#we can only come together on the shared struggle :pensive:
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miralines · 2 months ago
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Hello enjoyers of the albums that aren't ouatis. I respect you dearly and we are siblings in arms in the battle that is no one else caring about our blorbos. tragically we are functionally in entirely different fandoms from each other though
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maelancoli · 3 months ago
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PADDING OUT DIALOGUE SCENES
in another round of very unprompted writing advice i thought i figured i'd share my two cents when it comes to the topic of struggling to fill out conservational scenes. another thing i see a LOT of lately is a general fretting among writers who find that dialogue comes easily to them but the rest is a struggle. for me it's often been the opposite, i had to work at honing the talking part but description? i've always done a little too much tbqh. but funny enough the solution for both is not disconnected.
a lot of it will come down to knowing your character. what are their ticks? what are their filler words? are they bold and expressive when they're speaking? or are they withdrawn and shy? deciding the behavioral quirks of your character will improve your instincts when trying to be more descriptive. do they fidget with their clothes? do they pick up objects and toy with them? do they fold their arms around themselves or have other defensive posture? where do their eyes go when they speak? do they look around a lot? do they have an intense, unwavering gaze? do they zone out to look at other objects? what are they looking at when they do look away to think or listen? (this is also where having a faceclaim to build characteristics and mannerisms around can be helpful, not just in rp settings but any kind of fiction.)
"i guess...i don't really know how i'm supposed to feel about it," he admitted.
okay so we already have information here to expound on. the character is uncertain and conflicted. how would that effect their demeanor outwardly?
"i guess..." he trailed off with a sigh. he shook his head and his gaze grew unfocused, wandering away from his companion to stare blankly at a clock on the mantelpiece. his index finger tapped lightly at his knee. "i don't know how i'm supposed to feel about it, ya' know?" amir admitted with a shrug. he finally looked at the other man again, but there was a vulnerability which brought a sheepish shadow to his tumultuous gaze.
we've shown he is pensive with a wandering eye and that he's a little uncomfortable with his nervous tick of tapping. the next step is to consider the inner workings of their PoV. what does the scene itself call for them to be doing and thinking between lines? what does the emotion and tension of the scene—or even the comfort and familiarity of it—reflect inside them?
"you don't have to know right now," malik pointed out. he lifted his hands from where they had rested on the surface of the table to turn his palms outward, leaning in closer. "it's okay not to know." they held one another's gaze for a silent moment. amir's lips pressed together and he swallowed down the lump which had formed in his throat. he was not an emotional man. he had always prided himself on his restraint. but it was all beginning to be too much and the empathy in his friend's eyes was only another weight upon his already bowed shoulders. "...maybe you're right," he mumbled thoughtfully.
here we have shown his friend's gesture, adding more presence to the environment around them. and then we have given a little space for the character to feel. we have given a little information about who he is, or at least how he thinks about himself. by bringing his eyes back to his companion we have shown he is opening up, he is actually leaning into the intimacy of comfort and listening. but the mumble shows he is still not confident in admitting the need for help. it shows he has not even accepted fully the grace he's being given.
it isn't just what a character is saying, it's how they're saying it. it's how they're carrying themselves. it's how they're receiving the other characters' words. and showing how they're carrying themselves along with their inner feelings will also help show what is driving their dialogue. it will create a contrast if they're not being a reliable narrator, if they're contradicting or if they're withholding etc.
taking time and being patient with yourself to expound upon these things and to develop your character will make them more real. the more you practice and get to know them, the more instinctive and natural it will become!
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eldritch-spouse · 2 years ago
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HI MOMMY- i mean pinnie, uh, hello, so like do you remember this little thingadooo https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/696860216754569216/i-absolutely-adored-that-part-in-the-morell-nebul?source=share well ok so i was thinking bc i'm a hoe, uh, like c-can we get this? in writing?? pretty pls with like, 20 cherries on top of a mound of whipped cream??? only if you're up to it tho cause i know ur busy and stuff but im a little whore for pumpkin cream pie it's my absolute favourite dish ughghghghgnjfgnjkedjnf
[I'm not good with follow-ups/alt scenarios, so this'll end up being less interesting. I don't think I can do the whole team at once rn. You can call me that.]
Fem reader. Based on this ask.
TW: Sadism; "Mystery" partner/Sharing; Body horror.
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You should have thought twice about the time at which you started this. Really, your original plan was to somehow catch all of them on break, but you weren't early enough for that.
By the time the elevator doors opened and you went in, guiding Patches' naked, headless body by the hand, only two of them were there. The jester, and the mimic. You don't know either of the two very well... The orange and purple doll-thing is something you've been told to stay far away from, and the other is not that talkative, stalking around the garden area more often than not. They work together however, you've seen it before.
Well, you figure they'll do just fine.
With a slap to the green monster's ass, you send him tumbling forward and wave at the two freaks, who were previously merely having a conversation, before stuffing yourself into the elevator and racing to Patches' lab, where you left his head. He can't see who you've chosen after all! It's part of the game.
Though you do feel a bit guilty about leaving him with an unabashed sadist and a deliberately feral monster. Eh, he can take it, he's dead after all!
" Are you ready, my little pumpkin pie? " You coo, scooping his gourd head and nuzzling it.
" W- Who's grabbing me? " The dullahan mutters.
Something mean shines in your eyes when you set him down to start undressing. " Guess. "
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" ... Did she seriously just do that? " Vinnel starts, already biting back some laughter while the pair observes Patches tremble, hands covering his junk.
Sybastian offers a shrug, pointing at his head as if to imply you have a few screws loose.
" What do you reckon she gets from this, hm? " The jester floats around his coworker pensively.
" ... Punishment? " Syb guesses.
" You think, dingus?! I wouldn't be surprised if he was hard right now! In fact- " Vinnel bats Patches' hands away from his privates, the dullahan jumping a bit. As predicted, the monster had already chubbed a good bit. " See? What a teeerrible punishment, he totally isn't into it. "
Sybastian rolls his eyes at the attitude.
" Tch, perverts. "
The performer swipes his tail into the undead's ankles, sending him tumbling to he floor, hard. Both of them watch Patches struggle like a worm, trying to get up, though Vinnel quickly kicks him back onto his stomach.
" Alrighty then! A toy's a toy- I call dibs on his neck holes! "
The mimic isn't even surprised, prowling behind the green monster to take a look at the goods. Vinnel does exactly as he said, grabbing the dullahan's neck none to gently and jerking it closer as he kneels on the carpeted floor. Clothed fingers circle the rim of the undead's bare neck teasingly, all it takes are a couple of seconds of flirting with his trachea for Patches to start heaving and squirming. He must be trying to cough, but not a single sound is coming out, how odd.
The shifting does annoy Sybastian, who roughly grabs the dullahan's legs and spreads them, eyeing the bobbing length between them. Vinnel forces one of the undead's hands towards his concealed erection, only having to move it back and forth for a couple seconds until Patches gets the memo and takes over, trying to decipher the deformed slime's hidden cock. The jester leans into the motions and hums, watching what his coworker's up to.
The mimic's huge tongue claps out of that large chest, flattening against the scientist's belly and stealing one long, gross lick from belly button, to cock, balls and ass. A thorough slobbering if ever there was one, even the undead shudders.
" Grooooss! Hoo hoo, bite him! " Vinnel titters, carefully adjusting his mask so that a goopy mouth can be barely exposed, already dripping a runny black liquid the moment his own crooked tongue slides out.
The thing, black like molten tar, hovers in the air for a fraction of a second before Vinnel roughly jams it in Patches' esophagus. It's disgusting, terrifying, the way he feeds more and more of himself into the other's body, flirting with areas that make the poor undead jerk and try to escape, contracting around the jester's sloppy tongue hard enough to make him moan in glee. It would be better if Vinnel could hear the dullahan gag or try to scream, but he's not complaining. Vinnel chuckles wetly as he bobs his head back and forth, adding heft to his movement inside the other. Globs of his slime separate and fall to the floor, others slide down the length of his tongue and accidentally enter the undead's trachea, likely causing horrendous discomfort. Not that it matters to either of them, it just means he'll squeeze tighter.
This assault causes Patches to flinch back onto the mimic's insistent tongue-bath, and, incidentally, his pearly teeth. Sybastian doesn't care if the dullahan cuts himself, savoring the monster's odd flesh as much as he does his girth. It's when Sybastian moves on to the puckered prize above that his front teeth drag across the dullahan's throbbing member, and Patches trembles like a leaf in the wind, probably expecting his dick to get promptly bitten off at any moment. It's curious though, Sybastian swears he's leaking even more precum now. Although the mimic is hard against his cloth, he doesn't touch his hardness for the time being, more focused on forcing as much of his fat clapper as he can inside the undead's ass.
Meanwhile, Vinnel gurgles in satisfaction, hips bucking faster into his headless coworker's faulty rubbing and compressing the dullahan's neck to create and even tighter vacuum around his tongue.
He wonders how the loser is doing, wherever the fuck his head is right now...
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" Hhr- Ngh-!! "
" Those aren't words, try again... "
Patches enters another violent fit of coughing and gagging. Some form of conjured drool running down his chin, tears welling up in his sockets.
You suspect someone's using his throat pretty hard. Hm, they must be really pent up, you hope Patches pleases them well. Your fevered motions on yourself stop. " I'm bored here, tell me what's happening. "
" Hrk- Inside me! " He wheezes for breath, before it's stolen from him again. " Ch- Choking! " His eyelights roll slightly.
" Where? Someone fucking your throat? "
" B-Both. "
" Both holes? "
Patches tries to nod, forgetting his body isn't there, ending up making a vaguely affirmative noise that morphs into a screaming-moan. " Ghff- Big-! "
Neither of them were small, you imagine he must be getting quite the workout regardless of which one's claimed his ass.
You giggle, pleased by the drunken look on his features, lowering yourself back over his face so you can continue to grind on the dullahan. " Keep me updated, baby! " The more Patches cries and groans, the more you coo at him, rewarding him whenever he can gather enough wit to lick at you.
" See? You're such a good fucktoy, such a sweet guy, helping all your coworkers de-stress- This should be your only job, right? " He gags, whimpering what you think might have been a plea for god. " You ever talked to Admin about that? "
This goes on for a while, you start getting into the motions, fucking his face almost viciously, each little pathetic vocalization only making you burn with need. As soon as you start feeling the tingles of an approaching peak, gasping in pleasure, Patches makes a garbled noise beneath you, followed by a desperate inhale.
" GAH- A- Another one! Phf- Fuck! "
Oh. Oh, this you want to hear.
Peeling off his green pumpkin head for a second, not without admiring the strands of slick clinging to him, you stroke his cheeks. " Yes? Tell me everything, firefly. "
Patches takes a moment to steady his breathing, apparently having his throat finally released. " There's- " He pants. " Three of them. "
" Oooh, who's the new guy? "
" C- Can't tell. Mmfff- Oh ffuck meee... " He yowls, like the true bitch in heat you're so proud of.
" I'm sure they will, it's what you're for anyway. " You're pretty sure he keened at that. With a cackle, you part your folds over him and revel in his wanton staring before you lean back and resume using his angular face.
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" No no! I didn't come here to join your disgusting little fornication fest, unhand me! "
Belo's squawking is swiftly ignored by both the jester and the mimic, who quickly and forcefully disrobe the angel. If he really didn't want this, he'd already have them writhing on the floor, neither of them care that he likes to play hard to get.
" Oh shut the fuck up, you stupid whore- " Vinnel spits, fingering the furred monster's slit as soon as Syb's got that black suit down his legs, grabbing greedy handfuls of his pale ass. " You heard us, didn't you? You want to have a bit of fun too, hm? Doesn't he, Syb? "
Belo blinks and trembles, length steadily slipping out when Vinnel pulls his digits back, wiping the wetness on the angel's own fur. The mimic makes an odd chortle. " Yes. "
Patches is writhing on the floor, trying to recover from the thorough tonguing he just received on both ends. Getting up proves itself easier said than done. And though he has no idea what's happening, the jester decides to fill him in. Sparing Sybastian a mischievous grin, the two monsters nod to each other.
Vinnel zooms off to grab Patches like a ragdoll, lifting him and walking towards the mimic, who holds Belo from behind, licking at his neck while he forces the angel to walk forward as well.
Once angel and dullahan meet, Belo's pink cock pressing against the dullahan's rump, both get what's about to happen, the undead jumping in place. " Buh- But just what do you think you're doing?! " Belo's melodious voice cracks.
" Ugh, are you that fucking dumb? " The jester and the mimic switch places, Vinnel using a spare cloth in his vest's pocket to tie Patches' hands behind the angel. " You'd be surprised how tight he is, just easy enough for a loser like you though. "
Sybastian nods, grabbing the undead's legs and lining him up perfectly with Belo's dick. Vinnel hums a ditty playfully, stroking down the guard's pretty wings before cruelly plucking one. Belo squeals and lurches forward, giving Sybastian the perfect moment to impale Patches on the other's erection.
Both shake and sway in shock, Belo making choked moans, visibly throbbing as he's hilted by the mimic's doing. Patches' back knocks against the angel's chest, and everyone knows he's crying out like the shameless slut he always is.
Sybastian doesn't really care what the performer's up to when he moves away, merely tearing his loin cloth off to stroke both his and the dullahan's girths, each rock forcing Belo to move inside the dullahan, creating a lovely feedback of friction. " Mmmrr- Move! " Syb growls when Belo refuses to do anything. Even Patches squirms and bucks as if unsatisfied.
" Nn- D- Don't you dare make d-demands of- AH! "
Out of nowhere, Vinnel throws himself at the angel's back, forcing everyone forward against Syb, who purrs happily. " Whooopsie daisy! Hope I didn't miss anything good. "
" B- Bastard! " Belo grits out, knees weak.
Even though the guard refuses to thrust, the jester behind him does most of the work, pistoning through the suit in a steady rhythm that keeps everyone stimulated. Himself enjoying humping at Belo's fluffy body, and Patches getting the best of both worlds as he's stuffed and frotted against. The mimic's tongue flops out while he grunts his satisfaction.
The performer begins giggling manically when he brandishes whatever he was looking for a while back, this very sharp-looking throwing knife. Everyone there sort of tenses a little, as trusting Vinnel with sharp objects is about the same as giving a chainsaw to a ten year old. Both Belo and Syb calm down when the jester poises the blade on Patches' chest, noting the instant rise in his heaving chest.
Against the undead's expectations, Vinnel quickly slashes at his thighs. Fast but deep and merciless, like his skin is mere butter. It's one of those days where the undead doesn't have much blood to offer, merely dark green droplets streaming out, disappointing the jester. At random intervals, he's cut mercilessly on both legs, often in tandem with the others' thrusting. Inflicting harm on the squirming monster apparently has Vinnel huffing, insistently grinding against Belo.
It culminates in the jester releasing a snarled expletive, plunging the knife straight through the dullahan's body, right beneath the ribs. The force was jarring enough that even Belo trembles, as if the weapon would somehow go through Patches and stab him as well. Nonetheless, it does the trick, making Vinnel cling to Belo while he cums in his own suit, panting.
Patches has been teased this entire time, not allowed to reach orgasm by Sybastian, who would pull him slightly away from Belo before the undead could reach his climax. It must be frustrating, but the mimic is unempathetic, only now squatting to lewdly lick at the area where Belo thrusts in and out of Patches, servicing both monsters while pumping his own length to a speedy finish. Judging by Belo's clipped whines and Patches' inability to hold his weight properly, they'll both join in no time.
Vinnel sits back, clapping and whistling at the show, apparently in a post-nut high.
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" Mmmmake it stop- Ughn- Make it stop, please! "
You roll your eyes. Theatrics. Not once has he used the safeword.
" Make what stop, pretty boy? "
You've long since coated his cute face in your cum, now just lovingly wiping your loser stalker's head while you hear him cry and scream senselessly. They're getting really rough with him, it's a good thing he loves it.
" 'S too much, too- Too much- " He babbles, gasping and heaving, having difficulty breathing again. A while back he yelled his lungs out, could it be that they're stabbing him again or is it just that he's a dramatic little thing?
" I'm sure it is, but you're a big boy, right? You can take it. " You kiss his tears away, smiling.
" Jus wanna come- I just wa- Wanna come so bad- "
Yes, you're surprised he hasn't yet. Then again, his coworkers probably know he's a quickshot by now. Makes sense they wouldn't let him have it so easily.
" Well, I'm sure if you beg them enough- Oh, that's right, they can't hear you, can they? " You click your tongue, feigning genuine surprise. " Guess you'll just have to take what you're given. "
In a couple of moments, Patches makes the cutest face, sockets widening and mouth trembling when he's finally, finally given his sweet mercy. You're not sure how to classify the sound that comes out of his mouth, this high-pitched cry that clips off abruptly, like he really has no air left to finish it, before his eyelights flicker out and he garbles a series of pathetic whore noises, shouting your name amidst a myriad of curses in a different language.
You laugh openly, clutching his head close and showering it in tender kisses while he babbles and drools. " Awww, lookit you!! So cute... " He can barely meet your eyes, apparently only now getting hit with some shame. " See, I told you they'd let you come. "
" Hhng- 'M tired... "
" I bet you are. "
Moments pass as the undead winds down, with you gently holding him.
" H- Hey firefly? " He starts.
" Hm? "
" I can't walk... "
You snort, getting up. " Don't worry, I'll get dressed and then we can fetch your body. "
What's left of it.
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casspurrjoybell-22 · 1 year ago
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Master - Chapter 64 - Part 4
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*Warning Adult Content*
Mind reeling, I think about all the souls I'd come upon throughout my lifetime and cared enough to share more than a night with.
But most of all, I think of Timothy.
I think of how deeply I'd cared for him but how impossible it has been for me to find his love.
I'd tried so hard, wanting nothing more than to love him wholly but I never could.
It was impossible to the point that I'd believed I was incapable of love.
And then I'd met Kalem and loving him had taken no effort at all.
"You have loved no other in all your lifetimes?"
I shake my head.
"Not even other Vampires?"
"It was never right," I admit before I frown.
"But if they're also Elven creatures, as you say, then why not any of my own kind?"
Zhoron frowns, looking pensive.
"I do not know. I will have to further research the matter to see if Vampires are capable of love outside your species."
I wanted to say we were, after all, many turned humans to join them in an eternal life forever but maybe, this 'love bond' only took after they turned.
I rub at my head, feeling draining and confused in a way I never had before.
"There is also the matter of the abandoned Pisen, Malcolm," Zhoron continues, sorrow twisting his features for a fleeting second before it's gone.
"Abandoned Pisen?"
I blink fast.
"That's what Arias called him, Pisen. Is was a term of affection?"
Zhoron's frown deepens considerably as he shakes his head
"Pisens are a special, precious type of Elven creature. They are revered for the purity of their hearts and are the most heavily sought for a lifetime match. Your friend is undoubtedly a Pisen and a claimed one at that, which is why he suffers as he does. His Piro has left him, if he weren't immortal, he would have wasted away by now."
"Piro?"
"His caretaker, his master," Zhoron replies simply.
"The one to ensure that his every desire is met. It is the only way to earn a Pisen's affections. They are as particular as any other Elven creature. Bonds with them do not take unless it is perfect in every way and when they do, their partner becomes their Piro."
"So without his 'Piro', without Arias...."
I question, voice hoarse now.
"He will suffer a thousand agonies, endless heartbreak, until they are together again, as will Ariasthlyn," Zhoron answers, that earlier sorrow returning stronger now and bleaching his eyes with undeniable pain.
"It is a cruel fate, the cruellest fate."
I swallow hard, struggling to cope after hearing the one thing I would've died to avoid.
I kept telling myself to believe in Kalem's white lies, to be there and that would be enough, that Wenquie was wrong and he'd make it through it.
But if all Zhoron said was true, then he wouldn't.
Malcolm would never make it through this... Arias has condemned him to a lifetime of misery.
"The fact that Malcolm is a claimed Pisen is the strongest evidence I can present," Zhoron says conclusively.
"Your bond with Zani comes next and finally, Ariasthlyn's charge. I believe it was centred around you because you are, in part, Elven. You all are."
At the start of this conversation, I'd thought Zhoron and his theory to be foolish, to be some nonsense he'd concocted but now... I felt like I'd just been put upright for the first time in all my time on this planet.
I thought back on all the destruction we'd caused when we were first made, unstoppable against even the strongest species of Earth because we weren't like them.
We were different in ways that went beyond our stagnant hearts and craving for blood.
We were different because... weren't of this realm.
"I still must prove it," Zhoron says into the quiet.
"A theory is nothing more than unproved observations and this one is no different."
"How will you?" I ask, forcing my eyes back up to his.
"How will you prove it?"
"I will intercept the witches and their covens and over time, I will uncover all there is to know about the root of their strongest bloodlines," Zhoron replies in a tone that said that should've been obvious.
"It is why I have taken the form of a dark warlock."
I nod, understanding coming as the jagged pieces finally start to align themselves, creating a picture that terrified me more than I would've liked to admit.
A dry laugh comes from my breath as I shake my head.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this."
"Nothing," Zhoron answers easily.
"This has no significant impact on your life until it is proven. You should do nothing but keep my brother happy."
I feel my lips twitch a little.
"That goes without saying but..."
Malcolm's tearful face flashes before my eyes.
"Malcolm...."
Zhoron quiets, no answer at the ready for the man who was promised an eternity of agony.
"You should let him sleep as only your kind can," Zhoron answers after a moment.
"He deserves to rest."
I feel my throat tighten, pain making it hard to swallow or do anything at all.
If Malcolm were to sleep now, it would be entirely up to him when he woke,and as he was now, I didn't see him ever waking again.
To live without my closest friend...
"He should not suffer," Zhoron continues as if he were reading my thoughts.
"And neither should any of you. I've seen through Zani what you have all endured to claim the safety you now have. You all should be allowed the happiness you fought for."
I laugh drily.
"None of us would even have the chance if it wasn't for him. Malcolm was the one who started all this. He put me on the right path in life, kept me company, led me to Kalem and had me fight for this world we have now. He should be a part of it. He shouldn't..." I pause, emotion making my eyes wet and chest tight.
"This wasn't the plan."
Malcolm was there, always there.
In the earliest days to the very last, he was meant to be at my side, always.
When he'd convinced me to take control, to stop hiding and do more, to plan for a world once we did... he was there.
"Things never go to plan. No God is kind enough to allow for a happy end to things," Zhoron whispers while he looks out upon the glass swaying in the evening winds, his features relax into something almost soft.
"There is always a price to pay for even the smallest scrap of joy."
I look at him, knowing the words rang truest for the man who'd sacrificed everything just so that Kalem could have more.
"This is the price," he says, looking back at me, all softness gone.
"You must pay it."
I shake my head, denying his stark outline of the world and my choices even when I knew it was the truth.
Nothing in this world was given and even when you worked for it, there were still sacrifices to be made but Malcolm...
Before, I could ration that keeping Malcolm awake was for his own good but if he would never feel anything but pain again, then the answer was simple.
It was too simple and I hated that I had to be the one to deliver it.
I find myself crying, my face made wet by my tears and I don't try to hide it, not even for Zhoron.
It was not only mourning for the greatest friend I'd ever had but for all the ways I'd failed him.
If I'd protected his heart more, the Elf would've never sunk its claws into him.
If I'd paid him more attention and returned his unwavering love not only when I was forced to, maybe he wouldn't suffer so.
But I had and now I had to let him go, the one constant in my life.
The tears pour from me unabashed and they do not waver, not even when Zhoron takes me back to the castle, delivering me in front of the door where I could hear Malcolm's cries from outside.
In the most horrible way, they matched my own, horror-some and grieving.
I enter by force onto myself, going to his side and settling beside the same lump he'd been for far too long.
He was thin, so horribly thin from the lack of blood that made his skin withered by age that wasn't supposed to show.
I had tried to make him drink but he could never keep anything down and now, I knew why.
When Malcolm's grey eyes meet mine, the tortured agony within them wavers for a moment as if he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing and then, relief crashes within him.
"Thank you," he sobs, already knowing what this was.
"Thank you, Lincoln."
I nod, unable to get words out around the emotions clogging my chest and threatening to drown me entirely.
I take his hands instead, holding on strong as I let the Lyrra deliver all the love I held for him that I never quite managed to put into words.
Malcolm's tears fall faster but then he smiles for the first time in a long time.
It's big and beautiful, a glimpse of the happy man I'd always known.
"I love you too, Lincoln," Malcolm whimpers, smiling so widely that for a moment, I could believe that everything else had been a bad dream.
"Always, to the end."
My sobs break me down entirely but I manage to return his smile.
"To the end."
Except, this was the end.
It was here and there was no more running away from it.
"Thank you," Malcolm repeats in a small whisper, over and over again until I free the Lyrra's hold on him, allowing him peace.
Slowly, his words tapper off, growing into quiet slurs and then nothing at all as his eyes close, freezing him in time with only one small mercy.
When Malcolm stilled entirely, muscles turned to stone... it was with a smile on his face.
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rin-itoshi · 3 years ago
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kisses . genshin impact (pt. 2)
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> summary: places the genshin boys kiss you other than the lips (ft. bennett, chongyun, razor, xiao, xingqiu, zhongli)
> content: fluff , gn!reader , ooc(?idk)
here’s part one!
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# BENNETT
where: your palm!
why: this man does not know how to stfu, so when you have to forcefully shush him, your palm is the best spot for his lips to kiss.
“It’s awfully quiet today,” you murmured as you turned on your heels, hearing the whirlwind of a boy coming your way. He nearly tumbled—so close to crashing at your feet but fortunately caught himself before he could hit the ground. He stood up straight, dusting his clothes with a breathy laugh before yelping out a pained, “Ow!”
“What happened?” You ask as you reach out to cup his face, checking his head and skin for any injuries.
The male chuckled with a closed eyed smile, “I got hit by a rock!” His voice echoed within the city, making you slightly cringe when your ears ached. He was quick to go off on a tangent, babbling about some nonsense that made you even more confused than before.
“Bennett,” you call out to grasp his attention. The moment he turned your way, you slapped a hand over his mouth with an amused smile. “I know you’re excited and want to talk, but we should move away from the Knights of Favonius headquarters before Captain Kaeya kills us.”
He kissed your palm gently, eliciting a ticklish sensation in your hand that made you pull away. Before you could do anything about his sneaky kisses, he grabbed your hand and began dragging you away, talking about some adventure team he was putting together.
# CHONGYUN
where: your shoulders!
why: he likes the smoothness of your shoulder when he lays down behind you and can rest easily without being judged.
The bedroom door creaked open to reveal the blue haired male who stood in the doorway with a pensive look on his face. Upon seeing you lying in your shared bed, he exhaled deeply and you could practically see relief wash over is features. “[y/n],” he breathed out as he shuffled into the room, scurrying over the bed to climb onto the silk sheets and lay himself in the spot behind you.
He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body into his chest as gently as possible. As hesitant as he was, he was way too tired to be reluctant about holding you even thought you clearly felt the same need for touch as him. “’m so tired.”
After a long day of training, he was exhausted and was in desperate need of your touch in order to replenish the energy he had depleted earlier that day. It was only much better now that you were both living together and were able to cuddle as much as needed after work.
“Welcome home, my love.”
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, doing his absolute best to push away the strong emotions that burned inside of his heart. He refused to flare-up in front of you ever again, but with you unknowingly doing things to stir him up, he was always struggling to keep calm.
Peppering kisses along your shoulders, you felt a shiver run down your spine at the cold sensation of his lips on your skin. It was a blissful feeling, warming up your heart with love despite how cold his body truly was. Too beautiful.
# RAZOR
where: your eyelids!
why: this one may sound weird but he just gets curious when he keeps watch and tends to do it without a thought.
Razor stood tall at the peak of the mountain that you both temporarily resided on. His chin was held high, chest puffed out with a sense of responsibility flowing through his veins at the thought of watching over you while you slept to keep you out of harms way. It wasn’t necessarily a demanding duty but for you, it meant a thousand times more than it usually would have.
The boy approached your sleeping body. You were rested on the ground under his jacket that barely shielded you from the cold weather tonight presented to you both. He gently tugged his jacket further up your body, covering your arm that had been slightly exposed.
You were cute like this, sleeping so peacefully with so much trust in the guy who could barely communicate yet you loved him so much. It was amazing.
Subconsciously, he bent down and placed a chaste kiss on your eyelid. You stirred in your sleep, forcing him to jolt away in surprise before settling when you murmured something sleepily, smiled and then relaxed. Your behavior was new to him and yet, it brought so many different feelings into his heart. Unknowing to you, he smiled genuinely and patted your head gently.
“You rest. I keep watch.”
# XIAO
where: your forehead!
why: he just thinks it is less embarrassing than trying to kiss you on the lips openly + less chances of him getting denied the kiss.
His expression was rather dark as you stood in front of one another. It looked like he was thinking deeply about something but you brushed it off, assuming it was just his way of sulking since you two were about to split for the night.
“I packed you some Almond Tofu, so you can eat some on your way back. I also got you a jacket to wear since it might be a little cold in the evening. I know you don’t sleep and stuff, so I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Your rambling about his well-being wasn’t new to him, which is why he didn’t interrupt you. He watched with the same dark expression that seemed scary but if you looked closely, you would see just how soft those eyes had become after spending so much time with a “mere human” like you.
Grasping you by the back of you head, he pulled you forward and leaned in briskly, kissing your forehead softly before pulling away and turning around. You barely had a second to recover as he adjusted his mask on his face and disappeared from your sight, muttering nothing but a simple, “be careful.”
You smiled at the tingling sensation on you skin, knowing he had only escaped to avoid feeling any type of emotion after kissing you so brazenly. As mean as Xiao seemed, he really was a simpleton with you.
# XINGQIU
where: the back of your hand!
why: do i have to explain?
“Xingqiu, where are we going?” You asked with a tired smile on your lips as you allowed yourself to be dragged along this upward slope with no set destination in mind. The boy simply laughed, pulling you faster until you were nearly tripping over your own feet. By the time you had planned to complain once more, he came to an abrupt stop and you almost bumped into his body if it wasn’t for your quick senses. “Where are we?”
“Take a look, my liege. Quite fascinating, is it not?” He said as he took a seat on the branch perched on the top of the hill, big enough for the two of them to sit on. You plopped beside him, admiring the sun that was beginning to set while Xingqiu opened a book to the page he had left off on.
“My life seems fulfilled when I am sat here with a book in my hands and you by my side. Don’t you agree?” HIs words were sincere, surprisingly void of that mischievous tone he usually had these days.
“I’m not particularly fond of books like you, but I am extremely fond of you. So, yes, I do agree.” You said with a cheesy smile, leaning in his direction. The boy abruptly stood up, and you rose an eyebrow in confusion.
Bending his body slightly, he held out his hand to you until you placed yours on top of his. Once you did so, he pressed his lips to the back of your hand and flashed you an easy smile. “With this, I owe my life to you, my liege. A vow much greater than marriage.”
# ZHONGLI
where: your lips!
why: I legit couldn’t think of a non-lips spot so i gave up. mans just likes the way your lips taste like his favorite wine. two good things.
He admired his cup with bright eyes, absolute taken with the way it tasted on his tongue and hadn’t changed in all these years. It was a beautiful emotion that was a mixture of happiness and nostalgia, plus a bit of romance considering he was here with the one he loved.
“What do you think?” Zhongli asked, eyes full of curiosity as he turned in your direction. You hadn’t said anything all night and he assumed you weren’t enjoying the wine he had presented to you so happily.
On contrary, it was way too good to be wasted, so you chose to drink it slowly in order to savor the beautiful taste that somehow reminded you of Zhongli himself. Maybe it was because he talked about this wine too much.
“It tastes good,” you murmur, leaning into his side to gain a bit of warmth from the male who shared the emotion, leaning into your touch.
You glanced up at him, smiling softly when you already saw his eyes on you. “Stop staring so impolitely. Where are your manners?” You asked jokingly, giggling softly when Zhongli looked down and chuckled.
Leaning in, he cupped your cheek and smashed your lips together. He could taste the Osmanthus wine on you and it nearly made him melt into the kiss that he had long suppressed.
When he pulled away, a small smile settled into his lips, satisfaction in his eyes. “Osmanthus wine tastes the same as I remember.”
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a/n: finally, I finished it. im going to bed now uhhdhfjf (idk if i’ll ever do other characters but we’ll see)
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tinyhistory · 4 years ago
Note
Hey! Love your stories so much I just had to ask! Do you have any favorite drarry authors/stories? I sometimes compare the quality of other stories to ROA (oops!) because ROA is just that good. My personal favorites are ROA (of course!), the Foundations Series (saras_girl), the ordeal of being known (louisfake), denouement (the_never_was), Good to Me (And I'd Be So Good to You) (AWickedMemory), and To Hurt and Heal (cassisluna). Have you read these? Have a wonderful day! :)
Thank you, so glad you’ve enjoyed my stories! And thank you for so patiently waiting for a reply. I haven’t been online much in the past couple of weeks. Unfortunately I haven’t read any of your recs, but I’m always happy to add another fic to my to-read list.
I did a rec post a few months ago, but I’ll post an updated version now. The Skyhawke Archives appear to be down, which is crushing news. I’ve had to update a lot of the links.
So here are my favourite Drarry fanfics:
And We Are At Our Apogee (PG-13) by angelgazing
Summary: Draco wanted revenge, but it didn't work out that way.
My notes: Californian beaches, supermarkets, road trips, and a bittersweet ending.
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A Reckless State of Mind (T) by Lomonaaeren
Summary: Draco is a Psyche-Diver, and his newest patient is Auror Potter, who’s been a pathological liar for over a year—and has just tried to violently end his own life.
Notes: The plot alone guarantees inclusion on this list. Probably the most creative fic I’ve ever read, and the twists and turns will keep you guessing.
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Berlin, In the Year of Our Lord (PG) by Are
Summary: Harry is a green-tea addict. Draco stalks him.
Notes: Probably my all-time favourite fic, along with Blue Vase. It’s sparse and minimal and I love that writing style.
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Blue Vase (M) by ivyblossom
Summary: Let’s pretend.
Notes: Draco finds an amnesiac Harry and befriends him, pretending they were once lovers. It’s pensive, short, and bittersweet.
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The Boy Who Only Lived Twice (E) by lettered
Summary: Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.
Notes: Action-heavy fics are damn hard to write, but lettered nails it. The action scenes are breakneck speed, the conversations are threaded with double meaning, and even the silences are tense.
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Draco in Darkness (T) by Plumeria47.
Summary: Following an accident in his seventh year, Draco loses his eyesight.
Notes: This is one of the first fics I ever read (when it was over on FF in 2003) so it’s probably here just for nostalgia points alone. I read it when I was a kid and just thought it was a lovely golden fairytale, the best romance I’d ever read in my (very short, thus far) life. I love reading it again, even years later as an adult when I can see the tarnish on it; the things my childhood eyes didn’t notice. I don’t care. It’s my soft and fuzzy comfort fic.
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The Flesh is Frail (NC-17) by wildestranger
Summary: None
Notes: Draco has injuries from curses and spells, and Harry keeps him company. Draco is angry; Harry is stubborn. They argue their way into a grudging relationship. It’s a short read and well worth your ten minutes.
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Good-bye to Yesterday (NC-17) by furiosity
Summary: Draco felt ready to face even a million years in Azkaban as long as it meant that at the end of it all, he would make Potter pay.
Notes: It’s not a dark fic, but it certainly dips in and out of the shadows. If you like your romance to be sharp as a razor and bitter as black coffee, give it a read.
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Hymn to Color (PG) by Lomonaaeren
Summary: Months after Draco cast a curse that took Harry’s eyesight, Harry is still trying to come to terms with it. Draco still wanted forgiveness, which was probably the problem.
Notes: Probably my very inadequate idea of “fluff”. It’s a quiet, introspective fic. Draco and Harry are well-written.
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Kings among runaways (PG) by enderxenocide.
Summary: Later, the toast will be slightly overcooked, Draco will burn the eggs, and there will be another fist fight in-between the living room and the front door, but they’ll eat breakfast with second-hand plates and Draco’s great-grandmother’s silverware.
Notes: Dreamy descriptions, abstract scenes, and the characters are lovingly delineated. Beautiful writing.
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On Broken Glass (PG-13) by coffeejunkii
Summary: After the final battle, Draco is holding the shards that are left of his and Harry’s life.
Notes: Established relationship. Harry’s forgetful and seems to suffer both short-term and long-term memory loss; Draco stays by his side through six years of post-war amnesia. Very short, just a tiny ficlet. There’s sequels (in bite-size pieces) but I prefer to read the first ficlet and leave it there.
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Paper Dolls (M) by cupiscent
Summary: In the final year of the War, Draco gets a letter, makes a choice and pays the price.
Notes: Short, succinct, and packs a punch. No character deaths, in case the summary has you feeling nervous.
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Portrait (PG-13) by Silent Blast
Summary: None.
Notes: Dorian Grey, but Drarry. Of course it’s going to be good.
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Shattered (NC-17) by femmequixotic
Summary: One damned accident involving one too-lucky curse, and suddenly you'd think he was five again, with their Harry, be carefuls and their quick Levitating charms ready the instant the potion gives way and his rebelling hands lose hold of whatever's in their grasp.
Notes: Draco’s an artist. Harry’s intrigued by his sculptures and paintings.
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Snatch (PG-13) by didntyoupotter
Summary: Harry is comatose, Hermione and Ron aren’t much help, and Draco isn’t sure about anything anymore.
Notes: The opening scene fools you into thinking this will be a light read with a streak of good humour. Don’t fall for it. By the third act, you’ll be hanging onto every word and feeling a lot of emotions. Also, back in the day, this was one of the Draco/Harry fics. Everyone knew of it. Pay your respects to your fandom history and read this beloved classic.
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The Stages of Acceptance (T) by Lomonaaeren.
Summary: Harry, already happily married to Ginny, receives the news that he's Draco's mate. Law and custom don't give him the option of ignoring the news. The stages of his reaction, one by one.
Notes: This is not a romance, and I love that the author just casually chucks all the Veela tropes in the bin and says “nope”. In Lomonaaeren’s own words, this fic is more practical than romantic. Harry is unfamiliar with the Veela concepts and hates the very idea of being “shackled” to someone; he rejects Draco at once. Draco is miserable and lonely. They do eventually come to understand each other better, but it’s a huge struggle with lots of setbacks. The general air of pessimism and misery does make the small glimpses of compassion and empathy feel so well-earned. I love a fic that rations out its happiness.
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The Stately Homes of Wiltshire (E) by waspabi
Summary: Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.
Notes: This one needs no introduction. The writing is polished, the characterisation perfect, and the dialogue is fun. I love the humour woven throughout it.
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Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain (E) by faithwood.
Summary: It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross.
Notes: Another one that most of us know. It’s a lighthearted and fun read.
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Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow (M) by novembersnow
Summary: In the war-torn years after Hogwarts, one man has no knowledge of his yesterdays.
Notes: Another classic back in the feverish heyday of the Harry Potter fandom, when books were still being released and everyone had worked themselves up into a shipping frenzy. And no wonder this fic was an instant hit. Draco has lost all his memories and Harry’s investigating as an Auror, but the longer you read, the more you start questioning everything. Good twists and turns that lead to a tender ending.
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Turn by Saras_Girl
Summary: One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.
Notes: An inevitable inclusion on any favourites list. I think my favourite thing about it is the characterisation. Everyone is so well-rounded; the characters are brought to life and feel like old friends. All their habits, styles, mannerisms, even the way they walk or talk. While I love everyone in this fic, I have to admit that Blaise is just amazing. Of all the thousands of Blaises imagined by fanfic writers, I love this one the best. “Old bean” indeed.
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Under the Ivy (PG-13) by coffeejunkii
Summary: It is impressive how much you can learn about someone by simply sharing a few rooms. They don’t spend time together, not really, but Harry still knows that Malfoy prefers raspberry jam over strawberry, that he hums along to the Wireless when he thinks no one is around, and that his leg is bothering him more than usual when the temperatures drop below freezing.
Notes: Another old, old favourite of mine. It’s like snuggling into a soft blanket. Remus owns a cottage and Harry moves in after the war. Later, Remus lets a room to Draco, who is an outcast after the war and has limited housing options. Harry isn’t happy at first with the new lodger, but he eventually warms up to Draco. A slow and gentle romance.
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Vale Sanare (M) by rurounihime
Summary: Draco’s world gains a new component, just when he thought he’d sorted everything out.
Notes: London nightclubs, one-night-stands, loud music and lonely nights. Draco has seizures due to a curse from the war, and the seizures have led to a fear of intimacy. Short and sweet.
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The Way Down (T) by lettered
Summary: Malfoy’s all, “Come out of there,” the way you say to a cat who is badly behaved. And Harry’s all like, “No, what, I’m a hermit! And I have a chest-monster! And I am crazy magically powerful!” and Malfoy’s all, “We all have problems, bub.” (thoughtfully) “You are crazy though. I’ll give you that.”
Notes: I just adore this fic. The fic starts well-grounded, giving you a solid backstory and matter-of-fact context, but as it goes on, it slowly unravels into dreamy scenes, lush settings, and repeated motifs. It’s just such a beautiful story.
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When Love beckons to you, follow him (PG-13) by megyal
Summary: Draco wakes up, lost, somewhere in a forest. He has no idea where he is or how he got there. As he is blundering around trying to find his way home, he hears Harry's voice in his head, telling him what to do.
Notes: I generally like my fics to be bittersweet or with a bit of heartache — but this fic is just a little cloud of softness. If you need something light and lovely without being syrupy-sweet, this is a good choice!
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The World of the Living (M) by fourth_rose
Summary: A traumatised war hero and a convicted criminal under the roof of an eccentric journalist make for a rather odd ensemble, but Luna has never had a problem with oddities as long as they make sense.
Notes: The story is told from Luna’s perspective, which gives everything a lovely dreamy quality. She takes in a couple of strays after the war — first Harry, who is avoiding his other friends and has quit his Auror job — and then she offers a room to Draco right after his trial. Draco is rude, angry, and ungrateful; Harry is churlish, withdrawn, and moody. Luna doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and over the course of the next few months, her house guests slowly warm up to each other.
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Voices From the Fog (E) by noeon
Summary: After years of running away, Harry crosses paths with an all-too familiar face and follows him to Amsterdam.
Notes: Harry drifts across Europe, trying to forget the war. He ends up in a woodworking shop in Amsterdam, alongside a moody Draco. Atmospheric settings and solid characterisation.
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a-lil-perspective · 3 years ago
Note
Soft Sniper Sunday Ask! Could we get more of Crosshair and his nieces? Specifically, Crosshair, nieces, and S/O?? Your post about them staying the night at his house has me begging for more!
Thank you yes I loved writing that scene and I will ALWAYS write about Crosshair, Auntie, & Co.
Headcanon form because my brain is not working properly rn.
As time goes on, sleepovers at Ba’vodu Crosshair’s become a regular occurrence. At least once a week.
Crosshair and the wifey’s once impeccable living space has turned into a toy wonderland, as the girls feel the need to pack every single toy they own when they come over.
It’s inevitable they end up leaving one behind after heading back home—this being discovered by Crosshair who gets up in the middle of the night to use the ‘fresher and can be heard cursing as he trips over a dolly.
Hunter’s eldest dreams of one day coming over and being greeted by Ba’vodu Cross’s kids. :)
She keeps that to herself though.
So the routine is that Hunter/Cyare or both will drop the girls off, usually after dinner although sometimes if it’s been a particularly busy day they’ve just snacked up until that point—Cyare always makes sure they have something on their bellies beforehand. She thinks it’s rude to drop off her clan starving and up to Crosshair and his wife to feed. She doesn’t expect them to cook for her kids—she’s just grateful to them for taking the bunch off her and Hunter’s hands for a bit.
So Ba’vodu Cross and Auntie don’t make dinner with the girls however they do bake treats/dessert of some kind.
With enough to take home to Papa and Honey, of course. :)
So like, they opt to make these little people-shaped cutout cookies and when Crosshair takes them out of the oven he says, “The children are cooked now.”
Auntie: *swats him with a dishrag* “Cross! You can’t say things like that in front of the girls!”
The girls: *watching Holo in the living room*
Crosshair: *chuckles darkly*
Very rarely do the kiddos watch the ‘Holo when they’re over—Crosshair only just recently started letting them and even then it’s very carefully moderated and it’s usually just a movie they can all watch together.
Sometimes it takes a bit for the girls to decide on which one, sometimes they argue and Crosshair has to learn to navigate that, but once they’re settled they proceed to construct a blanket fort Ba’vodu Wrecker would be proud of. :’)
They’re all snuggled up under the covers—Crosshair, three Hunter Juniors and counting, and the wife. The girls have conked out and it’s not even halfway through the movie. In the quiet there’s the emergence of a tender moment where Crosshair and the wifey catch each other’s eye over the snoozing herd between them and they share the softest smile with each other and it’s pure bliss.
Ba’vodu Crosshair gets super into the movie like, long after everyone’s fallen asleep he’s still up watching it.
But also becuz the three-year-old has like super hearing and she will literally wake up from the depths of sleep to tell him to turn it back on if he shuts it off too early.
So the wife is watching him, watching Space Tangled very intently.
Auntie: “Enjoying the movie?”
Crosshair, pensive: “Flynn Rider is a sellout.”
Crosshair: “Also their use of weaponry is not at all accurate I could’ve shot him fifteen times by now and in fifteen different ways—”
Auntie: “Reel it in.”
Also he (regretfully) knows all the song numbers, the girls make him “sing” along and the wife is having the best time watching him handle all these pestering ad’ike. :)
When movies aren’t a factor, the girls ask Ba’vodu Crosshair to tell them stories. :)
About anything: the topics are very diverse but they ask him a lot of questions about shooting; when can they try, what is it like, what do you mean by it’s a “feeling”, what is tra-ject-ory…
Crosshair explains it all—he struggles a bit to present it in a way they understand; the three-year-old for obvious reasons has completely forfeit her already short attention span in favor of crawling into his lap and making happy noises to herself as he talks. But Hunter’s eldest, oh, she’s listening to every word, she’s got that fierce look in her eyes, like Hunter, and Crosshair reminds himself to talk to Hunt next time about letting him teach her how to shoot.
Ba’vodu Cross is actually very passionate about passing on his skill to his family.
• • •
Bonus headcanons for pregnant Auntie. :)
When Hunter’s girls learn they’re going to have a cousin, they are so excited.
No really, they’re raising the roof and killing the plants (and Crosshair’s hearing) with their squeals and it takes Crosshair and Auntie some time to settle them back down. XD
It’s so sweet: Hunter’s eldest actually starts crying because remember I said she’s been dreaming about this… :’)
The girls are even more ecstatic when Auntie starts showing. :)
Funnily enough, the baby of the bunch is the one most intrigued by Auntie’s tummy. :)
Mostly because it reminds her of her Mommy’s. :)
She toddles over and just bear hugs Auntie’s stomach and Crosshair just…
Well he gets a little misty eyed. :’)
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keigoslovebird · 4 years ago
Text
Next Chapter
Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader
Warnings: Manga spoilers!! Pregnancy and references to pregnancy, you have a child (obvi), aged up characters, breeding kink, negative self image (on Toshi’s part), references to alcohol, self deprecating language, very fluffy Daddy Toshi shenanigans
Genre: Fluff, smut
Word count: 8.3k
Author’s note: I had so much fun writing soft husband Toshi, if it isn’t obvious by the word count. I just want to rub his soft belly and tell him how much I love him. Hopefully you enjoy this as much as I did writing it!
Note: Flashbacks indicated by italics
Wakatoshi Ushijima has always been a man of few emotions and even fewer words, with just one thing on his mind—volleyball. 
Since he was a young child, he has always slept, eaten, breathed volleyball. Nothing came close to his fiery, burning passion for the sport, not that he had the time to care about anything else.
That all changed when he retired from professional volleyball at the ripe young age of thirty-one, the years of wear and tear on his body finally catching up to him. He knew it was time when the pain in his joints was so severe he could no longer keep up with his much younger teammates. It was a difficult, emotional decision, but he ultimately viewed it as passing the torch to the next generation of volleyball players.
The announcement of Wakatoshi’s retirement was met with great sadness from the sports community at the loss of such a talented, renowned player, but he left behind an exceptional legacy marked by achievements and historic wins. 
His final game with the Schweiden Adlers concluded in a symbolic victory, this chapter of his life drawing to a close the same way it began—with Wakatoshi as an indisputable champion. Every player, coach, and audience member rose from their seats, clapping and screaming words of encouragement. Each of his teammates got on their knees, lowering themselves to press their foreheads into the floor of the stadium, bowing in an ultimate show of respect. The sight of his peers, his coaches, the entire auditorium giving him such an impassioned send off made a heavy lump form in his throat that refused to go away, no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down. Tears pricked at his eyes but he didn’t want to cry, not in front of all of these people.
The dam broke when you sprinted across the court, wrapping yourself around him in a bone crushing hug.
“You did so well Toshi. I am so proud of you,” you praised through choked sobs, pressing your tear-stained face into his neck. Your watery eyes and trembling smile shattered whatever willpower he had, his own tears streaming down his face like a waterfall. All those late night practices away from you, the excruciating injuries, the heartbreaking losses, all led up to this moment. This was the last time the Super Ace would step foot on a volleyball court as a professional player, but all good things must come to an end. 
The screaming and clapping was so loud you could barely hear his quiet, trembling whisper of, “I love you.”
----
It took him awhile to adjust to what one would call a “normal” life, one that didn’t include daily flights from country to country or backbreaking practices that lasted from sunup to sundown. Sure he still went to the gym and practiced with the volleyball net strung up in your backyard, but it was nothing like his grueling schedule when he was a pro athlete. To make matters worse, the blinders he wore his entire life that blocked out anything but volleyball prevented him from finding any real hobbies of his own. This meant for the first few months, your husband followed you around the house like a lost puppy, just wanting to be a part of whatever you were doing.
You would be cooking dinner, some soup simmering on the stove, when Wakatoshi’s massive form would come up from behind you to shyly peek over your shoulder. 
“What’re you doing?” he wondered, resting his head in the crook of your neck.
You could feel a smile tugging at your lips at how cute he was being, getting used to domestic life, something you never really got to experience until now. Before, you would often be sleeping when he came home at night, and still be asleep when he left in the morning. “I’m just cooking, do you want to help me?” you asked, holding a knife out to him to cut some vegetables. He nodded silently as he took the knife from you. 
His chopping skills left much to be desired, but what could you really expect from a man who only ever held a volleyball?
Another time you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through Twitter on your phone. You could feel your husband staring so intensely you were afraid he’d pop a blood vessel in his head.
Looking up at him, you cleared your throat and asked, “Did you need something, Toshi?” You set your phone down and gave him a questioning look, hoping to solve whatever was troubling him.
He was pensive for a moment, his eyebrows scrunching as he figured out what he was trying to say. “No, I just… There’s nothing to do,” he answered finally.
You nearly burst out laughing at his concern for simply being bored, but you held it in. “Of course there’s something to do!” you exclaimed, “You can go on a walk, read a book, watch TV, or even just take a nap.”
His head tilted quizzically, unsure of what you were suggesting. “A… nap? Why would I sleep? It’s the middle of the afternoon,” he questioned, sounding like you had proposed he eat sand and not to take a quick snooze.
You chuckled and walked over to the chair he was sitting in, plopping yourself down into his lap. “Sometimes people sleep in the middle of the day because they’re tired, or just because they want to,” you clarified, “We can go take a nap right now if you would like.” 
Suddenly Wakatoshi stood up, causing you to squeak in surprise, his arms securely carrying you bridal style.
“W-what’re you doing!?” you squealed, panicked by your sudden lack of solid ground, slightly struggling in arms. 
He tilted his head again, reminiscent of a pet confused by its master’s orders. “We’re going to take a nap together, yes? I’m taking you to our room,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of your shared bedroom. 
You stopped squirming once you took in his words, your belly fluttering with affection. Sighing happily, you snuggled your face against his chest, giving him a simple “mhm” in response.
That day Wakatoshi took his first nap since he was six years old and to this day, he still swears he’s never had a more restful, peaceful sleep in his life.
Those instances happened less and less often as he figured out ways to occupy his time that didn’t involve volleyball. 
You adopted a dog, a commitment you didn’t want to make in the past due to both of your busy schedules, but your lives became a lot less hectic after Wakatoshi’s retirement. Your husband made it a daily ritual to take your puppy Leo out on a morning run, both of them returning tired and sweaty before promptly passing out for an hour. He took up a job at the local university to help coach their men’s volleyball team, deciding to try it out when the requests to lend his wisdom and skills kept coming in. Although, his favorite pastime now consists of him standing outside on the patio, beer in hand as he sweats over the flames of his fancy silver grill.
But perhaps the most significant change in your lives came in the form of your son, Hidetoshi. 
Much like your refusal to commit to taking care of a dog, neither of you wanted to have kids while your lifestyle was so unfit to raise a child. You didn’t mind making those compromises for your husband, having known the path he would take since you started dating in high school. Frankly, you didn’t mind not having children at all, so it surprised you when he was the one to broach the subject. 
“What if we did?” he inquired under the darkness of your bedroom.
You turned over to face him, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek. “What if we did what, my love?” you murmured.
His eyes flitted across your face with an uncharacteristic nervousness. “What if we decided to have a child?” The shock on your face made his stomach churn uncomfortably and he almost regretted saying anything at all, but his fears quickly vanished as your expression melted into a soft smile.
“We’d have to talk about it more but I’d love to have your children, Wakatoshi Ushijima.”
You had a deep, lengthy conversation about your wants, needs, plans for the future, and whether or not a kid would fit into them. Once all of your cards were on the table you decided to start trying to get pregnant, a mission that your husband took very seriously.
Even as a teenager Wakatoshi’s sex drive wasn’t very high, and his frequent absence and exhaustion in his adult life made it somewhat difficult for you to have sex often. You made up for it where you could, having phone sex and masturbating together over FaceTime, once you convinced him to do it. When he was bewildered as to why you would suggest such a salacious act, you explained you were a grown woman with needs and if he wasn’t there to take care of them, he’d have to help you in other ways. Once he realized how serious you were, he agreed. 
But your husband as a young adult and your husband post-retirement are almost two  completely different people in regards to sex. He has seemingly unlimited reserves of stamina, built up over years of rigorous, intense training, and he no longer had an outlet to expend them. So, his new outlet to test his endurance became you and your body.
He began fucking you every chance he got with the vigor and gusto of a hormonal teenager, seeking to make up for lost time. He asked for sex at all hours of the day, waking you up in the middle of the night with the insistent prodding of his arousal and lazily thrusting between your thighs in the early hours of the morning before you had to leave for work. He fucked you in every room in your house and on every surface—on the dining room table, in the shower, on the living room floor, and even on your back patio when you both got a little too drunk on some cheap rose. 
You welcomed Wakatoshi’s insatiable hunger with open arms, unable to resist your strong, ridiculously handsome husband, but that, coupled with his seemingly limitless stamina, spelled trouble for your muscles and pelvis. In the first year after his departure from professional sports you had to call in sick to work seven times, too tired to function, too bruised to look presentable, and too sore to walk to the bathroom. At first he felt guilty for fucking you out of commission, but the way you begged him so sweetly to pound your needy, gushing cunt deeper, harder, faster and how you whimpered with delight when he bit bruises down your throat, he didn’t feel that bad. A baser, more primal part of Wakatoshi’s brain purred at his marks covering our body and relished in the way you limped. You were just too tempting, too irresistible not to ravage you every chance he got.
After you agreed to start trying for a baby, your partner’s already voracious sexual appetite became downright menacing now that he had a goal to strive for. 
“Gonna breed you, gonna fill you so full with my cum and knock you up,” he grunted as he battered into your sore, dripping hole, your body folded in half in a mating press.
“P-please Toshi! Ah~ please,” you babbled, nonsensical and uncertain what you were even asking for. He had been fucking you for so long everything was muddled into a singular dreamy, intangible haze of pleasure and ecstasy. 
Wakatoshi gave your clit a slap, hard enough to make you cry out. “Please what? Please breed you like a bitch in heat? Please stuff you full with my cum?” He leaned down to wrap his fingers around your throat, squeezing with enough force to make your head swim and forcing you to look into his wild olive eyes. “Well, what is it?” he demanded.
“W-want you to b-ah! Want you to breed mee,” you slurred, too drunk on the delicious feeling of his cock dragging against your pulsing walls to form a more coherent sentence.
His thrusts grew sloppy and uncoordinated with his impending orgasm. “G-gonna give you what you want, you cock hungry slut, I’m—” He came with a choked, shuddering groan, his warm cum flooding your awaiting womb.
You were both basking in the afterglow, exhausted and soaked in sweat and your combined fluids, when you noticed the furious blush spreading across your husband’s cheeks. “I apologize for what I said during sex. I… I don’t know what came over me,” he confessed, giving your shoulder a remorseful squeeze.
Giggling, you leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I really enjoyed it,” you proclaimed, “I love it when you get rough with me.”
Trying to get you pregnant gave your husband a new goal to strive for and he has never been one to do anything with less than his all.
Thanks to your husband’s dedicated efforts, you got pregnant six months after you started trying, to your shared elation and delight. Those two little lines filled you with as much excitement as they made you anxious, but as long as Wakatoshi was by your side, everything would be okay. 
Seeing your little bundle of joy in a 3D ultrasound changed you, changed Wakatoshi forever. Up until then you had only seen him as a colorless little blur on a computer screen, but getting to watch his precious face scrunch and his chubby legs kick reminded you that he was a real living being. The late night sprints to the bathroom, horrible morning sickness, and miserably aching back were all worth it when you were able to hold Hidetoshi for the first time. With his olive eyes, brown hair and chubby cheeks, he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen and to this day he still is. 
Taking after his father from the start, Hidetoshi was a happy baby that rarely fussed or cried, not that you complained. He slept soundly through most nights, so soundly you slept in a chair by his crib for the first month to periodically check he was still breathing, despite your husband’s insistence the baby would be fine. Your mother-in-law had insisted that you and Wakatoshi would be exhausted for the first several months after the birth. Imagine her surprised when you and Wakatoshi looked just as well-rested as usual, better even, since you no longer had to deal with pregnancy. Many people, relatives and strangers alike, were astounded at how charming and polite your son was, even as a newborn. He was happy to just sit and play with his toys as you had lunch, smiling and waving at everyone who passed by.
A man as attractive as your husband with a boy as sweet as your son meant that, much to your irritation, women were tripping over themselves to flirt with him. To make matters worse, Wakatoshi picked up your son alone most days due to your office job preventing you from leaving early enough to go with him. This meant many of the moms at Hidetoshi’s school thought your husband was single and they weren’t shy in their pursuit.
A crowd of women surrounded Wakatoshi as he waited for school to end so your son would come running out with his arms spread wide, confident his daddy would always catch him. Most of the moms simply stared at your husband with dreamy looks in their eyes, attempting to make small talk with him.
One especially bold mother reached out and stroked his bicep, slightly squeezing to get a feel for his muscles. “My my Ushijima, you’re so handsome and strong,” she purred, batting her eyelashes at him.
“My wife thinks so as well,” he grunted as he gently but firmly removed his arm from her grasp. 
The woman looked as if he had slapped her across the face and cursed her family. “Y-you’re married? But you don’t even have a wedding ring!” she spluttered, “If you have a wife then where is she everyday?” 
“I do have a ring. I just don’t wear it on my finger because I’m afraid of losing it,” he clarified, lightly tugging on the chain around his neck for emphasis, his ring clinking softly against the metal. “I’m happily married to my wife who cannot be here because she is hard at work providing for our family. Do not disrespect my wife or my marriage again or we will have a problem.”
After that the other moms kept their distance, choosing to admire Wakatoshi from afar. It did not, however, stop them from staring with envy on the rare occasion you came with him to pick up your child, glowering at you with an intensity that surely wished you would drop dead. Your husband paid them no mind and neither did you because at the end of the day, you’re the one he chose to marry and have a child with. They can all flirts and look as much as they want, but they’ll never have him like you do.
----
Fast forward to present day, Wakatoshi is seven years into his retirement at the age of thirty-eight and Hidetoshi is now six.
Your husband is an assistant coach part time for the men’s volleyball team at an up and coming university, the rest of his time divided between you and taking care of your son. Hidetoshi just started kindergarten, growing far too fast for your liking. He seems to have gotten a double dose of his father’s genes as he’s already several inches taller than his classmates, though you can tell by the way he smiles and the slope of his nose that he’s yours as well. He’s the perfect combination of both of you—he has Wakatoshi’s tenacity, work ethic, and confidence and your sense of humor, intelligence, and empathy. He continues to amaze you every single day and you nor your husband couldn’t imagine a boy more wonderful than him. 
These days your lives are a lot less busy than they were when your husband was still a pro, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. With all the playdates, school functions, and parent-teacher conferences combined with your own job, Wakatoshi’s games, and regular house chores, sometimes it feels like you’re right back where you were ten years ago. This time, however, you have your incredible husband and son helping you and you wouldn’t trade your life for anything, no matter how hectic it may be.
Today is Saturday, it’s the weekend, and you’re only awake because of the bright sunlight that’s streaming through your bedroom window and hitting you directly in the face. You rub the sleep out of your eyes with the back of your hand, yawning loudly as you stretch your tired limbs. As soon as you try to get out of bed Wakatoshi’s arm around your waist tightens, pulling you flush against his solid, muscular chest. 
“Don’t leave. Don’t need to be anywhere,” he mumbles into his pillow, voice even deeper and raspier with sleep. His legs entangle themselves with your own so you’re completely enveloped in the warm, comforting embrace of your husband.
“Need to start getting ready for the party,” you sigh drowsily, but make no efforts to remove yourself from his sleepy but surprisingly strong clutches.
“Not yet,” he says simply, and that’s when you realize when he’s doing. He’s slowly, lazily grinding his morning wood on the soft curve of your ass. You’re a little more awake now.
“Oh I see what this is about,” you chuckle, wiggling yourself against him teasingly. 
He groans quietly under his breath, but you can feel the sound rumble in his chest. “Want you,” he says, still groggy from just barely waking up. His fingers find the hem of your shirt and he slips them underneath it, trailing his digits lightly down your stomach, making you shiver.
“Little man will be up soon,” you halfheartedly protest, but you can feel the warmth pooling between your legs.
“He’s not up yet, we have time.” The movements of his hips become more insistent, more demanding and you have to stifle your mewls behind your hand. Wakatoshi easily maneuvers his hand into the waistband of your panties, making a satisfied hum when he discovers you’re already dripping for him.
You’re still resisting, though it’s weak and feeble. The list of all the preparations you have to make for the barbecue still manage to just barely cut through your sleepy arousal. “We have so much to d—ahh~” You try to sound firm, but it just comes out as a breathy moan when he begins rubbing your swollen clit. 
He uses his other hand to push up your shirt that’s actually his shirt, tracing small circles around your nipples with his rough fingertips. You try to push your hips into his hand in hopes to gain more friction, but his arms keep you locked in place. 
“No need to rush. Let’s just enjoy this,” he insists, but the finger massaging your bud gets faster, knowing just how to make you whine after all the time he’s had to learn your body. He pinches one of your nipples between two fingers and squeezes with just enough force to make you gasp.
His erection has gotten even harder at the sound of your mewls and whimpers, hot and achingly hard against your ass and your cunt clenches in anticipation. Your slick is dripping out of you in thick, syrupy strings that makes your thighs sticky, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
“Please Toshi, need you,” you beg, desperate for your husband to stuff you full just as he’s done so many times before.
Wakatoshi doesn’t respond, opting to push his pants and underwear down to his knees and you almost sigh in relief, just needing to satisfy the desire that’s threatening to burn you from the inside out. You’re so hot you feel like you’re burning and you throw the comforter off of you to try to escape the heat. He removes the hand that was in your panties, instead using it to rub his hard length along your slick folds. You’re keening and so so needy, gasping each time the head catches on the tight ring of muscle around your entrance. 
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he grits out, barely able to control himself.
Your breath is coming in short, uneven pants as you try to sink yourself down onto him. “I love you so much I...”
That’s the moment when he sheaths his entire cock inside you in a singular fluid movement. You let out a strangled moan, relishing in the familiar burning as you stretch to accommodate how thick he is.  Your pussy clamps down on him like a vice, molding perfectly around his length.
“It’s like you were made for me, made to take me,” Wakatoshi growls, sending another wave of arousal rippling through your body. He stays still for a moment, breathing deeply because he doesn’t want to cum and have this end so soon.
He starts moving his hips, thrusting slow and deep to reach the spongy spot inside you that makes you scream. The hand on your breast reaches around to grab your throat, stifling your moans into small, stuttering gasps. You whine each time he shoves himself deep inside you, his cock dragging deliciously against your spongy walls.
You stay like that for a while, bodies joined in the most intimate of ways as Wakatoshi moves his hips in leisurely, unhurried strokes. Your body is hot, sweaty, thrumming with the pleasure that’s so overwhelming all you can focus on is the intoxicating feeling of your husband’s cock deep inside you. The tightening in your core signals your impending orgasm, but each time you get close to the edge, it escapes your grasp over and over again. You need him to pound into you faster, harder. You need more.
“Toshi please, I-I need,” you manage to stammer out, but your words are stolen from your throat as he sharply thrusts as deep as he can, the tip of his cock smashing against your cervix with just the right amount of pressure. 
“Don’t worry. I know just what you need.”
Wakatoshi is fucking you with so much force that your eyes are rolling back in your head, and all you can hear is the wet slapping sound each time he’s sucked back into your wet heat. He’s close, you can tell by the breathy groans he’s making, but so are you. You clench and spasm around him, growing impossibly tighter and bringing both of you closer to climax. His merciless pounding of your insides just gets faster and rougher, and his other hand moves down to rub your clit in tight, fast circles. 
The pleasure that clouds your senses is overwhelming, just dancing on the edge between pleasure and pain and your body can’t take it anymore. Your vision goes white as you cum, cunt clamping down so hard Wakatoshi can barely move. You clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming, your body shaking and trembling as you gush around him. The endless clenching of your muscles practically milks his orgasm out of him, a stifled groan leaving his lips as his thick, hot cum coats your insides. All you can do is moan softly in appreciation, too incoherent to say anything else. 
Your husband presses a kiss to your sweaty neck. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking in the sight of your limp, spent body. 
You haven’t caught your breath yet and your lips won’t form proper words, so you make the only noise you can, “Mmfmm.”
You whine as he slowly pulls out his softening length with an audible pop, sensitive cunt spasming at the slightest stimulation. He untangles himself from you and you want to reach out for him, but you’re too boneless to even attempt to do anything yet.
As Wakatoshi gets out of bed to get a warm washcloth, you hear the familiar sound of little footsteps making their way towards your room and you shoot up in bed, fully alert. You quickly pull the covers over your body, just in time for Hidetoshi to come bounding in.
“G’morning Mama! Where’s Daddy?” he wonders, his little head poking around the corner.
Your husband comes out of the bathroom, now fully dressed and washcloth in hand. “I’m right here, Hidetoshi.” The boy runs straight towards his father who picks him up effortlessly, swinging him around in the air as he squeals with delight. “Did you sleep well?”
Hide bobs his head enthusiastically, “Mhm! I had a dream I was a professional volleyball player just like you.” 
Your loud, exaggerated sigh draws both sets of olive eyes to you, but you train your gaze on your husband. “Have you been putting ideas in his head?”
Wakatoshi shakes his head no, but the child in his arms pipes up first, “Daddy has been showing me videos of his old matches from when he was with the Schwimmy Addles.” Your husband makes a noise of surprise, a guilty look on his face now that he’s been found out.
“You two are going to be my undoing, I swear,” you chuckle as you flop back into the fluffy pillows.
Hide squirms in his father’s arms, reaching out to you, but the man recognizes the warning look in your eyes and tightens his arms around him. “We should let Mama finish waking up first. Why don’t we go downstairs and make breakfast?” he asks, tickling his sides.
The boy shrieks with laughter and wriggles even harder in Wakatoshi’s arms. “F-fine Daddy! Stooop it!” Your husband stops his tickling and hoists your son over his shoulder, gently patting his back.
He passes the washcloth to Hide. “Why don’t you give this to your mama? Then we can go have something to eat.” 
Hide uses his little arms to hold the cloth out to you and you take it from him, nodding with gratitude. “Thank you sweetie, now go with your daddy.”
Your husband starts walking towards the door as a small, chubby hand waves bye to you and you blow kisses to them as they disappear into the hallway.
Using the washcloth, you clean the mess between your legs and muster the monumental effort it takes to get out of bed. You begrudgingly walk over to your dresser to put on clean pajamas and brush your hair so you’re presentable for a meal with your family. The sound of the fire alarm going off has you racing downstairs to the kitchen where Wakatoshi and your son should be.
As you slide into the kitchen and almost fall on the slippery hardwood in your haste, you realize your panic was for nothing. There’s a pan on the stove, grey smoke billowing out of it. Upon further inspection you discern that it’s eggs, you think, that are simultaneously under and overcooked. The guilty parties are sitting at the kitchen table a few feet away, a jug of milk and a couple of boxes of cereal surrounding them. Hide is shoveling spoonfuls of Cheerios into his mouth as your husband eats his own breakfast, only slightly neater in his approach.
“So… you tried to cook?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow at the large man chewing his Wheat Chex. He looks over at you and nods, mouth full with milk and cereal. “I’m guessing it didn’t go very well, judging by all the smoke,” you say slowly. Your husband simply shakes his head no, unbothered by the fact that he nearly gave you a heart attack.
Deciding it’s not worth the argument or the work to make a proper breakfast, you sit down next to Hide and pour yourself a bowl of Cheerios. He smiles at you, mouth open and full of disgusting half-chewed food, but you still return his beaming grin and ruffle his hair. The both of them are troublemakers in their own ways, but they’re your troublemakers nonetheless.
After you’ve all eaten breakfast, you lay a notepad in front of them that has a list of all the things you have to do before your guests arrive for the barbecue. 
You’re standing between them, pointing at each task on the list. “I still have to sweep and vacuum the house, Toshi you need to go to the store and buy all the food, and Hide you need to pick up all your toys that are in the backyard. We have a lot to do today and everyone has to do their part, okay?” you urge, looking between the males on either side of you and they both nod emphatically.
With everyone so busy, it’s difficult to find weekends where they’re all available so this get together has been planned for months. You’ll all be seeing friends and loved ones you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s a team effort to make sure everything is ready for tonight. 
----
You finish all of the tasks on time, with an hour to spare thanks to your joint efforts. 
Hide is playing in his room while you and your husband get dressed and ready for what will likely be a long night of socializing and entertaining.
As you’re doing your makeup and getting ready for the party, you notice Wakatoshi staring at himself in the mirror, shirtless. His brows are furrowed, a deep frown on his face as he scrutinizes his reflection. He pinches his belly with both hands, scowling at the softness that used to be hard muscle. Tracing a finger along the stretch marks on his stomach and arms, he sighs heavily.
“Babe, what’s wrong?” you ask from the bathroom. 
Your husband walks over to lean against the wall behind you, his unreadable expression reflected in the bathroom mirror. He hesitates before answering, “I’ve let myself go.”
You set your mascara down on the counter and spin around to face him. “Wakatoshi, what in the world are you talking about?”
“I just said what. I heard a couple of my players say that I’m not as strong or as fast as I was when I was a professional.”
You loosely wrap your arms around his torso, squeezing gently. “Of course you’re not what you used to be, Toshi.” At the sight of his deepening frown you quickly add, “You’re so busy being a father, husband, and coach you don’t have the time to work out like you used to.” Getting on your tippy toes, you press a kiss to his nose, “And that’s okay.” It’s a rare occasion that he looks this vulnerable. His anxiety and self-consciousness are so clearly written in his features and it makes your heart ache for him. 
“It doesn’t bother you that I don’t look like that anymore?” he asks, pointing at the framed photo of his first win with the Japan National Team that hangs on the wall.
“Why would it bother me? This is the body races my son across our backyard, helps me fix our home we bought together, and makes love to me every night. I love you just as much as I did back then, and even more now that we have Hide,” you reassure him and you mean every word of it. Sure he’s not the most romantic of husbands, but he’s your husband and you love him just the way he is, with or without muscles.
A smile tugs at the corners of his lips and he squeezes you even tighter to him. “I know I probably don’t say this as much as I should, but I love you.”
You pepper kisses all over his eyelids, lips and nose. “And I love you more than anything, Wakatoshi. More than you will ever know.”
Your hands lovingly caress his chest that’s softer now, but still sturdy and muscular, and his arms that are not as lean anymore, but are still just as powerful and capable. “For the record, I love how soft you are these days. It’s great cushioning for when we cuddle.”
“Hidetoshi says the same thing,” he recalls, smiling at the thought of your beloved son.
After giving him a knowing look, you go back to putting on your makeup. “See? I told you. That boy is just as smart as his mother.”
It’s nearing five o’clock so Wakatoshi goes to the backyard to start grilling the food for everyone, while you and Hide finish plating the fruits and vegetables you prepared earlier.
You work in comfortable silence until your son turns to you, his eyes shining with unanswered questions. “Hey Mama?”
Putting down the strawberry you were holding, you sit down on the stool next to him and hold his hands in yours. “What’s on your mind, sweetie?”
“Do you not want me to be a volleyball player like Daddy? Is that why you got mad when I told you he showed me the videos?” 
You almost break your neck with how fast you shake your head in denial. “Of course not! I wasn’t mad, it’s just…” you start, trying to find a way to phrase your thoughts that he’ll understand. “Daddy’s job was very hard. His body still hurts a lot from all the times he got injured when he played volleyball. And… his job took him away from me and I missed him a whole lot.”
The look on his face is so reminiscent of his father, it’s like young Wakatoshi was frozen in time and plopped into the chair right next to you. With the way his eyebrows are scrunched up and his mouth is downturned as he thinks, he really is the spitting image of your husband. “Did it make you sad?”
Taking a deep breath, you hold your arms out to him so he can climb into your lap. “Sometimes it did. Mostly at night when I was all alone and Daddy was really far away.”
He rests his head against your shoulder, looking up at you. “Do you wish Daddy had a different job?”
You look out the window at your husband who’s starting up the grill, then look back at the sweet, round face of your boy. “No, I don’t. Daddy’s job was really important to him and it made him so happy that I grew to love it too, even if it made me sad sometimes.”
He sits up in your lap, thinking hard about what you said as he plays with your necklace. “Does Daddy still wish he could do it?”
“Probably, but it’s okay. If he hadn’t stopped, we wouldn’t have you, and you make our lives so much brighter and happier. Your Daddy and I love you so much, you couldn’t even imagine it.”
He spreads his arms out as far as he can. “This much?”
You shake your head. “Nope. Even more.”
“Wow, that’s a lot.” Hide’s eyes are wide with surprise, mouth slightly agape as he tries to imagine something so large and vast.
Laughing, you press a kiss to his head. “It sure is a lot, baby. Now why don’t we finish putting out all the food so we can go see what Daddy’s doing?”
Your son leaps out of your lap to grab handfuls of grapes and blueberries from the cartons on the counter, dropping them into the divided sections of the serving platter. “Aren’t you going to help me, Mama?”
You give him a look of mock offense before standing ramrod straight, giving him a mock salute. “As you command, Commander Ushijima.”
You carry both trays of food out to the backyard, not trusting Hide’s ability to hold them upright, while he carries a volleyball in his arms. Wakatoshi turns at the sound of footsteps, a small smile on his face as your son drops the volleyball, barreling straight into his legs with a force that makes the man grunt.
Hide looks up at his father, both arms wrapped around his legs. “Whatcha doing Daddy?” he asks.
Your husband reaches a hand down to ruffle his hair, a slight look of pain in his eyes from the boy slamming into his shins. “I’m just getting ready to start cooking the food for tonight. Do you want to help me?” He bends down to pick him up and Hide quickly hops into his arms, well practiced and effortless with how strong your husband is. The man points to different parts of the grill, explaining what they do, taking care to keep the boy far away from the flames. 
Setting the plates down on the table, you inform Wakatoshi, “Hajime and Tooru should be here soon, so should Tobio and Eita. Satori called and said he might be late, something about his luggage getting lost.” At that moment the doorbell rings, signaling your first guests are here. “I’ll get it. You two stay here and get the food on the grill.”
You open the front door, greeted with the familiar faces of Hajime and Tooru. “It’s so nice to see you two! Come on inside, don’t be shy,” stepping aside, you hold your arm out to welcome them into your home. 
“Mrs. Ushijima you get more and more beautiful each time I see you,” Tooru teases as you snicker in response.
“I see marriage hasn’t changed you at all, has it?” you question, more so directed at Hajime. 
“I tell him people are going to get the wrong idea,” the shorter man replies, sounding exasperated.
You usher them towards the backyard before picking up various soda and beer cans. “Wakatoshi and Hide are both in the back. You two go ahead and keep them company while I bring these out.”
It takes a few trips before you join them in the backyard, handing each adult a can and a juice pouch to Hide, who’s sitting at the picnic table with Tooru while Hajime chats with your husband. 
“How old are you now, little man?” the brunette asks.
Hide holds up five fingers plus his thumb as he swings his legs back and forth. “I’m six! I just started kindergarten.”
They both wave at you as you join them, sitting on the other side of the table. Tooru leans in towards you, a hand cupped around his mouth, and you tilt your ear towards him. “He’s so… polite and well-mannered. Are you sure Ushiwaka is the father?” he whispers, narrowing his eyes.
You lightly smack his head, glaring daggers in his direction. “Yes, obviously. Look at them, they’re basically twins.” Tooru looks at the boy sitting next to him then at your husband standing at the grill, then back to your son, then back to your husband. Hand on his chin, he takes in their matching olive eyes and hair and similar expressions, nodding seriously.
“I was just making sure.”
The doorbell rings a couple more times, Tobio and Eita arriving one right after the other. With almost all of your guests present, everyone is drinking and catching up, some casually passing a volleyball back and forth with Hide.
You’re in the middle of telling Tobio that Hidetoshi is too young to be thinking about his future career when the doorbell rings once more, indicating the last of your guests has arrived. You rush inside to get it, not bothering to check who’s there because you already know who it is. Swinging the door open, you pull the man into a tight hug. 
“Satori! We’re so glad you made it,” you exclaim, giving his back a few hard slaps.
The redhead pulls away from you, smiling. “I’m so glad I was able to make it in time. The airport lost my luggage, then my parents forgot to leave me a key to their house so I had to wait until a neighbor could let me in. To make matters worse, I got stopped by security when I landed because of this,” he says, holding up a white box with a bow around it.
You quickly grab the box, shaking it to try to hear what’s inside and sniffing it for good measure. “Ooh la la, did you bring us some fancy French chocolates?” you ask. “Actually, don’t tell me, Hide will want to open it.” You hand the box back to him and gesture him to follow you, “Everyone’s in the back so just follow me.”
With Satori in tow, you step onto the back porch and call your son’s name. He hands the ball to Eita before running over, eyes lighting up when he sees the man standing next to you.
“Uncle Tori!” he shouts, launching himself into Satori’s arms.
“Hey there Little Toshi, how you been? Keeping your dad out of trouble?” he asks, hugging the boy tightly.
“I think so! Well… we burnt some eggs this morning and the smoke machines started beeping, but that doesn’t count, right?”
The red-haired man waves his hand dismissively. “Of course it doesn’t. Any crimes committed in the name of breakfast are excused,” he insists. Pulling the box out from behind his back, he offers it to Hide. “I brought you something all the way from France, do you know where France is?”
Hide takes the present from him, “Yeah, it’s in Europe! Daddy showed it to me on a map.” He struggles a bit with the bow before he decides to just rip it off, lifting up the lid.
Satori points to the various chocolates laid on top of wax paper. “This one is filled with something called ‘ganache,’ which is basically just more chocolate, but it’s liquidy. That one over there has caramel, and the one right next to it is a bonbon filled with strawberry jelly. I picked all the best ones just for you.”
The boy smiles, eyes wandering over the chocolates like they’re bars of gold. “Thank you Uncle Tori! I bet they’re really yummy.”
He pats Hide on the head. “I hope you enjoy them lots. Now I gotta go say hi to your daddy, where is he?” Your son points to where Wakatoshi is standing at the grill, a spatula in one hand and a beer in the other as he chats with Tobio. “Thanks Little Toshi,” he says, ruffling his hair.
Satori walks over to your husband, pulling him into a crushing bear hug before he can say anything. “Wakatoshi, it’s been too long! I sure get lonely all the way in France, have you guys ever thought about moving?”
Wakatoshi freezes for a moment before giving in, hugging the man back, though slightly stiff in his movements. “We will not be moving to France. Hidetoshi will be raised here in Japan.”
The redhead releases him, sensing his discomfort. “Well, it was worth a shot. How’s your retirement? You miss being a pro?”
“I do miss it sometimes, but it was necessary to let a better, younger player take my place. I wouldn’t trade a few more years on the court for the life I have now with my wife and my son.” 
 Satori lets out a loud whistle. “I never thought I would hear the day that Wakatoshi Ushijima would say he cares about anything more than volleyball.”
“Volleyball was my entire life before, but they’re my entire world.”
The shorter man just smiles, silent for a moment before pointing to the apron your husband is wearing. “I didn’t think you’d actually wear that thing, Wakatoshi!” The apron black with bright red lettering that says ‘Wakatoshi: Grill Master,’ with a drawing of a flaming steak next to it.
“It keeps my clothes clean. Why wouldn’t I wear it?” he asks, genuinely curious. The redhead just laughs and shakes his head, patting him on the shoulder.
Your husband finishes grilling the food, much to the excitement and relief of the many hungry men who have been circling him like a hawk. Everyone takes from the piles of meat and vegetables, noticeably happier now that their stomachs are full. You’re all sitting around the picnic table, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.
Hajime recalls a story from when he first signed on as the athletic trainer for the national team. Wakatoshi had approached him after practice, saying he had a serious issue that he wanted someone to take a look at. Concerned for his player’s wellbeing, naturally he took him into the locker room and Wakatoshi took off his shirt. At first, he thought he might’ve stretched one of his ligaments too far or had even torn his rotator cuff muscle. Imagine his surprise when Wakatoshi pointed to an ingrown hair on his back, saying it was inflamed and causing him pain. It was then that Hajime had to explain that he’s not that type of medical professional, and that he should make an appointment with a dermatologist.
 The sun starts to set, but with the fun everyone is having they barely notice. The night begins to wind down once Hide yawns, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and it sets off a chain reaction of yawning that reaches every person at the table. Your son starts tugging on your sleeve, informing you he’d like to go to bed. Not wanting to leave him alone in the house and taking note of the exhaustion on everyone’s faces, you politely suggest to end the night early. A chorus of heads bob, indicating their desire to head home and sleep. 
All three of you hug and kiss everyone goodbye, waving to them as they drive away. You sigh from exhaustion and head inside to put Hide in bed. You and your husband hold each of his hands and take him to his room, pulling back his covers so he can climb in. 
He yawns again and closes his eyes, settling into his bed. “Night night Mama, Daddy. I love you.” 
You stroke his cheek lovingly before placing a kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight sweetie, I love you too.”
Your husband comes up from behind you to kiss Hide as well. “Sleep well, Hidetoshi. I love you.”
With your son asleep in his own bed, all you have to do is take off your makeup and brush your teeth before you too can sleep. 
You’re in the middle of washing your face when Wakatoshi comes into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
“I enjoyed tonight, I hope you did too,” he says.
You turn around to look at him and smile. “I did, it was amazing to see everyone in one place. It’s been years since we were all able to see each other.” After you finish washing your face, you stretch and yawn loudly, telling your husband, “I’m getting in bed now, join me when you’re done.”
Climbing under the sheets, you nestle yourself into the softness of your bed. You nearly doze off right then, but the shifting of the bed under Wakatoshi’s weight keeps you awake just a bit longer.
He slides in behind you so he can spoon you, an arm slung over your waist. 
“Goodnight Toshi, I love you.”
“Goodnight, I love you too.”
Before he falls asleep, Wakatoshi thinks of all the things in his life that led him here, to you, his wonderful wife, and his precious son.
Leaving professional volleyball was one of the hardest decisions he’s ever had to make in his thirty-seven years of living, but the end of that chapter of his life gave him Hidetoshi.
He knows that every moment of uncertainty, suffering, and hardship was worth it because it ultimately led him to you and your son, to this life you’ve built together. 
He’d do it all over again a thousand times over if it meant that your beautiful, shining face would be there to greet him in the end.
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unabashegirl · 4 years ago
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Pax Romana; Part I
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Author’s note: Hey everyone, here is the first part of this mini-series. I hope you like it! Let me know if you want to be on the tag list. Also, REQUESTS ARE OPEN only for H. 
DISCLAIMER; I DONT KNOW ITALIAN! (only English, French and Spanish) I clearly used a translator. I am aware their translations are SHIT sometimes. Therefore I am sorry if I butcher it! I didn’t mean to!
masterlist 
----
Harry Styles, can still recall the first day he was enthralled by her conspicuous beauty. At first, he reckoned he had done the unavoidable. He had moved to Italy for the summer, and he had managed to fall in love with an Italian girl; that he had never spoken to. He had only observed her from afar — too shy to ever think of approaching her. Nonetheless, the young woman was a sight to behold.  He promised himself that he would only watch from afar. It felt forbidden and somewhat illegal. The feeling that bubbled within him was enough reason to continue his study of her.
After his first visit to Italy, he had fallen in love with the country. Hence, why he had rented out a house in a coastal town. The country’s natural and effortless beauty inspired him to write new music for his upcoming album. The beautiful sunsets, the sunny mornings, the art, and the food brought peace and tranquility to him. It was the perfect place for him to hide — for a while.  It was on one of his morning runs; he first noticed her. 
She wore a bright yellow bikini that exposed most of her olive skin to the sun rays. She sat on a striped towel that she had laid out on the hot sand.  Her hair was slicked back and wet after she had dipped in the ocean to refresh her body. 
Of course, she never caught sight of his dilated pupils or the way he had leaned forward — lured by her beauty.  Her attention was preoccupied with a hardcover of Pride and Prejudice; that she had brought along as a source of entertainment for the day.  The young woman appeared too indulged in the printed words to notice his existence. 
He watched her for a few hours. Now and then he would remind himself of the hundred reasons why he shouldn’t approach. He had even managed to take a few steps towards her. Harry eventually removed himself as soon as it became too much. He had beaten the temptation. 
The first time he spoke to her was at a local restaurant. Harry had taken himself out on a late lunch date. He had dressed up nicely and had walked to the bistro. He noticed her presence after taking his first sip out of his freshly served Chardonnay. She sat on the table across from him. This time she wasn't submerged in a book. He could finally admire her natural beauty up close. The fullness of the apples of her cheeks, her long dark eyelashes, her red-tinted lips, and of course light sunburn on her upper cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. 
A few minutes later, her order had arrived. It was ricotta and mushroom stuffed ravioli in a black truffle sauce. She was stuffing her face when they made eye contact. Harry’s lips curved upwards creating a lopsided smile as she scrambled to clean the creamy sauce off her face. He hadn't said anything to her, but she already felt embarrassed. 
”Sono deliziosa?” He had done it. He couldn’t just watch her and pray she’d take the first step. It was time to put his Italian to the test. He had been practicing his Italian and even though he already had a few weeks on the Amalfi coast; he still struggled to comprehend. Harry only hoped she would be able to understand him.
”E molto deliziosa” She smiled at him for the first time. She beamed, radiating an intoxicating wave of warmth and happiness towards him. Her lips parted open for a split second but before she could utter a word the waiter approached. 
“Hai bisogno di qualcos’ altro?”  He was asking her if she needed anything else. She understood what he was asking, but she couldn’t remember how to say cheese.
“Fuck” she said under her breath. “Queso. Fromage. Cheese” She had forgotten how to speak. All her languages had mixed in one and the wires had crossed. “How do you say it?” She whispered under her breath, her cheeks warmed in embarrassment as the waiter tried to comprehend. 
“Formaggio. Ha bisogno di formaggio parmigiano, per favore” Harry interrupted, noticing her uneasiness and her inevitable embarrassment. He knew that it wasn’t his business and he shouldn’t have been listening to the conversation, but he had to help her. 
The waiter turned his attention to the young celebrity. He was also a bit surprised that Harry had spoken for her. He had seen that Harry kept to himself. He usually attended dinner on his own and hardly even bothered to use his phone. “Inmediatamente”. 
“Thank you” She thanked Harry as soon as the waiter had left in search of the parmesan cheese that she so craved. Harry’s excessive focus on watching the server carrying out her request had prevented him from realizing that she spoke perfect English. He had to stop himself from gasping when processed her delicate voice. She had an accent. Slight. Gentle. Barely-there and it wasn’t Italian. He would later learn that her R’s made it more prominent. 
“It’s alright. It happens” She instantly recognized who he was. Her heart raced for a minute or two, but she restrained herself from making a huge scene. After all, it was Harry Styles. Whom she considered, the most stylish man of her generation. The man could wear a curtain and still pull it off. “I am Harry” He rises a bit from his seat, extending his right hand. 
“Catalina” She shakes his hand with a smile. “So, what brings you here?” Even her name was attractive — he wondered. 
“Is’not obvious?” 
“Not really. Enlighten me” The stranger gives him a small smirk while placing her napkin over her lap after crossing her legs under the table. Harry purges his lips as he uses his index finger and thumb to slightly tug on his bottom lip. 
His whole plan to stay away from her had failed. Did he regret it?. Hell no! He just hoped he had chosen wisely. 
“The art” He reveals as he watches her cut one of her ravioli before putting it in her mouth. She responds by only nodding; too indulged in the explosion of flavors within her mouth. 
“Music?” She hums as she brings the glass of wine up to her mouth. “ I thought you were more of a  dolce far niente type of man” her mouth curved into a smile. Dolce far niente means pleasant relaxation in carefree idleness. Harry instantly identified the phrase from Julia Roberts's famous movie — Eat, Pray, Love. She remembered reading somewhere that he was a rom-com fan. 
“Are you?” He shot back. There was no doubt that he was intrigued by her. 
“Si” She shrugged as she pushed around some ravioli. 
“Then we have more in common than I thought, Catalina” Her name rolled off his tongue without any strain. It was as if he had been practicing for months. She had never heard her name sound so attractively. Sure, he had an accent, but it was still beautifully pronounced. 
Harry’s order arrived moments later. He had ordered the classic spaghetti bolognese. He grabbed his fork and knife and right before digging into the plate, he looked up at her. Catalina had been watching him since silence had fallen upon them. His smirk grew into a soft chuckle as their eyes met. She giggled at him and first noticed his dimples. She now understood everyone's obsession with his smile. 
“Would you join me?” Catalina spluttered after a few minutes of mentally debating with herself. She felt her heart beating in her throat and her hands dripping with sweat as other parts of her body. It was all very hot. 
Catalina wasn’t the type of woman to initiate conversation. She rarely even texts first!. Her excuse is usually that she doesn’t want to bother or interrupt. In reality, she is scared shitless to make a fool out of herself. Therefore, she was quite surprised by herself to have asked him to have dinner together. 
Harry cocked his head with his lips pursed. To her, he looked very pensive as if he was making a big decision. She didn’t blame him. He was on vacation and the last thing he wanted was to be photographed with a random girl and for questions to be asked. Although, he had already agreed in his mind. He just couldn’t come across as desperate. Even though he was. Harry wanted to know more. 
His fingers tucked his clothed napkin into the collar of his shirt. A chuckle left his lips as he pushed his seat back and raised on his feet. He held his plate and utensils with one hand while his glass of wine with the other. 
“So, where are you from?” Harry was first to ask, as he twisted his spaghetti around his folk. Catalina leaned back on her seat, her fingers clenching around her wine glass as she finished swallowing. “I am English” he laughs as if his accent didn’t give it away. 
“Really? Bet my life you were Italian” Catalina bantered 
“What gave it away?” 
“The facial hair and the good head of locks” Harry grinned covering his face with his hands, feeling his cheeks heating up. He felt ridiculous for blushing at such a minuscule compliment. “But anyway, I was born in South America, but raised in Spain by my aunt”. She revealed playing with the small droplets around the cup of ice water that had been forgotten. 
“And what are you doing here?” 
“I study here” She had just finished her first semester. “Well not here, but in Rome. I am majoring in art history”.
The not so strangers sat for hours and indulged in one more bottle of wine. Harry encouraged her to pick but she politely refused. She said that she hadn’t spent enough time in Italy to know what was best. 
She told him about her parents. Her father had walked out on her mother after she had told him that she was expecting. Catalina also shared with him how she felt after losing her mother to cancer when she was only ten. She was quite surprised at herself. She had never shared so much with anyone. Let alone, someone she had met that same night. Harry brought her some kind of comfort that she had no idea she needed. 
Harry listened to her. She hadn’t finished speaking and answering his previous question and he already had another one formulated. He liked hearing her speak. She allowed him to pick at her brain and he liked what he saw. She was driven, independent, somewhat lonely, but incredibly smart. Catalina was also unbelievably wise for her age. 
“What about you? Is fame all you thought it would be?” Catalina asked moments after they had been kicked out of the restaurant. They eventually had to close. Harry held what was left of the bottle as they walked down the isolated streets. 
“That’s a heavily loaded question” He chuckled, “It’s way more complicated and difficult. I think I expected to never feel lonely by the continuous abundance of people around me. But in reality, sometimes it feels lonelier than when I was just Harry” Harry shrugged, masking the pain that the vulnerability that he suddenly felt.
“I get it. The screams and faces don’t match the number of people close to you” Catalina was not famous but she could understand where he was coming from. Sure, her aunt had raised her, but she had felt lonely for most of her life. Her mother's death had felt a gaping hole in her life that no one has ever been able to fulfill. 
“M’not ungrateful for my friends but I do feel lonely. I guess I haven't found what I am looking for” Harry flashed her a reassuring smile as they walked down to the main road. “Let me help yeh” He had seen her struggling to walk over the cobblestone streets. She wore low heel sandals that complemented the white satin dress that she has opted for. Unfortunately, the heels were thin enough to slip through the stones making her overly cautious where she stepped. 
Harry switched the bottle to his other hand and offered his hand for her to take. She stopped momentarily and stared at his massive hands. They were bare. His famous rings were missing as if they had gone on a vacation too. She took his hand and was slightly surprised at their softness. She had expected them to be rough but they were quite the opposite. 
“Thank you” 
“No problem” He wanted to spend more time with her. He wished that the night wasn’t ending. “I would invite you for some gelato, but it’s quite late. I doubt there is any place opened” 
“How long are you staying?” Catalina asked as she noticed them approaching the entrance of her hotel. 
“A few more weeks” the splendor of the lights of the entrance of the hotel illuminated her features. Harry couldn’t help thinking how lovely she looked. 
“I’ve had a lovely time. Will I see you tomorrow?” 
“M’not planning on goin anywhere” Catalina reached up, resting a delicate hand on his shoulder, she kissed his cheek. 
“I’ll see you around then” She gave him a little wave as she walked her way through the doors. She would later realize that she hadn’t only kissed him because it was part of her culture and tradition but because he managed to ignite a flame within her — that one had ever done before. 
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spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago
Text
dry me off and hold me close
Summary: Derek has finally relented and is bringing his boyfriend Spencer to meet the rest of the team. That means, though, he has to finally tell them about his boyfriend's disability. Terrified that they'll react badly, he puts it off until he can't anymore. Turns out he was worried for nothing.
Tags: so much fluff, protective derek, disabled spencer, caretaker derek, au: spencer is not in the bau, team as family, hurt/comfort, light angst, est. rel, day to day disabled life, physical disability/chronic illness
Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid
Word Count: 5.7k
Masterlist // Read on AO3
Hello! I am nervous to share this one, I won't lie. It's incredibly personal. It was a pain in the arse to write but I love how it turned out and I hope you do, too. Just a note: this may be triggering for some people - there is description of nausea and severe chronic pain, as well as frequent references to ableism towards wheelchair users.
As soon as Rossi brings up the prospect of a fully-catered family dinner at his ‘mansion’ this weekend, Derek’s heart sinks. They’re on their way home from a pretty gruelling case and it’s well-deserved of course, but he knows what comes next, knows what question will be asked of him, and he’s dreading it. There’s only so long he can go on avoiding answering. 
“Please tell me you’ll finally let us meet Spencer, Derek,” JJ asks, levelling him with a look to rival one of Penelope’s. “At this point I’m starting to think you’ve made him up.” 
Spencer is very real. He’s a very real, very sexy, very intelligent man who Derek has no doubt would get on brilliantly with the team. But Spencer also happens to be disabled. And while his boyfriend has had decades to get to terms with broaching such a sensitive, taboo topic, Derek has not. He’s far from ashamed of Spencer — that’s not it at all — he’s just so protective of him, and the idea of others being touchy or patronising or outright rude around him is an idea he’s never been able to get used to, no matter how many times he’s witnessed it.
Derek’s laugh is strained as he rubs his face awkwardly, trying to find the words to politely decline, but the others are pouncing on him before he can speak. 
“You’ve put it off enough times now, Morgan,” Emily says, siding with JJ. “If he’s even half of what you say he is then we’ll love him. Just bring him along. Rossi doesn’t mind.”
“Oh no, I’m dying to meet the man who could finally tie Derek Morgan, ladies man extraordinaire, down,” Rossi chimes in.
“He definitely sounds like my kind of guy,” Alex agrees. “I’m impressed you managed to land such an educated man, Derek.”
He looks sort of desperately towards Hotch who raises his hands guiltily. “I would actually like to meet him, too, Morgan,” he says reluctantly, a rare smile playing across his face.
Derek groans and throws his head back against his plane seat. He can only be glad Penelope isn’t on the flight because she’d be absolutely relentless in such a conversation. 
As hesitant as he is to let his team in, maybe it is time to finally get over himself and bring Spencer to meet them. After all, none of them have ever given him actual cause to be so nervous, and he knows they’d all inevitably fall in love with him almost as quickly as Derek did, so really it’s his own fears and fierce protective instincts keeping Spencer away from his second family. 
“Fine,” he relents, anxious butterflies not easing. “He’s home this weekend, and apart from planning lectures I think he’s free, so I’ll ask him. But I can only promise to ask, I won’t promise he’ll agree.” It’s a pointless caveat; Spencer’s been bugging him to meet the team almost as long as they’ve been bugging him to meet Spencer, he’ll jump at the chance to go to dinner with them. 
“Finally,” JJ groans, pretending to collapse against Emily in relief, who giggles fondly at her antics.
“I’m sure we’ll love him, Derek,” Rossi says reassuringly, a proud fatherly look on his face that has his chest clenching painfully. 
As everyone settles down, his stomach churns anxiously as he stares back out of the jet window. He knows everyone will love Spencer; he just doesn’t know how to tell them what to expect. What if Spencer has a fainting episode or gets nauseous at dinner time? What if he can’t keep his energy up or is too photosensitive to have the lights on? What if meeting that many people at once overwhelms him? Spencer always tells him he worries too much, but he can’t help it — not when the love of his life is involved. 
He’s brought out of his nervous stewing by Hotch. “You know, Morgan, if you really don’t want to bring Spencer, you don’t have to,” he says softly, making him look up to see everyone staring at him guiltily. 
“We didn’t mean to pressure you,” JJ says hesitantly, and the others agree, all clearly having noticed his pensive expression.
He forces himself to take a calming breath and bite the damn bullet already. Spencer would be rolling his eyes at him. “Okay. There’s something I haven’t told you,” he starts carefully. He hasn’t had to introduce the concept of Spencer’s disability to anybody since he told his family. “Spencer is disabled. He has a chronic condition that impairs his mobility along with bringing a whole host of other symptoms, and while he’s had it for most of his adult life, I’m still not used to broaching the topic and I didn’t know how you would react. He already experienced enough difficulties in life, he doesn’t need my co-workers, hypothetically, being patronising or weird about it. So, I put it off.”
It feels like a weight off his chest once it’s out in the air, but the surprised looks on his team’s face make him briefly wonder whether telling them was a mistake after all. “Spencer will really look forward to coming though,” he rushes to continue. “He’s on his own a lot of the time and struggles to make it out of the house except for work if I’m not there, so he can feel quite isolated. It will be nice for him to spend time with other people, and finally meet you guys.”
By the time he’s finished speaking, everyone seems to have mostly recovered from their immediate shock, and look relaxed and intrigued again — far more appreciated expressions on Derek’s end. 
“Well,” Rossi starts, and he feels like holding his breath in anticipation, “will he need any accommodations?” Relief spreads warm and thick across Derek’s chest as he feels himself physically relax. Of course immediate support would be the response from his team; he was stupid to think otherwise. 
“His mobility fluctuates daily. Sometimes he can walk small distances okay, other times — and more frequently — he needs aids like forearm crutches or his wheelchair. Can I text you on the day and let you know?”
“Of course,” Rossi promises, a warm smile on his face, “whatever you and Spencer need.”
“There is one more thing, if Spencer’s coming it will need to be earlier in the evening… think more six rather than eight. He’ll be too exhausted later in the evening and he needs to be home early to get the amount of sleep he needs.”
“That’s fine,” Rossi agrees immediately, “six it is.”
“Sorry for pressuring you, Derek,” JJ says, tilting her head as she looks across the table at him. “But we’ll love Spencer, this won’t change anything.”
“Yeah, fuck you for thinking we’d be assholes about it,” Emily chuckles, punching him softly in the arm. 
Derek grins at her before shaking his head. “I’m just too protective of him,” he explains a little guiltily. “He thinks it’s ridiculous but I can’t help it. We’ve been together nearly five years now and I’ve seen the things he has to go through, professionally and in his day to day life. I just saw an area for potential harm, no matter how slim the chances, and immediately bricked it up in my mind. It’s hard to tear walls down like that.”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” Alex says in her signature gentle tone, smiling at him.
“I can’t wait to meet him,” Hotch agrees and Derek gives them all another quick smile before they settle in for the rest of the flight. 
It’s late by the time Derek unlocks the door to his and Spencer’s home and he knows his boyfriend will already be in bed. It had been a weird adjustment when they’d first started dating, Spencer having to be home by 10pm so Spencer could get at least nine hours of sleep, topped up by regular naps during the day. Now though, he’s completely used to operating around Spencer’s sleep schedule; it’s just routine. 
He makes his way through the house quietly, toeing his shoes off and shedding his coat before dumping his bag in the living room and padding up the stairs. The house is dark but their room is dimly lit by Spencer’s night lamps, there to ease him off to sleep and keep him company when bouts of painful insomnia torment him. There was a time Derek used to mind, but those days seem so long ago now. He climbs carefully onto the mattress, taking off his trousers and socks but not bothering to change into anything new.
As gentle as he is with his movement, Spencer still stirs beside him. “Derek?” He blinks sleepily over at him in the soft light of the bedroom and Derek immediately scoots over and wraps him in a hug. It might be gone midnight but he misses Spencer like crazy when he’s away and physical contact is very much essential business right now.
“Yeah, baby,” he whispers as he relishes the feeling of Spencer’s small frame against his own. “Sorry I woke you.”
“It’s okay. Just glad you’re home. Missed you.”
“I promise I missed you more,” Derek murmurs as the warmth of the room and comforting presence of his boyfriend wrapped around him finally break down the walls he’s been holding back the sleepiness working a 5 day case inevitably brings. 
“Make me pancakes in the morning?” 
Spencer doesn’t need to ask, it’s a tradition for Derek to make pancakes for breakfast the day he gets back from the case, but it makes him smile anyway. “Anything for you, baby boy,” he yawns. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” 
⭐️
Derek waits until dinner the next evening to bring up the subject of the dinner party. It’s just a simple takeaway on the sofa of the house Derek had renovated for them, but even five years into their relationship, every moment shared with Spencer feels like a date. 
“How would you feel about going to a dinner party with the team?” Derek asks when there’s a lull in their conversation. Spencer’s just finished explaining a complicated debate he’s having with one of his colleagues about kinetic particle theory and Derek has no idea how to respond. Moments like these used to make him feel stupid and inadequete when they first got together, but now he just stares fondly at his genius boyfriend and wonders how on earth he got so lucky. 
Spencer lowers his fork. They’re eating chinese but he still hasn’t mastered chopsticks, and it never fails to make Derek smile. “Are you serious?” he says, an excited grin spreading across his face.
“I am.” He quirks an amused eyebrow as he takes in Spencer’s eager expression. God, he’s so fucking in love.
“Well obviously I want to go,” he giggles, “you know that. When is it?”
“Saturday.”
Spencer just launches himself into Derek’s lap in lieu of response, not that he has far to move on their cosy sofa, slotting himself against his body as they melt into one another. “Thank you for finally getting over yourself,” he says with his face buried in Derek’s neck.
Derek’s responding laugh jostles both of them as he wraps his arms around Spencer’s small frame, loving the way he fits in the palms of his hands. “I’m sorry it took me so long, baby,” he says, tone transitioning into sincerity. “But they can’t wait to meet you, and you’re going to love them.”
“I know,” Spencer says drily, pulling back to look him in his eyes. “Why do you think I’ve been pushing to meet them for the last five years?”
Derek answers with a squeeze to Spencer’s waist and a kiss to his shoulder. “Go on,” he says, lifting him off his lap to sit on the sofa next to him. “Finish your dinner.” 
“Mm, I think I’ve had enough,” Spencer hums nonchalantly, busying himself with putting the carton on the coffee table as if Derek doesn’t know him like the back of his hands. 
“This is your favourite dish from your favourite Chinese and you’re expecting me to believe you’ve just had enough,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, pretty boy?”
“Nothing,” Spencer says, but he sounds winded and Derek isn’t stupid. He levels him with a look. “Okay… I just feel a bit sick is all.”
“Floor, sofa, or bed?” He’s aware of the nausea protocol, and he moves his own dinner aside as he springs into action. 
“Floor.” He’d been surprised the first time his boyfriend had crawled onto the floor and lay curled up until the nausea passed, but it was second-nature now. Apparently, the flat, firm surface was the most comfortable when such intense sickness consumed him.
“Okay, baby, let’s go.” He gently lifts Spencer off the sofa and down onto the floor, taking care not to jostle him too much. His eyes stay closed, face screwed up as he tries to weather the waves of nausea crashing over him. It never fails to make Derek’s heart twist in pain. “Are you actually going to be sick?” The majority of nausea spells usually pass on their own with no vomit to speak of, and Spencer’s usually very good at telling which kind it is.
“No,” he whispers, reaching his hand slowly towards Derek’s and gripping it tightly. He gets the message and lays down next to him, stroking his hair softly as they wait in silence for Spencer’s body to right itself. It only takes about twenty minutes to pass, and when it does, Derek carries him to bed, bringing him his toothbrush and a flannel as they follow another of their set routines that have been established over so many years of being together. 
“I love you so much, Spencer Reid,” Derek murmurs as they lay in bed together that night, the soft light of their bedroom catching on Spencer’s cheekbones.
“I love you more, Derek Morgan,” Spencer whispers back, voice slurred as he cuddles further into the arms of his boyfriend. 
“Not possible,” Derek insists, but Spencer’s already dropping off to sleep. 
⭐️
Spencer wakes up on the day of the dinner party in what Derek can clearly see is nothing short of agony. He doesn’t try to hide it, they’re mostly past that now — although he still sometimes convinces himself he can handle smaller symptoms by himself, no matter how many times Derek insists they’re a team — but he doesn’t say much either. The morning is spent on the sofa, using numerous heated blankets and painkiller combinations until he can at least think straight. 
“How do you feel about this evening?” Derek asks as lunchtime approaches, rubbing Spencer’s good arm gently as he leans against him, legs outstretched on the chaise. 
Spencer hums. “I’m gonna take a nap after lunch,” he decides after a moment of deliberation, “and then decide. I think with meds and the wheelchair, I’ll be okay.” He pauses for a moment as he nibbles nervously on his bottom lip. “Do you think they’ll be weird about the chair?”
“No, baby,” Derek says decisively. Really, he can’t believe he ever thought anything different, but he was scared and fear easily spirals into irrationality. “They won’t even blink. Especially since I warned them about the mobility aids. I think they’d be more surprised if you walked into the Rossi mansion.”
“You sure?”
It hurts Derek’s heart to hear him so anxious and uncertain, and it’s only more painful because he knows it's rooted in experience. He’s had to fight for most of his life to be seen as a competent adult, equal to his peers despite his disability, and people can be cruel. “I’m sure. And even if for some reason they were dicks about it, I’m there, okay? Nobody’s gonna get away with being anything other than an angel towards you when I’m around.”
Spencer giggles at that, turning his head into Derek’s chest. “You turn into the hulk when you’re protecting me.” 
“I do,” he agrees, chuckling at the sound of Spencer’s adorable laugh, “and for good reason. No-one hurts my baby. You know that, and everyone else knows it, too. We’re gonna be just fine, pretty boy.”
Spencer sighs, reassured by Derek’s words. “Love you,” he whispers, twisting a bit to press a kiss to the side of Derek’s neck. 
“I love you more,” Derek promises, lifting a hand to rest on Spencer’s cheek.
“Not possible.”
The rest of the day passes slowly as Spencer takes it easy, deciding that he’s definitely up to it after a decent nap curled up against a reading Derek. They get ready together, Derek helping him shower when his arms hurt too much to wash his hair and getting him dressed in his favourite outfit before dressing himself. 
By the time six thirty rolls around, Spencer’s feeling a little bit better, his meds are hitting the spot and they’ve mastered all the wheelchair adaptations to make his life as easy as possible over the years. His cushions and heated seats connected to the wheelchair’s motor, which he uses to help self-propell at work, ease the pain as much as they can and the built in phone charger always makes him popular whenever they go out with friends. Plus, his cane and crutches connect neatly to the back of the chair, giving him more options, which is especially helpful on nights like this. 
“Comfy?” Derek asks as he pushes him out of the apartment and into the hallway, locking the door behind them. 
Spencer hums in affirmation, wiggling a little as he settles into the warm support of the chair. They have a ground floor apartment for safety reasons: Spencer needs to be able to exit the building if the lifts stop working, but it’s also convenient. They get down to the garage quickly and Derek helps him into the passenger seat before packing the wheelchair in the boot.
He spends the journey in contemplative silence and Derek can’t keep himself from shooting worried looks his way. His hand makes its way onto Spencer’s knee and he rubs his thumb gently against the skin, before stilling the digit, all too conscious of how painful repetitive stimulus can be, especially on days like these. 
“Stop worrying, baby,” he says, ten minutes into the drive when Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His bottom lip is chapped from the worried chewing it has endured for most of the day. “They’re going to love you, I promise.” 
“You really think so?” 
Derek’s about to answer quickly but he looks over and sees how absolutely dead serious Spencer is. He sighs. “Let me tell you exactly why. Alex is a fellow academic with the softest streak of anyone in the BAU field team. Emily and JJ have the ability to befriend literally anyone, and Penelope already is in love with you, just from what I’ve said about you. She’s told me so multiple times. Rossi immediately accommodated you and wasn’t at all fazed when I mentioned your disability. Hotch is a gentle fatherly type when he’s talking to good people and the rest of the team, so he’ll just be interested in you as a person. There’s no-one I’m worried about, okay?”
“Okay,” Spencer whispers eventually, finally sounding like he actually believes him. 
“Besides, you’ve already got one member of this team whipped,” Derek smirks, glancing over at him again. 
He considers it a win when Spencer rolls his eyes, and his grin couldn’t be wider when he hears him mumble, “arrogant asshole” under his breath.
Derek’s grateful Rossi doesn’t have a gravel driveway as he gets Spencer out of the car and into his wheelchair, before pushing him the short way to the front door. They’d battled some tough terrain over the years, and gravel was absolutely his least favourite. As they approach the house, though, he notices that Spencer’s grip on his armrest is tight enough that his knuckles are white, and it hurts Derek’s heart that he’s only this nervous because real people and real experiences have given him genuine reason to be. 
Before he gets to knock, though, the door is thrown open by an uncontainably excited Penelope. “You’re here!” she shouts, and completely bypasses Derek to shake Spencer’s hand. He’s glad she doesn’t crouch, just leans down a little so he doesn't have to reach up so far. “You must be Spencer. I’m Penelope. It is a crime that Derek has kept us apart for so long, but none of that matters now. Would you like me to push you in through to meet the others?”
“Um, it’s nice to finally meet you, Penelope,” he says, smiling at her genuinely. “Would you mind if Derek keeps pushing me, though?”
“Oh, no, that’s fine!” Her smile doesn’t drop a bit. “Come through, everyone’s already in the living room. Oh, and hi Chocolate Thunder.” She sends him a quick wink. 
“Hi, Mama,” he says, rolling his eyes. He’s grinning, though. So far, so good. 
They follow Penelope further into the house after Derek closes the door behind them, and the girls get up first. “Spencer, oh it’s so good to meet you,” Emily says, coming up and shaking his hand. “I’m Emily, this is JJ.”
“Hi,” JJ says, shaking his hand too, giving him a conspiratorial look. “I’m glad we finally bullied Derek into bringing his oh-so-secret beau to meet us.” 
Derek just grins. “What can I say? I’m protective of my baby.” He reaches down and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. 
“Ignore this caveman,” Spencer laughs, and Derek is sure he rolls his eyes again. “I’ve been dying to meet you all, too.”
“Well, it’s our pleasure,” Alex says, coming up for her turn. “I’m Alex. Your paper ‘How Thinking Makes Us Write’ you published a couple of years ago is incredible; I used it in my Psychology of Writing class last year and only just realised it was written by Derek’s top-secret boyfriend! I’d love to talk to you more about that later.”
“That’s so cool, wow, yeah I’d love that.” He smiles at her, clearly feeling a little flattered by the immediate praise of his work. Derek thinks it’s the least he deserves.
“I’m Aaron, but everyone calls me Hotch,” Hotch says as he and Rossi step forward, a warm smile on his face. “Sorry to overwhelm you with all these introductions, but it’s lovely to meet you. It really is a shame Derek’s been so secretive.” 
Spencer smiles up at him. “Are we all going to dunk on Derek all night? Because if that’s the case, I’m glad I came,” he laughs, twisting around slightly to look at Derek. 
“Yeah, yeah, keep talking, pretty boy,” he says, raising a brow. “Two can play at that game.”
“You’re too whipped, I’m not worried,” Spencer dismisses him, before touching his hand lovingly, letting him know that he’s only teasing. 
“I don’t doubt it,” Rossi says. “I’m Dave, or Rossi, whichever you prefer. I actually own this house, despite being the last in line for a formal introduction. I’m sorry I didn’t greet you at the door, Penelope had been waiting on the stairs for half an hour so she could be the first to greet you.”
“That true, baby girl?” Derek chuckles, looking over at her. 
She doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed, but then Derek doesn’t know what else he expected. “This is on you,” she defends herself, “if you hadn’t waited so long to introduce me to baby genius here, I wouldn’t have been so desperate to meet him.” 
Spencer laughs at their interaction, turning his attention back to Rossi. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “Derek told me you were really accommodating, so thank you for that.”
He waves the thanks aside with a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing. Speaking of which, though, would you rather eat in your wheelchair or transfer to one of the dining chairs.”
Derek knows what’s about to happen even before he sees Spencer tense up. “Give us one second,” he says, wheeling him out into the hallway. Decisions are really hard for Spencer to make on bad days, especially those that pertain to his health or needs, and being under the eyes of so many people was not about to make that an easy interaction.
“Derek…” Spencer says anxiously, looking at him for help as he feels his mind spiral into fogginess at the question. 
“Okay, it’s okay, baby,” he says soothingly, crouching down in front of him to be at eye level. He takes his hand and kisses it gently. “Do your hips need a break from the chair or would it be more painful to transfer?” 
Phrasing questions like Rossi’s as directly applicable choices is always more digestible for Spencer and he sees him visibly relax at his words. “Hips need a break.”
“Great,” Derek says. “Do you want to go back in or do you need a minute to yourself?”
“No, I’m fine,” Spencer says, and he believes him. He instantly relaxed at having made a decision. “Let’s go back in.”
“As you wish, sweetheart.”
They walk back into a room full of vibrant conversation and laughter. “Oh, Spencer, Spencer,” Emily says, immediately roping him back into the conversation without making a big deal of him having to leave the room, “we’re debating whether Derek’s really the slob Alex insists he is. You need to help us settle it.”
“I shared a room with him once, okay,” she says, “it was a state!”
“I don’t doubt it,” Spencer agrees. “At home, he’s so anal about ‘everything in it’s place’ and won’t even let a mug sit on the counter without being washed up. But whenever we go away, he can’t keep the place clean, it’s the weirdest thing. It’s like his suitcase vomits its contents all over the room.”
“Hey, I didn’t know this dinner was gonna be all about airing my dirty laundry,” Derek laughs.
“Literally,” JJ points out.
“Right,” Rossi says, interrupting the laughter filling the room. “Dinner is ready, so we should eat. Did you come to a decision about seating, Spencer?” Derek’s impressed at how much he knows about accommodating disabilities. He probably has someone close to him who’s been through something similar to Spencer.
“I’ll transfer,” he confirms.
“Great, we can just move your wheelchair to the hall once you’re settled so it’s not in the way, if that’s okay?”
At Spencer’s nod, they all file into the kitchen/dining area and choose their places. Penelope bags the seat to Spencer’s left, Derek sitting to his right, as the other girls sit opposite them. Hotch and Rossi sit at Derek's end of the table. He holds hands with Spencer under the table all through the delicious pasta primavera, helping to ground him, reminding him he’s right there. 
Conversation and laughter flows with the wine Rossi serves, and Derek doesn’t even mind his embarrassing stories being shared with the team, because it’s Spencer, and he’s so far gone for this man that he could slice him open and with his dying breath, Derek would thank him. 
“I love you, really,” Spencer grins up at him, after he’s just revealed his Nina Simone shower concerts to everyone sitting around the table, everyone cracking up as the tough exterior Derek’s built up at work over the years slowly disintegrates, his own boyfriend fuelling the fire. 
“And I love you, baby,” he says, leaning over to kiss him briefly, before pulling back. “Even when you spill my deepest darkest secrets.”
“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest,” Alex says fondly. “You’re a lucky man, Derek.”
“No, I’m the lucky one,” Spencer insists. “Do you know what he said when we first met? We were at the supermarket, and I was reaching for some baby carrots. He said ‘whoa, pretty boy, don’t get those ones. They go off far too quickly. Someone as beautiful as you deserves better than that’. No mention of the wheelchair or bags under my eyes. He didn’t see Disabled Spencer, he just saw Spencer. Asked for my number then and there.”
“You were irresistible,” Derek says fondly, brushing a thumb against his cheek. “I knew right at that moment I would spend the rest of my life with you.” 
“Stop,” Penelope begs, “my heart is literally a puddle on the floor. This world needs more Derek Morgans.”
“I’ll toast to that,” JJ says, her face just as soft as Penelope’s. 
“A real toast,” Hotch says, raising his glass with a happy smile on his face. Derek very rarely sees such a relaxed expression on his face, and as much as they have their disagreements, it’s a nice thing to see. “A toast to Derek and Spencer. May your happiness live long and be as contagious as it is tonight.”
Everyone toasts to his words, and Spencer buries his face in Derek’s shoulder, a little embarrassed at the attention. They sit around the table a little longer, but Spencer slowly sags against his body, finding it painful to keep himself upright. 
Noticing this, Penelope claps her hands. “Shall we move back to the living room? I bought chocolate and Rossi has wine.”
“This is true,” Rossi says as they all get up. He grabs Spencer’s wheelchair from the hall and Derek helps him back into it as they head back to the sofas.
“It’s weird using my chair inside,” Spencer laughs as Derek pulls him into his chest so he doesn’t have to keep himself steady upright, everyone else settling themselves around the room.
“Do you not need it often?” Hotch asks. 
“No, I need it quite a lot. I just don’t usually have to. Derek’s usually fairly insistent on carrying me around our apartment.”
“We’ll never live in a big house,” Derek says, chuckling along with anyone else. “I couldn’t haul this big lug around a Rossi mansion, now could I?”
“Hey!” Spencer smacks his side lightly. 
“You’re 6 foot tall, baby,” Derek defends himself. “You might be tiny but there’s still a lot of you.”
“Fair enough,” Spencer acquiesces, laying his head just under Derek’s chin. 
“Right,” Rossi says, coming back into the room, “I have more of your non-alcoholic wine, Spencer, and more of the real stuff for everyone else. Hand out the chocolates, Penelope, and we’ll have ourselves some satisfied guests.”
“I don’t live here, old man,” Penelope says, raising an eyebrow but getting up from her seat cuddled against Emily and JJ anyway. 
“Hey, you answered the door to pretty much everyone today; you’re co-hosting.”
“Can’t argue with that, Penelope,” Emily says drily, looking on amusedly as she huffs but hands out the chocolates anyway.
Derek discreetly pops two painkillers out in his pocket and hands it to Spencer, who swallows them down with a sip of his non-alcoholic wine, relaxing as they start to take effect. They all chat leisurely for a while, enjoying each other’s company in a non-pressured environment where they’re not surrounded by high profile cases and serial killers. 
Eventually, though, Spencer starts to fall asleep on his chest, clearly feeling relaxed enough in the warm room, pressed up against his boyfriend and surrounded by the reassuring conversation of people he trusts. As soon as Derek notices, though, he knows it’s time to get him home and into bed before any true crisis of pain or fatigue takes place. 
“I think we’ll need to get going, guys,” he says quietly, drawing everyone’s attention to Spencer’s dozing form. He watches as their faces soften and conversation quietens, everyone clearly enamoured with his boyfriend. It occurs to him that he feels no jealousy, only pride that he gets to call this wonderful man his, that he’ll be going home with him tonight, tucking him into bed and cuddling him until he falls asleep. 
He shakes Spencer gently, and the others start to get up, tidying or just moving through to the kitchen so as not to embarrass him when he opens his eyes. “Sorry,” he murmurs sleepily, as he looks up at Derek. “I’m tired.”
“I know, baby,” he says softly, feeling so fond his heart could burst. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”
Everyone’s sad to see him go, gathering at the front door to say their goodbyes. 
“You are invited to every BAU event from hereon in,” Penelope asserts confidently as she leans down for a gentle hug. She whispers, “you’re better company than Derek, anyway.”
“I heard that, Mama,” he says, poking her in the side.
“You were meant to,” she says, sending him a pointed look, before dropping the act and wrapping him in a hug as the others say goodbye to Spencer. 
“It was so nice to finally meet you, Spencer,” Hotch says warmly. “Derek had better not keep us from seeing anymore of you.”
“I’m not sure I could possibly get away with that anymore,” he sighs. “Guess I’ll have to share my baby with you assholes.”
Spencer rolls his eyes at that, stifling a yawn. “Come on, caveman,” he says, rolling his eyes again. “I need to get home.”
“Anything for you, my highness,” he chuckles, before lifting his chin with his knuckle and bending down to kiss him briefly. 
“Bye, lovebirds,” Emily calls as they make their way to their car.
“Drive safely,” JJ shouts, which makes Derek laugh fondly. He does love his team.
“See you on Monday,” he calls back as he helps Spencer into the passenger seat. They drive home in the comforting darkness of night, illuminated by the car and street lights of the city, and satisfaction pools in his stomach as he reflects on such a perfect evening as Spencer falls asleep against the passenger window. It really couldn’t have gone any better, and the relief he feels is staggering: the two most important facets of his life finally integrated after far too long.
While his whole life feels like it’s finally falling into place, all that really matters is that the man who is his entire world is happy, a small smile on his sleeping face as the shadows of the city brush their way over his cheekbones. He has to force his eyes back to the road, but he can’t resist the hand he slips into Spencer’s, or the smile that lights up his face as even in his sleep, Spencer’s fingers curl themselves around his.
Spencer's symptoms in this fic could fit any number of neurological conditions, but his unnamed condition was modelled on my own experience with fibromyalgia. I have a rather severe case, as would Spencer if he was diagnosed with this illness. The symptoms could also fit these conditions in one way or another: Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (M.E.), Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS), Lupus, Rheumatoid Arthritis or Axial Spondyloarthritis, as well as others I'm sure I'm forgetting.
Everything about Spencer’s disability is true to the chronically ill/disabled experience as I know it, and to learn more please visit the end notes on AO3 where I explain in a little more detail some of the features of Spencer’s symptoms and condition.
<333
taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith
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satendou · 4 years ago
Text
⟼ some kind of disaster
⍣ all time low series | previous | next | 2/4
・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・
⇢ pairing: tendo/reader
⇢ au: atl!au, college!au
⇢ summary:  tendo knows he is, he was just waiting for you to figure it out  
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⇥ masterlist
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⇢ warnings: angst, breakups, akaashi being a good friend, semi being (maybeb too much of) an asshole
⇢ word count: 3496
・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・
⇢ a/n: 1) this is unedited. 2) i have a serious complex about this whole series now due to how well monster did, so i’m sorry if anyone is disappointed by this chapter.
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i’m a liar i’m a cynic i’m a sinner, i’m a saint i’m a loser i’m a critic i’m the ghost of my mistakes and it’s all my fault that i’m still the one you want what are you after, some kind of disaster
They say falling in love is easy, it’s falling out of love that’s hard. What they fail to mention is how hard it is to still be in love even when you know it isn’t what’s best for you.
And right then, Tendo wasn’t good for you.
It had been several months since that first night and, though you had known it wouldn’t be easy, you had never expected it to be like it was. He had more issues than you could have imagined and a staunch refusal to talk about them. You had your guesses about why which you tried to understand, but the way he handled any small argument or misunderstanding in your relationship was unbearable and unhealthy.
Even now, he wasn’t speaking to you and it was tearing you apart. You weren’t even aware of what you had done because he wouldn’t tell you and you couldn’t for the life of you recall having done anything specific.
“Are you gonna do it today?” Akaashi asked, his words soft, full of understanding. The classical literature class you shared with him was over, and he hovered beside your chair waiting for you to gather your thoughts and your items up. He knew most of what had been happening with Tendo and sympathized because he also knew how enamored you had become with him. It was understandable-- you had been dating for a while, but he had seen a slow decline in your mood over the last few months. After the honeymoon period was over, he would guess, and the little issues that always crop up in relationships started to manifest. 
He recalled the night two weeks ago when you had come to him asking for advice, and it all poured out over takeout and wine. Even Bokuto, who always saw the bright side of things, remained in silent shock at everything happening behind the scenes.
You said he was never violent or angry or irrational. He would just...ignore you for hours or days on end, sometimes for things you couldn’t even determine, then come back like nothing had happened. If you did have an argument, no matter how small, he would just walk away without even trying to come to an agreement, then refuse to speak to you like normal until he decided he was done with that.
Akaashi’s heart broke for you as you sobbed into first your hands and then Bokuto’s shoulder, though he couldn’t refrain from smiling at Bokuto’s sympathy tears. His partner really was too cute for words.
Then you had spoken the dreaded words he was sure had been sitting in your throat for a lot longer than it had taken you to come to him.
“I think I’m going to break up with him.”
The relief that drew across your face as you said that was evident that you weren’t thinking about it, that you just needed support to go through with it. Of course, he and Bokuto were more than willing to give you that.
“I think so,” you murmured, taking your time packing up your stuff. The text you had sent at the beginning of class went unanswered, but marked that it was read two minutes after you sent it.
We need to talk.
It was too obvious what that meant and you were dreading the confrontation to come. You weren’t worried about him getting aggressive. In fact, you were pretty sure you knew how this was going to go down. Like every other argument, he was going to pretend it wasn’t happening and walk away.
The door was too loud when it opened, the students out in the hall too happy when Akaashi opened it. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Tendo standing across from the door staring out the window with a pensive expression. Then it clenched with all the emotions you were feeling, good and bad and your head spun with anxiety. He looked so sad, his usually vibrant red eyes dull and blank as he watched whatever was going on in the quad.
“I’ll wait for you, okay?” Akaashi asked. You nodded absently, eyes still locked on Tendo. For most people, he would be afraid they were going to renege on their resolve and give into the false promises of change. But the change he had witnessed in you over the last few months and the quiet sadness in your softly spoken words a couple of weeks back had given him a different feeling. You would go through with it, and it was going to shatter you.
Tendo still didn’t look at you when you called his name and, if you had been wavering at all, that shut it down. But he followed you anyway, until you found a secluded spot down an empty hallway. 
You took a deep, stuttery breath. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he asked, and his voice was icy. He didn’t even seem to care about the tears starting to fall or the way you swiped them away. But it pierced his heart, knowing it was him that caused them, and he knew what was coming. He had known it would end this way the moment he fell for you. He had ended up hurting you just as he’d said he would, and yet he’d let it get this far anyway.
“I’m sorry for whatever it is I did this time. And I’m sorry, but-- I don’t think I can do this anymore,” you whispered, drawing him back to the present.
Silence followed those words. You still weren’t looking at him, so you missed the widening of those sleepy vermillion eyes you’d so come to love and the hands that caressed you so gently curling into fists at his sides.
He knew it, but couldn’t stop the surprise, even as the first crack appeared in his heart. “I-- What?”
It was so hard. Without meaning to, you had fallen in love with him, flaws and baggage and all. You should’ve known better. You had known it wouldn’t be easy to love him but it...it was so much harder than you had been expecting. Too much of your time was spent wondering what you had done to upset him this time and why he was ignoring you, because Tendo didn’t talk about his feelings with you. He left them on a back burner on high until they were so burnt they were unrecognizable, and when he was done being pouty he would seek you out and act like nothing was wrong.
There was no communication in your relationship-- if you could even call it that at this point. You couldn’t find a point to being together if every other day you had done something new to drive him away. It was taxing on you, your mental health plummeting because you were constantly worried about if something was wrong with you. It wasn’t until one of your other friends pointed out how different you were that you turned inward and discovered that particular truth.
You were struggling to keep it together by then, the pain in your heart and the tightness in your throat threatening to overwhelm you. You still hadn’t looked at Tendo. It was too hard-- you would never be able to get the words out if he was staring at you with hurt and confusion. 
Taking a steadying breath, you said, “I can’t fix you, Tendo. This-- This thing we have isn’t healthy, it’s-- we spend more time f-fighting than we do-- or you spend more time ignoring* me for things I-- I don’t even know why half the time and I’m constantly wondering what I’ve done--”
You stopped.
Your thoughts were racing in time with the throbbing pain in your chest and your voice had risen into a high-pitched, breathless mess and you couldn’t think. Breathing in deep, you closed your eyes, letting the tears fall as they may just to give you some relief from the pressure in your throat and once again you missed the look of fear on Tendo’s face.
He’d seen it coming. He had been expecting it for weeks, but didn’t know he would still be blindsided by it. It was his own fault, expecting you to chase after him and deal with his bullshit on your own. He knew it wasn’t fair, but every time he considered the alternative, he clammed up. Still, he wanted to reach out, to comfort you and tell you he would change, but he knew it wasn’t true.
His problems were deep rooted and it wasn’t his partner’s job to put him back together-- even he knew that.
So his nails continued to bite into his palms at his side as he let you spill every pent up emotion, just waiting for the final door to slam in his face.
“But it isn’t me,” you whispered, so quiet he almost missed it. At long last, you lifted your head up and met his eyes. Those beautiful red eyes that you often found yourself lost in were bright and clear and dead, not a trace of emotion anywhere in them. Like he didn't care, and that only made you cry harder. “I know it’s you and I can’t do it anymore. Everything you do makes me-- I’m not the problem, Tendo.” He flinched at the use of his surname and you ignored it. “I love you, you know that? I don’t know when or how, but I do know why. But I also know we aren’t healthy and this relationship is-- it isn’t a relationship. It just isn’t. I don’t know what it is but I--”
He swallowed as your shoulders fell. The words he wanted to say bubbled on his tongue and he bit them back. Hearing you say them now was a cruelty he knew he deserved after the way he’d been treating you, but he still wanted to lash out and break you like you had broken him. But as a last kindness for what you had given him, he only turned and walked away.
The silence that remained spoke volumes like the space that had developed between you, and you left as well, leaving everything behind.
Akaashi was waiting for you just around the corner from the hall, watching Tendo shove through the crowd and out of sight. His hand was warm against your cheek as he wiped away the lingering tears. For now, they had stopped, but he knew more would come.
It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, in some regards. The weight of your feelings for him still remained, and you knew they would take some time to slide off as well. Akaashi was watching you with kind sympathy, his quiet company a relief as you looped your arm with his, letting him lead you out into the warm spring air. It seemed almost cruel that the weather was so nice when you were so miserable, and a few more tears spilled. 
Guilt accompanied every breath that you felt so light following your breakup, but you knew it was for the best. Nothing good would come of remaining with Tendo when he was so mixed up-- you couldn’t make him happy if he couldn’t make himself happy, and vice versa.
Bokuto’s voice rang loud over the sound of the rest of the crowd, waving his hand above his head at the pair of you. 
“Shall we go get something to eat? And it’s Friday, you can stay with us, if you’d like,” Akaashi said, his voice soothing and melodic to your ringing ears. Suddenly you were more than grateful to have him and Bokuto in your life-- even if the latter was a bit obnoxious.
Like now, he was literally tugging you and Akaashi along behind him, talking nonstop about food, not listening to a word Akaashi was saying. But when you looked over to your friend, he didn’t look aggravated. He looked content and amused, staring at his partner with a soft fondness that made you almost jealous as you thought about when Tendou would look at you that same way.
There was a sharp pang in your heart as you realized he probably wouldn’t look twice at you again. Because that’s just how Tendou was. He ignored his problems and waited until they just went away. And you needed more than that.
i crashed down from a high that felt so real i never knew how much it would hurt to feel you gotta hurt sometimes to learn to heal you gotta get back up and learn to deal, yeah and it’s all my fault that i’m still the one you want
“You’re a fool, you know that?” Semi said. Though it was posed as a question, Tendo knew perfectly well that Semi was telling him what he already knew. As soon as Tendo had shown up in front of him, Semi had snapped that and he could only nod in agreement. “I always knew you’d do this. _____ was perfect for you but you--”
“I know, alright,” Tendou snapped, curling his fists into hands. It was almost impossible for him to hold back the tears that had been threatening to fall since he’d first gotten your text an hour and a half ago. Like the coward he was, he had ignored it and met you outside your class instead, a part of him hoping it would just go away if you saw him. But the hopelessness in your eyes when you had looked at him told him he wouldn’t get his wish this time. “I know I’m a fucking idiot, and _____ was always too good for me.”
A flash of your face and the echo of your words replayed in his addled brain.
“I don’t know what I’ve done this time.”
You hadn’t done anything. You had never done anything. He was a coward when it came to arguments but when he was ignoring you it wasn’t because of you.
It was him, all his fears bubbling to the surface and an attempt to push you away, to make you realize you were worth more than whatever he had to offer.
“Whatever we have is unhealthy.”
“It isn’t even a relationship.”
He was unhealthy, he knew he was, and it had driven you away from him. He only had himself to blame.
Semi huffed, watching Tendo closely. He was doing that blank thing he did to mask his feelings when he couldn’t handle them, turning into himself instead of applying the burden to someone else. He was sure he was doing it to you in your relationship too, and you probably didn’t understand because Tendo wasn’t being open. It was a vicious cycle, one Semi had seen too often. “I’m glad you realize, you idiot.” Then, more softly, he said, “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. I know you love her.”
Tendo flinched, his eyes closing.
*“I love you, you know that?”*
He would have said them back in a heartbeat, given the opportunity. He wanted so desperately to say them but the words had stuck in his throat, and the less selfish part of him knew it was for the best. The situation was already fucked up enough without him stirring it up more. Saying those words back would have hurt more than helped, especially because, deep down, he knew he wouldn’t change.
At least he could say he had done something right, in letting you go. 
You would flourish without him holding you back and weighing you down with all his problems and baggage.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
Semi’s voice cut through Tendo’s derogatory thoughts, and he flinched again. He hated that smug, all knowing tone even though he was usually spot on.
“Alright then, oh great oracle. What am I thinking?” he asked, shuffling along down the sidewalk towards their apartment. Trying to think of anything besides you, he tried to remember what was in their fridge to eat. Old pizza is all he could think of, from when you had come over and--
Nope.
Semi snorted at Tendo’s sad attempt at humor. Not that all of his attempts weren’t sad but his heart really wasn’t in it this time. “You’re telling yourself it was for the best and how you aren’t good enough and blah blah blah. You’re still an idiot.”
“Would you stop saying that?” Tendo asked, looking up to the sky. It was still early afternoon, the sky cloudless, the air pleasantly warm. If circumstances were different he would be spending it with you by his side-- then again, probably not. He hadn’t properly spoken to you or seen you in a few days and it wasn’t going to change today either. “My ears hurt.”
And his heart. He could feel a slow throbbing building up between his ears. A migraine was the final nail he deserved in his coffin and the sadistic part of him wanted to exacerbate it as much as he could. Just to give himself something else to focus on.
“Fine, fine. Just one more time. You’re a goddamn idiot,” Semi said, glaring at him. He knew he should feel worse for his friend than he was, but he also deserved it. There was only so much sympathy he could give when Tendo refused to help himself. He had never been happier than when he started dating you and Semi couldn’t go ten minutes without hearing your name. Now Tendo was slumped over as they walked, feet shuffling against the sidewalk as he stared blankly ahead, and Semi sighed. “Can I give you some advice? You know, friend to idiot?”
Tendo groaned, rolling his eyes, but nodded nonetheless. Semi meant well-- mostly-- and usually gave good advice. Now, if only he would stop trying to make Tendo feel worse. “Sure, I guess. We both know I won’t listen though.”
Semi nodded, snickering behind his hand. The signal for the crosswalk changed, throngs of people instantly flooding the street. They flowed through and around each other, becoming separated for a few moments, until they met on the sidewalk on the other side.
“When you two are together, were together, I’ve never seen you happier. And Akaashi says that _____ is-- was-- too. Do you not trust her?” Semi asked, and watched the way Tendo froze up and paled, inhaling sharply. But he didn’t immediately say no, and that was telling. “If you don’t trust her, you’ll never maintain a relationship, with her or anyone else. Do you really want that, ‘Tori?”
He hadn’t considered that. Not trusting you wasn’t the exact issue. He felt he could tell you anything-- so long as anything didn’t entail things that might annoy you or make him a burden on you. His biggest fear was putting too much of himself into you only to overwhelm you, driving you away. That had backfired pretty spectacularly though, if he had to say so, and now he was left to wonder what would have happened if he had gone that route.
“No, I guess not,” he answered. To anyone else it would have sounded callous and uncaring, but Semi had known him a lot longer and recognized the sound of a Tendo who was in serious thought.
“Then you need to change. I get that you’re afraid, but those bullies from elementary and highschool shouldn’t keep holding you back. And who knows, maybe it isn’t too late with _____,” Semi said with a shrug, and smirked at the way Tendo perked up at that. He deflated just as rapidly a split second later, but it was to be expected. 
The smirk fell as Semi considered. The way things stood, you were better off because Tendo was unhealthy, and probably not in a good place to be in a relationship. He didn’t fault you for breaking it off-- not when he would have done the same. Still, he’d like to see him happy again, especially with you. But he couldn’t guess if Tendo would take it to heart and try, or whether or not you would wait around for him to decide and figure himself out.
Shrugging, he glanced at the barbecue place they were passing by and reached out, tugging Tendo to a stop. When he nodded towards it, Tendou sighed.
“Sure, I’m down. Shouldn’t be sad on an empty stomach.”
Semi groaned. “You are such an idiot.”
i’m a liar i’m a cynic i’m a sinner, i’m a saint i’m a loser i’m a critic i’m the ghost of my mistakes and it’s all my fault that i’m still the one you want what are you after, some kind of disaster
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⇥ masterlist 
⇥ taglist: @sluttony​, @visaintes​, @yunhosblackgf​, @super-noya​, @byebyes-world​, @newfriendjen​, @atsunakaashi​
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ikeromantic · 4 years ago
Text
This Life
Written for @ashavesa as part of my 500 follower celebration
Le Comte de Saint-Germain, Memory, Something Old, and Surprise Me!
Approx. 1500 words
The heavy gold band lay in a box of used quills, dry ink pots, and other sundry desk items. It was unremarkable in every way. Worn down to a dull sheen, its soft surface scratched. The ring occupied this spot in Comte’s writing box for more years than a man might count out in a lifetime.
Every so often, he’d check it. His smooth, long fingers seeking the edge of gold. Running his thumb over the worn surface. Then he’d close the box. It might be months or even years before he looked at it again.
Today he had it out, held in the palm of his hand. He rolled it between his fingers, lost in memory. Though it was centuries ago, he still recalled the day she gave it to him. The little Italian girl with her big dark eyes.
She was standing alone in the street. Her white gown blew around her bare feet in a cold, autumn wind. At the bottom of the road, there was a bonfire. Only the sick-sweet smell gave away the truth of that flame. A crematory for the plague-bearing dead. The girl’s eyes found his, held them. Gold on black meeting across the shadowed ground between.
“You aren’t sick. I see you walk the streets every day, but you aren’t sick.” Her voice carried, soft like silk on his ears.
Le Comte nodded. “I won’t get sick, ma cherie. Belleza.”
She held her hand out to him. “Can you heal me, then? I am sick. Everyone in my family is dead and now . . . now I will die too.”
“It isn’t that simple -” he began.
“I can pay. I have my husband’s ring. It is real gold.” She turned her palm up, and there rested a man’s ring. The large gold band reflected the evening light, and the flicker of flame behind her.
Le Comte did not need that ring. Nor did he ever take payment for what she was asking. It was a gift, to be carefully given. Not a product sold by cawing merchants in a square. “No.” He turned to walk away from her. He was sad that she would die. Sad that so many were already dead, but he could not help. Could not save them all.
The girl was determined. She flung herself on him. “Please. Please!”
He lifted her, ready to frighten her off with his golden eyes, a light enchantment. But he saw on her arm, the mark. Red roses. Red roses. They blossomed from wrist to elbow. And along the swan-curved neck. Comte set her down gently. “You don’t know what you are asking me to do.”
“I do know. I have watched you.” She smiled. “You do not grow old or ill. You are fast and strong. And you hunt the men who come here to loot and rape and kill. I’ve seen you chase them, laughing. You tear out their throat and drink -”
“Quiet.” The one word command silenced her. “What would you do with this gift, if you had it? You may answer that question only.”
She struggled for a moment against him, will to will. Then, “I would live. I would rejoice in every dawn. And I would hunt those that cause harm. I would take their lives so they cannot take others.”
Le Comte struggled with himself. He had no reason to take this girl under his wing. How many other mortals had died just this night? But there was something compelling in her gaze. A steel strength that made him want to give her this chance. “Then come.”
He pulled the girl into an alley, out of sight. She gasped as he pressed her against the cold stone. “This will hurt, but only for a moment.”
“I am not afraid,” she replied. And he could see in her eyes that she wasn’t.
Comte lowered his head to her neck. She smelled like lavender and the sea. A strange, heady mix. He could feel the pulse of her life-blood beneath his lips. He wondered who she had been, before the plague. Before this night. It was all gone, anyhow.
His fangs pierced her skin.
The girl gasped, a short, sharp exhale. Then a surprised moan, low in her throat. She trembled in his arms. Her hands clutched at him, her eyes fluttered shut.
Le Comte passed his gift to her, what he could of it. He thought she was unconscious, but her eyes opened as he lifted her up.
“I am like you now. I can feel my body changing.”
“Does it hurt?”
The girl shook her head. “I hurt before. But now . . . now I am only hungry.”
He gazed into the abyss of her eyes. “You will drink blood to live. If you are discovered, mortal men will hunt and kill you. You are not immortal. But you will heal faster and live longer. You are fast and strong.”
“I will live. I will not get sick.” She smiled. Her fangs already began to show.
“Yes.”
“Then set me down.”
Le Comte did as she asked. “Do you need me to-”
“No. You have given me enough, ragazzo d'oro.” She laughed. “Thank you. I cannot give you anything that repays this . . . this! But here -” She held out the ring.
“I don’t want it.”
“Take it. It is our trade, our bargain.” She placed it in his hand. “Gold for the golden one.”
Le Comte took the ring and placed it in his pocket.
She gave a nod, and then turned.
He watched her walk until he couldn’t see her anymore. “I didn’t ask her name,” he murmured.
“Who’s name?” The girl from the future stood in the study door. Her bright gaze took in the ring, and his pensive expression.
Le Comte smiled. He put the ring back into the box and closed it. “Doesn’t matter, ma cherie. Didn’t I promise to take you dress shopping today?”
“No, I think you -”
“Yes, I believe I did. Let’s get you something in blue today. At least one something. And matching jewelry?” He laughed and took her arm. “Let me enjoy you, ma cherie. Even if we didn’t plan it. We must enjoy every moment we have together.”
She looked at him with big, dark eyes. “I want to know when something makes you sad. I want to help.”
Behind the veil of soft gentility, his lover was resolute in her request. She wanted to know, and perhaps, it was something to share. “It is only a memory, ma cherie. A woman who, in some ways, was like you. Such a strong spirit.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek.
“Did she look like me?”
“A bit. But you are far sweeter, ma beauté. And you will not disappear on me, non?” Le Comte let his hand drift down her back.
She leaned into his caress with a happy sigh. “I hope you will tell me about this girl sometime.”
“There isn’t much to tell . . .” He gave her the basics of his encounter with the girl so many centuries before. Le Comte always expected the vast years separating them to matter to her, but she took him with a sense of wonder, seeing his experience as yet another thing to love.
After he finished, she looked at him thoughtfully. “And you never saw her again?”
“I never did. Although I did look. I wonder sometimes what became of her. If she spent those years well or . . .”
“I think she must have.”
“Why is that?”
She thought for a moment and then smiled. “I don’t know, I just do, my ragazzo d’oro!”
“What did you call me?” le Comte’s surprise made his voice quiet, low, and tense.
“I . . . rag-ah, I don’t know. It just popped out? Probably something I picked up from you or one of the others.”
The phrase was not common, and le Comte was sure he hadn’t recounted it for her. He leaned closed as if to see into her soul.
“Are you . . . upset with me?” Her lips pressed together in a tight, unhappy line.
“Of course not, ma cherie. You only surprised me.” He relaxed and gave her a light kiss.
“I am glad,” she whispered. “I couldn’t stand it if you were angry with me.”
“I never could be.” And this was true, he thought. He couldn’t imagine ever being angry with this gift in his arms. She was everything he desired, had searched for his long life. Only now . . . now he wondered if perhaps he’d found her earlier. Before he or she were ready for each other. Another life in another time.
She touched his cheek. “You look sad again.”
“No, no ma cherie. I was only thoughtful.” Le Comte kissed her again, more deeply this time. His fingers curled in her long dark hair as she deepened the embrace. Her lips parted, letting his daring tongue taste her. And she played back, nipping his bottom lip, holding to his vest as if to anchor him against her.
They had this life together, he thought, and this time. He was going to make the most of every moment. Le Comte swept her into his arms as if she were a child and proceeded down the hall.
Of course, she noticed and broke the kiss between them. “You need to put me down! What if someone sees us? You can’t carry me out shopping!”
Le Comte smiled. “Ah, ma cherie, I’ve decided to spend the afternoon in other ways. I will make it up to you later.” And then he kissed her again. Hungrily.
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nagitolovebug · 3 years ago
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How would(does?) Izuru react to the twins that Nagito and Hajime had together? Would be love them just the same? Also, could we hear more about Juliet, the ballerina and antagonist of the killing game?
(does! izuru and hajime share a body- they're not a system bc I don't think that's how DID works and as someone who's not a system i'm not gonna hc that as it's not my place...izuru is just kinda there (maybe more like sukuna/itadori, naruto/kurama type shit)..how he's perceived by the remnants/how he views his situation with hajime is touched on here https://archiveofourown.org/works/32147236 (though this isn't bebiverse just general izuru introspection but my thoughts on him and hajizuru and general stay more or less the same in this au lol))
izuru is present less often than hajime, for one because at first he makes the rest of the remnants very uncomfortable (he's hajime's 'remnant' self after all) and for another it's a lot for him. it's dull and he gets tired and annoyed very easily, he'd rather stay the whole day in the cabin with nagito and bebi but knows the likelihood of that happening is slim to none. he really only tolerates his family. so on one of izuru's hiatuses, nagito Finds Out.
nagito wakes up one day to his partner (he can finally say partner- it took nagito getting pregnant for hajime to propose- realizing he didn't want what they had with anyone else ever. nagito had no idea they were even dating. he was so confused.. "I..I dont understand..why are you doing this? is it because of the baby? I know you're traditional, hinata-kun, but there's really no need.." and hajime smiles and kisses him. "I love you. I'll tell you as many times as you need. until you believe it. I want to marry you. because I love you. he said yes.) staring at him, unblinking.
"izuru?"
his face barely changed but nagito could tell he was pleased. it always made izuru happy when nagito could tell the difference between him and hajime every time without fail.
nagito was still half awake, choosing to not question where his fiancé (hajime and izuru proposed to nagito separately..) had gone and instead snuggling closer to izuru. izuru doesn't stop his clearly analytical staring, but strokes nagito's hair and tucks him under his chin nonetheless.
"you look different. your skin has a dewy and delicate sheen and your weight has fluctuated slightly. you're more conscious of your stomach when positioning yourself. what happened. while I was gone."
nagito frowns. "hajime said you knew..."
"knew what? what did he do?"
nagito pouts at him, pulling his hair slightly. "be nice to him." he looks pensive for a moment.
"I...I'm pregnant."
izuru's eyes widen marginally. his hold on nagito tightens slightly.
"izuru?"
izuru only noses at nagito's neck in response, small pecks pressed to the skin. it was his favorite form of affection.
"i am displeased hajime has kept this from me for so long, yet cannot deny the.....joy i feel. knowing another little one has found their way into our lives." he kisses nagito's cheek.
"really? do you mean that? that you're happy? you're not mad?"
izuru frowns at him, nipping at his neck.
"i am overjoyed. you and bebi have introduced to me a life worth living, quelled my boredom by continually surprising me, shown me how to...love. i cherish you both more than anything, and will cherish our new child equally. you are mine, nagito, for life. as i am yours. there is nothing that could ever change that."
izuru really is very excited, being able to truly spend time with nagito now during his pregnancy without having to worry about survival, or food, or supplies, or enemies. he can dote on his partner as freely as he chooses. and the unpredictability of the entire process keeps him interested. he doesn't think of the twins as not his own (because they really aren't; hajime is the only one who struggles with that with bebi bc of his own identity struggles- identity struggles izuru lacks). his only issue with them comes far later, when they're grown, and find out about the NWP and despair.
as for juliette, she hasn't been developed terribly aside from her relationship with kiko. she's vindictive, and cold, and makes it clear she is uninterested in cooperating with anyone from the start of the killing game. she asserts many times that she is unafraid of killing anyone, and implies that she is planning to do so. that she'll do anything to get out. kiko, being kiko, antagonizes her repeatedly, goading, teasing, generally trying to provoke juliette and they have...a rivalry of sorts? kiko is entirely unafraid of her, despite the threats, whereas juliette hates her (says if she's gonna kill anyone, it'll be kiko. lol). they do end up in a confrontation where juliette almost kills kiko in front of everyone ("I'll slash your throat" "not like that you won't. you aren't even holding the knife right, princess. I'll show you." n kiko adjusts juliette's grip and forces the knife to her own throat. "well? what are you waiting for?" she yanks her hand from kikos. "you're insane." "you're a liar.")
what ends up happening is juliette does go through with a plan to kill kiko. she breaks into her room in the middle of the night with a knife. kiko wakes up to strawberry blonde ringlets in her face, a masked figure holding a knife to her throat. her hand is shaking.
"and here I thought we were finally friends-"
"shut up. don't make this harder than it needs to be."
"for all your talk, I didn't think you had it in you. is the golden girl really gonna dirty her hands with my blood? filthy and beneath you, right? whatever's waiting back home must really be worth it."
"stop! stop talking!"
"just.. do it already." and kiko grabs her hand again, pushing the knife into her skin. "i'm glad it was me. this way, you're not a monster. i hope it's worth it. you won't make it out. my brother...he's stronger than all of you. he'll win. but if it's me, at least, they can all move on. haru will only get angrier, and my death will help him get out of here. .....and for what it's worth. i'm glad it was you."
and juliette ends up stabbing the knife through the pillow right next to kiko's head and collapsing on her, sobbing. they're closer from there on out, but how close....
i'll try and think up lore for her if anyone's interested😅
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ringmyheart · 4 years ago
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Can I request Vin Jin boyfriend headcanons and some fluff? (You don't have to force yourself)
(This and the other vin jin rq were merged!)
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Honestly the way I see it, it doesn’t matter if you’re a very calm person or outgoing person. No matter what this relationship is gonna end up being considerably chaotic
He ropes you into everything he does. Doesn’t matter if u r a design student or an architecture student or if ur on the opposite side of the school from him, u r practically in his class. Dating him is like signing a contract sealing away ur own life bc he makes it a point to be ALWAYS w u
In class he doesn’t gaf if the teacher has ur seat on the other end of class, he is somehow finding a way to sit next to u against ur will or not. And when the teacher moves u two away from eachother INTENTIONALLY bc of this, he is threatening whoever happened to sit next to u to trade seats w him. He will go as far as to dress up as them to make it look like they’re them to be next to u and he’s so dramatic ab it.... being away from u felt like u were star crossed lovers whom the world was fiercely against
And if UR against this cuz ur tired of getting in trouble in class, or if you reject any of his advances, he’s gonna be really, really, really offended. He will at first sputter and be kinda shy and embarrassed about it, before he goes “fine! Have fun on your own without me, the greatest thing in your fucking life!”
He move seats back and will glare at you periodically every five minutes to pavlov dog you so that every five minutes every day, even when he’s not there, you feel the burning stare of vin jin
If you’re his s/o, he’ll buy you a matching pair of sunglasses so ur the freshest looking couple around Seoul (they’re hideous and thick but he thinks u look fly)
The glasses don’t have nearly as many layers as his does for himself so u can see, and u wonder how he managed to make them just as bulky and if he did it on purpose to sabotage u. Like “did u make my glasses purposefully ugly so no one else will want me?”
U have to dodge a punch after saying anything like that ab his fashion decisions LMAOAO
He’s rlly proud of u two matching. With the glasses and anything in general. He’ll make you wear a jacket matching his, or the same shoes and he will stop people in the hall and be like “wait. Notice anything cool ab us today?? Cooler than normal??”
And when they don’t respond he boasts “that’s right!! Me and my other half r matching. Look at us and weep, losers.” He thinks u two look so good....... if ur enthusiastic ab wearing matching things too he is elated u have to pray that tomorrow he won’t show up w another “if lost return to Vin Jin” “I’m Vin Jin” pair of jackets or anything of the like bc it happens SO OFTEN
And on the topic of sharing when it’s cold he likes to share jackets and blankets w u. Ur desks r moved by eachother by vin jin himself and u two share one blanket over u and shiver bc he just likes it, sharing w u plus he’s slightly warmer. And yes if you guys had indivizual blankets you would be warmer, but u guys have to struggle together he doesn’t care what anyone says (yes even ur protests ur sharing that one blanket wether he has to wrap it around u himself and tear up the one u brought on ur own or what”
He is so blind in love that he cannot tell when u guys suck at stuff. Like if ur in the wrong he doesnt care ur RIGHT and he’s taking that to the grave. He can belittle u and call u out but if someone else says ur in the wrong it’s on sight
Will die protecting ur name even when ur the one who was genuinely wrong
He forces u to make a beat for him to rap to. He loves rapping and wants to enjoy it w u, so ur forcefed YouTube videos of how to beatbox so u can be his bgm and eventually u probably just start to enjoy it to
And u always start a beat and he starts busting out rhymes and it’s SO BAD. It doesn’t matter if ur good at beatboxing if vin Jin is on the track w u it’s gonna sound terrible he brings the quality down immensely but u two just cannot tell
Like after a two session ur like “omg... that was so good. We should go pro?” “Fuck yea we should we’re better than those posers” “we could rlly make it in the industry fr” no u absolutely could not
During the school festival, u sang with him and it was SO bad. Half the crowd is gonna have 2 be hospitalized but u two had FUN up on the stage
Like I said, he has absolute faith in u. All u do is right. If ur driving a car for the first time, he is going to be ur little hype man doesn’t matter if u suck. U hit a curb and he went “YES babe!! Ur killing it cant wait till u hit the road bby” Ur not allowed to touch a car for the next two years now bc he kept cheering u on when u we’re doing CLEARLY wrong things
On a plane u r looking for the bathroom like pensively and u see a handle and look back and r like “is this it???” And vin jin thinking u r all righteous will go “yea babe go for it” and u open it and u depressurizate the cabin immediately
Now both on like 5 no fly lists
He loves to do things with u, like I mentioned earlier, and things he wouldn’t do alone he’ll do w u. Like drawing alone?? Boring. Drawing w Y/N??!!! Who knows what could happen..... so much fun could ensue. Maybe he will draw u cutely. Maybe he will draw u so ugly u will be forced to engage in a fight.
He likes to play just dance w u and compete for the “greats/all star!” Little titles above, and it becomes like a Friday night ritual for u two to turn just dance on and just go at it. But sometimes he’ll get too intense and suddenly he’s actually fighting for the chance to beat u. Will trip u so u lose on purpose
He makes u listen to him sing and rap to u. And u try to leave and he hugs tightly and is like LISTEN IFS FOR U, DONT BE UNGRATEFUL and now u have to listen
He makes u a mixtape of songs he made himself and they are all considerably worse than “remember the times we had”. It’s uploaded on SoundCloud and all the comments r hate and u listen to it a lot bc u know he loves u sm he made u a mixtape ya ur gonna play that but everyone else hates it w a passion
Like the comments r like:
Daniel: well.... it’s definitely a song 😅 I’m glad you love (y/n) so much!
Duke: he’s not making it out the hood 😐
Zach: never let this man in a studio AGAIN
Mary: this should’ve stayed in the CD
(Y/N): love it! 😍
Zoe: kill your producer 💀
Mira: ...
He’s overprotective too
If someone looks at u for more than a second he’ll go “what?? U think she is hot, huh? I’ll kick ur ass fucking perv.... cmon babe let’s go”
Will throw his arm around u and streer u the opposite way of any potentially good looking ppl to keep ur eyes on him
Oh Daniel is coming?? What a coincidence u and vin Jin suddenly have to turn the corner to the other way of ur classroom for some reason
Eli is near?!!! Oh no u just got milk spilt in ur eye!! Oh no now he has to wipe ur eyes and u two have to leave the cafeteria whatever will he do
It’s not that he doesn’t have faith in u, he doesn’t have faith in other men. Like he thinks they r all competition, and doesn’t doubt ur loyalty rather doubts how good he can b for u
WILL beat someone up for u. If someone smokes while ur around suddenly his fists r swinging at them cuz even if u smoke or vape urself no one else can get that stuff in ur lungs but YOU or HIM!!
If ur crossing the street and a car almost hits u, it’s the cars fault and he’s kicking the license plate and cursing it out for almost touching u “stupid fucking piece of metal”
Is the type of boyfriend to call u when he knows ur in an Uber and be like “babe u got ur gun w u right?? Oh don’t forget ur BOMB and ur MACHETE!! Yeah just left the house I killed some ppl nbd haha anyways HRU what’s ur Uber driver like” so the driver of ur car won’t even think ab kidnapping u. He has got ur back even when u do not want it
He doesn’t want u to see his eyes, so he’ll tell you to look away so he can take his glasses off and look at u in full color in all ur glory but he never tells u WHY he’s telling u to look away u think it’s a weird thing of his, or he’s insecure ab his face which is partially true but really he’s taking his glasses off and just looking at u. Adoringly.....
He hates PDA. He loves PDA. Do u see his dilemma
Like he loves PDA but doesn’t want anyone seeing him vulnerable even u.... so he’ll hold ur hand and be like “EWWW WHAT R U DOING GET YR HAND OFF MINE”
If u take the lead THATS best bc he can blame it on u and it’s ur fault he HAS to lock fingers w u cuz u did it to him first and he has an excuse to touch u and v like u started this im just sending u ur own energy back 😤
The type to be just like blind, overwhelmed in love. Always thinks ab u, always wants to be w u, worries ab u a lot and frets over u without showing it.... he hates it and loves it to death. Despises it but wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world
Eats lunch w u in the cafeteria and if u sit w someone else u r the ultimate traitor and he will trash talk u to hide his hurt to Mary the entire lunchtime. Kinda possessive.... wants u to also only think about him
WOULDNT EVER fight u for real. Play fights occur VERY often, like pillow fights, tripping ur foot when u say a joke insulting him, grabbing ur collar but he would sooner die than lay a finger on u
Verbal fights happen a lot and if he ever like LOSES it he may lash out and almost hit u and follow thru. I don’t think he’d be able to catch himself that quickly, and if he ever did he’d regret it for the rest of his life. Literally until the day dies he will take it to his grave
He may not sputter out apologieswill just look at u incredulously and then at his hands because what had he done? What did he just do? To you???????? (Y/n))))?????? His (y/n)??? Light of his life?
Will apologize probably over text or through a note or call, and if u don’t respond he is consumed by regret and tries to find u instantly like runs back to ur place
If u forgive him he feels bad still, because does he deserve it? And he might just isolate himself for a bit bc he can’t face u and if it left a scar he is dead inside. It kills him, literally
I could go on w this but I’ll probably save it for another separate pair of hcs later 😭
If u guys ever break up he will fight for u again and won’t stop till ur back together like flowers in ur locker every day, chocolate give during lunch, etc. He wont ever give up hope that he can win u over again and be w u again. He would keep trying, when he wakes up his first thought is ur name in a cold panic bc he can’t rest easy till ur his again and he will try and show off and poorly serenade u and trash his price and be corny and cheesy to get u back
Will set up a performance w the school to let him rap w a mic during lunch for u and he’s saying bars like “(read in bad rapping voice w inconsistent beat) (y/n), love of my life, uh, without you I’d die, uh. Please won’t you take me back? Yuh, without you ima have a heart attack. (Wha!). (Y/n), love of my life, yeah, without you I’m in strife, yup! Please be mine again, (babe), I can never rest till then.”
If the embarrassment doesn’t make u take him back so he’ll pls stop, and when he stands up on the lunch tables to do a little performance doesn’t do it either, then the odd sincerity of his voice and pain in his look (even tho while rapping he sticks out his lower lip in a weird pout) definitely, hopefully will
U make everything worth it !! Truly the light of his life
I hope these were what u wanted, I just had fun w them and wrote stuff that came off the top of my head when I thought of VJ!! ❤️
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floral-and-fine · 4 years ago
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Linger part 1
Beorn x female human reader
Summary: Beorn worries about the reader's safety shortly after meeting her and the company.
A/n: This idea is based on that deleted scene where Gandalf introduces the company to Beorn. I just love that scene so much! I'll probably write another part to this. And thank you @luna-xial​ for the help!
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You jumped every time you heard the loud hollow thud the ax made as it connected to the tree trunk. Peeking through the window, you saw a beast of a man. He was taller than anyone you had ever seen before, with long wild hair.
With seemingly minimal effort, he swung the large ax again, splitting another log straight through the middle like it was made of butter.
Your body shivered, imagining how he could easily make quick work of the company if he chose. Not to mention, if last night was any kind of example, it would seem he wasn’t too keen on any of you.
The rest of the company were bickering about what to do next. They were all rather cautious or afraid of the skin-changer, and they had reason to be. The bear all of you encountered last night was large, fast, and fearsome. The man seemed to be the same.
It was no use listening to them though, they all talked over one another and they were getting louder by the second.
Instead, you focused on watching your mysterious host chop firewood without pause. Your face began to heat up as you noted the way his back muscles tensed as he lifted the ax again, preparing for another swing.
“There’s no point in arguing,” Gandalf spoke up, silencing everyone. With all eyes on him, the wizard explained that the company needed Beorn’s assistance.
“Now this will require some delicate handling. We must tread very carefully the last person to have startled him was torn to shreds,” he explained heading towards the door. All eyes followed Gandalf, especially at the mention of being torn to shreds.  “I will go first, and Bilbo, you’ll come with me.”
No one was envious of poor Bilbo as they all made room for him to get to the door.
“Is-is this a good idea?” Bilbo stuttered, his hesitation obvious about joining Gandalf outside.
“Yes,” Gandalf answered firmly. “Now the rest of you wait here,” he instructed. “Only come out in pairs, well Bombur you count as two, so come out alone.”
Just as he was about to head out through the door, he paused and turned back around. “Oh and Ms. Y/n, you will be the last to come out,” He added, facing you.
Your eyes went wide, but you nodded.
“Yes… That should be fine,” Gandalf muttered mostly to himself.
“Should?” You squeaked, but he didn’t hear you. He was far too preoccupied worrying about greeting your host.
“Remember, wait for the signal,” Gandalf warned one last time before heading out.
The rest of the company filed out, leaving you and Thorin as the last ones to exit.
Beorn didn’t hide his distaste as he stared down all the dwarves before him. A snarl practically formed on his face as his eyes reached the end of the line. However, his features immediately softened as soon as he spotted you.
Gandalf noticed the immediate change in their host’s expression. “Ah, and that’s Miss y/n,” he spoke up. “She’s one of our companions as well.”
You waved shyly at the skin-changer. Who slowly lowered his ax, setting it down beside him.
The giant man sighed, wringing his hands together. Beorn’s eyes flickered from you to the dwarves then back to you again. He was obviously mulling things over, trying to decide what to do with his unexpected house guests.
With a drawn-out sigh, Beorn walked past Gandalf and approached the company.
“You must be hungry,” He said looking directly at you.
“Oh, we’re starving,” one of the dwarves chimed in, but Beorn chose to ignore your companions. His focus solely remained on you, patiently awaiting an answer.
“A little,” you admitted with a shrug, feeling rather bashful over the attention.
With a curt nod, he ushered you forward, back into his home. Beorn gestured for you to take a seat at the table.
“Your home is beautiful,” you complimented, admiring the beautiful details carved in the wood. You didn’t get a chance last night or this morning to really take in the craftsmanship. There were a lot of fine details that must have taken a lot of time and skill to complete.
He gave you a soft smile but it only lingered for a brief second and was replaced with a frown as soon your companions started taking their seats beside you and around the table.
Beorn started placing food out, everything looked so delicious. There were various cheeses, fruits, nuts, and types of bread.
Your host made sure that your plate was full first, not trusting that the greedy dwarves would be considerate of someone as soft-spoken and kind as yourself.
He didn’t understand how you were a part of this company, how someone as well mannered and delicate was associated with such loud brutes. You didn’t appear to be a warrior of any sort, and you weren’t a dwarf, so why were you assisting them at all?
You observed Beorn carefully as he towered over you, despite his great stature and strength, he was cautious of his movements, and despite his obvious dislike of dwarves, he was still fairly hospitable. Being in his presence had you feeling quite small, not in a bad way, necessarily, in fact, almost as if you were made of glass with the way he treated you so attentively.
Holding a large pitcher, he poured milk in your cup first giving you a generous amount which you doubted you would be able to finish.
“Thank you,” you murmured as he moved on to the next cup.
After making his way around the table and back to you, he held the pitcher in both hands, looking down pensively as he shared what had happened to him and his people.
His story made your heartache, much like it did when your companions shared their story. Without thinking, you reached out placing your hand on his forearm in an effort to comfort him. You couldn’t imagine what he had gone through, what he had to do to survive, or how it felt to be the last of his kind.
When he offered his assistance to Thorin, you were honestly surprised.
Beorn provided provisions and ponies to the company in order to get all of you to the forest in time.
As the company started preparing the ponies for travel, you couldn’t help but notice Beorn acting apprehensively. He was pacing about, double checking things, and kept asking Gandalf if they needed anything else.
You approached him quietly clearing your throat to draw his attention towards you.
“Thank you for everything,” you said, smiling sweetly at him. “I know it’s not easy, dwarves might seem unappreciative and careless but I do think they’re grateful.”
Beorn sighed, taking your hand in his, his thumb caressing lightly over your knuckles.
“Must you leave with them?” He asked, his voice sounding rather defeated.
“I made a promise.”
“It’s not safe,” Beorn whispered, feeling how delicate the bones of your hand were and soft your skin. “I know what Azog is capable of…”
Beorn wasn’t quite sure why, but he cared for you, and he truly feared what might happen to you on this journey. He hasn’t known anyone like yourself to encounter an orc in which the outcome wasn’t death. He frowned at the idea, the unsettling image of the hand he was holding lifeless and limp appearing in his mind.  
Tilting your head you whispered his name, he had gone quiet but appeared to have something else to say.
He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, shaking his head slightly. “Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?” He asked, almost on the verge of begging.
“I’m afraid not,” you said, giving his hand a slight squeeze.
His expression conveyed his disappointment, but he nodded, accepting that you had to leave and finally dropping the subject. Slowly, Beorn led you back to where the ponies were and reluctantly released your hand.
Without another word, he walked back towards his home. He wasn’t good at saying goodbye and was struggling with the fact that you were leaving. He felt like he was allowing you to walk straight to your death.
Before mounting your pony, you took a deep breath and looked around one last time, really taking in the scenery, before leaving. This place really was beautiful, so serene and peaceful. Might be the last time you’re at a place like this, who knows what you might encounter next.
As your pony slowly started trodding along, you turned back to see Beorn, who was standing by his garden with a solemn expression, you wondered if he felt lonely out here alone with just his animals.
You wouldn’t mind visiting him again after this was all over, maybe spend a longer visit here, perhaps even help him out with the garden or the animals.
You waved goodbye, a small sad smile on your lips. He gave you a small nod in response watching as you and the company disappeared past the horizon.
He fought every urge he had to go after you. Trying to convince himself that you would be fine. You had managed to get this far more or less unscathed.
Beorn stayed outside, working on the fields and tending to his animals until his ponies finally returned. He led them back to the barn, making sure they were all accounted for. Lingering by the pony you rode, he ran his hand through its mane.
“I wish she had stayed,” he admitted, regretting that he let you go or didn’t offer to join the company in order to protect you. He gave the pony another good pat before heading into his home.
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haravath0t · 4 years ago
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Maybe It’s Time
Pairing: a bit of Steve x Reader, but leaning towards Bucky x Reader in the end
Warning: angst, fluff in the end! Feelings...
A/N: So... another comfort fic... gotta thank @world-of-aus for helping me on this one! Bucket, thank you for literally being a real one and helping me through it all! I owe you so much girl! It’s been a hard one for me as of late folks, so this one kinda feels like a comfort fic to me personally. Kinda out of the blue, but as always, writing seems to be my escape. So for all who are going through something, I hope you know I am here for you and I am willing to lend an ear for you guys! I hope you all seek a bit of comfort through this one shot! Enjoy! 
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Bucky’s eyes gently opened, hearing something coming from the other room. Something that has to have become a regular thing for him now for a long while. Your piano playing. 
He recognized this piece more than ever: Debussy’s Clair de Lune.
He sat up gently on the edge of the bed, grunting softly while Alpine softly purred as she stirred herself awake. It was raining; a soft pitter patter of the rain falling against the glass windows accompanied with your soft playing would have been enough to have kept him asleep, his nightmares slowly fading away and going into the wonderful dreams that he had once dreamt of. However, tonight’s playing was different, for the once playful, joyous, and thoughtful tunes coming from those black and white keys have been melancholic for quite a while. Too long of a while. Tonight, something within Bucky Barnes compelled him to do something different from these previous nights. Rather than admire your playing from afar, letting your emotions run wild by yourself, he’ll make his presence known. 
Alpine meowed, watching her owner slowly put on his fuzzy slippers (courtesy of you) before she fell asleep. Bucky smiled sleepily, giving her one more pet before quietly making his way out of his room, and into the dark living room in your guys’ shared floor. The sight in front of him definitely reflected Clair de Lune: beautiful, yet filled with emotion, filled with sorrow. It hurt him even more to know just why you were hurting.
You were restless. You were critical. You tried, you fought, you pushed, you pulled. 
Yet it was never enough.
At the end of the day, you got hurt. You were thrown away, rendered useless to someone who you loved deeply and passionately. Someone who you devoted yourself to, thinking they’d dedicate themselves in the same manner. You remember that day clearly, feelings still fresh from a year ago.
You were still wrapping your head around the fact that you were part of the half who disappeared in the blip. However, thoughts were brushed aside as he smiled softly at you as Bruce got everything ready, coming towards you as you returned the smile on your face. You wrapped your arms around him, your soft eyes looking at him with love and devotion, as it always had. “Be careful,” you whisper into his lips with a smile. “I will, Y/N… don’t you worry.” He says with a smile nuzzling his nose against yours. “I just wanna ensure your safety, for your sake,” You reply with a giggle. “My sake or yours?” He questions with a much bigger smile. “How about we settle with both?” You whisper, your giggles ringing in Steve’s ears. He couldn’t help the long and loving kiss that was shared between the both of you before he went off to the platform. 
You watched your boyfriend, standing in his suit, Mjolnir in one hand and the case of the Infinity Stones in the other, standing in the middle of the platform with a determined look on his face. You smiled even more, for Steve Rogers, being himself, has managed to save the world once again with the Avengers. You smiled alongside Bucky and Sam who were watching him disappear out of sight. “And returning in 5… 4… 3… 2...1…” Bruce counts down, only for you three to see no one back on the platform. You began to worry. Did something go wrong? What happened? Is he okay? 
Your mind was laden with panic and it wasn’t until you saw a figure sitting alongside the lake, shield propped up next to him. Confusion laced your worried features, but the two men knew. Sam talked to him as you looked on in shock, mind still connecting things together. You shook your head in denial as you saw a wedding ring on his finger. At that moment you knew.
You weren’t enough.
You slowly made your way, deciding to be strong, heart wrenching when you saw this once burly, blond man now with wrinkles, haggard, and with a wedding ring. 
“Y/N,” he says, but you cut him off, forcing a smile on your face, forcing your tears to not fall down. 
“N-no. It’s okay… I.. I get it… I’m.. I’m happy for you, Steve.”
You hated it. You hated having to have your hand held by him one last time, a squeeze of hands quietly speaking of the terms that you both are now on. You were never his. Never. Peggy remained his one and true love that beat time and space. And who were you to argue? She rightfully gained her place. Maybe it was time for you to accept the fact that there was no room for you in Steven Grant Rogers’ life. 
But that didn’t stop the hurt that still clouds your mind and thoughts. The remembrance of the hurt and the deception on your side of the story was still fresh. The repeat of the memory merely adds salt to your still fresh wounds. It’s been inside you since then, the neverending ache courses through you. So you play. You play the grand piano and its keys with your heart out on your sleeve not caring for the sobs that leave your lips, hands gracefully touching the keys of the piano, a slow crescendo coming in as the feelings of hurt slowly grow. Your eyes stay shut as your left hand starts to move more and more, right hand playing chords and the sorrowful melody. By the time the climax of the song arrives, you are sobbing even more than before, body shaking as the pain takes on a more tangible form on your piano. Your head is swirling, your body feeling like it was going to float, you were so clouded in your mind, until a particular man with a metal arm sat quietly next to you, putting you back in your space, where you currently were.  
However, you stopped dead in your tracks, embarrassed that your best friend had caught you in this particular moment, so your eyes try their hardest to remain on the keys. You already knew that his ocean blue ones were staring at you. His metal hand carefully rests upon your right hand, lightly interlocking his fingers with yours. 
“I’m not over it either,” he whispers in your ear.
Again, you cry, turning your body slightly to cling to his figure. Cries slowly turn into sobs. Hugging Bucky for dear life, you said the things that have been in your head for so long. 
“B-Buck.. Why did he leave?! Why?! And when we just came back?! Why Peggy, Buck?! What does she have that I don’t?! What has our time together meant to him?! Is it because I’m not as skinny as her?! Is she smarter than me? Is she funnier? More humorous? Is she kinder? Is she-”
Bucky felt the same way. He knew how you felt. He felt that way about the punk too. He wasn’t thinking of Captain America, but Steve. The little kid from Brooklyn, the same guy who had asthma, who put newspapers in his shoes, who hid an extra key under a brick. He felt like he lost his place too. However, he knew how you felt was just as bad. He understood you. It pained him to see you crying. Admittedly enough, he only hoped that you look beautiful in his eyes despite your sobs and tears. A literal angel, he’d think to himself. Unfortunate that he can’t teach his best friend a thing or two about taking care of his girl. You were in pain for so long.
His hands cupped your wet cheeks and slowly wiped the tears with his thumbs, a tiny smile when he feels you relax to his touch, kissing your forehead to further soothe you. “Steve doesn’t know what was in front of the whole time, sweetheart,” he whispers. 
“He did… apparently I’m only a substitute till there was a way. That’s all I am to anyone. A substitute.”
“I never thought of you that way.” He admits quietly, so quietly, that only you both can hear, causing you to look up at him in surprise. “H-Huh? But…” “I said what I said, Y/N… I mean it. You were, are, and always will be such a sweet, kind, and beautiful dame. There’s no kind like you anywhere here, not even Peggy or anyone for that matter can replicate what you have sweetheart. So who cares who’s skinnier? Who cares if one is more funny? In the end of the day, we knew you did all you could. It hurts. I know. But, you’re gonna have that one guy who is gonna treat ya like no man ever could. I’ll make sure of that.” He whispers, looking at you dead in the eyes with understanding and love in his eyes. A small smile finally kisses your face. Not a fake one, but a small genuine one. One that only someone like James Buchanan Barnes would notice. “That’s my girl.” He whispers and smiles, hugging you once again.
He pulls away, starting to play the first few notes of Clair de Lune, eyes carefully watching yours, an invitation. You shyly joined in, allowing yourself to take your place and playing a part. You and James couldn’t help the smile that goes on your faces as it starts to progress. You watched as both his flesh and metal hand graced the keys effortlessly, nicely paired along with yours as they also graced the keys, completing this song’s melody. What was wreaking of pain and sorrow turned pensive, calming, even providing a form of resolution. You guys smiled as you both played your notes louder and louder the two of you effortlessly mirroring each other, no need to say the dynamic, the mood, the notes to play, it was all unplanned, yet it still sounded beautiful. A giggle leaves your mouth, another genuine one for the first time, which causes Bucky to smile big, happy to see you smiling again. He watches as your guys’ fingers glide through the keys, hands sometimes weaving in and out harmoniously, never causing extra struggle. 
“Thank you, James… I really really feel better after all of that” you say softly, letting yourself nuzzle your face into his torso, hugging the super soldier tightly. “You always know what to say to me. You always know what to do. Always have. Thank you,” You whisper, smiling softly as the man tightens his hold on you. You both chuckled when a yawn now leaves your lips, resulting in Bucky scooping you up bridal style. “Not a problem, sweetheart. I’m always gonna be here. M’not going anywhere I promise.” He says softly, yet in a determined tone. He vowed to himself no matter where he stood in your life, he was gonna make sure you were loved and cared for. He always wanted that for you. Always looked at you in a way he never thought he’d look at a woman. Even today the way he perceived you was the same: a kind, beautiful, giving, and optimistic person who was kind to anyone but herself. “Why don’t we get you to bed, huh? I think you deserve this to say the least.” He says softly, making his way through the hallway into your bedroom. 
“A-Actually. Do you think I can just lay with you tonight?” You ask shyly. You felt comfortable in his arms. He made you feel warm, protected. You didn’t want to let that go. Not now. Of course, Bucky could not say no, so he carried you to his room, where you both met a sleeping Alpine perched on her cute tower. You smiled as he laid you down gently before he laid next to you, an arm wrapped around your waist. “Thank you, Buck…you know I’m grateful for you,” you murmured sleepily, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and relaxing. Bucky only smiled and rubbed your back for comfort. “Never forget I’ll do anythin’ for you sweetheart. Promise.” He whispers, sleep taking over him a bit quicker than a normal night. You smiled as you watched his breathing steady out, knowing he was asleep. You couldn’t help the grin from ear to ear before you slept yourself. It will take a while for this pain of yours to end, but… maybe, just maybe it’s time for you to stop looking at what’s behind and what’s beyond. Maybe it’s time for you to rediscover your worth, who you can love and who can love you.  Maybe it’s time that you trust yourself, for you are worth it all and you alone is a good enough reason to live your life as it should. And maybe, just maybe… you’ll see where the brunette man with a metal arm in front of you will stand in your life. Just one step at a time and one day at a time, you tell yourself as you slowly drift into dreamland. However, you were happy, for this was the first night you felt like you were enough, and felt that hope that used to reside in your heart. For once in a long time, you didn’t feel the weight in your heart anymore, for behind you, Bucky Barnes was right behind you carrying it right with you.
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