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hugmekenobi · 11 months

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S2: The Bad Batch (5)

Chapter Five: Entombed

Gif by @tommy-millers

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Some time has passed since everything that happened at Kamino and you and the Batch are trying to figure out your place in the rapidly changing Imperial galaxy. And you're having to do all this whilst figuring out where your relationship with Hunter fits into it.

Chapter Summary: A proposed mission by Phee interrupts a planned break for you and Hunter and this mission is anything but relaxing.

Masterlist for S1

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: I make up a timeline, fluff and the slight awkwardness that comes with these fools figuring out relationship stuff, canon-typical violence, couple brief instances of mild innuendo, kissing, Phee gets a bit of a hard time (will not be a consistent theme), mild injury mention/description

Word Count: 7.7K

Author's notes: Another one done! Appreciate the patience, I had a few days of just feeling really tired which threw off the schedule a bit lol but hope y'all enjoy! Excited to start work on Ch6!

“Can I ask you something?”

You stopped absentmindedly browsing the various stalls and narrowed your eyes at the man whose hand was currently intertwined with yours. “Why do you sound nervous?”

“Probably because I’m going to make a mess of this.” He mumbled self-consciously.

You continued to look at him sceptically as you began to walk back to Cid’s parlour. The two of you had wanted a bit of time to yourselves whilst you were free from any missions and had decided to grab some time away. You all suspected the shortage of work came from a petty Cid who didn’t take too kindly to Hunter ensuring that she stopped any further cutbacks on the shares she granted you all.

In a weird way, it had a small silver lining. Wrecker and Omega now had some free time and were running an errand of the scavenging variety for Tech and there had been some time to do something just the two of you. Of course, credits were short, so it took the form of just a casual wander around, but you didn’t mind it at all.

“You know that new hotel that just opened up?” Hunter continued.

“The one that looks too nice for a place like this and is cash only and most definitely a front for money laundering?”

“Yeah.”

“What about it?”

“Well… we’re not on a mission… and uh I figured we could use the time off to get some proper time away with um just the two of us. What do you think?”

Of all the things for him to suggest, you wouldn’t have guess that. You turned and gave him a broad smile. “I’d love to!”

“Yeah?” Hunter asked, his face brightening.

“Yeah!” You confirmed happily and you gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “But what’s the real occasion? Usually booking time on the Marauder works just fine and you don’t get all nervous asking for it. Spill.”

Hunter looked away from you for a moment and rubbed the side of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t know, it’s stupid really.”

“Hunter, I promise I will not think it is stupid. Tell me.” You prompted gently.

Hunter cleared his throat. “I had thought it could be a kinda belated six-month anniversary type… thing….” He trailed off as he awaited your reaction, but you gave nothing away. He hesitated for a moment, taking your silence as a sign he’d gotten something wrong. “That’s a thing people do, right? People who aren’t in our particular situation I mean.”

Your knowledge on the subject was just as limited as his but you loved that he was saying it. The thought had crossed your mind, but you hadn’t expected anything, the cards just hadn’t been dealt in your favour. Until now. Evidently you were silent in your appreciation for too long because Hunter started backtracking.

“I’m sorry I missed the actual day and um things have been a bit hectic, we can just forget the whole thing and move on. We don’t have-” Your finger on his lips interrupted his ramble.

You didn’t think it was possible to love him more yet somehow seeing him pushing himself out of his normal comfort zone for something like this made it possible. “What you have just offered is incredibly sweet and thoughtful. I had just never considered it as possibility given our rather hectic schedule and I didn’t want to put any unnecessary pressure on things. Also, with regards to the date, that’s flexible given the uh other events that day brought.” You said uneasily before you wrapped an arm around his waist and snuggled into him as the two of you continued your stroll. “I love you. It sounds perfect.”

“Good.” Hunter replied softly. He’d pushed his comfort zone further than he ever had before by bringing this whole idea up but your enthusiasm and not feeling entitled to something like this in the first place made him feel much better about the whole thing.

The two of you turned the corner to where Cid’s parlour was and started to slow down. You weren’t quite ready to go back yet. You broke the quiet first. “How exactly are we going to pay for this?”

“Eh I kinda figured with our skillsets… we… um… wouldn’t really need to.”

You pulled back so you were walking more side by side rather than you pressed into an uncoordinated angle at his side and your smile widened. “Law breaking and room service? You sure know how to treat a woman.”

“Does it count as law breaking if the establishment is most likely breaking the law anyway?” Hunter disputed in a good-humoured manner.

“Call it a grey area.” You said with a dismissive wave of your hand.

Hunter hummed and gently pushed you back against the wall. “You’re definitely comfortable with this?” He needed to make sure. In an ideal galaxy, he’d actually have the funds to take you to a place like that and to one that wasn’t involved in money laundering. Of course, in an ideal galaxy, going on a break would involve leaving a home that wasn’t quite as portable as his current one.

“Definitely.” You confirmed, kissing him once more. After a few seconds, you pulled away with an important realisation. “There will be a proper bed!”

“I hear that’s part of the appeal.” Hunter said drily as he left a light trail of kisses along your neck.

“You know what that means though?”

Hunter brought his eyes up to meet yours.

“We could actually sleep for 8 hours! Come on, when was the last time you could say that?” You said playfully.

Hunter huffed out a laugh. “Silly me for thinking something else.”

You pretended to look offended by the suggestion. “Get that mind out the gutter, Sergeant.” You nudged past him and made your way towards the steps that led down to Cid’s. But yes, we gotta earn those 8 hours after all.

Hunter caught up to you and grabbed you and playfully imparted a series of quick kisses on your neck whilst he tickled your sides.

You couldn’t help laughs that left you and you batted his hands away. The good-natured fun swiftly evaporated as you both saw Phee sitting in the parlour entertaining Bolo and Ketch.

You both shared a look of mild irritation. You hadn’t really warmed to the pirate yet, the only thing she had going for her right now was she seemed good with Omega, and you sensed good vibes between her and Tech. The two of you walked over to the bar counter where Echo and Tech were sitting. You tuned into the story she was telling Cid’s two regulars.

“I had no choice but to fend off the Octomorph. Bare-handed.”

You rolled your eyes at the familiar tale and wondered which parts would receive embellishment this time whilst Bolo and Ketch released gasps of admiration.

“This story changes every time she tells it.” Tech said.

“You’ve been listening every time she tells it?” You responded elbowing him in a teasing fashion.

Tech just furrowed his brow at you and went back to his datapad.

Hunter just sighed. “Those two’ll believe anything.”

You glanced at him. It was like being back in this place sucked all the energy out of him and any pleasant mood he was once in was just replaced by tiredness and your heart went out to him. A night away would do him some good. The sound of the door opening, and Wrecker’s laugh caused you all to look towards them.

“Mission accomplished! One compressor, as requested.” He said cheerfully as he tossed it to Tech.

Tech caught and examined it. “Ah. Nicely done, Wrecker.”

“That’s not all we got.” Omega said triumphantly as she dumped the various other things she found with Wrecker onto the table.

Tech wasn’t too impressed. “This assortment, however, could have been left at the junkyard.”

“Easy, quick draw.” Phee interrupted as she examined the pile. “Let the expert take a look.”

“It is a manifold regulator. And a broken one at that.” Tech pointed out as she picked the item up.

You, Hunter, and Echo all shared a look, but small smiles graced your faces. You were still trying to warm up to her but the rapport she and Tech had developed wasn’t lost on you and it made you happy to see.

“Thanks, Clone Obvious.” Phee clapped back. It was then something in the stack caught her eye. “Hang on.” She picked up the flat, circular object and slid back part of it. “These look like coordinate markings.”

Omega gasped excitedly, “Coordinate markings?”

Phee turned back to face her droid. “Mel, take a look at this.”

Mel waddled over and shone a light through it which turned a pale purple.

“I was right. This is a compass.” Phee revealed. “One from long before our time.”

Mel let out a series of beeps.

“These coordinates are in the Kaldar Trinary system.” Phee explained.

Tech entered the name into his datapad. “I have no record of that system.”

“Because the best treasures aren’t usually found on maps.”

“There’s treasure there?!” Omega asked eagerly.

“Without a doubt.” Phee replied. “This compass is a rare find. You’ve got a good eye.” She complimented the young girl.

Hunter’s attention had become more focused on what Phee was saying and he was studying Omega’s reaction to it. He had a sinking feeling that a dangerous and unpredictable mission was heading his way and sure enough, Omega turned around with the enthusiastic request.

“Let’s go check it out. You heard Phee.”

“She says a lot of things.” He replied reservedly as he crossed his arms.

“I can go alone and take the spoils for myself. Or we go together and split it 50-50.” Phee offered as she put her arm around Omega and handed her the compass.

“Please, Hunter. What if there really is treasure there?” Omega asked keenly,

“Yeah. We’re not on a mission.” Wrecker added.

“It could be fun.” Omega said by means to convince him.

“The last time we went after treasure, it didn’t go as planned.” Echo countered.

“Yeah, I’m with Echo on that.” You agreed.

“You weren’t working with a professional then.” Phee said confidently.

“Right. ‘Professional.’” You grumbled with a scoff.

Phee ignored you and kept her attention on Hunter. “What do you say?”

Hunter looked to Echo who nodded in reluctant agreement before he looked to you and started to point between you and him. “We had…” He trailed off as he saw the hopeful and intrigued faces in front of him. His eyes darted back towards yours.

You gave a ‘well, what can we do’ shrug. You weren’t thrilled with this idea, the thought of poking around in a place where it sounded like it would be better left alone made you uncomfortable. Not to mention the other plans you had once had but the squad came first. Guess we gotta raincheck.

Hunter heaved an exhausted sigh and dipped his head in unenthusiastic agreement.

The others began to make their way out, but you hung back as you noticed the way Hunter’s shoulders sagged as he watched them go. You placed a concerned hand on his shoulder.

Hunter appreciated the gesture and brought his hand up to rest it on yours. “What do you reckon the chances are that we find the treasure and get to leave without any trouble?”

You chuckled. “Just remember to breathe and it’s probably for the best that we go. I dread to think what would happen if we left them with Phee and Echo was on his own to supervise them.” With that, you both walked out the parlour to catch up with the rest of the group.

You and Hunter were stood in the hallway and watched as he played with his vibroblade, the sight always sent a warmth thrumming through your veins, but you knew he wasn’t doing it for your sake. Omega hadn’t left Phee’s side since you’d all boarded and she was mirroring all Phee did and you gathered Hunter was feeling a bit left out. Something you found rather endearing, but you were sure he would deny any such suggestion.

“How many uncharted planets have you been to?” Omega asked Phee as she copied Phee’s relaxed pose. Her hands were behind her head whilst her feet rested on top of Mel.

“Too many to count.” Phee replied before she sat up straight. “That’s why I need Mel to keep track of all the legends I’ve chased down over the years. That’s the life of a treasure hunter.”

Hunter stopped twirling the blade. “Don’t you mean ‘pirate’?”

Phee turned the seat to face him. “I prefer ‘Liberator of Ancient Wonders’.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the way you ‘liberate’ them is perfectly legit and the cash benefits are an added bonus and not the core reason. Only a pirate would have an attitude like that.” You said cynically with a frown.

Phee just shrugged before she faced Omega again. “Wanna hear about the time I found the Blade of Zakata Par?”

“Yes, I do!”

Hunter sighed as he sheathed his blade.

Aww, I was quite content to continue watching.

He gave you a half smile.

You came and stood beside him and gently pushed your hip into his. You okay?

Hunter indicated over to where Omega was staring wide eyed at Phee as she told her story. “Just don’t really want Omega getting caught up in all that. We still don’t really know her or how trustworthy she is.” He kept his voice low.

“Yeah, I don’t like her all that much either, but we haven’t exactly been amazing role models in terms of the ways to make a living department. Are you sure there isn’t more to it than simple distrust?” You whispered.

Hunter tilted his head at you. “Like what?”

“She looks up to you and now there’s someone else who is getting her attention.”

“She looks up to all of us.” Hunter deflected.

You gave him a pointed look. “Hunter, you know your relationship with her is different.”

Hunter let out a heavy breath. He wouldn’t quite admit to being jealous, but he figured he’d better check his attitude anyway. “What do you suggest I do? I can’t pretend I’m thrilled with what’s developing there.”

“Give Phee a chance. Maybe she’ll surprise us all.” You offered optimistically.

Hunter raised his eyebrows at you. “This is coming from you? Miss ‘only a pirate would have an attitude like that’.” He quoted back to you.

You jokingly punched his arm. “Fine, I’ll take my own advice too. We can both be open-minded together… like people in relationships do.” You added light-heartedly.

Hunter rolled his eyes before he planted a light kiss to your temple and the two of you made your way into the cockpit as the ship prepared to land.

You took in the dry, grey, and quite frankly dead, environment around you. It looked like whatever had once thrived here and been completely obliterated. The ground was dusty and cracked beneath your feet as you walked. You let Omega and Phee walk past you and you watched as Omega mimicked Phee in picking up a branch from a dead plant.

“I’m not picking up any signs of civilization whatsoever.” Tech said as he examined his datapad. “Which makes sense, considering this land appears to have been razed and left uninhabitable.”

“Who’d wanna hide treasure here?” Echo questioned.

A rapid beeping interrupted any potential answers.

“What was that?” Wrecker asked.

Echo studied the compass in his hand. “The compass just activated.” He held in in front of him and walked a few paces behind him. As the beeping started to fade, he turned around and walked a few steps forward and the beeping increased. “It’s telling us to go south.”

“Let’s go!” Omega said keenly as she grabbed the compass from Tech and ran off in front.

“Now she’s got the right attitude.” Phee commented. “Wait up, kid!” She called as she ran after her.

You released a distant sigh as the others wandered off too.

“What?” Hunter asked when he realised you had made no moves to follow them.

“I’m just thinking that right about now we would be sitting in a hotel room and scamming our way through a room service meal.”

Hunter exhaled heavily at the thought. That sounded very appealing right now. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you.” You reassured him. “If this pans out, we’ll get a better deal out of this than Cid would’ve ever offered us. I’m just thinking about what could’ve been. It’s my way of coping as we do this treasure hunt. Come one, we gotta catch up.”

You had been walking for a while and along the way, you had put your coverings up whilst the others donned their helmets since you weren’t sure what exactly would be waiting for you on this treasure hunt.

Omega stared at the compass as the beeping had suddenly stopped. “It’s a dead end.” She faced the mountainside. “Maybe we go around the mountain?” She mused.

“Or it’s telling us to go inside it.” Phee thought instead as she stared at the pile of rocks. She lowered her lantern and walked over to the rocks and slid her vibrosword in the gap in between the first two. One of the rocks fell away and she felt a mild gust of wind blow through. “Big guy, help me move this.”

Initially, Wrecker forgot that this sorta thing would fall back on his shoulders. He turned his helmet towards you first.

You jutted your chin forward in Phee’s direction. Well, I can’t do it.

Wrecker cleared his throat and marched forward and began to push the boulders away. A loud rumbling meant he and Phee had to quickly retreat back as the topside boulders come crashing down to reveal a gap in the mountain.

“Look! It’s a secret entrance.” Omega said breathlessly before she followed Phee inside.

“Oh! It is a secret entrance.” Wrecker repeated in awe.

Hunter didn’t want to linger too long so he tailed after Phee and Omega with the rest of you falling in behind him.

Flashlights and lanterns illuminate the small entryway room.

“Whoa.” Omega breathed as she examined the wall in the circular chamber you all now found yourselves in.

You looked at the wall and you could feel a deep sense of history resided in this place and you all definitely didn’t belong here. It made you feel rather uneasy.

Hunter noticed the way your back had stiffened and he gently touched your wrist.

You glanced down at his hand and then at the concerned helmet that was staring at you. I’m okay.

“Hunter, these etchings are easily a thousand years old.” Tech said to his brother.

“Older. Much older.” Phee corrected as she looked at the wall. “If I’m right, which is always, we are standing in the entranceway to Skara Nal.” She revealed as she faced the group behind her, but she was met with blank stares.

“To what?” Echo asked.

“Every pirate out there’s heard the legend of Skara Nal. It traces back to the ancients.”

“You mean the Jedi?” Echo said.

“No, they weren’t here.” You said quietly as you traced the markings on the wall, only half paying attention to what Phee was saying. The Jedi weren’t around when this place was.

Phee studied you curiously as your voice had taken on a tone she’d never heard before and it wasn’t one she expected from you. “She’s right. It’s older than that.”

“So, what kinda treasure’s in there?” Wrecker asked.

“The Heart of the Mountain.” Phee said in a dramatic and hushed fashion. “And we’re going to liberate it.” She faced the wall with the levers and shone her light to get a better idea of what you all would be dealing with. It would seem that each lever was responsible for that portion of the wall and moving them would see the smaller stone cubes with the markings on them align and, with any luck, open a doorway.

A bad feeling sank deep within your stomach upon being here. You really didn’t want to disturb anything, let alone the heart of the mountain.

“How do we get in?” Omega whispered.

“It’s a pattern.” Phee stated. “We need to align the symbols in the right order.” She braced her hands against the first bottom lever and moved it counterclockwise, but she couldn’t reach the one above her. “Some help would be nice.” She said pointedly.

Wrecker moved forward and pushed in the same direction Phee had done with the bottom one. The three symbols fell into place and a rumbling shook the inside of the chamber.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Hunter said nervously as the rumbling continued.

The ground you were all standing on suddenly spun and a door slammed across the way you came in and now your only way out was blocked.

You heard a cracking sound above you. “Wrecker, watch-” You didn’t need to finish your warning as you watched Phee push Wrecker out of the way of the falling boulder. Alright, you had to give her a point for that.

Hunter dashed around the rock to make sure his brother was okay and was relieved to see that he was.

“Booby traps. Now it’s getting interesting.” Phee said calmy as she stood up and massaged her shoulder.

“You’ve just trapped us in here.” Hunter snapped at her before he walked away to assess the new situation.

“Relax. There’s always a way out.” Phee replied breezily. “We just have to find it. It’s part of the puzzle.”

You caught Hunter’s shoulder as he walked past you. You looked at his covered face with concerned eyes. Breathe, remember? We’re all okay. Worst comes to worst, I’ll open the door and we can leave this whole treasure hunt behind.

Hunter took a deep breath and nodded before the two of you separated to continue to scan the room.

Phee caught the way the two of you were looking at each other. It looked like the two of you were having a conversation without any words. She wanted to put it down to couple intuition, but her instincts told her there was more to it, especially because something similar had happened with Wrecker earlier. For now, there were more pressing matters but her curiosity about this was certainly piqued.

Omega kept opening and closing the flap on the compass and it was then she noticed she could peer through the glass. She examined each of the symbols on the stones on the wall and found that some of them were shining with a pale blue light. She gasped, “Wait! We’re aligning the wrong symbols!” She ran up the boulder that had fallen and looked at more of the stones through the compass lens.

“What do you see?” Hunter asked her as he looked at the area that she was.

“Some of the symbols are glowing.”

“Here. Lay the compass on my lantern.” Phee directed as she placed her lantern on the rock.

Omega did so and sure enough, there was enough light being reflected now to illuminate all the symbols that they needed to line up.

Wrecker pushed the middle level clockwise to bring around the correct symbol for that row and then he and Tech pushed anticlockwise again on the lower level to put all three of the glowing symbols in a row.

The floor moved again, only this time, it reopened your original entrance and revealed another one for you to go through to continue your way into the mountain.

“Mel, note the coordinates and wait here.” Phee ordered her droid who beeped in confirmation. “Come on, kid. Time to go exploring.” She led the way and Omega fell in behind her.

Wrecker had shoved his helmet on top of his head and looked towards Hunter. “Looks like we’re doing this.” He said with a chuckle before he started walking.

“My interest is certainly piqued.” Tech mused as he kept his eyes on his datapad whilst he followed Wrecker.

Echo said nothing, he only glanced at Hunter and tilted his head in the direction of the others before he followed his brother.

Hunter looked at you and glanced back at the door behind the two of you.

Wanting to make a break for it?

Hunter grunted a short laugh. “Tempted to but no. Come one, we don’t wanna fall behind.”

You let out another wistful sigh.

“Now what?” Hunter queried as he walked past you.

Now, I’m thinking about the lacy red number that I was planning on wearing tonight.

Hunter stopped in his tracks and swallowed thickly under his helmet. “What?” He asked, his voice cracking.

The modulation of his helmet couldn’t hide the way his voice broke up. You smirked under your mask. “Yeah, I would’ve finally let Lyra give me it after weeks of telling her there was no point and I’d feel too awkward to ever wear it. Thought I finally had an occasion to fight that fear.” You sighed pensively again. “Guess not.”

“Are you trying to torture me?” He rasped.

“No, just simply keeping you informed of my coping and thought process.” You said cheekily as you stepped past him and patted the centre of his armoured chest.

He groaned and he wasn’t sure how but somehow, he was able to get his feet moving and follow you into the passageway.

“So, what exactly is the Heart of the Mountain?” Omega asked in a hushed whisper as she led the way with Phee.

“A rare crystalised stone. Some say it’s the key to an ancient power. Which makes it worth more than you could possibly imagine.”

“Sounds like it should be something that should remain untouched.” You muttered.

Phee faced you but walked backwards as she addressed you. “Don’t you have any curiosity? Instead of judging my line of work, why don’t you try and be open minded and try to experience the joy of the puzzle.”

“I don’t like messing with ancient relics. If it’s been here for hundreds of years, who are we to take it?” You argued. You guessed some sentiments expressed during history time at the temple had stuck with you.

“Open your mind.” Phee reiterated before she faced forwards again.

Hunter nudged your shoulder with his. “That you taking your own advice?” He teased.

“Shut up.” You grumbled. “I’ll get there eventually.”

You all walked down the dark tunnel- your only sources of light being your torches- but as you continued walking, you got a cold chill in your blood and you and Hunter both slowed to a stop at the same time. Echo and Wrecker followed your example.

“I have run a preliminary analysis of the minerals in those stone slabs. They predate the Republic. Phee may be onto something.” Tech said before he realised that his brothers had stopped walking and halted also.

Phee and Omega turned around when they noticed that the rest of you had stopped walking.

“Hey, tough guys. Want to pick up the pace?” Phee said.

It was the Omega noticed the way both your hand fell to your blaster with Hunter’s doing the same. “(Y/N), Hunter?” She asked warily.

It was then a deep growl echoed throughout the tunnel and you all pointed your flashlights to the hole in the ceiling. When nothing immediately appeared amiss, you focused in on the Force around you and it was then you sense the creature above you. “Wrecker, above you!”

Wrecker heard your warning a split second too late. The creature had pounced and pinned him to the ground, the only thing keeping the animal’s teeth from his throat was the grip he had on its horns. “It’s drooling on me!” Wrecker complained.

You all fired your blasters at the creature, but they had little effect.

Hunter made to move closer to the animal, but it lashed a paw out and smacked him, causing him to fall to his knees.

You took a second to make sure he was okay and when he got to his feet, you turned your attention back to the creature which had now gone back up to the gap in the wall and was attempting to bring Wrecker with it. You all paused your fire whilst Wrecker punched the side of the creature’s face.

Wrecker managed to rip a horn out which led to the animal dropping him.

Once he was safely out the way, you all continued to fire at the creature which caused it to retreat but the barrage of fire on the decrepit wall meant that a cascade of rocks came tumbling down.

You coughed and waved the dust away from your eyes and looked ahead of you. The hallway was now completely blocked with Echo, Tech, and Wrecker on one side and you, Hunter, Omega, and Phee on the other. A less than ideal situation.

“Echo, Tech, Wrecker, are you okay?” Omega asked urgently into her comm.

“We’re fine, but there’s too much debris. We can’t get through.” Echo replied.

“The readings in here are not as clear, but I can track your position.” Tech chimed in as he walked towards another cavity in the wall. “There are small side tunnels throughout. We will navigate a path and rendezvous with you at the other end.”

“Good. Then we’ll keep looking for the treasure.” Phee said into Omega’s comm. She felt you and Hunter pointedly staring at her. “What? That’s what we’re here for. They’ll be fine. Come on. Fortune awaits.”

She’s got a thing for Tech and she’s good with Omega. She’s got a thing for Tech and she’s good with Omega. You chanted inwardly since those were her only two saving graces right now. You looked at Hunter.

“Be open minded and breathe, right?” He said.

“Yup.” You said with a deep sigh before the two of you set off after her and Omega.

You all paused as you were greeted by the sight of the cylindrical tunnel but the sound of growling in the distance was too close for Hunter’s liking.

“We need to keep moving.” He said as he stepped into the tunnel first.

You watched him anxiously. Something was off, this felt far too simple. A thought you and Phee seemed to share.

“Hang on. This is too easy.” She said aloud.

Omega shone the compass on the ceiling and gasped. “Look, there are more markings.”

Your heartrate skyrocketed. Oh no. Hunter, stop! You dashed after him.

Hunter’s step faltered slightly.

“Wait!” Phee yelled as she fell into step beside you.

Your stomach dropped as you saw the ground beneath Hunter’s feet completely crumble away and he was falling through the floor.

Hunter acted quickly and threw his grappling hook.

You lunged and grabbed onto it and started to pull. Phee wrapped her arms around your waist to help and Omega held onto Phee’s as she joined the effort.

It felt like forever before you saw him reappear. Once you were sure he was back on solid ground, you let the wire go and kneeled beside him. “You and heights has got to be my least favourite combination.” You said shakily as you held him close to you.

Hunter squeezed you tightly before he pulled away and tenderly pressed his helmet to your forehead. “I’m okay.” He said, though his breathing was still coming through in short pants. That was too close.

“I think we have to find a way to walk across the ceiling.” Omega suggested as she looked through the compass and examined the symbols above her.

“My thoughts exactly.” Phee concurred.

You clenched your jaw so hard that your teeth hurt. You helped Hunter to his feet.

“You’re just making this up as you go.” Hunter said through heavy breaths.

“It’s part of the fun. Loosen up, Bandana. You’re in good hands.”

Now, you were pretty sure your lip was bleeding. You have a free pass to ignore my advice. I used mine earlier.

“We have almost died three times already.” He argued.

“This reminds me of the time I tracked down the Belmost diadem-”

“I don’t care.” Hunter interrupted sharply.

“Ooh. Someone’s in a mood.”

“Phee…” You warned her with a glare.

Hunter sighed and spoke calmly. “I’m only interested in us getting outta here in one piece.”

“It fits.” Omega had been paying little attention to the quarrel and had instead been looking at finding their way across. It was then she had noticed a gap in the wall that fit the shape of the compass and sure enough, the compass had slotted in perfectly. The symbols turned white, and Omega turned the notch so that the tunnel rotated, and the markings were now on the floor. She chucked a rock on them and was pleased to see that it safely rolled across. “All clear.” She went to get the compass, but it was engrained in the wall. “The compass. I can’t get it.”

Phee laid a reassuring hand on the young girl’s shoulder. “It’s served its purpose. Skara Nal’s reclaimed it.”

“Skara Nal has reclaimed it.” Omega repeated with wonder before she started to walk.

“So, we have to navigate this death trap without it?” Hunter asked Phee.

“Good thing you have me.” Phee replied positively before she walked away.

You and Hunter shared a glance as you both drew your blasters and followed.

“What took you so long?” Hunter asked as he saw his brothers emerge from the side tunnel.

“Phee thinks we’re getting close to the treasure.” Omega said eagerly before she faced the door the three of you had reached.

The three of them walked over to you.

“What type of puzzle is this?” Tech queried as he shone his torch on the door.

“Don’t overthink it, brown eyes.” She let go of her lantern and traced her hands down the centre of the door and paused when she reached the bottom and pulled out a switch. “Sometimes a door’s…” She trailed off and watched as the door slowly creaked open. “Just a door.” She winked at Omega as she saw the excited look on her face.

Phee shone her light into the vault, and she spotted the target. “There. The Heart of the Mountain.” She jumped onto the side ledge and started to make her way towards it, with you, Omega and Hunter following her whilst the others waited by the exit.

You all paused on the first ledge and watched her go towards to item.

You still had a very bad feeling about all this, and it ran much deeper than any uneasiness you felt towards Phee. You genuinely didn’t think this was going to end well. “Phee.” You called out nervously. “I’m really not sure about this. I promise this isn’t just me giving you a hard time, I don’t think we should mess around with that.”

Phee paid your words no attention and removed it. Just as she did so, a disturbing and violent rumble boomed throughout the room.

Wrecker and Echo turned back towards the door, but it had started to cave in and so they, along with Tech, were forced jump away and cling on to the edge of the ledge.

The room suddenly sounded like it was powering up and it was soon brightly lit up. A large blast reverberated through it and Hunter placed a hand on Omega’s chest to keep her from losing her footing.

Everything started to move, causing all of you to make your way down towards the bottom of it.

“I suspect this is not, in fact, a treasure vault.” Tech theorised.

“What was your first clue?” You shouted over the sound of creaking metal.

“What is it?” Omega asked.

“Good question.” Echo responded.

Another huge blast sounded from whatever it was you were inside, and you all shielded your eyes from the brightness of it.

“It just emitted a massive surge of energy.” Tech said. “Whatever we are standing inside is highly destructive!”

“So what do we do to shut it down?” Wrecker asked urgently.

“If removing the Heart of the Mountain activated it, perhaps we must return it to its proper place to deactivate it.” Tech replied.

Phee possessively clutched the artifact to her body. “Do you know how much this is worth? It’s what we came for! Can’t you find a separate kill switch or something?”

“Our ship’s out there. If that thing destroys it, we’ll be trapped on this planet!” Hunter reasoned.

Phee let out an aggravated huff. “Alright. But you owe me.”

“In what possible world-” Any argument from you was promptly cut off as a familiar growl wailed out and all your eyes turned to the door, and you saw the creature from earlier was making a rather inconvenient reappearance.

In all the chaos of blaster fire versus violent animal, Phee lost her balance and the Heart of the Mountain slipped from her grasp and fell through a gap in the interior of whatever thing you all were in. “You deal with that! I’ll get the stone.” She yelled as she started to climb down after it.

Hunter glanced down after her and then looked over at you as you ducked under a vicious swipe of the animal’s paw and opened fire.

You felt him looking at you. Go, we can handle this. Just make sure she doesn’t get herself killed.

“Can’t you do your Jedi trick with this thing?” Wrecker shouted as he kept up his fire at the creature.

Your practice had consisted of the rats that graced the streets of Ord Mantell and whatever animals Cid had you all smuggling, this was a significantly different and more challenging situation. “If you can get it to keep still for two seconds then I’m all yours.” You retorted before you jumped out of the way of its snout. Unfortunately, Echo had been behind you and took the brunt of it as he was tossed to the side. Sorry, Echo!

Wrecker had managed to get to the back of the creature, and he tried to grab its leg, but it kicked him hard in the chest and he was thrown into one of the windows, the glass cracking on impact.

You and Omega focused your fire as you shielded Tech as he attempted to figure out a way to shut down the machine, but it was doing very little to dissuade the animal from its advances.

Wrecker recovered quickly and grabbed the creature’s tail and started to drag it back. “Shoot the window!”

You and Omega fired off a series of shots and the glass shattered which gave him the chance to chuck the creature out of it.

Any relief from having dealt with the animal was short lived since a loud groan wailed throughout the mech.

“Tech, do something!” Wrecker urged as he struggled to keep his balance.

Tech stared at what he assumed was the control panel. “I’m trying, but nothing is working!” He said, his frustration evident.

“Tech, the stone!” Hunter yelled, throwing his brother the object as he and Phee remerged.

Tech caught it but a particularly strong vibration meant he dropped it. He and Omega hastily picked it back up but the initial way they tried to insert it was wrong.

The rest of you watched anxiously as you felt the machine powering the weapon back up.

Tech and Omega managed to get it in, and they turned it and were greeted with the welcomed sound of the machine powering down.

However, you couldn’t catch a break. No sooner had the stone been re-inserted, did it start to crackle and ignite, and you all watched as it melted away. A series of explosions rang out around you and the lights went out and you could feel the machine start to sink to the ground.

“Hang on to something!” Hunter directed. It was then he noticed Omega start to slip away and he reached out and grabbed her forearm and pushed her in front of him whilst you all started to try and get as high as you could.

The machine began to tilt, and you all clattered against the divot you had huddled into.

Hunter found himself torn between protecting you and protecting Omega.

You felt the conflict within him. Omega first, every time.

Hunter swiftly shielded Omega’s body with his own as the machine came tumbling down.

You massaged your bruised ribs and groaned as you felt a headache coming on. You were beginning to realise that lack of heavy armour came with a price.

“What are you thinking about now?” Hunter asked as he made sure Omega was okay before he held his hand out to you.

You pulled down your mask. “That telling Lyra forearm and shoulder armour was enough has come back to bite me and I missed out on 8 hours sleep in a comfy bed because of this unsuccessful quest.” You replied unhappily as you let him help you up. And I’m thinking about the more preferred way for me to feel tired out and sore. You chuckled quietly as you heard the way his breathing stuttered.

You all emerged from the broken window and paused at the edge of it.

“This puts us at 0 for 2 in treasure hunting, even with a professional.” Tech said.

“We did find the Heart of the Mountain.” Omega pointed out. “The legend was real.”

“Now that’s the right attitude.” Phee said merrily.

On the way back, you had taken down your hood and the others had removed their helmets and the sight of the Marauder was a beautiful one.

“At least no one can ever activate that thing again.” Hunter said.

“So, what you’re saying is, it’s a good thing we came after all?” Phee challenged light-heartedly.

You couldn’t help the chuckle that left your mouth. “Sure thing, Phee.”

Phee gasped. “Did you all hear that! She agreed with me! See what happens when you stop being judgemental?”

“I banged my head; I’m not thinking clearly.” You argued but a slight grin graced your face.

“Nuh uh, we’re making ground.” Phee replied gleefully.

You just sighed and let her have this one. It was easier that way and it, rather irritatingly, felt better than constantly looking for faults in her ways and occupation. You wouldn’t go around calling her a close friend by any means, but you could give her a chance.

You all continued to walk towards the ship.

“Sorry about Mel.” Omega said gloomily into the quiet.

“This happens all the time.” Phee said casually. “That’s why I keep Mel’s memory stored on my ship’s data bank. I’ll have her rebuilt before we head to Vadnay.”

“What’s on Vadnay?” Omega asked.

Phee turned to face all of you as she walked. “I have a lead on a certain chalice. Very ancient.”

“Really?” Hunter said, his tone filled with scepticism. He stopped walking and let the others pass him.

“Legend has it the chalice once belonged to the Kingdom of Elweys, lost over a millennia ago.” She regaled to the group as they walked towards the ship.

You couldn’t help the light laugh that left you upon seeing the utterly defeated look on Hunter’s face. You rubbed sympathetic circles on his back. “Chin up, Sarge. Keep an open mind.”

“You’re awfully cheery.”

You shrugged. “Turns out the whole Jedi teaching of learning to let go actually has some merit. An open mind makes dealing with her a whole lot easier.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I’ll get there though, I’m sure. Looks like she’ll be around more often anyway.”

“Come on, we got a chalice to find.” You said and you took a half step forward, but Hunter’s voice caused you to look back.

“It was red?”

Your lip curled into a mischievous grin. “Yup.” You stepped back towards him and leaned up. “And quite flimsy. Would probably have torn quite easily.” You added alluringly, kissing the underside of his jaw before you walked away, feeling rather pleased with yourself. An opportunity to get him flustered was always attractive, regardless of the rather irritating overall circumstances.

Hunter released a frustrated growl and walked after you, muttering under his breath. No way would the sight of some ancient chalice be better than whatever you had been planning before all this had happened. Just before you hopped onto the steps, he grabbed your arm and pulled you back and pushed you against the wall of the Marauder, out of sight of the others. He dropped his helmet, cradled the side of your jaw, and looked deep into your eyes.

Your breathing became deeper, and your eyes darted between his and his lips.

Hunter moved first and kissed you. Tenderly, softly but deeply too. There was no mistaking the passion behind it.

You reciprocated eagerly, forgetting that there would be a group of people waiting on you both coming through the door. The kiss lasted for a few perfect minutes before the two of you parted for air and before things got too hot and heavy.

“Have I mentioned how much I wished we were in that hotel room right now?” Hunter murmured through heavy breaths.

“The feeling is very mutual.” You replied back, just as oxygen depraved.

“I wanted this break for us.” He kept his voice low as he nipped at your earlobe and caressed your sides.

“I did too but it wasn’t to be.” You managed to say through a hitched breath. “We knew the squad would always come first when we started this.”

“Oi, lovebirds! Come on, we got a legend to uncover!” Phee called from the doorway.

“One day.” Hunter promised.

“I know.” You pressed your forehead into his. It’s just right now, the opportunity is gone and that’s okay. We can just stick to the day job and grab time together when we can. We’ve managed all this time; we’ll be just fine. You rubbed your thumb gently along his tattooed cheekbone before you picked up his helmet and you both boarded the ship.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @tpwkcalli, @fuckoffthanos, @arctrooper69, @graciexmarvel, @flyingkangaroo, @nightmonkeysstuff, @brujaporfavor, @sunkissedclones, @ladytano420, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf, @yyourmotherr, @xxeiraxx

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 2 #the bad batch s2 #hunter x reader #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x female!reader #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #friends to lovers #fluff

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laniemae · 7 months

Note

John Milgram 2,5,11, and 12

John has been on my mind a lot recently and I’ve been doing a lot of theories around him his would be interesting.

John 2: I’m not sure I’d you’re referring to only scenes with John or this also includes mikoto but my favorite shots are probably ones of John anyway so it doesn’t matter.

This one is probably my favorite. I love how Mikoto’s portrait here glitches out, but rather than digital glitches it’s a sort of scrapbook arrangement of paper. It’s visually stunning and highly symbolic is probably why I love it so much. I love the idea of the paper representing mikoto/John’s identity and trying to piece it together by rearranging paper and using sticky tape like torn paper but it just not working. And the blue and the red representing mikoto and John’s seperate identities but sharing the same body. And the text of “Mikoto�� and “Double” moving around and the skull and the grid which I still don’t exactly know what to make of.

John 5: “If I had stayed a monster… maybe that would’ve been better.” This line broke me so bad. Like I was already crying when I first watched neoplasm but this is where I completely broke down. This line is just so sad ugh. It’s basically John breaking his persona and confessing that he’s been acting being a monster and stuff. And after that quote he paused and said “…what?” Like he was confused he just said that. That line basically confirms everything I suspected about him and it’s just so sad.

John 11: I find it really interesting that he’s basically pretending to be a monster (hence my choice of favourite quote) and driving away people from mikoto to try and protect him. John wants us to believe that he’s a cruel, mass murderer and when he first fronted in neoplasm, threatened Es with violence. But when they treated him as a human, John calmed down, becoming more conversational yet stoic, which is probably his true self while not acting out. And when Es questions this behaviour, he instantly flips back into that persona when he realises he’s gone docile, but he already confessed enough by saying that he “should’ve stayed a monster”.

John 12: this adds on a lot to what I was saying, but i haven’t seen this much people talking about this aspect of John’s character and I was actually going to make a theory post on this in the future but I’ll just give a brief rundown. The way John is treating Mikoto isn’t inherently good. Pushing away people from Mikoto by acting violent isn’t a good thing actually, but John thinks it’s to protect Mikoto. A trait of some abuse victims is that they may lash out at people in a subconscious attempt to push them away, thinking that a close relationship with someone would only bring more pain than healing. This is exactly what John is doing here, only that he’s aware of his behaviour and purposely pursuing that idea. Instead of being the “saviour” he wants to be, he’s inadvertently pushing potential friends and people who can sympathise with Mikoto and willing to help him, away. But in John’s mind relationships like that will only bring suffering. And once again in the scene where Es treats him as human instead of a monster, John breaks down at that sort of treatment, showing us his true colours.

This is such an amazing piece of story telling in my eyes and I’m surprised that lots of people tend to gloss over this aspect. The “John is pretending to be a monster” thing has so many layers and I actually really like how it’s thought out from a narrative perspective and gives insight into his relationship with Mikoto and world view corrupted by abuse and trauma.

#milgram #Ask #ask game #john kayano #john milgram #mikoto kayano #this was really interesting to think about #Thank you for this #i might be taking a bit of time to answer these as I’m kinda busy today but I’ll hopefully respond to them soon

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riversofmars · 1 year

Text

Femslash February is over, so here we are, back to my magnum opus!

Chapter 21: Momentum

In every story there comes a shift in momentum as you prepare for the final showdown, the big finale, the climax that everything has been building towards. It can be subtle or it can be abrupt. Something had changed in my life as the curtain rose on what you might think of as the final act of this story. The change had been earth shattering for me. I spent the night huddled close to Helen, resting in each other’s arms and it was the most wonderful sort of change, the fulfilment of what I had longed for for so long. It was a rest well deserved and much needed, as the momentum was about to shift.

---

I pushed myself up on my elbows to the sound of the doorbell of my quarters. At first I couldn’t place the sound and I looked around confused. I had been lying on my bed reading when the beeping sound had broken my concentration. It was late and no-one ever took the time to visit us in our quarters but there was a first for everything. The door slid open revealing one of the lead scientists.

“Med-tech Chenka?” He greeted me with a thin smile and stepped inside without waiting to be asked in.

“Yes?” I sat up properly and put the tablet down to give him my full attention.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he scanned my room and I got to my feet.

“No, of course not. How can I help?” I tried not to be too self conscious about the mess. Despite having little I called my own, I still managed to create a chaotic state wherever I went. It’s part of my charm though perhaps not entirely helpful when dealing with the people that were in charge of the limited future I had.

“I was pleased to see you finally had the opportunity to take your medical,” he said at last when he returned his attention to me and my heart jumped into my throat. Had they noticed I had doctored the results? Was there something wrong? Why else would he be visiting me in private without anyone to witness? Surely, if they were good news, they could have waited till morning. “That concludes all necessary tests and the vetting process. I’m happy to say, we are good to go,” he flashed a brief smile and I was almost more shocked by the ease with which he put the matter off, than I would have been had there been an issue.

“Oh that’s great. Glad to hear the results were satisfactory,” I stuttered and quickly recovered to put on a smile as if there had never been any doubt I would pass with flying colours.

“Yes, indeed, so were we,” she gave back. Usually, I’m very good at reading people but I couldn’t get a measure on him at all; whether he truly believed everything was in order or if he suspected something.

“So what is the time-line from here?” I asked to fill the silence as he made no attempts at leaving.

“There are a few weeks of preparation yet but I suggest you get well acquainted with the idea of setting off into a distant future,” he answered and I nodded.

“Wonderful.”

“There is something else,” he revealed after another moment of silence that I could sense growing heavier. Here came the catch I was dreading.

“Right…” I tried not to fidget. When I’m anxious I fiddle with things, I wring my hands and sometimes bite my nails, all tell tale signs that I was hoping to avoid. They would surely give away that I had something to hide. But why would he said I had passed the tests if-

“We have received confirmation of your employment history,” he went on and I nodded.

“Okay…”

“You never mentioned you had a sister,” he concluded and I blinked. While I hadn’t known what to expect, that was certainly not it. They must have gone as far back as Kaldor in their research.

“Tula? How do you- I mean- It never seemed important. Besides, we haven’t been in contact, I have no idea what she’s up to these days…” I really didn’t and I felt a sting of guilt at the truthful admission. You see, my relationship to my sister had always been somewhat strained, particularly during the time of our father’s illness and after his death. It was a rift that at the time I didn’t think would ever heal. It has now, years later after I returned to Kaldor with the Doctor and spent a whole year with her. But way back then, Tula was nothing but a distant memory and that very fact was painful to admit to.

“Working for the Company on Kaldor,” he added almost pleasantly and I nodded once more.

“Of course she is.” Tula had taken up work for the Company straight out of university, so it wasn’t much of a surprise, though I imagined she would be in a far more senior role these days. She had, after all, always been ambitious and head-strong. In some ways we were far more alike than I liked to admit and it had resulted in many disagreements.

“She seemed pleased to hear you were well. We have a message from her for you if you are interested-” He reached into his lab coat and produced a small data chip that he held out to me. It was a most surprising turn of events. Despite the years of not talking and the fights we’d had before that, I reached for the chip eagerly.

“I- Yes. Yes, that would be-” Looking back I think it had something to do with the fact that I was taking stock of my life at that point as I prepared to launch into the unknown for my final adventure. Tula was a significant part of my past. My only living family. It almost seemed poetic that close to the end. “Thank you.”

“It’s no matter. There was a lot of interesting content in the data package,” he observed as I turned the chip between my fingers in wonder. “Such as a warrant for your arrest on charges of collaboration with the Daleks.”

I nearly dropped the chip as my eyes shot up to him. My heart stalled.

“I- I can explain.” I stuttered, barely recovering from the whiplash of the shocking revelation and the utter casualness with which he presented me with his findings. My mind was starting to race. There was that catch at last. But how was I to prove my version of events over what my actions had been misconstrued as? I had no proof. I had no way of-

“We have, of course, taken steps to assure the authorities that we have no knowledge of your whereabouts and that you can’t be traced here,” he carried on before I could launch into a defence of myself.

“You- You have?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This was not how I had imagined such a conversation might go, so I decided to try and calm myself and see where this was going.

“Given your suitability for this mission and how far the process has already advanced, we’re not prepared to lose you,” he explained and slowly the vice grip of panic eased around my chest.

“I- I don’t know what to say.” I really didn’t.

“Thank you would be a start,” he prompted and I nodded, perplexed.

“Thank you…” I stared at him. “So you don’t… care?”

“That you’re a traitor to your race?” He observed bluntly and the word made my flinch. “Is it going to impede on your ability to do your job?”

“No, of course not,” I interjected quickly but wanted to explain myself: “Besides, I wasn’t-” I wanted to set the record straight but there was no opportunity.

“Then we shouldn’t have a problem,” he carried on, evidently not caring to hear any more on the matter. “We also didn’t tell your sister, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Thank you…” I breathed and he smiled:

“Welcome to the crew, Med-tech Chenka.” And with that he departed, leaving me in a state of shock.

I released a sigh of relief when I was alone once more. That had been an incredibly close call and my heart continued to pound in my chest for some time after until I was finally able to relax. I couldn’t believe I had gotten away with swindling the results of the medical and I wondered - given the morally flexible approach they had taken regarding my charges - whether I could have been honest about my condition and still been accepted. They seemed to really want me on this mission.

The fact that they had simply brushed over my chequered past without concern if it was true or not, did leave me wondering about the motivations and morals guiding the Institute, but in the end I decided that it didn’t matter. I wasn’t here to do their bidding or further their agenda. They would have precious little influence on us once we were in the depth of space. Even if they intended to use me and the mission for some nefarious reason, it almost didn’t matter, as I was using them too for my own agenda.

My eyes fell onto the data chip in my hand. A message from Tula. I had spent precious little time thinking about my sister and the guilt settled deep in my gut, making me feel nauseous. We hadn’t been close for years, but I could have spared her a thought every now and then… At least now she knew where I was and that was worth a lot. It meant she wouldn’t be left wondering what had happened to me. Maybe I could record a message and send it before we departed, say my goodbyes, tie up the loose ends… I had some time to consider my options, for the time being I was more concerned with listening to Tula’s message, so I pushed the chip into the tablet that I had been reading one and hit play.

“Hello, Liv. Nice to hear you’re still out there somewhere and in work, so that’s a plus- Sorry, that was uncalled for, it’s just- It’s been a while. I hope you’re well. I didn’t get much information on what it is you’re actually doing, but if they are gathering that much background that they reached out to me, it might be something exciting and significant, so well done you. Maybe, once you’re done with whatever it is you’re doing… maybe you could take a trip to Kaldor some time. It would be nice to see you… Anyway, while I have the opportunity, I just wanted to say good luck.”

——

When I woke up, I was disoriented. I knew I was not in the frontier colonies, despite my mind conjuring up the image of the room I used to stay in at ISI. It had been a dream and surprisingly, not a terrible one. The nightmares had kept their distance and the reason for it lay right beside me, sleeping soundly still. Helen was lying on her side, she was facing away from me but had her fingers curled around mine, pulling my arm around herself like a protective barrier. She was holding it close, having dragged my whole body along, I had moved to lie behind her, matching my body to the soft curve of hers. I felt her chest rise and fall slowly as I raised my head a little to look at her. She seemed content and peaceful and it made my heart soar.

I nuzzled into her neck, her soft hair tickling my face and I smiled. I inhaled deeply, savouring the moment and I couldn’t resist the temptation of pressing my lips to her neck. Helen gave a soft drowsy sigh and I smiled against her skin. I kissed her there again and trailed more kisses down her neck and to her shoulder, any bit of exposed skin I could find. I was fully prepared for Helen to scold and stop me but she hadn’t complained yet and I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

“That’s a nice way to wake up…“ Helen hummed at last and I chuckled softly.

“For me too,“ I admitted and tugged my arm back, rolling her over to lie on her back. She giggled and it was the most heartwarming sound.

“Good morning, Liv.“ She looked up to me with a smile as I hovered over her.

“Good morning, Helen.“ I leaned down and kissed her.

For the moment, all our worries were forgotten.

“How did you sleep?” She asked, brushing my hair back that continued to fall into my face.

“Better than I have in a long time,” I confessed entirely truthfully. “How about you?”

“Me too,” she answered softly and her hand found the base of my neck, resting there comfortably. “I was so… I hardly slept while we were… you know. When I kept you at arms length…” She took a deep breath. “I was so worried for our future…”

“And now?” I enquired gently. I didn’t want to push her too hard but I wanted to take advantage of her opening up to me. It was a most intimate, wonderful feeling to finally be allowed behind the walls she had put up between us and that to some extent always had existed, as she had kept her heart well guarded.

“Now I’m worried for the future in a different way,” she confessed with something of a helpless smile. “But… being with you just… I suppose you have a calming influence.”

“Be sure to tell that to the Doctor,” I joked. “That’s something that’s never been said about me before.”

“Liv…” she brushed my hair back and hesitated for a moment, then asked: “You will be careful, won’t you? You won’t-”

“No,” I shook my head quickly and firmly. “There is no way I’m giving up on this.” And I meant that. I longed to bury my fears and the dread I felt about my potential death deep down and so I kissed her again, hoping to forget the world and all my worries. I can’t speak to Helen’s thought process or intentions, but I imagine she might have been longing to do much the same, as she pulled me close and returned my kiss just as eagerly.

---

“Good morning, you two lovebirds,” River greeted us when we returned to the main area of operations. Eventually, guilt and a sense of responsibility had won out and made us get up, otherwise we’d likely have stayed in our little bubble of bliss all day. River’s words, however, quickly brought us back to reality as she met us halfway to the office where the Doctors were likely making plans.

“River!” I hissed a warning at her but she didn’t seem bothered. I suppose the legendary River Song is not so easily intimidated, she’d faced down far worse than me.

“Oh don’t be precious Liv,” she tutted and it seemed she might have been on her way to come and find us, as she fell into step with us instead of carrying on.

“We’re not ready for people to know yet,” I continued while Helen remained silent, though her pinked cheeks indicated she was paying attention.

“Then you might want to try to look a little less smitten with each other,” the professor hummed, obviously amused and I pushed my hands into my pockets to resist the ever-present urge to reach for Helen’s hand. “You got here just at the right time,” she revealed and ushered us into the office.

“How’s things progressing? Have we got a plan?” Helen queried and we looked around the room. I couldn’t help but wonder if any of them had had any sleep at all. The Doctor’s certainly hadn’t, and I doubted Kate and Osgood had either. They hardly seemed to have moved from when we had left them the previous night.

“We have indeed,” the Doctor announced, brimming with excitement. It was nice to see enthusiasm returning to his eyes. It gave me hope too and we eagerly awaited his answer: “We will break through the bubble!”

“Right… and something more concrete than that?” I asked drily. I had expected more.

“It’s the only way to truly stop the Daleks from repeating this time loop. We have to step out of it,” he continued, visibly displeased by our lack of applause. The Doctor did so enjoy an adoring audience.

“And how do you suggest we do that,” I continued, trying my best not to sound too sarcastic. I had limited success.

“Simple,” the other Doctor interjected. “We fly.”

“Of course,” I groaned and the thin smile Helen offered was the polite equivalent to my reaction. If this was all they had come up with in the night, we were in big trouble indeed.

“All we need is a ship. I managed to record the frequency the shield is operating on, remember?” The future Doctor elaborated, finally giving the idea some substance. “If we are able to equip a ship accordingly, we would be able to phase through it. So long as we were undetected.”

“What sort of ship? A plane won’t do it. We’d need a spaceship,” Helen observed thoughtfully and I wholeheartedly agreed:

“In 2020? That’s gonna be a tall order. It would need to be something more versatile than a shuttle.”

“Well, then I suppose it’s lucky UNIT deal in technology far in advance of our time,” Kate interjected with a smile. They had obviously discussed the ins and outs of this plan in our absence.

“You could hardly keep a skimmer down here,” I commented but my curiosity was piqued.

“No… but we have other hiding places,” Osgood revealed with a proud smile.

“That we can get to without the Daleks noticing?” I pushed on.

“And that haven’t been destroyed?” Helen added. Despite the serious situation, I gave a little smile, remarking on how often we were completely in tune with each other, following the same thought patterns and reaching the same conclusions. It was a lovely reminder of how perfectly matched we were.

“We can’t be sure-” Kate conceded but our Doctor interrupted:

“Either way, we have to try. It’s our best-”

“If not our only option,” his future self finished his sentence.

“And then what?” I asked, assuming for a moment we would in fact manage to get our hands on a suitable ship. “We just… fly at them?” I tried to imagine how things might come together but every scenario just concluded the same way: “Surely that’s a surefire way of making them flip the switch or just blow us out of the sky.”

“We will have to create a diversion of course,” the blonde Doctor explained and the whole thing was beginning to sound awfully familiar. It was our Doctor that confirmed what I was suspecting:

“We got pretty far that last time,“ he supplied. “Setting up a distraction to allow us to get to the ship undetected. It’s a good plan.“ He gave me a wry smile as if he could read my mind.

“It’s also the closest they got to winning,” River stepped in, having followed the conversation silently until then. I had almost forgotten she had watched us go about this repetitive exercise again and again. “That’s the trouble. If it was just a matter of shooting their ship out of the sky or defeating their troops… we need to get in there before they can flip the switch.”

“There must be another way,“ Helen spoke up, visibly displeased and she turned to me: “You died that time…“

“I’m really not very keen to go through that one…” I agreed but it seemed the others had already discussed this matter:

“You will be elsewhere,” River interjected. “You will fly the ship.“

“I don’t want to be split up, I-” I immediately protested. I wanted to grab Helen’s hand but didn’t given the fact that all eyes were on me. As terrifying as it would be to follow the same plan that had brought my death last time around, I wanted to be wherever Helen was.

“It’s your best chance. I will be with you and one of the Doctors…” River’s voice softened, it wasn’t unlike the time she had found me in my bedroom after I had been witness to my own demise. She had a compassionate side beyond the loud personality, reserved for these moments, and it was effective, I had to give her that. I lowered my head as I understood what she was saying, regardless of whether I liked it or not.

“And we can utilise your arrival for the distraction,” the blonde Doctor jumped in, continuing to outline the plan they had agreed upon. I got the sense we wouldn’t have a say in the matter. “We won’t be able to fly the TARDIS, the only reason it’s even able to come and go is before it happened before the cordon went up. But we will need it regardless.”

“What for?” I asked as I wanted to understand at the very least.

“To destabilise the field. Modifications to the shuttle won’t be enough,” our Doctor explained patiently.

“This plan is getting more unrealistic with every moment…” I huffed, uneasy. It was a typical Doctor plan. Utterly ridiculous and still, somehow, our best option.

“But we do have the best possible odds, remember?” River gave me a wink of reassurance and that was something I couldn’t argue with. If it was ever going to work…

“I suppose so…”

“Will our memories change?” Helen interjected suddenly and the Doctor frowned:

“What?”

“If we go to meet ourselves, find the TARDIS during our arrival… will our memories change if we don’t see Liv die?” She elaborated and admittedly, that was something I hadn’t even considered. By meeting ourselves again, under different circumstances, we would be opening up a whole other can of worms.

“How does that even work? We remember what we saw…“ I agreed. “If this is the God knows which attempt… how come…“

“Your memory might simply change,“ the future Doctor gave a nonchalant shrug that did nothing to reassure me.

“I wouldn’t mind forgetting about that…” Helen hummed and I longed to reach out for her. A flash of pain crossed her face at the painful memory. I couldn’t imagine how she must have felt in that moment, now that I knew that even then, she had felt for me more deeply than she’d ever led on.

“So we enlist our past selves to help and utilise their TARDIS?” I sought to move the conversation along and spare her dwelling on things we couldn’t change now.

“To be honest, we don’t know what will happen to your memories when that happens. This is the first time we’re trying it like that. Last time was the first time you arrived because it was only then that I’d given you the notebook,” River interjected and what had previously seemed logical and straightforward became a jumble.

“My head is starting to hurt,” I groaned and Helen frowned:

“It makes sense… kind of…”

“There is no point in worrying about that now. We will address one problem at a time and see how we go, that’s all we can do,” the blonde Doctor clapped her hands together and her younger self added:

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to agree. One thing we have to be aware of, however, is that there might be severe temporal fallout from this,” he warned.

“We will be,” Osgood spoke up, taking notes on her tablet. “But for now we have to get our timings right. We need to work out when that happens in relation to when we are now.” She looked around the room for answers, evidently eager to map things out in the greatest detail possible.

“I’ll be able to help with that,” River replied and walked over to join the UNIT scientist with her projections. Drawing on the notebook she had given me and notes retrieved from her own diary, she worked things out.

“How much time have we got?” I asked impatiently as I suddenly became aware of one terrifying truth: This might very well be the day and time I die. There would be no do-overs this time around. We only had the one shot now that River was with us and if something went wrong…

“A little under eight hours,” the professor answered at last and my blood ran cold. That was so much sooner than I had expected. For a moment, it felt as if time slowed down and I became oddly detached from myself. As I was trying to identify the things I was feeling, my eyes travelled around the room, looking to my friends for an indication on how I should be behaving or feeling. The Doctors were mirror images of each other of squared jaws and determined, yet bitter expressions. Kate looked insecure, faltering - though only for a split second - in her carefully curated image of strength, as she too seemed to find things moving along too quickly. River’s features had softened with something like compassion or pity as her eyes found mine and I looked further as I couldn’t face her. Osgood’s expression turned to a frown of concentration, trying to detach the data from its implications and Helen? Well… Helen went very pale indeed, much like myself.

I felt a sort of tingle in my limbs and a wave of cold panic that crept up my back. It was the sort of paralysing panic you felt when you truly took a moment to imagine death. Not just death in general but your own. The thought of everything simply ending and that terrible feeling of not knowing what came after - if anything. I had faced the prospect of my own death before, as you well know by now, but never have I had so much to live for.

“That’s hardly any time at all,” Helen whispered, her voice weak and I simply knew she had come to similar conclusions as I had.

“Just enough time to get organised,” Kate regained her air of leadership and control of the situation.

“Liv, I don’t want to split up,” Helen quickly turned to me and grabbed hold of my arm. I wasn’t quite able to respond yet, I simply turned to face her and my heart dropped at the look of fear in her eyes.

“Believe me, it’s the best way,” our Doctor tried to interject but it was River that succeeded in interrupting.

“Helen, can I talk to you for a minute?” She placed her hands on her shoulders, drawing her attention.

“I-” Helen looked around to her confused, then back to me. She appeared helpless which was just how I felt. It was probably a good thing. River would be able to put her at ease much better than I would in my panicking state. I could hardly keep myself together, how was I to be of any help to Helen? I needed air. I needed a moment just to myself to process what was happening.

“Go on. Not going anywhere yet,” I encouraged Helen as calmly as I could, I even managed a small smile and a nod. “I just… I’m gonna need a minute anyway… ”

“Of course,” River answered where Helen couldn’t.

“I will be right back…” I told them and took my leave.

---

I don’t know what I had expected, how we would solve the problem with the Daleks. Somehow, I had still held on to the hope the Doctors would come up with a weird and wonderful idea, a genius solution that would leave us all in awe and safe and sound in the long run. I had not expected to have to face the very scenario that I had watched play out in terrifying and heartbreaking detail before.

I didn’t go far. I just needed a moment away from the people that knew what the future might well have in store for me. I ran my hands through my hair and took a deep breath as slowly, the feeling of control returned.

I was in control of the future, I told myself.

I had been in far worse situations.

I had faced death before and come out on top every time.

You think we’re doing something special? Surviving whatever life has thrown at you so far is not a skill. It’s called ‘still being alive’. Everyone you’ve ever met has done it by definition. The Doctor’s defeatist words rung in my ears. There is always a way out until there isn’t. Maybe this was that time… I shook my head free of the memory, taking conciliation in the fact that even then, I had been right and we had survived.

I try and try again and then, I keep trying until there is nothing left. This couldn’t be that time that I failed. Not when Helen and I had gotten so far… But what if it was? What was there left to do before the end?

I caught sight of the hospital wing and started walking. If I only had eight hours left - regardless of whether we were successful or not and whether I would survive - there were things I had to do.

“Liv?” Tania looked up, evidently surprised to see me as I made my way over.

“How are you doing? How’s the leg,” I asked and the distraction did wonders to pull me away from the edge of breaking under my mental burden.

“Seen better days,” she huffed, gesturing towards her leg and I took a quick peek under the dressing, pleased with how the wound was looking. “I take it I can’t come with you?” She questioned when I straightened up again. “Assuming you will be doing something about the Daleks soon?” She cast a glance past me to the office.

“No. Sorry,” I shook my head and gave her an apologetic smile. “You’ll just have to place your trust in us, hard as that might be.”

“Not as hard as you might think,” she gave back rather kindly, an instant reminder of why I’d felt I needed to speak to her. She was such a kind, generous person and there were things I had to say, things she deserved to hear, so I could put the matter to rest and make my peace.

“Tania… there’s something… I just… I wanted to apologise for how things played out,” I said and lowered my eyes. I truly was sorry. Regardless of how much she had insisted that she hoped Helen and I would work things out, she would be hurt by it. It was human.

“Oh, I see…” She must have taken my meaning from my very demeanour. She sounded stung and I couldn’t blame her.

“It’s not- It’s just-” I wanted to explain but I couldn’t find the right words. My thoughts were still a jumble. I should have prepared something in my mind before marching over, but time was short in every sense of the word, so I blanked. Thankfully, Tania didn’t seem to need explanations:

“It’s fine, Liv, honestly. Otherwise I wouldn’t have said the things I did. I told Helen much the same,” she said after a moment of heavy silence.

“I see…” I mumbled.

“See, there was a reason why I asked what your relationship was. Whether I would be treading on any toes….” She hummed and slowly, her apprehension seemed to ease.

“Yeah… still… I’m sorry…” I told her honestly and she smiled.

“Apology accepted.”

“I think we’ve worked things out. Helen and I…” I said, making sure she really did know what I was apologising for.

“I believe it was about time,” she offered kindly. “Don’t worry. We’re fine.”

“Thank you. I’m glad,” I smiled and reached for her hand with a squeeze of gratitude. She nodded in acknowledgement, then smirked:

“Besides… Martha’s bedside manner is so much nicer than yours.” And just like that, the heaviness of the situation dispersed.

“Martha’s bedside manner?” I gaped, shocked for a moment, then laughed: “I see how it is!”

“Well, you know, a girl can dream,” Tania hummed playfully, casting a glance over to the medic who was seeing to a patient on the other side of the room.

“Well by all means, dream away. If things go well, we won’t be crammed down here much longer and free to go about our lives once more,” I stated, hoping I wasn’t promising too much. “I best be off.” As relieved as I was to have put things right with Tania, there was somewhere else I wanted to be now.

“Good luck, Liv,” she said with an encouraging smile.

“You too,” I winked at her, jerking my head towards Martha who was just scribbling some notes on a chart and she laughed.

When I made my way back to the office and spotted River still speaking to Helen. She had taken her outside, out of earshot of the others and I slowed my steps. I didn’t want to impose, so I waited and watched from a distance. Helen was evidently distraught and River seemed to be doing her best to calm and reassure her.

Dread was beginning to settle in my gut once more at sight of the genuine fear on Helen’s beautiful face. Fear for me. Fear of what was to come. And I could feel it too. Fear was creeping up my back again, I tensed up and struggled under the task of breathing. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing down the panic, I didn’t have time for it. Eight hours and I might be dead. Eight hours was all I could be sure of. That was no time at all. And so I went to interrupt them.

#Fanfiction #A Numbers Game #liv/helen #liv chenka #helen sinclair #river song #eighth doctor #thirteenth doctor #tania bell #kate stewart #action/adventure #whump #femslash #flashbacks #long fic #doctor who #dw fanfic #big finish

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last-night-is-a-blur · 1 year

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I know your asks say specific topics, but since I saw you liked my post on Superman & Lois lack of gay rep, what are your thoughts on the characters and their gay rep in general?

Thanks for the ask.

Idefinitely should add S&L ( plus other shows) on my pinned post. Just slipped my mind at the time.

FIY, for brevity sakes, I use bisexual as a umbrella term for anyone who isn't potrayed as 100% monosexual, (including fluid, pan and bicurious people).

Lets begin with Sarah. I hate the ONE bisexual character cheated. I wouldn't mind it if there were more bi characters on the show, who don't cheat, and preferably straight characters who do cheat (which did happen a few episodes later, but it doens't help a lot without faithful bi characters, since the message then becomes: "some straights cheat, all bisexuals cheat", instead of "some straights and some bisexuals cheat"). What makes it even more annoying to me is that a) her bisexuality/bicuriosity was introduced through cheating, which imo just highlight that the first bi characters was unfaithful and b) she cheated on Jordan with a girl, which, imo, feeds into the stereotype about bi people never being satisfied in a monogomous relationship with a man, because they need something only a woman can provide them (or/and vice versa).

I actually like Sarah. Even is s2. I don't mind her making mistakes. I don't mind her kissing another person. It was moment of weakness, and she came clean. In world where "cheating bisexual" wasn't a stereotype, or she wasn't the only bi character on the show, I wouldn't mind.

What I DO like about how Sarah kissing Aubrey is handled is that it Aubrey being a girl isn't a big deal, and there isn't any need (from the narritive, Sarah, or other characters) for her to lable or explain her sexuality.

I would have liked a brief scene where she discussed her sexuality with someone. Is she certain she is bi? If so, did she know before that summer? Is she still figuring things out? Is she mostly straight, but occasionally has confusing feelings about certain girls? Was she tempted to kiss Aubrey because of a silly whim, curiosity, or genuine attraction? Still, it's nice the show simply had Sarah kiss a girl, without focusing on her identity, and the kiss was still treated as a "real" kiss, not just some silly joke between two friends.

Non-sexuality related sidebar: If we remove sexuality from the equation, I still feel like that the show could have skipped the cheating plot, or done it differently, e.g. use it to explore Jordan's fears of Sarah losing interest in him, or show him needing to learn to talk things through properly, instead of assuming everything will be fine with apologies and love confessions.

Now, moving on from Sarah. As far as I know, S&L doens't have an queer characters. Which I am fine with. Not every show NEEDS a queer character. The world needs more representation, but no piece of fiction can represent every underrepresented groups out there.

I never personally read Chrissy as queer, but sucks you are dissapointed.

Natelie is based off Natasha Irons, who dated a girl in the comics, so I was expecting her to be queer. However, the comics never confirmed she was a lesbian, just that she was into girls. Here's hoping we get Bi Nat.

Some peolpe want Jon to be bi, because comic Jon Kent is bi. To me, these two are two different characters, not different iteration/version of the same character. Making him bi would be cool. We need more queer jocks and male bi characters. But at the same time, if S&L would make him bi, it would feel like he was a different version of THAT Jon, and I kind of want Jon and Jordan to be their own, original characters.

I personally hc Jordan as bi. I relate to him, and tend to project a lot on him, so I made him queer ( I am a lesbian, not a bi guy, so it's different, but it's still involves being attracted to your own gender). In my hc, he wasn't 100% sure about his sexuality before s2, but had suspected he is bi for years. After learning Sarah kissed Aubrey, he started thinking harder about his sexuality (something he had mostly tried to avoid, because he didn't want to feel even more different than he already did), and became certain he was bi. He hasn't come out to anyone yet, but considered telling Sarah. In the end, he chickened out, because he wasn't quite ready to come out to anyone, not even another queer person. He still sometimes considers telling Sarah or Jon, but since he only has eyes for Sarah, he doens't really feel the need to bring it up + he has a lingering fear Sarah would find him less attractive if she knew, even though he knows Sarah is properly too open-minded to accept the double standards surrounding female and male bisexuality.

#superman and lois cw #superman and lois #jordan kent #sarah cushing #sarah cortez #jonathan kent #natasha irons #natelie irons

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pashterlengkap · 11 months

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Man murdered his pregnant boyfriend then killed himself

A 26-year-old man in Florida allegedly shot and killed his eight-months-pregnant boyfriend, killing the unborn child as well, and then shot and killed himself, the Polk County Sheriff’s Office said. Then, anti-LGBTQ+ activist Chaya Raichik, who goes by “LibsofTikTok” on Twitter, mocked the victim. --- Related Stories Suspect charged with murder in drugging & robbery of NYC gay man Two other men have been arrested in connection with the string of crimes. --- Riley John Groover of Winter Haven, Florida shot his boyfriend Camdyn Rider, 21, multiple times just after 7 p.m. on Friday evening outside of his neighborhood. Police said several neighbors witnessed the shooting. Get the Daily Brief The news you care about, reported on by the people who care about you. “When the suspect became enraged, family members and neighbors did everything they could to help [Rider] get away from him,” said Sheriff Grady Judd. “Please keep this family in your prayers.” Rider was taken to a hospital, but medical professionals were unable to save the unborn child. Groover and Rider were engaged and loved each other, according to Groover’s mother, who said that the two lived with her and had a “volatile relationship.” She said that her son took her gun, which she had in the house for protection, and used it in the murder-suicide. Law & Crime confirmed the victim’s identity as a transgender man after local media misgendered him. Newsweek reported that the victim’s Facebook had photos and videos of the couple, including a post about a gender reveal where he said that they were expecting a boy. He said that he was excited to marry Groover and they planned to name their baby Oliver John Lee. “It’s crazy to imagine that I’m now gonna be a father, especially to a little boy,” the victim posted on June 19. “But man I’m so excited and couldn’t be happier, I couldn’t be happier to be doing it with you Riley Groover. Thank you for loving me, and thank you for this baby boy!! Oliver John Lee will be loved by many! I can’t wait for this journey with you my love. And I can’t wait to meet our oli bear.” On Twitter, Raichik mocked the murder victim. Some of Raichik’s followers responded with laughing emojis and others posted Bible memes. It's not enough to mock trans people, Chaya had to mock a trans man after he's been murdered. She's a soulless bastard. pic.twitter.com/XkFZU5cr9r— Alejandra Caraballo (@Esqueer_) July 24, 2023 Deputies said that Groover had a history of violence but that prior domestic violence incidents involving Rider had not been reported to authorities. His criminal record includes a 2014 incident where he admitted to firing a BB gun through the window of someone’s home. He then kicked a uniformed officer in the leg when he was being arrested. In a 2016 incident, he broke a bottle and used a hatchet to break several doors in his mother’s house. In a 2018 incident, his mother called police after he got aggressive in an argument with his sister. He drove off and then came back and drove onto the front lawn while the sister was on the front porch, making her afraid he was going to run her over. He then pulled a knife on her and chased her with it and stabbed her. Prosecutors later dropped charges in that case when the sister signed a waiver saying she wanted Groover to get treatment for his autism and to take his medications. If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, help is available. Call or text 988 or chat at 988lifeline.org. The Trans Lifeline (1-877-565-8860) is staffed by trans people and will not contact law enforcement. The Trevor Project provides a safe, judgement-free place to talk for youth via chat, text (678-678), or phone (1-866-488-7386). Help is available at all three resources in English and Spanish. http://dlvr.it/Ssg4MC

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longbicycle · 2 years

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Dlight by the sea

DLIGHT BY THE SEA HOW TO

DLIGHT BY THE SEA FULL

Looking back now it seems idyllic, though I'm sure ninety-five percent of the experience was absolute, grinding boredom". The book is set in a fictionalized Rosslare, the seaside village where we went every summer as children. We are to assume that he will leave the Cedars' home to be cared for by his daughter, Claire.īanville described the book as "a direct return to my childhood, to when I was ten or so. Max finishes with a redaction of himself standing in the sea after Anna's death (an allegory is made between crashing waves and tumultuous periods of his life). It is revealed at this point that Miss Vavasour is Rose herself and she was in love with Mrs. His daughter scolds him at the hospital, assumingly being told he nearly killed himself, and tells him to come home with her. The Colonel does not physically save Max, rather finds him knocked unconscious by a rock (from a drunken stumble). Max, done with his childhood memories, offers a final memory of a near-death episode while he was inebriated. The ending of the book entwines the exact moment of Anna's death with Chloe and Myles drowning in the sea itself as Max and Rose look on. Grace are having an affair, he tells Chloe and Myles. Max overhears (rather, Max remembers overhearing) key words from their conversation: "love him" and "Mr. Max, another day, climbs a tree in the yard of the Cedars' house, and soon spots Rose crying not too far from him. We soon learn that Chloe and Myles like to tease Rose, who is young and timid enough to feel bullied. Chloe is shown as a volatile character: flagrantly kissing Max in a Cinema, rough-housing with her brother Myles, and what was hinted as hypersexuality earlier, is quite possibly confirmed as hypersexuality in the book's final moments. The latter half of his summer memories (the relation of Max's memories in the second part of the novel), however, revolve around Max's awkward relationship with Chloe: a girl with a spastic personality and blunt demeanor whom Max describes as one who " not play, on her own or otherwise". This day of "illicit invitation" climaxes when Max is pulled to the ground, and snuggled closely with Connie and Rose in a game of hide-and-seek. Later, Max recounts being invited on a picnic-for what reasons or what specific time during the summer is never explicitly stated-where Max, in awe, catches an unkempt glance at her pelvic area. After brief encounters, and fruitless moments of curiosity, Max becomes infatuated with Connie Grace upon first sight seeing her lounging at the beach launches him to acquaint Chloe and Myles in, what Max stipulates to have been a conscious effort to get inside the Cedars, hence, closer to Mrs. With Max's unreliable, unorganised and omitted iteration of events, we gradually learn the names of the Graces: Chloe, the wild daughter Myles, the mute brother Connie, the mother Carlo, the father and finally the twins' nursemaid, Rose. The Colonel is also seen, at the beginning of Max's stay, to have a crush on Miss Vavasour Max suspects Miss Vavasour had entertained the Colonel's slight infatuation prior to Max's own arrival.ĭespite the actual present day setting of the novel (everything is written by Max, after Anna's death, while he stays in the Cedars' house), the underlying motivation to Max's redaction of memories, the single setting which ties the novel together, are Max's childhood memories. We learn of the Cedars' current house-maid, Miss Vavasour, and her other tenant: a retired army Colonel, often described as a background character (even during his important role in the denouement). It's through these commentaries that we learn of Max's choice to return to the cottage of his childhood memories (after Anna's death), confirming that a room would be available for residence during a visit with his adult daughter, Claire.

DLIGHT BY THE SEA FULL

Scenes of Anna's dying days are more full of commentary than with actual details, as are most of the novel's settings.

DLIGHT BY THE SEA HOW TO

Max's final days with Anna were awkward Max does not know how to act with his soon-to-be-dead wife. These three settings are heavily diced and jumbled together for the novel's entire duration. Despite the constant fluctuations, Max returns to three settings: his childhood memories of the Graces-a wealthy middle-class family living in a rented cottage home, the "Cedars"-during the summer holidays the months leading up to the death of his wife, Anna and his present stay at the Cedars cottage home in Ballyless-where he has retreated since Anna's death. The novel is written as a reflective journal the setting always in flux, wholly dependent upon the topic or theme Max feels inclined to write about. The story is told by Max Morden, a self-aware, retired art historian attempting to reconcile himself to the deaths of those he loved as a child and as an adult.

#Dlight by the sea

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the-land-of-eternal-winter-novel · 2 years

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Chapter 53 - The Justice

First came the trial in the capital of the empire. Akim was accused of trying to infiltrate the empire and rise to its power, given his fake identity in Vespuccia and his arrival during the time in which his father Grigoriy illegitimately took over the throne. In his defense, Akim said:

"I never had the intention to usurp the throne, my arrival here being purely coincidental. I had only come to see my father. When he got killed, I didn't attempt to take over, either. As for Vespuccia, I had, indeed, been under a fake identity, and have committed several other frauds."

The judge saw in his documents that this had been dealt with by the Vespuccian authorities, who had him expatriated. However, those same authorities declared him suspect of infiltration, given his descent. It was soon very clear that, although Akim had committed several fraud-related crimes back in Vespuccia, the judge there and the judge now were far more concerned with a possible plot between the two countries, as if he were secretly a double agent. Letting the age old conflict between those two countries aside, Akim still tried to make his case that he had not conspired against either country, his lawyer providing the necessary evidence. As witness, Sveta told them that Akim helped her in taking back her country, and he protected her when he could. Radek confirmed the sincerity of his claim that he had only been searching for his father. In the end, though, it was ruled that he was to be expatriated, as no former president of Vespuccia could be well received in the empire, much less remain a prince. He was given some time to pack his bags and prepare to leave the country, never to return.

In the other country, Anatoliy was soon to be tried. Ingrid, with the help of Žydras and Gintarė, researched the laws and found that there was little to no way Anatoliy would be spared, given that he not only committed murder, but regicide. Ingrid visited her husband in prison once more, before trial, Oleg with her. He also seemed to know what to expect, and was similarly despondent. He was allowed out for a few minutes, but the guards were staring like hawks. Anatoliy took Oleg in his arms and held him tight, rocking him similarly to a baby. He told him he loved him and kissed his little forehead. Then, he took Ingrid in his arms and kissed her goodbye, getting to feel her tears on his cheek for a very brief moment. She took Oleg and placed him in the temporary care of Žydras' mother, while she, Žydras himself and Gintarė went to witness the trial. In the meantime, Elena learned the news from Kęstas, and was suddenly very worried.

"Are they going to execute him?" her voice trembled.

"That's the law. I've spent the last few days only reading it, along with the constitution. I'll do my part and say what I need to say, though."

"I wish I could come to the trial, but I really can't." she held her hands tightly on her belly. "I've been feeling some pain since I woke up this morning."

"Are you feeling very sick?" he came closer, concerned. "I should call the doctor."

"No, I'll call her when I really need it. Good luck with the trial. Please take the time tonight to tell me everything."

"I will. You take care as well."

Elena sat alone on the bed after he left, and felt increasingly grief stricken. She remembered how she used to hate her brother, and how she wanted to distance herself from him as much as possible, but now the prospect of him dying terrified her. She realised that she cared for him as she cared for Sveta, and that she wished she had properly reconciled with him, so that they'd have a more harmonious sibling relationship, as their parents would have wanted. It seemed ironic to her, in a cruel way, that her brother was to die in the same period of time when her child was to be born. She started crying bitterly, though she usually avoided it, so as not to bother the baby, but now she felt like she couldn't help it. And she imagined the baby would be sad too, knowing his or her uncle died before getting the chance to meet them. Elena forgot all of her arguments with him, instead remembering he was her only brother, but soon, she'd have no brother at all.

Anatoliy's trial began. The judge not only cited the fact that he committed murder, but also the fact that he killed their country's king, and, directly or indirectly, caused the revolution and the war which almost cost their country. In his defense, Anatoliy denied having known anything about either Grigoriy's plot, or Maksim's.

"At the time when I committed the murder, I did not have a political motive. Instead, I thought merely in terms of personal revenge, as I had been convinced that king Vaidotas was guilty for my father's death, which only recently did I learn the true culprit of."

"But you willfully killed him, premeditatedly even, as evidenced by the fact of your hiring an assassin and buying poison out of your own pocket."

"I did." he clenched his teeth slightly, and swallowed.

"Given that this very murder was used as a means to spark a war, which turned against us, how can you prove you had no political motivation whatsoever, and the one you sought revenge against just so happened to be our king?"

"I was presented with this information. If I thought another person were guilty, I would've tried to take my revenge on them, I suppose..."

He tried to argue his case like that for a while, witnesses like Žydras and Gintarė saying that he was helpful in exposing Maksim and thus restoring the country to normal. However, after all of it, the judge told them that, ultimately, none of those presented extenuating circumstances, because, as the evidence suffered, and by his own admission, he had, indeed, intentionally killed their king. Since such a crime as regicide was considered punishable by death, especially in conditions of war, the judge declared:

"You are sentenced to death, and are to be executed by firing squad tomorrow."

Ingrid had been crying silently for a while, but she was now trembling and breathing with difficulty. Gintarė tried to calm her down, her heart breaking for her. At a distance, they were not very noticeable.

"...unless our young King has anything to say about it..." continued the judge, and Anatoliy looked Kęstas in the eyes, anxiously. "You're at his mercy."

The other people present in the room were hoping that Kęstas deliver him a speech admonishing him for having killed his father, and most of them expected him to go through with the execution eagerly. Kęstas drew a piece of paper which seemed like a document, signed it, sealed it, and gave it to Anatoliy. The judge noticed the document and knocked his little hammer, declaring the trial finished. The people were made to leave the room, being told the official decision will be published in the official journal the next thing tomorrow. The people left one by one, including the judge, but Kęstas intentionally remained alone with Anatoliy, and Ingrid farther away in the background.

Anatoliy read the document a thousand times over, more surprised each time. It said, in big, calligraphed, bold letters, among other things: "Anatoliy Afanisievich Gavriilov is officially and unconditionally pardoned of all crimes up to this date". Ingrid came close to them, still expecting something bad, seeing him so surprised, but she got to read the document and gasped in joy. Anatoliy fell on his knees and started crying, and soon so did Ingrid, though she barely even stopped in the first place.

"I wouldn't have blamed you if you let me die... But thank you so much, Kęstas. I'll never forget what you did for me!"

"I'm a man of my word." he smiled, though beginning to feel emotional himself. "I did promise I would forgive you eventually."

"Is that what you meant?" he laughed and cried at the same time.

"It's my right as king to pardon you."

Ingrid, still crying, knelt and, without think twice, took Kęstas' hand and kissed it.

"You're like an angel!"

"I really am not... I'm just a man trying to do what's right before God. After all, He says to love our enemies. Though I'm not sure whether to call you an enemy anymore." he now addressed Anatoliy. "You did protect me from Maksim. And you taught me to write with my left hand." he smiled, then began crying too, as the two hugged.

Later, Ingrid and Anatoliy also told Žydras and Gintarė what had happened, and they shared in their joy. For the moment, they stayed with Žydras' mother. Kęstas went home to Elena, excited to tell her the news, but a few nurses prevented him from entering her room right away. When he was finally allowed inside, he saw that she sat on the bed, holding her newborn child.

"My darling, are you alright?" he said, shocked, yet happy at the same time.

"Yes, I got to rest a little bit."

"I can't believe you gave birth while I was gone..."

"You were gone for a good few hours."

"The way my mother described childbirth, I thought it lasted a full day or a few days even. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore... Can I hold the baby, please?"

She gave him the child, and he tried his best to use only his one good hand, and Elena waited behind, prepared to take the baby back if necessary. Kęstas was overwhelmed by emotion, and he didn't know what else to say, expect stare at his child, then back at his wife, and so on. Elena took the baby back in her arms.

"It's a girl." she said calmly.

"Viltautė?"

"Yes." she smiled knowingly. "We'll call her Viltė for short."

"Elena, I've never been so happy in my whole life!"

Elena wanted to reciprocate the sentiment, but the memory suddenly pierced her.

"How was the trial?..."

"Anatoliy has been pardoned."

"...Why do you say it impersonally?" she said after having held her breath in anticipation. "You did it, didn't you?"

"Yes, only the king can issue a pardon."

Elena started crying of happiness.

"Thank you so much!"

"I did what I believed to be the right thing. I knew I must forgive him, and I realised that must also reflect in my decisions as a king."

Finally, it was Sava's turn to be tried. There was much evidence to be brought against him, and he was accused of many crimes. He was asked many questions, and he answered to the best of his ability. He detailed the extent to which he was, and to which he was not, involved with Maksim's plots, and he also admitted to the murders he did commit, namely the killing of a few officers in the imperial army, who had been his former colleagues, and on whom he wanted to exact some sort of revenge. Otherwise, he had only been an accomplice to Maksim. He expressed much regret for his deeds, and, in his mind, expected the very worst and felt a sense of looming dread. Witnesses such as Tomasz commented how Sava had allied himself with them, greatly helping them both expose Maksim and win back the empire. The judge still argued that Sava was a threat bigger than the one necessitating prison only.

"Normally, what you've done would certainly imply the death penalty. However, if and only if the empress shows clemency, you might get away with exile only."

Indeed, Svetlana signed a document and gave it to him, in which he was to live in the north-eastern-most part of the country, never to return anywhere near the capital. She made her stance against the death penalty as a concept public, and proposed that reforms in the legal system be made. In private, Sava sincerely thanked Sveta for her immense favour, and so did Prosya. The couple prepared to go, so they started packing their bags, taking only the absolute necessities from their house, which will have been taken away by the time they reached the north-east. When alone, close to their old home and to the waterfall, the two finally showed their excitement over the news, when before they had expected the absolute worst and were already as if in mourning. She kissed him, and he kissed her back, then holding her up by the waist and spinning around gleefully.

It was only afterwards that Radek's mother was tried both in the empire and her sons' country. In her country, she was found guilty of treason, and in the empire, she was found guilty of conspiracy. She was banned from entering the empire again, and also expatriated from her sons' country. She was fuming, telling Kęstas and Radek, while in private, that they betrayed her and that they treated their own mother inhumanely, not knowing they had saved her life, also. Then, she learned that Anatoliy had been pardoned, and her screams and accusations of betrayal grew even more bitter.

"Mother, it was only you who betrayed us. We still love and want the best for you, but you cannot stay here anymore, not when you're in a state like this. I fear you might even be a danger to our children." Kęstas said.

"You won't let me see my grand-daughter?"

Kęstas immediately thought of how she tried to kidnap Sveta's children to get the throne, and feared she could even take his child away.

"Maybe from a distance, if you really insist."

"Truly, it shows you're Vaidas' child!" she said in contempt and left Kęstas fuming with rage, then addressed Radek. "How about you? Why didn't you tell your wife to stop them from kicking me out the country?"

"She can decide for herself as monarch. And I genuinely agree with her decision. The alternative would've been death, and I'd hate to know my mother died."

"How does that criminal Anatoliy get to be pardoned completely, but not me?! At this point you two are discriminating against your own mother."

"Please understand..."

"What is there to understand, Radek? I thought you were better than this. And your father was my favourite husband, too!... But you only care about Sveta, just like Kęstas only cares about Elena, at my expense!"

"That's not true. You can't expect, however, for everything to be as if nothing happened, just because we're related. That would be nepotism, and we're trying to avoid it."

"The two of you are violating one of the great commandments, respecting your parents. You should be ashamed, pretending you're so moral, yet doing something like this to your mother! I never want to see your faces again in my whole life!!!"

She packed her bags and went to her home country, where she settled in a village in the north, close to her hometown. Radek and Kęstas felt both very concerned for their mother, and slightly guilty it had to end in such a way, but they saw no other solution. Ultimately, they thought they did the most the could, considering she could've even gotten the death penalty.

Kęstas announced Anatoliy's pardon to the people of his country, but many seemed similarly displeased, instead of seeing it as an act of forgiveness, seeing it as a lack of justice. In no time, it became apparent he was not welcome there, so he left. However, even in the empire, the people resented that a figure as famous as the empress' brother was a killer, and it also became painfully clear that he didn't belong there, either. They lamented the society they lived in, which didn't change as much as they did.

#the land of eternal winter #my novel #draft 1 #chapter 53

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imaginesandinserts · 3 years

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Irreverent Drabbles: Perils of Realization

Title: Irreverent Drabbles: Perils of Realization Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: G Words: 6078

A/N: This takes place chronologically between chapters 28 and 29.

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You went on a date.

You realized that you were in love with Hotch, and your first instinct was to go on a date with someone else.

In all respects, it was a relatively good decision. Hotch was your boss and despite the close relationship you enjoyed with him, any romantic relationship between the two of you was impossible.

Miles Burton was a Senior White House Advisor whom you'd run into during your social obligations as a member of the Women in Service organization who had persistently flirted with you at the Griffiths fundraiser and had made it a point to say hello at the following two events you'd both been in attendance for.

Once you'd come to the fairly life-ruining conclusion that you were head-over-heels in love with Aaron Hotchner, you made sure to actually flirt back the next time you saw Miles Burton. That was how you found yourself on the date that had you questioning ever having harbored an attraction to men - dinner and drinks accompanied by a rendition of the 101 Life Accomplishments of Miles T. Burton.

This was hell.

After dinner, Miles had insisted on driving you home, and you cursed yourself for having taken a cab to dinner in order to avoid the lack of parking options in downtown. For some reason, he'd gotten it into his head that paying for dinner entitled him to having your mouth wrapped around his cock while he was parked in the street overlooking your house. You'd extracted yourself from the situation with as much contained outrage and dignity as you could muster, and having closed the front door, you find yourself leaning against it with only one thought in your head – Aaron Hotchner would never.

*------------*

"Rough night?"

You look over at Derek as he peers at you over his coffee mug, his eyes filling with amusement, no doubt having already taken in your slightly puffy face and the extra large cup of coffee you're carrying. After Miles had driven away - you'd watched from your window just in case - you'd needed a drink, which had turned into two drinks and ultimately falling asleep on the couch. You'd woken up late and having rushed out of the house - sans makeup - had arrived at work just in time. Hotch may no longer be upset at you being five minutes late, but he's still entirely stringent about punctuality and you hate to disappoint him.

"Bad date," you respond, dropping into your chair and whipping out the little compact and concealer from your bag so that no one else sees you looking like this.

Emily perks up at that, walking over to perch herself on your desk, the beginnings of a grin already forming on her face. "You finally went out with Burton?"

You look up at her, slightly shaking your head in disapproval at her glee. She'd warned you against him. Something about bad vibes, but since it hadn't been anything concrete, you'd impulsively gone against it. You should've known better. Emily's gut, when it came to men, was impeccably accurate.

Pursing your lips, you make sure your face no longer bears the telltale marks of having fallen asleep, drunk on your couch, before you look up at her and Derek once more. "He tried to Lewinsky me," you tell them ruefully, a scowl making its way onto your face as Emily unsuccessfully stifles a snort.

Derek's eyebrows rise in question. "It's fine, I'm okay," you assure him, before looking back at Emily. "You were right. He's an arrogant creep."

"I'm sorry," she tells you, scooching up further onto your desk and swiping up your coffee before you could stop her. "Everyday I continue to be attracted to men feels like a waste."

"Tell me about it," you mutter, careful to not allow your eyes to slip up to the landing where his office was.

"Oh come on, we're not all bad."

Both you and Emily turn to Derek with looks that say exactly what you think about that particular statement.

"Geez, tough crowd." He raises his hands in surrender, turning away from you both and back to his screen, no doubt to message Pen and fill her in on everything.

"I'd make a good lesbian."

You look up at Emily, who has a contemplative look on her face as she continues to take sips of your coffee. Your coffee. Your hot, perfectly sweetened and foamy latte.

"You would," you agree with her, reaching out for the cup, which she thankfully hands to you, before her eyes flit up to the landing. You turn and follow her gaze, eyes coming to rest on Hotch.

He's wearing the navy blue suit with the nice red patterned Gucci tie that you'd helped Jack pick out for him on Father's day. He has a folder on his hand and his brow is already furrowed, straining under the weight of the world far too early in the morning. His eyes move from the papers in his hand to all of you looking up at him, muscles tensed and breath held tight.

"Briefing. Now."

It takes only two words from him to get you all scrambling from your desks and rushing upstairs, his tone telling you everything you needed to know.

It was going to be a bad one.

*------------*

Five girls missing, three bodies found. Based on the pattern, it's already a foregone conclusion that the fourth girl was also dead. Not that you'd tell her parents that. Not until there was a body. All of your efforts were concentrated on girl number five.

You've felt the eyes of the entire team on you ever since the third body was found and Caroline Geller, lucky contestant number five, had been taken from the parking lot of a grocery store after work. All five girls were around the same age, pretty, low-risk, and had no connection to the unsub that you'd been able to work out.

You look up from the notes you'd taken while talking to Caroline's friends from work to see Hotch looking at you. When your eyes meet his, he's quick to look away, turning back towards the screen in front of him. You know why they're all concerned. While all of the girls are roughly the same age as you, Caroline Geller looked like you. Same hair color, similar features, comparable build – at first glance one might mistake her for you.

She taught ballet at the local dance school, volunteered at the soup kitchen every week, and had recently gotten engaged to her fiancé, a beautiful and heartbroken man who had planted himself on a bench outside the precinct and refused to leave his post.

You'd been at their home, combed through their life, seen the wedding invitation pinned to the refrigerator, held her pointe shoes in your hands as you looked around at everything left behind.

Your eyes stay fixed on Hotch's back as he continues to assess the screen of suspects and look at the evidence board, as though willing something to fall into place. He seems more affected by this case, this girl's disappearance, more than any other in recent memory. There's this childish, naïve part of you that's hoping against hope that it has something to do with you. Because she reminds him of you. More likely, it's the fact that he's had to walk past her fiancé, every time he's left the precinct. Hotch had been the one to speak with him, and the poor man had broken down into tears right in front of his eyes. It was enough to affect even the coldest of hearts and Hotch hardly fit the bill of a cold-hearted man, despite any misconceptions made based on his reticent exterior. Aaron Hotchner was one of the kindest and most sincere people you've ever met – devout father, responsible team leader. His very aura commanded the sort of respect reserved for those men, the kind of men everyone looked up to and knew they'd never be.

Somehow, he's permeated your entire life without you realizing it. Ever since the two of you had made up, it felt like things were back to normal, even more than before he'd left. You had dinner with them as often as possible. Both him and Jack slept over at least once a week when there wasn't a case going on. The sight of Hotch in pajamas, disappearing into your guest bedroom was becoming a familiar one. It's beyond normal coworkers, beyond a normal friendship – you can finally admit that to yourself.

How it had happened though - how the two of you had allowed it to happen - still remained a mystery. It had been innocuous enough in the beginning. Accompanying Jack and Hotch to the Zoo or the Smithsonian. Relieving Jess when Hotch couldn't get away and she had to go home to her own family. Keeping him company late nights at the office because you hated seeing him be the last one there.

You can feel a lump rise in your throat as your eyes stay on his frame, watching as he points out an additional factor for Reid to consider in his geographic profile. You didn't deserve him. You didn't deserve someone like him, even if he were to give you the time of day.

You've already thought through how it would go if you were to tell him. Blocked out what you'd say and how'd respond. The initial shock of your revelation would catch him off-guard. He'd falter ever so slightly. It would be quickly followed by a professional and kindhearted rejection. You were his subordinate. You were too young. He's sorry if he did or said anything that might have led you on. Of course, he understands if you need some time and space to gather yourself and make your peace with the matter. Of course you'd still see Jack, he'd never deny you his son again. And he wouldn't. He'd stay true to his word.

But you'd never be the same again. You'd never be able to look at him again and feel anything but the sting of that rejection. The confirmation – you weren't good enough. It didn't matter that you'd changed everything. It didn't matter that you'd tried and tried to atone. You weren't good enough. You never would be. Not for that. Not for him. Slowly, you'd start to withdraw. You wouldn't be able to help yourself. It would hurt too much, just being near him. Without meaning to, you'd lose him.

*------------*

Samuel Nolen, age 45, a landscaper who'd worked jobs around each of the women's workplaces in the weeks leading up to their disappearance. He'd been the only common link Garcia had been able to pinpoint and he fit the profile exactly. Older white male, non-threatening demeanor, rotating job that gave him the freedom to watch his victims uninterrupted. Grew up with a single father, mother left the family when he was nine years old and was never heard from again. Garcia had found out that she'd moved out to Vegas and had a relatively successful career as a cabaret dancer.

He was sat in the interrogation room with both Rossi and Reid talking to him while the rest of you watched from the other side. There was something almost gentle about how he held himself, how he shied away from Rossi and leaned more towards Reid, whom he perceived as non-threatening. The guess was that he'd lured in his victims under the guise of needing help, and based on the man in front of you, you could see how some women might fall for it. He seemed nice. If there's one thing this job has taught you, it's that men don't ask for help from women. If a man is asking you for help, run.

Neither Rossi nor Reid were having much success with him. You could all see the twitch in his fingers as they curled around something imaginary. All of the victims had died via strangulation. The hope was that you'd captured him before he'd managed to get back to Caroline and subject her to the same fate.

Derek and JJ had been the ones to pick him up, and as Derek had marched him past you, through the precinct, Samuel's eyes had caught yours and they'd lingered, sending a chill racing down your spine. He might be able to fake it long enough to lure those women to their deaths, but there was no hiding that look in his eyes. The look of a predator.

"I want to talk to the female agent. I'll only talk to her."

It was the first thing he'd said since the interrogation had started half an hour ago. You feel yourself tense, the eyes of the rest of the team on you immediately. None of you needed to ask which agent. From the corner of your eye you look at Hotch beside you. He isn't looking at you, still glaring at the unsub through the mirror, but you can see that his jaw is set tightly.

When Rossi and Reid exit, Rossi immediately looks to you before his eyes go over you and to Hotch. You don't have to turn to see that they're engaged in a wordless debate about the right next move.

You can't help but think of that lovely empty house. The despondent man still seated outside. Those satin shoes that had just been broken in. They deserved to be worn.

"Hotch," you turn to face him, making up your mind as you do. You're going in. You're going to get answers.

He's already looking at you and you can tell that he doesn't like it at all. His forehead is already wrinkled and you can literally see the dissent on his mouth. He's incredibly protective of the team and everyone knows that you're being asked for because you look most like the victim. His ritual has been interrupted and he's going to be eager to resume it. With you as proxy.

"I have to go in," you tell him, before he can say anything to dissuade you from the notion. There was no point in waiting. Every second you waited, your chances of finding Caroline worsened.

His eyes bore into you, silently speaking his every concern into existence. You didn't have to do this, there was always another way. You look so much like her. You look too much like her. If you go in there, he won't see you. He'll see her.

It is a tense minute as you and Hotch look at one another. He's giving you the chance to back out despite knowing that's the last thing you'd do. Finally, a nod comes from him.

"We still have the personal effects that were found in her car?" You're already walking out to the main office as you direct your question to Emily, who is quick to follow you. She guides you to a box of items, among which there's some pieces of clothing. Grabbing the box, you go back to the office overlooking the interrogation room. If he was going to think you were Caroline, then you'd play into it.

Quickly, you shuffle through the clothing in front of you, selecting a well-worn seeming crewneck with her alma mater on it. Slipping your blazer off, you pull the sweater over your head, adjusting so it hung off of you in a manner reminiscent of how Caroline wore it in the photos you'd seen. You shuck off your heels as well, finding a pair of low flats in the box, which you don instead.

Behind you, you can feel the eyes of the team on you as you slowly transform yourself. For the final touch, you take your hair out of your usually prim updo and let it down. Your hair was a little bit longer than Caroline's, but, as you part it down the left side just as she did, you figure it was close enough.

Turning finally to face the unsub, you take your first breath as Caroline Geller.

*------------*

Aaron watches, fists bunched tightly together, thumb itching to move, to do something that would accomplish something larger simply watching and waiting.

They all knew what you were doing - playing up the similarities between yourself and the victim to draw out whatever it was about these women that played to the unsub's compulsions. Prey on his weaknesses just as he'd preyed on them. It was a good tactic – one he could feel forming in your head as you'd searched through the evidence box in search of props for your scene.

You're good in the field, there's no doubt about it. But here, in the interrogation room, that's where you really shine. It was one of the hardest taught skills and it was the one that you had outperformed in beyond imagination from the very start. Your methods unpredictable and out of the box, but highly effective. Out of them all, you were always the best at getting inside the heads of the unsubs and finding that one little thing that made them break.

He's seen it before countless times now, been witness to each spoken word, well placed emphasis, timely pause. The interrogation room was a stage and you were always the star.

It had been the topic of some conversation between himself and Rossi – how you'd managed to convince some of the toughest unsubs to crack under the pressure of your presence. Aaron, personally, chalked it up to your childhood and upbringing. When your entire life was a performance, you know how to play your role.

Now, as he watches you, he sees how you've managed to mimic the mannerisms of Caroline Geller from the home videos you'd seen of her – the slight tilt of the head, the fiddling with the ends of your hair. Your voice has shifted as well, a slightly higher and happier pitch, more like what one might expect of a dance teacher with students in primary school. You've done your homework on this one, that one is easily clear. However, it's the slight pause you have as the Unsub addresses you as Caroline, the nearly imperceptible tension in your shoulders as the Unsub mocks Caroline's desolate fiancé whom Aaron hadn't the heart to look at. This one had gotten to you, and you wouldn't be able to deny it. Not to him.

At long last, you get what you're searching for. The docks by the east river.

The answer came at a price – twenty five long minutes with just you and the Unsub as he poked and prodded at your psyche just as you did to him.

The confirmation from Garcia, of a heat signature at the given location, comes within the minute and Aaron is quick to rap his knuckles against the glass, signaling your curtain call.

*------------*

You can't save them all. That's the one lesson every new agent learns at their own pace.

You can't save them all.

She'd suffocated before you could get to her. You'd been too late.

JJ hadn't let you see Caroline's body, dragging you back and away from the dock containers when Derek had emerged with a somber face, slowly shaking his head.

Your gun feels heavy in your hand, and it is only out of sheer rote habit that you manage to disarm and reholster the weapon. JJ stands with you as the flurry of people begin to process the scene, lit only by the red and blue flashing lights of the police cars.

You'd failed. You'd been too slow to extract the location, too slow to get there. You'd been too damn slow.

You've lost victims before. Everyone has. But you lived in this girl. You'd worn her clothes, her shoes, taken her name. You'd walked like her, changed your voice to mimic hers. It was as though, by pretending to be her, you'd taken in a part of her that now yearned to reunite with the rest of its whole, but it wasn't able to. So now a piece of Caroline Geller rattled inside of you, sobbing and crying out for the rest of itself.

Hotch and Emily finally emerge and you follow JJ to join them as Hotch assigns everyone their roles. One of the policemen interjects and informs him that Caroline's fiancé had insisted on coming along and was now waiting with a deputy by the barricades. You see Hotch nod, his eyes briefly moving towards the direction of the barricade, before refocusing on the team and instructing Reid to assist with the evidence logging.

As everyone starts to disperse, you can feel a lead ball drop into the pit of your stomach, knowing that Hotch now had the task of informing the fiancé that Caroline Geller was dead.

"Hotch," you begin, his name coming out full and heavy, sitting in your mouth like warm air.

He halts at your voice, turning back towards you. He'd already given you your assignment, so he has to be wondering what you could possibly have to say to him.

You look up at him. It's just you, him, and Emily left now, as she waits for you to help her with processing paperwork on the unsub that Hotch had tasked you both with. "I – ," you falter as you meet his eyes, and you can barely see a hint of him behind them. He'd already donned his mask to go face the fiancé.

"I'm sorry," you manage quickly, jaw tight and heart clenching at the awfulness of the job that he now has to do. The job he always has to do.

The only acknowledgement you receive that he had even heard what you said over the din of the police and ambulance sirens, was the barest of wrinkling to his forehead. The ever so slight slippage of the mask during which you thought you might get to catch a glimpse of him, but he catches it far too quickly and keeps it in place. As if it never happened. Not even nodding, he turns away and walks towards the barricade.

It's a miserable few hours for Emily afterwards, you're sure, as you monotonously follow her back to the police station and begin the task of coordinating with the local office to handle the case and subsequent prosecution.

Emily likes to talk while the two of you work together. Rarely ever do the two of you work without talking, however she seems to pick up on your mood fairly well and the two of you quietly go through all of the required processes.

"You know what your problem is?"

You look up at Emily, who had finally broken the silence, her sharp voice cutting through the small storage room that the two of you inhabited, gathering all of the files that would need to be sent off to the local office.

You swallow, bracing yourself for the worst. At your slight nod, she proceeds, her voice a calm fury like you'd never seen before. "Even after everything you've done, after everything you had to go through, you seem to harbor this delusion that you're not supposed to be here."

"What're you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you. Apologizing to Hotch. You think you don't belong here. That you aren't good enough. You think that girl dying today was your fault."

You scoff, shaking your head. "It was my fault," you retort, grabbing the box you'd just finished packing and making your way to the door before you're blocked by Emily, preventing your escape.

"No, it wasn't. The only person responsible for that girl's death is the guy who's going to rot in prison for the rest of his miserable, fucked up life."

You sigh, shuffling your weight from one foot to the other. "If I'd gotten – "

"You can't save everyone," she interrupts, barreling onwards. "We're going to try. We're going to try our best every single time. But we can't save everyone. None of us can. Not you, not me, not even Hotch. But that doesn't make it your fault."

Emily stares down at you, reaching out and grabbing the heavy box out of your hands and setting it down on the floor by your feet. You look away, up at the ceiling, tears pricking at your eyes, causing them to burn. Your chest feels tight and you take a shuddered breath. The lure of wanting to believe her was so very strong, struck against the waves of dissonance it posed in your head.

Emily softens her voice, reaching out towards you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders as she easily pulls you into her chest. "Hotch isn't blaming you. He doesn't think you have anything to be sorry for."

*------------*

The plane ride back was a somber affair, everyone on the team off on their own. Spencer was reading a new book whose title had caught your interest, Rossi was tucked away in a corner with his eyes closed but you're not sure if he's actually asleep. Both Emily and JJ were sitting close together, quietly sharing a bag of Cheetos while JJ worked on her presentation to Henry's class for Career Day and Emily bided the time alternating between reading the trashy romance she'd found left behind in her hotel room and staring out the window. Derek sat across from you with his headphones on, leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. Across the way, you can see Hotch diligently working on his report for the case, the only sound emanating from his faint taps against the keyboard.

Emily's words still play in your head, now competing with that churning voice that you'd had in your head for the past few weeks – you would never be good enough for the likes of Aaron Hotchner. Her words were starting to put some minute cracks in the foundation of that particular statement, and you had no idea what to make of that.

You hear the tapping of the keyboard stop momentarily and watch as Hotch turns up to look at you, your eyes meeting for a long second, before he breaks his gaze, returning back to the screen in front of him. From your seat, you can barely make out a slight crinkling of his forehead as his hands hover above the keyboard, as though faltering in typing out his next words. You have to guess that he's arrived at the part of his statement around the interrogation. You turn away, following Emily's lead and staring out your own window, while unbeknownst to you, his eyes can't help but return to you countless times more.

It felt as though you'd thought of very little besides Hotch, since that day that your mother had visited. She'd left in the wake of one of the few times you'd seen him lose his cool with someone, and having it be done on your behalf, in your defense, had somehow unveiled this entirely ridiculous truth that you'd tried in vain to deny.

You were in love with Aaron Hotchner.

You had no idea what to do with that.

Dating other people hadn't worked out so well.

Trying to simply get over it had been an exercise in vain.

You've run miles in your own head, trying to make sense of it. The question begged itself – why Aaron Hotchner? If you merely wanted a husband and kids, you've no doubt you could have that with anyone you got along with well enough.

Your mind had briefly flitted back to that final date you'd had with Cedric Kensington. It had been highly promising, you'd finally felt it heading in a definite direction and you could see it. You could see yourself being with Cedric, marrying him, having children with him if you were so inclined. Had you not gotten the call from Garcia, informing you that Foyet was back on the grid, who knows what could have happened. Maybe you could've had that with Cedric. Having that perfect life with someone else was not entirely out of the realm of possibility.

You'd thought of John. How it had never been the right time when it came to the two of you. Then finally, when you could conceive being something real with him, you'd faltered. You couldn't go through with it. It hadn't been the right time to choose him. It hadn’t been the right time to choose anyone but yourself.

It had taken you some time but you think you've finally come to the right conclusion of why it was Hotch and no one else – the possibility of losing him was terrifying. Even when the two of you had been on the outs, you hadn't been able to leave, staying anchored to him despite being furious with him. Seeing him had been torture. Not seeing him had been so much worse, and you couldn't bring yourself to endure that again.

Given the absolute fact of the matter – you being in love with Hotch - there were really only two paths forward that you could see. Ignore it and hope it goes away, or tell him and pray you didn't lose him in the process.

The Pro/Con list to that second option had begun, unbidden, the week prior. Your mind going rogue and dreaming up ridiculous and absurd scenarios of you confessing your truth to him.

Pro: You're absolutely, unshakably, madly in love with him.

Con: There's a fairly good chance that he does not and will never reciprocate those feelings.

Pro: Aaron Hotchner was loyal to you. You had always felt he was, but your conversation a few weeks back had cemented that. He would do anything to help you, no matter what.

Con: He's twelve years older than you and has a kid.

Pro: You love his kid.

Con: Between the two of you, your past trauma could be its own wing in the Library of Congress.

Pro: You're both good at getting the other person to talk.

Con: You work together and workplace romances are frowned upon. He was your supervisor, and dating him would no doubt lead to rumors and malicious gossip, which would follow you the rest of your career at the Bureau. It could tarnish you entirely and it could also hurt him.

Con: You would not be alright if the two of you didn't work out. You know that you weren't even together, but the idea of ending things with Hotch, after knowing what it was to have him – that would break you entirely.

Con: He was going to say no, so it was all a moot point.

Towards the end, you'd run out of items for the Pros to balance out each Con, and as of now, the Cons were definitely in the lead.

*------------*

The two of you are once again the last two people in the office. Emily had been the last to leave, leaving her book from the plane on your desk, having already put sticky note bookmarks in all the right spots. She'd winked as she left, encouraging you to skip the rest of the book and skip straight to the good stuff. You had to smile at her attempts to cheer you up. Some friends bought you a drink. Emily Prentiss curated sex scenes that she thought you'd enjoy reading.

You glance up and see that Hotch's door is shut, the orange blush emanating through the glass windows, alluding to the fact that he'd given up on using the overhead lights. They were too bright for him and gave him headaches, so despite the strain on his eyes, he preferred to read by the glow of his desk lamp. With Jack away at sleepaway camp for Cub Scouts for the week, he's unlikely to leave early.

You grab your finished report and head up the stairs to his door, stopping and knocking before hearing his permission to enter. As you open the door, your eyes go immediately to his desk, however he's not seated behind it. Instead, you're greeted by a most unfamiliar sight.

Aaron Hotchner is seated on the brown leather couch in his office, a glass of amber liquid in his hands. You don't think you've ever seen Hotch not working in his office. Sure, he'll take a break here and there when you interrupt, but the image of him outright sitting on the couch, not a report in sight, was entirely foreign to you.

It feels as though you're intruding. Like you’ve stumbled upon something entirely private, because Hotch doesn’t strike you as the kind of guy that makes a habit out of drinking in his office by himself.

You could imagine this was something he did with Rossi on occasion, the two of them sharing a drink after a rough case or catching up and reminiscing about the so-called good old days, before the team had a plane on call.

"You can set that on the desk," he tells you, his voice deeper, made warm by the liquor. He doesn't look up from his glass, eyes fixed on something in the far off distance.

Unsure how to react to the sight in front of you, you quickly make your way across his office, setting your file on top of the already tall stack at the edge of his desk.

Turning around, you quickly walk back towards the door, eager to not bother him any longer than absolutely necessary. When you get to the door, you hesitate, turning back to face him. Before you can stop yourself, you can feel the words tumbling out of you. "Hotch, are you alright?"

He looks up in your direction, his expression entirely unreadable. He nods slowly, and you can see a deep sigh work its way through him, before he finally meets your eyes.

"It was a rough case. Telling the families isn't something I'll ever get used to, I think."

You nod sympathetically. It wasn't fair that it always fell on him.

"I'll be fine, though. Just need to be alone after some of them."

You nod again, not trusting yourself to say much. As you turn to leave, taking his words as your cue, he speaks again.

"You can stay."

You turn back, your head tilting in some confusion as you meet his eyes once more. He looks at you for a second longer, before reaching over to the side table and grabbing a second glass. He pours from the bottle of good scotch that Rossi had given him last Christmas while you watch him.

Proffering the glass in your direction, he beckons you forward. "You're easy to be alone with."

Somehow, in a slight daze, you manage to walk back towards the couch, reaching out and grasping the heavy crystal glass in your hand. He motions for you to join him and you sink into your usual spot, tucking your legs underneath yourself.

His eyes stay on you as you settle in and take a sip of the scotch, feeling it burn your lips, the tip of your tongue, before blooming into a subtle smoky sweetness in your mouth, settling into your stomach like dying embers.

"Are you alright?" he asks, watching you carefully.

You try not to squirm under his inspecting gaze, unable to offer much beyond a shrug. "I will be."

It's quiet for a moment as he continues to look at you and you distract yourself with a stray thread in the cushion stitching.

You hear him clear his throat, shifting slightly on the couch so that his leg bends at the knee as he turns his body to face you, arm stretched out on the back of the couch, fingers grazing the top of your shoulder. "You did everything you could."

You feel that heavy tug in your stomach, unable to look at him, knowing that your face would betray you entirely.

He says your name, soft on his lips, gentle with every part of you. He waits until you look up at him, meeting his brown eyes that held the warmth of an everlasting hearth.

"You did."

You nod slowly, because who were you to disagree with him. Because if Aaron Hotchner said you did everything you could, then maybe it was true.

Not much more is said that night, as the two of you sit side by side.

Pro: You could be alone with Aaron Hotchner.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #irreverentseries

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thedumpsterqueen · 4 years

Text

Standards of Performance

Here it is!!!!! First chapter of my first fic on my new AO3! This is a multi-chapter, slow burn work. Please let me know what you think, I welcome screaming and incoherent asks about our fave special agent in my inbox. Full text under the cut, or you can find it through the AO3 link below.

AO3 link

Summary: You're the BAU's newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 1, Coffee Stains and Neckties

Words: 2388

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

Warnings: Not much for this chapter specifically, but let’s just assume general gore and murder stuff, explicit language, and sexual content are fair game form here on out.

Enjoy! I’ll try to update weekly, if not more often. I’ll let you know when I have a more defined schedule!

“Fucking SHIT!”

You cursed as you felt the (very, very) hot coffee soak your new skirt. Grabbing as many paper towels as you could with one hand, you tried to sop up the mess on the floor. The stain on your outfit? A shame, but nothing compared to marring the assuredly expensive cream color of the BAU’s breakroom carpet.

A low chuckle sounded off behind you, and you froze.

For the love of god, please don’t be…

“Morgan! Please tell me you have carpet cleaner, oh my god. I don’t even know how that happened.”

Morgan grinned, as he typically did, sauntering into the breakroom with his hands in his pockets. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, the janitor's got it later. I was looking for you, team meeting in five. You all good? You look a little - ” he paused, probably searching for a descriptor that wouldn’t sting too bad, “ - rushed.”

You stood up, sighing. He was right, after all. You had stayed up late last night poring over psychology textbooks and only just woken up in time to leave your apartment. As the BAU’s newest profiling intern - whatever the hell that actually meant - the pressure of performing to seasoned profilers’ standards manifested in spending practically all your free time buried in research. Hence why your hair was coated in unbelievable amounts of dry shampoo, you were wearing your unflatteringly oversized glasses instead of your usual contacts, and why your frantic attempt at pouring yourself a cup of coffee when you got into work had resulted in the giant wet spot currently soaking your skirt.

At least the skirt was black.

“You’re right. Late night,” you said, rolling your eyes at Morgan’s suggestive eyebrow waggle.

“Not like that, I wish. Just trying to catch up. Don’t really want to repeat last week’s disaster,” you mumbled, referring to the first time you actually got to question a suspect, which had ended up with a wad of saliva hawked in your face. It was only your third week in the position, but damn, if that hadn’t let the wind out of your sails a bit.

“Hey, what did I tell you then?” Morgan asked, as you walked out of the breakroom together. “You’re not a true profiler until you get assaulted by a serial killer!”

“I’m not a true profiler until I finish the year long training program,” you pointed out, “so I think I could do without the spit in the meantime.”

Morgan laughed, opening the door of the team’s briefing room for you. “Well if we’d known you were gonna be so picky, we might have gone with someone else.”

“Who’s picky?” asked Emily, looking up from her seat.

While Morgan laughed and launched into a dramatic retelling of the event as if the entire team hadn’t already fucking seen it in real time, you took your seat at the table. Reid nodded in acknowledgment, and you returned it with a small smile. Damn if he wasn’t handsome, and ridiculously smart to boot, but you were pretty sure your chances with him withered and died when you asked him what he was doing after work last Friday and he answered with, “Reading.” Point taken.

Hotch swiveled in his chair to face the table and you suddenly became acutely aware of how much of a mess you probably looked. It’s not that you cared about his opinion regarding your general appearance beyond the basic standard of professional attire, but his always-intense gaze and stony expression had a way of making you second guess even your most confidently held opinions.

“Sit,” he said, his voice cutting through the rest of the team’s animated chatter.

It would have been hard not to notice how quickly they obliged, not out of fear, but rather a respect and deference so deeply ingrained that it almost gave you goosebumps. You’d never thought of yourself as a follower, per say, but if Hotch was what a leader looked like, you certainly didn’t fit into that category either.

He scanned the table, stopping on you. “New glasses?” he asked, with a single, slightly raised eyebrow.

“I, um, not really, just didn’t have time to put my contacts in,” you stammered.

“Hm,” Hotch said, “They look nice.”

Your cheeks suddenly felt hot, and you thanked him quickly, looking down at your shoes to conceal the pink that was probably spreading across your face. Hotch had a way of speaking that made everything he said sound like the absolute truth, which was probably why such an innocuous little compliment had disarmed you so much.

Still though, jesus christ. Get it the fuck together. You’re not Reid; you’re not smart enough to be this awkward.

Hotch, blessedly ignoring how painful you just made that interaction, addressed the team while JJ passed out files. “We have a new case. Three bodies, all found completely drained of blood in various woods, off hiking trails. Cause of death appears to be blood loss from severed carotid arteries, meaning they were likely strung up and drained before being moved to where they were discovered.”

Reid spoke up first. “Erm, what exactly do you mean by various woods?”

“That’s the unusual thing,” Hotch said, pulling up a map of the southwestern United States on the screen behind him. "Each body was found in a different state, one here, one here, and one here,” pointing to spots in California, Arizona, and Nevada. “However, local police discovered the bodies within hours of each other due to anonymous tip offs, and medical examiners estimate approximately the same time of death for all three.”

Morgan whistled lowly. “So what you’re saying is, this guy kills three victims around the same time and takes a road trip to hide their bodies in places he knows won't be discovered until he calls in.”

“That’s how it appears, yes,” Hotch confirmed.

Rossi shook his head, twirling a pen that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe. “So, how are we splitting this up?”

You whipped your head in his direction. Splitting up? Of course, you should have known it’d only make sense considering the ground to be covered, but your quick mental calculations told you that there were six of them, evenly split into three groups of two, and one odd man out, both in skill and number - you.

“So, who’s getting stuck with me?” you asked, trying to beat everyone to the punch. Not that any of them would voice it, but if you couldn’t project confidence, you figured self-awareness would do.

When you entered the internship as a recent college grad around a month ago, you knew you’d be in way over your head. Everyone else on the team was a seasoned expert, and you were a 20-something with a degree in psychology who somehow managed to charm her way through the interviews of the BAU’s flagship internship program. It’s not that you weren’t smart, you were, of course, but comparatively? You were pretty sure this was shaping up to be a glorified babysitting program, and you were the baby.

“Oh, hush,” JJ said, smiling and shaking her head. You smiled back. JJ had gone out of her way to make you feel welcome, which you were unspeakably grateful for. Between her and Morgan, you sometimes felt like maybe when this year was done, you could actually belong on this team.

Hotch interrupted your pity party. “Rossi, you’re with Reid in Phoenix. JJ and Emily, you’re going to Vegas. Morgan, you and I are going to San Diego.”

He turned to you. “You’re coming with me.”

Your stomach flipped at his words. You knew he had the most to teach you, and you could observe him coordinating the entire investigation from San Diego, but the idea of your performance being directly scrutinized by your boss in such a small group made you more nauseous than excited.

“Please be aware,” he continued, “Garcia is going to have to deal with three times the inquiries as normal. I recommend you only contact her if the information you’re searching for is genuinely too difficult to find yourself.” He gave Morgan a pointed look, to which Morgan raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning.

“We’ll drop teams off as we go,” Hotch said. “Wheels up in thirty.”

____________

As you settled into your seat on the plane, your mind spun, trying to review every piece of psychology knowledge you’d ever encountered. This wasn’t your first case, but it was the first one you got to travel for, which made it feel much more real.

The hours ticked by as the team reviewed the case. You contributed - not much, and nothing they wouldn’t have thought of without you - but it was something. Narcissist, craves attention and spotlight, physically confident enough to detain and murder three women at the same time. The method was throwing the team for a loop, however. Bleeding the victims out was clinical, relatively painless - uncharacteristic of the sexual injuries found on the corpses and the bravado with which the killer executed the rest of the crime.

When you, Hotch, and Morgan trudged off the plane in San Diego, you had been going at the potential profile for hours and even Morgan’s patience was wearing thin.

“Look, Hotch, let’s hold off on speculation until we see the crime scene in person, alright?”

Hotch nodded, and took that as a cue to head straight to the crime scene. You groaned internally - having barely showered this morning and spent half the day on a plane, your greasy hair and coffee-stained skirt would have greatly benefited from a stop at the hotel to freshen up.

It’s not like you have to look good to go stare at a patch of dirt where a dead body used to to be though, right?

____________

Turns out the aforementioned patch of dirt was actually a wooded grove off a hiking trail leading to a nude beach, much to Morgan’s delight. The site itself was uninteresting except for the way the body had been buried - covered up very securely, implying remorse, another characteristic that didn’t make sense with the initial profile.

This commonality between all three crime scenes was hotly debated on the video conference between the entire team when you got back to the hotel. Cross legged on the bed in Hotch’s hotel room, you listened to Reid and Rossi snipe back and forth on the laptop about what the burial method could mean for ten-plus minutes (“It’s clearly just a functional tool to properly hide the body, Reid.” “But you don’t know that, the significance of burial practices can tell us so much more beyond function, it can even tell us about his religious upbringing…”) before Hotch put a stop to it.

“What do you think?” Hotch asked you, turning and looking directly into your gaze. You were suddenly hyperware of the proximity between you two - sitting close enough on the edge of the bed that your thighs were almost touching. Morgan had abandoned his position on the other side of you to stretch out in the armchair by the window halfway through Rossi and Reid’s debate. Hotch’s eyes boring into yours from only a few feet away and the expectant silence of the other team members on the video call spiked your heart rate, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

“I… agree with Dr. Reid. I think it means something. The position of the hands, they were crossed across the chest, right? He didn’t need to do that. I don’t know if it means he was remorseful, but it was on purpose. I think.”

Hotch nodded, not breaking eye contact. “Good. Let's move forward with that theory.” He turned back to the laptop. “Let me know how interviews with the loved ones go tomorrow. Let’s find the connection between the victims. Call me if you need anything.” After shutting the laptop, he turned to you and Morgan. “Let’s call it for tonight. Meet me in the lobby at 7 tomorrow.”

Having been excused, you and Morgan made your way to your hotel rooms next to Hotch’s. Morgan wished you goodnight, and you unlocked your door and practically sprinted into your shower.

After you got out, you looked around the room, towel drying your hair. It was nice, much nicer than anywhere you’d ever stayed. The abstract art on the walls and the modern, clean white lines of the furniture were lit by the soft glow of the sunset filtering through the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony overlooking the ocean. You poured yourself a glass of wine from the minibar (a reimbursable travel expense, right?) and stepped onto the balcony, breathing in the ocean air.

“Nice night, hm?”

You jumped, nearly spilling your drink down your front for the second time in less than 24 hours. Hotch was sitting in a chair on his balcony to the left of yours, reclining with his hands behind his head. Despite wearing nothing but your thin hotel robe, you felt the urge to avert your eyes from him. His suit jacket was shucked, tie undone and hanging around his neck, and the top two buttons of his white, collared shirt were unbuttoned. You felt like you were seeing something you shouldn’t have, like the cold stoniness of his exterior had shifted just slightly and allowed you a glimpse underneath.

It’s just a couple buttons, calm down. You’re the one who’s barely clothed in front of your fucking boss.

“It is. Shame we can’t go to the beach,” you replied, keeping your eyes forward.

Oh my god, three women were murdered and I just complained to my boss about not being able to go to the beach.

“You’re welcome to get up early and go tomorrow; might be a bit cold,” Hotch replied. You could tell from his voice he was smiling.

You mumbled in affirmation, continuing to avoid glancing in his direction. “Well, I just wanted to see the view, um, I’m gonna get to bed. Goodnight, Agent Hotchner!” You ducked back into your room, and you could have sworn you heard him chuckle before you slid the door shut.

After getting ready, beating yourself up mentally for your complete social incompetence, and tucking in under the plush, white duvet, you drifted off to sleep.

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kindahoping4forever · 4 years

Text

Yes, Sir // Ashton Irwin

This is definitely the fastest turnaround I’ve ever had for a piece of writing 🤡. Yesterday @spicycal sent me a TikTok of Ashton reacting to being called “sir” and as you can imagine, the inspo machine started turning for a lot of us. Pretty quickly, I jokingly pitched a premise to @pxrxmoore @cashtonasfuck and @feliznavidaddycal that served as a sequel to the fic I had just posted, You Were Digging Plants, I Dug You. The more I thought about it though, the more I liked the idea so I ran with it and here we are. Thank you to @cal-puddies for as always, reassuring me I was on the right track and to the anons who excitedly messaged me in anticipation for it. (And to @rebelwith0utacause for implying my writing was worth losing sleep over.)

Warnings: Boyfriend!Ash, Gardening!Ash, Home Repair!Ash, Dom!Ash (we love a multi-faceted man), references to bondage and cumplay, brief degrading language, sex in a public place, unprotected sex in an established relationship

Word Count: 3750

Masterlist // Taglist // Ko-Fi

Let me know what you think!

————-

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were proud of what you’ve done,” Ashton accuses you with a smirk.

You drop your jaw in mock offense. “What I’ve done?! Ohhhhh, that’s right, that was my other boyfriend’s dick I was bouncing on that day. I’m sorry, baby, you’re correct. This was entirely my fault,” you offer with pouted lips, opening your arms for a cuddle.

“You were a woman possessed and your frenzied demon sex destroyed my relaxation zone,” he teases, pulling you in to first bite and then kiss your pout.

It had been a week since your spontaneous romp had ended in the untimely demise of Ash’s beloved hammock. He hadn’t let you hear the end of it since it happened and now the two of you were finally back outside, assessing the damage.

“I think I have a fabric patch kit in the garage but the framing is definitely fucked,” he mutters, picking over the pieces. “Gonna need new hooks… new spreader bar…”

“Been talking about getting one of those anyways,” you joke with a twinkle in your eye.

He gives you a look and shakes his head. “Jesus, already with you?”

You giggle and raise your arms in surrender. “I’m sorry, Ash, I honestly hate that I’m that girl but the manly man ‘lemme get my tools out and work with my hands’ act just does things for me.”

“Are you sure you want to go with me to get the supplies or are you gonna spontaneously combust right when we walk in the hardware store?” He teases, standing behind you and snaking his arms around your waist. “And you’re not that girl, you’re my girl.”

“Nice save,” you comment dryly and wiggle away from him; he chuckles warmly and you both walk back to the house.

While you’re getting ready to go, Ashton gets caught up taking notes on the hammock repair videos he’s found on YouTube so you end up heading out later than either of you intended. The home improvement store isn’t far but it’s LA so there’s still traffic and the car ride has a slightly tense air because of it.

You can tell how irritated he is by the way he’s relentlessly drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as you sit in the standstill traffic. You reach out and take his hand, both to calm him and to stop the noise. He looks at you appreciatively and gestures at the line of cars in front of him with his other hand. “40 minutes to go five fuckin’ miles,” he grumbles. “There’s no way this is getting done today, the sun’s gonna be goin’ down before we even leave the goddamn store.”

You kiss the back of his hand that’s tightly squeezing yours. “I told you, I’ll help you with everything tomorrow,” you remind him reassuringly. “It’s not a big deal, just relax, baby.”

“You know what would help me relax?” He turns to you with a smirk. “If I could go home and lay in a fuckin’ hammock.”

You finally arrive at your destination and enter the store. After his YouTube deep dive, Ash decided he should install wooden posts to hang the hammock on since your sexcapade uprooted the metal stand’s legs straight out of the ground. He heads over to visit the lumber department and you decide to browse through the garden center, thinking that if you pick out some new seeds for him, it might put a smile on his face.

Ash returns to you less than 10 minutes later, looking more agitated than ever. You raise your eyebrows to him as a silent question and he huffs, “They just happened to have sold out of what I need. Gotta order it, won’t be here until next week.”

You give him a sympathetic frown and rub his back. “I’m sorry I broke your oasis center or whatever you called it earlier,” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

He cracks a smile and starts browsing the seed packs in front of you. “I called it my relaxation zone and I’m sure I’ll forgive you someday.”

You two linger in the garden section, pointing out vegetables that could be helpful to have on hand and having a mild disagreement over which flowers would look best growing next to his sunflowers.

“My phone is dying and I need it for my shopping list, baby, can you Google and see if we can plant marigolds right now?” He asks, turning a packet of seeds over in his hands.

You pull your phone out of your back pocket, happy to see that he’s calmed down and is interested in making the most of this trip. You chirp emphatically, “Yes, sir.”

Ashton hears your response and lets out a sharp, raspy exhale that you’ve never quite heard before and he immediately tries to disguise it as a cough. You glance over at him curiously but he appears to be intensely examining the package he’s holding so you move on.

“Depends on what type but these ones you can plant through the summer, so we’re good,” you inform him, pointing to the seeds he’s holding.

“Cool,” he breezes and tosses them into your shopping cart. “What about... basil?”

“Yes, sir,” you say again, fingers adeptly typing. You hear a similar noise come from him, though he deals with it much better this second time. You’re sure this wasn’t coincidental this time and you peer at him over your phone to see his jaw clenching in a way you’re very familiar with. Interesting.

“I’m just seeing ‘warm weather’... maybe just get one pack to try?” You suggest, eyeing him, trying to figure out if what you suspect is going on is really going on.

He shrugs, “Couldn’t hurt.” He flings the packet into the cart and moves down the aisle.

Ashton tosses out a few more things for you to look up and while you’re happy to help, you’re also glad for the opportunity to test the theory you now have. You vary your affirmations to him and as you suspect, “Yes, sir” is the only one that seems to get a reaction out of him.

The garden center is located outside and the afternoon sun is just starting to hit the area you’re shopping in. You notice Ash has begun to sweat and if you weren’t in a mood before, you absolutely are now, so you decide to rile him a bit more.

“That sun is brutal!” You start, dramatically fanning yourself. “You’re lookin’ a little warm too, handsome… unless there’s another reason why you’d be sweating.”

He looks at you incredulously and you stare back innocently, eyes wide and shining; he stares you down as he briskly takes off his black button down shirt, leaving him in a white tank.

“Are you good or does the sight of any bare flesh in the presence of gardening paraphernalia have you needing to excuse yourself?” He fires back, whipping his shirt into the basket pointedly, glare challenging you to push your luck.

You smile sweetly and answer, “Oh, I’m feeling just fine. But thank you… sir.”

Mischievous grin on your face, you start to make your way to the end of the aisle, scooting your body between him and the shopping cart. Sure, you could’ve gone around the other side but that wouldn’t have given you the opportunity to graze your ass against his crotch to confirm - yep - he’s losing the battle he’s fighting with his cock and he is definitely harder than he wants to be right now.

As you pass by, his large hand grabs your wrist and wraps around it tightly. “Watch it,” is all he says but the low tone he uses mixed with the feeling of his hot breath on your neck has your head spinning.

You lay off your teasing for a while but if you’re being honest, you both seem to enjoy the charged air lingering between the two of you now. Ashton grabs your waist to move you out of his way so that he can look at a display and his fingers dig into your skin just a little too hard, causing you to gasp sharply. You stop to read a tag on the bottom shelf and just happen to catch his gaze as you lick your lips, on your knees in front of him; you hear him curse under his breath as he turns away, adjusting himself.

The cat and mouse game continues and judging by the hiss you get out of him the third time you “accidentally” bump his crotch, you’ve pushed it as far as you can; you know you’re probably in for a long night when you get home but maybe that’s what he needs to take his mind off of how frustrated he is with this project. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. It’s also quite fun.

You leave the garden section, cart full of various treasures, and start to head for the checkout. “Wait, baby,” Ashton calls out and you stop. “I wanna get a couple of the things I need for the hammock so when I come back for the wood I can just pop in and out of here.”

He directs you to an area towards the back of the store; you follow him and wheel the cart down an aisle that’s filled with boxes of metal hooks and chains. He sees your eyes taking in the aisle and he makes a face at you. “Whatever obnoxiously horny crack you’re about to make, just do it now so you can help me look for what I need,” he says in faux exasperation, making a “come on” gesture with his hand.

You laugh genuinely, “I don’t have anything to say!” You walk down the aisle and peer into a few of the boxes on the shelves. “I do wonder if we might get a better price on some of these things at one of the other types of stores we frequent,” you say under your breath.

He ignores your remark and starts consulting the notes on his phone. He scans the selection of items and finds the types of hooks he needs, throwing them into your basket. He furrows his brow, unable to find the next thing on his list.

“What are you looking for, babe? Let me help,” you ask, eager to speed things up.

“We need this,” He states, standing next to you to show you a picture of chains on his phone.

You examine the photo and quip suggestively, “Yeah we do.”

He lands a light swat on your ass and you squeak. “Your jokes are gonna seem a lot less funny if you keep it up,” he warns quietly in your ear.

You look around and see that this section of the store is more or less deserted. Feeling emboldened by this discovery, you reach to palm him over his jeans. “Yes, sir,” you nonchalantly reply.

The words have barely left your mouth and his hand is already back around your wrist and dragging you to follow him down the aisle. Your logical mind says you should protest that his shirt, your sweater and all your intended purchases are being left in the cart unattended but the decidedly less rational section of your brain, the part that just told you to grab your boyfriend’s dick in the middle of a home improvement store, kind of wants to see where this goes.

You get your answer seconds later when he pulls you into a bathroom tucked away next to the employee break room; it’s small, only a couple of sinks and stalls, and looks infrequently used. Which is probably for the best because Ash does not appear to have any interest in taking you into a stall, at least not just yet.

He presses you up against the door, kissing you deeply with a bruising intensity. He pulls away and you gasp. “You’ve been acting up all day, sweetheart, you can’t be surprised we’ve ended up here.” His hand, large enough to reach across your entire face, grips your chin and turns you to look at him. “Is this what you’ve been aiming for, is this what you hoped would happen?”

His tone is harsh and his words threatening but his eyes glimmer with mischief, desire and excitement. You’re sure the look in your eyes matches his when you unflinchingly answer with a confident, “Yes. Sir.”

He smiles widely and leans in, kissing, nipping and sucking harshly at your neck. You groan against him, involuntarily, and then quickly wonder how thin this bathroom’s walls are and you start trying to recall if you saw anybody in the break room next door.

Ashton pulls back to admire his work on your neck and sees your concerned expression. His face softens for a minute and he asks you, “You remember your word, baby?”

You flash him a brief tender smile, appreciating how attentive he is, that he would pick up on even your briefest moment of apprehension. You nod enthusiastically and then your smile turns devilish as you think to once again answer, “Yes, sir.”

He hooks his fingers in your waistband and yanks you from the door, spinning you around and then pressing your chest into it. You hold your breath and brace yourself for the spank you’re certain is coming but it never does. You’re not sure if you’re disappointed but the way your core is throbbing hints that you probably are.

Instead of smacking your ass, Ash is rutting up against it, breath heavy against your neck, giving you goosebumps. “Feel this, baby? You knew what you were doing out there, you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Gave you my cock this morning and you’re still begging for it, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip and wiggle against him, enjoying the feeling of his hard bulge pressing into you. “Yes, sir.”

Before you even realize he’s pulled away, that hard smack you’d been waiting for comes down on your ass and you cry out in surprise.

"That’s for being smart.” He presses his body roughly up against yours again and shoves his hand down your shorts, dragging his fingers through your folds, humming at the wetness he discovers there. “We’re on a fuckin’ shopping trip and you’re this wet for me? Even more desperate than I thought… and believe me, you were already very desperate in my mind.”

Ashton yanks his hand out of your shorts and pulls you away from the door, unceremoniously pushing you towards the sink counter. “Off,” he commands, gesturing to your bottoms. There’s not a lock on the bathroom door so he drags the metal trash can in front of the door, wedging it somewhat under the handle. “We already know you clearly can’t keep quiet, can’t have anyone barging in here to see who’s demeaning themself in the bathroom,” he taunts. “That’s only for me to see.”

You and Ash used to play like this all the time when you first got together but lately you’d gotten so caught up in your bubble of domestic bliss, it had fallen by the wayside. Things weren’t boring or unadventurous by any means but it’d been a minute since your last risky public romp or use of any degradation. Combining the two, plus the thrill of jumping back in after so long? Heavenly.

You hop up on the counter in your panties, shedding your tank top and spreading your legs, inviting him closer. “Yes, sir,” you tease with a sultry smile. “I’m your slut, no one else’s.”

He walks over and settles between your legs, kissing you hungrily as he unzips his pants and takes his cock out. “That’s right,” he growls. “Love hearing you say that… In fact, think I want you to see that too.”

He grabs you down off your perch and spins you to face the mirror lining the sink, your hands fly out to brace yourself as he presses you up against the counter, kicking your legs apart. He makes quick work of tugging your panties down your legs and then reaching over to jerk the cups of your bra down. You watch your reflection as he exposes more of your body to himself and now to you; you don’t even process your nakedness, your only thought is of how blown your pupils look.

Ashton lines himself up and pushes his cock inside you and begins thrusting roughly. You were undoubtedly turned on but the stretch is still a lot and you find yourself gasping and white-knuckling the counter at the sensation.

He sees your eyes start to close and he yanks your hair to get your attention. “I said I want you to see what a slut you are,” he breathes, already struggling to control himself. “Want you to see what I see, want you to see what everyone is gonna see if that door stop doesn’t hold up and someone comes in here and finds me giving you what you’ve been needing so badly.”

You whimper quietly at his words, at the thought of being caught. “Yes, sir… I love seeing how I look with your cock inside me…” You pant, “I already look so fucked out and we’ve barely started… I just wanted it so much.”

He slaps your ass again and the already loud smack sounds even louder given your setting. “We’re only at this fucking store today because we had to solve a problem created by your greedy little pussy and now that we’re here? You can’t even act right for a couple hours, got me hard looking at fucking flowers, now I’m having to bend you over in a fucking bathroom? How embarrassing,” he rasps at you through gritted teeth.

You love when he’s like this, you feel like you could almost cum from his words alone; you know it’s risking setting him off but you reach down and start rubbing your clit, you can’t help it. Ash immediately notices and laughs darkly. “Aww, baby, that time already? Go ahead and make yourself cum, sugar, the faster that needy pussy gets satisfied, the faster I can get on with my fucking day… until you’re back to begging me for it when we get home, of course.”

You’re aggressively meeting his thrusts now, throwing yourself back on him with pleasure being your only concern. You’d love to respond to his teasing with some sass of your own, rile him up some more but he’s hitting inside you just right and the only thing you can think to do is moan.

Seconds after you let out a particularly long moan, you notice voices can faintly be heard on the other side of the door, a pair of employees walking through the hallway. You catch Ashton’s gaze in the mirror and you can see the question in his eyes, letting you decide if you want to stop; you surprise yourself with how little you care and you stare at his reflection as you bounce yourself against him and rub your clit faster.

An amused smile paints his face and he whispers, “Starting to think you might want everyone to know what a slut you are for me. Is that what you want, baby?” His fingers dig into your skin as he drives his hips relentlessly into yours.

To keep from crying out, you bite your lip hard enough you’re almost sure you’re breaking the skin. You manage to gasp out, “Yes, sir,” before your orgasm completely takes your breath away.

The combination of you cumming around him and your breathless use of that phrase finally does Ash in and he thrusts into you only a few more times before his cock starts pumping you full of cum. Those voices outside the door are still somewhat present and you watch his reflection as he tries not to make a sound, fascinated by the way his jaw almost seems to be clenching in time with the pulsing of your pussy.

You both stand at the sink, catching your breath for a good minute, reality slowly starting to fade back in. You close your eyes and open them again, giggling once your mind finally starts to process the sight of yourself tits out, bottomless and bent over a bathroom sink in a hardware store.

Ashton smiles at the sound of your laughter and pulls out of you, hurriedly reaching for a handful of paper towels to help you clean up before things get too messy.

You accept his help and wryly ask, “You’re not gonna do the whole ‘no, put your panties back on, want you to feel my cum dripping out of you until we get home’ thing?”

He looks at you with amusement in his eyes and replies, “Gross, babe, we still have to go through checkout and everything. Jesus.”

You snort and pull him into you, kissing him sweetly before you both start the process of making yourselves and the bathroom look like nothing happened.

You manage to exit both the bathroom and the store without anyone catching on; you notice he’s in a much lighter mood and much more affectionate and touchy than he was earlier. You like it.

There’s traffic on the drive home but it doesn’t seem to bother either one of you; you’re excitedly chatting about the purchases you made and trying to decide what to order for dinner.

There’s a lull in the conversation and you can’t fight the urge to comment, “So… you definitely can’t tease me anymore for getting turned on by home improvement because I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna be able to visit that store without getting just a little bit hard now.”

The giggle Ash lets out fills the car and it’s the best sound you’ve heard all day. “I think whatever sex demon possessed you last week got to me,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “I literally had to stop myself from eating my cum out of you. That’s how far gone I was.”

You playfully jab his side. “I can’t even get you to do that at home and you’re trying to do it in a public bathroom? And we call me the slut in this relationship.”

He laughs again and squeezes your thigh affectionately. “Well… we have fun, don’t we?”

You place your hand on top of his, turn to him and grin. “Yes, sir.”

—-

My tag list is breaking my posts atm so apologies if you get tagged more than once/don’t get tagged at all while I figure out what the problem is!

—-

@mymindwide @suchalonelysunflower @loveroflrh @ghostofmashton @sexgodashton @ashtonangst @castaway-cashton @boomerash @megz1985 @ashdork-irwin @angelicfluffs @findingliam-o @abadaftertaste @myloverboyash @youngbloodchild @irwinsbetch @ashsun @everyscarisahealingplace @wiildflower-xxx @metalandboybands @another-lonely-heart @realisticnotes @makeamovehemmings @ashtondaddy90 @golden166 @burstintocolor @mfartzzz @babyoria @saphseoul @petunias-pet @youngblood199456 @notinthesameway- @seanna313 @calumftduke @zhangyixingxing1 @stardust-galaxies @Redeserts @zackoid @queenalienscherrypie @xsongxbirdx @justhereforcalum @laura66sos @calumrose @karajaynetoday @valdanvers @Obey-Kaylin

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#5sos smut #ashton irwin smut #ashton smut #5 seconds of summer smut #ashton irwin fic #kindahoping4forever #smut #kh4f fic #Yes Sir #I have no idea where this came from and I can't believe I wrote this in a day lol #the clownery #fr shouts to everyone who encouraged me to churn this out #it was a challenge but i definitely feel accomplished and am happy with the result tbh #ALSO #if people are still interested in a True Sequel to this story lmk lol #That hammock ain't gonna fix itself #Feedback is appreciated #thank you for reading 🙏🏼

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dracosaurusrex · 4 years

Text

Scavenger Hunt

Part 6 to Notebook! Notebook Masterlist

Summary: In which Draco is torn between his morals and desires, but chooses you.

Pairing: Draco x Gryffindor!reader

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this chapter, pero lyke I think the two need a little push? More substance? Hnnnnghhhhhhh. It’s challenging to write Draco with realism aha, but I think it’s crucial for their growth as a couple (?) IDK...but as always, feedback is lovely and I appreciate it greatly. I hope you enjoy!

A certain blonde found his thoughts often flitting to the recent memories of the time he spent with you in Hogsmeade. He remembered how he well your hand fit into his while cherishing the taste of peppermint toads. Whenever he was alone, he’d remember all those small details: the feel of your touch, the shape of your smile, the ease of holding an actual conversation, and the overall warmth that you exuded on a day that was particularly cold. His heart skipped beats upon recalling these sensations. After all, it was relieving to put down the mask he has been keeping for so long. It was relieving to allow his walls disintegrate for even a moment.

Draco Lucius Malfoy was the only born son to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and the heir to an ancient and obnoxiously wealthy line of purebloods. He was raised upon expectations for perfection. Grades, appearance, skills, status, even the people he connected with—anything less than such was a call for a reprimanding followed by a constant reminder that he mustn't fall into the wrong sort. Such perceptions were embedded in his upbringing, and with efforts to bring his parents much pride and joy, it was his intent to strive for that very definition of perfection. Up until now, his life has been built around the goal of pleasing them.

“Tell me who your friends are, and I’ll know who you are, Draco. Remember that.” His father would tell him with a pompous and conceited tone.

The boy responds, “Yes, father.”

His childhood was a lonely one to say the least. Although he was surrounded by people his parents had approved of to be his friend, they felt more like acquaintances. Furthermore, they resembled hollow relationships founded upon networking and money rather than genuine care and trust. Perhaps that is the reason why your relationship with the golden bunch triggered him. The warmth that he felt with you can easily be seen in the way you interact with your imperfect friends, and he longed to preserve the feeling of it throughout his life.

You were of a different caliber. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he was—simply put—an outsider looking into your life.

In all his honesty, Draco only knew several things about you based off observations and word of mouth. For starters you were in the rivaling house. You also weren’t as wealthy as he was. He knew that the people his parents strongly disapproved of were ones that seemed to bring you much happiness. Additionally, you never gave much priority for your status as a pureblood. Regardless of that, you somehow managed to live a vibrant and seemingly happy life. A life that highly contradicted his own. To that end, he knew deep down inside that you didn’t meet the standard of perfection set by his family. He could see his parents (mostly his father) scowl. But beyond all of the limitations the familial factors presented, your existence seemed to fill what resembled closely to a hole within his heart. He treaded over the line between securing the comfort of the reality he lived in and making the risk to realize the reality he wanted—you. His heart leaned towards the latter.

The weekend transitioned into Monday, and you still haven’t returned Draco’s notebook. While it frustrated him quite a bit, he felt butterflies over the idea of seeing you again. Class was going to start within 30 minutes, and the boy found himself seated on a tree within the courtyard, watching other students pass by. Sporadic sights of red, yellow, blue, and green crossed his line of vision until they landed on a rather large group of Gryffindors congregating near a corner. Seen among them was you.

A smile was plastered on your face as the attention of you and your friends was fixed upon George Weasely, who could be seen holding a camera. He set his device atop of a wall as he directed commands for you all to bunch closer together. After confirming the satisfaction with the placement, he clicked on the shutter and ran frantically to his place next to Fred.

“Say ‘Gryffindor’” You all responded enthusiastically. Arms were wrapped around each other's shoulders, cheeks pressed closely together, smiles all wide with glee. *snap* The scene elicited a tinge of jealousy within Draco’s heart. Before deciding to act upon his emotions, he remains planted on his tree, watching the scene continue to unfold.

“Y/N, Mione, Ginny, come over here! Let me take one of you girls.” The three of you arranged yourselves with you in between your two friends. Your arms interlaced with theirs and you gave a smile to the camera.

“Loosen up, Y/N! You look like you saw a basilisk!” Ron chimed. You threw a glare and adjusted yourself accordingly.

“That’s it! Smile now! 1, 2, 3!” The shutter went off, and you relaxed. Draco kept his gaze fixed on you separating from the two girls as you approached Ron to throw a seemingly painful jab to his shoulder. Draco chuckled from afar.

“Don’t be offended! It’s the truth!” Ron defensively rubbed his now sore arm.

“Oh, shove off Ronald!” You shared a laugh with the boy.

As your friends start to leave the site, your eyes met with the blonde, triggering a grin to spread on your face. You looked back as the group dissipated, heading to their respective classes.

“Mione, Ginny, go on without me! I forgot something, and I have to go and get it.” You called out to them. They nodded in understanding and followed the boys.

Once they were completely gone from your sight, you turned your focus back onto Draco and made your way to the tree he was in. In response, he jumped down and met you halfway with a discrete smirk.

“Didn’t know it was picture day.” He said coyly. You only rolled your eyes playfully and nodded.

“Yes, yes,” you chuckled, “It’s been a little tradition we have had since we were first years.”

There was a fond look you had on your face as you took a brief second to reminisce. Taking notice of this, the jealousy that was kindled in Draco’s chest only grew.

Without even thinking, he said, “I don’t understand why you associate yourself with the likes of them.” The rude tone in his voice offended you.

“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Shocked at the question, you brought your hands to your hips as an incredulous expression fixed itself on your face.

“Granger’s a mudblood. The Weasley’s are quite crummy and embarrassingly poor. Potter’s got only a scar to prove his worth in the wizarding world. I simply don’t understand why you associate yourself with people as such.” There wasn’t a single stutter in his statement. Suddenly, the adoration that you once felt was replaced with fumes of anger.

“Who are you? Moreover, what makes you think it’s right to say that!?” You looked at him disgustedly.

“I beg your pardon?” The sight of your expression pooled the feeling of regret in the depths of Draco’s stomach.

“What’s got you acting like a total git?? Seriously incredible, Malfoy! Perhaps if you gave them a chance, then you’d see why I associate myself with the ‘likes’ of them!” You said mockingly. You fished his notebook out of your bag and shoved it aggressively against his chest.

“Not everything is about status, you know?” There was venom laced in your tone, which was accompanied by a look of disappointment within the angry expression on your face.

“But, then again, status must be all that you know.” You stated coldly before turning on your heel to march briskly away from the boy. Draco only stood there dumbfounded as he saw your figure retreat from view. Not knowing how to react, he smacked his face and begrudgingly went to class. This was not how he envisioned his Monday to play out.

His mind was absent from lectures throughout the day as he contemplated your words. Although his constant berating of students from other houses didn’t normally faze him, your words caused an internal uproar and prompted him to question his actions. It was the first time he’s ever seen you react to him so blatantly. Moreover, it was the first time he felt so ashamed of his values. Knowing that the girl he fancied saw him in an ill light made him feel sick to the stomach.

“Tell me who your friends are, and I’ll tell you who you are.” His father’s words echoed ever so clearly within his mind as Draco continued to think about you. The boy felt like he stood at a crossroad upon recalling your exact words. Uncertainty and instability filled the borders of his belief system, situating himself between the tug-o-war of his heart and mind. However, what hadn’t changed was his ardent desire to feel the warmth again. Therefore, as he situated himself in his shamefulness, he thought of ways to gain your familiarity once more.

Meanwhile, as the day trudged on, your thoughts distracted you from focusing on your studies, and you found yourself filled with an odd mixture of emotions. It initially comprised anger and frustration, but soon transformed into disappointment the more your mind lingered on the subject. Your internal turmoil had projected itself in the form of your oddly quiet nature, catching Hermione’s attention. While you were able to conceal your feelings for the young heir, the girl was always still pretty perceptive with your body language, so it wasn’t difficult for her to notice when you acted so distant throughout the day. She began suspecting you when she saw you doodling on your parchment instead of taking actual notes during transfiguration. Not wanting to assume so much, she continued to observe you. Her assumptions, however, were confirmed during dinner. You typically feasted excitedly whenever pasta and cookies were served, but as the others continued to pile their plates, your usually bubbly aura remained absent.

“Y/N” she called out to you. You looked up from the sad pile of noodles on your dish.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?” The concern that was conveyed in her voice broke your walls. You weren’t sure what it was about Hermione, but she always seemed to have a nurturing and motherly character. You were very thankful for it.

“I’m not actually,” you said softly, not wanting to gain the attention of others, “Can I confide in you?” Your eyes searched hers with desperation for a solution. Noticing this, she motioned her head towards the entrance of the hall and picked up her plate to make her way there. You copied her actions without looking at your group of friends. Fortunately, though, they didn’t seem to notice. You didn’t want to draw any attention to yourself with your issues.

As you exited the room, your eyes met briefly with Draco’s as his vision followed your movement. You didn’t know how to react, so you kept to yourself and kept on walking. You and Hermione found yourselves situated on a bench in the same courtyard where your clash with the boy had occurred. The moon was shining above you, as the lights from the illuminated hallway framed the scene’s serenity with comfort and familiarity. You held your plate on your lap as you twirled your fork to pick up some of the pasta.

“Okay, what’s the matter?” The girl asked.

You started off slowly, “I have a question- a hypothetical one.”

“Go on.”

“Let’s say you like someone, and he’s entirely different from you. You don’t know him much, but he makes you feel good. He treats you well, and you want to know him more. When you get to spend time with him, those feelings only get amplified, and it feels perfect.” You take a break to examine her reaction so far. She only urged you to go on.

You continue, “But it starts to crumble when he says something insensitive about something you care about. Of course, you get mad. Who would ever say such a thing? Right?” She nods in agreement.

“But what if you still want to like him despite the disappointment and frustration? What would you do?” Hermione’s eyebrows were furrowed as she allowed herself to contemplate on the situation you described.

“I suppose there should be a reason for his opinion. Hmm...If he truly cared, then ideally, he would talk to you. There might not be any excuse for his actions, but if he makes the effort to talk to you, then I feel that would show that he considers your feelings. How you respond is totally up to you, but on your end, I say that you should allow him to speak and listen.”

“Even if he was a total arse?”

“Speaking from a logical standpoint, you’d be a total idiot to accept an arse. However, disappointment and mistakes are bound to happen when getting to know someone. You might as well allow the person to show himself without your expectations pinned on him. You might be surprised with what may result from it.”

“What if it’s not good?”

“Don’t hesitate to walk away. You are deserving of much more than an ignorant git.”

You were grateful that Hermione didn’t press forward to ask about the identity of this person. Furthermore, her words imprinted themselves in your mind as the week went on. It made you feel a bit better, but Draco made no approach to you ever since that night, leaving you with a bitter taste of discouragement. Despite that, you found pride in keeping your emotions at bay, deciding to focus more on your schoolwork instead of allowing your mind to wander far. Friday had come along, which meant that you found yourself in the library once again. You recalled the week prior, and how your level of attraction towards the boy skyrocketed in the span of two days. It was in this very building that sparked your attraction, but you began to falter on the thought that it would become something more.

You sat at the same desk you did last week. Papers scattered all over once again. This time it was study of ancient runes, a class that you did well in. A good hour was put into translating runes to English, however the passage was so extensive that the process felt like ages. Feeling as though your head was about to explode, you laid your head down over the mounds of work hoping to close your eyes for a bit. Your moment of peace was interrupted upon the sound of an unknown object landing in the space in front of you. As you lifted your head, your sight was drawn to the presence of a paper crane. Written on its wing says, “Open it”. You follow the instruction with pure curiosity. Within the folds of the paper is another command: “Meet me at the reference section, vanishing charms.” You wearily look around to find any clue who the sender of the crane might be. Without a single sense of danger, you stood up from your seat, not bothering to tidy up your things, and navigated your way to the reference section.

Your fingers trailed through spines of familiar books as you recalled the first assignment you and Draco had worked on. A rosy feeling spread across your chest as you remembered how unusual his affections contrasted with his typical cold and insensitive demeanor. Could he be the sender? Why else would anyone guide you to the vanishing charm section in the library?

Soon, your fingers crossed over a foreign sensation, which broke you out of your thoughts. Your gaze was then set upon a piece of folded paper tucked so carefully between the spines. You pulled it out gingerly, admiring the precision of the creases before opening it. The next message elicited a smile from you:

“I was never good with expressing feelings. I still find it pathetic and have denied the ones I’ve had for you so long. Much to my annoyance, though, I find it pleasurable reminiscing the scene that took place in this remote little spot.” Your eyes trailed to the bottom of the page.

“Do you remember where we sat to work on the essay?” Your heart was bounding as the context of the messages confirmed the identity of the owner. Much like your first interaction with him, you didn’t know what to expect. That, however, did not stop you from walking towards the table situated beneath the window that casted rays of light from the setting sun. You began your search for the next note. The surface of the table was empty, chairs were tucked in neatly—it didn’t seem as though anyone had crossed this area.

‘What would Draco do?’ You thought. You recalled qualities that you were familiar with. He was pretty witty. At times he was annoyingly rude as well. He comes from a wealthy family with corrupt ideals. Regardless, the warmth that he had shown you had no tone of ill intent behind it. In fact, its very existence, in contrast to what others saw, illustrated an image of the boy being surrounded by walls within your mind. You then concluded that if you were Draco, you would be cautious about displaying affection. Keeping this in mind, you thought of areas that could be discrete enough to hide a note. Your hand reached towards the underside of the table and skimmed through its rough texture, hoping to find any abnormalities. Suddenly, a wave of satisfaction overcame you as your finger pads were met with a contrasting smooth surface. As you did before, you carefully plucked the new paper crane as your excitement continued to grow. The words “Almost there” was written across the wing. You opened the note and there was, yet again, another message:

“Y/N, truth be told, I’m quite taken by you—Your beauty, your warmth, the comfort you bring, your shyness when you say my name, the way you look when you’re so focused as you work, even the way you interact and defend your other Gryffindor friends,”

“I’ve made a mistake that Monday morning, yet the time spent away from you makes no difference in the way your presence occupies my mind. I fail at the very act of shoving you away. I see glimpses of you in smallest and largest parts of my day. Meet me at your desk?”

Written on the bottom of the note was a signature: “Draco Lucius Malfoy”

While peace filled you, there was still a feeling of uncertainty. You were overjoyed by the fact that Draco had feelings for you, but there was no denying that a relationship with him would be difficult. The boy carried a lot of baggage, and you weren’t sure if you could handle it. However, with a brave face, you walked towards the area where you had started your little adventure.

As you drew near, there was a familiar blonde figure seated at your desk. His facial features filled with admiration as his fingers stroked your work, fingers flipping through the loose pages of parchment. You giggled to yourself, recalling the way you had done the same just a week prior.

You came up from behind him and whispered in his ear, “Hello, Draco Lucius.”

His heart almost beat out of his chest at the sound of his name rolling so fluidly through your mouth. You pulled out the seat next to him and gave him a sad smile, his eyes not leaving yours for a moment. There was silence. Both parties were at a loss for words to say, and so you remain seated without a sound, allowing the comfort to trickle in.

It had been five minutes since you arrived, and Draco kept his head down low as his stare stuck to your knees. He, then, hesitantly looks up at you, and with a soft voice, he asks, “May I?” You meet his gaze before his eyes flutter to your hands. Instead of giving a response, you grab his hand and interlace your fingers with his, your other hand covering the one that’s already clasped. You immediately take notice how large his hand feels as it’s wrapped within your own. Silence overcomes you once again as your thumb rubs the surface of his own. It was a sensation both had missed

“I’m sorry.” The words tumble out of his mouth suddenly. You look up to see that he’s already staring at you.

He repeats himself, “I’m sorry.”

The silvery eyes that were once filled with arrogance and pride were now desperately searching yours with regret. If they could speak, they’d be screaming right now. You squeezed his hand harder before unfolding it only to hold it once more, except this time you were tracing the lines engrained on his palm.

“May you explain to me why you said those things?” You asked gently.

“Can we go somewhere more private?” He responds, his tone expressing a tinge of vulnerability. You give a nod of understanding before reaching over the table to gather your belongings. You hadn’t noticed how fast your heart had been beating until this point. All of your affectionate gestures came naturally within the moment that when you released his hand from your grasp, your emotions caught up to you.

You take a look at him and notice subtle things. You notice the way he towers over you, the way his body is angled in your direction, leaning towards you with a possessive stance. You notice the way his hands hang loosely on his sides and how he keeps his gaze on you with an expression that you can’t quite describe. His breathing is even but he looks at you with much intensity.

“Draco,” You call out. His attention goes to your face. Allowing your need for affection to overtake you once more, you take his hand once again and look in his eyes—they looked much relaxed now. You release a small a smile before standing on your tip toes to plant a long and affectionate kiss on his cheek. His grip on your hand had tightened in response.

Your lips ghost over his ear, “Lead the way.”

A/N: Idek. I hope you have a great day tho!

Taglist: @m-winchester-67 @bbeauttyybbx @un-limit-edd @poetontheblock @tttyrus @stretchyice @vaeonshi @bittersweetthoughts–ofinsanity @saptediavoli @kookie-vuitton @thatguppienamedbae @ccabian

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagines #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x gryffindor #Draco Malfoy x OC #draco x you #draco x y/n #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin #Gryffindor

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felidaefighter · 3 years

Text

Sleep, And Be Safe

[angst with a happy ending, melancholy, Wilbur’s death comes up briefly, AU where Phil adopts Ranboo and Wilbur repairs his relationships; Philza POV]

Philza tells his son a bedtime story. Philza watches his son die. Philza tells his other son a bedtime story. Philza watches his son tell a bedtime story.

“Phil? I’m tired,” Wilbur says in a quiet, pleading voice.

Phil knows Wilbur is old enough to be outgrowing these things, that soon this will be the last time he whines like this; still a child, still his father’s son, but getting older and smarter every day. He wraps his wing around the pre-teen and sighs in resignation.

“You’re getting old for this,” Phil says matter-of-factly.

“I know,” Wilbur says, and with a yawn, adds “Please?”

Phil sits down on the bed, black shadow of his wings partially wrapping around the two of them. “I’m assuming you don’t want to hear about The Goddess Of Flowerfall, The Empress Of The Void, or The King Who Stole The World,” he said, already knowing the answer and the story his son wanted. Wilbur shook his head, confirming it.

“Right,” Phil began.

“Once, at the start of the world, there was only day. And a crow who loved her children very, very much. But the children were adventurous, and in their adventures, though full of wonder it was, they wound up getting hurt. The crow pleaded with her children to rest sometimes, but the children asked, “How can we rest, when the world is full of things to see?” So the crow came up with a plan. It was a simple plan.”

As he spoke, he drew his wings tighter and tighter around the two of them, engulfing them both slowly-- he smiled softly as he saw Wilbur’s eyes fluttering shut.

“The crow thought, “If my children have nothing to see, they will be able to rest; at least for a little while.” So she gathered them all up in their nest, and wrapped her black wings around them for a long time. And they slept. And when she opened her wings, it was the first morning. The crow did this many times, and every time, it worked. But the crow realized she couldn’t do this forever. And she saw other creatures, without her beautiful wings, with children who were adventurous, and in their adventures, though full of wonder it was, wound up getting hurt. So the crow made one final plan.”

Phil stopped, hearing the snoring coming beneath his wings, and suppressed a chuckle. It seemed like no matter how old Wilbur grew, that trick would always work. Gently, he unfolded his wings, and repositioned Wilbur in a way that wouldn’t give him a headache upon waking, throwing a blanket over him before leaving the room. He hummed, finding himself thinking a little on the old fable. If only things were actually so simple that a full night’s rest could cure wanderlust and keep his child safe.

-----

It’s been a long time since Phil has wrapped his wings around his son. As he’d suspected, wanderlust had claimed him as soon as it was able; Wilbur had been a traveller and a poet for nearly half his life now, sending his own tales of adventures in long-winded letters and sometimes regaled to him by Phil’s own eager flock of crows. It was rare they got to speak in person; even rarer for Phil to wrap his wings around Wilbur, and rarer still for Wilbur to tell Phil that he was tired.

Phil has lived for what could be an eternity-- years go by in a blink, days mean almost nothing.

And yet, for about ten seconds, there’s enough time for a billion thoughts to race through his head. It’s the slowest ten seconds of Phil’s life. He has just enough time to react, to do what a parent naturally does and desperately attempt to shield his son from the force of the explosion with his whole body, wings and all. There are so many things in Phil’s head right now-- thoughts and concepts and worries and realizations and how he’s going to react when the explosion is over and those ten seconds are up.

In the midst of all these thoughts, in a brief flicker, that old fable comes to mind. But the children were adventurous, and in their adventures, though full of wonder it was, they wound up getting hurt. The crow pleaded with her children to rest sometimes, but the children asked, “How can we rest, when the world is full of things to see?” His wings surround Wilbur, and he can feel them burn, but it doesn’t matter. He can feel the damage eating them, but it doesn’t matter. Just for a moment, Phil has his wings around his son again. Just for a moment, he can pretend this can protect his son.

The ten seconds are up. The explosion stops. Wilbur begins to speak again, something desperate in his voice. He’s long gone. He’s hurt. He’s pleading. He’s pleading, and he sounds tired-- of life, that is, but still tired. If only life were so simple.

It ends with sleep eternal. There is no ache that repositioning can avoid; there is no blanket but the soft earth once a grave has been dug. There aren’t even any wings to cover him anymore, or time to spend mourning at this moment. It must be done later; there are other people’s children in danger; other creatures without beautiful black wings to protect them.

-----

“You alright mate?” Phil asks, giving Ranboo a side-eye. The tall hybrid had been muttering and moving strangely for about a half hour now, and it was starting to seem less like some quirky behavior that Ranboo was admittedly prone to and something unusual and potentially concerning instead.

“Hm? Oh--” Ranboo stopped his muttering sheepishly. “Phil, I’m tired,” He confesses.

Nostalgia hits Phil in the gut as if it were the blunt end of a sword handle, but Phil is a seasoned warrior, and he takes it in stride, without Ranboo picking up on it. “Aw, mate,” Phil says fondly, and Ranboo flushes a bit, embarrassed.

“I’m fine,” Ranboo tries to say, but is cut off by his own giant yawn, jaw unhinging and dipping down towards his chest.

“Oh--” That was certainly a sight. It did, at least, distract Phil from his thoughts about when he’d last heard that particular sentence from a son of his. “Yeah, fine,” Phil drawls smugly, “Looks like someone’s tired.”

“Phil!” Ranboo chides, but the hybrid is drooping in his posture and looking more like a ragdoll than an enderman by the minute. Phil starts to subtly cart Ranboo off to the spare room in his house, deciding that the short trek through the snow to Ranboo’s own house is a trek too much. “I can take care of myself!”

Phil knows this. Phil knows that Ranboo is an adult, that Ranboo is capable of taking care of himself. Phil also knows this is never enough. That protection from harm is a dream that parents tell themselves to ease the worries and fend off the truth that you simply can’t control everything. That it’s a good thing, to have children who are capable, who are strong, who don’t need your wings around them in the night anymore. Phil stops his fussing for a moment, and sighs.

“I know,” He tells Ranboo, who tilts his head at the tone. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so bossy. It’s more-- it’s more for me than you. I haven’t done this in a long time, and I kinda missed the chance to do it with you when you were a kid,” Phil admits. Ranboo contemplates this.

“You don’t have to let me parent you this hard,” He says with a small cackle, “And you’re welcome to sleep in your own bed. God, sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

He does know, it’s just hard to admit something like that.

“I would like to sleep in my own bed, yeah,” Ranboo says awkwardly, and it’s Phil’s turn to be a little embarrassed. “But-- but if you want you can come with me to say goodnight?”

“I’d like that,” Phil says. He’d like that.

They get to Ranboo’s house, Phil kisses Ranboo goodnight on the forehead, and Phil goes to leave-- but he hesitates. “Can I, ah--” Phil cuts himself off. He is being overbearing. He is being embarrassing. “Nevermind, nevermind, it’s stupid,” He mutters under his breath.

“Hm? No, what were you gonna ask?” Ranboo says, sleepy though he is.

“Can I tell you a story?”

There it is. Awkward, but out there now. Sometimes Phil hates having a soft side. And Ranboo--

“Oh! Sure! I get the feeling that I’ve probably never heard the stories you have in mind, too, so that might be nice,” Ranboo replies, expressing what appears to be genuine interest.

Something unfurls in Phil’s heart, opening it up for the first time in a long, long time, to the light of the adventurous day. Well, it’s nighttime, but the metaphor still stands. Maybe Phil isn’t a failure of a parent after all. Maybe sometimes, people just grow up. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still be a father. Phil takes a moment to compose himself, appreciative of Ranboo’s patience. He thinks for a moment.

“I’ve got a few,” He begins sheepishly. “Which would you like to hear? We’ve got the Goddess Of Flowerfall, the Empress Of The Void, The King Who Stole The World, or The Mother Of Night.”

“Ooooh,” Ranboo says, and it occurs to Phil that the fables he tells probably are outdated. He has no idea if anyone other than him and Wil-- well, Fundy, he supposes-- know them anymore. It might be nice, Phil thinks fondly, to have someone else to tell them now. Maybe pass them on to Michael, even. That would be nice.

“Those all sound really interesting,” Ranboo says. “How about… uhhh…”

-----

Phil stops when he overhears Wilbur talking with Fundy in the guest bedroom. Had it always been so melancholic a story? Phil wasn’t sure how much it mattered, really; a bedtime story was a bedtime story, after all, and as long as it got your son to sleep everything would be alright. He listened just outside the door as Wilbur spoke.

“...She decided that she would have to do this for all the children of all the creatures, for not everyone had wings as she but many had children who were just as prone to adventure and harm. So because her will was strong and her love was stronger, she grew and grew and grew, until she was so big that she could cover the world if she so chose. And she does-- every night, she takes her black wing and wraps it around the world. And she watches over us with one big silver eye-- though sometimes she has to blink. So although the night is full of dark and danger, it is when we must rest, because the night is borne of love. Sleep, and be safe.”

Phil quietly stepped into the room as Wilbur finished the story. Surprisingly, even with Wilbur’s silver tongue, Fundy had managed to just barely keep his eyes open. “I still think the blinking thing is stupid,” Fundy muttered tiredly. Wilbur laughed awkwardly. “It ah, works a little better if you have an actual wing to cover you with.” Phil chuckled, earning a glance from the two of them.

“That’s true, the dark and warmth puts you out like a light pretty fast,” Phil confesses, “Which is why it’s a favored story for a lot of parents.” He sits down beside the two of them and wraps his wings around his boys. They are both adults and far too tall to comfortably fit in the span of, but Fundy is half-asleep as it is and within seconds is snoring just like his dad used to. Phil watches Wilbur suppress a chuckle, and gently unfolds his wings to let Wilbur take care of the rest.

Phil stands just outside the room, and Wilbur approaches him after Fundy is repositioned so he won’t have a headache when he wakes tomorrow. “I’m uh, trying to be a better dad to him,” Wilbur explains, “And if that means still doing some stuff that’s considered childish, that’s alright. He deserves a little bit of that, I think. Towards the end I wasn’t really-- I didn’t protect him. I wasn’t very nice. A bedtime story is the least I can do.”

It’s such a strange feeling, watching your son have a son of his own. He wonders if the feeling of failing to protect them, despite them being old enough that there’s nothing you can truly do, is hereditary, or if it’s just something that all fathers have to face eventually. “I’m just surprised you remember the ending,” Phil says instead, “Considering you were usually asleep by then.” Wilbur grins wide. “Yeah, well. Stories are my thing,” He sniffs, “I’m good at stories.”

Phil finds himself by the window, staring out at it and into the silver light of the moon. The snow reflects it, turning the night a deep blue and fading the stars. Wilbur follows suit, and follows his gaze. They stand like this for a while, the two of them, both fathers, both with their regrets.

“I’m sorry, Phil,” Wilbur says quietly. Phil’s heart aches and he longs to take all the burdens from his son’s chest. The silver light of the moon reflects, too, off of the streak in Wilbur’s hair. Wilbur has said it’s from age, but Phil is old and wise enough to know this is not the case. There are some burdens that are taken beyond the grave. Some things Phil will never know about his son. Phil has conceded this. But still-- Wilbur is his son. What else is there to say?

“I forgive you,” He says. “And I love you. And I’m sorry, too.”

Wilbur shakes his head at that. “You have nothing to apologize for, Phil,” he says firmly. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Phil frowns at this but Wilbur has the stubbornness that runs in the family, and he definitely isn’t going to let Phil apologize if he thinks Phil in the right. Phil knows better than to try and argue for something he won’t win.

“Right,” Phil says with a small clap, slightly startling Wilbur, “I’ve told enough stories in my time and it’s clear you haven’t told nearly as many. It’s your turn. Tell me a real story-- something you left out in your letters. I’d like to know you again, the way I used to.”

“...I can’t really argue with that,” Wilbur says softly and with a sigh. He shakes his head. “You’re right as always, Phil.”

They both take a seat, and Wilbur begins to speak, telling an only-a-little-bit-embellished story about one of the battles they held in the L’Manberg war for independence. As desperately as Phil wishes he could have been there, he is content to listen to the adventure Wilbur had, full of wonder it was. Sometimes these things are worth it.

The black wing of night envelopes them, and although neither of them sleep, for now, in this moment, they are safe.

#dreamsmp fanfic #philza #wilbur soot #dadza #ranboo #it is also on my ao3 by the same name!#they write #p #w #r

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dewitty1 · 3 years

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Dissident

Constance1

Chapters: 24/24 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Additional Tags: Creature Fic, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, nundu, Angst, Romance, Dubious Consent, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Violence, Knotting, dark at times, but not really, Some fluffy moments too, Mpreg, Falling In Love, Omega Harry, Alpha Draco Malfoy, Drama, Claustrophobia, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Protective Draco Malfoy, Animagus, Christmas

Summary:

In a world of Alphas and Omegas, Harry is surprised to discover that he is a rare male Omega. He assumes his pull towards Draco Malfoy is because the Slytherin is an Alpha, but there is more at play here than even Harry knows.

Excerpt:

Draco noticed his discomfort and, without hesitation, unclasped his black cloak and held it out.

"Won't you get cold?" Harry asked uncertainly.

Draco shook his head and handed it over. "I don't tend to feel the cold."

Harry smiled gratefully as he lifted the expensive woollen garment and draped it around his shoulders. He was immediately infused with the warmth of Draco's lingering body-heat and the scent of the Alpha invaded his nostrils, making him want to sigh with contentment.

Harry hadn't realised that he'd actually closed his eyes in bliss until he opened them again to see Draco arching a questioning brow at him.

"Sorry," he mumbled, cheeks heating, "it smells like you."

Draco blinked, startled out of his mocking amusement.

Harry determinedly shoved away his self-consciousness in order to delve into what it was they needed to discuss. "How is it that you can… resist me, for lack of a better word, when the other two Alphas couldn't keep their hands off of me when we were alone?"

Draco swallowed and nodded, as though freely consenting to Harry's efforts at steering the conversation towards the crux of the matter. "Self-control?" he speculated.

"Really?" Harry replied with a sceptical frown. "So… are you employing self-control right now?"

"Yes."

As soon as the word was out of Draco's mouth, it occurred to Harry that Draco's inscrutable grey eyes had been fairly dilated for the entirety of their meeting, from the moment the door had shut behind him. The Slytherin had also been maintaining his distance up until he sat down, but still not close enough to accidentally make physical contact.

"What about you?" Draco asked stiffly, interrupting his musing. "What are you... feeling?"

Harry could tell Malfoy was uncomfortable with the line of questioning. "Full disclosure?"

"What does that mean?"

"It means we just forget that we're having the most awkward conversation of all time and agree that no question is off-limits."

Instead of appearing deterred, Draco actually looked a little relieved. "Agreed," he nodded.

Harry exhaled and dropped his chin onto his knees, eyes on Draco. "I... What I'm feeling is so hard to describe. I guess I should start by saying that since my inheritance, I've only ever felt drawn to you. It's as you said before, I want to be with you all the time - and not just in a ‘one night stand’ sort of way.”

Draco nodded in understanding.

"Full disclosure," Harry muttered, steeling himself before continuing, "and I want… I have this desire for you to take care of me."

Draco's lips parted and his eyes flashed silver in the weak light.

"And maybe that doesn't sound strange to you but I've always been a fairly independent person and I've never wanted someone to watch over me before," Harry tried to explain.

Draco swallowed before replying. "That… that is like music to an Alpha's ears Potter."

"Huh?" Harry blinked, astonished. "Alphas want me to be like that?"

"If it's your natural reaction, yes," Draco confirmed. "An Alpha lives to take care of his mate, and if that mate longs for their Alpha's presence and protection…"

"It's like an Alpha's wet dream?"

Draco's lips twitched into a smile as he nodded. "That and their mate wishing to start a family."

Harry smiled as he absently rubbed his chin in the soft fabric of Draco's cloak; stirring the scent of the Alpha up into his nostrils with a tiny sigh of pleasure. "So I'm not completely failing at this Omega thing then?"

Draco smirked. "Do you ever fail at anything Potter?"

Harry laughed outright and it felt good. "I guess the next question is… now what?"

Draco's easy expression turned troubled and he hesitated before finally replying. "The proper way of things is for you to register with the Ministry as an Omega so that any enquiring Alpha is informed of your existence and given the opportunity to meet with you."

Harry held his gaze. "And the un-proper way of things?"

Grey eyes searched his face intently. "The… un-proper way of things is to just give in to your urges and settle for the first Alpha that piques your interest."

Harry could feel the atmosphere in the room change as it thickened with a heavy, expectant tension that wasn't altogether unpleasant. "I think I prefer the second option," he replied, mouth suddenly dry and heart pounding wildly in his chest. "If you're interested."

Harry held his breath, feeling horribly exposed as he laid everything out and waited for a response. Yes Draco had his faults; he concealed his emotions, was relentlessly condescending, sarcastic, and was a bit of a ponce. But he was also intelligent, challenging, interesting, didn't pander to Harry's celebrity, and, truth be told, was rather easy on the eyes.

If they could just reconcile their past history, Harry didn't think he could find a more perfect match.

Draco's eyes, which had been positively blazing moments before, suddenly dimmed as he dropped his gaze to the floor, a slight frown creasing his brow.

Sharp and immediate disappointment filled Harry as he nodded mutely and pushed himself to his feet. He wasn't in the mood to hang around to hear the reasons why Draco didn’t want to pursue him as his mate.

Draco swiftly stood up as Harry unclasped the borrowed cloak from around his shoulders and held it out to him.

"Harry, wait," he said at once, ignoring the extended cloak in front of him.

"It's okay," Harry said, forcing a smile. "I just wanted to make sure you knew all the facts before rejecting me."

"No!" Draco exclaimed fiercely, reaching out with one hand to clamp around Harry's arm. "I'm not rejecting you. I want you. Very much," he said bluntly, breathlessly. "In fact, I was planning on approaching you until the idea of a love potion was put into my head. Beta or not, it was beginning to not matter to me anymore Potter. Now that I know you're an Omega and it isn't some sort of trick… I can't… there's just no way that I can let you walk away."

Harry's eyes widened as his heart soared with sudden joy - then immediately sunk like a lead weight. "There's a 'but' though, isn't there?"

Draco's gaze was penetrating as he stared back at him. "There is, however, it has nothing to do with me being uninterested you." He took a step closer, directly into Harry's personal space.

Harry had to tilt his head back to maintain eye contact. The urge to step back to keep some distance - and a clear head - was exceedingly strong, but he managed to resist as he waited expectantly for an explanation.

"There's something you don't know about me that you need to before consenting to be my mate."

Harry felt a shiver run through his body at the title and unconsciously swayed a little towards the Alpha. "What is it?" he asked roughly. A part of him suspected he'd agree to anything Draco said in that moment.

"I can't tell you here," he replied and Harry had never seen the Slytherin look so grave. "Tomorrow, away from the school."

Harry swallowed. "Why?"

Draco's gaze flicked about the room before returning to rest on Harry's questioning expression. "Someone may hear; this castle has eyes and ears everywhere."

Harry raised his brow, a tingle of apprehension suddenly running down his spine. "Is this thing something that will affect my decision?"

Draco's expression didn't change but Harry saw the brief flash of sorrow in his eyes. "It may," was all he said.

Harry frowned at the mysterious sadness he detected deep inside the blond. Without pausing to think about it, he slowly raised a tentative hand to slide trembling fingers across Draco's cheek. His thumb came to rest along one pale cheekbone as he cupped his face and stared intently into grey eyes; trying to discover the Slytherin's secrets and reassure him all at the same time.

Draco closed his eyes briefly and leaned into the touch before mirroring Harry's action by sliding a warm hand across the chilled skin of Harry's cheek. His hand continued sliding backwards into thick unruly hair and moulded firmly to the back of Harry's head.

Harry swallowed and allowed the Alpha to guide him forward, green eyes dropping to stare transfixed as Draco ran a pink tongue over dry lips, and then his eyes fluttered shut as those lips suddenly brushed against his own. It was just a light pressing of lips but it still sent shudders through Harry's body and made his stomach clench with want.

Harry carelessly dropped the cloak to the floor as Draco’s other arm wound its way around his waist and pulled him close. Draco tentatively deepened the kiss but he needn't have worried; Harry was only too happy to comply as he submitted completely.

(◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*。

#Dissident #Constance1 #Drarry #Drarry Fic rec #fic rec #Drarry Fanfiction #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Hogwarts Eighth Year #Eighth Year #Mpreg #Alpha/beta/omega au #Carey's Bookmark fic recs #Carey's personal fic recs

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andinewton · 4 years

Text

Based on this post by @acrispyapple, just a little something I threw together! Thanks for the idea! I hope you like it! (as always, I’m too lazy to edit it right now, so I hope it all makes sense!)

Give me a Break! - A Victor oneshot

Victor continued with his work, his phone face down on the desk, awaiting the vibration to signal your next reply. It never took you long to come around to his way of thinking, even though you seemed to be really riled at his reply this time. He could picture you now, brow furrowed delicately with a cute little pout on your lips. His face curved into a smirk before he put his fountain pen back to paper and carried on working.

***

You glared at your phone. You had taken five minutes out of today’s incredibly busy schedule to try and invite Victor on a trip. Sending him a message, fishing for whether he might be interested or not, only to have him shoot you down in flames by questioning your work ethic! Okay, well, fine. If he wanted to be your boss and nothing else, then that was what he would get.

***

Later that evening, as you tucked into a very basic but still tasty microwave dinner at your tiny kitchen table, your phone beeped a new message. Glancing at the display you could see a notification from Victor, asking where you were. On the other side of you was a copy of your latest proposal which you were skimming over to double check it made sense. Time to launch operation business only.

Taking a picture of the file you attached a short message, simply stating; very busy, boss. Before putting the phone back down and continuing to eat, your desire to work suddenly fired up by his query.

Another beep. You were meant to be at Souvenir.

Actually, sir, you said you would take me to Souvenir later. As no time nor date for said meeting was confirmed with myself or my office, I assumed it was tentative. Apologies if I misunderstood.

Wow, that felt soooooo good! It was professional, made your point, even to the degree of apologising to draw attention to the fact it was his fault. Now for stage two of your plan.

You opened a new text message and sent a brief note to Kiro. Weirdly, he was the one who supported your not-quite-a-relationship with Victor, and was more than happy to be your venting buddy as well as constant co-conspirator. You knew Kiro “shipped” the two of you, as he assured you the internet said these days, and he wanted to make it his mission to bring you together. You admitted you weren’t exactly averse to the idea, and making Victor jealous just might help. Just minutes later you got a stream of excited emojis from Kiro, followed by the simple phrase; I know just what to do, so go with it!

You were sure whatever it was would get Victor’s attention in no time, the real test would be how he reacted.

***

Victor threw his phone down on the countertop, the metal surface reverberating with the clash. You were taking it this far, seriously? Making out your relationship was nothing more than professional? He would make you pay for that in some not so subtle way. He started to pack away the ingredients he had bought to make you a special meal, knowing you weren’t coming. It was a shame to let it go to waste and while he wanted to share this recipe with you he could be just as petty as you were. Probably even more so.

His phone vibrated the counter as he came back from the refrigerator, glancing at the screen to see it was from Goldman, and a screenshot no less. Opening it he stared for a good ten seconds before his anger rose to a near impossible level.

Kiro had apparently made a post that Goldman thought should be brought to Victor’s attention immediately. And he could see why.

Kiro: Looking forward to a weekend away with my bestie! Just the two of us, sun, sea, swimsuits, sand, sweet treats, and sangria!

And you were tagged in it.

It was no secret that the two of you were friends, completely platonic yet irritatingly friends who had the press eating out of your hands at the far too many not-dates you went on. Was this what he had blown off by reminding you that work was important? A chance to enjoy a tropical vacation with you wearing very little clothing and…he cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to dislodge the image. Two could play this game. If she was trying to make him jealous she was not going to succeed. No. He would take the high ground and let her go waste her time with the blond pretty boy.

At least that was what he thought. Until Goldman’s second image came through. That of your reply.

MC: Can you believe we get the entire island to ourselves? Thanks #romanticgetaways for the amazing prize!

She won a private island getaway and she was going with…with…with him?! Oh, he didn’t think so! Victor slapped off the lights and headed for the door, grabbing his jacket as he passed.

***

‘Do you think this will work?’ You asked Kiro when he video called you after he posted. He had talked you through your reply and it made sense. He knew about the prize you had won, how excited you had been at the prospect of inviting Victor on what you hope might be a romantic little getaway, and he knew the CEO wasn’t keen on your friendship with the star.

‘With that reply it’s guaranteed!’ You could almost feel Kiro’s excitement through the screen. ‘You are totally going to get him demanding you go with him instead of me!’

‘I mean demanding does sound like him.’ You agreed. ‘But I can’t see it. He was obviously put out that I switched to all business and we both know how stubborn he is.’

‘Psshh.’ Kiro made a dismissive noise. ‘You’ll have him eating out of the palm of your hand.’

‘He’ll probably say that’s unsanitary.’

Kiro’s bubbly laugh echoed through the tiny speaker. ‘I bet he’s actually okay with the idea of a little food play.’ The wink he gave you was enough to bring a blush to your cheeks.

‘You’re worse than me, I swear.’ You shook your head. ‘I don’t imagine I’ll hear from him, but if I do I’ll let you…’

You were interrupted by a knock on your door, your head jerking around to look at it.

‘It’s him! Oh my God, just leave me here on the table so I can listen in!’

‘Nope.’ You waved and cut the call, placing the phone face down on the table before heading over and going up on tiptoes to look through the peephole. Holy crap, it was actually him!

You glanced down at yourself, still wearing your skirt and blouse from work but barefoot and hair down. You’d have to do. Opening the door you looked at Victor, leaning against the wall beside the door with his forearm, glaring at you the moment his eyes found you.

‘Good evening, Mr Li. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?’ Your tone was clipped and professional but his stern expression didn’t slip.

‘Do you always open your door at this time of night to strangers?’

‘I wouldn’t call us strangers, Mr Li. And I checked through the peephole first.’ You waved a hand towards it in demonstration.

He straightened from his leaning pose and tugged his jacket so it sat right. ‘Quit calling me that.’

‘Mr Li?’ You asked, and he gave a brisk nod. ‘But that’s your name.’

‘We have been on a first name basis for as long as we have been in business.’

‘And I apologise for my lack of professionalism in that regard.’ You bowed your head briefly. ‘Now, what can I do for you? It must be important for you to have come all this way at this hour.’

‘I want to know what this is about.’ He thrust his phone in your face just as your neighbour’s door opened, Lucien poking his head around the frame.

‘Is everything alright, MC? I heard raised voices.’

You smiled pleasantly before emphasising his name. ‘Everything is fine, Lucien. Some last minute business that couldn’t wait until morning, that’s all.’

He gave Victor a none too friendly glance. ‘Shout if you need anything.’

‘I will. Thank you, Lucien.’

After a final look Victor’s way he closed the door again and you turned your attention back to the man in front of you, who seemed even angrier now than he had a moment before.

‘What can I do for you, Mr Li? It is, after all, very late. Is there some sort of emergency?’

‘No, there’s no emergency!’ His tone became exasperated. ‘I want to know…’

‘This is well out of business hours so I assumed it was urgent.’

‘Are you just going to leave me on the doorstep all night?’ He finally snapped.

‘With that attitude I think I might.’ You begun to close the door but he put his hand against it and held it there, not that you put up much of a fight. ‘Mr Li, this is very unprofessional.’

‘Enough with the Mr Li, and enough with the professionalism!’ His nostrils flared, you thought in an attempt to stop himself from really yelling, but you just continued to looked at him with a confused expression on your face. ‘I want you to tell me what this means?’

Again he held out the phone and you leant forward slightly, examining it carefully. ‘I believe that is a post from the idol Kiro regarding to his plans for this weekend.’

‘His plans this weekend with you.’ He specified.

‘That’s right.’

‘Quit playing dumb, MC.’

‘I don’t know what you’re alluding to, Mr Li, but dumb is the last thing I am playing.’

The sigh he let out was more of a huff. ‘Are you really going to spend the weekend on a private island with him?’

You shrugged. ‘I had no one else to ask. My first choice was unavailable therefore I went with my backup. If that’s all, sir, I was in the middle of eating.’

‘You said you were working.’

‘I’m multitasking.’ For the first time your irritation slipped through into your voice and you had to take a calming breath before continuing.

He glared at you but you glared right back. He was in the wrong here and if he were really jealous, as Kiro suspected, he had to do something about it, not you. You were not caving.

‘This trip? It was what you wanted to ask me on?’

‘I thought to. Until you stated you couldn’t possibly find the time and that my workload shouldn’t afford me the time either. However, I happen to believe in a healthy work/life balance and this short break will be most welcome.’

‘I would have gone with you.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that?’ You leaned forward with your ear turned slightly towards him.

‘I said if you had come out and asked me in the first place I would have gone with you!’

‘Asking if you would like a spur of the moment trip wasn’t to the point enough for you?’ You finally snapped back at him. ‘Your cue then would have been to ask me where to, not to have dismissed me like you have so many other times! I am tired of trying to be perfect for you, Victor, I mean Mr Li! I know in future not to bother asking you to anything you would obviously feel is a complete waste of your valuable time. I’m sorry I bothered you with it in the first place and you will be pleased to hear that from this point on our relationship will be nothing but professional!’

‘You can’t just…’

‘I can’t just what? Tell you a few home truths?’

‘No!’

‘Decide not to allow you to antagonise me any more?’

‘No!’

‘Go on vacation with Kiro?’

That was evidently the last straw for Victor as he shoved his phone in his pocket, stepped forward, and pulled you to him for a bruising kiss.

You couldn’t lie, it was everything you could ever have dreamed of and more. You swore you saw fireworks behind your eyelids, your nerve endings tingling throughout your entire body as his lips forcefully took yours, his hands cupping your face as though afraid you might move. Moving was the last thing on your mind, though, and you made a small satisfied murmur as he drew back from you just enough to allow you to focus on him.

‘Try asking me again.’ He all but growled, the noise making you shiver in such close confines.

‘Would…’ you swallowed, ‘would you like a spur of the moment trip?’

A smile curved the edge of his lips. ‘With you? Any time.’

#mlqc victor #mr love victor #oneshot #mlqc oneshot #kinda fluffy #jealous victor #kiro guest stars

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas

And you’re getting a special gift! :) I give you one chapter of a work that I will probably not presume, it’s the abandoned “A past and future secret.” You can find the chapter below the cut. Beware: NSFW, explicit. And now have a good time.

Everything had a political dimension, at least for Emhyr, especially when it came to public events that he had to attend. The wedding had not been long ago, and appropriate to its status, it had taken place in Nilfgaard. At best, however, he had postponed the north's planned expansion, which is why Emhyr soon returned to Vizima after the festivities. There were also obligations at the court there that were directly related to his marriage. Of course, Geralt had subtly noted that celebrations did not necessarily have a political influence, but even he knew better. He suspected, not without reason that Emhyr simply liked all the effort. While he often emphasized that his status - and the current military power - alone should be enough to keep his subordinates in line, he knew well enough it wasn't. There were occasions when politics required an open display of pomp and ostentation, and there were also occasions when the court allowed itself to be appeased by festivities. And even the people appreciated this, for a prudent ruler ensured that an event such as a wedding provided certain privileges - a reduction in taxes, an extra bushel of grain in the silo, and the like.

In this case, it might have been particularly necessary to influence the nobility and the people equally, because not only was the power structure in the north still fragile, but the usual beautiful princess was also missing, with whom many a decision was easier to sell. For this, Emhyr could not bring political motives into play. Nor did he succumb to the illusion, if he would have cared, that his marriage to a witcher would somehow benefit the profession's reputation. Nevertheless, he had taken the risk even though his own reputation might suffer, or people might think he had fallen into madness. Love was rarely a motive that lasted in the long term in the political arena.

Tonight's ball was an attempt to smooth things over, and he knew that it would be successful, at least with some of those present. A kind of post-wedding celebration, if you like, exclusively for the representatives of northern kingdoms. The ball was the highlight of several days of celebration, which could only be a copy of the Nilfgaard festivities, but hopefully without scandals. That the original wedding date had been overshadowed by a perfidious assassination attempt had fueled the rumor mill. They had finally caught up with the matter a few weeks later without any further problems, but of course, the same kind of thing stuck in people's minds.

Geralt was usually not interested in such considerations, even though he knew that he could hardly ignore them now. Only little by little did he realize that in this case he was actually taking the place of the expected princess - with all the consequences. And they were often of a representative nature. Even the one or other dance could not be excluded - and surprisingly, he was not a bad dancer. Emhyr was leading, of course. This was always the only unaccustomed thing, although Geralt had no difficulty in letting him take the lead in other areas. In fact, he even liked it. There was only one thing where he always insisted on getting the upper hand, which was when it came to Emhyr's safety.

"They all think you married your bodyguard," mumbled Geralt as they led the first dance of the evening in the heated room. As far as Geralt was concerned, the only dance, but there was probably not the last word about that.

"Did I not?" Emhyr returned quietly. One hand on Geralt's back, he held with the other Geralt's hand, and perhaps they danced a touch closer than it seemed appropriate. This was not particularly scandalous for newlyweds, yet an unexpected display of emotion on the Emperor's side. In the end, however, one of the few he could afford.

Geralt snorted.

"What makes you think so?" asked Emhyr as the music swelled to indicate that the dance floor was now open to the rest of the audience. Now they could speak more freely.

"Look at them," Geralt replied. "It's just like in Cidaris."

Emhyr knew exactly what he was alluding to. Back then, however, they had only pretended to be married - it must seem all the more ridiculous to anyone who had been at the court of Cidaris then, given the enormity of the actual wedding.

"If I remember correctly, you said at the time that I could put you in these clothes, but one would still recognize that you had the witcher in you," said Emhyr, not without a slight twitch of the corners of his mouth. "Would you really mind if people thought I married you for that reason? "

"Hardly," Geralt admitted. "But who knows, maybe that was the real reason?"

Emhyr hummed.

"Maybe," he replied and pulled Geralt a little closer.

Even if it was one of those evenings that seemed endless to Geralt, at some point, the moment came when they could withdraw. Emhyr seemed willing to continue the only dance he had been given that night once they had arrived in his - well, now probably their - rooms. The door had barely closed behind them when Emhyr took advantage of the fact that he was still holding Geralt's hand: in one quick movement, he pulled him closer and pushed him against the wall. Contrary to his habits, Emhyr had drunk more than usual - Geralt clearly tasted it in the following kiss. It was only one of the reasons for Emhyr's impetuousness, with which his tongue performed a very different dance in Geralt's mouth. The fact that this was a way he got rid of his permanent tension, which one usually could not recognize, was nothing new for Geralt. And marriage - basically their whole relationship, if he thought about it - was still new, for them both. Still exciting. He wrapped his arms around Emhyr; his right hand slid up to his neck as if to pull him even closer. Emhyr pressed a knee between his legs, pushing himself tightly against Geralt. His hands gripped Geralt's face in an unusually tender gesture, reserved for the most intimate moments, something he would never show in public. His kiss, however, spoke a different language, reflecting the passion of which the bulge in his trousers expressed exact words.

As their now slightly swollen lips parted, Emhyr murmured at his ear, "Husband," knowing full well that Geralt still felt a thrilling shiver down his spine hearing this.

"If you wanted to seduce me, fine, you succeeded," Geralt murmured as he tried to win back Emhyr's lips.

"I guess it's not very difficult," his husband returned, and the little smile was unmistakable. It reached his eyes, which were dark with desire at the same time.

A quick grip confirmed the obvious: all this had been enough to make Geralt completely hard as well. The unexpected movement produced one of Geralt's little noises that Emhyr loved so much. And he knew how to get more. His mouth wandered to Geralt's throat, and purposefully found the one spot where his tongue made a deep sound elicit from Geralt's throat. With one hand, he reached up and loosened the ribbon from Geralt's hair so that it fell on his shoulders.

The loose hair gave Geralt a wild appearance. This hair seemed merely impossible to tame, just as the one to which it belonged could never be fully tamed. Nevertheless, Emhyr knew ways to wake up or contain the wolf if he wanted to. What he wanted now soon became apparent when he started to free Geralt from his pants with extremely dexterous fingers.

"Gee, you're impatient, but let's at least find a more comfortable place...", Geralt murmured between the never-ending kisses with which Emhyr covered his mouth and neck. "I'm sure that's not necessary," Emhyr returned as his mouth reached the shoulders. It was not just a touch too much alcohol that made him talk like that, not even his usual impatience. Not only, at least. What had built up in him today obviously demanded a particular outlet.

But how particular, Geralt only realized when Emhyr suddenly slid deeper until he knelt before him. This was as much a surprise as his mouth, which only a heartbeat later took up his member without prior warning. Geralt gasped. Involuntarily, a hand wandered into Emhyr's hair, although he knew that he didn't like it - but now, he didn't complain. The other hand reached for the wall behind him as if he wanted to hold on to it. And somehow, he really wanted to. It was a rare opportunity, and since Emhyr did not comment further, Geralt decided not to do so either. He just enjoyed the moment. After all, the most important ruler of the entire continent knelt before him, and he worked his cock so skilfully that he almost became dizzy. It was a shame that he showed this talent so rare, although he was always extremely skilled with his tongue.

The warmth in the room, the fact that he, too, had needed plenty of wine to get through the evening, in combination with the feelings Emhyr just caused in him by moving his tongue agonizingly slowly over his shaft... Geralt felt his legs literally become soft. A sound escaped his throat, which Emhyr did not miss. He looked up at him for a moment, and the sight brought Geralt so close to fulfillment that he sucked the air in sharply. The hand that had just been clawed into Emhyr's hair slapped audibly against the wall to find support. Emhyr also made a sound now, quite clearly a small, half-suppressed laugh. For a brief, almost painful moment, his mouth moved away from his delightful task. Still looking at Geralt, now almost provocatively - no, for sure - he put two fingers in his mouth to moisten them. With the other hand, he pushed Geralt's legs a bit further apart. In no time, the tongue was back, now much further, but he was still just playing with him.

He only teased him, his tongue playing with the wet, shiny tip of his cock at one moment, then again he licked along the shaft; only to finally take it all the way back into his mouth, which made Geralt gasp sharply. Then a hand reached back, pushing Geralt a little bit away from the wall, and the fingers looked for a way into his insides. It was almost too much, although not much had happened yet, but the prospect alone seemed to be enough. Emhyr knew that, but the soft whimpering that Geralt emitted as the first finger slowly made its way was additional proof. The smacking sound his mouth made when he pulled back did the rest. Now his other hand firmly grasped Geralt's balls, and he looked up at him and muttered, "Behave yourself, husband."

Geralt groaned.

"Me? You want me to behave?"

He made an attempt to spread his legs a little more, but Emhyr had pinned him down with his mouth again.

"If you carry on like this," Geralt gasped, "I certainly can't behave."

Then a little "Oh" escaped him, followed by a barely perceptible curse as the second finger followed the first, and both picked up a rhythm that was in harmony with Emhyr's mouth.

Finally, Emhyr let him go, everywhere, and the feeling of disappointment was almost palpable. Emhyr stood up, pushed him back against the wall, and whispered in his ear, "We really should find a more comfortable place - although I wouldn't mind having you right here and..."

There was a knock at the door.

#writing #fanfiction #Emhyr x Geralt #Geralt x Emhyr #Emralt #Emhyralt #unfinished wip #Emhyr/Geralt

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