#you can again pinpoint my answer getting shorter

[brella]

I feel like I’m being influenced to join the Spencer/emily ship 😅 what are some of your favorite elements of their relationship?

here’s the thing about reid and prentiss. here’s the fucking thing. they’re in love. with each other. they just have no idea that this is what is happening.

let’s go back to the beginning. once upon a time, spencer reid loved elle greenaway. she was his friend and he cared about her and when she lost herself and left the BAU he blamed himself for not helping her, not “saving” her. even though he saw the signs. even though they drank bourbon in an anonymous hotel room and her hair was shorter than it was when he met her and her eyes were haunted and she told him that she could still feel the fisher king’s fingers in her bullet wound. even though he could see the pain and rage plainly when nobody else would acknowledge it, and he did not know how to make it gentler. he only knew how to spot it, and what it meant.

elle left. reid’s friend, elle, she left wounded and nobody cared. nobody but him. shortly thereafter the BAU got a nepo hire named emily prentiss. no one knew anything about her but she fit into the team seamlessly, getting along with everybody except for a chronically distrusting hotch and a bitter, self-blaming reid. she wasn’t actually elle’s replacement but to reid maybe she was. maybe that’s why when the signs of his dilaudid abuse became apparent and prentiss was the first to notice, he felt nothing but anger. he knew elle and he loved elle and if he couldn’t stop her from hurting herself then where the fuck does prentiss get off thinking she can stop him from doing the same, when she doesn’t know him at all, when she has no reason to love him? who does she think she is?

what he doesn’t know is that when prentiss looks at him going through that she just sees matthew benson. the first boy who ever loved her, who she lost in the dark, who she could not save. she’s been here before.

reid gets sober. we can see him and prentiss getting to be friends. he makes her laugh. she makes him smile. they agree on deep philosophical topics that the rest of the BAU doesn’t. they get each other. reid trusts her because she never treats him like a baby. prentiss trusts him because he doesn’t know how to be anyone else but who he is. prentiss, the consummate liar, the woman with ten names, ten pasts. made her bones with the foxes. but she’s found a safe place to land, for once, for maybe the first time in her life. not moving, not running: in a place of her own, with a family she chose. and then her ghosts come knocking.

she did love ian doyle. that can’t be denied. it started out as a job but lost that shape soon enough. when he comes back for her, she’s terrified. who notices? reid. constantly, constantly, it’s reid. you’re biting your fingernails again. who’s lauren reynolds? the pinpoint accuracy with which he observes her every nuanced movement in the valhalla arc is unreal and frankly unprecedented. he’s seen gideon leave, seen elle leave: seen the signs. he’s seeing them again. still, he opens up to her about his headaches. he’s never opened up to ANYBODY like that before. and he just casually does it. at his desk. AT WORK! AND THEN INVITES HER ON A DATE TO SEE SOLARIS IN THE ORIGINAL RUSSIAN BECAUSE “REALLY WE’RE THE ONLY ONES WHO CAN UNDERSTAND IT.” LIKE LINGUISTICALLY OR IN YOUR HEARTS?

i’m not answering your question. my favorite aspect of their relationship is that they’re the goth and the nerd. my favorite aspect of their relationship is that it’s rooted in missed signals. two ships passing, close enough to touch, in different directions: over and over and over again. a veritable trove of almosts. 75% of their chemistry is in what you can see they’re always ABOUT to say to each other. and then she has to fake her death and run away and can they ever recover from that? he cried at JJ’s house EVERY NIGHT FOR TEN WEEKS. watch the scene where they slow-dance together in that one episode their expressions are so fucking telling. they are haunted by things they will not say to each other.

EVIDENCE LIST:

canonical prentiss line “love dating readers. hate profiling them.” what? at work!

prentiss staring at him with a complex and gentle expression and asking him if he ever wants kids. at work!

reid calling everyone else on the team by their last name. except emily. none of the other men calling her that except him. what? at work!

reid being totally un-curious about the sin to win weekend comment. because he was also going to be there? and they count cards together? and have sex? at work!

real canon interaction where prentiss tells a story about a star puzzle that represents a star that broke because a prince dropped it after catching it for a princess and it can’t be put back together and reid puts it back together and hands it to her. what? at work!

he recognizes her in the doctored photos of declan BY HER HANDS. by the blurred out of focus sight of her hands. “guys, look at the fingernails.” WHO LOOKS AT THAT BUT YOU? AT WORK!

real line doyle has about how she could be on the metro with dr. reid going back to his apartment like what? the music sting right after? his knowing smirk? “well, that one [reid] does have some quirks” WHAT??????? HER EX SAYING THIS???

i haven’t seen the later seasons but that reid wanted to kill someone because of what they did to prentiss like. saying after what he did to you if i would have found him i would have killed him and i’d have slept well. what? at work!

they’ve both flatlined. he saw a warm light and she saw a cold darkness. they told each other this. in a conference room. AT WORK!

^ how she looks at him btw

[coralhoneyrose]

The Princess and the Frog Chrobin AU... you don't know how hyped I was to read that.

I'm the exact opposite where I can't seem to write longfic. Do you have any suggestions for someone looking to try her hand at one?

Ohh I'm so glad that you're excited by the idea! 😊 Honestly there is such a tragic dearth of Birb!Robin content that I feel compelled to remedy it myself haha. And I think the fairytale-ish angle has a lot of fun / cute potential!

As for suggestions on getting into writing long fic, I certainly wouldn't consider myself an expert by any stretch, but I can tell you what has worked for me!

Find an idea that you *love* that just won't let you go

This, really, is the biggest tip I have. Obviously it's going to vary some based on the efficiency of the writer and just HOW long of a long fic we're talking about, but you're going to be thinking about and working on this fic for a long time. If that work isn't something you are extremely excited about, it's very quickly going to start to feel like a drag and become challenging to see through. Again, I can only speak to my own experience here, but I have thought about my long fics in some capacity for at least a few hours every day for the last two years (and often much much more than that LOL). Definitely I have days where I am not in the mood to write or I am not in a great head space with the fic and need to take a step back. But when all is said and done, it's still a story I am excited to tell and involves scenarios I *want* to have an excuse to think about all the time, day after day. If you're that excited about the ideas, I think that alone will carry you far!

2. Ask yourself why you want to write a long fic

To elaborate: what is it that a long fic allows you to do that you feel as though you can't accomplish in a shorter fic instead? Extensive world building? A more intricate plot? The answer to this question should drive a lot of your story conceptualization process. Honestly for me the biggest draws of long fic are how it lends itself to slow-burn, extensive opportunities for agonizing pining, and the ability to portray much more gradual character growth. Those are three of the things I love most in the fics and novels I read *and* three things that I love to write about. Because those things are such big priorities for me, the way I formed and built my story ideas around them was already very naturally geared towards long fic--I didn't have to try to fit it into that mold at all!

3. Find a good beta reader

Easier said than done, I know, but I genuinely think a fresh set of eyes / a brain to pick when you're stuck makes a world of difference. I cannot tell you how many times I have gotten myself into a deep rut with my long fics that I was convinced there was no way out of, or where I'd written a whole chapter draft that I thought was un-salvageable only for my beta reader to provide a very elegant solution / quickly pinpoint and direct me towards what wasn't working so that I wouldn't have to throw out the whole thing. One of the dangers with long fic is that you're working on it for so long that your sense of how things move and progress in the story and where they are going winds up being very divorced from the way readers experience it. Having someone else who can give you outside POV on what's working and what's not is invaluable during the drafting and revising process. Ideally that person would also have tastes that align well with your own and be someone who you can trust to be both honest and encouraging (even better if they know the characters of the world well and can give feedback from that angle too) but I do recognize perfect beta readers don't grow on trees. If not a full fledged beta reader, I think having a close friend or two who you can talk through the writers blocks or concerns with is helpful too!

4. Plan ahead but don't be afraid to change directions

Probably the most subjective piece of advice on here since I know different writers vary wildly with how much they like / need to plan ahead, but this is the combination that I've found has worked best for me. The reason being that if you don't do *some* more extensive idea generating and planning before hand I don't think it gives you anything to get hyped up about and look forward to. Having a big exciting moment in the story that you can't wait to write is a really good motivator, but unless you are very good at delayed gratification, brainstorming smaller moments along the way that are iddy and fun while still moving you closer to that big moment will be imperative for motivating yourself to stick it out long enough to get there. That being said, I don't think you have to feel locked into those early ideas either. Things are going to occur to you as you're writing that didn't during the planning stages. New ideas you like better, logistical bumps you didn't think to account for, the discovery that a character feels a different way about something than how you anticipated they would...there's a whole bunch of possibilities and all of them may wind up derailing your initial vision to varying degrees. And I think that's okay! Part of the writing process is re-discovering the world and characters from new angles...I honestly think it would be odd if that *didn't* impact the story's direction, at least a little! And generally I think those changes just tend to make the story even better in the end~

5. Let the fic be gratuitous and self-indulgent

Echoes of this are present in some of the previous pieces of advice, but I think it bears repeating as a separate (and final) point. Don't be afraid to pile on as many of your favorite tropes as you can!! Build your fic concept so that it includes lots of story beats and themes you're a sucker for every time. The more opportunities you find to load in things that you love, the more fun you'll have writing and thinking about the idea and the more likely it is that you'll both have an idea big enough to write a long fic for and that you'll be willing to stick it out and see it through to the end 💕

Okay...I think that's all I've got. This was so long and apologies if you were not looking for an answer anywhere near this detailed but, well, I did say I struggle to write anything short LOL Thank you for being interested enough in my perspective and experiences to ask in the first place! And I hope you'll find something I said here was helpful!

[felicityhicklingviscomlvl5]

Term Reflection

I am proud of myself for what I’ve achieved in this unit, I feel I have improved my editorial skills massively which is what I wanted to do. This term has been heavily focused on what I wanted to do which I really enjoyed, but I think also gave me limitations in getting started on the project.

EP//M was a great experience and I think I connected with this a lot more than I thought I would, as I tend to not do enough UI/UX designs and concepts to realise how much I enjoy them. Since our final presentation, as a group, we chose to refine ‘Fakeaway’ using the feedback we received because it was coming from a professional agency which we thought was a good idea to get into the habit of responding to. We ended up sharing our refinements with them and actually landed ourselves an opportunity to present again down at EP//M and we also were asked to be in an article they were writing, where we answered a few questions they gave us. So, overall this experience was very eye-opening and really fun which was good to have at the start of term.

The CVL project this term was quite taunting compared to others as we had a lot of freedom to do what we wanted (in preparation for our FMP). I struggled with the shorter time we had to do this project, as it felt like I was behind at times because struggled with getting started since there was so much we could do, so the process of generating ideas for me was difficult. Once I found a general direction from some help it became a lot more of an easier process, and so I took the opportunity to focus on what I wanted from the end of the unit. Which was to improve my editorial skills and lean into something I'm interested in and value.

At first, during this project, I was less refined with my idea for a while which impacted going deeper into contextual research and problem-solving. I later figured out my direction when I went back through the general research I’d already done, where I found the term “form follows function”. This allowed me to learn theories within the term and how they became to be combined into Mid-Century Modern architecture and influence many architects to come.

One problem I was having throughout my project was my target audience which is where I felt I lacked when problem-solving. I originally wanted millennials as my primary audience but later changed it to gen z. My problem was I couldn’t pinpoint why and what I wanted the audience to take away from my outcome. I think I started to define my audience more as I was experimenting with imagery, leading me to lean into the duo-tone trend which when collecting visual research, I saw a lot of it, signifying that it was trending and appealing to gen z. To delve further into why gen z, I went back to the problem with architecture books, which is that they’re almost too simple. The text is small and in one large block, which gen z looks at and thinks “I’m not reading all that” since gen z prefers straight-to-the-point information and unique information. So I wanted to create an architecture book that would be editorial allowing me to apply information that encourages learning and value for them.

Deciding to create a physical book was challenging especially since I wanted to try something new by doing a clothbound book, but without the end result being physical it would’ve had the same effect if I just added my spreads to a mockup. Since I also looked into coffee table books when refining my audience, the whole idea of them is that it holds what you value, physically, and you can display it and show people who you are. Also, the way I laid out my spreads is all equally displayable, allowing for the other point of the coffee table book, which is “they look pretty and cool”. Before my final crit, my book was still quite simple from what it ended up being, as I needed to explore more things I could do with it that could add an interactive element. To support this I looked into how gen z feels about physical books and they actually prefer them, so the interactive elements became an advantage since it would create more of an exciting experience when going through the book. I added fold-out pages which would fold out to an image of the Farnsworth House and also create a clear navigation of a new section of the book. My final addition was a cover sleeve, which you see a lot on hardback books. The sleeve doubles as a poster which I felt gen z would appreciate and could add to their maximalist walls.

Overall, this term was a challenge for me but I finished with an outcome I’m extremely proud of which makes up for a lot of the struggles I dealt with this term, but I’m glad this mini FMP was a chance to have an idea of what our actual FMP will be like.

[seksipomminpurkaja]

took a moment bc i gotta think who we've done yet, but pegleg pirates and moe n hoe we haven't

*cracks knuckles* ow

Who is a fussy eater and who will eat food even if they’ve dropped it on the floor?

I doubt they both put too much effort in what they eat, five second rule and all. Although they might stick to certain diet at some point as their (or at least ihn’s) health start deteriorate

Mae is bit more fussy, as she’s still keeping the red meat intake to minimum, wouldn’t eat anything off the floor. Joe on the other hand, big man with big hunger will down a party plate, and i have the feeling as he’s comfortable bringing food to bed he’ll also be okay eating off the floor, five second rule

Who constantly tries to get the other to shower with them?

It’s already hard to shower for Ihn having to sit down, Mhairi would just be on the way, no offence, and i take Mhairi, like all nedians, have sacred routines in shower, so they respect their showertimes

At first Mae wouldn’t be comfortable enough to even think about being naked with joe, but with time as her confidence grew she might invite him in, just to use conditioner of joe’s glorious chesthair

Who was popular in high school and who lies that they were just to impress the other?

Ihn was the jock who shoved nerds into lockers, i get that mhairi was kinda same too. They both know they’re hot shit and not needing to lie about it

If joe had an emo phase in hs he couldn’t have been that popular. Mae kinda was the class princess but wasn’t aware of it as she was more focused on her studies

Who is incredible in bed and completely knocks the other off their feet the first time they have sex?

I think they’re both experienced enough not be able to be knocked off their feet that easily, who can say, ihn surely enjoys a bigger partner

Mae was inexperienced with men and joe being experienced she was pleasantly surprised

Who plays video games and who snuggles up next to them as they play?

Do these grandparents even play

Joe plays more so it’s mae, she’s there to support him and hog some warmth

Who is horny ALL OF THE TIME?

Ihn, idk about mhairi

Pregnant mae doesn’t count. So Joe

Who is sleepy and cuddly ALL OF THE TIME?

eh idk

Who knocks on the other’s door crying at 4am?

not maybe crying, but if either, Mhairi, shit with xiulan

not at door but calling, mae

Who would have 10 pets if they could and who is adorably shy around animals?

Ihn would have an army of lizards if his crew would’ve allowed it, now he’s just too tired to look after them if he had them

One dog is just enough, neither are that shy around animals anyway

Who takes like 10 minutes of persuading to get out of bed each morning?

Ihn, Mhairi is a busy woman and he has nowhere particular to be, so let him rest please

Both are up and running in a decent amount of time, but if either has been away to a different time zone then it could be either

Who collects rocks and shells when they go to the beach and who thinks it’s dumb?

Ihn thinks it’s dumb but still does it

Mae is a shell enthusiast and has jars full of them at home for decor, idk how joe feels about it

Who picks fights for no reason just so they can have kinky sex?

Loving roasting and makeshift angry hanky panky, no real fight

No fighting (shakira shakira)

Who secretly admires the hell out of the other and thinks they’re the bravest person they’ve ever met?

I think they both admire each other, having made their fame and fortune from scratch and kinda being the underdogs of society

Sure Mae admire joe as a person, he just needs a little push to confront his issues

Who has an adorable sneeze and who sneezes so aggressively they pull a muscle? 

Ihn’s embarrassing accident nro 4. Sneezing too hard and pulling a muscle in his lower back

Mae has that kind of sneeze you are left wondering wtf was that tiny noise. Joe has a Dad Sneeze to scare predators away from his young

Who wants to have sex at work/school and who is terrified of getting caught?

Fuck, Ihn’s dtf anywhere. Idk about Mhairi

Mae’s bit of vanilla in that sense, no sex out of bedroom

Who smells the hell out of the other’s shirts when they’re away but pretends that they don’t?

Ihn, just lil a bit, Mhairi has some excellent perfumes and moisturizers

Both do, when living separately you gotta hog all the shirts the other leaves at your place

Who believes in astrology and who doesn’t care and just wants the other to make out with them? 

Ihn at least doesn’t, idk is Mhairi is superstitious like nedians are

Mae jokingly checks them from time to time, but doesn’t bother any energy for that

Who would survive the apocalypse and who wouldn’t stand a chance?

Mhairi just might, but Ihns too unable to walk for long without his chair and i dont think a wheelchair is the most preferable method of getting around in post apocalyptic rubble

Joe’s a skilled mercenary, and Mae is good at moving unnoticed and able spot valuables, they’s make a pretty considerable team

Who is majorly ticklish and who is the tickle-attacker?

Don’t tickle inh or he might hurt his back for the third time

Mae tries, my god does she try, Joe won’t budge, but when the roles are reversed... please dont break her joe

Who greatly exaggerates being sick every time they feel even a little poorly just so the other will take care of them?

I feel like they both would downplay it, but if ihn wants attention right now he will get dramatic

Joe’s only time he gets to be an attention needy baby

[bluemoondust]

Your kokichi is soo good! Sorry if you’re tired of him but could I request the “break” prompt for him please?

I'm glad you like how I write Kokichi! And oh no, it's all good! I enjoy writing for this purple gremlin honestly XD

Break - “Should I just break your legs? That way you can never, ever run away again.”

Warning(s): Established Kidnapping, Threats, Mentions of Broken Bones

"Are you stubborn, or just stupid?"

You didn't have the energy to answer his question, but you figured it was rhetorical to begin with. However, you will say, this attempt was out of desperation and you knew escape was determined.

Your luck might've just ran out this time...

An exaggerated sigh leaves Kokichi, "Aren't you tired of this? You struggle, only to fail. I'm sure that's taking a toll on your mentality sooooo why not stop? Everything here is way better than what's out there! I'd chalk it up to being stupid if you wanted to escape this place so badly in favor of whatever boring life you want out there."

"It's not boring!" A glare was sent to him. He had the nerve to call your former life boring, when to you, it was the opposite. You had friends, family... But he ruined it all!

Kokichi smirked, "Oh? You decided to talk? Great! Five minutes in, too! A little shorter than how long you avoided me last time." His face shifted into a pout. "But did you have to be so mean about it? I know you're being moody and all, buuuut I can't take you seriously like this."

He's just toying with you. Getting a rise out of you by pushing your buttons. What does he even get out of all this? You've wanted to ask this since being brought... Wherever here was, but some nagging part of you believed he'd just lie on the spot once you ask. He claims to love you but it's probably all bullshit he spewing out. There's no love in all this. It's more likely entertainment for him. But why you?

You know he was still talking, trying to reel another reaction out of you, but it was all being tuned out. Anything else was better than listening or acknowledging Kokichi. It would only give him the green light to press further.

A sigh leaves as you try to picture yourself back to a time where everything was doing so well. Before any of this even happened. You question why such a thing happened to you and what you've done to deserve this. Such a cruel fate you could have never seen coming or so you think...

Maybe there were signs of something more sinister when you first met Kokichi, but you just couldn't pinpoint them fast enough. Could you have prevented this?

“Should I just break your legs? That way you can never, ever run away again.”

Your head immediately turned to look at him. He's... Joking, right?

"Wow! That really got your attention! Y'know, I hate being ignored." His voice lowered a bit but that damned smile was still up. You swear that it faded for a split second. It didn't sit right with you but you couldn't let him know that.

"You're just lying."

"Oh, am I?" He lets out a laugh. "Are you reaaaally sure? It wouldn't be that hard. I could use a hammer," his finger went up to his cheek as if he were pondering on the options. "Ooor my bare hands would work, but that'd be so much work..."

You grit your teeth as he pouted. He's playing around, you tried to convince yourself. If anything, this was a way to get back at you for trying to escape. He wanted you to beg for forgiveness for what you've done. Cry at his feet and promise never to do it again.

"Aw, you got all quiet~ Did I scare you? C'mon! It's not that bad! You won't die from a broken leg and the best part is that you'll get extra attention!"

He slowly walks up to you, causing your body to move away in fear. His smile widens at this.

"Just a simple *crack* and it'll all be over~! Oooor do you have something to tell me instead? Speak up or forever hold your peace." In this case... If you don't say anything, things can just get worse from here on out.

Kokichi stared intently at you, his eyes boring into your form as your breathing picked up. He's giving you a choice.

So you better answer before he makes it for you.

[mrsgiovanna]

The Escape Route (Yan! Don Giorno x Fem!Reader)

A request from a lovely nonnie mouse asking how the Don would handle his darling attempting to escape from his home. A bit of a drawn out scenario... I really hope you enjoy the read.

TW: Manipulative relationship dynamics, possessive behaviour, yandere behaviour

Word Count: 2.7k

Your brisk walk was slowly turning into a run as you worked your way through the busy streets of Naples. With your breathing ragged and eyes darting around to make sure nobody was on your tail, you tried to think about how best to put your escape plan back on track.

You knew that Giorno’s influence extended further than most, but you hadn’t expected him to have the power to derail every single option you had thought of to escape from his overpowering grip. You had been running around for hours now, from station to station, none would book you a ticket to anywhere, every cab ride was hastily halted after a dubious phone call… resulting in you being unwillingly ejected from the vehicle each time. So there you were, running into the more dangerous parts of Naples, frantically looking for some kind of shelter to house you while you thought of what you would do next.

Thankfully, you found a tiny inn, sparse amenities, small and far removed enough you thought, to not be on Giorno’s radar. The kindly old lady didn’t ask many questions, and you paid with the cash you had been slowly hiding away for such an event.

You couldn’t pinpoint when your relationship with Giorno had descended to this but you knew that if you stayed any longer his charming brand of captivity would best your common sense and you would be trapped forever. With Giorno, you had access to anything, no request was too demanding… in exchange though he required you to be within his confines at all times, listen to and obey his honeyed instructions with minimal fuss, and to not run off in the occasions when he did take you out of the mansion. I’m just keeping you safe he said… little did you know that the most dangerous one of all was the Don himself with his hypnotic gaze.

To give him the benefit of the doubt, it could have been much worse, he never harmed you physically, never pushed the intimacy boundaries further than you allowed… in your moments of weakness, it was you who had sought out his embrace. The absurdity of it all- vacillating between love and hate for this man, and so to protect the fraying thread that held your sanity together, you decided to make a run for it. It was not an impulsive idea, you had spent the better part of the year planning your grand escape, trying to imagine every way in which your plan could go awry and possible solutions to the problems. Ironically, this was a habit that you had picked up from Giorno himself, and should your plan actually work, it would be quiet poetic- escaping using the traits of your captor against him. You had gathered small amounts of cash here and there, not enough to rouse anyone’s suspicion, and made sure that any and all evidence of you memorizing the layout of the surrounding areas was completely erased. Perhaps the most difficult task of them all, was to lure Giorno into false sense of security regarding your disposition towards your situation. In the weeks leading up to your escape, you had flawlessly played the part of the dutiful ‘wife’, listening attentively, spoiling him with gentle touches and loving gazes, making sure to build up your affections gradually, as if they had been blooming naturally so as not to trigger any suspicion.

Finally, you saw your opportunity to make your move that morning. Giorno had to leave early to meet with a few associates from Japan, so you rose with him, and watched as he got ready, helping him with his hair and doing up his tie. Looking up to meet his crystalline eyes, you noticed he considered you with an expression you haven’t seen on him before.

“What is it tesoro? Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked in a gentle tone.

“You’re… just so beautiful… would you like to come with me today? I’m sure they would love to meet you… I call them associates but in actual fact one of them is a relative of mine. You’ll only be bored for a little while; after that we can do whatever you would like to,” he asked with a gentle smile. You thought about how you were going to answer, ultimately you knew you didn’t want to go, favoring your grand escape instead, but denying him that quickly would definitely set off alarm bells in his mind.

“Ah! Perhaps next time my love, I’m not going to be good company today, I woke up with a bit of a headache… I’ll probably go back to bed and sleep it off after you leave,”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to make you feel any better bella, I hate the fact that you’re hurting,” Giorno cupped your face in his hands and gently stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, “get some rest bella mio, I’ll be back to check on you as soon as I can,” kissing you on the forehead he left without another word. Waiting for him to be completely out of the villa, you watched as his car exited the driveway before quietly packing what you could, mentally going over your checklist more times than you cared to count. Since your change in attitude, the staff at the villa were more accepting of your whims, partly to do with the fact that Giorno had instructed them to do so - within reason, but also, because you had won over their trust and if you had to be honest with yourself, there was nothing you could fault them for. The dynamic Giorno had with them was not ruled by fear, but rather by admiration… all of them being drawn in by his charisma. Managing to maneuver your way through the mansion and out an exit that saw you climbing over a hidden portion of the eastern wall surrounding the villa, you had finally been outside the confines of the villa on your own for the first time in well over a year.

In the car on the way to meet with his guests Giorno was preoccupied. He had noticed the gradual change in your behavior and as much as he would have loved to give you the benefit of the doubt, a nagging inclination that you might be lying always clouded his thoughts. He loved you- entirely- even though there were days in which you rejected his affections, he was patient with you… eventually you’d understand, the dangers that lurked in every corner made your captivity, as you so unceremoniously called it, a necessity. He had grown so accustomed to making decisions with little to no advice, he had adopted that stance in his personal life as well. He rationalized that once you had accepted the fact that his actions were all borne from his desire to protect you, your lives would be peaceful, until then, he would be patient, enduring your tantrums and snide remarks with the grace of an aristocrat… which only upset you further. To Giorno, you were to be looked after, protected- treasured, and so no matter how much you had tested his patience in the beginning, not once were you ever hurt or taken advantage of. Violence and shackles were much too unrefined for a gem like you, so to correct your behavior, the young don resorted to other, less threatening means of discipline.

“Don Giovanna? We have arrived,” shaken out of his musings by his consigliere, his attention was drawn to the fact that they had arrived at their destination ready to discuss the matters at hand.

“Thank you Lorenzo, would you check if the staff has everything ready while I greet our guests?”

“Of course, excuse me,” with that, Lorenzo had left, hastily attending to a call as he walked.

“Ah, welcome to Italy, I take it you and your associates have settled in well?” said Giorno with a polite bow, being mindful of the cultural conventions of his esteemed guests. Drinks were ordered and everyone present had settled down in the private lounge, except for Lorenzo who had been animatedly conversing on the phone for enough time to make his absence felt. Frustrated by what he was tasked to do, he abruptly ended his conversation and sought out Giorno to give him the news, finally, the staff at villa Giovanna had realized you were gone.

“Don…”

“The expression on your face can only mean one thing… when did they notice?”

“A few minutes ago, she couldn’t have gotten too gar given the timeframe… what would you like me to do?”

“You stay here and keep our guests company, I’ll handle this…” not even bothering to alert the driver, Giorno collected the keys from the valet and zoomed off. Making a short drive even shorter, he arrived home in foul mood, although he did assign some of the blame to himself, recognizing his fatal error when he ignored his gut feeling, he was disappointed at how easily you had managed to slip from his grasp and wondered if his staff had been plotting with you all along. He would have to address that later on though, his primary concern now was to locate you and bring you back home.

“Mista, I have a special request to make, please come to the villa, bring Fugo with you,” said Giorno in a quick call, there were few who he trusted more than his underbosses, and this task was something that required only the most competent people. After a short explanation of the situation at hand, both men had already started making calls to the relevant people in an attempt to thwart your plans.

You would think the most frightening thing about Giorno would be his god-like requiem ability. But over and above the raw power he possessed was his reach, the world seemed so small, as if it had rested comfortably in his elegant hands- and you had been getting reminders of this inescapable fate over and over again. By the time you had given up on the idea of escaping through any traditional means of transportation, you must have tried fifty different avenues, each attempt failing more spectacularly than the last. Having had enough, you resigned yourself to the fact that you would not be leaving Naples immediately, and found refuge in the outskirts of the city. You climbed the rickety staircase behind the lady as she prattled on about her day.

“Shall I get you something to eat dolcezza? You look like you could use something warm and comforting in your system. In fact, let me do just that, you get settled in so long,” said the innkeeper before you had a chance to interject. Deciding to take a shower to wash off the day, you took comfort in the fact that this place was so remote, you were almost certain you were safe for the meantime. The tiny bathroom was a far cry from the palatial one you had grown accustomed to while being in Giorno’s villa, but it served the same purpose, only this time, you had your freedom. The place was peaceful though aside from the sound of what must have been a car backfiring and the small creaks from the natural expansion and contraction of the dwelling, it was quiet enough for you to calm down and organize your thoughts. Now that you were comparatively more at ease than before, you felt the strain of the day in your body, aching muscles, sore feet and cuts and scrapes that began to smart affixed a slight grimace to your face as you rummaged through your belongings to find some sort of pain relief.

A sharp knock on the door disrupted your search. You stayed silent for a moment, contemplating if you should ignore it or answer.

“Dolcezza, I’ve brought you a small snack, you’re going to enjoy it,” you just wanted to crawl into bed and forget the day you had, but you also didn’t want to snub her kindness, you reached out to unlock and open the door.

“Buongiorno tesoro… enjoying your little excursion? Marina here was kind enough to show me to your room so I could surprise you… seems like it worked, look at this charming expression,” turning to the smiling woman, Giorno nodded for her to leave. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, you wanted to cry, to run, to jump right out through the hazy window but your feet were rooted to the ground.

“Well (y/n) … you’ve been running around Naples for the entire day, have you found what you’re looking for?” his usual honeyed tone was laced with derision as he critically eyed your surroundings. “is this what you were so desperate to escape to? Look at this place… look at the condition you’re in… how is any of this better than everything I’ve given you?”

“I have my freedom here…” was all you could muster as your mind raced thinking of how he had still managed to find you despite all the precautions you had taken. “Giorno, how…”

“How did I find you? I always have my ways…” he said, sauntering over to the window, opening it just enough to make eye contact with whoever was outside, dismissing them with a nonchalant wave of his gloved hand. Pulling out his cellphone, he showed you the opened application, explaining that he had been using it to track your location, following the signal from the diamond earrings he gifted you on your birthday, carelessly left on when you had made your hasty escape. In all fairness, you hadn’t considered that the dainty gems were anything more than that. Feeling your legs starting to give out under you at the revelation that you were the cause of your own undoing, you sat on the bed hanging your head in defeat.

“Freedom, you say? Tell me how has that worked for you?”

“That’s not fair! You’ve basically controlled every single encounter I’ve had, and even when I thought I had escaped you by coming here, you still somehow managed to manipulate the situation…” you shouted, tears of frustration running feely down your face.

“Stop being dramatic, the world is full of horrible people, everyone is looking out for themselves, I wish you would realize that… tell me tesoro, how many people turned you away? Threw you out of their cars, made up excuses to deny your requests? Not one of those people looked into those pleading eyes and thought you were worth helping. Why? Because people are selfish…”

“You… you threatened them all, you…”

“You give me too much credit, it’s not like I was going to kill them, I hate violence, despite your disappointingly low opinion of me, even you have to admit that I’ve never done anything to physically harm you… all I want is to protect you, you don’t understand how things work out there,”

“It’s not like you’ve ever given me the opportunity to find out how things are… I”

“Some people are just meant to be loved and protected tesoro, isn’t that enough? Why would you want to risk being hurt to get a taste of something that’s actually not even worth it… you’re not cut out for this life… I’ve been here so I know this isn’t what you deserve. You’re coming back home with me,”

“But, I- “ you attempted to interject but his intense glare halted you.

“(y/n), I’m very patient under most circumstances, but please don’t test me now, I won’t say it twice…” said Giorno with a slight bite to his voice, it was clear he was growing tired of this conversation, and you were losing your will to fight back. With a quivering lip and misty eyes, you moved to gather your belongings but was stopped by the young don, arguing that he can replace whatever is there, wanting no other reminders of this transgression to follow you both back. Resigning yourself to this fate, realizing there was nowhere beyond his reach, you grasped his outstretched arm and followed him to the car to return to your life of opulent captivity. Months and months of planning all resulting in nothing, it became glaringly obvious to you that escaping was futile…

[hraishin]

Au-gust Prompt: Day Twenty - Dystopia

This is actually something I've been meaning to write for a while but I never got the inspiration for it (+ I always thought about it as a long fic, which I have no time for). BUT with the au-gust prompt right there telling me to write a shorter thing for it I decided to give it a go. Hope you enjoy this!

P.S.: Cassandra Nova is here but she isn't related to Charles.

P.S.²: This concept was inspired by this edit.

WC: 2k+

-

Charles woke up with a sigh, seeing the pale sunlight entering his room through the glass pane on the wall. As he turned his head to face it, eyes blinking to get used to the light, he saw the world outside from his small apartment.

There were green fields in the distance, the Wall standing tall but looking small from where Charles looked, and the sky was grey, thin clouds covering its blue, but the sunlight still reached him, hitting his pale skin but not warming it. It was the world he knew ever since he was a child, familiar and safe.

He couldn't understand, then, why it pained him to see that familiar view, and why the cold side of his bed felt wrong.

-

Charles looked at himself on the glass window of the small cafeteria where he ate, fork and knife in hands, frozen in the place his hands had stopped as he caught a sight of his reflection. There was something wrong with him, he knew that, although he couldn't remember what, couldn't pinpoint why his own reflection looked wrong, distorted. Blue eyes stared back at him, questioning him.

What is wrong, Charles? What is wrong? What is wrong?

There's a frown on my face, he noted to himself, immediately putting the frown away, wondering why he had a frown. 

His eyes lowered, staring at the reflection of his wheelchair. For a quiet moment, he didn't remember how he ended up in it in the first place, what had caused him to need it. Around him, no one else had one, and Charles felt a quiet burst of something fill his body, as if suddenly the others would judge. He was different. He shouldn't be.

Remember to eat healthy, the dull voice said on the speakers around the cafeteria, Charles' eyes moving from his reflection to his food again, his mind quickly pushing back all the other thoughts to focus on his food, that dull sensation coming back to him after a few moments. No feelings again, as it should be.

Even so, Charles filed away another thing that was wrong with him.

Emotions.

-

"And how are you today, Charles?" Cassandra Nova asked in a plain voice, almost cold. Her eyes moved to look at him as he thought about his answer, hands moving to stay between his legs as he did so.

"Healthy, productive," he answered, because it felt like the right answer. The woman's expression didn't change. "But my- my back hurts today."

"We can't have that," she offered back, walking around the room towards a cabinet as Charles' eyes followed her. "I can give you one pill for the pain today, but, if it comes back, you'll have to come back another time. You know the rules- Civilians can't be in possession of drugs."

"Of course," Charles confirmed. Something about the way she looked at him made Charles feel that feeling again, the same one that overcame him in the cafeteria just the day before.

Fear, it was fear, somehow…

"Anything else you'd like to tell me?" She inquired, their eyes meeting again as she held the bottle of pills in hands. 

Charles thought about it, staring at the woman, before shaking his head. "No, ma'am."

She didn't smile, no one there ever did, but for some reason Charles could clearly see what a satisfied grin would look in the woman's face.

-

Charles, the voice called, warm and familiar, sweet as nothing Charles had ever felt. Charles, where are you? 

Charles.

Charles, wake up.

Charles, please.

Please, answer me.

My love…

Charles' eyes opened, the room dark as he took a deep breath, eyes looking at the room as if the voice had been all around him.

A dream. How odd.

He moved on the bed after a few moments, getting his chair to move towards the glass pane that showed him the world outside, his eyes instinctively looking at the Wall in the distance. 

For some strange reason, Charles could swear that, even far away, and even with the darkness, there was someone standing at the top of the Wall, looking back at him.

-

"And how are you today, Charles?" Cassandra Nova asked, making Charles tear his eyes away from his reflection as he stared at the woman, something cold settling on his stomach at the question. 

Her eyes looked cruel for a moment, even though he knew it was impossible; In her hands, she held Charles' pills like she was keeping them away from him.

"Fine," he replied.

"Fine?" She pushed, head tilting to the side for a moment. Charles nodded, not sure of his answer anymore.

"Fine," he repeated. "But in pain."

The woman stared for a moment, and Charles panicked at the thought she wouldn't give him the pill.

Panic. Fear. Dreams. 

What is wrong, Charles? What is wrong? What is wrong?

When she offered him a pill, Charles held back a relieved sigh. 

"Let's fix the pain, then," she muttered, her voice dark.

-

His chair moved through the pavement, his eyes set on his destiny — work, the one he had been in for most of his life now, the only one he'd ever have. Each day, Charles wondered why it felt wrong, why everyone else around him seemed to have the muscle memory to know where everything was, while Charles hesitated.

He stopped himself in the middle of a plaza, hands placed on his wheels to move them again, but unmoving. His eyes fell to his lap, a weird feeling taking hold of him.

He stared at the fountain in the middle of the plaza, the innocuous monument standing there as its water made noise where the only sounds were of the steps against the pavement.

He stared at the fountain, the ghost of an enormous pain making itself present at the base of Charles' spine, right at the scar on his back, although he didn't know why. 

He stared at the fountain again, looking at its grey more intensely, his breathing coming in short all of the sudden. 

He stared at the fountain, and he saw a dark stain against the concrete it was made of, faded but there, as if it hadn't been able to be fully cleaned. He could almost see it was red.

-

Charles, the voice called, lovely. Worried. Charles, we'll get you back- I'll bring you back.

Yes, Charles thought back in his dream, longing hitting him like a wave. He felt almost desperate, trapped. Please.

The voice hesitated, silent, and Charles panicked, until it was back, strong and determined.

Wait for me, it said, right before Charles woke up with his heart clenched, tears falling from his eyes as he tried to understand what was happening.

Emotions, once again. Strong and painful.

He understood why they had been taken from him and the others — what a burden, to feel.

-

"And how are you feeling today, Charles?" Cassandra Nova asked, Charles' eyes widening ever so slightly as he realized the shift in the question.

In her eyes, Charles could see she knew about his little secret that he had been able to hide for the past month.

She seemed unhappy.

"I don't-"

"Don't lie to me, Charles," she demanded, her voice making Charles' body tense up for a second. "I know when emotions are active on someone. When were you planning to tell me?"

"I thought they'd go away…"

She smiled then, but it wasn't kind, it didn't seem natural. 

"They never go. Not on their own at least," she said quietly, moving towards the cabinet in the corner to take a syringe. "But with a little help and time…"

-

Remember to exercise, the dull voice said in the speakers as Charles followed the instructor's orders, arms and torso sore from the exercise, his back starting to give signals that it would hurt later.

A healthy body makes a healthy mind, the voice kept going, monotone.

Charles didn't look at his reflection on the window pane, nor the world outside.

-

"Come with me, Charles," a blonde woman said, her face serious and voice commanding. Something in her face made something stir deep inside Charles, a fog being lifted from his mind slowly.

He stared at her clothes, seeing the insignia that showed she worked for the Leaders. He barely could notice how they didn't fit her right, too wide on the shoulders, cuffs pulled back to let her hands free, as if it was someone else's.

"Of course," he finally answered with a nod, seeing her nod back.

They walked away from Charles' building, Charles following her obediently towards one of the older buildings on the outskirts of town — unused now, too unstable for someone to live in according to Nova; even so, he didn't frown.

Inside, it smelled of dust and mold, the first reaction from Charles finally showing in the form of disgust, his nose itching, a quiet spark of a doubt making itself present in his mind.

They entered one of the lower apartments, the place dark with the dusk and without the aid of lights to make seeing what was there easier. Charles noticed, whoever, the silhouette of a man next to the glass pane, standing there before turning around to look at Charles.

From far away, Charles couldn't see his face, but the man's form made an ache take hold of his body and mind. When the man walked towards him, hurried and seemingly desperate, the ache almost turned into agony.

"Charles," the man said, and his voice — the voice, the sweet voice from his dreams, who asked him to wait for him. 

When the man's lips touched his, the agony felt less painful, but panic took over again as he pushed the man away, staring at him wide-eyed.

"Who are you?" Charles asked, his voice barely leaving his mouth.

There was silence, the man staring at him with desperate eyes that Charles could now see better now that he was closer. The man's mouth was thin, his jaw sharp and hair a mess, a stubble over his cheeks — Charles felt the panic of not knowing who that man was mixing with the relief of seeing him, emotions running through him again, painfully, making Charles wish they'd stop.

"They made you forget," the man muttered, more to himself than to Charles, and Charles' brow finally furrowed, trying to understand what the man meant. "They took that away from you… Charles, you don't belong here…"

The man's hands moved gently, holding Charles' face as his thumbs brushed against the skin of Charles' cheeks. The touch was calming but too much at the same time.

"This place- Tell me… Where were you born?"

"I'm… Here, I was- I was born here."

When the man shook his head, Charles' frown deepened, a chill running through his body.

"You're from outside the Wall," the man gently said, Charles' body tensing up for a moment. "You're from far away, Charles Xavier. You found me here, and you took me out. But they got you-"

"No-"

"Yes," the man nodded, his eyes moving to the blonde woman for a moment. When Charles looked at her, she seemed to be crying. "Yes, my love, it's the truth."

"You saved people, Charles," the woman said, voice shaky. "We breached the Wall and woke them up, brought them outside the Wall, where they could live."

"But I-" Charles tried, feeling his breathing short. "My memories-"

"Do you trust them?" The man asked again, and he looked afraid of Charles' answer.

After a few seconds, after he realized the answer was "no", Charles let out a shuddering breath. The man seemed to do the same, although his was a sign of relief.

"Let me take you home," his voice was gentle now, thumbs once again caressing the skin of Charles' cheeks. "Come back with me. Come back to me."

Charles stared at that man, whose eyes seemed more familiar now than the view he'd see outside his window; whose touch brought Charles emotions he couldn't even name. 

With a shaky breath, Charles nodded. The smile on the man's lips and the tears in his eyes showed him relief and happiness; the feeling of his lips against Charles' felt like a promise of home.

[professionalsimpfor2dboys]

“Scenting” Obey Me Fluff (slightly sexual)

All demon brothers x Female! MC

Introduction: when in Devildom, MC always knew demons were very different from her human self but she never knew they did something called “scenting” until some random demons did it to her, ensuing a very possessive & peeved off demon brothers

MC sat at her desk as she normally would but quieter than usual, compared to her other classes she’d be surrounded by her demons but this was the only class that she had none of them in. Sighing out of boredom, she hunched over her desk as she waited for the bell to ring but was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. She looked up to meet black eyes that belonged to one of the many demon classmates she had grown used to ignoring.

“Hah! I told you! She finally noticed me!” He cheered cockily at his friends that stood alongside him, each very different from the other. “Jeez, I almost gave up on getting your attention, human,” he winked flirtatiously, which MC just blinked at in an oblivious manner.

“Hey! Just because she noticed you first doesn’t mean she doesn’t see the rest of us either!” The shorter out the bunch yelled out defensively.

“Ah, sorry...? I never realized anyone was trying to get my attention. Could I help you with something?” She questioned, holding a finger to her chin. After multiple lectures from Lucifer and the others but mostly Lucifer she had grown accustomed to not conversing with other demons since she was told they wanted nothing but to eat or hurt her and what idiot was not gonna take that warning? It surprised her that they seemed overall harmless, other than a common spark in the eyes of each of the demons in front of her.

“W-well, it’s not necessarily something you can help with...” a particularly shy-looking demon stepped forward, his black hair covered his eyes like a curtain which he nervously patted at. “W-we have a slight, ahem, fascination with h-humans...particularly y-you,” he trailed off as a taller demon slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Quit beating around the bush! We like you, human! You’re pretty cute!” Said demon announced, winking then continuing to give the shy boy a noogie.

A melodious giggle to their ears erupted from her throat at the slight blushing faces of her previously unknown classmates in front of her. “I’m flattered! I didn’t think I met up to demons’ preferences,” she laughed. MC was happy to be conversing with others for once, not being isolated to just the seven brothers felt as if a weight was lifted off her shoulders which she hadn’t noticed before and the fact that they found her cute was all the better.

“Nah! Attractive up there is still attractive down here! All we really prefer is that our horns don’t get caught up with each other when kissing and since you don’t have any it’s all the better!” The first demon replied cheerily, patting at her head to get the point across as she laughed. “Not to mention, since you’re human, you have a different type of beauty ‘bout you that we’re not too used to,” he continued, boldly leaning close and tipping her chin upward with a finger.

It was MC’s turn to blush. As her cheeks dusted with a slight pink tone, she couldn’t help but giggle at her classmates’ antics. “You guys are a funny bunch. I like y’all!” she commented happily, smiling at the four demons in front of her. It felt strange to not feel afraid of anyone other than her particular seven demons but not in a negative way. Inside she hoped that this would start a domino effect of others wanting to try striking up a conversation with her, the thought made her feel warm inside. The four stepped back in surprise at her revelation, whilst blushing at her cute smile they all shared a look with one another.

“D-do you mind if we, um, s-scent you...” the shy demon stuttered out as he twiddled his fingers nervously, fearing her reply to such an intimate request. Seeing her head cocked to the side, he quickly tried to explain himself. “A-Ah! We don’t want to fully scent you! Just one rub to show our interest in you is all! We would never fully scent without an established relationship! It’s just to show that we’re trying to court you is all! Y-you don’t even have to accept!” He rambled, jumping forward out of how frazzled he was which revealed his two gold eyes from underneath the curtain of pitch black hair.

“Sorry to interrupt, but what is ‘scenting’ exactly?” She questioned, confused at what it was and why there were different types. Realizing she didn’t know what it meant, the shy demon’s legs gave out from embarrassment as the taller demon caught him, his outbursts seemed to be normal to them.

“Oh, right! You’re human so you don’t know!” The shortest realized, putting his fist in to his other hand. “Hmm, long story short it’s what demons do to show our interest in someone,” he shrugged simply, but a sly glint in his eye as well as the smirk that lifted his lips said something else, which MC didn’t quite catch. “Here! I’ll show ya!” He continued before dipped down and nuzzling his neck against hers just once before pulling away with a satsifactory grin as he inhaled.

“Hey, you’re leaving some things out-“ the black-eyed demon spoke up before the shortest cut him off.

“You don’t mind it, right? It’s completely harmless!” He shrugged, holding his hands up and shaking his head innocently. The other three waited quietly in anticipation.

“I-I guess,” MC nodded which four smiled triumphantly at. The black-eyed demon didn’t waste time in following the prior demon’s actions but with a warmer smile before the taller did the same, a flirtatious lift to his lips. That left only the shy demon to scoot hesitantly close before rubbing his neck against hers. Once. Twice. Before being pulled away by the other three.

“Hey! What are ya trying to do? Don’t be going overboard with the scenting, dumbass!” The tallest reprimanded, holding him by the back of his collar.

“I-I’m sorry! I got carried away! I wasn’t going to do anything more! Promise!” He wailed as the three pulled him out the classroom just as the bell rang, not forgetting to wave at her as they left.

“Strange. I wonder what the brothers will have to say.” She thought to herself.

-

Disappointed but not surprised that the brothers each had plans after school, she walked home alone that day. One would think at least one would stay behind for her safety, but she felt that they were beginning to get too used to having her around and often forgot she was human, which was nice she was so included and familiar to them but annoying nonetheless when she didn’t get to see anyone until dinner. Beel and Satan had after school activities, which she understood as well as Lucifer having his own duties to Lord Diavolo but the other four’s excuses were ridiculous to her. Mammon texted her to inform that he was going to be trying to break into Diavolo’s office at school with the full intent to steal any valuables in there, Levi had shut himself in at some newly opened Internet cafe and refused to even do his online classes there, Belphie had disappeared somewhere most likely in a strange spot sleeping, and Asmo was completely focused on waiting in line at a popular cake store since morning just for what he called the “perfect Devilgram post”.

By the time she had gotten home she had completely forgotten about the whole “scenting” thing and decided to take a shower. She had just gotten out when she heard hurried footsteps leading to her door. Acting quickly, she ran to the door and locked it before anyone could enter and see her in all her naked glory. This was met with a deep “oof” as the person hit the door, expecting it to open, and followed it with loud knocks when it didn’t.

“Oi! Why’s the door locked? Who ya got in there? I can smell ‘em!” Mammon’s voice berated as he incessantly banged at the door, awaiting his human’s answer. He stopped briefly to press his nose against the crack of the locked door as he deeply inhaled to pinpoint the foreign scent before starting back up again. “Oiiii! Who’s scent is that? That ain’t any of my brothers or mine!” He yelled.

“Yeah, because it’s mine! I just got out the shower! Are you a bloodhound or somethin’? Am I not allowed to lock the door or would ya rather see me naked?” She yelled back, annoyed at his questions. Obviously she’s going to smell like her body fragrance after coming out the shower, what kind of question is that?

Blushing at her remark, he stopped knocking but still cocked his head to the side out of confusion. He knew her scent so why did it smell different? Shaking his head, he brushed it off as a new body lotion or something among those lines. “I’ve told ya! Demons have got a stronger sense of smell than ya humans! Anyways, I’m on dinner duty and it’ll be done in thirty minutes so I expect ya down here right when it’s done! The Great Mammon’s food shouldn’t be kept waiting, alright?” He stated.

“Yeah, yeah! I’ll be down there when I’m ready to!” She answered angrily, his questioning from earlier and the fact that he abandoned her to try breaking into Diavolo’s office instead taking play.

-

She took her time after that, knowing fully well that dinner was ready and the others were sat waiting for their beloved human that they neglected all day to come down and eat with them. By the time she came down, they had all been seated and Beel was already on his fifth plate which didn’t take him long mind you.

“Ah, better late than never, I suppose,” Lucifer commented teasingly, noting her damp hair as her excuse.

“Hurry up and eat before Beel devours it all!” Mammon ushered at the seat in front of him, he usually sat beside her but the twins had beat him to it since there was only one seat she preferred to sit at.

Taking her usual seat, she began to eat but it wasn’t long before a faint but definitely there foreign scent emanated from her. Reaching Belphie first while Beel was too busy stuffing his face with food. It roused him from his short slumber he decided to take at the dinner table, as he inched forward towards his human’s neck. She jumped when she felt his nose pressed against her nape as he inhaled and pulled away with a disgruntled look on his face.

“Why do you smell like that?” Belphie sneered. At this point, the smell had reached Beel as well and he promptly stopped his feasting to investigate. He followed Belphie’s actions but on the opposite side, deeply inhaling before quickly pulling away with furrowed eyebrows.

“Yeah...you smell like someone else,” Beel growled, surprising her at the tone of his voice. The smell wafted towards the other brothers as well and it wasn’t long before they were all on their feet, surrounding her with quizzical expressions while each taking turns of two to sniff at her exposed neck as she sat red-faced at the attention. She knew she was a bit petty from being neglected earlier but she didn’t expect this much attention at once!

“I knew I smelt something-someone earlier!” Mammon said as he angrily took another whiff, which only peeved him off more.

“How strange,” Satan hummed, a smile on his face that she knew masked his anger all too well. The brothers tried to rack their brains from what the scent could be from before Levi suddenly gasped.

“S-she’s been scented!” He revealed before dipping down yet again to smell. “And by, what seems like, multiple demons!” He continued, an angry flush against his cheeks. All the brothers looked at each other before returning their attention back to MC, who sat looking dazed in her chair.

“Now, now, lets give her space,” Lucifer commanded, waving his hand for his brothers to step away. “Care for an explanation, darling?” He questioned, the glint in his eye and slight furrow of his forehead outing his subdued anger as he felt a crack in his pride that some lowly demon, multiple in fact, had scented his human and she allowed it. He held a threatening but gentle hand on her shoulder as she tried her best to rack her brain to recall why she would smell like someone else. A lightbulb lighting up in her brain when she finally recalled.

“Ah! I talked to four classmates of mine for the first time and they mentioned something about ‘scenting’, I didn’t really understand it and next thing I knew they were doing it so that’s probably why!” She explained, looking up at the brothers with innocent eyes that made their hearts squeeze. So, she didn’t know.

“And what did they tell you about it exactly?” Lucifer questioned further.

“Hmm, they said demons do it to show their interest in someone? Something about courting?” She replied.

“Aw, my poor darling! Taken advantage like that!” Asmo cooed as he threw his arms around her.

“O-oh, did they lie?” She asked sheepishly.

“More like gave ya half-truths!” Mammon answered as he ran a hand through his hair in a frustrated manner. “Satan, explain,” he sighed, waving his hand.

“Well, while what they said was true it was very vague and not all of it. Scenting is when a demon claims one as their own, it’s territorial and tells other demons to back off or else there’s gonna be...problems,” Satan explained in a matter-of-fact manner.

“They mentioned something about not ‘fully’ scenting. What’s that?” She asked.

“Ah, if they did that we’d have their heads,” he chuckled out evilly before resuming his explanation calmly which made her shiver. “Fully scenting is when demons claim one as their mate. It creates a tether between them more romantically intimate than a pact and is stronger smelling than normal scenting. The one who was scented on can also release distress signals when in danger and it’ll alert the other demon almost right away,” he ended.

“A-Ah, so there was more to it,” she laughed weakly, realizing how dumb she was before.

“Hm, yes. Well, it seems that we’ll have to further stake our claim on our human here. Luckily we’re powerful demons, so we can easily break this mediocre scenting,” Lucifer stated before pressing his lips against her neck and harshly sucking, causing a gasp to leak out her lips. He pulled away and smirked at the bright hickey that bloomed on her neck as well as the fading scent that was on her.

“I agree,” Mammon monotoned as he did the same, finding her sweet spot almost instantly as he suckled and kissed on it to leave a deep bruise. “How dare they put their disgusting scent on my human?” He growled against her. She covered her mouth to muffle her voice, but Levi pulled them away.

“I don’t think so,” he tsked, nibbling at her jaw and smirking against her as she gasped at the feeling of his bite on her skin.

“We’ll be covering you with these,” Satan spoke against her, dipping to her clavicle to leave yet another hickey as he circled his tongue around it.

“We’ll put it in places you can’t cover and make it so dark no makeup could make a dent!” Asmo giggled mischievously as he aimed for where her jugular was, causing her to shiver.

Beel licked his lips at the sight of her as he took it upon himself to bite new territory, which was her shoulders. “This is better than when I wanted to eat you when we first met,” he mumbled lowly, lapping at the bite marks he left on her to soothe them.

“Ah, hardly any room for me,” Belphie muttered before taking a bite at the top of her chest, her jumping up as a reaction making him smile smugly.

Oh, how was she was going to avoid prying eyes at school tomorrow?

I’m a whore for scenting so I wanted to give it a go! I think ima make this a series since they didn’t fully scent on her just yet & will probs make a part for each of my bois, Mammon being first of course! Oh and I’m definitely gonna make them smutty because duh probably start off being some fluffy cute cuddles & then progress to absolute ravaging ;) interested?

Oh and what do y’all think of the demons I made up for this story? I kinda like their personalities & antics together idk 🤷🏻‍♀️

[korpuskat]

i'd be appalled if i saw you ever try to be a saint [Pagan Min/Reader]

[Ao3 Mirror] Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 1,944 Content: DFAB & Gender Neutral Reader. Blasphemy & Sacrilege, Inappropriate Use of Religious Objects, Shibari, Bondage, Suspension, Begging, 

"I didn't think you'd be into... this..." You murmur, raise your arms as Pagan's nimble fingers slide the rope around your chest, once, then twice, forming lines across your skin with the deep red-brown material.

"Oh? Why's that?" He grins and it makes your stomach flip- a completely different anxiety than the one that's born from being completely nude as he takes his time forming shapes with his preferred medium. "One must be adventurous to rule a kingdom, and it's quite aesthetically pleasing."

"Thought it would be too similar to your work."

"Work, hah." He carefully threads the ends of the ropes back behind you, pausing to give you a moment to turn away from him. "Maybe for De Pleur, but I for one do not make it a habit to personally tie up terrorists with this much care." With only light touches he brings your arms back and binds them at your elbows, weaves the rope around your outstretched limbs until you can no longer pull them apart or lift them, as he secures that set of knots to harness forming at your chest.

"Though," He starts, then taps your shoulder to make you turn again. His eyes wander over your body, appraising his work thus far before lowering himself to his knees to begin working again at your waist. "This does give me some ideas."

"Thought you didn't want to tie up terrorists." You tease him and it earns you a half-amused glance and raised eyebrow.

"I don't, but someone must. It's the only way to stop them from making a mess of things." His hands are tireless, forming a thick, intricate weave along your outer thigh before it splits into individual strands- and Pagan tips you backwards onto the bed as he finishes that foot with your toes extended, leaving your leg as immobilized as your arms. Only a few minutes in and you can't move the majority of your body- and the thought sends a wave of heat through your body, culminating between your legs. In a vain attempt to subdue the building desire, you press your thighs together- which does not go unnoticed.

"Always so needy." He tsks, but his words carry no weight. Even if you didn't know your neediness made him feel wanted, his own excitement was obvious, tenting the front of his pants. "Almost done." He purrs and rolls you onto your stomach. He touches your unbound leg. "Lift, please."

The angle is odd, but you raise your leg as much as you can. It must be enough, because Pagan rests your ankle in the crook of his arms as he works more rope down this leg. He seems to work quicker, his own impatience growing- and you can't blame him. That heat burns between your legs and you have nothing left to sate it with other than the imaginings of what's to come.

"There." Pagan sighs, and steps away from the bed. He walks around in front of you, once again appraising his work- and you realize you can't put your leg down. Without his support, your leg hangs in the air, the rope shorter on the back of your leg than the front, the tension alone keeping it up. It's an odd sensation, like your weight isn't spread the way it should be- but you don't focus on it long as Pagan retrieves his phone.

All at once the heat rushes to your cheeks and you're ducking your face into his plush beddings. He laughs, always one to enjoy your embarrassment. "Nothing to be shy about, darling. Don't you want to look good for your king?"

"You're horrible." You grumble into the mattress, try desperately to close your legs as he circles around.

"Mmm," His clothes brush against your inner thighs. "Is this so horrible?" His fingers slip between your labia, slick and easy with your building arousal. Unbidden, your hips buck as best they can with the ropes restricting them, and still Pagan is as careful as he was threading the ropes. Never once do the pads of his fingers touch your clit, circling tantalizingly close and never quite making contact. All it does is fan the flame, all your focus centered on the feather-light pinpoints of his touch.

He stops as quickly as he started, coming around in front of you once more. Your mouth is already open, correctly anticipating his ritual of making you clean his fingers.

"Now this may take a moment." Behind you once more, he messes with the ropes- and you struggle to figure out what's happening- until you feel a peculiar pull across your body. You twist in your binds, try to glance over your shoulder- all you get a glimpse of him with his shirt sleeves rolled up, buttoned to expose more of his forearms as he grabs the rope again and pulls.

This time you slide right off the side of the bed. "Pagan?" Your voice shakes, not quite sure what to make of it- and he pulls again, not even answering you. One leg bent back, you balance carefully on the toes of one foot- each pull on the ropes takes more and more of your weight. He keeps going until you're nearly hanging by your leg, almost inverted except for your one leg that still dances across the floor, skittering across Pagan’s plush carpets for purchase, not quite supporting you and not quite dangling.

Pagan exhales, and with your new position you spin lightly in the center of the room, field of view drifting around until you catch sight of him again. He's trying off the rope, and mutters half to himself, "Let's buy a winch next time."

Though he sweats lightly, as soon as he makes eye contact with you the exhaustion wears off quick. His fingertips remain light and teasing as they trace down the long lines of rope, testing the strength of his knots that keep you in your perilous position.

"I think," He says, breathless, "this is right where you belong, don't you?" His fingers race along your arms, up to your shoulders, up and up till they're stroking through your hair. You strain to look up at him, watch as the fire builds in his eyes. "It's what you really want, to be under my power. Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, nothing to do but to obey me."

With a whine you avert your eyes, try once more to bring your thighs together- and all it takes is a rough tug at your hair to bring your focus back to him. Your hands flex aimlessly, staring at him as he licks his lips, "That sweet pussy of your must be aching by now. I know you want to beg, so go on."

"P-please." It's hardly more than a whisper, and Pagan's face hardens, more insulted than amused by your first attempt. A forceful swallow and you try again, "Please, Pagan... touch me?"

"Tsk, that was pitiful. You can do better than that."

A bite to your lip and you’re still fighting to get the words out past your shame. "Please, I need it, I'm aching," You whine, can't even drop your head with his hand still tangled into your hair. "I- I'll do anything you want."

The knuckles of his free hand caress the side of your face. "Oh, I know you will, darling. But that's bargaining not begging. Is the blood rushing to your head already? Come on dear, let it out."

You're aching and he won't stop, ruthless, almost sadistic and all you want- all you really want- "Use- use me. Please, King Min, please, use me- I want- I want to make you cum, I want to taste you, please-"

Pagan grins, unashamedly pleased in your slow descent into subspace. "All you had to do was ask." Finally, he releases his hold on your hair which leaves your scalp tingling and your neck straining to keep watching. It's a sight worth fighting for; he unbuckles his belt and makes short work of his pants, the pink fabric parting- and your whole body throbs. With one hand he strokes himself, takes care to draw his foreskin back and watch as you begin to drool. If he could, perhaps he'd tease you like this for hours- make you watch him slowly please himself while you beg and insist that you could help. It would be agony for you both.

His own impatience is what makes him grasp your hair again- and he doesn't even have to tell you to open your mouth.

His taste and scent fill your every sense- the faintest twinge of sweat, but mostly soap and his cologne. Until, of course, he holds the sides of your head and begins to move. The first hint of bitter precum has you moaning, remembering the last time you'd had the privilege of making your king come undone with your tongue.

"I didn't tell you where these ropes came from, did I?" He manages to say between grunts, doesn't wait for you to try to answer. "Some unloyal citizens had thought to- oh, to rebuild one of those bell towers."

Your mind fights to the surface to understand, but all you can manage to do is stare up at him with big, glassy eyes. "They're sanctified. Meant to dispel fucking demons." He says and lets his head fall back. The weight of his words begins to settle in- and he pulls you as far as you can go and holds you there. Your nose flush with his abdomen, pressed against the black, well trimmed hairs. Your throat spasms with the intrusion, gagging- and Pagan doesn’t let up until your chest begins to burn.

He pulls you off him entirely. You gasp in lungfuls of air as he wrenches your head up again. He's half-crazed, panting, as rabid as you've ever seen him- "Are they working? Do you feel like you're curing evil?"

There's no right answer. Nothing you could say would be right, but he’s pleased enough at your open-mouthed panting, how you’ve nearly come undone just from sucking him off.

Pagan grabs the rope and spins you, your one foot dragging on the floor until you're facing away from him again. His hands find your hip and your strung-up leg- and there's nothing for you to do but squirm. He pushes in and his first thrust is like music; your whole body sings for the stimulation, the attention, the touch of your king. As rough as he can be with your body swaying, his fingers dig into your skin, desperate for any sort of leverage. Hard, then harder- his short-clipped nails biting into your skin. It's still not good enough; he grabs the ropes that twist around your arms, his fingers winding around his own knots as he yanks you back onto his cock.

His other hand reaches around, latches onto your throat and pulls as hard as he can, your body aching as you're bent backwards, straining against the ropes. Close, close enough for him to pant in your ear as he fucks you- "They're for worship.” He spits the word, drives it home with a thrust so hard he must bruise your cervix- and follows it with a hand sliding over your side, over each line of rope. Down, over your belly, down to your still-neglected clit. You keen as he brushes it, draws faint circles over it- "Do you feel worshipped?" His teeth close around the shell of your ear- and that's all it takes.

Lightning passes through you, leaves you gasping, begging with empty words as Pagan grunts, mutters a "Fuck, fuck!" A long, stuttering sigh- and his forehead rests against your shoulder, breath slowing in rhythm with your still-twitching body.

The serenity doesn't last long- the ropes cutting into your skin brings you down from your high. A single tiny "Ow." has Pagan up- and through his own post-orgasmic stupor manages to cut through the ropes and steady you enough to fall back onto his bed together.

With half-asleep limbs you shuck the knots from your body. Pagan watches with one eye before conceding, "Maybe too adventurous."

----

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[mickey-millagher]

Mickey stepped out onto the Gallagher front porch, his current search for his husband had been so far been fruitless but the ladder leaned up against the porch roof was starting to shed some light on his whereabouts.

Making his way down the front steps and looking up, Mickey was greeted by the shock of red hair belonging to the one and only Ian Gallagher.

“Ian the fuck are you doing up there?”

Ian looked down, seemingly unsurprised by Mickey’s presence, which really in itself wasn’t shocking, the two of them had hardly spent any time apart since they got married.

“Liam and Franny’s frisbee got stuck up here, said I’d get it back for them.”

Mickey rolled his eyes at his do-gooder husband. “Ain’t you meant to have someone holding those things?”

“Worried about my safety Mick?” Ian grinned down at him.

Mickey was about to reply that no, he absolutely was not, and fuck you for thinking so, when a gunshot rang out from around the corner. Ian with his soft centre that no years of hardship seemed to ever quite have stamped out of him, jumped at the noise, the motion causing him to lose his footing and go falling to the ground, ladder right after him.

“Fuck, Ian.” Mickey yelled, rushing to the younger mans side, pushing the ladder off of him where it had landed on his face, a cut to start swelling up in its wake.

“Hey, hey you okay?”

No response.

“Fuck.”

Mickey, quickly checked for breathing, letting out a sign of relief when he felt his husbands steady breath still coming through. Pulling Ian’s head onto his lap he then got out his phone to call for an ambulance.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I need an ambulance, my husband hit his head and he’s not waking up.”

“Okay sir, can you tell me your location?”

“Err shit um.” He quickly looked up at the house number. “2119 South Wallace.”

“Okay an ambulance is coming. I need you to answer a few questions for me. Is your husband still breathing?”

“Yeah, he’s breathing fine.”

“Good, that’s a really good sign. And his pulse?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, he’s the one who knows all the medical shit.”

“Take his wrist and place your thumb on the outside corner.” The voice guided him through.

Mickey placed the phone on the grass to follow the woman’s instructions. Clumsily attempting to pinpoint Ian’s pulse, a nurse of sheer panic flew through him when he couldn’t immediately find it, his breath coming out in quick, jagged pants when he did locate Ian’s, thankfully, steady pulse.

“Yeah, his pulse is good.” Mickey breathed down the phone.

“Okay, these are all good signs. The ambulance should be with you soon but your husband should be okay in the mean time.”

“Should be?” But the phone line was already dead.

“Shit, c’mon Gallagher, get up you stubborn son of a bitch.”

Maybe he heard him or maybe it was coincidence but at that moment Ian let out a groan.

“Ian?”

“Mickey?” Ian blinked, confused, back up at him. Unsteadily pulling himself up from the shorter mans lap.

“Woah, easy, you took a fucking nose dive off the roof.”

Ian stared back at him, drawing in on himself slightly.

“What?” The younger man asked.

“You don’t remember?”

Ian shook his head, immediately wincing and bringing a hand up to his head.

“What are you still doing here?” Ian asked after a second.

The question took Mickey aback.

“Where the fuck else would I be?”

Ian shrugged, crawling back to lean against the chainlink fence.

“Most people don’t stick around after a breakup.”

It was Mickeys turn to stare, not understanding a word that was coming out of his husbands mouth.

“What the fuck are you talking about? That fall knock a few screws loose? We just got married, that was the end of our breakups.” Mickey said, wiggling his ring finger in front of Ian to prove his point.

Ian stared at the ring wrapped around Mickeys finger before lifting up his own left hand to examine his finger ring. He touched the ring with such a mixture of emotions, Mickey couldn’t even pinpoint them all. Confusion, disbelief, shock, fear, and awe, being among them.

Ian’s eyes flickered back up to Mickey’s, mouth open no doubt to ask another strange and confusing question when the sirens sound came blearing down the street.

“We got a call that a man had suffered a head wound at this address?” The first paramedic out of the ambulance asked.

Mickey pointed them over towards Ian.

“My husband. He just woke up and he’s been acting fucking weird since.”

The paramedics came over to where Ian was hunched by the fence.

“Hello, sir. We heard you had an accident.”

Ian shrugged, not paying much attention to the people in front of him, his focus still on the ring on his finger.

“Sir, could you tell us your name?”

“Ian Gallagher.” He replied softly, having yet to look up at the paramedics.

“Hi, Ian. Would you mind if I looked at your head?” The male paramedic asked.

Again Ian shrugged, moving slightly away from the fence to allow better access.

While the male paramedic examined Ian, the female one crouched within his eyesight.

“Hey Ian, could you answer just a couple of questions for me?”

“Okay.”

“Great.” The woman replied, way too brightly for someone who was meant to be making sure Ian was okay, at least in Mickey’s opinion. “What do you remember prior to the impact?”

Ian’s eyes flickered up to meet Mickey’s before looking back at the paramedic.

“Umm, I’d just gotten back from a trip with my mom.”

Mickey stilled, Ian’s answers earlier had been strange but not thinking he’d been hanging out with his dead mother strange.

“Do you remember what lead to you hitting your head?” The paramedic asked, this time using a light to shine into Ian’s eyes while she waited for his answer.

“No.” Ian replied, wincing slightly as the other paramedic continued his check of Ian’s skull.

“Okay that’s perfectly normal. Can you tell me what year it is?”

“2014.” Ian’s answer came with no hesitation but the simple date brought Mickey’s world grounding to a halt.

2014, that was the year Ian had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. The year Mickey had been sentenced to fifteen years behind bars. And the year Ian had torn his heart to shreds in this very front yard.

No wonder Ian had been confused by his presence, why he thought they were broken up, why he didn’t know they were married.

The paramedic however seemed to just take this answer in her stride. “Do you know where we are?”

“This is my house.”

“Do you know who the president is?”

“Obama?” Ian asked, getting confused by the random questions.

“okay, and finally, can you tell me the days of the week backwards?”

“Umm, Sunday, Saturday, Friday— fuck it’s um.” Ian’s eyes flickered back to Mickey in a panic.

“Hey, it’s okay, there’s no wrong answers here, we just need to access how best to help you.” This came from the male paramedic, who had apparently finished his head assessment.

“It’s um— Thursdays, Wednesday, Tuesday, Monday.”

“That’s great Ian.”

“So I’m okay?”

“Ian, have you heard of the condition amnesia?”

“Yeah?” Ian replied, a slight questioning lilt to his voice, not yet understanding what Mickey was just starting to piece together.

“During my questions you said you believe it’s 2014 and that Obama is President. Do you still believe that?”

“Yes?” Ian replied, nerves now clouding his voice.

“Ian, the year is 2020.” The paramedic informed him gently.

Ian looked between the two health workers before looking up to Mickey, as if to ask for confirmation.

Mickey nodded and Ian let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes while leaning back against the fence while he took it all in.

“We’d like for you to come down to the hospital so we can run some routine tests to make sure you’re okay. Amnesia is common after head wounds and usually goes away on its own but it’s important we check nothing else is going on.”

Ian nodded, getting up slowly from his position to follow them to the ambulance.

Mickey made to go after him.

“You don’t have to come, you don’t owe me anything.” Ian said when he heard the footsteps following him.

Mickey was glad Ian was facing away from him so he couldn’t see how much those words broke his heart.

“Fuck off Gallagher, I know I don’t owe you shit, still gonna make sure you’re okay.”

“I don’t need a nurse.” Ian complained, now turning to face the older man.

“Think the doc said the opposite.”

Ian huffed at his answer but made no more moves to stop Mickey from following him into the ambulance.

~page break-

The L ride back to the house had been spent in silence, the walk from the L didn’t seem to be faring any better. The doctors at the hospital had cleared Ian of any major damage, just a slight concussion and told them to come back in a week if his memory still hadn’t improved. Stupid doctors go to all their fancy medical schools but still couldn’t help Ian when he was hurt.

“You don’t have to come back to the house you know.” It was the first thing Ian had said since they left the hospital.

“Considering I live there I kinda fucking do.”

“Right.” Ian started fiddling with his wedding ring, going back to looking between Mickey and the ring like he still couldn’t quite believe it.

They fell back into silence for a couple more minutes.

“Why did you want to marry me?” The voice came out small, the words so vividly reminiscent of Ian’s fears before their wedding. Words and worries that they’d moved past, but only Mickey remembered that now.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Mickey laughed, there was no joy in it but once he started he found it incredibly hard to stop.

Ian stood there in alarm, watching Mickey have his, breakdown? Was this a breakdown? It felt like a breakdown. All there years of life constantly pulling them apart was meant to be over and now Ian couldn’t even remember it. He should’ve known not to get too settled.

“Have you gone fucking crazy too?”

That just made him laugh more. Mickey shook his head at his husband, taking a couple of minutes to calm himself down.

“You’re not fucking crazy.”

“Yes I am. There’s too much wrong with me, why would you choose to tie yourself down to me? I have nothing to offer you.”

“We got married cause we fucking love each other.” Mickey replied, Ian’s words from the diner proposal ringing in his ears.

“What so we really did go down to the courthouse in some tuxes like a couple of old queens?” Ian asked with a small joyless laugh.

“Polish Doll actually.”

“Aren’t they homophobes?”

“Worked around it.” Mickey replied, lips twitching upwards just at the memory of that day. “C’mon man, let’s not do this here.”

Ian sighed but seemed slightly more accepting of Mickey coming home with him now, or at least he wasn’t outwardly fighting it as they continued the short trudge back to the South Wallace house.

“I’m tired, think I’m gonna go to bed early.”

“You sure that’s okay? They said you had a concussion.”

“A mild concussion. And it’s fine, as long as I can walk straight and keep a conversation I can sleep.”

Mickey’s heart leapt up in his chest at those words, was he starting to remember?

“You remember all that medical shit?”

“What medical shit? Carl’s always getting concussions so I remember that stuff.”

Mickey tried to hide his disappointment but probably not well enough as Ian gave him a weird look before shaking his head and climbing up the stairs.

Mickey sighed as he watched the retreating form of his husband, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes that he refused to let fall as he headed to get a beer from the fridge. The first of likely many this evening.

Mickey was halfway through his second one when the front door opened, Carl, Debbie and Franny coming into the house, with the two siblings arguing about some dumb shit or other. The noise soon bringing Liam down from his room.

Not for the first time Mickey was grateful for how self obsessed the majority of the Gallaghers were. Liam had acknowledged him before being dragged into whatever drama his siblings had going on, while Franny was too invested in her cartoons to notice much. Meaning Mickey got away with mostly staying out of it while he finished his beer before deciding it was time to check on his husband.

Slowly pulling the accordion door open, Mickey swore his beat stopped when he saw that the room was empty, remembering teenaged Ian’s tendency to run when things got hard. Pulling back quickly, Mickey scanned the first floor of the house before landing on the slightly ajar door to the old boys room.

Rushing down the hall, Mickey only felt like he could breathe again once the rickety old door was open and he could see Ian curled up on his old bed, having forgotten he ever moved rooms.

Mickey went back to their bedroom, digging around under the bed to find the wedding album he’d created with Franny not that long ago. His young niece insisting she’d be a big help. The overall look ended up being slightly childish but it would still hopefully have the desired effect today, to get Ian to realised what he hadn’t been able to six years ago. That he loved him and wasn’t going anywhere.

Back in the boys room, Mickey carefully placed the album down on the side table. Leaning over he ran his fingers through Ian’s hair, the younger man nuzzling into his hand even in his sleep, looking so peaceful all the while.

Mickey couldn’t bring himself to wake him up, if he didn’t have his memories back, all being awake would bring him was pain and misery. At least in his sleep he he could be happy.

Mickey grabbed a pillow from the abandoned third bed and lay down on the floor to wait, he didn’t want to be too far away from Ian, not right now but the days events had been too exhausting. He just needed to close his eyes for a few seconds

~page break-

When Ian woke up the room was lit only by the moonlight streaming in through the window. He could hear snores coming from the other occupants of the room, Carl up in the bunk bed and— Mickey sleeping on the floor? Ian remembered the events of the day, the doctors who told him he’d forgotten six years of his life, and Mickey who had stayed by his side throughout all of it, not caring about the breakup. Although, he supposed, to Mickey that must seem like ancient history by now.

Leaning over to properly look at his now husband, Ian’s eye caught something resting beside the bed that hadn’t been there before.

Picking it up he couldn’t help the small gasp that left him once he realised what was in his hands. The photo on the front was of Mickey and himself, dressed up in fancy tuxes, flipping the camera off with their other arms wrapped around each other.

Ian brushed his finger against the photo Mickey softly before slowly turning the page. The album was filled with photos upon photos of them, dancing, laughing, kissing. The ones that must have been taken while they exchanged their vows made him pause the most. The serious looks on their faces, followed by the utter joy in their grins from the pictures of them walking down the aisle together.

They fucking loved each other. After everything, they really fucking loved each other.

Ian pulled the album to his chest, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes. He wanted to keep looking but his head was hurting now more than ever and it helped to close his eyes.Still it wasn’t long before he fell asleep, soothed by the images of his wedding to the love of his life.

~page break~

Waking up groggy hours later, Ian sat up with a groan, looking around his old room and the down at the album still in his arms confused.

“Hey you’re awake, how are you feeling?” Mickey asked, sitting up from his place on the ground.

Looking at Mickey, Ian suddenly remembered everything that had happened yesterday. It was strange to remember a time that he didn’t remember so much of his life.

Ian quickly moved off the bed to wrap his arms around his husband, not being able to go without holding Mickey any longer, they’d lost enough time and yesterday only proved that.

“I’m so sorry Mick.”

Mickey tensed in his arms.

“What you sorry about?”

“Yesterday, fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know how I’d manage if all you remembered was from one of our breakups.” Ian breathed into his neck.

“You remember?” Mickey asked, not quite ready to let his guard down after the hell that had been the day before.

“I remember everything Mick.”

Ian couldn’t be sure but thought he heard a slight sob before Mickey’s arms tightened around him, bringing him as close to his body as possible.

“Don’t fucking do that again Gallagher.”

“I promise Mick.” Ian replied, kissing Mickey’s neck where his head was buried. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[eternally-drifting]

Eclipsed (Jungkook FF) - Ch.2

Discovering the kings biggest secret leads you into understanding the way he is, and how perhaps you have been just a bit too prejudice. After all, who are you to judge anyone.

pairing: Demon King Jungkook x Reader

genre: fantasy, fluff, inspired by the anime Inuyasha, slight e2l, then f2l, and some angst cuz why not, future smut, oh and a hint of gore.

warnings: mentions / descriptions of blood loss, insinuates d34th of character

word count: 1432

parts: <prev 2 / next>?

a/n: so this ones a little shorter and it’s not edited (nothing ever is). But i have written and re-written this chapter SO many times that this is the first time I’ve actually felt content with it. So... yeah

Without further notice, hope you enjoy this.

Feather light touches skimming across your face sent a shudder through you. The cooling breeze carrying the scent of morning dew, leaving a calming sensation as you inhaled and exhaled. You laid there in the soft, overgrown field of grass, not a single worry clouding your mind. It’s been so long since peace has been in your reach, this being perhaps the longest you’ve felt it. Desperate to stay in this… this realm.

Not having to worry about the usual troubles that occur in you day to day life. The usual weight in your chest – lifted. Never have you felt so light before. Reality doesn’t exist here, there are no mistakes, no judgments, no fears, no responsibilities, no doubts, no regrets!

Here, in this realm, you are whoever you choose to be. Wander however far or close you choose to go, and not have to answer to anyone but yourself. This realm, in this realm, you can be an ordinary woman, or the free wind. In this realm, you can just be.

“___,” it’s so soft, just as the breeze carrying it’s sound to you.

You open your eyes and are greeted with shades of purple transitioning into hues of coral, orange, and light blues. As the breeze continues its dance with the grass, you hear it again. Ever so soft and soothing in the wind.

“My darling ___.” The weight is settled back down. Feeling heavier than when it was lifted.

Sitting up, you turn your body around in the direction of her voice. Her image clearer than when you last saw her. “Mama…”

She smiled and yet; even in this realm it was sad. “You have to wake up now darling.”

“What?” No! not again. You disagreed, frantically shaking your head.

“Wakeup ___.” She reached her hand out towards you, but it was quickly fading away.

“N-no, please don’t. Please, stay here!” You pleaded, but you knew that it would do no good. Anytime you did, it always turned out the same.

“Forgive me ___,” and when you blinked, there she stood again. Drenched in her own blood, barely able to stand, and wheezing with every step she took. The final blow being that she continued to smile, even as her tears flowed down her face, the light in her eyes slowly dying out.

“I’m sorry ___,… I’m so sorry…” She collapsed to the ground, her blood having caused a puddle at her feet splashed, droplets landing on your face. You ran towards her in a frenzy.

‘This can’t be happening, not again, no! Please, not again!’ But when you reached to where she had fallen, her body wasn’t there. Any sign that she was even there in the first place – gone.

‘Wake up ___.’ What?

You twirled around to try and find her, but there was no one there. Even still, the voice continued, echoing through the open and empty space.

‘Wake up ___’

‘wake up… wake up… wake up… wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup’

BANG!

You jumped awake, skin slick with sweat that your clothes and hair cling to you, chest heaving as you tried to calm yourself. Your arm throbbing in pain again from the sudden jump. Looking around, you realize that it was another bad dream.

‘Another nightmare mixed with reality.’ You huff out a scoff and shake your head at it all. “Suppose I can’t escape it even in my sleep.”

There was another bang and only when you calmed down enough, did you realize that it was coming from the front door.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you grimaced at the thought. ‘Don’t tell me that he’s here already.’

The banging suddenly stopped, and you dared hope. ‘Maybe he le-‘

“I know you’re in there and awake ___, I can hear your heart beating, open up!” Wretched demon!

Laying back down for a second and closing your eyes, you took a deep breath before releasing an internal groan. Now that you were awake, the pain in your arm was amplified. Images from last night flash through your mind. The horror it was to stitch up the wound on your own nearly knocked you out. With a pitiful sigh, you made to throw your robe on with care to not further injure your arm.

The knocking continued and seemed to only become more and more obnoxious. ‘He waited who knows how long till I woke up, he can wait a few more seconds.’ Grumbling to yourself as you reached the door and opening it just a crack.

Greeting you was the sight of a very flustered and aggravated advisor. His eyes a luminescent ruby and pupils’ slant like a feline, sent daggers at you so sharp – that you’d be chopped into fine pieces. Oh yes, he very much was glaring at you with a scowl etched onto him. You’ve grown accustomed to it. The look of disdain whenever he came over to your humble home.

You assumed he had enough of you as he barged into your home as soon as the door opened. ‘You could at least let me invite you in first! No, just barge in and make yourself comfortable you bast-‘

“You reek of blood.” You can hear the disgust in his voice. Pausing by the door you let your shoulders drop. Quietly closing the door and locking it. ‘Of course, no wonder he was banging on the door incessantly. He must’ve caught the scent of it as soon as he crossed the river.’

As you made your way over to the stove to prepare tea for your interrogation, he turns to your nightstand and begins to rummage through it. You rolled your eyes and returned your gaze to the kettle, too tired to stop him.

‘First, he nearly knocks my door down, then he says I reek, now he goes through my stuff like he knows me. The audacity of these demons!’ Thank goodness he wasn’t one of the demons that could read minds – he’d never let you live all the stuff you’ve said down.

“Found it.” His footsteps laid heavy on the old wooden floors, creaking with each step he took, until he was a few feet away from you. Refusing to look at him, you kept your gaze on the steam that pushed its way through the kettle. The whistling being the only thing that was keeping the room from silence.

“___, let me see it, please.” He did not command you, but he was not asking you either. Grabbing the kettle, you made to the table by the window, setting everything down and gently removing your robe. Leaving you in a loose buttoned sleeved shirt, one of the sleeves having been torn off.

He’s subtly sniffs the air and tries to pinpoint what else besides your blood it is he’s smelling. Once he figures it out, his eyes harden and flash a bright pink before quickly returning to their usual ruby hue. “…You’ll have to come to the palace.” Your eyes widen, head snapping towards him as he puts everything back and reaches for your cloak. Head shaking vigorously, you beg him, “Please, no. Yoongi, I know that I’ve made a few mistakes, but I swear that I have it under control now, I swear!” Even you know how pathetic and desperate you sound.

Standing hastily, you winced at the pain, “Yoongi, I just need a li- “you jumped back as he abruptly turned towards you, face set in a slight snarl, light jagged markings appearing underneath his eyes. Stunned, you slowly stepped back and gave him space to calm down.

The snarl dropped immediately, markings fading away completely. He sighed, closing his eyes and bringing a hand up to rub his eyes. “Your flesh is being eaten away by the poison, which I can now see you haven’t even figured that out yet.” Poison?

He looks at you, waiting for something. Your face must have given away to your confusion as all he can do is shake his head in disbelief. “Didn’t you find it unusual that after you purified the wound it continued to seep miasma.”

You felt your stomach drop, skin going cold. You didn’t smell any miasma whatsoever. In fact, all you felt was pain but thought it was normal from the wound being too big. Now that Yoongi mentioned it, the wound should have healed properly overnight…

The situation only seemed to get worse each second.

“Besides, you would have had to be at the palace anyways.” The way his eyes held nothing but dread, made you even more sick.

“The king has ordered council.” And your heart stopped.

[sdvvillagers]

Fic - Jodi and Gus

Word Count: 1,516

Summary: Jodi never intended to be the unofficial barber in Pelican Town, it just... happened.

Notes:  Thank you to @floopthecooper for the prompt!

Jodi was never sure exactly when it was she became Pelican Town’s unofficial barber. It just sort of happened over time. Slowly more residents in town came to her for their haircuts and before she knew it, she was cutting the hair of almost every person in town. Word of mouth spread in a place like Pelican Town. Though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she got the reputation around town as the unofficial barber, she could at least pinpoint exactly when it all began. It had been a cool spring morning, not long after she, Kent, and Sam had moved to Pelican Town. Jodi had always been the one to cut Sam’s hair, it was always so much easier and more affordable to do it herself and it wasn’t all that difficult. She’d never had any formal training, just a few attempts of trial and error, maybe a bad haircut or two for Sam, but she ended up figuring it out along the way.

Whenever possible, Jodi tried to cut Sam’s hair outdoors. It made less of a mess inside the house and was easier to clean up. Jodi had sat Sam down outside, covering his shoulders and back with a towel, before starting up the clippers to give his hair a trim. It was about halfway through the haircut when the local saloon owner, Gus, passed by their house on his way to visit the house nextdoor. Jodi waved politely, though she still didn’t know him all that well. Jodi never found herself visiting the saloon, she always prepared homecooked meals and wasn’t a drinker, so there was just no need. Still, if this was going to be her family’s new home for quite some time, she wanted to be sociable. When she waved, Gus stopped walking and waved in return. The large, welcoming smile on his face seemed genuine and his eyes were soft and kind.

“Hi there, Jenny!” Gus greeted her happily.

“It’s Jodi,” Jodi corrected him with a nervous giggle. Gus slapped the palm of his hand hard against his forehead.

“Sheesh, what a knucklehead,” Gus muttered to himself. “My apologies, Jodi. And this here must be Samson.”

“Yes, though he prefers to go by Sam,” Jodi answered, already smiling and waving her hand dismissively for the apology she knew was going to come. Sure enough, Gus looked mortified.

“Two for two, I’m usually so much better than this,” Gus replied apologetically. “Sorry for the mixup, I promise it won’t happen again.”

“No apologies necessary,” Jodi assured him.

“So I’m sorry to bother you, but uh… I couldn’t help but notice that you’re cutting the little one’s hair,” Gus pointed out, tilting his head curiously. Sam cringed on the spot at being called ‘the little one’.

“Oh, am I not supposed to be doing that outside?” Jodi asked nervously. “I was hoping the breeze wouldn’t blow the hair around, I apologize. I can move this indoors if it’s bothersome.”

“No, not at all!” Gus replied, shaking his head. “I was only asking because… well, I hope this doesn’t come across as odd, but… is that something you do for a living or just for your son?”

“Just for my son,” Jodi answered. “I’ve been cutting his hair since he was about three years old. Cheaper that way.”

“I hear you,” Gus replied, nodding. “Haircuts can be so expensive. Even worse when we have to travel all the way to Grampleton once or twice a season for it. It ends up costing a fortune when you consider the cost of the haircut plus transportation and in the amount of time it takes, you usually need to grab lunch while you’re there. It ends up being a whole day trip just to get half an inch trimmed off my hair.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Jodi remarked, feeling a bit guilty. Between cutting Sam’s and Kent’s hair herself, plus trying her best to trim her own, she hadn’t had to take any of her family to get a haircut in quite some time.

“I guess I was just wondering if I could ask you… sheesh, I feel bad even asking, but… would I be able to ask you for a haircut?” Gus asked nervously. “I’ve been putting it off for over a week now and it would be so much easier if I could get it done and over with here.”

“I don’t know,” Jodi answered uncertainly, her eyes darting back and forth to avoid seeing any disappointment in Gus’ face. His kindness and personable nature made it difficult to disappoint him.

“I would pay you a fair rate,” Gus clarified.

“Oh no, it’s not that,” Jodi assured him. “It’s not the money issue, it’s just that I’m not exactly a trained professional. I never went to school for this or anything, I just have what I picked up over the years from trial and error with Sam. I’d be nervous about messing up or not being able to cut it the way you want it to be. I’d never forgive myself if I gave you a bad haircut.”

“I promise you I’m an easy customer,” Gus remarked with a light-hearted chuckle. “I’m not picky at all. I could walk out of here with a bowl cut and still be okay, I just need this hair a bit shorter. Too much hair in my eyes drives me nuts.”

“I really don’t know, I’m not qualified,” Jodi went on, swaying uncertainly on the spot as she mulled it over in her mind. “You’re sure you wouldn’t mind if I completely mangled your hair?”

Gus stepped closer to the porch and took a look at Sam’s hair which was halfway through being cut, looked thoughtfully, and nodded. Poor Sam sat awkwardly in the chair, fidgeting as some stranger gawked at him and his hair.

“From what I can tell, I highly doubt you’ll mangle it,” Gus said kindly. “I’m willing to take the risk, but only if you are. I’d never want to pressure you to do it if you’re uncomfortable, though.”

“I’m certainly happy to give it a try,” Jodi replied optimistically. “I’ve never cut anyone’s hair besides my son’s and my husband’s. I suppose if it would save you the trouble and you’re willing to live with the results, I’ll give it a try. No charge, though, especially since I’m just winging it.”

“No deal, then,” Gus replied seriously. “I won’t take something for nothing, especially not from a working mother.”

“Oh, I don’t work,” Jodi corrected Gus.

“You don’t?” Gus asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. “You don’t cook? Clean? Organize? Plan? Provide care? Teach? You don’t do any of that?”

“Well that’s diff-” Jodi began, but Gus cut in.

“Moms have the hardest job of all, in my opinion,” Gus went on, smiling warmly at Jodi. “Don’t tell me you don’t work when you’ve got more jobs than any of the rest of us. Yes, I’m paying you for your work.”

It was incredible how warm Jodi felt while Gus spoke, she could feel her cheeks flushing at his comments and it made her feel more validated and understood than she’d felt in quite some time. Too often her role was diminished or looked down upon, it was nice for someone to notice and appreciate her value as a stay at home mom.

“Thank you,” Jodi giggled nervously, turning her head slightly to try and hide her blushing cheeks. “Just let me know when you want that haircut.”

“The saloon opens in two hours, I doubt there’s any chance you can do it before then?”

“I could probably get started in about fifteen minutes,” Jodi estimated. “Just gotta finish with Sam first but I could cut your hair right afterwards. Might as well as long as I’ve got everything out.”

“Perfect, that gives me plenty of time to stop by your nextdoor neighbor’s house for a quick chat,” Gus remarked thoughtfully. “Both of their daughters’ birthdays are in spring, so they called me over to talk about ordering a cake for them.”

“You’re a bartender, chef, and baker?” Jodi asked, nodding at Gus with an impressed grin.

“You’re not the only one juggling a lot of jobs,” Gus replied playfully. “Thanks again for the haircut, I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet until after it’s done,” Jodi teased. “See you in a little bit.”

“See you then,” Gus replied, waving to Jodi as he continued on his way down the path to the house nextdoor.

At least that’s how it began, one small favor for the kind bartender in town in his time of need. Yet by the time fall rolled around, Jodi was cutting hair at least three times a week and had never been sure how it snowballed that way. What she hadn’t learned yet, but would learn during her time in Pelican Town, was that everyone in town loved and respected Gus. And when he gushed to a saloon full of patrons about his fantastic haircut from the new woman in town, people listened.

[rosemary-writes]

What are you afraid to see?: Part 5

(Dwayne x GN! Reader)

An: I held this off for a week because we had bad tornados at college and I couldn’t work on anything. I’ll keep trying to upload on Saturdays. Also this chapter is a bit shorter than usual.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: flowers, swearing (I think), and some talk of ill nature.

The two of you had walked on to the boardwalk and into the big crowd. It seemed like there were more people out tonight. To avoid bumping into someone, you moved a bit closer to Dwayne. He didn’t seem to mind it and you almost caught a smirk on his face.

“So, what brought you to Santa Carla?” Dwayne asked, guiding the both of you through the crowd.

“Well, the college here is great and I wanted to try something new by traveling here.” You replied, as you two continued to walk.

That wasn’t the entire truth but, he didn’t need to know that. While the college was absolutely amazing, there was something else that brought you Santa Carla. It wasn’t something that you could pinpoint. The feeling was like waking up and immediately forgetting your dream, but you could still feel the emotions from it. You had told your friends about it and they all had brought up the idea that maybe your soulmate led you here. However, the feeling was unique and different for everyone, just like their eventual kiss. So, you didn't dwell on the feeling too much.

“I always heard good things about the schools around here. I’ve met some people who went to the college and they always had good things to say.” Dwayne said, as he pulled you up to a booth.

Immediately, the concessionaire came over to try and persuade you two to play a few games. You began to pull out your wallet but Dwayne beat you to it. He paid the concessionaire and they passed back three tennis balls.

You unlinked your arm from Dwayne as he handed you two of the tennis balls. They looked worn and some of their green fuzz had been stripped off. For a second, you wondered if they had ever been cleaned. You brushed off the thought and looked back to Dwayne as he threw one of the balls into the empty bottles on the shelves. The ball missed the top bottle by a few inches but, there was a dent in the wall from where the ball hit. You passed Dwayne another ball as the concessionaire said a teasing comment about his aim. His face was still as he ignored the remark and threw the ball. This time he hit the bottles in the center of the stack. You smiled at his little victory and the concessionaire applauded his win. “Would you like to try to hit another stack and gain another prize?” they asked, looking at you.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” You said, looking at Dwayne. He had a smirk on his face as he watched you get into position to throw the ball. For a few seconds, you steadied your body and focused on where you wanted the ball to hit. You swung your arm back and flung the ball forward. The pyramid of bottles fell and you felt a sense of pride in your chest. The concessionaire applauded you and pulled out two keychains from under the counter.

They handed you one and gave Dwayne the other. You looked down at the small keychain in your palm and took in the detail. It was a carnation that had pink and white petals. You peered over at the one Dwayne got and noticed it was a wisteria flower.

“What do you think it means?” You asked, wondering aloud. Dwyane hummed and arched an eyebrow in response. He turned to walk away from the booth and you followed his movement. The two of you began to walk towards a less populated area of the boardwalk. There were still people around but they were all huddled into groups.

“Pull out your keys.” Dwayne said calmly. You quirked your eyebrow at his sudden sentence. He looked up at you with a plain face. It looked like he was trying to stifle a smile

“What?” You asked, with a smile on your face. He looked back at you as he pulled out the keys to his bike. You pulled your keys out from your pocket and held them in your hand.

“Would you be up for a trade?” He asked, fiddling with the wisteria chain.

“Yes, I would be, but only if you tell me why.” You said, looking at his dark eyes.

“I want something to remember you by, in case you don’t want to go on another date.” He said, carefully picking up the carnation and replacing it with the wisteria

“Why would I not want to go on another date with you?” You asked, with concern lacing your voice.

He shrugged, “I just have the feeling you’re apprehensive about this date.”

“Yeah, there’s no such thing as being too careful these days.” you said, putting the wisteria on your keychain. Dwayne nodded at your response.

“Well, you have my word that I won’t do anything without your permission.” He said, calmly looking at you.

“Thank you, Dwayne. That’s very sweet of you.” You replied with a smile. “I’d also love to have another date with you.” You continued, holding out your hand for him to take. He glanced at your hand before taking it with a grin. His hand was cold. Unusually cold for someone who lives in California. In a way, it was comforting on your warm skin.

In the distance you heard a snort followed by someone laughing. Your eyes wandered to the sound and noticed Richard with Ruth. They were laughing with each other about something. For a second, you wondered if they were just here by themselves but, that thought was pushed aside when you made eye contact with Richard. He gave you thumbs up and so did Ruth. So, they had been shadowing your date. Part of you was shocked and another part was slightly amused at their actions. A tiny part of you was angry. Yeah, you didn’t tell them to not shadow your date but, they should’ve been grown enough to realize you didn’t want them around.

Dwayne noticed your disgruntled face and followed your gaze to your two friends. He chuckled at them before turning his attention back to you.

“Something tells me that you didn’t ask them to follow you.” He said, as you turned to face him.

“Well, it’s not like I could stop them. I hoped they wouldn’t have because I’m grown and can take care of myself.” You said, turning to walk away. The wind picked up and Dwayne followed you. The two of you walked away from the area but you kept glancing back to see if they were following you. Sure enough, they were.

“I know how you feel. Sometimes my brothers will do the same thing. It can be annoying sometimes. ” Dwayne stated, running his free hand through his hair.

“Yeah, but I don’t want them following us the rest of the night.” You huffed, glancing back again. Dwayne chewed his lip in thought.

“We could leave? I can easily get them off our trail, but only if you’re fine with it. ” Dwayne proposed. You looked at his face. His features were highlighted by all of the different lights. He looked handsome.

You pondered his question for a second. It would be nice to leave but, where would you go? You observed his face for a second. His grin was kind and his eyes held no ill intent or malice. A feeling deep within your chest told you it was okay to trust him.

“Yes, please.” You answered, glancing behind you again.

“Okay, don’t look back and don’t drag your feet.” He said, tightening his grip on your hand. Before you could answer, he began to run. You ran behind him as adrenaline rushed through your body. It felt like a shockwave echoed through you. Dwanye expertly ran through the crowd and carefully avoided running into people. It was astounding how fast he was. He was like a trackstar at the state championship. Fast and he didn’t seem out of breath. You were willing to bet he had a smile on his face.

As you two neared the area he parked his bike, you saw him reach for his keys with his free hand. They glittered in the light as if they were a beacon of hope. Dwayne, weaved in between a few more people before reaching his bike. He quickly mounted and you followed quickly. Immediately you wrapped your arms around him and settled against his back. Dwayne quickly started up his bike and drove off into the street. He didn’t bother to drive slow into the night. You smiled as he turned to go on the beach. A smile was on your face as Dwayne erupted with laughter. You leaned back, still keeping your arms around him, to look at the direction Dwayne was heading. You couldn’t tell where he was going ,but you could tell that you would be alone together.

The ride was exhilarating and the wind in your face felt ethereal. He expertly drove through the sand and around groups of people on the beach. Wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be by his side.

[jetaime-jespere]

Inopportune

An early Sunday morning conversation with @sweetsecretskeptinside about what could have happened pre and post Milwaukee inspired this little thing. It was meant to be a lot shorter, but you all know brevity isn’t my strength. This is rated M for smut!

As they say, timing is everything.

When Aaron slams the front door shut, he knows his marriage is over. Maybe not officially, but it’s the beginning of the very end.

 He purposefully ignored Haley’s final ultimatum, once again choosing this job over his family. And it’s not even the hurt on her face that lingers in his mind as he throws his bag into the front seat, but the fact that he didn’t even hesitate to make the choice he did. The disintegration of their marriage has built over time, an almost natural erosion of the intimacy they’d shared in the early days. What used to be Haley’s proud acknowledgement of the challenges of his job has turned into shades of resentment. It’s a constant ebb and flow of disappointment and hurt, coupled with the challenge of being rendered a single parent not in name, but in practice. Not to mention, the cold slap in the face of her all but confirmed infidelity. That had been the final straw. The worst part is, it isn’t his marriage that he grieves anymore. Grief is reserved for his son, the one whose life will soon change drastically when the inevitable happens and the papers are signed.

Aaron can pinpoint exactly when things finally spiraled past his control, much to his chagrin. The arrival of a certain dark haired agent less than a year ago, with a box in her hands and a smile on her face. They’d met before, in another lifetime, when she was barely an adult, privileged and proud, while he struggled to be one at all, barely making ends meet but worlds happier than he is now. The turning of the tables nearly makes his head spin.

And even though Aaron knows better, he’s driving to Emily’s apartment with his foot on the gas just a little heavier than usual. It’s technically against protocol to get her address from her personnel file, but he doesn’t have to, because what he’d never tell anyone is that he’s taken her home once before. Once, early on, when she needed a ride thanks to a flat tire. Twice, if he counts the time he drove them all home from the bar after New Orleans a few months ago. He’d purposefully saved her for last, and she’d fallen asleep in the front seat after dropping a very tipsy Penelope off. Emily had blushed with embarrassment when he woke her up, her eyes glassy and ringed with exhaustion, insisting that no, she hadn’t fallen asleep, and of course not, when he suggested walking her up to her door. I can walk by myself, she’d said, stumbling on her own two feet towards her building.

There’s another secret he’d never tell a soul. He kissed her once. To be fair, she kissed him back. It had been a mistake, they’re both abundantly aware of that. But San Francisco had been hell, particularly for her  - arson is never easy - and he had a front row seat to her more human side that had stayed so carefully hidden since she’d joined the team.

Aaron offered her a drink in his office upon their return, against his better judgement,  when he found her in the doorway with her reports in her hands. He doesn’t tell her they’re a few days late. He’ll cut her some slack on this one.  She quickly refused the drink, a nervous shake of her head, muttering something about getting home as she passed over the paperwork. “Have a good night, Sir.” The discomfort in her voice is evident, still unsure of how to read him.

“You did well in San Francisco.” It might be one of the first times he’s complimented her work, at least privately. “This wasn’t an easy case, you know.” His voice echoes through his empty office, and he can’t help but wonder how many more of these lonely nights he’ll have, just himself and a wayward custodian for company.

“None of them are,” Emily says somewhat dismissively with a wave of her hand and a nervous laugh. “But thank you.” She looks tired and drained. “I … appreciate that.”

“I was wrong, you know.” It’s about time he told her the truth. She’s more than proved herself at this point. “You are an asset to this team, Emily. Please know that.”  

To his surprise, she doesn’t even crack a grin, just stares at him in surprise, waiting for him to say something else.

“And I’m sorry for not acknowledging that until now.”

She nods slowly, her eyes narrowing just enough to tell him she still doesn’t fully trust him. He can’t explain why it bothers him, or the fact he’ll think about it for hours afterward.

“I’ll walk you out.” He doesn’t have to walk her out at all, they both know this, but he does, just a few inches too close to her than he should. It’s the subtle attraction to her he feels that possesses him to do it, and before he can stop himself, right before she steps into the elevator, he wraps a hand around the back of her head and kisses her, quick and chaste, on the lips.

What he didn’t expect was for Emily to reciprocate, a hand slipping around the nape of his neck. Her lips collided against his, deepening the kiss for a moment that felt frozen in time, yet all too brief. And before he can think it through, she’s pulling away, her eyes on the ground as the elevator doors open, then close, with a metronomic chime.

He stares at the closed doors for a full five minutes after she’s gone.

...

They both knew it could never happen again, and it wasn’t spoken of after that. Sometimes, Aaron has to remind himself that it actually did happen, and the fact that he even thinks of it often is another issue entirely.

And all of that aside, Emily Prentiss had surprised him. He’d all but fought against her appointment to the BAU and reluctantly agreed to give her the chance she deserved, and certainly didn’t make it easy for her in the early days and weeks. It’s a twist of irony that Haley was the one who suggested he give her a chance, for the stress of being down an agent had already taken its toll on the team but mostly him. And now, he can’t imagine the BAU without her.

Aaron knew Strauss would have it in for their team after Atlanta, Manhattan, and most recently, Flagstaff. Mistakes had been made, that he wouldn’t deny. But what he didn’t see coming was that Strauss would have gone after Emily, too. Foreign Service Exam my ass, he’d thought when she came to him with the news. He swallows angrily, yet feels an undeniable surge of pride, for she’d beat Erin at her own game by resigning. Another surprise, Aaron thinks as he makes the final turn onto her street. What he’s about to do is a gamble at best and downright stupid at worst, but it doesn’t stop him from taking the five hundred steps through her building, up the stairs, until he’s standing outside her door, his knuckles tapping against the smooth metal.

Emily clearly wasn’t expecting to see him standing there. The shock on her face is evident when she opens the door, her displeasure of him being there, in her home, even more so.

“Can I come in?”

Emily says nothing but lets him through, eyeing him warily as she closes the door behind him. It’s the first time they’ve ever been alone together, besides the kiss he’s spent months trying to forget. He wonders if she remembers it too. The silence is deafening as he takes a quick look around her apartment. The view of the Capitol is impressive, he notes with interest, before turning back to face her.

“The team needs us. They’re working a case in Milwaukee.” Best to keep it simple, he thinks. The fewer questions she asks, the better. “Gideon hasn’t shown up, and don’t tell me you quit or I put in for a transfer.”

“You put in for a transfer?” She asks with disbelief, still tense.

“They’re both still hung up in the system, so technically we’re both in dereliction of duty by not being there.” He keeps his tone even, reminds himself to keep his eyes on hers instead of letting them trail over her body.

“I’m sorry,” she says pointedly. “I can’t go.”

As he expected. “Right. Sorry I barged in.”

“Wait.” Her voice pierces the air, questioning his ulterior motives. “Can I ask - why are you really here?”

There’s the long answer and the short; he knows she’ll soon figure out both, and for a moment, grapples with his words. “I think Strauss came to you and asked for dirt on me.”

Emily stiffens, her teeth biting into her lip as her foot taps against the floor nervously at the accuracy of his statement. There it is, he thinks. He guessed correctly.

“Why would she do that?”

Aaron patiently explains his theory - the culmination of the drama with Gideon and Reid, Strauss’s desire for top leadership at the bureau, and her face twists into a frown when he reaches the final blow. “I think she put you on our team, and expected something in return.

Her reticence tells him everything he needs to know. “And to your credit, you quit. Rather than whisper in her ear.”

“I told you, I hate politics,” she shoots back, her tone full of contempt.

Aaron remembers that conversation well. It was months ago, back when he was all but annoyed by her presence, unable to admit her talent at profiling and maybe that she did belong on their team, as she insisted from day one. He’d been more than dismissive of her, and yet she’d proved herself time and time again. He’d messed up, and now it’s come to a head.

“Come to Milwaukee,” he presses her, his eyes never leaving hers. The way she bites her lip tells him she’s at least considering his request. Her head tips to the side, revealing her neck, and he swallows because his throat suddenly goes dry. “I’ll make you a deal. If your bag isn’t here, packed, I won’t bug you anymore. If it is, I want you on that plane with me. One more case.”

“I already turned in my badge and gun.” She tries to push him off but he sees right through her, unwilling to leave without her.

“That’s just hardware.”

Emily eyes him suspiciously, knowing he’s won, and she silently curses him in her mind because her bag is indeed packed, on the floor in her bedroom just a few feet away. But then something else catches her eye - something she can’t miss.

“Where’s your wedding ring, Aaron?” She asks coolly, taking full notice of his bare left hand.

The use of his first name could be considered insubordination. But, technically, she doesn’t work for him anymore, having given her resignation to Strauss, and the first thing that comes to mind is how much he likes the sound of his name rolling off her lips.

Not the time, he tells himself.

“Is that why you’re taking on this case?” Emily isn’t stupid - she’s seen the signs that things at home weren’t exactly great for him. His distraction around the team, the indifference when a well-intended question about Haley or Jack was all but brushed over. It’s been like that for weeks, and she’s too astute to not have noticed.

“My marriage is over,” he confirms, the confession ringing in the air.

Emily’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open ever so slightly, at a loss for words. She says nothing, just stares at him for a few long moments, blinking in disbelief.

“It’s been over for a long time,” he adds. “But today … I left. There’s a lot to figure out but it’s done. It’s been done.”

“And you came here?” The expression on her face is one he can’t identify but isn’t sure he wants to. There’s anger and confusion, but also intrigue, as if she learned a secret she shouldn’t ever know in the first place. “Why?”

“You belong in Milwaukee. We both do.” Maybe so, but that’s not the only reason he came here today, despite what he tells himself. He knows it, and so does she.

Emily looks indignant. “But that isn't the only reason.” She’s challenging him, calling him out on what he’s denied since that night in her office, maybe even before that. “Don’t lie to me.”

“What are you talking about?” Aaron swallows nervously, doing his damn best to hide the fact that all he wants to do is exactly what he shouldn’t.

She steps towards him defiantly, deliberately invading his personal space. “I think you know.” There are a million reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s inevitable.

He takes a step closer, the distance between them all but closed, drawing a ragged breath that matches hers. When their lips meet for the second time he knows there’s no chance of him being able to stop things, and what comes next happens before either of them have a chance to think better of it. Aaron’s hands slide into her hair as he kisses her, pulling gently to expose her neck, and he gives her a moment to breathe as he sucks a bruise right beneath her jaw. Emily’s hands push at his shoulders, an attempt to rid him of his suit jacket, and it falls to the ground in a heap at their feet. But the sudden absence of the confines of the material gives him the leverage he needs to wrap her in his arms, and he does, anchoring her against his chest as he takes her mouth again with his own. It’s dizzying, the scent of her intoxicating as he kisses her, his tongue pushing past her lips, delving into her mouth.

Except Emily isn’t passive in her response to him, her teeth clashing against his as he explores her mouth with his own. She digs her fingers into his arms, bites at his bottom lip, sweeps her tongue across his teeth, then shifts to press her mouth to his neck as his hands drift down to the hem of her blouse. Aaron pulls away, running his thumb over her lips, cupping her chin in one hand as he looks her over.

He wants to tell her she’s beautiful but he can’t form the right words, just holds her chin in one hand, pushing her hair from her face as he slips a knee between her legs, applying pressure that causes her eyes to roll back just enough that he keeps it there. The moan that escapes and the buckle of her knees are the impetus he needs to lift her up onto the counter, a pile of mail and loose papers falling to the floor along the way.

Aaron gets his hands to the openings of her blouse, pulling too hard as the fabric tears open, falling around her shoulders. It reveals a practical beige lace bra, something he’s almost surprised to see - he had her pegged as someone who only wore red. But he deftly unhooks the back clasp, letting it fall from her shoulders, and her skin flushes scarlet as she’s bared to him. As he already anticipated, she’s as beautiful, if not more so, than he imagined. He’s done that  a few times over the last few months. He palms her ribs with gentle hands, much more gentle than his mouth had been just moments before, fingers dipping between the delicate bones and over soft skin. Emily mewls in his ear, her head tipped to the side as he explores her. His fingers smooth over her breasts, paying equal attention to each as he starts to kiss her again, then bends to capture one of her nipples in his mouth. Her hands grip the sides of his head, holding him in place as his teeth scrape and his tongue soothes, a rhythmic pattern of pressure that starts to blur her vision. Aaron’s hands span across the width of her back, his fingers stroking the delicate curve of her spine as Emily arches into his mouth, pressing herself against him.

“Aaron,” she moans, her heart fluttering against his chin, and it sounds like she’s forgotten to breathe this whole time. And when he fully stands, taking her face in his hands again, his eyes darken with lust as he kisses her, lush and full, one more time.

“Back,” he says, pushing her flat until she’s laying on the counter, hair spilling over the edge, her legs hooked over his arms. She perches on her elbows, watching him intensely with hooded eyes as he unbuttons her jeans with a deliberate slowness. His hands are steady as he drags them down over her hips and past her knees. The muscles in her stomach flutter as Aaron repositions her legs on his shoulders, carefully spreading her open to him. Emily’s back arches up even though he hasn’t even touched her as he presses kisses to the insides of her knees.

“Aaron,” she pleads again, needier this time, her eyes dark and her legs trembling on his shoulders, and when he finally touches his tongue to her clit, she doesn’t even try to muffle the sound that comes from the very back of her throat. He does it again and her hips fly up, her fingers sliding through his dark hair, then gripping his head in place. “Fuck,” Emily chokes when his tongue pushes inside of her this time, her hand dragging down her face as he continues to stroke her with his tongue languidly until her moans become constant, a beg for more. Not that she had any doubt, but he’s somehow better at this than she ever imagined.

“You should see yourself like this,” Aaron says darkly, his lips on her knee as he gives her a moment to breathe, still spread out on her counter. “You are beautiful,” he tells her and he means it, pushing her leg higher as his head ducks back between her legs, this time he sucks her clit between his lips and pushes two fingers inside of her, curling up to press against the spot his tongue had found just moments before. Emily comes almost instantly and loudly, nearly sliding right off the counter as she writhes beneath him. Aaron pulls her up to his chest, wrapping an arm around her back as she shudders against him, her skin glazed over with sweat. Emily kisses him, her hands scraping down his back as she tastes herself on his tongue, smiling into his mouth as he groans. Her arms wind around his neck, his fingers dip in the curve of her spine, a soothing comedown coupled with his voice in her ear.

Aaron is still almost fully dressed, and Emily wastes no time with the buttons of his dress shirt, almost forceful in her attempts to divest him of his clothes. “Careful,” he breathes, his hands closing around her wrists. “I only have one shirt.” He helps her get it off the rest of the way, followed by his pants and belt, and he hisses when her hand wraps around the length of him. Her own eyes widen ever so slightly, and the kiss that he presses to her forehead is reassuring as he surveys her kitchen and living room. He doesn’t want to fuck her on a counter, at least not now. “Not here,” he decides, and with more finesse than he anticipated, carefully gets her legs around his waist and lifts her up. “Bedroom?”

A jerk of her head in the general direction guides him to her room, and with her body wrapped around his, he carries her there, carefully depositing her onto her bed before he settles over her.

“Yes?” Aaron rasps, his forehead pressed against hers as her chest rises and falls in a series of breathy pants, her fingers smoothing over his cheek. Emily nods, giving him the permission he asks for, her legs closing around his hips as hovers above, lining himself up against her. The initial press of him inside, coupled with how sensitive she already is, emits a slight whimper from Emily, her eyes fluttering as she adjusts to the stretch of her body around his. It’s a few moments of complete stillness, careful kisses and gentle touches, his body spread over hers. It takes most of his effort to remain still, giving her those few moments.

“God,” Emily breathes a few long seconds later, when he’s fully seated, her eyes locked on his. At her insistence he moves, a series of tentative thrusts that only leave her needing more, her legs tightening around his back to keep him as close as possible. He begins to thrust faster, every drive of his hips pushing her higher and him too.

“You feel amazing, Emily,” he encourages as her hips meet his thrusts, a rhythm that comes almost easily to them both. “So fucking good.” His movements become erratic as he nears the end, but he’s determined for her to go first. “Come for me,” he murmurs into her ear, lifting her legs over his shoulders in one smooth motion. The change of angle nearly sucks the air right out of her lungs. “Come on,” he coaxes one more time with a firm push of his hips. “One more time.”

Emily gasps then curses faintly when she finally clenches around him, Aaron sealing his mouth over hers to stifle the scream that would most definitely be heard by anyone in the apartment next to hers. The sensation of her fluttering around him, moaning his name, her nails scraping down his back are enough for him to follow suit, and he kisses her once more before tipping over the edge too, spilling into her with a groan.

Aaron buries his face in her chest, Emily’s hands hold his head in place, for another few peaceful moments, ones that will soon vanish.

…

When it’s over, Aaron can’t help but feel inordinately guilty. He isn’t exactly sure why, but the voice in the back of his mind tells him he fucked this up, royally. Not because of what might wait for him beyond the confines of her apartment, but because now she’s a part of the mess he’s in, whether she likes it or not. Just add it to the list.

This shouldn’t have happened, he thinks as they search through the pile of clothes on the floor - some his, some hers - and it’s an awkward, side-stepping dance around one another, the first of many.

“You ruined my shirt, you know.” Emily holds up the torn halves of her red blouse, covering herself with her other free hand. Her skin is still flushed, her hair askew, and he wants to tell her she has other things to worry about right now than a torn shirt. Like the rapidly forming bruise on her neck, thanks to his teeth, or the scrapes that undoubtedly mar the smooth skin of her back, because he’d gone a little too far. It’ll be hard to explain that bruise (and any others that might appear) once they get to Milwaukee.

“You mean to tell me you don’t have another one?” Aaron quips,  busying himself with fixing his suit jacket, fastening his belt, taking note of his own appearance in the mirror. There’s a small bite mark on his neck that’s easily hidden by his collar, and a few on his shoulders. She’d given as good as she got, clearly.

Yet no one will suspect a thing. As it should be.

Emily scoffs, rolling her eyes as she disappears into her room, grumbling about it being an expensive shirt, but he barely hears her. Instead, the events of the last half hour replay on loop in his mind, one he won’t forget for quite some time. The tension between them hangs in the air even after the bathroom door closes, the sound of the shower permeating his thoughts.

This all just got a hell of a lot more complicated, and it’s just the beginning.  

“Don’t we have a plane to catch?” Emily impatiently taps her foot against the floor a half an hour later, dressed in different clothes - a pink shirt and a different pair of jeans. The marks on her neck are covered, he notices. Somehow he still manages to stare at her, despite his best intentions not to. “Or are you just going to sit there thinking about how you just fucked me for the next thirty minutes?”

By the time Aaron has processed what she just said, she’s already halfway out the door of her apartment, and all he can do is follow her to the car.

…

As he expected, Milwaukee is a mess. Strauss’s presence doesn’t make anything easier, and he certainly wasn’t expecting Emily to take matters into her own hands and almost get herself killed at the hands of Joe Smith. But it’s what happens, and less than twenty-four hours after showing up in her apartment, he watches from a safe distance as a paramedic cleans and dresses the wound on her forehead.

“How’s your head?”

“I’ll live,” Emily says with a wince. It doesn’t take a genius to know she’s lying right through her teeth, because she’s clearly in pain, not that she’d ever admit it. “But is it weird I’m glad to be back?”

“I’ll make sure it stays official.” It’s all he can say with the rest of the team hovering close by. He makes a mental note to order her to get medical clearance before she returns to the field as he moves closer to Strauss. She’s clearly ready with a few choice words of her own, having watched them all like hawks as Joe Smith was led away in handcuffs, his son in the back of a police car. There isn’t much to convince themselves this was a win. It’s anything but that - women murdered, a child’s life forever changed. Not at all a win. In fact, it feels like a loss.

As if today couldn’t get any more complicated.

…

Aaron drives her back to her apartment, because once they get back to Quantico, Emily realizes she has no other way of getting home. She’s taking out her phone to call a cab when he’s at her side, a gentle hand pressed to the small of her back with an offer to drive.

It makes her flinch and yet she’s too tired to turn him down; the thought of riding in the backseat of a bumpy cab down 95 makes her stomach churn. So she agrees reluctantly, and sits as far away from him as she can in the passenger seat of his sedan. And history repeats itself once again when she firmly refuses his offer to help her get settled.

Not a chance, she thinks, her mind flashing back to the events of the day before. She’s smart enough to know it’s only a matter of time before it happens again.

...

Emily showers and changes into sweatpants, being careful to avoid irritating the wound on her forehead. It still hurts; she knows it will for a few days, and that doesn’t begin to cover the headache that throbs through her temples. Only when she’s taking another dose of Advil does she hear the knock at the door.

A glance through the peephole makes her blood pressure rise. “What are you doing here?” She sighs tiredly. “You came all the way back to check on me? I told you, I’m fine. I have a headache. I will live.”

“I never left.” Aaron says honestly and simply, shifting from foot to foot outside her door. He feels exposed, scrutinized under her gaze.

“You’ve seriously been waiting outside my door all this time? You don’t think that’s a little … invasive?” She sounds annoyed and rightfully so. He has no right to be there in the first place. Just because they fucked once and kissed twice doesn’t give him those privileges.

His jaw flexes, a hand runs through his hair. “I sat in the car for a little while.” Admitting it sounds a lot worse than he anticipated. In fact, she looks downright annoyed at his revelation. “Can I come in? Please?”

And for the second time she relents with a heavy sigh, letting him past. “Fine. What the hell is going on?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He stands a little closer than he did before, reaching out with an unsteady hand to touch the gauze pad on her forehead. “I was worried … I am worried.”

“I’ve had concussions before,” she tells him curtly. “This is no different.”

“Then you should know you shouldn’t be alone.”

Emily laughs bitterly, now fully aware of his intentions. “And you think you’re going to stay here? Keep me company?” She waits, her hands on her hips with a shake of her head. “Or are you here because you can’t go back home?”

Aaron opens his mouth to speak, attempting to smooth things over because clearly something has changed since Milwaukee, but she cuts him off again.

“No. I can’t do this. I’m not your rebound until you figure things out.” Her eyes flash with anger, maybe even a touch of regret, which only makes him feel worse about it all. Maybe it should never have happened in the first place.

“There’s nothing to figure out,” he attempts weakly. “That’s not what I -”

“You need to figure things out with your wife, Aaron. What happened between us was a mistake. One we’re equally responsible for. But it cannot happen again.” She folds her arms over her chest, already going for the door to throw him out.  

“Emily - “

“Go home, Hotch. I’ll see you tomorrow.” While she wears a brave face, there’s no hiding the disappointment in her eyes, the subtle hurt she undoubtedly feels at knowing all of this was never supposed to happen. Only then does it come to him that maybe, just maybe, she wanted it just as much as he did, and knows it can never be. “And don’t worry. The secret is safe with me.”

He’s about to object - to tell her what he should have already said -  when the door slams in his face.

[writingtoforgetreality]

I Know You - The Devil’s Daughter Chapter Six (Lucifer Morningstar x Daughter!Reader)

[Lucifer-Masterlist], [The Devil’s Daughter-Masterlist]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: You did not expect this person to be the one to interrogate you. A decision had to be made & you were happy that you could drop this topic for the time being. Running from your past worked for a while but one day, sooner or later, you had to deal with it. Just not yet.

Words: 1,245

Warnings: language, Dan being awesome (yes, he is still my favorite), even worse cliffhanger than Chapter 5 *evil laughter*, a lot of dialogue in this one, also the reason why it’s a little shorter (I need to keep you interested after all), (Y/A) = your age

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

“Chloe?” your eyes grew wider. Whoever you expected, she was not it. Apparently she was a cop, too? Why did Dan not mention this? On the other hand, it was none of your business.

“Seems like you already know me.” her smile was inviting & you could feel yourself relaxing a bit more. If she was the one asking the questions, you thought you would be fine. Walking over to the table, she propped her arms onto it. Dan was following closely behind & by the way his body language gave him away, you assumed he was here to silently observe the two of you.

“Dan told me about you.” you admitted. Thinking it would be fine since he did say that they were still friendly with one another. Chloe nodded at you. She sat down at the edge of the table, Dan kept himself in the background. Your heart was still racing but you knew you did not have to worry about anything. Not when Dan was here & Chloe was interrogating you.

“I believe you know why you’re here?” nodding for her to continue. “Good. Look…We wanna help you but we can only do that if you help us understand first. So I’m asking you to tell me…us, more about yourself. Do you think you can do that?” her voice was soothing & you were thankful for how she acted in this situation. Sighing loudly, you started.

“I already told Dan yesterday.” you argued.

“I know but I’d like to hear it from you.” again, her smile was encouraging, so you braced yourself to retell your little story.

“My name’s (Y/N) & as far as I know I don’t have a last name?” looking up to wait for her reaction, you were glad when she simply signaled you to carry on. “Right…I’ve never met my mom & my father abandoned me shortly after I was born. My grandfather & uncles took care of me, even though I’d like to think that there would have been better ways to handle that.” a chuckle escaped you. “I decided to leave. That’s it.” finishing your story, you leaned back in your chair. There was a moment of silence before Dan’s footsteps could be heard as he was walking closer to you.

“Right, you said that but a bit more background information could be convenient.” Dan reasoned.

“For example your uncles’ names or the name of your grandfather. Where you came from & so on.” Chloe finished. Gulping, you were at a loss for words. What could you possibly tell them?

“My grandfather…well, he liked to call himself the Big Guy. You know, his ego was out of this world, quite literally.” awesome, because sarcasm always worked. “Mike & Gabe, they were my favorites. But please don’t ask for last names...” mumbling quietly, more to yourself. “Most people would call where I come from paradise. It’s far away from here.” not knowing what else to say, you kept your mouth shut. Chloe & Dan left you alone briefly & you considered getting up & walking out. What good would it do, though?

“I don’t wanna go back there.” as soon as the door opened, your desperate voice could be heard through the room. Both exchanged a look with each other, one you could not quite pinpoint.

“I can go find a job, make money & rent an apartment. It can’t be that hard.”

“We checked everything. As far as we know you’re not even a registered citizen.” Chloe completely ignored what you said & cut straight to the chase. Keeping quiet, because you did not know how to answer, your eyes shot down to your lap, slightly embarrassed. Of course you were not registered. Last time you checked, you were a registered citizen in heaven.

“Do you have a place to stay?” your eyes met hers for a second before looking back down again. A slight shake of your head was enough of an answer.

“You can stay with me for the time being.” Dan sent you a smile but when you did not reply right away, he added. “Of course, only if you want to.” he scratched the back of his neck.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. Trix can stay with Chloe so you can have her bedroom.”

“Thank you.” your voice barely above a whisper.

“Alright, I let you two to it for now. Sort things out & all.” to which Chloe turned around & left Dan & you alone in the room.

“I think there’s more than what you’re telling us.” Dan stated. Raising your eyebrows, you turned to him.

“And what makes you think that?” questioning him with a slight sarcastic undertone.

“Don’t know. Your past sounds sketchy.”

“Does it now?” you laughed, trying to cover up how uncomfortable you were whenever you had to talk about it.

“You can’t tell me you left your old life behind, at just (Y/A) years, & act as if you don’t give a shit.”

“My past has nothing to do with any of this, Dan. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“I don’t expect you to open up to me immediately. I’m still a stranger, sorta…But it looks like we’ll be spending more time with each other.”

“So?”

“Just saying. Let’s just say…I’ll give you some time & we’ll talk about this again, in a few weeks from now.”

“And why do you think our conversation would be different then?”

“Something tells me you might be.”

For the rest of the day, you followed Dan around the precinct. He told you to stick around until the end of his shift. Not one to argue with him, you agreed. The people who worked at the LAPD were super nice. Especially Ella was a ray of sunshine. When Dan introduced you to her, she immediately dragged you into her lab & showed you around. Her energy was nice to experience. Chloe, you could tell, took this job a bit more seriously. Not in a bad way, though. Her focus was completely on her work & you admired her for it. Yes, you could get used to this. Not that you were planning on staying here. After all, you could not interfere Dan’s life more than you already had. Tomorrow, you would start looking for jobs to get things going. Maybe some of the people here would even help you.

Dan informed you that his shift would be over in ten minutes & suggested you to go ahead & walk out to his car already. He would follow you in a bit. Recalling where the entrance was, you walked through the precinct. You did not even reach the front door when a figure made you stop abruptly. Were you hallucinating? Or was it really him? Shit, did you do anything wrong? He was not even facing you but by the way he carried his body, by the way he stood, you were certain that it was him. Was he looking for you? Or was it just a coincidence? You hoped for the latter. Not, that you were not excited to see him but if he had been looking for you, then it could not have been a good sign. Besides, he would let you know if he came by, that was just who he was. So why the hell was he here? After all, he had never left before. Or so you thought.

“Mike?”

~to be continued~

Next Chapter

Published (03/22/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @fandomqueen2003, @natashaashleymarvelromanoff, @severewobblerlightdragon, @tenderlyunlikelyexpert, @zoseph, @suffering-canucks-fan, @dad-ee-drea, @xbarrjallenx, @marvelofwitch, @aceofspace95, @julessbrown, @thevelvetseries, @kotkaniemi-caufield-mom, @crumpets-are-better-with-jam, @strangewhovian-blog, @officialfictionalwreck (let me know if you want to be tagged <3)

[make-sterek-canon]

That night I saved you || PolArm oneshot (KinnPorsche The Series)

Getting hurt being somebody's bodyguard is part of the job. It's inevitable.

Getting killed is another thing entirely. In Pol's eyes, it's unacceptable. Even more if the one at risk is Arm.

·

·

“That night I saved you”

[Pol’s POV] (Italics = emphasis/others; italics and bold = thoughts)

·

·

Extremely warm night. Sticky climate. His suit is completely ruined from all the sweat and dirtiness. There's also some blood mixed in there. Snot too, probably. Pol can't tell.

He's holding Arm down with one hand and the gun with the other. Arm is unconscious and not even responding to any external stimulus. All Pol can feel is his heart beating in his chest. Too slow to be noticed but it's something, some hope in the dark situation they're in.

Pol needs to get Arm out of there and fast or he'll lose him, and he's definitely not ready to say goodbye just yet. Maybe not ever.

He pushes the button on his earpiece but dead silence welcomes him from the other side. He takes off the damn thing rather violently.  Time to put into action his last resort then.

"Pete! Pete!" His shouts fill the air. The bullets are still flying around and there's too much noise. He waits a few seconds, then tries again. Calling Pete desperately. Unrelenting sweat is falling down his face and neck, wetting even more his white (not anymore) shirt.

"Here!" He hears, and he sighs in relief.

"Listen! Can you handle it? I need to get Arm some help, he's in bad shape!"

"Go, I'll cover you!

That's all he needs to get going. Ducked behind a pile of sturdy-looking boxes, Pol tries to pinpoint Pete's position so he'll know where to move. Judging by his shouts he might be somewhere to the right and if Pol remembers correctly there's an exit that way. He needs to move to reach it though and it's easier said than done since he still has to protect both himself and Arm from getting hit by stray bullets. The only way is staying crouched while dragging Arm's motionless body.

Unresponsive as his fellow is, Pol is taking longer to do just that. He also needs to call someone to come and get them because they took Pete's car this time and of course he's the one that has the keys.

Pol curses under his breath. He'll definitely make a copy for next time. If there was a next time. There is still the possibility that none of them will survive the night after all.

After countless and torturous minutes he finds himself closer to the right side exit. This abandoned warehouse is big but not enough to get yourself lost.

Fortunately, no one has seen them and Pol hopes it stays that way for a bit longer.

"Hang in there, Arm. We're almost out."

He hasn't moved yet and Pol is starting to think that he's been dragging a corpse all along, but the sole thought is quickly getting to him and there's no time to lose.

The air is even more stickier and dense outside than inside the building, and Pol is heavily wheezing from the effort. Resting Arm's back against the facade, he places a hand on his chest to support him while taking the phone out with his free hand. Scratch that. He decides against it when not even two seconds have passed. They were not going to make it if they had to wait for someone from the major clan to come.

"Think, Pol. Think..."

Raising his eyes he suddenly notices an old gray Sedan some meters away, parked on the side of the smaller building, part of the main one but detached.

"This better work."

Hauling Arm as carefully as his own banged up body allows him, he walks to the vehicle. It should be easy to open since its windows are not armored as Pete's and the rest of their cars. Or if it's a getaway car as Pol suspects he could probably find the keys nearby, placed there for the owner to grant a fast escape. 

First things first, he rests Arm against the car and checks to make sure it isn't open before looking for the keys. Crouching close to the driver's side tire Pol sticks his hand in the space between the car's fender and the tire, finding the keys on top of it. Bingo. After grabbing them he gets up and when a shot rings out, his hand opens on instinct dropping them to the ground. The bullet impacts against the gravel right next to where Arm is and Pol's breath stops working for a second, scared that he might have been hit.

"Where do you think you're going, scum? Put your hands up and turn around. Slowly."

Pol does as he's told, facing the man. He's pretty much average looking, not as big in size as Pol and he's definitely tired if his labored breathing is any indication. He has to take him down. And fast.

The quietness doesn't last long when the man steps forward with his gun still raised. The distance is shorter and Pol takes that chance to surprise his enemy, crouching down and getting some gravel to throw it to his face. That gets him a shout in response and he promptly throws himself against the man next to take the gun away. It flies off somewhere. But that's not the end of it. The man only needs a moment to collect himself and he attacks Pol. Avoiding blow after blow, he counterattacks when he has the opportunity, but he's not fast enough to block a sudden kick to the ribs. Falling to his knees in agonizing pain, Pol raises his head to look at the man, who's got a karambit and is brandishing it right in front of his face.

"Very nice... Just stay there like the dog you are. Fucking useless." He snickers and Pol flinches in disgust. "Your fuck-buddy must be dead, huh? Don't worry, you'll be following him soon enough..."

Pol glances Arm's way and his eyes tear up but he bites down hard on his lower lip to prevent the tears from falling. It's highly efficient since the pain distracts him from feeling anything else. He's not going to give the bastard the satisfaction to seeing him cry. Not for his own life, but for his fallen friend. The defiant look Pol sends the man's way makes him smile sadistically.

"Ah, that look... I'm so gonna enjoy butchering you like I would do a pig..."

A sudden movement causes Pol to look behind the man, a bit to his left. The man notices but it's not enough for him to turn around or even move. There's no time since he already has a bullet embedded in his skull. The dead body falls forward right into Pol but he moves before it touches him. 

Still kneeling, he looks up at the shooter. Vegas.

"Empty promises... I hate people who are all bark and no bite the most." He says, with a gravely tone full of disdain. 

And suddenly it's like a staring contest. But this time there's neither winner nor loser.

"Where's Pete?"

Pol is not sure if he should answer though he somehow knows that Vegas means no harm to his friend.

"Still inside."

"Get the fuck out of here or I'll finish you off. Less Kinn's bodyguards means less threats to my clan."

"Why won't you then?"

"What?"

"Finish us off."

"Let's just say that a certain someone wouldn't like that. Be grateful."

Guess who.

With nothing more to say, apparently, Vegas turns around and walks to the main building, gun in hand and ready. You can still hear some commotion happening inside. Pol watches him go for a second before getting up to get the keys from the gravel to open the car. He checks on Arm then, looking for his pulse in the neck. It's there. Weak, but there. Pol heaves a sigh of relief. 

Getting him inside the car is not as easy at it looks but he manages to lay him down on the back seats. Pol is still not sure how is he that unconscious but he suspects he was brutally hit with something, and he worries that Arm might have a concussion since he's bleeding quite profusely from the head.

·

·

·

The road is completely empty on their way back and Pol speeds through it with too little care for anything else than getting Arm the help he needs.

Pol is so focused that he swerves and almost goes off the road when his phone rings unexpectedly, strident in the silent car. 

His heart still in his throat, he answers after a few more tones ring.

"Pol, it's Pete."

"Hey... How are things there?" He asks the best he can, trying to steady his racing heart so it could return to normal.

"Calmer. I- I think we did it. The cargo is ours" Pete's voice is wavering a little, and Pol is not going to ask how they got it since he already knows. They had outside help and if Boss Korn found out he'd be anything but happy. But he won't say a thing. He's never been a whistleblower and he won't start now.

"Casualties?"

"Not many. We came prepared after all."

"Yeah..." Pol distractedly says, looking at Arm through the rearview mirror.

"What about Arm? Where are you taking him?"

"Where do you think?"

"Dr. Top? Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Pol grips the steering wheel so hard that both his hands start hurting, and he asks with his teeth clenched. "I don't have many options at the moment, or do I?"

He doesn't trust the man either but it's also true that there's nobody else they can go to. Dr. Top is as mysterious as he is a good doctor, and he'll treat Arm fairly. 

"Ok, ok. Do what you have to do."

Running a trembling hand through his thick and slightly sweaty hair, Pol exhales slowly. "Pete, Arm... he... I'm not sure if he's alive. He hasn't moved or anything since before we left. He had a pulse when I got him into the car, but it was weak. He... he may be dead for all I know and fuck, I'm not okay with that..."

"Pol, you need to calm down," Pete says softly. "It's going to be okay, you hear me? He's gonna be alright. He's one of the toughtest men I know. So stop thinking. It's definitely not helping."

"It's just-"

"No, and whatever you might want to say? Just keep it for when he comes around. Okay? Call me when you get there."

"Yeah."

"Pol."

"Yeah, alright. I'll call you."

"And... ?"

"Stop thinking. I got it the first time, Pete."

"Just in case you forgot."

"Right... See you."

"See ya."

Then Pol hears a "Vegas, what the f-" and suddenly the line is cut off. 

He doesn't move or says anything for a while, but the silence becomes too much and he feels the need to fill it.

"Vegas came to help... Can you imagine? That sadistic bastard helping us... Well, more like helping Pete." Pol mumbles, looking in the rearview mirror from time to time. "He saved my life. I'm not sure if I should be grateful or scared. I owe him, big-time." He doesn't know what comes into him but in a flash, Pol hits the steering wheel quite violently. "Fuck, Arm. Talk. Open your damn eyes. Can you at least hear me?" Regret washes over him the second he explodes. "I can't believe I'm doing this... I'm sorry. Fuck. I'm sorry. I should have been there for you sooner. If you die...” Don't you dare die on me.

·

·

·

The Anakinn residence comes into sight, imposing and in complete darkness except for the lights on the front facade. 

Next to it, Dr. Top's house lies. It kinda looks like a cabin and it has all the comodities and necessities but if he lives there is basically because it is in his contract. Other than that, he comes and goes at will. No questions asked.

Getting out of the car Pol opens the back door to take Arm out. He doesn't even care about leaving the car open since it's not his and carries Arm bridal style towards the house. The entrance light turns on before he reaches the wooden door and it opens, showing the doctor in silky maroon pajamas. He's the definition of tall, dark and handsome. That's probably why Boss Tankhun and Vegas' brother Macao are head over heels for the man.

"Sleeping, Doc?"

The man smirks for a microsecond and urges Pol to get inside. "Leave him on the dining room table." He quickly follows the orders. It was like someone had told the doctor that they were coming because the table was clearly prepared for an emergency. Leaving him there, Pol steps back. That's when he takes a moment to evaluate Arm's state by himself. He's too damn pale. But other than that he looks like he's sleeping.

"Can you tell me what happened to him?" The doctor asks while checking Arm for vitals and shining a light into his eyes.

"I don't really know. I wasn't even close when it happened." Pol explains. "But I guess he was hit with some kind of weapon or thrown against something..." He stops talking, swallowing hard when he notices that his voice is breaking.

"It must be a concussion... Has he been unconscious the whole time?" 

So I was right. Pol nods, not trusting his voice just yet. 

"I'm gonna need you to be vocal, Pol. Get yourself together and talk."

"Y- yeah, he's been like that since I found him lying on the ground."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Pol clenches his fists. Son of a...

"Okay, you can wait outside. Drink some water. Eat something. Do whatever you want, but get out of my sight."

"What? No-"

"Yes, Pol. You're making me uncomfortable, and you don't want Arm to suffer the consequences, right?"

Frowning and still with his fists clenched, he barks a resounding negative, storming out of the dining room after glancing at Arm for a brief second.

If he lets himself get carried away and closes the door with more force than necessary nobody can really blame him.

·

·

·

Pol doesn't know how much time he spends sitting on that awfully orange colored sofa, but he's been dozing off for a while, his eyes opening and closing non-stop. 

But he knows he obviously lost the battle when he's startled awake by a hand shaking him. His own grabs that hand determined to get it off him in the worst way possible but he's promptly stopped by a familiar voice calling his name. "Pol, it's me."

Pete's delicate face welcomes him when he opens his eyes. "Pete. You're here." Surprise follows and he sits upright. "Why are you here? I thought you were with V-"

"He dropped me off and went back to work. He's got some unfinished business to attend..."

"Yeah, I can only imagine." Pol snorts, running a hand through his hair and clearing his throat. He feels it scratchy, like something got stuck there.

"Have you drank or ate anything? I don't want to be that person but you look bad..." And it must be true when his friend is looking at him in such a worrisome way. He doesn't even get upset for not having called him.

"I just can't... I feel like throwing up every time I think about it. Arm..." The reality hits Pol in that exact moment he remembers why he's in the state he is in. "Fuck. Arm. Pete, how is he? Do you know? Has the doctor talked to you? Is Arm... ?"

"Stop. Man, you're freaking out and that's not going to help either of you," Pete tries to calm Pol, taking his hands between his. "He's alive. He's fine. But he's not waking up. Dr. Top said that it'll probably take some more time for him to come to his senses. He also said that he's suffering from a severe concussion and that he's lucky he has no brain damage. So it's just a matter of time until he..."

"I want to see him." Pol declares, getting up in such a rush that it desestabilizes him for a second.

"You're going to hurt yourself even more. So stubborn..." Pete mutters, frowning while holding him by the elbows. "Has Dr. Top checked you up? Ah, don't bother answering. I already know what you're gonna say. Sit, for fuck’s sake."

"I need to see him," Pol almost begs. He just wants to see with his own eyes that Arm is alive. Is that so hard to understand?

"No, it's not." It's almost as if his friend had read his thoughts but he just said it aloud. "You know, it should have come as a surprise... but it just makes perfect sense. You are always together, and don't let me get started with those meaningful stares and little touches... Say, when you do you think it all started?"

"What do you mean?" He's still not ready to admit it out loud. Not if he can help it. So he chooses to play dumb instead.

Too bad Pete doesn't think the same.

"When did you fall in love?"

"You're being more nosy than usual..."

"I'm just curious."

"Should I ask you the same then? About you and that... man?" Pol answers back, quite forcefully.

Pete stills for a moment, with his eyes being the only thing giving him away. "I guess I deserved that one."

Feeling bad, Pol quickly backpedals. "No, I'm sorry. I just don't want to talk about it. It's not the moment nor the place."

"You're right," Pete shrugs sending him a tiny smile. "But don't think this is over."

"Oh, trust me. If I know you, and I think I do quite well, I just know you're not dropping it out anytime soon."

"Just delaying it. Because you look awful and I pity you."

Pol can barely contain a laugh. Pete is that good. He's a ray of sunshine among the darkness that lives within them. Even when he's had it really bad himself. Being a ball of happiness is his greatest charm.

"Okay, jerk, now make yourself useful and take me to him." 

“Methinks you should ask nicely,” Pete pouts, obviously faking being upset.

“Well, me thinks you're being ridiculous.”

“Ah, you're no fun...” Sighing, Pete puts an arm around Pol's waist, and he instinctively puts his right arm around Pete's shoulder as support. "Alright then, I'll take you to your lover boy. He's rocking the Sleeping Beauty look, let me tell you."

"I'm telling him once he wakes up."

"Oh yeah? Then I'll tell Boss Tankhun to punish you later.

Pol snorts. "As if I hadn't had enough beatings for two lifetimes..." 

"At least you weren't almost killed like a million times. Those guys were ruthless. The bullets kept coming and I thought I was a goner."

"You don't know the half of it," he mutters shaking his head, remembering how Vegas had saved his ass. Probably the same way he had saved Pete's if you think about it.

·

·

·

It seems like while Pol was asleep Dr. Top had moved Arm from the dining room to the guest room that was next to the kitchen and the toilet. Not by himself, of course, but with Pete's help. 

The bedroom is neither big nor small, and it looks cozy with that warm wall decor paper beige colored with golden motifs. There are some paintings and portraits here and there, and a wardrobe in the bottom right corner, not too far from the full sized bed. 

Arm lies there, still a bit too pale but he doesn't look like he's dying anymore. Pete was right in his Disney comparison and Pol cracks a smile.

"Whistle if you need me. I'll be in the living room." Pete interrupts his train of thought and he just nods, following his friend with his gaze as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him. 

Turning around, Pol walks to the bed and sits on the right edge, facing Arm. His hand moves before he can think about it and he places it over Arm's heart. His heartbeat is steady and Pol closes his eyes to calm himself. They're both safe and together. Together... As if the touch was burning him he removes his hand from Arm's chest.

"I'm going crazy... There's no other explanation." Pol sighs, running a hand through his hair as a nervous gesture. "You really need to wake up, Arm. That doctor freaks me out and I don't like the thought of you spending the night here. I want us to go home."

It's right then when Pol notices that Arm's hand is palm up on the sheets in a clear invitation. After clenching and unclenching his fist a few times, he closes the distance and grabs Arm's hand with his own, lacing their fingers. He's almost tempted to kiss the back of his hand, but what he does is leaning towards Arm to whisper in his ear in a soft tone: "Are you going to leave me hanging? I didn't peg you as a cruel man..."

At first Pol thinks it's his brain playing tricks on him or maybe a muscle reflex but when it happens again it makes him lose his breath. Something is squeezing his hand. Leaning back a little, he looks into Arm's chocolate eyes, unblinking. Awake at last.

"We're even then, because neither I pegged you as a romantic man..." His voice sounds extremely hoarse but it's like music to Pol's ears.

Wetting his lips, he smiles from ear to ear. "Ass."

This time, neither of them smile in solitude.

~~o~~

~~o~~

~~o~~

Hi!

Writing this second oneshot was a challenge. It almost killed me, haha. But it was fun and I loved writing it. So worth it!

I hope you guys like it ^^

Here’s the first ArmPol oneshot I wrote. This one is a continuation. Kind of~

I’ll probably write a third one (last?) and maybe a Vegas/Pete spin-off!

Now go  give the teaser for the series some love.

Thank you! <3

~Aeriel