I can’t say I approve of you being my Chosen’s soulmate with a mouth like that.”

It floated a few inches away, crossing its arms as if trying to push the point across. Damian tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. He was positive that he hadn’t had anything. Perhaps this was one of those sleepless hallucinations that Drake constantly rambled on about?

“I know that look, I’m not a hallucination, I’m a kwamii! My name is Tikki and I am Marinette’s partner. Together, we merge to become the superheroine of Paris, Ladybug.”

Ladybug? He had heard Bruce mention a Parisian team. They asked for any heroes to stay out of Paris as their villain was one that manipulated emotions, turning his victims into puppets of his own bidding. No wonder Bruce and Dick were blowing up his phone. They weren’t just worried about him running off, they were also worried about him breaking an international treaty.

Damian blinked slowly as he processed the image in front of him. Kwamiis. He had heard the legend of them back when he was apart of the League of Assassins, but he had no idea they truly existed. Why was his soulmate in possession of the most powerful being in the world?

“It’s a long story soulmate of the Chosen. I have traveled long and wide and have had many wielders before, but never one as capable as Marinette. When I first found myself as her partner, she was clumsy and shy, but so friendly and kind, always going out of her way to help people. Together, we defeated the original Hawkmoth, but in the battle, his kwamii was reclaimed by one of his partners and a new Lady Hawk emerged.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The kwamii shot him a questioning look as if the answer was obvious.

“I’m trying to give you the full picture of where it all began. You blame yourself as the catalyst, but you were only a small stepping stone in her downfall, almost not worth mentioning.”

Damian felt an odd swelling in his chest. It almost felt like, relief? Had he really been this worried that he had pushed her down this path? A lonesome tear trickled from his eye, but he was quick to snatch away.

“Marinette had friends, a boyfriend even. She wasn’t completely lost without a soulmate. After all, her parents weren’t soulmates, and her best friend was rejected by their soulmate too. She was happy.” The kwamii paused, her smile reminiscing before it slowly morphed into a frown. But it all changed when a wretched girl transferred into her middle school.”

“Just one girl changed everything?”

The kwamii nodded, small tears forming.

“She was the real catalyst. The reason everything fell apart.”

Damian lost track of how long he sat listening to the small God. When he stood to return to the waiting room, he couldn’t help but clench his fist in an attempt to calm himself. Marinette had to pull through, she just had to. Damian had to show her that there was more to life than this shitty one in Paris. He had to rescue her like his family had for him.

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

It was 36 hours before he was allowed back to see her.

She had been lucky, the knife had missed her vital organs and even though it had punctured her lung, she seemed to be on track for a full recovery, one that she needed to take slowly. Damian dealt with the police on her behalf and thanks to Tikki’s information, he was able to help them identify the mugger.

Tikki had gone ahead to talk to Marinette and to give him time to freshen up. He didn’t have much, but the little he had packed at least got him fresh clothing, clothing not stained with her blood. Alfred would not be happy with him once he returned.

Damian was unsure how to approach her. He had found some flowers in the gift shop he thought were nice and some chocolates as well. But as he stood in front of her hospital room, he realized he hadn’t figured out the first thing he should say to her.

I’m sorry? No, that sounded too arrogant after everything she had been through. My name’s Damian, I saved your life? No, that would be condescending. God, he really hated talking to people.

“Are you going to come in or just sit outside all day?” Her voice sent shivers down his spine. She hadn’t always been this cold, but he couldn’t blame her.

Hesitantly, he reached out, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. She looked angry, slight red emphasized on her pale skin, the dark circles under her eyes protruding as if they dared him to comment on them. There were a million and one wires and tubes poking out in different directions, some hooked to machines, some to random bags of fluid.

Yet, despite all of it, she still looked absolutely stunning.

“Well, sit down or something. You’re creeping me out just standing there.”

Damian shuffled awkwardly to the opposite side of her bed, his legs wobbling as he lowered himself into the chair.

“Uhm, I brought you some flowers-”

“I hate the color white.” Damian felt his eyebrow twitch, but he tried his best to hold back the expression he felt. Gently, he reached back, setting the flowers on the windowsill.

“I-Uhm-I also brought you some chocolat-”

“I’m on a liquid-only diet for the next two weeks.”

Damian could feel the red rushing to his face as he breathed deeply. He knew there was a chance that she would be spiteful, but he hadn’t been completely ready for it. His fuse was short, even if it was his soulmate, he wasn’t sure he could contain the explosion.

“Are you feeling any better?” Marinette scoffed, her eyes never leaving her hands.

“Did you fly all the way to Paris for small talk Damian?” He wasn’t sure how to respond, knowing his next words might be his last. “Ask what you really want to. Like why did I detransform before trying to face the mugger? Or why have I tried to kill myself multiple times even if each time ended in failure?”

“I-”

“Ask me why all my friends left me. Ask me why my master chose the easy way out, forgetting everything before passing on weeks later without even a single message about his death from him or his girlfriend. Ask me why I hate life so much that I just don’t see the reason in living anymore. Ask me if I think you’ll change my mind! Spoiler alert! You won’-”

“God woman, do you ever shut up? Give me five damn seconds to get my thoughts together.”

Damian instantly felt the eyes of Tikki fall upon him, the anger draining from his body only to be replaced by his rising fear. He felt the apology building up, but before he could even let the first word spill out, a bitter laugh cut him off.

“Yeah, I do shut up. But only sometimes. I figured Tikki told you everything. I also figured you’d have questions. I’m not interested in telling my sob story over again and I’m not interested in some knight in shining armor swooping in to save me, Got it?”

Damian tried to speak, but it was as if his voice were caught in his throat. What could he say to her? He wasn’t trying to be her knight? He didn’t need her explanations? Everything sounded so thoughtless, but he couldn’t string together one coherent and earnest sentence to save his life.

“What I am interested in is your nonsensical shouting. You ‘need me’? You just met me, how do you know that you need me?”

If he wasn’t already as red as a tomato, he was certain that was how he looked now.

“I,” he cleared his voice, praying to whatever was listening to keep the crack away, “I just had this feeling swell up in my chest seeing you like that. I was terrified and it scared me. It scared me to feel that way about someone who I had just laid eyes on. I had heard about soulmate bonds and how they affect you. They can strengthen you, but they can also be your downfall. I needed to get to know you, to know how our bond would affect me.”

He paused, the feeling of her eyes on him choking him up.

“I, uh, I know it’s selfish, but I couldn’t let you die. You don’t have to believe me, you don’t even have to listen to me, but I have been where you are before. But before I could even make my first attempt, I had a group of people come into my life, people who lifted me up and saved me. I was scared that you didn’t have that and I arrogantly believed I could do that for you. I’m truly sorry Marinette,  but I refuse to apologize for saving your life. If I could, I would do it over and over and over again as many times as it takes until you decide to keep living.”

The silence was deafening. Even if she just yelled at him and told him to leave, he would take it over this quiet. He didn’t dare look up, he barely felt the urge to breathe. It was as if everything fiber in him was holding their breath, waiting to hear her response, any response.

“You’re really not gonna leave me alone, huh?”

Her voice sounded tight as if she were holding back tears. The urge surged through him to reach forward and pull her into a hug, but he contained himself, defaulting to a simple nod instead. Again, the silence followed, but he was patient. He would wait all day if it meant hearing her speak again.

“Fine. I’m not guaranteeing a damn thing, but I can offer you a start.”

“A start?” Damian risked a small glance up, his heart racing at the sight. She was smiling, a genuine smile. It looked out of place among her tear-stained face, but he would be lying if he didn’t say it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“Yeah, apparently I’m going to need someone to stay by my side 24/7 when they release me. Someone to take care of me. A stay-at-home nurse if you will. So, I nominate you, Damian. Your response?”

“Absolutely, it would be my honor.” His reply was instant, his smile unwavering even after she chucked her pillow at him, cussing him out in a manner that Todd would be proud of.

Yes, it was just a start. Yes, it didn't mean anything was fixed. But, there was one thing that put his heart at ease.

He wasn’t too late.

No, in fact, he was just in time to save her life. And at that very moment, he vowed to never wait till it was almost too late again.

Despite everything that had happened, he decided he could live with that.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey @smolplantmum @animegirlweeb @glitterflowercat @ladybug-182 @maskedpainter @remy-289 @redbullgivescaswings @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @jayjayspixiepop @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @kking13 @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin

[llamakenma]

Heyy Kenma :D First of all I wanna thank you for your advice 🥺💙 honestly I don't think I would have written the fics

Aaannnnd congrats on 500!!!!! You deserve it!!!

Can I get the no.4 for sakuatsu? If not them then just sakusa or atsumu is fine XD

Drink water! Stay safe!

note: hey!!! long time no talk! i hope everything's been well for you! and no worries, im happy to help :D !! thank you!!! i hope you will like it, though it was sorta rushed due to my schedule today TT.

genre: (first time trying this but..) office au!, cheating sakusa au!, arranged marriage au!

request: prompt 4 ("you made me think i actually mattered")

join my 500 follower event --> prompt list here!

---

"now i pronounce you husband and wife." the priest spoke, "you may now kiss the bride."

you could feel sakusa's finger reaching for your chin, before slightly lifting them up to reach his lips. though today was probably the second or maybe even third time you had met him, you were now tied to life with the gorgeous ebony-haired man that was sealing the vows with a kiss.

a smile graced your face at the sight of the video that was currently playing on the tv, your eyes darting towards the man you now called husband who was watching every moment intently. to be honest, when you had first married him 3 years ago, only thoughts of marriage failure occupied your minds, you were so certain that he had no intention of treating you well after being forced into an unwanted wedding.

however, much to your surprise, sakusa was more than understanding, he was considerate and knew you probably shared the same feeling about the wedding- nothing more than a disturbance to work. it started out well, with a few greetings in the morning, which then slowly led to kissing goodbye: one thing led to another and now you were head over heels for the very man.

'hey omi.' you whispered as you sat beside your husband, cuddling into his warmth.

'he y/n,' he greeted back as he kissed the top of your head, wrapping his hand around your shoulder to only pull you closer. and at the moment, it was just the two of you, comfortable in each other's warmth, along with the soft laughter emitted from the tape. it was just you and him, your head on his shoulder, and his head on yours, and you could only smile with content as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

you blinked once, then you blinked again, trying to adjust to the ombre rays of the rising sun that glared at you. you felt a slightly wet sensation on your forehead, only to meet the warm black eyes of sakusa.

'good morning sunshine, I'm off to work now.' he said.

you gave him a smile, it never failed to see him first thing in the morning, ' have a nice day omi.' you replied.

you shut your eyes again, hoping to get just a tad bit more of sleep- that was until it hit your senses.

1/12- the start of December, 25 days before Christmas, and also, your anniversary with him. you rushed to get up, panicking at what you should do to make this day special like how sakusa made the last year extraordinary. he had planned a night picnic near the shores of his private beach, and all you could remember was the face of sakusa kiyoomi under the moon-light sky and against the calming waves.

before you knew, you stood in front of his cooperate building, your eyes wandering towards the mass amount of employees rushing in and out of the building. immersing yourself into the crowd, you drifted towards the elevator, before clicking the floor your husband's office was in.

you slowly bounced on your heels, nervous at how he would possibly react as he disliked the idea of having you at his work; you did not blame him, you knew how distracting having someone close to you at work.

ting! the elevator chimed a signal, telling you that you had reached your desired floor.

perhaps your eyes were tricking you, or perhaps your mind had stopped functioning enough to grab what was going on in front of your eyes, however, the sight in front of you, one in which your husband was wrapped up with his lover, tore something in you.

blinking once more to make sure you weren't seeing an illusion, you could feel your mouth gaping slightly in shock. your eyes locked with sakusa, panic rushing through his eyes in a flash as he pushed off his lover in an instant.

'i'm sorry for interrupting, please go on.' you whispered as you shut the door behind you.

you turned around, walking towards the same elevator that had brought you to this floor just a few moments ago. how ironic you thought, you were merely feeling happiness on the way here, yet now you were not even sure on what to feel- perhaps its jealousy that was eating you away, or the lingering sadness that seemed to surge again at the thought of sakusa.

'y/n!" you heard sakusa yell from down the hallway, 'y/n! please let me explain! it's not what you think it is!"

anger roared through you, he actually had the audacity to tell you that wasn't what you thought it was, him kissing another person? what else could it have been apart from cheating, what else could it have been that he had to explain?

turning around to face the eyes of a cheater you had once proudly called your husband, you spoke, " then what is it sakusa, what were you doing mingling with another person- kissing them even, behind my back. what do you want to name it sakusa? an act to prove your love for me?"

tears started to edge your eyes, your emotions slowly spilling over the rims of your well kept pool.

'you actually made me feel like i mattered sakusa, you made me feel like i was the only person you could ever love in the world. you made me feel the emptiness when you're not around me, and with every little kiss you gave me, you made me fall for you even deeper. yet, how could you sakusa? i thought i meant more than just a contract to you."

it hurt sakusa to see you in a pool of tears, especially ones that came from his actions, he could feel a punch in his gut from reality- telling him that whatever he had with you was all over: yelling at him that the person he truly loved was going to leave him all because he could not keep it in his pants.

'i want a divorce sakusa, please just let me go."

[peakywitch]

Fuck Men - John Shelby

“Hello i hope you’re still accepting requests! Can i ask for one with John Shelby. Y/N goes out with her friends and gets roofied (someone put drugs in her drink) and they call john and it’s all messy and full of angst. John comes in with Arthur and Tom and they try to make her vomit it up and he’s crying and fluff at the end. Hope you’re still raking requests I really love your writing! Xx” 

Warnings: drugs intoxication, alcohol, this one is little disgusting sorry

words: 1580

masterlist

I ain't got time for you baby, either you're mine or you're not

Make up your mind sweet baby, right here, right now's all we got

Although The Garrison was one of the best pubs in town, the one run by the Germans, Die Rotte, a few blocks from it was best for having an actual good time. That's where you could find Y/N and her girlfriends every other Friday night. They weren’t exactly women exclusive, but only the best men could get inside.

It was quite a delightful place, to be honest. White walls, art deco everywhere, good alcohol, an amazing band who played the best Charleston in town. The night was one of the best nights. It was a chilly summer night, so dresses were being shown off.

“Y/N, try this!” screamed Lizzie with ecstasy, handing her a glass.

“What is it?” she asked from the table, seeing her friend coming from the bar.

“It’s called Fallen Angel! It tastes like lemon and...just try it!” Lizzie had a beautiful smile on her face, maybe it was snow or the facts that she had gotten a proper job.

A little party never killed nobody, so we gon' dance until we drop

A little party never killed nobody, right here, right now's all we got

“Ok, I’m in. Get me one!” she smiled, after swallowing the exotic greeny drink.

Lizzie started her way once again to the bar and after Y/N held a small conversation with Ada, who was almost as drunk as Lizzie, she came back.

“Here is to us, ladies.” she started to distribute the questionable amount of alcohol between the six women on the table “Fuck being a fuckin’-” she interrupted herself “Fuck men!”

“Fuck men!” the other women chorused, but Y/N could only smile.

She was the only one who got a decent love story. But a decent love story won’t stop anyone from drinking a whole glass in just ten seconds, does it? No, it doesn't.

Time passed by and the night was getting better and better, almost like a movie. The dance floor was filled with sweaty couples dancing non-stop to some loud charleston that rumbled in their hearts, threatening to leave their bodies.

Her legs started to feel weaker, but she knew that was alcohol because it’s the first sign: fragile legs. She knew the others were feeling the same, because they had taken the same amount, or even more.

“I need air!” screamed Y/N, trying to make Ada understand her over the music.

“You need her?” asked her sister in law in return, the music had her going.

“I need…!” she began again, the room started to spin faster and faster, the trumpets were making her head weight and her ears buzz. “John, Ada…”

“Y/N!” voices began to scream her name, but the noise was clouding her mind, and her eyes were not responding anymore, being covered by her heavy eyelids.

But just as she tried to reach out for Ada’s arms, she fell.

“Liz!” screamed Ada, panicking “Lizzie!”

She appeared by her side in a split second, and saw her on the floor, holding her unconscious sister-in-law. 

“Oh Lord, Y/N!” she screamed and knelt by Ada’s side.

She tapped her face abruptly, trying to wake her up.

“She’s not waking up!” they both stated in fear and got her out of the dancefloor screaming to the other dancers.

They sat her on their table, and wet her face with the ice cube that her glass had. While Lizzie was focused on her friend and bathing her neck with the cold water, Ada had her eyes on Y/N’s Glass.

“Ada, another one! Come on, it’s not-” she turned her face and saw Ada’s eyes stuck on her glass “Did…?” she whispered, forgetting about everything.

“There’s something white, Lizzie…” Ada began to tear up, thinking about her friend being harmed.

Lizzie left the bar as rapidly as she could, and ran three blocks down to the Garrison. Her chest was getting cold, and her ankles started to hurt: high heels were not meant for running on a messy street at three am, drunk and scared.

She began to scream John’s name even before she reached the entrance to the Garrison.

“John! Shelby! John! John!” she entered the Garrison, not forgetting to scream Shelby's name. He wasn’t in the big room, he had to be in the booth.

His name burned her throat, she said it so many times she started to forget what to say.

“John!” she burst into the private booth, and everybody stopped laughing.

“Lizzie?” asked John confused, she was supposed to be with Y/N.

He knew something was up, he saw it on her face.

“It’s Y/N!”

He got up as quickly as he could, even faster. Lizzie didn’t have to say another word, for he was running down the street, fearing the worst.

A soft and cold wind was drying his lungs, but it would take more than just wintery weather to prevent him from running towards her. Not even war could stop him from whispering her name in his prayers. If he prayed, it was for her. For her to be safe during the disgusting Spanish flu, for her to be happy during those birthdays he was away, not knowing if his “Happy Birthday” letter would make its way before he took his last breath.

“Y/N!” his voice echoed in the pub, and his throat almost ripped.

“John!” cried Ada, not knowing why her friend wasn’t responding.

And in a few confusing seconds, her body was over John’s shoulder, he was trying to get her out of there.

“Please stay with me, I need you.” he kept on reciting as if he was trying to memorize those exact words. “Please, I need you. Stay with me.”

The walk from the bar all the way to the house in Watery Lane was infernal and everlasting. He couldn't pronounce the words correctly, he was mumbling desperate thoughts, which made no sense on his lips.

Polly, who was spending a cosy night in, opened the door, as an answer to the shouts from her nephews. And as John entered the house in a rush, he placed the girl on the couch, trying to make her wake up.

“What the hell are we even supposed to do!” Ada cried, not knowing why she wasn’t waking up.

“What did she have, Ada?” he asked, taking his blue vest off.

“We don’t know! Her glass had something white at the very bottom, we don’t know what happened, John.” She was about to pull her hair off her head, she was sure it was a nightmare.

“White?” he screamed “She got her drink fucked over and you tell me now?” he was roaring, scaring Ada even more.

“Why don’t you take the girl to the doctor, instead of screaming to your sister?” Polly confronted him “Fighting Ada won’t stop time, it’s making you lose it!”

“John!” his oldest brother entered the house, nervous and curious about what was happening. Tommy was walking right behind Arthur.

“Y/N is under some fucking drug, and I don’t have any idea of what to do…!” he was about to cry, his eyes were stinging.

“What was in her glass?” asked Tommy, taking his jacket off.

“She was drinking a Fallen Angel and there was something white and dusty at the very bottom…” remembered Ada, cleaning her constant tears.

“So it was at the bottom, good to know it didn’t dissolve,” Tommy answered, and walked up to John.

“Brother, listen to me.” he said, taking John’s face in his hands “You take her to the bathroom, and we know you hate puke, but you have to make her vomit.”

He began to instruct quickly on how to help her, and John was suffering by the simple thought of hurting her.

“You won’t hurt her, you just…” Tommy was being careful with his words for the first time in ages, and John was thankful “You just touch everything in there, and it will result. Trust me, she’ll be alright.”

John walked into the bathroom with her, dead weight.

“I’m so sorry, please wake up…”

Some say you float, some say it’s like a dream. Some say you feel everything around you, some say you don’t even realize. But it was fucking disgusting for Y/N, she was dancing a popular Charleston and, when she opened her eyes, she had his husband fingers all the way up to her throat, making a nightmare out of a party.

“What the fuck!” she screamed, feeling how even her soul could leave her body in that same minute.

Both of her hands gripped onto John’s shirt, as she was still not seeing a thing.

“I can’t fucking see!” she screamed, scared to death.

“Don’t worry, Y/N.” said a voice from behind her, she was scared “It will come back to you in a few seconds, don’t worry.”

John hugged her, tightly against his chest.

“John.” she relaxed her body, while susurrating his name.

“Don’t you ever scare me like this again, because next time I might not survive the fear.”

“I’m sorry I scared you, I love you.” she apologized, while her fingers danced in his neck.

“I need you by my side until I die, please don’t leave before me.” he was being truthful, it was never hard for him when she was by his side.

“I’ll try not to, love. I’ll try not to.”

@deepdonutkid @a-golden-sunflower-vol-6 @stydia-4-ever @natural-hearts @lovemissyhoneybee @girlwith-kalei-do-scope-eyes @peakyrogers @writeroutoftime @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @pinkeijin @lukeymybabe @eternallyvenus

[pleasantanathema]

Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter One

Chapter One: Living Ghosts

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader 

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of violence, enemies to lovers, angst, and eventual smut (don’t worry, it’ll come sooner than you think).

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Here’s chapter one of my multi-chapter series for Reiner— chapter two is already ready!

A very special thank you to @present-mel​ , and @whats-her-quirk​ for encouraging me to take the plunge and create this monster (I’ve got a lot planned for this fic and I’m so excited for it) 💕

Masterlist | Next Chapter

           You were having that same dream again, the one where you felt like you were dying. Your shoulder ached with the memory of bursting pain, but there were warm hands there, holding you, pressing down to keep the bleeding at bay. You could never recognize the face, never identify the voice, your ears still ringing from the sound of a piercing gunshot. It was always the same; a delirious memory warped into a nightmare. Sometimes the dream ended in the hospital, other times with you staring at the inside of a coffin, or in a shallow grave.

           But this time, you were waking up, eyes flickering open to meet harsh fluorescent lights and clinking, cold handcuffs around your wrists.

          A white-hot sense of dread pooled over your body.

          You knew where you were. You knew how you got here. And suddenly, you wished you were dreaming again.

          You could still see it all, still hear the deafening blades of the helicopter whirring above you. None of your team had expected the Marleyans to be in the warehouse; they hadn’t been on the soil of Paradis in years. They’d caught you off guard and sent your escape plan into action sooner than expected. You’d tried to follow Mikasa and Armin, but Jean was in your way. The lines of your vertical movement gear had tangled with his as you both hurriedly attempted to ascend and meet Levi in the aircraft, sending you spiraling back into the window, back into enemy territory.

          Someone kicked you in the skull when you landed, you could still feel your head throbbing with the soreness. That must’ve been what did you in, what made you easy pickings to become a captive to the Marleyan government.

          You sat up, taking note of your surroundings: of course, they’d put you in a cell, one void of a bed but thankfully containing a fucking bucket. How considerate. Just outside the iron bars was a table scattered with broken pieces of your gear, undoubtedly torn apart to be studied and to keep you from using it to escape.

          Anger brewed inside your chest, a familiar feeling of betrayal returning that you hadn’t felt in years. There were faces here you didn’t want to see, enemies with broken facades that still haunted your thoughts at night. People you’d trusted, people you’d loved.

          You knew they would show themselves soon. If you were still alive, it’s because there were questions that Zeke Yeagar wanted answers to, tendrils of doubt and duplicity that he wanted to sink into your mind.

━━━─── • ───━━━

          Reiner felt sick. He’d never wanted to see you again, yet he’d been the one to carry your unconscious body through the compound, to cuff you and leave you on the frigid concrete floor. He’d stood over your figure for a while, heart pounding his chest out of fear that you’d wake up and flash that scrutinizing gaze of yours toward him again. But you’d just laid there at his feet, small, vulnerable, like a lost memory washed back upon the shores of his life.

          And of course, now that you were awake, you weren’t talking, refusing to take Zeke’s bait.

          He watched the older man pace around the room, glasses glinting as he wrung his hands. Truly, Reiner had been surprised that Zeke didn’t kill you on the spot, instead opting to transport you all the way across the border to their headquarters, insistent that you be treated like precious cargo. Though, it had been hard to keep Porco from poking at your body in the floorboards of the armored truck. Reiner had tried to keep his gaze away from you, eyes glued to the dark horizon outside of the rain smeared window. Maybe if he had stopped looking at you, you would have disappeared.

          There was something pressing Zeke, something worrying him that he wasn’t sharing with the rest of the warriors. He thought you knew something, or perhaps that you could be valuable in some way.

          Reiner knew that if you were to live, you needed to speak, needed to give them a piece of information to work with. He placed his head in his hands at the table, palms rubbing at his eyes. He shouldn’t—he didn’t—care if you took your last breath here. You were the enemy, someone who’d once held a knife to his throat when his true intentions within the ranks of The Scouts were revealed. He almost wished you’d killed him then, that you’d ended all the years of misery and regret that still clung to his mind like a poisonous leech.

          “Maybe she’ll give in to someone she knows,” Zeke stopped his pacing, attention turning to Annie Leonhart who sat across from Reiner, “why don’t you give it a go?”

          “Absolutely not,” she rejected, long legs crossing at the ankles upon the table.

          “Bertholdt tells me that you two were quite the comrades during your reconnaissance mission.”

          “I wouldn’t say that. We just found each other tolerable. Bertie was always sweet on her, though.”

          Zeke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Bertholdt is kind to everyone, he’s as soft as they come.”

          Bertholdt, per usual, stayed quiet in the face of Zeke’s remarks.

          Porco Galliard chuckled at that statement, straightening his shoulders before he spoke.

          “Which is exactly why you should’ve sent me to Paradis instead, Chief. I could give her a go. You were being too easy on her, anyways. Once you start ripping off fingernails people really start to give in, you know.”

          Reiner’s gut twisted at the thought.

          “You’re not allowed anywhere near her, Gailliard,” Zeke crossed his arms as a smirk settled into the lines of his beard, “she’s far too pretty, you’d break down and grovel to her before it was all over.”

          Galliard huffed, a pink tinge dusting his cheeks as he shrunk down in his seat.

          “Reiner—”

          He had an inkling that it would come down to this. There would be no point in disputing it, he’d have to come face to face with his past, with sins he thought he left behind four years ago.

          He stood before Zeke could complete his thought, heavy knuckles rapping at the wood of the table.

          “Well, looks like we finally have a volunteer.”

           Every inch of Reiner’s skin bristled as he marched down the corridor to the prison cells. His footsteps were jarring, heavy, like he was determined to leave prints in the floor to mark a final walk of shame. Some part of him hoped you’d be gone when he opened the door, that you would have used your wits and crawled through some air duct and run away from this, from him.

          He almost didn’t turn the door handle. He felt invisible, burdensome hands pulling at his shoulders, calling at him to run. He’d always been a coward, especially when it came to you. He hated you, loathed you because he knew you pegged him as fraud from the beginning. You never threw a kind word in his direction, always looked at him like he was below you, like his pride meant nothing to you.

          Reiner just wished that you had meant nothing to him. Even when the opportunity had presented itself, he couldn’t even find the strength to kill you like his orders demanded. He wondered if you remembered it at all, if your memories had finally flooded back after all this time. Something inside his heart wouldn’t let him that night, some unknown, egregious feeling that by some means overshadowed his hatred. 

          That feeling returned when he entered the room and found you sitting with your back to the wall, your tightly bound hands in your lap.

          He took in a deep breath as he averted his gaze, teeth gritting at the sight of you awake. Zeke was right, four years had done you justice; time had only made you more beautiful than before, and he worried he might fall to his knees before you.

          “Reiner.”

          Sometimes, he just really wished people would stop saying his name.

━━━─── • ───━━━

          A strange relief settled into your stomach at the sight of him. Reiner was as hulking as ever, broad shoulders stretching the threads of his shirt to their limits. But he was different, older…demure, in some ways. He didn’t hold his head as high anymore, didn’t immediately cross his arms across his barreled chest to appear larger. He took tired, golden eyes less intense than you last remembered. His fingers rubbed at his lips, at the facial hair that adorned more pronounced cheekbones.

          You hated to admit that he appeared even more handsome than you remembered.

           There was a red armband tied around his bicep, an insignia emblazoned on it that you’d never seen before.

          “Do I make you nervous, Braun?”

          You caught his attention then, made his eyes look at you as you leaned your head back against the stone wall.

          “Tough question from the one behind bars.”

          His voice had changed, too. He sounded more stoic, more serious. There used to be a hint of glee under that tongue of his.

          “Why am I here?”

          “I’m supposed to be the one asking you things.”

          You shrugged, biting at your cheek as you wiggled your toes to try to make them feel again. Your limbs were starting to ache, your head too, body feeling like it was starting to cement to the floor. You didn’t want to be Zeke Yeagar’s plaything, but you knew that if you were alive, there was something they wanted. There was some leverage you held, but you weren’t sure what it was just yet. You had hoped they would send Bertholdt in to talk to you, you always could get under his skin.

          Reiner was a more difficult case for you. He always coated himself in arrogance, made it harder for you to chip away at his armor. He never let anyone in, just always grinned, acted like he had everything under control. But before you was a man with cracks, a man that time and guilt had eroded. You almost felt sorry for him, almost. A man like him deserved to bear the weight of his burdens.

          “Listen, if you don’t start talking—”

          “You’ll what? Kill me?”

          “We’ll torture you.”

          He said the words with a weight that knocked you back a bit, stole the last breath of gusto you were holding onto. You expected as much, but hearing it said aloud made fear crawl up your spine, made the cuffs around your wrist feel even more strained against your skin.

          “What do you want to know? I could tell Yeagar was prodding for something tangible to use against Paradis.”

          “I just want to know what you know about us, if you know anything about what Marley has been doing in the last few years.”

          “You’ve been fighting a war, that much I know.”

          And he looked like he had been through battle, been through hell in trenches and gunfire. Your intelligence agents had reported that Braun had been promoted to be Vice Commander of the Warrior Unit, and the hardline of his frown told you he’d seen more horrors than you wanted to know about.

          “Tell me something you don’t know from news headlines.”

          Levi had trained all his scouts for this situation once upon a time ago. You could still hear his voice in your head, commanding you to give up as little as possible, learn what the enemy wanted and then give them something else to cling on to. You had a few things you knew you could feed to them, beneficial tidbits that would satiate their hunger and keep them from feasting upon your teammates. But relaying any kind of information was a death sentence within itself; give the dogs a treat and eventually they’ll want more.

          And you knew that Reiner, that Zeke Yeagar, was a very greedy host.

          You stood slowly, releasing the aching tension in your lower back. Reiner didn’t flinch away from his place beyond the rusting iron, instead eyeing you like you were some exotic thing in a cage.

          There was a nostalgia of being in his presence, even if the atmosphere around him was contrary to what you were used to perceiving. He still made your blood boil, still made your fighting instincts come alive in the back of your mind. You still felt small in his shadow, but there was still a lingering feeling, a fleeting memory, about how being around him once made you feel safe.

          Your bare feet moved toward him, toes stinging against the cold of the floor.

          One of your hands wrapped around a bar to your prison, the metal of your handcuffs clinking against the barrier.

          You could catch his scent from being this close, and at least that much stayed the same—he always smelled like cedarwood, earthy and sweet, like the spice of the forest floor after a fresh rain. It was almost funny how smell created memories more frequently than any other sense. 

          Suddenly, you felt like you were back home, like nothing had changed, as if his deceit had never been revealed. Your mind’s eye flashed images of your old training camp, of Reiner lifting Connie onto his shoulders after the small boy had successfully managed to triumph over Jean in his marksmanship practice. He’d used one of the tricks that Reiner had taught him. That once sweet memory turned sour as you remembered just why Reiner was always such a good shot.

          You tilted your chin up to look at him, to come face-to-face with the imposing penumbra you thought you’d warded off. He was a living ghost brought back to haunt you once again.

          “You seem pathetic, Braun, like you’ve lost all that bravado that made you so special.”

          He took your words, let them bounce off his chest like you hadn’t even spoken them.

          “Why did they send you in here? Did they really expect I’d crack under such pitiful pressure? You’re a deplorable, miserable—”

          His fist wrapped around your hand, crushing your fingers between his might and the metal bar you’d secured yourself to.

          You hissed at the pain, but…there was something you had missed in that touch of his; he felt warm, worn, like there were secrets being pressed into your skin.

          “Be. Quiet.”

          You expected his fingers to flex, waited for him to crack your fingers under his pressure. But he kept his strength at bay, electing to keep a steady, continuous tension against your knuckles.

          “Talk, or tomorrow will be your last day. You wouldn’t want to die at the hands of a pathetic, wretched man like me, would you? No, you’re too proud for that.”

          He took a step back, releasing his bruising grip before turning on his heels to leave.

          A string of panic began to uncoil inside you, snapping as his arm extended towards the exit.

           “Reiner,” you called, “tell me something. How much do you really know about Zeke Yeagar?”

           “I know enough.”

           “No, you don’t,” you were starting to sound worried, you could hear it, “there’s something I know that you don’t, and I’d be willing to give you information in return for you answering a question for me.”

           You could feel your heart beating in your chest, every pump within your ribs like the ticking of an oppressive clock. He was silent, steady, back still turned away from you. You noticed that his fists were clenched by his side, a vein starting to appear up the exposed length of his forearm.

           “I’ll consider it. Depends on what your question is.”

           He still didn’t turn to look at you.

           “Reiner…tell me what happened to Marco.”

           The door was slamming shut before the last syllable of the dead man’s name left your lips.

Next Chapter

[writer-panda]

The Hit on the Groom and What Became of It - Chapter 4/I’ll never let you down (in an open casket)

Chapter 1  -|-  Previous -|- Next

The Hit on the Groom and What Became of It - Chapter 4/I’ll never let you down (in an open casket)

-----------

As she hanged up, Marinette rushed to the doors and let her mother in. The previous night she spent mostly on working with Kwamis to prepare. Most were in agreement that she needed to act and not leave her kitty’s fate to chance. Tikki protested for a bit, but in the end, she saw that there was no changing Marinette’s mind and joined in on scheming. Except she had no way of tracking Adrien. Not… until she received the call!

Except now her mother entered. Sabine greeted her daughter by giving her a bone-crushing hug. 

“I was so worried! When the police called I couldn’t just sit there and wait!”

“Maman. It’s alright. I’m okay. See?” The girl did break away from the hug and smiled.

“I know. But I couldn’t help but worry.”

“Maman… Adrien’s been kidnapped.”

“I know.” Her mother’s expression didn’t reveal any emotions now.

“I… he’s been miserable ever since that wedding mess, and now this.”

“I know.” Again, nothing. 

“He’s my friend.”

“Not the love of your life?” Sabine questioned with a bit of amusement in her voice.

“No. He doesn’t need another fangirl. He needs a friend. Someone who can support him. I… I wasn’t a good friend before this…” She didn’t reveal that she wasn’t a great partner either. Chat hid things well, but from time to time his shell cracked. She should’ve seen the signs. She could’ve done something. Or at least do something with Lila. She had connections and Lila deserved a lawsuit or five. 

“Oh, sweety. You were a great friend. You are a great friend. I’m happy to see you’re not about to chase after some misguided love, but after friendship.”

“I know I’m only… wait, what?” Marinette.exe stopped working. If the problem keeps repeating itself, please contact customer service or the nearest Kwami. 

“When I was fifteen, I dropped out of… school to explore the world on my own. It wasn’t until a few years later that I met your father.” Sabine said in a bit dreamy voice like she was reminiscing. “We had several adventures across Europe before finally settling down in Paris.”

“But… Papa’s a baker.” Marinette protested. “I thought he was always a baker, like his father.”

In response, her mother chuckled. “No. Your father had much more in common with your Nona than with his father. I met him when he was fighting in an underground cage-fighting club.”

“Whoa…” Marinette’s eyes widened. That was a story she never heard before. “So how did you two got together?”

“I will tell you some other time. The point is, I know that even if I took you to Paris with me, you would’ve run away to look for your friend.”

“Maman!” For a moment, the girl wanted to protest. But then she decided that there was no point. “Yes… you’re right. But I can’t just let it happen! If the police find him, he will end up back with his father!”

“I know. And what’ll you do about it?” Her mother had this mysterious smirk on her face.

“I guess… I need to be the one to find him. I will get him situated somewhere safe. Maybe stay with him for a bit. He’s smart. And a quick learner.” He mastered being a superhero faster than I did.

“Good. Then you have my blessing.” 

“I can’t just abandon-” Marinette.exe stopped working again. Contacting the customer service might be in order. Technically, Sabine kept hinting about it. Practically, Marinette would miss a clue even if she was holding a gun to its head. “I have your what now?”

“You can go. Save him. Find yourself. And maybe kick some asses while you’re at it.”

“Most parents would be worried sick about their not-yet-adult children running off to an adventure.”

“You wanted to know how I met your father. The answer is I was the first to beat him in that cage.” Sabine’s smirk was replaced with a serious expression. “Of course I will worry, sweety. I’m your mother. But holding you back now will not help you. You’re a strong young woman and to be fair, I’m not sure how we could hold you down. You have steady access to the rooftop and two years of parkour training.”

“What now?”

“Did you honestly think we wouldn’t notice you sneaking off through the balcony?”

“And you didn’t even tell me?” 

“It would be hypocritical of us.” Sabine defended. “And if the worse came to happen, I had several… souvenirs from our travel around the world.”

“Thank you, Maman. I promise I will come back; And call you often. Well, maybe not too often.” Marinette already dashed to start packing. 

“Of course you will. And don’t get into too much trouble. I would hate to have to go and find you.” Sabine threatened with a bright smile on her face. 

“I’ll try, Maman.” The girl was only half-listening now. She couldn’t waste any more time. She learned how to trace the call about one-and-a-half years ago when she was still a bit ‘stalker-ish’. 

Sabine watched her daughter with amusement. So many memories returned to her now. Youth mostly well-spent if someone asked her. The ‘mostly’ part came to bite her just that moment as her phone pinged. She quickly checked the message and frowned. 

“I’m sorry, my little cupcake, but I need to go check it. An old friend turns out to be in town.” 

“I’ll call you later!” Marinette called from where she was furiously working on her laptop. 

When Sabine left, the kwamis swarmed her immediately.

“Your mom is so cool!” one of them cooed.

“And she’s one bad-”

“Roaar!” Tikki scolded the tiger kwami. 

“What’s the plan, pigtails?”

“Adrien’s call was made from within Gotham City. He’s still here for now. I also managed to track him to Burnley.”

“Didn’t that mercenary you called mention some Lawton?” Trixx offered.

“Yeah. I did try to search him up, but the only one with that name that I managed to find is Zoe Lawton. Wait. There is more!” She beamed up. “An old article in some Mexican newspaper.” She clicked on the link and read it aloud for her co-conspirators “Floyd Lawton, also known as Deadshot, was recently arrested after an assassination of a small group of smugglers. It is yet unknown if it was a hit or was it personal.” The article went on, but there was nothing more of interest.

“So the guy’s a mercenary too? That’s good. He’ll bring Adrien to you.”

“Not so fast. I remember hearing about him. Deadshot is one of the few mercenaries who try to keep some resemblance of a code. He’s also noted to be soft around children.”

“Isn’t Adrien almost an adult though?” Kaalki asked rather uncaring.

“Have you met the guy? He’s a literal ray of sunshine!” Plagg protested.

“So… he won’t deliver him and won’t return him.” Seeing that some Kwamis didn’t understand her logic, she clarified, “I don’t think that if he learns how Gabe treated his son he will be in any hurry to return him.”

“That makes sense.” The little being all nodded in agreement.

“So what’s the alternative?”

“He could adopt him,” Ziggy suggested.

“Please.” Marinette dismissed the idea. “He’s not Bruce Wayne.”

“He could smuggle him out of the country.”

“No. Everyone’s looking for him.” Roaar countered. “He would try to lay low somewhere.”

“Burley is large and full of potential safe houses.” Marinette started to think. “But there is also a large concentration of organized crime. Alone, we would have a hard time, but if we got them to help…”

“Is it wise to involve more criminals into your schemes Marinette?” Tikki asked skeptically.

“Don’t worry, sugarcube. To catch a bird you need wings. To catch a criminal you need crime.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“What’s the worse that could happen? I will go there as Seamstress. I won’t even appear in person. Right, Trixx?”

“You can count on it.” The fox kwami grinned.

“But… but…” Tikki wanted to scream her head off. Why did the previous guardian choose a juvenile criminal for her holder. Marinette used to be such a sweet girl. Where did Tikki go wrong?

---------

It was dark when an eerie mist filled one of the less-than-legal clubs in Burnley. From among the smoke, a figure entered. She was wearing a godet-type black dress with a side-cut that reached to her belt. The dress was overlayed with a very visible deep-blue corset that pronounced her blue eyes. It had some intricate laces on it. She also wore a puffy-sleeved blazer (also black, but with a dark blue finish) with large and very pronounced cuffs. Around her neck was a white double jabot fixed to a choker with a large black gem surrounded by diamonds. Her long deep-blue hair was let loose and hung over her shoulder. A simple black-and-white domino mask hid her features.

As she marched, one of her legs shifted the fabric to reveal she was wearing dark-blue socks reaching above her knee and black leather boots. A knife was strapped to the right one and several leather strips around her thigh and knee suggested she had more weapons on her. 

One of the men whistled.

“Looks like the entertainment arrived, boys!” Several cheered at that shout. At least until the man who dared to say it ended pinned to a wall with a rather large needle holding his jacket in place. It was also uncomfortably close to his jugular. 

“I’m not entertainment.” The Seamstress hissed. 

“Then you’re not invited.” Several men got up, many were holding now-empty bottled which they turned into impromptu weapons. 

“You will help me find what was taken from me.” She demanded.

“Yeah? Or?” One of the men laughed before charging at her. 

What followed next was perhaps the strangest carnage Gotham City has seen in years. The Seamstress danced between the attacks with almost unnatural grace and agility while stabbing the attackers in various places with large needles. None of the hits were life-threatening and most would heal within hours. The wounds were meant to incapacitate with minimal long-term damage.

By the time she reached the far end of the bar, almost every man was laid out on the ground groaning in pain or scrambling in fear.

“I am not asking. You will be rewarded for your obedience.” She then disappeared into the back alley. One brave/foolish enough who still had some fight left rushed after her, only to find the place completely empty. 

On the rooftop, Marinette let out her breath. She didn’t use any miraculous for that one, but she kept Plagg’s ring on. Chat Noir wasn’t seen in some time, so it would’ve been easier to explain that the ring was stolen by a criminal. She would really need to thank her mother for all the training she forced on her ever since the Akumas started to appear, as well as the lessons during her childhood. Those were all only the most basic grunts tonight, but she got their attention. One of them would run to their boss. There, she could actually do what she planned. 

--------

Just like she predicted, some of the less injured guys left the bar in hurry and drove their bikes to another part of the district. They disappeared into a three-story building. The windows were boarded, but some light seeped through on the top floor, so that is where she climbed. Indeed, by hanging on the edge of the window sill, she was able to hear the panicked screams inside.

“...and then she just disappeared! It was like that damn Bat, only much more terrifying. She was so small, and yet there was this… this… aura of power.”

Thank you Chloe for being queen B. Marinette stifled a laugh. Mimicking Chloe was the right choice. 

“Probably another one of his useless brats.” The boss dismissed them. Marinette decided that it would make the best impression if she contradicted him right now.

She wondered for a moment how to enter the armored building. She could rip the boards away and enter that way, but she was aiming for ethereal, not brute. In the end, she pulled a pair of glasses and put them over her mask. 

“Kaalki. Would you please help me break into headquarters of a criminal organization to scare them into serving me?”

“How many sugar cubes is it worth?”

“Ten. No more, no less.” Marinette had a small window of opportunity. 

“You’ve got a deal.” 

“Kaalki! Full gallop!” The light enveloped Marinette. When it died down, she was still in her outfit, only now the blue accents were brown instead. The gem on her neck held the symbol of a horse miraculous. “I love magical clothes. So easy to maintain the image.” Marinette muttered before a blue portal opened before her and she entered.

Inside, the five men (two who came to report, the boss, and his two guards) watched as the blue portal opened before them. The mist started to pour through it as well as through the boarded window. A figure calmly stepped inside.

“I didn’t expect the Gotham criminal organizations to be so… cliche.” She commented. Two needles sailed through the air and pinned the guards to the wall. Her horseshoe weapon waited patiently on her back should she need to use it.

“Who… who’re you?”

“Me? Oh. I’m The Seamstress. I had business in Gotham, but a fool dared to double-cross me. I need to find him.”

“Why… W-why shou-should w-we help… help you?” One of the guys from the bar asked.

“Oh. I’m not asking. I’m telling you that you’ll help me.” She informed. “I’m about to make you an offer you shouldn’t refuse.” 

The boss was now shaking. Damn city with its damn overpowered supervillains. They think they can simply run things as they want. First Red Hood took out most of the top brass of the underworld and then this? Working on his father’s farm was sounding more and more appealing. Then there was the shouldn’t. The reference to the classic movie was not lost, but she said shouldn’t. Not can’t. Once more he remembered how Red Hood took over. Submit, or die. This was the same. She clearly wouldn’t hesitate. He liked to think he could see those things. 

“I’m waiting.” The lady growled. “I’m not used to waiting.” Channeling Chloe is actually fun here. 

“Fine. You can have my seat. I’m going back to dad’s farm. Just let me go and you can have them.” The boss stood from his seat and motioned for her.

Marinette.exe is not responding. Do you want to execute the process? Not yet. 

She managed to keep enough cool to smile and take the seat, although she didn’t even register what was that. 

She would panic later. For now, tracking Adrien. “I need to find where Floyd Lawton, also called Deadshot, is hiding with my… asset.”

“It… I will see to it, Boss… lady.” One of the guys from the bar nodded very fast before rushing out of the room.

“I… will bring you the list of current assets.” One of the guards informed and walked somewhere. They were used to aggressive takeovers. This was their third. Boss change, guards remain. This was honestly the first time the previous boss managed to escape with his life. 

Meanwhile, Marinette finally realized what just happened. She really wanted to hit her head on the desk, but she was too afraid to show any signs of weakness. Why did she end up in this mess again?

----------

Sabine Cheng was waiting for her plane back when an airport guard approached her.

“Lady Cheng?” Sabine’s blood froze for a moment, but she refused to show any outward reaction at her past codename. “There is a man who wishes to discuss some… past debts.”

Damn it. And here she thought that bald bastard would forget about her. He had several more suitable people. He knew the risks of angering her.

Then again, she knew not to anger him either.

“Lead the way.” Her face was stone cold as she stood up. 

Inside a comfortable private lodge sat a blad man in a suit more expensive than the yearly revenue of her bakery. 

“Ah… Lady Cheng. I’m so happy you could’ve joined us.”

Sabine looked around and noticed that there was another man there, standing slightly in the shadows. A man she came to despise just as much as Luthor. Standing there was Gabriel Agreste.

“I can’t return the pleasure, Luthor.” She snarled, not letting her gaze drop from Agreste.

“Figured you’d say that.” The billionaire laughed. “But it doesn’t change that you came.”

“Be quick. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“About that.” Lex smiled. “I’m afraid you won’t be on that plane. I need you to do something for me.”

“Sadly, my calendar is full for the foreseeable future.” She retorted coldly.

“Then you will clean it. Unless that is, you want me to tell my good friend the president about your little assignment for me twenty years ago. If I recall, your pardon didn’t cover that particular crime.” The man chuckled.

The only upside of this whole situation to Sabine was that Agreste finally realized exactly who she was. Or at least how dangerous she was. The deal she made ensured that Lady Cheng disappeared from everywhere but some people’s memory. To her dismay, Lex didn’t forget. And he still had that damning evidence.

She also knew exactly what was the job.

“I don’t do jobs involving kids, Luthor.” She seethed through gritted teeth. It wouldn’t matter, but she hoped it would at least give him a pause.

“Adrien Agreste was about to be married. I think that can calm your conscience. He was all but adult.” That despicable man dismissed her concern, as she predicted.

“I’m a little rusty. Don’t you have someone younger? Someone who would actually want to do this?” Sabine deadpanned. She kept true to the deal she made for her and her husband’s pardon and didn’t do any… extracurricular work.

“Alas, the fact you’re unwilling is why I need you. You see, the client, whoever they are, picked Agreste Jr. as a target in a… battle royale of sorts. It quickly stopped being about the ludicrous money reward. It’s now about proving who’s the best. And they won’t stop until they deliver him to that mysterious Seamstress.”

“So what do you want? I’m sure you could’ve bought some of them to drop the glory part.” She really didn’t want to do this.

“I offered to pay five times the price, but most of the competent ones want a shot at whatever that job is. A mysterious benefactor with no history, nonexistent in any database in the world, paying a small fortune for a simple job and offering further work? Doesn’t it sound familiar?” Lex reclined in his chair and smiled.

“One job only. I want everything you have on me. And ten times the bounty.” She noted his discomfort. “Don’t give me that look, Luthor. You can afford it. My daughter’s about to start a university.” Sabine turned to Gabriel. “I must thank you for the idea. Homeschooling really helps when one is gifted.”

“I’m sure we can come to an agreement,” Lex grumbled. If he didn’t know the quality of her works, he would’ve laughed at the price. Except he foolishly revealed that he was desperate.

“Oh, I’m sure we can.” Sabine smiled. She was like a cat that just caught a mouse.

[maybe-itll-be-someday]

After The Rain

For my beautifully bright friend, @sequinsmile-x. 

Happy Birthday, sweet girl. I’d only ever be able to pull 2.5k words out of my math riddled brain for you. 

Read on AO3

--

Aaron always did hate the rain.

The rain always meant that he would have no choice but to stay inside, a witness to the bottles of whiskey that his father would consume and his mother’s indifference to the situation. The rain meant that he’d have to stay home from the library, where he spent hours perusing through books and living in between worn out spines. Instead, he’d stay holed up in his room until his father’s booming voice beckoned him out, the rain aggravating his already delicate temper another notch.

It drizzled the day that they lowered his mother into the ground. Barely 25, his only suit hanging off his shoulders and circles under his eyes from nights he spent reading through cases and making his life more than his father’s ever was. He doesn’t cry as her casket gets lowered six feet beneath them, so the sky softly weeps on his behalf.

It rains the day that Haley leaves him. He comes home to their apartment, a light smattering of rain drops on their window as he takes in the empty space of their living room. Jack’s favorite toys are gone from the living room floor, where he spent hours stacking blocks and attempting to shove shapes into the wrong holes. The clothes she left in their closet were non-essentials - not anything they needed to live their everyday lives.

(It’s only fitting that he gets left behind too.)

It storms the day he makes the decision to send Emily off to Paris, his heart in his throat when he tells their superiors that the only way they could keep her safe is by letting everyone think that she was dead. Tears sting in his eyes and his fingers cramp from the intensity in which he’s holding the pen as he signs away to her new life, one that just recently slotted him in like a neat puzzle piece.

Thunder rumbles above them when he squeezes her hand, promising her that he would find Doyle and that he would bring her home. The skies crack open and the rain starts to fall when he gets to stamp his affection for her on her lips, sealing whispered promises he had no idea if he could keep.

So he takes the assignment in Pakistan, because when the sky splits open on a Wednesday night, he feels like he’s drowning.

At least it didn’t rain in the desert.

--

It rains on their third date, much to his dismay.

He should’ve checked the weather forecast before committing to taking her on a picnic in the park on a rare weekday off. He even goes to a boutique wine store in DC, asking for advice on what kind of wines would go best with which cheese because he wants to impress her. He wants the flavours to melt on her tongue to be the same sharp contrast of salty and sweet that lingered on his tongue when he tasted her. He buys her favorite wine, wrapped in a label that’s worn with time, because he wants to show

He just wants to tell her how he feels, but it’s way too soon. She’s only been back in the States for a few months, their romance rekindled in the past few weeks.

So instead, he tries to plan every moment of their date to the perfection she deserved.

If only he had checked the weather.

Emily had shown up at his door, white linen flowing down from thin straps and cinching around her waist, delicately draping right above her knees and his mouth going dry at the sight of her. She wrapped her fingers around his neck and kissed him in greeting, his own hands greedily grabbing the fabric under his hands and internally debated if they could forgo the picnic and instead eat the overpriced cheese he bought off of her skin.

But her eyes brightened when she saw the picnic basket he had prepared, running a finger and reading the labels of everything he bought in perfect intonation to their native languages.

“Where did you get all of this?” She had asked, cheeks dusted in a light pink at the realization that he had done this all for her.

“Maybe if you’re good, I’ll tell you.” He’s always been attuned to her movements - a careful eye thrown in her direction. It had started just as a precaution, his opinions on her joining the BAU still up for debate.

It had slowly and too easily transformed into something else completely. It was probably the reason why he had gone to four different delis in DC, tracking down cheese he couldn’t pronounce the names of and two bottles of wine that he thinks cost him more than all the wine he’s ever bought in his life.

He remembers the first time he caught it. Reading a report from over her shoulder, their relationship refining its rough edges as they slipped closer and closer together. He remembers the smell of her perfume, the soft scent of something floral in his nose as he read through her report.

“Good.” He had said, a soft hand on her shoulder in approval when her shoulders tightened ever so slightly. Not in annoyance, or in anger, but in a frustration that he thinks had to do with the way her hips shifted in her seat. He was just starting to learn about her, of the mole that was tucked on her collarbone, of the small rose tattoo on her ribs and the dove that flew across her hip bone.

He spent his time exploring which patches of skin produced which noises, which angle of his caused her to grip whichever part of him she was holding tighter, and which words caused his name to roll off of her tongue in a sweet cacophony of moans.

Her pupils darkened at his approval, his touch igniting something under her skin that when he said it later that night, wrapped in her silk sheets - the words good girl dropped in the middle of unintelligible mutters - she had arched into him and her thighs clamped down around his hips as she urged him to go deeper and faster, chasing her release by embedding him under her skin.

Another button he’s learned how to press and his delight grew as her pupils widened at his words.

“As long as I can hold you to that.” He wanted to tug her back into his bedroom, taking advantage of the fact that his apartment was kid-free for once but she just cackled and tugged on his hand, telling him to grab the picnic basket because she was starving .

They find a secluded area of Potomac park and he asks her to explain whatever it is he bought, because he really was only working off of the recommendations of the elderly Italian woman at the first deli who had written down all the cured meats and cheeses that he should buy when he mentioned it would be for his girlfriend.

Emily tells him which wine would go best with which cheese and he feeds her grapes and cherries that stained her lips in a soft pink, stealing soft kisses when he lingers close enough and enjoying the blush that spreads on her skin when his hand draws soft circles on the inside of her knee.

The dark, grey sky looms over them without warning, the clouds splitting open to let fat drops of rain land on the very expensive cheese that he thinks is an absurd amount for pressed curds of milk. Aaron starts to quickly pack their picnic, calculating the amount of time that it’s going to take to get to the car that they’ve parked on the other side of the road and wonders why the rain was determined to ruin what was going to be one of his favorite memories.

“Aaron.” She says, chuckling and running a hand down his back. “It’s only the rain.”

But she also notices the way his body has gone rigid, jaw set in a tight line as he continues to pack the food back into the basket. He flinches when a particularly fat raindrop hits the back of his neck and she frowns at his reaction.

But she doesn’t press, instead helping him pack away all of their food and letting him coral her under a nearby tree just as the rain pelts the ground in heavy, loud waves. The rain was torrential, their visibility limited to the first twenty feet in front of them and Aaron already knows that they won’t make it back to the car without getting soaked, if they could find it in the downpour.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He mutters, fists curled tightly and Emily pushes the wet curls across his forehead and brushes off his apology.

“It’s not like you can control the weather.”

“I should’ve checked--” He protests.

“It’s okay, I actually like the rain.” Her head cocks, appraising him with a careful eye and Aaron knows that he doesn’t have to tell her that he isn’t a big fan of the rain. She stares at him for a moment longer and as he is about to suggest they sprint back to the car, her hand slips into his and she tugs him out from under the shade of the tree and right into the downpour.

“Emily, what are you doing ?” He asks, his voice loud to try and compete with the rain that was battering the ground beneath them. Emily doesn’t respond, instead keeping a firm grip on his hand as the drops of water soaked her skin, causing the white fabric around her to cling to her skin.

“Dance with me.” She says, a gentle tug on his hand pulling him closer.

“There’s no music.” He says and she just laughs, his pedantics having the opposite effect on her as she steps closer to him, lifting the hand in hers as his arm loops instinctively around her waist. He’s about to protest again, because they really should be getting back to the car because the food is in a wooden basket under a tree, but she tips her lips on his and effectively stops his protests before they begin.

Her temple brushes against his cheek, and the taut pull of his muscles releasing slightly. She curls into him, her hand resting on the small of his back as his palm flattens across her shoulders, his thumb edging the outline of its blade. A shiver runs up her spine at the contact, the warmth of his fingers a sharp contrast to the rain that slid on their skin. She starts leading him in a gentle sway, their movements oddly on beat with the beating of the rain.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never danced in the rain, Hotchner.” He shrugs, a playful smile gracing his lips.

“I’m not in the habit of catching a cold or freezing in wet clothes.” Emily laughs, the soft lilt of it wrapping his heart in a warmth that causes those three words to curl dangerously at the end of his lips.

“The rain isn’t all bad.” She says, glancing up towards the dark sky as she lets the rain pound on her skin. “It brings the flowers. It cleans the air. It helps us savor the sunshine just a little bit more.”

Her fingers twine around a damp strand of his hair at the base of his neck, the scrape of her nails eliciting the release of the tension in his shoulders. He pulls her a little closer, taking the lead her in a soft shuffle

“The rain brings the rainbows.” She says, a soft smile curling at the edge of her lips, as if she was telling him a secret he wasn’t supposed to know about.

He didn’t think he’d ever find himself dancing in the rain. The torrential background of some of his more unpleasant memories is the same background that makes his chest want to split open to let all the light that was building inside of him out. To let the three words that curl dangerously at the edge of his lips to tumble out laced in a million promises and praises he wanted to give to her.

He didn’t think he’d find himself here, her soft figure pressed against his as the rain soaked their skin. He didn’t think he’d get to imprint his affection for her against her lips, tasting the sweet tartness of the cherries that stained her lips. He didn’t think he’d ever get to have her.

The words slip from his lips, his affection for her pouring from him with no warning or forethought. He just needs to tell her because he’s happy, and he doesn’t think he’d ever be this happy in the rain .

“I love you.” He says breathlessly, panic rising in him as she stiffens in his arms. “You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to know.”

But she giggles, bright and brilliantly, and tugs his lips right onto hers and says that she loves him too.

If this was his rainbow, he’d happily let it storm for the rest of his life.

--

The next time it rains, he is the one to tug her into the park across the street. He takes her hand and leads her in a waltz he definitely doesn’t know, the cadence of her laugh sweet and light in the air. He sings Blackbird in her ear, low and whispered, because she’s always brought out a side of him that he thought he could keep buried under steel-reinforced walls.

He’d give every side of him to her, if she asked.

Maybe they’d make enough of these memories, of the rain soaking them to the bone but they would laugh and he’d make her hot chocolate after and he’d peel the heavy fabric of her dress off of her skin as she laughed and tell him to hurry up because Emily Prentiss was anything but patient.

Maybe they’d make enough memories to clean the stained ones that followed him whenever it rained.

Aaron always did hate the rain.

But with her, he hated it a little bit less.

--