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spencerspecifics · 3 years

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HI HI HI PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MOREID AT PRIDE AND SOME PINING AND SPENCER THINKS DEREK IS STRAIGHT BUT HE ISN'T AND THEY KIIIITTTTTHHHHH

I absolutely love your energy fuck yes!! I’m so sorry this took forever, ive got school, work and some other personal things happening so I appreciate your patience!

No TW, B u t, a creep hits on Spencer at pride, so if that is upsetting please note that! Thanks :)

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Pride

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Garcia had been pestering Spencer about going to pride for the past week now, and it was slowly driving him insane.

He used almost every excuse he could think of. When he first turned her down, he had simply said, “Sorry, I’m going to be busy that week.” And of course, Garcia being Garcia, she stole his calendar to see what he was busy with (spoiler alert: he had nothing. Except a reminder to go grocery shopping, and email some professors and research scientists back).

So, she persisted, and he came up with a dozen more excuses; “I was considering flying out to see my mom”, “The local museum has a new interactive archeology exhibit for adults, and I want to learn more about ancient structures”, “I have to do a presentation on thermodynamics”.

None of those excuses work, as she sniffed out every lie, “Spencer, you hate flying to Vegas last minute, that archaeology exhibit has been open for months, and your calendar is empty!”

So with her persistence, and legitimate bullying, Spencer found himself finally agreeing. “Fine, but come over to my apartment before we leave so you can help me.” After all, he wasn’t really familiar with pride parades, and what the scene was like there. He was going to be a fish out of water, he already knew that for certain.

True to her word, Garcia showed up an hour before the pride parade was set to start, carrying a coffee in each hand- how she possibly knocked on his apartment door, Spencer didn’t know.

“I brought you a pick me up, that way you have no excuse to be in a bad mood!” She spoke in her signature sing song voice as Spencer let her inside, she barreled in like a hurricane. God, Spencer wasn’t ready for this.

“Thanks..” Spencer decided to reply with that lame response, and not with what he was actually thinking. He took the coffee from her wordlessly as she stepped in further, going to sit down on his couch.

“You excited?” Garcia asked as she set her cup down on his cluttered coffee table. Reid just shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t do great with crowds.”

“But you do great with disarming murderers?” “You know that’s different-” Spencer said, doing his best to argue, “Reid it is literally not. Both are anxiety inducing, but one is life or death, and it’s not pride. So you can do this.”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to not arguing with Garcia. Because she was right, though at times her arguments sounded wild. He just had to get over this anxiety and show up at pride, he could do this, right?

Wrong. So, very, wrong. They had left his apartment with thirty minutes to spare, deciding to walk over to where pride was being held- as it was only a few blocks away in a public park.

And as soon as they got there, Spencer wanted out. There were so many people, more than he estimated (and his estimations were usually spot on.), and there was just chaos everywhere. Music, dancing, shouting, singing, drag queens running around happily. Spencer wasn’t sure what to do. He was out of his element.

Garcia seemed to sense that, though, as she dragged Spencer over to some stalls that sold pride flags, pins, and other miscellaneous pride related things.

“C’mon Reid, why don’t you look around and find something you like?” She offered up, something for him to do- something for him to stay busy with. He could do that. Spencer nodded simply, Garcia stayed by his side- looking at pride related wear for herself.

Spencer ended up deciding on a small pin that simply said; “love all”, planning to stick it on his messenger bag strap. Garcia bought a pin as well, but hers just had her pronouns on them; “she/her/hers”.

Looking at all the pride apparel was a good distraction for Spencer, he felt a lot more calmer now- though that didn’t stop him from feeling like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He’s just not familiar with this world, and it’s awkward to suddenly be in the middle of it.

Spencer was in the middle of looking at another booth that sold flags, possibly considering buying himself a small one to stick in his pencil cup at work, because Garcia left him to go compliment a drag queen- when a voice broke through.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

That was a voice all too familiar, what on earth was Morgan doing here? Spencer looked up at him as he made his way towards him. “Hey,” Spencer spoke awkwardly. Not sure what to say.

Spencer was gay. He was fine with admitting he was gay, but he hadn’t really told the team. He thought they figured it out on their own. And they probably had, but still, having his coworker see him at a pride event- it was anxiety inducing.

“What’re- what’re you doing here?” Spencer asked, stumbling over his words as he dropped the small flag he was holding back onto the vendors table.

“Oh, well I’m on the local PFLAG committee. I’m just here to hand out flyers and stuff. But I’m glad to see you’re here, I’m guessing Garcia’s here too?” He asked Spencer casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Spencer.

He was on the PFLAG committee? Why? To help queer people, obviously, but that had to mean he was gay or something- Spencer couldn’t stop his mind from coming up with every possible answer to why Derek was on the committee.

Spencer just nodded in response, he moved himself back from the vendors table to get out of the way, so other customers could look at the flags being sold.

“Yeah, she’s- there.” Reid pointed her out, as if on cue she came out of the thick crowd that had started to gather back up, the parade portion of pride had concluded by now, and people were coming over to the vendors section.

“Hey, Babygirl!” Derek called over to her, and Garcia somehow lit up with a smile brighter than the one she was wearing before, “Well, hey!” She responded enthusiastically, walking up swiftly to give Derek a quick embrace, which he happily returned.

“I wasn’t sure how long you were staying for, but I’m glad I caught you!” Garcia started rambling to Derek, about how the drag queen she met was so nice; “Her name was Mysteria Hysteria. Isn’t that genius?”.

Spencer just stepped back from them both, not sure what to do, not sure if he fully belonged. Pride was a nice event, it was. But the longer he stood around, the more he felt like he should be leaving. Everyone was laughing and smiling, everyone was just happy. And Spencer couldn’t stop racking his brain. In the beginning, he couldn’t stop thinking because of his anxiety, but now he was searching his brain for a reason why Derek was here and what it meant.

Of course, a stupid large portion of Spencer’s mind went to “maybe Morgan likes men”, and then an even larger and stupider portion of his mind had the absurdity to think; “maybe he’s interested in me”. Which Spencer did not even want to remotely entertain, because if he fell down that rabbit hole, he’d never climb back out.

Because yes, he did like Derek. He liked him a lot, the start for his liking towards the man was innocuous enough- which is why it was a problem for Spencer. He didn’t realized he liked Morgan until it was too late. And now he had been battling these feelings for years. Spencer wasn’t ever going to act on them, he just had to live with them- which he had been doing, which he has been content with. But this new information, about Morgan being here, being part of PFLAG- it was going to make Reid’s mind implode in on itself.

Reid decided the best thing was to say; “I’m gonna get some water, I’ll be back.” To which Derek and Garcia both nodded to, and Spencer was off, away from the vendors stand and the only two people he knew at pride.

And while that was a good thing, it was simultaneously not so good. Because now he was alone, overwhelmed, and thinking too much. And now he had a task to do, find himself some water.

That task seemed to be more difficult than anticipated, as the prides layout was a confusing maze, spencer had to pass in front of a group of drag queens in order to get to the food trucks that were on site- but he eventually got there.

He walked up to the first food truck he saw, it didn’t matter what they sold, he wasn’t getting it.

“What can I get for you?” The cashier asked him, “Just a water, please.” He ordered, the cashier nodded and pulled a bottle out from a cooler that was nearby within the truck, handing it over to spencer as they told him his total, a dollar twenty five. Spencer paid quickly, stepping back and away from the food truck, as he wasn’t sure where else to go now. He didn’t want to go back towards Derek or Garcia, he honestly wanted to go home.

He just needed a minute, some space and time to breathe and relax. He was stressing himself out. And about what? Nothing of goddamn importance, just a stupid crush he had been living with for a while now.

Spencer had been leaning against the back the food truck for not long, only a couple of minutes as he was absorbed in thought as he fiddled with the cap on the water bottle.

He was doing his best to follow the grounding techniques he had learned, something to help him calm down, when suddenly- a stranger emerged out of the crowd.

“Hey there, handsome.” The man said confidently as he strode up to introduce himself Spencer. Spencer looked up to meet his eyes, the man in question was a fine looking guy, chiseled jawline, long shoulder length hair, a bit of facial stubble. He was handsome. “Hello,” Spencer answered hollowly in response. In an ordinary situation, he would try and seem more lively- but he wasn’t in a normal situation, not at all.

The anxiety of attending pride was stress enough on its own, but now knowing the guy he had been drooling over for years was here- and worked as a PFLAG volunteer? It was enough to make him lose his mind.

The man didn’t seem to notice Spencer’s empty response, however, as he answered suavely in response; “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the way. I’m Fabian,” Thankfully, the man- Fabian, didn’t stick his hand out for a handshake, instead casually pushing his hair back a bit.

“I’m Spencer,” Reid replied simply, knowing it was best to ride this odd social interaction out, rather than try and fight it. “That’s a lovely name,” Fabian complimented, “Is this your first time at pride, Spencer?” He asked him casually, taking a step forward, closer to Spencer. He was all too confident for Spencer, he too comfortable with invading Spencer’s space. If Spencer could’ve, he would’ve stepped back.

“Uh, yeah. My friend dragged me along.” Reid explained, twisting the bottle cap back onto his half empty water bottle. Fabian nodded, “Your boyfriend didn’t take you?” Fabian asked him. That was a leading question, Spencer had alarm bells ringing in his head the second he heard it. “No. He- um- he met up with us here.” Spencer replied unconvincingly, Fabian obviously did not believe a word he said.

“Well,” Fabian took another step forward, practically blocking Reid in against the back of the food truck, leaning in farther to whisper in Spencer’s ear; “I don’t see him around. So, why don’t you and I get out of here? Hm?”

Spencer wasn’t sure of what to do. He wanted to kick this guy in the crotch and just book it, but he wasn’t sure if his FBI status would protect him in this scenario. He wasn’t sure what could protect him in this scenario.

“Pretty boy! There you are!” A saving grace broke through, and suddenly Fabian was stepping back, and Morgan was walking up.

Thank god, thank fucking god, that’s all Spencer could manage to think as Derek came to stand beside him. “Hey, babe.” Spencer said, cringing at his voice, at what he just said. But that feeling only lasted for a moment as Fabian was still standing right there, staring them both down now.

Spencer could only throw his wish in the sky and hope Derek caught it coming down, ‘please catch along to why I’m calling you babe’ Reid was trying to say.

And Derek caught it, “Hey, baby, was worried about you. Who’s your friend?” He said in his smooth voice, a voice Spencer couldn’t forget. He especially couldn’t forget now, being called ‘baby’ was something Spencer especially could not forget.

“I’m Fabian, you’re Spencer’s boyfriend?” Fabian asked, as if them both calling each other ‘babe’ counted for nothing. “Yeah, I’m Derek.” Morgan responded simply, sliding his hand around Spencer’s waist as if to prove a point. Fabian just nodded, looking between Spencer and Derek one last time before talking; “Well, it was nice to meet you, I’ve gotta get going. See you.”

And then, he was off, fast walking away from Derek and Reid, escaping the terrible situation he had created. Fabian quickly disappeared into the thick crowd, and by then Spencer had his hand squeezing his water bottle all too tightly- as evident by the terrible crunch sound it made. He was too anxious to let go.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked him softly, pulling his hand away from Spencer’s waist. “Can we find somewhere else- can we go sit down?” Spencer asked him quickly. Reid didn’t want to talk about it right this second, right where it had happened. He wanted to leave, he wanted to leave pride and never come back.

Derek didn’t ask a single follow up question as he led Reid away from the food trucks, taking him back towards the vendors stands, and then a bit further back, into the normal-not-so-pride-parade-filled park area. Somewhere less stressful, less scary.

“What did that guy want?” Derek asked Spencer casually as they made their way towards a bench that was sat under a large oak tree. Spencer didn’t speak right away, instead he waited until they were seated to start talking.

“He was trying to flirt, but then he wanted me to leave with him.” Spencer explained as he took a deep breath in, just being away from all the loud sounds and sights was helping him calm down. Derek rubbed Spencer’s back in slow, circular motions as Spencer kept talking.

“He was a classic example of a narcissistic personality, it just made me so uncomfortable- he invaded my space.”

“He was a creep, Reid. Simple as that,” Derek kept rubbing Spencer’s back slowly, Spencer nodded. “I know. Sorry, it shook me up.” Spencer attempted to apologized, and Derek was immediately having none of that.

“Reid, no. Don’t apologize for that, don’t you dare. He was a creep, I’m sorry you got caught up with him. It’s okay if you’re shaken up. We can stay here until you feel up to going back, or we can leave. But I’m not leaving you.”

And so they sat for a good amount of time on that park bench, at one point Derek stopped rubbing Spencer’s back, instead just keeping his arm stretched out against the back of the bench and against Spencer’s back. Spencer loved it, but he knew if he thought about it for too long he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking. That was his biggest problem, he couldn’t stop thinking.

He had to know, he decided, he couldn’t just wonder why Derek was on the committee for PFLAG. He wanted to know, he had to.

“Derek?” He spoke up softly, sounds of laughing and shouting and music were still heard in the distance, but they were safe from the sounds under the tree. “Mhm?” Derek hummed in response, looking up at the aforementioned tree that was providing shade for them.

His eyes were tracing the way the branches curved and bent around each other, it was something he did to pass the time. Spencer thought he was extraordinary for it, Derek loved to see where things went; he was curious- after all these years, and all the bad they had seen together, Derek still loved to search and find the beauty.

“Why are you on the PFLAG committee ?” Spencer asked him, it was thankfully an innocuous enough ask to not draw too much of Derek profilings side out to pry apart his question. Derek shrugged, and was quiet for a second before responding, “I know what it’s like to be a scared kid, unsure of his identity. If I can help someone through that, that’s all that matters. Same reason I’m in the BAU, to help people.”

Spencer stayed quiet, Derek’s reason was so sincere and so sweet and kind- and only driving him to think further. Was Derek still unsure of his identity? Was he an ally? Why did he have to make Spencer swoon so hard without even trying?

“So, you’re just an ally?” Spencer approached Derek carefully with that question, not wanting to impose or be rude- but just feign simple curiosity, praying Derek wasn’t using his profiling skills right now to decode Spencer’s fake motive.

Derek didn’t notice, thankfully, as he chuckled lowly in response; “No, pretty boy, I’m bisexual. I don’t really tell the team, but it’s not confidential information. Plus, Garcia found Grindr on my phone. Can’t hide anything from that girl.”

Spencer nodded, mumbling something in response about how Garcia had hacked his email to make sure he was free for pride. And then, the two fell into silence again. But it didn’t last for long, because Derek wanted to know just as much, why was Spencer here?

“What about you, Reid?” Derek asked him cautiously, the way you approach a puppy you find on the side of the road. Calm and slow, trying to get him to trust him bit by bit. “What about me?” Spencer asked, not wanting to answer anything about himself unless Derek was specific.

“Are you an ally?” Morgan asked him, leaving the question open ended. Spencer could say as little or as much as he wanted. This is how you get him to open up, Derek knew that for a fact. “Um.. yeah, I mean- who isn’t? I just- I have to be. I’m.. gay.” Spencer admitted all too awkwardly, not at all in a normal fashion. But nothing about Spencer was in normal fashion.

Derek nodded slowly, not responding as he stared back up, tracing his eyes over the tree branches yet again.

A few hours had passed, Spencer and Derek eventually left their peaceful bench under the large oak tree, and instead moved back towards the parking lot.

“Garcia’s got a ride home already- I think she got that drag queen to get her home.” Derek explained as they approached his truck, Spencer nodded as he followed Derek. “Anyways,” Derek continued speaking, “I can give you a ride home. Let’s get going.”

“You don’t have to-“ Spencer started, Derek immediately shut him down. “I want to, c’mon. It’s late, you’re tired. I know you are. Let me take you home.” Spencer just nodded in agreement, he couldn’t argue with Derek, even if he did try. Morgan was a stubborn man.

So, Spencer followed Derek into his truck, and they sat in comfortable silence as they started on their journey back to Spencer’s safe space, his apartment.

By the time Derek pulled his truck into the apartments parking lot, Spencer knew something was just the slightest bit wrong. Derek had barely spoken for the entire ride, and usually he loves to say something, to make Spencer smile or laugh, or even just nod and mumble in agreement. But he had done none of that on the way to Spencers.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, turning to face Derek as he put the vehicle in park. Derek didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the steering wheel instead as he spoke; “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Spencer pried, absentmindedly unbuckling his seatbelt as he spoke, “About today.” Derek said, not explaining further. “Was today bad?”

Derek shook his head, “No. It started weird, it’s ending pretty good, though. But I’m gonna regret today forever if I don’t do something right now.”

Now, Spencer was confused. Not sure at all what Derek could be talking about, “What do you mean?” He asked, voice quieter than before.

Derek said nothing as he unbuckled his own seatbelt, turning to face Spencer as well, and then he leaned in- closer than they had ever been before. Their noses were almost touching, and Spencer didn’t move. Instead, he watched Derek’s eyes expectantly.

Then, Derek broke through, they were no longer intersecting each other’s personal space- now they were fully destroying each other’s atmospheres. Derek’s lips were on Spencer’s, a chaste, soft, quick kiss- something Spencer would have wanted to go for a lot longer. But then, he pulled away just as fast.

“...That’s what I meant..” He mumbled after a second, looking back towards the steering wheel, looking away from Spencer- and more importantly, not seeing the smile on Spencer’s face.

Spencer couldn’t help it. He knew it was terrible to be smiling right now- he should jump and say something to fix what was happening. But he had to smile, he couldn’t believe that had actually just happened, his brain was still computing and re-circuiting, trying to savor the memory and not forget how Derek’s lips felt against his.

Spencer dragged himself out of his own head quickly, though. He did all he could think of to do in the moment, get Derek back. “Morgan.” Spencer said, tugging on Derek’s sleeve as he did so, forcing him to look back at Spencer and meet his eyes again.

But Spencer didn’t say anything, and he didn’t give Derek the chance to speak, either. Instead, he leant forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s. This is all he had wanted to know for the longest time, and now he had it.

Maybe pride wasn’t so bad after all, you just have to be with the right people for it to work out.

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draconic-ichor · 3 years

Text

Heisenberg x oc Smut dabble…

This is a Heisenberg x my resident evil oc Juniper dabble, it doesn’t go with my current fic

This came to mind when I fantasized about what if Both Heisenberg and Juniper had been nervous little virgins their first time…

Warnings: strong language, fingering, handjob, nipple play, penetrative sex

Did this quickly and didn’t really proofread…Hope you guys like it :3 18+

“Hey Heisenberg?” Juniper asked tentatively behind him, “I don’t have many clothes and it’s hot here at night…can I wear one of your shirts?”

“I don’t give a fuck what you do.” He grumbled getting a drink of water. By the time he turned he almost choked on that swallow. Juniper stood by the bed in one of his buttonups and a pair of panties, her not owning any real type of sleepwear.

Heisenberg had to turn back towards the sink: in part to cough and also to hide his crimson face and tented pants.

All this over her wearing his clothes?

He thought darkly. Living with her and especially sharing a bed was doing a serious number on him, and his fist lost its relief almost a week prior. It didn’t do the trick anymore, not when Juniper slept just a few measly feet away from him.

He cursed, hating this feeling.

“Are you sure it’s ok?” She asked worriedly.

Heisenberg swallowed, nodding vigorously instead of giving her a verbal answer.

He waited until he heard her crawl into the bed before finding it safe enough to move. Heisenberg lit a cigar, smoking it slowly to calm his nerves.

His pale eyes flicked over to her form, unmoving in the bed. He knew she wasn’t sleeping, it never finding her quickly.

After he was plenty calm again he readied for bed himself, flicking off the light and crawling into his spot near the wall. He stared at the ceiling for many long moments.

For most of the time Juniper lived with him he heckled her and made passing comments trying to get a rise from her. When she would blush he counted it as a win, knowing it was only a matter of time before she caught on to just how touch starved he really was. She made him feel like a horny teenager.

To his eventual dismay Juniper had already detected cracks in his bravado, finding he also bubbled up certain feeling in herself. She was needy and desperate, his daily antics driving her wild.

Juniper turned and looked him over, her green eyes glowing slightly in the darkness. She heard him gulp, meeting her gaze.

Not so tough now.

She sat up quietly, “Heisenberg?”

“What?”

“You’ve never been with someone before either? Have you?”

Her question struck him like a blow to the head.

“None of your damn business.” He spoke, trying to make his voice even.

Before he could react Juniper was ontop of him, legs around his hips and hands pressed into his shoulders as she loomed over him.

If not for the darkness either would be able to see the other’s face was the same shade of crimson.

“You made it my business when you decided to flirt with me daily!” Juniper hissed, “No more games, what do you want with me?”

A tense moment stretch between them, her outburst something Heisenberg didn’t calculate. He silently cursed himself as he felt his cock become painfully hard in response to her warmth pressed against him.

Juniper felt it too, softening her hold of him a bit.

“I-I don’t know.” He finally stammered, “You I guess?”

“You guess?”

“Fuck, I want you ok!” He barked, feeling sweat bead on his brow, “You’ve been driving me fucking wild over here!”

Embarrassment flooded him when he felt her stiffen a bit over him.

“Driving you wild??” Annoyance thick in her tone, “You started all these games. Saying all those things to me daily!”

Fuck she had a point, his muscles twitched a bit under her. “Either?” He asked, voice wavering.

“Either?”

“You said the word ‘either’ earlier, doll.”

“Oh…”

“Any particular reason you said that?”

“Iv never….been intimate with anyone before.” Juniper admitted quietly.

That fact eased a bit of Heisenberg’s embarrassment, he licked his dry lips giving her a small piece of truth himself, “…Neither have I.”

“So all that cockiness was bullshit.” Juniper snapped, a bit of lightness entering her tone.

“Shit.” He whispered, “Maybe.”

They both were painfully aware of each other’s neediness now: Juniper feeling his cock hard as rock below her and Heisenberg very much aware of the growing wetness between her legs.

Juniper retreated off him a bit, settling between his knees. The loss of contact almost made Heisenberg whimper but he swallowed it away.

He looked down questionably, seeing Juniper eyeing his boxers.

“May I?” She asked shyly.

Heisenberg swallowed hard, “Do whatever you want.” He silently cursed himself, hearing his voice crack a bit.

She pulled his boxers down, his cock springing to full height now free. She sent out an exploring touch, hearing him draw in a breath.

Her fingers wrapped around him, pumping once. He hissed, hips bucking a bit. Taking this as a good sign she continued, heart hammering in her chest.

With each flick of her wrist his foreskin glided deliciously over the sensitive head. He huffed out hotly, it quickly feeling much too good. Her soft hands making him tremble.

“Harder.” He swallowed, her timidness wearing him thin. Juniper nodded, gripping his cock more firmly as she pumped her hand up and down. Her free hand found his thigh, nails scratching the sensitive skin ever so slightly. It sent a jolt of pleasure through him.

He couldn’t contain the sounds he made, moaning out like a whore as his cock leaked pre.

He was close, she could feel it. “It’s alright.” She murmured, “Can you come for me?”

Her voice was so sweet to his ears. Taking a shaking breath he nodded, his eyes tightly shut.

His hips thrust upwards, balls tightening as his cock jolted under her fingers. He groaned out feeling hot ropes cover her hand and his stomach. Cursing, he couldn’t remember feeling this good. What was she doing to him.

She lay down next to him, letting him catch his breath. She gave her fingers an small lick, the taste new to her, salty and raw.

Heisenberg rolled over, scanning her face. Wiping her hand on her shirt before reaching out, she cupped his face. He pulled her in close, catching her lips with his own. It was messy and desperate, neither quite knowing the proper way.

His breath came out hotly, he wouldn’t last long like this. Feeling her body press against his own as his hand felt down her body and palmed her plush ass. His cock was already growing hard again.

He felt her shake, just as nervous as he was.

He pulled away enough to get a mouthful of cool air, giving her a self conscious grin, “You sure about this Doll? Want to be each other’s first fuck?”

Her body was hot and needy, mind too ate up with lust to back away now.

“Y-Yes.” She answered, voice wavering a bit in nervousness.

He wasn’t about to ask again, decades of unwanted celibacy wearing him thin. He pulled her into another kiss, lips crashing together.

He ripped open her shirt, buttons being popped away, making her gasp. He didn’t give her time to scold him, sucking dark blotches across her breast. She buried her fingers in his hair, pulling slightly when she felt his mouth find her peaked nipple.

Heisenberg hissed out, pulling back.

Junipers eyes glowed in the low light, very easy to see where her gaze lingered.

They connected again, feverishly kissing and groping each other almost curiously. Their movements where hot and desperate

Heisenberg’s hand drifted lower to find her completely soaked, pulling her underwear free. She felt him smirk into her skin, her blush deepening on the darkness.

“All this for me?” His voice oozing with cockiness. His fingers ghosted her opening, looking for the places that would make her squirm. He bumped into that little bundle of nerves making Juniper’s hips buck.

“You like that?” He whispered huskily, looming over her and nipping at her neck.

“Y-Yea, it’s really good.” She answered breathily.

He coated his fingers in her slick rubbing that sensitive nub until her legs shook around him.

He huffed out hotly, pulling his fingers away to push one into her opening.

Her core clenched instantly around him making his breath hitch. She was so sensitive and eager under him, driving him almost crazy.

He added a second finger, making her gasp.

He pumped into her experimentally, getting an idea for his coming task. During his practicing motions he brushed a spot deep within her that made her cry out.

He stilled, worriedly pulling back a bit.

Juniper shook her head, grasping onto him, “Please don’t stop, it feels so good!”

He went back in, pumping his fingers faster, his palm rubbing into her clit. Junipers’s coil snapped, shaking and crying out.

He kept up his movements for a few moments more, enthralled as she buckled against his hand. Pulling away he let her fall back against the bed.

Everything tingled, Juniper gulped in needed air.

Heisenberg brought his soaked fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. He loved her flavor, raw and sweet, he knew he would become addicted to it.

His cock almost ached with need, he had to have her. Every nerve screaming to breed her into the bed.

Heisenberg lifted her legs, hooking them around his waist. He loomed over her, lining his cock up to her slit.

Juniper met his eyes. He began to push into her, his girth stretching her out inch by inch.

Juniper whimpered under him, her core tightening and making it harder to move forward.

“R-Relax Doll.” Heisenberg gritted his teeth. Juniper gave a small nod, breathing in deeply.

He hilted fully inside her liquid head, almost coming undone. He stilled his hips, concentrating on holding it together.

His pause also giving her time to adjust. When he though he could continue he slowly pulled his hips back until only the head stayed slotted in her, gliding back forward.

She felt divine around him, nothing like his fist. He groaned out, starting to thrust a bit faster. Every time their hips met Juniper gave out little mewls and moans.

She began to buck up into him, wet and needy. Heisenberg took her hips roughly, pressing her into the bed.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He moaned out, movements becoming erratic.

When he had started this he knew somewhere in the very back of his brain that he should pull out and come on her belly or ass. Now however, feeling her clinging to him and her core squeezing down on his cock that thought could not be found.

He buried his face into her neck, fucking her open into the bed. Juniper tightened under him, scratching down his back. He felt her cunt flutter around him.

He was done for. Bottoming out in her he roared out his release, legs shaking. Juniper held on for dear life, crying out his name as he painted her walls. He gave a few weak thrusts to ride out his high, feeling her milk him.

He needed this.

He collapsed onto his elbows, giving ragged breathes. They sat there in relative silence, save for each other’s gasping breathes.

When his heartbeat slowed, Heisenberg asked a question, the words ghosting over her neck, “Pretty good Doll?”

Juniper bit her lip, a mischievous look on her eyes, “Hmmm…I don’t know..”

“You don’t know?” He growled.

She grabbed his face, smiling, “We might have to try a few more times, just to be sure.”

He chuckled. They were going to be much busier from now on.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #re8 oc #heisenberg #heisenberg smut #smut dabbles

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

caught out.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i am SO excited to share this installment with you! There are a few key developments in this chapter, so get excited! we fly through route 66 and in the blood in this part, and we might get a ring..... :)

an ajf fic that requires little to no context!

words: 5.3k warnings: canon-typical injury, medical setting, some really soft stuff

summary: foyet’s scars leave more than trauma in their wake, but aaron finds he has more to live for - a future, a life, a family. (au!october 2013)

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

Before this moment, you’d never fully considered what it would be like for Aaron to die in front of you. You’d certainly come close before - between close calls with unsubs and a fair few stupid decisions, close calls weren’t unheard of by any means. But even in those moments, as scared as you were, there was always part of you that knew he’d be okay. A part of you that knew he’d come home to you.

Right now, that knowledge is universally absent as he collapses out of nowhere in the conference room.

“Aaron!” You shoot out of your chair and drop to the floor beside him, immediately reaching for his wrist. You’re relieved to find a pulse, albeit a weak one. You know you’re already crying, absolutely terrified.

Somehow, you manage to look up at JJ, meeting her wide, scared blue eyes. “Call EMS. They’re in the building and faster than an ambulance.”

She snaps to, running to Aaron’s office for the direct line.

“Hang in there, baby.” You wrap his hand in yours, and Derek helps you turn him over. Aaron’s halfway in your lap now, your body bowed over him.

He stirs a little, and you shush him, brushing the hair off his forehead. His breath rattles in his chest, struggling, as he reaches for you.

“Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.” You don’t realize you’re talking until Derek lays a hand on your shoulder.

EMS arrives, and you’re not sure how much time has passed by the time they get him onto the gurney and down the stairs. You keep up with them for as long as you can before Anderson and Derek snag your arms, holding you back.

Derek tugs you once, gently, by the wrist, and you fall into him. He’s already moving, guiding you to the elevators and down to the car. He repeats the same things, over and over, every minute or so, as you make the long journey to the hospital.

“It’ll be okay, kiddo. He’s tough. Hotch isn’t going anywhere.”

+++

A doctor opens the doors, a clipboard in her hand. “Hotchner?”

You rise, approaching the doctor. “Yes?”

“Are you his next of kin?”

You nod, reaching for your wallet.

The doctor smiles at your obvious agitation. “No need to show your credentials. Agent Hotchner is out of surgery and resting comfortably.”

“What happened?”

She sighs. “The scar tissue from his previous wounds tore, causing slow, but significant internal bleeding. It was touch and go on the table, but he’s a fighter. Something kept him here. Your attending will have more information for you once you’re settled with him.”

You swallow, trying to keep your throat clear as your eyes well up again.

She presses a hand to your arm. “You can see him now. He was asking for you before we put him under.”

“Thank you.”

When she disappears behind the doors again, you return to the chair you’d been glued to for the previous six hours.

Dave stands with you as you gather your things. You look at him and he leans forward to kiss your cheek. “Take your time. We’ll be reachable. Let us know when he’s awake.”

You nod. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you mentally draft a text message to Jessica before sending it off. JJ let her know what happened after she called EMS, and she’s been standing by ever since.

As a pair, you decided to keep things from Jack until you were certain of an outcome. No need to make him worry longer than necessary.

4:27pm Aaron’s out of surgery. Not sure how long they’re keeping him. I’ll let you know when it’s a good time to bring Jack over.

She replies right away.

4:27pm. It never ends, does it? 4:28pm I’ll have my phone on me. Thank you. 4:28pm Love you.

With a little tug at your lips, you reply.

4:28pm Love you too. Kiss our boy for me.

A little whoosh sounds as she replies.

4:28pm Of course xx

You’re finally able to breathe when you see Aaron. Though he looks shockingly small in that big bed, hooked up to intimidating machinery, he is alive.

Bar’s on the floor, today.

He’s still out, like the doctor said, and probably would be for another few hours. You cross to his side - the one without the IV - and sit beside him. When you get there, you take his hand and press his palm to your forehead, leaning into him. Even among the sharp, antiseptic smell of the hospital, he smells like himself.

His touch, as it always does, heals you from the inside out. You can feel your blood pressure drop, your heart rate slow. The warmth of his hand sinks into your head, your chest, letting you take deeper breaths that are far more satisfying.

After you're sure he’s well and truly alive, you wrap his hand in both of your own and scoot your chair so you can drop your head against his pillow. Uncomfortable in the extreme, you close your eyes, happy for the weight of his hand in yours.

+++

When Aaron wakes, he’s confronted with a few things that confuse him (the ache in his ribs and the pounding in his head, to name two) and a few that don’t (the smell of your skin, the familiar feeling of your fingers laced through his). He decides to address the less confusing elements first.

He turns his head, a shockingly difficult maneuver, and finds you out like a light - your head on his pillow, your arm tucked under your face. Even in sleep, your brow pinches and your mouth draws a tense line.

There’s an attempt to move his hand so he can touch your face, but you wake and startle before he even makes it a quarter inch.

Your eyes meet his and you heave a sigh of relief. “Aaron.”

His lips pull at the corners. “Hi.” There’s a scrape in his voice, raw from disuse.

You haul yourself up, bringing one of your hands to his face, mindful of his nasal cannula. “You scared the fuck out of me, you know that?”

“I’m sorry.” His sincerity breaks your heart, and he tries to sit up, but you shake your head, reaching for the remote.

You prop him up a little and he reaches for you again. You meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his.

He whispers against your lips. “I’m so sorry.” He leans back, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “Did they tell you what happened?”

You nod, your eyes still roaming over his face. “Well first of all, they lost you twice on the table, but before that, the scar tissue from your stab wounds tore and caused significant internal bleeding. They’re sure it was a slow bleed - over the course of hours, maybe days.”

You swallow, and a fresh set of tears fall down your cheeks. It’s frustrating.

“If you didn’t go down when you did, when you were awake, it’s possible you could have bled out in your sleep without even realizing it.”

You’re proud of yourself for getting through your thought, even if you were shaking toward the end. It’s close to unbearable to consider the possibility of waking beside him, finding him cold and unmoving beside you. The horror of it pushes at your eyes and a sob rips through your chest.

For some reason, you apologize.

He shakes his head, his brow crumpling. “Come here, honey. Come here.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I -“

He shushes you and moves over, leaving space for you to shuffle onto the bed beside him. “You’re not gonna hurt me. Come here. I’m alright.” You tuck your face into his neck as his other arm wraps around you the best while attached to his IV. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

You kiss the skin you can reach, placing a hand over his heart. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. So much.”

One of his hands traces up and down your back, dancing in patterns you don’t have the brain space to follow, while the other covers yours on his chest. Soon enough, you’re asleep again.

+++

When Dave comes back to check on you both, he finds you curled together - as much as you can be - in the hospital bed. Aaron’s cheek is smooshed against your head, his cannula knocked out of place, your leg hooked over one of his on top of the covers. Your hands are still clasped together over his chest, his IV easily accessible to the nurses that flutter in and out as the day passes.

The tear tracks are still visible on your face, the exhaustion still pulling at your eyes.

In all his years of knowing you, Dave had never seen you as distraught as you were when Aaron went down in the conference room. Up to that point, he thought you both somewhat invincible, even at your weakest.

Though you both had your fair share of hospital stays over the years, none of them ever broke through that ceaseless calm that arced between you and Aaron. When you’re in the room together, there’s a pervasive comfort, almost moving as two halves of the same person at any given time, hardly capable of the wild panic he saw in your eyes this morning.

Satisfied you’re both alright, he takes his leave. There is a case to solve, of course.

+++

Jessica brings Jack over the next morning, and he’s quick to gingerly crawl into his father's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Jack says something you can’t hear, but Aaron’s response carries across the room in his low, murmuring baritone.

“I’m okay, buddy. We’re alright. I’ll be home soon, and off work for a little while, so we’ll get to spend some time together.”

You meet Aaron’s eyes over Jack’s head before his flicker to Jess’s. He nods once, and holds Jack tight to him.

When they part, Jack trots back to you and you rake your fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

He looks up at you, and something passes between you.

I’ll take care of him. He’ll come home safe to you, bud.

Jack sighs and tucks into you, wrapping his arms around you. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

+++

“I saw Haley.”

You look up at him, your chin propped on his shoulder. “What?”

“I saw Haley. We -” he laughs a little, with only the barest hint of a wince. “We were dressed like old Hollywood movie stars and we were in this...theatre.” He shakes his head a little and you know he thinks it’s absurd.

“Don’t do that. Tell me. What did you see?”

He throws you a grateful look and continues. “She found me in the lobby and we went inside. Foyet was there too, but she wasn’t scared. They were almost friendly. It was...strange.” He squints, remembering. You gingerly place your hand on his chest, feeling the heat from his healing wounds. He places his hand over yours again, his thumb tracking back over the back of your knuckles. “There was this massive screen and she had popcorn...and then a bunch of little scenes from our,” his arm flexes around you, “life since she died started rolling. We talked - about Jack, about you, the way you are with him.”

He’s holding something back. “What did she say?”

“She said,” he swallows thickly, “that you’re good with him. She looked really happy watching you two together.”

You smile, but there’s an edge to it, something long-suffering and raw. “I’ll never be her, though.” You know he misses her and you know it’ll never be the same. But even then, you know you aren’t a replacement, either.

Aaron closes his eyes and presses a desperate kiss to the top of your head. “You’re just what we need, sweetheart. You’re everything.”

You look at him and he looks at you. There’s something at work behind his eyes. You blink once, slowly. “What are you thinking about, over there?”

The thing playing in his eyes sneaks down to his mouth, dancing at the corners. “Marry me.”

A hysterical laugh leaves you, but there’s no anxiety in it, just disbelief. “What?”

“Marry me.”

He’s dead serious. Weirdly, that observation doesn’t send your heart racing like you thought it would. Nevertheless, you find yourself without speech. You open and close your mouth a couple times, struggling.

Of course you’d talked about this before. You already lived together, already co-parented Jack with teamwork and consistency - almost every step accomplished completely out of the traditional order of things. There were moments where you brought him a beer or cashed in some favor or another in the bedroom and Aaron would say, “I could marry you, just for that,” but there was always a playfulness to it. You always told him you’d meet him in Vegas by way of response, only half-kidding.

Marriage was always on the table, always the implication, but you always figured you’d get around to it later. It never seemed to be the right time and you’re happy right where you are, so it never mattered much.

But here you are, suddenly sitting at the proverbial table, staring engagement in the face.

Aaron Hotchner just asked me to marry him.

Well, actually he told you to marry him.

True. I mean it’s not like he has to ask. He already knows the answer.

So answer him, stupid!

He waits for you with an endless patience. There’s not a hint of concern or anxiety in his gaze - just a soft adoration you’ve seen thousands of times before. He knows what your answer will be. He always has.

“Okay.”

Aaron snorts. “Okay?”

Your face breaks out into a grin. “Okay, Hotchner. I’ll marry you.” You shrug while he gingerly lets out another laugh. “I’m more than happy to be more than your quasi-spouse and Jack’s quasi-parent.” It’s obviously a joke and he mirrors your grin. “So...okay. Final answer.”

He shakes his head and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Go into the back pocket of my go-bag and bring me what you find in there.”

You frown at him, but follow instructions, clambering off the bed.

There’s a little, flatish box with the smallest of code-locks securing the lid in the pocket. It’s made of something reinforced, and it’s heavier than you anticipated.

Returning to the bed, you sit on the edge, handing him the box. He adjusted while you were shuffling about, now sitting up almost all the way in the cocoon of pillows you built for him.

With a sly smile, he rolls the code into the lock, and the box springs open. He turns it around toward you, and you’re confronted by a simple, gorgeous ring.

You blink rapidly, your eyes shifting from the ring to Aaron, and back to the ring.

“I bought this after I installed Derek as unit chief, four years ago. You rightfully tore into me after I pulled that stunt with that unsub, and I…” he trails off, thinking.

You can tell he’s choosing his words carefully, picking around years and years of feelings.

“I don’t know. I knew something I didn’t know, if that makes any sense at all. I knew it was yours, too, when I got it, but I didn’t acknowledge it even after I tucked it in my old go-bag for safe keeping and kept it there, ever since. The only time I didn’t have it with me was in Pakistan. I left it in a locked box in the office at home.”

He laughs at himself, looking down at the cable-knit blanket over his legs.

“I’m an idiot, and of course you set me to rights after Pakistan, and Haley told me I was still an idiot not fifteen hours ago. She said you’re the best thing that’s happened to our family, she misses you, and I’ll only be four years late if I ask you to marry me now.” He looks back at you with a little smile. “I love you. It’s not enough, but I love you.”

There’s nothing to say, so you just let him take the ring from the box and slip it in your finger. The silver shines against your skin, the tiny diamonds casting rainbows against the wall in the morning sunlight.

It’s gorgeous.

When it’s in place, you scoot closer to him. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you, smiling against your mouth.

“Your flair for the dramatic never ceases to amaze me,” you say against his lips. You lean back, carding your fingers through the hair at his temples. “You couldn’t have proposed to me in the absence of a near death experience, could you?”

He shakes his head. “Where’s the fun in that?”

+++

Wearing your ring around the house feels right. Jack was, of course, in on the whole operation and was absolutely stoked when he saw the ring on your finger as you helped his father through the door.

You take a few days off together before the next case. Much to your surprise, Aaron lets you help him as he recovers, taking it easy until all of his wounds close back up and his whole regimen of pain meds are almost completed.

He’s home for a few more days while you return to the field. The team asks after him when you return, and you keep them abreast of his recovery without mentioning your change in status.

“They’re gonna figure it out eventually,” Aaron said, putting his toothbrush back into his toiletry bag.

You roll your eyes, throwing your pajama shirt over your head. It’ll likely be removed once you actually get into bed, but it’s the thought that counts. “Yeah, but I’d rather handle that when we’re not actively solving a murder without you, don’t you think?”

His brow quirks and his head tips the slightest bit - a concession. “Fair point.”

When you lean over to grab your jeans off the floor, the ring and chain slip out of your collar and hang down, swinging a little. It falls back against the center of your chest as you straighten, bouncing against your shirt with the lightest of clinking sounds. You find Aaron’s eyes on it when you look over at him and offer him a small smile. “Hey.”

He startles and his eyes jump to yours.

“I love you.”

A wide smile and an eye roll return your sentiment.

Wearing your ring on a chain seems like the best way to keep it safe in the field. Aaron doesn’t mind, and you like to have it close to your heart anyways. The indent it leaves in your skin when you remove your vest brings a smile to your face.

“What’s with you?” JJ asks. “You’re all smiley.”

You shrug. “I just feel good. It’s nice to have Aaron home and safe, you know?”

She nods, squeezing your shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

+++

When you get to the door with Aaron and Jack in tow, Penelope opens the door with a wide grin. “I didn’t think you were going to make it!”

She wraps Aaron in a tight, but careful hug, presses a kiss to your cheek, and ruffles Jack’s hair. Her all-intents-and-purposes nephew jets past her, finding Henry and Spencer in the dining room playing cards together.

“We were feeling up to it, and Jack’s friend offered to pick him up here for a last-minute sleepover, so we figured we’d come crash the party,” you tell her.

She snags Aaron’s sleeve as she steps back into the house. “Oh, happy almost-birthday, sir.” You glance at Aaron with a suppressed smile, and he presses a finger to his lips. “I’ll keep it on the DL, don’t worry.” With another wide smile at the both of you, she ushers you into the house. “Alright everyone .”

Emily rounds the corner to get Spencer, leaving the boys to play. You have your photo ready, as does Aaron (but he cheats - he always has his photo with him), when you all step up to the beautiful altar Penelope has set up in the middle of the living room.

Penelope grabs a glass of wine with a fake eyeball in it for Aaron, and one with a fake ear floating in it for you.

“Uh... I want to thank everybody for doing this with me,” Penelope smiles at you all, “and our altar's burning, and I just feel so blessed to have you all here. I will start. Uh…” She pulls a photo out of her dress. “This is my mom and dad. I miss them.”

She places another photo, this time of a cat. “And this is my cat Simba with his usual bowl of soda pop. He's a weird cat.” Everyone laughs, and she passes it to JJ.

“Uh, ok. Well, uh, this is my sister Roslyn.” She sets a photo of her sister on the altar. The resemblance between them is uncanny. “Ros. She always dreamt that someday she'd live in Paris, so, um...it didn't happen, but I thought this would bring her some happiness.” Careful fingers drop an Eiffel Tower trinket beside the photo and it draws a little smile to your face.

Dave steps up, pinning a photo of two smiling young men in Vietnam and two tickets on one of Penelope’s tiny easels. You recognize one of the men as a very young Dave.

A much older Dave tells you the other man is, “Private First Class Darryl Jenson. We lost him during the Tet offensive.”

Derek looks around, trying to get a better view. “What are the tickets?”

“Opening day next season, Wrigley, right behind the home dugout. Jenson was a die hard Cubs fan.”

“Sweet.” Derek claps Dave on the shoulder and you all direct your attention to Alex.

“Um... My mom.” Alex places a photo of a smiling older woman next to Roslyn, propped up with a fountain pen. “She was the one who got me into crossword puzzles-- no erasing allowed-- which got me into linguistics.” She looks over at Spencer, who pulls two photos out of his pocket.

“You said we could bring more than one, right?”

Garcia nods vigorously. “Oh, yes. This is a come one, come all altar.”

Aaron pulls you close, and you loop your pinkie through the belt loop at his hip.

Spencer places a picture of Maeve near a red rose, and your heart breaks for him. He doesn’t say anything until he’s got the second of his photos ready in his hands. “Nikola Tesla. I figured he's probably been inventing things on the other side, so hopefully he'll bring something to us.” You smile as Spencer meets your eyes.

I love you.

He smiles a little back. Love you.

Derek’s next. “I guess that's me. Ok. I brought... My pops.” He props a photo of his dad against a candle, keeping him secured with a cigar. “He was a cigar aficionado, big time.” He laughs a little, as do the rest of you. “And, actually, Rossi, he was also a huge Cubbies fan, so I was thinking maybe he and Private Jenson over there, maybe they could go to the game together.”

Rossi smiles, and tips his glass to Mr. Morgan. “They can sort that out when they get here.”

They look at you, and you slip the photo out of your back pocket with your right hand, keeping the other tucked against Aaron. “This is Jenny. Some of you know her as the late Director of NCIS, but she was a mentor of mine for the entire time I knew her. She was killed in the line of duty back in ‘08, protecting a friend.” You laugh a little. “Once, over lunch, she told me to chase what I wanted, to push hard, and advocate for myself.” You throw a glance at Hotch and he catches it with warm eyes. “The next day, I asked the SSA in charge of my NAT class to consider me for a unit placement to complete my case hours.”

A little smile pulls at your lips. “I wouldn’t be at the BAU, I wouldn't have my life,” My Aaron, you add to yourself, “if it wasn’t for her.” You place her photo next to a candle on the other side of Roslyn. Jenny’s red hair and bright smile match the flame.

Wordlessly, Aaron pulls the photo of Haley out of his wallet and places her beside Jenny while the team looks on with quiet eyes. He carefully places an opalescent barrette beside her. You recognize it from her box of jewelry - the same one that holds her engagement and wedding rings - that lives in his bedside drawer.

He tucks you under his arm and kisses your temple. You rest your head against him, wrapping an arm around his waist under his sport coat, winding your fingers in his shirt. You’re wearing your ring, but nobody’s noticed it yet.

Dave takes the proverbial stage again as he raises his glass. “Well, I guess this is proof positive that ancestry ain't all bad.”

Garcia follows suit, raising her glass as you all share fond looks. “How about a toast to the... 30 or 40 of us?”

You all cheers, and drink to those in the room and out of it. Haley and Jenny smile back at you. You look at them both, for a moment, before meeting Aaron’s pensive gaze. The same thought floats through your head.

These are the women that lead you to each other. These women built your future, your present. One to guide you to Aaron and the other to guide Aaron to you.

It’s only when you absent-mindedly reach over JJ for a snack, after Aaron abandons you for Dave, that the levee breaks.

“Oh my god.”

Finally caught out.

Instead of looking at you, her head whips up toward Aaron, who’s watching her with a smug smile on his face. Her mouth drops open and she grabs your hand, looking at the ring in the low light. It’s all happened within a split second, but Penelope is the next to catch on.

“‘Oh my God’ what? What’s going on? What did I miss?” She turns, trotting over in her heels to see what JJ’s going on about.

Her squeal almost deafens you, and you crane your neck to look over at Aaron, who’s taken refuge by the fireplace.

With a squint, Asshole.

What? His brows say. I’m just standing here. I didn’t do anything. He takes a sip of his wine and you roll your eyes.

Help me!

You can see him snort. Not a chance.

“I can’t believe you got engaged and nobody told me!” Penelope’s indignant shout carries across the room, and Derek’s the next to whip his head toward you.

“What?”

She turns toward him, her hands on her hips. “Hotch proposed and nobody said anything.”

You bite back a smile as the rest of the team advances on you. Your hand seems to fall into everyone’s palm once or twice as they look at the ring. They all coo over it in one way or another before the information actually sinks in.

“Wait, hold on.” As usual, JJ is the first to bring everyone back down to the ground. “When did this happen?”

Two hands land on your waist, and you tilt your head, giving Aaron space as he slides his arms around you. “There’s nothing like a near-death experience to straighten your priorities, don’t you think?”

Alex laughs. “Don’t tell me you proposed in the hospital.”

You give her a yikes expression, and she huffs.

“C’mon Hotch. Really?”

He chuffs good-naturedly. “Like I said, I experienced a certain...clarity regarding the direction of our lives.” He squeezes you, and you laugh. “Don’t just jump on me for this, though. This one,” you know he’s gesturing to you with his chin, “just said ‘okay’ when I asked.”

You twist around to glare at him. Traitor bastard.

He looks way too smug.

“No you didn’t,” JJ insists. “No you didn’t!”

“Oh come on, Jayje. You left Will hanging for three years. You don’t have a single leg to stand on.”

She rolls her eyes, but you know you’ve got her when Will steps up beside her and kisses her cheek. “Got you there, darlin’”

Rossi, of course, takes your face in his hands and plants two kisses on your cheeks and then does the same to Aaron while Derek pulls you to his chest.

“I’m so happy for you,” he says. He looks over your shoulder at Aaron, still holding onto you. “Hotch, if you fuck this up, I’ll make your death look like an accident and cry at your funeral.”

Aaron laughs, and you duck out from under Derek’s arm while they embrace with some manly back smacks.

Alex gives you a hug, followed by Spencer, who offers you a quiet congratulations. Jack and Henry wander out after a few minutes, drawn by the commotion. Henry goes straight to his mom, while Jack runs to you.

“Did you tell them?” He asks.

You nod, running your fingers through his hair. Both Hotchner boys have the best hair - thick and soft - and it's nearly impossible to keep your hands out of it whenever one of them makes themselves available for head scratches. It also helps that they’ll do anything for head scratches.

Win-win, by your standards.

Dave taps a fork against his glass, getting the attention of everyone in the room. “We have much to celebrate tonight. Not only do we celebrate the lives of people no longer with us, we celebrate the love between two people who are.” He raises his glass. “To our past, to our present, to our future.”

The rest of you toast, clinking your glasses together. A sense of something you can only describe as normal winds around you all as you drink and chat and laugh in Penelope’s living room.

Aaron steps up beside you and kisses your temple. “Having a good time?”

“Mhmm.” You lean into him as he wraps his arms around you, pressing his chest to your back. “Really good time.”

There’s music playing - one of Dave’s playlists - and you sway back and forth, only loosely connected to the beat. You tip your head back, letting your weight rest in his arms for just a moment before remembering he’s still healing, pulling away from him all at on

You can feel him pull you back toward him. “I’m fine, honey. Relax.” After a moment, you do, melting back into him. You almost feel silly for pulling away from him. If you’ve learned anything in the years you’ve known Aaron, he’s anything but fragile.

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#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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17wishbones · 3 years

Photo

Here is the FINAL part (3) of Chapter VII: War’s End! So glad that you made it all to the end. A rather bittersweet sort of sensation but, it was fun writing this to the very end. I so wanted a happy ending, but I still sort of followed Rengoku’s path and cried my eyes out again but it was worth it. Again, this one I know I could write better so I’m going to work on it. Thank you all for reading through this and sticking with me. This was just so fun to do!

- - - - - - - -

Chapter VII: War’s End

“Everyone ready to go?” Tanjiro asked his ‘lively’ crew.

Zenitsu was sitting with Nezuko who was comfortably set in her box. “Yep, yep! Me and Nezuko-chan are as ready as we’ll ever be.”

“Finally! I can get out and stretch my legs!” Inosuke shouted with glee as he grabbed his two blades.

“Hope you have room for one more.”

“Oh, sure, we do-- _____, is that. . . is that really you?”

“In the flesh.” You stepped through the doorway in just the uniform. Over the weeks, you garnered a leveled bob cut of your locs, an eyepatch over your left eye, and scars littering your arms and around your face. “I’ve missed you all so much.”

“COOOOOOK!!!” Inosuke bum-rushed you into a hug, sniffling loudly beneath his boar’s head. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?”

Zenitsu joined him, well, more like pushed him out of the way as he hugged you next. “____, WE WERE WORRIED SICK ABOUT YOU!! WE THOUGHT YOU WERE A GONER!!”

“I’m so sorry for up and leaving just like that. There was a lot to process after the Mugen Train incident, and I didn’t want to muddle your healthy minds with my emotions. I wanted to be mentally strong for you guys.”

‘Her scent is still sad. Of course, she has a reason to be. She lost Rengoku-san, and has had to cope with that loss on her own. I know how tough that can be, but I have Nezuko with me still. She doesn’t have any kin or home to return to. Demon slaying is all she has. . . and us.’ Tanjiro’s eyes lit up. “That’s right! You have us.”

“Hmm? What was that, Tanjiro?” You asked.

“We’re a family, isn’t that right, _____?”

His words surprised you, and it made your heart jump with joy. You looked at all four of them as a part of your family. There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for them. “You’re absolutely right. That’s why I want to come with you. Besides, as a Hashira, it is but my civic duty to protect Kyōjurō’s juniors.” Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you spoke fondly of him. “He was so ecstatic to have more apprentices under his belt. Therefore, I must follow in his footsteps and watch over you.”

“YEEEESS!! Having Cook with us will make traveling even better.”

Zenitsu frowned at him. ‘As if traveling with you has been anything pleasant.’

“Now, before we go. I want to see Senjuro. Did you relay the message to him already, Tanjiro?”

“Mhm. As soon as we got back, and when I was able to move. Do you want us to come with you? We’re heading through that direction anyway.”

“Perfect! Let’s be off then.”

You all travelled down to the Rengoku Estate, seeing Senjuro sweeping out of his home. He was caught off guard when you embraced him.

For a moment, there was silence as he held you back tightly, his eyes swelling with tears. Seeing him reminded you of all the times you spent together. The three of you were a team when you and Rengoku were training for the Final Selection. Senjuro, sweet and kind, had a quiet fire burning in him. He was going to be something amazing, just like his brother.

“Senjuro, how have you been? Are you alright?” You inspected him from his ember-tipped hair down to his sandals.

“I’m better now, after seeing you. You left in such a hurry, I was worried that you weren’t going to come back.”

“You’re stronger than I, Senjuro, and I wanted to be that for you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, _____. Are you leaving with Tanjiro and the others now?”

“Yes. I want to follow in your brother’s footsteps and protect those that I love and those that can’t protect themselves.” You knelt down, looking into his big, soft eyes. “I really wanted us to be together.” You said this, not knowing when death would knock at your doorstep. “I love you, Senjuro. I know you’ll be a great man in the future.”

“Mmm, I think I will be, too.” He hugged you one more time. “I love you, too, _____!”

You returned the favor before you both let go. You reached for your belt, pulling out a small box of goodies. “For you. Hope you like them. Take care, Senjuro.”

Your days, though filled with amazing memories, came to a close as you fell protecting the children. More than anything, you wanted them to succeed. Sacrificing yourself was the only way to win. It was a swift pain, a slow burn, and then darkness bled into your vision as your soul lifted towards the light and your warm, wavering aura vanished from your body.

You were sorry that you couldn’t stay as you walked halfway across the red bridge, spotting flame-tipped hair just over yonder. He peered over his shoulder, a proud smile spread on his handsome features as he held his hand out to you.

Over the red bridge did you both cross, fading into the distance.

( B O N U S - E N D I N G)

Summer had come and college was out! Most couldn’t wait to spend it goofing off on a beach, traveling across the States, or going right back into school a couple weeks later for summer courses. Many people had many things to look forward to, but you? You had woken up at the ass crack of dawn, taking in the morning air as you raced down the steps with your suitcase fully packed.

“Mom! Dad! Come on! We have to get the airport now! I can’t be late.” Your parents were so slow sometimes and that made you anxious. You could leave them here and catch a ride there or make it on your own but they were not having any of that.

“We’re coming, _____, we’re coming!” Your dad said with a mouthful of foaming toothpaste.

“You usually don’t wake up this early with this much energy.” Your mom added.

“It’s not everyday you get to study abroad in the land of the Rising Sun! I have a day’s worth of traveling to do so I can always sleep later.” Yeah, you didn’t get any kind of sleep last night as you’d be spending most of it in the air.

You hurried them up and sped to the busy airport to meet with the group of classmates you were leaving with. You said your goodbyes to your parents, boarded the plane, and wished for a safe trip.

As soon as service was offered, you grabbed a couple drinks, ate whatever they served in the trays, and knocked out until landing - save for the few bathroom trips -.

Your horizon suddenly expanded the moment you walked out of Japan’s airport, looking around you in amazement. You had to keep murmuring to yourself, “Do not weeb out. I repeat, do not weeb out.” You loved anime, you loved Japanese culture, and you loved their idea of cuisine. Japan felt like the place for you.

“Okay everyone, please come together,” spoke your sweet, endearing Japanese princess of a teacher, Mayamoto-sensei. “We’ll be heading two hours out by bus to Kimetsu Daigaku (Kimetsu University). Rest up and be ready for a little surprise set up by a few students who were interested in meeting you guys soon after arrival.”

You internally squealed with glee. You weren’t dressed up for the occasion but who was going to tell you that you couldn’t wear a pair of sweats on the ride there. With your short locs retwisted and your good outfits packed, you were set to go!

So set that you were the first off the bus and getting your things out. “This is going to be a great experience, I know it!”

“Nn! I agree!”

“Oh my god!” You jumped, scared by the booming voice beside you. “Oh… oh my god.” You had laid eyes on one of the most unique men you had ever had the pleasure of gazing upon. He was different, what with his flame highlighted tips, dazzling eyes, and charming smile.

“Yes. . .?” He slowly stood, his eyes never leaving yours once locked. This man, a vocal and expressive man, was left speechless. He ogled you for much longer than he’s ever done, going over your brown skin, your brown eyes, your short locs, everything! He immediately bowed before you, introducing himself. “Konnichiwa! Rengoku Kyōjurō to moushimasu! Yoroshiku onegai-shimasu!” (Formal: (Hello!) I’m called Rengoku Kyōjurō! Nice to meet you!)

Your eyes bugged out of your face. ‘Shit! Wasn’t he speaking English a minute ago? Okay, okay, what did he say?’ You looked back to see your sensei and the students watching the two of you interact. This was not how you kept yourself out of weeb trouble. Hell, you were still trying to figure out what his fine ass said so fast.

“Onamae wa, nan desu ka?” (Polite: What’s your name?)

You sighed, being able to understand that. “Watashi no namae wa… _____ _____ desu. Doozo yoroshiku.” (Casual: My name is _____. Nice to meet you.)

‘_____?’ He eyed you for a second longer before he placed his hands on his hips, smiling wide from ear to ear. “Very good, _____! I’m Rengoku Kyōjurō, and I am with a few classmates to meet you all. Welcome to Kimetsu University!”

“Woooow, his English is so good.” You thought. Aloud.

“Thank you! I have been learning since elementary! Your pronunciation is good, but your flow is slow. However, I am sure you will improve after being here for a month!”

‘Oh, thanks for putting me out there!’ You smiled nervously. This handsome, wild man was nothing like you had expected. “That’s what I’m hoping for as I’d like to work, live, and travel here in the future.”

“Is that so?” He faced you with his arms crossed over his chest. “Be my student!” Your mouth, along with the others, dropped at his proposal. You looked to your sensei for help, and she encouraged it with an approving nod and smile. “Great, then it’s settled! You’ll be fluent in Japanese in no time!” He looked off to the distance, laughing loud as you smiled in confusion.

(Modern AU Sequel coming SOON!) - - - - - - - - - Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII (Part 1) / (Part 2) / (Part 3)

#rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader #rengoku x you #rengoku kyōjurō #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic

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keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

lavender latte: iv

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 5 ||

word count: 7.7k

sucks when things go south, huh.

warnings: description of bodily injury, blood, mild? gore (it’s just describing injury), description of overstimulation, capital h and c hurt/comfort

------

chapter 4 :’^) thank u for all of the love so far. i appreciate. every. single. one of. u. bottom of my lil rat heart.

this chapter was nearly split, but giving y’all a cliffhanger seemed mean

this the turning point and set up for the rest of the story so buckle up and enjoy ;^)

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Things between you and Hawks didn’t change too much, not externally anyways. Both of you still continued to indulge your feelings, even if you desperately tried to ignore them.

You continued to honestly spoil Hawks in lavish drinks of many sensations. Truthfully, you loved nothing more than seeing his face as he sipped at your new creations, watching the curiosity and pleasure spread over his features made your heart soar in your chest.

And Keigo continued to bask in your company. The drinks were always amazing, but the chatter and discourse between the two of you was what he loved most. Or, maybe it was his learning of you through watching your small gestures and cues. His analytical, interpersonal skills were, for once, being put to a use that didn’t involve espionage or deception.

It felt cleansing.

Despite these quietly greedy interactions, there was a great deal of repression between the two of you. Aimless flirting aside, squishing any growing feelings caused you both a great deal of strain. It worked, avoidance, for a while anyway. It wasn’t without consequences, but they wouldn’t get nasty until later.

One of the most apparent tolls was Keigo’s physical state. Having to actively ignore and quash his feelings for you caused such a deep amount of emotional turmoil. It made him ache all over. This was in addition to an asinine amount of extra hours he was spending staking out the villain syndicate that was indeed in the neighborhood of the tea shop.

(He wouldn’t admit it, but he was being overly diligent in scouting out the organization's doings. They were very close to you and your home, and the thought of you getting caught up in anything to do with his profession fucked him up on-premise alone.)

The combination of both physical and mental exertion made him messier than ever. It physically clouded him a lot of the time. Exhaustion had well and truly seized nipping at his ankles and proceeded to fully rip a chunk from his skull.

Keigo had yet another long day, dawn until at least midnight, no matter his aching body.

He’d be listening in on out some sort of meeting between the villain syndicate and one of its allies, some more reclusive group of villains from the far-off mountains. Neither organization was particularly noteworthy, but they did have some nasty criminal connection that needed to be monitored. That meant a late night for Keigo and an even greater need for caffeine.

He paid you a visit in the early morning.

The moment Hawks came through the door, you lit up, beaming from behind the counter.

The shop was empty, just having opened a few minutes before he appeared. The only sounds were the hum coffee machines, quiet music, and the tapping of your own tinkerings. Normally, there’d be more bustle, but you were alone in the din of the shop.

“Hey, angel,” He flashed you a winning smile, sliding down into his usual stool and propping his elbows on the counter. “Where’s the calvary?”

“Oh, the other openers?” You jerked your thumb to the door. “Running late. They all stayed up late working on a project for school, so I took one for the team and am manning the ship alone for this first bit.”

You sighed, looking quite tired yourself.

There was mutual recognition of your twin state, though it wasn’t verbally regarded in any way.

Hawks was far better at hiding his poor health from you, but that didn’t stop you from seeing the pinholes in his facade. You’d gotten better at it with time.

“What can I get you today, Hawks? Inspire me.” You set the glass on the counter between the two of you, gesturing to the expanse of the coffeeshop. “It’s just you and me today, so I can go all out.”

“You don’t already?” Hawks chuckled, running a hand through his hair with a sigh.

“I try,” You shrugged. “I really do my best work for you, whether you’re a glorified guinea pig or not. Gotta serve up the best for my best customer.”

On any normal, Hawks would’ve bantered right back at you, keeping you on your toes with quick words and wit.

That day?

He just laughed, something weirdly neutral, almost off-putting because you knew it was manufactured.

You opened your mouth, brows furrowing. You wanted nothing more than to ask ‘hey, are you alright?’.

But, that would’ve broken some of your own, mentally-imposed boundaries. It hurt, to just laugh with him, but it was all you would let yourself do.

“So,” You broke the air with words as opposed to giggles. “What would you like?”

Hawks hummed, “Surprise me.”

“... Like, fully?”

Hawks nodded, slowly.

Keigo, in a movement of full vulnerability, (he told himself it would just be for a few minutes), laid his head on his folded arms, “Go wild, angel. I trust you. Make me anything you’re feeling. Wing it, no pun intended.”

You blinked at him, nodding. His sudden, almost submissive action surprised you. Something in you ached, seeing him so worn down.

You channeled this feeling into a desire to make him top-tier drink.

Reaching into your apron, you fished out your idea notebook. Many had been crossed off over the many weeks (months now?) that Hawks had been visiting the tea shop. You fairly consistently wrote down new ones, so there were always options, but on that day, none appealed to you.

Your gaze flickered back to Hawks, watching the soft movements of his breath through the tight fabric of the back of his shirt.

You needed to make it extra good, help shake Hawks from his stupor.

You’re gonna wing it.

You’ll make a feel-good drink.

It was your only self-imposed criteria.

You hadn’t ever made Hawks a drink without a concept and feeling beforehand, so the concept of not having one seemed novel.

You activated your quirk and began.

“How’s your day been?” Hawks called from behind you, words muffled.

Keigo still didn’t look at you; resting on his arms allowed him a little bit of a reprieve before his grueling day. He’d take it. Hearing your voice would make it that much better.

You described your day with a decent amount of detail for how much it hadn’t gotten started yet. Hamming up the detail meant more time for you to craft the drink. Your mind spun, grasping onto pre-existing, mental abstracts in your oddly calm headspace to create something tangible.

Though your quirk was activated, you weren’t really identifying a feeling specifically, rather just letting your quirk draw from whatever material you had laying around in your brainscape at 6 AM on a weekday morning.

You pulled as many espresso shots as Hawks usually liked (maximum, five, you refused to give him more than that in a single drink), pouring them into some steamed oatmilk and several other ingredients you had mixed into a cup. You tapped some cinnamon on top of the foam, polishing everything off with a dash of sweet cream.

Carefully, you set it between the two of you. Hawks hadn’t spoken since you had begun to make the drink, so oddly silent.

It almost made your skin itch, his lack of response. You reminded yourself with quick glances that Hawks was very obviously out of it and exhausted. You were sure that without the concealer he wore under his eyes (a secret he revealed to only you), he’d have purple circles punched from how overworked he was.

You hoped your drink would be enough to brighten up his day.

You bit your lip as Hawks raised his head, blonde waves more unruly than normal. A small, lopsided smile stretched across his face as he sat up, grabbing the drink and bringing it closer. He had learned long ago to allow them to cool.

“Sorry for not being as peppy as I normally am!” It was almost imperceptible, the off-kilter tone in his voice.

You caught it but said nothing.

He sheepishly rubbed at the back of his head. “Been running on empty it seems, angel.”

“Then take some fuel, bird boy.” You nodded to the foamy drink. “When are you supposed to be done today?”

“Late, like late. Early morning, probably.” Hawks sighed, taking a sip.

...

As the liquid coated his mouth, Keigo’s mind seized.

What.

What the fuck.

Any and all thoughts he had disappeared. They were incinerated from his mind by the drink’s heat.

A sun-scorching sensation like he’d never even known tore through his body.

It was so different from the other ‘warm’-toned drinks you’d made him in the past. The flavor and feeling filling him up was nothing like the hearth-like drinks you had made prior. You had treated him to plenty of beverages that felt akin to open flame, warm blankets, a cat purring over your chest, a candle on a cold night—

But, nothing even close to this.

This was such a strong feeling that if he was a less trained man, his eyes would’ve rolled back in his head. If he’d been standing, he was sure his legs would’ve been visibly shaking, probably given out.

Sure, the feeling was abstract, not as concrete as your other drinks but it was ineffably strong.

It felt like the flutter you caused in his stomach, but somehow all over and inside of him.

It was the heat in his cheeks when he saw you, but reaching from his toes to the skin of his scalp.

It was the shock in his throat when you smiled so honestly at him, now forcing his hands to twitch around the cup.

The consuming sensation was all of that goodness and more, magnified and exponentially deeper and marvelously burning.

It was hot, fiery as it ripped through him, completely unignorable. But, it was also soft, colored with the earnestness that he admired about you so much—

Oh.

It clicked as the sensation stirred in his stomach, fluttering to a point of near nausea.

It was you.

The moment he realized it, that all of that sensation was you feeling, as you had made the drink, something began to broil in the apex of his chest, rolling and all-consuming.

His mind stalled as he took it all in, taking another sip.

The feeling washed over him again, equally as wonderfully crushing.

“Soooo,” You drawled, setting a jar next to you on the counter, beaming him a smile. “What do you think? Gimme your judgment, bird boy.”

Keigo struggled to keep his face neutral as he quickly searched yours.

Even in his state, it was clear that there was no deception or riddle laced into the creaminess of the drink. The expectancy in your face was derived from admiration, not waiting for the punchline of an unfinished joke.

“It’s warm! Like, in your stomach.” Hawks looked down before taking another sip, the even smile on his face not wavering for even a moment. “What is it?”

“It’s a miel,” You tapped the jar next to you, pointing at the amber goo inside. “This is some wildflower honey from the owner’s sister’s farm, right outside the city. We have a bunch of extra stuff, so there’s no better time to make a honey-based drink.”

Hawks eyed the steam, “What goes into a ‘miel’?”

Watching Hawks’ shoulder go slack with the next chug he took, you hummed, “It’s a latte, so espresso and milk, then it has the honey in it which is what makes it a ‘miel’. Topped it with some special sweet cream, a bit of cinnamon. My extra touches in it as well, just based on my quirk.”

Hawks met your gaze, his eyes softening with what you could’ve sworn was desperation, but was quickly swallowed up but stoicism, “And what was this drink’s inspiration?”

You laughed, shoving your hands in your apron from the typical anxiety, though the feeling itself was somewhat normal and thereby dulled, “It didn’t have one! I just winged it, like you said. My quirk was activated though, so it was just sort of the concept of what I was perceiving and feeling, I suppose.”

There was a pause as you waited for Hawks to speak.

He didn’t.

Keigo stared down at the drink, then you.

Holy fuck.

This was ambient?

The sensation that made his toes curl and every part of him yearn to reach out to touch you and give all of himself to you—

It was unintentional?

The feeling was familiar, one that he had organically all the time when thinking of you, being with you at the teashop. It was the one that he shoved down over and over again around you, yet craved more than anything.

And here you were, unknowingly returning it to him.

You hadn’t intended it to be shared and you had no idea you even did.

Keigo was one of the most perceptive people on the planet— he knew that many of the feelings between the two of you were mutual. As much flirting as there was, a lot of it was real from both of you.

He just didn't think it ran this far deep.

(Mutually.)

“What... What do you think it tastes like?” You asked, that nasty rot in your gut rearing itself as Hawk’s lack of response ate at you. You turned fully to him, actually taking him in.

Keigo did what he was so skilled at doing—

Lying.

Hawks waved his hands in front of him like he was trying to put out small flames, “Nothing bad! Promise, it’s really good! It tastes like how the coffee shop feels. Warm, comfortable. It makes sense that your quirk would reflect that.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, “Oh, good. I’m glad it's good.”

“Very good. I might have to put miels on my list of favorite drinks you’ve made me,” Hawks gave you a relaxed grin, standing and passing a wad of cash to you.

You didn’t expect him to be leaving so quickly, but he did say he was busy.

“Oh, hey, Hawks?” He perked up when you said his name, blinking at you. “I’ve got a project I’m working that I’m doing for the owner, so I’ll be here late. If you’re around, you’re welcome to come by after close if you want another drink? For your long night.”

Hawks softened for you like he so often had come to do. He fluffed up the collar of his jacket, wings ruffling up behind him, “I think I’ll take you up on that. I’ll have some ideas for you then too, how about that?”

“Sounds lovely,” Your voice was like the honey of the drink, warm, sweet, and vibrant. “I’ll see you then, Hawks.”

“See you then, angel,” Hawks practically glowed as he walked from the door, the chime of the bell sounding with his exit. “I’ll text you when I’m close!”

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Over the course of the day, an odd feeling grew in the pitch of your stomach. You did your best to ignore it.

You alternated between serving customers and working on the ‘project’ the owner had saddled you with. Making centerpieces for his sister’s bridal shower was not something you should’ve been doing on company time, but they were giving you a handsome sum of cash under the table for it.

You couldn’t complain too much, other than that it was laborious. Masons jars stuffed with wired lights and frosted glasses, tied with twine and ribbons were all to be prettily arranged by your hand.

During the middle of the day, you went back home, spending your time between shifts catching up on sleep and making some decent food.

The odd gnawing only grew in your stomach.

Keigo’s long day was wearing on, though somewhat uneventfully. Most of his patrolling time was the effortless thwarting of petty crime and easy rescuing.

He even had the time to go back to his agency and snoop.

Because, for how lame his day was, the drink you made him (which he had greedily chugged all of shortly upon leaving the tea shop) caused him to think particularly hard about your quirk.

(As opposed to the asphyxiating awareness of your shared feelings.)

He didn’t get it.

You’d managed to perfectly create a drink that communicated complex feelings. You’d told him in the past that it could be used for any sort of feeling as well, but you were so vague beyond that. You were abstract in the same way you quirk was.

So, he decided to abuse his power a little.

He decided to actually take a lunch at the agency, munching on takeout while clicking through the HPSC’s databases.

Civilian quirks, especially those that had never attempted to pursue any sort of career with them, weren’t documented incredibly well. Maybe a few details that were used in public research projects, but not much beyond that. He had hoped he could dig and find something that would assuage his curiosity and confusion.

He tapped your name into the HPSC’s hero-accessible database, scrolling and pulling up your file.

There was a picture of you, one from an ID that must’ve been a few years old. There were personal details Keigo wasn’t all that interested in, though it was neat to finally know your birthday.

He clicked on the tab for your quirk.

Quirk: Synesthetic Manifestation

Description: Allows the user to materially manifest abstract, synesthetically-created feelings into reality.

This quirk does not allow the user to alter reality, only tangibly create abstracts through the means at their disposal.

Drawback: This quirk causes severe synesthetic overstimulation and appears to be activated unintentionally in instances that expose them to high amounts of stimuli.

Quirk potential:

Keigo knew the concept of ‘quirk potential’ well. Most of the time, this portion on files was only filled out if the individual had ever trained to use their quirk in a profession.

Oddly, your’s contained a few details.

The user showed high potential in initial assessments, but due to the nature of the quirk, its drawbacks, and its recorded usage, this user’s quirk is now classified as lowest potential.

Keigo frowned.

All this just made him more confused.

The file didn’t get into much more detail than you did. The only thing that was new information to him was that at some point you had tried to use your quirk in a training setting and that somehow got you demoted from high potential to lowest potential.

Keigo’s own quirk in the database was regarded as highest potential; you, at some point, were only a step down from him. Something knocked you down from pursuing quirk-based work, and based on your current employment at the tea shop, you never got up. Keigo figured it was the intricacies of your quirk that he didn’t fully understand.

He’d have to be a bit more careful getting any more information out of you, considering how much you disliked talking about it.

Keigo continued to stew, finishing off his lunch while thoughts of you and your feelings danced across his mind.

Though it was clear his adoration was obviously returned, it was much easier for him to muse over the nature of your quirk than the way he wanted to pull you over the teashop’s counter and kiss you breathless.

You went back to work, a few chalky tablets of stomachache medicine in your tummy. They were all you could do to try and quell the twisting in your gut.

By the time you arrived back to start your ‘night shift’, it was late evening, the sun already having fallen into the horizon.

Most of your time prior to closing was spent in the front, helping make drinks and clean up as you could. Part of you was actually excited to throw on some good music and grind after the tea shop was shut down for the night.

Also, seeing Hawks twice in the same day? Absolutely fantastic.

You wanted to try and make him a knockout drink, to make up for the lackluster one you’d prepared him earlier. Seeing his eyes get all gooey with happiness would more than push you through your night of work.

Your phone chimed a bit before close.

[birdboy]: hey ;^) mind if I come by in like a half an hour?

[you]: yeah!! just call me and i’ll unlock the door for you

Your closing coworkers giggled at you. They all knew that that big smile stretched across your face meant you were texting Hawks. You used to get a bit shy about it, but now you just gave them shit. He was your friend, right?

[birdboy]: what if i like, hit the glass, like fly into it like birds do into windows

[you]: okay one- no, that would definitely shatter the windows and idk if i wanna deal with that AND you tonight ;^)

[you]: and TWO- are you speaking. from experience. about hitting windows.

[birdboy]: please dont @ me like this

You snorted.

[birdboy]: i had to pay off a tabloid who got it on camera bc it would ruin my brand

[you]: do u still have those photos

[birdboy]: ... maybe

[you]: hawks

[you]: gimme

[birdboy]: idk if i can my publicist will kill me

[you]: u hear what i hear?? a coward

[you]: how does ‘your brand’ feel about that

[birdboy]: ...

[birdboy]: gimme one of those honey sticks u have at the register and the pics are yours once i get there ;^)))

[you]: DEAL!!!

You pocketed your phone in your apron, unable to stop the almost ridiculous smile that you wore.

Hawks made you uncomfortably happy. You knew that he didn’t feel the same, but he was still there. Even if you were just entertainment to him, you were happy to perform on any stage he was watching.

As closing crept up, you shooed your other coworkers off. Most of the closing tasks were done, they could leave a few minutes early.

As they began to pack up, chatting about some party that night, your insides twisted.

You squeezed the counter, rubbing your forehead while wishing your coworkers a good evening.

Weird.

It was about then that things went to shit for both you and Hawks.

Keigo’s was supposed to be in for a hellishly long shift of surveillance based on the intel he’d received about the syndicate and its impending meeting.

Apparently, that meeting was happening earlier, rather than later.

The chaos started quickly, the meetup going from a strategic talk to an all-out fight between two groups.

It spilled into the nearby streets, both sides unabashed in their destruction.

Perhaps, if Keigo had been faster (what a tall order, for the fastest man in all of Japan), things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand.

But quickly, things erupted and the streets dissolved in mayhem as he dove and sent feathers flying.

You stood by the front entrance, waiting for Hawks, idly sweeping. The cleaning tasks were almost done, the world outside was dark with the late evening.

You froze when the ground beneath your feet rumbled with revving engines, the air splitting with the sound of car horns and alarms.

Everything that happened next moved so quickly, it was difficult to follow.

Windows began to shatter all across the street, near and far.

They cracked, spraying glass as a figure cloaked in black flew down the asphalt outside. A red barrage followed after it, nearly subduing it as it raced past the tea shop.

The massive glass panels at the front of the tea shop filled with frosty lines, just feet in front of you.

It clicked for you a few moments too late.

Adrenaline shot through you, but it wasn’t enough.

...

You weren’t Hawks, you weren’t fast enough to outrun much of anything, let alone quirk-shattered glass.

You were just barely able to turn around before the spray of shards reached you.

You would later be incredibly thankful that you wore denim jeans and a wool sweater that day. Without the thick fabrics, you were sure that you would’ve been shredded. The problem was your low-top shoes and thin socks.

Just as you turned, searing pain shot from the back of your left ankle. You urged yourself to forget the specifics, flesh-tearing, mind beginning to buzz.

You just had to keep moving.

Except, you couldn’t. Your left leg gave out with your next step.

You shrieked as you fell to the floor, barely catching yourself. Your palms smacked against the ground, pieces of sharpened glass driving into the flesh.

You couldn’t help screaming, your voice mingling with the sound of alarms, cries for help, and the war cries of a nearby fight.

Oh.

You were in the middle of a fairly nasty villain attack.

...

So much for giving Hawks a better drink.

The mental joke seemed macabre, especially in your state.

You willed with all of your might, for your quirk to not activate. Overstimulation was just inches away from your current state, the sounds outside the teashop boring through your skull like diamond drill bits.

The pain that was radiating from your left leg was nearly unbearable, but you knew that getting out of the front room was imperative.

How you managed to keep your injured leg straight, you’ll never know.

You locked your jaw and pulled yourself along the floor, hoping that Hawks had this all under control. More people were bound to be hurt by the same sort of attack you got caught in, right? How many more folks had been sliced up like you? Worse than you?

Keigo wasn’t having much trouble subduing the villains. They, of course, had no idea that he had been watching the syndicate for three-odd months. He knew their quirks, their tactics, their escape routes, everything. What he didn’t know as well was the other group’s specifics.

From what he had understood before the fight, the two had somewhat friendly relations. Still, Keigo mentally kicked himself for not being more diligent in his gathering of intel.

His mistakes aside, the much more pressing issue was the two-kilometer stretch of shops that were now collateral damage in what was essentially a mobile mob war.

This damage included the tea shop.

When he’d flown past the shop, he’d only caught a glimpse of your face through the glass before it shattered.

You’d looked terrified.

Every part of him wanted to stop, dead in the air, rush in, and make sure you were okay, but he had to at least get things under control until more heroes showed up. Then, he’d be able to get to you.

By the time Keigo subdued several villains of either group, more Pros had arrived on the scene. He sped off to the teashop far too quickly when he saw others gathering. It was an ill-advised move, but he was clouded by a different set of instincts than those cultivated in his hero training.

The flight did allow him to fully take in the damage of the district, though.

It was about as bad as it could be.

Whatever the villain’s quirk was must’ve shattered glass within a certain radius from his body, Keigo observed.

Thankfully, the villain’s quirk didn’t appear to affect anything past two stories of height, sparing all above it. Those panes and pieces that did shatter had sprayed businesses, restaurants, shops, and the street with shards of glass. Not to mention that they flew at the speed of projectiles.

(At the full-minded revelation that there was no way you weren’t hurt, Keigo felt his stomach flip and eyes burn.)

Keigo shuddered to think how bad the damage would’ve been if the encounter happened during broad daylight.

Keigo curled in his wings, dropping onto the floor at the front of the teashop through the broken window.

He kept his expression somewhat neutral, though the scene before him tore at his heart in a way he wasn’t expecting.

The tea shop was destroyed.

The pretty, warm lighting fixtures had shattered, fine filaments exposed, and a few sparking. The glass jars on your wall of tea blends were broken, spilling leaves and dried herbs across the back counter. That wasn’t even to mention the layer of shards from all of the glassware stored around the coffee machines.

Seeing the destruction of one of the only places he had ever found real comfort in was awful, and it tore something hidden and vulnerable in his heart.

But far, far worse was the absolute horror that bloomed in his chest when he saw the sizeable spot of blood in the middle of the floor, smearing to the back doorway.

“(Y/N)!” Keigo shouted, ignoring any stealthy elements and hurriedly following the trail.

“B-back here,” Oh, your voice was so weak.

Keigo couldn’t make himself move fast enough.

You’d managed to get yourself to the back, biting your lip so hard you were scared you’d break the skin. Part of you was lucid enough to know that making too much noise could be bad. Then again, the shop was supposed to be closed. Did anyone even know that you were there?

Hawks did.

You gripped at one of the edges of the stainless steel countertops, using all the strength you could muster to pull yourself upright. As careful as you were not to jostle your injured leg (that you still hadn’t looked at properly because you were terrified), the moment you bent it, you had to suppress a scream, turning it into a slow, nasty exhale. You let yourself sink to the floor again.

Something was seriously fucked up.

Then Hawks called your name.

You were sprawled out on the floor, injured leg awkwardly turned and extended to prevent the pain from being made worse.

The moment he saw you from the doorway, the remnants of his wings flapped, practically throwing him to the ground next to you.

The moment you saw him enter the back room, any and all fronts you had put on for yourself fell apart.

“H-Hawks,” You hated how small your voice sounded as you pushed yourself closer to him.

The details of him, how ruffled his remaining feathers were, how wide and scared his eyes were, how different he looked from the times you’d seen him on the news confidently saving the day, were lost on you.

Though, Keigo noticed your poor state easily. It was more obvious.

He scanned your form with the trained precision he was known for. He took in the shattered piece of glass sticking from your leg, bleeding lightly. Your palms weren’t bloody, but they were dotted with shards of glass.

He also noticed your panicked shaking and your unnaturally dilated pupils, beyond anything he’d seen while you’d made drinks for him.

“Is your quirk active?” Keigo asked, pulling off his gloves and grabbing one of your wrists. He turned your palm, using two of his smallest feathers like tweezers to pick at the shards pieces of glass.

“Y-yeah,” You replied, using the back of your other hand to wipe at your eyes. “It does this when I’m under extreme stress. I can’t turn it off.”

Keigo managed to laugh, relieved that the cuts in your hands weren’t that severe, “You just focus on me, okay, angel? That’s all you gotta do.”

You nod, trying to hold your overstimulated mind back. It’s fruitless, truly, because the moment Hawks reminds you that he is, in fact, there, and that you are safe, you quirk-addled mind spasms.

The awful mix of sensations whirled in your skull as you leaned forward, pressing your forehead into Hawks’ shoulder. In other circumstances, it would be a romantic gesture. But, the only purpose you had in the contact was hoping, praying, that the heat of his body would distract you from the swirling of sensations you couldn’t stop.

In that mental soup, within the fear, intense pain, and loss, oddly enough, was the unignorable, pleasant feeling of being so close to him. It made your heart squeeze. But, it was a single spice of sensation in a foul-tasting stew though, and it was hard to isolate the good in the muck of your mind.

You shook against him as sounds and pain blended inside your skull, thoughts becoming murkier and harder to understand.

Keigo finished tweezing your other hand, that one worse off, and wrapping it in some gauze he had stuffed in his jacket.

His mind screamed for him to wrap you in his arms, to pull you close and keep you safe. It was all he could fathom doing, just nearly moving to do so—

That was until the popping rumble of a nearby explosion interrupted his thoughts.

You jumped against him, muffling a scream in his shoulder.

His heart ached.

“(Y/N), I know this is all scary,” Hawks’s voice came through your sensational slurry. “But, I need to be back out there right now.”

“No.” Your mouth spewed with no discernable thoughts behind it. “Don’t leave. Please, don’t. Please.”

You caught Hawks’ wince, but barely.

He was already repositioning you, scooting you under one of the countertops, “Angel, I’m sorry. I need to go, but I’ll be back. I promise.”

Your eyes screwed shut, vibrating in your skull as pulling your uninjured leg to your chest.

Hawks looked equally as torn up about having to leave, brows creased with his lip worried between his teeth.

Despite how messy your brain felt, you knew that you were beyond defenseless. Even if your mind could easily conjure up an infinite number of ways to bring a person non-lethal (and lethal) pain, you were turning to mush mentally and you had glass sticking out of your leg. You had no fucking way to create it with your body.

Your back hit the wall under the counter and you managed to wrench your eyes open, taking in Hawks and his visage while you spun.

He looked so sad.

The feeling of mourning and fear spat so hotly in your mind, it was like you’d been intangibly burned by his expression.

You choked on your own stored tears, reaching out for him.

He caught one of your hands, the wrapped one, and squeezed it lightly.

Even with so few feathers left, Hawks plucked one, about the size of your forearm. He replaced his hand with the plumage.

“(Y/N), I will be back. I promise,” Hawks (so weakly) smiled, trying to reassure you. “You snap that feather if anything changes, okay? If anyone comes into the shop who isn’t another pro, or if you start to feel faint. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.” You gritted out, somehow laughing. Your vocal cords rubbing together sends a wave of agony up the back of your neck, burying behind your eyes. You press your forehead in your bent knee.

With one last, fleeting look, eyeing your wound and remembering slate-colored eyes, Keigo took flight into the fray once more.

Keigo hated leaving you. He hated it so fucking much. It burned him, felt wrong in every way. You were so vulnerable in your state. Both of you knew that without him there, you were entirely exposed and fairly defenseless.

It perked up that protective instinct he’d repeatedly had towards you for months. It was probably something related to his avian mutation, but it was just blood-boiling need to keep you safe.

Yet, he just left you, wounded and mentally spiraling, in the middle of a destroyed building.

If he wasn’t trained so well, he would have acted differently. But, it had been burned into him time and time again what his needs were in disaster situations.

Neutralize, stabilize, clear out.

Through his exhaustion, he fought and soared with all he had, fatigue forgotten and replaced by hot cortisol. He forced himself faster, zipping down alleyways and across rooftops at some of his top speeds.

While Keigo tracked down all of the villains (he managed to miss the first time), he trusted that the other Pros could deal with the heavy collateral damage. He was number two, he could catch some organized criminals.

Beyond his training, Keigo had an even bigger motivation.

He could feel you.

The feather he left with you must’ve been pressed right up to your chest, maybe under your neck with the way Keigo could so intensely feel your breath and heartbeat. He could sense it gradually speeding up to the point of what had to be panic. If Keigo focused, he could make out your terror-stricken babbling.

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“This is fine.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Hawks is okay.”

“He’ll come back.”

“He won’t leave.”

...

“Everything's gonna be okay.”

With that last one, your words gave out and it turned in gasping breaths.

Keigo worked himself harder, striking down the last of villains with absolute precision, all distractions forgotten in the most pivotal moments of combat.

The instant the villains were in custody, restrained, he was flying back towards the tea shop.

You don’t remember any of this well. Your mind was liquified, your body throbbing in pain.

It had been an incredibly long time, years since you’d been in any situation resembling a villain attack. There was no way to stop the synesthetic storm that was choking your mind. Every sensation was magnified, mixed with another, and shoved down your throat without any ability to change it.

A few minutes after Hawks left, giving you time to stew and roll, you spiraled more harshly.

When you realized how pitifully helpless you were, you fell away, pressing your wet face into the Hawks’s feather. Your vision muddled between black and red.

You felt the cold of the blood wetting your pant leg.

Your wound is bad.

You hadn’t fully looked at it in awhile.

Opening your eyes, you suppressed a wave of nausea at the small puddle of blood growing under the bottom half of your useless leg.

The way the denim of your jeans stuck to your skin mixed with the smell heady smell of blood made you gag.

You couldn’t keep it up anymore.

Letting your eyes shut, you sank down to the floor, cheek pressed into the dirty cement.

You don’t know how long you idled, drowning in your mind’s colors and vibrantly violent sensations.

You were only half-conscious when the feather pressed to your neck twitches.

“(Y/N)!” Keigo shouted as he landed in the teashop, flying straight to the backroom, bypassing the mess of broken glass.

His breath caught, seeing you slumped over.

“Fuck,” Keigo couldn’t stop the tremble in his voice as he noticed how much blood had pooled beneath your injured ankle. “Hey, hey, (Y/N)—”

He sure fucking sucked at admitting his faults, and recognizing the severity of wounds was indeed one of them. He didn’t usually stick around long enough to deal with casualties so closely.

Keigo threw off his gloves, tossing them behind him without looking.

“‘M fine,” You started to push yourself up, hissing at the pain that surged from cuts in your hands. “Brain’s mushy.”

“That all?” Thank god Hawks still managed to joke. The humor dashed across your vision like little sparks. You stifle a weak snort.

“There’s my angel.” Keigo was so relieved to see you conscious that he didn’t notice his own possessive slipup. “Are you lightheaded?”

Gingerly, he helped stabilize your body upright as you wrenched your eyes open.

“A little, it’s okay, this is what happens,” Your voice was so loud in your own skull, it hurt. Though, the pain of your words was only a prick in the wet dough of your overworked mind. Sensation was pain, rolling over you and making it harder and harder to stay lucid.

Keigo swallowed thickly at the sight of your fully-blackened irises.

He needed to get you out as fast as possible, but that required assessing the gash in your leg.

His gaze flickered to your ankle, “Can you move your toes?”

“I don’t want to.”

Keigo frowned, weakly, pushing you as upright as possible as you began to slip to the side.

“Please, you have to try, okay?” Keigo begged, not noticing his own voice wobble.

You shook your head, grabbing it in within its own motion. The dizziness made your insides knot and stick together.

“(Y/N), please.”

You shifted your gaze to him, vision tilting as you did.

The frown on your face split as you just barely moved your toes within your blood-soaked shoe.

The fresh pain, vibrant and boiling, cut through the fog like a heat-blackened knife.

Your own fist flew into your mouth to mouth to suppress the cry that bubbled from your throat. You half-recognized it was the one holding Hawks’s feather.

You couldn’t see the way Keigo flinched at the sound, immediatly trying to soothe the two of you.

“Alright, good, okay, you can still feel them,” Hawks managed to laugh, cutting into the miasma of your psyche. It was something light and airy, tasting like packet sugar on the sides of your tongue.

Chasing the goodness of Hawks’s voice, you mustered up as much clarity as you could grasp, willing yourself into full sentences, “Hawks. I swear to fucking God, if you do not get me out of here right now, I will never make you a drink ever again.”

Keigo blinked at you, nodding, watching your attempt to focus on him, though the fully inked irises seemed to refuse to stay put.

So, this is what the file meant about the cost of your quirk.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, dove.” Hawks scooped you up before you could manage to put more thoughts together. A few of his feathers flew to stabilize your injured leg.

His touch felt good, like incredibly good. Even as the crunch of his boots on the broken glass of the tea shop scratched at your inner ears and burned your sinuses, the heat and texture of his jacket caressed over your cheeks. His warmth tasted like honey and cream.

Your head lolled onto his chest, idly playing with the filaments of his feathers that you refused to let go of.

(Keigo didn’t want you to, anyway.)

He couldn’t fly well, not in his mostly-featherless state, so he took to walking instead. He sidestepped as much glass he could, mostly watching your half-lidded eyes fixate on the feather you had pressed up to your face.

It was a weird circle, Keigo feeling your heat and breath so close, both on his body and on the sensitive plumage. Technically, he was doing his job, so he let himself indulge just the smallest bit in being so close to you. When Keigo squeezed you, nearly at the medic’s area, you tucked your face into his collarbones, breaths slowing from panic. You were even slack in his grip.

A paramedic rushed up to the two of you, guiding you to a setup stretcher and a waiting line of ambulances.

“We can take it from here, Hawks, no need to stick around,” The paramedic’s voice cut through the air, dripping bitterness on your tonsils and iron nails in your lungs.

Hawks set you half-down onto the lip of the vehicle, “Nah, it’s okay, I’ll hang out with them for a sec. They’re a friend of mine.”

He’d never said it before. That you were friends.

Heat rushed up to your fingertips, sweetness washing over your wounded leg, topped off silken air settling around your ears.

You’d drown in the sensation, a million times over.

The paramedic ran off quickly, a man with a nasty head wound taking precedence over your leg (which seemed to have clotted somewhat with your somewhat more relaxed state).

Hawks still didn’t leave.

Rather, he moved closer.

So did you.

From your spot sitting on the edge of the ambulance, your injured leg was twisted and propped up while the other dangled off the edge of the vehicle.

Keigo was right up against the metal, allowing you to lean on his side.

“You good?” You asked him, bumping your leg into his lower back.

Keigo couldn’t help jumping. You’d never casually touched him.

(He really liked it.)

Though the setting and circumstances were fucked, he figured it was okay.

You were friends, right?

Hawks wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing you into his side.

You took it a step further, wanting to simply soak in the amber, milky feeling of his touch.

You squish your cheek low against his collarbone, drinking in the smell of his sweat, stale, spiced cologne, and rich, expensive smelling hair oil.

The scents washed over your skin, rolling over your burning wounds like aloe and clean water.

“Thank you.” Your voice is small and soft, kept gentle by your last sparks of lucidity.

You heard Hawks chuckle, your vision swimming in honey and yellow with the sound, “Just doing my job, you know.”

“I mean, yeah,” You laughed too, pressing your nose harder into him. “But, it’s you, and I’m just glad you’re here.”

“You better stop being so sweet,” The hand around your shoulder rubbed slowly, up and down your spine, sweet spices and sugars dancing on the roof of your mouth. “Gonna give me ideas.”

The touch, something you craved and denied yourself, pushed you over the edge as his touch dissolved across your overstimulated mind in cresting waves of rushing, blessed heat.

Finally succumbing to the flood of your quirk, drowning your mind in both agony and absolute calm, you muttered out the last clear thing you said that evening, “We always give each other ideas, silly.”

God, the many meanings behind your words spun and stuck in Keigo’s mind like the taste of the miel he drank that morning. They relentlessly clung to his psyche, wanting to know more.

He stayed close while you were assessed and strapped into the ambulance. He sent a few of his last feathers to retrieve your jacket and purse from the wrecked shop.

All the while you clutched his bare hand, irises black while the whites turned bloodshot.

As the ambulance drove off towards that public hospital, he could feel the steady beat of your heart through the crimson feather he made sure was tucked in your hand the moment he had to let it go.

He felt you squeeze it, and he wanted nothing more than to return the gesture a thousand times over.

#salem writes #lavender latte #hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #hawks x you #takami keigo x y/n #takami keigo x you #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo reader insert #hawks reader insert #hawks fanfiction #reader insert #mha x reader #tw blood #keigo x reader #keigo x you #keigo x y/n

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perseabethj · 3 years

Text

i don't really have an explanation (iv.)

Percy didn’t let go of Annabeth’s hands once they entered in the apartment. It’s not that he thought she couldn’t defend herself if need be, but he didn’t fully trust his classmates -at least, not drunk. He hadn’t wanted to come to the party, but his friends had convinced him that, as part of the swim team, he couldn’t escape socializing forever. He was happy enough with his small circle of friends, but they had let him know that, while they were also happy being just the four of them, they wouldn’t mind surrounding themselves with the popular crowd every once in a while. Percy had felt a little bit guilty because of denying them that, and Annabeth had told him that going out once wouldn’t hurt. He had decided to trust her (he’d been doing that for years and that was the only reason as to why he was still alive), and thus had told Chris Parker, his team’s captain, that he would maybe show up at his party that weekend. It was Halloween, after all, and he felt a little bit silly staying at home during his senior year of high school. He knew high school parties could get a little bit wild, but the moment the door opened and music filled his ears, he was starting to regret his decision.

‘’I know that this is my first party and all that, but are guys supposed to walk around shirtless? Are they even pretending to wear a costume?’’ Annabeth asked to no one in particular, raising her eyebrows.

‘’We’re talking about the sport jocks,’’ Kayla reminded her with a pointed look, pulling at her cheerleader uniform; she'd never be caught dead with one of this seriously, but her sister had been a cheerleader years ago and Kayla wasn't about to spend forty dollars on a costume she would never wear again.

‘’Hey!’’ Percy exclaimed. These were his teammates, after all (he could also recognise some of the guys from the soccer team and some cheerleaders arounds, and he was pretty sure there were also some marching band kids, but he wasn’t about to point that out, since that would only support Kayla’s point).

‘’Don’t act all offended,’’ Annabeth told him, ‘’you spend half of your time at camp shirtless as well.’’

‘’I spend half of my time at camp at the beach, and the rest of my time I’m sweating my ass off because of you or Clarisse, so be thankful I’m wearing my shirt that half of the time and I don’t go to the dining pavilion naked.’’

‘’While most of Cabin 10 wouldn’t probably mind, Mr. D would turn you into a dolphin the moment he saw your naked butt.’’

‘’That he would,’’ Percy answered, laughing as he let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulder. He leaned into her ear playfully and said, ‘’don’t tell anyone, but I miss the guy.’’

His friends looked at them as if they were crazy, but knew better than to question them.

‘’I need something to drink,’’ Matthew told the group. ‘’Do you want anything?’’

Percy and Annabeth shook their heads, choosing to wait before drinking anything at all (Percy also didn’t want to explain to his friends why he didn’t drink alcohol, and Annabeth knew that). Louis said something that sounded foreign to Percy -seriously, a vodka with a twist on the rocks? Couldn’t he simply say vodka? And did he really have to order it with a twist? He’d never understand rich kids-, and Matthew gave him a thumbs up, which was the only thing he could do with the foam cheer gloves he was wearing along with his baseball player costume.

‘’I’ll come with you,’’ Kayla said, looping her arm around his and dragging him across the hall.

Percy looked around the party, trying to decide what to do. He didn’t have to look at Annabeth to know she was doing the same thing, and he also knew she felt more uncomfortable than he did, since she knew nobody but him and his friends.

‘’I just wanted to let you know you made me lose a bet,’’ Louis suddenly said.

They looked questioningly at him and he pointed at them and their clothes.

‘’I had bet that you wouldn’t wear matching costumes,’’ he said. ‘’I didn’t take you for the kind of couple who does, even if you are all lovey-dovey. You both seem too mature for that.’’

‘’We didn’t plan it,’’ Annabeth told him. ‘’I mean, we both knew we’d be wearing this, but we didn’t really plan it. Percy didn’t know if he wanted to come until the last minute and we had no costumes at home, and we both suck at any kind of DIY. We had this at home from before.’’

‘’From before?’’ Louis asked, an eyebrow raised.

‘’We organised a Greek party at camp once,’’ Percy quickly said. ‘’We kept the clothes in case, and they have thankfully come in handy. An actual toga looks more dignified than a sheet, which was what my mum thought we’d be wearing when we told her about this.’’

‘’You have knifes from before?’’

Annabeth laughed and looked at the knife strapped to her arm. She had used the Mist to make sure her dagger stayed like one and Percy had complained that he couldn’t do that. She had then reminded him that walking around with a three-feet-long bronze sword wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do, considering that, if he were to hit somebody accidentally with it, everyone would know it wasn’t plastic when it simply moved through them, which was why he was weaponless.

‘’Who says it’s not a real knife?’’ Annabeth asked enigmatically.

Before Louis could say anything else, Annabeth pulled Percy forward with her and moved towards the dance floor. She could see Louis’s confused face as he walked to the kitchen to find the rest of the group and laughed lightly before wrapping her arms around Percy’s neck.

‘’You shouldn’t do that,’’ Percy told her, but he was definitely holding back a smile. ‘’His head is going to explode one day if you keep making those kinds of comments.’’

‘’It’s not my fault mortals are so easy to fool.’’

He finally smiled widely and brought her closer, his hands on her waist. Annabeth breathed a sigh of relief -between exams, monsters and the typical anxiousness that all demigods carried whenever they stepped onto the street, being at a party with her boyfriend and worrying about nothing at all was a godsend. She could feel Percy’s smile against her hair, since he was laying his cheek on her head, and she could also hear his heartbeat, her ear pressed against his chest. It didn’t matter to them that the song was definitely not a slow one, and so they swayed slowly to the rhythm of a song that definitely required more moving. Percy knew people were looking at them; not everyone knew he had a girlfriend, even if he wasn’t particularly secretive about it, and they made quite a striking pair in their white togas with golden details, golden tiaras and leather sandals.

‘’I love you,’’ he whispered, and Annabeth was amazed at the way he managed to make it sound romantic even in the middle of a techno song.

‘’I know,’’ she answered softly. ‘’I love you, too.’’

When the song finally ended, they separated; it’s not as if they had actually been paying attention to the music playing, but tuning out two loud songs and managing to dance for so long was too much for two people with ADHD.

‘’Shall we go to the kitchen to get some water?’’ Annabeth asked.

Percy nodded and threw his arm around her shoulder again, her arm automatically moving to wrap around his waist. It had made her uncomfortable at the beginning of the relationship how Percy always wanted to be touching her, since she didn’t fully understand why. She had always been the one to hold his hand when she was scared, and it had taken her a while to realise it was because he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable and he never truly believed that she could like him back. Now that Percy knew she loved him just as much as he loved her, his body always found a way to make sure he was touching her; even during the hot summer nights they spent together after the Giant War, he had always managed to wrap his leg around hers or to lay his hand on top of her hip while he slept.

They were greeted by his tipsy friends when they reached the kitchen, who thankfully didn’t question it when Annabeth simply grabbed a bottle of water and Percy a can of coke. Percy was happy with his life at the moment; things might not have been perfect, but they were better than they had been in a long time. His friends liked his girlfriend, nobody was trying to kill him on the regular (he didn’t even care about random monsters anymore; no god or Titan going specifically after him? Are you kidding? A dream ), he was about to have a baby sister, and he hadn’t exploded his school yet. Looking around the group of people surrounding him, he felt a sense of normalcy that he had longed for for a while. Matthew was talking about a different girl he had fallen in love with - ‘’I’m telling you, man, she is the one’’ -, and Kayla was mocking him while Louis laughed quietly and Annabeth laughed with him. He pressed a kiss at the top of Annabeth’s head and brought her even closer, relishing the situation. Of course, good things never lasted forever.

‘’Hey, blondie!’’ John Robinson’s voice called. He tried to grab her arm, but Percy pushed her closer when he felt her slipping away. She didn’t move away from him, but did turn to face John with a steely look in her eyes.

She said nothing, simply arching an eyebrow and defying him to say anything else. Had he been sober, he would have probably walked away -at least, Percy hoped so, since the guy was an asshole, but not stupid-, but he was, very clearly, drunk.

‘’Mind your mouth, Robinson,’’ Percy threateningly said. He saw his friends straightening up from the periphery of his eye, aware that this could lead to something ugly.

‘’You know, blondie, you scared me pretty badly the other day at the meet,’’ he said, slurring his words, ‘’but it was so hot that I jerked off to it when I got home.’’

‘’That’s enough,’’ Percy exclaimed, moving forward and raising his fist before being pulled back by Annabeth.

‘’Stop it!’’ she yelled. She turned to look at him and put one hand on his chest, the other holding his hand and forcing him to look at her before she whispered, ‘’I can do this myself. Besides, you don’t want to be taken off the team.’’

She turned again to look at the laughing John, who was now making fun of Percy. They had attracted a crowd and people were anxiously whispering, both excited and afraid of a fight breaking out.

‘’Man, she must be really good in the bedroom for you to be so submissive.’’

‘’If you don’t shut up, you’ll be breathing through your mouth for the next six weeks,’’ she calmly said.

‘’Oh, come on, blondie, are you being tough because you know it turns me on?’’

He raised his hand to touch her hair, but Annabeth used her left hand to push his arm away and, then, raised her right fist and punched him in the nose. He fell backwards, holding his nose and screaming in pain. His voice was the only one in the kitchen; everyone had gone silent the moment he tried to touch her, expectant of what was about to happen.

‘’You bitch!’’

‘’Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, you big baby,’’ she said, not even holding her hand or caring about her knuckles. She bent down and smiled happily, patting his foot. ’’Be thankful I didn’t dislocate your shoulder, because that’s my speciality. You can ask Percy. It turns him on when I’m tough, too, but, unlike you, he actually gets to do something about it.’’

She stood up and searched for Percy’s hand blindly, who had already extended it to take hers before she was even up. There was still an angry look in his eyes, but there was a troublemaker smile that she adored adorning his face.

‘’Do you want to stay for another song, or should we go home?’’ She asked, ignoring the glances everyone was sending them.

‘’Home,’’ Percy said, smiling. ‘’Definitely home.’’

They started moving towards the door, people moving to let them pass. Just before they were out of the kitchen, Annabeth turned around and smiled sweetly at his friends.

‘’Are you coming?’’

Silently, they followed them, making a mental note not to bother Annabeth or Percy if they didn’t want to end up with a broken nose. Once they were out on the street, Annabeth broke out laughing, and Percy followed. Matthew, Kayla and Louis couldn’t help but laugh as well, and they knew they looked like a group of drunk teenagers, but they didn’t really care.

‘’That was even better than when you judo flipped me,’’ Percy said once he calmed down, using his finger to dry the tears off his face.

Annabeth laughed and elbowed him on the side before pressing her face against his chest. His arm was once again around her shoulders, and they looked just as happy as they had when they had first arrived at the party.

‘’What an uneventful night, though,’’ Annabeth said quite seriously, but with a soft smile on her face.

Percy hummed and nodded, and his friends couldn’t help but wonder what was an eventful night for them. They knew, however, not to ask anymore.

#percabeth fanfiction #percy jackson #percy #percabeth #annabeth chase #annabeth #i don't really have an explanation #my writing

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p0gue420 · 3 years

Text

Hold me

Requested: @wanniiieeee

summary:the band sunset curve fall into a coma what will happen next read and find out.

word count:1580

A/N: I was really deep into a depressive state writing this so sorry its bad!

Warnings:not a warning but reader can touch the boys

pairing: Luke Patterson x reader

“Maybe I’ll try tonight…” Julie finishes talking to Ray, Flynn and I rush from the top of the stairs back to Julies room after listening to the saddened voices speaking about moving.

“Quick, act natural.” Flynn whispers as we hear Julies footsteps coming up; we both unpreparedly get into the most unnatural position, trying to act “Natural”. Jules walks in furrowing her eyebrows after a glance at the two of us.

I pick at my nails pretending to be casual as I try to spark a not so subtle distracting conversation. “Hey Jules, funny seeing you here..” I say looking up curiously.

“You heard?” she says blankly.

Flynn and I turn to each other; she stands up from the edge of the bed stalking slowly to the girl with big slippers.” If by “heard” that, you mean the fact, we get to go through the cool stuff in the loft...then...yeah.” she says with a smile on her face as she rubs the girl’s arm in comfort.

I stand from my spot at the desk wrapping my arms around the girls, putting our heads together.

“We can all do it together Jules... if that would help…” I nudge the girl’s arm putting a small smile on her face. She leans her forehead on mine, speaking up. ”That would be nice.”

__________________________________________________

“Woah dude how did we get back here!” The shaggy-haired boy says after sputtering up a cough looking around as the other two guys check out the studio. Flynn, Jules, and I scream growing terrified of the new presence in the room; The guys begin to join in on the screaming scared of the sudden noise.

First instinct and a smart one, we all begin speeding past the boys out of the studio running into Ray.

“Woah slow down, You look like you've seen a ghost” He didn’t know-how on the spot he was about our expressions. We all stare at him traumatized like as we say in unison “We have!”

Carlos cuts in “cool!” I thump him in the head with my middle finger and thumb to make him shut up but I’m quickly cut off by Ray scolding me, “Y/n, We’ve talked about the thumping.” he says as Carlos mimics his actions of pointing his index finger at me as to be stern. before Ray turns back to him with his eyebrows furrowed.

I huff turning to Carlos to apologize but quickly speed off so I don’t have to.

------------------------------------------------

Flynn, Julie, and I walk in a huddle back to the studio holding a cross. I start to giggle remembering a TikTok, I begin to speak up before I could be interrupted.”Shiver me timbers...am i right..?” I say giggling, we turn around at the sound of little giggles at my TikTok reference

We begin screaming again when we’re cut off by our blonde friend who we just visited at the hospital not that long before, his soft voice asking us to please be quiet and stop screaming.

“Guys, do you understand what’s happening?” I ask say sadly as everyone looks at me.” If we’re seeing ghosts then that means they passed…” my eyes begin to well up with tears at the sight of our sweet boys standing there confused as to what’s wrong.

Luke stares completely and utterly confused as he attempts to touch Julie and Flynn to test the “Ghost logic” when his hand fell through with a chill he was filled to the brim with sadness, his heart dropped in his stomach, tears in his eyes as his head began to pound and his throat felt like it was clogged, making it hard to breathe. “I don’t understand..” Reggie shakes his head.

My boy with his shaggy brown locks decides to attempt to touch me; Slowly reaching his hand out towards my face , he hesitantly brushes the pad of his thumb against my warm tear-stained cheeks, so caught up in the moment it felt like no one else in the room. He grabs my shoulder pulling me towards him to engulf me in a hug..

---------------------------

Time skip brought to you by Owen joyners EpiPen

3 weeks passed.

I lay across the couch thinking of lyrics in my head trying to put it all on paper, I sing the song in my head trying to find the melody when a certain boy walks up behind me sticking his fingers to my side tickling me.I know exactly who it is by the scent filling my nasal passages, I turn around prepared with a small nerf gun from my hoodie pocket shooting him, but the bullets going through him.

He snorts staring at me in awe as if he knew it wouldn’t work.”What, you think it’s funny I can’t shoot you, huh..huh?! I saw as I jump off the couch onto his back kissing and bear-hugging the boy as he lets out wild laughs; fouling my heart with warmth. I slide off his back but he’s still holding on to my leg making me stumble, he quickly loops his arm around my waist catching me before I can fully reach the ground. Our eyes linger on each other for longer than normal when we hear a faint but clear whistle behind us.

“Come on lover birds, we have songs to write and instruments to play,” Reggie says walking up to the two of his, blushing and warm cheeks clearly showing. We finally look down and realize we’re still conjoined at the hip making us move away from each other abruptly.

---------------

“Hey luke it’s me again, I know your soul is technically still in the studio and I just saw you but it’s still nice to come to check on your body.” I saw as I bring my hand to the luke laying on the hospital bed, caressing his rough calloused fingers with my own soft ones.

I giggle as i remember a fun time we had when he was quote “alive”.

“You remember that one time we went down to-” I was quickly cut off by Lukes’s nurse coming in to tell me visiting hours were over, but I can still hang out with ghost luke, right? All these thoughts in my head; what if he doesn’t wake up, what if he never gets to be seen again,to play his music the way he wants to.what if I never have my best friend back.

---------------------------------------

“In and out y/n, just like we practiced, in and out.” Alex had me leaned against his chest to help with the tightening of my muscles as he brushed the hair out of my face helping with my panic attack.“Luke-Lu-Luke, where is-where is he.” I managed to get out in between breaths.

“He said he was on his way, It okay he’ll be here.” he stroked my hair, as I struggled to breathe at all, my test tightened, I felt cut off from the world. It was like watching myself struggle but unable to help with the pain. Just about that time, I was bursting into hot tears, luke ran into the studio immediately cupping my face with his calloused hands trying to calm me down while repeatedly asking whats wrong;I bury my head in the crook of his neck as I continue to squall about how he’s my best friend. “ Y/n you smell like pure vodka, did you drink anything?” He holds my face in his hands staring at me lovingly

“I drank some- I drank a lot of Smirnoff- a little of a lot, cus i visited you in the hospital and started thinking about how I need you back-I -I need you back Luke, I need-need you. Please just hold me..” I trail off into whimpers as he pulls my head in his lap, caressing my hair softly as he thinks about everything I just said.

-------------------------------

I sit in the hospital when nurses begin to run into the rooms of the boys,I hear ther voices and thats all i need before i start falling on my knees crying happy tears,falling from my eyes salty droplets as i begin to run straight to lukes bed but begin to be pushed out and i know somethings wrong; And my heart drops to my stomach as i hear “Whos the pretty girl?” my boy asks.my heart stops...what did he just say

A/N: WHAT DID SHE SAYYYY, SUPRISEEE SHAWTYYYY HE DONT REMEMBER YOUUUUUUUUU

“Luke it’s me,it’s your best friend?” i said in more of a question.

---------------------------------------------------

Weeks passed by and luke still doesn’t remember me,and i have no clue what to do.weeks feeling overwhelmed without my bestfriend.weeks crying every second thinking about how ive already lost him when lukes ghost walks in at the same time as luke when they run into each other the sight in front of me is crazy as it looks as if his soul has been sucked into his body when i hear “Y/n?”

I run as fast as my legs can carry me into his arms and place a harsh kiss onto his lips knocking him back but he responds kidding back. Long minutes of being in eachothers arms when he pulls back smiling that signature smile i’ve always loved

“I love you Y/n” He says with tears in his eyes.

“I love you too” i say as i pull him back in for another kiss.

#charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie x reader #luke patterson imagine #luke jatp #luke patterson x reader #luke julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms #owen joyner x reader #owen joyner #jeremy shada #madison reyes

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badmemory-a · 2 years

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@finalghosts sent: 🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊🖊

under the cut thats like 3 dash pages LKTFGNKJNKTRJNJHTR

🖊

addie was the first character i ever played in a twitter group like she was made specifically for the group and ive adored her since day one . shes the biggest mess because everyone was in 2014 and i had to take the biggest hiatus writing her because i could never find a fc that fit her and worked on indie until i started s2 of euphoria and went omg wait maude would work so well for her ??? like shes the only one of my muses that has a full bio and stats page because she’s my favourite. shes literally my best friend.

🖊

henry is so based off villanelle it isn’t even funny. like she wasn’t to begin with because i hadn’t seen killing eve but i was watching it like omg this funky littl blonde bitch IS henry and the parallels are so wild. but she’s a contract killer and really good at her job and tries to be heartless but she has a really huge heart and sometimes it gets in the way and also i love them

🖊

i hate to say it ............ wybie was also created for twitter rp and in their twitter verse canonically fucked best friends bc she was bored :/ she’s a youtuber and really into film like . film school graduate and uses that to further her yt career because now she doesn’t know if she really wants to work in the film industry as a woc who has a short temper kfjgnbkjdgnd. has never been in a real relationship and doesn’t know if she even wants to be, has a pet bird, LOVE of my life

🖊

lilith was also a twitter rp character on hiatus because i just COULDNT find an indie fc to work for them. she’s a trained and accredited body piercer and loves her job sm, but she also loves unconventional pets like she has snakes and spiders and is scared of dogs. her parents held her to such high standards growing up that she never felt like she was really good enough for them which lead to her leaving home at 17 to try and start her own life where she only answered to herself and now she’s fully self sufficient because her worst nightmare is having to rely on her parents again. biggest fan of music on earth, hockey fan (derogatory) and is both closed off AND a hopeless romantic

🖊

XANTHE IS MY PRINCESSSSSS she can come across as a maddy carbon copy but it’s just that she never thinks and is the BIGGEST idiot. she isnt malicious or mean she just geta caught up in her emotions a lot. canonically ghosted the same girl twice because she kept forgetting to get her number, is still in love with everyone she’s ever dated, has a pop culture podcast because everyone was doing true crime and she went hmmmm y’all weird i’m gonna talk about my favourite tv shows

🖊

unlike some of my other muses, lydia IS mean. mean lesbians written by lesbians is my favourite trope and i had to give in ? she’s a lil bit of a misandrist, puts herself first before everyone else and had two separate relationships fail because of how close to her male best friend she was, both women assuming she wasn’t actually a lesbian and was secretly in love with him. her brother named his cat after her, because she suggested it as a joke and he followed through. she won’t bite her tongue to spare anyones feelings

🖊

joey started as a little bit of a wishful self insert. sometimes i project my interests onto characters so i can stop annoying my friends and he got sharks. working as a shark biologist, he since retired from that work and is now a biology teacher at a high school, hoping to shape the minds of his students to further his agenda of protecting marine life, but also just really loving his job. he watches every single marine docu or docuseires and wishes he had those jobs, knowing not much could possibly tear him away from his teaching job.

🖊

primrose is my second film school graduate, but she does work in the film industry. while her original dream was to become a director, she fell in love with the props department and now works as a prop manager, working towards becoming a prop master and getting to be entirely in charge of the whole department. shes ambitious and hardworking and only dates the wrong people <3

🖊

all you really need to know about grey is they used to lie about being a virgin and heavily relate to 21 questions by waterparks. filmmaker but they didn’t go to film school, they just did it for fun on the side and then kept at it enough that they get to just make short films now, accidentally inspired by the movie home again even though i’ve been writing them for years

🖊

im convinced orla is actually evil to an extent. she cares so little about what people think of her that she just does anything, says anything, and doesn’t worry about the consequences. if she loves you, she loves you with her whole being. but if she doesn’t you’re just another face and you don’t matter too much to her. she has two verses, artist and medic, and in both she’s basically the same. in her artist verse she does comic work and is respected in the field, in her medic verse she does her job well but isn’t the nicest to everyone because she mostly gets hired by sports teams and honestly ? they can handle it

🖊

tell me you’re really into film ooc without telling me. arizona is a film reviewer KJNGFBJKNJ she’s also a mean lesbian BUT i wrote her as a mean lesbian before the show came out so :/ she was born into a twitter rp and absolutely shamed the men that annoyed her. she was still closeted and came out so a man would stop hitting on her, absolute whore but living her best life, doesn’t believe in astrology, biggest ego you’ll ever see

#this took an hour.#THE TOKEN MAN LMFAO

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ljbrary · 3 years

Text

Sicktember Day Three: Chicken Pox

uhhhh yes i know im late sue me

just kidding please dont

aNYway ive already lasted longer than i thought i would doing this so i count this as a win

link to ao3 :)

from this list of prompts

Day Three: Chicken Pox

Title: i’ll watch over you (but who will watch over me?)

Word Count: 1207

...

Obi-Wan Kenobi left the Jedi Temple as a padawan with a master, and came back as a master with a padawan… minus a master. (That small little addendum turned out to be just like the little stones that dig into hands when one falls — it cuts deep enough to draw blood. And, well, perhaps that was a bit of a simplification, but Obi-Wan would rather deal with blood and bruises than the deep ache eating at his heart.)

After being one himself, Obi-Wan was under no illusions that having a padawan would be easy, per se.

He just never thought that it would be this hard.

And maybe it wasn’t -- Anakin Skywalker tended to be an exception to many things, and whether it meant he was exceptional or difficult was anyone’s guess -- sometimes it was both.

And so Anakin Skywalker was difficult -- but he was also exceptional.

Because he was as kind-hearted as he was wild, and unfortunately Anakin Skywalker had the biggest heart of anyone he knew; he was as bright as a supernova and as intense as the cresting wave of a tsunami; he was determined to be better, whatever that happened to mean, and he was persistent enough to stand up even after falling down countless times.

And so little nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker was many things, and unfortunately little nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker was sick.

“You can’t keep scratching, Ani,” Obi-Wan chided for the umpteenth time in the last hour.

Master Che will have my head, he thought as he once again swatted poor Anakin’s bulkily bandaged hand away from a particularly nasty looking sore on his arm.

“But it itches, Master,” he croaked, sinking back into the sterile sheets of the Halls of Healing in defeat. He’d been stuck like this for the past week, and Obi-Wan could tell that the sores crisscrossing his arms and face weren’t the only thing itching him; the need to move, to do something and to take action seemed to be just as in need of a scratch as the chicken pox torturing him was.

Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh, the burning hole in his stomach that had become a permanent resident since Naboo and all that it entailed seemed to sink a little deeper. This was his fault, of course; not much wasn’t these days, it seemed.

Of course Anakin had not gotten his immunizations. He was a slave for kriff’s sake! How could Obi-Wan have been so stupid as to not take this into account? Of course Anakin would get sick; Obi-Wan should have predicted it, should have prevented it. (It was starting to seem like he wasn’t very skilled in the art of preventing things; especially things that hurt other people.)

Obi-Wan released the hand wrapped loosely around the wrist Anakin was slowly but surely inching toward his face before his grip tightened and hurt Anakin any more than he already had; Obi-Wan didn’t think he would be able to bear it if that happened.

Though, then again, he didn’t think he could bear this either, and well, perhaps bear wasn’t quite the right word, because to bear something one has to acknowledge and accept it, and Obi-Wan couldn’t quite bring himself to do that. The only thing he could bear was the stress of a Padawan and all that it entailed, and the tight knot of stress happened to be a great filler for the burning hole sinking through his stomach.

“Come, Ani,” Obi-Wan coaxed. “Drink some water; hydration is important if you want to fight this off, young one.”

Anakin grit his teeth. “I wish I could fight this off, Master,” he lamented, voice scratchy and cracking. “I’d love to take a lightsaber to this.” He cleared his throat. “This is almost as bad as a virus I caught on Tatooine once, but at least that one didn’t itch,” he groaned, shaking his hand out of Obi-Wan’s grip for the umpteenth time as Obi-Wan once again foiled his plans of scratching at a blister.

Quickly, before Anakin could get another go at giving himself scars from scratching, Obi-Wan snatched the glass of water at his bedside table and brought the sloshing liquid into Anakin’s line of sight.

Anakin obediently opened his mouth when Obi-Wan brought the cup of water to his lips, liquid dribbling out the sides and dripping onto the sheets, Anakin unable to hold the glass himself due to the unfortunate addition of bandages wrapped around his hands to prevent him from scratching at his blisters; (they hadn’t worked very well, in Obi-Wan’s opinion; Anakin was a very determined and persistent child, after all.)

Anakin’s energy, although fiery and lively despite his circumstances, was noticeably waning, and soon enough the flickering of his eyes and lack of energy to fight Obi-Wan’s policing of his scratching had him sinking back against the sheets and pillows behind him; until the only thing that told Obi-Wan that Anakin was awake was the loose, bulky grip around his hand.

He looked so… peaceful, on the verge of sleep, Obi-Wan thought; he looked just like Qui-Gon, all serene and a pacified but with the faint undertone of something heavy that was threaded through the muscles of his face and through his aura in the Force.

Obi-Wan’s chest constricted, and he suddenly understood Anakin’s need to scratch his sores all that more vividly; understood the need to get the pain to stop, no matter how, no matter what, even if it just meant more pain in the future, because at least it was satiated for the moment, no matter how many times it came back for more.

Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath, shaking his head.

Qui-Gon was gone, simply and with no strings attached; no amount of scratching at this searing hole would bring him back, no amount of satiating the sharp sting of loss would ever fully seal the wound it left behind; Obi-Wan had crashed to the pavement, pebbles imbedded in his palms and jagged stone to tear at his knees, and no amount of bandages and bacta would ever heal the scars.

Obi-Wan bit down hard on his lip. Stop this thinking at once! He commanded himself.

He gazed down at his dozing charge.

There are more important things to lend your worry to, he chided himself.

And yes, maybe Anakin did share some resemblance with Qui-Gon, but Qui-Gon was not here, and Anakin was; and Obi-Wan was no longer the padawan, Anakin was.

And so Qui-Gon’s memory would always be the scars on his knees and cuts on his palms, but Anakin might just be the bacta to seal the open wounds until they scarred over. And so Obi-Wan might not be forgetting the pain of Qui-Gon’s absence any time soon, but he had a duty to Anakin to make sure this dreadful hole in his chest didn’t eat him any more than it already had.

Obi-Wan glanced back down at the young features of his student’s face; the Qui-Gon-like features.

(He ignored the sharp burn at the backs of his eyes, the tightening of his throat.)

“Sleep well, young one,” Obi-Wan told his sleeping Padawan. “All will be alright, I promise”

(And oh, if only he could promise that to himself.)

#star wars #star wars prequels #Anakin Skywalker #obiwan kenobi #obiwan and anakin #hurt #low key hurt no comfort #quigon #sick fic #sicktember

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shrapnelstars · 2 years

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If the Hisuian forms are in SV, does that mean some of their signature moves will be, too?

Bitter Malice inflicts Freeze/Frostbite and then deals double damage to foes with status conditions.

Stone Axe deals direct damage and then drops Stealth Rock. (stealth rock is like a turn limited, rock type poison in PLA)

Shelter boosts both defense and evasion.

Also, are Freeze and Sleep replaced with Frostbite and Drowsy in SV, too? Frostbite is Burn, but affecting the Special Attack stat, and Drowsy causes the pokemon to take increased global damage, and sometimes they can't move. Frostbite and Drowsy are easier to inflict than Freeze and Sleep.

Is the Fervor condition here now? Effectively replacing Choice status and multi-turn rampages, pokemon with a fervor for a move will deal increased damage with that move, but take increased global damage. Fervor shows up on moves like Rollout, Outrage, etc.

PLA also introduced a very subtle but meaningful mechanic change, which is that status effects can be overwritten now. Provided it wasn't a glitch or oversight, if you are inflicted with Poison/Burn/Sleep/Freeze/Paralysis, and an enemy uses a move that inflicts a different status, that status will take, and overwrite whatever you had before. I got in wild fights in PLA where an enemy burned me, and then another enemy poisoned me, and the poison overwrote the burn. Also, status effects in general in that game would only last a few turns before auto healing, and it wasn't because of friendship. The game would just display the message that the status effect ran out on it's own, after like 3-5 turns or something.

I don't know if those were all accommodations made to cover for the cut moves in PLA, or if they were experimenting with new status systems they could implement in the future. Moves like Refresh and Heal Bell weren't in that game, though Manaphy did get the signature move Take Heart, which heals a status condition and boost both it's defenses.

That's another change that was made. Buffs and debuffs would always affect both offenses or both defenses, so Calm Mind boosted Physical and Special Attack, and Physical and Special Defense. Iron Defense boosted both Defense stats instead of just physical. Nasty Plot buffed both offenses. Et cetera. This happened with every buff and debuff move that they put in the game.

Legends Arceus changed so much that I'm just super used to now, and it feels second nature, mostly in a good way. (Except for the severely cut down list of moves, and the fact that all moves were single target even though you often got into multi battles, including with trainers, with some of them being able to send out 3 mons at once while you can only send out one.)

I understand that not everything can carry over, but there's a lot that I'd love to see in the main series, especially the new evolution confirmation, backup move pool system (Your old moves never get fully deleted. They go into a list on the status screen, and you can switch them back into one of your four slots for free whenever you want.), seamless catching, exp gain, and item gathering (You don't have to scroll through endless text to confirm caught pokemon, pick up items, or see which pokemon gained experience. The game shows you that info on the left side of the screen whenever it happens, while you continue moving and doing what you want.), and the grit dust/pebble/rock system replacing EVs and IVs. Those are straight up QoL.

#pokemon #SV #PLA #speculation #wall post #inb4 someone meticulously explains how all of these are bad in some way

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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

Text

Poly!Laughing Jack x Fem!Reader x Offenderman

Title: Punish Me // The Odd Throuple

Plot: Y/N gets shot in the neck and through the chest and is rushed to get help at Slender Mansion. This is your boyfriends’ reactions to you being seriously hurt.

Notes:

I wrote most of this on my phone on the train so I’m sorry probably lots of errors!! My autocorrect likes to correct properly spelled words to the wrongly spelled versions I’ve accidentally typed in the past. 😒

Why, oh why, are my fluffiest works always with these two bastards??? Comfort characters...

Warnings: Well, you get shot because Offender raped someone. So, decide with that how you will. Sexual references also

~~~

"This is for my daughter, you f-freaks!" The man behind you is sobbing now. When he caught you it was just an itchy fidget, now that Offender and L.J are here he's falling apart.

The gun pressed into the crook of your neck moves and shifts with his ugly, heartbroken cries and all you can think is; I'm sorry. Oh my god, I'm so sorry, even as your body goes cold and you shiver with fear at having such a lethal weapon pressed to your skin at the hand of someone so unstable at the moment. You didn't even do anything to this man, but you feel his pain and feel sick anyway.

I'm so, so sorry.

You can only imagine what he means. What happened to his daughter...

"Who's your daughter!?" Offender growls, desperately. And uselessly. There's no way he remembers, there's no way he could help now. He doesn't ask for the names, and he certainly doesn't bother to listen if they tell him. He's just pleading. He doesn't know what else he could do. Just don't shoot her lethally. Miss the heart, he chants in his head. He can get you to Slender then but if you're dead... there's just nothing he can do. Its out of his power and he feels useless.

And this is his fault.

L.J doesn't respond at all, standing beside him. His eyes are on you, watching carefully. Communicating through his eyes. He hasn't moved since he realised the situation, struck completely still. He doesn't know what to do. If he fights for you, and he loses you still? ... He doesn't know if he could do that.

And then again, if you're killed anyway and he did nothing, it'll still hurt... but then at least he would have plausible deniability. He can... he can live like that. The alternative is worse. Far, far worse, to him.

And more then that, he doesn't care about bartering with this man.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes- losing a few tears you didn't know, through the shock, where glazing your eyes.

"You... fucker... took her before it was time, and now... " The man takes a deep breath in, making it cold on your neck where his face is hidden. "I'm going to take something you care about."

"WAIT- "

BANG.

A searing hot pain tears through your skin, everywhere as the bullet rips your insides open and a terrible scream rips out of your throat, more from shock, as the man lets your body go and gravity drags you down, nearly knocking your head on the concrete. Before that could happen though, Offender teleports and catches you.

As your sight dapples away into blackness and L.J's cries for you to say something peter out, you feel the familiar terrible whooshing of teleportation just before the world goes

completely,

and

utterly,

still.

___TIME SKIP___

"Y/N... Y/N... I see your eyelids flickering, are you awake? Or experiencing some kind of terrible neural damage I need to get Slender for?" Claws slide under your neck, against the pillow and sit there cool against your skin as L.J shifts his body, and his chair, more impossibly close to your bed. "Lollipop~ You have to give me a sign, I'm not a real doctor."

"You... play one... pretty well. D-don't you?" You whisper, voice croaky and hard to utilise. Your eyelids are heavy, too, but you manage to peak at him for a moment. He opens his mouth in a sharp grin, relieved.

"So no amnesia then??" He exclaims, excitedly.

"Was that," Coughing into the air, because your body is still too weak to really move, you taste metal on your tongue. "A possibility???"

"Well, Slender didn't say it in those words, but... I feel like it was unspoken."

Knitting your eyebrows together, you start to worry about your condition yourself, before a weight like a folder or a clipboard drops on the bed by your feet and Slender heaves a great sigh.

"You were worried." He says sternly, assuredly to L.J. "You were in no danger of enduring inflicted amnesia, Y/N. L.J just has a wild imagination due to a birth defect called stupidity. Unfortunately there's nothing we can do about that."

L.J says nothing in response to that for a moment, and you can imagine him just looking deadpanned at the taller creature. "You're toad, Slender."

"Whatever. However, Y/N, while you do not have amnesia you do have a number of other inflicted injuries and because of that I am suggesting you stay here where you can properly be watched until they're manageable for you to deal with on your own." He pauses, apparently tired of our presence already. "That is unless, of course, you want to rip your many stitches or contract any kind of infectious disease because you trusted the man that thought you had amnesia, and the one that fully trusts in the 'psychologically healing' properties of copious amounts of alcohol," Oh, so that's where Offender is. "to take care of you medically."

"Um," Your voice is high, unsure quite how to respond. Slender and his bluntness does this to you a lot. "No, that's okay? Thanks for offering for me to stay?"

Another cough forces itself suddenly out of your throat from the use of your voice, as your throat is so dry - How long were you asleep?? - and, this time, L.J extends his free arm to gently cover your mouth like you would with your own if you could move right now. As soon as you're done, he retracts his long, loong arm and your stomach squirms pleasantly about how cute and affectionate that was for him.

He takes a deep breath. "Very good. I'm leaving. Offender can read your chart when he gets in here." Then, like a light, the heavy atmosphere that Slender carries with him everywhere disappears from the room and you feel L.J stretch and snatch the folder object at the end of your bed.

"I can read this, thanks." With one hand to hold the thing, L.J peers at it for a moment... for so long, in fact, that you risk your energy to peak at him again just see him use his pointed nose to slide the page up to look at the next one... Before he frisbee-throwing the folder back to the end of the bed and returning his attention fully back to you, crossing one elongated, stripy leg over the other. "Never mind. What’s with this family? They make up there own language?"

Grinning at his antics like you always do, your eyelids fall shut again and you feel the relief of not using so much energy. "I think medical charts everywhere are like that."

"So the whole medical profession started there own code, then. Bastards."

A chuckle escapes you, as you're slipping closer to sleep. "L.J, I think I'm... gonna... go back to sleep... for a bit... "

"You do that. I'll make up jokes."

"Okie, yay... "

As you fall back into the welcoming arms of sleep, L.J puts his free claws to work removing the crinkles out in your bed spread and nightgown- unable to stay still. Unable to leave you alone.

He has to stay with you.

___TIME SKIP___

The next time you open your eyes, Offender has joined L.J, but instead of sitting in a chair he leans sloppily on the wall by the door, evidently still feeling the effects of his 'psychological healing' with the alcohol.

This time you're able to open your eyes a crack and keep them open like that. You’re able to to see the room now, which is basically just like any other bedroom in Slender mansion with hard wood floors and dark walls, except there’s an IV beside you and sheets on the floor.

Again, L.J's keen eye catches your consciousness first. "You're awake again!"

"Hi." You grin in greeting, noticing L.J's claws are on your tummy now, the one on his thumb rubbing up and down a small area.

Offender comes forward immediately and leans close to your face over your bed, draping an arm over the bed frame to hold himself up. "You good there, squirt?" Wincing at the nickname, because it does not come from Finding Nemo, you shift your head on the pillow in a nod. He chuckles.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Well, you're not, but that's my girl." He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling back and picking up the medical chart on hi way back to the wall. Blowing air out of his cheeks in reaction to the information, he leans back on the wall again and starts reading the 'code'. "Now, lets see what's wrong with ya... "

L.J and you sit - and lay, - at attention as he lists and explains what it says. Some of the things that come out of his mouth do scare you, but honestly most of it was just stuff you expected. You still may be in a bit of shock, to be honest, but at the moment you're just more concerned with the fact that Offender really can read it! Unless he's making it all up, in which case, boo.

When he's done, you're all quiet for a moment, taking in how long that took - and therefore how much damage was really done by that bullet, - before L.J, of course- well, doesn't lift your spirits exactly, but changes the course of the worry in the room, for sure. And that's why you and Offender love him. Well, one of the many reasons. Raising his pointer claw off your stomach, he announces, "I call conspiracy!!"

Offender puts down the chart and crosses his arms, bemused at him. "What this time?"

"These charts. You say this is English??" L.J squints, looking between your and his boyfriend.

"Yeah."

"I don’t buy it. I'm British and I tried to read that, and it was total gibberish. Tell him, Y/N."

"He is British and he did try to read it." You concur.

L.J nods at Offender. "Yep."

"And he did fail." You grin, this time.

L.J nods again, without shame. "Yep."

"Well... " Offender leans menacingly forward, towards L.J who leans back despite them being feet away from each other, then grins. "I read it just fine."

"I feel like I'm being gaslighted."

"Oh jeez." You grin, turning your head on your pillow to set L.J with a look, amused by him.

"Oh, and- Your brother called me stupid. Again. You need to fight for my honour." L.J informs Offender, swivelling in his seat to properly face him, while still holding me.

"Oh, you poor victim, you." Offender shifts, shaking his head amusedly at L.J. "Tut, tut, tut. What a cruel world."

L.J ignores that obvious sarcasm. "Yes, precisely. Oh woe is me, and all that. Hop to it." Nodding to the door promptly, L.J turns back to me. A little grin plays at his black lips.

"Oh sure thing." Offender shakes his head again, before pushing off the wall and straddling the arm of L.J's chair instead. "Anyway, the only honour I care about right now is Y/N's." L.J seems to agree with that, eyes going steely and lips curling at the memory of why you're all in this room in the first place. "So, what'll it be, beautiful? I'm the reason you got hit, so, by Vikings oath I've vowed to endure whatever punishment you decide is necessary." You open your mouth immediately to laugh him off, but he makes no movement like he usually would if he were joking. Instead, he quickly adds, "Go on."

"... hold on, you're German. Aren't Vikings Scandinavian?-"

"Shut up, clown man; I'm old. I've been places. Get with the program."

Rolling your eyes, unintentionally fondly at the two, you look around the room. "Um," Unbelievably croaky, and painfully, you ask. "Get me a cup of water?"

"Oh!-" While Offender quickly teleports off to get you that, L.J just absentmindedly brushes some hair out of your face. Offender comes back in a young moment and they both help you sit up. L.J helps guide you by your hands, while Offender stuffs pillows securely at the base of your back.

"Thanks, guys," You accept the glass of water with a gracious smile. "Thank you."

As you're taking a sip, Offender returns to his spot on the arm of L.J's chair and watches you expectantly, heavily. Swallowing the water, you raise a curious brow. "So? My punishment?"

You nearly choke on the water, but instead take a moment to compose yourself. "Wha- I thought that was the punishment!"

"Getting water??"

"I didn't say please!"

L.J clicks his finger claws, lifting them off you for a moment to point and nod in agreement at Offender. "Right, that's true. She didn't. 'S not her fault you have no sensitivity towards good manners." He turns back to you as Offender makes a perturbed shape with his mouth. "You have lovely manners."

"Thank you!"

"Of course dearest."

"Wha- I- F- hah???" As you and L.J have your 'Old British Sit Com' moment as Offender would always refer to it from then on, he stutters and looks between the two of you confusedly. "Hold on, hold on stop that this instant-" Reaching over and waiving a hand between the two of you as you were looking sweetly at each other, he successfully snaps you both out of it. "Neither of you are taking this seriously. You," He points his finger at L.J, who narrows his eyes at the offending appendage. Probably thinking 'And your manners, are terrible.'. "Shoosh. And you, “ L.J presses his lips firmly closed as Offender turns his stern finger to you, making you sit up straighter at attention. “Come on, baby.” He slips to his knees as you start to fully understand his desperation right now and grips the side of your mattress. His hat slips to cover the top of his face and your eyes flicker to L.J’s, which are also sheened in a very covered layer of worry, and back. “Punish me. It’s my fault. You got bandages and tubes and... fucking bloodstains. I did this. And in order for our relationship to continue healthily you need to get back at me somehow. So come on, one more time I’m gonna say it so L.J if you say something about masochism I will throw you out the window; Y/N, punish me. Goddamnit, please.”

“Offender,” You start in a scolding voice, pushing yourself off the pillows with difficulty, wincing at the pain shooting through your collar bones. When L.J’s eyes flicker over you and your pained features, because, while Offender is clearly perfectly fine with showing his affections, L.J certainly is not. You flash him an ‘its fine’ smile as you push your legs off the end of the bed. “I’m not that hurt! And I’m certainly not upset with you in any way, its not necessary!”

“You were shot, Y/N!”

“Yeah, well.” You roll your eyes, as if the infliction wasn't a big deal. Like there are more important things, which in the moment you do think there are in Offender’s outlook at the moment. It honestly scares you. It isn't him. Dropping your hands on his shoulders, you dip your head to look seriously at him. “Its not that bad! I mean, I think Slender woulda told me if I was gonna die, don’t you think? And you read the chart! You know I’ll be okay.”

“... Yeah, he would've. And then the little punk woulda left the room chuckling."

"Oooh," L.J leans back in his chair, thumb claw between his teeth as he imagines how it would have gone, arctic blues glazed over with imagination. "He totally would... "

Nodding in agreement, you kneed your thumbs into Offender shoulders comfortingly. "Yep. Same thing for if I wasn't going to recover at all. Don't you think?"

"Y/Nnnn,” He groans, resisting.

“I’ll, be, fine.” Leaning down, you press your forehead to his- breath hitching when you feel your stitches stretching but forcing your self to stay put for a moment. “Don’t feel so guilty. Or, at least try- its an odd colour on you.”

“Mm.” Offender’s mouth twists like he tasted something gross. Then he sighs, the muscles in his shoulders easing. “Oh, what, you think a good old ‘belligerent’s more me?”

“Maybe a gentle ‘creepy’, at most.” L.J pats his back, breaking out of his dream world. You grin and nod.

“That work for you?”

“We can try it on for size.”

L.J snorts. “Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” Offender turns and looks up at him, a bemused smile on his face. Still reluctant to let it go, but trying. “What? Does BEN need to re- try on his used condom hat now, too??”

With that, Offender and you dissolve into barks of laughter, you hiding your pink face in your hands while L.J just shrugs, holding up his hands like ‘Aren't I right though??’. “What?? Its one of your charms!” He adds, a corner of his dark mouth fighting to point up even as he looks confusedly at your shaking bodies.

“OKAY,” Slender pushes the door open then, interrupting and dropping his shoulders slowly. “I’ve heard enough. It time for Y/N to return to sleep- what. What is she doing out of bed? Put her back. And then, both of you, can get out of my house! ... and take your unfortunate analogies with you.” Shoulders slumping, he then mutters, “... I’ll never be able to look at that hat again without thinking about that... “

Offender heaves his own sigh, so like his brother in the moment as he pushes himself up and guides you back into a comfortable laying position, muttering himself. “You would think, after so... so, many centuries with that man, I would be immune to his annoyingness... But no.”

Snickering, L.J leans back in his chair, reaching down into the pockets of his pants as you start to feel exhaustion wash over you again. Slender’s right, you do need more sleep...

Slender just opens the door more fully and gestures towards it for his brother and Laughing Jack. Slowly, he drawls the next word. “Out?”

“G’night sweetheart.” Offender gives you another kiss on the forehead, completely ignoring his brother this time. “Just keep thinking about that punishment, okay? Just... keep it in mind.” Chewing on your bottom lip, you wish Offender would let it go... but nod anyway, for his sake. Not like you actually will think about it at all. L.J brushes your hair back after he steps back and taps your forehead gently with his thumb.

“Sweet dreams lollipop!”

Then L.J returns to his chair and Offender drags up a chair beside him for himself and Slender grips the door tighter. “Oh, no. No no no. Get, out, of my home.”

Slowly L.J looks over at Slender, then squishing his butt down further into the chair pointedly, and Offender props his legs up on the end of your bed. You chuckle, and close your eyes. Embarrassed by your weirdly good boyfriends. They aren't perfect by any, a n y means, but they are pretty cool sometimes. You like them- and that's an understatement.

“Aghhh, don’t think I’m bringing you dinner.” Slender lets up quickly, disinterested in putting up any fight and rolls his shoulders of you all, closing the door as he walks off. “Hooligans.”

As you close your eyes, and pull the blankets up further over your body to your chin, relaxing into a resting, sleep exposed state Offender crosses his arms, setting in probably for a nap himself, with no other idea how to pass the silent time and L.J turns promptly to him, with a colourful but mostly black box in his hand.

“Silent Uno??”

#Poly! Laughing Jack x Reader x Offenderman #Laughing Jack x Reader #Offenderman x Reader #Laughing Jack x Offenderman #Oneshot #Creepypasta Oneshot #Slenderman

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tinysylveon · 3 years

Text

s'cuse me while i complain about the rwby fandom for a bit, and why i p much have refused to fully engage in it since the near beginning and even now. i'm putting this in a read more bc i actually have sanity to put mountain long paragraphs of text under read mores. :^)

those shippers in the rwby fandom really irritate me, because they seem to only pay attention to the shipping and get really angry at the writers for not making their ship "canon" or "interact in a meaningful way". sometimes i'm glad meme-based content creators keep their personal opinions to themselves, because i saw someone say they're "deeply disappointed in the current volume for not providing whiterose content", and honestly being so. and don't even get me STARTED on those fairgame shippers. way to come out as transphobic, basically. harassing a damn trans person like that, saying its all their fault your ship never got water. d e e p s i g h

no, the crwby is not, nor ever entitled to, giving you your ship. you know what actually matters in rwby? the plot. the characters themselves. if you enjoy ships? epic. just don't... harass people. don't go overboard. don't let that ship lead you to despise the show, the creators, or anyone relating to it.

however much i despise only paying attention to the ships, i still do think it's childish and stupid to put your ship hate in the ship tag you're hating. i know you want attention, but there are far healthier ways to do that than purposefully pissing people off by posting "yang/blake is fucking stupid and so are the shippers" or something in the designated tag. yike!!!

shipping is fun, but it's not everything. please exercise common sense, self control, and maturity. i know it's hard, but make an attempt.

sure, you can say it's "horribly/badly written" all damn day, but imo, i still think the writing is ok, because i could see foreshadowing even in the very first volume. now, i've tried my best to find some semblance (lol pun) of information that monty planned a good chunk of rwby, or at least had some plot points written out til the end, but all i can find is "he only planned out to volume/season 5", "volume/season 3", and then apparently "volume/season 10". again, this may mean actual scripts and more, OR just plot points, like a lot of us writers do (ive got a beginning, middle, and end for my story rn, but i only have a bit for the points past what ive already written. fun fun, but i digress. anyways.). so that's... completely all up in the air. what i'm saying is, from what we've gotten past three, and even five, i've enjoyed it a ton! i enjoyed rewatching it! i caught all kinds of small things and foreshadowing and i've enjoyed it a lot. call me easily amused or impressed by "horrible writing" (which... that's all honestly based on opinion at this point.), but fuck it. love this shit.

i can see why people are irritated with shippers. i can definitely see why others have granted a name for the peope who hate the show but still follow it JUST to make steven universe-esque critical posts about it call it the "hatedom" (which obv has been happening before steven's verse but hell it feels and looks so much like it. ya'll.. it's not. that. deep. sometimes.). the rwby fandom is so damn messy and i can see why i've been literally avoiding it for years and just happily watching the show.

this entire thing is def why i've been keeping myself from engaging in it and/or even making any content/side fan accounts for it. it's just... so immaturely messy. a whole mess!!!! a whole mess.

if you want to argue with me: don't. i will ignore you. you're literally part of the problem. if you hate these opinions so much, bro, just block me! it's super easy! a few taps/clicks, and you never have to see me again. wild, i know. i can do the same to you. epic.

have a rad day.

#opinions ahead srry abt tht #rwby #rwby fandom

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wcamino-confessions · 3 years

Text

anyway have some major points from my "Warrior Cats Rewrite" outline. long story short im rewriting the entire series bc i can, feel free to suggest things youd like to see :)

Overall:

-Please note that some of these bullet points dont make sense in the order theyre in bc i forgot to put them in chronological order and didnt have much time to fix it

-Each book has a different protag in a different Clan

-Some names, families, and pelt colours will all be switched around/changed

-Some characters will be aged up or down depending on when it makes sense to me for them to be born

-StarClan is fucking powerless. Instead these fiesty battlecats have a religion similar to greeks, with their main gods are based around the moon. Its considered super lucky for a kit to be born under a full moon, and naming a cat/kit "Moon-" is considered super disrespectful and can get both kit and mother shunned by the Clan or exiled

-WindClan never stopped tunneling

-Oakheart is still alive

-Assume no cats are related unless I state otherwise

-Lostsong, Wildblaze, Ferncloud, Ashfur, Brambleflower, and Tawnystorm are all related (Bramble, Tawny, Ash, Fern have the same father, Wild, Lost, Bramble, Tawny have the same mother)

-Acorn and Squirrel are Dust/Sand's kits, though they 2 are no longer mates

-The medicine cats cant have mates or kits rule is thrown out the window bc its stupid

Name Changes:

-Brambleclaw -> Brambleflower

-Tawnypelt -> Tawnystorm

-Sandstorm -> Sandstrike

-Firestar -> Sparkfern

-Leafpool -> Acornleaf

-Brightheart -> Lostsong

-Yellowfang -> Mirestorm

-Ravenpaw -> Ravensight

-Swiftpaw -> Wildblaze

1st arc (The prophecies begin):

- Protags are Sparkfern (ThunderClan, book 1), Yellowfang (ShadowClan, Book 2), Mistyfoot (RiverClan, book 3), Tallstar (WindClan, book 4), Tigerclaw (Book 5)

-1st book goes more or less the same with only minor changes until you reach the point where Sparkpaw was supposed to run into Mirestorm

-In this rewrite Brokenstar "out of the good of his heart" allows Mirestorm to stay in ShadowClan under 2 conditions. She gives up being a medicine cat and goes back to being a warrior, and she isnt allowed anywhere without a guard. She accepts

-Tigerclaw goes through with the plan to kill Ravenpaw but fails. Ravenpaw, terrified for his life, decides to switch to being a medicine cat

-WindClan hasn't been driven out, but only because Tallstar gave ShadowClan a good half of their territory

-Tigerclaw doesn't try any backhanded traps like the thunderpath one

-That being said, Cinderpaw still gets caught on the Thunderpath bc she wasnt paying attention to where she was going

-She still goes back to warrior training though bc this ThunderClan doesn't discriminate

-All the ShadowClan stuff happens a bit later than it does in canon

-Spottedleaf lives, but she's fucked up really bad (Blind in left eye, intense scarring on face and right side, unable to use back leg without pain, etc etc) and decides to demote herself as a medicine cat and mkve to the elder's den

-Ravenpaw still isn't fully trained, so ThunderClan enlists Barkface's help

-Ravenpaw ends up being named Ravensight sometime around the middle of the 3rd book

-Sparkpaw becomes Sparkfern around halfway through the book bc i dont try to pack what should be a month of buildup into 2 days so theres timeskips when theres nothing happening

-Sandpaw and Dustpaw become Sandstrike and Dustpelt before Sparkfern and Greystripe because they were apprentices for longer

-Tigerclaw kills Sparkfern by the end of book 1

-Tigerclaw tries to kill Bluestar, but she runs out of the den and Tigerclaw gets exiled

-Mirestorm decides to say fuck it and in book 2 pushes Brokenstar into the gorge in RiverClan territory

-After Redtail's death Whitestorm is made deputy

-Since WindClan never needed to be brought back Whiteclaw is alive now too

-Instead of Nightstar, after Brokenstar's death Blackfoot becomes Blackstar

- Whitestorm ends up getting killed so Sandstrike is made deputy

-On that note since Sparkfern is dead Sandstrike was Cinderpelt's mentor

-Both Swiftpaw and Brightpaw live, but both are heavily scarred and are renamed Deadspot and Lostface by Buestar

-Tigerclaw still leads the dogs onto ThunderClan territory, but instead of coming up with the canon plan they all live in fear until RiverClan decides that this is painful to watch and help out

-Deadspot and Lostface end up having a 2nd run in with the dogs and Bluestar looses her last life saving them

-Sandstar renames them Wildblaze and Lostsong

-ThunderClan don't actually hate Bramble and Tawny for being Tiger's kits, but they both feel irrationally guilty about it and that causes just as much of a strain

-Brambleflower is the one who leaves ThunderClan this time, while Tawnystorm stays

-Silverstream and Greystripe never get together. Feathertail and Stormfur are Silver and WhiteClaw's kits

-Also Leopardstar dies earlier and Stonefur becomes Stonestar

-Tigerclaw takes control of BloodClan and renames himself Tigerstar

-When Tigerstar tries to take over ShadowClan Blackstar tells him no

-Tigerstar tries approaching Stonestar for an alliance and the whole "shun half clan cats" thing, not knowing that Stonestar is a half clan cat (Bluestar still told both Mistyfoot and Stonefur the truth) and Stonefur tells him to get fucked

-tigerstar decides to merge with WindClan instead

-The whole fourtrees stand off still happens, but Brambleflower kills Tigerstar (who due to being a faux leader and not going to the moonstone only has one life)

2nd arc (The New Prophecy):

-Protags are Brambleflower (ShadowClan, book 1), Feathertail (RiverClan, book 2), Crowpaw (WindClan, book 3), Tawnystorm (ThunderClan, book 4), Nightcloud (WindClan, book 5)

-The cats that go on the quest are Tawnystorm, Brambleflower, Feathertail, Crowpaw, Squirrelflight, and Nightpaw (Nightcloud)

-Squirrel (who was born earlier than in canon and is therefor now already a warrior) follows Tawny on the quest

-Squirrel has a puppy crush on Tawny and she makes this fact painfully clear

-Nightpaw follows Feather around like a lost dog

-Crowpaw ends up dying instead of Feathertail bc Nightpaw was in danger

-Nightpaw becomes Nightcloud after the journey and develops a crush on Acornleaf

-She's torn between the two until she realizes Acorn doesnt feel the same about her (Acornleaf is in love with Mothwing in this rewrite bc i said so)

-Nightcloud is briefly devastated but then realizes that this makes things so much easier for her and starts dating Feathertail

-Tawny and Squirrel get together after 4 1/2 whole books of obvious pining

-Daisy is still there, but she only has one kit as the others have died (The living kit is Berrynose, now renamed Hay)

-Daisy gets in a relationship with Lostsong and Cloudtail bc thats my OT3 and bc i said so

-After loosing Hazel and Mouse she finds that she can't bring herself to get too attached to Hay so Tawny and Squirrel adopt him and Daisy just becomes that cool aunt™

-Insert a good 7 pages of Bramble freaking out that he's an uncle now

-Hawkfrost is still evil and traps Sandstar in a fox trap, but Mothwing kills him this time.

-Mothwing ends up badly injured from her fight with Hawkfrost and Acornleaf takes care of her

-Stormfur ends up dying

-Feathertail leaves RiverClan to be with Nightcloud

-Daisy/Lostsong/Cloudtail end up having Whitekit (wing), Rosekit (petal), and Honeykit (flower)

-Acornleaf and Mothwing become mates at one point and love each other very very much

-Mothwing is trans (comfort hc ive had aince forever, not purely for the sake of her and Acorn having bio kits i promise) and her and Acorn end up having Swanblaze (Hollyleaf) and Goldenfern (Lionblaze)

-since both Moth and Acorn are their Clan's only medicine cat neither can join the other's clan so Moth takes Swan and Acorn takes Golden

-a good 7 moon timeskip between arc 2 book 5 and arc 3 book 1

3rd arc (Power of Three):

-Protags are Mothwing (RiverClan, book 1), Crowstorm (WindClan, book 2), Goldenfern (ThunderClan, book 3), Littlecloud (ShadowClan, book 4), Swanblaze (RiverClan, book 5)

-[Everything that follows happens between TPB and the beginning of PO3]

-Since there's no "medicine cats cant have kits or mates" rule its common knowledge that Swan and Golden are Moth and Acorn's kits

-On RiverClan's side Graymist (who becomes a queen earlier here for the sake of convenience) nursed Swan alongside Sneeze and Mallow. Besides the feeding Swan spent most of her time hanging around and playing with Motha

-On ThunderClan's side, since Rosepetal is the medicine cat apprentice, Leafpool nurses and raises Golden. The entire Clan treats him like their kit though, especially his aunts Tawnystorm and Squirrelflight

-[Everything that happens this point happens in the actual arc]

-The 3 are Swanblaze, Goldenfern, and Crowstorm (Night and Feather's adopted son. He counts as part of the 3 bc Redtail (Sand's father) was half WindClan in this rewrite and his WindClan father also had Night and Crow's mother

-While both Swan and Golden knew they had a sibling in another Clan, they didnt officially meet until their 2nd gathering, when Moth and Acorn intoduced them to eachother

-Swanpaw met Crowpaw when Crow was chasing a rabbit and couldn't stop himself from falling into the river.

-Mothwing, who had taken Swanpaw on an outing to help her collect herbs, ended up saving him and bringing him back to camp while they waited for WindClan to come back and get him

-While Crow is intended to be Jayfeather's replacement here, he isn't blind. He is, however, deaf. He's still training to be a warrior though bc fuck canon

-Night, Feather, and Crow developed a sort of cat sign language they spread to WindClan to help make it easier for Crow

-It eventually ended up spreading to Bramble and Moth, who spread it to their Clans

-Different powers and shit

-Swan has a sort of foresight. She can tell whats going to happen a few moments before it happens. While she brushes it off as good instincts, when she develops it more later in the series her foresight stretches up to a moon in advance

-Golden still has super strength. He aint invincible tho cuz that was a horeible plot point

-Crow can see and speak to ghosts in the living world. Not just StarClan or dead cats, but any dead animal. If he wants to speak to a dead fox he 100% can

-The 3 still know about the prophecy due to Swan training as a med cat and accidently getting it (She eventually ends up dropping it and Willowshine becomes the med app instead)

-Sol comes in and then the eclipse happens

-Golden and Crow are 100% ready to trust this strange cat they met 2 days ago but Swan is like yo dudes wtf

-That whole plot point happens, Sol tries to go to ShadowClan, but Blackstar tells him to fuck off so he does

-Swanpaw ends up accidently killing him (tried to threaten him into leaving the Clans alone using the dunk and let breathe method, ended up drowning him). The guilt she feels from it is what causes her to drop being a medicine cat apprentice and become a warrior.

-Ashfur still had a crush on Squirrel and is extremely jealous of Tawny. He tries the whole fire scene thing with Haynose, but before he's even halfway done with his monologue he stops for 3 seconds, looks around him, and realizes just what the fuck he's trying to do

-He helps Squirrel and Hay out of the fire, apologizes profusely, and turns himself in to Sandstar, accepting whatever punishment she gives him

-Bramble 100% visits both Hay and Swan at least once a week. Sand and Stone have realized by now that stopping him wont work so they just allow it

-There's no huge gathering scene this time because there isn't a big secret to tell

-The arc does end, however, with Swan finding Stonestar's lifeless body laying in his den

4th arc (Omen of the Stars):

-[NOTE: This section is unfinished due to lack of ideas]

-The whole Stonestar's dead body thing is going to be addressed, but i just dont have any ideas for that so its not addressed for now

- Dove and Ivy are both spoiled rotten by their aunts and grandparents

-As such Dove gains a sorta "entitled" attitude. Like not full tantrum entitled, but getting moody/snappy when she doesnt get what she wants

-Ivy is the same way, just a bit less snapping and a bit more silent treatment

-Brambleflower!!!! Has kits!!! With Rowanclaw!!!

-Yes, I am a big fan of the trans Rowanclaw hc

-I am giving Bramble Tawny's canon mate

-why?

-bc its what he deserves

-Anyway, Their kits are Brindlekit/heart (Tigerheart), Dawnkit/shade (Dawnpelt), and Russetkit/tail (Flametail), who I am aging down bc in canon these 3 already have their full names

-Tawny and Squirrel 100% babysit from time to time

-Dark forest trainees stay the same, but this time add in Dovewing, Bumblestripe and Briarlight

-Haven't read, unable to make an outline

-Briarlight didnt make it in time to push Longtail out of the way, so Briarlight isnt paralyzed and Longtail is dead

-Bumblestripe still has a crush on Dovewing, but is way more lowkey and less "creepy" about it

-Swanblaze becomes mates with Minnowtail

-Acornleaf dies in the Last Hope

-So do Brambleflower, Goldenfern, Honeyfur, Graymist, Spiderleg, Applefur, Olivenose, Redwillow, Ferretclaw, Tallpoppy, Whitetail, Heathertail, Reedwhisker, Robinwing, Mosspelt, Pouncetail, and Dovewing

5th arc (A Vision of Shadows):

-[NOTE: This section is empty due to me not having finished this arc.]

6th arc (The Broken Code):

-[NOTE: This section is empty due to me not having read this arc]

#submission #off topic #yes i am rewriting the whole series #why? you might be asking #and bc it gives me an excuse to reread every book in the series a good 100 times :)#< tags added by submitter

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theheartsmistakes · 4 years

Text

The Last Night Part VIII

(A/N at the end)

All Parts:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Part VIII

James stood frozen in the street. His hands still clenched around Matthew’s waist coat; his neck strained from looking over his shoulder at where Anna had pointed to.

A body lay in the street.

James found himself unable to speak, to move, to operate past filling and releasing his lungs in short bursts. He could hear his name being called as if through a thick wall.

Is it Lucie? The question lingered on his tongue, but he could not bring himself to ask it.

He didn’t want to know the answer.

Thomas was the first of them to move. Carefully at first, waving his arm in the air to make sure the fog wasn’t concealing something more, and then he broke into a run and slid to his knees beside the body.

After a breathless moment, he turned his head to the rest of them and said, “It’s Alastair. Come quick, it’s Alastair.”

James released Matthew and felt life swell inside of him again like the first hit of hot hair in a balloon, but his relief was quickly replaced by another fear. If Alastair Carstairs was the body in the street, then where was Lucie. Where was his sister?

~*~

The moment the sand left Cordelia’s hand, Belial stumbled backwards with a cry, giving Cordelia enough time to reach forward and pull the knife from his scabbard. She flipped it deftly in her palm and pushed herself precariously to her feet. With malice in her eyes, despite the pain that coursed through her ribs at the discordant movement, she held the knife out in front her towards Belial posed to strike with everything she had left inside of her.

It wasn’t Cortana, but it would have to do.

She caught a glimpse of her arms, and saw the black veins that coursed underneath her skin, but she didn’t have a moment to care for that now. If she was going to stop him from using Lucie, and she intended to do just that, she’d better do it quickly.

Belial scrapped the sand from his eyes; his back turned towards her. A strange noise came from his throat. It took Cordelia a moment to realize that it was laughter.

When he turned back around his face was orange from the sand. He spit a glob of tinted saliva down at her feet and grinned wickedly as he took in the knife that she had acquired from him.

A cough ripped out of Cordelia. She felt something hot burn up her throat as she wretched into the crook of her elbow. When she looked down, black liquid stained the ripped fabric of her dress sleeve. She didn’t look on it for too long before she straightened again and forced her aching body back to her feet, all while closely watching Belial.

A light breeze could knock her over, but she widened her stance in an attempt to gain balance. The shake in her legs did not go unnoticed by Belial.

“What do you mean to accomplish, Miss Carstairs?” Belial dropped his hands to his sides. “Do you intend to fight your way out of this, as you did before? When you can barely stand on your own two feet.”

“I had a broken leg the last time I drove a sword through your chest.” She grimaced, as a painful wave went up her torso. “I am no stranger to pain.”

Belial tilted his head back. “A true fighter. You might do well in my new world. Perhaps I’ll keep you as a pet for my granddaughter, to keep her in line.” She thrashed the knife when he stepped towards her and nearly cried out from the pain of the movement. “You cannot hurt me, child. You are only making things worse for yourself.”

“You cannot have Lucie,” said Cordelia, stepped back once as Belial stepped forward. Her teeth ached from clenching them together. She focused on that pain instead of the one at her side. “I don’t care how many times I have to drive my blade through you, you will not take my friend.”

Belial tilted his head. “You cannot kill me, Miss Carstairs. No mere mortal can, not in this form, and not with that stick. ” He glanced over his shoulder as a flash of bright light rippled through the smoke colored clouds. The air seemed to crackle with a new energy. Cordelia wasn’t sure, but it felt as if the ground trembled underneath her already unsteady legs.

With his back turned towards her now, Cordelia seized the opportunity and brought her arm back over her shoulder and threw the knife forward, hilt over tip, but as it was about to sink into Belial’s neck, the smooth pale skin of his hand shot up and gripped the blade, instantly turning the knife to ash.

Cordelia felt her mouth drop open. Her breath caught in her chest as she sank back to the ground.

Her last hope was now blowing away with the breeze.

“Cordelia!”

Belial face curved into a malevolent sneer. “Our company has arrived.”

Cordelia looked up as both an odd sense of relief and dread overcame her. Lucie, dressed in her black Shadowhunter gear, ran towards them, small but lethal. Her hair had come undone and whipped behind her in wild torrents before careening over her shoulder as she skidded to a stop inches from where Belial and Cordelia stood. In both her hands were perfectly sharpened daggers.

Lucie’s rage filled eyes softened when they fell on Cordelia. “Are you all right? Are you injured?”

Cordelia removed the hand that clung to her ribs and saw the fresh blood on her palm. “I’m injured, but I’m all right. Lucie, you should not have come.”

“Of course I should have,” said Lucie and her eyes narrowed on Cordelia’s bloody hand. “You’re bleeding. How bad is it? Did he do this to you?”

She rushed forward, just as Belial cleared his throat and stepped in-between the path separating Cordelia and Lucie. “Granddaughter. How lovely to finally meet you.”

“You’ll forgive me for forgetting myself, but I cannot repeat the sentiment,” said Lucie, planting her hands on her hips. “What do you prefer to be called? I refuse to call you grandfather, as that implies some familial affection, which for you I harbor none, so what will it be? Belial? Lord of Lies? Whacking disappointment? You choose.”

Belial’s hands flexed at his sides. “I suppose Belial will do.”

“Excellent,” Lucie shifted her stance. “Belial, let Cordelia go. You have what you wanted. I’m here. Your need for her is over.”

“Happily, dear granddaughter,” Belial glanced over his shoulder at Cordelia. “Nothing would bring me more joy than releasing Miss Carstairs back to earth. However, I feel the need to keep her as insurance.”

“Insurance?” Lucie prickled. “What does Cordelia insure?”

“Your cooperation.”

Cordelia coughed again and sank farther towards the ground. More black ichor burned up her throat as the demonic poison raged war against her blood stream. Sweat poured from her brow as she lifted her head, defiant against leaving Lucie alone with this monster.

Lucie’s eyes met Cordelia’s exposing the first hint of fear. “My cooperation?”

“Yes,” hissed Belial, as he started walking in a leisurely circle around Lucie. “It’s recently come to my attention that you possess a power far greater than any of my offspring.”

“Are there others?” Lucie scoffed. “I was not aware. You must clean up well if women are willingly throwing themselves at you.”

Belial paused. “Who said anything about willingly.”

A visible shudder went through Lucie. “What is it that you want?”

Belial continued to walk, his hands clasped behind his back. Something about the way he tilted his head back to look at the sky reminded her again of James. Not so much in appearance anymore, but more in the gestures; the way he held himself.

“At this point, you have only barely grazed the ability of your power.”

“Power?” Lucie glanced back at Cordelia. “What power? I think you are mistaking me for my brother. I am completely ordinary.”

“I’m quite sure I have the right offspring,” said Belial, his eyes wandered over Lucie in a way that was entirely too possessive.``Your mother has the ability to shape shift, your brother the ability to jump transfer himself into other realms. You, I’ll admit, I overlooked you. I’d preferred to have a male, but that was before I became aware of your truly interesting gift.”

Lucie scoffed. “I wouldn’t consider it a gift.”

“Oh, but it is,” Belial stepped towards her again, only this time Lucie didn’t step back. “You have the ability to control the dead. Tell me, have you ever brought someone back to life?”

“No,” said Lucie. “I can only communicate with their ghosts.”

“Communicate?” asked Belial, as he continued to walk around in a leisurely circle around Lucie. “Or control?”

Lucie’s teeth skimmed her bottom lip. The first sign for Cordelia that confirmed what Belial had told her about Lucie was true. It was no secret, to anyone, that Tessa Gray was the daughter of a demon; therefore, it was no secret that James and Lucie were the grandchildren of one. They were both young children when Lucie told Cordelia about her grandfather; confided in her. Lucie could have told her that her hair was brown for all Cordelia cared.

So why, thought Cordelia, after all these years of friendship did Lucie never tell her about this power? Did she not trust her to keep the secret? Or that it would somehow change the way Cordelia felt about her?

Lucie shifted her stance. “Prefer a male for what?”

Belial blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You said a moment ago that you preferred to have a male… a male what?”

“A male host,” said Belial. “I want you to willingly let me take possession of your body so that you and I can fully access your abilities. You will help me raise an army and take possession of every realm.”

Lucie’s hands balled into fists. “No.”

“Then Miss Carstairs dies a miserable death,” said Belial. “She’s not far now.”

“Lucie don’t,” begged Cordelia. “He will kill me anyway!” Tears burned Cordelia’s eyes. “He will kill everyone— everyone we have ever loved and force them to join in his army in their death. Lucie, you must go. Run away from here and go home.”

“I’ll keep her alive,” said Belial. “For you, granddaughter, I will keep her alive.”

“Do not listen to him.” All she could feel was the exhaustion, the poison in her veins, waiting to rush back, moments away from claiming her. “Even if he did allow me to live, what kind of life would that be, Lucie? I would have no one. I would have nothing. Leave me and run back the way that you came. There should be a portal where you came through—“

Cordelia watched as Lucie looked over her shoulder in the direction she had come from. Her hair concealed her face as the wind started to rage around them, picking up the sand and ash, making it difficult to see. For a moment, Cordelia saw Lucie pick up her foot, and the same overwhelming sense of dread and relief consumed her.

Belial stood impossibly still, though she watched his fingers stretch as if he’d been burned.

“If you run—” he started, but Lucie cut him off. “I’m not running.” Lucie looked down at the dagger in her right hand. The same expression that would cross her face when she is stuck on a particular scene in one of her books crossed her face now.

Belial inhaled slowly. “You cannot kill me with that, Lucie. Ask Miss Carstairs, it won’t work.”

Cordelia wanted to stand, to fight beside Lucie, but she couldn’t rise: her body was shutting down. Shadows began to creep in at the edges of her vision. The smell of spices that reminded her of her home filled her lungs. She thought she could hear the sound of children laughing and music playing, a soft trickle of sound ushering her into the unknown.

Cordelia pulled her hand away from her ribs. The wounded was still bleeding freely, but her blood was no longer red, but black as ink.

“I know that you understand only a fraction of the power that you possess.” He leaned towards Lucie. The wind raged harder around them. Sand burrowed into Cordelia’s skin, her eyes, her mouth, unable to shield herself from it as she lay limp as a corpse. Tornados of bones, trees, and sand funneled around them; she could see the strange patterns they made in the sky. “Together,” he said, his voice echoed with something demonic, “we can take claim of any realm we desire. Together we can raise one the greatest armies any world has ever seen.”

Lucie’s back was to Cordelia now. If she was able, she could reach across and grab her ankles.“You’re wrong,” said Lucie. “I understand my power perfectly and I will not let it be used by you.” Lucie spun on her heel and threw herself beside Cordelia, wrapping her arms as tightly as she could around her friend.

With her mouth inches from Cordelia’s ear, Lucie screamed. “Now Jesse!”

Cordelia was overcome with the sensation of falling. She could hear yelling and something hot and sharp pinch the skin around her wrist as a face came to loom over hers.

“Don’t die Miss Carstairs,” Belial smirked. “There is still a need for you yet.”

“Cordelia!” Lucie’s voice was the last thing she heard as the darkness slowly enclosed her vision and they fell, like burning angels, towards the earth.

Author’s Notes: Hi everyone! Sorry this is being posted so late. It was a busy day. Hope you are well, safe, and happy. Thank you for ALL the well wishes, I am doing much better and I’m excited to get back into this. If you didn't see my previous post about possibly continuing this fic for upwards of 20 chapters (that’s what I have outlined so far), I have decided that I am just going to go for it, which might make the end of this chapter slightly jarring. I set it up for this to be a type of grand finale, but I have more I want to do with these beloved characters. I will continue to post on Sundays, so next post will be Sunday 5/31. As always, please hit the heart, reblog, or pop in with a lovely comment. And most importantly, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy it.

#jordelia fanfiction #jordelia #Cordelia Carstairs #james herondale #the shadowhunter chronicles #the last hours #the last night #chain of gold #cassandra clare #lucie herondale #belial #Matthew Fairchild #thomas lightwood #christopher lightwood #anna lightwood #the merry thieves

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