#sanity before that... just managed to keep it under the surface well enough

[hitlikehammers]

Fail Pirate!Eddie, Meet Your Competency Kink (Steddie Pirate AU)

🌊Under the Water (Our Hearts Will Dream Again)🌊

Chapter Three: A Three-Part Harmony

CHAPTER ONE // CHAPTER TWO // Chapter Four on 30 March 🌊

also on ao3

“I’m kind of wretched at this.”

Eddie sighs and honestly only keeps from tossing his fishing pole because Steve is nearby, and to risk harming Steve feels like a blasphemy he’d be committing against gods he’s never even heard of.

Because Steve is on a slightly-larger boat—not significantly, no one has any sudden burst of faith in Eddie’s abilities here, but it does hold two grown men and that’s an upgrade for certain—but Steve is with him, not quite a member of the crew proper but a member of something not-quite-nameable but oddly-universally-accepted (even the cat who pops up unexpectedly on board that no one can agree on whether it’s a demon or a ghost) as a member of the crew. His purpose is unspecified. His tenure undetermined. But his presence is taken as a given, now, and a quick turnaround with the decision for it, too. Eddie’d like to take the credit with his wordsmithery—Steve had escaped a painfully-forced marriage born of well-intended interference to stop a trampling, without knowing he was saving the governor’s daughter and securing her arranged betrothal in the heroics, and the only thing Eddie regrets about the tale is he truly maligned a nonexistent woman to make her unbearable, but it’s barely a regret at all, given how Steve had laughed like starlight when Eddie’d thrown theatrics into the planning, the man still half-dressed in a bed, and Eddie had never felt his heart thump quite like that sounds had managed before, but oh, it had only been a taste of what was to become commonplace—regardless. Steve had secreted the sympathies of the crew for the misfortunes endured for the wiles of women, and his presence was unquestioned, now.

To Eddie’s combined delight, with the constant risk to his sanity, not to mention—again—the safe and healthy cadence of his pulse in the man’s presence: the former holding most tenuous, while the latter being a wholly lost cause.

The delight, though, is worth both and more, at least tenfold.

He doesn’t even mind Steve’s smile, teasing but the sort as if they’re in on the honor together, and perhaps only together, something unique and secreted away for just they two: but regardless of Eddie’s whimsies, he doesn’t mind a bit when Steve grins at Eddie’s wholly accurate confession of being useless at fishing—obviously, though with Steve himself being the glorious and most wondrous kind of exception—and replies deadpan as anything:

“I’m aware.”

Which, oddly: one of Eddie’s favorite things about Steve is that he doesn’t try to placate Eddie with false comfort, but he also never mocks his ineptitude, in fact he frowns full-stop when the crew gets on a tear for it.

Eddie sighs in resignation, and moves to raise the line to try again, but Steve is quick, grabs it from midair and swings it in the blink of an eye to hold close in his palm.

Not-oddly, but very inconveniently, it turns bone dry in Eddie’s mouth merely for the show of skill.

“Your bait is poor,” Steve proclaims, thumbing around the worm that…looked fresh enough to Eddie’s wholly-untrained eyes; “and your hook,” Steve tuts, taking the metal between his fingers and bending it, squinting at his handiwork before humming and handing it back.

Eddie thinks perhaps he needs a break. A breather. A…moment to collect himself.

He hadn’t realized just how arousing competency was for him, before this moment. Certainly an indictment of the caliber of man he’s shared a ship with thus far.

But when he takes his seat, he nearly yelps when he doesn’t look, doesn’t think as to where he looks to take his rest, or better: what sits uponthe surface already.

Because Eddie, he…

He never steps aboard a vessel of any sort, without a shell to hand.

He huffs a little laugh, rubbing at the bit of flesh at the flank of him it bit into, and raising the conch he’d ferried aboard in the morning smile at, only catching Steve’s questioning gaze when Eddie lifts it by rote, pure muscle memory, to his ear.

“My mother,” Eddie breathes into the golden-hour, watches the waters sway like they just want to move, to live in the warm glow; “she told me that this was how the Sea shared its secrets,” then he drops the shell only to catch it near his hips with a flip, a little trick he’s mastered; a little desperation he’s never shaken: never let a shell fall.

Never once, since—

“My drunken father set me straight to tell me it’s just the echo of your blood pumping in your ears,” he taps his chest, then the lobe of his ear, sucks his cheeks inward as he tips his head knowingly; like it’s silly, but also like it hurts. Like it still hurts.

Eddie lets himself breathe in the golden air a little more, like a steadying hand in the more reflective calm along the surface of it: the waves themselves that shift around them, that seem to take cues and give hints back and forth with that air in a sparkling champagne dance: they’re not steady, save in their constancy.

But how are they anything but grounding, when their motion meets the motion beneath the surface of every man, the waves of his own beating blood: how is it anything but homecoming and soft stillness?

It is that and more for Eddie, always, and so he breathes, and he breathes, and he can speak again:

“I know he meant to ruin it for me,” Eddie nods to the horizon line, but it’s strange, or else just new: Eddie’s awareness of his surroundings is decent, had to be with his upbringing, but the way he’s aware of Steve’s presence isn’t even something he has to try for. It’s just…it’s just there, and was from the start.

So he knows when Steve steps closer.

He lets himself take the steadiness from the air, and the water held inside it; lets himself have one more deep breath, then.

“But from the day he said it, it felt even more magical, more perfect,” Eddie confesses, he thinks for the first time out loud and there’s no why he can pinpoint, just an urge natural, like the Ocean’s dance, to share this thing that sits in his chest and weighs his every move, left or right, forward of aft; “because why did it have to be one or the other? Why didn’t the fact that I heard my own heart mean the Ocean was moving in my veins, too,” and his eyes have slipped closed in that way that lets you trace lightning-lines behind the lid-backs, and he smiles as his palm rests against the center of his chest while he breathes, breathes:

“Secrets and life-sparks alike with every beat,” Eddie takes to drumming against his own ribs from the outside like a duet, save no, no it’s a three-part harmony, the sweetest in the cosmos: hand, heart, and the mighty whisper of all the Sea’s confidences.

“The waves,” Eddie exhales, just to breath in the sweet brine of the expansive waters, a balm to every part of him; “I always,” he shakes his head and massages his chest a little, hard enough to feel out the bones: “it’s not even that it just soothes me, or makes me feel,” he sighs, and opens his eyes, looks upon the majesty before him, and, and—

He thinks he feels a majesty not so different, not lesser and maybe not wholly separate in Eddie’s own chest, having taken yet another step closer while he’d left his eyes shut.

“It feels right,” Eddie looks behind him, over his shoulder; Steve is close, and the sun is catching his eyes fit truly to glow from within and Eddie will swear for all time that it’s the almost otherworldly shine that pulls the words further from his lips:

“I always imagined falling in love would feel,” Eddie starts, nearly whispers, drags his stare from Steve’s eyes but that just leaves his gaze to fall square on those lips, slick for no reason and so plump and dark that they do no less than the man’s eyes to steal Eddie’s breath, make the last of his words more motion than sound:

“That love would be the way I feel when I hear the waves.”

Eddie turns back to stare at the endless Sea for a time, then, and breathes, breathes, breathes—depends upon the familiar scent, and taste, and weight on the air to right him.

It works, a little. Because in the same moments: Steve doesn’t move. Remains; steady on his own.

“If the Ocean had a heartbeat,” Eddie finds himself murmuring almost without thinking, almost solely from his own heart, propelled by its own beats; “I imagine this,” and he breathes in deep for it, because it is whole truth, and no exaggeration, when he speaks of it the same as love: “enrapturing, this,” he gestures at the expanse of the water, the way peaks of foam, momentum rises a little higher, now, but somehow do not shake their boat one bit.

“Power beyond power,” Eddie shakes his head, in wonder now; “encompassing,” and he takes in the scene of it, never once less than the first time, always also newly profound, and then he pauses, feels Steve closer beside him, if only just, and chuckles. Does not blame the sun for the way his cheeks flush as he huffs:

“I sound fairly heartsick, don’t I?”

Because he does. Maybe he is. Steve, in his goodness, does not mock him. Is steady, and yet, his presence seems to give around Eddie’s somehow. Like some imperceptible dance.

“Though I do think, should I be lucky enough to stumble across another love?” Eddie adds, and knows full well it makes him sound no less pathetic with it all; “I hope their heartbeat makes me feel like the Ocean’s,” and he does hope that, he hopes that with all that he has, but then alongside:

“And also that they’d forgive, even if they couldn’t understand,” Eddie breathes a little quieter, now; “how I gave my heart to the water years ago.”

Because any lover would always need to understand: he was meant to be with the Sea.

He doesn’t actually know how long he stares at the waters before he laughs at himself and turns fully back to his companion.

“Apologies,” he bows his head, but Steve merely stills, his confusion painted on his features.

“Whatever for?”

“I have to sound mad,” Eddie points out, no question in it whatsoever; “and that leaves you stuck on a boat with a madman,” he laughs again, but Steve?

Steve doesn’t.

“I’ll tell you once more, as I told you the first time,” Steve considers him carefully, oh-so-serious; “I would never say that I am stuck with you.”

And if that doesn’t light something stunning and warm in Eddie’s breast, he’s not sure whatever could hope to. He feels himself flush, blames the feeling and the dying sun—their time waning—as he moves to busy himself with the pole to try one last time to secure a single fucking fishto take back to the ship.

“Is that how you cast a line?” Steve comments playfully as Eddie reels back to toss, but stops with theatrical offense before handing the pole to Steve pointedly.

“You do better, then.”

“Alas,” Steve shakes his head, palms out to decline as he wanders to the edge of the boat; “I don’t fish.”

“But you know,” Eddie doesn’t ask, because Steve’s critiques have not been idle. The man has knowledge—

Then Eddie’s crying out, because Steve’s bending dangerously unbalanced over the boat toward the water both hands beneath the surface, feet barely set aboard and Eddie does not wish to lose him to the waves again, it was frightening enough when he had no sense of the man; he cannot imagine losing him now—

And then the wet plop of a dozen…fish. They’re fish, wriggling but not like they would at the end of a line, just…there, out of their element, and then:

“Like that,” Steve breathlessly nods, dropping four more fish from his hands as he springs back full-footed into the boat and nods at Eddie’s abandoned fishing pole; “I don’t fish like that.”

Eddie thinks he’s allowed the moments he spends simply staring; gaping.

“How—“

“Just a skill,“ Steve merely shrugs; “we learn it where I’m from.”

Eddie would love to know where in the whole of the entire world summoning fish into one’s bare hands is a common skillset.

“They are not of sickly stock,” Steve insists, as if he needs to, as if there’s some modicum of distrust where none has existed from the very start; “not touched by what ailed me upon arriving here, I swear it.”

And Eddie wants to ask, wants to know what harmed this man, what brought such perfection in his low—still perfect, still blinding but pained, harmed, to the point where even when Eddie knew nothing of him he was pained in kind but know, Eddie aches to think of Steve come to any harm.

And yet he is curious.

“They seem almost,” Eddie takes a fish in hand—the perfect size and weight, impossible; “almost docile.”

Then Steve is close at his shoulder, and when he speaks Eddie feels it on his skin; Eddie’s heart leaps and takes to racing:

“Fish don’t have intelligence such as you and me,” Steve explains simply, voice a low heady rumble so near; “but they’re not stupid, and they’re not ignorant of the way the cycle of life turns, and their part within it.”

And in every way it sounds fanciful, child’s-play: but from Steve’s lips, with the conviction of plain truth in each word, Eddie believes beyond sense at all.

“They’ll taste sweeter this way,” Steve bends to help gather the catch together; “so long as they’re cooked well,” Steve adds the caveat with a playful raise of his brow; “a burnt fish is a burnt fish, no matter how gently they’re caught.”

And skill, charm, taste: Eddie is almost too busy falling just that little bit harder for the man as he nets the fish for transport.

Almost.

But then Steve’s back at his shoulder, and his voice is still low but the rumble is pressed where his chest grazes the line of Eddie’s spine:

“Do you know, that the human body is mostly water?”

Eddie didn’t. Doesn’t. Can’t barely breathe; only half-gasps shakily with all the air that remains to him.

“Is it?”

“Mmm,” Steve hums, and Eddie doesn’t move, cannot move, but he thinks if he did Steve’s lips would brush his neck just for the nearness of the sound.

“So you were always in the right, then,” Steve whispers to him, but it feels like it echoes through his entire frame nonetheless:

“Your heartbeat does have some of the Ocean inside of it.”

And Steve pulls back, finishes gathering up their catch, but Eddie.

Eddie’s heartbeat’s pounding hard enough that it’s a damn good thing his heart’s not in the Ocean, in kind, because he’d fucking capsize them both in a second, and he worse: he doesn’t have the breath in him like this to even hope to survive the depths.

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#steddie #steddie fic #fluff #angst #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #pining #flirting #HEAVY on the pining and flirting #meet cute #(on the OCEAN) #casanova-esque!steve #fail!pirate eddie #secrets secrets (are so fun) #pirate au #seafaring au #oceanic mythology #drama and sacrifice! #happy endings only #strbb #stranger things #hammers writes #hitlikehammers v words

[spoopy-fish-writes]

Can I ask for Nobunaga and Mitsuhide with a s/o that they thought was dead but she’s alive please 🙏🏼🥺? I’m happy to see someone doing headcanons of Ikesen, I don’t see enough of this... And could you warn me if you receive this message? I never know if Tumblr has sent my messages

—Nobunaga and Mitsuhide thinking that MC is dead

Suitor(s): Nobunaga and Mitsuhide

TW: Death, death of a loved one/ lover, unhealthy coping mechanisms, self blame, self hatred/ loathing, self neglect, intrusive thoughts, mentions/ suggestions of depression

Notes: Female MC || Congratulations, you made me cry

Nobunaga

He feels like his whole world has just stopped

There's no longer any of the light that you brought into his life

None of the joy and stability that came with you

Now just his need to not even continue, but his need to take

With your alleged death comes a fire sparked in his eyes and he fans the flames as he goes and destroys everything in his path

There is none of his humanity left

None of the softness that you managed to bring to the surface anymore as he becomes hell bent on the death and torture of whoever or whatever brought about the end of your life

He's no longer able to listen to reason and even Hideyoshi is unable to see the man that he had managed to make a bond with as vassal and Lord

Just the cold eyes of a man with a goal and nothing to lose, almost reminiscent of the God of war, the man acclaimed to be his one of his largest rivals

His only goal now is unification and nothing will stand in his way to get it

Everything is done in some warped dedication to you as he slowly starts to loose grip of everything that you taught and showed him

What little sanity he has left almost leaves him at the sight of you, alive and well

He is almost tempted to cut you down, almost passing you off as a cruel trick of the light or an attempt to distract him

He almost does but it's your voice that snaps him out of it

Calling his name. His name

So clear and... Alive

So different from the voice that he would hear as his mind played tricks on him

He's disbelieving as he reaches out to hold you, his grip painfully tight as he pulls you towards him, making sure that there's nothing that can take you from him

You were his woman and, by his word, not a soul is allowed to touch you or else face his sword

He can't beat the thought of losing you again and, after seeing his reaction to his loss the first time, no one else wishes it upon him again, your protection becoming even more of a priority than before

The unification of Japan takes on a different reason for him now. to protect you and make sure that no harm comes to you

Not a single being is allowed to hurt you ever again and, anything that does, will face the wrath of a man with the power of almost all of Japan

Mitsuhide

For once, his usual suspicious, teasing grin is nowhere to be seen

He can't physically bring himself to keep up the charade the second that he hears the news

He sends out everyone that he possibly can to find any information on you and whoever or whatever was thought to take you away from him

You'd given him the belief that there was hope for him yet and that he just needed to give it time to blossom. You were his hope. His light and the one that kept him from straying from his humanity and now you were gone

Even Hideyoshi can't bring himself to say anything to him

This wasn't the Mitsuhide that he was familiar with, the Mitsuhide that he knew. The one that would hide everything, the good and the bed, behind a mask. The one that would tease them all relentlessly and everyone knew it

They could see the bags under his eyes and how pale and swallow his already pale face had become and just how little he was taking care of himself, working himself to the bone in an effort to find a way to ruin whoever had ended your life

He looked ready to drop

The day that you come back to him, he thinks that he'd died and that this was his punishment for all of the sins of his life, that he'd be forced to see you, completely out of his reach for all eternity. After all, how would someone like him manage to get into any form of heaven?

His hands shake as he reaches out to you, a wry and almost pitiful smile on his face as he assumes that your image will fade away from his sight the second that he makes contact

But... It doesn't

You're still there

Very much alive, in front of him

He's barely able to stand as he embraces you, hugging you with frail arms from the lack of care he has taken on himself but right enough that you feel the air being pushed from your lungs

Be ready to just not move for the next few hours or maybe even days because he refuses to let you go and he'll be damned if he ever lets you out of his sight again

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#ikesen nobunaga #ikesen mitsuhide #tw death #tw death of a lover #tw death of a loved one #tw unhealthy coping mechanisms #ikesen #ikemen headcanons #ikemen sengoku #ikesen headcanons #tw self hatred #tw self loathing #tw self neglect #tw intrusive thoughts #spoopswrites

[bleachhaven]

Soutaicho’s Secret Admirer (Shunsui x Reader) — Part 5/6

Author’s Note:

It should be noted that this story is almost coming to a close...I’m sad to stop writing about Shunsui but it’s time to wrap this one up. So there’s maybe 1 or 2 more parts left.

Warning: A bit of smut ahead. One can only be seduced endlessly for so long without something happening about it.

–

Read Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3  and Part 4 first!

Uncharacteristically, Shunsui was late to arrive at the office. It was almost ten in the morning when he finally strolled in. Nanao would have admonished him without a thought but the dark circles beneath his eyes revealed he had already had a terrible night. She didn’t want to make it a terrible morning as well.

Shunsui didn’t have the excuse of drunken debauchery at some late night party for his tardiness. The last party he’d been to had been Lisa-chan’s Valentine’s Day celebration and that was over two weeks ago.

It was more or less about how his loneliness and melancholy had kept him up late into the night. Something he definitely didn’t want to burden sweet Nanao-chan about.

He had found himself strolling randomly in seireitei at around three in the goddamn morning because simply staying in his bed staring at his ceiling felt impossible. He didn’t have these kind of difficult nights too often but when he did have them, they were quite terrible.

Sure, he missed Juu. But his loneliness was a bit more than that this time.

It has been over two weeks since he had received anything from his beloved Secret Admirer. Fourteen whole days of complete silence from her was quite unusual, and he felt it acutely. Where was she?

The darkest of thoughts had plagued him at night. What if she was sent on a dangerous mission? What if she had been injured? He hated to think it...but what if she was never coming back? Hadn’t he honestly lost enough? 

The thoughts spiraled as the evening progressed into the wee hours of the morning, growing darker and more melancholy.

He knew he was not the greatest catch in the Soul Society. That title fell to Byakuya, uncontested. Shunsui was older than everyone in seireitei - a thousand years too old, he’d say. He was nobility too but he wasn’t one to truly fit into that mould, which deterred most noblewomen from considering him. 

He wasn’t what one would call conventionally handsome either. He knew he wasn’t ugly...but he wasn’t exactly...whole. Not anymore. Maybe once he would have held some appeal and he had many lovers who thought him handsome enough to have a tumble with him... but the eyepatch never failed to remind him that he was never going to be good looking, by anyone’s standards, with a goddamn hole in his face.

Most days, none of this would honestly bother him. But last night it did.

His beloved Secret Admirer probably came to the conclusion that he wasn’t worth all the trouble after all. Surely, there had to be a reason why he had never been able to have a long term relationship. He blamed it on his job but...was that all it was? Maybe he was just not meant to have a happily ever after with someone.

As romantic as he was, he didn’t really believe in the concept of happily ever after. He knew relationships were work. It was a commitment between two people who cared about each other to work on staying together through whatever. With time, he had put any thoughts of a relationship on the back burner. With his duty to the Gotei 13, and his responsibilities as well as the added burden of maintaining his reputation as the Soutaicho...it was a practical choice. 

But his Secret Admirer had made him want. Had made him yearn for a happily ever after for himself in a way he never had before.

He wanted to be loved and cherished as much as he wanted to love and cherish that one special person in his life. But did he really deserve it?

He knew it was her silence that had his latent insecurities rising to the surface keeping him up at night.

So as sleep deprived as he was, he came to the office with a plan. He couldn’t bear her silence anymore so he was not going to. With everything that had come up in the office, he hadn’t been able to finish up the letter he had started to write to her. At that time, it had felt futile considering there was no way to send it to her. 

But he had a brilliant idea. He would have it published in the next installment of the Seireitei Communication including just enough information so that she would know it’s him while withholding enough details to still keep it anonymous. He could trust Hisagi-kun to be discreet.

He had a plan, and it could actually work!

If only he could actually find that bit of lavender paper he had left on his desk.

“Nanao-chan, did you remove anything from my desk by any chance?” he asked, opening up drawers and bending down to check under the desk.

Nanao looked up from the training schedule she was working on. “Nothing more than the usual paperwork. Why what have you lost now?” she asked with an overexaggerated sigh.

“My, my, Nanao-chan. You make it sound like I lose things on a daily basis.”

“The only thing lost on a daily basis around here is my sanity,” she said, rolling her eyes. Still she relented. A distressed Taicho always meant a distressed Nanao. “Fine. Describe it to me and I will tell you if I saw it anywhere.”

“It was nothing official. Just a bit of lavender paper I had been writing on…” he trailed off seeing the look on her face. “What? Did you see it?”

“You lost the letter you were writing to you Secret Admirer?” she asked.

“Nanao-chan! How did you…?”

“You forget, Taicho,” she said quite matter of factly. “There’s nothing that goes on here I don’t know about. But I haven’t seen it. Maybe it got mixed up in some paperwork and got sent to another division. I don’t think anyone would recognize your flowery handwriting which you reserve for your personal correspondence anyway. So nothing to worry about.”

Shunsui simply stared at her. He has known his little fuktaicho for too long to not notice that something was off. All this time, he thought she was just laughing at his expense because he was mooning over someone he didn’t even know. But now...that look...the way she said it without even having to think about it...it all felt fishy somehow. Nanao-chan was up to something.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she huffed, correcting the papers on her desk that didn’t need correcting. A nervous habit that always gave her away. “If you don’t have any serious work, I have a pile of forms…”

“You know perfectly well who it is, don’t you, Nanao-chan?” he interrupted her attempts to distract him.

“I don’t know what you’re…”

“Please, Nanao-chan. It’s perfectly obvious you know exactly what I am talking about. Just...tell me…” he said.

He was so serious and intent. Nanao had only ever seen him like that in the heat of the worst kind of battle. She dropped her pretenses as well.

“She and I have both left enough breadcrumbs for you as it is. So if you’re so desperate to know who she is, why don’t you do the work to actually find out?” she asked him. “Clearly the girl cares about you but is terrified to approach you. Who wouldn’t be considering who you are and the position you hold. She is a nice girl, Taicho. But as things stand, she wouldn’t be the one to approach you so maybe you should find out for yourself who she is and do the approaching.”

So Nanao did indeed know who his Secret Admirer was. He understood her reasons why she couldn’t tell him. It wasn’t really her secret to divulge. Shunsui had to respect that despite his desperation.

“Is my sweet Nanao-chan giving her taicho dating advice?” he teased instead.

“Yes, I am,” she declared with a raised brow. “For even I can see how far you’ve fallen that you need advice from me to get yourself a date!”

Shunsui gasped, buying into the friendly teasing. “Nanao-chan is so mean to her taicho!”

Finally, they both got back to work, but Shunsui’s mind was still thinking about what Nanao had said. Apparently breadcrumbs were laid out and he hadn’t even noticed! He clearly had to pay more attention.

He tried to outline the facts in his mind. 

The letters were always lemon scented. It could be a shampoo or some kind of scented cream...but it smelled fresh, almost as if unintentional. Something to further ponder upon. 

The gifts were always elaborate but simple and he hadn’t been able to trace it through any vendor. The chocolates were handmade so his little Secret Admirer was probably very good with cooking and baking. 

The handwriting was very distinctive as well. Especially the way she looped all her Ls and Bs with a distinctive flowy curve. 

So far, the facts didn’t fit well into place to identify her as anyone he knew...but somehow, it felt like it was just barely within reach now. As if it’s only missing one final puzzle piece for the whole thing to come together.

__

That night, sleep evaded him once more. He couldn’t deny it. He missed her! He couldn’t help but wishing that she was right next to him, romancing him with more than just her words. He wished he could cherish her in all the ways he desperately yearned to.

 He took the letters he kept at hand in the drawer of his bedside table. He found that he liked to read them sometimes, and no matter how many times he read her words, they still managed to make him feel things. The shape of her words, the texture of the paper...it comforted him.

However, the sensual seductive ones were his downfall.

With all the time he has been alive, and all the experience he’s had, one would think he would be able to resist the temptation. But he often couldn’t.

Reading those letters, describing how she wanted to make love under the moonlight or how she yearned to taste him...it had him imagining soft feminine hands touching him. His hand would unconsciously reach into his hakama of its own volition and grasp his manhood, wondering what it would feel like to be touched by someone who ardently wanted to please him.

It wouldn’t take him too long at all. He would cum, gasping into the empty bedroom, wishing he had a name he could moan. Wishing she was here for him to hold.

Sated, he’d finally fall asleep. Yet though his body was satisfied, his mind wasn’t. He couldn’t help but feel alone on this big empty bed.

__

That coveted final piece of the puzzle arrived as, of all things, more paperwork. He was mindlessly flipping through some reports after lunch the next day when it popped out at him like well-lit beacon.

It wasn’t anything special. Just a request for more funds to be allocated for a better training ground for the 13th division. Except it was filled out by his beloved Secret Admirer. The handwriting screamed her identity at him, looping Ls and Bs and all.

“_____-san,” he whispered to himself, wondering how he could have missed it.

Suddenly, everything was perfectly crystal clear. 

Everyone knew that while Kuchiki Rukia settled in enough to pick her own fuktaicho, the 3rd seat of the 13th was acting in that role in an unofficial capacity, putting her in-charge of all the paperwork coming and going from that division. A reason why she was always showing up at the 1st...giving her ample opportunities to learn his habits well enough to leave behind those delightful missives without ever getting caught.

The lemon scent was from all the lemonade he knew she made for her division and for some special occasions in the seireitei. It was her specialty, a way of creating comfort and homeliness for her subordinates. He had tasted her chocolates twice - once at the Valentine’s Day party itself and then when she gifted them to him specifically. Both facts which had been pointed out by Nanao-chan while _____-san stood right next to him. No wonder she had flushed red then. It hadn’t been out of embarrassment but possibly from thinking she might get caught. The little minx.

He couldn’t help but remember every encounter he had with her in the recent past. Her cute blushes...the way she gasped out “Soutaicho!” Come to think of it, every time he saw her, he felt like she almost called him Shunsui out of habit only to change it to his official title at the last minute. He even recalled the twinkle in her eyes every time she looked up at him.

He couldn’t believe it. He finally knew who his Secret Admirer was and she’d been right before his eyes, had he only known where to look. He couldn’t help smiling, thinking about all the ways he would get back at her for running him around in circles. He would torture her so, so deliciously…

“You have that dopey smile on your face. Should I be worried?” Nanao asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm…? Of course not, Nanao-chan,” he said, not really reassuring her at all. “I am heading out. Be back soon!” 

“Taicho!” she called out but he was already gone.

__

...to be continued.

__

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[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 23

The Darkling x Reader

Aleksander walked into the dungeons not long after you, Zoya briefing him as you stood over the man who had caused a ruckus in your Palace. You were getting tired of his lies and fibs, basically begging to force the information out of his yourself but alas Ivan had some morals, telling you that the truth would come out of him in due time without the need for torture. Pity.

'I've been swindled, hoodwinked' he cried and you huffed, retreating to Zoya's side in annoyance. This man had some nerve lying in a room with 2 Heartrenderers.

'My guards tell me that they caught you fleeing the scene of the crime.'

'Yes, I followed them.'

'Followed whom?'

'They come from the other side of the Fold. From the start, they seemed, just, a bit off to me...-' You banged the back of your head against the wall in frustration, your patience wafer-thin. Zoya too looked done with the situation. Her jaw ticking in a telltale sign of annoyance.. '-So I ran.'

'How much of that is true?'

'He did cross the Fold with the others-' Ivan started but you cut in to finish.'-the rest were lies.'

You watched as Aleksander and Ivan entertained the man but your nerve had snapped for these theatrics. You needed to get the information and act on it, not make a spectacle. The man was already practically dead so why was he even trying to cover up his true identity?

Aleksander pulled up his sleeve and the tally on his arm was visible from your place at the wall. Countless journeys through the Fold burned into his skin in line form, a tradition used in all of Ravka by members of the public and First-Army.

'That is certainly entertaining. You are the Conductor, Arken Visser, are you not? You smuggle Grisha out of my palace! You help them abandon the war effort.' You were getting tired now, Aleksander had always played with his prey but this was dragging on and you had a growing list of urgent things to do: a dead Inferni to tend to, a missing sun-summoner to find, and a royal proposal.

You sighed loudly again, starting a slow pace around the dimly lit dungeon. To Arken you looked intimidating, his terrified eyes followed your steps around him, but all you were doing was keeping your boredom at bay.

'No. I deal in legal indentures. I don’t mess with Grisha.'

'Lie' both you and Ivan mused.

'I don't need them to tell me'

'Saints, hurry this up' You muttered under your breath as you rounded around to Zoya again. Being the good soldier she is, she ignored you. Your ears perked up and actually started listening as the trembling man confessed his ties with Zlatan, only then did your petty behavior pause momentarily.

'You put on a disguise. And you played at being assassin'

'That’s right.' You smiled at his concrete confession, having enough evidence now to use and to kill him. You thought back to the Inferni in the chapel as Arkin mentioned the Ketterdam thieves, did they do that too?

Aleksander turned his head to the side toward Zoya signaling for her to leave. You looked to Ivan and nodded in her direction, instantly assuming you were to stay. Ivan looked less than happy but obliged.

'And the dead Inferni in the chapel? Was that part of the thieves' plan?' You spoke up.

Arkin looked up at you with wide eyes 'That was not me, I swear. I can't be sure it was them either' You scoffed as his heartbeat remained steady indicating no lies. Great, I don't even have the murderer. Aleksander walked away from him, throwing a glance your way as he walked away too. You didn't need to be told what to do, you just did what you yearned to do the second you laid your eyes on the Conductor.

'Tell me how I can help' He shouted as you took a step back creating a distance.

'You already have.' Aleksander's voice echoed in the halls. You raised your hand with elegance and looked into the man's eyes one last time before his demise. Shadows pooled around your feet and fire enthralled the clothes on his back. The vein in his neck grew prominent as your other hand clenched into a fist. His shouts and screams were silent in your ears, a skill you had managed to master years ago to preserve your sanity.

'You don't mess with Grisha, Arkin.'

*****

Hours had passed and the work never stopped. Sleep was long forgotten that night. Aleksander was beside himself too, the search for Alina and the Stag weighed on him heavily, and now with the added search for Nina Zenik he hadn't slept a minute too. You needed to tell him about the Queen, as minutes ticked you cursed your cowardliness and fear. You were scared to tell him. You admitted it, but that fear was nothing in comparison to dread bubbling inside of you on how he would react.

Your steps were slow and lazy, the winter fete gown still on your body. There was a burn on the bottom of it from Polin, the twin sister of the dead Inferni. Upon telling the woman her brother was dead, her grief overcame her and momentarily had a mind of its own. You told her it was okay, but the smell of smoke still loomed around you like a reminder of the night.

Your frame was now in direct line of vision of the open door of Aleksander's study. Fedyor stood in the center of the room, his red kefta eerily similar to the roaring fire. You hesitated to walk in, but your feet dragged you in any way. Compared to Aleksander who'd been in the same predicament as you, you looked chaotic. Your once gorgeous gown was now dirty and burned gown, your hair falling down your shoulders in a tangled mess and the undereye bags contending with Aleksander's kefta. You looked like you'd been to hell and back. So when Fedyor cast a worried look at you on his way out, you simply shrugged and sat down in the chair, shoulder slacking and eyes drooping.

'I'm leading a team to search for the criminals at sundown, care to join?' He closed the doors and walked to a teapot, pouring a mug and handing it to you with a gentle kiss on your head. A sweet gesture but not sweet enough to push your worries aside.

'Aleksander sit down' It came out in a clipped tone and surprised him.

'What?

'Sit down' You waved your hand and the gust of wind pulled out the chair opposite you. Waiting until he sat down, you took your sip of the hot liquid. His body settled into the chair then his eyes studied your face too closely for your liking so you cleared your throat and turned your head away from him, suddenly feeling shy.

'I spoke with the Queen.'

'And?' He was alert and upright, leaning closer to you in an abrupt second. You blew out a breath and choked down the lump in your throat. You were most certainly not going to cry. You started ranting, letting your words run free and take over the panic in your mind.

'Ummmm, well it's definitely not what you think. It wasn't what I thought anyway. I thought maybe she would ask me to be her advisor or something I don't know bu-'

'Y/N what did she say?' He was growing impatient.

'She wants me to marry the Prince. Not just her, the King too.' You set down the hot mug and smoothed out the disaster of a dress on your lap. Your lips pulled down into a frown but you willed yourself not to cry. Don't cry.

'.....what?' His eyes were wide now, you could see his jaw clench.

'It didn't feel like a question. I think she has something on me.' You had been trying to push that thought away as hard as you could but you felt safe telling Aleksander. 'She didn't explicitly say it, but her words weren't kind or gentle. It wasn't a proposal. It felt like a 'do this or else' kind of situation' You played with the handle of the mug to distract yourself from his gaze and your urge to let the waterworks flow.

'I don't know what to do.' As if the burning in your throat wasn't enough, your steady voice cracked toward the end of that sentence, letting the first tear drip from your eye. You let go of the mug and crossed your arms against the table surface.

He didn't say anything just sat back in the chair, letting a hand through the softness of his black hair. Somewhere deep down you felt relief- relief that he wasn't jumping at the opportunity to marry you off.

'Are you sure? What would it be?'

'I can't be sure but I'm being careful. There's only one thing it can be' You let your head fall into your folded arms, shielding away from him in case the sobs you were holding back burst out of your seams. There was only ever one thing you had done that could be used against you and to this day it haunted your nightmares. The gruesomeness of it keeping you up at night.

'Did you give her an answer?'

'No.' The table shook as his fist came down on it harshly after a brief and stealthy silence.

'You're not doing it. No way' You heard his chair move back and his boots walk toward you. His hands came to pick your arms up off the table and haul you up to his height. All his attention was fixed on you. 'Did you hear me? No. I mean it. Don't do that to yourself.'

'It didn't seem like a choice Aleksander'

'Then make it one. Over my dead body are they going to take that away from you' His grip on your arms tightened as he spoke those words and you had no shadow of a doubt he meant them. You had your ups and downs together, but Aleksander rarely ever lied about things like this.

'You don't belong with them, you belong here in the Little Palace and you're not leaving again' His gaze was hot and intense, the anger and rage from the night building up and boiling over.

In that moment, Aleksander had snapped. The Crown was taking you away from him, just like they had done with Luda and countless others. He swore to protect you all those years ago and he was finally going to do right by you.

'I'm not letting that sobachka take you away from me.'

---------

Part 24

Masterlist

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[americxn]

Escape From Briarcliff (Kit x GN!Reader)

>> reader attempts to break Kit out of Briarcliff <<

((please excuse how messily this is written, I was very tired whilst writing/proofreading it))

wordcount: 4.3k warnings: angst? swearing, violence, blood mention

Your breaths came out sharp and laboured, the chill air meeting them and turning them to small, cloudy puffs, drifting up into the dark canvas of the night sky. The stones of the wall you leant against were slick beneath your palm, the light smattering of rain falling upon the world having soaked thoroughly into your clothes during the hour long trek it had taken to get to the wretched building that housed your lover; Kit had been condemned to the towering, impenetrable walls of Briarcliff only three weeks ago, but his absence had stretched those days into eternity. He didn’t know you had come for him, which only made the task at hand infinitely difficult. You had never so much as stepped into this building before, and now you faced having to both break in and break back out again with Kit by your side.

There was a tall archway cut into the stone somewhere on the Eastern side of the building; you had seen it in the few pictures of the corrupt institution that you had managed to source and with some further research, you had discovered that the archway led into an underground tunnel that wove itself through the solid foundations of the building. It supposedly opened into a long since forgotten chamber that was now used for storage and it was this knowledge that you clutched to, praying that the ‘supposedly’ was fruitful. It was this tunnel, eerily named the ‘death chute’ that made your unfeasible plan possible.

The unearthly sounds that had been distantly emanating from the forest surrounding the building seemed to become louder; you shook off the sickening sense of dread that the unknown noises instilled in you, your eyes large and bright in the smothering darkness. You swallowed, continuing to search the side of the building for the archway, the unforgiving cold of the bricks biting into the skin of your palm. Trying to quell the terror pooled in a deep well within you was impossible, and so you let it fuel you, savouring the burn it implemented to the back of throat and allowing it spur you on. If this was how you felt after spending mere moments on the outside of the building, you couldn’t imagine the fear plaguing Kit’s every waking moments.

You shrieked when the wall suddenly gave way beneath your palm, stumbling to regain your balance, panting hard. The deep night made it almost impossible to see so much as a foot in front of you, but you were sure that this was what you were looking for. Squaring your shoulders, you took a deep, steadying breath and stepped out before the opening in the wall, the darkness swirling within impossibly dark, yawning open before you. Stepping into the mouth of the building, the very air seemed too heavy, too quiet, the noises echoing from the trees at your back becoming muted as soon as you stepped past the threshold of the archway and into the tunnel.

The sounds of your own breathing and reluctant steps taken further into the dark bounced back to your own ears, goosebumps rising onto your skin; you were sure that their formation was not of a result of the rain-soaked clothes hanging heavily off your frame. Forcing yourself to take another step, and another, your spine prickling more persistently with each foot you moved deeper into the belly of the building, you conjured a glowing image of Kit’s face in the forefront of your mind to convince you to keep advancing, the memory of the softness of his skin swirling around your fingertips. 

The darkness was so deep that you were unsure of whether your eyes were open or not and time didn’t seem to exist in the swathing darkness, the ground rough underfoot as you forced yourself to venture deeper, deeper, deeper. You kept your palm pressed flat against the decaying walls as you went, following it’s twists and curves, cringing whenever your skin trailed over something that didn’t feel like the mildew slick stone of the wall. This was enough to tear away anyone’s sanity. The dark, the heaviness of the air that seemed to cool the body from the inside when drawn in, the utter silence that exposed the sounds of your own ragged breathing, sharpened with fear, and the frantic fluttering of your heart as it struggled to pump your life source, which had been long turned to icy sludge by bitter terror.

Your swallow was loud in your ears as the wall made a sharp turn, unease spider crawling down your spine as you followed the corner; your heart stumbled when you beheld the thin shaft of light bordering the end of the stone corridor, both relief and raw fear spilling over you. Perhaps a small, concealed part of you had been hoping that the twisting halls would lead you to a dead end and you would be forced to retrace your steps and find another, less ominous way into the building. You strode for the thin strip of light spilling onto the rocky ground, your touch on the wall becoming lighter and lighter as you approached the large door, almost stumbling over your feet in your eagerness to get out of the overbearing darkness. Laying your palms flat on the heavy door, you pushed, thanking any god that might be listening when it gave way beneath your touch, swinging open and bathing you in dim light. 

The room beyond was large and mercifully empty, boxes upon boxes pushed against the walls in stacks, broken pieces of worn down furniture scattered about the room. You located the door on the opposite wall and hurried for it, briefly pausing to press your ear against its surface, listening intently to ensure that nobody occupied the hallway beyond. Silence greeted you and so you pushed it open, glancing down each side of the empty corridor before softly easing the door closed behind you. The inside of the building was just as unsettlingly quiet as the tunnel you had just manoeuvered through, but at least the interior was well lit. 

A fresh wave of panic had your insides twisting and chest constricting; you hadn’t thought this far ahead. You had no idea where you were and where you needed to go to find Kit. Taking a steadying breath, you glanced down each end of the hall once more, attempting to deduce which way you should venture. To your left was a door set into what seemed to be the end of the corridor but to your right, the corridor bent, large windows set into the stone of the wall, looking out into the inky blackness of the night. It was an easy decision. You went right, skirting along the edge of the hallway on light feet, glancing around the bend of the hall before emerging into the new, slightly wider stretch of corridor that was once again blessedly empty. Several doors lined each side of the hall and your heart paused each time you had to pass one, terrified that someone would burst out and drag you into an unknown room. Batting the unwelcome thoughts away, you continued on, the occasional distant echo of a door slamming shut making you violently flinch.

Your boy was somewhere in this building and that was only thought amongst many that spurred you on, that kept you placing one foot after the other, venturing through corridor after corridor, choosing your paths based on how open they looked, never taking a turn into a dead end. Eventually, the seemingly unending labyrinth of halls opened into a grand room which you assumed was the heart of the complex, a wide set of stairs snaking around and around, branching off to different levels above you, a large glass dome spilling the dim moonlight onto the lower floors, its illumination eerie and lustrous. You took a glance around, shrinking back into the corridor when two men, smartly dressed and carrying an air of authority, passed through the centre of the opening, their footsteps echoing up through the cavernous space to the ceiling high above, conversing softly with one another. Guards, if their uniforms and essence of corruption was any indication. They strode off into another hall, your heart hammering against your ribs as you glanced around once; several smaller hallways branched off the open space, the walls lined with doors. Across from you, a large, open doorway looked into a gaping room, strange music leaking out from within. There was people in there, you noticed, people lounging in armchairs, gazing vacantly into space, people hitting their heads of the wooden pillars reaching up from the floor to the ceiling, people shrieking and squawking at one another. Definitely not guards.

Taking another thorough glance around the open space, scanning the floors above you, you hurried across the exposed space, neck prickling as you did so before tucking yourself behind one of the large open doors, chest heaving. You were so terribly aware of how painfully out of place you looked, soaked through to the skin, hair limp with the weight of the raindrops, face gaunt from the prolonged state of fear that your mounting panic held your under. 

Taking a deep breath, you peered around the door, craning your neck to look fully into the room. That strange music filled your anxiety clouded conscious, disorienting you as you focused on scanning the room for any sign of Kit. The room was crawling with patients, most dead eyed, their hair matted in large tangles at the backs of their heads. Your gut roiled with a dizzying combination of unease and utter commiseration for these poor people but you forced your gaze to tear away from the man stood in the corner of the large space, rocking slowly back and forth on his feet, the jeans at his crotch stained with wetness, peering further around the door to scan the far side of the wall. You drew in a breath, shrinking back as your new vantage point revealed the burly looking guard lounging in a wooden chair by the doorway. Frozen, you watched for several seconds, noting the book clutched in his large hands resting upon his lap; all of his attention was trained on the words sprawling across the crisp pages of the book, so engrossed in whatever it was he was reading that his shoulders were curved inwards on himself, the small frown matched with the slight part of his lips informing you that this man would only draw his gaze from the book if an urgent situation were to arise. Tearing your eyes from him, you continued your search, fingers gripping tightly onto the edge of the door as you risked leaning tentatively forwards once more.

Your mind fell utterly still when you saw him. He was leant against one of the tall wooden pillars near the back of the room, facing you with one of his knees bent to brace his foot on the surface he lounged against, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Your heart seemed to shed some heavy weight at the sight of him, still looking decently well kept, the shadow of a bruise painting colour around one of his eyes. The urge to sprint for him was unbelievably strong, bringing tears to your eyes as you watched him bring his hand up to his mouth, catching the cigarette between the lithe fingers that you had missed so desperately and tap the ash from the tip onto the floor, expelling his lungful of smoke into the musty air and watching will dull eyes as it drifted up before dissipating into nothing.

Taking one final glance into the open space at your back, then to useless guard positioned against the wall adjacent to the door, spine prickling relentlessly, you stepped out from around the door, breathing hard as you began to gesture frantically at Kit, begging him to lift his gaze once more and behold you waving desperately at him. Nobody else seemed to notice your presence, to your poorly registering relief, as you took small step forwards, Kit’s eyes trained on the floor, seemingly lost in bottomless thought. You took another frantic glance over your shoulder before taking another step forwards, jaws clenching to bite back a cry as you gestured feverishly. 

Another glance behind you and another tentative step across the threshold of the room had you struggling to pull in a full breath through your clenched jaw. Time seemed to freeze when Kit’s eyes flicked up, briefly falling back to the floor before his whole head jerked up in your direction, eyes widening and face contorting in terror. A tear leaked from your eye as you offered him a watery smile, face creasing with anxiety before you hastened back a few steps, checking the space behind you again before ducking back behind the door. The cigarette fell from Kit’s fingers as he pushed away from the pillar he was leant against. He had crossed the large room in several long strides, his eyes trained on the spot you had disappeared from, unsure if the medication he was forced to take was bringing you to him in a cruel mirage or if you were actually here. 

The guard stood suddenly, almost stumbling as he was pulled out of the trance his book had placed him in, stepping in front of the door and holding out a hand as Kit approached. Kit’s eyes flashed as his path to you was blocked; you tucked yourself further into the safety of the open door, straining to listen and watching the two men through the small crack of the wooden jamb. Your view from the guard was obscured but you watched as Kit shoved the man’s hand away from his chest with a scowl. “I need to go to the bathroom.” Kit insisted, trying to skirt around the mans body, who moved with Kit, ensuring that he couldn’t get past. “Then I have to come with you.” The guard spoke levelly in a gritty tone, watching in mild irritation at the minor interruption as Kit tipped his head back towards the ceiling. “Fine.” He gritted out, waiting until the guard had turned to lead him from the room before sparing the door you hid behind a glance. His silent plea was clearly displayed, gleaming amongst the suppressed desire shining in his eyes: Leave.  

You shook your head despite being hidden from him, watching as he followed the man into the open space of the room you were tucked away in, trailing a foot or two behind the guard. Kit craned his neck, searching for you as he was led away from you and into one of the many hallways branching off the main room. You peered out from around the door, locking eyes with Kit, pulse fluttering in your throat as he was led away.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You had no other choice but to push away from the safety of the door, glancing up at the levels above you before stepping into the exposure of the room, hurrying across the space just as Kit stepped across the threshold into the corridor, glancing at you in wide eyed disbelief as you chased after him, your treads feather light.

Barely breathing, you paused by the wall upon seeing that the hallway was completely empty aside from the two men now striding quickly away from you, nothing to use for concealment, nothing to hide behind. Kit seemed to notice too, throwing a shallow shake of the head over his shoulder as he was lead deeper into the corridor.

Mind working, you ran your fingers feverishly through your hair, scanning the ground floor of the space you now stood in, precious time slipping through your grasp. Kit had almost reached the sharp bend at the end of the hall by the time you had pieced together a dangerously unprepared plan; hurrying back to the doorway you had hidden behind, you stepped into the room, lunging for the heavy tome that the guard had discarded on his chair, the leather cover still warm from his body heat. One of the patients grunted loudly at you, watching you run from the room with an unplaceable emotion. You cringed at the slapping of your thin shoes against the worn marble floor, too loud as you crossed the room before hurtling down the hall, the book a heavy weight in your arms as you skidded, almost losing your balance before you pushed off the wall, using its momentum to barrel around the acutely angled corner. Kit and the guard turned in synchronisation as you appeared, fuelled by unrelenting fear and nauseating apprehension. Digging your feet into the ground, forcing your body to a stop, you raised the book high in the air, Kit twirling and taking ahold of the arm the man lifted to ward you off as you slammed the brick of paper down on his head with considerable force. 

Kit stepped away as the guard crumpled to the floor with a shriek of indignant surprise, your lovers eyes stretching even wider when you pushed past him, your fear induced anger fuelling your motions as you raised the book once more, striking it onto the man’s pain pinched face. The impact rumbled through your fingers, the bridge of his nose giving way with an abhorrent crunch. Kit watched on, too stunned to act as you brought the tome down onto the guard’s face a third and final time, a sense of sick satisfaction spurring you on as thick rivulets of blood spilled from his broken noise, the man sputtering on his own hot life source that poured from him. His body slumped against the cold tiles of the floor as you delivered the final blow with wild eyes; you threw the book with force onto the sated mans chest, breathing hard as you turned to Kit.

He launched himself at you, nearly knocking you off your feet with the force of the embrace he pulled you into, hot tears spilling down both of your faces as you were finally able to feel one another. “Are you insane?” He croaked, pulling away from you and taking your face in his warm hands. “Maybe.” You said in a shaky tone through your tears, reaching up to grip onto his wrists. “But you’re not. You shouldn’t be in here.” Kit offered you a trembling laugh, his grip on your jaw tightening. You reached to swipe the few stray tears from his flushed cheeks before surging forwards, your restraint lapsing, and connecting your lips to his. He savoured the warmth of your mouth, pouring his love for you through the touch before pulling away and taking your hand. “We need to go. Now.” You nodded, too overcome with raw emotion to offer him any verbal agreement before tugging on his hand, the two of you hurrying back down the corridor in the direction you had just come from. You paused at the threshold of the dangerously open space that housed the hallway you had initially emerged from, pulling on Kit’s hand once you were sure that there was no one lingering by the railings of the overhanging levels skirting the large cavern of the room.

Kit scanned the space frantically, some of your fear transferring to him. Your own felt dulled by Kit by your side, his presence a welcome solstice that you grasped onto with all of your strength as you skirted around the room to the opening you needed to slip into. The distant slamming of a door made you audibly shriek, Kit’s hand tensing around yours as the echoing noise cruelly frightening you both. 

You managed to ignore the overbearing urge to run until slipping into the somewhat familiar hallway, Kit’s grip on our hand unfaltering as you fought to keep your breathing even. You weren’t alone anymore. And yet somehow, it made you all the more frantic; you had more to lose now. You had dragged Kit into whatever the fuck this plan was and you’d be damned if you allowed yourself to be ripped from his side again. Your fingers shook with the possibility that he very much could be taken from you once more, so soon after being reunited. Glancing at him, the gaunt cheeks, the shadows sharpening the planes of his face, his chapped lips and blackened eye... you swallowed thickly, returning the uneasy smile he offered you, your fingers squeezing his in a weak gesture of attempted reassurance.

A shout ripped through the air from behind you. 

Kit went utterly still as you whirled, mouth going utterly dry as you beheld the two guards you had seen passing through the open room earlier, their faces twisting in confusion as they pinned their cold gazes upon you.

“Run.” You rasped, tightening your grip on Kit’s hand and yanking him after you as you broke out into a frantic sprint, the heavy footsteps of your new assailants echoing down the hall to your ears as they ran for you, feet pounding against the hard floor. The two of you hurtled around the corner, hand in hand, your teeth clenched painfully hard in order to stop any of the terrified sobs that clawed their way up your throat from spilling over and splattering onto the floor beneath you fast moving feet. The wall at the next bend was a harsh impact beneath your outreached hand as you slammed into it, unable to slow your momentum and utilise it to spur you faster, pushing off it and turning into the new stretch of hall, ignoring the biting pain it sent radiating through your arm. 

Your mind began screaming, eyes blinking back the cloudy sheen of panic blurring the edges of you vision, the only sound the breath rasping through your own gritted teeth and the pounding footsteps of the men behind you, rapidly gaining ground as you and Kit stumbled through the halls, partially blinded by ever mounting terror.

You were reluctant to welcome the fear but let it latch onto you regardless, enabling it to spur you on, encouraging you to run faster, thighs burning, another sharp corner looming before you. 

Faster.

Your inner voice screamed at you and you complied, feet moving unthinkingly beneath you, Kit matching your speed, his chest alight with singeing breaths that tore threw him, your palm slick with cold, clammy sweat against his. Barrelling blindly through hallway after hallway of the wretched building, you allowed the terror to take over, lending your body to it and allowing it to sharpen your senses like a whetstone. Your breathing had been reduced to wet rasps, your teeth gritting as you pushed past the searing in you legs, forcing yourself to keep moving, Kit’s eyes gleaming in alarm as he threw a glance over his shoulder. He overtook you, dragging you after him and

encouraging you to move, his secure grip on your hand lending you more energy to keep going, to keep moving, pushing and pushing until you reached the hallway where the room connecting to the death chute awaited. You spied the plain wooden door at the far end and gave one last burst of energy, hurtling down the final corridor, sobs ripping uncontrollably from your throat. You slammed into the door, throwing the entirety of your body weight into it, stumbling as it gave way beneath you shoulder and hauling Kit after you with a wrenching tug.

The small pause that interrupted your pace as you hurriedly manoeuvered around the door was detrimental, Kit’s hand coming to brace against the wood of the doorframe as your harsh pull knocked his balance off axis. That small pause was all your assailants needed. 

Kit’s hand was torn from yours with a grunt, his nails raking harshly across your skin as he grappled to regain purchase. You whirled, icy dread dulling your senses as you watched his body being hauled away from you, back into the hallway, his face twisting in rage as he struggled to fight the guard holding him off. The other man paid Kit’s shouts of indignation no attention as he pushed his way into the room. You stumbled over your own feet, backing away from the man before managing to gather some of your sense once more, tugging it along like a weight as you turned for the door that led to the darkness that would take you to freedom. Kit’s cry of terror as the other guard approached you, no longer feeling the need to run as he watched you pitifully scramble for the door, collapsing against it and fumbling with the handle.

You had been so close, so so close, and now-

A large hand latched onto the crown of your head, the fingertips grappling into your hair in order to gain purchase. You yelped in fear, the wood of the door splintering and sending small shards ramming beneath your fingernails as you struggled to pull it open. The guard wasted no time, having no interest in drawing this out as he used his grip on your hair to yank your head back. The impact as your skull was unmercifully slammed against the door that housed your freedom was confounding, a wet thud emanating when your temple made contact with the thick wood. Darkness was upon you immediately, a strange cold sensation prickling through your fingertips and up the length of your wrists before your body slumped, Kit’s cry landing on your rapidly deafening ears as the man took up your limp body in his arms. 

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[sequinsmile-x]

Day-to-Day

Emily is the glue that holds the family together, aka five times the Hotchner family needed Emily.

A story in the “5 times + 1″ format.  

Part of the Whatever Tomorrow Brings universe.

Chapter 1 - Amelia. 

Read on AO3 via this link, or below the cut

March 2010

Aaron wakes to his bed being empty. He rubs his eyes, trying to remove the last remnants of sleep, and he turns to check the alarm clock, groaning when he sees it’s 3am. He touches the other side of the bed and feels that the sheets are cold, indicating that his wife had been gone for some time. Amelia had been off the evening before, their usually happy baby grouchy and sleepy. Which was always the first sign that she was coming down with something. Theo had been ill the week before, a bug he’d picked up from school, and Aaron had naively hoped they’d managed to avoid it being passed on to the youngest Hotchner.

He sits on the side of the bed and spots light filtering out from under the ensuite door. He walks over, opening the door to find his wife laying back in the bath, Amelia dozing on her chest. Emily looks tired, a small smile on her face when she spots him. “Hey.” She rasps out, staying quiet so she doesn't wake their daughter.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Aaron walks in and kneels on the floor next to the bath. “Everything ok?”

“She woke up about an hour ago, she had a fever. I thought a lukewarm bath might bring it down, but she started to cry every time I tried to put her in here herself.” Emily says gently, placing a hand on Amelia’s forehead. “It’s come down a bit.”

“You should have woken me up.” He says, placing a hand on their daughter's back. “I’d have helped.”

“It’s ok, honey.” She says placing her hand over his. “You need your sleep, work has been rough on you lately.”

“Right.” He says, with a raised eyebrow. “Because your job is a piece of cake.” Aaron links their fingers and runs a thumb over her knuckles. “You don’t have to do it all on your own anymore, Em. I’m here now. We’re all here.”

She purses her lips together and nods at him. It was still her instinct sometimes to try and do it all by herself, especially anything to do with the kids. Memories of those months spent alone waiting for Foyet to be stopped were sharp, and sometimes it still took her breath away. How close they had come to losing everything.

“Can you take her?” She asks softly. “She should be fine for now.”

“Of course.” He lifts the toddler off of his wife's chest and wraps her in a towel. Amelia wakes almost immediately, grumbling at being removed from her mother. “Let’s go get you dressed sweetie.”

He takes Amelia to the nursery and puts a fresh diaper on her, and a thin sleepsuit. He frowns at the warmth still on her skin, and soothes her when she starts to cry again. “I know what you want, you want Mommy.” He lifts Amelia into his arms and kisses her forehead. “I don’t blame you, I always want her when I feel sick too.”

Emily is already in bed dressed in one of his shirts when he walks back into their bedroom. Amelia immediately reaches out for Emily, the little girl's face already scrunched up as she cries. He passes Amelia over, lets his wife take him into her arms. “Mama.”

“You’re ok, sweet girl.” Emily says, running a hand over the back of her daughter’s head. She kisses her forehead and frowns. “It’s gone down, but she’s still warm.”

“We’ll call the doctor if she’s still got a temperature in the morning.” He says. Emily nods, settling Amelia so she is resting against her chest. The little girl's favorite place to sleep when she was sick or sad. “Sweetheart, you aren’t going to get any sleep if she’s in here.”

“I know.” She replies, soothing the small coughs coming out of Amelia by rubbing her back. “I’ll get someone to drop some case files and paperwork here tomorrow, work from here until she’s better.”

“And if you get a case?”

She glares at him. “Then I’m sure the team can handle it without me. It’s not like they haven’t before.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I’m not leaving her if she’s sick, Aaron.” She says, her voice firm. “She only settles for me if she’s sick and I’m not putting either of you through that.”

He knew his wife somehow felt responsible for his delicate relationship with his daughter. Things were better now, so much better, but he couldn’t say it didn’t hurt when Ameila, or any of their kids, immediately reached for Emily when something was wrong. The six months they had spent alone together had formed a bond he loved, but that he was also, in his worst moments, jealous of.

He wants to argue, wants to say that eventually something would happen with one of the kids when she wasn’t there, but he knows this isn’t the time. That it can wait until it isn’t almost 4am and she has their feverish daughter pressed against her.

“It’s a good thing your boss is so understanding.”

Emily smiles at him. “Well, I do repay his understanding with blow jobs so I think it’s earned.” _________________

May 2024

Ameila was Emily through and through. It was something Aaron, and just about everyone they knew, said frequently. She looked like Emily. She had her nose, her dark eyes and hair, and the same smile that had always been able to convince Aaron to do just about anything. Amelia had inherited her fathers jawline and his seriousness, her frown, a pure ‘Hotch’ look that Penelope had often joked would serve her well in whatever she decided to do in the future.

She also had Emily’s attitude. A need to know everything, to push all the boundaries around her, that often drove Aaron to the edge of his sanity in a way neither of his sons ever had. Elizabeth often commented on how similar Amelia and Emily were, and he never missed the way she smirked at him when she said it.

Emily was fiercely protective of Amelia. Aaron knew it was because their daughter was the only one of their kids who didn’t remember the incident with Foyet. She was so small when it happened, only a few months old when her family was torn apart by the actions of a psychopath, and they were grateful for it. Jack and Theo still bore the scars of what happened, years of therapy had done them wonders, but it still surfaced at times, almost unexpectedly. Leading to Theo calling in the middle of the night, the now 21 year old plagued by nightmares that his mother was dead, only calmed down by the sound of her tired voice over the phone.

The first time Amelia really pushes the boundaries with her parents is when she comes home one day with her nose pierced. The ring in her nose was massive, big enough to allow for the swelling that would follow, drawing her parents attention to it immediately.

“What the hell is that in your nose?” Aaron asks, annoyance clear in his tone.

“It’s a nose ring, Dad.” Amelia answers, her eyes rolling as she hangs her keys up. “I got it done after school.”

“And who said you could do that?”

“It’s my nose. I didn’t realise I needed permission.”

“Ok.” Emily interrupts, placing a hand on her husband's arm to try and diffuse the situation. “I think what your dad is trying to say is that you should run this stuff past us, ok?”

Amelia scoffs. “Well it’s your nose I inherited, surely you understand why I wanted to do something to it.” She walks past her parents and goes up the stairs before the conversation can go any further. “I have homework.”

_________________

Aaron walks into their en-suite later that night to find Emily standing in front of the mirror scrutinising her appearance. He leant against the doorframe and watched as she turned her head side to side, running her finger down the slope of her nose. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at herself straight on again, her finger pressed into the tip.

“Em?”

She turns to look at him, taking her hand away from her nose as she does. He doesn’t miss the shy look on her face as she wrung her hands together. “Do you think my nose is weird?”

He frowns at her. “What? No.”

“I know it’s ridiculous. I’m 53 for fuck sake.” She mutters to herself.

He kisses the tip of her nose and she smiles at him. “You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re ridiculous.” She wraps her arms around him anyway, pulling him in for a kiss. “It will look better when she can switch to a smaller ring.”

“It will look better when she just takes it out.”

Emily laughs, shaking her head at him. “Come on, let's go to bed. Some of us have work in the morning.”

He raises an eyebrow at her as he always did when she referred to his early retirement, even though it had been years since he left the FBI. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

_________________

The casual mention of a boyfriend, a boy from Amelia’s art class called Chase, almost sends Aaron orbital. He manages to keep his opinions to himself until Amelia has gone to bed and he’s just in the kitchen with his wife, helping her with the dishes even though it was long ago established as her chore since she never cooked.

“She’s not that bad, Aaron.”

He scoffs at his wife. “She’s going to make me go grey.”

“Honey. Amelia is a teenage girl. A pretty well behaved one in comparison to what I was like.”

“Suddenly I feel a lot more sympathy for Elizabeth than I ever have before.” He mutters as he continues to put dishes away.

“What was that?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing, sweetheart.”

She narrows her eyes at him as she passes him another plate, patting his cheek with her spare hand. “You’re already grey, Aaron. It’s got nothing to do with the fact our daughter has a boyfriend. Or a nose ring.” _________________

Emily finally loses her cool two weeks later. They are eating dinner, just her, Amelia and Aaron, when she spots something on her daughter's wrist as she reaches for more salad. Emily grabs Amelia’s arm and pulls her sleeve back slightly to reveal a, admittedly very small, heart tattoo onto her daughter’s wrist. It was crude, slightly wonky and clearly not a professional one.

“What the hell is this?” She asks, staring her daughter down.

Amelia tears her arm out of her mother’s grasp and pulls her sleeve back down. “It’s a tattoo, Mom.”

“A tattoo? When did that happen?” Emily looks over at Aaron, who to her annoyance looked slightly amused that she was finally reacting like he had been all along.

“We did them at school.” Amelia answers, taking another bite of her dinner.

Emily’s initial reaction of telling her daughter how dangerous that was, how stupid, was drowned out by her overriding fear of who exactly had done this. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

“Chase and I did them. We have matching ones.” Amelia says, looking at her mother with a challenge on her face. “I don’t see what the big deal is Mom, you have tattoos.”

Emily glares at her husband when he chokes out a laugh at that, and he quickly excuses himself from the table. She turns back to her daughter. “Amelia, it really wasn’t very safe to do that. You have to let professionals do this kind of thing.”

Amelia rolls her eyes as she takes the final bite of her dinner. “Whatever.” She gets up from the table, already half out of the dining room before she speaks again. “I need to go FaceTime Chase.”

Emily puts her head in her hands as soon as she is alone. Her daughter was too much like her for her own good, independent and wilful almost to a fault. Emily loved that Amelia was like that, that she was so sure of herself in a way that Emily certainly hadn’t been at her age. She took it as a testament to her and Aaron’s parenting, but right now she was struggling with it. She just wanted to sit Amelia down and tell her that not everyone in the world had her best intentions at heart, and Emily had an increasingly sinking feeling that Chase was one of those people.

She blows out a breath and stands up, starting to collect the dishes from the evening meal. Emily hears her husband re-enter the room. “I’m going to get her some antiseptic cream to put on it. Who the hell knows where they got the needle they did it with from.”

“Emily-”

“She gave herself a matching tattoo with her boyfriend, Aaron.” She says, putting the dishes she had been holding back down on the dining room table. “They’ve been together for 8 weeks.”

He steps towards her and places his hands on her hips. “What was it you told me last week? That it will work itself out eventually.”

“She thinks she loves him, honey.” Emily lamented, allowing her husband to pull her into his arms. “And I know he’s going to break her heart.”

Aaron kisses her. “Sweetheart, we can’t protect her from that.” He kisses her again, cupping her cheek with his hand. “All we can do is be here for her if it happens.”

Emily rests her forehead on his chest. “Now who's being annoying ok about all of this?”

_________________

“This is where I found out I was pregnant with you.” Emily says offhandedly, a wistful smile on her face. It was so long ago now, but she still remembered the joy she had felt when she first saw Amelia on screen. The baby she had always been told she couldn’t have was now this amazing person she couldn’t imagine her life without.

Emily looks at her daughter when she doesn’t get a response, and she stops herself from laughing when she sees how pointedly Amelia is ignoring her. “Oh really, Mom?” She says to herself. “That’s so interesting.”

“Mom, I cannot believe you are doing this.” Amelia seethes, looking at the floor of the clinic they were in. Embarrassment coming off of her in waves. “This is so embarrassing.”

Emily rolls her eyes, and bites back a comment about how if she found birth control embarrassing then she should think twice about having sex. “I just want you to be safe, ok? You’ve got a boyfriend now and whilst I am not exactly delighted at the idea of you having sex.” She says, not missing how her daughter grimaces. “I don’t want you to take any chances.”

“Amelia Hotchner?”

Emily and Amelia look up to see Joanne standing at the door to her office looking expectantly at them. Emily smiles at her, Amelia does not, and the latter sighs as she stands up. She takes a few steps towards Joanne, only pausing when she realises her mother isn’t following her.

“Well you may as well come in. This was your idea after all.” Amelia says, annoyance colouring her tone. Emily sees past it, spotting the way her daughter nervously wrings her hands, fingers digging at her cuticles in a way she had picked up from her.

“Of course, sweetie.” She stands and walks up to her daughter, and guides her into Joanne’s office with a gentle hand on her back.

_________________

“You did what??” Aaron asks, seething, as they get ready for bed side by side in their ensuite. He turns to her, a disbelieving look on his face.

“I took her to get birth control.” Emily answers around her toothbrush, spitting into the sink. She rinses it and places it next to his in the holder.

“Why?” He is glaring at her, and she's suddenly more glad than ever that she hadn’t broached this subject with him until after Amelia had a packet of pills sitting in her bathroom cabinet, with very explicit instructions on the importance of taking it correctly from both Emily and Joanne. “Is she sleeping with him?”

“I don’t even know if she is having sex yet. But you know these things happen. I bought the boys condoms when they were teenagers.” She purposely misses out that she had also bought Amelia condoms, thinking that admission might make her husband's head explode. “I wanted to make sure she takes precautions if she takes that step.”

“She’s 15, Emily.”

“Yeah, and so was I.” She closes her eyes and sighs, turning to look at her husband as she crosses her arms across her chest. She looks at him and bites her lip, trying to figure out what she’s been wanting to say. “Aaron, I just don’t want what happened to me to happen to her.”

Emily can see the moment it registers in his head. The way his brow unfurls, his whole body unclenching as the anger seeps out of him, replaced by concern for her. He takes a step towards her. “Sweetheart…”

She shakes her head at herself, wiping a stray tear away that had fallen at the admission. “She deserves better than that.”

He sighs as he drags her into a hug, one she gladly returns, wrapping her arms around his back. “You deserved better than that too.”

Emily buries her face into his neck, breathes in the scent of him that had comforted her for more than half her life. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” _________________

Three days later it becomes a non issue. Amelia is out with friends, and Chase, leaving Aaron and Emily with the house to themselves.

Emily is sitting in her husband's lap on their couch. His hands up her shirt and his tongue in her mouth, when she hears it. A car door slamming on edge of her consciousness, someone running up the steps of their porch. She pulls back from Aaron, the dazed look on his face surely matching the one on her own. “Did you hear that?” She breathes out.

They hear a key in the door and break apart like they’ve burnt each other, both standing as the front door opens.

Amelia bursts in, tears streaming down her face. She drops her bag at the front door, her school things abandoned in the foyer of their home, and as soon as her eyes land on Emily her face crumbles. The steady stream of tears turning into sobs. “Mom.”

“Amelia?” She closes the gap between them, concern for her daughter overriding anything else, any lingering hopes she had of alone time with her husband gone in an instant. Amelia is in her arms in seconds, clawing at her shirt to try and get as close as possible. She buries her face into Emily’s shoulder and weeps. Emily cups the back of her daughter’s head, and runs her other hand up and down her back. “Oh sweetheart, it’s ok.” She soothes. “You’ll be ok.”

Emily exchanges a concerned look with Aaron over the top of their daughter's head and she shakes her head at him slightly when he takes a step towards them, silently asking him to leave it to her. He understands, just like he always had, and leaves them to it despite wanting to know exactly what has upset Amelia this much.

“Mia, honey.” She says gently, hand still tangled in her daughter's dark hair. She tries to pull back slightly, cupping Amelia’s cheek, but she holds on to her tighter, sobs still tearing out of her throat. “Let’s move over to the couch, ok?”

Amelia nods against her but doesn’t separate herself from her mother at all. Emily carefully guides her over to the couch and sits down. Amelia curls into her, wrapping herself around her in a way she hadn’t done in years. Emily wraps her arms around her, and whispers random words of comfort into her daughter's hair.

“Sweetheart.” She says gently, pulling away enough that she can cup Amelia’s face in her hands. She wipes tears away from her cheeks with her thumbs. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, not until you’re ready, but I need to know if you’re hurt.”

Amelia shakes her head. “Not hurt.” She says, her words choked by her tears. She leans back into Emily, pressing her face into her neck.

“Ok, sweet girl.” Emily says the old nickname, one she hadn’t used since Amelia was 9 and turned her nose up at it, slipping out without thinking. She presses a kiss on her daughter's head. “I’m right here.”

It takes almost 30 minutes for Amelia to calm down, for her sobs to dissipate into sniffs and a hoarseness in her throat as she takes in ragged breaths. “He broke up with me.”

Emily frowns, holding her daughter impossibly tighter. “What?”

“Chase broke up with me.” Amelia says, pulling back so she could look at Emily properly. “He said I was boring.”

Emily covers her reaction to that, keeping her surprise away from her face. Boring was not a word she would have ever used to describe Amelia. She tucks some of Amelia’s hair behind her ear. “I’m so sorry, baby. I know you really liked him.”

Amelia snuggles back down into her, sniffing as she lays her head on Emily's shoulder. Emily runs her hand through her daughter's hair, soothing her as she finishes calming down. “What do you want to do?” Emily asks. “We could get Dad to go out and get Taco Bell.”

Amelia chokes out a laugh but shakes her head. “I think I just want to go to bed.”

“Whatever you want.” _________________

Aaron is pacing their bedroom when she enters it, softly closing the door behind her. He stops and looks at her, an expectant look on his face.

“He broke up with her.” Emily says. “She is heartbroken.” She hears how her own voice breaks as she tells him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like that.” She shakes her head at herself. “The worst thing is when she told me what happened I felt relieved. She’s sitting there absolutely hysterical and I’m relieved?”

Aaron closes the distance between them and hugs her. “You’re a fantastic mom, Em. I won’t let you believe anything other than that.”

She chokes out a laugh, somehow still surprised after all these years that he was able to guess what was really bothering her without her saying it outloud. “You’re a pretty great dad yourself, Mr Hotchner.” Emily lets herself relax in her husband’s embrace for a little longer, she pulls back and looks up at him. “I’m going to go in and sleep with her tonight.”

“Ok, sweetheart.” He kisses her quickly before letting her go so she can get ready for bed. He watches as she pulls on pyjama pants and a soft t-shirt that once belonged to him.

Aaron admires his wife as she takes off her makeup from the day and puts her dark hair up, smiling as he catches sight of some grey flecks that she hates as she twists it into a bun. She never believes him when he says it, but he thinks she's more beautiful now than she was when they first met all those years ago. Emily had always been beautiful, from the 22 year old she was when they first met. Teasing smiles and flirty comments as she coaxed him out to a bar with her.

Emily always lamented aging, wondering where the time had gone. More self conscious now than she had been the entire time he had known her. All he saw in lines on her face that she thought made her look old was all the laughter and joy they’d had over the years. She was softer now, her hips wider, evidence that she had given him two of their children that made him find her even more attractive. The grey flecks in her hair, that he knew she’d get dyed again soon, that showed him just how long they had loved each other.

They had been together 31 years and sometimes Aaron felt every moment of it, every single thing that had happened to them since she kissed him at one of her mother’s events. It somehow also had passed in the blink of an eye, decades gone in seconds and he was still somehow lucky enough to have her by his side.

“You’re staring.” She says, pulling him out of his thoughts with an amused look on her face and a teasing tone to her voice.

He pulls her into his arms again, kisses her cheek, then her nose. Making her laugh as she tries to squirm away from him. “You’re beautiful.”

Emily rolls her eyes at him. “You’re ridiculous.” _________________

Ameila smiles shakily at her mother as she walks into her room. Emily walks over to her bed and climbs in on the spare side, settling down for the night. She lays on her side and looks at Amelia, tucking some hair behind her ear. “How are you doing, sweetie?”

Amelia sniffs, suppressing a sarcastic laugh. “I’ve been better.” She settles into her mother’s side, resting her head on her shoulder. In the darkness of her bedroom, with Emily’s arms wrapped tightly around her, she finally feels like she can admit the truth. “It’s because I wouldn’t have sex with him.”

“What do you mean?”

Amelia closes her eyes as she catches the tone in her mother’s voice, the dangerous edge to it that she was so rarely on the receiving end of. She had only ever really overheard it when she was talking to someone about work over the phone, or one the rare occasion her parents had a full blown row, their angry voices soon turning into other noises that Amelia thanked whoever was listening for the invention of noise cancelling headphones.

“That’s why he broke up with me.” Amela says, feeling tears build back up in her eyes. “Because I wouldn’t sleep with him.”

She feels her mother’s hold on her tighten, and the sharp intake of breath that she takes beneath her head. Emily kisses the top of her head. “You’re ok, sweetheart. Go to sleep.”

Amelia drifts off to the feel of her mother stroking her hair, something she hadn’t had happen since she was younger. She was surprised to realise how much she had missed it, regret for how she had started to rebuff her mother’s affection a few years back building in her chest. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too.” Another kiss to the top of her head. “Now get some sleep.”

She falls asleep, completely unaware of how Emily laid awake for hours, anger for a teenage boy she had only met once burning through her veins until she came up with a plan. _________________

Emily wakes in the morning to the sound of Amelia’s door opening. She opens her eyes to see her husband standing there, a takeout coffee holder in his hand, and an unsure look on his face.

She smiles at him as she sits up in bed and beckons him in. He switches the light on, which immediately wakes Amelia, her groans the first indication that she was up.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Aaron says kissing his wife before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Morning.” She murmurs against his lips, before lifting the coffee she knew was intended for her. Cold brew with enough sweetener in it to rot your teeth.

“You guys suck.” Amelia groans from below the comforter, voice still thick with sleep.

Emily chuckles. “I think you’ll change your mind when you see what your dad has brought you.”

Amelia lifts the comforter from off of her face and shoots up when she sees her favourite frappuccino in her fathers hands. “Dad, you are the best.” She takes a sip and moans, the sugar hitting her tongue. “No wonder Mom has put up with you so long.”

Aaron laughs, glad to see that she seemed her usual self after how devastated she had been the night before. “Are you ok, Mia?”

She smiles at her dad, a shaky thing that was always the first indicator from his wife and daughter that tears were on the horizon. “I will be.” ______________

Emily’s first thought is to set Penelope on Chase. Let her hack into his social media accounts and digitally ruin his life for upsetting her little girl. For trying to pressure her into something she didn’t want to do. She knew Penelope would do it without a second thought. She was the most trusted confidant of all of the younger Hotchner's outside of their parents. Jack had asked for her help planning his over the top proposal to his now wife. Theo had come out to her first, a nervous teenager in her office asking for help on how he could tell his parents. Amelia went to her for advice on everything from boys to elaborate hairstyles, and Penelope gently discouraged her from dying her hair bright purple when she was 13, knowing it would have given Aaron an aneurysm.

Emily was finishing getting ready for work, Amelia already on her way to school, as she started to formulate a text to her friend, a cryptic request to come see her as soon as she got to work, when Aaron snuck up on her in the kitchen.

“You can’t get Penelope to ruin his life.”

Emily jumps, cursing under her breath. “Damn it, Aaron.” She turns to look at him, a sheepish look on her face. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything of the sort.”

“Oh really?” He raises an eyebrow at her. “You weren’t thinking of having her hack all of his social media accounts and freeze his bank account?”

Emily flushes and puts her phone down on the counter. “I can’t just let him get away with it.”

Aaron smiles at her and pulls her towards him with his hands on her hips. “Baby, this is something we have to let her deal with ok?” He kisses her cheek, his smile deepening as she narrows her eyes at him. “No getting Penelope involved.”

“Fine.”

Plan B it was. _________________

Emily is never happier than when she has all of her family in her house. The boys were coming round for dinner, Jack and his wife Sara and Theo and his new boyfriend Zach, someone he had met at college. Theo texted her that morning, a list of strict instructions of things that absolutely couldn’t happen the first time Zach was meeting the family.

She had just let them in, hugging her son fiercely as he walked in and feeling love bloom in her chest when he hugged her back just as tightly, no embarrassment at giving his mother this affection in front of Zach.

She lets him go and turns to the young man standing next to her son. “You must be Zach, I’m Emily.”

He shakes her hand, a nervous smile on his face. “Nice to meet you.”

Amelia bursts into the house, slamming the front door behind her, and immediately breaks the first rule on Theo’s list. “Мама, какого хрена?”

“Не сейчас, милая. У нас гости. И не ругайся.” Emily replies, tilting her head towards where Theo and Zach were standing.

“Ты должен был подумать об этом, прежде чем угрожать моему бывшему парню!”

Zach leans in to Theo, a confused look on his face. “Are they speaking Russian?”

Theo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so, and looks at his boyfriend. “Yes.” He turns to his mother. “Ne pouvons-nous pas le faire? C'est la première fois que Zach rencontre tout le monde.”

Amelia rolls her eyes and Emily smiles at Theo. “Je suis désolé, chérie. On va bien se comporter.”

“Are you speaking French?” Zach asks, looking even more confused at the complete nonchalonce all of the Hotchner’s were showing at the multiple languages being thrown around as if it was nothing. The slight look of amusement on Aaron’s face as he walked into the room. “How many languages does your mom speak?”

Theo grabs his boyfriend's hand and leads him further into the house, away from the rest of the family. “Six. Seven if you include English.” _________________

Emily eyes Sara curiously when she turns down wine with her dinner, a small look passes between her and Jack when she asks for soda instead. Emily shares a similar look with her own husband, a look on his face saying he had spotted what she had too, and she gladly gets an alternative drink for her daughter-in-law.

Amelia sulks all the way through dinner. Rebuffing her brother’s questions about school, a glare fixed on her mother almost the entire time. It’s when she refuses her favourite dessert, cheesecake, that her brother’s interest is piqued.

“Mills.” Theo asks, amusement on his face at his sister’s behaviour. “What’s up with you?”

“Why don’t you ask Mom?” She said, pointedly looking at her mother. “Мама пытается разрушить мою жизнь, вот в чем дело.”

“I did not try and ruin your life, Amelia.” She says, rolling her eyes at her daughter's dramatics. She looks at her sons and their respective partners. “All I did was have a conversation with the boy who made Amelia cry herself to sleep a couple of days ago.”

“Yeah. By explaining that you’re a Section Chief at the FBI, whilst you had your gun and badge on display.” Amelia exclaims.

There was a moment of silence at the table before it descended into laughter, confusion all over Zach’s face on whatever he had walked into.

“Oh sweetheart.” Aaron says, looping his arm around the back of her chair to place a hand on her shoulder. “Not again.”

Amelia frowns, looking at her parents in shock. “Not again? What the hell does that mean?”

“Mom’s crazy, Millie.” Theo says, a laugh bursting out of him.

“Hey, I resent that.” Emily says, sinking back into her chair slightly, glaring at Aaron when he laughs at her and kisses the side of her head.

Jack gives Emily a look with his eyebrows raised before looking back at his sister. “My first ever girlfriend broke up with me the day before homecoming, Mom scared the absolute shit out of her by showing up at her cheerleading practise the following day. She somehow managed to mention that Dad once killed a guy with his bare hands.”

“Your dad did what?” Zach asks, leaning in to Theo who just shook his head. A silent promise that he’d explain later.

“In my defence.” Emily says, crossing her arms across her chest, a slight flush to her face. “This one was really sick at the time and I was pretty sleep deprived.” She says pointing at Amelia. “I wasn’t entirely in control of my emotions, and you were just so sad.”

“She also made me very aware of what she does for a living when Jack and I first moved in together.” Sara pipes up, nothing but amusement on her face when she looks at her mother-in-law. She turns back to Amelia. “I think it’s sweet.”

Amelia shakes her head at them all and turns to Zach. “Run whilst you still can.” __________________

Emily closes the door behind Jack and Sara as they leave, promises of getting together soon uttered in between lingering hugs.

“Mom?”

Emily turns to see Amelia standing behind her, her hands in her pockets as she avoids her mother’s gaze. It’s the calmest she’s looked all evening, any frustration she had towards her and her actions having melted away.

“Look, I’m sorry, Amelia.” She says taking a step towards her daughter. “I know I probably shouldn’t have done that. But you were so upset, and he deserved to-”

Her ranting is cut off by Amelia throwing her arms around her waist and placing her head on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

Emily smiles and hugs her daughter back, kissing the top of her head as she pulls her closer. “You’re welcome, sweetie.”

“I always thought it would be Dad, or Theo or Jack who went after a boy for me.” She says against her mother’s shirt before she pulls away. “At least I can tell any future guys that my mom is crazy.” _________________

Emily turns to lay on her side as Aaron joins her in bed, she smiles at him and pushes some hair off of his forehead before running her blunt nails over his temples, the mix of dark and grey hair rasping as she goes. “When do you think Jack and Sara are going to tell us she’s pregnant?”

A laugh peels out of Aaron before he leans forward and kisses her, pulling back only to press his forehead against hers. “Whenever they are ready.”

Emily shifts so her back is against him and pulls his arm over her waist, sighing when he settles his chest against her. “You’d think they’d learn they can’t hide anything from us.”

He kisses the top of her head and holds her a little tighter. “We’ve got some pretty great kids.”

“We really do.”

“You have got to stop threatening anyone who hurts them though.”

“Sure, love.” She says, pulling his hand up to her lips to kiss his knuckles. “I’ll stop.”

They both know she won’t.

#hotchniss #Hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fan fiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #WTB Universe #Day-to-Day #it's just fluff guys #family fluff #domestic fluff #just them living their lives #which frankly they deserve #after what I put them through in ITSWM

[shesawriter39049]

|PRIVATE SHOW|M|

Pairing: Taehyung X Reader

SMUT/LIGHT ANGST

About-Just a casual lunch outing where Tae’s trying to do his job and your trying to get him off under the table with your shoe...nothing new!

OR- Tae and yourself are grabbing lunch at 71 Above, after checking out the last couple of venues for the company's end of the year Holiday party. While at said restaurant, it becomes a humbling reminder that the most important people in your life are essentially a secret...cute!

WC:5k

WARNINGS: Public sex -ish( A foot-job under the table) dirty talk, teasing, light edging, frontage (kinda), overstimulation, Tae comes in his YSL leather pants, mentions of Oral (Male receiving), Tae is somewhat submissive, whilst also being a little shit. “Baby boy/Good boy” Kink

DNA Era Tae meets 2020 Tae

Tae is her baby and also her Executive Assistant

He just wants to hold her hand tbh

NOTE: This is a stand alone smut drabble within my OT7 poly universe called “7 DEEP”. Short AU SUMMARY: Your husband Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in an open relationship with! P.S. If you’re new here Kookie joins the party a little later….

_________________________________________________________

“So” Musing over your cocktail glass “Thoughts on the last place?”

Eyeing the man sitting across from you intently who’s clearly in the holiday spirit. Dressed in a deep red silk button-down, apparently, he’s taken a page out of Jimin’s book considering it’s barely buttoned, to begin with! Honestly, he’d be better off not even wearing one at all at this rate.

Smoky silver locks messily styled out of his face showcasing those bushy yet sculpted brows of his. One of your favorite past times has become watching Tae become more confident as he grows into himself. No longer finding the need to hide behind his long shaggy bangs, though you can’t; lie, you do kinda miss him looking like the puppy he truly is deep down. However this, version of Tae just hits different, your baby boy looks like a whole ass man and you’ll never get over it!

God the things you endlessly wanna do to him…..even after all these years....

You watch Tae sigh almost miserably over a mouthful of lobster mac which seems completely out of place considering the way the dish in question smells…“Honestly?”

Offering a curt nod, encouraging him to continue as you welcome yourself to his plate! The amount of cheese that’s trickling from your fork is actually disrespectful!

“It was cute, I liked how big the lot is, and more importantly how spaced out the spots are! You know how rich people get about people being too close to the damn cars!” Rolling his eyes as if he in he’s excluded from that category and you can’t help but scoff.

“Tae you technically are one of those people at this point. Just like...yesterday actually, you almost ripped Jackson’s balls off for bumping into your rearview mirror but carry on.” Flicking your fork in his direction, ignoring the sharp glare he sent your way in the process.

This time around I think both of his eyes managed to roll in different directions, again, Jimin’s wearing off on him! “Anyway, yeah, I don’t know, I liked the space, the exposed brick beams in the ceiling was cool. Kinda gave it a homey vibe which is fitting….”

You could hear it hanging off his tongue, he sounds very, “meh” about it, so you opt fil in the blank. “Butttt??”

“Butttt, I -It felt like...like I was forcing myself to like it…” Slouching down into his seat, features a little uneasy, as if him not liking the venue was a direct insult to the owner personally! You on the other hand you let out a bated breath that you weren’t even aware was being held, eyes wide shining with relief.

“Oh thank fuck” Hand slamming down absently along the table, “I thought it was just me, and I felt like such an ass too because-”

“They were so sweet” Came in unison, both of you almost cooing as you said it! Hands placed dramatically over your heart as you reclined against your chair.

“So sweet,” Tae parroted in a light pout,”I mean they were literally wearing matching loafers Y/n. Matching” Idly jading a fork into his side salad in a way that’s borderline concerning actually, a tad bit aggressive over there!

” But it just-I don’t know, I guess will always think like those broke college kids at heart” Flashing you a brief glowing smile that you can’t help but return, humming in agreeance.

“Which isn’t a bad thing, per say, the mentality definitely keeps us humbled! But there’s time and place for that attitude and honestly I just wasn’t feelin it! At least not in comparison to the others we’ve seen, it wasn’t fighting the vibe were going for. Regardless of how good the offer is” Shrugging over another mouth full of food and you there’s not much else for you to say because that was your consensus exactly.

Basically, once the two of you showed up, the cute little husband and wife duo offered you a deal which would essentially consist of them renting you the space for next to nothing. In exchange, they’d want you to post a couple of ads via your company and personal social media accounts as promo. Your initial thought outside of just thinking they were utterly adorable was how much money you’d save...but as Tae said, thankfully that’s not really a concern anymore, if you wanted you can get it!

Easily…discounts and barters aside, just a flick of the wrist and it’s yours!

“True, also can we just take a moment to talk about how aesthetically pleasing the Valentine was though?” Tossing your head back with a dramatic groan “I mean fuck you already know the way I feel about industrial spaces, the high, glass ceiling, all the greenery..” Eyes rolling to the back of your head with a slight moan…as you envision the space. Especially how moody and sexy the overall venue would look with thousands of lights cascading from the glass ceilings.

Clearly the venue was doing ....a lot for you right now!

Brow cocked at the blatant...enthusiasm surrounding the location in question “Mmm, well that’s something...interesting to add to the kink list, just when I thought I’d explored every avenue, but apparently not.” Voice low, teasing, head cocked to the side, a shit eating grin plastered along his lips, as he swirls his tongue along the tip of his straw in a way that’s……

“ I guess we’re adding “industrial spaces” to the list. Noted.” Smirking around his drink like the little shit he is!

Right, you may or may not have crossed your legs at the sudden drawl laced within his delivery but not before, kicking his shin with the tip of your heel, “You little shit” Rolling your eyes at the way he dramatically rubs the side of his leg, hitting you with straight puppy dog eyes as he pouts over at you as if you actually caused serious damage!.

Leaning forward a little so you don't have to try as hard to whisper, the notion has your breast essentially sitting on top of the table. Not that they weren’t already on full display in your dress or anything. Hand slipping beneath the table, landing on his kneecap. “What? Suddenly you don’t like a little pain?” Tone blatantly teasing whilst ghosting your nails agonizingly slow up his inner thigh, and his entire body goes rigid at the sensation. Tae’s always been extremely...

“God, your still so sensetive....” You weren’t intending for that to come out in the form of a moan but considering the one that fell from his lips in return...you ain’t mad about it! 100% dialed in to the way his eyes are fluttering, jaw tight, trying his damndest to play it cool, especially once the waitress makes eye contact silently asking if the two of you need anything. “Takes so little Hmm?”’

Flashing him a quick smile, waving her off for the time being, far too focused on another task to entertain anyone else right now!  Only stopping your ministrations once your fingers land right beneath his balls.

“This place is very well lit, I like the hue, it’s casting a good soft-light, especially the way it’s bouncing off your complexion...” Eyes cascading against the ceiling, tone casual, until your eyes drop....

“You’d look so fuckin good, coming for me right now...” The words purr off your tongue, flashing him a cheeky little wink, and poor Taehyung chokes on his martini!

“You know how much you love being watched...I could have you making a mess all over yourself and no one would even know. ” Not even trying to hide the smirk playing on your lips when you can already feel the tension in the room rise. “My own little private show...” Eyes wicked as your fingers wander a little higher, gently pressing your palm down around his dick. Rubbing tauntingly, the touch isn't enough through the thick leather, however it does instantly make his length swell in the confines of his pants! We all know this….underwear is nonexistent in Tae’s world! “Kinda brings me back to our college days...” Teeth sinking into your bottom lip at the mere memory...you getting Tae off whilst in the lecture hall full of 300 plus students. 

Regardless of the deer in headlights look flashing across his face his legs still spread apart, hips bucking forward because well as we just said...baby boy loves being watched. This however, prompts you to once again change positions, now digging your nails into the back of his thighs before letting the tips of your fingers tickle free. Coly bringing them back above surface to take another languid  sip of your drink, tossing a strand of hair over your shoulder.

Ya know, I can’t say you’re surprised by his reaction, baby boy can dish it but sure can’t take it, neck and chest flushing to rival his shirt! Banging on his sternum in an attempt to reroute the liquor burning his lungs.

“Jesus-fuc-Y/n!” You have the nerve to hum inquisitively, only this time for his sanity he humors you! “Can you like not go from asulting me to-” Looking over his shoulder before dropping his voice down to a whisper “Stroking my dick, and offering to get me off under the table, all in the span of a nanosecond!?” The plea hissed through clenched teeth but the complaint was half hearted at most! Well aware his dicks already throbbing in his pants at the thought alone! “Fuck me” Sucking in a harsh breath, as he raked his fingers through his scalp.

“Well…” Tonguing at your inner cheek, eyes fluttering away as if you were in deep thought… “In my defense you kinda started it, bringing up my kink list like I don’t own a whole ass porn company!” Propping your chin on your palm, gaze locked and loaded “Like I wasn’t thinking about tainting that sweet innocent couple by letting them watch as I dropped to my knees, letting you fuc-”

“Y/n!” He actually attempts to sound almost applauded, like he doesn’t love how absolutely filthy your mouth is. However there’s a silent little “please” playing on his tongue, no matter how threatening he tried to sound.

You giggled, straight up giggled, reclining in your seat, amused, and somewhat satisfied so you let him be, for the time being anyway. Though you may have eaten your angel hair pasta in a very obscene manner, every now and then you’d sinfully suck the noodles through your overly glossed lips! However, if he dared to clock you on it you’d just simply note that it was your way of not messing up your makeup….

The two of you finish your lunch in comfortable silence, making small talk here and there, a mixture of work and bullshit until Tae’s phone goes off with a couple text notifications.

A low hum rattling in the back of his throat as he eyes the message from Hoseok. Subconsciously Tae reaches across the table, intertwining your fingers before bringing your knuckles up to his lips. Grazing them with his lips casually as he scrolls through his phone.

“Alright  baby, so, I have a list ready, we have a couple brands that wanna work with us for the party. Seoks already narrowed it down to the ones that are actually worth discussing however-“

Honestly, it took both of you a minute to even realize what was going on, the skinship was second nature at this point. It wasn’t until his thumb grazed over your wedding band that the notion even resonated! Tae and yourself were a good two drinks in, feelin all warm and fuzzy and got caught up in the moment! Temporarily forgetting that you were in the middle of a restaurant in Downtown LA! Forgetting that the Kim currently caressing your knuckles and calling you baby is not the one you're technically married to! It may seem minor in retrospect, but you’ve always tried to stop yourselves from getting comfortable, with being comfortable in certain locations if that makes sense! You slip up one to many times and the next thing you know it happening in the office or on the red carpet!

Taehyung’s eyes grow almost comically wide, straight panic flashes over those big brown orbs of his and your heart sinks as you watch his head whip around, checking to make sure no one caught the interaction. It was almost painful how quickly he disconnected from you as his entire face dropped and no, just no!

“Hey...hey no it’s fine, it’s like 2 in the afternoon on a Tuesday! Not to mention we’re tucked in a booth in the corner ,we’re good, nobody heard or saw you…” Voice calm and quiet, trying to come off comforting, flashing him a weary smile. Reaching across the table to thumb at his palm, and it would be a lie to say you didn't also check over your shoulder before hand as well’

A dry almost bitter chuckle leaves his throat as he flinches away, tossing the fork down on his plate sliding it halfway across the table indicating he is more than done eating. Flicking the bridge of his nose with his index finger, jaw twitching, “Yeah, lucky me huh? I actually got to hold your hand for all of two seconds before we realized I’m techionally not allowed to do that unless were in fuckin I don’t know Alaska!” 

He’s agitated, and with every right to be, even if he is being a little dramatic. Thankfully he’s keeping his voice low, but you can feel how tight his throat is, the amount of grit laced within his tenor has your eyes bugging out of there socket.

“Bab- “ It was a reflex, whenever he’s upset it’s just what falls from your lips, and he gives you a look, almost as if to say “How fucking dare you” ! The level of hurt the pet name just rendered within his eyes is- 

Eyes sharp, brows furrowed “Noo, nooo, we literally just went through this. That’s not the way it works for us in this kinda setting” Flailing his arms around to reference the restaurant. “Wrong Kim” Well damn. “So it's Tae in public remember!?” Brow quirked accusingly, he’s abating this entire situation, almost like he wants you to snap, a second away from whisper yelling! “ Or maybe I should say Taehyung, hell  just use my full government while your at it. Let’s make it real impersonal, Mr. Kim maybe?” Head cocked to the side as if he’s being genuine and not a total smartass right now. 

You-he’s ...hurt, and you get that, hell you respect that, but Lunch at 71 Above is not the time or place for this conversation. You’re trying to approach this on a more rational level, however the condescending delivery is making it hard, and your only human. Eyes rolling to the back of your head before you can even catch yourself and that little gesture seems to be what officially set him off!

You can physically see the tension within his face... “I’m gonna go get some air, I might actually call a Uber or somethin,.” The words trailed off his lips low in mumbled but clear enough to be heard because that’s ultimately what he wanted to begin with. 

There was something in his eyes you couldn’t read, a combination of anger/hurt mixed another emotion you can’t quite pinpoint! But whatever it is, you fuckin hated it! Throat running painfully dry as watch him slide his chair out and even though realistically you know at max he’s headed home...Still the gesture alone is gut wrenching because you know this runs deeper than just this situation!

“Tae” His name leaves your throat as more of a warning, reaching up to take an almost possessive grip on his wrist. Fingertips landing on the edge of his Cartier bracelet, the one you're both wearing actually, same arm and all!

A deep labored breath shutters from his chest at the contact, thighs feelin like a newborn fawn, gaze hesitantly meeting yours. “Tae, baby” Daring to use the endearment again regardless of your current surroundings “Sit back down so I can order us dessert and we can discuss whatever you want...just-please” The ending whisked off your tongue so faint your almost wondering if he even heard you!

Taehyung narrows his eyes, teeth clenched, tongue nudging his inner cheek! “I’m not really in the mood for cake right now Y/n. To be honest I just wanna leave” You know he’s aiming for dry but instead he lands somewhere around defeated , which makes it even worse. You’re both well aware this is not truly about cake, it’s about his constant need to run away from shit!

Sliding your fingers down his wrist, interlocking your fingers, giving them a firm squeeze. Eyes locked with his “Then you can get whatever you want, but I need you to just be here right now, I really, really need you to sit here, and just breathe through this with me.”

He’s know what your really asking is for him not to run away for once!

A faint little “Whatever” Leaves his lips and then he’s dead silent, silent as he slides his chair out, remaining as such for what feels like hours, and it has your heart beating painfully hard against your ribcage. It’s almost like he’s not even here, eyes fixated on some random painting on the opposite side of the restaurant, chewing at his inner cheek until....

“I’m sorry…” He admits after a baited breath, stroking your palm with his thumb gently, you can see him working over his thought’s in his head before speaking. ”I can’t - fuck I never know when I’m going to get all in my feels with shit like this, sometimes it just sucks harder than others I guess” The curt little shrug that leaves his shoulders let’s you know how uncomfortable he is, Tae’s overall persona suddenly seems mounds smaller in this moment. Anxiously stroking the back of his own neck “But....I shouldn't have come at you like that! That was fucked on my behalf and for that I’m truly am sorry ! This isn't all on you, or Joon we all-”Gazing over his shoulder before continuing “There’s just- there’s a lot, we have families and it’s just, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, ...”

Dropping his voice a little lower “I just fuckin love you” There’s a timid smile playing on his lips “and if the offer still stands I would really fuckin like chocolate cake…”

You actually snort, that’s your first instinct because only Tae, but the plus is it lightens the mood  immensely! The sudden outburst triggers that full boxy grin to come into play and god your so damn  enamored by this man it’s actually sad. Bringing his knuckles up to your mouth, grazing them past your lips like he did yours moments prior. “I love you too, and chocolate cake sounds fuckin amazing, and liquor, we need new drinks, actually we need an entire bottle! ” You laugh and then so does Tae, suddenly your holding hands and laughing together and everything else just seems so miniscule in the moment.

~~~~~

So, here’s the thing...being a CEO of one of the top Adult film entertainment companies is not on the same level as like..I don’t know….

Owning a high-end clothing company, or being a reality star or something. Your field is praised just as highly as it is tabooed, so with that being said, it’s not like your the top topic on E-news, or on Business Digest. You still have a strong sense of normality, point blank you’re not that important. It’s not as common for outsiders to know the high rollers within the porn industry the way it is in other fields!

However there's another avenue to factor in where the 7 of you are concerned, and that’s the world of social media, and that’s a completely different world entirely! One that’s heavily intertwined in your state in particular, living playing, and working in LA….I mean let’s get real, shit not normal here, by any means!

You’re a 26-year-old wealthy CEO, that goes to work in a Ferrari, cute little bodycons, Louboutin's, and Chanel bags! Your executive assistant is Tae for fucks sake, he looks like a model his damn self , on the surface your life is an aesthetically pleasing wet dream. An influencer without even trying for the title, if your 2.7 million followers are at all telling! So in the public eye, especially when out in Downtown LA..you try to be discreet.

Just last week Jimin was hanging all over you while walking through Saks and one of your mutual followers stopped to ask for a picture. Again this isn’t a daily occurrence, you’re not comparing yourself to Rhianna, but it’s why you do move with a slight air of caution when in your city! You literally live in a place where people become famous for running into walls, nevertheless owning their own business!

The world knows you’re married to Namjoon, and to be honest there’s numerous reasons the other aspect of your dynamic stays hidden! More than just the obvious….

However there’s been rumors circulating over the years, or at least now that Hollywood’s decided you hold some relevance! Ones pertaining your your sexuality, typically the tabloids assuming it, insulating your swingers, or that Namjoon’s bi.  A Lot of these narratives circle back from your college days though, old classmates trying to slip tea to the media. Stories of when you could go to a party and it didn’t matter if you were sandwiched between Namjoon and Yoongi at the same damn time! Not to mention the dark side of social media where nothing ever truly dies, so yeah there are some questionable photos floating around. Luckily nothing recent enough to truly add fuel to the fire but you know deep down it’s only a matter of time!

One could argue it adds allure to the overall dynamic, especially considering your line of work, and maybe it wouldn’t matter if the boys were just casual thirds...but they’re not! They’re so much more than that and that’s what makes this hard, because well in laymen’s terms...people just fucking suck! So as heartbreaking as it is, where your other boys are concerned, in the public eye at least your “relationship” holds a strong air of mystery!

It’s the little things ya know? Like now for example, the fact that he could've easily gotten a foot job under the table but has to walk on eggshells about holding your hand at times! Shit just sucks sometimes, there’s no other way around it!

~~~~~~~

The two of you don’t really talk much until the dessert comes, more drinks and a bottle is in fact ordered as well! The silence felt a little more bearable this time around, busying yourselves on your phones. A very minor but significant change, is the fact that you still haven’t let go of his hand, even once the waitress returns. The simple notion has his entire dementor shifting! Fingers still tightly bound together and your chest flutters seeing the way he flushes almost bashfully at such minor PDA! Like the two of you didn’t hook up in the back of a club in London two months ago! Like you literally weren’t palming him under the table! Yet here he is blushing at openly holding your hand!

So fuckin cute!

Eventually two pieces of molten chocolate crepe cake gets brought over and holy fuck! Both moaning in unison as the pastry hits the table...

“Oh my goddd, we have to take a piece home for Jin, the like...convince him to learn how to make it!” You watch Tae’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he laces his lips around the fork! Groaning out in agreeance once the mixtures of pure sin hit his tongue.

“K...now back to , these sponsors...” Prompting over a mouth full of cake, not that you wouldn’t love to sit here and chill all day but you do have a 4pm conference call!

You watch as Tae glances down at your intertwined fingers, and his fork....realizing ones gotta go so he can pick up his phone and you physically coo back at him, melting into your set once he opts to drop the fork instead of your hand. Purposely avoiding your glance once he noticed the look on your face, nose scrunched and all!

“Right, so Uber reached out, more specifically Uber Luxxe, looking to send us 4 cars of our choice in exchange for a couple post. Spread out between IG, Twitter and Snap, I’m personally all for this one. The contract doesn’t seem excessive and I like that the post won’t feel forced! I mean realistically we were going to hire a driving service regardless! However something to also consider is our lack of filter when drinking! I mean...”Flailing his phone between the two of you as if to give an example, obviously referencing the little slip up moments prior. At least he can joke about it a little “So realistically, would we feel more comfortable with a private car service where there’s a contract involved as opposed to just some random?”

Tae just went full EA, out of nowhere and honestly ...

You blinked at him, almost dazed, fork halfway to his mouth because, what?! . “You sound so professional right now, it’s so fuckin hot.”

Tae choked on nothing but straight air before blushing profusely. “Baby-I mean-Y-“

You didn’t even flinch, continuing, unperturbed. “Nah, actually I think I’m in the mood to be baby right now!” Eying him wickedly “Your jaw just gets really tight, and your voice gets all low and raspy! It happens during meetings too, it’s really fuckin sexy! Reminds me of the way you sound when your lips are pressed into the side of my neck when we fuck.” It's just the casualness of it all, you sound like your ordering another appetizer and Tae’s about to choke on his dessert. 

The grip he has on your hand is almost painful right now, “But don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here writing out my next script in my head, carry on. What rental service did you have in mind? Or did someone already reach out as well?”

It’s the way you just went from talking about Tae, being balls deep to sponsorships all in the span of a comma! In the words of your best friend you are pure chaos.....

Tae groans  head hanging in defeat and your lips curl into a smirk, brow quirked in his direction.

“It’s the way I hate it here sometimes...” Snatching his hand away to jab his fork into the neglected pastry.

“Ah huh” You roll your eyes crossing your arms over your chest before leaning back. “Right, again let’s not act like you didin’t start this, both here and at the venue.” Leaning over the table again licking your lips “Don’t act like you weren’t eye fucking me the entire time, or the way you’d accidentally brush against me as we walked through the building. You’ve been practically begging for it all day.”

Tae just stares back at you, mind momentarily blank, stomach shifting into knots, letting the fork drop from those delicate fingers of his! Mouth opening and closing like a fish straight outta water...

“Did you think about it too? The acoustics in that place were fuckin insane, the way it would just echo through as you made me cum would just- fuck”  You continued adding that lethal little purr back into your voice! “Or even better the way you’d sound, you don’t even know how bad I wanted to drop-“

“Y/n”

“Baby.” Phrasing the word borderline as a threat “Would you have liked that baby boy?” Cocking your head to the side, tongue teasing your bottom lip “Me on my knees for you looking up at you all pretty, letting you hold my hair and fuck my throat until you came straight into my mouth?”

Speaking of mouths' your just straight fuckin-mayhem ...and it’s making Taehyung’s brain feel like it’s melting through his ears! But god should we be surprised though?

It’s never taken much with you....

You’ve always been just what he needs and a little bit more than he can take all in one! You haven’t even touched him yet and he feels a moan creeping up his throat! Especially as he watches you swirl the tip of your tongue over the whipped cream on the edge of your fork, sucking it between your overly glossed lips in the most obscene manner.

Eyes locked and loaded, a second away from drooling, “Fuck, yeah,” He stutters breath hitching on his lungs, heat coursing through his skin. Tae’s veins literally feel like they’re on fire, subtly trying to shift in his seat to readjust himself! Glancing subconsciously out of his peripheral, the restaurant still chill and half empty. The waitress on the opposite end of the room attending to another couple!

“You always look so damn good with my cock down your throat, and my cum on your tounge. God, especially when I wrap my hand around your throat and I can feel you swallowing down around my-” Your tongue’s swirling all over this damn fork, and he can feel every flick your tongue against his dick, and it’s just...fuck!  Not to mention once you accidently spilled some whipped cream on your lips, which you took your time licking off as well.  “Jesus-Fuck, Y/n!!” Taehyung’s voice is dripping with arousal, and you already know he’s leaking all over the place.

“Yeah?” Humming around the form before setting it to the side “ You like the way I look when I’m chocking on your cock?” These questions are all rhetorical, your an ass “Or how about when I get a little messy because I can’t fit it all in my mouth?” Your eyes darken, words coming out over low gasps of air, almost as if your just as aroused as he is and that’s because you are!

“Your always such a good boy for me, so helpful too holding my hair back, guiding my mouth until you hit the back of my throat...holding me in place until I gag. You know how much I love when you get rough with me ..” Tae feels the sole of your red buttons tease up his thigh, shifting between his legs. The transition was so damn smooth it catches him off guard, instinctively wanting to push away but instead...

“You’d be loud for me too wouldn’t you? Show them how good you look falling apart for me, how good you look when you come down my throat....The way your eyes roll-”

“Holy-fuck Baby” Aggressively running his palms over his face until it’s matching his shirt “Please don’t do this to me right, now, if your gonna give it to me then fuckin let me have it but I cant-.”

You can’t help but smile back at him, so fond it almost seems out of place in the moment. “I’ll give you whatever you want Tae...you know this. You just gotta promise you’ll be good for me, we can’t draw-”

“I’m always good” He damn near growled at you, eyes daring you to say otherwise and well, who were you to deny Tae of what he wants!?Gently pressing your foot at the base of his cock, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips upon feeling that your boys already fully hard.

It’s the way the two of you are just casually in one of LA’s boujeiest restaurants and your deadass about to give him a foot job in Louboutin’s! Yup, your life had turned into a porno,  you’ve officially made it!

“Kay, so back to that list of sponsors, first off I completely agree, as much as I love our contact at Uber I’d prefer an actual car service for something like that.” Here you go again the queen of the switch up, you’re back to discussing work yet there’s still a slight moan in your tenor. Breathy and light and Tae feels like all the airs being sucked from his lungs.

Tae shifts, spreading his thighs even further, shuddering out a bated breath as you point your toe, dragging it up and down! It’s a peep-toe so that alone allows you a little more flexibility! Pressure intentionally light so it’s just enough to have him on the brink of begging! But instead of doing so, he picks up his phone, hands shaky and all and continue doing his job as requested!

“Right..” Clearing his throat not sure why he currently sounds like he’s going through puberty again but K...  “I’ll let Hobi know, maybe we can do something we’re we use them while planning this party or something! Since you vetoed a party planner will have a lot more running around to do! Realistically outside of Joon and Jin we all have coupes anyway...so it’s not like we can carry much!”

Mmm, always the innovator, even when all the blood and airs being rushed to his dick! You feel him try and slide forward, chasing after the stimulation.

“Ohhh, I really like that, and like you said it still feels somewhat organic because realistically our cars aren’t efficient for something like that”  You press down harder against his cock almost as a reward “Good boy, what’s next?” Nodding towards his phone and it takes every ounce of self control he had to swallow down the moan laying on his tongue.

Eyes struggling to stay ajar as you continuously rub your foot up and down his length. Now applying more prominent pressure with the ball of your feet! Movement stealth from the waist up so you don’t draw attraction to yourself.

“Tae Tae” The nickname falls from your lips singsong like, and far too innocent for the demon seed you are. “Next?”

He doesn't even know what to really do except follow instructions, so he just nods, scrolling through his phone. “There was also a couple brands wanted to oh fuck-“ Gasping as you pick up your pace, damn near dropping his phone into the plate beneath him.

Face splitting into an amused grin, a hint of something wicked playing on your lips. Eyes gleaming with mischief, you watch those long, delicate fingers flex, clearly struggling this time around to bite back the moan like he needs to! Hands shaking as your continue working him at a merciless pace. Rubbing faster, harder, utilizing the rounded point on the head of your heel to press right against what your assuming is Tae’s tip by the way he shudders. Thighs shaking as he grips the edge of the table for dear life!

“Oh my godddd” Tae manages to just mouth the words as opposed to screaming them the way he desperately wants too. Tugging on his own scalp, trying to just do something to get himself busy!

“You fuckin love this....” It’s not even a question, more of a consensus!

Your eyes haven’t left his once, watching intently as you swirl your tongue around the straw before taking a sip. Moaning around it because well ya know, the drinks just that damn good apparently.

God his skin feels like it’s on fire, every stroke of your foot has him feeling like he’s coming undone!

He’s trying to focus, on his surroundings, this damn list everything but he can’t he just fucking can’t! Thankfully it’s you, and he trust you with everything he has, so his subconscious is somewhat at ease with all of this because he knows you got him!

“Yeah,fuck yeah you already know you can do anything to me” He states plainly, the most stable his voice has sounded in god knows when “Whatever you want” Gaze heavy through hooded lashes, looking straight at you with steady sinful eyes.

“Mmm, and always want it don’t you baby? Always...:”

He bites back a moan nodding, and then his phone rings, of course his phone fucking rings and it’s coming from the office because why the fuck not?!

“Answer” The command was simple, clearly no room for debate and hs eyes go wide,

“Baby” Complaining with a hint of a whine in his voice and when you don’t seem to give a damn....

“Yeah?”Jaw tight, nostrils flared as he picks up the phone. Adrenaline flies through his veins, pressure building in his gut as you relentlessly keep your pace intact! Pressing harder and deeper into all the right places until he’s coughing around Moans to try and cover it up!

Dropping his head slightly, propping it on his elbow as he squeezes the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “ Welp, That's where it would be so if you don’t see any were out, email me a list and I’ll make a Amazon-“

Taehyung’s chest heaves painfully tight, breathing becoming more erratic with every stroke and yes clearly there’s a strong voyeurism kink within this man! So as crazy as it may sound , the combination of the restaurant, and this phone call ?!

Yeah, he’s not gonna last!

Slouching down completely against the back of the booth, thighs spreading to full capacity. Fingers tangled in his Smokey locks holding his bangs out of his face. Eyes shut , jaw tight, neck slightly reclined, though to the naked eye he’d just appear to be on a very unpleasant phone call! When in all actually he’s finally just letting himself fall apart beneath your touch!

Eyes fluttering open just enough to glance down at you in a way that had you feeling like you could come right with him. Your gaze is Just as heavy as his, lips darting out to wet your lips though your throats suddenly what’s running dry!

Tae’s lips part slightly, though he’s falling apart he’s giving it right back to you. Hitting you with those sinfully needy fuck me eyes! The same ones you see when your riding and edging him until he’s coming tenfold! His breathing comes stagnate every time your foot moves and Tae finds himself gnawing down on his bottom lip to stifle the moans sliding up his chest! You can tell who's on the other end now, it’s the new secretary Alanna, and she legitimately is still getting her footing! Which is the only reason Tae is even entertaining the call, well one of the reasons!

You notice Tae’s breathing is starting to even out a little almost as if he’s gained some of his self control back and we don’t support that in this household.  So you proceed to dig your foot right into the head of his cock and he straight wheezes! Body jerking off the wall and all ...

“No, I’m, fuck-“ There’s a moan that finally falls freely off his tongue that only barley seems acceptable because he in fact just choked! Voice coming out what feels like a octave lower and huskier , poor Alanna! “Yeah i'm good sorry , food just went down the wrong pipe.” He can barely think straight but he knows he needs to close this up “Hey look will be back within the hour and will sort it out then alright?”

I don’t even think he even waited for her to respond before hanging up and literally throwing his phone across the table! Gucci case and all.

“Everything okay? ?” Voice low and teasing, he knows you're technically asking about the office but your timing sucks ass!

“Fuck you” Falls off his lips in a barley audible moan, so consumed as his orgasm builds in the pit of his stomach! Eyes still struggling to stay open mouth, mouth falling slack, if your were in your right mind you’d tell him to pull it together alittle! Now that he’s off the phone, he either looks like he’s getting a foot job, or like he’s high on meth! Neither are appealing to the GP! God, he must look utterly ridiculous right now, thankfully he’s shifted against the booth so he’s facing a wall as opposed to other guest!

“Mm, my pretty baby’s close yeah?” Watching how heavily his throat bobs as he swallows, Tae’s leaking precum all over the damn place, so, close hips gently rocking into your foot as discreetly as possible, growing more desperate by the second. Fuck he needs to come, he needs to!

“Yeah baby please don’t- fuck” God he sounds so good, so needy and pliant and fuck!  

“I got you...” At that you actually kick your shoe off, moving back to press down even harder, rubbing and rubbing forcing Tae to attempt to grab his drink in attempts to muzzle himself. However his hands are shaking too hard and  he almost knocks it over!

“God baby I’m-“

“Be a good boy for me”

And he is, coming with a shuddering breath, under the steady pressure of your foot as his release tears through his veins. Dropping his to the table as subtly as possible(Hell maybe people will think he’s tipsy or not feeling well), thighs shaking, chest heaving painfully hard. He’s not completely silently but he does a lot better than expected, a low groan manages to slip past his lips.

“Good boy” The praise rolls off your tongue and goes straight to his dick, as if he needed anymore stimulation there. Another faint whimper falls off his lips until he’s drooling all over the table. Not even realizing initially, that his hips were still grinding into you until he’s hissing from oversensitivity! The force of his orgasm has Taehyung drawing straight blanks, hearing nothing but white nose rustling in the background!

Also, I don’t know what that says about Tae as a person but he’s not even remotely humiliated! The only thing that he’s about to regret once his mind's less foggy is how absolutely drenched his YSL leather pants are!

So busy trying to get his breathing back in check as he comes down from his high, he completely missed the way you’d signaled to the server. Calmly asking for her  to add 8 more slices of cake to go, and bring the bill over!

His face is flushed, his pants feel gross as hell but above everything else he feels so damn good! Reaching down to still your foot, gently massaging the top as his eyes finally flutter open! Vision still a little hazy as he looks back at you with a dazed smile, and your gazing back at him with so much fondness that the first thing that slurs off his lips in a whisper is....

“I fuckin love you!”

Flashing him a wink in return as you make eye contact with your servers whose letting you know she’ll be over in a moment. Keeping your foot stationary for a moment, enjoying the well deserved foot massage. Occasionally flexing your toes to “accidentally brush against his dick. Giggling around your drink every time he'd hiss and jerk away!

This entire lunch situation was a damn mess, and high key reckless but, the blissed out smile written all over his face is more than worth it. Where just ugh...not gonna tell the boys about this!

“Love you too Tae”

~~~~~~~~~

Everything from that moment on kind of feels like a blur honestly, up until the two of you sliding into your car and before you can even get yourself settled he’s on you! Yanking you out of your seat and into his lap before you can even put your seatbelt on which obviously is not ideal this is a sports car after all but you don’t dare complain! Taehyung’s far from shy with his wants, griping the back of your neck, sliding his fingers through your hair as he presses your lips together! He doesn’t try to ease you into it either It’s hard, hungry, desperate and overtly needy! Forcing both of you to huff out a staggered breath through your nose to even keep up! You breathe him in, and he breathes you out, it’s all open mouthed, and heady, an obscene amount of moans rolling off your tongues. Reclining your jaw, giving him free reign to explore your mouth. Tongue rolling against your slick and languid with years of finesse between the two of you. No matter how hard he’s kissing you it still doesn’t feel rushed, its deep, borderline sensual actually!

Tae pulls back just enough to nip at your bottom lip, dragging his across your jaw and down the side of your neck! Licking sucking and biting, along your skin, moaning at the way you arch and grind your hips into every touch! The two of you carry on like that until there’s suddenly something thumbing in the back of your throat!

“Hey..” There's a slight sternness within your voice that has him instantly trying to snap out of his postcoital haze. Stroking the hinge of his jaw “You know, how much I love you right? And if, we need to all sit down a re-”

Cutting you off with the smooth glide of his lips pulling you into a kiss that’s a slower, less needy, there’s no ulterior motive, Tae just wants to feel you “Nah, I don't wanna change anything sometimes- I just want-”

“I know...” Because you do, pressing your forehead to his, not even kissing just letting your breaths melt as one. Massaging his scalp gently, he already looks like he’s a second away from passing out! Pondering if maybe the two of you should switch places...

“Promise you’ll let me take care of you later” Tae nuzzles against the side of your face like a puppy wanting his ears scratched! Believe it or not he wasn’t always such a selfless lover, not until he found you guys! Now it’s almost like his orgasms feel incomplete if he’s the only one coming once it’s all said and done!

“You can do whatever you want to me Tae, you know this.” Placing a couple lingering kisses on those pouty lips of his before hesitantly shuffling into the passengers seat. Transfixed on the way he slips back into his lane, fixing his hair, pulling out his oversized cat eye frames to rest on the bridge of his nose. One hand on the wheel the other finding there home on your thigh. Noting the slight discomfort as he shifts in his seat, no doubt due to the fact that well, he just came in his pants.

“How about..” Leaning over to place a open mouth kiss right beneath is ear, digging your nails into his thigh until he moans.  “ I clean you up a little on the drive, and we pit stop at mine, and we drop you off first so you can shower and chill. Then me and Joon will come back and crawl into bed with you after were done for the day..”

“Am I being given the rest of the day off Mrs. Kim?” You can already hear the smirk in his voice without even looking...

“Yes Mr. Kim that would be correct....” Already working the zipper before he can even respond because you already know how this is about to pan out...

___________________

Hi my babies, first off IDK where this came from, I also wouldn’t consider it my best, but it was the first thing I’ve written in like 6 months which felt good. This was supposed to be up back in December I had a couple holiday prompts for the series that I never got around to completing ! But If you enjoyed show this some love and come talk to me!

Love always,

Rocki

#taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #kim taehung #kim taehyung smut #bts #bts smut #bts x reader #kim taehyung x reader #kpop #kpop smut

[diavolodigitale]

Dream Sequence. Asra

It is kind of surprising but I wrote all 3 stories about dreams in one day. Did I nearly lose my sanity in the process? Yes. Did it make me have a terrible migraine? Yes. Do I feel like it was worth it? Also probably pretty much yes. Hard to tell now, I don’t understand what is happening in real life anymore. 

All parts of the trilogy: Lucio - Asra - Julian - All stories in PDF

A part of the "trilogy" about dream encounters dedicated to Asra (because he is a cinnamon bun). Nothing special, just You (or the Apprentice, or the Reader, however you view it) and Asra spending some time together (if you know what I mean, which you probably don't, so go ahead and read it, it's pretty short, I promise). My character was male, but you are free to imagine whoever you want since there are no references to it in the text.

Genres: Romance, Fluff, Comfort, Dreams, POV First Person, One-shot, Light-hearted

Pairing: Asra/Apprentice(or Reader or You or Whatever)

Characters: Asra, Reader/Apprentice/You

Rating: G for Geez that’s another good story, how come?

Size: around 2500 words again

I open my eyes just to see that I am surrounded by white emptiness. As my eyes are adjusting to how bright everything around me looks, I am beginning to discern the line of the horizon that separates the cloudless greyish winter sky above from the frozen bluish ground under my feet.

It looks like it’s winter but it certainly doesn’t feel like one. I am dressed in my regular outfit and still no cold seems to penetrate my shirt and bite my skin underneath.

This must be a dream.

There seems to be nothing at all in front of me except for the vast emptiness and leagues and leagues of distance, so I turn around to investigate other directions.

Not far away from me I manage to spot a person sitting on a large round rock with their back turned to me. I realise that it’s probably his dream, not mine.

I approach, already knowing who the person is.

“Hello,” I say and put my hand on Asra’s shoulder, trying not to startle him.

“Oh, it’s you!” he says with delight in his voice and turns to face me. “Seeing you here is definitely a welcome surprise.”

Asra smiles and I take a seat beside him.

For some reason he is wearing an elegant snake mask. It is long and slender with the eyelids half-lowered, and really seems to accentuate the delicate features of his face. There’s nothing out of the ordinary with his clothes, so I decide to cast the strangeness aside as a result of this being a dream.

“I felt your presence some time ago but thought I was only imagining. How did you get here?” he asks, staring into the distance.

I shrug my shoulders. I really don’t know, but it’s not like there are many options here. Usually it’s all the same – either he gravitates towards me or I towards him. We’ve lived and worked together for so long that I feel like I can recognize his energy anywhere and anytime.

“Your magic must’ve brought me here,” I say, sneaking a glance at him.

Asra nods and it looks like he is smiling under his mask, but it’s hard to tell.

“You’re incredible, have I told you that?” he asks and turns to face me again.

“A few times, yes,” I say, a bit flustered at how straightforward he is. “But I can only locate you because your magic is so strong and vivid. I don’t even need to make any effort to find out where you are.”

“If you say so,” he says and laughs it off.

A cold gust of wind blows and makes a mess of his hair. I only assume that it’s cold, but I still cannot really feel much in this realm.

“Yet it won’t be long before you outgrow me,” adds Asra after a short pause, sounding a bit upset, “I’ll be looking forward to that moment.”

I notice how worried he sounds and cannot help but wonder what troubles him so much. He’s always been pretty open with me unless it came to some of the feelings he didn’t feel comfortable sharing.

I try to read the expression on his face, but the mask turns out to be a real hurdle, so I reach out to remove it.

“What are you doing?” asks Asra but doesn’t pull away from my hand.

“I feel frustrated when I look at your face and see this mask instead, so I wanted to help you take it off. May I?” I say apologetically, thinking that I should’ve asked before I actually tried.

“This mask…?” asks Asra in confusion and raises his hand to touch his face. His fingers find the plain surface of the mask instead of his skin, and he looks at me in surprise. “Yes… Sure, of course. I must look pretty strange with it, right?” he asks nervously and lets me remove the mask from his face.

I look at him attentively and notice that the tip of his nose as well as his lips are bluish. I frantically look down on his hands and note that they’re also much paler than usual and even seem to tremble.

“Are you cold?” I ask, scared and disappointed that I didn’t notice it earlier.

Before he manages to respond, I pull him into a tight hug with one hand and grab both of his shaking hands in the other one.

“Are you not?” he mumbles into my shoulder and gratefully nestles in my embrace.

“No, the cold doesn’t seem to affect me,” I say thoughtfully, stroking his hands with my thumb. I can feel his body gradually relaxing, washed by the warmth I radiate with a little help from my magic.

“Then this moment is even closer than I expected…” he almost whispers.

I still don’t exactly know the reason for his brooding but make an educated guess that he is yet again referring to me being more talented in magic than he expected. I can’t understand why it might be a bad thing and simply try to look for ways to cheer him up.

“If I grow stronger…” I start quietly, and he immediately turns his attentions to me, his wise eyes staring into mine, “will it be you who will be visiting my dreams then?”

He stares at me for a moment or two before letting out a soft chuckle and squeezing my hand.

“Only if you want me to. It’s not like there’s anything worth seeing in mine,” he responds, his smile fading a bit at the end.

“There’s nothing I would like more,” I say and feel like the tips of my ears are burning. “If it’s with you, though, I think I would agree to go anywhere.”

He’s been quite distant from me lately but I hope to change it. There’s no use guessing over his worries if he doesn’t want to tell me so I just hope I have enough determination and patience in me to show him that I’m not going to disappear anywhere any time soon.

My words seem to have hit the spot so Asra relaxes more and natural colour returns back to his face and hands. He makes a fluid movement with his hand and, suddenly, I see sparkling soft snow falling down on us. There’s no wind, so it just descends slowly and lands on Asra’s shoulders and head, getting lost in his white curls.  

I look at the intricate little snowflakes that got stuck in his eyelashes and make a sad face.

“I won’t be able to make anything this astonishing any time soon,” I say and pretend to be sullen about it.

Asra looks at me with a storm of unreadable emotions whirling in his eyes and smiles, raising both of my hands and intertwining our fingers.

“It’s not difficult,” he says in his best instructional tone and winks at me encouragingly. Previously he’s needed a lot of patience to teach me something but now he even seems to enjoy the process.

I nod, signalling that I am ready, and he begins coordinating my actions.

“You need to imagine the snow as carefully and accurately as you can, with all the possible details. Try to feel it’s texture under your fingers, hear the crunching and squeaking it makes when you walk on it.”

“What about some tender single snowflakes?” I ask playfully, fidgeting on my spot. I always feel excited when Asra teaches me something new.

Asra laughs and shakes his head.

“I’m afraid, if you’re going to imagine that, it will take us infinitely long to create even the tiniest snowfall. So, are you ready? Don’t worry, I will be here to help you and lend you some magic. Close your eyes and try to channel it,” he says patiently.

I squeeze his hands to make sure he is there beside me all the time and close my eyes. I try to imagine the tangible whiteness, soft and cold. How it feels on my skin, how it falls to the ground… but all of my thoughts are scattered after I get distracted by a soft and warm touch on my lips.

I open my eyes abruptly and stare at Asra. His face is as calm and kind as ever and a wonderful smile is blooming on it.

“It seems that you couldn’t concentrate hard enough. Don’t worry, take all the time you need. Go ahead and try again,” he says as if nothing happened, but I see him smiling with his eyes more than before, almost like he is observing something incredibly amusing to him.

I throw one more suspicious glance at Asra before closing my eyes again.

Snow. White snow squeaking under my feet as I go. Little white snowflakes stuck between Asra’s eyelashes.  

I feel another touch of his delicate lips, this time prolonged and more insistent. I do my best to keep my eyes shut, but it doesn’t really help me concentrate and I still cannot gather my thoughts. Straining myself as hard as I can, I squeeze Asra’s hands. I feel him pulling me closer and putting my hands on his shoulders. There’re already little piles of snow there so I quickly sweep it all away and throw my hands around his neck. I don’t want to start over again so don’t dare opening my eyes.

I feel Asra’s hands gently resting on the small of my back and I don’t mind it at all. They’re not cold anymore, so I want to enjoy his touch as much as I can. I feel his curls tickling my face and, reflexively, wrinkle up my nose.

I hear Asra’s melodious and vibrating laughter and move towards the sound to give him an awkward kiss somewhere on the corner of his mouth. He kisses me a few times in return before I finally decide to open my eyes.

Having gotten used to the dark, I have to squint for my eyes not to hurt so much because of all the whiteness. The only thing that fits into my limited field of view is Asra’s face adorned with one of his most charming smiles.

“Well, it seems like you will need some more practice with that,” he says lively.

I feel a few tangled snowflakes landing onto my cheek and my first instinct is to shake them off, but before I can do anything, Asra reaches with his finger and gets rid of them, leaving his hand lingering on my face.

I move my hands up and cup his face as well. He looks so warm and shining to me, so overflown with magic that his body cannot contain it and it escapes, changing everything around him. He is captivating, and I cannot force myself to take my eyes off him.

We don’t sit like that for long because soon Asra becomes jittery and suddenly tugs on my sleeve.

“Come, and let us explore!” he says, and gets up from the rock.

“But there’s nothing…” I want to say but stop before I am able to finish my sentence. I blink once, and there is a whole new mountain towering in the distance. I blink twice, and a dense forest, starting not far from us, is already covering its slopes. Everything’s under a thick blanket of snow, but I can clearly see a gleam of magical visions hidden in the depth of the forest.

Asra gives me a conspiratorial wink and I decide to follow his lead and stand up. Happy to see that I want to join him, he makes a few hasty steps in the direction of the forest and I try to follow him, but there’s one thing I have completely forgotten about.

Though the ground below is not cold, it’s still icy and slippery so instead of moving forward, I awkwardly twitch and fall back, wildly flailing my arms around. Asra makes an attempt to prevent me from falling, but I’m gripping his hand so tightly and pulling so abruptly that it makes him lose his fragile balance and he ends up heavily landing beside me.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” I ask hastily and rush to him on my knees.

He blinks a few times and a couple of chuckles escape his lips. Before I know it, he’s already burst into laughter, lying flat on his back.

My tail-bone hurts from the fall so I hold onto it and stare at him, confused but somehow also pleased and glad. Asra’s cheeks are red and I suspect that mine are as well.

When he is able to overcome his fit of laughter, he covers his eyes with one hand, preventing the newly emerged sun from blinding him, and looks at me, his eyes still smiling.

“Let’s not make haste anymore,” he says to me.

“Let’s not,” I agree, “after all, we have all the time in the world.”

Asra looks at me without saying anything, and for a moment I am worried I cannot read the expression on his face. He, however, decides not to give me much time to consider it and pulls me down and into a deep kiss.

I try to steady myself but my hands keep sliding apart on the icy surface. It is horrendously uncomfortable and I feel that I won’t be able sit like this for long, but he makes me feel like being so desired and cherished by him is totally worth the inconveniences.

When I finally move away, desperately grasping for air, he looks awfully satisfied.

I don’t know what to occupy myself with after such an interaction so I direct my gaze at the marvellous forest stretching before us, attempting to escape Asra’s attentive glance.

“You did such an incredible job with this place… I am simply in love,” I mutter under my breath.

I feel Asra’s eyes staring, practically piercing me, and turn to look at him, trying to understand what is happening.

“I know how you feel,” he just says and smiles mysteriously. I feel like I would give everything I have to know what is on his mind right now.

Not receiving any reaction from me, Asra stands up and shakes off small particles of ice and snow from his clothing.

“Shall we?” he says and offers me his hand.

“Of course,” I say and accept, embarrassed by my helplessness.

He lands a kiss on my hand and smiles with content.

“There are so many things I want to show you here, where do we even start…” he says thoughtfully, staring in the distance.

I shrug, letting him make the final decision.

Before we depart, I look back at the mask lying abandoned and forgotten on the ground. I don’t think we will be taking it with us.

#The Arcana #Arcana #Fiction #Fanfiction #Asra #Asra x reader #Asra romance #romance #pov first person #Fluff #Comfort #Dream Sequence Trilogy

[evarcana]

Get Your Act Together

Ev changes her plans for the evening and goes to the theatre.

words: ~3,2k

warnings: mentions strangling but it is not what you think it is.

notes: I don’t want to commit to calling it Chapter II but this fic takes place not long after these events, and really is just silly.

“No, seriously, at first I thought it was just people talking but the idiot really never parts with his wine glass,” says Ev and reclines in the chair, exhausted by her own dramatic tone. She throws her head backwards, the dark hair, colour of burned bronze, falling down in soft glistering waves followed by the drapes of her silk jacket, and drags both hands across the face with a sigh, trying to wipe away the apparent annoyance, but the creases between her brows are too stubborn and she decides to hide it instead, burying her face under the shadows of her palms. “Ignorant alcoholic,” she hisses through her fingers.

Ev is sitting in the sun outside of the wine merchant at the narrow cobbled street conveniently tucked away between the hustle and bustle of the Main Square and the glamour of the Heart District. Back in the Prakran capital the street so central would be full of people running errands and the neighbours talking in front of the doors despite the afternoon heat and humidity but here the only signs of life at four o'clock are languid piano exercises played somewhere behind the closed shatters and the faint but energetic drumbeat of the carriage passing in the distance.

“So what happened?” A young woman with eyes which are lighter than the sky sets a jug of rosemary lemonade and a glass on Ev’s table and looks down at her, pressing the tray against the black apron decorated with the embroidered grapevines.

Ev lifts her hands an inch and peeks at the woman from the shadows, her eyes narrowed and gleaming with anger. “He kicked me out,” she states flatly.

“Why?”, the woman in black apron asks somewhat wearly and turns to the shop’s entrance where a small jar of paint and a brush are waiting on the tea towel covering the stone step below the door. The paint on the brush is the same deep burgundy as the woman’s shirt.

Ev considers meeting Anais to be her only luck in Vesuvia. Not only does she run the excellent wine shop which also functions as a small bar but she is living in the flat above it and seems to be permanently bored and ready to entertain Ev with some gossip and tips about the city, which makes her a perfect neighbour for somebody who has just moved to the new place completely alone.

Ev’s nose wrinkles at the sharp smell of paint as she watches Anais dipping her brush in the jar. “I made one of those little dolls which they use for cursing people up North and brought it to the palace,” she says. It had a little braid made from silk and wool threads and Ev painted its face with the thinnest makeup brush she could find in her vanity table. Ev smiles to herself thinking that it was the most crafty thing she has done since she was thirteen but notices Anais staring at her with the expression of the person questioning somebody’s sanity, and quickly raises her hands defensively, palms up. “Listen, I am not proud of that.”

Anais rolls her eyes good-humouredly and for a few minutes they both watch the brush moving rhythmically tracing precise lines on the wooden door frame in silence, before Anais turns to Ev again. “Didn’t it happen on Tuesday too?”

“Kicking out?”, Ev responds without lifting her eyes from the jug of lemonade, “it did”. She is busy poking slices of orange with a rosemary stem.

Anais watches Ev’s face, clearly expecting her to continue. But she does not. The silence between them is interrupted only by clicking of the ice cubes against the glass. Anais tilts her head to the side and says in a careful tone, “But you seem to be more angry today.”

Ev stabs the slice of blood orange she fished out to the liquid’s surface and it splatters the sour juice and bitter oils which make her eyes stink. She blinks a few times and gives the orrange a disapproving frown. “He called the guards,” she says. Her juvenile prank got out of hand. She definitely is not proud.

“What?” Anais’s voice raises in surprise and her paintbrush makes an uneven stroke which she rushes to cover.

“Yeah, I know.”

“But I don’t understand. Aren’t you a diplomat? They can’t really - “, she pauses thinking of the right word, “- stop you, can they?”

“No, but I can’t necessarily stop him neither”

Anais goes quiet, weighing Ev’s words in her head, while she paints. “So why do you keep on... talking to him?”, she asks finally and waves her brush in the air, “you don’t have to.”

Ev gives her a pointed look and then drops her eyes down, frowning once again. That is a very good question. Why does she keep on talking to him?

For the last few weeks Ev has stuck to the same routine: she comes to the palace daily, enquires a servant politely about the consul’s schedule for the day, finds Valerius, tosses a pile of paper in front of him, takes a seat opposite him and proceeds to picturing herself strangling him. Bare hands. The skin on his neck gets hot and damp with sweat underneath her fingers, his body is struggling against hers while she presses her knee against his chest holding him in place. She squeezes, and squeezes. Sometimes however she would get lost in her own imagination and her hands would slide up, fingers getting buried in the hair, her thumbs tracing delicate lines behind his earlobes. She doesn't know what happens after that, because she guillotines the thought. Those are moments of weakness and are luckily rare. It would be easier if he was ugly, and stupid. But he is pretty much the opposite. Yet another proof that she had no good luck in Vesuvia. After the weakness comes the inevitable irritation, which Valerius seems to sense like a sniffer dog, and before she knows they are engaged in one of their already signature yelling competitions which the servants undoubtedly gossip about in the corridors and kitchens. Ev would be surprised if the whole Vesuvia is not calling her a madwoman by now. Her only hope being that they think even worse things of their consul.

Hating someone is exhausting. Every interaction makes Ev’s blood boil, and her heart beat heavy and bright. Her mind does strange things and she honestly does not remember the last time she thought about something other than making Valerius do what she wants for longer than an hour. She wastes precious minutes of her life on someone who genuinely despises her.

She wishes he did not despise her though. She wishes that there was more to him than being prickish, judgemental asshole, then perhaps this whole thing could be just about bearable. That is why she keeps on talking to him. But Ev cannot tell Anais that because it is the same as admitting that she has lost and that he has won, so she huffs irritably and says “Because it is my job, why else” instead.

“Good to know that you are both as stubborn as mules.” Anais grew up at her parents’ vineyard in the rural part of Venterre and except the times when she talks about wine all her comparisons are based on farm animals and other attributes of country life.

Ev folds her arms. “I don’t think you know me well enough to say that.” Despite whatever is happening in her imagination in the moments of weakness, the idea of having something in common with Valerius, not only an asshole but the surliest man alive, makes her feel irrationally violent.

Anais only hums something to herself. “Anyway, no more of this talk, what are your plans for tonight?” she asks Ev with the trained cheerfulness of a person chatting to customers daily, “You know we are not opening tonight”, she adds, now sounding more concerned than cheerful.

“Because you are going on your adventure date with Theresa and your brother has not come back yet.” Ev waves her hand, “I remember.” She thinks of all the unopened letters on her desk at home and some notes she managed to scoop in her bag from Valerius’s desk in the palace, the risky act which would probably earn her another look from Anais, and adds, “just working”

“Why don’t you go to the theatre? The Goldgrave is doing their first performance since the plague. I think you should still be able to get the ticket at the door.” Anais wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, still holding the brush. “Actually, the guy who runs the show is Theresa’s neighbour, I will have a word with him. I am sure he will let you in for free if you promise to write a review.”

“Why would he want my review?”

“Oh come on! One of the Prakran dignitaries attends their humble performance, that’s like the most international exposure they have ever had!”

“Fine,” Ev says sceptically.

***

The man at the entrance didn’t lie about all the tickets being sold out, the small theatre is full and buzzes with anticipation. Ev had to endure a small torture of exchanging pleasantries with the overexcited theatre director and at least a dozen of guests, who all seems to know Anais and each other, after she introduced herself. But it all paid off and she is now sitting in the three-seat box closest to the stage, probably the most expensive seats in the whole of the theatre.

Ev eyes an empty seat to the far left. The seat next to her is taken by the old lady wearing simple but tasteful clothes and wrapped in the wooly shawl. She smells of the lily-of-the-valley perfume and apple pie. “Excuse me, are you expecting someone? I think the lights are about to go down”, Ev asks, giving the old lady a soft smile.

“Oh no, darling, I am here to watch my husband perform on stage.” She sounds proud. Ev tries to recall the last time somebody called her darling.

“That is really sweet, he must be thrilled to have you here,” she says, and the kindness in her voice is genuine. Ev finds her new neighbour positively charming, in a way only the older generation can be.

“And what is such a lovely young lady doing in the theatre alone?”

Ev shrugs her shoulders playfully. “I am here to keep you company. You have to tell me when your husband comes on stage,” Ev says, returning the smile.

The old lady covers her mouth and her laugh sounds youthful and bright. She is delighted at their little exchange.

That’s it, most people do like me.

The lights dim and just before the performance is about to begin, the curtain behind Ev’s seat moves letting the beam of light in the box and a dark figure walks in. A man, Ev thinks, who appears to be nicely proportioned. She watches temper and agitation in his movement, as he takes his seat silently. Ev thinks about her peculiar company for tonight, as the boxes are usually reserved by the group of guests. Is he here to watch his loved one too? Could he be from the newspaper?

The old lady nudges Ev’s elbow excitedly.

***

Ev has seen this play before. It is a story of the marriage proposal, full of humorous fights between the groom-to-be and his bride. The sweet old lady’s husband plays the father. He is a tall man with fluffy moustache (although those might be fake, you never know in the theatre) and genuine comedic talent. She wonders whether there is an apple pie waiting for him at home. Even through the dark Ev can see the lady looking lovingly at her husband.

Something makes Ev feel strangely out of place here. She bites the tip of her thumb lightly and replays the events of the day, remembering the old lady’s question from before and Anais asking about her plans. Her mind continues wondering and Ev catches herself thinking about what Valerius is doing tonight. The thought makes her stomach twist. Crying himself to sleep, hopefully.

She leans forwards to take a discreet look to her left, hoping to get a better view of the stranger’s face. He is hidden by shadows but the outline of his profile certainly makes her want to see more - high cheekbones, slightly convex nose and angular jaw, query full lips. He looks familiar.

Ev is now leaning so far forward her elbows are pressed on her knees, squinting and trying to recall where she might have seen this profile. She hears the old lady clearing her throat politely, and retreats, reminded of the theatre etiquette. Maybe it is nothing and he is just her type. She has been so busy recently, making plans only to watch them being discarded, thorn to shreds and thrown away, and so consumed by her anger, she did not really pay attention to the other people around. This feels nice and refreshing.

The curtain closes and the audience stands up to applaud. Ev shoots another look at the stranger. Beautiful posture, gloved hands, oh, mysterious. Maybe it would be nice to have plans with somebody like him. Before she can build up excitement about the lights coming up, the mysterious stranger turns around abruptly and disappears behind the curtain. All Ev sees is the flash of white light before her eyes, as empty and boring as her cold sheets back at home. She gets off her seat and runs after him. Maybe she is a madwoman after all. She does not have any plan, frankly, she doesn't even know why she is doing this, so she decides to go for the most obvious thing - she reaches the man’s shoulder from behind and places her hand as softly as she can considering her rush. “Ah excuse me -”, she says slightly breathy, “have we met before?”

The man turns and the disappointment that Ev experiences the very second she sees his face can only be compared to one of a child who unwraps the present only to find out that it is the older sibling’s jumper, in the child’s least favourite colour, the very same jumper the sibling was wearing the day they broke the child’s toy, most definitely on purpose. Ev is sure that she has seen other men in this city but apparently she is that unlucky.

“You,” says Valerius, baring his teeth. His eyes are slits of hatred, like he is contemplating ripping the skin off her. Ev can relate. She wants to punch him in the face. Ev clenches her jaw thinking about all the insults that he is about to throw her way.

“Consul,” she says in her best theatrical tone.

Valerius glances over his shoulder immediately, eyes wide. He does not respond, frantically scoping the corridor, which is starting to fill in with guests. Ev watches his expression and to her surprise there is no usual arrogance in it. This is unlike him. The moment draws her attention to what the consul is wearing - dark navy fitted coat, with discreet design, his long hair tucked in its high collar, cravat, high boots, gloved hands. Very unlike him. Ev studies him more carefully. There is no wine glass. This is getting disturbing.

“Are you incognito or something?”, she asks, snorting with amusement.

“None of your business”, Valerius spits. He reddens a little straight away and throws more nervous glances to his surroundings.

Oh. Tension. This is awkward, and juicy. Ev’s curiosity is officially piqued. The sight of Valerius’s discomfort is revitalising. She can feel blood pumping through her body and there is sparkle in her eyes. She smirks at him, even though he studiously avoids her gaze. Sensing the tiny hint of vulnerability just at the edges of his expression, she locks her arms around his and with the push of her hip turns them both away from the building crowd of chatting guests. “So you are incognito.” Ev really can't hide her excitement.

Both his eyebrows ratchet up, and Valerius opens his mouth as his eyes go wild, but he does not seem to be able to say a word. This is wonderful. A sensation of pure elation floods Ev. She has been dreaming about this day. She presses her body closer to Valerius and sinks her nails into his arm, like a cat toying with prey. She is thinking about this new power she has got.

Valerius looks down at Ev. “Your face looks… filthy”, he says and tries to shake her off. “Let me go. Now”

“No way. You can try screaming for help if you want.” This is the first time Ev has got the upper hand, and however little, she is not letting this opportunity slip.

“You are insane.” Valerius pulls his arm closer to his body, protectively.

Ev ignores him, right now she is busy thinking. “I know!”

“That you are insane?”

“You are stingy,” Ev says with the look of triumph in her eyes.

“What?!”

“Look, there is only one explanation. You came to the theatre once, they asked you for donations because everybody knows you are filthy rich but you refused, again and again, and now you are hiding. ”

“It is not the case.” Valerius makes another attempt to shake her off, but the sight of the theatre director walking their way through the crowd makes him stop. He turns away.

“So explain yourself then, dear consul”, Ev whispers in his ear, her voice full of venom. The group of guests walks right past them without giving them any attention. They must look like a couple, Ev realises, and eases her grip on his arm.

“No,” Valerius says sternly.

Ev stares at him for a moment, considering her options. “Fine, but you owe me”, she says simply.

“I owe you nothing”, he barks back.

“You know I am going to make a scene, maybe even mention you in the review which I kindly agreed to write for the local newspaper”

Valerius’s mouth twitches once and Ev can almost hear him gritting his teeth. At least, the man knows how the gossip works. “What do you want? How much?” The look he gives Ev is both smug and irritated.

“You are not the only one with the money here”, she makes her voice sound bored. It’s not the first Ev’s negotiation.

“I won’t ask you again, witch.” His voice is rough with anger but he bites it quicker than she expected.

“We can discuss tomorrow. I promise, it is just a small favour.”

Valerius does not say anything. He rubs the bridge of his nose and turns towards the exit, forgetting that Ev is still hanging on his arm.

“So, you like theatre?” she asks curiously as they leave together.

#the arcana #the arcana fic #evpanopolis #consul valerius #Ev x Valerius #the arcana fanfic #the arcana oc #Valerius x mc

[xenteaart]

Apocalypse Chronicles

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: Getting stuck in the apocalypse certainly has its ups and downs, and this is somewhat of a dairy with little glimpses into the life you two had.

Warnings: mentions of vomit

Note: This is sort of a part 2 to this fic. Also you can check out my other fics on this Commission AU right here!

Hopefully, this is a rollercoaster.

Day 548.

You and Five were currently on your way… somewhere. You rarely had any particular destination in mind, if you were being honest. Mainly, you were just moving from one place to another, seeking shelter and looking for food and other essentials such as clothes, medical supplies and many other things, most of which were really hard to come by.

It’s been a very long day, and a fairly hard one as well because the weather seemed to get harsher with each passing mile and moving one foot in front of the other was beginning to feel like an impossible task. So, since all of your focus and concentration went into walking, naturally, you’d stopped listening to what Five was saying about thirty minutes ago. Funnily enough, it took him that long to notice you completely zoning out and ignoring his passionate ranting.

“Hey! Have you been listening?” he asked bitterly, mostly just annoyed by the fact he’d been wasting his breath.

You quickly snapped out of your daze and blinked a few times.

“Charming.” Five added as he rolled his eyes. It was this very moment when you realized something and couldn’t help but smile widely, and he raised one eyebrow in confusion as to what could be making you so happy right now.

“Your voice is starting to crack,” you pointed out. He clearly didn’t expect you to say that, and it caught him completely off guard, making him forget he was mad at you mere seconds ago.

“My boy is turning into a man!” you exclaimed; tenderness, pride and just a tiny bit of sarcasm radiating from your voice. Five shook his head and scoffed at your observation as he was trying to conceal his embarrassment; rather unsuccessfully, you must say.

Getting stuck with a slightly older girl and going through puberty was, in his opinion, beyond humiliating.

You wrapped your arm around his shoulder and squeezed it lightly, pulling him closer as the sound of your joyful giggling was filling the air.

“Can’t wait till you start getting facial hair too,” you teased him and immediately felt his elbow kick your ribcage, the impact too mild to leave a bruise but certainly sudden enough to make you go “ouch!”

Day 1325.

“Five Hargreeves, you may wanna propose to me right now,” you screamed from a distance as you were still rummaging through the ruins of what used to be a grocery store. Oh, you knew he was going to love this.

After spending almost 4 years by Five’s side, you’ve come to know an impressive amount of facts about him, most of which were mundane and in the grand scheme of things, he would say, insignificant. But you didn’t see them as such and kept them all in mind, waiting for the right moment, and today was your lucky day.

“What?” he yelled back, a little confused by your assumption that seemingly came out of nowhere. Not that he didn’t like your company but marriage wasn’t on his to-do list quite yet.

As you awkwardly climbed over the debris, obviously carrying something in your hands but trying to hide it underneath your ill-fitted parka, you said, “Close your eyes.”

Five seemed hesitant, so you insisted.

“Come on, I know you don’t like surprises but it’s the nice kind, I promise.”

He finally complied and exhaled loudly as a means of communicating his growing impatience. You promptly pulled out a coffee pack from under your clothes, swept the dust off its surface in one quick motion and handed it over to Five.

“Look.”

“No way,” he opened his mouth, sincerely shocked you had managed to find something whole and completely untouched. And it happened to be coffee.

“I think I deserve at least a kiss on the cheek, wouldn't you say?” you grinned at how fast Five’s expression turned from grumpy and tired to excited and grateful.

In no time his tight grip found your waist, and he effortlessly spun you around, making you squeak in surprise as you clawed into his shoulders for support instinctively. His movements were smooth and confident as if you were light as a feather or rather weighed nothing at all, and you caught yourself really enjoying the warmth of his hands on your skin.

“You deserve a lot more than that,” Five replied with a sigh as he put you down carefully, his tone suddenly losing its playfulness and blossoming with something a titch more unexpected, and if you had to put a name on it, “affection” would be the most fitting.

Fortunately, the smudges of dirt on your skin were doing a very good job at hiding just how red your cheeks turned at the comment.

Day 1557.

“God, do you ever shut up?” Five snarled irritably, interrupting you mid-sentence, and your jaw dropped in shock. You could have sworn it felt exactly what getting stabbed in the stomach would feel like.

You were a very short-tempered individual and in any other context you would have snapped back, making some scathing comment and walking away with your chin up. This time - not a single word left your mouth as you were paralyzed by Five’s unfiltered hostility. You felt your eyes burn and immediately turned away to wipe away the tear rolling down your cheek, too proud to let him see how much it hurt.

In your defence, you weren’t much of a talker before the apocalypse but it didn’t take you long to find out that being locked up in your own head in a deathly quiet world was not a good way to spend your days. So you kept talking, for both Five’s and your own sanity. It made things feel less real, however paradoxical it may sound. But, more importantly, it was a gesture of care.

You spent the rest of the day without saying a word, and, to your disappointment, Five wasn’t willing to break the silence either. Not talking, however, didn’t mean not looking after each other, and you, of course, made him dinner while he organized a safe place for you both to spend the night.

Since there was never a roof over your heads, you tended to sleep very close to each other, exchanging body heat to keep each other warm. At first, it was only a safety precaution but the habit slowly transformed into something more meaningful, somewhat of a necessity to know and feel that the other was still alive and breathing, still there, safe and sound.

As the two of you were lying in your improvised bed, which was essentially just a few layers of blankets on the hard and unfriendly concrete, you felt Five’s hot breath against the back of your neck as he cuddled you from behind. The big spoon.

“I deeply regret saying that,” Five whispered and sighed in frustration at his own self. He knew he royally fucked up.

“Please, don’t ever stop talking. I need it and I need you, okay?” he uttered so quietly that it was almost inaudible but you caught every word.

You clenched your teeth.

“Okay.”

Day 1866.

Birthdays were never a happy event in the apocalypse and you only kept track of them in order to know your own age.

Every birthday was nothing but another reminder of how much time you’ve spent trapped in this nightmare, and there was truly nothing either of you wished to celebrate.

However, this time you decided to make an exception. Five was turning eighteen and, despite the fact that your circumstances were far from perfect, it was a big day nevertheless.

To say you had limited resources would be saying nothing at all. No cake, no candles, no decorations, no anything to create an environment for having fun, and the only thing at your disposal was your contagious enthusiasm. It wasn’t much but it was surely something.

“Wakey-wakey, sleeping beauty,” you whispered into Five’s ear as you tapped on his shoulder, gently breaking him out of his sleep. He murmured something incoherent and placed his hand over his eyes, trying to escape the bright and intrusive daylight.

“Come on, I’ve made you a birthday breakfast,” which wasn’t at all different from any other breakfast but you believed a sprinkle of love that you so thoughtfully added was definitely going to make it taste a bit less like wet cardboard.

“We have plans for today,” you stated proudly as you were waiting for Five to get up. He glanced at you suspiciously, and you were quick to reassure him.

“You can do your clever math things till evening but after that we’re celebrating. There are two bottles of wine that you didn’t know about, and we’re going to drink them and dance. But not ball dance, properly drunk dance. No sadness allowed. Instructions clear?”

Five nodded, feeling a weary yet content and cheerful smile touch the corners of his lips.

Maybe, it wasn’t going to be a shit day, after all.

Day 2587.

“Come on, don’t you dare die on me, you idiot,” Five hissed after pressing his lips against your forehead and coming to a disturbing conclusion that your fever was only getting worse.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you laughed weakly as you looked up at him, and in less than a second a violent wave of nausea washed over your body and swallowed you whole, leaving you with very little chances to escape the overwhelming feeling. You’d been throwing up non-stop the entire day, and the severe dehydration you were suffering was becoming a genuine concern.

The two of you didn’t have the luxury of medicine, and most days you were doing just fine. This time, however, sleeping it off didn’t seem to be doing it for you, and Five was beginning to panic.

“Don’t say that,” Five said coldly, and you winced at the sudden change of mood, almost offended that he wasn’t trying to distract you from your mysterious illness with humor.

“I’m just worried about you,” he clarified as he noticed a gleam of sadness in your eyes.

It was absolutely killing him to see you like that - in pain, sick and exhausted, and he simply couldn’t afford to have “sad” on the list as well.

If there was one thing that Five despised more than anything else in this world, it would be helplessness, and now, as he was facing the invisible enemy that was threatening to take you away, he was feeling exactly that. Helpless. Useless.

You closed your eyes and tried to breathe through another urge to vomit, inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth loudly, but the agonizing sensation didn’t seem to have any compassion or mercy for you.

“Okay, I can’t hold it back any longer,” you warned, and Five nodded in silent understanding.

He’d been sitting by your side and holding your hair all day, thoughtfully keeping it away from your face while you were restlessly puking your guts out, and, as you were doing so, not a single muscle on his face cringed in disgust. The only thing that was truly bothering him about this marathon of vomiting was how soon you were going to recover from it.

Thankfully, your immune system was strong enough to get you back on your feet without any external assistance, and you began to get better eventually. But even during your weeks of sickness there wasn’t a single day when you didn’t feel loved and cared for, and the precious moments of Five holding your hand during your feverish nightmares were going to be imprinted on your mind forever.

#five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #number five x you #five hargreeves x you #tua #The Umbrella Academy #number five #five hargreeves #my fic #my writing #tua fic #tua fanfic #Umbrella Academy #reader insert

[crimsonandcloverwrites]

bhah ch7 can’t stop won’t stop

lmao Dani being like ‘we should wait to discuss kids til after we’re married’ yes doesn’t seem like a giant thing u should make sure u agree on before u make a major commitment at all

Dani is so in love with Jamie sdjkhdfkjg driving to her house on instinct and just like...gazing at her in her old t-shirt and sweats like you’ve finally seen the light girl just kiss her already

god I can’t believe I have 2 more chapters of them as adults just being the absolute perfect match for each other to get through before they finally kiss in ch 11 (i’m maninfesting it no one say anything) I am literally going to scream. Dani will like... feel a little off and it’s all “i need to go to Jamie’s house and also tell Jamie everything and she will make me tea and let me be myself without all the expectations and I will feel better” I AM VERY HAPPY SHE CAN BE THAT FOR YOU BUT ALSO CAN YOU SEE WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE MS CLAYTON (actually I think she kind of does but she must extract herself from her real life first I guess)

oh no the new chapter is almost here I still have so much to read

forget ‘there was only one bed’ this is now a ‘there was only one tent’ stan blog only

thirsty Dani truly is the funniest I am so sorry ur suffering is so entertaining. Dani: literally whacks her finger with a mallet bc horny for Jamie. Me: uncontrollable chortling

the idea of Dani wrangling 8 year olds that are probably just about as tall as her is too funny. tiny legend

aww the lil background Hannah and Owen moments. cute

Dani in a big ol’ straw hat pls that’s so cute

this Jackie and Jamie situation..... GIVE US THE DEETS

hmmmmnnnnnngggg Jamie just straight down on her knees in front of Dani to tie her shoe lace I will absolutely let u have this gay panic Dani u don’t deserve to be made fun of right now

Jamie “I have a story” absolutely NOT

Viola, emerging from the lake in this no ghosts childhood friends story: surprise bitch

these two drunk idiots are literally teenagers dsjkhdfkgjh just get in ur tent

Dani, drunk in a tiny tent w the love of her life: hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me

when we finally get a Jamie on her knees redemption moment-

Dani, drunk in a tiny tent w the love of her life currently taking her clothing off: oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck (y’all really wanted to torture her this chapt huh?)

“dawn was a saffron colored suggestion peeking through a pinhole gap in the tent’s zipper” god that’s a pretty sentence can i pls borrow some talent

Jamie and Dani w kids is sooooo cute they have such a nice balance between them

just thinking about if teenage Jamie desperately in love w her bestie could see things now Dani being all into her w all her lingering looks etc how the fuckin turn tables

“Dani kept a firm grip on her sanity” lol

oh my god they’re both drenched in the tent w the soft lamplight and only their own bodyheat to keep warm whatever will they do

oh wait they also have the heat of their burning attraction to each other they’ll be toasty as anything

hhhhngggg abs

that’s like 4 mentions of Jamie on her knees aklhfdkjgkdjh enough

lads is it gay to imagine running ur fingertips over the scar on your friends back before pressing ur lips to it or...?

Jamie taking the time to teach Dani car things aww

lol not the smutty book

eddie honking at her gets so under my skin like my dude... my guy... stop

Dani thinking so hard about rain damp Jamie and how much she wanted to jump her while she’s in the car w her boyf and MIL. girl

imagine if we had to sit through a dani and eddie wedding before she finally managed to call this off how cursed

ayoooo Carson’s show I cannot wait. omg we get it this chapter too gbless this really is the Dani suffering hours

Jamie just so casually like.... not even flirting w Dani it’s all just kinda observations but every other thing she says makes Dani stop breathing skdhfdkfjh this is so good

Dani has like... a lack of object permanence but with Jamie feelings ok

pleeease the Dani Carson road trip that’s so cute I can just imagine what fun they would have had

uuughhh i wanna go to a sweaty bar n listen to loud music again

also would like a Jamie to press their hand to my lower back n make me lose my mind in a sweaty bar to loud music

this lil jamie dani carson trio is my faaaave

“Girls must be all over you.” and Jamie choking on her drink dsfkjsdhkf oh Dani u beautiful naive angel. god that’s so funny

Robin instantly going for Jamie... same bro

Carson’s lil found family band pls my heart is so full

Carson calling them his sisters n Jamie freezing up bby when are u going to accept these people care abt u and love u like family

Robin is so brazenly just like ‘ur hot’. a voice of the people i love her

Dani being lowkey jealous as IF Ms Taylor has eyes for anyone else babe

Carson knoooowwwwws. When do we get the Carson O’Mara biopic please I want his takes on everything I know they’re excellent

oh my god Jamie knowing Dani’s fave kind of pizza pls I love that so much (I can’t remember if it’s been mentioned in the past few chapters but I remember her being mad that Eddie didn’t in CH1? i love this lil detail) (also I literally just ate vegge pizza I feel so immersed in this experience)

dfkgjhdfkjgh Jamie licking her finger and Dani completely combusting this is so entertaining

fuck n then it gets all soft and about how they’ve been in love their whole lives this is emotional whiplash

Jamie constantly in protector mode but in this really quiet comforting way is so sweet I love her so much

god I just feel so bad for Dani that this kind of insane electricity she has with Jamie has probably never been a thing in her relationship w Ed bby u deserve someone that makes u feel like this

awww Carsons bf

Dani’s soul leaving her body when she sees them kissing oh no

Jamie giving Dani her jacket pleeease I am dying here... the romance of it all

and shariing cigarettes and intense looks these two really are somethin else

lmao even Robin is picking up on their vibes you two could level a building with the amount of tension between u

Dani’s moment of Realisation abt Carson n Jamie just being like... well yeah

lmao Dani subtly trying to figure out if Jamie is gettin’ it sdkgdfhkjgh

when these do two finally get together both of them are gonna be like... taken out by all of this. Dani has only ever known Eddie who just does not get her (and the fact that she is a lesbian so she’s never had real feelings for him in that way) and it seems like Jamie has only ever had surface level relationships with people who never really got her either (while also being in love w her best friend who she never thought would love her back). there’s no way this is wont eventually make at least one person cry a bunch (probably me) with how right all of it is

god Dani is so horny for Jamie sdflkdfjgkfdj preemptive RIP for Ms Taylor when Dani finally does get to live out all these daydreams on her I just know someones gonna end up pulling somethin

Does Dani like.... get that she will never love Edmund that way like is she fully aware of the fact she loves him but she’s not in love with him and all these feelings for Jamie aren’t just because it’s Jamie but because she’s not straight??? have we gone on that journey yet

aw Ed waited up for her

the book the book the book

dsfkdhfgkj oh Dani

“Jamie on her knees, looking up at her” listen-

girl u are so fucked

SIX. SIX MENTIONS OF JAMIE ON HER KNEES pls

THE DREAM

who could this possibly be about hmmmm Dani

christ

THE MEASURES SHE TAKES TO DEAL WITH THE DREAM lordt

“baffled but excited” i think is how I almost always picture eddie lol

dang get it girl take control

aw dani u poor confused little duck. i just wanna give her a hug

Dani dressed as Dorothy is awfuly cute

heh Jamie as a wolf i love her fursona

lmao toto

of course Jamie is well aquainted with the bleachers. cheeky. oh no not the art room. Dani dying inside and then imagining herself there with Jamie girl has got it baaaad u poor lil repressed gayby

Dani is... so thirsty... goddamn

lmao Jamie blatantly checking her out are u trying to kill her she already wants to rip ur clothes off

“To the third floor art room?” dfksdhfgkjdfhgjdhf imagine if this was it they just banged it out in the art room right now n got things sorted

god they go from horny to soft so quick i love the ways they care about each other

Jamie saying the scarecrow costume is fitting for Eddie PLEASE

ooh the infamous hickey

What Dani deseves: snuggles. What Dani recieves: struggles

the MEMES. god bless the memes

this was an excellent companion for my Wednesday hopefully I can churn through the rest of em before we are blessed w ch11 amen

#bhah

[virgil-writes]

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

on AO3: chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven (ao3 only) | chapter eight | chapter nine | chapter ten | chapter eleven

chapter 11 - fever dream

trigger warning, body horror and blood, lots of blood. around 3.8K words.

He knew he had overstayed his welcome by the tiredness in her eyes, a stab of guilt very close to piercing through his skin though he resisted. He had struck a nerve without meaning to, his flirting and prodding taken too far, what he intended to bring them closer making her recoil instead. Heisenberg had left her cabin with shoulders slumped and heart heavy, but the way she had bid him goodbye told him everything would be just fine. It was all forgotten by the time he turned the corner to go further into the forest, all suppressed under a boot-clad stomp. He would not consider how he might have personally hurt her, how he might have dug in too deep and crossed the few lines she had established. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a stupid little voice told him that he cared, even if he didn’t mean to, and there was only so much he could ignore it before it bubbled to the surface. He had dealt with worse. Keeping feelings and memories buried was a skill he had developed over almost a hundred years.

Her feelings were not important right now, he reminded himself, because the plan took all precedence. There would be no more village if Miranda saw her plans fulfilled, no little witch to offend and no metal man to call stupid nicknames. Maybe once they were free he would be interested in truly making friends, sitting down to talk things through and giving her time to answer his questions, not when he pressed but when she was ready. Bah, who was he kidding? He was not a man meant to play house, to have healthy relationships that were based on dialogue and mutual understanding with. He was the worst friend a person could have. She could die mad.

Still, perhaps there were lines he would better not cross, at least to keep her complacent. From the very beginning he had intended to keep her in the dark as much as possible, only tell her what was strictly necessary to have her help him. Learn what she could truly do, exploit it as covertly as possible, then unceremoniously dump her so he could finally fight his battles. Get from point A to point B, make himself an ally, but not a friend. She was a tool, as were all others, living or dead. He would see his ambition realized. He would set himself free.

Hours bled into days and into a week before he saw her again. His days once again become a blur of planning and building, head empty if not for the thoughts of revenge and the rage that fueled him ever onward. Research at the factory was going smoothly enough, problems here and there. Miranda was mostly out of his hair, as was Alcina, having finally given up after he told her, time and again, that nothing other than lycans inhabited the woods. Some power failures in Eins were a true head-scratcher, night after night of writing and drawing, assembling and disassembling. It was a good way to pass the time. Sturm was still a failure, a project put on the back burner until the right inspiration hit him.

It all reached a boiling point not soon after, stress catching up to him when a mining drill down the mine shafts malfunctioned and exploded, the cave-in cutting off a whole team of haulers and all the resources they had gathered. The bodies soon began to rot and the stench filled the vents, crept through tunnels to find him in all rooms he thought he could hide in. Night and day his soldiers would drill and get nowhere, night and day he would work to see no returns. He had descended into a fit of rage that brought out the worst within him, his transformation no longer his to control after the first few minutes of thrashing and shouting. It hurt as much this time as it did every other, flesh tearing and pulsing and twisting and expanding, tendons pulled, muscles sore, skin stretching far beyond what it should ever be able to. Pain seared through every inch of him, a gust of flame where his blood should be. It burned unbearably hot while chilling him to the bone with the sheer horror of it.

His conscience would never fully slip him in those moments. He would not recognize himself in the mirror, his appearance no longer that of a man, but he was still him, still a genius of engineering, still a silver fox that could charm the pants off of anyone if he wanted to. At least that was what he told himself, though there was definitely and underlying hunger that he could not suppress, that was not entirely his. Not for meat like the Duke’s, not for blood like Alcina’s. Not at all physical, but gnawing on his bones nonetheless. A need for violence, for terror, to destroy everything and crush everyone. Turn every living being to a pulp and make art with the carnage, paint the walls red and hang their insides from the ceiling. His fingers itched for it even when they no longer existed, his heart pulsating with rage and anticipation. It was hard to keep himself in check sometimes, to stop the spiral that brought him ever downward, towards the blackened waters of oblivion that he felt were always so dangerously close to consuming him. He would be no better than any of them if he gave in, he repeated it as a mantra, no better than the family of abominations who consumed flesh and drank blood like the finest wine, no better than the lycans who toyed with the villagers only to eviscerate them and then suck the marrow out of their bones. But how would it feel, a small voice asked in the back of his mind, to be so free, to let his rage flow with the blood he spilled, vindication for thousands of days of suffering. He could almost taste it, feel his sins washed away by the sacrifice, dangerously within reach, so very tempting. Every time he resisted, and every time it became harder to do so.

He can’t remember the last time he’d lost control, the last time he’d blacked out and woken up a day later in his birthday suit and covered in guts that weren’t his. He can’t remember if it had been yesterday or last year or thirty years ago, but he remembers the feeling all too well, the sickening soft touch of tissue, foul smelling bits of flesh underneath his nails. He could never know who, or why, or how, and could only hope he hadn’t blown his cover, hadn’t killed someone Mother would miss. The last time, he never quite managed to wash the contents of the poor soul’s stomach from his hair, the stench nauseating. It had been the first time he had taken scissors to his hair and cut it with a fury and desperation he did not know he possessed. Ther uneven strands only served to remind him that his monstrous self was but a failed project away, looming in the darkness, a return to the bloody roots Miranda had ingrained within him on that operating table all those years ago.

Fists slam against the table in an attempt to let off some steam as he curses his temper, his family, that crow bitch for ruining him forever. But it only serves to stoke the fires, to anger him further, cloth rips as he yells and everything goes downhill from there.

These moments between man and beast are always the most difficult, the ones that seem to last forever, the ones that plague him with so many thoughts he feels his head will explode. Would an army be enough to stop her? Hundreds upon hundreds of lost souls hanging overhead, conveyor belts transporting his army on an endless display of his greatest accomplishments. He could only hope enough of his machines would survive the waves of lycans she would throw at them; he could practically see it, teeth bared and eyes gaunt, claws reaching to grab onto something, anything that would give it purchase, an armor plate, perhaps the tube that kept the soldier’s blood pumping. One after the other the lycans would fall, until they had become too many, a pile of writhing half-humans feasting on its disgusting prey. He could practically hear it, and every exploded reactor chipped away a sliver of his confidence - and his sanity.

He never intended to get involved, never intended to join the battle and cut through monsters. His eyes had always been set on Mother, Mother and the stupid lieutenants she called her children. Moreau crying for it all to stop, Donna cowering with Angie behind moldy wings. Alcina would be the only one to face him head on, he knew, and finally he would be able to tear her apart with her own nails. He would then pluck one out to shoot it right at the dollmaker’s face, right onto the squirming parasite that inhabited the half of her face where her eye ought to be. To Moreau he would give a present, a grenade for him to swallow whether he felt hungry or not, a tasty last meal for the disgusting fish man who scraped the bottom of the muddy river. As for Miranda, he hoped it was enough, he was enough, all of his experimentations and studying and training coming together to make him unstoppable. Only time would tell, and with each passing day he grew wearier, and the beast stronger.

But what did he have to lose?

His mind barely registered his actions as he made his way out of the factory, a bundle of papers tucked under his arm, hammer and cigar long forgotten. The world greeted him with a sheen of milky fog, of faded colors that threatened to jump at him in full vibrancy at a moment’s notice, threatened to overwhelm his already weakened perception. His tendons pulled and muscles ached with each agonizing step, left knee and elbow burning like he had shoved them inside a furnace and forgotten to take them out. His head hurt worse than the most gruesome of hangovers, light swimming in his eyes and creating a dozen blind spots that could lead him to any number of traps. Beads of perspiration had gathered on his brow despite the cold, the kind of feverish sweat that keeps you awake at night and makes you see stars and aliens, eyes rolling back but somehow wide open in a never ending fever dream. He had grown accustomed to it, the high of growing into a behemoth of flesh and steel, and the lows that came with it when it was all over and he had to return to being a shell of a man with enough rage to make the devil jealous.

Most times he would lie face down against the factory floor, let the stone ease him into restless sleep, until some hauler tripped over him and decided to drag him along and out of the way. It had become so common he had instructed them for it, too, to leave him at his quarters and then carry on working, so that he could also carry on working as soon as this hurdle was over with. But then sometimes the fever grew so hot he would stumble out into the yard to find the nearest mound of snow to flop onto, and he could swear he could hear it fizzle under his skin.

This time he had taken to walking, the only thing in his mind as his body protested and he pretended not to listen, one foot after the other, though he had no clue where they would take him. His wounds bled as they always did, a new collection of scars every time he transformed and the metal lodged itself deep within his flesh, left a trail behind as he made his way down towards the river, the trees his only support. It was then he heard it, the faintest of whispers, the most alluring of laughs. He raised his head to catch a glimpse of her, running away to hide from him, inviting him to chase her and catch her, lay her on a bed of twigs and thorns and explore her endless delights.

His little witch in the woods, naked under the moonlight just like he had imagined, standing right in the middle of the bridge that shook more violently than ever before. She did not seem to mind the cold, did not care about her dignity, her cheeks flushed and desire in her eyes as she called to him, and he could not help but follow.

He had stumbled on the last plank, foot stuck between a rusty nail and loose splinter just as he was about to catch her, when he reached out his hand and felt her hair slipping between his fingers. His face had hit the ground before he could register what happened, his little witch gone, a mouthful of snow and dirt all he had, papers scattering in the wind with the fall.

In his clarity he could hear the shuffling of feet in the distance, the frantic sniffing as the wolfmen smelled its prey in the air. Dozens of pairs of eyes watched him from behind the trees, hungry, desperate, waiting for his conscience to slip, for him to never get up, for him to stop walking, to heed their call and fall into their trap. The anxious tingle on his fingertips tells him he’s on edge, that fear creeps up his bones and into his blood and out of his pores like the sweetest of perfumes. But his bones hurt, so very much that there is no space for anything else in his mind. He picks himself up and walks, walks like he has a purpose, like he knows where to go and just what to say. Heisenberg no longer strode with the confidence of a man who knows there is nothing in this world more dangerous than himself, but with the sensation of being so small, so insignificant, a bundle of flesh and blood that could be torn and consumed. All that was left was the hope, the knowledge that something old prowled the woods, older than himself, something immensely powerful that meant him no harm.

He cannot tell if the sigh of relief stays only in his head when he sees the fence in the distance, rounds the yard lightning fast for a feverish man, the sound of his steps crunching the snow almost comical as he tried to run faster than his legs could take him. He catches himself on the porch railing before his teeth can hit the wood as he stumbles once again. There is no fear, only humor in his laughter, because he has made it, reached the safe haven of that decrepit cabin hidden between the mountains.

The witch stood at the porch, basket of laundry at her hip as she made her way out the door, an improvised clothesline strung between a post and a lantern hook. She was not startled this time, the expression on her face telling him he was expected, the smell coming from inside the cabin making his stomach rumble. He tries not to stare too long, not to pay attention to her beautiful features; every second they seem more twisted, a sinister smile, a hole where her face should be, a multitude of eyes, a pair of antlers. The disappointment was perhaps the worst of all, the look of disgust in her eyes. He cannot tell apart reality and dream and at this point he would prefer not to.

She blinked once, twice, confusion adorning her features as she looked him up and down but surely failed to understand just why Karl Heisenberg had dragged himself all the way up to her home wounded, naked except for his trench coat and hat, and looking like a man so high he could see beyond time. He had no shame left in him, between his confidence and the fever, and despite the weirdness of the situation, she was unfazed after the first few seconds, even when she lifted his chin to look him in the eye and he recoiled like an injured beast. If she hounded him for answers, she would get none. She would be lucky if he managed to mutter his own name.

He can’t tell if he had found the sanity to greet her, mind relaxing and patting itself in the back for successfully bringing him to his destination. She sets the basket down and walks towards him to come fetch him, one hand on his shoulder and the other settling on his waist as she guided him inside, and he cannot help but notice there are fingers and toes where her laundry should be, a bountiful, but gruesome harvest. A warning light flashes in his head when the cabin looks different, hands and organs and heads displayed in a macabre backdrop of blood and guts. He is shaking like a leaf when she sits him down on the couch, papers (papers?) taken away from him to be placed on the dinner table, and only when he motioned to grab them did he notice his hand was long gone, blown away like it had been caught in a shrapnel blast. He bites down on his lip as a last ditch attempt not to scream in horror, teary eyed and hurting. An entire mess and a half, with no explanation to give either him or her, but she did not seem to mind, busy grabbing her tools (saw, knife, cutters), wearing the bloodshed like a cape that was made to fit her.

She left him unattended but a moment before returning with the same box of supplies she had used when they first met (surely the tools she had hid within her apron pockets), cloth and antiseptic and the promise that this would burn, bad. He had half a mind to tell her not to worry, to let him bleed and heal on his own like he knew he would. He meant to tell her it was all good, and he had lost that hand before, and the leg, and the blood, and the sanity. It hurt but would not kill him, nothing could, even though he had tried. Instead he said nothing, for he had vastly overestimated his capabilities, less than half a mind at this point, pain and fear sloshing within him like a furious tide. The hat was the first to come off, and he tried to ignore how gentle her touch felt when she brushed back his hair to get a better look at his face.

“Are you still with us, my lord?” Her voice was but an echo inside his head, light as a feather as he rested against the couch and felt sleep tugging at his conscience, though the shock would not let him go. He is unsure whether he is asleep or awake after that, if the feeling of her fingers tracing over his skin are a hallucination or reality, but he sees it clearly regardless, feels it just the same. He taps his foot on the floor impatiently and notices that it is wet, it is all wet, the waters come in through the open door and flood every nook and cranny, only a matter of time before they are both drowned. Not water, no, blood, viscous, fresh, warm blood.

His trench coat is gently pushed off his shoulders, blood staining the throw that lined the couch but getting lost in the scenery, and dexterous fingers run over his scars, find their way to the open wounds speckled on his skin like a starry sky. Her touch was gentle but it hurt regardless, the haze in his mind imprisoning him in what felt like a perpetual state of suffering. The burning turned instead to the raw sensation of being torn apart, the flesh of his abdomen rending impossibly under her ministrations. He looks down to see her hand has disappeared on him, no, in him, the corners of her mouth stretched into an impossible smile. He is fully gone when something tugs at him, within him, bile gathering in his throat at the thought, at the feeling of having someone poke around his insides - again.

It is then that it all hits him, laughter explodes and he bellows - he has finally died. He sees it now, how it was all an illusion, and in reality he had been splayed in the snow all this time, blood pooling around his body and inviting all manner of predators to feast on him when the bones of the earth failed to claim him so many times before. A clever lycan had found a nice open spot to wedge its claws in and pull his guts out to munch on, another tore unceremoniously through to the same effect, and his visions of the witch were nothing but a pleasant mirage his brain had decided to afford him, a small mercy as he bid his consciousness goodbye at long last.

Tree tops and the dark sky are all he sees when he opens his eyes. At least he’d go in style, he thought with a snicker, and the hallucinations of her hands on him just like he’d fantasized spurred something within and made him stand to attention. What a fitting end, open and spilled like a bag of grain, guts wrapped around the papers he had brought with like an exotic crimson ribbon, and the biggest hard-on he had ever had.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg x reader #only the gods can judge me #virgil writes

[thefanficmonster]

Rough Road

Corpse Husband x Daughter of Tupac and Selena!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Relationship Struggles, Swearing

Genre: Angst with Fluffy ending, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: A relationship between two people living two completely different lives is expected to be difficult. Him enveloped by his privacy he doesn’t want to risk losing and her with a craving for privacy she never fully gets. It has never been easy for them and it won’t get easier, but they’ve gotten stronger.

Requested by @lillypadmochi Hi dear! Thank you so much for such a creative and wonderful request, I’ve been really excited to write it and post it but I’m still very sorry for how long you’ve had to wait for it. Still, I hope you enjoy it if you happen to read it! Love, Vy ❤

She lives in the spotlight, continuing the legacy of her deceased parents - the father and mother that were taken from her so soon after she was brought into this world. She doesn’t remember either of them, and she can’t come to terms with that fact. She can’t stomach it even today, twenty-six years after the murder of her mother, Selena shook the world to its core - all just a year before the murder of her father Tupac was on the news too. Rightfully so, that’s not something you can just get over, and she’s afraid she never will. The ever-present pain follows her everywhere, giving her no relief.

But it does give her a break when she’s on stage, when she’s singing her heart out, giving her all in a performance, pouring her heart out to the people cheering, the crowd calling her name, the thousands upon thousands of voices singing along to her songs, singing alongside her like she knows her mother and father would. That’s when she feels closest to them, she feels the gentle caress of their hands on her hair or cheek, she sees their smiles and nods of approval, she hears them singing in harmony along with her. She knows, deep down she’s sure they can hear her. They can hear her songs and they couldn’t be more proud of her and how far she’s come.

The spotlight, the stage, that’s her home. Her temple of spirituality where she connects to the people she never got the time to love properly before losing them. Now she’s left loving them while surrounded by their absence, reminded that they loved her unconditionally but she never got the time to show her love for them. She never got the chance to prove to them how special they were to her. So she still, till this day, gives her all to show it and she’ll keep doing so until her forever ends. She’ll keep reminding herself that their love resides with her beyond their death and her love can still reach them on the other side.

But in order to do so, she’s gotta stay under the lights and watchful eyes of fans, paparazzi and managers. She has to give up every ounce of privacy she could ever ask for. She’s prepared to do that within a blink of an eye. She always has been.

Well, she always was. Until she met him.

He, unlike her, prefers the shadows that provide him endless privacy and solitude. He likes being detached, alone, lonesome, lonely. That’s the only way he feels safe. He trusts no one, or at least very few people. He’s afraid of what those he lets in will do to him. How they’ll react to who he really is. When they’ll leave. With the people in his life, it’s never a matter of if they leave, but when they leave. People always leave him, willingly or otherwise. And he’s grown to become numb to it. He’s grown to not give a shit anymore. Or not as much, that is. He obviously cares plenty, the darkness of his loneliness getting to him every now and then. His demons eating away at his sanity, ripping his illusion of peace to shreds. He’d be at peace if he could get along with his mind which always seems to be working against him, working to bring him down, leave him hopeless, helpless and restless.

No one’s ever understood his pain. She doesn’t either, but she at least helps soothe it.

She’s unlike anyone he’s ever met before. She has much power and strength yet is so vulnerable and fragile sometimes. Her smile shines brightly, just like the tears in her eyes when the nights get heavy. She’s his pillar and sometimes she’s the sunken boat he’s attempting to save. She’s so many things, but never too many, never too overwhelming.

Always perfectly enough for him.

And he’s unlike anyone she’s ever met before too. She’s always found herself surrounded by people who were open books, practically begging her to read them, have a look into their mind and soul. She never wanted that responsibility - the darkness of someone else’s mind is not something she can bear along with her own. But his is weirdly comforting. His darkness, she wants to get to know, to understand. She can’t see it at first glance, but she can definitely feel it. And she wants to help him with it. For the first time in her life, she’s willing to dig underneath someone’s surface to see what they’re hiding, what’s troubling them.

It’s been long since she’s cared so deeply about someone. It’s a feeling she hasn’t felt in so long and it scares her. But it still comforts her somehow, reminding her she’s not gone numb yet.

However, there’s a very fine line between them, the line separating the light from the darkness. The line between the shadows and the spotlight. The line neither of them want to cross yet they still do.

Every night they cross that line and find themselves entangled in each other’s arms, tightly holding onto one another fearing the line will reappear and separate them. The flashing of cameras and the glow of the spotlight will blind him, or the darkness will finally pollute her mind enough to break her, the shadows coming to life to torture her.

But none of that matters when they’re by each other’s side. He’ll fend the shadows off, allowing them to attack him only since he’s used to them by now. And she’ll keep the lights away from him, keep his privacy intact, keep him safe in the dark he finds so comfortable.

They’ll always keep each other safe.

“I love you, Corpse.“ She says, their foreheads touching under the glow of the moonlight seeping in through the window blinds.

“I love you too, Y/N.“ He replies, pulling her closer as their eyelids fall closed.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse fanfic #corpse fluff #corpse fanfiction #corpse fic #corpse x you #corpse x y/n #corpse x reader #corpse imagines #corpse imagine #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse husband fic #corpse husband fluff #corpse husband imagine #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #fluff #angst #corpse angst #au #request #requests open #x reader

[mosonyusz]

Here me out: Who Killed Markiplier but make it Phantom Of The Opera

Okay, so roughly this is the plot:

Mark was a very successful singer at the opera, with admirable looks and a beautiful voice, he was one of the main singers at every play they had. He adored this lifestyle and loved to share everything with his childhood friends, a fellow singer named William, the Major, Damien and his sister, who claims to have strange powers, Celine.

One day though when they have an act with fire props, one of the columns that holds a bowl of burning oil falls on him badly burning half of his face. They have to get him off the stage while he's screaming from pain and they end the act urging the shocked audience to leave.

They try to recover Mark but sadly the burn is too severe and his face cannot be recovered and it's damage cannot be looked for a long time. This means that he can't be an actor anymore, but instead he will be one of the people handling the props backstage.

He lost everything and his best friend took over his place. With the thought of how replaceable he is and how he was robbed from a wonderful carrier eating at his mind it doesn't take long until he commits suicide during one of the plays William stars in. He hangs himself on one off the ropes and as the opera tried not to avoid scandals they didn't hold him a proper funeral. His friends, William, the major and Celine were the ones begging for some kind of funeral, and that's how they bring him down into the catacombs under the opera in a coffin with some of his personal belongings (one of which is a mask given him as a present for his successes from his friends).

While his friends silently mourn him, he wakes up in his coffin, not understanding anything and being afraid, then thinking that his attempt was unsuccessful but seeing where he was thrown rage takes over. That's the birth of the Phantom. He goes up haunting the opera, mostly spectating what they are doing after he's gone but after enough time and with enough witnesses killed the ehole staff starts to believe that the opera truly is haunted by the ghost of the singer. They turn to Celine, asking her to visit and do something if she can given her powers. She accepts, coming with her brother who wanted to come along since he's worried both of William, who is not just broken after the loss, but fears for his life too, knowing that Mark's rage is because he stole the stage light.

Another person comes along, a little child who is adopted and raised by Celine and Damien, them being a guardian of some sorts of the child.

While the child is given to the staff to look after them, Celine, Damien, William and a few others go down to the catacombs, to be met with Mark, who kills almost everyone out of pure rage. Almost anyone, but William, for whom the very last thing before he loses his sanity is seeing his friends being killed, and then seeing another person, who was clearly dead, standing up and fleeing.

After Mark leaves William stumbles back onto the surface, wailing and shouting in despair and people finding him don't hesitate to get him a medic and take him to his room where he stays for a long time to heal and for his mind to shift into madness and thus, creating the persona we all love. He also gets fond of makeup, at first just trying out more feminine ones, then stronger and stronger ones, asking for dresses and crothets, and this is how the Primadonna stepped into the spotlight. William, now Wilford or Primadonna also had the habit of accidentally killing or driving insane his butlers who were put next to him to help him heal, and when the management of the opera gets tired of this they put Wilford on stage to see if he even worth all the hard work and all those butlers. Wilford though puts on such a show that had the audience in awe and the management had the hope that they can finally get out of this curse Mark put them in.

In the meantime the child was almost put back into foster care but the opera adopted them instead, mostly because they realized that when the child was put next to the Primadonna, he didn't kill nearly as many people and he didn't even hurt the child even once. So that's how the child became the Primadonna's new friend.

Mark also saw this and at first he wanted to kill the child too but grew fond of them so instead he thought who would be better to keep his talent alive than someone who was treated with respect and was put besides someone who (even though he hated it) got the most spotlight.

So that's how it all began, that's how our Christine, the DA started to learn to sing and talk to a mirror (which others just acknowledged as the effect of the Primadonna, and Wilford didn't mind at all, because,,, well, he was talking to things and invisible people too).

In the main event I don't want to change a lot of things from the plot of POTO, only minor things like, you know, the whole engagement. I mean, Damien and Celine were parent figures to DA, I don't want Dark wanting to marry this child. So instead, how about something else that could also tear DA from Mark, like an adoption? Yup. Also Dark will absolutely fall in love with the Primadonna because who wouldn't fall in love with the Primadonna, really? (Yes, this is just for the Darkstache I long for in every story)

So far that's all I could think up and be able to translate about this from my rambles, maybe sometime in the future I will be able to start writing this story because this was one of the main reasons why Lloyd Webber got on my Spotify wrapped (I got this idea in October. Yes, I was addicted to POTO that much)

#I don't really know how many works are already out there for this idea #but I'm obsessed #so I'm absolutely gonna write this one time #even if my bilingual ass sucks at writing #who killed markiplier #wkm #phantom of the opera #poto #markiplier egos #actor mark #Darkiplier #Wilford Warfstache #DA #I don't know what tags I should add to this #please don't mind the grammatical and logical inconsistencies #I'm sleep deprived #darkstache #Mo's writings

[cupofteaguk]

come over here and make me

FROM THE PETALS COLLECTION

[pairing] :: yoongi x fem!reader

[genre] :: best friend au + fluff

[word count] :: 2.1k 

[note] :: taken from my old nct blog. i don’t write for nct anything + i don’t see myself ever posting this fic under nct anymore but i have a soft spot for this story and still wanted to post it. 

.

It’s horrible. Disgusting, even. Dreadful and shameful and shocking and ghastly all at once. Seriously, the boy could not come up with enough terrible words to describe his feelings and the unpleasant sensation coursing through his body and hitting upon every nerve underneath his skin—the feeling of responsibility. The feeling of having to take care of someone just to avoid the guilt that usually accompanies leaving someone behind, not that he sees you as unnecessary baggage or weight or an obligation or a problem, it’s just that now you are completely and utterly—!

“Shitfaced,” Yoongi hisses, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you upright and grounded—okay maybe grounded was too generous of a world to describe you and your current state of mind, because you’re lopsided and rocky and he’s sure that if he left you on your own you would tip over and that would be a new problem in it of itself. “Absolutely shitfaced. How could you be so fucking stupid?” 

“I’m not stupid,” You manage weakly, stumbling on one of the steps and he has half a mind to just leave you at the base of the stairs and spend the potential two and a half hours it would take you to sober up from this mess. However, the thought of the alcohol poisoning your liver or sending bile upwards keeps him at bay, keeps him rooted to your side. Besides, he would never leave you to fend for yourself. Min Yoongi may be the star of the basketball team, easy on the eyes and the words and a certain disarming gummy smile, who fucked around and definitely did not do the whole emotions and feelings thing, but like most seemingly perfect systems, this one had a kink, a flaw. A weakness, one that takes the form of bright eyes, soft hair he loves to curl his finger around, cheerful smile, nerdy and unique habits that make his heart spike: you. 

He likes to think that he’s not soft without a purpose, likes to rationalize with himself that there must be some reason as to why you of all people continue to get under his skin time and time again, why he naturally gravitated back towards you. It might be time, how you probably knew him better than anyone else, how comfortable he felt under your presence. It might be reassurance, how being with you and talking to you and sitting with you are all just as easy as breathing. Most of all, it might be because he’s a tad bit too in love with you, but you’d have to get him very drunk to get him to admit that (which explains why a certain Jung Hoseok knows one of his deepest and darkest secrets). 

But the debate (or the discussion) regarding Min Yoongi being in love with you is far from the point of tonight, because the tables have turned and a dare has switched the roles and he’s been reduced to dragging your drunk ass up the flight of stairs to his apartment and god, you were so fucking heavy with all that dead weight. 

“Remind me to never let you get near Jimin again,” He sneers under his breath, mentally cursing out the boy who had offered the shot of vodka to you in the first place. “I swear to god, I leave you alone for two fucking seconds—!” 

“M’not my fault!” You whine, at least having the conscious decency to stay leaning against the wall that Yoongi has propped you against in order to dig around his pockets for his keys. “It was good…” 

“You’re stupid,” He repeats with a shake of his head, unlocking the door and kicking it open long enough to help you inside. You’re no stranger to his apartment, practically living in it on the nights you spend studying with him or playing video games or, once again, just being in each other’s presence. It’s one of his favorite ways to pass the time, but you’d have to get him drunk to admit that one as well. He distracts himself by dragging you towards the couch, easing you down onto the cushion. “You stay here, lemme grab you a sweater.” 

You hum, falling back against the surface. “I love it when you give orders.” 

Min Yoongi has only gotten you drunk out of your mind a grand total of three times within the long period of time the pair of you have spent growing up together, so how could he have forgotten that you’re the type of affectionate, say-whatever-the-fuck-is-on-your-mind type of drunk and it has a tendency to drive him crazy. Not bad crazy, but the kind of crazy that almost makes him want to kiss you and confirm the fact that your lips are even softer than he’s spent way too long fantasizing about. 

He swallows thickly to dispel himself of those thoughts. “Shut up,” He manages long enough to make his escape, disappearing into the hallway and reappearing a few moments later with a sweater from his closet. “Here,” He says, reappearing just to toss you the garment. 

He’s about to turn and go back to grab some blankets for you before your whining interrupts the thought process. He sighs, turning on his heel again to find you desperately trying to find the zipper of your dress, twisting your body uselessly and arms unable to bend back far enough to reach it. You make a face, scrunching your face up, nose wrinkling and in spite of his exhaustion and the alcohol overpowering the previous adrenaline, he can’t help but quirk up the corner of his lips. Cute. 

He approaches you, sitting next to you on the couch and turning your body to the side, making quick haste to unzip your dress—not that the gesture makes him uncomfortable and not that he’s never done it before, but the action seems so private and intimate and romantic, which would normally make him want to fling himself off a cliff but with you it’s different. With you, it’s clammy hands and racing hearts and shaky breaths and just so beyond the typical Min Yoongi image that he desperately longs to separate himself from it at every possible moment. Weak, that’s what he was. With you, he’s just weak and pliable and easy to manipulate and an idiot. 

Yoongi practically tears the zipper down, flinging himself off the couch as soon as he catches sight of the skin of your back, shutting his eyes as he throws his body down on the floor. “D-Did I get it?” He inquires shakily, actually super glad that you’re drunk and likely won’t remember any of the stupid shit he could potentially say or do during a duration of the night. Finally, he wills himself to look up at you. “Do you need help with—oh my god, Y/N!” He exclaims, throwing his hands over his eyes, the image of you stripping your dress off still very clear and very vivid in his mind. “A little warning next time, will you?” 

“Yoongi, I need help,” You manage, your voice muffled by what sounds like a pillow. “I can’t put your sweater on… Yoongi!” 

He grits his teeth together, repeating the affirmation of your current state of mind and how you didn’t know any better, and how you couldn’t have known about his own personal feelings for you when no one else knows—except him and Hoseok, but besides the point. 

“Fine, fine, you big baby,” He scolds, throwing his hands down at his side and gazing down at your figure collapsed on the couch. From the light of his apartment, it’s hard to miss the black undergarments you’ve slipped yourself into, the hemline where fabric meets skin, so he works hard on distracting himself by grabbing his sweater on the other end of the couch. “Sit up for me.” 

You groan, but follow his order by arising on the cushion, watching him with wide, glassy eyes. “Yoongi,” You start, continuing to gaze up at him as he busies with straightening out the sweater in order to make it easy to slip onto you. “You’re really pretty—did you know that?” 

He stiffens slightly, heart ramming as he swallows, pinning you with a confused stare that completely goes over your head. 

The corner of your lips turn up into a smile. “Like, really pretty. Your hair always looks soft, and so does your face. Your eyes get this little sparkle when you smile, and your jawline…” 

“Y/N,” He interrupts, approaching you and raising the sweater up, watching as you raise your own arms up to help him slip the material over your head. “Shut up.” 

“I thought you liked it when people complicated you!” You retort, your statement muffled by the sweater. “I know you pretend not to, but I see that little smile you get when you think no one is watching. You always try to look really cold and calculating in front of everyone, you try to look like nothing bothers you, but you’re just a dork.” Your head pops through the top of the sweater. “You smell really good too.” 

In spite of the words you say having an effect on his mind, his heart, his nerves, he can’t help the smile that spreads itself across his lips at your scattered mess of a brain. He reaches over, running his fingers through your hair. “Go to sleep,” He says instead, turning around to go into the kitchen, probably to get some medicine and some water for you for the morning after. 

“You smell amazing Yoongi,” You continue as if you hadn’t heard him at all. “Like, really good. Like a boy. Girls smell too soft and sweet most of the time, too floral, you know? But you smell sturdy. Sturdy and a little bit of pine. Outdoorsy. I didn’t know you went outside so much.” 

“Y/N, I say this for both my sanity and your own—but go to sleep,” He interjects just as he’s approaching you again to place the medicine and water on the coffee table. “Waking up might hurt like a bitch, you gotta just rest this off.” 

You laugh. “We should go outside more, like hiking or something. Or rock climbing. It could be a date!” You sit up, eyes widening. “We should go on a date, Yoongi.” 

“No, we shouldn’t.” The words, however, feel pathetic leaving his lips. It’s a very light-hearted retort on the subject matter. 

“Why? You don’t want to go on a date with me?” 

Yoongi rolls his eyes without contempt. “Shut up Y/N.” He turns to make his way down the hallway towards his bedroom, his mind set on adjusting his alarm to early morning so he could make you breakfast before you could wake up. 

You moan, still trapped in your spot on the couch. “Come over here and make me.” 

Yoongi freezes from his place in the hallway. Your voice seems to have lost its original innocent, light-hearted quality to it and is replaced with something darker, lower in pitch, husky along the edges, and his swallows. 

He turns around just in time to see you stagger your way back to your feet. Despite the swaying of your body, you look less drunk than you had been a few moments ago. Yoongi’s eyes roam quickly along your frame, taking in everything from the way you wear his sweater to the dark glint in your eyes, the red of your lips and the flush of your cheeks—you look so vulnerable and welcoming and warm and Yoongi would be lying to himself if he told himself he didn’t just want to take you and have you right there on the couch.

But the bigger part of him, the bigger part that loves you and is protective over you, who promises to himself that he would never let anything happen to you—wins. Of course it wins. Like he said, weak. You make him weak. 

He does manage a few steps towards you, reaching forward to grip your shoulders and setting you back on the couch. He kneels before you, leaning forward to kiss your temple, lips hovering your ear: “If you can say that to me while sober, we’ll talk.” 

You let out a sigh, leaning into him, and he can physically feel the air of liquid courage fading away from your body and being replaced with complete and utter exhaustion—at your ropes end, you are a sleepy drunk. 

He smiles against your skin, pulling away and readjusting you so that you laid horizontal on the couch. “Sweet dreams.” 

#yoongi scenarios #yoongi fluff #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fluff #yoongi imagine #yoongi x you #yoongi scenario #idk how to tag anymore i'm sorry #collection:petals #traci writes

[kkuken]

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐑

contains draken/ryuguji ken

tw incest, size kink, unprotected sex, lil violence mention

It’s late going on early when he finally returns to you, letting the door fall into lock too hard. Heavy feet drag over the planks to the bedside, and you barely have enough awareness to crack open one eye and follow him mull about. He unbuttons his shirt and tosses it over the single chair in your room, before turning over his shoulder to watch you shift on bed. “M’sorry for waking you up,” his low voice comes softly, faintly, and from a distance you almost believe he means it.

But he undoes his belt and drops it with the heavy clang of metal to the floor, and then his pants too, before placing a knee onto the mattress and dipping you towards him. You drag your fingers up his calf, along his knee and up to his thigh to let it rest there, palm on the flexing muscle hidden under that toughened skin.

And you stay quiet like that for what feels like hours, watching him watch you. Draken puffs out his chest a little, before pushing more weight onto his leg to jiggle you again. “Scoot.”

With the push of his large hand to your shoulder, you eventually do, leaving the warmth of your spot however begrudgingly to watch him lift the blankets, crawling in beside you with a slight cough. “It’s cold in here,” he mumbles, pulling the band out of his dark hair before he drops his head into the pillow with too much show, then reaches for you. “Crawl in close, yeah?”

“Missed y’, nii—chan,” you mouth back, heavy lashes almost brushing your cheeks again. You don’t crawl in close, instead rolling onto your stomach and pressing your cheek into the cool pillow. He only blinks back a few seconds, before propping himself up onto his elbow, catching your legs in his and pulling your bottom half closer anyway. Your cold feet warm a little when pressed against his calves, and his one hand is quick to pull on the edge of your shirt— his shirt, until your arm is pressed to his chest and he can tuck you under his chin.

That’s just how it goes with Draken. He asks and when you don’t give, he takes anyway, because you’re the only person he has left to care for so deeply. The only real family he has, he always reminds you, not that you could ever forget. It’s always been you and niichan, from the very beginning. Even when he was little, he was the one taking care of you, clothing you, feeding you, holding you. When you were freezing he gave you his jacket to put on, and when you cried about missing your mom, your dad, anyone you had never really had- that was what you could hang your faith onto. “I’ll always be here,” he promised.

“You always leave for so long,” you complain when his hands start roaming, already knowing his lips will come even before he presses them to the soft skin under your ear, dragging his warm breath down the surface along your throat. Feels like now he only comes back to you when he can’t handle being alone anymore. You hate it. You love him. He doesn’t make a sound when sliding one arm underneath, holding you steady as he rolls over you and starts picking at the panties you might as well have left on the floor with the other clothing, before finally nudging your face to turn so he can look at you.

The metal of his piercings glints in the faint light of the moon as he kisses you full on the mouth, sighing into it. “If I could stay here I would, you know that,” he breathes against your mouth, slowly starting to rut his hips against your ass. He steals another kiss, this time pushing his tongue against the seam of your lips and humming into it when you let him in and suck on the pink muscle. The panties get pushed down your thighs, strings of sticky wetness snapping as he keeps kissing, deeper and harder. His hips go faster too, pushing his swelling cock between your ass, groaning. It’s so hot, sweat starting to form on your temples and cheeks with your cheek still pressed into the pillow as your big brother fucks himself against you.

“Lift your leg,” he mumbles, helping you to give him more access, something he takes instantly and sinks his long, calloused fingers up to his bruised knuckles into you. “Missed this wet cunt so much, fuck,” his low voice pressed to your lips, your jaw, dragged along your neck. His boxers are getting soiled with precum that beads at the wet patch he’s rubbing along you, curling his fingers deep inside you and scissoring them apart a few times.

You’re already dripping, you can’t help it. Just being close to him now is enough to have your body anticipating, waiting and aching for your big, strong brother to fill you up, rut you into that blissful headspace. It’s nothing like the way you stuff your hands down your panties when he can only manage dropping by for a quick hello, pressing some bills into your hands before he’s back down the stairs, with no promise of when he’ll return.

It’s nothing like the way he bends you over the sink or the bed for all of ten minutes either, begging for more time to a god that never had any intention of listening to you. “Love you, niichan,” you croak out as he sucks hard at the crook of your neck, pulling his fingers out of you to wipe them on his boxers.

“I love you too, baby,” his hair brushes along your neck as he kisses a line down your spine, gripping your hips and finally, finally getting up on his knees between your legs. “Wanna be inside you.” You want that too, fuck, you want that more than anything. It bubbles over into little tears along your lashes, you shaking your hips side to side as he stares at your glistening cunt, gripping himself through his boxers and giving it a slow pump. You look over your shoulder to watch him peel the boxers from his abs down strong thighs, letting the flushed, hard cock bounce heavy between his legs. “Wanna be inside you so bad, little one, please,” he mumbles again, taking your silence as hesitation.

With his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and his hair a dark halo around his pretty face, it’s almost impossible to think there was a time you fought him on the intimacy. A time where you kicked and bit and threw the broken shard of your picture frame at his face. There’s still a little scar at the end of his eyebrow where it hit. But that was then, and now things have changed. You don’t fight him anymore when he links his hands with yours, because maybe you’ve finally shattered your pride enough to know that this is all you want. So you bite your lip too, sucking on it for comfort, before you nod. “Want you more than anything, Draken, please fuck me. Please, please, I’m yours. Your little sister.”

He’s too quick crawling over you, covering your body with his as he places his elbows next to your head and his hips rest on your ass, one hand lining himself up as you spread your thighs wider, tilting your pelvis to give him more access. “Love you,” he whispers, promises, “love you,” as he coats himself with your slick, trembling a little as your heartbeat pounds between your ears. “No condom?” he whispers when you roll your hips back against him, and you almost cry in pure frustration at feeling the hot, flushed head so close yet so fucking far.

“No, Draken please, just like this,” you hide your face into the pillow as you beg, fists balled so tight in your pillowcase. He lets out a shuddered agreement, before pushing into your heat and instantly moaning at it.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. My little sister’s pussy is so tight, hm? Only letting big brother in here, begging for it like this. Shit- y’feel so fucking good, you’re gripping me so tight,” it’s a tumble of words puffed into your hair as more of his weight pushes you into the matress as he slides further and further, thick cock spreading you open so much. Your mouth drops open as you drool into the pillow, hearing him bottom out with a loud smack as his heavy balls meet your skin, then pulling back. The rhythm he sets when you adjust to him a little is unfair. It drives the rattling headboard into the wall and makes your toes curl with how good he hits that spot inside you, mewling his name and shaking your head with tears and drool and sweat.

The hard sound of each thrust in filling the room in the dead of night, as you cling to your sanity. His cock fucks into your wetness until you’re creaming around him, squeezing him so hard it almost makes him pull out, shaking over you and dripping sweat from his chest onto your back. But it doesn’t matter, because he drives in again and again until you can’t form any coherent words anymore, gripping you so hard you hope it leaves permanent indents.

“Never leave me,” he breathes into your mouth when you pout for another kiss, and you only cling to him harder. ‘Never, never, never’ is what you mouth back to him, letting him fuck into you even harder, letting his balls hit your clit, his large hands pinch your nipples. For just now, it doesn’t matter that you know this is an unfair fate. And when you cum, you don’t bother muffling your moans of his name for the neighbors.

Niichan’s always been the one to take care of you.