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honeypirate · 3 years

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Quick drabbles about sweet moments I would like to have with some of my favorite characters.

Fem reader sometimes

Fire force

Benimaru

He comes into your room with a sigh, closing the door quietly before kneeling at the bottom of your bed and crawling up between your legs, pushing his head under your hands holding your book and laying his head against your chest. You chuckle and set your book aside before running your fingers through his hair “hello sweetheart” you say and he pushes up so his face was in your neck now, kissing the skin softly “hello” he says and sighs into your neck. “I missed you” you say and he nods into your neck “I missed you” he says and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tighter to you and kissing the top of his head.

Konro

You sit behind him in the bath, the hot water up to your shoulders and you lay your head against his back as he tells you about his day, his hands brushing up and down your legs beside him. You were careful to avoid the charred marks on his neck, arms, and back as you careful washed him, leaving kisses around them. You took care of him better than anyone and he felt the love you had for him every time you helped him, you never made him feel like a burden or anything less than, you made him feel comfortable in his own skin. “God I love you so much” he whispers as you finish washing his hair “it’s my turn now” he says and you carefully switch places with him, his large hands gently washing your body and kissing your neck. He washes your hair and then spends extra time running his fingers through it, loving the soft feel in his hands. You run your fingertips against his legs and up to his thighs as you talk and relax until the water gets too cold.

Obi Akitaru

He throws you over his shoulder after you get back to the compound, you giggle and lightly hit his back “Obi! Put me down!” He laughs and slaps your butt “not gonna happen. My girl was injured so I gotta carry her in” you sigh and relax in his hold “ It’s just a little burn! On my arm! I can still walk” he laughs but doesn’t set you down until you’re in his private bathroom. He helps you out of your fire force coat and pants before taking off his own, leaving you in just your underwear and a tank top and him in boxers. You smile softly up at his as he gently washes the soot off your cheeks and neck. “You’re so beautiful sweetheart” he says and you blush, reaching up and cupping his cheek with a smile “you’re not so bad yourself” you say and he grins. You take the washcloth from his hand and rinse it out before gently washing the soot off his cheeks for him “let’s hop in a shower so we can do this properly” he says as he dips down to capture your lips in his.

Hinawa

You push the kitchen door open quietly and peak in at him, he’s singing along to a old record he borrowed from Obi, some jazz from before the cataclysm. You watched him cook and sing, butterflies in your belly from how adorable it is. His voice was perfect for this kind of music and it smelled like he was making your favorite meal. You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his middle, his singing turning into a low chuckle. “Hey sweetheart” he says and you smile, placing a kiss against his shirt on his spine “it smells good but I want to know....are you on the menu for tonight?” you say and his hand holds yours on his stomach “naughty girl” he says before taking the pan of the heat and turning around in your arms, he holds both of your cheeks and you look up at him, your chin on his chest. His eyes were dark, you could see the lust in his eyes and the adoration he has for you. You stand on your tiptoes, meeting him halfway as he captures your lips his.

Haikyuu

Aone

Sitting in the living room, leaning against him on the couch as you both read together. His arm around you as he scrolls through his book on his tablet, your head against his arm, kissing it every other page turn. When you finish your chapter to mark your page and set your book on the coffee table before turning your head up and kissing his chin softly, watching his lips turn up in a smile before his eyes flick to yours after he finishes the sentence he was on. “I’m so unbelievably lucky” he whispers and you blush, after all these years he still makes you feel giddy in your heart.

Kuroo

You’re cooking breakfast while he pours mimosas, the Sunday morning air filled with sweet kisses and witty banter, him sticking to you like glue, his hands on your hips and his chin against your shoulder as he sways you to the music playing, singing the lyrics to you as you flip the pancakes.

Ushiwaka

Taking the long drive through the country for a weekend away, his hand on your thigh as he drives, you play a perfect relaxing mix of music but the radio is quiet background noise as you talk about anything you can think of. You loved that he was so open minded, you could ask anything your crack head thoughts come up with and he’d respond honestly. You never felt the need to fill any silence though, it was comfortable, he felt like home to you.

Daichi

You’re singing along to the music you had playing loudly as you did some late night cleaning while waiting for him to get come from work, he had to do some extra paperwork but you didn’t mind. You were excited to see him after being apart all day and to combat that excitement you decided to clean. When he walks in the house he smiles at the sight, you were standing on the back of the couch, the vacuum on as you suck the dust off the blinds, your foot tapping along to the music that was so loud you could hear it over the vacuum. He closed the door as he admired you before walking over to you and quickly clicking the vacuum button. You yelp as he knocks the back of your knees so you fell into his waiting arms, his smiling face made your heart skip as you relaxed into his arms “you naughty boy!” You say as you laugh and kisses your cheek “What can i say? I missed my darling”

Nishinoya

You’ve been together for years, spent traveling as you worked as a freelance photographer mostly but now you’ve decided to go home and put down your own roots, get back to family. After a few months you decided you wanted to adopt a pet tigether, finally deciding on a sweet cat you met at the shelter, he couldn’t stop talking about her so you thought it was a pretty good sign. Her first night home with you, you let her get adjusted and she kept to herself for the most part, claiming one of the chairs in the living room for herself. In the middle of a movie you were watching you got up to use the bathroom, when you returned he was mouthing screams at you pointing down, you chuckled as you saw that the cat had jumped up and fell asleep on his lap. He was so cute you about teared up for a moment before taking a picture of them on your phone, setting it as your Lock Screen. Your perfect little family.

Tendou

When he was making you homemade chocolate at his apartment for your fifth date, you took a spoon and dipped it into the melted chocolate when you thought he wasn’t looking. When he turned around and saw you with the spoon in your mouth, an obviously blissed look at how delicious it was, he knew he loved you. “Sorry” you say around the spoonin your mouth, your cheeks warming under his gaze. “You’re such a sneak, I’ll have to look out for that” he says as he boops your nose. You felt your heart race at the way his eyes lingered on you with a smirk. This man would be the death of you.

Bnha

Bakugou

You sing a little song to yourself as you break your chopsticks apart, dancing in your chair as you look down at your ramen. You were so happy to be in this moment with your favorite boy and your favorite food. He looks across the table at you, an amused smile on his face as he watches you and listens to your impromptu dumb song about how much you love ramen and love him, all the anger in his body leaving. You look up into his eyes and you feel your cheeks get warm “hmm?” You ask and expect his usually dumbass banter but your breath hitches when he says softly “I just love you is all” He‘ll never forget how lucky he is to be sharing perfect moments with you.

Midoriya

A date that’s not a date. You go to a thrift store with your friends but take his hand and lead him back to the clothing, taking turns choosing ugly accessories and coats for the other, spending the whole time lost in the moments with him. By the end you have many pictures together on your phone. You break off from the group, walking behind a few feet with him as you talk about your favorite heroes, you asked him questions about his notebook and he showed you the page he had written for you but forgot the small little drawing of a heart next your name at the top of the page. He noticed when the notebook was in your hand but couldn’t really tear it from you, that would be nuts. So he just hopes you don’t notice as you read his notes(you do) “this is amazing. I didn’t know you paid this much attention to me” his cheeks flush “y/n you have an amazing quirk! I love to watch you!” His face turns very red as you raise your eyebrows “you love to watch me?” You smirk and he starts to ramble “no! I mean I do. But like not in a weird way. I just like to see how your quirk develops. I’m not a stalker or anything” you reach out and take his hand with a chuckle “I like that you pay attention to me so don’t worry Zuku” you say and he lets out a deep breath. The rest of your group notices but just leaves you be, this was a long time going and to be honest bakugou started a bet to see how long it would take. He won when he bet it would be sooner rather than later. The first time he ever bet on Deku but only because he knew you were bolder.

Kaminari

Oh man. You were home early and he hadn’t heard you come in. You could hear he was on the phone with someone so you didn’t make any loud noises as you set your things down. “I’m gonna ask her tonight. Yeah I have the ring here in my hand, it’s so perfect. ... I have a reservation at the place we had our first date” he busts up laughing and you crack a smile when you realize he means the skate park near your old high school. “Yeah man the skatepark. But it’s actually a really nice restaurant now which I thought was so romantic. Shin, I can’t even begin to explain how sure I am about this. I can’t imagine a life without them in it.” You feel your heart skip and your eyes mist over for a moment before you suck in a breath and make your way over to the door, opening it quietly and then shouting “Hey im home early! Are you home?” You act, dramatically picking up and dropping your keys again and kicking your shoes. You hear a drawer shut and him say “I gotta go man she’s home thanks so much” before he comes out of the bedroom with a big grin on his lips “y/n/n! do you wanna go out to dinner tonight? There’s this new place I want us to try”

Aizawa

The way the breeze coming in through window ruffled his hair woke him up, it was just after two am and he must of forgot to close the window before you guys fell asleep. He got up to shut the window and he turned around, pausing for a second when he noticed you were looking at him. The moonlight framed his back and hit your face, your sleepy eyes taking in his shirtless frame as he walked back to bed. “You look like an angel” you whispered to him and he chuckles as he scooted under the covers, “you must still be dreaming if you think I’m the angel of this relationship” he mutters, trying to hide the way his heart skipped when you called him an angel.

Fatgum/ Taishiro

He comes home, his big suit in tatters and his body smaller, bruises already forming on his face and chest you can see from the torn fabric. “Oh babe I knew it was bad but I really wasn’t-“ you hold your hand to your lips to try and stop your tears as he walks over to you and wraps you in a hug and standing, carrying you with him to the bedroom “oh my angel don’t worry. I’m okay. All I need is a little bit of your home cooking and a lot of your kisses, then I’ll be right as rain” you shower with him, helping him out so he didnt have to use his sore limbs. Kissing him as much as he would want, showing him how much you love him. After you dress you make him multiple different foods, full meals so he could have as much as he wanted. He watched you cook from his spot at the kitchen table, his heart as full as his stomach will be later. The food you make for him always tastes the best, better than any food he could ever order, he feels your love through the act of service you give him every time you cook for him.

Present mic

The moment after a concert where you’re walking back to the car holding hands, smiles on your lips as your ears ringing from the level of music as you talk about your favorite songs that were performed. You start to shiver from the sweat on your body and he pulls you into a hug “I got something for you” he says quietly knowing your ears were already ringing as he kisses the top of your head “what is it?” You ask with a smile “close your eyes” he says and you lean up to kiss his lips softly before pulling back and keeping yo eyes closed. You feel something go over your head and you instinctively put your arms up through the sleeves knowing it was a hoodie “okay open your eyes” he says and you do, seeing him wearing a hoodie in front of you and looking down to see you had a matching one on “this is amazing Yama! I love you! Thank you!” You hug him tight and he laughs holding you close “anything for my girl”

Toshinori

Walking through the park in the morning, getting some coffee and people watching, hitting the farmers market on the way home he buys you some flowers while you’re distracted with the fruit. You buy an aloe plant in a pot painted with his face on it that looks like his hair for your office at the school and when you walk home you buy some donuts from the stand at the end, your arm in his as you have endless entertaining conversations.

Naruto

Kakashi

You gave him an excuse of a mission so you could go to the sand village for a few days. There’s a small bookstore there who was going to be releasing a limited edition Icha Icha book with a twist ending and you wanted to make sure you could get one. You were the first one in line and you waited all night long to be the first one in when it opened that day. You got the book and then swung by where you heard Jiraiya was, some bar by a hot spring between the sand and the leaf. “What are you doing here?” He says through a confident slur as you sit down next to him. you pull out the book and a pen and grin at him but when he doesn’t show any emotion you sigh, pulling out your wallet and handing it to him before he nods and takes the pen “I always have time for my fans”

When you get back to the apartment it’s after 2am the day of his birthday. You take the stairs two at a time, ditching your pack by the door as you enter silently. You hold the book in your hands, neatly wrapped in paper as you kick off your shoes and make your way to the bedroom. He’s sleeping peacefully in bed and you can’t wait to ruin it. You climb up in the bed and sit cross legged next to him, a smile on your lips and the book in your lap as you softly run your fingertips across his cheeks and his forehead and then down his nose before his eyes flutter open. “Hi” you whisper and he smiles as he stretches his arms out “welcome home baby. How was the mission?” He sits up and you look down at the book in your lap “the mission was successful” you say with a chuckle before looking back up into his eyes “what do you got there?” He asks and you hide it behind your back “oh nothing at all I don’t know what you’re ta-“ he talked you to the bed and stars to tickle your sides “taLKING ABOUT!” You start to giggle as his fingers hit all your ticklish spots “Kashi stop!” You beg through laughs and tears before he captures your lips with his and you relax into him, not noticing when his hand slides under your back and pulls the book from your grasp. He knows exactly what it is the moment he’s touched it. “You didn’t” he says as he pulls back and you just grin “open it” you say and he does, gently pulling the paper from the book. He holds it like he’s holding somethjng extra precious “there wasn’t a mission” he states as he looks down at the book in his hands, flipping through the new pages. “The only mission was making you happy” you whisper and he looks up into your eyes, his looking a little misty, “I love you so much, thank you” he says quietly, afraid his voice will crack. “I love you Kakashi. Happy Birthday”

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1987vampire · 4 years

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All Yours | Tomura Shigaraki

Fandom: My Hero Academia | Boku No Hero Academia Word Count: 5k Warnings: Smut. Kinks include: A/B/O (Omega!Shigaraki x Alpha!Reader), FemDom, Mommy Kink, Bratty Shigaraki (in the beginning), light bondage, face riding, spit kink, cockrings, praise kink, light degrading kink, choking, pegging, crying kink, overstimulation, etc. Request: I just really wanted to write a Shigaraki fic. A/N: This is just me being horny on main. I love this lil dude, and there are not enough Sub!Shigaraki fics around here. Extra: @babayaga67 and @imuziawi asked me to tag!

I almost hadn’t recognized the smell as I turned onto my street. At first, I wasn’t quite sure where it was coming from, and I thought I might have just been delusional. After all, he had disappeared for quite a bit, but he had a distinct smell, a mix of citrus – the scent of his body wash -, smoky ash – a side effect of his quirk -, and vanilla cake - a sweetness that came with every omega in heat. I was surprised that there weren’t alphas lined around the block with how loud the smell was, but I was certainly glad I wouldn’t have to fight anybody off to get home.

I fumbled with my keys for a few moments once I reached the door, mixing up and trying to unlock it with the wrong key multiple times. Once I finally opened the door, though, I was hit harder than I had anticipated, his pheromones coating every inch of my apartment. Hell, I thought walking here was terrible, but this was on an entirely different level.

Had he stopped taking his blockers? Being a villain and omega at the same time was certainly not a great mix, especially when he was the leader of a significant group, so he had taken to blocking off any indicators of his status, claiming to be a beta whenever someone asked. Something must have changed if it got this bad.

I closed the door and locked it in a fluid motion, dropping my keys and bag on the floor right after. I shuffled through the house, trying to figure out where he had holed himself up. I assumed he had made a nest somewhere, but I wasn’t sure where. He never kept it in the same spot, claiming it got uncomfortable being in one place for too long, and he always chose the strangest places. Once I had found him and half of my closet in one of the lower cabinets in the kitchen because ‘everywhere else was too goddamn loud.’

I looked through each room thoroughly, and after a few minutes of not finding him, I entered my bedroom. I was surprised at how much louder the smell had gotten. It wasn’t normal for him to choose such a basic place. My bed was missing half of its usual blankets and pillows. My clothes were strewn across the floor, ones he had ditched after not liking them enough, I guessed. I checked around the dirty area for a moment before approaching my closet.

I knocked quietly on the door, listening intently. A quiet groan met my ears, and I dropped to my knees in front of the door. He was in there. There was no doubt about it. “Tomura,” I called out quietly, not wanting to hurt him if he had a headache. He usually did during this time. “Tomura, may I come in?”

There was the sound of him shuffling and pushing a few things around before he made a noise of affirmation and pushed the door open a bit. I opened it the rest of the way and let out a sigh at the sight of him. He looked worse than usual, new scabs over the already scarred skin of his neck. Something had been stressing him out immensely.

Still, he looked pretty, his eyes half-lidded from being tired but still bright as ever, and his ordinarily messy hair even worse than usual. He wasn’t wearing much besides a pair of sweatpants, his chest bare and sweaty, new scratch marks crawling down from his neck. He was panting, practically drooling, but his lips still quirked up into the smallest of smiles when he locked eyes with me.

I hesitantly placed a hand inside his nest, afraid he would kick me out at the movement, but he stayed still, almost coaxing me into his area. So, I continued, crawling in slowly, trying not to mess up any of his work. He had to have been here for a while by how it looked. I wasn’t sure when he had gotten here, but I had been at work for ten hours before coming home, so there was no telling.

Tomura curled up to me almost instantly, letting out a low whine as he pushed his face into my chest. His arms wrapped around my hips, pulling me closer. I instinctively wrapped mine around his head, leaning down to press a kiss to his matted hair. I had almost gotten comfortable, ready to just sleep it off with him – after all, that’s what he seemed to want to do – but the thought was interrupted by him opening his mouth, pressing his rough flattened tongue between my breasts, and licking a fat stripe up to my neck.

The change in my mood was instantaneous, and I switched our position from both of us laying sideways to me kneeled above his chest. He moved to try and pull me down onto him, but I grabbed his hands and held them above his head, grinning as he let out a loud whine, his eyes growing wider as he stared up at me.

“You do know that it’s rude to do that without asking, right,” I mused. His face flushed red, and he turned it to the side, avoiding eye contact. Oh god, when was the last time he had acted like this. I was getting excited at just the thought. “Now, why would you do that without permission. Did you miss me that much?” When he didn’t move to answer, I chuckled and grabbed his face with one of my hands, pulling it to look at me. “Come on, babydoll. I need your words. Talk to me.”

He huffed loudly but complied. “You weren’t doing anything, so I had to.”

I tutted and shook my head. “You can’t just get things without asking. You have to tell me what you want. Staying silent gets you nowhere. You know that; we’ve talked about it, baby.” He stared up at me, biting back words. I sighed. “Well, if you don’t want to talk, then I’ll just let you take care of yourself.” I let go of him and began to lift myself off of him, but he moved faster and gripped my thighs, pulling me back onto him harshly. For someone as skinny as he was, he could sure be strong at moments. His nails dug into my skin harshly, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re needy today, aren’t you.” I quirked an eyebrow and leaned down so we were face to face. “Come on, Tomura, tell me what you want.”

He took a shaky breath before replying. “I want you to make me cum,” he grumbled, blinking up at me. “I hate being like this, but nothing I do helps it.”

I shook my head. “And what have you done to deserve me giving you that pleasure? You’ve disappeared for the past two months – I only knew you were alive because they talk about you on the news – but because you hit your heat, suddenly you’re running back with your tail between your legs. Hell, I should leave you to take care of yourself - you obviously don’t need me.”

“I didn’t come back just to listen to you bitch.” His words were bitter, and I could tell he regretted them as soon as they slipped past his lips, but the damage was already done. His eyes widened, and he scrambled to try and escape from underneath me. I let him climb to his feet before pushing his knees out from under him as he tried to run out of the room. He stumbled and fell face-first onto the floor, groaning loudly.

“Are you serious,” I yelled, standing over him. He flipped onto his back, and I pushed my foot onto his chest, holding him steady. “Are you seriously trying to piss me off, you asshole?”

He grinned up at me. “And what if I am? What are you going to do about it?”

I pulled off of him, practically shaking from anger. “Get up.”

“Or what?”

I let out a deep snarl. “Tomura, get your ass off of the fucking floor before I turn it beet red.”

He licked his teeth suggestively and stood slowly, taking as much time as he could. Once he was up, a grabbed his shoulders roughly and pushed him onto the bed. He let out a loud laugh as he fell back, propping himself up on his elbows and watching me as I rolled my eyes. I moved towards my dresser, opening it and moving aside clothes covering what I needed. Ropes were the easiest thing to find considering how many I had, but the other toys took a bit of digging.

Once I was satisfied with my finds, I moved back to the bed and straddled him, grabbing the rough skin of his wrists and pulling them up to the headboard. There was a small hook drilled right above it precisely for this. I wrapped the rope around his hands, knowing the knots like the back of my hand from how often I had done it.

When our relationship first started, Tomura wasn’t too keen on bondage or not being in control, but once I had convinced him to try it, he had never wanted anything else. I knew he found some comfort mixed with the anxiety of being completely at my mercy, and I certainly enjoyed it. I could sit and stare at him in this position for hours, hands bound above him, eyes looking at me with apprehension but excitement, pants already straining even though I hadn’t done anything. It was a beautiful sight.

He tugged gently on the restraints, testing them, and he let out a shuddering sigh once they didn’t budge, settling into the bed. I picked myself off of him and stood to the side, humming lowly as I tried to figure out where to start. Then, he spoke up. “Well, are you going to do anything?”

“Not if you keep up that attitude, I won’t,” I snapped back. “You sure do love using your mouth tonight, might as well put it to use.”

He furrowed his brows in confusion only to perk up as I began to shed my shirt, popping button after button of my blouse until I was able to throw it onto the floor, adding to the mess he had already created. Then came my shoes, which I kicked off to the side, followed by my pants, leaving me in only underwear. Then, I climbed onto the bed again and grabbed his face harshly, squeezing his cheeks so his lips were puckered. His eyes widened with excitement, and it made me chuckle a bit.

“You’re certainly eager tonight, even with that mouth of yours,” I said, placing a kiss to his lips, “miss mommy that much?” A high-pitched chirp passed his lips, and I grinned. “Now, are you going to work for your reward, or are you going to make this hard?” When he stayed silent, I continued, my voice low as I moved to kiss the rough skin of his throat. “Are you gonna let mommy ride your face?”

Tomura nodded, and it was much more excited than I’m sure he intended it to be. I moved and placed my knees on either side of his head, and I had barely had enough time to run my fingers through his hair before he lunged forward, licking a stripe up my clothed pussy. I let out a shuddering sigh of content followed by a low, deep moan when he did it again. When was the last time he had helped me get off instead of my own hands and toys? He was so warm underneath me, his cheeks flushed and breathing heavy enough to send heat up to me.

Before he could move forward again, I grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pushed him down into the bed. He whined, but I ignored it. “Give me a second, baby. Just one second.”

He stayed still, and I let go of him. I then reached down and pushed my panties to the side, giving him new skin to touch. He loved it when I still wore underwear when we fucked, saying it ‘just added something to it.’ I certainly didn’t mind the extra coverage, even if it wasn’t anything sexy considering I had been at work.

Once I was comfortable, I grabbed his hair again, softer this time, and lowered myself onto his mouth. He stayed still, knowing not to move, and when I mumbled to go, he wasted no time in getting to work. His tongue found my clit almost immediately, circling it at an excruciating pace that made me groan quietly. I should have known he would try something like this, I thought as he moved down, pressing a flat tongue against my opening before dipping into it slowly. The wet sounds that came from the action made things so much better, but I could already feel myself getting fed up. I didn’t want to wait, I wanted him to work, so I vocalized it. “Tomura, baby, if you don’t go faster, you’re not cumming tonight.”

He chirped in distress and pushed farther up, lapping at me like he was a starving man and I was the only meal in sight, and when he began to get tired, I ground against his face, making him moan onto me, a deep groan that sent sparks through my stomach. When we had first started, he was completely inexperienced, only knowing the basics from the porn he watched, but porn was nothing like real life, and I was there to teach him that. Luckily for me, Tomura was always up for eating me out whenever given the opportunity, he loved to serve me as much as he loved to take, and he showed his devotion like this. He took his time, but moved quickly, pressing all the right spots. He had my body memorized at this point, and when I came, he didn’t let up until I pulled away, making sure I reached the utmost pleasure.

When I finally did pull away, the sight was something worthwhile. He laid gasping up at me, his face thoroughly flushed a pale red that crawled down his chest. His lips, chin, and nose were covered in a thin layer of my fluids mixed with his spit. His eyes pled for me to praise him, tell him that he was doing good, and I was happy to oblige.

“You look so pretty like this, doll,” I said, pressing a kiss to his cheek as I traced my hand along his bulge. “Are you all worked up just for me?” Tomura nodded hastily, letting out a sigh of content as I rubbed him softly. “You’re mommy’s little boy, aren’t you, Tomu?” He nodded again and kissed back feverishly when I pressed my lips to his. “Say it, then. Say it for me, baby.”

“I’m your little boy, mommy,” he cried out, letting out a high-pitched moan as I drew him out of his pants, my fingers dancing along the head of his dick. “I’m all yours, I promise.”

I laughed. “All mine? Really?”

He nodded, his breath hitching as I moved down and took him into my mouth. “All yours- ah- ahh-“ He pulled at his restraints and let out a chirp as I pressed forward until my nose touched his hipbone. He bucked up to match my movement, but I grabbed his hips and pushed him down.

I pulled off of him with a pop. “Stay still,” I growled and moved back down. He let out a full-body shudder, and when I looked up at him, his eyes were rolled back, lips parted in a silent moan, and his arms pulling against his ropes to no avail.

“Please, I just-“ he bucked his hips again, and I growled lowly with his cock still in my mouth, making him cry out in ecstasy only to whine when I let go of him.

“I told you to stay still,” I grumbled as I reached for one of the toys I had brought out. He stiffened at the sound of something vibrating and watched me as I slid a pretty, pink cockring down to the base of his cock. He tensed and then let out the prettiest sound, throwing his head back at the stimulation.

I grabbed his face and forced him to look at me. He panted, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he stared up at me. I pressed my thumb against his jaw and opened his mouth a bit more. He blinked blearily, confused, and then let out a surprised chirp when I spit directly into his mouth.

“Swallow it.” He complied, making a show of closing his mouth and swallowing loudly. He looked away out of embarrassment, making me chuckle. “You said you were all mine, babydoll. Are you going to listen to me now?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy,” I cooed. He preened at the statement, arching his back up towards me. I slid my hands up his chest to his throat and held the sides, restricting his blood flow as I pressed another kiss to his lips. He hummed lowly, a low whine of need. “Alright, you get to choose now. Do you want me to ride you or fuck you, Tomu?”

I let go of his throat so he could speak easier, but he didn’t respond, merely staring at me, conflicted. “I- I don’t know-“ he choked out. “I-“

A plan set itself in my head, and I gave him a devious smirk. “Do you want both? Do you not want to choose?” He stuttered, not knowing what to say. “Just a yes or no, baby.” He paused before nodding. “I need words.” I dragged my thumb across his bottom lip, pulling it down and watching it pop back into place.

“Yes, please, mommy, both.”

I grinned and pulled away, climbing off the bed. My strapon was a thick, blue one that I had finally decided to buy after eyeing it for a few days. I never really used it on myself, preferring to make Shiggy a sobbing mess underneath me with it. Once I had even convinced him to ride it; the images still sit in the back of my mind every time I grab it, his soft whines as he rode slowly only to yelp when I bucked up into him at a pace faster than he would have been able to handle.

After stepping in and strapping it to myself tightly, I pulled Tomura’s pants off completely, letting them fall to the already dirty floor with a soft thump. Then, I moved back to my dresser to grab a bottle of lube, flipping it a few times as I watched him. He was panting as his bright red eyes met mine. He was trembling faintly, tugging lightly at the restraints as his cock twitched at the stimulation from the vibrations.

I walked over and climbed between his legs, grinning as I spread them to fit me. He was already leaking slick – something I had forgotten he produced during this time. I didn’t even have to lube my fingers before pressing at his entrance. He moaned lowly and then shut his mouth, looking away as I pushed a finger in. The warmth he provided was incredible, practically inviting me in. It made a loud, wet sound when I pulled out, and I watched him for his reaction.

He let out a shuddering breath but refused to meet my eyes, his face flushing even deeper with embarrassment.

“What’s wrong,” I mused, dipping into him again but this time with a second finger. “What are you embarrassed about?”

He didn’t answer, so I slapped his outer thigh with my free hand. “I- I don’t know,” he grumbled, glancing at me before looking away again.

I raised my body, moving my face towards his while pushing my fingers in until I was knuckle-deep, pushing slick out as I went in. “Look at me, baby.”

He hummed out an ‘uh-uh.’ I curled my fingers, and he let out a moan, his mouth still shut.

“Look at me, baby,” I purred. When he still refused to look, I took to grabbing his face again, forcing him to look at me. My fingers began to move at a steady pace, pumping in and out of him. “Do we need to do the mirror exercise again, or are you going to look at mommy while she fucks you?”

The mirror exercise in question was an exercise in self-confidence that he was subjected to quite often. I would set us in front of a floor-length mirror and fuck him while forcing him to watch so he could see how pretty he looked like this. I was quite a fan of it; he was not so much.

He shook his head. “I don’t want to.” Insecurity laced his voice, and I paused my movements, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his cheek, followed by his forehead, nose, and then mouth.

“Please, bub,” I whispered, pressing another kiss to his jaw. “Let me see your pretty, red eyes. Be a good, little boy for mommy.”

His eyes flickered to mine and then away a few times before he huffed and nodded. “I’ll be your good boy.”

I grinned, moving back down. “Then, let me see those eyes, and let me hear your moans, babydoll.”

I surged my fingers forward, and he let out a loud moan at the action. I sucked a hickey onto his inner thigh as I added a third finger, prepping him fully. When I pulled out, noticing how close he looked to cumming, he followed my moves, silently pleading with me to go back, to let him finish. In response, I lined up my cock to him.

My soaked hand crawled up him and pressed against his lips, slowly forcing their way inside. “Open up,” I said, and he did, opening his mouth wide. I pushed my fingers in, curling them around his bottom teeth before letting go. “Suck.” He complied, and I watched, mesmerized as he pulled them farther into his mouth, sucking slowly and running his tongue along my fingers. “Good boy,” I cooed.

He chirped before mumbling something against my fingers. I pulled them out, grinning at the pop they made. He mumbled something again, but I still couldn’t hear.

“What do you need, doll?”

He hesitated before responding in a quiet voice. “Can you spit in my mouth again?”

My brain took a few moments before what he said registered fully. I let out a loud laugh and nodded enthusiastically. “Open your mouth, then.”

He paused and then opened wide, encouraged by my thumb helping drag it open. My other hand gripped his throat as I made him wait in anticipation. He looked like he didn’t believe I would do it before I raised myself off of him a bit and spit, smiling when I watched it hit the back of his throat.

He instinctively shut his mouth and swallowed, a small smile climbing on his face that was quickly replaced with a lewd look as I pushed the tip of my cock into him. He cried out and pulled roughly on the ropes. I almost wanted to take them off, wanting to feel his nails dig into my back, but this sight was nearly as good.

I braced his hips with one hand, the other still pressing against his throat, and then I snapped into him completely. He let out a broken moan followed by a sob, and tears gathered in his eyes at the feeling of being so full so fast. I pulled out slowly and then snapped in again, receiving the same reaction.

Then, I paused, waiting until he sighed, telling me that he was ready, and then, I set at a brutal pace, plunging into him again and again, reveling in the sounds he made. His cock twitched and twitched, and so I wrapped my hand right above the ring and stroked him to the pace of my thrusts.

“Aghh- ahh- mommy-“ he mewled, “please, please, please, let me cum, mommy, please. I’ll do anything! I’ll be your good little boy, please.” I put my fingers in his mouth again, holding his jaw open as I slammed into him again. He cried against my fingers but kept his eyes open, though they kept fluttering between open and closed. Then, I hit something inside of him that made him throw his head back, clenching his fingers into fists as he yelled. “Please,” he whined against my fingers, “please, mommy, please.”

I hummed and chuckled lowly, leaning forward to nip against his jaw. “Go ahead, doll. Cum for mommy.”

The reaction as instantaneous. He violently shook as he came, spurting strips of cum onto both of our stomachs as a chorus of ‘thank you’s were yelled against my hand. I didn’t stop fucking him though. If anything, I picked up the pace a bit, hitting that little spot in him again and again if his reaction was anything to go by.

Tears began to gather in his eyes, and he shimmied his hips, trying to get me out, but I persisted. He cried out again as I started stroking his cock again, his recovery period nowhere near done, but he still hardened after a few moments, though tears began to stream down his face at the same time. I mumbled praises against his neck as I went, sucking hickeys into the scarred skin. “You’re doing so well for me, baby. So, so good.”

He sobbed loudly and thanked me again, closing his eyes as more tears fell.

“You’re mommy’s good boy, right, baby? You’re all mine?”

“Ye-e-es, mommy,” he whined against my fingers.

“Are you going to let mommy ride your cock?”

He chirped and shook his head. “It’s too much. I can’t take it.”

“Yes, you can,” I purred, pulling out of him slowly. “I know you can, darling, because you’ve missed me so much. When’s the last time you’ve been inside me? I know you’ve missed it.”

He choked out another sob and nodded. “Anything for you, mommy. I’m all yours.”

I switched the cockring to a higher vibration setting, and he tensed his entire body. “You look so pretty like this, Tomu. You’re such a pretty crier.” He shook his head at the statement and sniffled. “Yes, you are, so pretty, and all for me.” The strapon was easy to slip off, and the thud it made against the floor alerted him of what was next. I straddled him effortlessly and lined him up to my entrance, rubbing him gently against my lips. “Such a little whore. Mommy’s little whore.” He preened at the name and sucked in a deep breath as I sunk onto him. “Let me see your eyes, baby.”

His eyes fluttered open and practically rolled into the back of his head as I began to ride him. It wasn’t a fast pace, relatively slow compared to the last activity, but he came in only a few seconds without warning, yelling apologies as he did so. I only laughed in response and then moaned as the vibrating cockring hit my clit in a delicious way.

Tomura was shaking his head again, crying as I rode him and tugging on the restraints to no avail, but he hadn’t said our safeword, so I knew he was fine. “I can’t take anymore, mommy. I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can, doll,” I replied, gripping his throat again. “I just need you to cum one more time for me. Just one more.” He shook his head, but I nodded, picking up speed. He felt so fucking good inside of me, and the vibrations added just the right amount of pressure to where I knew I wouldn’t last long. I was just waiting for him. “You feel so good in me, baby. Do you like how I feel? Do you like being my little whore? My cumslut?”

He nodded. “I do! I do!”

I leaned down and kissed him forcefully, pushing my tongue against his and moaning around his mouth. He chirped loudly and pulsed, and I could tell that the wet sounds we were making were getting to him. “Are you going to cum in me? Going to let me cum around your cock?” He nodded quickly and chased my lips when I pulled away. Strings of saliva connected the two of us, and the sight of it made me even more excited. “Let me feel you, Tomu. Cum for me, baby.”

He yelled out, shook forcefully, and then came, and the feeling of him filling me, the warmth of it all, sent me overboard. I was cumming, too, clenching around him and sucking him dry as my face dropped quickly, and I bit him on the juncture between his neck and shoulders where his scent glands were, sealing that he was mine. My property. He sobbed loudly but smiled into me when I pulled up and kissed him again, biting his bottom lip as I pulled away. My hips finally came to a stop, and when I pulled off of him, fluids dripped out of me and onto his pale skin quickly. Then, I turned off the ring and pulled it off of him, much to his relief.

Tomura sucked in a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, sniffling every now and then as I moved to clean the both of us up. I dragged a towel against his skin gently first and then wiped myself off. Next, I reached over and untied the ropes around his wrists. His arms dropped limply once freed, and he didn’t move them. I had almost believed he was asleep for a few moments, but then, his red eyes peered open and met mine.

“Thank you,” he croaked, reaching his hand out to mine. I took it and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

“Come on, do you want a shower? It’ll make you feel better.”

He nodded and lifted himself slowly, groaning at the feeling. “Can you help me,” he whimpered.

I wrapped my arm around his waist and led him up. “I certainly could have gone nicer on you.”

He chuckled, and I did too. “No, I enjoyed it. Thank you.”

I rolled my eyes and kissed his shoulder, leading him to the bathroom. “Maybe a bath would be more relaxing.”

“Either way, I think you fucked my heat right out of me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki smut #tomura x reader #tomura imagine #tomura smut #omega!shigaraki x alpha!reader #submissive!shigaraki #submissive!shigaraki x dominant!reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha

424 notes · View notes

lunarmessenger · 3 years

Note

hi!! i wonder if i could request a one shot angst with saeyoung. so mc have a huge anxiety and she always closed up everything even after she's with saeyoung. one day when saeyoung snapped at her out of stress, she end up missing for like around two weeks without any traces even saeran cant help saeyoung to find her

after searching for the whole times they end up finding out that mc got in accident and still in the hospital because her injuries was so bad and actually someone from rfa (u can choose who) try to hide this from saeyoung because mc told them everything

i know its quite hard im sorry 😭

ohohohoho anon you give me too much power for requesting an angsty prompt. i hope you enjoy, thank you so much for this request! I will have to split it into quite a few parts because otherwise...it’ll be much too long haha ^^;; - luna xx

p.s. sorry requests are taking so long!! the holidays have been insane, but i promise after christmas and new years i’ll go back to posting regularly!

warnings: graphic depictions of major injuries, mentions of hospitals, and mentions of mental illness.

word count: 1.9k

(pt. 2) (pt. 3) (pt. 4)

Hard Regrets (Pt. 1) - 707 x MC

Her nimble fingers switched on the heater as a cold chill ran through the house, hands reaching up to the small blanket she’d thrown over her shoulders. The soft patters of rain thumped against the roof of the apartment, the only sound competing with the rain being the soft clicks coming from Saeyoung’s computer and the flicker of paper as Saeran read through one of his many books.

She smiled fondly as Saeran’s eyes danced across each page, filling his mind with the story as he burrowed deeper into the couch. That smile faded as her eyes slowly switched to his brother, her boyfriend, the man hunched roughly over his desk as he typed furiously. Empty cans of soda and crinkled bags of honey buddha chips littered both his desk and his floor, causing her to sigh as she walked over to help clean up.

This project had ended up being one of his longer ones, tomorrow making it about two months since he was assigned the task by Jumin. She was used to seeing Jumin overwork Jaehee, but now that it was affecting Saeyoung the way it was...it made her anxious. Of course his exhaustion worried her, but he became much more irritable when he became fixated on an important project.

Within the past month he’d grown incredibly distant so that he wouldn’t have any sort of distractions, and that meant that she didn’t get to spend time with him as often as she wanted to. The last time she’d reached out to him he had glared at her, telling her that while yes, he loves you, he needed to finish this project.

“No distractions, MC.” She whispered softly under her breath, a reminder he himself had given her the last time she interrupted. All she’d wanted from him was a hug. She slowly approached, bare feet softly tapping against the wooden floors as she made her way over. She was a couple of feet away from him, stopping as she hesitated. Maybe coming up with some sort of excuse would help guide him away from his computer? It wouldn’t be seen as a distraction since it wasn’t selfish; more like a welfare check?

“Are you boys up for some tea?” Saeyoung didn’t move an inch, mumbling a rough no as he continued to type and click across the screen. She visibly deflated, the bags under her eyes from lack of sleep growing heavier from his rejection. He hadn’t even been sleeping in their bed lately; he would sleep right there, on that god damned desk of his. She was snapped out of her rejection at the sound of the couch cushions moving; Saeran gave a small smile as he book marked his page, placing the book on the coffee table as he stood.

“I would love some, MC. In fact, I’ll help you make it. Come on...” The soft tone of his voice was a nice contrast in comparison to the rough rudeness of Saeyoung, the weight on her chest slightly lifting as she walked with him into the kitchen. Saeran grabbed the tea leaves while MC weakly grabbed three glass mugs; despite Saeyoung saying he didn’t want any. She readied the kettle, pressing the on button and watching as the blue light illuminated the dim kitchen and the water slowly started to come to a boil.

“MC...I’m sorry that Saeyoung is...the way he is.” The sudden apology from Saeran made her eyes widen as she turned to look at him, parts of her long hair falling into her face as she cleared her throat.

“What? Oh, no I mean...I guess...” She tried to think of an excuse for him, tried to come up with reasons on why it didn’t bother her that he got so invested that he not only forgot about her and Saeran, but forgot to take care of himself. Her eyes grew hot with tears for a split second as she shook her head.

“I just, I don’t know what to do. I can’t be honest with him about anything, because the last time I tried he...” She started to visibly shake, the only thing keeping her together being the sudden tap of the kettle signaling the water was ready. When she’d interrupted him before he almost flipped the chair because he was so angry; her distraction had caused him to mistype due to ruining his focus; according to him.

The only people who knew how he was making her feel was Saeran and Zen; the thought of the two men’s kindness towards her when Saeyoung was the way he was when he was writing made a soft smile grace her exhausted face once again. Though she hated to admit it, sometimes she wondered why she had not moved on to either Saeran or Zen. Both men would treat her the way she deserved, and she knew that, really she did.

But Saeyoung...she just loved him so much.

The way he was when they first met; how he had tried so hard to push her away and he just couldn’t. Because he didn’t want to. She didn’t want him to either, and she stayed because she knew that he loved her. Something in him changed, she can’t really remember when it happened; it just did. When he got a new project it was like MC didn’t exist; and he acted like he didn’t treat her that way when it was finished. No matter how much she hated it, no matter how much it made her cry; she just couldn’t leave.

All because she loved him.

“MC...? Should we take these to the couch? Maybe I can read you a couple of chapters?” She was snapped back to attention by Saeran, giving a slight nod as he took two mugs and she carried the last one. The sweet smell of honey and chamomile filled her nose as she slowly walked over to Saeyoung’s desk, his body still in the same position she had left him.

“Saeyoung...” Her voice was soft as she tried not to startle him, her anxiety slowly building with the tension as Saeran noticed what she was doing.

“Wait, MC; maybe we should just leave the tea over here?” She paused furrowing her brows as she tilted her head and slightly turned towards him.

“Then how is he supposed to know we at least made him a cup?”

“MC—” She turned back around to continue walking when her foot caught on one of the empty cans, causing her to lose her balance as she let out a gasp.

“MC!” She tried to redirect the cup as it flew out of her hands, the hot tea splattering all over Saeyoung’s desk and computer. Her heart sank in her stomach as Saeran was instantly at her side, Saeyoung leaping from the hot temperature and the sparks that flew around his desktop as he yelled.

“Are you...are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?!” His voice boomed throughout the apartment as he turned towards her, golden eyes filled with rage as he loomed over her. He was so angry that he hadn’t realized her hand was red from being burned; she’d managed to get most of the tea spilt on her in an attempt to salvage his tea.

“Oh, MC...oh God you’re burned; we need to get you to a hospital.” Saeran helped her up but Saeyoung was quick to push them apart, getting in her face as he pointed at his desktop.

“Do you know how long it took me to figure that out, MC?! You’re so fucking lucky that I had a back up running at the same time because I swear to God...” His voice was low, teeth clenched and nose scrunched as he angrily glared at her. Saeran grabbed him by the hood, yanking him away from MC as she shook from his outburst. He has never physically grabbed her and yelled at her the way he just did.

She watched as the two brothers went head to head, noses almost touching as they screamed back and forth. It became too much for her as she got up, trying not to catch their attention as she slid on her shoes and slowly opened the door. The rain had started to come down harder, the wind howling as her loose bun instantly came undone and wildly blew her hair around her face.

She almost, almost second guessed her decision until the sound of glass breaking caught her attention, the mug of tea that was supposed to be hers now smashed in pieces by one of the walls. Saeyoung’s chest was heaving while Saeran got up from a squatted position; almost as if he’d dodged whatever Saeyoung threw.

Those pieces mirrored her heart; that mug was one that Saeyoung had bought her when they had first started going out. A picture of a cat had been printed on it, the cat making a winking face as the phrase I meow you! cradled the toon cat. It was one of her many prized possessions, and he had smashed it like it meant nothing to him.

That finalized her decision.

“What, Saeran? Stay out of this!”

“Are you so damn selfish that you haven’t realized that your girlfriend has burned half of her body to try and save your desktop? We need to get her to a hospital! Now!” He quickly turned to where she was squatting down by the wall, pausing when he realized that she wasn’t there anymore.

“MC...?” Saeran’s brows furrowed as he walked down the hall, leaving Saeyoung to cool off as he looked back towards his computer. The monitor screens were black as the tea slowly seeped into his keyboard and monitors. The more anger that left his body the more he’d realized what he’d done, his body slowly going into shock as he stared at the broken mug on the ground. The pink heart was in pieces, the larger part covered in brown tea as Saeran’s voice slowly became white noise in the background.

What had he done?

This entire time he’d been an absolute shit to his girlfriend; the one person who had supported him from day one. He slowly shuffled over to the broken pieces, socks growing wet from the spilled tea as he picked up the pieces.

“What have I done...?”

“Saeyoung! Saeyoung she’s gone!” He slowly blinked, not even bothering to adjust his glasses and messy red hair in tussles as he put down the glass and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What?”

“She’s gone! Her phone is on the coffee table, and she didn’t take her bag! Saeyoung we have to find her; there’s a storm outside and she’s by herself!” Saeran was rushing to put on his coat and grab an umbrella, his boots clunking against the floors as he grabbed Saeyoung’s shoulders.

“Saeyoung, if you love her, you need to get off your ass now and help me find her. Now!” He slapped his dumbfounded brother, forcing him on to his feet and throwing a coat at him as he grabbed one of the many car keys hanging from the key shelf. Reality sank in as he threw on his sneakers, grabbing a beanie from the coat rack and tossing it on. He felt his stomach churn as his hand brushed against her coat and scarf, grabbing the scarf she always wore and wrapping it around his neck.

We have to find her, we have to find her.

I have to find her.

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aceofspadegrass · 3 years

Text

Broken Arm Bath Time

Characters: Aguni Morizono, Hatter

Genre: Fluff. Aguni washing Takeru's hair and it's so soft.

2.1k words

Jokes on you slimy meatball I fucking did it! Of course, I can't say shit without getting a teensy tiny bit inspired by @hatterstan-shameblog 's latest fic (Please go take a gander it is neat), but otherwise this is wholesome and neat, perhaps 50% gay energy-

Aguni doesn’t get the chance to step into his apartment before he got a call, his phone vibrating rather exuberantly for 5 in the afternoon within his pocket. He sets down his groceries and pulls out the phone, a simple black flip phone as he didn’t really need to use it for much else. The number was all too familiar, Aguni pressing the answer button and holding it up to his ear.

“ Hello.”

“ Mori, hi! My good pal, best barbecue corn chip in my life, my beautiful-“

“ Get to the point Takeru.” Aguni takes his keys out of his pocket to unlock his door, Takeru humming nonchalantly.

“ Well, you know how I broke my arm last week?” Takeru chirps. Aguni answers with a simple short noise of acknowledgement, mentally imagining Takeru’s calm yet dopey smile on the other end.

Aguni remembered it quite well actually, briefly reminiscing as he opens his door and hauls his groceries inside. The two were actually out on a fishing trip together, although it was less for the fish and more for Takeru to hang out on a boat they rented all day wearing fishing hats that Takeru found in storage in the back of his shop. It was supposed to be a simple trip, catch some fish, drive around the lake, nothing tiring.

That is, until Takeru managed to hook in a monster one. The force of it yanking, coupled by him leaning a little too far (Aguni did try to warn him), led to him falling off and slamming his arm against some rocks that they were parked near.

The force managed to break it upon impact. It was a freak accident, but Aguni did have to get their driver to drive them back to the docks and call an ambulance for his friend. He had to hand it to Takeru though for keeping a brave face and not cry too loud as they used some ice from the fish cooler to keep it somewhat numb from pain until the paramedics arrived. Takeru did whine a little about the fish that stole his rod and how the day didn’t go as he hoped, but Aguni wasn’t focused on the results of the fishing trip. He somewhat knew Takeru was worried as well, but Takeru probably didn’t want to dwell on it and feel the effects more than if he focused on anything else.

The doctors said that it was a clean break, but he’s still need a cast to keep it in place, Takeru receiving all the instructions about how to care for it.

“ Well, you see….. I need to take a bath.” Takeru explains, Aguni saying nothing as he stocks his fridge and pantry, letting Takeru continue. “ And as you know full well, I can’t get my cast wet. Adding on to the fact that a I can only do so much with one arm…..”

Aguni swears he can hear Takeru pouting on the other end. He sighs, shutting his pantry and leans against the door. “ Do you need me to come over.”

“ Oh that would be wonderful. Yes, please do. I’ll be waiting!” Takeru hangs up, Aguni slipping his phone back in his pocket and walking right back to the front door. He leaves his apartment not even ten minutes of finally getting inside, and after locking the door Aguni makes the rather short distance to Takeru’s apartment. It was easier for them to live close to each other, even if it meant Aguni got minimal heads up before Takeru let himself in to his apartment.

Aguni enters with the spare key Takeru gave him when they first got the places, shutting the door behind him and switching to the fuzzy slippers that Takeru leaves for him and him only.

“ Mori!” Takeru peeks out from the hallway once Aguni comes in, waving with his free hand that was attached to his only good arm, Aguni not bothering to wave back as he closes the distance, Takeru smiling and dragging him to the bathroom.

The cast that rested in the sling was a soft red colour, which he insisted wasn’t just pink — not that Aguni cared, it was just a cast — and already covered in small doodles made by Takeru himself among other people that likely pitied Takeru’s poorly arm and wanted to decorate it. Even Aguni had something on there, on insistence of Takeru the day he got the cast done. It was a simple and poorly drawn flower done in black marker, but Takeru was happy with it. Compared to all the other, much more colourful and creative things that surrounded it, it almost looked like such a sad excuse for a doodle.

Still, Takeru assured him that he loved it. Aguni watches as Takeru pulls out a plastic bag and some rubber bands that he was going to use to cover the cast, sliding the bag over his right arm. Aguni didn’t have to be told anything as he grabs the bands and pulls them over the bag and cast, holding it firm so no moisture would accidentally get inside. It wasn’t too tight to cause his friend discomfort, and the two head together to the bathroom.

The bath, unsurprisingly, has already been run, Aguni dipping his finger in the still warm water. Takeru strips into nothing from him, and Aguni steps back to let him sink into the water, Takeru letting out a satisfied breath. “ Ah, this is nice~”

Aguni kneels down next to the tub and positions Takeru’s arm so it rested outside, Takeru grabbing a bottle from a metal rack that was within his arms reach. Takeru holds it out to Aguni with a smile, Aguni wordlessly uncapping it before pouring a little into the water and turning the faucet on again, bubbles soon emerging along with the scent of lavender and apples.

“ You are such a saint, Mori. Who knows how I would’ve survived without you in here!”

“ You would have done okay, you know.”

Takeru chuckles, leaning his head back and sinking further into the water, Aguni laying a hand on the arm that had to stay outside. “ Yes, but I would have felt oh so uncomfortable! Curse past me for getting bottles that don’t work with one hand.” He lays his other hand over his forehead as he lets his head loll to the side in anguish.

Aguni lets him be to soak for a bit, getting up and going through his friend’s rather extensive soap options. Unlike him, Takeru preferred to smell nice everyday instead of going about in a natural scent or, as Takeru calls it, ‘The artificial man scent of trying too hard sometimes’. He did own said artificial man in a bottle, but they were only for very specific uses.

“ Which one do you want today.” Aguni brushes his fingers through the bottle, Takeru humming as he thought.

“ Obviously something to pair with this!” Takeru splash taps the surface.

Aguni grabs a random bottle and holds it down to hover in front of Takeru’s face, not bothering to read the label or check if it paired. He didn’t even know what would pair with the bubble bath, Takeru was always the one that knew the answer and differences. All Aguni ever did in his own shower was a simple shampoo and body wash before leaving. Takeru had a ritual in his own bathroom, and Aguni barely could comprehend it outside of a lengthy process that Takeru religiously followed.

“ This is a body wash, Mori. Try again.” Takeru pushes the bottom of the bottle up, Aguni putting it back and choosing one that he actually read to be a shampoo.

“ Hmm….. not today, Mori. We’re going for a nice floral today, not woody.”

“ It’s both nature based. Smell like an apple tree today.”

Takeru snorts, Aguni putting the bottle back and choosing the next one that almost was promising. Takeru inspects it for a bit, before letting a pleased note out from his throat, Aguni kneeling back down and setting it on the bath mat. He grabs the shower head and guides it down to Takeru, reaching over and turning it on. Takeru lets out a sigh through his nose as Aguni starts washing his hair, Aguni staying steady and firm as he wetted Takeru’s locks. Setting the head down after turning it off, he opens the bottle and dispenses a fair amount before rubbing it in his hands, getting a good lather before massaging it into Takeru’s hair.

“ See Mori? How would I get such sublime treatment for my hair care by myself. You do it so well.”

“ Thank you. You could have at least tried by yourself.”

“ Mori I can’t simply get a good lather with one working hand.You, maybe, because you have less hair and the bathroom routine of the average male. I would not be surprised if you used your own hair as a method to work one up. Me? I could never. It would be like rubbing dish soap on a plate raw.”

Aguni nods, making sure to be thorough as Takeru liked it to be. He’s gotten enough lectures about his friend that he had a decent idea of what Takeru liked during bath time, or even a shower. To be honest, this wasn’t even his first rodeo of washing his friend’s hair, for many different reasons that always ended with a platonic bath or hair care.

“ Alright Mori, that’s enough. You’re gonna rub out too much oils at that rate.” Takeru tells him after a few more seconds, Aguni turning on the shower head once more and rinsing out the shampoo. Takeru quietly hums as he did so, and once Aguni was satisfied that he got it all, gets up and tries to find some conditioner for him. He finds it after a short look, kneeling down again as Takeru confirms that he took the correct bottle. Aguni squirts a fair amount into his palm and lathers it just like the shampoo, although it didn’t made suds as it simply spread it across his palm to apply to Takeru’s hair. He picks up the hair in sections and rubs conditioner into it, Takeru idly humming some tune that Aguni vaguely remembers.

He doesn’t register his own quiet singing along until Takeru joined in at the chorus. “ Stay with me~ 真夜中のドアをたたき~”

“ 帰らないでと泣いた…. あの季節が今目の前….. Stay with me…”

“ 口ぐせを言いながら二人の瞬間を抱いて~”

“ まだ忘れず大事にしていた….”

Takeru peeks at Aguni with a small smile, Aguni offering the slightest one of his own. He rinses off Takeru’s hair of the conditioner thoroughly as they both end up going through the rest of the song in a gentle duet, making sure not to leave a single strand unwashed of the product.

“ Now the body wash. Can you do it yourself since I did your hair?” Aguni asks, Takeru nodding and sitting up to reach for the loofah and grab some body wash in reach, using the edge of the tub to click the bottle open. Aguni still had to help him get the soap onto the mesh mass, but he at least could sit back and let Takeru finish by himself.

“ You can help yourself to a snack in the fridge, Mori. As thanks.” Takeru tells him as he scrubs himself, Aguni briskly nodding and leaving the bathroom. He washes his hands in case of any spare suds left on his hand before raiding Takeru’s fridge. He procures a single pear and stands in Takeru’s kitchen eating it — after he quickly rinsed it, like he should — until Takeru finally emerged, towel still on head as Takeru dried it one-handed and fluffy white robe around his frame and bagged cast.

“ That was a good bath~ Thank you ever so much~”

Aguni lets out a soft grunt noise in response, pear still in the stage of being dissected between Aguni’s teeth.

“ Oh, and while I heal, would you mind coming over ever so often to do it again? A man’s gotta keep his routine after all.”

Aguni breaks a piece the pear from its body and silently chews, staring at his friend idly smiling from where he stood, towel now draped over his shoulders.

Aguni swallows his pear, and after careful deliberation, offers a short nod.

#aib #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #alice in borderland fanfic #morizono aguni #hatter #takeru danma #very soft very wholesome #takeru owns a lot of different scents in that bathroom alone just for any occasion #aguni on the other hand only owns the scent of standard care in his for every occasion #yet they can respect the others decision to smell as they do #them singing together? bop #aguni has been with takeru's takeruness for so long he's gained an understanding of what his friend wants #they both came out of that experience smelling like floral #aguni doesn't care about his friend being butt naked how else is he going to bathe-#yes I borrowed the lyrics straight from the source and yes takeru starts the chorus first

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angelbrock · 3 years

Text

con artist love - c.b oneshot

summary: two con artists hate each other but they're set on a mission together to rob a money laundering-staged bank. however, some things go out of hand. - A/N: This is my first ever imagine, i really hope you guys like this! <3

warnings: SWEARING! SOME SWEET LOVIN

AU - SOME PARTS OF THE STORY IS BASED ON A TIKTOK ABOUT GOING FROM ENEMIES TO LOVERS - THE FALLING OFF A ROOFTOP THING - AND SOME OF IT IS BASED ON THE NETFLIX SERIES ‘THE GREAT PRETENDER’.

masterlist

your point of view

i woke up to my alarm being blared at my face, to which i groaned at. i slammed my hand over the snooze button, burying my face back into my pillow as i slowly dozed off; until i felt something poke me from behind. i swatted it off, covering myself with my blanket. then, i felt something poke me once again.

"mmmh." i swatted at it for the second time.

"wake the fuck up!" i jumped up, spuinting my eyes as i adjusted myself to the light. i rubbed my eyes, furrowing my eyebrows intensely, "finally. you're such a heavy sleeper."

"what the fuck are you doing in my apartment, and why are you waking me up at," i looked over at my alarm, "seven in the morning." i rasped out.

colby, the asshole who woke me up, smirked in response, "sheesh, quit being a bitch," he rolled his eyes, chucking a piece of paper at me, "our boss assigned us to a mission, and unfortunately, it's with you." he stuffed his hands into his pockets. i groaned, throwing my head back in annoyance. "nice hairdo, by the way."

i shot a glare towards him, flipping him off before tying my hair up in a bun. "what's the mission." i asked blandly, taking the blanket off of me and getting out of bed.

"i just gave you the mission, cant you read?" i rubbed my temples.

"okay first of all smartass," i walked towards him, pointing my finger directly at his face, to which he brought his face back to avoid, “it’s 7am and i only fell asleep at four in the morning, so you either tell me what our fucking mission is, or you tell boss to find another partner for you. and i’m sure that you don’t want to get on his nerves either, do you bud?” his eyes were widened at the end of my sentence. i let out a gasp, feeling breathless when i finished talking.

“jesus christ, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” he spoke to himself more than anything, grabbing my finger and pushing it away from his face. “we have to rob a bank. but nobody gets hurt, the whole bank is just a setup for money laundering.”

“is that it?” colby nodded, “that’s easy. when do we start?”

“we have to be there by four.” my mouth went agape for a moment,

“then why the hell did you wake me up so early?!” i pushed his chest slightly, a yawn escaping my mouth. he smirked a little,

“because you’re cute when you’re mad.” he nudged his shoulder against mine, “i’ll see you at two. and be ready with the equipment, i’m not lending you mine if you forget any.” i rolled my eyes at his statement. he walked out the door, flashing me a snarky smile before leaving.

i pressed my tongue against my cheek, replaying his comment, you’re cute when you’re mad. hm, is that so? i sighed, well i cant go to bed now, since that blue eyed bastard woke me up. might as well start preparinng myself now. i picked up the paper that he that thrown at me earlier, actually bothering to read it. i pouted slightly then nodded, sounds good.

TIME SKIP - 3:45PM

i jumped when i heard a harsh knock on my door, but before i could even go and answer it, colby barged inside without warning. “yo grumpy, let’s go.”

“do you always have to barge in like that, or?” i sarcastically questioned, grabbing my backpack and swinging it over my shoulder. he shrugged,

“yeah, it’s just you. i don’t need to be polite to you, do i, hm?” he spoke back, smiling just as sarcastically.

“i wish i hadn’t known you since sixth grade.” i scrunched my nose out of mockery. “let’s go.” he huffed out a laugh, walking ahead of me. i shut and locked the door behind me before i caught up to him. “okay, what’s the plan?”

“we need to find the roof to this place, apparently there’s some spare room where the security cameras are located, you need to disable them and i’ll get the guards.” i nodded, the elevator ride being awkwardly silent after talking.

“right, why exactly did boss choose me and you to be partners again?” i rose an eyebrow, fixing my beanie.

“i don’t know, he said something about us two being compatible for this job,” i gave him a look, “yeah, that’s what my reaction was too. but apparently as much as me and you hate each other, we work really well together. skill-wise.” i just hummed back in response as we walked to my work car; a black jaguar sports car. “i’m driving.”

“uh, what?” i fake laughed out, “i hope you realise that this is my car.”

“and i hope you realise that i’m the main getaway driver.” he snarkily replied back. i rolled my eyes, tossing the keys at him. he swiftly caught them, smiling sarcastically once again. i got into the passenger seat, putting my backpack near my feet, “aaalright,” he started, buckling his seatbelt, “you got your gear, or did you forget again.”

“fuck off.” i grumbled, looking out the window. god i hate this guy. or do you? the small in my head scolded me. i shook my head at the accusation.

once we got to the destination, i furrowed my eyebrows at how fancy this ‘bank’ looked. “damn,” i shut the door of my car, getting my bag. “for a money laundering scheme, this place is fucking huge.” colby hummed in response, slinging his gear bag over his shoulder too. “okay, i see a back exit. there must be an emergency exit right above it, maybe we could climb up the ladder to it.”

“you’re smarter than you look.” he pushed past me, i squinted my eyes at him in annoyance.

“fucking dick.” i whispered to myself. walking behind him, keeping a close eye behind me. god, i wish i had a different partner. compatible, pshh. boss is fucking stupid to even think that.

we eventually found an emergency exit, climbing up the ladder and into the building. we hid behind a wall that led to the security room, colby looks over his shoulder, “okay, we have to distract those guards, then we can get in there.” i didn’t respond, waiting for the sign for us to go.

“hey! what’re you guys doing here!” my eyes widened,

“oh shit.” i whispered, “we’re um-” before i could even finish my sentence, colby had already shot the four guards that had approached us with tranquilizers, which also caught the other two security guards’ attention, to which he did the same thing to them. “colby, what the fuck are you doing?!” i whisper yelled at him, opening the door quickly and walking in.

“saving us! what else?” i rolled my eyes,

“are you saving us, or are you trying to get us caught?!” i took my jacket off, sitting down at the computers. “because whatever you’re trying to do, is 100% going to get us killed!” i whisper yelled again.

“shut the fuck up, as if you could think of anything better. ‘uh-i-we’. pfft.” he mocked me, chuckling to himself. “damn relax, it’s just tranquilizers, it’s not going to kill them. they’ll be awake in like two hours.” i clenched my jaw, staying quiet and focusing on hacking the security systems to disable them.

“there’s so many cameras here, holy shit.” i typed in some codes, switching computers a few times. i had my eyes all over the screen, but colby’s eyes were on me. i could feel it. “stop staring at me dipshit, i can see you through the screen.”

“don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. it’s not everyday that you have guys staring at you.” i turned my hand back to flip him off, causing him to chuckle. after a few seconds, all of the cameras had finally been disabled. i got up from the seat,

“let’s go, let’s go!” i quickly hurried out of the security room, colby following me close behind. “i’m going left, you go right. there shouldn’t be any workers now. if anything happens-”

“-i’ll buzz you in, gotcha. now go.” we split up, i took my gloves out of my bag, putting them on and using a screwdriver to get the locks off. i stuffed one of my trash bags with all the money that was in the safe.

i repeated this to about five other safes, i now had two big bags filled with $1000 bills. i was going to do my final round, just when colby had buzzed me in. “y/n! the dude that owns this money laundering place is outside the building, head up to the roof! and then i’ll tell you what to do! over n’ out.”

“oh fuck,” i buzzed him in, “yes, copy that. over n’ out.” less than a second later, i hear some other guards screaming out at me,

“whoever’s there! surrender now!” i slung the bags of money over my shoulders, sprinting past them, “GET HER!” i ran as fast as i could. i bolted up the stairs, taking one of my tranquilizer and shooting it at them.

“y/n, we have backup here waiting, just make sure the money bags are tied and throw them over the roof. we’ll catch them.” colby buzzed in with me, “be careful, please don’t get hurt.” my eyebrows furrowed at the last sentence, feeling a slight flutter in my stomach.

“o-okay. th-thanks.” i buzzed back with him. please be careful... never thought he’d be the person to care about someone like me..

i reached to the roof, doing as colby said; throwing the money bags over, “you got nowhere to go now, pretty girl.” i breathed heavily,

“colby, help.” i whispered into the earpiece.

the group of guards began walking towards me, causing me to walk backwards towards the edge. i slipped a little, gasping then catching myself. “y/n, i’m gonna need you to trust me with this one, okay? please.” i furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“what?-”

“just trust me,” he said into the earpiece, “i need you to jump.” my eyes widened.

“what?!” i whisper yelled,

“what the fuck have you done to our money, bitch.”

“just trust me y/n! jump!” i mentally cursed to myself, here goes nothing. i’m gonna die.

“you’re stuck with us now, get her!” before they could get close to me, i pointed my fingers into a gun position,

“bye bitches.” then saluted to them, stepping off the edge. they all shouted for me, i was falling down two stories. yep, i’m dead. the air grew more tense and heavy around me.

i closed my eyes just as i thought i was going to land on the concrete grounds, i felt as if i was being embraced by someone. then, i heard the grunt of someone familiar, “are you alright?! y/n?!” colby’s worried voice called out for me. i slowly opened my eyes, seeing his face inches away from mine.

“colby?” i whispered lowly, feeling my eyelids getting heavier, i felt insanely dizzy. i hummed a little. he had caught me in his arms, holding me tightly.

“oh shi-” was all i heard before passing out.

TWO HOURS LATER

i heard faint voices as i slowly woke up. i was now laying on my bed. “congratulations to both of you, you both did amazing on this mission.” “thanks boss.” colby’s deep and tired voice responded back, i felt shivers down my spine when he spoke. “alright, i’ll leave you to it. tell her i hope she feels better.” i was now laying on my bed.

the door opened and shut. i heard colby sigh, then i felt his hand cup my cheek; his fingers gently brushing a few strands of my hair away from my forehead, those same butterflies fluttered in my stomach. i shut my eyes tightly before slowly opening them, he retracted his hand away from my face. i gulped a little, opening my eyes completely. “bgh.” my hand went to the side of my temple, “ugh.” i groaned, my head was pounding.

“grumpy’s awake,” i turned my head to the side, making eye contact with him. “how you feeling?” he quietly asked.

“like ten pounds of bricks took a shit on my head.” he laughed a little, watching me get up slowly. i groaned, my hand slipping,

“woah, be careful.” he held my waist, getting up a little and helping me sit up. “you’re still a little drowsy.” i looked into his eyes as he helped me, trying to ignore the tint in my cheeks, his face was turning a little red too, he cleared his throat and sat back down.

“what happened anyways?” i asked, pressing on the side of my neck, feeling it ache.

“one of those douchebags shot you with a tranquilizer dart.” i huffed, “but, we succeeded on our mission.” he smiled a little, “i guess we do make good partners.” i shrugged a little,

“yeah, i guess we do.” i smiled a little. “thank you for saving me, by the way..”

“of course, i wasn’t going to let you die.” he looked away, “i can’t let that happen.” he mumbled under his breath. i bit the inside of my lip, trying to fight a smile. “thank you for trusting me.”

i breathed out a small laugh, “no problem.” it then fell silent for a long time before he spoke up.

“hey, grumpy,” i giggled to myself at the nickname, humming in response, “um..” i rose my eyebrows, indicating him to continue, “i- i just wanted to say that i’m sorry for treating you like shit all the time.. i just-” he sighed, gulping. “i-”

“just say it colby,” i softly spoke to him.

he bit his lip out of nervousness, “i’ve liked you for.. years now..” holy shit, “and-and i know i don’t have a chance with you, but, after seeing you in danger today, i couldn’t see the sight of you ever getting hurt. and i completely understand if you don’t feel the same about me, but i-” i cut him off, getting up and cupping his cheeks before caressing my lips over his. he was taken aback from the kiss, but slowly melted into it.

he brought his hands over my hips, pulling me on top of his lap. i ran my fingers through his hair as our lips moved softly. fitting together perfectly. i pulled away for a moment, “i can’t believe i’m saying this,” he pecked my lips gently, “but i like you too colby.” he smiled, i copied his expression before kissing him once again.

“thank fucking god.” he mumbled against my lips. i giggled. continuing to kiss him. he got up from the chair, my thighs wrapped around his waist as he led us back to my bed, laying me down and getting on top of me. “who knew con arists like us could ever fall for each other.” our noses brushed against each other, looking deeply into one another’s eyes.

“who knew.” we smiled before kissing once again.

that, is cliche isn’t it. oh well.

#colby brock imagine #colby brock #colby brock stories #colby x reader #imagines #youtuber x imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock oneshot #traphouse x reader

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cherrysha · 4 years

Text

If You Let Me

my stupid ass laptop crashed while writing this so i think that meant i should post it asap. Anyway i rewatched the chimera ant arc and Shoot’s transformation inspired me to make sad smut because yall kno i cant stay away from angst. i hope this hurts in a good way! feel free to tell me ur thoughts and opinions!

Summary: After surviving the Chimera Ants, Shoot comes back into your life after years of being gone, claiming to be a changed man. But you’re tired of being his only when he needs you.

Word count: 2,848

My requests are open atm

Warnings: dubcon, angst, fingering, oral sex

18+ crowd here. No minors should be reading this

You see him there. Standing in front of the store window. He doesn’t do anything, just stares until you notice him before disappearing into the crowded city streets. You can’t help but be shocked. He’d been gone for years, leaving you to wallow in your misery and self doubt.

Four hours left in your shift and you didn’t have to guess where you’d find him. Probably in the same place he always was when he decided to show up again. Every minute you stood there, greeting customers and cleaning up after them you couldn’t help but the think of what you’d actually say to him.

What you wanted was to yell, to scream until your voice left you. Maybe you’d quietly tell him to leave and never come back. But you’d done all of that before. No matter what you had to put your foot down. You shouldn’t have let it continue for so long anyway.

Four hours later and your hunch was correct. Door still locked, he sat right at your kitchen table nonchalantly leaning back as if he belonged there. At one point he did, but the memory of it alone is enough to make your chest ache.

“What is it Shoot?” You sigh, dropping your bag and keys on the table. You follow suit, dropping into a chair to sit across from him.

He’s quiet as you sit down, hand fiddling with the material of his shirt. Nervous habit, you knew all too well how hard they were to break.

“Why are you so upset?” And he asks it as if there’s nothing wrong. Like it was normal for him to be here. Your irritation was only growing as you stared at the man in front of you.

“What a stupid question.” You mumble, pulling a cigarette out of the pack in your pocket. Before you have time to react he’s crushing it between his fingers, eyes trained on you while he speaks

“I thought you stopped smoking.” It’s almost a question and his eyes are full of concern.

“Believe it or not, a lot changes when you’re not here. My life keeps moving without you.”

“Ah” he says, as if he’s finally realizing it.

“Do you think I might’ve changed since we last met?” You give him a once over, shaking your head ‘no’ before he continues.

“Maybe you can’t see it.” His eyes are guarded as he waits for your reaction. You know what this is before he even has time to finish. He was trying to sway you, make you believe he was different and let him stay for the night. And in the morning you’d be alone again.

“Ah..” you sigh, mimicking him. With a nod of your head, you pretend to play along.

“How many hours are you going to be a changed man?” You cross your arms “One? Two? Are you going to at least wait until I fall asleep this time?”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, finally letting an emotion play across his face. Irritation. How ironic. “Why do you have to be so -“

“You’re the one who decided to leave, Shoot.”

“And you always let me come back.” he says calmly. “How do you think I feel?” There’s guilt in his eyes, as if he means to say that he knows the pain he’s caused and that it’s eating him alive. But the way it sounds when it hits your ears is that because you accepted him over and over again, you’ve caused him unnecessary grief. His words are enough to make you overlook the sad expression lingering on his face.

“Oh no... don’t you sit there and try to blame this on me! You left. I didn’t. Don’t make yourself out to be the victim here Shoot! I didn’t fuck up your emotions. That was all you!” There’s a pause as he stares at you. That’s how he always was. Always so composed but you could tell what he was thinking nonetheless.

“That’s not what I was trying to do” and there’s this resolve in his voice, as if he’s accepted the fact that this isn’t going in the direction he wanted it to.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes before responding. “Well, what were you trying to do then?”

And you know the your next words are harsh, but after years of holding your tongue you don’t care to mince your words for his benefit. He pauses to consider your question and that’s when you say it “Or do you not want to talk about it like usual? It’s just too fucking difficult you’re gunna have to run away like you always do, right?”

All he does is grit his teeth. But it’s that reaction alone tells you the most. Like the flip of a switch, anger swallowed any sadness that was left on his face, and that was enough to prove him right. He wasn’t the person who left you all those years ago. You lean back in your chair with a sigh, choosing to ignore the tension in the room and his piercing gaze. No, this wasn’t the same Shoot. he should’ve left by now. But you know old dogs rarely learn new tricks. Just because he learned a new one didn’t mean he was the type of man to stay. He’d proven that time and time again.

“The doors open, Shoot.”

You rub your temples. This exchange has already dragged on far too long and the exhaustion you felt earlier from work was slowly returning to you.

He chuckles, it’s something dark and it makes your eyes snap open to look at him. He looks relaxed, like he’d finally gotten what he came for. But there’s tension hidden in his body. The loose fabric of his clothes couldn’t hide that.

“You always liked to hear yourself talk.”

And he says it as if he hasn’t been gone for years. Says it like you’re willing to concede if he just pushes hard enough. If he pressed the right buttons. It makes your stomach turn. Not again. You were done with this game.

“Yeah and look what good that did me.” You counter his laugh with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “All that begging and I still ended up alone.”

You get up before you have time to see his reaction. it’s over, you shouldn’t care about the sting your words would leave him with. Slowly you move behind him to the balcony, letting your arms hold you tight, as if to keep yourself from falling apart.

You were too tired to be angry, too exhausted to bicker with him much longer. Yes, you loved him. Loved him since you were kids and that’s why you knew better than anyone that his word meant nothing. He was a man of inaction, it was in his nature to flee at the first sign of a fight. And after all these years, you loved him even though he was nothing but a coward.

You could give in tonight and wake up with an empty bed in the morning, or save yourself the heartache and make him leave right now.

The view on the balcony wasn’t bad for how cheap this place was. City stretched before you, lights and people converging as if it was just one giant organism. The sun was setting but, in a place like this there was rarely any peace. People scurried like ants, darting around as they quickly made their way home, to work, to restaurants and clubs. This big city with all these people and he still managed to find the one he was looking for. All so he could satisfy his guilt while paying no mind to how you felt. Yeah, It was time.

“The door, Shoot. It was nice catching up but I have work in the morning.” It’s quiet but you know he’s heard you.

There’s some shuffling as he gets up and you don’t let yourself turn around to see him leave again. You know what it looks like and you know the emotion that would climb it’s way out of your chest if you saw it one more time.

What you don’t expect is the feeling of his chest pressing against your back. The warmth there enough to make you release a quiet gasp. You were almost positive he would’ve taken the opportunity to leave. His arm pulls you closer as the words leave his lips.

“I’m sorry”

“I’ve heard it.” You snap, willing the anger and frustration back down your throat. “I’ve heard the ‘I love you’s and the promises to change before, Shoot. I’ve heard it all.” You can’t help it when your voice cracks, or the tears that start sliding down your face.

“Just save it and leave. Don’t make it even harder for me.”

He turns you around and he’s wearing this expression you haven’t seen on him before. You’d call it determination, that was the only thing you could describe it as, but there was something else there too.

His movements are slow and you can already tell where this is headed. In a few moments his lips are on yours, fingers tight against your chin holding you in place. You try to fight it, try to pull away but he can tell that the effort is half hearted and it only spurs him on even more. If you truly didn’t want it you would’ve stopped him earlier.

After a few seconds you give in to the taste of his mouth mixed with tears. It’s warm, it’s familiar and you can’t help but lean into it. You know it’s wrong but it’s too late to stop. When he finally lets you go you’ve shattered in his grasp. Resolve broken, there’s nothing left to hold back the flood of emotion that’s built up inside of you for years.

“I hate you!” You scream. And you hope beyond anything that the same man who would leave is still in there. You could pick up the pieces later but if he stayed it’d only be worse once he was gone. You try to push him away, tears soaking your shirt as you shove against his unforgiving chest.

“I hate you.. I hate you.” The words slowly fizzle into sobs that wrack through your body. Shoot only pulls you closer, arm coming to fit snug against your waist.

“I’m not leaving, y/n. Huh? Look at me. I’m not leaving.”

You can barely see through the tears flooding your eyes but it’s there. That resoluteness etched deep within the lines of his face. You prayed it was deep enough for him to have changed, you prayed it was shallow enough for him to leave for the final time and spare the ache in your heart. You prayed to be free of this cycle.

You lean into his chest, immediately soaking the fabric there. Your voice is a whisper when you finally speak again.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to.” He whispers, ”Just give me a chance to prove it.”

You don’t speak, don’t react as he lifts you up and carries you inside. How long has it been since he was here? In your apartment? Your bedroom? You don’t remember, but it feels like a thousand lifetimes ago.

Soft kisses litter your pliant body as soon as he lays you on the bed. It’s different than the usual way he’s done it. Something tender flows through him and into you with each press of his mouth. Maybe he can sense that you’ve given up. It didn’t matter how hard you tried to fight it, you always ended up underneath him.

But there’s something so guilt free about the way he undresses you, lays you before him and gives a kiss to your mound. his touch is far sweeter than what you’ve come to expect. Before, he’d rush quickly through the act to outrun the guilt that slowly built up inside of him. But now, he takes his time, savoring every minute he can as his mouth sucks bruises into your hips. your thighs. There’s a tender moment before he buries his face between your them, quickly licking a stripe up your center before stopping to suck on your sensitive clit. Once he has a taste he can’t stop himself from taking what he came for. He doesn’t have the patience to.

Whimpers mix with the sobs that leave your throat. You could never help the way your body responded to his touch, couldn’t help the way slick dripped down your thighs at the mere thought of his mouth on you. And he doesn’t let any of it go to waste, lapping up everything you have to offer him. He’s starved, and now was his chance to have as much as he wanted.

He had been selfish, he knew that. But as much as he was giving right now he was aware of how much he was taking. This was no different. Your body underneath his. Legs tight around him as he ate his fill and then some, not stopping when you arched against him. A broken wail leaves your throat. No, he was still selfish. He needed all of you, every last drop.

There’s no break, no rest as he pushes you over the edge. You can tell he’s not trying to make up for lost time. He couldn’t change the past or the mistakes he’d made along the way. It wasn’t guilt either. No sadness in his face or in his movements against you. It was a desperate need that drove him, nothing more. You’d never seen this much of him. Still fully clothed, he left his heart lying naked on the sheets for you to see. It’s so overwhelming that it makes your head spin. Coupled with the orgasm still rushing through your body, it was enough to make you go limp beneath him. Before you know it, he’s lifting his mouth off of you, giving you respite from the pleasure for only a few seconds. Shoot kneels between your open legs as he deftly pushes two fingers deep within your cunt.

It’s indescribable. You hadn’t felt this good in such a long time, the pleasure of your last orgasm still so fresh that his thumb moving against your clit bordered on painful.

“I love you” and he says it like it’s not a mere feeling, but an absolute fact. His eyes bore into you, stern expression on his face as he fucks his digits in and out of your soaked core. He feels it. The clench around him as he says it. There’s no denying what his words are doing.

“Stop it Shoot.” The tears come back again with a vengeance as you cover your face with your arm. He speeds up, thumb brushing quicker at the bud hidden between your folds.

“I love you y/n” and there’s this conviction in his voice you can’t ignore. But you know better. Sobs shake your body as you clench tight around him again. If he kept it up you weren’t going to last very long.

He’s moving, determined expression still on his face as he kisses his way up your stomach to your chest, nipping at a pert nipple before giving the same attention to the other. His lips are on your neck, sucking and biting dark bruises into your sensitive skin.

“You don’t have to say it. You’ve done enough for me sweetheart.”

His warm mouth presses against the hollow of your neck before continuing.

“Just come for me okay?”

You can’t help but to obey. You whine as your body tightens around him before it suddenly lets go. All the pain, the hurt, the betrayal is forgotten as he works his tongue into your mouth, taking every noise you make for himself. It’s mind numbing and the wind is knocked from you at the sheer force of it. You move your arm to fist the sheets underneath you, an electric current still pulsing through your veins as he stills his digits inside and switches to just lazily rubbing your clit in circles.

Shoot watches with rapture at the pleasure on your face, eyes red with tears and lips swollen from his mouth. He wanted more. Wanted to take everything you could give him and then some. To make you cry with pleasure as he pushed your body to it’s limits. But this night wasn’t for him and he was aware that you had given everything you could. It wasn’t about what he wanted. So he pulls his fingers out and undresses, shushing you when you start to tell him you can’t, your too tired. “I don’t want that” he whispers.

He crawls in bed next to you, holding your naked body close as he places kisses to your neck. your breathing evens out and you fall asleep much quicker than he expected. but it was okay. In the morning he’d be there. He’d prove himself to you and would take whatever you were willing to give afterwards

#shoot hxh #Shoot x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh #Shoot mcmahon

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laguera25 · 3 years

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An Open Letter to Richard Z. Kruspe on the Occasion of His 54th Birthday

When I was born, ten weeks prematurely and weighing a scant two-and-a-half pounds, the doctors told my parents not to bother naming me, as I would likely die very quickly, and even if I were to survive, I would likely be blind and helpless and profoundly retarded, unaware of, and unable to engage with, the world around me. Best to leave me be and let nature take its course. A few days of benign neglect, and it would all be over. If they were fortunate, there would be other, better children.

Fortunately for me, my parents gave the double-fingered salute to that bit of medical advice and took me home to do the best they could with very little money and no one to guide them through the strange and terrible country of life with a disabled child. I survived because my very country grandmother chucked out the baby formula that I wasn't digesting and fed me the cow's milk the doctors so solemnly swore would kill me.

There was so many milestones I missed, and of which my parents were deprived. I didn't sit up by myself until I was two. I never walked, never ran, though there are a few faded photos of me gamely pulling myself upright on chairs and the edges of coffee tables, trying to do what my brain said I ought, but my body too weak and miswired too obey. No play with other children, who were stronger and more rambunctious and would have bowled me over in all innocence. And as I grew older, no first dates or driving tests or prom dresses. No thought of an independent life.

What there was was endless rounds of physical and occupational therapy. Hours and hours on a brown vinyl mat, trying to lift my leg or raise my ass off the ground or make my hand write the words in my head. Hours and hours putting change into a slot or trying to tie shoelaces or forcing my hands into uncomfortable plastic splints for a chance at a fraction of more bodily control. While my school friends were out playing in the sun, I was inside beneath fluorescent lights, learning to button my shirt and comb my hair and brush my teeth. To hold a pencil. No time for joy, for peace, for figuring out who I was beyond this collection of aches and pains and deficiencies, just the endless tedium of learning to "be normal" and less of an imposition on the world around me.

And I did go to school. Despite the doctors' dire predictions, I was neither blind nor idiot. I was perfectly aware of the world around me, and smart. So much so that when I was nine, the school ordered an intelligence test. The score was so high that they thought it an error and made me take it again in front of witnesses. When the same score came back the second time, they wanted to move me two years ahead, but my mother, afraid it would both isolate me further and give me airs, refused. So, I stayed, face in the mat and hands in splints, learning advanced history and English, yet forced to put blocks into holes and put colored rings on a stick.

And so I lived this strange paradox for my entire childhood, the genius child that my mother crowed about to all her friends and anyone who would listen, and terrible burden who still had the coordination of a toddler, and who had ruined her dreams of ribbons and curls. When I was nine, she was convinced I could be made "normal"--or closer to it--any road, with a surgery. And so, the surgeons detached the muscles and ligaments in my legs from the bones and stretched them in an effort to relieve the spasticity. The surgeons were doing a kindness to relieve pain; by then, the muscles were so tight that when I was stood on my feet and held up, my feet rolled onto the instep and my knees pointed at each other. It was a measure of dignity.

To my mother, it was supposed to be a miracle, the cure that gave her the daughter she deserved.

I woke up screaming. The muscles and ligaments were unhappy with their new positions and weren't afraid to register their protest about this new state of affairs. They tried to administer morphine, but the levels needed to control the pain were dangerously high for a child, and so I was left to ride it out. I screamed and screamed and screamed. For thirteen hours.

My mother. who was so sure she had found her miracle, was taken into another room by an exhausted surgeon who had done the best he could, and told that at most, I might be able to walk across the room on a walker and take myself to the toilet. She screamed, too, then, at this man who had been on his feet for nine hours, trying to undo the mistakes of the hands that had formed me from the dust of the ground, and who would try to make me laugh every day when he came to check my progress. She called him a liar and a bastard and a son of a bitch, and family lore has it that she would have hit him had my father not intervened.

They tried to tell her. Kindly and patiently and incessantly, but she would not listen. God had told her I would be cured, and dammit, I would be. The day they cut my casts off and sent me home, they told her not to push me too hard, that my muscles needed time to adjust and build endurance. She said she understood, but when we got home, she ordered me to walk uphill to the house. I tried, I truly did, but it wasn't long before I hit muscle fatigue and started to cry. I want to stop, wanted my wheelchair.

And my mother, this woman who had once told the doctors who would have let me die to go fuck themselves, picked up a stick and started to beat me. "Be normal! Be normal!" Screaming and sobbing and flailing with this stick, and me screaming and begging and trying to stay upright. I don't know how long she would've kept going, but eventually, my stepfather appeared, wrested the stick away and threatened to beat her with it, and carried me into the house.

Here I must give my mother a sliver of credit even if I will carry the memory of that beating for the rest of my days. She was right, after a fashion. I did do more than walk across the room with a walker and take myself to the toilet. For a while, I even graduated to forearm crutches and quad canes, which might not sound like much, but when you were expected to do nothing, that's like climbing Everest in your underpants. My wheelchair gathered dust for years, but soon I had to choose between the demands of my education and the demands of my body. The latter simply lacked the energy to fuel both my mind and my muscles to the best of my their abilities, and since school was the only area of life in which I had ever excelled, there was no choice at all. Back into the chair I went. By the time I graduated high school, I could no longer use crutches, and by my third year at uni, even the walker was too much. These days, I cannot move myself without help, and arthritis has set in. I made my choice, and now I pay its price.

I tell you all of this to illustrate that whatever the fool doctors might have said as they clucked and tutted over my incubator, I was keenly aware of the world. Of everything I was missing while my mother insisted I just bootstrap myself out of my disability and be normal. Of her seething resentment of all that I was not. Of her wish that I was someone else.

There were two bands that got me through, kept me sane and kept me moving when all I wanted to do was just lie down and not get up. The first was Metallica, whom I discovered at thirteen, and who told me it was all right to be angry about my circumstances, to kick and scream and argue with God and call him a rotten bastard--as long as I kept living, kept getting up in the morning and trying to inch down the road. I didn't have to swallow my anger for fear of upsetting God and hurting my mother's chances of getting into heaven(my mother believes that I am a test she must pass in order to get into heaven; therefore, my suffering is irrelevant and should never be questioned, lest it anger Him. Don't ask; I don't get it.)

If Metallica was the band that gave me permission to be angry as long as I kept trying, it was Rammstein that told me it was okay to want more from life than an endless regimen of therapy and prayer and gratitude to a God that had, or so it seemed to me, sent me into the world with a ramshackle body and precious little armor or defense against the assholery of my fellow human beings and yet still expected me to praise His holy name allelu. To want joy and friends and human contact. To have a libido and ogle whatever flipped my switches. To, in short, be human, and more than just a symbol of all my mother's broken hopes.

I discovered the band through a book, believe it not. I found a copy of Tom Reynolds' <i>Touch Me, I'm Sick</i> in a Barnes and Noble I had gone into to browse and hide from a cataclysmic thunderstorm, and in it, he began to talk about a band called Rammstein and a song called "Heirate Mich." The more I read, the more gloriously improbable it all seemed, and the harder I laughed. By the time I got to the line, "As the music pounds like a collapsing factory...", there were tears streaming down my face, and I was having trouble breathing. The saleslady must've worried I was having a stroke.

And so it was that I found the key to everything that would come after. From the book to my creaking dial-up Internet(don't laugh, it was what I could afford as a broke-ass cripple on the government dole) to the CD shop, where I blew my food budget on Rammstein CDs and lived on Hamburger Helper for weeks. This is a terrible dietary choice, by the way, but at least I had Rammstein music in my ears all day, every day. A few weeks later, I put another dent in my food budget buying all the DVDs. Ah, the vigor and stupidity of youth. If I tried that foolery now, I'd be semiconscious on the floor in a day and a half. Back then, I had a more stalwart constitution.

I knew by the second song I heard that Rammstein was going to be special to me. My German, which consisted of a year of study in high school and a disastrous two years in college, was pretty poor, but thanks to snooping around Internet forums and squinting at grainy videos, I knew much of your catalogue dealt with taboo subjects. I didn't care. For all its dark subject matter, the music made me want to dance. It made me feel something other than apathy and a persistent wish for this whole mess to be over and my soul to be recycled into a body that didn't make me want to scream until I was too tired to do anything but sleep.

And I did dance. Constantly. Seldom in public because dancing in a wheelchair often looks like the Devil is trying to stick his finger up your ass, but often at home, just shimmying away until the chair developed some alarming creaks and the bolts needed adjustment. Rammstein made me happy. It made me curious. It made me want to see just how much was out there.

And, if I am honest, it made me want to see those silver MC Hammer pants for myself. The combination of those pants and the diaper rash cream in your hair was a striking look for you, if I may say so, though perhaps not so grand as the black spikes and the lion pants you wore with such swaggering panache on the Reise, Reise tour. Alas, this was not to be, as I suppose you had wearied of slathering ass cream for infants in your hair. I can't blame you, though I suppose it must've been a sad day, indeed, for the ointment companies. Still, those Hammer pants and their Reynolds Wrap, space-age splendor will always hold a special place in my heart.

Stymied in my hope to witness for myself the wonders of those Hammer pants--and those lion pants as well, as it turned out, oh, unhappy hour, long may they reign in the storage closet--I nonetheless wanted to see a Rammstein show. Not much chance of that, the morose American fans assured me. The band hadn't come here since they foolishly took the American commitment to freedom of expression at face value and Till and Flake landed in the Puritan pokey for playing Loose the Dachshund into the Badger Burrow in front of delighted fans. Besides, the band's management had scant interest in repeating that little experiment.

Even so, I held out hope. I hung out on message boards and kept me ear to the ground. You can imagine my delight when the MSG show was announced. I wasn't so foolish as to think I could attend, mind you; New York might as well have been the moon for someone who cannot safely fly, but it was fun to indulge in a bit of wistful what-if? What if I could find a way to get there that wouldn't give me a lethal clot? What if I could score tickets? What if I could afford a hotel in Manhattan where the rats and roaches wouldn't kill me in my sleep or carry me off to be devoured in the sewer system? These were all very big ifs for someone who lived in the boonies and was only supposed to spend money on medical expenses and basic bills. Besides, MSG was going to sell out before I could gimp my way to the phone.

Knowing all of this, I took to my blog to whine and moan and feel sorry for myself. It wasn't fair, I whinged to the ether. I had wanted to see Rammstein for so long, but it just wasn't possible. It was too expensive and too far and too haaaaard. And woe is me.

And then...

And then a bossy German lady dropped a punk alarm in my inbox.

I don't remember now how or why she came to my blog. Maybe she was drawn by an unconventional perspective on life and fandom and moving through the world, or maybe she just wanted to snortle at my friend and I's discussions of your sartorial splendor and the ridiculous dramas going on in the Rammstein fandom at the time. Either way, she'd been been watching my sulking and stropping for a few days, until she'd reached her limit and this woman, who had never said an unkind word to me in years, called me a coward. Just straight up said that I could either find my spine, stop pissing and moaning, and try my hardest to see Rammstein in New York, or I could keep being a coward and making excuses. But make my choice and stop sniveling because she was tired of hearing about it.

At first, I was stunned. Of all the things I had ever been called, a coward was not one of them. Then I was mad. How DARE she call me a coward when she had no idea how much pain I was in most of the time or how difficult it was to move around a world that had never been designed for me and been but grudgingly retrofitted by handymen who thought that grab bars fixed everything!

So I stewed and pouted for a few hours, but the longer I thought about it, the more I realized she was right. I hadn't tried very hard to research my options. I hadn't checked hotels or called the venue or gotten my finances in order. I had claimed Rammstein was so important and meaningful to me, but I hadn't shown it. I had assumed defeat before I'd even started the charge up the the hill and wallowed in self-pity. Sure, maybe I was right and I wouldn't be able to go, but I'd never know if I didn't square up and try.

Before I proceed, a word about the tried-and-true deutscher Fuss zum Arsch(not another aside in a letter full of them, I hear you cry as your eyes begin to glaze. I know, Mr. Kruspe, believe me, but if you speak to the world through your guitar strings, I speak through my keystrokes, and so I beg your patience. We're almost there.). If a German you have gotten to know puts their foot up your ass and calls you on your bullshit, they are not doing it to be a prick, and it's not done with the intent to create hard feelings or demolish your self-esteem. It's harsh, man, is it harsh when you're used to American doublespeak and soft-pedaling, but they're doing it because they see something in you and are trying to stop you from making a dumbass or a jackwagon of yourself. They're doing it because they want to keep being your friend.

So.

Punk alarm duly dropped and head dislodged from ass, I started making phone calls. To the banks do get my money in order. To bean counters to make sure I would have access to it. To Amtrak to discuss their booking options. I went to disability websites and forums to discuss precautions to take in case my health or my equipment gave out on the road. The best hospital for the broke-ass should I get mown down by a taxi while trying to cross the road. Emergency numbers and insurance forms and blah blah blah. A raft of bureaucracy and safeguards and double-checking, all for a concert I might not get tickets for.

But I did, because for once, my disability worked in my favor. MSG sold out in twenty-five minutes, but that venue, bless its heart, doesn't put disabled seating up for general sale. You have to call the disabled patron assistance line, and they don't release unsold disabled seats for general sale until three days before a show. So I called the magic line, and a very amiable fellow talked me through the process. Two weeks later, the tickets were in my mailbox.

I am not ashamed to tell you that when I opened the envelope and held the tickets in my hand, I screamed like a debutante that sat on an upturned spoon. It was really happening.

And yes, my German friend gave me a giant "I told you so!" But she was right, and she'd earned it. Besides, she was happy for me, too.

So I did it. I got on a train(where I soon learned that accessible or not, I couldn't use the toilet because the train swayed too much for me to keep my balance), and I went without eating, drinking, or urinating for twenty-two hours(I do not recommend this to anyone, by the by. It hurt, and it was dangerous)to get to New York. And when I got there, I stood in Penn Station and simply stared because I was somewhere I never thought I'd be. It was simultaneously everything I thought it would be and nothing like I'd expected.

There were still obstacles, of course. There always are when you have two hands and four wheels and see the world through asses and elbows. Clutching my luggage while my trusty and ever-present companion pushed me over the cracked sidewalk with one hand and dragged the rest of the luggage behind him. Finding out that the "accessible" hotel room was, in fact, not all that accessible and wrenching my knee every time I used the toilet. Being accosted by my first sidewalk screamer within ten minutes of being in the city. Meeting my first hustler.

Freezing my ass off outside the venue for four hours before the show and called not fan enough by other fans because I didn't do it for fourteen, because hey, if you were really a fan, you'd risk pneumonia to see the show, even if it would kill you. Being shunted and shuffled to four different doors by event staff because no one could agree on where the disabled fans were supposed to enter. Being let into the building to warm up by an MSG employee, only to be booted out by event staff three minutes later. Whee! Aren't the logistics of being disabled fun?

But Mr. Kruspe, it was all worth it. I've never felt an energy like that before. Whatever snitty elitism some of the fans might have been nursing outside, inside MSG, we were all fans, all people who had waited and wished for this for a very long time. The primal roar from the crowd when the band began to break through the wall raised the hairs on my nape, and you'd better believe that I joined them with all of my energy.

From the first note, I forgot my pain. It was still there, mind, waiting for me, black-toothed and patient as the grave, but I was beyond it, in a state of suspended euphoria. No pain, just joy. I watched everything as best I could despite my near-sightedmess and my rather distant seat. I soaked it all in--the music and the unapologetic bombast, and the pageantry of the fire. It was all so starkly, darkly beautiful, and according to my companion, who has all the sentimentality of pavement, when he looked over at me during "Ich Will", I was "radiant." He, who had known me for thirteen years by then, said he'd never seen me like that before, and that he would never forget it.

It was not without price. These things never are. There was another train journey and another twenty-two hours without access to a toilet, and by the time I got home, I was so strung out from lack of food, water, and sleep(because trufax, it is hard to sleep when your bladder is trying to pop out of your skin from the pressure)that I cried like a toddler on the drive home. And then I went home, peed forever, drank, ate, and collapsed for seventeen hours.

But it was worth it. It was so worth it that on the band's next go-round, I took a cross-country roadtrip to Vegas, during which I peed much more often, thank God, but I also fought ants and roaches in a hotel room in Texas and stayed in a room so gross I slept in my clothes and threw them out when I got home. But it, too, was worth it, just as it was worth it to get in the car and drive to Florida and Atlanta on the next tour after that.

I told you ALL of these things, Mr. Kruspe, to tell you this. I saw your interview in that documentary about depression in 2010. I heard you say you felt worthless unless you were creating.

I don't know what you're worth to anyone else, but to me, you are priceless, and always will be. Without you, there would be no Rammstein, and for me, there would have been no reason to try, to spread my wings and take a run at that hill. Without you, I might have given up, might have let my mother win, and maybe now, I'd be sitting in some care home, stewing in my own yellowing stink and getting a bath once a week and a monthly outing and rotting from the inside out. Without you, I might never have taken the chance, never pushed myself.

But you were, and are, and because of that, I did. Because of that, I saw New York, and moved, however briefly, among that anonymous throng. Because of that, I met the sidewalk doomsayer and the exasperated hustler. Because of that, I tried New York Pizza(and yes, I saw a rat, but he minded his business, and I minded mine). Because of you, I heard a Cajun patois in Louisiana and watched out the window of the car as the Texas plains unwound around us. Because of you, I saw the night sky on the outskirts of Vegas and was escorted back to the Strip after the show by two Native dudes who walked far out of their way and called me little sister. These are gifts I got from you because you were, and are, and they have sustained me ever since. They sustain me now that my world has been reduced to the four walls of my house as I ride out the pandemic in a country that believes people like me are an acceptable sacrifice.

I know this won't change things for you, won't quiet that awful voice in your head. Depression doesn't work like that, and even if it did, I am just a stranger you will never meet. But maybe it will give you something to hang on to, something to think about on the bad days. Christ knows you kept my head above the water when all I wanted to do was let it go under.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Kruspe. May it bring you joy and all that you need.

Guera

#rammstein #richard z. kruspe #emigrate

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Old and New Traditions

Based on this: “ What about a “reformed” Loki (still alive after Endgame) learning about Christmas and deciding he deserves to get himself a gift after all the terrible things that happen to him and all the things he lost over the last decade. He decides he wants you and he’s ready to start a family to make up for the one he lost. Some dark holiday breeding? (; ” requested by anonymous but I fucked up and forgot the breeding bit, sorry.

Warnings: noncon sex (oral, fucking), magick.

Note: Here’s some Loki love, y’all. Didn’t edit very much so typos are probably a given.

Hope y’all enjoy. Like and/or reblog!! <3 Reblogs really help especially since I haven’t been getting many.

It didn't feel like Christmas. There were no lights, no carols, no flagrant ads for the holiday bustle. It seemed there was an unspoken accord to forgo the holiday. The world's morning blackened even the brightest times.

Well, everyone was alone this year, in one way or another. Maybe they had someone left but there was also another missing. It was just you and your sister and she still lived in another city.

She visited once since the disappearances. There was nothing to say. Not face to face. So you sent courteous messages, pretended that you were still as you were. But you weren't.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. You had the day off and the next. No plans though. You climbed the steps to your walk-up apartment. A small loft above two other apartments. You balanced the bag of groceries in on arm as you unlocked the door. You ducked inside and kicked your snowy boots off and shed your coat and hat in the dark.

You stepped into the small kitchen and flicked on the light. You kept your back to the counter that separated it from the front room. You placed the bag on the other counter and opened the fridge as you began to unload your haul.

Next the cupboard as the cans clacked inside. You finished and tucked the bag under the counter with the rest. You turned and noticed the shadow at the edge of the light's glare. The chair in the corner stood ominous in the dim of the evening.

Your heart leapt and you blinked to clear the illusion. It didn't dissipate. You slowly neared the counter and reached under the cupboards to flip the other switch.

Loki sat in the chair, barely disturbed by the sudden flood of light. It had to be your imagination. A spirit to haunt you in these dark times. You rounded the end of the counter but hovered in the door frame.

"Thor said you were dead." You said. Your voice cut through the air and broke the dreamlike aura.

"Thor says many things." He grinned as he lifted one leg over the other. "That we're brothers, that he's king of Asgard. Well, we're not really brother and last I heard, there was nothing left of Asgard to be king of."

"Loki," You frowned, "What are you doing here?"

"I've heard it is a particularly special time of year on Midgard and by your custom it is expected that you spend this time with others."

"The last we met, you weren't keen on our customs." You crossed your arms.

"Oh but I find this one intriguing," He flourished his fingers, "Quaint. Your little gift-giving ritual."

"I don't have anything for you and unless you have an explanation, I want nothing from you."

"Well, I've come to claim my gift," He grinned.

"I don't…" You paused as the glimmer in his eye caught yours. "Loki, you should go."

You swept past the counter to the door. You grabbed the handle and heard the click. It locked upon its own. You tried to turn it back but it wouldn't budge.

"Loki," You used to hands to try to turn the handle. "This isn't funny."

"On the contrary, I find you very amusing, dear."

You turned back and he was standing. He smirked as you pressed yourself to the door. He got closer and you edge along the corner to the back of the counter. He swiftly blocked your way, his hand on the wall to block your way. He tilted his head.

“What’s wrong?” He intoned. “I thought you’d be happy for the company at a time such as this.”

“Not you,” You grumbled . "Just...go."

"You didn't even ask me what I want for your little holiday?"

"I don't care. Just get out."

"Ask me." He got closer until you were back in the corner.

"No."

"Come on."

"Loki."

"Perhaps…" He reached to stroke your cheek. "I'll just show you what I want."

His other hand went to your chin as he framed your face. He loomed over you as his emerald eyes sparkled hungrily. You remembered that day in his cell when you’d first met him. The way he’d leered through the glass, in a moment, he was angry again. And when he escaped, you saw him again. Fleeting as the encounter was, he had made a promise. One which seemed just as thin. ‘One day…’

“Thor is here, on Midgard,” You breathed. “You should go find him.”

“I don’t care about Thor,” He said. “I wouldn’t be here if he mattered.”

“Loki,” You grabbed his wrists but he stood firm. “I told you then, I’ll tell you now.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, dear,” He leaned in. “I’m a prince. A god. And you are a mere mortal.”

“Let me go,” You said evenly.

He didn’t respond. He bent and pressed his lips to yours. You pushed against his chest as his fingers stretched along your jaw. You were trapped between him and the wall. You continued to shove him and for a moment, his lips fell away.

A moment before and unseen force has your hands drawn down and behind you. You were restrained by the supernatural bounds wound tight around your wrists. You tried to turn your head away but he held you in place, once more his mouth was on yours. Fervent. Intent. A prize long awaited which he’d claim once and for all.

He slipped his tongue along your lips and forced his way inside your mouth. He delved into you as he let his hand drift, his other still on your chin. He felt the curves of your body, explored the breadth of his bounty. You squirmed but he didn’t seem to notice. Likely he didn’t care.

He parted and panted as he looked down at you. Another eerie flash of green in his gaze. He grabbed your arm and yanked you out of the corner. You stumbled, your arms still caught in the unseen ties.

“Loki, let me--”

He shoved you ahead of him and you barely kept yourself from tumbling. You turned back and he marched up to seize you by your shoulders. “I’ll give you a choice. Consider it your gift.” You gaped up at him. “Shall I open my present here…” He peered over at the old couch. “Or would you prefer the bed?”

“Please…”

“I won’t ask again. I don’t ask.” He turned you, his hands once more on your shoulders. “So, decide or I will and I might just choose something a little less comfortable.”

“The...bed,” You forced out. “You don’t--”

“Quiet, dear,” He turned you and nudged you towards the short hallway. “The more I look at you from here, the more I’d like to bend you this very instant.”

You clamped your lips shut and dragged your feet as he kept you ahead of him. He turned you into the bedroom. How long had he been here? Enough to know where everything was. You swallowed as he released you and the door closed. Another click of a lock.

“I will...unbind you so long as you swear not to try anything. You understand?” He came around to face you. “I should like this to be as enjoyable for both of us as it can be but I will not hesitate to ensure your cooperation.”

“Fuck you,” You spat.

“We’re getting to that, dear,” He purred and chuckled.

His green eyes glossed over your figure. He reached out and ran his fingers along the frilled neckline of your blouse. He watched his hands as he plucked the top button tentatively. He lifted a brow and looked at you.

“Last chance, my dear.”

You stayed silent and looked away. You were almost jerked off your feet as he tore open your blouse. You grunted in surprise as he shoved the shirt down your arms. The restraint released for a second, enough for him to slip the fabric past your hands. Your wrists snapped back together and you flinched.

“In Asgard, the women lined up.” He boasted. “My father had them delivered to me in red satin.”

“This isn’t Asgard.” You hissed.

“Better than,” He yanked on your bra strap until it broke. Then the other. “None of those women were you. None of them had that spark in their eye, like you. And I’m yet to find out but I doubt they feel…” He reached around you and swiftly unhooked the back of your bra, “As good.”

You stayed quiet and gritted your teeth. He played with your breasts as you kept your eyes averted. Ashamed of what he was doing, of how your body was reacting.

“But I can say for sure,” His fingers walked along your stomach and stopped just above your pelvis. “That no man can compare to me.”

You trembled in fear, in anger, in anticipation. The last was most unsettling. You shouldn’t feel this way. The revulsion should be pure, not mingled with this unbidden lust. To go so long without the touch of another was unnatural and it left you vulnerable.

He hooked his thumbs under your waistband and slipped your pants down your thighs. You were stiff against him and he followed the fabric to the floor. He took your ankles and lifted your feet from the puddle of wool. He stayed there and grabbed your panties. He pulled them down smoothly and watched intently as your vee was uncovered.

He gripped your elbow and led you forward to the bed. You were careful not to fall as you untangled your feet from your panties. He turned you and nudged you to sit on the edge of the mattress. He stood before you and unclasped the top of his tunic. You looked down, your bare skin was a sober sight.

“Look at me.” He commanded. Your head lifted by a strength not your own and you stared up at him.

He undressed slowly, as if teasing you. Each piece stripped away coyly. And it worked. You felt the warmth, the repressed need tugging at your wits. You wondered if he could see it. When he was entirely nude before you, you couldn’t help but peek at his arousal. He was hard and his cock twitched.

He chuckled as he stepped close. “Lay back,” He urged. “We both know you want me, even if you won’t admit it.”

You shook your head and he caught your chin. He squeezed, a subtle warning, and let go with a gentle push. Your hands fell apart but you were pulled back by the unearthly force around them. Dragged across the bed as your arms were drawn apart wide and you were forced down onto your back. Your ankles mirrored your wrists and you writhed against the invisible binding.

“Ah, look at you,” Loki purred as he crawled between your legs. His eyes sparkled as he stared down at your pussy. He lowered himself until you felt his breath along your little patch of hair. “Mmmm.”

You gasped your protest as he nuzzled your pelvis. His tongue flicked down between your folds and over your clit. Your hips bucked and your legs tensed against your restraints. His fingers stretched over your thighs and he squeezed them as he pressed himself closer, deeper. He delved into you and tasted you. You hissed through your teeth as it sent a shockwave through you.

His hands moved up along your thighs and to your hips. His thumbs pressed into your skin as he devoured you. You tried to withhold the pleasure at the tip of his tongue, to mute the moans that filled your chest. But you couldn’t and the noise that escaped you, broke your defenses and bolstered his advance.

He didn’t slow, didn’t stop, and drew from you mewls and whines. You were hyper aware of your dissemblance but couldn’t resist it. Couldn’t fight the first sliver of affection, even unwanted, that you’d had in months. A year even. You were weak and tired. You couldn’t fight anymore.

Your back arched and you felt your insides coil. You shook as the ripples overflowed and Loki lapped up your orgasm. You panted as he coaxed your body and you rode the wave until it crested and fell back into the sway. You were stunned as you descended and sense nipped at your neck.

“Oh dear, look at you,” He lifted his head, lips shiny and wet, and admired your disarray. He moved up so that his knees pressed against your thighs. “Now, that was my present to you.” He gripped his cock and licked his lips. “And this is for me.”

He rubbed his tip along your pussy. He pressed himself slowly past your entrance and you squirmed. You were tight around him and he bent over, one hand on the mattress to support him, as he slid deeper. He let out a long sigh as he impaled himself entirely and you whimpered. You’d never been that full.

He lingered and then pulled back. He thrust gently at first. He looked down at you, admired the play of emotions across your face as the pain faded away. As the pleasure grew and entwined you around him. As his hips moved steadily and your breath kept time.

Then he moved faster. Eager for more. For a bigger reaction. Harder so you yelped, deeper so you moaned, pounding into you so your whole body was jolted. He sat back slightly but kept himself inside of you, his pace never wavered. He cupped your tits and flicked his thumbs across your nipples.

He groaned as his eyes shone and he kneaded your flesh hungrily. He bent over you and took a nipple in his mouth. He nipped and suckled as his hand played with the other. You gulped as you were dragged up to the peak and dangled over the precipice. When you fell, you cried out and arched into him.

You came, unaware that your limbs were no longer restrained. You latched onto him and your climax thundered down. Your legs wrapped around him and urged him deeper and he accepted the invitation without pause.

He lifted his head and pressed his chest to yours. He stretched his hand over your throat and pinned you down. He fucked you as he kissed your cheek then nibbled along your jaw. His touch was intoxicating, poisonous, and you’d succumbed to it so easily.

He squeezed your neck until your breath caught in your throat. He grunted and a sudden rush flowed through you. He shuddered as he struggled to keep going. You felt his cum inside of you, his body against you, his was all over you. He’d taken every bit of you. And you’d let him.

He eased himself through his orgasm until he was still. He stayed atop you and breathed into the crook of your neck as his hand fell away. His nose tickled you and he sighed. “As I understand your customs, you receive more than one…” He thrust so that you yelped. “Gift.”

#loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #dark!loki x reader #dark loki #dark loki x reader #thor #mcu #marvel #avengers #fic #dark!fic #holiday #holiday drabble #drabble #request #au

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ambertea · 3 years

Text

the photograph

Ten struggles to move past Rose after Doomsday. (Hurt, no comfort.)

(Read on AO3)

The TARDIS door swung shut, and his head weighed heavily against the wood.

The past week had been a blur of activity. Searching for something he knew was impossible – a way to crack through to a parallel universe without destroying two worlds at once. When he had finally given up on that, he’d spent his time in a desperate rush to try and talk to her, at the very least, to give her the goodbye he’d denied so many others.

After that had come Donna and the Racnoss, and he had been almost relieved to have a reason to push her out of his head. He hadn’t had to face the burning sickness in his gut, or the deep, heavy longing weighing down on him like a boulder.

Now—finally—it was time to grieve. But he couldn’t.

Seeing her crying in front of him so openly – hearing her I love you – and being unable to return either had been an all-consuming pain, a slap to the face, a kick to the gut. Somewhere along the way, though, the feeling had simmered, leaving him with only all-consuming exhaustion.

After Gallifrey had gone, something precious had been ripped from his brain. It was like losing his hearing – or perhaps more than that, as though his ears still worked but the rest of the world had grown utterly silent. Now, aching as he did, he thought he might have a matching wound across his chest.

Sighing, he turned and walked up the ramp, flicking some buttons on the console panel. The TARDIS was unnaturally still, her own grief gentle but devastating. He looked around and paused.

What was he supposed to do now?

For lifetimes, he had spent the time in between adventures in the library, blonde hair tickling his nose. He could just keep going – look for another planet, another time – but something about that felt disrespectful. He owed her his pain, at least. Really, he’d never given her anything else.

Purple was blurring in the corner of his eyes, and he groaned and stared towards it. Her shirt. Wandering over, he held it gently in his hand and tried not to think of the last time he’d seen her in it.

“What do you think?” She asked, spinning into the room. He froze.

She still had on the same shirt as yesterday, held tightly by a dungaree dress. Long boots slithered up to her knees, clinging to her ankles and exaggerating the length of her legs. Three buttons – one more than Cassandra! – had been pulled apart across her chest, cleavage peaking over the denim. If she so much as very slightly leaned forwards, he may well have an aneurysm.

“Bit…blue.”

She frowned, looking down at herself. “It’s my favourite colour.”

“Favourite colour? Humans are ridiculous.”

She laughed and then quickly ran away, her boots thundering across the grating. His hearts calmed down, just a little, but then she was back, her massive red rucksack clutched in her arms.

“You help me choose, then.” She said, unzipping the bag and rummaging through. He leaned back on the console and snorted.

“Rose. I am a 900-year-old Time Lord. I am not here to help you with your fashion.”

“Alright, so I’ll just stick with what I’m wearing.”

He gulped.

“S’pose I can help. If you really want.”

She rolled her eyes and threw a few tops across the floor, and he stepped closer to inspect them properly. The majority of them he had seen before, each one a different memory of a time he’d been left tongue-tied.

“What’s that one?” He asked, pointing towards a magenta top he had never seen before. She held it up to herself and frowned down, eying the crown painted over the chest. He nodded approvingly, positive that this, at least, would cover…. everything that needed covering.

“I think mum got it for me at Primark…” she looked at it doubtfully. “You like it?”

“Love it. Now hurry up, we’ve got places to be.”

She giggled, her fingers fiddling with the top of dungarees until the buttons popped open.

“What are you doing?” He choked.

She grinned. “Changing my top.”

He nodded quickly, his hand brushing through and then gripping at his hair.

“Yep, right, course. I’ll just, uh—” he spun away from her teasing smile.

His eyes fixed upon the TARDIS wall, and he tried his very best not to think about her with her top off.

“Alright, safe now.”

He turned back and groaned internally. How did she do this?

Bounding up the console, he flipped some buttons and switches at random, looking down at them mindlessly.

“What do you think of this? Will it do?”

Absolutely not.

“In the late 1970s? You'd be better off in a bin bag…”

He was standing outside her room.

The top was clutched in his hands, his arm tight and tense. It couldn’t stay in the console room forever. He may as well hang a banner over the struts, paint big black words declaring that she was gone. It had to be hidden away, along with the rest of her, and then could close the door on the happiest chapter of his life for good.

But first, he needed to open the door. Which was proving difficult.

His hand reached forward and hovered in the air. The doorknob glared out at him, shiny and menacing. He had faced down Daleks, Cybermen—the Devil himself. He could do this. With a grunt, he pushed the door open.

His legs stepped forwards as if separate from his brain – kicking away the clothes scattered across the floor. Rose’s room had always been an absolute state, but homely in a way no other room in the TARDIS had ever managed. Her life was scattered across the photographs hanging on the walls, precious ornaments she had collected strewn carelessly across her desk.

His shoulders tensed and then slumped. He could feel her.

She was here in this room, her presence dawdling in a way he had never fully understood or believed in. Her spirit lingered over her dirty makeup brushes, raced through her stack of grimy teacups, settled along her unmade bed. She may as well have been standing in this very room, just out of his eye line.

Trembling, he collapsed onto her covers and bowed his head in silent prayer.

He yearned for his earlier dullness. Whatever this was—this swirling vortex of misery and self-loathing—was clutching at his lungs, squeezing at his throat. Tears dripped down onto the duvet, and he wiped them away, sniffing.

A gleam of light dazzled in the corner of his eye, and he turned towards her bedside table. A metal-framed photograph of the two of them. He reached out, cradling it in his hands, and gazed down at their flushed, happy faces.

“Rose, we can’t take a selfie in the 50s.”

She pouted, juggling her phone between her hands. “They won’t even know what we’re doing!”

“Humans have been taking selfies since they were barely more than apes.”

“But not on a phone!” She exclaimed. “They’ll just think we’re…leaning close.”

He snorted. “That’s scandalous enough.”

Rolling her eyes, she put her phone back in her jacket pocket. He leaned against the wall and watched the street, trying to keep his face fixed in a pleasant smile.

The image of her, faceless, was still vivid in his brain. To see her without her usual vibrant expressions had been harrowing, like losing her whilst she stood right in front of him. For a second, he didn’t think he would ever smile again.

“You alright?” She said, shoving into his shoulder with a bit too much force. Her heels toppled, and she began to fall, and he quickly grabbed her before her face collided with the pavement.

“Those things,” he accused, pointing at her shoes “are dangerous.”

“And a bit painful.” She grimaced. “Pretty though, don’t you think?”

In truth, he’d barely glanced over her shoes, but nodded all the same. He still couldn’t get over her looking like this—it reminded him of the first time he’d seen her dressed up, a lifetime ago. He had been awed then, and he was awed now.

“Not great for running, though.”

“Nah, but we’re done for the day, aren’t we? We saved the day and all that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “We saved the day, did we?”

“I was definitely an important part of it.”

He hummed, crossing his arms. “Seemed to me like you were just standing about.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t do everything, can I? Spotted the TV thing before you. Anyway, we’re a team. We do things together.”

“So did we save the day when we met, then?”

“Oh, no,” she laughed. “That was definitely me.”

He drank in her joy thirstily, letting her calm strength wash over him until he felt a bit lighter. The tables were being cleared away, and a few merry couples had taken to slow dancing across the road. He glanced at Rose and saw her eying them wistfully.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I guess we can take that selfie.”

She squealed, her phone instantly out of her pocket, and wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him closer. Her cheek was pressed up against his, soft and warm. He grabbed her waist and pulled her tight against himself, grinning along right with her.

She looked down happily at her phone, angling it so he could peer along with her. He looked absolutely besotted. But then, so did she.

“Would you do me the honour, Dame Rose,” he asked, bowing towards her and offering his hand “of this dance?”

“Sir Doctor, I believe I will.”

He hadn’t intended to return. The first time had been an allowable weakness, a natural stage of the grieving process. Going back felt wrong somehow, even inappropriate. He had never shared her room during her time with him, so what right did he have to it now?

But there was another woman on the ship, and if there was anything Rose had taken issue to, it was that. Especially with the way Martha had looked at him—no, that wouldn’t have pleased her at all.

He poked his head around the door, feeling oddly like he was intruding on the empty room. Stalking over to the bed, he picked up the photo of her on her bedside table. His fingers traced over the lines of his face, trying to call back the feeling of her skin.

He desperately wanted to know how she was doing, where she has. One part of him hoped she would forget him altogether—a bigger part begged her not to.

“I got a new suit.” He told her, nodding down to himself. “Blue.”

A knock rapped upon the door and he shot up, dropping the photograph. He cracked the door open slightly to see Martha looking at him curiously.

“Sorry—just wondering where the kitchen is?”

“There,” he nodded behind her, quickly instructing the TARDIS to shuffle the rooms. “Goodnight.”

“Is this your room?” She asked, and he ignored her, shutting the door behind him.

He hurried back over to the bed, inspecting the frame for any damage, but it was unharmed. Sighing in relief, he put it back carefully, and laid down, staring at it.

“It’s okay. It’s just one trip.” He whispered to her, feeling a bit silly but needing to say it all the same. “And I told her your name, just like you wanted to me to.”

She smiled back, frozen and wordless.

“Mickey all settled in?”

She collapsed onto the sofa and sighed, her eyes inspecting his face. He steeled himself. He had been waiting for this – for her to explode over Sarah-Jane and Mickey and his harsh words outside of the chip shop. It was why he had hidden away in the library, behind dense shelves of books. But as always, Rose had found him as if by instinct.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re--what?” he spluttered.

She kept her eyes on the carpet, hands twisting anxiously around in her lap.

“I shouldn’t have said—what I said, earlier. I was just being stupid.”

“Not stupid.”

“Okay, naïve, then. I just thought me and you were…” she glanced up, eying him carefully. “I don’t know, special.”

“Special.” He echoed, letting it bounce around his brain.

“And it just made me panic. And think about what happens when I die.”

“Well, that’s a way off yet.”

“Yeah, but it’s just like—who’s going to remember me?”

He frowned. “What?”

“I don’t really have friends on Earth anymore.” She said, turning to him and keeping her voice quiet. “There’s not even any records of my life from the past few years. I’ve got mum, but after that—” she fidgeted, casting her eyes down at her hands “I dunno. My whole life might as well have not happened. No one will remember it.”

“I didn’t forget Sarah-Jane.”

“You might as well have. How often do you think about her? Really?”

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward.

“And now you’ve invited Mickey, which is fine—” she paused, taking a deep breath. “But it feels like even your memories of me aren’t going to be just me now. You’re going to look back and remember Rose-and-Mickey.”

“Instead of just you.” He said slowly.

“Well, yeah. And I know it’s selfish—”

“Not selfish.”

“—self-centered, then. But I kinda hoped you’d remember me.”

She fell back, as though winded from her own words, and he looked at her thoughtfully. Rose’s mortality was a subject he rarely allowed himself to consider, but when he did, he was usually focused on its effect on him. He had always assumed she was too young to think about it with any real unease. He offered out his arm and she quickly snuggled into him, face buried in his suit.

“When you…go,” he said slowly, the words painful on his tongue. “I’ll tell people. Promise. The whole universe will get sick of hearing about you.”

She snorted gently into his chest.

“I’ll write books, even. Poetry. Make some art.”

“More art,” her muffled voice reminded him, and he smiled.

“Some more art. A whole museum full of Rose.”

He pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around her back, and kissed the top of her head.

“I’ll remember you. How could I ever forget?”

“They’re back,” he said as he walked through the door. “They survived.”

He undressed quickly, his clothes piling on top of hers. He bounced onto the bed, gazing at her, lying on his front.

“Cult of Skaro.” He told her, brushing dust from the bedstand. “Dalek Sec turned human. Just like the Dalek you touched,” he sighed, looking down. “I tried to save him. I knew you’d want me to.”

Rose looked back at him.

“No, I’m all right. Well—” he hesitated. “A bit angry, maybe. Four of them managed to stick together. Why couldn’t we?”

He rolled over; eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I know. We got rid of millions of them. Stopped them killing everyone, that made it worth it.” His eyes twitched over to her, and then quickly away. “I guess.”

“I don’t think you have Daleks, over in that universe. Shouldn’t do, anyway, although really who knows where they manage to get to? But even if there is one over there, you should be able to sort them out. Right in the eyestalk, remember? Only weakness.

“Although knowing you, you’d have them charmed before it got to that. Offered them tea or something. Given it a hug. God, Rose—I hope you’re being careful over there. Joining Torchwood is great, but risking your life is less fun when it’s just you. You probably know that by now, you trouble magnet. But I couldn’t bare if it if–” he paused, aching. “Although, I suppose I wouldn’t know anyway.”

He pulled the pink covers up to his face, brushing them against his cheek. They smelt less of Rose now, after a week of his visits—he thought the TARDIS had probably washed them at some point, although he’d specifically asked her not to. Still, they were a comfort.

“When I first saw them,” he breathed. “I thought they’d come from the void. And I was horrified, of course. But not entirely. I thought, maybe—” he buried himself deeper in the covers, “but I guess not.”

“How did it feel?” She asked, her hand clutching his tightly. “Being a picture?”

“Sketchy.”

She looked at him sternly, ignoring his wide grin. He pulled her towards the cake table, but she tugged him back, her fingers digging slightly into his wrist.

“I’m serious.”

He gazed at her, wondering whether she truly wanted the answer. No, probably not. But her eyes were pleading with him, and she had just saved the day. Her wish, as always, was his command.

“Flat—no, I’m serious,” he said quickly, halting her open mouth. “Couldn’t really move. Couldn’t feel the TARDIS. Just stood there and…existed. It was terrible.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, and she tugged him a little closer.

“Those kids—”

“—are not okay, no matter how well they look now. It was like being trapped in my own brain. It was hard to work out what was real and what wasn’t. Even now—”

He stopped himself quickly, biting at the inside of his lips. She placed her hands loosely around his neck and kissed him gently on the cheek.

“Feels real to me.”

He laughed. “Can’t taste pencil?”

“Well,” she said, pulling him closer still. “Let me double check.”

“Rose,” he breathed, stumbling through the door. “Rose—Rose—”

He staggered across the room, arms out and craving for her.

“Rose—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He had left her. Again. A whole year under the Master’s brutal torture, but the worst pain of all had been staying away from her for so long. He clutched at her, his eyes devouring her face, the cold metal cutting into his skin.

“I couldn’t—I didn’t believe it—he was alive, Rose, and he was—” he struggled through his shallow breaths, trying desperately to articulate, to make her understand that he hadn’t chosen to stay away. “Rose, I was trapped. I spent every second thinking of you.”

She was looking at him, unmoved by his rambling pleas. He pressed his head against her, eyes squeezed shut, begging for her to understand.

“I wouldn’t leave you on purpose, you know I wouldn’t—I couldn’t—”

His eyes were streaming, but it felt so good to hold her close to him again. She was angry, she always was when they were separated, but she was here, and it was slowly relaxing him.

“I wasn’t the last. He was just hidden. I never thought—I was so alone,” he paused, smiling down at her. “Yes, I know. Apart from you, I meant. Does that even need saying?”

He ran his hand down his face. “No, I’ll be okay. I just needed to spend some time with you.”

He hugged her tighly, burying his face into her shoulder.

“How long did you wait?”

“5 and a half hours.” She gasped out, and he grimaced.

She was giddy with joy, and he realised suddenly just how frightened she must have been. What had he expected her to do, stuck on this space station? Wander around and hope one day he’d turn up?

“I’m sorry.” He said, pulling away. She looked down, but he pressed a finger against her chin, forcing it upwards. “Really.”

“It’s fine.”

He shook his head and stepped a little closer.

“I should’ve never left you. I never will again.”

He kissed her sweetly, and she stayed utterly still for a second before kissing him back enthusiastically.

They pulled apart and beamed at each other, their hands naturally gravitating together.

“We never did this,” she said, settling her head on his shoulder.

“What?”

“This,” she said, nodding at their clasped hands. “Us.”

He brushed the hair away from her eyes and then traced his fingertips over her lips. He had always loved these lips, loved the look, the touch—

“You never kissed me.”

He pulled his hand back and stared at her, confused. She shuffled out of his embrace, her sympathetic gaze grating at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. He had always been physically affectionate to her, every light touch a happy expression of love.

“You never told me that, either. Not once.”

He shifted in his chair, looking away.

“Why are you saying this?”

“Because I’m not sure you know.”

Martha left, and he thought maybe it was for the best. He had honestly liked Martha, found her intelligent and self-confident. But he knew she made Rose feel insecure, which was the last thing he wanted.

He spent his days curling up in her bed, chatting through their memories and finding joy in her smile. The universe had taken enough of his life. From now on, he would spend it with her.

“Doctor,” Rose said, settling heavily on the bed, “I’m worried.”

“About what?” He asked quickly, scooting up to her and taking her hand. She looked down at it with a frown.

“You’ve not eaten in a week. Not slept in months.”

He smiled. She was adorable. “You’re worried about me?”

She groaned, laying back. He mirrored her, studying her face.

“When was the last time you left the TARDIS?” She asked, and he frowned.

He’d forgotten he was on the TARDIS. He saw so little of it now.

“Are you getting restless? Because we don’t have to stay here. Maybe the library? You’ve always loved it.”

Her head towards him, and he was confused by the intensity he saw in his eyes. Maybe she was growing tired of his presence, sick of his constant rambles. He reached for his hair, nervous, and was surprised to find it down to his shoulders.

She reached towards him, and he stole her into his arms, trying to rub some warmth into her cold body.

“What about past the library?”

He frowned. “The console room?”

She groaned and rolled into his chest. He rubbed her back, trying to comfort her.

“What about the garden? We could plant strawberries for the summertime. Strawberries and ice cream for lunch, every day. Like a children’s book.”

“Why don’t you go outside, to plant strawberries?”

He pushed her away from him, bewildered, staring up at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Outside?”

“Grass. Sky. Stars.”

He let her fall beside him and stood up, angry.

“We can’t go outside. You know that.”

He glared at the wall opposite, his hands curling into fists. She brought this up so often these days, a constant argument that he never seemed to fully win.

“You need to,” she whispered behind him. “You need to go outside.”

He spun around. “I need to? By myself?”

She was very still on the bed, her eyes staring upwards blankly.

“Yes. God, Doctor, this isn’t you. When have you ever stayed still this long?”

He frowned at her. “But—we’re happy. Me and you, in the TARDIS. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

She gazed up at him, looking pained. “Do you really think I would have wanted this?”

“Of course!” He shouted. “This is exactly what you wanted. Just me and you, no one else. Domestics. Love. All of that.”

“Love?” She whispered. “Is this love?”

He staggered back. He had always loved her, never faltering and never hesitating.

“What else could this be,” He asked, feeling tears rage in his eyes “but love?”

“Pain.” She whispered.

He fell back against the wall, sliding down until he was draped on top of the carpet.

“Pain?” He echoed, feeling an ache against his chest. “I pain you?”

“No,” she said from the bed. “No, never. But what about you?”

“Me?”

“How do you feel?”

He paused and took stock. Quite hungry, actually – and tired, which was unusual.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

She stayed motionless, and he stood up slowly, shaking the sudden fatigue from his limbs. She gazed up at him sadly.

“You need to move on. Get past me. Find someone else.”

“Someone else?”

He paced up and down the room, treading on both of their clothes.

“Snap out of it.”

He froze and turned slowly.

“Rose,” he muttered, “don’t.”

“I love you, Doctor.”

He stumbled slightly, exhaustion overtaking him. He sat down on the bed and froze. Slowly, he stood up and turned.

Her face was shattered across the bed.

“Rose,” he gasped out, his hearts racing. “No.”

“I love you,” she cried. He knew this—had always known this—but even now, saying his goodbyes, a flood of joy coursed through his blood.

He reached out to her and pulled her lips towards his. Her hands immediately went to the top of his head, grabbing at his head, moulding his body on hers. He clung to her back desperately, cursing their bodies for stopping them from moving even closer.

She pulled back, gasping for breath. He ran his tongue around his lips, tasting makeup and saltwater.

“I love you too.” He whispered into her ear.

He was on the floor, shards of glass scattered across his body. He brushed them off, slowly sitting up.

“Rose?”

The room was silent.

#i have been working on this for 2 days and i'm still not fully happy with it lol #but if i don't post now and just move on i never will #fics

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yungidreamer · 4 years

Text

Heart in the Sea

The third oneshot in my Kinktober fantasy series

Summary: A selkie will always feel the call of the sea, but can she choose between the sweet and big hearted Seungmin and her true home when their paths cross.

Word count: 5.6k

Content warnings: The longing and bitter sweetness of love that is split between two worlds. A story of love and understanding that lasts a lifetime.

Suggested music: In the Distance by Tony Anderson and When You Fall Christian Reindl and When You Love Someone by Day6

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

The nearly full moon hung high in the sky, sparkling brightly off the surface of the calm sea. She came ashore in her familiar cove, scooting her torpedo-shaped body up the soft sand and through the surf until the tide only lapped at her as it reached it’s farthest distance up the beach. With a sigh she sloughed off her skin, transforming into the beautiful woman she could change into only these three days around the full moon.

Tucking her skin under her arm, she scurried up the soft sand of the beach to the hidden little cave she knew was there. She pushed aside the curtain of vines and tucked her skin inside at the same she pulled out the human clothes she kept there for when she returned. Changing into them, she made sure the little cave was hidden again before setting off down the beach to enjoy her time here on land.

Not far down the beach was a pier where humans tended to gather. They had built restaurants, stores, and even a dive shop over the last decade. She and the others didn’t mind it. It was actually sort of nice to have them around, especially since they mostly stayed around the area that surrounded their pier. Their area just to the north was a designated refuge for wildlife which meant they were mostly left alone but were still near enough to take a swim with people when the mood struck them. The divers could be fun and, honestly, it was hilarious to imagine how many pictures there were out there of her looking adorable with her big black eyes and pert whiskers, waving at another divers go-pro.

She walked down the beach until she could hear the hum of the people mixed with that slight buzz their electric lights gave off that none of them seemed to notice. No one took note of her as she walked through the sparse crowd, heading to the stairs that lead up to the raised pier. It had a beautiful view of her ocean and often there were couples there, standing together watching the beauty of her sea.

Her bare feet felt cold on the damp wooden planks. It was cold, but not yet cold enough to make her wear shoes. They were something she had never really gotten used to. Too constricting and they kept her from feeling the beach, the sea. In winter she bowed to necessity but for now, when it was just that little overlap in the year when summer blended into fall, she would not yet.

Taking a seat on a bench on one side, she quietly watched the people chatting and laughing together. A few older men stood, poles in hand, fishing as they leaned on the wooden rails. A couple passed by, fingers entwined as they spoke quietly together. People seem so happy when they are coupled together, she thought as she watched them. Pairing off wasn’t really something her people did but part of her wondered what it might be like. If there was another like her in her colony, one who could shed their skin and walk in both worlds, perhaps she would pursue such things but, alas, she was the only one.

“Are you waiting for someone?” A voice startled her from her reverie and she turned to find a tall young human male standing very near to her.

“No,” she replied, taking a moment to really look at him. His hair was a light brown, neatly cut to a feathery softness around his ears and neck. It was slightly messy, having been mussed by the winds that were always blowing along the shore. He had dark brown eyes she could only describe as kind as they sparkled in the low light. He was dressed in a white button up shirt with a pale blue sweater vest over it, and jeans of a similar shade. It reminded her of summer mornings, full of the promise of warmth but still cool and fresh as the morning mist began to fade away.

“Would you mind hanging out with me?” He asked, stepping forward but still not taking a seat yet. “I’m not here with anyone either.”

“If you’d like,” she shrugged but scooted closer to one side of the bench.

“So do you live somewhere near here?” He was fishing for something to talk about.

“Not too far,” she admitted.

“Is that why you’ve come out here so late?” He asked, looking out at the other people rather than at her as he spoke.

“I like this place,” she shrugged, giving a half smile. “It has a lovely view of the sea and it’s not too loud. Not too many people.”

“You like the sea then?” He nodded.

“It’s a part of me,” she spoke honestly, but guessed that the meaning probably escaped the boy beside her.

“I feel like that about music,” he confessed, his face breaking into a joyful grin. “Writing music and singing is just a part of me. I’m not sure who I would be without it.”

“It must be nice to have that kind of passion about something,” she said after a moment's pause. “What sort of music do you do?”

“I like ballads,” he explained shyly. “Love songs and acoustic things.”

“People seem to like things about love,” she remarked, looking at all of the couples around them.

“Love can be wonderful,” He laughed. “It can also hurt like hell, but when you find the one, it's all worth it, you know?”

“Not really,” she admitted, giving him a quizzical look. “I don’t really understand love very well.”

“Haven’t you ever listened to love songs?” He sounded surprised.

“No, not really,” she shrugged and turned her eyes back to the sea.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” He suddenly asked.

“Yes,” she nodded, she had another couple of days on the shore.

“Can I meet you here tomorrow after school?” His voice was filled with excitement and she couldn’t see the harm. She nodded and he seemed satisfied, standing up with a bright expression on his face. “I should go home, but I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, then I can teach you about love.”

“Alright,” She gave him a nod and watched as he started to walk away.

“I’m Seungmin by the way,” He said before he got too far away. She only waved in response watching him go.

Seungmin spent the whole day thinking about seeing her again. He went to class with only half of his mind on his courses as he thought about the mysterious girl he saw at the beach. He had to admit to the possibility she wouldn’t be waiting for him, or that she wouldn’t care to hang out with him even if she was. It was possible, but something about her made it worth trying. When classes were done, he ran home, grabbed his portable keyboard and headed for the beach with a happy spring to his step.

He found her there, sitting on a rock towards one side of the beach that stretched out in front of the line of shops that surrounded the pier. She sat alone, her knees pulled up to her chest as she looked out at the water. There was something...separate about her. She didn’t seem to fit in with anyone else there and it didn’t seem to bother her that it was true. That aloof, mysterious exterior just made him want to know what there was underneath. He wanted the chance to plumb her depths and explore her inscrutable soul.

“Hi,” Seungmin said as he took a seat on the rock next to hers.

“Hello,” she looked at him with warm eyes. “I wondered if you would actually come today.”

“Of course,” he laughed, giving her a wide and joyful smile. “I have something I wanted to show you.” He pulled out his keyboard and balanced it on his lap. Laying her head on her knees, she watched him flip some switches and make some adjustments before clearing his throat and bringing forth the first few notes from the keyboard on his lap.

“It was a really hard day today. My heart aches for you, the only thing I can do for you, is to be next to you, I'm sorry.” His voice was sweet and melodic as he sang. It had a warmth and intensity that spoke to her soul. Yesterday he had said he loved music and she could hear it in his voice. He was good at it and equally skilled at drawing the notes from the mechanical thing in his lap.

“When you love someone so much that it overflows, it's so amazing because this is how it is. I hope I can be a little helpful at least. I hope I can be your resting place. I'll try to make you feel at peace whenever you think of me during your busy days.

“You're such a soft-hearted person, every time you are silently in pain, even if I have to give my all, I want to make you smile again…”

They sat together for an hour as he sang some of his favorite love songs; the sad ones and the happy ones, the longing ones and the silly ones. She was sure that he could feel them in his bones as he sang them for her, giving her just a little window on what love meant, at least to him. It seemed selfless, joyful, and sweet, though perhaps that was really just him.

“Thank you,” she said as he took the keyboard off his lap, slipping it back into the bag he had brought with him. “Your voice is beautiful. Sonorous and soulful. It reminds me of the whales.”

“I haven’t ever been compared to a whale,” he laughed. “But thank you.”

“I suppose it is what I think of when I think of beautiful music,” she shrugged, blushing slightly. “I meant it as a compliment at least.”

“Whales are amazing,” he agreed. “We learned about them in school. I’d like to see one in person someday.”

“They are very pretty,” she nodded.

“Have you seen one before?” He asked with excitement.

“A few,” she replied. “But there aren’t that many left.”

“Yeah, we hunted a lot of them nearly to extinction,” Seungmin sighed.

“Humans seem to like killing things,” she observed, thinking of what she knew about people hunting seals like her.

“Some do,” he admitted. “I’d rather take pictures of them than kill them. I think sometimes it’s harder to get a good photo of something than it is to hunt it.”

“At least everything involved gets a second chance at it when you shoot with a camera rather than with a gun.” She concurred with good humor. They whiled away the hours together on the beach until he had to go home for dinner.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” He asked as he got up to leave.

“Yes,” she nodded. “But then I’ll be gone for a while.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow then,” he promised.

And he did. When they parted that last day he asked when she would come back. Soon she promised, around the next full moon. So long, he wondered sadly to himself as he rode the bus home that evening, so long to have to wait to see her again.

During the month that he waited for her to return, he still went to the beach most days, just to check and to explore the shore nearby. He spent a few days just wandering up and down that section of beach that was near the pier and it’s shops. There were natural barriers to either side with rocky outcrops reaching into the ocean except at low tide. Really, the area was more a massive cove, it just happened to be so wide it wasn’t terribly noticeable.

Over the second week, he began to explore beyond the rocks. One side extended into a long rocky beach filled with rocks that had been washed to smooth roundness. As the water washed ashore, it rushed through the rocks making the most wonderful whooshing sound. It was so calming, so rhythmic. I wonder if I could write something that would capture that feeling, he thought as he sat on an outcropping a slight distance from where the water swept in against the shore.

The week after that he went the opposite direction. At low tide he set out, following along the rocky, narrow beach until he found himself in a small horseshoe shaped cove surrounded by high rock walls that were nearly vertical. The cove itself was small and sheltered from the wind. The sea lapped in against the soft sand beach with a quiet sloop sloop sloop.

Taking a seat on a dry part of the beach, Seungmin took out his keyboard to try and write a little something. He dabbled with little tunes, a smattering of notes he combined and tested out, trying to make it match the sound his soul was waiting for. He couldn’t stay terribly long or he risked getting stuck there when the tide came in so he packed up to head back. As he threw his bag over his shoulder, something caught his eye out in the water. A little head was bobbing out among the waves. A seal, he wondered, squinting to try and get a better look. Before he could, it disappeared into the waves.

When the moon rose on the night before the full moon, she came out of the water and slipped her skin. It was getting colder and soon she would have to wear shoes, but now she still stubbornly refused. At least not today. Putting something on, she stole along that long half flooded beach to go look for Seungmin. She was sure he would be here. After all, he had been somewhere along her beach, near the pier, or on the rocky shore almost every day since they had first met. It wasn’t that she had gone to search for him, she assured herself. It was that she happened to see him that first day, then she wondered if he had come back, and eventually it just became a habit to look for him, to see if he had come again. Most days he played music. Sometimes it seemed to be something he knew, a whole song he had long since memorized, but often he seemed to be trying to find something in the notes, trying to invent something new. She liked those times. The sounds, while not perfect and not always sweet and melodic, held a creativity and expressiveness that captured her.

“Seungmin!” She said in surprise as she emerged from around the last outcrop to find him already there, waiting on a blanket on the beach.

“Hello,” he smiled at her, standing up and coming to the edge of his blanket. “I had a feeling you might come from over here.”

“How…” her eyes widened and a fear and suspicion trickled into her heart.

“Just a hunch,” he rushed to assure her. “Come here, I have a surprise for you. Do you want something to eat?” He extended a hand to her, inviting her to sit with him on the blanket. She took his hand, gingerly stepping onto the blanket with her damp feet. Seungmin reached into his basket and pulled out a hand towel he offered her to dry them off. Accepting it, she took a seat, drying her calves and feet which helped them to warm faster. She was grateful and offered him a thanks as she passed it back to him. When he took it back he handed her something else.

“What are these?” She asked, holding up the ball of knitted fabric he seemed to have handed her.

“Socks,” he replied. “Here, let me help.” Taking them back, he unfolded them, rolling one up in his hand before lifting one of her feet and slipping it on her up to her knee. He did the same with her other foot before setting it down with a shy smile.

“They are very warm, thank you,” she said gratefully. Seungmin nodded and turned back to the basket, pulling out a small packet of something and handing it to her.

“It’s a tuna sandwich,” he explained. “I thought you might like it.”

“Thank you,” she peeked inside the parchment paper bag to see the sandwich and the scent of fish wafted out to her. It smelled delicious. Usually she just fasted for the days she was with people. It wasn’t that long and had never really been a problem for her, but she had to admit, it wasn’t something she looked forward to. They ate in silence, both just sitting and looking at the sea, watching as the light faded into night. The night was still as the moon rose and the sun set opposite one another.

“Would you play something for me?” She finally asked.

“I’d love to,” he smiled at her. Pulling out his keyboard, he put it on his lap and turned it on. She stretched out on the blanket and closed her eyes, just wanting to listen to him play, to hear that joyful sound mix with the waves and wind of her home. She recognized small portions of the notes he played from the times he had come and played on those more isolated areas of the beach.

“Do you like it?” He asked when he stopped.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I like your music.”

“Thank you,” He let out a joyful laugh. “I wrote it for you.”

“Why?” She looked at him with questioning eyes.

“I like you,” he admitted shyly. “I wanted to have something to give you. Something you could take with you… even when you aren’t…” he let his voice trail off. There was a good chance he was wrong, that he had let his imagination run wild and had spent too many hours listening to the stories his grandmother liked to tell him.

“You know what I am, don’t you.” She said for him. “Are you going to trap me? Steal my skin.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said with absolute seriousness. “I could never do that; I couldn’t steal your life from you like that.”

“Why not?” She was curious, not that she wished he would but what she knew of humans, she would have guessed that most would have without much thought.

“Because love that comes from a selfish place only brings pain to everyone,” he replied. “I’d rather have just a little time with you that is happy than have you always but filled with sadness.”

“You are very special,” she told him, moving to sit beside him.

“No,” he denied, taking one of her hands in his. “I’m nothing special. Perhaps I just know how lucky I am.” He spread her fingers, gently weaving his in between and looking at how the skin between them went just a little higher than a regular human’s did. He sat with her on the beach as late as he could, heading home only after getting a call from his parents wondering where in the world he was. Packing up his keyboard and his basket, he put his shoes on and started to head up the beach to go home.

“Wait, aren’t you going to take the blanket?” She asked, standing beside it in her socks.

“You can keep it for this visit,” he said as he continued to move away. “I’ll take it back when you go.”

“Thank you,” she said loudly enough to make sure he heard her.

“See you tomorrow,” he waved one last time before he walked out of view. She sat down again, turning her gaze to the water to wait the hours until he would return.

One Year Later

“I have something I have to tell you,” Seungmin told her on the last night of her change.

“What is it?” She said, leaning her head on his shoulder as they ate and watched the sea.

“I’m going to be gone for a while,” he confessed. “I’m going to university in another place. I’ll come back when I can, but…”

“I understand,” she told him. “I knew you couldn’t always be here. I couldn’t ask you to give up your life any more than you could steal my skin.”

“Part of me wishes you would,” he admitted, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and burying his face in her hair that smelled like home to him now.

“You’re still here,” she said, bringing both their hands to sit over her heart. “Even when you aren’t here.”

Over the four years he studied, Seungmin came back as often as he could. When he could stay over the period of the full moon, he camped out in their little cove, bringing a tent they could both stay in together, enjoying the fleeting moments they could steal between them. If he was home when it was time for her to live as a seal, he would come and play for her. Sometimes she would come, wriggling her torpedo like body up onto the shore to nap beside him as he played, and others she would just bob in the shallows, playing in the water as she listened.

When he graduated, he came back home, working jobs to make ends meet as he also worked on his music and composing. In only a few years, he was able to make ends meet with his composing alone. His ability to make music that could pull at your heartstrings or make your heart soar brought money, if not renown to him. It was all he could have asked for.

When he had saved enough he bought a patch of land among the dunes a little down the beach from their cove and built a simple cottage. It was not large but had enough space for him to live in more than comfort, with a room he could compose in and a porch he could sit out and look at the sea anytime he wished. Now when she came ashore, she had a home to come to, a place that was warm year round and that was safe for her to keep her skin. She never needed shoes and never needed to worry that some adventurous soul would happen across it or that someone would steal it and trap her.

Many Years later

“Seungmin,” she said softly as they lay together under the covers. “I don’t think I can go back tomorrow.”

“Why?” He turned on his side to look at her with concern. She had never, in all the years he had known her, not gone back to the sea. “Is something wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say wrong,” she hedged slightly before taking his hand and placed it on her stomach. “I think it’s going to be like you so it would be best if I stayed like this until it comes.”

“A baby?” He breathed, wonder sparkling in his eyes. “How long?”

“I think as long as it takes people to have a baby,” she replied. “So probably half a year or a little more. I know I haven’t stayed that long before and perhaps it would be safe for me to go back, at least for a little while longer…”

“No,” he interjected quickly. “Stay, please. This is your home always, no matter how long and no matter your form, you can always stay here.”

“Thank you,” she smiled up at him. “Are you happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he asserted. “I can’t wait to meet our baby.”

“If it is like you,” she said timidly. “Can you care for it while I am gone?”

“Of course,” he couldn’t help but sound a little offended that she would even ask. “It is my child. I will love it and provide it with anything it needs.”

“I wasn’t even sure if you wanted children,” she pointed out. “We never spoke on the subject and I didn’t know if you would welcome one at all or not.”

“To have a small piece of you always here with me,” he smiled and brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I can’t say how happy it will make me.”

“I’m so happy to know that you want it as much as I do,” she spoke softly, cuddling up to him to go to sleep.

“I love you both,” he replied, pulling her into his arms.

“I can’t stay,” she whispered to the small child in the crib. “But I have never left so much of myself behind before.”

“We’ll be here when you come back,” Seungmin promised, wiping away the warm tear that rolled down her cheek. She stood and hugged him before going to where she kept her skin, stripping her human clothes before walking down to the beach to slip back into her skin and dive beneath the surf.

“Mama!” The little voice shouted from the porch as she saw the seal pop up from the softly lapping tide. “Daddy, mom is home!”

“Let’s go see her,” Seungmin scooped his daughter into his arms and carried her down the path to the beach. She was already on shore by the time they had wound their way through the dunes and sea grass. Her skin sloughed off and draped over one arm, she walked up over the soft sand to them. He greeted her with a kiss, trading their daughter for her skin before the three headed back up the path to their home.

“Sarah, what have you been up to while I’ve been gone?” She asked the little girl.

“I started school!” The little girl shouted.

“That’s wonderful,” she said with a smile.

“Why don’t you go get some of your work to show her?” Seungmin suggested.

“Okay!” The little girl ran upstairs excitedly.

“Welcome home,” He said, giving her a kiss.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she smiled up at him. “I have a surprise.” Placing his hand on her stomach, she smiled up at him.

“Another one?” Seungmin said excitedly. “Does that mean you’ll stay for a while again?”

“Not this time,” Her smile turned slightly sad, but did not disappear.

“Then let’s enjoy the time we have now, while we can.” He pulled her into a hug.

“Look mama!” Her daughter bounded down the stairs, papers gripped in her arms.

“Let me put something on, then you can show me everything,” She kissed her head before heading to where her clothes were already laid out.

During the long months she could not slip her skin, she stayed near her home, near her beach as much as she could. Seungmin spent many hours watching her swim in the waves or sitting with her as she sunned herself on the shore as their daughter played around them. Then, one day, she was not there alone. She was there with a small, white, fluffy pup.

“He’s beautiful, love,” he told her proudly when he joined her that morning. She fanned out her whiskers proudly, squinting up at him in her best seal smile.

Still more months passed before their second child was old enough to shift with her and they could both finally come home with Seungmin and her patiently waiting daughter. When the two of them stepped out onto the shore, he was struck by how old his son already looked. Rather than the months old infant he had expected to meet, he looked more like a toddler as he cuddled against his mother, holding her neck as she held him.

“Deacon, Mama!” Sarah shouted, running down to the beach to greet them. “Welcome home!”

“You look so grown up, my love,” she said, kissing her daughter's forehead.

“I’m in middle school now,” Her daughter beamed at her. “It started last week. School starts earlier now, but I’ll still try to wave good-bye every morning, just in case you can see me in the dark.”

“I can see quite well in the dark,” she assured her. “I will try to be here earlier so that I can see you go.”

“Do you want to see what I am learning?” Her daughter took her mother’s skin and passed her the robe she had brought before doing the same for her younger brother.

“We would love to see what you are learning now,” Her mother nodded.

“What is school like?” Deacon asked, taking his sister’s hand as they walked back up to the cottage.

“It can be fun, but it can also be really boring,” Sarah explained after giving it some thought. “You could always go to school, too.”

“Would I have to stay on land to do that?” Her brother asked.

“Yeah, but it isn’t so bad living up here,” she gave him a good natured laugh.

“I know it's not bad,” Deacon nodded. “But it isn’t really where I belong. I wish I could bring you with me to swim with us and see all there is out in the ocean.”

“Maybe I can learn how to dive and come visit one day,” his sister suggested as they stepped inside.

“If you do, I’ll help you swim,” he promised. “People don’t swim that well, even with the fins and stuff. But I can help.”

“Sarah, can I ask you to help him with something?” Her mother asked, coming back after putting her clothes on.

“What can I do?” Excitement filled her voice.

“Can you see if you can teach him to read a little while we are here?” She suggested. “Just for a little while each time we come. What do you think?”

“Sure! Come on Deacon, let me show you,” the two children rushed upstairs hand in hand.

“Did you really want him to learn, or were you hoping to get a little time with me?” Seungmin chuckled as he stepped out of the kitchen to greet her.

“Perhaps a little bit of both,” she admitted, giving him a happy kiss.

“He’s growing so fast,” Seungmin sighed, casting a glance at where they had disappeared. “I feel like I am missing so much of his life.”

“I know,” she commiserated. “I feel the same about our wonderful girl. But you have done so well raising her.”

“We have,” he agreed pointedly. “We have wonderful children.”

“Sarah Kim, Masters in Marine Biology,” the president announced, signaling it was her moment to step on the stage. Dressed in her graduation cap and gown, she stepped up, shaking the hand of the department heads, professors, and administrators as she made her way to accept her degree. It was perhaps predictable that she would follow this path, having always wanted to be a little closer to her mother’s world that seemed so close yet just out of reach. She wanted to understand it, she wanted to be a part of it, and most of all she wanted to protect it. After all, it was a part of her, too.

In the audience, her mother watched, seated beside her father, having stayed human this time, not wanting to miss this moment. Her brother had gone back to the sea, still far more comfortable there than on land and certainly uncomfortable with such large crowds. Sarah understood, she knew he would be there on the beach when she came back home, giving her a greeting before disappearing back under the waves. She knew he was proud. He had helped her learn and see so much on their dives together. They had both learned to walk in each other’s worlds.

After decades she came back from the sea a final time. She was growing old and, though the sea would always be a part of her, with her end near, she wanted to be with her loved ones. It was time to say goodbye and she could not imagine just never returning; leaving them wondering what had become of her one day when she just disappeared.

“I think I have finally come to stay, my love,” she told Seungmin as she took a seat beside him on the porch of their cottage on the beach.

“No more returning to the sea?” He asked quietly, putting an arm around her. “What about our son? Will he be alright out there, the only one of his kind?”

“He’s an adult and he will find his own path and his own family of his making,” she said with a proud confidence. “It’s not goodbye, just… time to let him go his own way.”

“Would you like me to play you your song?” He asked after a long silence.

“My song?” she asked, giving him a smile.

“You heard the part of it back on the beach the first time you came back to me,” he informed her. “I’ve been working on it ever since. It’s still not done, maybe it never will be, but would you like to hear it anyways?”

“Yes,” she said as she stood, ready to go to the music room where his piano sat, like his small ocean. It was an inseparable part of him, a little bit of his soul.

She stayed that final year in that cottage with the people she loved and still so near to the sea that would always hold a part of her, something even larger when her son was in it’s depths. When her time came, she could say she went without regrets and with her love by her side. Seungmin spread her ashes on their beach and in the sea so she would always be a part of both. He followed her only months after, at peace with his life and what he left behind. The cottage became the home of his daughter and a place where their son could always return to and always call home. His ashes joined hers, on their beach and in their sea, finally uniting them in a single place they could both always be.

Masterlist

#stray klds imagines #stray kids scenarios #kim seungmin #seungmin #seungmin imagines #seungmin scenarios #stray kids #kinktober #stray kids angst #selkie #fairy tales #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff

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sithsecrets · 4 years

Text

A Matter of Expediency - Part XI

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

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Part 11

4.5k words

Mentions: pregnancy, swearing, mild sexual content, discussions of past relationships, menstruation

—

“Are you sure this is safe?” you ask your husband, hesitantly settling in his lap as he starts up his TIE-fighter, flipping switches and pushing buttons.

“Oh yes,” Kylo assures you, absently pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I would never put your in danger.”

You’re still not convinced, unsure about two people galivanting through space in a one-man vessel, but Kylo’s arm is strong around your waist, his words comforting. And honestly, you’re too excited to really be bothered, thrumming with anticipation at the notion of zooming around the ship with your husband after hours.

Kylo is careful as he guides your ship out of the hangar, exiting the Supremacy with care. But as soon as the two of you are fully out in the inky expanse of space, he punches the accelerator, sending the little craft off at an exhilarating speed. You giggle as Kylo whips you around the ship, squealing when he makes sharp twists and turns with master precision. Hux had told you that your husband was an excellent pilot, but you had no idea what that really meant, accustomed to traveling on casual transport vessels. But Kylo is being anything but casual, telling you to hold on as he executes rolls and loops and other tricks that make your heart jump up in your throat.

Clutching onto your husband tightly, you’re absolutely delighted to realize that he’s enjoying himself too, grinning against the side of your face as he tells you to brace yourself before he does something complex. Stars, he even laughs, the sound of his joy coming from deep in his chest. He loves this, you realize, loves to fly. Your husband, a serious man, a man with little time to himself and so much to do, loves to go out and do the one thing that probably makes him feel truly and supremely free. And what’s better still, he’s decided to share this hobby of his with you.

By the time Kylo lands the TIE back in hangar two, you’re breathless and giddy, flushed with elation from all that’s just happened. As soon as Kylo pops the door open to give the both of you a bit more air, you’re on him in an instant, pressing kisses to his face as you laugh and laugh. He kisses you back, holding you and smiling into your mouth.

“Did you have fun?” Kylo asks, finally peeling you away from him.

“More fun than I’ve ever had in my life!” you exclaim, turning to fall back against his chest with a sigh. Wistfully, you add, “Oh, we should do that every night.”

Your husband settles his arms around your middle, nuzzling into your hair. “If the Empress commands it, then so it shall be.”

You smile at that but say nothing, content to stare out at the stars glittering in the distance before you. Kylo’s got his little craft positioned so that the two of you can gaze out the back of the hangar, safe inside the climate preservers and blastshields. The two of you hold one another for a long while, sitting in comfortable silence until Kylo finally speaks.

“Did you have any lovers before me?” he asks, settling you in his lap.

“I told you the night we wed that you were my first,” you reply, brows drawing together in confusion. You thought the whole thing had been rather unforgettable, but maybe that was because you were the one who wiped a bit of blood from between your legs when all was said and done.

“Well of course,” Kylo says quickly, sensing your disconcertment. “But did you have any other… beloveds? A boyfriend, or just someone who cared for you?”

You shake your head. “No. Mila was very good at turning others against me, and there are many beautiful girls my age in my husband’s court. Everyone passed over me, I think.”

Kylo kisses the top of your head upon hearing this, arms holding your tighter. He hesitates as he goes to speak though, almost as if he’s choosing his words carefully. “Even the women who attended to you?”

You balk at that, caught off-guard by the question. Memories flit through your mind like flashes of light, and for the first time in years, you think of Sabe’s hands, of the way her lips felt on your neck. The two of you had been so young then, barely Helda’s age when you first kissed each other in the dark. It was an innocent little tryst for the most part, two teenagers sneaking into each other’s beds to make out for a couple of hours while everyone else was asleep. There was only one time that something “serious” happened between the two of you, something that was a bit more than simple kissing. You had been so nervous when Sabe opened the front of your nightgown, self-conscious about your body back then. But her mouth was warm and soft and wet as she suckled at your breast, laving her tongue across your nipples in a way that made you sweat. She never touched you, never actually made you cum, but that was the first time you can remember really wanting to have sex with someone. No promises were made, you never courted one another, but you would be lying if you said there wasn’t a bit of puppy love at play all those years ago. Obviously, though, the little fling ended, fizzling out with the heat of the summer months. You thought Sabe had moved on forever and a day ago, but you’ve been rethinking the idea of that since her little post-engagement explosion.

“I see,” Kylo says softly, breaking you from your thoughts. Embarrassment washes over you then, staining your cheeks with crimson— he saw what you were thinking about.

“I don’t miss her,” you say at once, rushing to explain lest your husband mistake your reminiscing for longing or pining. “We were virtual children then, curious and bored and accessible to one other. I just don’t like how we ended our friendship is all. Sabe was very angry when I said I wanted to marry you, even after you offered me a chance to break things off. Myself and my other ladies ended up having a fight with her about it, and it was ugly. She was ugly.”

Kylo gives you a squeeze around the middle, comforting and companionable. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug, mildly upset and completely unaffected all at the same time. The little relationship you had with Sabe is all water under the bridge, old news from years ago that you look back on with fondness. But her cruel comments towards yourself and Lydia have not faded with time, and they still sour your image of her overall.

Tired of thinking about the matter, you shake your head to clear away of images of Sabe, of her mean eyes and her soft mouth. Reaching a hand back to toy with a lock of your husband’s hair, you decide it’s his turn in the hot seat.

“What about you?” you ask, inquiring about his past relationships. “I’m sure you had many beautiful lovers before me.”

Kylo plays it modest, simply saying, “I took women to my bed on occasion, yes, but they were never anyone special.”

You won’t let him get away that easily, though, pressing for details. “Who did you sleep with?”

Once again, your husband is casual, speaking the truth without boasting. “Women I met through diplomatic work, mostly. The parties and the dinners, you know how it is.”

In actuality, you don’t know how it is, but you nod companionably nonetheless. You’re an adult— you understand the basic premise of what he’s saying.

“You never had girlfriends, lovers you saw regularly?”

A shake of the head, and then, “None of them interested me. But I certainly didn’t string anyone along. I watch officers do that to people all the time, and it disgusts me to no end. My intentions were always clear from the outset.”

You admire and respect that sentiment, pleased to hear that your husband never went through a womanizing phase like so many men of station do. And not because he wasn’t desired, either, for you’re sure the women (and men) flung themselves at Kylo back in the day the same way they do now.

Your final question is perhaps your most invasive, but you think Kylo won’t be offended if you ask it. “What was your first time like?”

“When I was twenty-two, Supreme Leader Snoke sent me to negotiate a treaty on Valdera,” Kylo begins. “As you know, the President of Valdera and his Parliament like to partake in quite a bit of… merrymaking when they receive guests. They threw me a feast, and many important officials were there. Nearly all of them were drunk before we even began eating, but I didn’t feel comfortable becoming inebriated amongst strangers.”

You nod, pressing a kiss to your husband’s knuckles to show that you’re listening.

“Anyway, as I was having dinner and trying to ignore all of the foolishness going on around me, I felt as though I was being watched. When I looked down the table, I saw that it was a woman who was staring at me. She was seated in a dignitary’s lap, and I thought at first that she was his wife. But then I noticed that other women had come to the table as well, and I understood at once that she was some sort of concubine. Or a prostitute, maybe. In any case, she was very beautiful, and I could see everything she was picturing in her head as she looked me over.”

“She was fantasizing about you,” you say, and not without a bit of jealously. This woman is long gone, a relic of Kylo’s past, but you still can’t help yourself from being a bit miffed.

Your husband must sense the change in your mood, because he draws you closer to his chest, laughing lightly. “Yes, you possessive little thing, she was.”

Though you’re not ready to be done sulking just yet, you crack a smile nonetheless, unable to stay mad when Kylo’s teasing you and nuzzling his nose against your ear.

“Naturally,” Kylo continues, “I was a bit taken aback, but I didn’t say anything there at the table. A few hours later, I retired to my rooms for the night, and she came knocking not long after. I was unsure of myself, but I let her in anyway. She said she was there to spend the night with me, a gift from the President himself. I told her at once that she wasn’t obligated, that she didn’t have to stay if she wasn’t truly willing, but she was insistent, putting her hands all over me as she told me that she was tired of fucking old men. I warned her that I wouldn’t be much of a partner, given my inexperience, but she said that was no matter.

“She taught me much that night. All of the ways a man can fuck a woman, what to do with my hands and my mouth… She probably enjoyed the sex more than I did that first night, but I tried my best to please her.”

“I’m sure you did just fine,” you tell your husband, unable to fathom him being a bad fuck. “Did you see her again after that?”

“Yes, but only for the remainder of my stay.”

You pause, hesitant to hear the answer to this next question. “… Did you care for her? Or any of the others?”

Kylo says nothing for a moment, rearranging in his lap so that you two may look at one another a bit better. His face is set, expression serious as he cradles your cheek delicately in his palm. “I always treated my partners with respect, but none of them ever meant anything to me, not really.”

For just a moment there, in the chill of the hangar, you feel safe enough to lay bare one of the soft spots on your heart. “Do I mean something to you?” you whisper, too afraid to ask any louder than that.

“You are my wife,” Kylo replies, caressing your skin. You kiss your husband then, heart bursting at this quiet, almost unspoken admission of his love for you.

The two of you retire to bed not long after that, walking hand in hand back to your quarters. Kylo lets you hold him so tightly that night, falling asleep with his face pressed against your chest. You breathe in the scent of his hair as you nod off, warm and content.

---

Palgodu is just entering its winter months, the air nipping at your exposed face and ears as you walk up the steps of the royal castle. Snow hasn’t fallen yet, thankfully, but you step lightly anyway, not wanting to graze over an icy patch and go tumbling. Kylo is by your side, of course, shrouded in a black as per usual. He keeps you close, probably trying to warm you up himself even though you’re draped in furs and thick fabrics. The two of your take in the great castle before you together, noting the fine stonework and carpentry. It’s a sturdy building, built no doubt to keep warmth in and invaders out. Guards are lined up all along the front of the place, armed to the teeth. They may be there for you and Kylo’s benefit, a welcoming party of sorts, but you doubt it. If your planet just ended a civil war, you’d keep yourself covered on all sides as well.

King Eli awaits you and Kylo as soon as you enter the castle, grinning broadly as he welcomes the both of you to his home. The first thing you notice about the King is his size, for he is tall and wide, made exclusively of thick slabs of muscle. He would be imposing with his full beard and beastly hands, you think, if his demeanor were not so warm.

You and Kylo amble through a corridor just off the castle’s entrance hall, following in the King’s wake. You pass many tapestries along the way, precious pieces of handiwork that seem to depict the history of Palgodu. They turn your head, these works of art, and you find yourself studying them intently until you’re shown into a small receiving room at the end of the hall.

The first thing you feel when you lay eyes on the Queen Eleanor is envy. Before she even so much as speaks, you’re plagued with it, the jealousy you feel so white-hot in your veins that you’re afraid your skin will glow from the heat. She is heavy with child, the Queen, her stomach round and swollen underneath the skirt of her gown. To make matters worse, the bundle of blankets that she clutches to her chest is squirming, confirming that she already has a little one out here in the world as well. And then a young girl dashes out from the corner of the room, giggling as she evades being picked up by her nurse, and you feel as though you might actually burst into tears.

It’s idiotic, you know, to be jealous of a woman simply because she has children, but you can’t help the way your mind rages at the sight of Queen Eleanor and all the bounty of her womb. She has so much of what you want, so much of what you’re worried you’ll never be able to have. Still, it’s impossible to hate her for long— the Queen, like her husband, is just far too kind.

She welcomes you with open arms, beaming as she declares that she feels as if the both of you already know each other. And you sort of do, you suppose, given how much you’ve communicated these past few weeks. Like you, Queen Eleanor handles her regime’s charitable efforts, and you’ve spoken at length over comm about donations and food and a myriad of other subjects. She’s practical and a bit headstrong, passionate about protecting those who rely on her and her husband for help.

“I apologize for not meeting you right when you arrived,” Eleanor says to you. “The baby needed to eat, and Maudie is always so restless when she’s forced to stand still.”

Finally, you snap out of you sad little trance, remembering where you are and what you’re doing. “Oh please, don’t be sorry,” you reply, waving her off with a gesture and a sweet little laugh.

Though your feeling of envy pass quickly, the sudden burst of intense emotion does leave you feeling disoriented. The rest of the afternoon is mostly a blur, and you barely feel like you’re there as you and Kylo dress for dinner. You must put up a good front though, because neither Miriam nor Kylo says anything as about your demeanor as they interact with you.

Dinner consists of a large feast, and you’re grateful for the crowd around the table. There’s much talking and laughing, and you’re able to shrink back into the noise, more content with observing rather than participating tonight. You do feel a bit better though, fortified by your warm meal and a few sips of wine. And of course, Queen Eleanor continues to be a lovely friend, trying to rope you into conversations regarding the upcoming charity gala that the two of you have worked so hard on.

Just as you’re digging into your dessert, however, you feel it, that round, aching pain that most women know all too well. Your good mood evaporates immediately, overtaken by an empty sort of melancholy that’s even more painful than the cramping in your abdomen. Keenly aware of your audience (and the fact that you’re wearing black), you try desperately not to let your emotions show on your face. And stars does that take all you have, the task made even more arduous by the fact that your husband sits beside you. You don’t want him to perceive the shift in your mood, so you must guard your thoughts more closely than ever before.

Mercifully, your mask never slips, your defenses do not fail, and you’re able to excuse yourself from the table with ease. In a surprising turn of events, Kylo actually accepts King Eli’s invitation to play cards, and watching your husband walk away from you is perhaps the biggest relief of all in this moment.

The walk back to your chambers is relatively short, but your limbs are so heavy as you make the journey. Miriam is there waiting for you, but you have no heart to perform for her, stumbling into the ‘fresher with little more than a weary ‘hello’. When you check , your underwear are stained, just as you suspected. And though you already knew what happened the moment you felt your stomach cramp up at the table, this confirmation of your worst fear makes you breakdown completely.

Cleaning yourself up sloppily, you leave the ‘fresher with tears in your eyes, startled to find Miriam there in the doorway when you try to go back to the bedroom. She’s poised to get you whatever you may need, mouth already forming the words, “What can I do for you?” when the two of you lock eyes. You don’t know why you do it, but you collapse into Miriam’s arms right there, offering no explanation for your actions as you dissolve into sobs.

“What’s the matter?” you attendant asks quickly, supporting your weight as you sag against her. Miriam’s hands are on your back, in your hair, rubbing and petting and trying in vain to soothe you.

You draw back from Miriam’s chest, hiccupping pathetically. “I started my period,” you tell her, and the fact that you sound like a distraught twelve-year-old girl is not lost on you in the moment.

Miriam looks confused for a moment, asking, “Did you—?” But then her face dissolves into a look of sympathetic understanding, and she puts her arms around you again. “Oh. Oh, my lady.”

You beg for a bath, unable to do anything else as your attendant holds you close. Miriam does as you ask, letting the hot water run as she unlaces your gown and lets down your hair. Trying to be useful, you take off your jewelry on your own, but even this small task feels insurmountable in the midst of your breakdown.

The heat of your bathwater feels like a warm hug against your skin, but not even this serves to soothe your aching heart. Drawing your knees up to your chest, you curl in on yourself, choking on your own tears and sniffles. Miriam allows you to have a moment, sitting patiently by the bathtub as you settle yourself. Finally, she speaks.

“What’s the matter?” she asks softly, reaching out to stroke your hair again. You don’t brush her off, though your tone is less than charitable.

“I already told you,” you reply curtly, hugging your legs closer.

Miriam maintains her composure, speaking gently. “I know. But I have a feeling that this is about something more than a bit of blood in your underwear, Empress.”

Swallowing thickly, you contemplate whether or not you want to get into all of this right now. But Miriam is your only resource, really, the only older woman in your life that may be able to offer you a bit of advice.

“I just want to be pregnant,” you finally croak, voice raw from crying for so long. Miriam sighs at that, nodding solemnly.

“I know, my lady,” she says companionably, still carding her fingers through your hair. “Has the Supreme Leader said something to you? Gotten angry or expressed his dissatisfaction?”

“No,” you say quickly, moving to sit up now. Your head pounds, clogged with congestion from all your crying. “It’s… it’s the Queen.”

Miriam starts at that, eyes ablaze, her tone indignant. “Queen Eleanor said something to you?”

You can’t help but laugh then, touched by your attendant’s defense of you. “No,” you say, any joy you experienced just now dissipating. “She’s a lovely person, it’s just… It’s just her children. She has so many, and I—”

“And you have none,” Miriam cuts softly, finishing your sentence for you. You nod, chewing on your bottom lip to keep from crying again.

“I just don’t understand it,” you declare, utterly bewildered. Miriam lathers up a rag, washing your body as she listens to you talk. “Kylo and I have sex nearly every night it feels like. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!”

“It’s not about what you’re doing,” Miriam soothes, rinsing you with her hands. “Sometimes these things just take time, that’s all.”

You throw a look Miriam’s way, eyebrows raised. “It only takes once.”

Miriam laughs a bit at that, nodding. “Yes,” she concedes, “technically once is enough. But that’s not the case for everyone.”

That makes you sigh, mostly because you know she’s right. Still, you can’t help but feel betrayed by your body, by your womb.

“Have I ever told you about the first woman I ever served?” Miriam asks, redirecting your attention away from your thoughts.

“No.”

“She was a senator’s wife,” your attendant begins, pouring shampoo into her hand now, “and she was desperate to get pregnant from the moment she got married. Like you, though, it didn’t happen for her right away, and she became rather upset. She began doing anything she could to conceive after a few months, drinking these disgusting teas, standing on her head after she and her husband had sex— just all sorts of nonsense. But after a year, she still had no child. Doctors assured her that she wasn’t barren, but of course she thought otherwise.

“After a lot of crying and wasting away in her bed, my mistress decided to just put the whole thing out of her mind. It destroyed her to do so, but she decided that perhaps she wasn’t supposed to be a mother. But do you know what happened after she quit fixating on the idea of getting pregnant?”

“She got pregnant,” you answer, already seeing where Miriam’s going with this story. She nods, confirming that you’re correct.

“That’s right. She went on to have another three children after she had that first baby, and they were all healthy and beautiful.” Miriam hooks her fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at her. “The same way yours will be. But you must relax, Empress. If you fester in this desire to bear a child, the stress will prevent you from getting the very thing you want so badly.”

You want to argue, to say that you aren’t working yourself up into a frenzy about having a baby, but that’s simply not the truth. You think of conceiving each and every time you and Kylo make love, you pray and yearn and hope as you as you wash him off your body. You even dream of it sometimes, giving birth, and not all of the things you see in your head are pleasant.

“Just enjoy being with your husband,” Miriam advises, almost as if she can read your mind. “If you relax and allow yourself to let go when the two of you make love, a baby will come quickly. I promise.”

You desperately want to believe you attendant, but your own anxiety forces you to remain unconvinced. Still, you’re grateful for the reassurance, figuring that everything will be brighter in the morning.

Kylo comes back from his card game not an hour after you get out of the tub, kissing you soundly as he grumbles about drunken aristocrat and a particularly poor hand that came his way during the event. You almost tell him about your little episode but ultimately refrain from doing so, figuring that it’s not worth the trouble. Still, your husband is intuitive as ever, asking you if everything’s all right as the two of you retire to bed.

“I’m just tired, that’s all,” you tell him, more than happy to snuggle down under his arm.

Kylo doesn’t press the matter, though you’re not sure he believes you. But he holds you close anyway, shielding you from the chill of the room.

That night, you dream that you’re running all through the Supremacy, chasing after a small child that giggles and squeals as they continuously evade your grasp. It’s frustrating, for they always seem to be just ahead of you, just around the corner or already running down the next hall over.

Just as you get close enough to grab the back of the child’s shirt, you wake up.

#kylo ren #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren reader #ame #my writing #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #cw: pregnancy #cw: menstruation #tw: pregnancy #tw: menstruation

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years

Text

The Flour Follies (one shot)

Characters: Loki x Reader

Genre: Pure, unadulterated fluff

Rating: PG-13, some kissing and a bit of innuendo

Summary: When you are left behind from the latest Avengers mission, you turn to cooking to ease your anxieties, but the God of Mischief can’t help but get in the way.

A/N: This is for @babylevines 4k writing challenge! Congrats on so many followers! My prompt was: “You can’t be mean, because I cook the food… and I could technically poison you.”

“Ow! God that hurt!”

It was oddly quiet in the Compound, despite your cursing. The majority of the team had left on a mission, leaving you and Loki behind. Untested and untrusted, both of you. You weren’t ‘ready’ for it yet, and Loki hadn’t fully proven himself to be trustworthy in perilous situations. He probably never would, even though he had been living here for almost a year without incident. Well, serious incident.

One can’t fault the God of Mischief for pulling a few harmless pranks - although his definition of harmless and that of everyone else may differ slightly. The time that he switched out the dummy training weapons for real ones hadn’t caused any harm, but that was only because Nat had seen the glint of sharpened steel just before she embedded it in Sam’s side.

You absolutely hated it when they left you behind. You’d only been part of the team for a few months, but you were still itching to go out and help your coworkers - and let’s be honest, friends - take on the big bad guys. Staying behind just made you anxious. It wasn’t productive to just sit around and wait for them to return, turning over more and more gruesome scenarios in your mind for the myriad of ways that they could get injured.

One thing that always worked to keep your mind and body busy was cooking. It was hard to consider gruesome ends to the lives of your friends when you had to keep the exact steps or measurements of a recipe at the forefront of your thoughts. Plus, everybody liked to come home from a long day of work to delicious food waiting for them, and it was a small thrill to have actual Superheroes compliment your cooking. So, while they sped away to fight crime or save the world or something else equally heroic, you toiled in the kitchen, intent on vanquishing their hunger as effectively as they did their enemies.

Well, judging by your cursing, it was a little less effective.

You pulled your fingertip into your mouth, giving the slow cooker a glare for having the gall to burn you. With your free hand, you, carefully, layered in the roast you had purchased, along with plenty of potatoes and carrots around and on top of it.

“You summoned me?” A velvety voice that you knew all too well called from behind you.

Pulling your finger from your mouth, you rolled your eyes and poured the broth that had been waiting beside the slow cooker inside of it. “You are not the only god, Loki.”

“But I’m the only one that matters.” You could practically hear the arrogant smirk that accompanied the words.

“What are you doing?” he asked, silently coming up beside you, peering at your work. He wouldn’t see much, as you’d already put on the lid and that had fogged up considerably, but he could still pretend that he was looking at something.

“Making food, smart one,” you explained bluntly, rolling your eyes.

Suddenly two arms clasped the counter on either side of you, boxing you in. You turned around and crossed your arms over your chest, an impressive feat considering how close he was to you.

“You know better than to insult me, mortal,” he rumbled, voice deep as he glared down at you.

“Oh shove off, Loki. I gotta make cookies.” You uncrossed your arms to push on his chest lightly, knowing that putting any force behind the gesture was useless. Super strength was not one of your abilities, so the only way to get him to back off was of his own volition.

He did his best to look menacing, but the predatory gleam in his eyes was lessened by the uptick of the corners of his lips. “We are all alone on this floor. I could do whatever I wished with you and no one would be any wiser. Your powers are no match for mine.”

“Whatever you wished with me?” You winked, shimmying your shoulders in an overdramatic seductive manner.

With the quirk of your brow, you accepted his unspoken challenge and ducked underneath his arms faster than he could move them to compensate. You darted to the fridge before turning to stick your tongue at him. He was fast, but you were faster. “You were saying?”

He stalked toward you, head tilted forward and emerald eyes watching you from beneath sooty lashes, but you slipped behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry. Were you being threatening? I’ll stand still.”

Loki’s hand reached out to snag your wrist as he whipped around, firm enough to hold you to the spot but not enough to bruise. “You are playing with fire, Y/N.”

You just smiled innocently up at him. In all the time you’ve spent here and interacted with Loki, he had made countless threats against you. It wasn’t a new vocation for him. But he had never acted upon any of them, and you firmly believed that he never would. No matter how much you pushed his buttons. And, oh, his buttons were fun to push.

“Oh, I thought I was playing with a god. My mistake.” Not your best line, but it earned you the tightening of the skin around his eyes nonetheless.

“Do not disrespect me. You will regret it,” he threatened, towering over you, his nose inches away from yours as he tried to use your significant height difference to his advantage.

You didn’t cower, instead choosing to puff out your chest and return his sinister expression. “You can’t be mean, because I cook the food… and I could technically poison you.”

He tilted his head to the side, an arrogant smirk spreading across his pale, elegant features as he released you. “Your Midgardian poisons would do nothing to me.”

You went to the fridge and pulled out butter and eggs, setting them carefully on the nearest counter. You felt his eyes on you as you went to grab the flour from the pantry, and with your back to him, you quickly dipped your hand into the bag to grab a small handful of the fine powder. “Wanna find out?”

He hissed your name in warning and you just knew that he was coming up behind you. So predictable. When his long fingers clasped over your hip and flipped you around to face him, you didn’t resist the movement and used the momentum to take your handful of flour and slap it onto the smooth, soft material of his black button-down shirt.

His face contorted in shock, his jaw dropping and eyes wide. You burst out into laughter. It was too rich to see the pretentious god covered in flour, his typical black wardrobe highlighting the mess too perfectly.

“Oops!”

An impish smile tugged on his lips, and his eyes flicked behind you. Before you could consider the possible reasons for the mischief glinting in his gaze, the entire bag of flour was dumped onto your head, thanks to his magic. You sputtered in his satisfied face. After a stunned moment, the absurdity of the two of you standing there covered in flour bubbled up from within you and you gave in to it, laughing boisterously. Head thrown back, mouth wide open, eyes closed, and absolutely covered in flour you were sure that you looked like some wild thing, but you didn’t care.

“Serves you right, wicked woman,” he teased, circling his arms around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest.

You ruffled your hands through your hair, sending flour flying over the both of you. Flour dusted both of you more thoroughly for your efforts. It clung to his sharp jawline and lightened his dark eyebrows and hair. The effect was almost ghostly when partnered with the lightness of his skin. But the warmth in his eyes still sent your heart skittering as he gazed down at you as your laughter died down. That look, of pure happiness and adoration, was for you alone.

It was difficult to manage when he was so adorably disheveled - he’d have a fit if he knew you thought that about him - but you looked up to him with a false look of frustration on your face. You knew he didn’t buy it, you couldn’t stop the smile that parted your white-powdered lips as you rested your hands on his chest, but it was still fun to pretend. “Now how am I supposed to make cookies?”

He dipped his head to capture your lips in his, tasting of flour and coffee, his soft lips working against yours with practiced motions that you had perfected over the last few weeks. His fingers rubbed against your back pleasantly, making sure to send warm tingles through you and steal your breath away.

Having enthusiastically silenced you, he pulled away and smiled at your dazed expression as his nose nudged yours. “Forget about the cookies, pet.”

His insistence reminded you of your own mission, and you actually pouted. Somehow still able to focus on your task despite the handsome man gazing down at you, you thumped your hands against his chest lightly. Small white puffs of flour scattered into the air with each light hit. “But I promised Sam I’d make him my famous chocolate chip cookies. They’re irresistible.”

His hands tugged on your hips until they met his, and he brushed his lips along the soft skin of your neck. “I can think of another thing that’s irresistible.”

“You’re incorrigible,” you murmured, pushing against his chest lightly. “But I really need to get these made, so if you could unhand me…”

He relented with a heavy sigh, dropping his head to your shoulder. “Love.”

“Order more flour for delivery, and then we’ll talk,” you haggled, running your floured hands through his black hair, making an absolute mess of it.

A pleased hum vibrated out from his chest, and he lifted his head to press a kiss to your forehead, pulling away with a frown from the bitter taste of the raw flour on your skin. “You bargain with me?”

“Yup,” you replied, your lips popping the last syllable loudly between the two of you. You slipped out of his hold to gather the rest of the ingredients that you could find, leaving a cloud of flour in your wake.

When you finally stopped moving about, stationed in front of the stand mixer with the ingredients laid out before you, you turned your head to watch Loki over your shoulder with a quirked brow and a small smile on your lips.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., order more flour for the accursed cookies,” he commanded, staring at you as if you were a glass of water and he was stranded in the desert.

Your laughter echoed throughout the empty room as he lifted you over his shoulder and carried you away from the disaster of a kitchen.

“I believe that a shower is in order. Wouldn’t want to have errant flour falling into the recipe and ruin the whole batch of irresistible cookies.”

#mimis4kchallenge #loki x reader #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki oneshot

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ofrestlessheartsx · 3 years

Text

A Little Surprise || Thevan

Who: Evan Hummel & Thea Baker ( @devtheabaker )

When: February 11

Where: Thea’s classroom and Thea’s apartment.

What: The aftermath of the auction. Smut.

Thea

Thea's lunchtime routine usually consisted of a quick meal at her desk - something nutritious to get her through afternoon classes and with enough energy to keep her awake and alert. The conversations in class tended to be longer in the afternoon, and so it was best to be energized. Of course that was less of a problem when she'd already done two edges for Evan and was struggling to think of much beyond the growing need for more. Flicking through a homework assignment that she'd allowed in late, Thea nibbled at a sandwich and washed it down with a bottle of juice that she'd grabbed from the vending machine. Tea, she thought, would be a good end to her meal.

Evan

Evan had come up with an idea after Thea had let her know of the first edge that she had completed for her that day. So when lunch came around, she ate her food quickly and then rushed off to Thea's classroom. The Switch was normally there during her lunches last year and Evan hoped that that hadn't changed. When she reached the classroom, she smirked at the sight of the older woman and knocked twice on the door before leaning against the doorway. "Hey."

Fae

Thea hadn't been expecting company, and she had to quickly swallow the bite of sandwich in her mouth before dabbing at her lips with a napkin. "Hello, Miss," she smiled at her visitor. "This is an unexpected pleasure, what brings you by?" She had hopes, certainly, but didn't want to assume what Evan might want to do in her classroom. Especially because that little smirk could hide a multitude of intentions.

Evan

Instead of answering, Evan made sure that there was no one else in the room before stepping in fully. She closed the door behind her, and made sure to lock it as well, before she stepped towards the teacher. She slipped onto the desk, careful not to make anything scatter. "Have you had a....productive day, beautiful?"

Fae

Thea swallowed hard, suddenly more sure of Evan's plans for her and feeling her heart race in response. "I have, Miss, thank you for asking." She pushed the remnants of her lunch aside as well, making sure the desk was as clear as it could be. "I even managed to get a couple of homework assignments marked during my break this morning. How about yourself, Miss?"

Evan

"Very good job." Evan said, winking at the other. When the lunch was pushed aside, Evan moved so that her legs were on either side of the Switch teacher as she continued to sit on the table. "My day has been alright. Classes seem to go much slower when I have plans that I'm looking forward to." She bit down on her bottom lip and then let her hands cup Thea's cheeks. "Come here." She uttered, drawing her forward into a kiss.

Thea

Thea blushed at the wink, not even trying to hide it. Being between Evan's legs was an intense feeling even though they weren't touching just yet. "I seem to remember that feeling. Even the good classes are less fun when there's something better coming after." Evan's hands were warm on her cheeks and she leaned eagerly forward to let her lips be captured in a kiss.

Evan

She smiled against the older woman's lips, appreciating the way that she had so easily given into the touch. Things happening with Thea hadn't been expected, but she did really enjoy having fun with her. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and worried it between her teeth before letting her go. "How much have you thought of me today?"

Thea

Thea's moan was audible throughout the quiet classroom, and she wasn't the least bit embarrassed by that. Some people just seemed to plug directly into Thea's dominant side, and Evan was absolutely high on that list. When she was released her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing noticeably harder. "All day, Miss. Ever since that first edge, you're all I've thought of."

Evan

"That's the right answer. Good girl." Evan uttered, dragging her fingers through Thea's hair and tugging her head back slightly. "I know I can't leave a mark on your throat...but I would really like to leave a mark on you somewhere today. Would that be okay?"

Thea

Thea inhaled quickly as her head was pulled back, and she grew all the more turned on at just how dominating Evan was being right there in her office. She squeezed her legs together when Evan mentioned a mark and nodded as much as the grip on her hair allowed. "That would be more than okay, Miss. Anywhere else that you'd like."

Evan

Hearing that she would be allowed to leave a mark on the older woman, anywhere other than her neck, Evan smirked. "Good. I know just the place." She mused, keeping that tidbit of information to herself for later that evening. Evan kissed along her neck and then pulled away from her, letting her hand drop from her hair. Evan glanced at the time before her fingers moved to the button on her pants, undoing them and then unzipping them, her movements slow as she waited for Thea's reaction.

Thea

"I'll look forward to anywhere that you'd like to put one, Miss." Thea hadn't been expecting a mark, but with the thought planted firmly in her head she was eagerly awaiting it. With the grip on her hair released she tried not to move too much, waiting to see what she was told to do next. The kisses along her neck sent shivers racing up and down her spine, and when Evan's attention moved to her pants Thea didn't hesitate - only leaned back a little to allow Evan better access. Her eyes were wide and dark, and she knew she was already breathing hard.

Evan

Evan, when she seemed to get the go ahead from the teacher, hummed in appreciation. She tugged down her own pants and underwear, setting them aside before she removed Thea's lower clothing as well. She sent them in opposite directions so that there would be no question what was whose when they needed to quickly get ready. She hopped back onto the desk, spreading her legs slightly. "You're going to fuck me now. And you better do it well and fast because we only have a certain amount of time left and you still need to get another edge in. You don't want to disappoint me do you?"

Thea

It felt good to surrender control; Thea didn't do it often, but when she did it was something she greatly enjoyed. Her gaze turned hungry as Evan stripped off everything below the waist, and Thea didn't even look at the clock when her pants and underwear formed their own discarded pile of clothes. If someone knocked they could wait, because frankly this was more important. Evan's instructions sent a hot pulse of need through her, and she squeezed her legs together in search of friction. "Definitely not, Miss. I have no intention of disappointing you. How would you like me to fuck you?"

Fae

Thea was gorgeous. And Evan knew that she was lucky to be able to see the other in this sort of position. She wasn't sure how many other people got to see her like this, but she was still lucky that Thea trusted her enough to do this. "You're in luck today, Thea. Because I'm going to let you choose." Evan uttered, watching as the teacher's legs pressed together in search of something that she wasn't going to be given just yet. Wouldn't be given for quite a while."

Thea

"That is very gracious of you, Miss, thank you - I very much appreciate that." Thea was very nearly trembling, and her accent slipped out on a few words where it normally wouldn't. She quickly flipped a mental coin between fingers and mouth that landed on fingers, and settled herself between Evan's legs to quickly press a finger to her clit and begin moving it in small circular motions. Normally she'd have gone slow, but they didn't have time for slow.

Evan

Evan sat there, comfortably, waiting for the other to decide how she was going to touch her. When a finger landed on her clit, her hips bucked upwards and she moaned softly. "Yes..." She breathed out, one of her hands moving behind Thea's neck and holding it to keep herself steady and also keep the other Switch close.

Thea

Being held in place made everything more intense, more visceral, and Thea threw herself headlong into her efforts. She wanted nothing more than to make Evan come undone as ordered, and she pressed two fingers into Evan even as she continued working at her clit. There wasn't any time to be anything but hard and fast, and Thea didn't hesitate. "You look so fucking good, Miss," she murmured. "Thank you for letting me fuck you."

Evan

"You're such a good girl. Just like that, Thea. Just like that." She gasped, her hips rocking forward into the thrusts. She drew her into a kiss, using it to keep her grounded in the moment. Thea was good with her fingers and Evan knew that it wasn't going to take long for her to fall over the edge.

Thea

"Just like that, Miss, I promise," Thea had no intention of slowing or stopping, not when she could make Evan feel good on her desk. Her task was made harder when she was pulled into a kiss, but Thea could hardly complain about getting to kiss Evan on top of everything else. Her fingers continued their work even as she lost herself in the kiss, and she waited to feel Evan come apart around her.

Evan

It wasn't long at all before Evan was tumbling over the edge, her inner walls clenching around Thea's fingers as she moaned into the kiss. Her hips spasms and she held Thea closer until her body relaxed. She pulled back from the kiss and breathed out slowly. "Fuck. So good."

Thea

Thea couldn't keep a proud smirk from her face as Evan's orgasm hit her, knowing that she'd be reliving the moment for the rest of the afternoon. She kept moving as long as she could, wanting Evan to savor every moment, and only relaxed when she did. "Thank you for letting me fuck you, Miss," she beamed.

Evan

"Thank you for being such a good girl." Evan replied with a smirk, pressing another kiss to her lips. She glanced at the time and then looked back at the teacher. "You'd better get working on that edge. Otherwise, you're not going to have enough time." Evan expressed, biting down on her bottom lip.

Thea

"It was very much my pleasure, Miss," Thea licked her fingers as she pulled away from the kiss. When the edge was mentioned her eyes widened just a little, having almost forgotten it in the heat of the moment. "Yes, Miss," she nodded eagerly, sitting back in the chair and spreading her legs wide to let Evan see as much as possible. She was already wet after what she'd done for Evan, and Thea knew it wasn't going to take long as she began roughly circling her own clit with one tapered finger. "Oh, fuck."

Evan

She groaned softly at the sight of Thea touching herself. Not only was it just absolutely gorgeous, but also knowing that the Switch was touching herself for her was such a turn on as well. "You look so sexy like this. Touching yourself and making yourself feel good for me, but knowing that you're not going to reach that point."

Thea

Thea whined softly, but didn't stop. She knew that the edge was going to be the hardest one of the day for her, and she already knew how difficult it was going to be to stop. But she also knew that it was crucial she do so if she wanted to have a good scene with Evan later on. "Fuck, Miss. It feels so good." She slowed, just slightly, not wanting to hit the edge too fast but cognizant that they didn't have much time.

Evan

The whine caused Evan to bring her thighs together, and she moaned softly. "You're so beautiful, Thea. Get there for me. I want to see your face when you deny yourself the pleasure, knowing that it's for me. Knowing that you're being such a good girl for me." Evan expressed, entranced by the sight before her.

Thea

"Yes, Miss," Thea managed in a slightly strangled voice. Hearing Evan's command nearly tipped her over, but she managed to get to the edge and hang there for just a moment before she pulled her fingers away to let out a a desperate moan. She was aching for more, and if she hadn't been under orders she never could have stopped herself. Letting her head fall back she breathed rapidly, struggling to hold her body in check for Evan.

Evan

"Good girl. That's a very good girl." Evan expressed, smirking softly at her as she hopped off of the desk. She pulled on her own panties and pants before moving to give Thea a quick kiss. "Thanks for a wonderful lunch break. I'll see you in a few hours." Evan said before making her way to the door, winking at the mess of a teacher left behind.

Thea

Thea was a frantic, desperate mess and she moaned softly against Evan's lips as they were pressed to her own. "You're welcome, Miss, and thank you for making it a very good lunch break. I'll see you soon!" She made no move to get up for a moment, knowing she risked tipping over the edge if she tried to stand and walk. It really had been a great lunch hour, and she looked forward to following it up.

Evan

The day passed slowly in Evan's mind. Classes seemed more dull, conversations didn't hold quite as much wait, simply waiting for the day to end so that she could engage in the rest of the evening with Thea. When the day had finally ended, Thea and Evan went through the process of having her car looked over as was the deal that Thea had won through the auction. But when that had finished, they made their way into Thea's place. Once there, Evan slipped her arms around the teacher's waist and drew her in close. "This...was the longest day."

Thea

Thea liked to think that as a teacher with responsibilities, she was above being turned on and distracted all day. But unfortunately a faculty position didn't make her anything more than human, and she found herself getting increasingly grumpy with each minute that didn't allow her to go and find Evan. Eventually, though, the day finally came to an end and she reported to her for the car maintenance and lesson she'd been promised. Things went well, the car still seemed in good shape, and when it was through she was finally allowed to go home and relax. "This day was long enough to be twelve days," she agreed as she was pulled in close. "I missed you very much, Miss."

Evan

"I missed you too, good girl." Evan uttered softly. Getting to do this scene with Thea was the first scene that she was doing since Magnolia had left. And while it hadn't been too long since they had broken up, it still felt like a big deal to the Switch. She'd been in a mood and she was hoping that getting back into the swing of things would help her. Her grip on Thea's waist tightened. "I bet you couldn't wait for us to get back here so that I could fuck you. Am I right?"

Thea

Being called good girl put a smile on Thea's face that nothing would take away. When she'd bid on Evan's services she hadn't been demanding a scene, but it made her feel good that they were doing one. It had been some time since she'd knelt for anyone, and Evan was very good at making her feel submissive. Even the way her grip tightened possessively was perfect. "You are so right," she nodded. "I'm glad my car's in good shape, but watching you bend over and check under the hood was torture. I've been dripping for you since lunchtime, Miss."

Evan

She hummed when Thea said that she had been dripping since lunch time and backed her up until she was leaning against the wall. It had been too long since she had gotten to fuck the other and she was definitely going to take advantage of the evening that they had together. She slipped her hands under Thea's shirt and pushed it upwards so that she could remove it, tossing it to the side. "I'll have you know that I couldn't think about anything other than you all day."

Thea

Pressed against the wall, Thea let out a gasp of approval. Freed from her skirt she felt infinitely more ready for what was to come. "That is very good to hear, Miss. Because you've certainly been on my mind all day, and I was so looking forward to what you might do the next time that you saw me. This was very high up on my wish list, I must say."

Evan

Evan winked and removed Thea's bra as well before turning her attention to her bottom half. She removed her bottoms and then the soaked panties that she was sure had been absolutely ruined the entire day. This left Thea completely naked, with Evan still completely dressed and she licked her bottom lip. "You're so sexy." She uttered honestly, her hands finding Thea's waist and squeezing. "No touching me without permission." She ordered before leaning in to kiss her.

Thea

Thea had no problem being completely exposed, and she readjusted her stance against the wall to make sure that Evan had the best view possible. "Thank you, Miss," she smiled, reaching up to brush a lock of hair out of her own eyes. "Understood," she promised. "No touching you without permission." There was just enough time to get her response out before lips pressed against hers, and she moaned desperately at the sensation. She'd needed it all day.

Evan

Her hands rested on Thea's waist as her lips moved against the older woman's. Thea would be wet, wanting, needing and so Evan didn't really need to work her up; but that didn't mean that she wasn't going to do it anyway. After all, working the other Switch up was just as fun for her as it was enjoyable and torturous for Thea. She kissed along her jaw, sucking softly against her skin, but not hard enough to leave a mark. "Are you still okay with me leaving marks?"

Thea

Thea had been turned on for so much of the day that it was beginning to feel like a constant state, and as Evan kissed her deeply she couldn't resist moaning into her mouth. She wanted more, needed more, but it would be Evan's prerogative when or if that happened. All Thea could do was enjoy herself. Her knees buckled, just a little, as soft lips travelled her jaw. "I am, Miss. Very okay."

Evan

She grinned when Thea said that she was okay with Evan leaving marks along her skin and she kissed down towards her breasts. She wrapped her lips around one of the nipples, sucking against it lightly. As she did so, she felt the bud harden in her mouth and she hummed around it. Thea was so gorgeous, so responsive, and Evan loved knowing that she was the one that was doing this to her.

Thea

Thea reached out for something, anything, to hold onto, but kept her hands clear of Evan. Every part of her screamed to reach out, to bury her hands in dark hair or keep them firmly on hips, but she hadn't been told that she could do that and so she wouldn't, it was as simple as that. The attention lavished on her nipple was enough to make her see stars, and she leaned her head back to let out a moan that more properly showed how good she felt. "So good, Miss," she gasped. "So good."

Evan

"That's right. You are so good." Evan responded, moving over to her other nipple to tease it as well. When she was happy with that, she sucked a mark into the top of Thea's breast, leaving the first mark of many that she planned to leave on the other woman. Thea had given her the go ahead and Evan would absolutely be taking advantage of that.

Thea

Thea beamed, Evan's compliment making her feel wonderful. "Fuck," she groaned as her breast was marked, still struggling to stay upright. "That feels amazing, Miss, I can't wait to," she had to gasp for breath, "to wear that all week." Evan seemed intent on leaving marks in every possible place, and Thea had absolutely no issue with that.

Evan

She hummed against her skin, moving down her body and leaving marks along the way until she was kneeling before her. She spread Thea's legs apart, biting down on her bottom lip. "You're so wet for me, Thea. So willing to be a good girl for me." Evan uttered, nails dragging along her thighs. "You can touch me now. But only my head and neck." She uttered, before leaning in to run her tongue through wet folds.

Thea

Quickly reduced to a dripping bundle of need, Thea writhed in place and kept her hands firmly to herself despite every instinct in her body screaming at her to reach out and touch. "So very wet, Miss, and all for you." Her submissive side had settled into complete control now, and she wanted nothing more than for Evan to keep calling her a good girl. "Yes, Miss," she nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Miss." Her knees tried to buckle again as Evan's tongue met her skin, and she reached out for the other woman's head to try and keep herself steady.

Evan

With Thea agreeing that the wetness was all for her, Evan squeezed her thigh tightly, wanting her to know that the words were heard, acknowledged, and appreciated. "Mm, you taste so good." Evan expressed, adjusting herself until she could press her tongue inside of the older woman, humming against her. She was warm and wet and Evan thought that a day of being soaked was a perfect look on the other woman.

Thea

The subtle communication of the hand on her thigh made Thea smile - it said everything she needed it to, without needing to be verbal. "Fuck," she gasped, hand gripping Evan a bit more tightly as Evan's tongue found its way into her. "Oh, god, Miss." Keeping herself upright was definitely going to become an issue, but she was simply going to have to find a way. Because damned if she was going to stop and move unless Evan ordered it.

Evan

When Thea reached out to grab her head, she smirked against her. She loved the feeling of reducing a beautiful woman into a mess of wetness, moans, and need. Thea’s thighs were already quivering and she reached upwards to hold her more firmly against the wall so that she could be more stable. She had been ready for this sort of treatment all day and Evan didn’t want that need to overcome her too much. Her tongue dragged through Thea’s folds and she moaned against her. “You taste so good.”

Thea

The day had been very nearly overwhelming, and Thea was profoundly grateful that Evan was now going to relieve the ache that had been kindled in her that morning and that had weighed on her mind ever since. The stability of Evan's hand holding her against the wall made her feel safe and able to let go, and she knew it wouldn't take long at all before the gorgeous woman between her legs made her cum. "You're so amazing, Miss," she praised, wanting Evan to know how much her touches were appreciated. "May I cum for you soon, please? Please, Miss?"

Evan

Evan hummed and nodded her head. "You may cum, beautiful. Cum for me nice and hard." She mused, wanting to watch her as she fell over the edge, wanting to taste her as she fell apart because of her after all of the teasing that she had endured throughout the day." She hummed softly against her and then went back to sucking on her clit to drag her over the edge.

Thea

The day of edges and need had all built up, and once she had permission Thea's body tensed and relaxed once, twice, and she careened over the edge into orgasm. Her head fell back against the wall and she let out a scream of Evan's name that echoed off the walls around them, pressing herself more firmly into the other woman's mouth. "Fuck," she moaned as she came back to herself. "Thank you so much, Miss, thank you, thank you..."

#para: evangeline hummel #evangeline hummel: thea baker para #post: para

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soundofseventeen · 4 years

Text

13 Days of Christmas (Chwe Hansol)

A special thank you to @pointless-verses and @notprincesscharming for loving me the way they do and accepting who I am. I wouldn’t have written this without them. Some of us are Vernon and some of us are Y/N and that’s okay. Merry Christmas (Eve) everyone.

Word count: 2682

“Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright,” you sang softly as you hung the ornaments on your tree. You continued humming it as you decorated your apartment. Occasionally, one of the people that lived in the building would join in with you. You loved Christmas; you loved the holiday; you especially loved the meaning behind it. For many others, it meant gifts, shopping, food for days and more money spent in one month than in the entire year. For you, it was the reminder that Jesus Christ was born.

Jesus, church, and religion had been a big part of your life as a child and as you grew up, your faith in Him never wavered despite the obstacles. You didn’t tell people this part because over time, they had become less devoted and more critical of those who still believed, especially now that questioning everything had become a thing. You were familiar with almost everyone who disrespected your beliefs, and a lot of the time it felt like they targeted you personally. You knew there were bad Christians (and Catholics) who condemned those who were different, but you also knew that the self-righteous pricks who ironically had the holier-than-thou aura were no better, especially when it was just those who followed the trend. You felt lost for a time, but after joining groups and speaking to the pastors about your problem, you left somewhat reassured that as long as you had your faith, you could deal with the problem. Plus, your friends and family accepted you as you were, so nothing else mattered.

Sure you still didn’t know how people lived without God in their lives or how some could be angry at him, but you also didn’t know how people could use God as an excuse to treat others the way they did. Along the way in your self-discovery of living your life as God intended, you met those who had the same intentions as you did, some praising the Lord and some who merely smiled at the statement.

Among those you befriended in that category was Hansol Vernon Chwe. Hansol, from what you knew, had a golden heart with a soul to match perfectly. You met him one day while waiting in line for a coffee. He complimented the buttons on your backpack and even showed you the same ones he had. You noticed the book he had in his hand since it had been one you were curious about, so you sat down at one of the tables and discussed all the books you’d read and wrote down his recommendations. He was a lot on the goofy side so it was refreshing to see that because, at your age, everyone was stressed over something. (Not that it was a bad thing, but it was a nice change.) He was a little awkward once you started hanging out but once he got comfortable with you, he opened up a lot about his life.

It wasn’t the happiest but he managed to overcome a lot of his obstacles and you opened up to him. He was a fairly happy soul so when you spent time together, it felt cathartic. You listened to each other’s problems about whatever happened and just enjoyed each other’s company.

You did have suspicions that the idea of religion made him uncomfortable, but every time you asked him about it, he’d just wave it off and let you continue until the topic could be appropriately changed and you’d eventually forget about it.

But you noticed the closer to the holidays he got, the gloomier he got. You could see the storm in his eyes whenever you passed the green and red colored shops with Santa Claus decorating the windows and his mood soured every time he saw people buying gifts, and you realized he never celebrated the joyous holiday with someone important to him, so on a chilly and windy afternoon, you set off to find something for him and you’d wait until Christmas Eve to give it to him once you finished setting up the nativity set on the coffee table, and then you’d invite him over to give him said gift: a leather jacket and a new beanie to match it.

There was a knock on the door just as you finished putting the three wise men on the table and you yelled a, “Come in,” while you set up the farm animals around the little area. You continued your humming, setting up the nativity set as you pleased. “Hi Hansol!” you greeted him cheerily.

“Oh...hey,” he said sitting down next to you. He threw his backpack on the couch. “What are you doing?”

“Setting this up. It’s almost Christmas so I wanted to put this up. It’s the most important thing to me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. So, uh, you said you wanted to see me?” He tried not to look on the table, the discomfort setting in, the more he avoided it.

You nodded, finally standing up and stretching. You pretended not to notice how he eyed the place skeptically, especially when you walked to the Christmas tree. “I got you something.”

“Why?” His eyes narrowed quickly, the slow boiling anger making you uneasy. Maybe you should’ve brought it up a little later? Maybe after he tried some food from a new recipe you made?

“Because you’re my friend and you’re special to me and all my special friends get gifts.” You smiled at him nonetheless.

“I don’t celebrate Christmas,” he said simply. “It’s stupid.” The off switch hit and he shut down, the way it normally did when he didn’t know what else to do.

You tried not to show the disappointment and hurt on your face, but you didn’t know how to make words come out of your mouth either. The present in your hands felt heavy suddenly and you felt like a fool. “Oh,” you finally said.

“Yeah...holidays don’t deserve to be celebrated when it’s a shit storm all year ‘round,” the sarcasm and bitterness lacing through the happy tone. “You got kids dying, homeless people with no place to go, and when your life is torn apart like mine, well, you get used to it. I gotta go.”

“But you just got here!” you protested, your voice trying not to break.

“And I have somewhere else to be now.”

“Hansol, if I offended you, I’m sorry-”

“You wouldn’t understand. I didn’t mean to ruin this for you.” He patted your shoulder and walked out quietly.

The moment he had found out about your religious side, Hansol had known it was gonna be difficult. He often stayed away with people who claimed to have a relationship with God because whenever he told someone that he wasn’t sure if God even existed, it was like a switch flipped. They were usually offended, yes, but then they forced (or tried to force) their beliefs down his throat and just gave him the cold shoulder when they realized they couldn’t convert him. He had been through so much in his life and he had stopped trying to defend his reasons behind it. He was tired of being judged for it, and he hated trying to prove that he was still a good person because he thought it could still be possible. It made him angry; it confused him and it even saddened him a little because he never knew where to turn to.

When he met you though, he thought you were just like him: a lost little soul, hoping to find something, anything. But as he got to know you, and you spoke of God so highly, he couldn’t help but feel betrayed. Another one for the books.

He liked you a lot though, and despite the barrier, he never felt like you forced it on him. Then again, he waived the subject of God and Christianity and everything it came with whenever his discomfort became too much. He never meant to push you away like he did at your place but it felt like he was backed into a corner. He made his friends (whatever was left of them, that is) and family swear they wouldn’t buy him anything in relation to the holiday in the past because he knew the reason behind Christmas and he couldn’t get on board with that. He would be something of a hypocrite if he celebrated it, so he chose not to.

He could taste the bile on his tongue from overthinking and he needed to get away from his head. He wanted to call you, but he knew he made you cry the moment he left your house that day. Couldn’t he be your friend and still choose not to believe? Or did you only wanna become his friend because you a.) thought that he was religious or b.) knew he wasn’t and you thought you could change his ways? Neither seemed likely though. You never gave him a reason to believe otherwise

He turned on the radio to hopefully drive his thoughts away, but the moment he heard the song, you automatically came to his mind and a slow smile crossed his face. He remembered you telling him it was your favorite Christmas song over lunch one day when it came on the speakers. You had hummed it and tapped your fingers to it. He liked seeing you happy like that; all of his friends deserved it, especially you. You made him feel welcome, although he never told you upright his confusion with religion. Some days he didn’t believe; sometimes he did, but mostly, he was unsure. He was afraid it’d hurt you and he didn’t want that.

It was a nice song, he decided right now that he was paying attention to it. Would he add it to his Spotify playlist? No, but that was okay. He could appreciate it because you were important to him..

“‘Bye everyone! Thank you for coming! And thank you for the gifts!” You weren’t sure of how much hot chocolate you ingested but you were sure it mixed into your bloodstream. You felt full and content. You invited a few of your loved ones over for breakfast and you all exchanged gifts. The best part of it all was being together, as it should be. There were hugs everywhere, laughter and even a few tears from laughing too hard, all music to your ears. You never felt like you belonged more than in moments like this. God had blessed you with the best people in your life and you’d be going to church later on today to express your gratitude because you couldn’t ask for more (except maybe some concert tickets, but that wasn’t the point here.)

Your gaze landed on Hansol’s unopened gifts and you were overcome with many emotions, unsure of which ones were stronger. You could pinpoint the hurt because of what he said to you and how he said it; the sadness because of the outright rejection and refusal of opening them; embarrassment for not asking him if he wanted something in the first place; anger for not handling the situation the way you wanted to; disappointment because you had at least hoped he would’ve opened them before saying something; and even the hope he’d come to at least apologize. You said a silent prayer that wherever he’d be, he’d try to make the most of this sacred day.

You didn’t know what you’d do with the presents but you couldn’t return them...or give them away. You bought them specifically for him and neither option felt right. Maybe you’d just use them as a birthday gift; it was a couple months away, after all. It’d save you the hassle of shopping for him twice and at least you only had DK to worry about.

The knocking on your door brought you back but you laughed at yourself for being scared. You felt both giddy and afraid as you opened it and Hansol stood there shyly, holding a makeshift white flag as peace. “Hi, can I come in?”

You nodded quickly and let him in, curiously staring at the guitar his hand. “Sorry about the mess. I was just about to clean up. Did you forget something here the other day?”

“No, but I know I said some things that weren’t right and they probably hurt you. This is embarrassing because I hate singing and I hate Christmas but I didn’t know what else to get you so I learned this for you.” He strummed the strings a few times to make sure they were in tune and a moment later, covered “Silent Night” just for you before he could turn around and walk away. He missed a few words and fumbled a few times but you were endeared nonetheless and he hadn’t even finished when you were bawling your eyes out.

“Hansol, I-” you wiped your eyes with the sleeves of your pajama shirt at a loss for words.

“I’m not religious,” he started off after he saw you couldn’t complete your sentence, “I haven’t willingly stepped foot in a church in years and I don’t plan to anytime soon. I don’t like today for that same reason and because everyone in my family wants to erase everything that goes on throughout the year too. I’m not sure I even believe in God anymore because I don’t know how someone can be this cruel sometimes. But, I shouldn’t have disrespected you or your beliefs because of my problems. And for that, I’m sorry.”

“Hansol,” you tried again, but you didn’t know what to say. You’d met people who didn’t believe in God, but you never knew what to say when they told you so. This time it wasn’t any different. “You’re still the same person regardless of that. If I had known sooner, then-”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to judge me or try to change me. You’re one of my closest friends and if I lost you because of that...I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Silly boy, only you can decide if you wanna believe. You’re in my life because you’re a good person and honestly, that doesn’t define who you are. I’m not gonna drag you to church every weekend hoping you’ll change your mind and I’m not gonna buy you a bible either. It doesn’t matter if next year you wanna try it. It doesn’t matter if you wanna believe in God, or Allah, or Olofi, or not. But please, at least give me a warning if you’re not comfortable with gifts or anything.” You sniffled again and he pulled you close to him. “I don’t even know what to do with them. You made me feel so bad.”

“I’m sorry. You bought them with good intentions, and I see that now. Would you mind if I opened it?”

“Are you gonna get mad again?”

“No, I’m gonna treasure them for as long as I can because you put so much thought into them.” He lowered his voice, still fighting his discomfort. “Thank you for not hating me. You’re one of the first people I know who’s accepted me.” He choked a little on that last part and it was your turn to comfort him, understanding his pain. You stayed like that for a moment longer and he unwrapped his presents, thanking you more times than you could count for the jacket.

“Hey, isn’t something missing from your thing?” He said just as he was getting ready to leave.

“Oh yeah! The baby Jesus! This is for him after all.” You walked to the TV to grab the minuscule figurine. “Would you like to put him on his bed?”

Although a little uncomfortable, he nodded because he knew it’d mean a lot to you. With trembling fingers, he gently laid him down as heard you singing, taking his hand in yours to give him the strength, and for that he was grateful.

“Silent night….holy night….”

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need-a-new-hobby · 4 years

Text

Masterpiece

Spencer felt his palms sweat in his pockets in front of the dozens of students in front of him, his only encouragement coming from an award-winning author and natural public speaker. He felt ridiculously out-of-place, wanting nothing more than to switch places with the students in front of him. That felt more natural than anything else. Unconsciously, he felt at the cell in his pocket, remembering the text Piper had shot him. “Success is not final; failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts. You got this.” He smiled before delivering his practiced lines. “Most of us have done extensive post-graduate work in areas such as abnormal psychology and sociology, as well as intensive study of relative case work and existing literature.”

“But that's after selection to the unit,” Rossi interrupted, gesturing his arms widely to the young students in front of him. “First you have to be an agent, work in the field, and that's what we're here to talk about. For that, the academics are wide open. Everyone in this room, once you graduate, regardless of your course study, is eligible to apply to the FBI.” He listened patiently as a young man asked what he studied. “Criminal justice, but sports appreciation was all full up at my community college.” Spencer was jealous of Rossi’s charisma, wishing his own voice had a little more tenacity and charm. Lost in his own thoughts, he almost missed Rossi’s cue to him to list his own credentials.

“I hold doctorates in chemistry, mathematics, and engineering, As well as BAs in psychology and sociology.” He felt all eyes on him and while he felt proud of those degrees and his achievements, a part of him yearned to be normal. After what seemed like eons, a young woman piped up in the middle rows.

“How old are you?”

“Uh, I'm 27. As of last month, I turned 27. I'm--I'm also completing an additional BA in philosophy.” The silence prompted him to remember Piper’s advice and her laugh at his jokes. “Which reminds me that I have a joke. How many existentialists does it take to screw in a light bulb?” He asked the group as Rossi stared at him, hissing at him to stop. Regardless, he continued. “2. One to change the light bulb and one to observe how it symbolizes an incandescent beacon of subjectivity in a netherworld of cosmic nothingness.” He laughed, scanning the audience for a response, yet they just stared back at them. “Um, an existentialist would—"

“Okay, before he does his quantum physics knock-knock joke—” Rossi intervened. “Do we have any other questions about opportunities in the FBI?” The lecture over, the two agents packed up their belongings as the students left the hall. “You do know we want them to actually join the bureau?”

“What?”

“We want these kids to think it's a cool place to work.”

“I understand that, yeah.”

“Existentialism?”

“Existentialism is-- That was a funny joke. What do you mean?”

“Yeah, to Sigmund Freud.”

“I tell them I shouldn't-- they keep on sending me here. I don't know why.”

“Because you're young.”

“Young or Jung?” Spencer scoffed before he was interrupted by a middle-aged George Costanza look-alike with hippie white hair.

“Dr Reid? Wouldn't they sit in the dark and hope that the bulb decided to light again?”

“Excuse me?”

“An existentialist would never change the bulb. He would allow the darkness to exist.”

“Yeah, that's pretty good.”

“I'm Professor Rothschild. It was a brilliant presentation. Brilliant. You're a remarkably effective recruitment tool. The FBI is very lucky to have you.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

“May I show you something?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“It's all right here.” Spencer grasped the folder from the professor’s outstretched hands, flipping through several pictured of young men and women. 7 homicide victims. 7 women. The bodies have never been found. Not a fingernail, not a hair fibre. Acid is a very tidy way of disposing of something. “There is still time to save the others, though. In a bit less than 9 hours, 5 other people are going to be dead. Unless, you can find a way to save them,” the professor said casually, in a calm and measured voice.

^-^

At the Bureau office, Piper sat perched on her table and broke contact with the news screen to see Reid and Rossi walk in with their suspect. As Rossi took the man away from the bullpen and into an interrogation facility, Spencer approached her. “Guess your lecture went well,” she scoffed. “Found our 5 vics. Kaylee Robinson, she’s been abducted with 4 children from her at-home day care centre. You have a preliminary profile?”

“Piper, I talked to him for like 7 minutes.”

“Yeah, and what’s your theory?”

“Textbook narcissist. Inflated sense of their own importance, a deep need for excessive attention and admiration and a lack of empathy for others.”

“Jesus. I hate narcissists.” She groaned, pushing herself off the table. “You know, most narcissists in reality have a fragile self-esteem that's vulnerable to the slightest criticism.”

“Doesn’t fit this guy. Might even be delusional.”

“Well, Rossi seems pissed.” They walked over to the adjacent room where they could watch the interrogation. Rossi and Derek started circling the man in handcuffs and a few minutes later, they left and joined Bishop and Reid in the other room.

“What do you two think? We have a strategy?” Derek asked the trio. Piper twisted her mouth in thought, surveying the man.

“Narcissist huh? The only thing he’s gonna talk about is himself.” She glanced at Spencer who caught on immediately.

“Two-pronged strategy?”

“Mmhmm. One person who can pander, the other who just doesn’t care.”

“We need to identify the original 7 women,” Rossi noted. “Going back in there with names just might shake him up.”

“How do we do that?” Spencer asked.

“Reverse profiling. Learn everything we can about him and his methods and then profile it back to what kind of victim he would choose and from where. From the unsub to the victim.” They left to review the case in the conference room. Garcia complained about the thousands of missing women reports filed throughout the country as Spencer circled the room in thought.

“Kaylee was abducted at 9:30 this morning,” Piper outlined, tossing a marker in her hand. “He had time to take them somewhere, hide them, and make it to Fredericksburg 2 hours later.”

“He'd need a place with a lot of privacy to hide 5 victims,” Emily added. “A house?”

“He's local but he was late for the presentation, 5 hours after the abduction. He got there around noon, which puts him somewhere around that radius. Garcia work up a map,” Spencer asked. “We need the farthest point he could have taken Kaylee from Loretto and still gotten back to Fredericksburg by noon.”

“Shouldn't be too hard,” Garcia claimed.

“All right, what do we know so far? He's obsessively neat and clean. He did research on Reid and me at least. He's abducted 5 people, and then gets to a scheduled recruitment session at a specific time. That's extensive pre-planning,” Rossi dictated to Piper as she jotted down notes on their investigation board.

“Did you find anything in those pictures, Garcia?” she called out to her, but Penelope just shook her head, saying she couldn’t even confirm if they were dead.

“What about hair colour?”

“All the ones that show hair, they appear to be brunettes.”

“So’s Kaylee.”

“I'll start there. Brunettes from central Virginia that are missing,” Garcia noted

“We got zip on his prints. He's not in any system,” Derek added as he looked at Piper from his cell.

“So, he’s a ghost,” Piper nodded.

“If he hasn’t been fingerprinted, he hasn’t been arrested. Also means he hasn't had a passport, driver's license, or been in the military.”

“Or a teacher.” Piper added. “He introduced himself as professor, but you have to be fingerprinted to teach.”

“What kind of professor doesn’t actually teach?” Todd scoffed.

“Actually, a lot of professors are researchers on a grant. That could be a way to track him down.”

“There must be some sort of central grant database. I can't imagine the government just handing out money and not-- I'll look into it,” Garcia announced as she packed up her things to move back into her BatCave.

“From past conversations, we know he's a narcissist and seemingly remorseless, textbook psychopath,” Rossi summed up.”

“You know, we can eliminate a lot of these open missing persons Cases if we could just figure out how he met them,” Hotch pointed out and Rossi nodded, turning to Emily.

“Prentiss, I need you to do something for me.” Emily got up immediately, sweeping hair away from her eyes. As they left, Piper turned from the board to Spencer.

“I never have any normal fans,” Spencer murmured, and Piper laughed.

“Rossi said you told the kids that existentialism joke.”

“Yeah, no-one laughed.” Piper smirked. “Don’t make that face. The only reason I told them that joke was because you laughed at it last week.”

“Yeah, well, I know what existentialism is, Reid. They probably didn’t.” Piper said as she pinned up the pictured of the 5 victims. “How come you’re not going in there with Rossi?”

“He doesn’t want me in there. Says it’d be playing into Rothschild’s hands.” Piper nodded.

“I guess he does have a point.”

“I don’t know how he does it,” Spencer whined wistfully. Piper simply raised an eyebrow and joined Spencer’s perch on the table. “You should have seen Rossi. He had this…”

“Charisma?” She bumped shoulders with Spencer. “You shouldn’t feel bad, Spence. He isn’t an academic and he doesn’t have half the qualifications you do. Don’t sell yourself short. Now, let’s figure out this fan of yours.”

The team worked efficiently on their own tasks. Bishop noted further behavioural quirks as Reid recounted the details of the meeting to her. Prentiss pushed Rothschild’s buttons as she put him on the defensive while Rossi kept trying to garner information from him. Hotch oversaw Garcia’s work until she opened an anonymous email with a link to www.goldenrat.com. It revealed a live stream of their most recent victims, except one was missing. Hotch called the team into the BatCave and they watched the stream of 3 children and a young woman clinging to gas masks. Hotch noted how the gas masks stretched them evenly across the lengthy hallway. “How we doing with the seven missing women?”

“So far, I've got 39 missing brunettes in central Virginia.”

“Okay, 30 years old like Kaylee. Narcissists tend to be extremely preferential.”

“28.”

“He said he's been working on this for 5 years,” Rossi added.

“Over the last 5 years, 17.”

“All right, if he thinks he's going to jail for even one of the original 7 homicides, maybe he'll tell us where the rest of them are and give himself some deal room. Dave, can I talk to you for a minute?” Hotch pulled him outside and Piper shrugged at Garcia’s gaze. As the four agents narrowed down the 17 cases, Hotch discussed Rossi’s progress. “I was thinking maybe we should give Reid a shot.”

“You think he's smarter than me?”

“No. Intelligence is just part of the profile.”

“We're not talking about intelligence. We're not changing in midstream, Hotch. I have a rapport. This is my interview.”

“Okay. Let me know if there's anything we can do.” Hotch left Rossi staring at the man in the other room. Was he smarter than him? He shook away his doubts and entered the interrogation room.

“Do you know that I was born with an extra y chromosome?”

“So?”

“You don't know what that means?”

“It doesn't mean anything.”

“It means... I was born to be a killer.” Rossi laughed.

“Now that's funny.”

“Oh, no, no, no. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I have an extra y; it makes me a killer.”

“That's junk science; a joke. It was debunked years ago.”

“So, you don't believe that killing is genetic?”

“It's not a matter of me believing it. It isn't true. Killing someone or not killing someone is a choice. If those people die, it's because you chose to make it happen,” Rossi spat at the arrogant bastard in front of him.

Meanwhile, Piper jotted down 7 named from five locations. “That’s weird.”

“What?” Hotch looked up from the stream.

“We have one murder in Richmond, then one in Dinwiddie, two in Gloucester Point, and then three in Saluda.” Reid approached the board as Piper scribbled the numbers: 11235

“1 1 2 3 5,” Spencer murmured. “The Fibonacci sequence…” He trailed off, stretching his hand out for Piper’s marker.

“So?” Piper asked him. He didn’t deign to give a response. Instead he sprinted like a floundering goose towards the interrogation room, barged in and snatched Rothschild’s necklace.

“I know where to find them,” he hissed to the man in white before running back to the conference room. As he stumbled back into the room, he asked Garcia to put up a map of Virginia, pinpointing the five crime scenes. Holding up the pendant from Rothschild’s neck, he started to explain. “It's an irrational number known as ‘phi.’ It's based on the ratio of line segments to each other and of the whole. It's called the golden ratio.”

“Golden rat-- that's the web address, goldenrat.net,” Garcia added.

“It's a ratio found all through life. In fact, many people that we find conventionally attractive are proportioned based on that ratio. He, uh, he made a reference to Leonardo da Vinci, remember this? Da Vinci used it in a lot of his paintings. A matter of fact, the Last Supper—” He went off on a tangent until Hotch set him back on course. “The whole concept is represented by this pendant, including the logarithmic spiral created by using a Fibonacci sequence.” Piper stared at him blankly and so he changed tack. “Garcia, can you layer an image of the pendant on the map?” She followed his instruction and Reid kept throwing out instructions, flipping the spiral 180 degrees and making it bigger. "Okay, the pendant is like a key, right? It has to be in Chester."

"Spence, you're sure?" Piper asked, uncertainly. Math was never her strong suit, but seeing Reid's determined expression made her lose any remnant of doubt in her mind. "Okay, so now what?"

"Now, we move. I'll get a chopper to get us to Chester. Todd and Morgan can meet us there." As Piper and Spencer shifted to get their tactical gear, Rossi gazed at the map, feeling as though something was still missing. As Piper, Hotch, Spencer and Emily raced to the SUV to get to the chopper, Rossi re-entered the interrogation room.

"Chester, Virginia."

"What?"

"The whole team is going there."

"I see."

"They'll be there before 4:00; before the next deadline. You lose." Rossi spat at him. "Explain something to me-- this is all about a geometric pattern?"

"Phi is much more than a geometric pattern, David."

"Killing all those women-- Kaylee Robinson, the first seven? You killed them because they were beautiful?"

"You mean hypothetically?"

"Well, I'm just trying to understand this math thing."

"All animals desperately need a way to detect others of their species. Dogs have scent, dolphins have sound. Golden ratio is a subconscious identifier of perfect humanness. If I had done all these things, it wouldn't be because they were beautiful. It would be because they were perfect examples of humanity."

"Because they're human?"

"Hypothetically speaking."

"This doesn't make any sense to me. Killing a human because they're human?"

"Do you know what homo sapiens sapiens actually means, David? Its literal translation?"

"No."

"Man, wise, wise. Think about that. We named ourselves doubly wise. We are twice as wise as every other creature on the planet. The hubris, the arrogance. Humans are a blight. We should all be eradicated."

"You hate humanity?"

"Every bit as much as you do."

"I don't hate humanity."

"I told you, I read all of your books. It's in there, every one of them. Your hatred. Your first book, chapter 3, page 89, 1, 3...89. All Fibonacci numbers. 'The first time I saw one of william grace's victims,' 'I knew I was looking at the residue of pure evil.' 'I would never again feel completely safe around a human being.'"

"This is all about my books?"

"Like you, I know exactly what human beings are capable of. I can hate the things people do, but have pity for who they are."

"Pity? You pity them?"

"Any man who feels that the only way to have power or purpose is to hurt others deserves pity. Your fifth book, chapter 13, page 144. 'I know it makes little sense to try and deter violence with more violence.' 'But deterrence is not why I believe in the death penalty.' 'There are some people that are so violent, so evil, that society has no choice but to be done with them. 'Vengeance is something that society needs from time to time, if, for no other purpose, than to keep the rest of us sane.' 'Where is the pity?' Vengeance keeps us sane. What a fascinating statement. You may have your vengeance, as I am about to have... Mine."

"What?"

"They're never going to make it out of that house, David. It was never about that perfect woman or those wonderful children. It is about your team. Your merry band of five. They complete my sequence. The minute they stepped into that house; they were dead. I knew if I kept prodding you that you would rise to my challenge."

"Hotch isn't answering."

"Try Morgan."

"I knew... That you would insist on being in the room alone with me; that you would try to beat me. I knew you would send them all out there."

"No, nothing."

"Try Prentiss or Reid! It's a trap, stop them!"

"But you're not just filled with hatred, David. You're also filled with arrogance. Hubris, just like every other human being. Just like me."

"I can't reach anyone!"

"Try again!"

"They're never going to answer. You lose."

"Why? What did I ever do?"

"William Grace. The man you called the face of pure evil. My brother. My life ended the day you arrested him. Every time people talked about William Grace, they always talked about his parents and his brother Henry. Because no one could believe that anyone that evil could possibly hide in the darkness. Surely someone must have seen, someone must have known-- Surely his own brother. I had a fiancee, David. A beautiful woman. A perfect woman. She sent the ring back to me. She said she was afraid to give it to me in person. She was afraid of me. She was a brunette. So, then I started getting these thoughts, these ideas, these images inside my head. I couldn't--I couldn't escape them. And then I realised, my brother hadn't been alone in the darkness. I shared the same genetics you so casually dismiss. I started a second life. No one knew, but something... Was missing. I couldn't figure it out. And then... David Rossi, the man that ruined my life. And suddenly, I knew what it was that was missing. Because you... Have written it. Vengeance."

"Vengeance. You murdered all those women just because of me?"

"That's right. I killed 12 people... Because of you. You took my family. I take yours." Rossi straightened, pulling gently on his sleeves, thumbs brushing over maple leaf cufflinks.

"Did you get all that, Garcia?" He called into the monitor and watched the realisation of what had just happened register on Henry Grace's, sorry, Mr Rothschild's face.

"Every word, boss."

"Well, make copies before we give it to the US attorney. This might make a pretty good teaching aid."

"Teaching?" Grace muttered.

"Yeah. I teach interrogation at the FBI academy," Rossi remarked casually, whipping out his cell and dialling Hotch. "Garcia said I got it right?"

"Yeah, about everything. We found the acid tanks around back. The acid would have covered the whole area outside the room. There were spigots everywhere. The entry was booby-trapped."

"And what about Kaylee and the kids?"

"They're fine. You were right about them. They were just one of the decoys."

"That was Reid who figured out his obsession with those numbers. He wasn't about to kill 10 people this afternoon. That's not in the pattern."

"You get your confession?"

"Took some doing. Thank you." Rossi slipped the phone in his pocket, then turned to the mirror behind him the straighten his blazer. "You'd be charged with kidnapping, but Kaylee and the kids, they're all safe. You'll only face murder charges on the original seven women.”

“With no evidence?”

“Yeah. You, uh, you mentioned that when we first met, that we would never be able to get you on those. But I think you'll discover that the videotaped confession has the power to move a lot of jurors.” Rossi smiled at him politely before walking past when he felt the man tackle him from the back. Rossi whipped around, shoving Henry Grace into the wall, pinning him with his arm across Henry’s chest. “You waited until I turned my back, didn't you, Henry? Just like you did with those women.” Henry struggled against Dave. “Don't give me a reason to hurt you! And one more thing-- I'm going to be there when they strap you down for that lethal injection. And just before they hit the plunger, I'm going to lean in really close and tell you to say hello to your scumbag brother.” Rossi shoved him before wiping his hands and slamming the door behind him as he left.

Emily leaned against the door to their SUV as Spencer approached her. She nodded with a smirk to Derek and Jordan who were bickering on the path to their own SUV. “That is gonna be fun.” Spencer chuckled.

“Yeah, Derek’s gonna have a tough time with her.” Emily breathed out in relief. “Where’s Piper?” She pointed over to the young doctor with a little kid hooked on her back, a huge smile on both faces. Spencer’s soft smile wasn’t lost on Emily.

“Hard to believe she’s single.” Spencer’s head jerked towards Emily.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Emily said, biting back a smirk. “Just that she’d be very attractive to a lot of people.” She left him flustered, scratching his head as she called out to Piper for them to leave.

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