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fortisfilia · 2 months

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Promised Part 9 - Tom Riddle x reader

Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)

Summary: In this story, Tom didn't grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader's sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3.4k

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 8 | Part 10

Part 9 - Never trust a Snake

Tom’s dorm was the nicest one you had ever seen in Hogwarts. Single bedrooms were offered to head boys and girls only, as a further reward for their title. His room was the size of a normal five-bedroom, but instead of additional beds, it was furnished with a welcoming couch, a nice wooden desk and chair, a fireplace and overall much more space. It wasn’t located next to the other dorms either, which had its virtues and disadvantages. The good thing was that you didn’t have to walk through the hallway of all the Slytherin boys’ dorms to get there. The bad thing was that Tom’s room was right next to Freda’s, so you had seen her a couple more times than you had wanted to. She had never said anything though and usually stomped off right away, brows knitted and red in the face.

Tom had ordered you to his room the day after Slughorn’s party, which was a privilege not many students were granted. Maybe not that much of a privilege if one was engaged to him. But it certainly felt special when you thought of it from where you had started, as a fiancée that he hadn’t even proposed to, who he wasn’t even in love with when the engagement took place. It also felt like he wanted you to be there. He let you study there even when he had to attend to his duties as head boy, which took up quite a bit of his time.

And then there was the Moly. A magical flower, used to counteract enchantments, that Professor Beery, the Herbology teacher, had given to pairs of students to take care of. They were weakest the last days before blooming and needed tending multiple times a day. It was a tricky task to keep them alive, so Beery had promised to give everyone who could manage it extra points for the Herbology N.E.W.T.s in advance.

Tom had suggested keeping the Moly that had been given to the two of you in his room, as it would increase the chances of keeping it in good condition, seeing that no one else could get their fingers on it. Even though the plant looked quite healthy, he insisted on your help to look after it, as he was not willing to share points if you wouldn’t. So you had come to his room every day, only for the Moly of course.

Other times, when you were just reading or writing another Charm’s essay there, Tom used to stay nearby. He didn’t talk much, as per usual, and rather stared at you from across the room, but the fact that he never told you to leave and always asked when you would come back, for the Moly obviously, made it quite clear that he enjoyed your presence.

And you did too. So much that you had even spent the night accidentally. Accidentally, as in, you had stayed up way too long reading and making notes in your Guide To Advanced Transfiguration textbook, had really, absolutely, doubtlessly planned to go back to your own dorm, but couldn’t be bothered to get up from the sofa until you had finally fallen asleep.

You woke up in Tom’s bed, not remembering how you had ended up there and sat up slowly, looking around, until you noticed him sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Have I overslept?” you asked, hastily fixing your hair and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“It’s Saturday,” Tom answered, grinning at your attempts to get up. “8 a.m. You can sleep a bit longer if you want.”

“Oh, Saturday, yes. How did I… What happened last night?”

“You fell asleep on the couch. It didn’t look comfortable, you were all sprawled out and twisted. So I put you into bed.”

You swallowed thickly. He had put you into his bed?

“Did you-”

“No,” Tom shook his head. “I took the couch.”

“Noble,” you quipped, causing him to roll his eyes at you. “Why can’t I remember how I got into bed?”

He shrugged as he turned to face you. “You slept through it. I wasn’t aware that was possible either.”

Oh. An image of Tom picking you up from the couch and carrying you across the room flashed through your mind. He must have tucked you in too; the heavy duvet was still wrapped around you. “Come here then?”

Tom looked at you, scepticism thick on his features, before you reached out for him, holding a hand in the air and waiting for him to take it. He did and you slowly pulled him closer, lifting the duvet, until he lay down next to you. Cautious fingers went up to his face and ran through his hair, to which he closed his eyes, letting you play with his locks for a while.

Now that you were fully aware of where you were, you noticed how different Tom’s linen smelled compared to your own. They had his clean, warm scent, of tangy embers dying in the fireplace, mixed with leather and something fresh like dewy iron. The scent had rubbed off on you while you had slept there and it felt like he had marked you, without even coming close.

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch,” you whispered.

His eyes opened again. “You were completely knocked out. That would have felt off.”

“Well, for next time then,” you smiled, took his chin between your fingers and pressed a kiss to his mouth. The touch was still unfamiliar, a great deal of uncertainty as to whether he would reciprocate spreading in your veins. But he did, soft lips meeting yours, lingering as he exhaled and parting only in reluctance. “We’re engaged after all. Have you forgotten?”

“Oh piss off,” he scoffed and pulled you in for another kiss.

Some hours later, when you were tending to the Moly, you looked over towards the fireplace, where Nagini was sleeping in front of. At least you assumed she was sleeping. Her eyes were open and her tongue flicked out of her mouth now and again, but she seemed calm. She had curled up like a cat seeking warmth. The only thing missing was for her to start purring. Well, a pet was a pet, you figured.

“How’s the Moly doing?” Tom asked and went up to inspect it.

“Good. Great actually,” you said. “I think we’ll earn those extra points from Beery.”

“Don’t you think it looks a bit sickly?” he asked, holding the thin black stem between his fingers.

“No, it’s alright.”

He uttered a humph. “You don’t have the book on you, the one I gave you for Christmas, do you?”

“No, it’s in my dorm. Why would you need that now?”

“Have you read through it? All the way?”

“No, I haven’t yet. I just flicked through it and read some recipes that sounded interesting,” you answered, not knowing what he had in mind. “I wanted to try one of the Potions after we’re done with school. They all seem to take a while.”

“Which one?”

“The Vial of Auras for starters. Why?”

He nodded, still looking at the Moly. “I think there’s a recipe for plant cultivation in there. Could be of use.”

“But it looks fine, why-”

He turned his face toward you, looking into your eyes. “Just bring the book next time.”

“Okay,” you muttered. “I can bring it tonight. I’m going out to Hogsmeade with Camille in the afternoon. I’ll be back around 7 I guess.”

“That’ll do,” he said, finally sounding satisfied.

It was five minutes past seven when you returned to Tom’s room. The date with Camille had been lovely, despite you having had one too many toffees at the sweet shop. You had also gotten the Potions book from your dorm, still wondering why the Moly would need extra support. It looked completely fine.

Tom’s room was empty, aside from Nagini, who had curled herself around one of the bedposts. You walked over to the desk where the Moly was standing and put the book down. Next to the plant lay a handwritten note:

“Coming back soon - Dippet needs me for head boy duties”

Killing time it was, then. You took Tom’s Charms book from the stack and practised a few spells for a while, trying to revise those that would most likely be tested in the N.E.W.T.s. About ten minutes later, the door opened and Tom entered the room. He dragged his feet as he shuffled in and was slightly out of breath.

“Are you alright?” you asked while putting the Charms book away.

He nodded. You walked over and took a seat on the couch, patting the space next to you for Tom to join you.

“I brought the book,” you said and pointed towards the desk.

Tom sat down, looked at it from afar and squinted. “Thanks.”

Slightly concerned, you frowned, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tom nodded and scratched the side of his face. “Yes, yes. I’m just a bit tired.”

Tired wasn’t exactly what you would have described the state of him. He seemed nervous and completely out of it, his shoulders hanging down limply.

“Did something happen? What did you have to do for Dippet?”

His eyes roamed the floor while he pondered. “Nothing important. Just some scheduling for the prefects.”

Something cold rubbed against your foot and when you looked down you saw Nagini, who had slid over. She was on the floor between you and Tom, hissing quietly.

“What does she want?” you asked.

Tom stared at Nagini vacantly and didn’t answer.

“Tom?”

“Hm?”

“What is she saying?”

“She’s hungry.”

“Hungry? We’ve just fed her recently. Strange,” you said and bent down to pat her head. “I’m going to get you some more mice soon, don’t worry.”

Tom’s gaze roamed the room as if he was looking for something.

“Do you want to take a look at the book now? For the Moly?” you asked.

“No,” he answered. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead then.”

“You remember the day we got engaged, right?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Well, it was an arrangement between our families,” he stated.

“Yes?”

“So I was wondering… What’s in it for you?”

Your stomach dropped. What did he mean ‘what’s in it for you’? Your sister’s curse was the most evident thing in this whole situation.

“You know exactly what’s in it for me,” you said while folding your arms. “Actually, I could ask you the same thing. Don’t tell me you forgot why we’re doing this.”

He took a moment to think before answering. “Of course I haven’t. I just thought there could be something else. Like, perhaps your parents bribed my family.”

You blinked, irritated. He had not just said that.“Are you serious right now? You’re suggesting my parents took advantage of the situation, went and killed two birds with one stone? So that they could marry me off and make me your problem?”

He stared into your eyes for a moment, then retracted. “No, I didn’t mean-”

“Because I’ll have you know, my family would never do such a thing,” you interrupted him. “I know yours probably would, but my parents are not like that, believe it or not. I thought you knew that by now.”

“I was just wondering. No need to make a fuss about it.”

“A fuss! You know what?” you said and got up from the couch, making sure not to step on Nagini. “You sound exactly like Ben. Only more rude. And I thought you didn’t trust him. But it seems that you don’t trust me either all of a sudden.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Tom said and followed you. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“We’re done here,” you snapped, making your way to the door, followed closely by Nagini, until Tom grabbed your hand.

“Don’t leave now,” he said, pulled you in a bit closer and a whiff of cologne wafted your way. He reeked of sweat and coughed so loudly you thought he might throw up any moment.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Tom,” you answered, your hand still in his. “Maybe you have a cold coming on or something because you don’t seem like you’re in your right mind. Now let me go.”

“No,” he said but turned his face away from you.

Suddenly the door flew open and you sucked in a sharp breath when you saw who it was. Tiernan Lestrange. And next to him was... Tom? Standing in the door frame, his eyes darting back and forth between you and… You looked to your left, to the person next to you and saw that Emlyn Avery was standing in Tom’s place, still holding your hand.

You wrenched your hand out of his grip and took several steps backwards.

“Avery?” you asked. “What is going on?”

Tom, the real Tom, still stared at you, a fire burning behind his eyes as he pulled out his wand and dashed into the room. Lestrange followed and closed the door behind himself.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Tom demanded, glaring at both Avery and you.

Avery kept silent, a nasty grin forming on his face.

“He… You,” you stammered.

“You two? In my room?” Tom yelled, his chest heaving. “You must have lost your damn minds.”

“I can explain.” Could you, really?

“Well, I hope you can. Taking Avery into my room to do who knows what? Care to explain that?”

“He was you!” you said, only then noticing how crazy you must have sounded.

Tom shot you a look that told you better not to take him for a fool. His thoughts must have raced at top speed inside his head, you could practically see him thinking. His eyes scurried from your hand to Avery’s, then up to his face. His knuckles had turned white from how hard he clenched his fists and he couldn’t seem to stand still. What would his next move be? Beat Avery to a pulp, curse the two of you, or rush out of the room?

“Please,” you whispered. “Let me explain.”

Tom sighed and avoided looking at you. He shook his head as if he was fighting an internal battle against himself. It almost looked painful. Finally, he went up to Avery, pointing his wand right below the boy’s chin.

“Sit down,” Tom spat. “You too Lestrange! And I don’t want to hear a single word from either of you.”

They did as he said and Tom led you to the other side of the room, followed by Nagini. He cast a Muffliato Charm on the two boys so that they wouldn’t be able to hear what you had to say.

“Go on,” Tom then said, still avoiding eye contact.

“I came here around seven, as we agreed. I brought the book but you weren’t here. Then I saw your note on the table and waited for you. You, I mean Avery, came in shortly after. But he looked exactly like you. Just until you showed up right now. I swear to Merlin.”

“What do you mean he looked like me?” Tom asked, an annoyed frown on his face.

“He looked and sounded just like you. I thought he was you. He acted weird and I didn’t trust him, but I thought you were just stressed out. The only way I could possibly explain this would be Polyjuice Potion.”

“You don’t really think one of them would be able to brew that correctly, do you?”

“I don’t… But how else would it be possible? You have to believe me. I would have never brought him here. Or anyone.”

He looked at you now, so intensely, it felt like he was reading your thoughts, trying to see if you were lying to him. “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know,” you answered and gave it a good thought. “He asked me about some things. About the engagement. Maybe he was trying to convict me. They haven’t trusted me ever since the school year began, remember?”

Tom nodded and exhaled strongly, walking in circles around you.

“Did he touch you?” he asked.

“No. He just held me back when I wanted to leave. Just my hand, nothing else.”

“Are you sure? Don’t lie to me. If he touched you, I swear I’m going to-”

“No. He didn’t.”

Silence. Nagini's quiet hisses interrupted your thoughts while Tom watched her.

“Why was Lestrange with you?” you asked.

“He came up to me when I was done at Dippet’s. Tried to babble on for ages about assignments.”

“That makes sense. So you wouldn’t disrupt their plan.”

“What did Avery ask you exactly?”

“If my parents had bribed your family. So we would get married.”

“Idiot.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

Tom eventually stopped circling you, placed himself beside you and you both watched Lestrange and Avery sitting next to each other on the sofa. They didn’t dare look back at you and simply stared down at the floor like two ten-year-olds waiting for their parents to punish them.

“Oh, and another thing,” you said. “Avery stinks.”

Tom, to your surprise, stifled a laugh. That was unexpected, so you turned to him and asked, “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

He did? You looked at him, taken aback.

“Nagini,” Tom said to you, taking both your hands in hiss. “She’s your witness. She confirmed you’re telling the truth.”

“Good girl,” you said, to which she offered a small his. You really had to get her some more mice.

Closing the gap between you, your arms wrapped around Tom’s neck and pulled him close. With his hands firmly on your waist, he rested his head in the crook of your neck for the duration of the embrace, breathing you in.

“Thank you for letting me explain,” you said, your voice muffled against the fabric of his jumper.

Tom nodded, pulling back to look at you. He brought his hand to your cheek, his eyes still alight from the argument. “When Avery held your hand I nearly killed him.”

“I know,” you whispered as you laid your hand upon his. “I saw it in your eyes.”

He pulled you back into his arms and sighed deeply. The hug lasted for a long moment before you separated, almost having forgotten that the two Slytherin boys were still there.

“Now, what were they thinking?” you asked. “What point were they trying to prove?”

“Let’s ask them,” he said, broke the Muffliato Charm with a swift motion of his wand and walked over towards the couch.

“I’m going to ask you some things,” he said to them. “And don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can tell. You’re lucky you caught me on a good day, actually.”

They both nodded.

“Polyjuice Potion?” Tom asked.

Avery looked over to Lestrange. They both nodded again.

“Where did you get that from?”

“Stole it from Slughorn,” Avery mumbled so lowly, you could hardly understand.

“Speak up!” Tom ordered.

“We stole it from Slughorn’s stock,” Avery repeated. “At the party, when everyone was dancing.”

Tom sighed and pinched the skin on the bridge of his nose. Of course they hadn’t brewed it themselves. They were far too daft.

“Why?” Tom went on. “What’s the reason for all that?”

“Well,” Lestrange cleared his throat. “We were only doing it for you, Tom. To make sure she’s not betraying you. To find out if she and her family were using you, you know.”

“So we could help you,” Avery added and nodded vehemently.

Tom grinned coldly. “And you thought I wouldn’t have found this out myself by now? That I would need your help? Seriously?”

“We thought-”

“No! You didn’t think at all,” Tom interrupted. “You went behind my back, stole from a teacher and disrespected my fiancée. You’re both an embarrassment for Slytherin and I swear, if I ever see one of you just looking her way, it’s not going to end this lightly.”

Both of them nodded again and looked down onto the floor, not saying anything.

“Now follow me,” Tom said, still angry with them.

“Where are we going?” Avery asked as he got up.

“I’m going to report you to the headmaster of course. And trust me, you’ll be glad Dippet is going to choose your punishment and not me.”

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 10

Tags: @ariachaos

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oofcat2112 · 6 months

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midnight ghost (UniteUp - Daiki/Akira)

In which Akira short-circuits Daiki's brain for 1.4k words.

***

Takao Daiki is beginning to think that his dorm room is haunted.

Granted he’s been pretty sleep-deprived these past two weeks between practice and study sessions, but he’s confident that this one is definitely not just his imagination!

It started a few days after he decided to stay up just a little bit later than usual for the next few weeks as his college workload began to pick up toward the last few months of the semester. He noticed shadows creeping under his door, shuffling noises, and sometimes the sound of heavy breathing. At first, he’d thought that it was just his mind growing tired from the lack of sleep but after he noticed it happening again and again throughout the next two weeks, it became clear to him that it was not just a trick of the light.

He’s never been good at dealing with ghosts, and now there’s one waiting for him outside his door every other night? Yeah, he would like to get nope of there now.

Now, every night, he's become overly wary of his door, worried that the shadows are going to turn into something creeping up his walls and watching him from the corner. Yeah, nope. He never wished he could leave his body and just…go away more than he does right now.

That's why, today, when he spots a few shadows under his door, he prepares himself to fight his way through the spirit before running away as his life depends on it. He isn't about to become its next victim. But, unfortunately for Daiki, what happens next is the sound of a knock on the door that makes him jump off his skin so hard that he manages to bump into his chair and fall to the ground with a loud thump. So much for having good control of his balance like the dancer that he is.

Fortunately, the voice that speaks from behind the door sends all his concerns of a college student-eating ghost flying away like it never existed.

“Daiki-kun, are you okay? I heard a loud noise,”

Oh. It's Akira. Just Akira. Not a ghost. Thank god.

Daiki lets out a relieved sigh and manages to get up and unlock the door, rubbing the part of his forehead that he bumped against the floor. When he opens the door, Akira smiles with a note of relief, although it's quickly replaced with a concerned look over the fresh bruise on Daiki’s temple.

“It’s not a big deal.” Daiki opens the door wider, inviting the red-haired idol inside his dorm without a word.

Akira frowns, shuffling closer to him. He examines Daiki’s forehead closely until their faces are inches away from one another. Daiki blinks, feeling his breath hitch in his throat. As usual, the close proximity gets Daiki blushing pathetically. He just has to wonder at that point. When will Akira stop having such an effect on him?

The two of them are now halfway through their first year in college, having gotten into the same university by some pure coincidence. Although both of them also live in the campus dorms, they don’t see each other as often as one would think. For one, their majors were completely different and their classes were usually in separate buildings. Not to mention their idol activities. It doesn’t just take a backseat just because their academic workload has increased, both are still extremely passionate about their jobs. Despite all that, campus life has been relatively peaceful save for some rumors here and there, and they do make it work as best as they can.

That being said, it has been a few weeks now since they last saw each other face to face, so maybe it was worth it for Daiki to get this bruise just so he could see Akira.

“Not so close, geez,” Daiki mutters, though he doesn’t actually mind being this close to Akira. “It’s fine, it’ll go away in a few days.”

Akira frowns. “But I see blood.”

“It barely scratched me.”

In the end, it’s not like Daiki is very strong when it comes to Akira, especially when he’s looking at him like that.

That’s how they end up sitting on his dorm room bed, Akira’s hands opening up a piece of band-aid and applying it to the (very tiny) scar on Daiki’s forehead. “Why did you use this one?!”

Akira laughs softly. “Why? It’s cute!”

The band-aid in question that’s now stuck to Daiki’s forehead is one that’s covered in little red hearts. It looks absolutely ridiculous. Well, no point in taking it off at this point, he thinks with a small sigh. At least one of them is happy.

“How’re your studies going?” Akira asks, glancing at the stack of books on Daiki’s desk.

He shrugs. “I was about to finish for the day.”

Oh. There’s now a small mischievous glint in Akira’s eyes, that little rebellious and teasing side of him rearing its head. Though the redhead is mostly bright and cheerful to everyone around him, he has a gremlin-like teasing side that he unleashes on people he considers close. Daiki can’t count how many times Akira has made him turn into a mess through his mischievous streak.

And he’s about to do it again.

Akira straightens his legs and pats his thighs. “Why not take a little break then?”

“Ha-?!” Daiki almost jumps back in shock. He’d been thinking of what Akira was going to say, but this was something else.

The redhead laughs. “Come on, it’s just you and me here! I want to try it~!”

Daiki’s face is completely red at that point. He’s still looking at Akira as if he’s said some outrageous, out-of-pocket declaration. It’s not that he’s against using Akira’s lap as a pillow (Oh, far from it if he’s being honest), but just the thought of it makes him want to cover his face in absolute embarrassment.

“You, I, you, huh?! No way! I don’t think-”

“Daiki-kun, please?”

It takes only a few seconds before Daiki wilts under Akira’s request. The redhead’s lips curl into a satisfied smile as Daiki lies down with Akira’s lap under his head. As he looks up, cheeks still very red, all he sees is Akira’s pleased expression and he finds himself feeling just a slightly less bit embarrassed than before. They stay like that for a while, Akira’s hand coming up to gently brush the strands of hair Daiki didn’t manage to brush. His hair has grown slightly longer than it used to be, reaching the base of his neck, and it seems like Akira liked to run his hand through it.

“But really, how’s everything going? Anything eventful happened?”

“Hmm…not really. Though I thought my dorm room was haunted for a second.”

Akira’s hand stops its movement. “Haunted?”

Daiki shifts uncomfortably in his spot from being reminded of his previous dilemma. “Y-yeah. I think it’s just because I’ve been sleeping late, but sometimes I think there’s someone in front of my dorm room at night. Shuffling around, breathing and sighing, that kind of thing.”

“Oh.” Akira leans back slightly, an unreadable expression on his face. “Uhm…Daiki-kun…did this ghost happens to be there last night….?”

“Yeah,” Daiki looks back at Akira who’s avoiding his gaze. “How did you know?”

Suddenly, it’s Akira’s turn to blush heavily, his eyes flicking back at Daiki before looking away almost immediately as if he’s too embarrassed to look at him. It hits him at that very moment. The truth behind his little haunting.

“That was you?!” Daiki slowly sits back and gives Akira a questioning look. “What the hell, Akira?”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know it would spook you,” Akira gives him an apologetic look, his lips pouting slightly.

“But what were you doing…?”

“Well you’ve been busy with your studies for the exams so I thought I would invite you to relax in between as like a refresher.” Akira sighs, looking away again with a blush. “I got to your door but didn’t know how to ask…so I just didn’t.”

“You could’ve just knocked….but, well, I am glad that it wasn’t a ghost after all.” Daiki exhales with relief. At least now he’ll sleep better during the night.

“Sorry…I just really missed you this past few weeks so I-” Akira lets out a gasp, cutting off his words immediately as he scrambles to get up from the bed. Embarrassed and incoherent noises leave his lips. It takes a long time for Daiki’s mind to finally process what Akira had just said and when his brain.exe finally starts working again, Akira has run out of the room.

Really. Akira is just too much for his heart sometimes.

#uniteup #takao daiki #kiyose akira #daikira uniteup #uniteup fanfic #fanfic #daikira agenda #fluff

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feralandmoonstruck · 2 years

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Falling In Love Will Kill You Pt 3

WC: 851

Tag List: @adie-dee @pheita @kainablue @jezifster @aschlindartroom

“Listen, I’m ready for you to take my soul or whatever, but if you let me stick around for a little longer, I could give you another hug in a bit.”

He looked down at her, “I will grant you one more day, mortal.”

She grinned and stepped back. “Hugs and brownies,” she whooped, “that’s not a terrible way to spend my last day al-” her celebration stopped mid-sentence, “Wait. I’m really going to have to go to bed knowing that I’m gonna die when I wake up. I don’t think I can sleep with that knowledge.”

“We do not sleep, so if you would like I could keep you company.”

“As long as I keep the hugs coming?”

Caldizaar shrugged. “I will not force the hugging. I would like them in exchange for your final day, but you may choose the amount.”

“Cal, this is turning out to be one seriously fucked up day.” She ran her hands over her face. “You want another brownie? Because if not I’m going to eat this whole fucking pan myself.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She chuckled, “It’s usually not considered a good thing. That much sugar is bound to make you sick. Well, it would make me sick at any rate. Sharing would be best I think."

Caldizaar rolled his eyes. "If you insist."

"Great! Thanks," she threw her arms around him again. She let go with a laugh, "Do you know how wild it is to hug a demon? Like. This is probably the weirdest thing I've ever done."

"I would think it's much like a demon hugging a mortal. These things just aren't done."

"Yeah, that's true. Guess we're both in new territory here."

"It would seem so."

"Hey, by the way, do you want wanna sit down? I have chairs. Or, wait. Will you burn my stuff if you sit down?"

Caldizaar looked at his feet, then back to the scorch marks trailing across the floors. "I'm not certain. That is another thing I've never done before."

She shrugged, "Well, I guess today is a day for new things. Besides, if I die tomorrow I don't have to worry about burned chairs. Wanna sit at the table or on the couch?"

Caldizaar looked at her with the face of a man defeated. Like he couldn’t believe he would be forced to say it, and yet, he could not resist. "What is a couch?"

She grinned at him, "Okay, we are definitely sitting on the couch. C'mon, it's way comfier than a chair." She grabbed the pan of brownies and breezed past him.

Caldizaar followed her into the living room. The door remained lodged in the wall, sagging at the top from a ripped hinge. She dropped herself onto a long cushioned surface and set the brownies on a table in front of her. He eased himself down next to her.

"Comfy, right?"

"I still do not know this word 'comfy' but this is pleasing to sit on. Why is it so soft?"

"The cushions make it nice and comfy. They're these squares of foam covered in cloth."

"So comfy means soft?"

"Not entirely. I mean, yes it does mean soft, to an extent. But it's also something that makes you feel happy and relaxed."

"So, hugs can be comfy?"

"I never really thought of it like that, but yeah, you could say that hugs are comfy."

"And brownies are also comfy?"

"I don't see why not. You want another one?"

"I suppose."

She cracked a smile, "You know you can just say 'yes', I promise I won't tell the other demons that you have had brownies and hugs."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm still not impressed with your mortal food, but I must relent that I do like the brownies."

"You can be 'not impressed' however long you want to. Brownies don't need approval to exist. They just do."

"Do they spring into creation whenever you wish?"

"No," she laughed, "they have to be made. No magic, remember?"

"So mortals can make things out of nothing?"

"Depends on what it is, I guess. Art usually begins in our minds and then we translate it into a physical form, but brownies are just made from ingredients like flour and cocoa and oil. Mix it all together, pop it in the oven for a while and when it's done you've got brownies."

"That still sounds like magic to me, mortal."

"It’s really not. Also, what's with all this 'mortal' stuff? I have a name."

"I don't usually have the opportunity to use a mortal's name. They've never been alive long enough for me to care."

"How do you know who to kill if you don’t know our names?"

"I know them, I've just never bothered to say them, Tam-a-ra."

She couldn’t help the laughter that burst from her chest. "It’s Tamara, or Mara for short. Really it's only my family that calls me Tamara."

"I would like another brownie,” he paused for a moment as if learning how to shape his mouth around the letters, “Mara.”

#falling in love will kill you #my writing

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Stay at Home DILF

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,863 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Insecure Hotch, Oral sex, Fingering, Unprotected sex, A little angsty by accident Summary: Aaron retires from the BAU when the new baby is born, but a year later the lack of structure, sleep, and time for himself means changes to his body he's not very proud of. When the thought of having another child is brought up, how will he and his wife work through his insecurities to make the perfectly imperfect, happy family? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Honey, I have to get going—do you need me to drop Jack off at school, or are you good?” Professor Hotchner slides her foot into a flesh-toned pump, leaning against the kitchen table for support and stealing a grape from Jack’s fruit salad. He narrows his eyes, then sticks out his tongue, and she does the same. “Do you want me to starve, Jackrabbit?”

“You won’t starve. Get your own grapes.” So full of sass, that one. Seven is such a fun age. She decides to blame the mixture of Aaron’s genes and Haley’s, and she pulls out her phone to send Haley a quick text.

Your son is a menace in the morning.

Haley: Gets that from his dad.

Aaron enters the kitchen, holding their one year old daughter Mia, and he sticks her in her highchair, puts her breakfast in front of her, and leans toward his wife.

“I’m good, I’ll take him,” he says, and kisses her lips. “Mia and I will take big brother Jack to school, won’t we?” Mia is obsessed with Jack—her first word was Jack, or rather, Ack, which was super cute—so she giggles happily, and her mother can’t help but smile. Their little family is absolutely perfect.

She leans in for another kiss from Aaron, and then another, and then maybe one more...

“You’re getting distracted,” Jack says, and she looks over at him with a raised eyebrow, then back to Aaron. He shrugs.

“It was on one of his vocabulary sheets.” Figures.

“Well, maybe I find my boys distracting. Let me give you kisses and we’ll find out!” She launches herself at him, kissing his head and his cheeks, and he laughs, and she knows she’s going to be late for work, but she can’t pass up moments like these, she just can’t.

She gives him a hug and tells him to have a good day, then she kisses Mia, and then she puts her arms around Aaron’s neck and kisses him goodbye. Before she pulls away, something comes over her—the warmth of this perfect morning, the overwhelming love for both of their sassy, silly kids, or maybe the fact that they’ve been too busy for sex lately and she’s constantly horny for him—and she looks up at him and whispers, “we should have another baby.”

Aaron grins immediately.

“Yeah we should.” They kiss a few more times, quickly, smiling against each other's lips, and he pats her hip because he knows she has to go. “We’ll talk more later, but yes. I want to. I love you.” He takes her face in his hands and kisses her deeply, and she sighs, grabs her bags, and heads out the door. Work is work; as the youngest professor in the English department, her schedule is jam packed with classes, lectures, morning office hours, but despite all that, it seems that Aaron is having the more difficult day.

They both love that he was able to retire from the BAU early to be a stay at home dad when Mia was born—he does consult for them occasionally, but has no official title, doesn’t have to travel—and he’s amazing at it, but she knows her baby can be a handful even on a good day. The texts she’s been getting all morning only solidify that knowledge.

Aaron: FYI - Mia hates bananas this week.

Aaron: What do they put in this applesauce, crack? She’s tearing around here like a bat out of hell.

Aaron: Okay, she’s your child, I officially renounce her. I put on The White Album and she started crying.

Maybe she prefers Abbey Road?

Aaron: No. Unlike her mother, she has taste.

You wound me, Hotchner.

She works through lunch, grading papers on The Call of the Wild, but when Aaron’s name lights up the display on her phone, she puts her pen down and smiles, puts it on speaker.

She’s sorry she did, because Mia is wailing in the background, and it’s very clearly her, I’m exhausted, asshole, leave me alone, cry, which makes her wonder why she’s not taking a nap. She knows she resists Aaron sometimes, doesn’t want him to leave her alone in her room, which is so sweet and also so, so annoying.

“Hi, sweetheart. Are you having a little trouble over there?” He takes a deep breath and sighs.

“She won’t go down, baby, even if I sit in the rocking chair beside her. It’s been twenty minutes.” Wow. He put up with it longer than she would have.

“Put her in her crib with Stuffy Bear and just let her cry; I know you hate that, but she’ll give up eventually.” He groans softly.

“I can’t; I feel so bad.”

She smiles. Her warm-hearted man.

“She does this because she knows you’ll give in and do whatever she wants. I promise you, she’ll be happier for it; she sounds miserable.”

“I don’t know…” he says, and she can tell he’s not going to do it. She picks up her pen and skims the paper she abandoned.

“Are you tired?” She doesn't wait for an answer, because she knows he is: Jack had a bad dream last night and woke them both up, and Aaron went to lay with him until he fell asleep because he knew she had an early morning. It was almost time for her alarm when he made it back to bed. “If you want to try to nap, she’s going to have to nap. Do it for her, yourself, me, a combination of the three of us. She won’t be mad at you; she won’t even remember.”

“What if I give her abandonment issues?” he presses, and she closes her eyes for a moment.

“Aaron, I love you so much. You’re such a great dad, and our kids are lucky to have you. But you have to loosen the reins just a little, especially if… if we are going to have another baby.” The thought makes her smile, and she can tell he’s smiling down the line, too.

“Right. Loosen the reins. Just put her in her crib,” she can hear that he does that, “and give her Stuffy Bear, and let her cry.” He blows out a breath, and she can hear the door click shut behind him as he leaves her room. She’s proud of him, but she also knows he’s going to sit in front of the video monitor and watch to make sure she falls asleep, and that he’ll probably work on laundry after that and not actually take a nap of his own.

He insists he’s doing fine when she brings it up, but the way he sacks out like a corpse when they get into bed doesn’t exactly have her convinced.

“I love you, and miss you,” he says when it’s slightly quieter, though she can faintly hear the cries through the monitor. “It made me really happy this morning when you said we should have another baby. We make perfect babies, have you noticed?” She hides her grin behind her hand, because if anyone walked by her office they’d think she’s insane with how widely she’s smiling.

“I have noticed, but since we only have the one and I can’t take any credit for Jack, I figured we should probably make another. Maybe the same way we made Mia…” They’re both convinced it was a weekend when Jack was at Haley’s and the two of them went to town on each other, true marathon sex where they only stopped for food and water and she coaxed him to hardness so many times she felt like a damn sex goddess.

“Hmm. I remember that with fondness, and would love to do that again. You know Haley said she’d take Mia on one of Jack’s weekends if we ever needed her to.”

Her life is pretty damn perfect, with her gorgeous, caring husband, and her two awesome kiddos, and a job she loves, but the most unexpectedly sweet part is that Haley is so comfortable with her, and that she and Aaron were able to get past the ugliness of their divorce to eventually become friends again. It’s not something they take for granted.

“Maybe we should take her up on it this weekend,” she says, trying to sound a little sultry. “We’ve both been so busy; it’s been a while since you pet my kitty.” For some reason, this particular phrase makes Aaron blush and get insanely horny, and she’s hoping to tease him so much the rest of the week that their weekend is one neither of them ever forget, so she’s pulling out the big guns.

“It’s been far too long, and I’m sorry. I can’t wait, baby. I’ll call her here in a few; I know you have to get to your next lecture.” She looks down at her watch, and it is about time to clean up and head over. She sighs happily down the line.

“Okay, I love and miss you; try to take a power nap. I promise, she’ll be fine.”

“I will.” He won’t. “Talk to you soon.” When she gets home, Aaron has dinner ready; she told him to hold off, that she’d help when she got there, but he has always been an overachiever.

Mia is already in her high-chair, waiting patiently for once in her little life; she kisses her forehead, breathes in her sweet baby smell, and then makes her way to her husband.

“Looks good, honey,” she says as he sets the table, and she leans up for a kiss, but when she presses her hand to his stomach like she always does, he pulls back a little. “Is everything okay? Did you have a bad afternoon?”

“No, it wasn’t bad after the nap fiasco,” he responds, but he sounds distracted. Maybe he was asked to look at a case, or something, and that’s still on his mind? She leans against his shoulder, puts a hand on his back and attempts to push up his t-shirt, to skim her hand up along his spine, which always comforts him, but again, he shifts away from her touch. She sighs and steps back.

“You're going to give me a complex, Aaron. If I did something to upset you, please tell me so I can apologize and try to make it better.” He turns to look at her face, and his formerly tense jaw softens a little; he presses his lips to hers, just a peck.

“No, you didn’t do anything. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.” He smiles softly, and she’s sure he is tired, but this seems like something more.

“You’d tell me if something else was bothering you, right? You know I’m here for you.”

“Of course I would, and of course I do. I love you,” he breathes against her mouth, and then he goes in for a longer kiss and she gets, as Jack said earlier, a little distracted. When the kiss breaks, she sighs happily.

“I love you. Missed those lips,” she murmurs, and then she runs a hand over his hair. “If the kids wake up again tonight, I’ll get them. You need to rest.” He shakes his head.

“You have another full day tomorrow,” he counters, and it’s so sweet that he keeps up with the schedule she has posted on the fridge, but still. She puts her hand on her hip.

“And you don’t? It’s my turn. Let me help.” He looks like he wants to argue, but she gives him the glare he knows means she will talk about this all night if he doesn’t agree; she’s not the sponsor of the university’s debate team for nothing, and even his prosecutorial ways have nothing on her.

“Okay,” he sighs, and she smiles and kisses him and then goes to get Jack and make sure he’s cleaned up for dinner.

That night when the two of them are getting ready for bed, she’s surprised as hell when he stops her from pulling one of his t-shirts—her typical sleepwear—over her head. She sets it down, arches her brow, and he guides her back onto the bed with a grin and puts his hands on her hips.

“What’s happening right now?” she asks, because before Mia, sure, Aaron would treat her to all manner of orgasm-inducing behavior at random, and she would do the same, but since Mia—especially in the last six months or so—their sexual encounters have been few and far between. It’s no one’s fault, and they’re both very clearly still attracted to each other; it’s just one of those things that falls by the wayside when you have a new baby and a hectic life and you don’t get enough sleep.

Needless to say, she is a little confused by this turn of events.

“I’m attempting to worship my gorgeous fucking wife,” he murmurs, and he leans up and kisses her stomach, licks a long line up from her belly button. Her breath hitches. “Gonna put another little baby in here—but it’s always beautiful.” He slowly moves his lips higher, over her ribcage, and holds her there. “You’re perfect, you know?”

“Aaron.” Her fingers come up to sweep through his hair; her heart aches with love and tenderness. He moves up, presses open-mouthed kisses to each of her breasts, then covers them with his hands and squeezes. She’s a panting, dripping mess, and more than anything she wants to strip him naked, pull him closer, get him inside her.

“I love you just as you are; I want you just as you are. Always have, always will.” He smooths his hands up over her throat, and brings her mouth to his for a deep, soulful kiss. She hadn’t even realized she’s been feeling repressed, but his touch tonight makes her feel so beautiful and special… It's incredible how close she is from only that.

“Make love to me,” she whispers, and he kisses her again, but then he slides back down her body.

“Want to taste you,” he says instead, and he gets his hands on her hips again and his mouth on her pussy, looks up at her while he licks and sucks like he’s gone without for ages—which he has, she figures, but it’s blowing her mind, her fingers scratching at the sheets, her neck arched. He massages her hips as his tongue works, as he grinds against the bed, and she comes with a whimper, because her body is so overwhelmed by how good she feels that she can’t even properly vocalize it.

Aaron comes up, just a little, rests his head on her stomach, and she smooths her hands over his hair and his shoulders, since that’s all she can reach.

“Come up and let me touch you—or you can come inside me.” She will happily take either option, but he just kisses her belly and shakes his head.

“No, I’m good. Just really tired.” She frowns, can’t recall a time in her life when they didn’t both get off during sex; he catches her expression and runs his hands up her body. “Really, I’m okay. I just wanted to do that before I passed out.” He smiles, and she doesn’t like it, but he climbs off of her and goes to the bathroom, and she pulls on the t-shirt and crawls into bed. Two days later, she’s sitting in her office grading tests when she hears a knock at the door. She looks up, and it’s Aaron, of course, looking so gorgeous in a black polo and jeans.

“Hey, what are you doing here? Where’s Mia?” she asks with a smile. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“She’s with her Aunt Penelope for a few hours.”

“Why? Is everything okay?” Penelope is at work, she knows, because she texted her earlier about something unrelated and she’d mentioned that she and Spencer were having coffee and that he said hello.

“Everything‘s fine,” he assures her, and he enters the room fully, closes the door behind him… and locks it. “Can’t your husband come visit you during your super secret not-really-office-hours?” She raises an eyebrow, both at his question and the fact that he locked the door. What exactly is he planning to do, she wonders?

“You can, but you don’t. I guess I’m just surprised.”

“Well today I decided to. I missed you so much.” He walks around her desk and leans over her for a couple of kisses. “Have you missed me?” She rolls her eyes, smiles.

“Of course I missed you. I miss you every second I’m away from you.” She reaches out, wants to hug him, pull him closer, but he takes a step back and crooks his finger, encouraging her to follow him.

He’s being really weird, but he’s also being really hot. She decides to play along.

She stands, walks over to him, and he carefully clears a spot on her desk, knows she has a system and doesn’t like a mess; when she’s within reach, he puts his hands on her waist and lifts her up onto it, her ass where a stack of tests had just been. Fuck.

“I want to get this dress off of you,” he says, voice low, and he takes her face in his hands and kisses her, rough and deep. “Can I take it off, baby? Can I make you come?”

Everything is happening so fast her head is spinning—it’s not like him to just show up at her office, to try to have sex with her there, especially when their dry spell has been, up until recently, like the damn Sahara.

He must sense her confusion, her apprehension, because he kisses slowly along the side of her throat, down the v-neck of her dress, making her eyelids flutter.

“The door’s locked, and no one even knows we’re in here. Can I take it off?” She pants, thinks about this for a second, but then he slides a hand over her thigh, pushing her skirt up, and she gets a little distracted. She nods, and he kisses her hard and unties the sash of her wrap dress, pushes it off her shoulders. She’s glad she wore a matching set of bra and panties, because this is like prime fantasy material and she wants to try to remember every detail.

He kisses her mouth, soft and sweet, then tugs the straps of her bra down her shoulders, pulls the cups down so her breasts fall out of them. She moans, a little startled, and he dips his head to mouth at her nipples, rests one hand on her lower back and one on her stomach—probably because she looks like she’s about to slide off the desk and onto the floor like a blob of jelly. She knows that’s how she feels.

When he’s gotten her thoroughly worked up, almost trembling with the need for more, he pushes her panties aside and presses a finger into her, and she whimpers, wraps her hand around his neck for support when he starts to pump it deeply inside.

“What has gotten into you?” she breathes, and her hips chase the pleasure he brings; the hand on her back moves to her ass, squeezes it.

“I love you and I want you. I want to make you happy, I want you to feel good.”

“Me—me too,” she gasps as he moves faster, staring right into his eyes. “I love you, want you. Want to make you happy, feel good.” She cards her fingers through his hair and stretches for a desperate, eager kiss. “I want you so badly, baby, please.”

“I’m right here. You have me,” he murmurs, but that’s not what she means and he has to know it. Just in case he doesn’t, though, she makes herself loud and clear; relationships are all about communication, after all.

“I want you to put your cock in my pussy, I want you to come in me. I want you to fucking ruin me, Aaron, I want you to shove your dick in me and keep shoving.” She sounds unhinged, but she can’t stop.

He adds a second finger—not what she wants—and roughly gropes her breast—it feels so good, but it’s not what she wants. Why won’t he give her what she wants?

“Shh, just come on my hand, it’s okay. I’ll fuck you later, in our bed, baby,” he promises. “Just come now, okay? Right here, right now for me.”

She does, because even if he’s being unnecessarily aggravating, it’s still Aaron. She’s desperate for him, always has been, always will be. She comes loud and high and she clutches him tightly and he kisses her and coos words of love and affection into her ear. She gets cleaned up, and they go for lunch, and they can’t take their eyes off each other.

Something’s very wrong, and she can’t quite put her finger on it.

That evening when she gets home, Aaron is feeling guilty. She’s not sure why, but he’s executing all of his patented guilty trademark behaviors: he offers her a glass of wine, runs her a bath, rubs her feet, even though he’s been the one home with the baby all day. She’s tempted to ask if he’s cheating on her, as a joke, but that’s never funny, especially when she knows he’s being shifty and weird about something.

When they’re laying in bed, he sets down his book and looks over at her.

“I meant to tell you, Haley isn’t able to take Mia tomorrow. Maybe the weekend after, we can have our special alone time.” She won’t say she’s not disappointed, but she doesn’t want to inconvenience Haley, when she’s already being so great. She smiles softly, covers his hand with hers.

“That’s okay. It was short notice, anyway. I’ll still enjoy my weekend, with you and Mia.” He smiles too, but it doesn’t quite touch his eyes.

The kids sleep through the night, but she doesn’t. On Friday, she picks Jack up from school and takes him to Haley’s, who sends him to wash up so she can make him a snack. When he’s gone, she smiles warmly and invites her into the kitchen for coffee; she takes a cup, and they make pleasant small talk like they always do.

“Are you sure you don’t want to bring Mia over?” Haley asks after a few minutes. It sounds like she’s double checking. “It’s really no trouble.” She frowns, sets her cup down.

“I thought you weren’t able to watch Mia this weekend. I thought… I thought that’s what Aaron said. I must have misunderstood him.” That’s the only logical conclusion, because Aaron wouldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t.

“He was being a little weird on the phone the other day. He asked me if I would watch her, and I said yes. He told me about your plans,” she says with raised eyebrows, “and then I told him, you know. That he better treat you right, because you just had a baby not that long ago and you might be a little self-conscious about jumping back into the sack like that; not that you should be, because you look amazing.” She racks her brain for the first time he started acting strangely, pulling away from her, and it would have been after his conversation with Haley. She asks, just to confirm.

“Is that when he got weird?”

“Actually yeah. He changed his mind, said you might not need me to watch her after all, but I told him the offer stood. He was pretty quick to get off the phone after that.” She would sip her coffee, but she’s pretty sure her hands are shaking. Why would he lie about that?

“You know, I should go. I’m sure Aaron’s pulling his hair out with her, she’s been a devil today. Tell Jack I love him and I’ll talk to him tonight, will you?”

“Of course. If you change your mind about Mia, just let me know,” Haley says, and she gets into her car with tears stinging her eyes.

When she gets home, Aaron is playing with Mia on the living room floor. He looks up at her with a smile that abruptly falls when he takes in her facial expression.

“What’s wrong?” She composes herself, takes a deep breath. They vowed a long time ago not to argue in front of Jack or Mia. She tries to sound conversational.

“You lied to me. You said Haley couldn’t take Mia this weekend.” He swallows and looks properly guilty. She’s not sure how he was able to lie to her in the first place; he’s never been any good at it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I just didn’t know how to say it.” She looks up, shakes her head, wills her eyes not to water while she’s trying to have this conversation.

“You didn’t know how to say what? What is it that’s made you distance yourself from me?” She recalls him physically pulling away, then doing a complete 180 and initiating sex, but never penetrative sex, never letting her touch him or return the favor in any way. “Haley told me about your conversation. So do you think I’m unhappy with my body, or are you unhappy with my body?” He has the nerve to look confused, gets Mia set up with some toys she can play with safely on her own and stands up, comes close to her. She’s not sure she even wants his touch right now, which is saying something; when she’s unhappy, that’s usually all she wants.

“Neither of those things. I swear to god. I love you and I love your body; you’re so beautiful. Too beautiful for me, you always have been.” He’s looking down at her so seriously, and she wants so badly to believe him, but how could she, when faced with the evidence?

“Okay. If it’s neither of those things…” Her voice is small when she says the one option that hurts her most. “Did you change your mind? Do you not want to have another baby with me?” He sighs, deflates, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“No, listen to me. It’s not that I don’t want that; I want that more than anything, but it will… further complicate, things...” He trails off, and she tries to follow what he’s saying. “The problem isn’t you in any way. It’s me.” She huffs, squeezes her eyes briefly shut.

“You? How can it be you, when you’ve been the only man to catch my eye for years? From the moment you set foot on my campus looking for your bad guy, I’ve been attracted to you, aroused by you, wrapped around your finger. You’re so perfect for me: perfect husband, perfect dad, perfect lover. My best friend. Never a day has gone by where I haven’t wanted you.” He wets his lips, sighs.

“Surely you’ve noticed that since I quit my job and started staying home with Mia, I… I don’t look the same. I’ve… let myself go.” His brows are deeply furrowed, and he’s clearly struggling with this; she reaches for him, no longer angry—at least for the time being—puts a hand on his arm.

“I’ve noticed that you don’t quite look the same. Doesn’t mean you’ve ‘let yourself go,’ or that I’m not still attracted to you; you just have a dad bod now instead of an ‘FBI guy who punches people for a living’ bod.” Her other hand hovers, then comes to rest on his stomach, and she smiles. “I’m actually really into the way you look now. I’ve been fantasizing about it for ages. I wish I’d known you were feeling self-conscious.”

“I’m not used to feeling… self-conscious, vulnerable,” he breathes, but he presses into her touch, so she considers that a good thing. “I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“I get that baby, I do, but this is me. I would have done anything I could to make you feel better. You didn’t have to hide it from me. You didn’t have to lie. We could have talked about it.” She moves the hand on his arm to his face, guides him down for a loving kiss. “We’re equally to blame, because I know you haven’t been getting good sleep, and I know you barely have time for yourself, and I didn’t step in; but you never let me help. If roles were reversed, and it was me staying home with Mia, you would never expect me to do all the cooking and cleaning and homework and bath time without your help. So you need to let me help, Aaron, please.” She looks up at him, eyes warm and sincere, and he nods, bends to press a kiss to her lips.

“I’m sorry. I still don’t feel great about… myself, but maybe I could. If I let you help. If I took some time for me.” She nods and wraps her arms around him—finally—for a hug.

“I love you so much. Just like this. Big, cuddly papa bear, taking care of our babies, making our home a safe and happy place for them. How could I not love the body that brings me so much happiness? That makes me excited to get in my car and come home at the end of every day?”

They kiss some more, deep, healing kisses and soft, sweet kisses, but she doesn’t get distracted by them. She’s very focused, caresses him and brushes loving fingertips over his chest and arms and sides. But speaking of distractions…

“Were you doing all those sexy things to try to distract me from wanting you to get all up on me?” she asks, pulling back, and at least he has the decency to flush.

“Kind of? I figured if it was sex you wanted, you’d be happy to get off however it happened; it was great for me too, don’t get me wrong, I just didn’t really want to be touched, feeling the way I felt.” She frowns, rests her head against his chest and holds him tighter.

“That makes me sad. What I wanted was an intimate moment with my husband, and while yes, what you did for me was great, because you’re super hot and very capable,” she says, leaning back in his embrace with a soft smile, “it’s not what I’ve been wanting. I want you all naked and sweaty and heavy on top of me, going to pound town.” He presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows.

“Pound town? What are you, twelve?” She grins, shoves his chest, and he laughs.

“I’m surrounded by college kids all day, please forgive me. I think it got my message across though.” She touches his cheek, looks up into his eyes, and sighs. “Can we take Mia over to Haley’s and give it a shot? I’ll do anything to make you feel happy and comfortable, any position that makes you feel better—though what I’d really like most, if you’ll trust me, is to suck your dick, and then hop on your dick, and then later when we’re ready to go again, we do the pound town thing and make another goddamn baby.”

She’s so serious, and he looks so serious, and then he kisses her and says yes and they pack up their kid and take her to his ex-wife’s so they can get it on, which sounds so much crazier than it actually is. She gets him out of his clothes, doesn’t move slow or spend lots of time focusing on what he thinks are flaws; instead, she proves how desirable he is by practically tearing his pants off and pushing him against the bed and swallowing around his dick just so she can hear all those delicious moans she’s been missing.

After that, she rides him hard, kisses him harder, plants her hands on his chest and stomach and moans and groans against his mouth. “So fucking hot, seriously so fucking hot, Aaron—if I saw you across the room today I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing, I would still pursue you, I’d make you blush like I did back then. I’d be so forward because I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about how good this would feel.”

She’s rocking his world, no doubt about that; it’s written all over his face, in the hardness of his hands on her hips as she grinds down on his cock, in the way his chest is heaving despite not actually doing any of the work at all. He comes first, and then rubs her clit while she continues to fuck him until she finds her own orgasm; she scratches her nails down his stomach, and he leans up and grabs her face for a rough, perfect kiss.

They take a break, cuddling and kissing and enjoying the feel of bare skin, comfy bed, soft lips. Aaron touches her cheek, tells her how much he loves and appreciates her.

“I’m so sorry I’ve been keeping this inside, and not being truthful. It’s hard, when you’re as perfect as the day I met you, and I’m…” She presses a finger to his lips, shushes him, kisses him.

“You’re as perfect as the day I met you, too. More perfect, even, because every day since then you’ve chosen me, and our family. I could not ask for a better man. Simply could not, Aaron. And if you want me to come home early so you can go to the park to run, or to the gym, then that’s what I'll do, but if you look like you do right now, forever, I’ll be happy with that too. Whatever makes you happy.”

They snuggle and kiss and talk and laugh, and then laughing becomes sex in that way everything becomes sex when you’re genuinely obsessed with the person in your bed.

He gets her on her back, kisses all over, teases her—“mmm, rubbing your kitty, baby, how does it feel?”—and then puts her legs over his shoulders, plants his hands, and fucks, taking every ounce of his pent-up frustration out on her, and it’s incredible.

“Yes, Aaron, yes, baby, oh, god.” Her head is thrown back, and she’s torn between laughing, because she’s been wanting this for months and it’s exactly as awesome as she’d dreamed it would be, and crying, because she fucking loves him, so much it puts a lump in her throat.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, speeds up, sweaty and gorgeous and smiling. “You’re going to come with me—not just for me, but with me, so my come gets deep inside, so it works and we get another perfect baby who never lets us fucking sleep.” She nods frantically, presses her hips against his, and it’s not simultaneous, but it’s a near damn thing, when they both come groaning each other’s names. A little less than a year later, they have Mason. Aaron is at home in his dad bod, Mia doesn’t cry at naptime, Jack is still a menace in the mornings, and their perfect little family got a little more perfect. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #dad bod hotch

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

The Military Dog Tag Dilemma

Relationship: Stucky x Reader Warnings: N/A, just fluff Summary: You just want to wear the military tags of both your men but Steve seems to run into some issues. A/N: I am also always a sucker for Stucky writing ok and this was my first personal attempt at it and i thought it came out well <3

masterlist

Bucky gave you his dog togs within weeks of establishing your relationship with him and Steve.

You loved to mindlessly play with them as the three of you cuddled up in bed, enjoying some pillow talk after, particularly long days. Steve spooning you from behind as you laid on Bucky’s chest, his arm thrown around you, running his fingers through Steve’s hair. Your fingers would fumble with the shiny tags, turning them over in your hand, watching the minimal moonlight hit them every now and then.

You didn’t know what it was about the tags that had you so captivated nearly every night. It felt so simple yet so intimate as you stared at your lover’s name and information engraved in them. While you weren’t exactly an expert on wartime, you knew the tags could serve as gifts to partners, assuring your heart to one another. The concept definitely drifted through your mind from time to time, but you never brought it up.

Bucky, however, seemed to be thinking the same thing. Wordlessly, one night, he slipped off the silver chain, tags clinking together musically, and slid them over your head. The coolness of them tickled your neck as the tags fell to the valley between your breasts.

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was pounding as you ran your fingers around the necklace. Even Steve seemed a little shocked by the actions. But Bucky was fully pleased as evident by the cocky grin he wore watching you ogle at the gift. He had to admit — knowing you were walking around with his name dangling from your neck did something for him.

"Where are your tags, Steve?" You had asked after placing a loving, appreciative kiss on Bucky’s lips. Now that you obtained Bucky’s tags, it only seemed fitting you wore Steve’s as well.

Steve shifted. You looked up at him only to find him watching the wall across from the bed, seemingly lost in thought. "I-I’m not really sure, honey."

You let out a sad hum at the response. "Well, if you find them, let me know," you yawned, shuffling down in the bed to get comfier. "I’d like both of my men close to me all the time."

Since then, Steve had been on a mission to find dog tags. Going through archives, chain of custody notes, discarded boxes… Everything. There was just something about the entire thing that was driving Steve mad. He was honored you wanted to show off the claim your two lovers had on you but he was also deeply concerned about the fact that currently you only had Bucky’s to wear.

While Steve wouldn’t exactly call himself jealous in this situation, knowing you didn’t love him any less, the relationship was established the way it was and he felt you should still have something of his to truly show for it.

This led Steve on what felt like a manhunt for the "damn dog tags," as he kept referring to them when Bucky would check-in asking if all was okay. Nothing was really okay. He had looked high and low for them, going through every potential record in the database trying to at least confirm there was something to even look for.

He pounded his fist against the desk late one night. Steve had pushed you and Bucky to get some sleep, claiming he had some reports to look over before bed. You two had looked at him suspiciously but eventually agreed, planting loving kisses on his cheeks, and telling him not to stay up too late.

"I get cold without both of you there," you had mumbled with a sleepy yawn following. Your words almost made Steve give up for the night but then he caught a glimpse of the silver chain on your neck. Seeing you like that, using your tired, loving voice, he remembered what he was doing this for. It was you. It was all about you and your love for sentimental things.

He grudgingly agreed to be there in an hour and that seemed to please his two lovers. Except — it was way past an hour. The sky was close to daybreak when he hit the desk in frustration.

Pushing the folders away, Steve leaned back in the chair, sighing. Within seconds, footsteps came from the hall and Bucky appeared in the doorway, watching a frustrated Steve.

"Everything okay in here?" Bucky asked, leaning against the door frame.

"Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine," Steve nodded. "Go back to bed, I’ll be there in a bit."

But Bucky didn’t look the slightest bit convinced. He had a knowing look in his eyes which Steve tried to avoid by looking down at the now splintered desk.

"How are those reports going?"

Steve rolled his eyes, letting out an annoyed groan. Deep down he knew he couldn’t hide anything from Bucky but still, worth a shot.

He pushed all the folders away this time, leaving them at the very edge of the desk. "I did have dog tags, right?"

"That’s still bothering you, huh?" Bucky crossed the threshold into the office and made his way to one of the chairs in front of Steve’s desk. He took one of the folders and sat directly across from Steve. Casually, he thumbed through it, waiting for his partner to start talking.

Steve didn’t really want to get into it again as he had probably hounded Bucky about it all last week but acting like it wasn’t bothering him was getting him nowhere — obviously.

"Yes," Steve sighed. "I just want her to have something from each of us. It’s- It’s hard watching our girl…"

Bucky frowned, "I’m sorry, Steve. I should’ve waited to give them to her."

"No, Buck," Steve leaned forward, reaching his hand out. Bucky took the signal and leaned, placing his own hand in Steve’s. "You wanted her to have them. That’s your call. I just feel disappointed I have nothing to give."

"Well…" Bucky hummed, tilting his head in thought. Steve’s eyes furrowed, trying to get his partner to spit out whatever he was thinking. "What if we ordered you new ones?"

"Can you do that?"

"I honestly don’t know," Bucky chuckled. "But I don’t understand half of what you can do these days, so, I’d imagine there’s a way to get dog tags made."

Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair, disconnecting their touch. It seemed reasonable and would do the job except for the fact— "But they wouldn’t be in combat or- or from the actual military."

Bucky just shook his head. With an annoyed scoff, he said, "Do you think that really matters to her?"

"I guess not…"

"Steve, honey, I promise. It’s about the presentation, the show of it. Our girl is just looking for something personal from you to keep close to her," Bucky assured him. "Plus, I think we can get it updated and personalized. Maybe even write something nice just for her on the back."

Steve had to admit, his heart was jumping happily at the idea. He really couldn’t argue with anything and agreed to the plan. The only issue was — they were a bit out of touch with ordering anything online. You had always been the one to assure online packages and food deliveries arrived but now they had to take you out of the equation. While excited to surprise you, they were slightly unsure about ordering and had to enlist the help of the team who all turned out to be more than happy to assist once they explained their idea.

A few weeks later, you were laying in your shared bed, back against the headboard, body cozied up under the duvet. You were engrossed in a cheesy romance novel, waiting for Steve and Bucky to join you for the night. Eventually, the two came in, but they were still in their work attire.

You frowned at their appearance. "Aren’t you guys coming to bed?"

As you asked your question, you couldn’t help but note their unusual stance. The two men were side-by-side, standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at you. Bucky had his hands in his pockets while Steve appeared to be hiding something behind his back. You eyed them suspiciously.

"We will in a bit, doll," Bucky said. You watched him as he came around to the side of the bed. He sat down and leaned against the headboard, shifting right next to you, sneakily taking the book out of your grip. "But first, Steve has something for you."

"For- For me?" You asked, whipping your head around to face Steve. He had a bit of nervousness to him as he nodded, making his way over to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Silently, he handed you a small box. You eagerly accepted the item, turning it over and over in your hands. Giving it a light shake, the box made a jangling noise. "What is it?" You asked, wide-eyed looking between the two men.

Steve and Bucky both let out soft chuckles at your excitement. "You have to open it to find out," Steve said. He still had an air of anxiousness, running his hands up and down his jean-covered thighs, fidgeting.

To put your poor boyfriend out of his misery, you opened the box. At first, all you noticed was something slim and shiny. Eyes furrowed in confusion, you pulled out what appeared to be a chain. You could feel a slight heaviness to it — and then you saw it. Your jaw dropped as you tossed the box next to you. In your hands was another set of dog tags nearly identical to the ones you already had adorned on your neck — only this pair were inscribed with the name Steven Grant Rogers.

"Steve-," you gasped, staring at the tags laying in the palm of your hands. You were at a loss for words as you read the tag.

"Are- Are they okay?" Steve asked, his nervous hand came up to rest on your thigh, pulling your attention back to him.

"Are you kidding me?" You let out a breathy laugh. "They’re wonderful, honey, thank you so much."

"You’re sure?" He asked again. Bucky gave him a pointed look for his ridiculousness but that didn’t stop Steve from rambling. "I-I couldn’t find mine so, I got a new pair made. I know they’re maybe not as authentic or something but I still wanted-,"

"You had these made?" You cut in. "For me?"

Steve nodded, "You had Bucky’s, so, it was only fair you had something of mine, too."

You couldn’t hold your emotions back at his word. Tears began forming as you looked at your soft, loving partner. You let out little sniffles as you turned back to the tags, still soaking in their meaning. Bucky placed a light touch on your arm as Steve scooted closer, probably suddenly scared by your tears.

"They’re perfect, honey," you whispered as you looked back at him and leaned forward, placing a sweet kiss on Steve’s lips. He eagerly accepted, practically sighing from relief under your touch. "They’re going to go perfect with the tags from my other man." You mumbled and turned to now give Bucky a kiss, who felt very pleased to get a turn to lock lips with you.

Facing Steve again, you handed him the chain. He looked down at it, confused.

"Well, soldier, are you going to put them on me?"

Both of the men chuckled at your actions but Steve happily slid the silver chain over your neck, watching as the tags fell to your chest. Once they landed, they clang nicely with Bucky’s. It sounded like music to your ears.

"I love you both so much," you said, your hand mindlessly running over the pair of tags. "Thank you."

"We love you too, doll," Bucky said. Steve nodded in agreement.

Smiling, you gave them both quick pecks and said, "Now, are you guys coming to bed?"

Bucky scoffed, "How could we ever deny you?"

You giggled. "I don’t think you can seeing as last time I checked I was a special girl."

At your words, both their gazes dropped once again to the tags hanging between your breasts, seeming so at place there.

"You sure are, honey," Steve mumbled, placing a kiss on your cheek.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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husbandohunter · 3 years

Text

Stardew Impact [Stardew Valley+Genshin Impact x Reader]

Part 2/3 Zhongli, Xiao

Synopsis: “A mysterious phenomenon brought you and your s/o to an unfamiliar world: Pelican Town! Without the power of Visions, the two of you begin to learn the life of what it takes to be...a farmer?”

(DOMESTIC FARM LIFE ROUND TWO)

Genre: Fluff

Others

Diluc and Kaeya

Albedo and Childe

(A/n): This was meant to be part 3 but I couldn't wait to write xiao. Plus Ive been writing Albedo for almost the whole month already Word count_2.6k

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Xiao

• Thrown in an unfamiliar environment puts Xiao on high alert. Instincts kick in and his hand subconciously grabs for his spear. Nothing. Not even his vision activated. Xiao's gaze darts all over before landing on your figure. He sighs in relief, you're safe, that much he can decipher as of now.

• Stripped of his power, left with only claws and teeth (if must) to protect you from any dangers, he was ansty with every little thing.

• The villagers are so nice??? For what reason must they have to act so friendly to strangers (Xiao wonders). The Mayor even granted you two a vast farmland free of charge.

• Shortly he realized he no longer had his karmaic debt. Xiao wasn't sure how to live his life in this state. He dedicated his entire existence to years of slaughter and suffering that it became the only thing he knew. He won't admit it of course, he'll just throw in scoffs and remarks about how mundane activities are a waste of time when in reality, he just has no clue on how to handle them.

• Thats why the first day was difficult as you both try to figure out how to plant parnsips. Deciding it was better to go with an experiment, you split the share of seeds in half and used what basic knowledge you had on farming to finish the job. Xiao on the other hand tried copying what you did….though the outcome wasn't so desirable it was a mess. (His trained hands have taught him to be on the rough side).

• He doesn't bother socializing with the townspeople even though he has no karmaic debt to worry about. Xiao thinks you're more than enough anyways so what's the point?

• Robin is the only person who can tolerate him for obvious reasons (cough Sebastian cough) she knows exactly how to deal with his personality type. His glares don't faze her, she simply thinks its just a teenage phase of some sort.

• Eventually they become mutuals, Xiao thinks Robin is similar to Verr Goldet in a way. Since he's the one who does the heavy labour of chopping down trees and mining stones for building upgrades, he gets a chance to visit her house quite often. He comes back with lots of recipes too.

• You find out that his adepti blood never left him. Xiao doesn't need sleep so you better believe it when he tells you the next morning that he spent the whole night watering all 300 of your crops (watering is the only process he's good at for farming).

• Sometimes you catch him staring out of the window, wondering what he may be thinking. Life was so much more different, almost hard to recognize. Was this real? Is it okay for it to be real, just this once? Ever since he committed his duty to Morax, Xiao didn't dream of a time when everything would be peaceful. Yet here he is, no longer a weapon but on a journey to find out what it's like to live as a normal person.

• Spring: Every morning you find him kneeling behind the cabin with the pet cat (yes, cats seem to suit Xiao very much). He just stares at them, hesitant if he wanted to pet their fur or rub their chin. So he continues to glare intensely, scaring your cat away :(

• Whenever you wanted to attend any of the town's festivities, Xiao wouldn't even hide his distastefulness but goes with you regardless. Why do mortals consider hiding eggs and finding them a fun activity? And what kind of a name is Flower Dance? Can't they just call it a dance?

• Though…he does like the sight of you wearing a flower crown. Xiao likes putting stuff in your hair.

Since setting foot upon this new world, time seemed to have slowed down to the point that almost everything felt like an eternity. And you didn't mind, with him by your side, you wouldn't mind if it did last forever.

The lull of the grass was the only sound Xiao could hear as he closed his eyes and rested his head on your lap. You maneuvered across his scalp in small, subtle motions, surprised with how warm he felt against the heat your palm. He stirs a little and lets out a soft breath before turning his face to lay on the side.

You were slightly intrigued by the yaksha's new demeanor. From far away, Xiao was an intimidating man, even during the first time you laid eyes him, his presence felt similar to a knife pointing at anyone who dares to come too close. But now, the face that usually held his signature annoyance melted into something you never thought you'd see as the sun rays brushed against the surface of his fair skin. You observed the way his dark eyebrows stayed in a relaxed arch. The red crescents lining right above his beautiful long lashes and the sound of soft snores through parted lips. It was hard to believe that this man was the same person who claimed to have ended a thousand lives through thousands of years.

Did he fall asleep already?

Gently moving away the strands away from his cheekbone, hovered your gaze above him and whispered, "I thought adepti don't need rest."

"Hmph," Xiao responds, though there was no harshness in his tone, "Quit trying to be difficult, I didn't tell you to stop."

The smug grin on your face only widens. You lean downward and said to his ear, "And what's the magic word~?"

Xiao sighs at your antics. You were truly pushing your luck today and he simply didn't have the patience to entertain you. Without a warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you down, foreheads pressing until you were but a breath away. The adepti conquers, he does not plead.

• Summer: As expected, your parnsnips weren't able to grow as much. Thus, this season was going to be the one to make up for the lost profit. Xiao is very good at hunting, perhaps the best in the entire town. Though the way he catches fish is rather peculiar, said by the folks. He prefers to carve a spear made of wood and repeatedly stabs the lake until results show. Xiao dislikes the old fashioned way, he says its unproductive and it unecissarily takes too much time.

• But as much as he scared the whole town, they were extremely grateful when he cleaned up the slime issues happening in the mines. You could say that he grew very popular since then and eventually mustered up the courage to greet him a hello whenever he passes by.

• You nudge him to reply back. Xiao usually shoots you a glare but slowly, he learns the courtesy of acknowledging someone's prescence.

• Fall: You woke up to a burnt smell coming from the kitchen. Xiao just thought he would return the favour since you always worked so hard. (He was actually trying to figure out what a 'whisk' was. It was no wonder why there were eggshells in the dish!)

• You realized that Xiao was taking more initation compared to before. At night, when you thought the animals were actively jumping in the barns, the noise was actually from Xiao trying to adjust himself to the ways of tending the field. After learning what TV was, he would always switch to the channel "Livin off the land" to gain some insight. Truly, Xiao was greatful even though he knew he eventually had to return to his duties, he wanted to utilize the current days the best way he could. And what better way was it to just make you happy in return?

• Winter: This was the season to test the accumulation of Xiao's abilities: you caught a cold and he had to manage everything in his own. Xiao scolded you for not wearing enough and being too careless but at the same he considered that you must've been working too hard.

• Goes to Robin for help. She basically became his mom now. Prepares the food and leaves them in the fridge, she teaches Xiao how to use the phone in case he needed any help and also lets him know where all the essentials are.

• Xiao stayed by your side the whole time even though you told him you'd be fine. But he refuses, he may no longer be a gaurdian but he was your gaurdian. That role never changed.

~~x~~

Zhongli

• You wake up on a soft bed with Zhongli sitting at a chair nearby. He hands you a cup of brewed water but you're still blatlantly confused. Seems like everything was taken care of by Zhongli, it ends up with him explaining everything to you.

• The folks instantly assumes you both as a married couple. Who could blame them? He did carry your unconcious body all the way to town while asking for a local doctor. You can bet that the ladies wish they were you at that moment. Zhongli took care of everything, including with the contract with the new farm.

• It didn't take long for you both to adjust to the new lifestyle. Zhongli's accumulated knowledge was enough to last all four seasons. Days past by peacefully as you shared the tasks. He'd place down the stone paths towards the gate and you busied yourself with decorating the house. After that was done, Zhongli would rest upon the rocking chair outside your door (like the grandpa he is) and sometimes you'd join him in one reading session. His voice was soothing, you eventually dipped into a slumber as the evening grew colder. Just like always, your beloved brings his arm to encapsulate you from the wind, brushing his thumb against your skin subconciously while you snore softly into his shoulder.

• In a way, the townsfolk were right. You both do act like a married couple. It's basically domestic life with Zhongli in a nutshell.

• He gets connected with Gunther and lands a role in the Museum. Since he's there so often, Zhongli also manages to be acquainted with Elliot as well. Two men who have a common interest with books while speaking in poetic prose. Their conversation would last for hours to the point Gunther had to kick them out of the library!

• Veeeery good with the children, not in an entertaining way but its just the aura he reeks. Penny usually had trouble dealing with Vincent since he never seems to be able to focus but the minute Zhongli speaks, he's all ears. Not only that he was also very good with the elderly. He even recommended some herbs George could take to soothe his back issues.

• Problem is that he still forgets to bring his wallet and Childe isn't here to save him. So once you stepped foot into the Stardrop Saloon and Gus calls you over, he tells you about the cost he owed to his tab….

• But this tranquil life full of genuinity and deprived of sovereignty, he was overjoyed to be able to spend it with you. Because he knew you were unlike him, that all humans were born with an expiry date. He knew so well that after every new greeting, he would have to face the goodbyes over and over until the world eventually came to an end. He knew you were also going to be part of those many goodbyes while he would still be here.

• But as Zhongli walks amongst the fallen leaves, he remembered the beauty that carries within every new beginning. They brought him to you and he would never hesitate to trade his gnosis for it.

Spring: You shot up your bed when Zhongli blast the TV at full volume. He apologizes, saying that he was simply trying to change the channel. You figured it was best for him to go outside before he somehow glitches the screen until it couldn't repair itself (Robin charges for repairs).

• Every thursday you both go to Pierre's store to complete your grocery shopping. He offers to push the cart as you fill the basket with all the necessities (plus it saves you the trouble of having him tossing whatever he sees without looking at the price tag).

• Every afternoon you order a take out from the Saloon, sharing the meal while sitting at the fountain's edge near the community center. Every evening Zhongli would take you to explore the rest of the vast farmland, discovering places you weren't even aware of. It was no wonder why everyone thought you were a married couple.

• Summer: Since the cabin was too small for a bathroom, you guys would have to travel up the mountains in order to get to the Spa house (cue sweatiness x10).

• The concept of hotsprings was derived from Inazuma so it was no surprise that Liyue eventually took it after him. Zhongli had collected some incense from foraging items over the past few months, he knows whats up. But overall he gives the best bath sessions (hands down) and you were the one who insisted in joining him. He was a gentle and sweet lover, always putting your needs before his. Ancient artifacts and old history books have always been precious to him, he treated you no differently.

The heartbeat of the oceans continues to rock back and forth until they brush up on the sandy shore, washing away the two pairs of footprints left behind by a man and a woman.

Gold against gold, his amber eyes reflected against the scenery. Millions of lights flashed among the sea when the sun began to climb down from the sky, it's rays hugged across the valley like an ethereal glow bestowed by the heavens as summer's wind brought even more warmth than what he had currently felt. You trance ahead of with the same light shaping around your form.

"Oh hey there's another rainbow shell," you waved at him before running off, "I'll be back!"

How is it that you still continue to shine like gold in his memories?

Zhongli suddenly ponders at the chapters laying ahead of him. He spent so many years turning each page without ever reaching a conclusion, forever searching the fabled happy endings written in fairytale books, but he knew his immortality wouldn't grant him that wish.

Thus, the formal archon raised his pen and reweaves his own story. He envisions his future with you by his side, engraving every detail until it was immortalized in his memories.

Perhaps I shouldn't keep her waiting.

With a renewed resolve, Zhongli clutches the gemstone tightly in his palm, he seals the page with the final contract between your future and his.

• Fall: After getting your first house upgrade, it was time for the next event: the ceremony. Yes, Zhongli would only have a wedding if Liyue traditions were involved. Everyone was invited of course, they were quite intrigued with the flashy setup such as lanterns and fireworks (you were a little worried with where he got the budget for such items) and Zhongli even educated Gus about some recipes he can use for the Saloon.

• You found out that Zhongli was saving all his money for this day (it was no wonder that he couldn't pay for his tab!). Old habits die hard, it was a shame that he didn't have his powers to craft the right items, but at least he got to sea you in a traditional eastern dress (it's the part he was looming forward to the most).

• Fall is the best season. One you wouldn't forget.

• Winter: Ah he finally learns how to use technology after three seasons. He only knows two channels from the TV which was 'Livin off the Land' and the weather channel. Zhongli oftens talks to himself as he tries to figure out more mechanics, he seems to be extremely absorbed in the most basic things.

• The miner of the house. But instead of using them to upgrade tools and donating them to the museum, Zhongli likes to keep some of them for collection. You could say your house also had a little museum in the other room.

• Romcom movies and soap operas. You can't change my mind that this is what you both spend your time watching as the snowstorm rages outside.

#genshin impact #stardew valley #genshin impact headcanons #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao headcanons #zhongli #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin impact zhongli #genshin xiao #genshin zhongli #nya-writes

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poisonedapples · 3 years

Text

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter Three

New School and Friendships

Chapter Summary: Roman has his first day in a new district while some bonds are strengthened.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Warnings: Past abuse mentions, mentions of hidden cameras, anxiety, some bullying, crying, and food mentions

Chapter Word Count: 5,860

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?” Roman’s dad turned to face him. Roman felt his whole body start to shake.

“You know how you said that…I could ask for anything from you? Since, uh- since you didn’t know what present to get me last time?”

His dad smiled in a way so normal it was disturbing. “Got an idea?”

“Yeah, uh…I want a canopy bed.”

His dad’s face dropped, and Roman could feel the anxiety and regret bloom through his chest. “You know why I can’t do that, Roman.”

“Please? I know it’s probably a bit much to replace my whole bed frame, but I could make my own canopy for cheaper! I’ve already looked at a bunch of ways online how, I just need you to buy the materials-”

“It’s a no.” Roman’s dad looked angry, and Roman would’ve done anything to run the other direction at that moment. To burst out the door and never come back. “Nice try, Roman, but I’m not stupid. Come back when you have a better idea.”

Roman blinked to fight back the tears. “…I’m sorry.”

“Go back to your room.”

Roman ran up the stairs as fast as he could, wishing more than anything that there was a lock on his door. Instead, Roman took his desk chair and propped it against the knob for some kind of security, curling into the corner of his room as he shook and tugged at his hair.

He tried to block out the knowledge of the security camera on his shelf, hidden well but not well enough, pointed right at his bed.

***

Several fast knocks came onto Roman’s bedroom door, waking him up with a jerk. He groggily pushed open the curtain in front of his head to grab his phone and look at the time. Six o’clock on the dot, it read. Ugh.

The knocking on the door didn’t stop, and Roman whined. “What?” He called out.

“Get dressed, we need to leave the house by 6:30.” He heard Logan call back.

“Fine, fine.” Roman pushed the curtains out of the way and practically rolled out of bed, grabbing the clothes he’d organized for himself the night before. He put on a pair of jeans with a white and red t-shirt, nothing fancy but fancy enough for a first day surrounded by strangers. He grabbed his backpack and put his phone and some earbuds in his pocket before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

“Morning, kiddo!” Patton chirped as he made breakfast, “Didja sleep well?”

“Yes, I did.” That was a lie. He had some strange dream where his dad was also there, and he only managed to calm down and fall back asleep an hour ago. He still couldn’t stop thinking about it, even if the dream was hazy now.

“Good to hear! Be ready by 6:30 so I can drive all of you to the school. Then once you get there, you can ask about your schedule at the office.” Patton laid down a plate of bagels with cream cheese and strawberries in front of Roman, so Roman began to eat.

Once he finished his breakfast, Roman rushed back upstairs to style his hair and brush his teeth before they had to leave. As he brushed his teeth, he stared at the shower to the left of him and sighed. He touched his hair, feeling the grease slick onto his fingers.

He really needed to shower. He hadn’t showered since he got here, and with how thick his hair was it was really starting to gross him out. He hated feeling greasy and grimy, but Roman hadn’t checked the bathroom for cameras yet and he refused to shower until he did. Though, he knew that was also just an excuse. Roman also felt too tired to take care of himself.

Just brush your teeth, he thought, they told you that if you can’t shower, at least brush your teeth. Greasy hair can be fixed, cavities are expensive.

He spit out the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed out his mouth. He grabbed some face wash and decided to use it as quickly as he could to hold back the gross feeling he felt. It would help him feel a little cleaner, at least. A little more presentable for the first day.

A loud bang came onto the door. “Roman, hurry up!” Virgil called out, “Some of us need to piss!”

“Just a second!” Roman vigorously splashed water on his face and quickly dried it with a towel, rushing out of the bathroom so that Virgil could run in. He sighed again, walking downstairs to wait on the couch until it was time to go.

“Alrighty, everyone got everything?” Patton eventually asked, making Roman crack open the eyes he didn’t even realize he closed. Patton smiled and clapped his hands together when his response was tired hums of agreement. “Perfect! To the car!”

All three kids bunched themselves together in the back of Patton’s car, Roman and Virgil at the window seats while poor Logan was squished in the middle. Roman squeezed his legs together so he could fit his backpack between Logan and himself, acting as a barrier so Logan couldn’t touch him. It was uncomfortable, but it was what Roman had to do.

“So, Roman, are you excited?” Patton asked, making Roman open his eyes again to look at Patton through the rearview mirror. Roman leaned his head against the window.

“More nervous. I’ve never been to a new school before.”

“Well, hopefully you can make lots of friends here! The school is pretty big, so there are certainly lots of options!” Patton laughed at himself and Roman closed his eyes again.

We’ll see about that.

Eventually, after a failed attempt of getting in some extra minutes of sleep before school, Roman felt the car come to a stop. He opened his eyes and looked out the window to see the front of the large school building, kids with smiling faces talking to each other as they walked inside while others looked tired yet excited. Roman wasn’t feeling it.

“Alright, kiddos, have fun!” Patton exclaimed, “Remember to check in with the office for your schedule, Roman!”

All the kids started to pile out of the car, grabbing their bags off the floor to rush inside. Once they were all out, Patton’s car drove away to head for work.

Roman looked at the building as Logan and Virgil walked inside. It seemed huge compared to his old school, where the county was much more rural than here. They still had twenty minutes until school started and kids were already swarming in from multiple entrances, both from the main entrance and other doors connected around the building. Roman walked inside and held his arms close to himself, desperate not to be shoved around by the other students.

The office was fairly easy to find, considering there was a giant sign over the door in bold, white letters reading Office. Roman opened the door and stepped inside to get in line, feeling a little bit better that he wasn’t the only student having first day issues. The line shrank very quickly until it was Roman’s turn to ask questions, being faced with an old lady who could either be very sweet or the rudest person in the building. Roman could never tell.

“Uh, I’m a new kid at this school, and my guardian told me to come here to get my schedule?” Roman asked.

“Name.” Okay, well, rude it was, then.

“Roman Goldsberry.”

The desk worker didn’t respond, only typed something on her computer and didn’t make eye contact. “Next door to your left of that entrance is the counselor’s office. Your counselor is Mrs. Walters and she’ll call for you shortly.”

“Okay, thank you.” Roman had never scurried out of an office so quickly in his life. So much for a great first impression.

In the other office, Roman sat on a waiting chair and awkwardly glanced at all the college items they had hung up on the walls, waiting until his name would be called. The school day hasn’t even started yet, what’s taking them so long?

Roman drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair and waited. There was a lot of college stuff in this room. Granted, high school’s whole thing was trying to take you to college, his old school was the exact same. And he should really start thinking about that stuff since he’s a sophomore now. He only had two more years left after this, but it’s not like he could go anyway. He wasn’t even supposed to graduate high school, let alone college.

Besides, his dream was stupid anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“Roman Goldsberry?” A voice called out, taking Roman out of his thoughts. Roman stood up to follow the counselor into her office.

“I’m Mrs. Walters, and it’s nice to meet you Roman!” She said cheerily as she sat at her desk with Roman sitting right in front of her. “Your schedule was a bit last minute to pull together, but I tried my hardest based on your last school’s transcript and your test scores from last standardized testing. All I need is to schedule some extra electives for you. You have advanced English 12, advanced geometry, advanced biology, and world history. You can also choose Spanish 3 here if you wish to continue that. You also still need your gym credit, so you can take regular PE or strength training. I also have a list of other electives here if you want to look at that.”

“Yeah, I can look.” The counselor handed Roman a paper of all the electives organized by their subject. Well, Roman definitely wanted to continue Spanish, so that choice was easy. Strength training sounded like a fun way to do gym class with less dodgeballs to the face, but it was only a semester long, so he’d need to pick another semester class for the second half of the year. And he could join another painting or drawing class as his last elective, but he’d already taken those at his old school…

Roman gazed at the arts section of the packet, trying to find something he might like. His eyes lit up as he noticed the names of two classes: set design, which was a semester long and sounded magical, and something called sculpture. “What does the sculpture class teach?” Roman asked.

“It’s an art class that teaches you how to sculpt with different things. Like clay, wood, things like that. It’s a very hands-on class if you’re interested.”

Roman smiled. “I want that one then.”

The counselor typed something into her computer. “Have you chosen your other classes?”

“Yes, Spanish 3, set design, and strength training.”

“I’ll put you in strength training for this semester, but next semester you can join the set design class. I’ll email your elective teachers to inform them you’ll be joining their classes, but for now…” The counselor printed off a piece of paper and handed it to Roman. “This is your new schedule. Your first class is English with Ms. Fritz, and her class should be up on the third floor at room 316. Do you think you can make it there?”

“I can, thank you.”

The counselor smiled. “Have a nice first day.”

Roman walked off to head toward his first class, going up two flights of stairs and wandering across half the floor before he finally found his classroom. Thankfully, the halls were full of students desperately trying to locate their classrooms, so Roman didn’t feel as weird. He eventually stumbled upon the correct room number after checking multiple hallways and trying to follow their scattered number system. He looked at the door with a paper rabbit and a book with a phrase reading hop into a good book, and could guess immediately what type of teacher this would be.

Roman pushed open the half-cracked door and stepped inside.

The dozen kids who were already sitting stared at him when he walked in, but quickly resumed their conversations shortly after. Roman glanced at an empty seat off in the middle row near the other end of the class and moved to sit down in it. He looked around at the other kids off in their own worlds, with no one to get excited to see him and strike up a conversation. He was sitting alone in a class where it seemed like no one else was.

Roman got bored quickly with no one to talk to, drumming his fingers on the table and starting to daydream instead.

The long lost princess with the power to see into the future is forced to hide in protected wilderness, Roman thought, picking up from an old story idea he’s had for a while. Can’t have a teen novel without an orphan, so she lives with a guardian healer instead. Then, she needs a trusty companion to not only start her adventures, but to assist her alongside them. Perhaps he could be a peasant boy born with more magic power than the normal peasant has? It sure would be interesting. Or maybe, he’s not a trustworthy companion at all! What if he’s using the princess to promote his own selfish ideals? But as the story goes on, they actually become close friends and he has an intense internal conflict as he turns into the antagonist! Then maybe-

“Alright class, I think it’s been late enough for us to start!” Roman tried not to be aggravated at the teacher for interrupting him. The teacher stood at the front of the class with a wide smile. “I’m Ms. Fritz, but of course I’m sure a lot of you already know that since you had me last year. I teach all grade levels for advanced English, so if you keep down this path you might stick with me until graduation! Now normally, teachers will start their first day with class expectations, maybe a rubric or a supplies list, but I have a better idea! How about we travel across the class and try to get to know each other better? I can pass around a ball, and if you catch the ball, you have to share three fun facts about you!”

A sense of dread filled into Roman after hearing that. He usually didn’t mind games like this since it was a mindless way to pass the time, but he didn’t have any friends to pass him the ball anymore. Was he just going to sit there until the end? Sounded awkward, no thank you.

“I think,” Ms. Fritz said with her hand gripping her chin in thought, “I’m going to start with the new kid.”

Roman perked his head up as all the other kids turned to him. Well, that was unexpected.

Ms. Fritz tossed Roman the ball, and thankfully he caught it without making a fool of himself. The teacher smiled at him encouragingly as he stood up, looking around at all the kids waiting for him to talk. What should I even say?

“Can you say your name first?” Ms. Fritz asked.

“Well…I’m Roman. Uh, I like to paint, I’m half french, and…” Roman tried to think. What else was interesting about him? Something that shared a lot about him as a person?

Quickly, it dawned on him. One idea that I could possibly share, he thought. Well, it’s a bit invasive, but they’re all looking at me. So whatever.

He took a deep breath in. “…I’m a foster kid.”

When Roman admitted that, all the kids seemed to be more interested in him, leaning closer as their eyes widened. It was the first time Roman ever said it aloud, and it was so strange to hear coming from his mouth. He was a foster kid. That was an important part of his identity now.

He didn’t know how he felt about it.

“You’re half french?” Ms. Fritz pulled Roman out of his thoughts with that question. “Do you know any french?”

“I’m fluent.”

“That’s so cool! Can you say something in French for us?”

Roman seemed to think about it. “Quelque chose.”

Ms. Fritz blinked. “Well, I hope it was appropriate to say in a classroom. When did you move here, Roman?”

“Like…four days ago. Very recently.”

“You only got added to my roster last night, so I believe you! How about you pass the ball to another kid now?”

Roman looked around the room awkwardly before making eye contact with a random girl and tossing her the ball. He sat back down and only paid half his attention to what the other kids were saying. Well, at least he didn’t have to wait awkwardly anymore.

The rest of the class went like that. It seemed like a lot of these kids were students that Ms. Fritz had in the past, as well as being students that were also close friends with each other. They talked a lot and made lots of jokes with the teacher, and they seemed really close, which Roman understood since he was the same with his old group of advanced kids. The extra conversation dragged the game out longer than it probably should have been, but Roman didn’t mind. He didn’t want to actually work or anything anyway.

Eventually, the game ended, and the last kid tossed the ball to Ms. Fritz. “Alright,” she said, “That game dragged out longer than I thought it would, but that’s fine! The bells are shorter the first few days anyway. We only have a couple minutes left, so talk amongst yourself if you want, I don’t care. The assembly should be after your fourth bell for the sophomores, so don’t let your teachers forget!”

All the students turned around to talk to the kids around them. Roman simply watched their conversations with no one to talk to himself, realizing how all the new kids at his old school must have felt. It was like looking in from the outside, where no one else could see you. Roman was just…there.

“Hey,” the kid in front of him turned around to face Roman. Roman almost jumped at the sudden attention. “What’s your name again?”

“Oh, Roman. Roman Goldsberry.” Roman turned to sit properly in his seat and leaned in closer. This was a good start! He seems nice, maybe I can make a friend!

“Roman Goldsberry!” He mocked, turning to his other friends to laugh. “That’s such a pretentious name. And very American sounding, by the way. I thought you were French?”

Roman’s shoulders sagged. Nevermind. Eight in the morning on my first day, and apparently I’ve made an enemy before a friend. “I’m half french, not fully french.”

The kid turned to his friends and made a face at them before they all laughed. Roman felt his blood boil.

“So your dad is the American?” The kid asked.

“Yes.” Roman hoped his sharp tone would help them realize not to mess with him.

“Are you close with your dad?”

Roman froze, and the group of kids turned to each other to make faces at each other again. He really didn’t see what was so funny. Who asks a complete stranger a question like that out of the blue?

Before Roman could snap and tell the kid to mind his own damn business, another kid from the other side of the room scoffed. “Mitchell.”

“What? I’m just asking!”

The other kid opened their mouth to retaliate, but a loud and obnoxious bell went off before they could. Kids started to get up to rush to their next class, and Roman joined them. The sooner he got away from Mitchell (who had no right to bully Roman for his name when he was called Mitchell), the better.

Roman rushed out into the hall and hyper focused on the schedule in his hands. World history, room 203. The next floor down.

Roman was so occupied in trying to find a flight of stairs, he didn’t notice the kid trying to catch up to him.

***

The rest of Roman’s day wasn’t half as eventful as his first bell. History class had a chill teacher, which was nice, then next was his strength training class. His teacher was a little confused when he showed up but was happy to have Roman on board. He seemed very strict with his class rules though, and Roman hated that considering one of his rules was they had to change into gym clothes. Which meant Roman had to wear gym shorts.

…Well, guess he’d have to get used to wearing multiple pairs of boxers again.

Besides that, he also got lost on his way to sculpture, so he showed up ten minutes late telling this random teacher he was her student now. At least she didn’t seem bothered. After that, they all went to the sophomore assembly where they were told the school rules and updates, which Roman’s pretty sure he was the only kid who actually listened. Then, after the assembly, Roman went to the cafeteria to eat a lunch that Patton packed him. He hadn’t actually brought a packed lunch to school in years, so the sentiment was…strange.

Not that Roman would complain about an edible lunch, though.

Roman looked around the cafeteria for a place to sit. The place was starting to become crowded as more students got out of line for buying lunch, so Roman needed to find a spot fast. It’d be easier if he made a friend to sit with, but after the morning Mitchell incident, Roman hadn’t cared to try again in his other classes.

That’s when Roman spotted him. A kid with thick glasses eating a fruit cup as he worked on some papers next to him, completely ignoring the world to finish some homework. Roman wasn’t exactly close with his foster brothers, but hey, maybe Logan could prove himself a little useful. He had to be lonely too, right?

Roman took his chance and sat across from Logan. Logan didn’t look up from his papers. “Hey there, nerd!”

Logan glanced an eye toward Roman. He focused back on his work. “Hello.”

“How’s your first day of high school going?”

It took Logan a solid minute before he responded. “It’s going alright. I got unlucky with a teacher of mine, who already gave us a homework packet for the week, so I’m trying to get a head start on it.”

“Really? What teacher?”

“Mr. Owens, he’s the more strict teacher of the two that teach medical technology.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Medical technology? That’s a class here?”

“Yes. I had to do a lot of things last year to get into it, however. It’s part of the intensive medical learning path. However, the extra work is necessary.”

“…Right. What other classes are you in?”

“Advanced biology, advanced geometry, advanced English, medical tech as I just mentioned, German 2, health, and painting.”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Wait, I thought most of those were sophomore classes?”

“And I took freshman classes my eighth grade year. Your point?”

Roman blinked. “…Fair enough.”

Roman brought out his own sandwich and ate it in awkward silence. Logan seemed so focused on his paper that he wasn’t saying a word, and trying to spark conversation with him when he was like this was next to impossible. He felt like he was intruding by sitting next to Logan, the air feeling thick for a reason Roman couldn’t quite place. Once he finished his sandwich, Roman had enough.

“I think…” Roman said, “I’m going to sit…somewhere else.”

Logan didn’t react. “Alright.”

Roman stood up and awkwardly shuffled to an empty spot at a table on the other side of the cafeteria, placing down his lunch box and trying again. Well, he thought as he opened up a cheese stick wrapper, better get used to being alone, then.

“Hey, excuse me?”

Roman looked up at the voice while he was mid-bite. It was the same kid who scolded Mitchell back in his English class, tired circles under their eyes and a gray sweater on despite it being August. Though, Roman had been freezing in most of his classes today, so maybe this person had the right idea.

“Oh- I’m sorry, were you sitting here?” Roman asked.

“No, you’re fine, I just…” The kid looked side to side anxiously. “…Mind if I sit with you?”

“…Oh! No, I don’t mind at all.”

The kid smiled and set their lunchtray across from Roman. “Thanks. I’m Elliott by the way, they/them pronouns.”

Roman’s brain took a minute to process what they meant. “Uh, hello! I’m Roman…he/him?”

Elliott seemed to get happier when he said that. “Nice to meet you. How’s your first day been so far? Besides for you-know-who this morning.”

Roman laughed. “Well, aside from that uncalled for mess, it’s been quite normal. I got lost a few times, but that’s not new for me. My teachers seem quite alright so far.”

“That’s good to hear. We have a lot of good teachers, I think, unless they teach calculus, then they have some serious issues. But so long as you don’t act like an idiot it’s easy to get past those teachers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind! Hopefully I stay on this hot streak, though.” Roman took out a water bottle from his lunch and started to drink it. “But it’s the students I’m more worried about. They all seem so off on their own. Or just outright rude like that guy this morning.”

Elliott groaned, leaning his head on his hand and slouching. “I’m really sorry about him. He can be a huge jerk for no reason. I think he’s just itching for a fight.”

“You seem to know him quite well. Old friend or something?” Roman asked.

Elliott groaned again. “…He’s my ex.”

“…No offense to your type or anything, but…ew.”

“Oh no, yeah, dating him was definitely an ew,” Elliot sighed. “We broke up like, four times in the span of a year and a half. It was a mess. Eventually, over the summer I broke up with him for good. I think he’s still upset about that and taking it out on the first easy target he finds. That, and he’s a jerk.”

“Well, he’ll soon learn I’m not one to be described as an easy target.” Roman gave a cocky smile and posed.

The bell sounded off again, and all the students stood up from their tables and started to swarm the trash cans and cafeteria exits. Roman and Elliott gave each other a look as they also stood up.

“So…what class do you have next?” Elliott asked nervously.

“Let’s see…” Roman pulled out the schedule from his pocket and looked at it. “Advanced biology with Mr. Weber.”

Elliott’s eyes lit up. “Me too! Uh…wanna walk together then? I can show you where it is.”

Roman smiled. “Of course!”

The two kids headed down the stairs, talking more and laughing long after they sat down in the class and the bell rang. Roman continued to whisper to Elliott during class until the teacher gave them both a warning glance, shutting their mouths but smiling at each other.

Even as Roman tried to pay attention, he felt a weight lift from his chest.

He’d obtained a friend after all!

***

The entire bus drive home, Roman spent it texting Elliott’s number that they’d given him right after biology ended. He talked about his last two classes and listened to Elliott ramble about his bad luck with classmates this year, grinning to himself with his eyes glued to his screen until his stop came. Virgil banged his fist on Roman’s seat to get his attention, making him jump and stand up to get off with Virgil and Logan.

During the walk home, no one said anything. Roman was off in his own world and Virgil just looked tired, with Logan staring intently at his own shoes as he walked. Virgil unlocked the door for them all to come inside, and they all branched off into their different directions. Virgil got a snack from the kitchen while Roman and Logan ran up to their rooms.

Roman spent a lot of his time in his room now that he’d gotten the curtains around his bed. Lying there was a lot softer than hiding on the bathroom floor with his legs propped up, and Roman was still confused as to how he managed to get away with installing this. He’d have to make sure Patton never entered his room again in case he planned to rip the curtains off their hooks.

He’d have to make a plan to effectively keep him out.

But for now, Roman actually needed to talk to Patton as soon as possible. He needed to ask for gym clothes, since that was the only thing Roman still needed to get for class, and he wanted to get it over with so Roman wouldn’t need to keep worrying about it. He was almost certain Patton had come home half an hour ago, but Roman just ignored him and stayed in his room. But he had to take advantage of the fact that he was remembering to ask for the clothes, so there was no time like the present to go find him.

Roman hopped out of bed and exited his room, making his way downstairs to the living room. He figured Patton would be either watching TV or doing something in the kitchen, but when Roman looked around, he didn’t see him anywhere. Virgil was sprawled across the couch on his phone, but no one else was around. Roman put his hands on his hips.

“Where’s Patton?” He asked Virgil.

Virgil didn’t look up. “Upstairs. In his room I think.”

Roman groaned and stomped back upstairs. He hated going into an adult’s room, so he instead opened the door and poked his head in so he wouldn’t have to step inside. But before he could get a word out to Patton, Roman stopped himself.

Patton was sitting on his bed with the lights dimmed, his back resting in the headboard, but what shocked Roman was that Logan was there also. He had his face hidden in Patton’s neck as Patton rubbed his back and played with his hair, holding him tight to his chest while Logan sniffled. Roman had never seen Logan emote before, so watching him cry was…disturbing. Roman wanted to run over and rip Logan from Patton to protect him.

Patton looked at Roman in the doorway and smiled. “You gotta remember to knock before entering, kiddo. What do you need?”

Roman forgot the main reason he came here. “Is Logan okay?”

Patton looked down at Logan and whispered something in his ear. Whatever Patton said, Logan agreed with a quiet nod of his head. Patton rubbed at Logan’s neck in a way that made Roman’s skin crawl as Patton began to speak. “He’ll be okay, kiddo. He’s just a little overwhelmed from school today. Do you need anything?”

Roman took a step inside Patton’s bedroom. It made his whole body shift into fight or flight, but he couldn’t leave Logan alone with him in good conscience. “I just wanted to say I need to buy gym clothes by next Wednesday. I’m in a strength training class this semester.”

Patton smiled. “That’s fine, we can go shopping this weekend.”

Roman looked down at the floor. “Well…I was more thinking, like…I go into the store while you wait in the car.”

Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “I need to buy the clothes, kiddo.”

“You can just give me the money. I’ll stay within the budget and give you any left over, so…please?”

Patton’s face dropped a little, but he didn’t get angry, so Roman considered that a win. “Sure, kiddo. We’ll do that Sunday.”

Even after the conversation seemed to end, Roman still stood near the door, shifting on his feet awkwardly. Patton shifted his eyes between Logan and Roman as if he was analyzing both of their mental states, but Roman’s throat felt stuck as he tried to bring out the words he wanted to say. He was so scared, but he couldn’t force himself to ask the question he knew he needed to ask now. Yet his feet refused to make a run for it out the door despite his fear.

“Do you need something else, kiddo?” Patton lightly prompted. Roman attempted to swallow the rock he felt in his throat.

“Can I…Can I stay with you and Logan?” He hated it, but he had to do it. He didn’t know what Patton would try when Logan was vulnerable.

Patton looked down at Logan, and Logan nodded. Patton turned to smile again. “You can if you want, Logan doesn’t mind.”

Roman carefully walked to the other side of the bed, sitting as far as possible from Patton but keeping his eyes glued to Logan. He knew he wasn’t helping much, not saying a word and not even being close, but it was something Roman had to do. Just because him and Logan weren’t close didn’t mean he’d leave him in danger. Even if Roman felt stuck in his head and couldn’t find the power to move his arms.

Roman sat there for a while, watching Logan’s chest rise as Patton rubbed his back. It felt like ages before Logan’s chest slowed and he fell asleep on top of Patton, somehow not caring at all about being asleep in Patton’s presence. Roman’s heart ached for him. He was too trusting and innocent for his own good.

“I gotta do some chores,” Patton whispered, “So I’m gonna tuck him in and let him nap. Do you still wanna stay with him?”

Roman nodded, not being able to get the words out himself. He felt stuck as Patton lifted Logan up gently, petting his hair to soothe him when he stirred. Roman helped by tugging the covers back from his end of the bed so that Patton could tuck him in and let go of him sooner, his hand on the back of Logan’s leg making Roman anxious. Patton tucked Logan under the covers and watched his reaction. After a few seconds, Patton grabbed a squishy stuffed frog from his bedside table, handing it to Logan who curled around it in his sleep. It’d be cute if Roman wasn’t so worried.

“Tell me if anything happens, okay kiddo?” Patton said right as he was halfway out the bedroom door. Roman nodded, only finally relaxing after Patton left and slowly closed the door.

Roman immediately ran over to lock it. He didn’t have his security bar, but this would be good enough. Hopefully Patton wouldn’t test anything when he knew Roman would be by Logan’s side.

Despite all of Roman’s worries, Logan slept peacefully on the bed. He didn’t shift or seem distressed at all, just snuggling closer to Patton’s stuffed frog and resting. Logan was calm.

Roman sat on the floor to block the door and watched to make sure no one took that away from him.

147 notes · View notes

reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Text

Personal Google

4 times Spencer knows the answer, and the 1 time he doesn’t.

Summary: Spencer is your own personal Google. He always knows the answer to anything you ask him.

Warnings: Pining, slow burn-ish (?), reader and Spencer are both idiots who aren’t acknowledging their feelings for each other. Some mentions of a case and case-typical violence. No references to the gender of the reader!

Word count: 2k (this ran away from me)

A/N: Part two to this is here!

Requests: open!!

“Hey Spence?” You call, barely looking up from your phone as you scroll through Twitter, “What’s a hedgefund?”

“Are you reading about the GameStop stock?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

He clears his throat, and you look up at him, “Okay. A hedgefund is a way for accredited investors to invest in a way that minimises the risk to their own assets. Without getting too complicated, because it can get really convoluted, it’s basically just a way for rich people to get richer a lot of the time because a prerequisite for investing in the majority is having a high net income or a high net worth to begin with.”

You smile, “So basically rich people are getting screwed?”

“Something like that.”

“Good,” You respond, putting your phone away.

You swear you hear a little laugh escape his mouth as he turns back to the computer at his desk.

***

You’re sat on the jet, in your usual seat next to him, when everything starts to go pear-shaped. It jolts a little, sending you knocking into his side. You grimace.

“It’s just a little turbulence,” Hotch says, “Probably because of the storm coming from the East. We should be landing soon.”

Rationally, you realise there’s nothing to be afraid of. But it’s easier said than done to keep rational when the plane’s rattling like a pack of smarties and your head is bashing against Spencer’s bony shoulder every five seconds.

He senses your unease, tentatively reaching across to take hold of your hand. His instinct is to supply statistics about plane crashes but something in him tells him you won’t respond too well if he tells you the odds of getting in a small plane crash are higher than a regular commercial flight but still lower than the chances of being involved in a motor vehicle accident. Instead, he chooses a different tactic.

“It’ll be alright, we’ve been in the air for two hours and,” He squints at his watch, “Forty-three minutes. This flight’s two hours fifty-eight tops.”

You nod, “Hey Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember this morning when you were telling me about the French dancing plague and we got interrupted by the call about the case?”

You don’t have to say anything more, he immediately launches into a spiel about France in 1615: the death of crops, how the people felt they were being spited by God, the whole thing. He gestures wildly with his free hand, but the hand that lies atop of yours doesn’t budge an inch. You rub small circles on it with your thumb, which goes unacknowledged. Privately, you’re a little disappointed. Privately, he’s afraid you’ll stop if he points it out.

***

It’s been a long and fruitless day. The local PD had been worse than useless, they were so reluctant to accept that anybody from their town could possibly have been responsible for what was going on that it felt like a constant battle to get anything done. You’d been out interviewing possible witnesses from the local bar. Well, trying to, you would have been a lot more successful if the Sheriff hadn’t constantly been under your feet, undermining your questions and generally resulting in making you look like an idiot.

Hotch had chewed him out in the end, relinquishing you from interview duty to help Spencer with the geographical profile back at the station. He’s scribbling away on the map while you slump in the chair, a little defeated.

“Hey Spence?”

“Hmm?” He hums in response, not taking his eyes off the section he’s just crossed out.

“How come you’re ruling out that side of town?”

He flips the whiteboard pen in his hands, returning its cap before turning around to you, “A lot of the area over there is industrial. I’ve been combing through to get a closer look, but it doesn’t look like our unsub would have the kind of privacy he needs. There are a lot of factories, granted, but they’re pretty much all occupied. He’s meticulous, I don’t think he’d take the risk of working in an environment where he couldn’t control anything and risking getting himself caught. And from what we know about him he certainly isn’t affluent enough to rent property on that side of town. Rent is almost three times as expensive there,” he gestures with his hands, tapping the lid of the pen on the area he means, “I think he’s more likely to be from the northmost part of town.”

You smile, “I don’t know how you do that.”

He opens his mouth to respond before seeing the softness in your eyes, realising you’re not asking for an explanation. You’re giving him a compliment. His chest feels a little warm.

***

You can’t sleep that night, despite how exhausting your day has been. You’d think the physical and mental exhertion would knock you out but instead you’re sat on your bed, idly flipping through TV channels. Not much is on except some old NCIS re-runs, and oddly enough you don’t feel like watching a crime show.

You could text Spencer. The thought appears in your head of its own accord, without your consent.

You could though.

10:12pm - You

You’d think after a day like today I’d be able to get some rest

10:13pm - Spencer

You can’t sleep?

10:13pm - You

No, sorry, I didn’t think you’d be asleep

10:14pm - Spencer

I can’t sleep either, don’t worry. Do you want to come over to my room? I have a documentary about Pearl Harbour I was going to watch

10:14pm - Spencer

Or we could do something else. Not sure if Pearl Harbour is more fun for you than struggling to fall asleep

10:15pm - You

A Pearl Harbour documentary sounds great

Thankfully you’d had the forethought to bring nice sleeping attire rather than your old ratty ones. You’d learnt your lesson before, when your presence had been required in the middle of the night and you’d had to scramble down to team meetings in pyjama bottoms that had a hole in the right thigh.

You take a quick look at yourself in the mirror, some anxiety fluttering in your stomach for some reason.

It’s odd. It’s hardly the first time you’ve been over to Spencer’s room for crying out loud, I mean he’s the person you’re closest to on the team and your best friend and your private yearning for him is mostly inconsequential. Mostly. Except you fix your hair and smooth down your top a little anyway.

He’s only three doors down and it’s easy enough to slip quietly into his room. He sits on the bed, two glasses of water resting on the bedside table, his laptop resting by his knees. He’s illuminated by the bedside lamp next to him, and his hair looks fluffy as hell. No doubt from him running his own hands through it in frustration today. He smiles at you, patting the space next to him.

You pad across and join him, “Hey Spence.”

“Hi.”

His laptop isn’t particularly loud, and the screen isn’t very big, so you end up sat quite close to him. The laptop rests on his lap. You hesitate before nuzzling in against him, feeling how his breath catches in his chest as your head rests against his on the bedframe.

“Is this okay?” You ask.

“Yeah,” He answers, a small content smile playing on his lips, “Yeah this is okay.”

***

You’re not sure when or how you fell asleep but you wake up with a start to the sound of pounding on the door. And you’re not in your own bed. You briefly acknowledge the warmth next to you before it’s gone, Spencer leaping out of bed to answer the door.

“We’ve been-” Emily stands in the doorway, the bedroom lamp that you must have neglected to turn off allowing her to catch a glimpse of your dazed face, “Reid, why is ____ in your room?”

Spencer opens his mouth, flustered and unsure of what to say, floundering between looking at you both for a moment before Emily rescues him. The digital clock obnoxiously blinks the time: 2:18am.

“Okay we’re definitely talking about this later but there’s another body, Hotch wants us all down at the station in 15.”

It occurs to you, as you rush embarassed from Spencer’s room, apologising to him at least five times on your way out, that the only thing standing between you and a million questions about your personal life is the focus on an unsub who you’ll hopefully catch today. You shrug your clothes over your head, replacing them with fresh ones and pulling on your shoes. The jet home is going to be fun.

—-

You were right to be hopeful about today. The unsub is tracked down and arrested by the time night comes around. His arrest is clean, no hostages and no shots fired. Really, in your line of work, it was the best possible outcome.

Hotch made the call that you’d spend another night here, since there was paperwork that’d need to be taken care of in the morning and some final loose ends that required wrapping up. You suspected some small part of it was because J.J wanted to ensure you made nice and left things on good terms with the local PD before you left, since there’d been a lot of headbutting throughout the case. Spencer had also been completely right about the geographical profile, the unsub had been working and killing from a rundown ramshackle house in the northmost suburb.

Speaking of Spencer, you’d barely acknowledged each other since this morning. Sure, you’d shared rooms together before, even beds when the occasion had called for it, but you’d never been so intimate before.

Maybe it was best for you both if you just ignored the whole thing entirely, carried on as normal. Yeah. Yeah that’s what you’d do.

You worried about the meaning of anything you said being lost over text so you headed to his room, knocking on his door. It brought a small smile to your face to think how you’d been on the other side of it the last time someone knocked.

He opens it, just slightly, before relaxing when he sees it’s you, “Hey.”

“Hi,” You step past him into the room, watching him close the door and take a step towards you.

He waits for you to speak.

“So. We never finished that documentary.”

He laughs, soft, “We didn’t.”

“Do you want to finish it now?”

“Uh…” He visibly pauses and you feel a small twinge in your chest. Maybe you’d made him uncomfortable, maybe you’d misread the whole thing, maybe you’d...

He interrupts your self-deprecating runaway train of thoughts with a simple, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

As you settle down to watch the film, his laptop situated firmly in the middle of the bed this time, you feel the gulf between you. Empty space where his leg rested against yours yesterday. Still, that was what he wanted, right? His own space. Not to talk about it.

You don’t notice because you’re watching the documentary, but Spencer has to stop himself from reaching his arm out for you when he stretches. You didn’t want to talk about it, obviously. Meaning you probably wished it hadn’t happened. He tried to ignore the ache in his chest at that thought, the hollow feeling it left. Thankfully it wasn’t too long before you spoke again.

“Hey Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Is this historically accurate?”

And explaining the nuances of Japanese-American history is much easier for him.

#spencer reid fanfic #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #bau!reader

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quietly-by-myself · 2 years

Text

Chapter 3 - Hero of War

Masterlist

This is mostly for Atticus, but Louka comes more in the next chapter. I have to give each of my boys their own worldbuilding chapters since they live in entirely different worlds (I guess Colyn does too, but he's comic relief).

ALSO I do keep a running list of countries, battles, characters, and who belongs where for clarity. It's in the masterpost if you need it.

Themes: slavery, post-traumatic stress/mental illness/panic attacks, aftermath of abuse, trauma, dehumanization, war, POWs, and the aftermath of, fictional countries/politics/organizations/happenings, past noncon (will come up in some chapters more than others).

Chapter-specific: Thoughts of death/ideation (brief), medical whump (brief), caretaker is imperfect, very very brief homophobia (thinking about making this a blanket tag cause I'm devoted to the realism of military homophobia)

Previous | Next

---

Louka stirred at a sudden jolt that caused him to cry in pain. As the dimly-lit world surrounding him came into focus, he realized that it was merely turbulence. However, another thing came into focus - a man who was asleep with his head resting on the side of his bed and a hand curled under his cheek.

Immediately, Louka froze. He was simply too afraid to wake the man asleep in the chair. It was instinctive. After all, let sleeping dogs lie. He didn’t know how lightly the man - Atticus, right? - slept. Master was a very light sleeper. He didn’t want to take the chance of waking Atticus and falling in his ill favor.

“Afraid to wake him?”

It was the other man from before - the one who’d calmed him and asked him those weird questions.

Louka nodded quietly. He’d known Master, right?

“Don’t be.” His voice came to full volume. “Atticus sleeps like the dead. He slept through a shelling, once. Granted, that was before either of us joined the military, but I doubt it’s changed much, especially when he’s tired and full of alcohol.” He smiled at Louka as he turned on a light. His kind face came into view as he took the other chair beside Louka’s bed. “You wouldn’t believe it, but Atticus is a really sad drunk. He cries into his bottles and drinks more, thinking it’ll do anything to have more. Take care of him when the hangover hits him tomorrow, alright?”

It was a question asked with a smile, as if Louka would have any choice. As the man leaned in, Louka pulled the covers over all his chest wounds.

“I don’t think I ever introduced myself,” the man was looking at Louka’s hands, which he quickly tucked away. He was ashamed of the condition they were in. “I’m Colyn. Atticus and I grew up together. We’re family in some weird way.”

Louka startled. Master didn’t have siblings, but he didn’t want to think about what a brother or family member would do to him - take out their hatred on him? Master said once that his father would blame him for turning him gay. Would Colyn think the same, if Atticus took him in?

He’d hardly realized he’d begun to make a keening sound and the heart monitor had begun to beep as he laid there. Colyn stood and as his hand extended, Louka, with as little motion as possible, ducked out of the way, pulling the blanket over his head. However, the blow never came and the beeping stopped. When Louka dared to look over the edge of his blanket, Colyn was looking at him while sitting down.

Neither of them really knew what to say after the interaction. Louka wouldn’t speak without permission and Colyn didn’t look ready to give him any.

“Anyway, that was turbulence. The winds are always harsh on the way up North. The turbulence means it isn’t much longer until Freinleau. Do you need more pain meds? I can get a nurse.”

Louka gave him a quiet, cautious look. He would not speak unless spoken to, especially not by someone who’d known Master.

Suddenly, Louka heard a loud snore and startled so badly he thought that he was going to wake the man. He frantically looked towards Atticus, then back to Colyn. The thought dawned on him about how easy it would be for one of them to hold him down while the other used him. Maybe they would beat him, cut lines into his shoulders, or peel his skin back. It wouldn’t be so hard - they were both soldiers and Louka was never big.

However, once the panic left his vision, he saw that Colyn had left. It immediately sent him into another panic, afraid of the man leaving to get some implement of torture. He didn’t want to be hurt. He didn’t want pain. More than anything, he wanted to die. He couldn’t learn the ways of another master. He couldn’t allow himself to be hurt again.

He felt the flick of the IV line on his arm and he flinched, taking hold of it and looking at the nurse with a syringe full of medicine, ready to give him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Just let go of that for me and everything will be okay.”

It was a simple order, yet one that seemed so impossible. The site of his IV stung as he cut off the flow of the saline. When he looked at his pale arm, blood had begun to leak ever so slightly up into his line. It would be better if he let go. He knew it.

The nurse carefully took his hand, trying to pry away his fingers. Louka immediately let go to swat his hand away. The nurse worked quickly, taking the IV line into his hands, away from Louka. Slowly, the pain of the catheter went away as the fluids flowed back into him.

Louka gave the nurse a terrified look. He’d lost control. He was going to be hurt now that he’d disobeyed the nurse, tried to hurt him.

“I’m going to give you more medicine to help you with all that worry. You’re safe here, Louka. Even though you may not believe it yet, you are.”

Quickly, he screwed the first syringe into his access port. Warmth filled Louka’s body as the plunger hit the bottom and he felt pleasantly comfortable, free of the pain in his body. Then the second made the sleepiness somewhat irresistible. Before he could count beyond ten, Louka found himself falling into a deep sleep.

---

The next few days were a complete blur. Atticus found himself whisked between different people, different rooms, until he eventually landed in a guest’s room in the royal palace. Extravagant was one of two ways Atticus would describe it. The bathtub was lined with gold and the tiles were pure marble. The fireplace had rich, fragrant cherry wood that made the whole room smell like - well, Atticus could only describe it as home.

The room had electric heating. He’d long forgotten that it was a widespread commodity in his little home country. After eight years at war without any climate control other than a fire and warm water, it was completely foreign to Atticus.

He was invited every evening to eat in the royal dining hall with the other nobles who found their home in the castle. Every night the food was delicious and extravagant, like his golden-flecked marble tiles and fluffy, imported carpets. Sometimes, in passing, while eating the fresh salmon steaks and sweet bread, he found himself missing his meal rations. Atticus never wanted to see one ever again. Yet, their horrible, dry taste was familiar. A familiarity Atticus found himself needing, in fact, now that everything he’d worked towards for eight years was over.

Sometimes, in the depths of his bored anxiety, Atticus found his mind wandering back to Louka. What was happening to him? Was he scared? Hungry?

Why did Atticus find himself caring so much, anyway?

Though he wished not to admit it, the slave trade was seen as permissible on the world stage. Some countries had made it a penalty for severe, irredeemable crimes as an alternative to the death penalty. Notably, one of the United Peace Forces leading powers had such a law - Puthspar if Atticus was remembering correctly - and nobody wanted to risk having a country with such a fierce military on their bad side, even if they called the practice primitive in private.

He tried not to let his mind wander to such thoughts. Even if he’d become upper brass, he knew well that the majority of the people in leadership never held steel or torch in their hands. It soured any indication of celebration. They could start wars without consequence - nobody they knew would ever have to fight. Yet, even if he was upper brass, he could do nothing to stop the suffering. He’d realized his own powerful helplessness too long ago.

Prime Minister LaFlamme had declared a national day of celebration in two weeks’ time after his arrival. Nobody would work and celebrations were to be held in every city. Those two weeks went by in one massive blur. Nightmares kept him awake every night and although he’d been given prazosin to help him sleep without them, he found himself missing them when he rested. Lost in time, Atticus went through the motions of getting fitted for robes and ensuring that his actions would be smooth and practiced.

Eventually, the day came around. Three women came into his room before sunrise - a very early time in the Freinleau summers - and began to help him out of bed.

One worked on his hair while the other worked to carefully shave his face. The third prepared cosmetics and his robes.

It was the first time he’d seen them. He was completely taken aback. So much so, he must’ve stared blankly for far too long.

“Sir Dufort?”

He blinked and looked at the third woman.

“Atticus, please.”

“Sir Atticus,” she continued, “Are you nervous?”

Atticus nodded solemnly. Yes, he would blame the fact that he felt completely out of place on his nerves.

“You’re our country’s hero, Sir Atticus.” The one who was fixing his hair spoke up. The one who’d been grooming his face had gone to applying some concealer to his bags and covering the couple spots of acne he’d developed from the stress. “We all understand that you’ve come from a fierce, violent place. Do not fear judgment. Whatever happens, it’ll be blamed on war nerves.”

“I still want to do well. It’s a lot of pressure, to be a hero.” Atticus had to keep the disdain for the word out of his voice.

“Well, we’ll make sure you look strapping for the handsome men in the crowd,” the one fixing his hair chirped with a chuckle.

Atticus looked surprised. He’d tried to keep it a secret the best that he could.

The women chuckled again. “Don’t be too surprised. Word travels fast in the palace when you dated the Royal Consort’s brother.” The one preparing his clothes smiled. “Anyway, King Bernard and Prime Minister LaFlamme have made clear their positions on human rights.”

Once the blemishes were sufficiently covered, he was presented with his ceremonial robes. It consisted of a silken, white under shirt, a pair of expensive trousers in beige, and a green, gold-embroidered robe with a hood, sleeves, and edges covered with thick rabbit’s fur. The only time he’d seen such robes were on royalty. It even had the seal of the royal family - a giant conifer with a lynx and cougar snarling at each other - embroidered in golden, glistening threads.

Atticus was stunned into silence by the robes. The women just gave another chuckle as they helped him dress in it. Then, they helped Atticus to the mirror, allowing him to see himself for the first time in a while.

His face had aged so much despite the makeup hiding many of the blemishes the stress of war had given him. He looked in his mid-thirties despite not having finished his twenties, with lines of worry and anger carved into him. His brown-gray hair was done in a very proper manner, not too neat, but not messy at all. The green of his robes brought out the brilliant green of his eyes.

He didn’t have long to admire himself, though. The bells from all the churches began to clang in a symphony of triumph. Each on a different pitch, Atticus could almost hear them shouting the thoughts of the people - no more sad times, no more worry, no more fear of loss. It was his cue to leave his room and exit to the royal courtyards where people awaited him. A royal guard awaited him and led him out, down the halls. Atticus could feel the nagging of his hip as he walked, hoping that the rest he’d given it with his crutch the last few weeks would allow it hold for the ceremony.

The giant glass doors to the trimmed gardens of winter blossoms lovingly maintained by one of the king’s daughters laid in front of him. A long carpet to where King Bernard sat on the throne. People dressed in joyous, bright fabrics surrounded him as Atticus listened quietly. They came from all walks of life - some peasants, miners, other business people and dignitaries. Prime Minister LaFlamme stood next to King Bernard, wearing a neat suit and his ceremonial slash.

“Today marks a day of unmatched joy in our country’s history,” King Bernard began once the bells had all stopped and the crowd had fallen into a deep quiet. “We suffered great losses that fateful day in March, when the cowards of Vavalon rained shells of anthrax from the sky. However, today we are safe from such attacks. Today we are free from that which worries us.

“My people of Freinleau, Vavalon has fallen. The war to end all wars is over. Freinleau will never forget those who did us wrong. Now that their empire has been laid to rest, we may begin to heal from the scars left on our lands. May not the cowardice of Vavalon live on in our minds, but may the sacrifices and heroism of those who fought on our behalf to bring them down. We will use the knowledge of our own pain and our triumph to ensure that what came to pass never does again.

“Today, we are also here to celebrate an extraordinary life.” The royal guard motioned for Atticus to move forward down the center of the aisles.

People from all sides watched and Atticus found himself completely overwhelmed. He wanted to run. There were too many people, not enough cover. Where was he to hide if shells came pouring down? What if there was a landmine that went off? There’d be too many injured.

Atticus forced his mind to go blank. He was home. He knew he was safe. Vavalon was gone. The United Peace Forces had taken over the region. He couldn’t panic. Not now. Not in front of the people of his country. They saw him as a hero. He couldn’t let them see anything else.

He couldn’t give in to the past that wanted his reality.

He calmly walked forward, kneeling before the King, head bowed.

“This is Colonel Atticus Dufort. From Givreshaw, he lost his entire family to the anthrax bombs. Yet, he refused to be defeated. He enrolled himself in the officer’s school for the United Peace Forces, graduated with honors, and went on to lead men into battle after hopeless battle. Chosen to lead the Siege of Slitrich, he brought Vavalon down to its knees. For that, he has brought unmeasurable honor to our country. He embodies the resilience and strength of our people. We last every year through the most bitter winters known to man and emerge the other side with a pick in our hands.

“He has been entered into the Legion of Honor of the United Peace Forces as a Knight. Additionally, he has earned the honor to be remembered in our country as one of our finest men. For that reason, I have chosen to knight him and welcome him into the nobility of Freinleau.”

King Bernard motioned for Prime Minister LaFlamme to step forward.

“Atticus Dufort of Givreshaw, do you solemnly swear under the all-seeing eyes of our heavenly lords that you shall carry yourself at all times with honor, dignity, and justice, and to see all humans, regardless of origin or creed, as equally one of our own?”

“I shall, so help me if I may betray my oath.” The words hardly felt like they came out, but from the reaction of the crowd, Atticus knew he said them correctly.

“Do you solemnly swear that your selflessness shall know no bounds and should you be placed in peril, that you shall defend the lives of those around you without respect to origin or creed before your own?”

“I shall, so help me if I may betray my oath.”

“Do you solemnly swear to never allow another to starve or to live in suffering?”

“I shall, so help me if I may betray my oath.”

“Do you solemnly swear yourself to death before betrayal of your oath?”

“I do, so may death find me quickly if I may betray my oath.”

Quietly, the Prime Minister placed a crown of holly branches around his head. Then, he offered his hand, which Atticus took as he stood and turned to face the crowd. His hip gave a painful snap and he knew he didn’t have much longer before he’d need to find seating.

“I crown thee Sir Atticus Dufort of Freinleau, hero to our people.”

The people in the crowd began to throw the petals of crocuses onto the courtyard and cheering his name, cheering anything at all. The moment was meant to be joyous, yet Atticus felt so completely empty inside.

“I announce today and this day every year from now, a day of national celebration. Today, my people do not fret your work. Celebrate with every bone in your body in the peace that has been gifted to us.”

Not soon after, the bells began to chime again with their collective cheers of life, happiness, and peace.

Prime Minister LaFlamme took his hand and led him back down the carpet and into the large, mostly glass room where the refreshments waited. It was going to be a long and tiring rest of the day.

---

12 days after the festival

Louka remembered little of those next few weeks. The doctor that came every few hours made sure he wasn’t in pain and he remained sedated. He wore a mask that gave his feeble lungs oxygen, tubing in his arms to keep him hydrated and fed, and electrodes measuring his heart. All he could remember were the clanging of bells above.

The nurses were kind enough, but none would give information on his condition. They’d removed his collar - something he was surprised hadn’t happened past that point. It was both comfortable and unnerving to be without it. However, he didn’t have much in him to think about it either way. The drugs were keeping his mind blank, something he was infinitely thankful for.

That was until a familiar, green-eyed visitor came by his room one day. He’d asked the nurses to leave and sat with him, adorned in rich robes and a crutch.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Louka?”

Louka looked up at him quietly. It was the man who said Master was dead. What was his name? Dupont… Dumont… Dufort? What was his first name? Master hadn’t been there in weeks. Master was dead. Yes, he truly was. This was the man that killed him. Louka remembered vaguely, the blood-soaked clothes of the man who’d killed Master. Yes, that could’ve been him. Had he killed him to take him?

“I’m sorry for not coming sooner.” The man reached out a hand and Louka immediately threw his splinted hands to his face for protection. Dufort looked at him softly. “I’m glad to see they’re taking good care of you, Louka. Do you remember who I am?”

“You killed Master.” It was deadpan in the eerie, hollow way of a man who’d lost everything. He knew it was just a matter of time before Dufort hurt him too. Since he had such an ease in killing others, he was sure it would be worse than Master.

Dufort was quiet. “I… Yes, I killed William.” His face seemed pained and Louka was immediately frightened.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to say you were bad or anything, Sir. I didn’t mean to accuse you, Sir. Please, Sir, I know I am not worthy of mercy, Sir, but please, I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Dufort’s eyes softened. “No, it’s okay. Please don’t call me something like that. Just Atticus is fine.”

Louka went quiet. Was it a test? Was Dufort looking for him to slip up so he could hurt him? What did he mean when he said that he wanted to be called by his name?

“Louka… I,” he paused, “I wanted to ask if you understood what’s going on.”

“I do not understand anything you do not wish me to, Sir. I am stupid and obedient. Please be patient with me, Sir, I am slow and I take time to understand, but I will understand everything you wish me to.”

Dufort again went quiet. “I have plenty of patience. Essentially, my country is party to a treaty regarding international registration of individuals in slavery. We do not allow slavery, but respect the rights of other countries who hold slaves.” Dufort swallowed. “You are registered as such an individual. To have you freed would be impossible because you exist in a weird grayzone in regards to your legal status. As a slave, you are a stateless person but hold residency in the country that your owner. However, to be freed, the one who registered you must be the one to sign. Since that was William, you are always going to be a slave.”

Louka didn’t understand a word of what Dufort had said to him except that he was still a slave. That much, he knew. It was somewhat comforting. It made his life easier. He’d just need to figure out what was wanted of him.

“You’ve been sold to me through the United Peace Forces. They’ve worked really hard with the people here to make sure you’d be with me, so you’re safe. You’ll be transferred with me to my new house today since you’ve been cleared by the medical staff. From there, well… we’ll figure things out. Just please don’t call me… Master.”

Louka felt sick to his stomach. Before he could help himself, his stomach was in knots.

“Please, Sir, I’m going to vomit.”

His vision was shaky and his eyes were watering, obscuring everything but the pinkish-tan container put in front of him to retch into. It was very different from the chamber pot he was used to. Wave after wave of nausea hit him until he emptied everything in his stomach into the pot held for him.

Right after, Dufort gave him two, large orange tablets.

“Chew these. It’ll help with the acid in your throat.”

Louka did what he was told immediately. He didn’t trust the medicine, but he wouldn’t disobey Dufort.

The burning went away slowly as he chewed, then swallowed the sweet, oddly flavored tablets. He felt less panicked and breathing was easier without the sting of aicd in his throat. Next, Atticus gave him a smooth drink to run down his throat. Lastly, he gave him that same, dissolvable pill. It tasted horrible this time, but the relief it brought was long needed.

“I’m sorry about this, Louka. I hope in time that you come to understand that I mean no ill will to you. I’ll ask the nurses to give you some medicine to calm you down for the ride home. I’m so sorry, Louka.”

Dufort quietly stepped out of the room and all Louka could think about was how much trouble he was going to be in once at the home of his new Master.

---

It was night by the time they got Louka ready to leave the citadel hospital. Atticus had been assured that his new home would be equipped with a proper bedroom for him, despite his status.

It had all come as a shock to him - that Freinleau was party to such a treaty, that they’d gotten Louka sold to him, that he was a slave owner now. In a way, he was happy that they hadn’t bothered him with the fine details. Just trying to bring Louka home was overwhelming him.

The drive was spent in tense silence. The house itself - a medium-sized cabin perched up in the mountains - was about an hour and a half away from any human contact. It was exactly what Atticus had asked for, if he remembered filling out those papers at all. He passed the time by watching those fragments float by in his vision, memories of the horrors and small happy times of the war. He fidgeted with the small scrap of fabric in his pocket, clung onto it tightly, as though he could pour all of his pain onto it.

The car with Louka was behind them. Atticus knew his presence would upset him more and wanted to hold the confrontation until he got home. His plan was to make something for them to eat, something simple. Now that the war was over, Atticus wanted to learn how to cook. His mother was an excellent cook. What he wouldn’t give to taste her food again.

Would she be proud of him? To his country, he was a hero of war. They were proud of him. But, would his mother who hated violence be proud of him? He’d signed to become a hero. A hero was what he’d become. Yet, he was empty.

No, his mother would be ashamed of him. He went to war a boy and came home a murderer and a slave owner shrouded in a shell of scars and medals. It was nothing to be proud of. How could they see a hero? How could he have believed blood would’ve made him anything other than a murderer? Why were they so damn proud of him?

For a moment, those thoughts he’d hidden away came back. He had no family. He had no one who he loved. Just Colyn, who’d lost plenty of people throughout the years. He’d called on him, but Atticus knew he was nothing but a burden now. Nobody would really miss him, not for more than a year. Plus, he had a bag of pills meant for Louka. Dying would be easy, painless.

Yet, he had someone relying on him now. If he died, Louka would be sent to someone probably much worse than him. The thought of the man he’d seen branded, tattooed with a number on his neck that somehow marked his status internationally, beaten bloody and so terrified of angering him that he’d offer himself up being sent to someone unkind was unbearable.

Atticus had to live. If not for himself, he would live until Louka could be safe without him. Until then, his life was necessary. He just had to make it through however long that would be.

“We’re here, Sir Dufort.”

The car parked abruptly in front of a large, stone and wood cabin. It was furnished with windows and overhangs that decorated it, made it look so grand up on that uneven hill.

“Thank you.”

The driver nodded, opening his door. He went over to the side, opening the door for Atticus and putting his crutch up to ease his exit. Atticus let out a little grunt of pain as he went back to the car where Louka was. He opened Louka’s door, motioning for Louka to come with him as another servant opened the door to their new house.

The inside was hardwood furnished with soft carpets. The smell of the maple was overpowering, yet so calming. It was an open concept place, with the kitchen, dining room, two sitting rooms, and a library all within relative view of each other. The ceiling was rather low, not unusual for a house in Freinleau, and the carpeted stairs were to the side where he was sure there would be the bedrooms. It was small and comfortable. Atticus felt half guilty over having such a beautiful home, the other was somewhat happy.

Even after Atticus made his way into the house, Louka stood quietly at the doorway with his head bowed. It didn’t take Atticus long to figure out that he needed a command. He was opposed to giving them in the first place, but wanted Louka to feel comfortable nonetheless, so he decided to ask it as a question rather than a straight command.

“Louka, dear, I’m sure you’re tired. Can you go sit at the table? I’ll be over with food soon.”

Louka nodded diligently. Atticus breathed a sigh of relief when he took his shoes off and disappeared behind his back as Atticus went to the kitchen.

In the fridge, there were some basics - eggs, milk, butter, some pork and corned beef, and maple syrup. There was bread in the bread basket next to the fridge and some apples in the fruit bowl on the counter. Atticus decided on some quick scrambled eggs and maple syrup.

He was on autopilot the entire time, just ready to go to bed. It seemed like a few seconds between the time he cracked the eggs, seasoned them, poured the water for their meal, prepped the utensils, and put them on plates with a hefty serving of maple syrup. Realistically, it probably took closer to ten minutes, but time was merely a construct that existed away from Atticus at that point.

However, when he went to the dining room, fighting sleep with plates balanced despite his crutch, he didn’t see Louka. He placed everything on the table, frantic, worried. Louka wouldn’t survive out there if he tried to run away. Just as he was about to start shouting the man’s name, he realized that Louka had kneeled by the end chair neatly with his head down.

“What are you…?” Atticus cut himself off. Of course William made Louka eat off the floor. He needed to change approach.

“Can you come eat at the table, Louka?”

Louka stared at him, clearly scared of the notion, but also too afraid to say no to it.

“It’s okay, Louka. I won’t be angry, I promise. It’s not good for your injuries to be on the ground like that.”

Louka began to whimper quietly, at which point Atticus felt frustration boiling up. He didn’t have the time or energy to deal with someone all but begging to eat on the floor.

“Fine. Eat on the floor, if that’s what you’re most comfortable with. I’m going to bed pretty soon. The bedroom at the end of the hall, near the bathroom is yours. Mine is directly in front of the stairs. If you need anything tonight, come see me. Take your time with eating.”

It came out more terse than Atticus wished. He put the plate on the ground, where Louka proceeded not to touch the food. Atticus gave it no thought. He couldn’t negotiate with someone who insisted on eating cold eggs while sitting on the ground. He, for one, wouldn’t eat his eggs cold. As quickly as he could, he ate them, then took his prazosin and cyclobenzaprine for his sleep.

Before he knew it, he’d changed into his sleeping clothes, brushed his teeth in the master bathroom, laid his crutch near his bed, and laid in bed. As the cyclobenzaprine made his muscles warm and loose, the release of fatigue, the release of pain in his hip, all rushed to his face and he could no longer keep his eyelids open.

---

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#whump #whump writing #vavalon #atticus #louka #there's colyn in here so I guess colyn is tagged #colyn #cw are above #my brain is spaghetti and cotton

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spenciegoob · 3 years

Text

A Short Film

A/N: hey hey hey... mid writing this I realized how much I jumped the gun and thought this was a good concept, but now that I’m thinking too hard about it, maybe it’s not. I also wrote too much of it to back down now, so hopefully someone out there enjoys this as much as I did in my head lol.

Summary: Spencer steps way out of his comfort zone to ask his film major girlfriend a question.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: nothing really... Spencer hardcore struggling with technology

Word Count: 3.5k

Masterlist

___

“Hey Garcia, do you think you could help with something?” Spencer asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously and not looking up from the floor of her office.

“Of course, Boy Wonder? What can I do for you?” Garcia answered while excitedly turning her chair back to her wall of screens.

Spencer grabbed the extra chair in her office and mumbled, “Actually um,” causing Garcia to completely abandon her position and fully face the genius.

“Spencer, are you okay? Is something wrong?” Spencer couldn’t blame her for asking. He was sweating more than usual, his face was bright red and he hadn’t stop fiddling with his hands since he shut the door.

“Oh no, nothing’s wrong. I just, uh, I don’t really know how to ask this,” Spencer stumbled back. It was the truth after all. No life experience had prepared him for such a request, one that in the grand scheme of things was not a lot, but to Spencer.

To Spencer, it was everything.

“That’s okay. Take your time,” Penelope stated back, and coming from anyone else, Spencer would have believed it was sarcastic in nature. But he also knew that Penelope was one of the only people he could never find judgement or maliciousness from.

You were the other.

“So Y/N and I as you’re probably aware have been together for 2 years now, and you also know that she just got her degree in cinematography and design, which is really funny if you think about it because I know nothing about any of that, but she knows everything. You know, sometimes she’ll explain to me what she sees through her eyes and it’s nothing like what I’ve ever been able to. I’m rambling now but I want to do that,” Spencer spurted out, and once he was done, he took a breath so deep Penelope whole-heartedly believed if he spent one more second talking, he may pass out.

“Woah there, slow down. First of all, that’s adorable. I love Y/N so much. Second of all, how exactly am I supposed to help you see things that way? Shouldn’t she be more help?” Penelope questioned, now completely confused about Spencer’s intentions with this very early morning visit.

“She can’t exactly know. It’s kind of a surprise thing,” Spencer answered shyly. He hadn’t even gotten to the punchline and yet, he was contemplating every move.

Was this a good idea?

But when he saw the way Penelope lit up before she yelled, “Tell me everything, and spare no details. None!” He knew he would stop at nothing to make this perfect.

“So here’s what I was thinking.”

That was 1 year ago today, and since then, Spencer has tried to figure out what to say when he revealed his big project. He stood in front of the mirror every day for 365 days trying to find the perfect way to put it. Still when you sat on your shared couch gazing up at him in amusement, confusion and adoration all at once, his mouth was dry and his throat clamped up.

“Spence, you’re starting to scare me. Are you okay?” You asked, watching as your boyfriend stared at you like a deer caught in headlights with a laptop and assorted cords in his hands.

“Uh, yes! Yes I am okay. I just need to um, this needs to go. You know what? I wasn’t told how to do this part, can you help me?” Spencer paced back and forth between you and the TV four times while he was talking before he stopped defeated in front of you. He wouldn’t have asked for help unless he was certain Penelope was smart enough to insert a black screen in the beginning of what caused the laptop to burn a hole in his hand.

“Yes, of course,” you said, slightly chuckling at his confusion. Spencer Reid and technology, whilst tragic, was also very adorable. “What are you trying to do?”

“I need the video on the laptop to play on the TV,” he stated simply. At least he knew what he wanted. That was a new, first step in the right direction.

“Okay easy. Just hand me that cord, and,” you drew out the ‘and’ as you bent around the TV and plugged in the cord. “Perfect. Now just plug this end into the laptop and hit play.” You handed Spencer back his end of the cord, watching as he examined the object and the side of the computer to know where exactly to put it. It almost felt like watching a toddler try and find the rightly shaped hole for the triangle piece, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t endearing.

Before he could break anything, you stepped in. “I know you’d be able to figure it out, but it’s that one.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled back sheepishly.

“Okay so a little back story. A year ago today, I asked Penelope to teach me how to record videos on my new phone. Thank you for that by the way, the camera on it is really cool, and I’m not just saying that because it’s one of the only things I know how to work. Anyways, I started secretly recording videos of you, of us, anything that reminded me of you, and me talking about you. So I sent them over to Garcia and she pushed them all together, and I think what I’m trying to say is I made a short film? Home video? It doesn’t really matter, but I’m showing it to you now.” Spencer didn’t acknowledge the shocked look on your face as he settled next to you and put the laptop on the coffee table.

But as you watched him find the video and set up, your jaw stayed slack. Spencer Reid, the world’s biggest technophobe, figured out how to use an iPhone camera just for you. While to others it may not seem like a lot, to you.

To you, it was everything.

“Spence, I don’t even know what to say. This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” It didn’t feel like enough. The amount of awe, and love that filled your chest was so comforting, so warm.

It felt like home. It felt like Spencer.

“You don’t have to say anything, just watch,” he stated before hitting the spacebar, something he’s seen you do plenty of times.

The video started out with Spencer crouching down slightly to where the phone was set up against a bookcase in front of the couch.

“Is it recording?” He whispered, and when he realized it was, he took a step back and gave a thumbs up before rushing to sit on the couch. You couldn’t help but let a full smile stretch across your face, an involuntary act when it came to Spencer.

“Hey, love bug. It’s Spencer, but wait you knew that because you can see me.” There was a small pause as Spencer squinted to see if you could actually see him from his position on the couch. When he realized he was in frame, he continued. “This is totally weird that I’m technically talking to myself right now, but I hope future me gave you an explanation. I tried to wait for a good time to start recording this, and in the two weeks I’ve known how to work that thing,” Spencer said as he pointed to the camera. “We’ve been on a case. I came home tonight, and you’re sleeping right now, but if I stay quiet enough I can say what I need to.”

You looked over at Spencer as he was twiddling with his fingers. Something he only did when he was nervous. You reached over and grabbed one of his hands, giving it a reassuring squeeze, but when you tried to pull away so as to not truly disturb his fidgeting, he caught it. So, you intertwined your fingers together, and continued to watch past Spencer.

“I came home today, and all I wanted to do was hold you. Granted, that’s every day, but today was just, it was really hard. When I came home you were asleep on the couch. One time you told me you didn't like to sleep in our bed while I was away, something about it being too big. At first, I was mad because your poor back, but today I changed my mind because the amount of steps to get to you was much less.”

Spencer unlocked the door to the apartment, resting his head against the wood as he inserted the key into the lock. The most recent case had ended with the death of both the latest victim and the unsub, and he couldn’t bear another second of remembering the scene play out in front of him.

All he wanted to do was lay in her arms, but when he opened the door, the apartment was completely silent.

And then he saw a little fuzzy sock clad foot sticking out from underneath the huge, fluffy blanket on the couch. Slowly, he walked towards you, finding you fast asleep with a t-shirt of his tightly snuggled up to your neck and face.

Spencer got down on a knee in front of you, and brushed the hair that had fallen over your eyes. Slowly, they fluttered open at his feather touch, only to widen with realization.

“You’re home!” You squealed, throwing your hands around his neck. Immediately, he reciprocated the hug, tighter than usual. Spencer tucked his head into your neck and inhaled the scent of your shampoo, a grounding technique he would never tell you he developed. The hands he delicately placed at first across the expanse of your back grew heavier, drawing your body closer to his.

You pulled your head back, him following your movements, and stared deeply into his eyes for a second. The moment you two locked eyes, he knew the jig was up. Spencer knew you could see right through him, and he knew that even if you weren’t there to witness what he had, you saw it replaying over and over in his eyes.

“You must be tired, let’s get you to bed.” Your words shocked him at first. Usually, the people in his life would ask insistent questions on his mental well-being, and while they were greatly appreciated, Spencer was never one to open up when asked to.

You, however, didn’t meddle, you didn’t push. You simply gave him a place to feel safe as you two settled under the duvet together, never letting go of one another even for a second. You held the back of his head, slowly brushing your fingers through his curls as he laid against your chest. Your fingers were medicinal to him, softly taking away the pain and violence of the day, and replacing it with security, comfort, love.

“No one’s ever been that excited to see me before, let alone knew how to take care of me the way you did. I just,” Spencer trailed off and looked towards our bedroom, where you stirred in your sleep looking for him. “You’re about to wake up and wonder where I went. Now you know what I was doing in “the bathroom” for 30 minutes actually meant. Alright, see you next video, love bug.”

The screen cut to Spencer obviously holding the phone close to his chest, the only thing in frame the space where his shoulder and neck met. The soft chords of the start of Vienna by Billy Joel can be heard from outside the room he was in.

“Okay, I’m gonna have to sneak up on you. I’m sorry in advance.”

Spencer finally addressed the camera. As the Spencer on the TV quietly left his position in what you could only assume was your bedroom, you looked over at your very real Spencer softly smiling at the TV.

When he caught your stare, he said “Watch, this is my favorite part.” Turning back to the TV, you watched as Spencer carefully tiptoed to the living room, placing the camera to lean against the vase in the middle of the dinner table to face the kitchen.

In the kitchen, you watched yourself very poorly sing along with Billy Joel using a whisk that you just got done washing as a microphone. The blush that crept up your neck and to your cheeks with embarrassment still felt the same as it did that day.

You hadn’t heard Spencer sneak up on you, not until he was right behind you and let out a soft chuckle at a note you missed. Spencer had never seen someone jump out of their skin as much as you did when he made his presence known.

“Jesus Spencer, you scared me!” You yelled before a smile crept up your face. You couldn’t help it, even in the most embarrassing times, not when Spencer looked at you like that.

“Sorry, love bug. Although, I didn’t mean for you to stop the show.” At that you hit his chest with the whisk/microphone, both of you laughing fully now. “Come here.”

Spencer took your hand, pulling you softly to his chest where you laid your head to his heart. Wrapping his hand around your waist, the two of you started to slowly sway to the music. You both were incredibly offbeat to Vienna, but listening to Spencer’s heart, you realized that the tempo you were dancing at matched up. Unbeknownst to you, due to the adrenaline of being scared, Spencer could feel your heartbeat on his abdomen, and was swaying to that.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, dancing to the in sync beat of each other’s hearts.

The clip of you dancing however only lasted 10 more seconds as the next scene of Spencer bundled up for the fall played. You had met Spencer during the fall, and fell in love with the way the red, yellow and orange leaves contrasted against his honey eyes. This clip was no different.

“Hey, love bug. I’m on my way to deliver this coffee to you in between classes, but I had to stop so I can show you my new friends I’ve made along the way.”

The camera panned down to 4 little ducklings surrounding Spencer’s converse, most of them just waddling around, but one was insistently pecking at the rubber toe of his left shoe. Spencer pointed at the little deviant and said ‘that’s you’ before bringing the camera back up to his face.

“I may have made the mistake of feeding them the fruit I was bringing you, which reminds me I should probably go get you more. I don’t think you’ll be mad though. How could you? Look how cute they are! I kind of want to take them home, but I definitely know that’ll make you mad. Anyways, I just wanted to show off that you’re not always the animal person in this relationship. See you soon, love bug.”

“Oh my god, Spencer. That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, but to confirm your thoughts, yes, I would’ve been mad,” you stated, the giddy smile never leaving your face, and giggles spreading themselves through your words.

“I know, I know. They belong in the wild,” he said back, holding up his free hand in faux defeat.

A new scene presented itself to you, this one being Spencer setting up the camera on the bathroom sink while brushing his teeth. You knew you were approaching by the music slowly getting louder.

You entered you and Spencer’s shared bathroom, Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by Elton John playing out of your phone. He was brushing his teeth, and you followed suit, not stopping the small dancing as you did.

You looked at Spencer, and started moving side to side, your free hand grabbing the crook of his elbow to join you. Looking in the mirror expectedly, you watched Spencer look up at the ceiling before joining you, a smile on his face.

Slowly, the two of you fell into a rhythm to the beat of Elton John, making funny faces to each other in the mirror as you did so.

You reached out fully to lean your head on Spencer’s shoulder as you watched.

The scene on the TV shifted once again to show a very flustered you standing in front of the TV with Citizen Kane paused. Your hair was in a messy bun, and you were sporting one of Spencer’s old Caltech t-shirts, and fuzzy black pants with little pumpkins printed everywhere.

Spencer was also wearing the same fuzzy pants.

“Spence, I’m gonna sound crazy here,” you sprinting off the couch after pausing the film you were currently trying to study for your film analysis class.

“You’re not off to a great start here,” Spencer laughed out. Spencer once told you that no matter what he thought about a book or film, he wanted to listen to you ramble about it for hours. The first thing he fell in love with about you was the way you challenged his thinking, expanding his mind to the possibilities of learning about the difference between production design and cinematography. You taught him something that no class, book or person could ever.

Your mouth dropped open, an over exaggerated gasp leaving your lips, your hand meeting your chest softly.

“Meanie.” Spencer and you chuckled at the antics, and when the laughs died down, you continued. “Here me out, though.”

And from there, you went into a deep dive about the unreliable narrator, and how it affects camera placement in the scene you two just watched.

“Oh my god. I talk that fast?” You asked Spencer, who just let a breathy laugh out at your realization.

“Don’t worry, I think it’s adorable,” he whispered the last part, the smile on his face turning from one of hilarity to one full of love.

30 seconds into your rant, you realize the phone he was attempting to hide close to his lap. Your eyes flicked between the camera that was pointed at you, and Spencer, who’s face filled with confusion as to why you stopped talking.

“Are you recording me?” You asked, a smile never leaving your face. Oh no, he’d been caught. Spencer has to think of a believable excuse, and quick.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, I just uh... I figured instead of you trying to write it down later, you’d want all your notes now.” Perfect!

“Damn, that was good,” you said, nodding softly at his swiftness. You couldn’t be mad he lied, how could you when the truth was this beautiful?

“I know, right? I came up with it on the spot,” Spencer joked with you. As if TV Spencer knew he was interrupting a moment, a throat clearing came from the video. The Spencer you saw was from 3 days ago, and was sitting in his car in what looked to be the Quantico parking garage.

“Hi, love bug. I’m days away from showing you this, and I still don’t know what to say. I hope the me you’re with now has figured it out. So, uh, yeah. That’s it. Uh, take it away, future Spencer. Actually, you’d be present Spenc-” The video cut off, courtesy of Penelope Garcia.

“Y/N,” Spencer started, turning to face a very emotional you fully. “I still haven’t found the right words. None of them could express my love for you, and perfect doesn’t come close to describing you. I know you have a thing for supporting evidence, and I think I just provided a lot to prove that the best thing to ever happen in my life is you.” You let out a small giggle, the tears welling in your eyes breaking free. “Oh no, if you cry, then I’m going to.”

You let out a full laugh now as Spencer wiped the tears falling down your cheeks before continuing.

“Before you, I was reckless. I didn’t care what happened as long as I did something to help. Now, I have a reason to be careful, a reason to care. I can’t do that to you, and if I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you, I need to live.”

You inhaled softly as Spencer reached into the pocket of his pants, taking your hand in his.

“Which brings me to my question,” he said with a small smile and cocked his head. Slowly, he dropped down to one knee in front of you.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?” Spencer opened the velvet box to reveal a simple silver band with a square cut diamond delicately placed on top.

“Spencer Reid, yes. I will marry you.”

With shaky fingers, he slid the ring on your fingers, the fit perfect. You couldn’t wait any longer, and grabbed his face in your hands to pull his lips to yours. Your lips molded together in perfect harmony, lulling you deeper into Spencer’s embrace.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I love you, too,” Spencer answered, only pulling back far enough to mumble before kissing you again.

Note to self: thank Penelope Garcia.

____

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imkylotrash · 3 years

Text

Searching For Calm

Pairing: Sky x Stella. Sky x reader.

Request: Maybe you could write a Sky one where reader is always there for him and he just sees Stella. So the reader (mind fairy) shuts herself out and it takes some time for him to notice. Anonymous

A/N Ignore the text on the gif. I couldn’t find one I liked for this fic.

“Are we still on for tonight?” you ask knowing what’s coming but hoping you’re wrong. Sky doesn’t notice your face fall when he shakes his head.

“Sorry, I promised Stella she could come over. She had a rough day.” You want to scream at him that every day is hard for you. Every day you wake up and feel every emotion that runs through Alfea. Happy, sad, lonely, scared. Some days you can’t even figure out which feelings are your own. You want to confess how the only calm you ever feel is when you’re with Sky, but it doesn’t matter. He only has eyes for Stella.

“Yeah, no problem. Talk tomorrow then?” He never has the chance to answer. Stella sits down on his lap stealing away the short time you and Sky had alone. You literally feel her dislike as she turns slightly your way.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there.”

“Yeah. There’s a lot of things you didn’t notice,” you mumble hinting at the five empty chairs around the table but they’re already to consumed by each other to pay any more attention to you.

“Bye, Sky.” There’s no reply, but you didn’t expect one. It’s been 2 months like this ever since Stella decided that Sky was good enough for her despite her dumping him over the summer to spend time with other boys. A fact they’ve both decided to ignore. You put on headphones hoping it might help you drown out everyone’s emotions. You know Farah told you to focus on shutting other people’s emotions out, to only feel them when you want to. But lately, you haven’t been able to focus and you have a suspicion it might be related to the way Sky’s been treating you.

“They’re locking tongues again. It’s getting disgusting.” Riven appears next to you with a sour look on his face. The one person who just might hate the relationship more than you.

“I know. He cancelled on me again.”

“He’s treating you like trash.” You sense his anger more than you see it. You’ve been a trio since you were young and Stella has gone ahead and ruined that. She dislikes you and Riven and for some reason Sky always chooses her. You guess love really does blind people.

“He treats you like trash too,” you counter not ready to face the truth yet.

“Yeah, but most of the time I deserve it. You, however, doesn’t ever deserve it.” He’s radiating affection as he looks at you. He’s well aware of your crush on Sky and he’s made his feelings clear on more than several occasions that you deserve someone who actually cares. He’s like your big brother, always looking out for you.

“I was thinking I might just take some time to myself. See if he misses me.” It’s a very cruel game that you’ll be playing with yourself because you know he won’t notice. Not as long as he’s dating Stella. Riven puts his arm around you as you walk down the hallway.

“I think that’s the smartest thing you’ve said in months.” You nudge him lightly but regrettably have to agree with him. In the next couple of weeks, you stay away from Sky. And even though you already knew his reaction, it still feels like someone is pulling at your heartstrings when you see him being just fine. It’s like he doesn’t even realise that you’re not around. Riven tries his hardest to cheer you up, but now that you’re without any comfort from your powers, you feel the toll much more than before. You start sleeping in Riven’s bed whenever Sky stays over at Stella’s. There’s nothing more than friendly comfort in it. Slowly, Riven becomes your escape from everyone else and it feels so good. You know you shouldn’t depend on others to help you cope with your feelings but it’s all you can do right now. Tonight is one of those nights where Riven has the room to himself. Or at least that’s what he’s been told by Sky but for some reason he stumbles through the door in the middle of the night.

“Y/N?” He sees you first. There’s no missing the feeling of betrayal going through him. You know exactly what he’s thinking. Riven? Really? It’s all over his face and you hate it. You hate that he gets to judge you when he hasn’t talked to you in weeks.

“I thought you were going to be with Stella tonight?” Riven starts to stir next to you.

“We got into a fight. What are you doing here?”

“I’m sleeping.” You know you should tell him that there’s nothing between you and Riven but there’s a small, petty part of you that really likes how he feels right now.

“Yeah, but with Riven? Are you dating or something?” He’s trying to act unbothered but you’re both painfully aware of your ability to feel everything he feels.

“That’s none of your business, man.” Cue Riven who’s ready to provoke Sky. He’s been upset with him for a while and with the way Sky is acting right now, Riven can’t help himself. This is going to end in a fight if you don’t get it under control.

“I can’t sleep alone, okay? I haven’t been able to for a while. Riven calms me.” You thought you were defusing the situation but somehow your comment just makes everything much worse.

“He calms you? So I’m not good enough anymore?” His voice almost breaks and in turn something breaks inside of you. He doesn’t get to be the one with the broken heart. He let you go and forgot you even existed. He spent the last four weeks in Stella-land and now that they’ve had a fight, suddenly you’re good enough. You’re about to tell him off but Riven beats you to it.

“You haven’t been here! She’s been going through shit and you’ve been so caught up with yourself that you didn’t even notice that you guys haven’t talked for weeks. If anything you should be thankful, I’ve been here!” The situation is escalating much faster than you thought possible. They both radiate feelings overwhelming you. It’s difficult to keep track of which feelings belong to who.

“He’s right, Sky. Ever since you and Stella got back together, all you’ve seen is her. You cancelled all of our plans and completely cut me out.” You want to cry or hit Sky right in the face and you’re not sure which feeling is your own right now. Instead of doing either of those you get up and run away from the situation entirely. They both call after you but you just need to find a quiet place away from people’s feelings. You run outside and down the field. There’s a tree at the very back that you’ve crawled up more times than you remember. It’s always been your safe spot whenever you needed to get away. You’re hoping that Sky doesn’t remember it and after an hour alone you start to feel safe. But then you feel it - or more precisely him. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s coming right at you.

“Y/N, I’m coming up.” You want to scream at him to go away but suddenly you’ve gone mute.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve been a dick.” You don’t argue with that statement. He really has been a dick.

“Riven really set me straight after you left. And when he started pointing it out, I realised that I haven’t been myself. I’ve been distant and cold, I’ve taken you for granted,” he says and you feel his regret just as much as you see it on his face.

“I never meant to do that. I got so caught up in Stella’s web and because of that I hurt the person who means the most to me.”

“You took away my calm,” you mumble blinded by tears. It sounds so childish saying out loud but he was the one person who could make you feel normal. His energy cancelled out everyone else’s. You look over at him blinking several times before being able to focus on his face.

“I’m really sorry.” He takes your hands in his and you let him. It’s that heart of yours that’s betraying you. It always beats a little faster when he looks at you.

“I can’t do this again. I can’t keep losing you over and over again,” you admit dangerously close to just owning up to your feelings. How he takes your breath away just walking towards you, how he makes you smile even at your worst moments, how he makes your palms sweat whenever he’s near. You want to admit it all because you’re so tired of having to hide your own feelings when everyone else can have their feelings heard.

“You won’t have to. I ended things with Stella before I came out here. When I saw you with Riven,” he pauses to take a deep breath, ”I felt my heart crack. I hated the idea of seeing you with anyone else.” You stop breathing. For once, you use your powers to reach out and feel his fully. You feel like screaming when you notice the very feeling you’ve been consumed by yourself.

“Did you just-”

“No!” You say it too quickly. He knows what you did but he doesn’t seem to mind it. He smiles as he takes your hand.

“I know this is really poor timing and I hate how much it took for me to realise that what I feel for you is way beyond how I should feel for a friend. But if there’s even a small part of you that cares for me like that, I’d really like a second chance.” You’re pretty sure you’re dreaming because there’s no way you went from being ignored by him to have him confess his feelings for you. It doesn’t change how fast your heart is beating in your chest or the blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“You just got out of a relationship, Sky.” Even though your heart is all for jumping into his arms and riding off into the sunset, the logical part of your brain can’t help but recall how he was in a relationship up until an hour ago.

“I’m too late, aren’t I?”

“I really like you, but I also feel like I don’t know you anymore. I look at you and see the face of my best friend, but I also see a stranger.” You don’t know how to explain it properly but somehow Sky gets it.

“How about we start out easy? Get to know each other again.” He cups your cheek as he looks into your eyes. He opens his mind to let you know that he truly means everything he’s said. You can feel his feelings yelling to be heard.

“I’d like that.”

#winx saga #fate the winx saga #fate winx club #sky x reader #sky blurb #sky imagine #sky gif #danny griffin #sky

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uwuwriting · 4 years

Text

What did I miss? w/ Hawks and Dabi

Request: Okay so hear me out: Hawks’ and Dabi’s s/o (as separate headcanons, or you can just choose one) is also a pro hero/villain and the lads think she died or something and they just become enraged and they’re so distressed (and the ending is soft because she’s okay and maybe they cry) I love your writing, I hope you have a nice day! -🐍

Lol I had a similar request some time ago for our younger boys which I never got around to doing because I’m bad at fulfilling requests and following orders lol. This will be both hilarious and angsty. Well hilarious if you have my sense of humour otherwise I’ll have to add cricket sounds. Okay maybe its not that funny but oh well, it didn’t make me cry at least. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warnings: angst and fluff, mentions of injury and death, swearing.

Hawks/ Keigo Takami

-Having two winged heroes on patrol always kinda led to disaster.

-You both would race each other to your randevouz points or you would mock each other about your wing span.

- “You know what they say about your wing span? The bigger the wings well....the bigger the assets.”

-You had bigger wings then him just for a few centimeters but you rubbed it in his face all the time.

- “Why am I in love with you again?”

-It really bothers him bc you keep saying he has a smaller dick than you....and you don’t have a dick so.....yeah....anyways.

-You were on patrol once again, goofing around on a rooftop.

-It was late at night and you could be a little more handsy since there were’t many possibilities someone could walk in on you.

-Keeping your relationship a secret is hard and baby can keep his hands to himself for so long until he breaks.

-Suddenly out of nowhere you started hearing screams and cries for help.

-Keigo didn’t even get a chance to say anything before you were flying towards the building that was on FIRE.

-Dashing right after you he entered the building nad he was half expecting to see you there in the entrance, but he saw no one, only a large chunk of flaming wood etched into the mahogony floor.

-His mind immediately went to the worst scenario possible; it was like he couldn’t control his own thoughts.

-But right then, when his panic was beginning to surface, he heard you calling out for him.

-The rescue of the residents took around half an hour and it got harder and harder as time went on.

-The fire was getting out of control and was getting harder to locate everyone.

-One apartment was left in the end and you could here crying coming from inside.

-The fire was basically licking at your boots at this point but you weren’t about to let someone burn.

- “Get those last two outside and I’ll meet you at the rooftop across the street.”

- “Y/N-”

- “Keigo GO! I promise I’ll meet you outside.”

-And that was the last thing he heard from you that night.

-He did as he was told, he got the last two people out of the building and soon after them a toddler was carried out of the building.

-He waited for you to come out next but you never came.

-The flames licked at the sky, their tips seeming to be touching the moon.

-The roof collapsed in on itself making the rescue teams to back away as they looked in horror as the whole flat came crumbling down.

- “SHE’S IN THERE!”

-HE doesn’t remember much from that night.

-He knows he went back inside or at least tried to get past the debris.

-He remembers seeing the color of your wings, that beautiful white, peeking out from under a fallen beam.

-He remembers the upper floor almost crashing him as he tried to get you out and then nothing.

-He woke up in a hospital bed, dressed in one of those white robes his whole body screaming at him not to move.

-If he was being honest he forgot for a moment the events of the previous night and he was expecting to find you sleeping on the chair next to his bed, your hand in his just like you had done so many times before.

-But you weren’t there and then everything came pouring in.

-Frantically he got up and he reached for the door, yanking it open and coming face to face with a doctor.

- “Where is she?”

- “Sir you should be in bed, you injuries-”

- “goddammit WHERE IS SHE?”

-His outburst had attracted some of the nurses but he couldn’t care less about his image right now.

-Where you gone? But he remembers getting you out from under those fallen stairs. Maybe you were already dead when he reached you.

-No no no you had promised ot find him outside, you had told him so. That’s why he left, that’s why he did as you said. What was he supposed to do now? Without you here what is he supposed to do?

-Everything was muffled out, the ringing in his ears being to loud to allow him to focus on anything else.

-His breaths came out shallow as his head swam with thoughts.

-You couldn’t be gone you just couldn’t he had so much he wanted to do with you, so many things planned you couldn’t-

- “Keigo?”

-He turned around slowly.

-At first he thought he was dreaming, your voice always seemed to soothe him when he was destressed.

-But then his eyes landed on you all bandaged up and sporting crutches.

-You were hurt but you were alive, you were here, you were alright.

- “What did I miss birdbrain?”

-He launched himself at you bringing you flush to his chest as he silently cried.

-He let a few I love yous slip past his lips before you both entered the privacy of his hospital room.

-Neither of you spoke for a long time.

-You just held each other as tightly as your stitches would allow before letting all the tears fall.

- “I’m here, we’re alright.”

Dabi

-You had been sent out on a mission on your own.

-Dabi had tried to convince Shiggy to let him go with you but he refused.

- “I’m not sending you on this one with her. She is the best suited for this job and I’m not letting you mess it up just for your fuck buddy.”

-Shiggy really knows how to push Dabis’ buttons and if you ask me Dabi makes it easy at times.

-They were a pain in the ass.

-I mean you are going out on a mission let a girl get prepared in peace.

-Before they could set each other on fire and then dissolve into dust you dragged Dabi away telling Shiggy that you would be going soon.

- “Really Dabi at times I doubt if you trust me at all.”

- “It’s not that I don’t trust you dumbass. I just dontwantyoutogethurt.”

-Legit you didn’t hear anything he said but you had an inkling.

- “Oh what was that?”

- “I’m not saying it again.”

- “Here I am going out on a dangerous mission and you won’t even grant me one wish...how cruel.”

-He ended up saying it again but really really begrudgingly.

- “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

-You kissed his nose then his lips and let out a small I love you before heading down to the bar and getting the last info from Kurogiri.

-Now Dabi likes to see himself as a very heartless and stone cold individual.

-But you always were the exception to his behaviors so he couldn’t help but admit that he was worried.

-The mission was supposed to take three days plus one for you to return.

-It was still day two and he was ready to pull his hair out.

-But he promised you that he wouldn’t go out to search for you unless you have been gone for a week or more.

-So he just waited in agony.

-The moment though that you weren’t back in a week as you said you would be he went into a silent panic.

-He wanted to be nonchalant about it at first, just casually bringing up your whereabouts in convos with the league or asking Kurogiri of any mission reports from your end.

-Always came up with nothing.

-They had lost track of you two days ago and your last contact was yesterday.

-Now he was sure going to come after you.

-And no one could stop him.

-He knew you were strong and that you could handle yourself better than anyone in the league but he couldn’t stop himself from going after you.

-He had learned from Shiggy that the group you had targeted had a soft spot for torture if they caught someone in their territory.

-His mind of course went first to the worst case scenario, his pessimistc nature getting the better of him as flashes of you hurt on the floor of some basement ran throough his head.

-It didn’t take him long to reach your randevouz spot, mainly bc he was driving around Tokyo like a maniac.

-He entered the small house that was marked as you target and the first thing he was met with was blood.

-It was on the walls and on the floor and he couldn’t tell if this was yours or it was someone elses.

-Then he heard suffling from a closet nearby.

-It was a low scratching noise coming from the closet in the far back.

-He slowly approached it, his left arm letting small blue flames lick his fingertips as he opened the door.

-And then his heart dropped.

-Tumbling out of the closets’ interior was you, bloddied and bruised your arms barely keeping you propped up as you landed on the floor.

-He didn’t miss a beat.

-He scooped you up, moving stray hairs from your eyes as you barely kept them open.

-Your lip was split and you had a huge bruise right under your left eye.

- “Hey there baby.”

- “What the fuck happened Y/N?”

-You cringed as he moved his arms under your back, the pain being too much even for you.

- “They were waiting for me. I sent a message to Shiggy saying that I was coming back but he insisted I finish this. I managed to kill the leader but some of his rookies got to me.”

-He didn’t take you to the hideout.

-Oh no.

-If he had done that then there would be no Shiggy to lead them and there would’ve been a large fire in that area.

-He rented a room in a nearby motel.

-He let you rest while he went out and got you some disinfectants and bandages.

-Really when he was cleaning you up, if his tear ducts worked properly he would’ve cried.

-You woke up at some point while he was finishing up and you could feel his trembling and his silent sobs.

-You wrapped him in a hug, squeezing him as much as you could as you let your tears wet his t-shirt.

-His hands went up and down your sides and back, pulling you into his lap as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

- “I’m alright, see? That’s my heart beat.”

-You placed one of his palms over your heart in hopes that the subtle thud would calm him down.

-He really loves you and he won’t let anything happen to you ever again.

-Even if it kills him.

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez @bemorefiction

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thedelusionreaderbitch · 3 years

Text

Kaz Brekker x fem! mute! reader - Dancing eyes

(Image not mine)

A/n: I just thought about this and here we are. Also! I will have at least two more imagines coming out today or tomorrow! I'm also sorry if I offended anyone I really tried to make a good representation of the reader and I did some research but I'm not mute so I don't know exactly what's that's like. So if you guys could tell me if I did anything wrong, just some feedback that would be nice!

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, death, angst, blood, gore, the reader is mute, fluff I think that's it? You have been warned!

Summary: Kaz falling in love with you

(The sign language is in italics bold!)

All rights go to leigh bardugo, netflix, and you! I just own the plot!

She was dancing when he first saw her.

She did a few twirls, her leg went into the air flawlessly into a arabesque to the side. It was powerful and controlled but it was graceful. The girl did a paw de chat and jumped high into the air turning around and landing with one leg behind her perfectly straight and pointed, one leg on the ground and her hands in front of her like she was presenting something to the audience.

The crowd clapped and applauded her but she did not smile, not till she did a low curtsy and while she did her y/c/e orbs meant his. Kaz's breath got lodged in his throat when he saw her beautiful eyes. Then they lit up like all the stars were in her eyes and her lips curved upwards forming a small grin.

Kaz shook his head, she wasn't valuable to the dregs so she wasn't worth looking for, so he turned swiftly on his feet and started walking towards the slat.

But you wish she was.

Kaz started looking for her everyday, and everyday she would be in her spot near the slat doing a dance. Her graceful movements often caught his eye and he would often find himself watching her from his window.

Weak.

But one day something else caught his eye about her, she had enough money for shoes and clothes, it didn't look like the girl ate much, barely enough to keep her alive. Thought still, she bought food.

Or did she?

He observed her in a different way now - for a week and to say the Brekker boy was surprised would be an understatement. The little dancer had been stealing.

Sometimes she would steal food, money, and do a few magic tricks here and there but the thing was he never saw her steal only saw the people leave with empty pockets.

Kaz could admit to himself that she was good, possibly better than him - which was dangerous. But could she kill someone? Maybe he could train her but he found he didn't want to force that upon the girl that danced outside his window everyday. Stealing food, money and even clothes sometimes.

Saints, I'm growing soft. Kaz thought to himself.

The next time he saw her was three weeks later well, the thing is he didn't see her outside his window dancing all day from 6:00pm sharp all the way to 3:30am.

He wondered how the girl slept.

He was limping down a street and he turned a corner only to hear a voice and it wasn't recognizable so he quietly limped over and peaked his head out.

It was the little dancer.

She had a grisha steel dagger pressed up against a man's throat. The man was trembling in fear, and the little kitten that once danced was gone and her claws were coming out.

"Please-please! I did can-can pay-pay you back! Please! I-I know people who-who can help!"

The man looked young but was definitely a sleaze ball, with his brown hair that looked like it was decaying, his round bodice, his fat arms and legs and he retched of alcohol and young girls.

He was nothing compared to the girl.

The tiger had a snarl on her face, but she didn't make a sound as she stabbed the dagger threw his forehead killing him. Then she pulled the knife and grabbed a piece of paper presumably writing something down on it.

She spun on her heels and she faced him.

Shit.

She just blinked at him and made some weird hand movements which Kaz identified as sign language.

Oh he did know what sign language was, he knew how to use it too.

If you wanted a show, you could have just asked dirtyhands.

The girl smiled when he rolled his eyes.

"I don't want a show, but I would like you to join the dregs." He said out loud in a monotone voice. She looked taken aback that he could understand her but she grinned even brighter that he could.

Of course. It's better.

She signs, using just those words and not adding anything else - just it's better. Though he knew actually what she meant.

"What are you. You seem to know your way around here, not to mention the stealing and killing."

I'm a assassin. I Trained somewhere... not in Kerch, and I escaped and went here.

Her signing his precise and graceful almost like her dance movements. She starts to walk away but she pause's and turn's to him.

You can call me Nemesis.

Then she walks away. He didn't even know the time or whether she was even going to show up. He didn't even know her real name - not a single thing about her real identity really.

Only that she dances.

After that day he dreamed of her every night. Sometimes she would be dancing outside or she was working on a job with him. On the occasion he would get a dream about her in a meadow holding up a flower and showing it to someone. But that seemed more like a memory more then anything because she looked younger - a child only five maybe seven.

He longed for the sleep.

Once after a job with the Crows she came to his room and her hair flowed down her back as she climbed into his desk chair while he was on his bed.

He didn't even hear her come into the room.

Writing something down on the paper she turns around and hands him it.

My name is Y/n.

That's when he knew she trusted him.

After that moment they slowly began to come together - slowly but surely. Whether it be a small brush of the hand or full on skin to skin contact they we're there and then they weren't. Technically, they weren't dating - not officially anyways but no one (not even the Crows) could find where Kaz or Y/n began or where they ended. It was like they we're on one big loop, they we're on person yet they we're different.

The first time he kissed her she was coming back from killing someone.

Y/n was his personal assassin, because of that she killed a lot of people and had to be never seen, no evidence, not always clean kills. But Y/n had already admitted to killing many people and she signed that she probably had killed more people in her childhood then he will ever tell her to kill in his lifetime.

So when she came back in tears after a murder he was rightly confused. Her bright y/c/e eyes we're filled to the brim with tears and the eyes that usually danced with emotions were almost dead looking. Though to Kaz they still looked beautiful.

That's not what she needs right now.

Kaz sat on the bed staring at the assassin that stood in the middle of his room, that looked nearly like the little dancer that he once thought she was. But her eyes looked shattered like glass spread across the floor in pieces.

He patted the room beside him on the bed and she reluctantly followed where his hand was and sat down. She kept her eyes cast down, and it killed Kaz to not see those beautiful eyes that danced. The only thing the left of her innocence in his opinion.

With an ungloved hand he lifted her chine up to his and slowly her eyes meant his. Her breath stuttered, she breathed in and started moving her hands using sign language to talk.

There was a child.

She started, always trying to get to the point fast enough.

They went up to me and...

Her hand movements came to an erupt stop and she slowly breathed in a breath preparing.

They called me a monster.

Kaz looks at her and the tears in her eyes. She needs comfort or something at least but he's not so sure he can give her that. He's not sure if he's even ready for that.

Yes you are. And Kaz could finally agree with the voice in his head.

He slowly brought their lips together and brushed them together in sync. He lifted his hand to go to her cheek and he stroked it. They pulled away, it was barley a kiss but it was enough.

"You could never be a monster Y/n." He whispered as their foreheads touched again.

__________TIME SKIP_____________________________________

Knives, arrows, and bullets were flying though the air. Some hitting people and some not. Kaz looked over to Y/n, he knew he shouldn't have brought her on this job.

She had an air of royalty around her, she killed whomever she liked out of the Blacktips.

That's if she granted them mercy.

If she didn't you would die a very painful death. Her hair was blowing in the wind making it look like she was floating, and for all Kaz knew about her, this girl was full of surprise's. She might as damn well been.

Her reflects were quick and graceful but deadly. Just how she dances. He thought. Her eyes were on fire and they seemed to burn everything around them.

She really was a Saint.

Focus. He scolded himself.

You can think about her more later and maybe tell her what you think boy. It was a different voice this time, and it vaguely sounded like his father but he pushed the thought away and kept on fighting.

The heist was over and he looked around for Y/n because usually on mission's like these they would go together and just sit. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes they would just enjoy each other's presences. It was all they needed, just a reminder for them that they we're still alive.

"Did you see Y/n." He said flatly not wanting to seem worried although he really was.

"Ya, I saw her slip away earlier she looked fine." Nina supplied.

He gave her a quick nod and started walking back to the slat. At the least he knew she was fine.

They couldn't find her.

It had been a week and she didn't show up, they were all desperately trying to find the assassin but she was no where to be found. She silent girl was gone, they didn't even know if she was captured or not.

After another week the others had given up saying if their was a lead they would be there. Then Kaz found a note on his desk.

Dear Mr Brekker,

Hello Kaz this is Y/n, so I'm sorry for doing this but it had to be done. I'm not captured no, and I'm safe for now no ones really safe in the barrel. I have many enemies and they will find out you and the Crows are my weakness and I can't have that. You mean so much to me in words I could never describe and it pains me so much to leave knowing - I love you. You are some much stronger than me and a considerably better person then I ever could be although you fight against that statement. You put your Armour down for me and I couldn't do that for you. I'm sorry.

May the stars watch over you,

with love Y/n

Kaz didn't know what to do, Y/n was gone the loop was broken and everything was back to the way it was. He closed his eyes and thought about her eyes - those dancing eyes.

Like for part 2!

Words 1930

-thedeluisonreaderbitch

#six of crows #kaz brekker #Soc #shadow and bone #grishaverse #inej ghafa #kaz brekker x reader #kaz rietveld #matthias hevlar #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #wylan van sunshine #crooked kingdom #x reader #Y/n #angst #fluff

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oogaboogasphincter · 3 years

Text

The 50/10 Method (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: Jack makes the most of your 10 minute study break.

Word Count: 2.7k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! bc this is just cringey smut lmfao

Warnings: smut (oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl), very easily and conveniently reached orgasms (this is a fantasy i can do what i want skjfkd), dirty talk, one (1) allusion to thigh riding and one (1) instance of 💙spitting💙, fingering, positions i hope i've given enough detail so y’all can imagine what i was picturing💀), pet names (sweetheart, honey, cowboy *affectionately*, good girl, baby), there’s a sentence about reader having long-ish hair, reader and jack have a dog, swearing, reader is afab and is called things like good girl and the like, just overall trash grammar and structure 😇

Author’s Note: so this is very poorly written and extremely self-indulgent, as i myself use the 50/10 method 🙃. but i had a lot of fun with it, and i think that’s what writing is supposed to be all about! :) also i was heavily inspired to write this after reading “Take a Break” by @mellowswriting and “Study Buddy” by @pascalpanic. please go check those out because they’re absolutely fantastic!!!!! +while you’re at it, i would highly advise you to read anything on their masterlists bc they’re just 💜exquisite💜

gif by @thernandalorian

The lines of text on your computer screen are starting to blend into each other, creating a single run-on sentence that one of your previous English teachers would ridicule the author for. The sharp curves and angles that distinguish each letter from the next are becoming soft and dull, blurring into each other until your brain can only recognize it as a smeared streak of black on white.

It’s 11:00am on a Saturday, a big exam set for the upcoming Monday’s morning. You don’t feel rushed for time, or overloaded with unknown material, and the early hours of the day have been quite productive. Following a shared breakfast of homemade waffles in bed with Jack, your boyfriend, you didn’t complain when setting up your study station on the living room’s large oak table. If anything, you had been excited to begin studying early in the hopes of finishing your review by the end of the day. That way, tomorrow would be free for you and Jack to do whatever you pleased.

However, as the hours went by, your motivation was slowly but surely diminishing. The serene study atmosphere that you usually thrive in is now driving you mad. You yearn for a noise, any noise; a bird to sing a song in the tree outside your window, the smack of your dog’s loose wrinkles against each other as he attempts to shake the sleep out of him, a pencil unable to stop itself from rolling and dropping onto the floor with a tink.

You’re momentarily gifted with the crisp sound of a page turning. You flit your eyes over to gaze upon the source of your granted wish and your heart flutters in reaction to the sight: Jack’s resting on the couch, cowboy hat balanced on the back of it, deeply absorbed in the next installment of his favorite murder-mystery series. You find it curious that his desire for an adrenaline-filled challenge doesn’t stop when he comes home from mission after mission that nearly cost him his life. You’ll ask him about his insatiability one day, but for now you categorize it as fictional research for his Statesman assignments.

Your short glance quickly turns into an entranced stare. Jack looks... divine. Fetching. Luscious. As he’s lying on his back, neck propped up against the arm of the couch, his book balanced on his chest, relaxation radiates off of him in waves and utterly seduces you. You’re surprised that he hasn’t been a greater distraction to you throughout the morning. How have you managed to ignore the denim-wearin’, plaid-shirted, pornstache-sportin’ cowboy of your dreams that is only a few steps away?

Involuntarily, the thigh muscles of your crossed legs contract in an effort to bring some semblance of friction to your now weeping core. Similar to your imaginings of your dog earlier, you shake your head to force these heavy, unwanted feelings to dissipate and turn back to the work in front of you. Of course, Jack does the opposite of what you’d like him to do and takes an interest in your fidgeting. He peeks over the top of his book, “You cold, sweetheart?”

His question is reasonable: you’re purposely wearing a skirt that’s so short it rides up quite high when you sit. You don’t dare to meet his eyes and answer while pulling a textbook close and opening it up, “No, I’m okay.”

Fortunately he returns to his reading. Your attention is able to retain itself for about a paragraph, but then your mind takes a sharp detour back to those pesky, steamy desires. You mentally huff at your inability to remain concentrated on your studies and rifle through the options of what you can do to satiate yourself for the time being.

You could switch texts and force your brain to recognize the change and therefore become distracted. You could pick out some colored writing utensils and bring some fun to active reading. You could say fuck it, go straddle Jack and beg him to use you in whichever way he would like.

Jack interrupts your brainstorming, “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket or sumthin’? I can go get my jacket for ya.”

The attentiveness of your southern lover melts your heart. You turn to him, “No, really, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I wouldn’t count a bathroom break as taking away from your 50 minutes, honey, if that’s what’s makin’ you twitch.”

You had been implementing and strictly adhering to the 50/10 method all morning: study for 50 minutes, take a break for ten. Its effectiveness was never doubted, as it has proven to work for you for years. Only ten minutes into this 50 minute period, the devil of restlessness pokes at you and makes you think could time go by any slower? A hand comes up to cover the blush creeping across your cheek as you dismiss Jack’s suggestion, “No, that’s not it.”

Behind your embarrassed hand, Jack cocks an eyebrow at you. Your simple choice of words has given the Agent a hint, that there is something that’s bothering you, he just hasn’t figured it out yet and you don’t want to admit what it is for some reason. He returns to his book, however lost in thought about what your problem could be, while you task every cell in your body to pay attention to your studies.

35 minutes remain on the clock, and Jack guesses, “Did you have too much coffee?”

You can’t help but grin at his sleuthing, “No, I just had my regular.”

He conjures up another possible solution five minutes later, “Are you itchin’ to get out of the house? We haven’t left in two days.”

He’s getting warmer. Both of you know exactly why you haven’t left the house in two days: you’d been occupied with activities of the sinful variety. You can’t gauge yet whether or not he knows he’s dancing around the answer, “Baby, you’re distracting me. And nope, it’s not that.”

He smiles apologetically, “Sorry,” and uses his book as a partition, blocking your ability to procrastinate and just visually drool all over him.

Silence fills the next 20 minutes. Even though Jack is out of your sight, details from your observations exaggerate themselves in your mind to the point that they’re all encompassing, intoxicating. The way his jeans wrap around his legs ever so perfectly, the worn denim hugging those muscular thighs that he loves for you to grind yourself against when you’re feeling especially desperate (like now). How his plaid flannel slopes over the swell of his belly, stretching tight against his skin as his diaphragm contracts and deflating when he exhales. Even his large feet, strewn about lazily on the couch, his toes pointing in different directions, amuse you.

Ten minutes remain in your study session. Feeling guilty about spending the majority of the last hour envisioning the seductive intricacies of your boyfriend, you actually start to study.

“How many times do you think I can make you cum in ten minutes?”

Your eyes are ripped from your material and land on the menace lazing on the couch. He’s put his book down, one arm behind his head while the other is crooked, allowing himself to palm his cock through his pants. Jack’s wearing a shit-eating grin, bewitching your crossed legs to switch which one is on top; an excuse to apply more pressure to the yearning area between them. You fidget in the chair, shamefully trying to get the seam of your underwear to rub against you in just the right way. You shrug, “I-I’m not sure.”

He gets up and comes over to you, standing behind you and leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs in your ear, “I think we should find out during your next break.”

You turn to face him, “I think so too.”

He gives you a quick kiss, “Well, you better be a good girl and study for these last few minutes. Earn that break.” He places his large hands on either side of your head and turns it toward your materials, making you both laugh.

Somehow, you’re able to pay attention. Jack’s impending promise of ravaging you for ten minutes straight quells your jittering nerves and gives you something specific to look forward to. Before you know it, your alarm is beeping, alerting you that your break has commenced. Jack cages you by reaching forward and grabs the clock, programs it to ten minutes and keeps it in his hand. He grips the sides of your swivel chair, pulls it back from the table and spins you around to face him, the speed of the turn making your hair swoosh across your shoulders. Through mutual giggles, Jack lifts you up, winding your legs around his waist, your arms doing the same around his neck. “I want you to count for me how many times you cum.”

Breathlessly, you simply obey, “Okay.”

He practically runs to the bedroom. He sets the clock on the nightstand and turns the face towards the mattress so you don’t lose out on studying time. Tossing you onto the bed, your giggling continues as you bounce from the force. Jack hooks his fingers in your underwear and yanks them down, pulling them out from under your skirt and over your shoes. The way he wastes no time ridding you of any other garment makes blood and heat flood your center and air rush out of your lungs. He pushes your lost air back into your mouth with a kiss and then immediately retreats back to in between your legs.

He flicks the fabric of your skirt up onto your belly, letting himself have complete, unobstructed access to his early lunch. His fingers fondle your folds while his lips place sloppy kisses along the inside of your thighs. After he’s had his fill of that step, he sits back and stares at you: spread out for him, more than willing to take anything he wants to give to you. He blows out a whistle, eyeing your core, and you say, “Hey, you’re on the clock, cowboy. No time for dramatics.”

He nods, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth, “You’re right, sweetheart.”

He spits onto your cunt, forgoing his usual gentle licks to adequately wet your pussy. A quiet fuck escapes your mouth as he plunges his tongue into you. Your fingers wind themselves in his chocolatey locks and pull, extracting an excited moan from your lover. His fingers knead the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs as he eats and when his mustache starts to tickle your clit, you’re done for. Your grip on his hair becomes vice-like and your whole body seizes up, constricted by enrapturing pleasure. You strangle out, “One.”

Jack unlatches his mouth only once he’s certain your first orgasm is complete. He stands, admires your wrecked expression, takes his cock out, spits into his hand and pumps his dick a few times. Hands slithering around your waist, he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your ass up, positioning you on your hands and knees. You’re a little bit dizzied by his manhandling in combination with his expert tongue, but this type of vertigo is the most enjoyable you’ve ever experienced.

When he pushes into you, it’s a bit of a stretch because he hadn’t warmed you up with his fingers. He relaxes you by leaning forward, pressing his chest against your back and peppering soft kisses to your shoulder blades. The clink of his belt comically punctuates his thrusts, but your laughs are swallowed by intoxicated groans. You don’t know, and you don’t really care to figure out, how he already has you teetering on the edge of cumming again. Heightened senses tell you that you’re close; the fabric of his shirt feels unearthly soft as it brushes against patches of exposed skin, his fingertips are delightful lead in their clamp on you, his grunts and pants angelically reverberate in your skull. And then, suddenly and all at once, “Two.”

Jack’s pride shows itself in a smirk while he flips you onto your back. He makes a show of hooking your calves over his shoulders, eliciting laughter from the both of you. Resting almost all of his weight on top of you, your knees find your chest and his hands find your hair. The intimacy of it all is almost too much; his thumbs stroke your temples, palms cradle your head, those goddamned puppy-dog eyes bore into you. You turn your head in his grasp to check your timing: five minutes left.

Jack’s tongue darts out to lick the pads of his fingers before he snakes it down in between the two of you to rub your clit. Your moans come out uncontrollably, your eyelids stutter and he eggs you on, “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me another one.”

Hearty moans are reduced to desperate gasps and you’re unable to verbally acknowledge the third orgasm that rips through you. Nonetheless, Jack can tell from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and his name tumbles ferociously out of your mouth that you’re cumming. “’Atta girl.”

Jack takes his cock out of you and the whine that escapes your lips embarrasses you. He can’t help but laugh at your whimpering before he scoots down the bed and starts to eat you out again, framing his head with your quaking thighs. You find the strength to check the time, “Jack, there’s only a minute and a half left.”

He moans deeply into you, unaffected by your comment, and eases three fingers into your fluttering center. Like earlier, your hands fly to his hair like a magnet and find purchase so tight it makes your knuckles go pale. In a matter of seconds, circling your clit with his sopping tongue and tapping your g-spot with his deft fingers, Jack has you cumming yet again. This time you yell out the count, “Four!”

The sounds his ministrations make are lewd and exhilarating, pushing himself to his own precipice. You look down your body to find Jack’s other hand jerking his cock and his seed spilling out of him moments later. He groans into your pussy while you pet his hair, praising him for his efforts.

Simultaneously, you both remember that you’re being timed. Your eyes meet the clock at the same time: 30 seconds. Jack springs from the bed and pulls you up with him, grabbing your discarded panties. He squats and taps your ankles so you lift your legs up, sliding each leg hole over your body and pulling your underwear up underneath your skirt.

You fumble with his mussed clothes, stuffing his still-hard cock into his boxers, hiking his jeans up over his ass and zip and button them closed. You snake his belt around his waist and let his fingers do the work of buckling it before he picks you up bridal style and ushers you out of the bedroom, grabbing the clock off of the nightstand on your way out.

Unhinged cackles follow you two down the hallway as you return to the living room. He plops you down in your chair, straightens you out, gives you a kiss on the cheek and then your alarm goes off. You raise your eyebrows at him, “Jeez, you didn’t waste a second.”

He hums, then mumbles, “You get back to work now, babygirl,” and leaves you with a yearning kiss on the part of your hair.

Both of you return to your respective readings, hopelessly trying to downgrade your panting gasps to normal breaths. The absence of Jack’s warmth is already painful. But you rationalize that the indulgence of the last ten minutes is more than enough to get you through this next hour of studying, if not for longer.

Little do you know that Jack feels the same pain. His ache for your touch, sexual or not, will overtake him later and he’ll be unable to resist the temptation of coming over and distracting you again. Determined to finish your studying, you’ll propose a compromise: you can sit in his lap while he is lulled to sleep by the ambience of the afternoon rain and the enveloping comfort of you. The two of you can try to beat the record of four orgasms next semester.

💘taglist: @pascalpanic, @mellowswriting

#agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x fem!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #kingsman: the golden circle #study smut #studying smut

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beelzegrub · 3 years

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How would the brothers react to an MC who wakes up shouting from nightmares?

Love this request anon tysm I’m gonna smooch you

MC Who Wakes Up Shouting

:readmore:

Lucifer:

Lucifer loves to give the illusion of privacy.

MC knows their room isn’t soundproof, but assumed it muffled noises enough.

I mean, nobody had said anything, so surely they didn’t hear the creek of the bed as MC shot up in their bed. Or the shriek that tumbled from their mouth night after night. Right?

Wrong.

Lucifer has a house full of brothers who cause trouble 24/7, his ears are like, specially tuned to pick up signs of distress.

Of course he hears the shrieks, and the creeks, and the sighs, and the tears. He hears all of it. But he won’t bring it up. He’ll wait patiently for MC to open up to him.

And when they finally do, he’ll be there. His arms open and waiting, that smug smirk on his face,

“Finally decided to come to me? It’s about time. I’ve been waiting patiently for you, MC.”

His smugness is forced. Dude was super worried. He’s the avatar of pride though, so. MC can’t know.

Incredibly relieved when they come to him and does all he can to help.

Mammon

Mammon knows.

He’s up late most nights, and He’s close enough that he hears the noises coming from MC’s room. He might not be the brightest bulb, but he can put two and two together.

Absolutely won’t be direct about it. I’m not convinced he knows how to be direct.

Instead, when he hears a shout, he’ll burst into MC’s room, demanding they wake up and entertain him, or find some other way to distract them.

He will “accidentally” fall asleep in their room, so they aren’t alone.

Lucifer will scold him, but since Lucifer is in the know of the situation, goes easy on Mammon. The others don’t.

But Mammon is used to use playing the bad guy, so it’s easiest for him to handle things this way. As long as he can be by MC’s side, he doesn’t mind.

“You’re lucky ya got such a nice guy like me, coming to hang out with ya all the time like this. You owe me!”

Leviathan

My man Levi always has headphones on and is dense as a brick. He has no idea.

Until one night, MC falls asleep in Levi’s bean bag chair. He decides to let them sleep.

It’s not like he cares about disturbing their cute sleeping face or anything!! It would just be more annoying to have to wake them up!! Yeah. It’s easier to let them stay!!

When He finally decides to call it a night and climbs into his bathtub. He settles in and closes his eyes.

And then MC screams. Like, ACTUALLY screams. Naturally, Leviathan snaps up and immediately screams in response.

MC and Leviathan stare at each other, both too shocked to say a word. After what seems like hours, MC breaks and starts apologizing and sniffling, tears coating their face.

Levi’s charisma skill is way to under leveled to handle this kind of situation.

But then he hears the footsteps in the hall. He can’t let anyone else see them like this! This moment is his!

He tumbled out of bed and promptly exits the room, leaving MC even more shocked than before. A few minutes later he returns, looking extra bashful.

Silently moves blankets and pillows on the floor next to MC and sits next to them.

“I told them we got scared playing a horror game. They’re gone. I’m sleeping here because I feel like it. That’s it. But… if you wanna talk or something while I’m down here, I guess I can do that.”

He’s trying his best.

Satan

Satan finds out by accident. He and MC are cozied up in his bed, them resting their back against his chest as he reads aloud from a book.

They’re both comfortable as this is a usual occurrence.

Unfortunately for MC, this particular book had a passage about night terrors.

Like, graphic descriptions of night terrors.

Satan was no fool. He felt MC tensing up as he read to them. He inhaled deeply and closed the book, setting it aside.

“I already have a good idea of the situation, but I’d like to hear it come from you, MC.”

MC knows they can’t lie to Satan, especially now.

They explain the situation as vaguely as possible, not wanting to cry in front of Satan.

Satan doesn’t pry. He nods once and then picks up a different book and continues as if nothing happened.

Later though, once MC has left, he starts gathering all the information he can about MC’s predicament. Mostly remedies and coping mechanisms, but also causes.

“If I find there to be a… traumatic reason for MC’s ailment, I will be sure to pass judgment on whoever is responsible.”

Asmodeous

Asmo notices the heavy bags MC always seems to have.

Not one to easily give up in his desires, he pesters and prods them day after day.

“Sweetie, why not try this eye cream? Maybe this special sleep mask? Oh! I know, how about-“

MC cuts him off mid tirade one day. They tell him it doesn’t matter what product they use because they never get enough sleep. It was just wasting product and would be pointless.

Not getting any beauty rest? Oh, how you wound him, MC.

“Let’s have a nice spa day, maybe that’ll help you relax!”

Moves on to pestering about the spa day.

MC finally gives in, and has a wonderful time. They feel so completely relaxed, they fall asleep in Asmo’s glorious tub.

Ohhhhh nooooooo. Has MC fallen asleep??? Whatever shall he do??

Absolutely his plan. Asmo steps away to prepare the bed for MC to have a perfect nights sleep.

Then he hears the Yelp, followed by splashing.

Rushes into the tub fully clothed to comfort MC.

“Oh darling, oh no. You’re alright. Come on, come with me. Let’s get you dried off and into some warm clothes.”

After the excitement of the night has worn off, Asmo will offer as many spa days or sleepovers as MC needs.

Beelzebub

Listen the Attic Club Sandwich? Napping is like their main club activity. Along with keeping Belphgor awake, that is. Beel has seen it happen often.

But he was the first to actually witness MC’s problem.

All his brothers had gone out,leaving just Beel and MC. They had fallen asleep on the couch. From what he’d heard, MC had a rather hard day. He didn’t want to wake them up, so he tried his best to not tear through the kitchen like he usually would. Every move he made was as slow and quiet as he could manage.

Unfortunately, Beel’s efforts were in vain. He had his haul in his arms and mouth, ready to return to his room to eat so he wouldn’t have to worry about the noise, when MC’s body shot straight up and released a bloodcurdling scream.

He immediately dropped everything in both shock and concern, rushing to MC’s side. He kneeled in the floor next to them, His eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? It doesn’t look like it… I’ll call Lucifer. Hell know what to do. “

MC had quickly reached out and grabbed onto his hand to stop him. Tears streaming down their face, they shook their head fervently.

Beel halted his efforts and watched MC’s face.

“No Lucifer? …. Okay. I’ll just sit here with you until you feel better then.”

Belphgor

Bestie, Belphie’s whole deal is sleep. He’s known from the very start. He just didn’t care to do anything at first. He might even be guilty of sending a few nightmares directly to MC.

But after… well…. The “incident” things changed. MC’s nightmares got worse. Much worse. And he knew exactly why. He knew exactly who was responsible. He knew exactly what they entailed.

It hurt. Being reminded of that moment over and over and over. If it hurt him this much, just how much was MC suffering?

Something had to be done.

One night, Belphie’s eyes snapped open. MC was having another nightmare. THE nightmare. He heaved a heavy sigh and dragged himself out of his bed, trudging to their room.

He didn’t bother knocking. He knew they were asleep. He opened MC’s door and stood there, his pillow tucked under his arm and watched what he’d done to them.

MC’s eyes were tightly squeezed shut, fists clenched, and hair damp from sweat.

As he approached them, he heard the quiet whimpers coming from their mouth as well

An intense guilt settled over him as he watched. Something HAD to be done.

That night, Belphie had climbed into MC’s bed and soothes them the best he could, using the power his Sloth sin granted him. The nightmares would eventually stop after some coaxing from the youngest brother, and then he’d return to his room as if nothing happened.

And he’d do that as long as he needed to. Anything for MC.

#listen I know the lengths aren’t even and I’m sorry #asmo is my least favorite and I think his is the longest LMAO #he’s just the easiest to write for followed by Levi #obey me #shall we date? obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #requests #tw nightmares

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