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buckybarnesb-tch · 5 months

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I am Yours, You are Mine -Aemond T.

This is an A/B/O fic. You have been warned.

Everyone knew, they had always known.

It wasn’t hard to figure out from what I assume, my mothers children are all boys with brown hair and brown eyes, I have white hair and purple eyes. Everyone knew my older brother Jace and my younger brothers Luke and Joffrey were Harwin Strongs children and just like that, everyone knew that I was the daughter of Daemon Targaryen.

Laenor hadn’t been able to give my mother a child and I looked nothing like him, Daemon however…I’m told I’m the spitting image of him. So while I am technically a bastard, I’m also full Targaryen, so I was never treated like it. I was born only 5 moons after Aemond was and therefore was raised with him in a way, as we grew up his older brother Aegon and my older brother Jace got close, at least closer than they were to us and Aemond got picked on a lot. He didn’t have a dragon, and while I didn’t either, everyone knew to leave me alone, whether it was because I was a girl or because I was Daemons daughter I don’t know. My father is the only current Targaryen Alpha in the world and that made people so much more terrified of him than they already were.

Most people in the world present as Betas, it’s normal and no one really thinks twice about it, an Alpha however is a blessing from the Gods. He will be stronger, and tougher, and defend your family better than a Beta can, at least that’s what people believe, an Alphas instincts being so much stronger than a Betas, the only presentation stronger still is an Omega, and an Omega is considered a blessing from the mother herself. Presentation happens around puberty but usually you can see certain traits in children to tell if they will be anything other than a Beta, my mother believes I will be an Omega because even with a father like Daemon I’m quiet and sweet, always the most submissive in the room which for a Princess is a good thing.

Aemond and I spent more and more time together as we got older, him being shunned from the group with his older brother and mine, along with Luke who followed them around like a puppy and didn’t mind getting pranked once in a while. Aemond was the smartest of all of them, he enjoyed learning, and training, but most of all, he had no dragon. Neither of our dragon eggs hatched and the both of us bonded over that, and I always tried to make my uncle feel better when they had been particularly cruel, like the day they gave him a pig instead of a dragon. We skipped dinner that night and sat together in the library for hours just talking. He was my best friend, and my closest ally in the world, we made promises to always be there for each other.

The promises of children never seem to last though…even if the children weren’t the ones to break them.

After Joffrey was born mother moved us back to Dragonstone, me kicking and screaming, clinging to my uncle who held me just as tightly until our mothers gave up. We had a small second of hope as I wrapped my arms around his neck and he held me to him so tightly it almost hurt. That’s when our mothers called for their guards and we were yanked apart harshly and I was carried all the way to the ship that would take us home.

We weren’t apart for long after that, my fathers wife dying in childbirth brought us back together for her funeral. As soon as I saw him I pulled away from Jace and ran to Aemond who held me close and breathed in my scent as I did his, it was a comfort that only we seemed to give each other. I stayed by his side holding his arm while everyone spoke about Laena, saying kind words about a women I barely knew while my “father” stood in the ocean below, crying for the Gods only know how long.

Aegon was with us for some time, watching the maids and being his normal vile self and eventually we were alone, speaking as if no time had passed at all. That moment as we sat on the steps talking would be one I regret for many years to come, watching Aemond as he gazed at Vhagar. I knew my uncle wanted a dragon, more than even I did and I told him he should go, as the sun went down and people filed inside to bed, I encouraged him to mount her while he had the chance. 2 hours later I was awoken to a knight running into my room to check on me and seeing I was in bed and fine. I followed him downstairs to my mothers relief, Luke was bleeding from the nose, Alicent was angry beyond belief and my uncle and best friend sat with a maester stitching his eye up. I moved to his side quickly, taking his hand in my own and holding it tightly, allowing him to squeeze it as he got stitched up and everyone continued screaming. I didn’t care for the politics, I didn’t care for the threats, or insults, only that my favorite person sat beside me maimed and my brothers had done it. I stayed by his side for the rest of the evening, even as the maester gave him milk of the poppy to be able to sleep, snuggling into his chest and feeling his arms around me as he slept soundly and all the while I felt sick to my stomach knowing that what Jace had said to me when I hugged my mother had been completely true… ‘This is all your fault’

I was taken from Aemond’s bed late in the morning, he had awoken to eat and been put back to sleep, all the while clinging to my hand. My mother took us home immediately, we went back to Dragonstone and so did Daemon who quickly married my mother as soon as Laenor passed.

Jace and Luke were quick to blame me for everything, knowing that I had encouraged Aemond to mount Vhagar, maybe if I hadn’t he would still have his eye and I wouldn’t have had to leave again. Maybe Rhaena wouldn’t despise me for “helping to steal her mothers dragon” even if I don’t believe you can have claim to a dragon if it hasn’t chosen you. Jace and Luke spent all their time with Baela and Rhaena and I was left alone, not wanting to be near my brothers to hear about how much they and Aemond despise me, how the only person I had ever truly loved besides my mother wouldn’t even write to me anymore no matter how many times I wrote him apologizing. My mother and father were the only people I ever spoke to anymore, Daemon practically claiming me as his own even if he couldn’t “officially” do that and I learned that being alone is better for everyone, especially once I presented. Jace, Luke, Baela and Rhaena had all presented as Betas as expected but I was “blessed” to a life as an Omega, suffering through my heats alone in a locked room, only maids to bring me food and try to relieve my pain which never worked.

I was 15 before I was truly blessed with anything in my life, out for a walk by myself, having escaped my guard and stumbling upon a dragon. The Grey Ghost was a name given to a shy, pale dragon, one I never hoped to even get a glimpse of in my life and I suddenly had, his eyes locked on mine as if waiting to see what I would do and so I reached into my bag to get the bread I brought with me and the fish I planned to cook on my little adventure, tossing them to him and watching as he snubbed the bread and ripped the fish apart. I had sat down on a boulder, watching as he ate, assuming this would be the only time I would ever see this elusive creature but it wasn’t. He had laid down to nap after eating and the next day he sat at the same spot as I brought him an even bigger fish. That went on for nearly 2 weeks of me bringing him food and talking to him before he approached me and allowed me to touch him, letting me mount him after that. I kept him away from the pits, away from everyone who only saw him when I went flying, knowing he was just as comfortable around people as I was, which was not at all. I even had all of my riding gear dyed as close to his color as I could, making it truly impossible for anyone, even another dragon rider to find us in a cloud bank. Daemon was impressed, believing it was a useful skill, especially for an Omega to be able to hide like that. Life continued on like that until Corlys’ injury, resulting in all of us needing to return to Kings Landing to fight for Luke’s inheritance. I was less than enthusiastic about going but my mother forced me onto the ship.

In Kings landing once again I was stuck with Jace and Luke as mother and Daemon wanted to go see Grandfather, forcing me to follow them to the training yard that I hadn’t seen since I was a small child. Everyone’s attention was on a fight in the center of the yard and I pushed between Jace and Luke to be able to see, seeing Criston Cole fighting a young man with an eye patch and knowing instantly that it’s Aemond, and that he is winning, dodging the mace repeatedly before his blade was at Cole’s throat and I ducked behind Jace and Luke, catching a very strong Alpha scent as I did and feeling my stomach twist into a knot.

‘Nephews. Have you come to train?’ He questioned and I knew they were no where close to as good as he is, he would kill them. They had continued training but not very much and Aemond is clearly quite passionate about it. ‘Niece, lovely to see you again…or smell you I should say, and what a lovely scent it is. Hmm?’ I blushed darkly, not moving from behind my brothers until Jace turned and pushed me to walk back the other way.

‘I would stay close if I were you sister, wouldn’t want to be alone with him, would you?’ Luke teased and I wanted desperately to strangle the cocky little bastard but the last time I had hit him I’d given him a black eye and made him cry like a bitch, mother made sure I knew Omegas should never be violent, especially when they’ve been trained by Daemon and could make a man feel emasculated enough to be murderous.

I sighed, rolling my eyes and following them inside, finding my room as quickly as I could and locking the doors. I sat on the windowsill and stared out over Kings Landing, seeing a dip in the clouds and knowing my dragon had followed us, it was a comfort in case I needed an escape and knowing my family, I definitely will.

I stayed in my room until my mother came to get me, walking all of us together down to the throne room where I stayed as close to my father as I could, feeling men’s eyes on me, flinching from one who leaned in to smell me making my father turn and glare down at him, the man moving to the other end of the room quickly. I held onto his belt as Otto Hightower spoke, feeling eyes on me and knowing Aemond was staring as well. That same Alpha scent was back and my stomach felt like it was quivering as the wonderful smell assaulted me. My attention was only drawn when the doors opened to reveal our grandfather looking rough…half dead honestly as he walked into the room, stumbling up to his throne, Daemon helping him as he dropped his crown and leaving me exposed with no one to hide behind until he came back. I watched on, thoroughly entertained as Vaemond shouted about Luke and Jace being bastards, and actually couldn’t contain my snort as Daemon cut off his head though as expected nothing happened to him and Luke keeps his inheritance.

‘Now, if we’re through with this useless event, I think we can-‘

‘Actually my King, if I may?’ Otto asked, approaching the throne and mumbling something to him quietly.

‘Are you sure? Rhaenyra! Why was I unaware of your daughter presenting as an Omega?’ The King asked and my blood ran cold, Daemon pushing me completely behind him.

‘She was not ready for every noble man in the kingdom to be vying for her hand Father, I was protecting my baby. I apologize if you think I’ve hidden it from you but that was never my intention.’ She explained.

‘My girl, this is wonderful! Otto is right, there’s no need for anyone to look for a husband when we have a perfect Targaryen Alpha right here. Honestly I always did believe Aemond and Y/n would end up marrying, they were so sweet when they were babes.’ I backed away from Daemon, moving around the crowd and moving towards the doors the maids use to get to the kitchen quickly. ‘My son, you will take Y/n as your wife, do you have any objections?’ The King asked and I waited a moment, waiting for him to start yelling, or begging to get out of it…but he didn’t.

‘It will be my honor Father. Thank you.’

‘Well then it is settled, there will be a wedding, right here tomorrow night-‘

‘Tomorrow?!’ My mother exclaimed.

‘I’m a sickly, old man Rhaenyra, I would like to witness their union before I pass on. You can afford me that, can you not?’ He questioned and I knew my mother would cave at that as I got to the door, pushing it open quietly.

‘Father, I would like to request one thing. Since it must be such a quick wedding, I would like to do it in the traditional Valyrian custom.’ Aemond asked and I took pause.

When we were children we discussed just this, we talked about how we would be married one day and I told Aemond that I wanted to do it right, in the old customs. Since the day I learned of the traditional wedding I thought it was beautiful and I wanted it more than anything, Aemond promising me the perfect wedding. The idea that he remembered and even cared enough to request such a thing brought tears to my eyes.

‘I don’t see why not, I leave it to my wife and daughter to sort out the details with the bride and groom.’ My mother and the queen? And they want me in the middle of that? Fuck no.

I turned, leaving out the door, quickly running down the corridor and into the kitchens which were busy making dinner, allowing me to run through quickly and out another side door. I just made it to the gardens and down the steps, hiding in the bushes when a guard rushed out after me. ‘Princess! Princess! Your mother demands your presence!’ He shouted, running into the garden while I crept out and down the side of the castle. One good thing about growing up in a castle, you learn how to get around quickly and unseen.

I looked up to the sky, hoping to see my dragon, knowing exactly what he looks like now that I’ve spent so many years by his side and on his back. ‘Come on Ghost! Where are you?’ I questioned, getting down the stairs to the front of the castle, peeking around the corner to see many guards and I quickly moved around the wall and past the gates to the plaines where I knew Vhagar rested by the water. I kept far away from the resting place of the nearly 2 centuries old dragon and whistled, seeing the grayish white color separate from the clouds and dive down towards the ground, landing just ahead of me and just as he nudged his giant head into me in greeting a voice stopped me.

‘Byka Zaldrīzes!’ I froze, knowing only my uncle had ever called me that. He had since we were kids and I was trying to comfort him when he was upset about not having a dragon. My child brain figured, I’m a Targaryen, I can be your dragon and it made him laugh so hard he couldn’t breathe. He called me Little Dragon ever since. ‘Where are you going to go?’ He asked, not yelling…not even seeming angry.

‘Home…’

‘Going home already, and I didn’t get a hello or a goodbye. I admit, I had hoped for a different reaction.’ He stepped closer, Ghost growling but not doing anything more as I shushed him to keep him calm. ‘You used to be excited by the prospect of us being married.’ That wonderful Alpha scent came over me again and I could no longer deny that it was him I was smelling, though deep down I knew it was. ‘You can’t even look at me?’ His voice held more emotion now, upset at the idea I couldn’t face him.

‘Please Aemond, please stop this? You don’t want to be married to me, there’s no point in whatever you’re doing…’ I told him, turning to face him and I couldn’t deny how beautiful he is. I had always found him cute but he had become incredibly handsome the past 9 years.

‘You dare tell me what I want? You?! After all of this time?! I have always wanted you Y/n and I always will, nothing will change that apart from you telling me you no longer love me and that my face is too much for you to accept as your Lord Husband.’ My eyes widened and I took an unintentional step forward.

‘Aemond, you are beautiful, you always have been! No scar changes that, and it could certainly not change the way I feel for you-‘

‘Then why do you run from me? Why have you spent 9 years not answering my letters? Why do you find it so hard to look me in the face? Why-‘

‘Because it’s my fault!’ I shouted, unable to take his questions anymore. ‘Because if I hadn’t encouraged you it wouldn’t have happened, no one would have fought, you wouldn’t have lost your eye! It’s my fault! And Jace and Luke, they tell me all the time and I don’t want to hear how much you hate me! I don’t want to hear you lie and tell me I ignored you, I wrote you every day for months! You never responded and I don’t think I can handle hearing how much you hate me Kepa…I can’t…’ the tears were now streaming down my face like crazy and as I reached to wipe them away he grabbed ahold of my wrists, forcing me to look at him.

‘You think I blame you?’ His voice was so soft it actually startled me. ‘Y/n…first of all I never got letters from you and I’m realizing you didn’t receive mine either which I’m assuming was your brothers but Gods Y/n! I have Never blamed you for that night!’ His face was so serious and hard I knew he wasn’t lying.

‘Never?’

‘Not for one second! You are the only one who gave me any kind of comfort, everyone else was either scared or angry, but you just held me. I loved you so much in that moment I thought my heart would explode! Waking up next to you in the morning, in so much pain, but you were there to make me feel better…then you were gone. My Little Dragon was gone and I couldn’t even speak to her, and now I come to find out you’re carrying guilt that has never been yours to hold! Your brother did that, not you, Luke! He chose to pick up that blade and slice my face, not you! And Vhagar was no one’s to claim, she chose me and I chose her, and yes you helped make me feel better about it but I was going to go to her no matter what you said…please let go of that guilt, my Princess?’ I nodded, sniffling as he let go of my arms and used his thumbs to wipe my eyes before leaning close and pressing his lips to mine. ‘You’re mine Byka Zaldrīzes, all mine!’ He swore, kissing me again, harder this time and pulling me flush against his chest. ‘My Little Dragon is going to be my wife, the mother of my children, my perfect little Omega…Fuck you smell amazing!’ He groaned, digging his face into my neck and inhaling deeply.

‘That’s enough!’ A deep voice shouted and Aemond jumped but I knew exactly who it was.

‘Father, you ruin everything.’ I teased and he just smiled as he got closer, Ghost rumbling in irritation at how many people are here now, seemingly willing to deal with my Alpha and that is all. ‘Did you take my letters?’ I asked and he instantly looked confused.

‘What?’

‘The letters I wrote Aemond, and the letters he wrote me, we never got them. Was it you? I am asking you despite the fact that you’re the least likely…I’m going to kill Jace…and Luke.’ I told him and he seemed irritated.

‘If they really did that, then they will be punished, I assure you. However right now, we need to get you back inside and help your mother plan a wedding.’ I hesitated but nodded my head, moving to follow Daemon and he turned to walk away as well just as I pulled away from Aemond and climbed onto Ghost.

‘Y/n, what are you doing?’ He laughed.

‘You think I’m going to mediate our mothers? Not gonna happen, by this time tomorrow we’ll be married or they’ll be dead, but I won’t be in the middle. Bye father!’ I shouted, hearing Ghost rumble. ‘Sovēs!’ I commanded before he leapt into the air and began climbing towards the clouds. ‘You saved my life, you know that?’ He screeched and I snorted. ‘Not really I suppose, but it wouldn’t have been fun…at all.’ We stayed like that, flying contently over the clouds for several minutes before Ghost seemed agitated and I turned to see the shadow of a large dragon above us causing me to push Ghost down before seeing Vhagar behind us, Aemond laughing while Ghost complained. ‘Not Funny Kepa!’ I shouted, diving after him as he turned to land on a nearby island.

‘I like it when you call me that, Princess.’ He told me as we both got our feet back on the ground.

‘Really? I would have thought you would hate it. My father does, it makes him feel Old when my mother uses it.’ I laughed and he just snorted, laying out his jacket for me to sit on so I could be comfortable.

‘He is nearly 20 years older than your mother, of course he hates it. When you say it, it just excites me.’

‘Hmm, well then I will refrain. Wouldn’t want to excite you too much, would we?’ I leaned into his side and he wrapped his arms around me, Vhagar laying down behind us and Ghost wanting to lay his head on my lap but I wouldn’t let him with Aemond here too.

‘I knew you would be a perfect little Omega, I just knew it. So perfect Y/n, and all mine.’ Aemond’s nose trailed through my hair and I loved the feeling.

‘Not yet Kepa, you need to wait to say that until we’re married-‘

‘Are you going to tell me that you belong to someone else, Omega? Because I will remove their organs.’ He threatened. ‘I’m already keeping myself from killing your brothers so save yourself more problems. If any man has dared put their hands on you-‘

‘Aemond!’ I exclaimed, laughing as he went on his tirade. ‘No one has touched me! Jace tried once when I went into heat the first time but I smacked him so hard his ears rang for a week. I love the possessive attitude but no one has touched me.’ I teased him, giggling as he trailed his nose over my scent gland, groaning.

‘Good, because I would’ve killed them. I told you before, you’re all mine Byka Zaldrīzes, Alphas pretty little Omega.’ His lips wrapped around my scent gland, sucking on my neck and making me cry out. ‘Oh, such sweet little sounds you make for me, my good girl.’ He teased, pushing me onto my back and laying over top of me, arm circling my waist. ‘I’ve waited so long to have you under me like this, to have to wait one more day is torture.’

‘You will survive Kepa, no one will keep us apart again…I am yours, and you are mine. Forever.’ I trailed my fingers up his jaw to his cheek and removed his eyepatch, dropping it to the ground and taking his face into my hands, his eyes closing as I held him.

‘Should they try, I will set this whole world on fire my love. No one will dare take you from me again.’ His voice was firm and fiery, every bit the Dragon that he was always meant to be.

As he leant down, I turned my head and let his lips touch my cheek. ‘We’re not yet married Aemond.’

‘Surely you can afford me a kiss, we will be married by this time tomorrow, don’t make me wait to kiss you one moment longer.’ I had to giggle at the way he made it seem like a life or death situation. ‘I had your first when we were only 8, I would have your last before you’re married.’ His fingers trailed over my cheek as I blushed a dark red before I leaned closer and felt his lips on mine. They were soft and warm as he held me close. I touched my fingers softly to the scar under his eye, hating that he had had to suffer so much pain and I couldn’t even be there for him, or even write to him. ‘I am sorry this is the face you must look at for the rest of our marriage, I-‘

I glared up at him and flicked his nose hard before he could finish speaking. ‘You will not speak ill of the man I love that way! Do you hear me? I care very little about a scar, I’m just sorry that I could not stop it.’

‘Little Dragon-‘

‘All this scar shows me is how strong and tough my husband is. It tells me that I will be safe in his arms and bed, and that our children will never know the feeling of danger…I love you Aemond.’ I could see the unshed tears in his eye that I knew he would never let fall and I pressed my lips to his again.

‘I love you Y/n. You are mine, and I am yours. ‘

For everyone who asked me for more Aemond content as well as those who asked for more Alpha/Omega fics.

I hope you liked it, cause I loved writing it!

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

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q-gorgeous · 13 days

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Of Time and War

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 6313

Clockwork and Pariah Dark are immortal gods from different pantheons trying to learn about humanity by posing as university students. Unfortunately, they are roommates, and neither is aware the other is also a god. Romance and shenanigans ensue.

finally posting this one ahahahahha

Clockwork stood in the middle of this human learning den. How strange that human children traveled so far to learn that they’d need a new dwelling to live in. Weren’t there places to learn closer to them?

How fitting that he was to observe and learn about humanity in a place where humans went to learn. He’d fit right in.

He heard that humans liked to decorate their dwellings with trivial items so he decorated his side of the room with the only thing he could think of. He didn’t like many things but he did enjoy watching the flow of time, so his walls were covered in all sorts of clocks. He had as many different kinds as he could find in this town. Humans made some truly interesting clocks. Much more creative than anything their creatives could come up with.

He was studying a very elaborate cuckoo clock when the door to his room opened.

In the doorway stood a muscular human child. Well, technically he was an adult now by human standards. He was very young compared to Clockwork though, who was as old as time since he was time himself.

“Hello, dwelling mate.” Clockwork stuck out his hand in the ideal human greeting. A handshake. “I look forward to learning this semester.”

The human child stared at his hand and entered the room without reciprocating this human custom. Strange. Was this something that had fallen out of style? Did humans not do this anymore?

“I too look forward to learning at this learning facility.” The boy looked at him. “What’s your name?

A name. Clockwork forgot he needed a more human sounding name.

“My name. Yes, my name.” He looked around the room for a moment before his gaze landed on the cuckoo clock he had been staring at. “Chronos Cuckoo. My name is Chronos Cuckoo.”

“Hello, Chronos. My name is Paimon Black.” He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Clockwork.

Was this an acceptable greeting? Did humans who didn’t know each other greet each other in this way?

“Hello… Paimon.” Clockwork awkwardly patted Paimon on the back. “How long does this greeting go on for? I am not familiar with it where I am from.”

Paimon suddenly pulled back. “Ah, sorry. That is the greeting that I use for my human mother.”

Ah. Yes. That definitely makes more sense. Clockwork nodded.

Paimon looked around Clockwork’s side of the room. “You have a thing for clocks, Chronos?” He looked him up and down. “Or for time specifically?”

“Yes. I love to learn about history and predict what is to come to pass. By learning what has already happened, sometimes we see things repeat themselves.”

“Would you be going for a…” Paimon snapped his fingers thinking of the word. “History major?”

Clockwork nodded. “What about you, Paimon? What interest calls you?”

“I like learning about weaponry and it’s used in combat.”

“Ah. Would you also be majoring in history?” Clockwork asked. That’s kind of what it sounded like.

Paimon shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not quite sure. I still have to-“

“Hey, nerds!” Another human stuck his head in through their open door. “The party in the common area is starting soon. Be there or be square!”

“What do squares have to do with anything?” Paimon whispered after the boy walked away.

“Let’s go find out.” Clockwork walked toward the door. “Are you coming?”

“I suppose. I don’t have much else to do yet.”

They both walked out and Clockwork closed their door behind them, locking. “Don’t you have things to unpack?”

“Oh.” Paimon looked away. “I didn’t come with much.”

“Don’t most humans enjoy decor and paraphernalia that broadcasts their interests?”

“I was advised that bringing in my weapons and using those as decor would be unsettling for some people.” Paimon shrugged. “So I didn’t bring anything else with me.”

“That’s true. In the current gun climate, it’s an understandable request.”

They made their way to their floor’s common area. A big group of students were huddled around a table gathering and plating food and snacks. They walked up to the first table and saw a brown dessert cut up into squares.

“Maybe these are the squares that boy was talking about.” Paimon whispered. Clockwork chuckled at him.

“Hi there!” A cheerful girl spoke right next to them.

Clockwork looked up at her. She had big glasses and her blonde hair was pulled into two pigtails. He smiled. “Hi.”

“My roommate made those brownies. They’re soo good. But just a regular kind of good, if you catch my drift.”

“Are we drifting?” Paimon looked around the floor, confused.

“Ha, you are too funny.” She grabbed a brownie and put it on her plate. “I’m gonna see if I can get an anime club up and running here. Would you guys be interested in something like that? I think I’d be hosting watch parties in the common area.”

Where better to observe human culture and behavior than in an extracurricular setting? Then he can learn why some humans love this anime thing so much.

“I would love to.” He turned to look at Paimon. “Would you like to watch this anime with us?”

Paimon looked back up from the floor. “Sure. What kinds of anime are there?”

“You’ve never heard of anime before?” Her jaw dropped and then a smirk appeared on her face. “How would you two feel about watching some anime in my dorm after the party tonight?”

Clockwork nodded. This would give him the opportunity to learn about humanity’s biggest enigma: the human woman.

“What anime would we be starting with?” Clockwork asked.

“The longest ongoing anime. We’re gonna start with One Piece.”

“Ohh sounds fascinating.”

They milled around the party for a few hours before retiring to the girl’s room.

He stopped as he crossed the threshold to the room. “I apologize, I never got your name.”

“It’s Cindy. And my roommate's name is Libby.”

“Sup.”

Clockwork jumped and turned around to see the other girl. “Hello. My name is Chronos, and this is Paimon.”

“Hi.” Paimon gave Libby a small wave.

Cindy pulled out a small television from inside the closet. “We don’t have much room but I think we could move the dresser to the center of the room and we can all pile on my bed to watch it.”

Once they got everything set up, Clockwork became engrossed as they watched. These pirates were such explorers. They wanted to see the world and accomplish great things.

After a couple hours, Cindy turned off the television after the last episode finished.

“Is that it?” Clockwork asked sadly.

“No, there’s wayy more than that.” Cindy said. “But I think it’s time we turn in for the night. We don’t want to be late for our first day of classes tomorrow.”

“I suppose.” Clockwork said as he stood up.

“Will you let us know when you get your anime association set up?” Paimon smiled at Cindy. “I look forward to watching this again.”

“Yeah! I’ll probably hang flyers up to let others know it’s happening too.”

“Thank you.” Paimon waved as they exited the room. “Have a good night, ladies.”

“I’ve never been so fascinated by anything before.” Clockwork said as they walked back to their room.

“Not even with clocks?”

“Those don’t count. Clocks and time are everything to me. I just meant in terms of such trivial things. I never thought television would be so interesting.”

“You didn’t have a television back home?” Paimon asked. “I thought most families had one.”

“Oh.” Clockwork realized he probably didn’t know as much about humans as he should’ve if he wanted to blend in more. “You’re right. My… Parental units just weren’t interested in it so I didn’t think I had any reason to be either.”

“That makes sense.” Paimon unlocked the door to their room. “Well I guess we should go to bed so we can be up bright and early for class tomorrow.”

“I guess.” Clockwork sighed. “Goodnight then.”

They climbed into bed and Clockwork laid there. He was still thinking about those pirates.

He pulled out his cellular device. He could find a copy of it on the world wide web. He had time powers. He could just watch all of it before tomorrow. He wouldn’t even be late for class.

After only a moment's deliberation, he pulled his ear buds out and found the anime online. He’s never had something catch his attention in this way. He deserved to indulge himself in it a little.

Time did not creep forward until Clockwork got to the latest episode. He didn’t realize this anime wasn’t complete. But now he had something to wait for much like the humans do. He would get to find out what the anticipation of waiting for a new episode felt like.

He finally started time again and let his eyes fall shut.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Clockwork was pleasantly surprised to see Cindy in his first class of the day. He walked up to her with a big smile on his face.

“I finished it.”

She smiled at him as she sat down. “Finished what?”

“The anime. One piece.”

Her jaw dropped. “You finished it? How?”

“I spent all night watching it.” He puffed his chest out.

“No, that’s still not possible. All of One Piece has a total screen time of sixteen days. There’s no way you could’ve finished it all in one night.”

Clockwork froze. He did not think of that when he was deciding if he should freeze time to watch it. “Oh. I must’ve missed something somewhere. Haha. Guess I didn’t finish it after all.”

Cindy chuckled. “That’s okay. I’m glad to see you’re excited about it. It’s cute.”

“Cute?”

Cindy looked at him. “Yeah. A lot of guys think it’s cringe to like anime. It’s cute how into it you got.”

“Why is anything cringe? If one enjoys something they should embrace it.”

Cindy looked at Libby as she walked up to them. “This guy gets it.”

Libby threw up a peace sign at him. “Slay.”

Paimon walked into class and walked up to them once he saw them.

“Hello, friends.”

He wrapped his arms around Clockwork and he froze. He was quickly realizing that this wasn’t the most common human greeting.

“Oh, wow.” Cindy said. “You guys are a lot closer than I thought. How long have you been together?”

“Together?” Paimon asked.

“Yeah, are you guys dating?” Libby asked.

“No!” Clockwork shook his head. “We only just met yesterday.”

“Oh.” Libby said. “You guys just look like you’ve known each other for a while.”

“That’s just how people greet each other where I am from.” Paimon spoke quickly. “I did not realize it wasn’t a customary greeting in other places.”

“Nah, it’s chill. It’s just usually reserved for people you’re closer to. I’m sure everyone could use more hugs in their day to day life though.”

“Yeah!” Cindy said. “It’s really not that weird, just unexpected.”

Paimon nodded.

That was when their professor walked in.

“Well, we should go sit down.” Clockwork said to Cindy. He scanned the room for empty seats and found two at the back of the class.

He waved Paimon to walk behind him and they made their way to their seats together.

They sat down and Clockwork pulled out a notebook and scrambled for a pencil in his bag. Did he forget to pack them? He wasn’t normally forgetful.

“Here.” Paimon said.

Clockwork looked up to see Paimon holding up a pencil to him. He stared for a couple seconds and reached out to grab it. When he touched the pencil, his hand accidentally grazed Paimon’s and it sent a shock through his system. He quickly took the pencil and faced towards the front of the classroom.

He didn’t know what that was. Why such a simple touch made him feel that way. In his millennia he’s never had that happen to him. What was it?

“Hello, everyone. My name is Professor Haggardy. Today we will be going over-”

Clockwork shook his head. It wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t matter. He should focus on his class and what the humans thought was important.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks later Clockwork and Paimon were once again headed to Cindy and Libby’s room. She requested that they bring their own refreshments. Libby was making more brownies and Cindy made something called ants on a log. He didn’t realize humans were still eating bugs, but he supposed that’s why he was here. To learn more about them.

Clockwork prepared his favorite dish that he has witnessed during all his time. The ube cake roll. Paimon was bringing plates, cups, and soda pop because he apparently didn’t know how to cook.

They stopped in front of the girl’s door and Clockwork knocked. He heard shuffling on the other side and then Cindy opened the door.

“Hey, guys!” Cindy said excitedly. “Come on in.”

She ushered them in and closed the door behind them.

“You can put the food on this folding table over here. Then get settled in because I have some cool news.”

Clockwork set down his cake roll and saw Libby’s brownies, but next to it there was a plate of celery with peanut butter and raisins placed to look like ants. He nodded to himself. This made much more sense.

While Paimon was setting his own stuff down, Clockwork turned to walk the short distance across the room. He jumped and landed on Cindy’s bed and he watched as she set up the tv so they could watch the first episode of an anime called Death Note. It was one that she thought Paimon would like because it was basically a type of weapon.

Paimon dropped onto the bed next to Clockwork, landing almost on top of him. His skin felt electric where it brushed Paimon’s arm. Paimon adjusted to get more comfortable, but didn’t move any further away from him.

“So, before we start I have some good news!” Cindy said as she looked at them. Libby gave her a thumbs up from where she sat on the other end of the bed.

“We got approved to start hosting an anime club every week in the common room!”

“Wooo!” Libby cheered. Clockwork smiled.

“That’s great.” Paimon said.

“Yeah! I’m looking forward to getting to know more people! I used to go to clubs when I was in high school and I miss having a group extracurricular that was just for fun.”

“Will we still have our own weekly anime hangouts?” Clockwork asked.

Cindy nodded. “Of course! You guys are my friends. I like hanging out with you. But one of these days I think we should make plans to do something besides watching anime.”

Clockwork nodded thoughtfully. That would give him the opportunity to see what else humans did for fun.

“We could go clubbing.”

Cindy barked out a laugh. “Libby none of us are old enough to go clubbing. They wouldn’t let us in anywhere.”

Libby shrugged. “A girl can dream, can’t she?”

“We could go axe throwing.” Paimon suggested.

Cindy’s eyes widened and she shot Paimon a look. “Axe throwing? I didn’t peg you for the violent type. You seem pretty chill.”

Paimon shrugged and the motion rocked Clockwork a little. “Gotta let off steam somehow, right?”

She laughed. “I suppose. We ready to get started?”

Clockwork nodded in tandem with Paimon and Libby. Cindy hit play on the tv and hopped onto the bed between Clockwork and Libby.

They watched a couple hours of this host anime that Clockwork couldn’t remember the name of. By the time this last episode they watched was ending, he could feel Paimon nodding off, his head resting on Clockwork’s shoulder. Cindy chuckled to his right.

“I suppose we should wrap up for the night so he can go to sleep.” She pointed at Paimon.

Clockwork smiled. “I suppose. I was enjoying the anime though.”

“We can always finish watching it when you two come over next.”

He nodded. “That sounds swell.”

Clockwork turned to Paimon and shook his shoulder.

“Paimon, wake up.”

Paimon groggily looked up, his face inches from Clockwork’s. He met his gaze and for a moment they were frozen there. The tension grew and Paimon looked down at Clockwork’s lips before glancing back up at his eyes. After a moment Paimon’s eyes widened and he backed away.

“Sorry, did I fall asleep? How much did I miss?”

Clockwork’s face grew warm and he stood up. “I’m not sure. We were going to stop for the night since you seemed so tired.”

“Oh.” Paimon said, disappointed. He stood up next to Clockwork.

“Well I hope you two had fun.” Cindy stood up and walked them to the door, waggling her eyebrows at Clockwork. The blush crept up onto his face again. What was happening to him?

“I sure did. We’ll see you two tomorrow.”

Clockwork waved at the girls. Cindy waved back but apparently Libby had also fallen asleep at some point. She was snoring on Cindy’s bed.

Cindy closed the door behind them and Clockwork and Paimon headed down the hallway towards their own room.

Paimon yawned and Clockwork chuckled at him. “Tired today?”

He nodded. “I think I was up too late last night studying for an exam. I’m feeling it today.”

“Well, hopefully you get a better night’s rest tonight.” Clockwork opened their door and held it open for Paimon. He walked inside past him and Clockwork closed the door behind him.

“You’re telling me.”

They got changed and ready for bed. Just before Clockwork was about to turn the light off, Paimon wrapped his arms around his middle. A fluttering feeling erupted inside his stomach.

Clockwork swallowed. “Is this a common goodbye as well?”

Paimon nodded against Clockwork’s cheek. “It is.”

Clockwork lifted his arms up and wrapped them around Paimon’s shoulders. This one felt different. Normally there wasn’t so much tension in a simple greeting. Something was happening to Clockwork. He didn’t think a god such as himself could feel such a thing.

He pushed it down and after another second pulled away from Paimon.

“Goodnight.” He turned off the light. They both got into their beds.

“Goodnight, Chronos.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was their semester break. Everyone else went back home for the holidays but Clockwork didn’t have any family to go home to. He only had the other gods in his pantheon, but they didn’t really celebrate such trivial holidays.

The only other person who didn’t go home was Paimon. Clockwork thought it was odd. He wondered what Paimon’s home life was. He didn’t talk about it very often and when he did it was very stilted.

Clockwork decided that while he didn’t have classes to worry about he could try out having a human job. He applied before the semester ended and he was going on day fourteen with no day off in sight until the semester started. He was tired to the bone and he didn’t understand how businesses could do this to their employees. If a god like Clockwork felt like this after two weeks, he couldn’t imagine what a regular human would feel like.

He opened the door to his dorm room. He could barely keep his eyes open but he could see that the light was off.

Staying quiet, Clockwork took his coat off and hung it up in their closet. He stumbled his way over to the nearest bed and collapsed onto it. He was expecting the soft give of his blanket but instead he was met with someone’s hard chest and a soft oof sound.

“...what?” Paimon breathed out.

Clockwork’s eyes snapped open and he lifted himself up to see Paimon blearily staring up at him.

“I’m so sorry. For waking you up. I thought this was-”

Paimon scooted over in his bed and pushed Clockwork down onto the mattress beside him. Clockwork froze and waited for Paimon to remove his hand from his side, but he never did.

“Paimon?” Clockwork whispered.

“...m tired. Just go to sleep.” Paimon said. His breathing evened out and deepened and soon Paimon was asleep again. Clockwork still didn’t move. If he got up to go to his own bed he would wake Paimon up again. But was this really okay? Would Paimon be upset in the morning?

Clockwork looked at Paimon’s sleeping face. He didn’t seem too bothered by it when he woke up. And he was already back asleep. He must’ve been comfortable enough.

Clockwork shifted, settling in and getting more comfortable. He closed his eyes and soon he was also asleep.

The next morning came by and Clockwork slowly drifted awake. He was laying on his back but he could feel something on his shoulder and draped across his chest.

He pulled his eyes open and was surprised at what he saw.

Paimon had his shoulder resting on Clockwork’s shoulder, with his arm draped across his chest. He looked so peaceful as he slept. Clockwork couldn’t help but trace every line in his face. The way his lips turned up or the sharp slope of his nose. A warm feeling spread across his body and the fluttering sensation was back.

He smiled as he watched Paimon and it was then that Clockwork realized what he’d been feeling.

Love.

Human’s were known for their love. It was what drove the majority of their lives. Clockwork never thought he’d be one to succumb to it. A not to a human, no less.

But as Clockwork stared at Paimon’s face, lit up by the sun filtering in through their blinds, there was no denying this feeling.

He was falling in love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clockwork stood outside Cindy’s door. He wasn’t sure if he should actually knock or not. He wasn’t sure if this is something Cindy would be willing to talk to him about. Would she turn him away?

He raised his hand up to knock and paused. Maybe he shouldn’t-

Suddenly the door opened in front of him and he saw Cindy staring at her keys. She looked up and jumped a little when she saw him. She smiled.

“Hey, Chronos. What’s up?”

He swallowed. He supposed he should just follow through with it.

“Hey. I wanted to ask you about some… relationship advice.”

She smirked. “Oh? Well come on in. We can’t stay too long though because I have to get to work but I have a couple minutes.”

She stepped aside to let him into her room and she shut the door after him.

“Sooo… Paimon?”

Clockwork looked up at her sharply. “How did you know?”

She rolled her eyes at him and sat on her bed. “It’s not that hard to figure out. You guys have had really good chemistry all year, especially considering you two have only known each other that long.”

“What does chemistry have to do with Paimon?”

She laughed. “It’s just a figure of speech. It means you guys work really well together.”

“Oh.” Clockwork sat down on the bed next to her. He looked at the floor for a few moments.

“How does falling in love work?” Clockwork asked Cindy.

The teasing expression fell from her face and she smiled softly at him. “I’m not sure that anyone knows that.”

“Does it happen to everyone?”

She shrugged. “Some people never fall in love. Some people fall in love with a lot of people. It depends on the person.”

“I never thought I’d be the type of person to fall in love.” He said. “It seemed so trivial.”

“Do you think you’re falling in love?”

He looked at her. “How would I know?”

“Well, how do you feel?”

Clockwork looked back at the floor. “I like being around him. He touches me and it feels like electricity runs through my veins. I’m always thinking about him but it also scares me. I’m not afraid of anything, but this terrifies me.”

“I think that’s how you know it’s love.” Cindy said quietly.

“What do I do about it?”

She shook her head. “That's for you to decide. You could tell him or you could keep your friendship the way it is. I can’t tell you what you should or shouldn’t do.” She knocked her shoulder into his. “I can tease you about it, but I can’t seriously tell you what to do.”

Clockwork nodded his head. “I guess I’ll have to think about it.”

“Yeah, do that. Thinking about it is good. It’ll help you decide what you really want to do.”

Cindy slapped her hands on her knees and groaned as she stood up. “But I do have to go to work. You down for some anime again this week?”

Clockwork smiled at her as he stood up. “Always.”

They walked to the door and she pulled her key back out and opened it.

“I hope it goes well.” She said.

“Me too. Thank you for listening.”

“You’re welcome. That’s what friends are for.” She pulled the door closed behind her and locked it. “Hey, while I’m remembering it, do you and Paimon want to come to my sister’s party she’s having at her sorority?”

“Sure. Will it be like our floor parties that we have in the common area?” Clockwork started walking with her as she headed down the hallway.

“It’ll be much more exciting than that.” She smirked at him. “There’ll be alcohol and brownies. But they’ll be the good, good kind of brownies.”

“We’ll be there. I’ll ask Paimon about it.”

“Bet!”

He waved at her as they split and walked down opposite directions of the next hallway. He headed back to his room and opened the door.

Paimon was sitting with his legs splayed against the wall and his head hanging off the edge of his bed. He was throwing a ball up into the air and catching it in his hands as he stared at the ceiling. His eyes darted to look at Clockwork as he threw the ball up again but he missed it as it fell back down and it hit him in the chest.

Clockwork chuckled. “Lost in thought?”

He sat down on the floor in front of Paimon’s face as he groaned.

“No. I’m just thinking about my math class.”

“I could always help you with it. I’m doing fairly well myself. I’d be glad to help.” Clockwork said.

Paimon met Clockwork’s gaze and held it for a few beats before speaking. “Thanks. That’d be super cool.”

Clockwork chuckled and looked away. “Anyways, Cindy invited us to a party at her sister’s sorority. Says it’s supposed to be really exciting. Did you want to come with me?”

“Sure!” Paimon said. “I’d love to go to the party with you.”

Heat rose to Clockwork’s cheeks. “Cool. Did you want to start working on our math homework together? We can go over anything you don’t understand.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

Clockwork stood up and watched as Paimon crawled around and readjusted himself so he could stand up. But when he did, he tripped into Clockwork. He grabbed Paimon’s arms so he didn’t fall to the ground and they both froze.

Paimon made eye contact with Clockwork and pulled away. “Thanks. That could’ve been bad.”

“No problem.”

They gathered their math materials and settled down on Paimon’s bed and started working on their homework. Their arms brushed against each other as they gestured to the work in their textbooks and their notebooks. They stayed like that until they finished the assignment and separated to go to bed for the night.

~~~~~~~~~

Clockwork and Paimon walked into the sorority house together. It was filled to the brim with people and the music was loud. Lights were blinking and strung all throughout the house, almost as if it was moving to the beat of the music.

“Have you ever been to a party like this?” Clockwork leaned close to Paimon and shouted at him.

Paimon shook his head. “I wasn’t invited to much back home.”

“Me either. I-”

“Paimon! Chronos!” Cindy called.

She danced her way over to them, her hips swaying to the music and a bottle of alcohol in one hand and a brownie in the other. “How goes it?” She asked.

“We are doing well.” Clockwork smiled at her. “Are you having fun so far?”

“So much fun!” Cindy cheered. “We’ve been waiting for you to get here!”

“Is Libby here as well?” Paimon asked.

“She sure is.”

Clockwork and Paimon jumped at the voice that was suddenly behind them. They turned to see Libby with her own brownie. She threw a peace sign up at them.

“There’s my girl!” Cindy walked in between them to get to Libby, throwing her arms around her. “Now the party can really get started!”

“I’m not sure we have much to add.” Clockwork said. “Neither of us have ever been to a party like this before.”

Cindy gasped dramatically. “Never?”

“Never.” Paimon repeated back to her.

“Such a shame.” Libby said.

“It is such a shame.” Cindy threw her head back sadly.

“What do you usually do at parties?” Clockwork asked. “We could start with that.”

Cindy gasped and smiled at them, looking between Clockwork and Paimon before her gaze settled on Clockwork.

“Let’s play seven minutes in heaven!” Cindy said excitedly.

“What is this?” Clockwork asked.

“You’ve never played seven minutes in heaven before?” Libby asked. “Tragic.”

“We play it kind of like spin the bottle.” Cindy said. “You sit in a circle and take an empty bottle and spin it. Whoever it lands on, you both have to spend seven minutes in the closet doing anything you want.” She waggled her eyebrows at that.

“Some people just sit and talk, some people just wait for their time to be up.” Libby bounced her shoulders up and down. “Some people even get freaky while they’re in there.”

“Let’s start!” Cindy called.

The party goers gathered around and sat in a big circle around the room. Clockwork watched Paimon sit next to Cindy across from him in the circle.

“Paimon, why don’t you go first?”

He looked at her and shrugged. Grabbing the bottle, he twisted it and watched it as it twirled around on the floor.

The bottle spun quickly in the center of their group. It slowed down and finally landed on Clockwork. Paimon looked up at him and met his gaze.

“Ohhhh. Paimon and Chronos. Time for your seven minutes in heaven.” She did a little dance as she smirked at them.

She walked them to the closet and opened it.

“And just so you guys can’t get out before your time is up, I’m putting this on the doorknob.” She held up an oddly shaped piece of white plastic.

They looked at each other and stepped inside the closet. She smirked at them and waved.

“Have fun you two.”

Paimon was staring at the door before his gaze slid over to Clockwork. “What do we do now?”

Clockwork shrugged. “Whatever we want, I guess. We could just talk. Or go over some material from our classes.”

Paimon nodded stiffly. “We could go over our mathematics course?”

“Okay.”

Clockwork started going over the material for their Real Analysis math course. It was such simple math, he was glad to help Paimon with it. They both tested into the course but he could understand why a human such as Paimon would have a harder time understanding the concepts presented to him.

He was going over the next concept they learned that week when Paimon shifted.

Clockwork felt Paimon’s hand slide across the floor and brush his. His heart rate spiked and he swallowed. How did these feelings overtake him so fully? Why was he so nervous? He was a god for titan’s sake.

“This is what humans do when they like each other, right?”

Clockwork nodded. “It is.”

Was he really going to act on these feelings? Could he do that?

Clockwork lifted his hand and scooped up Paimon’s.

They turned to face each other, their faces inches apart when the closet door opened.

“Your seven minutes are up you two!” Cindy singsonged.

Clockwork and Paimon jumped away from each other. Clockwork’s heart was racing. Were they really about to do that?

Clockwork stood up and held his hand out to help Paimon stand up. Paimon reached up and took his hand. They walked out past Cindy and she was giving them eyes. Clockwork’s face flushed and he tried to ignore her look.

“Okay, now it’s Libby’s and Buster’s turn!”

Clockwork walked away from the group as they cheered and Paimon followed after him. Paimon grabbed his hand and Clockwork turned to face him.

“Did you want to get out of here?” Paimon asked quietly.

Clockwork studied him for a moment before he nodded.

The walk from the sorority was quick. They weren’t that far away from their dorm building. Once they got inside the building, they walked back to their dorm room quietly. The air felt charged between them and Clockwork wasn’t sure what was going to happen once they got there. Would it be good? Would it be bad? Would he even like it? Would they just pretend like nothing happened?

Clockwork went to open their dorm room door and it felt like it took an eternity. He opened the door and walked inside, Paimon quickly closing it behind them. Before Clockwork could even turn the lights on, Paimon had walked up to him, grabbing one of his hands again.

Paimon’s other hand lifted and traced over Clockwork’s cheek. He leaned into Paimon’s and and closed his eyes. Paimon rested his head in the crook of Clockwork’s shoulder and he could feel his heart rate spiking. Paimon pulled back a little, his breath warming over Clockwork’s neck.

“Is this the beginning of what we call a human mating ritual?” Clockwork whispered. Paimon’s face was inches from his own as he lifted his head back up. Clockwork didn’t know what a human would do in this situation. He was the god of time. Not… This. But he couldn’t deny the feelings bubbling up inside him. Could he really let himself feel like this for a mere mortal?

“I believe so.” Paimon breathed out across Clockwork’s cheek. He shuddered.

“How do we start?” He asked.

Paimon was quiet for a few moments before he whispered back.

“I don’t know.”

Clockwork’s eyes widened. “You don’t know?” He’s always heard that young men were overly curious about this sort of thing. How didn’t he know anything about human mating rituals?

“I’ve never done anything like this before.” Paimon looked down at Clockwork’s lips.

“Me either.”

“Our floor mates would be laughing at us right now, wouldn’t they?” Paimon chuckled.

Clockwork smiled. He placed a hand on Paimon’s cheek. “Yes. They would be. How is it that they know so much more than us?”

Paimon’s smile fell off his face. “I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling. You make me feel nice. I like being around you. But it’s different than how I like being around that girl that invited us to her fun ‘anime association’. It’s bigger. More encompassing.”

Clockwork stared at him. “Bigger than us?”

Paimon chuckled again. “Yes, somehow bigger than us.” He pulled his gaze away from Clockwork’s. “It’s somehow bigger than us but you couldn’t even imagine how big I am.”

“Is that a human euphemism?”

“No!” Paimon pulled back, a flush creeping up to his ears. “What if I told you something that your small human mind couldn’t comprehend?”

Clockwork frowned. “What would another human be able to tell me that I wouldn’t be able to comprehend?”

“What if I told you that I wasn’t just another human?”

Clockwork's heart felt like it stopped. Not another human? That’d be absurd. What would the chances of that happening be?

“What do you mean, you’re not just another human?”

“I’m not a human.” Paimon said. “I was sent here by my pantheon to observe human life on earth more closely. But we started getting so close and I couldn’t help but feel… Feel like I was somehow taking advantage of you, being such a high power when you’re just a human.”

Clockwork barked out a laugh. It built up until he was belly laughing in the middle of their room. He grabbed Paimon’s wrist.

“See, you’re human mind can’t comprehend it.”

Clockwork shook his head. “No that’s not it. I’m laughing at the absurdity of it. I was also sent here by my own pantheon to observe the humans.”

Paimon just stared at Clockwork for a few moments, processing this new information.

“You’re not a human?”

“Not any more than you are, apparently.”

“What’s your name?”

He smiled. “My name is Clockwork.”

Paimon’s eyes widened.

“Is that why that first night before classes felt like it took forever? You watched that whole anime?”

Clockwork blinked at him. “My powers didn’t freeze you in time?”

“No!” Paimon threw his arms up in the air, Clockwork's hand going with his wrist. “I kept waking up thinking ‘surely it’ll be morning this time.’ And it never was! For so long!”

Clockwork barked out another hearty laugh. “I didn’t even notice anything with my earbuds in. How wild.”

“Pariah.”

“Huh?” Clockwork asked.

“My name. It’s Pariah Dark.”

“Ah, the god of war.” Clockwork let go of Pariah’s wrist and trailed his hands up his arms and around his neck. “I guess you don’t have to worry about taking advantage of me anymore.”

Pariah smiled at him. “I guess not.”

Clockwork looked at Pariah’s lips and inched forward, pressing his own against them. They stayed like that for a few moments before he pulled away.

“How lucky are we to have found someone that’ll stay with us forever?”

Pariah trailed his hand against Clockwork’s face.

“The luckiest of all.”

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #clockwork #pariah dark #dark ages #phic phight 2024 #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #phic

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guideoftime · 4 months

Text

Tick… …Tock.

Link, give the Ocarina to me... As a Sage, I can return you to your original time with it. I’m sorry, Sheik.

There was a pounding in his head that kept getting louder, like someone was rattling his brain and trying to rip it open. Wait–no wait that was real. That was a real banging sound though his brain was pounding just as hard as a fist against his front door. A breath is pulled quickly into his lungs and Sheik picks his head up from where it was buried in his tiny arms. Tiny… tiny arms, tiny hands, tiny legs, tiny–door, there were people at the door.

Nimbly he shoved himself down off of the couch and walked his way over toward the front door, standing on his tiptoes to turn the knob and pull it open. On the other side of the door stood a couple of Castle Soldiers, silver armor shining brightly with the reflection of the sun. He watched them closely and then the one on the left slowly knelt in front of him. He doesn’t recognize their face, but they had a rather plain one too, easily forgettable. The helmet is tugged off and held in their arms as they watch him pitifully.

He hates that.

“Little Sheikah, I’m afraid we come bearing news of your mother. There was an accident, on a mission she was running. I am terribly sorry–but your mother is gone.”

A steady blink, bright ruby eyes watching them, and then Sheik took a single step back and swung the door shut in their faces. It slammed closed and he reached back up, pulling the chain across it and then turning around to face the house. The empty, very large, very cold house. Another blink, another breath, he felt very–hollow? Numb? Is that the feeling he was having course through him right now?

Empty. That sounded more fitting.

Liars.

It’s not their fault, his mind tries to reason. They don’t know. They don’t know. And, technically, neither should he. He shouldn’t remember. His head is so loud and painful. His hands move to his head, fingers pushing through his hair and Sheik slowly sits down on the floor in front of the door, squeezing the sides of his temples as if putting pressure against his head was going to make the pain stop.

Golden, evil eyes. Bright red hair. Mocking laughter. The haunting, nauseating sound of the organ played repeatedly.

Blonde hair, bright water blue eyes, green tunic, long sword, such a bright smile and joyful laughter–Link. Link, Link, Link, Link–

Sheik’s hand covered his mouth quickly and he shoved himself to his feet, rushing over toward the trash bin and tossing up whatever had been in his stomach. It’s mostly dry heaving, his head and body at war with itself. He dragged his hand across the back of his mouth and fell back down onto the floor of the room, his hands moving to hold his forehead. One breath in, two out. Did moving through time suck this much for the Hero? It was a terrible feeling, though he supposed Link did have the Master Sword to protect him.

Still.

“Why?”

Why did he remember? The Princess, the Sage of Time, had said he wouldn’t remember. The Triforce pieces would protect her and Link, the Sages destiny would protect them. Sheik was just–Sheik was Sheik. He wasn’t anything special, he just did as he was told and yanked an innocent child turned teenager around Hyrule, shoving him into danger and demanding her save them. More politely, but Sheik was no better than a Compass. Actually, considering you can keep a compass with you, maybe he was even less useful than that.

His gaze darts around the house and he presses his lips together. He needs to start a fire and warm the house up. One thing at a time, simple tasks until his mind settles.

It’ll be okay. There’s no other choice. This is their reality now.

His body is too small. The things he can remember doing, in being capable of, no longer work. The harp is heavy and he can never remember it being heavy. The strings are hard for his tiny hands to play and he can’t move as much as he wants to. It’s like his soul has been ripped from his body and transplanted into someone else's. He doesn’t know how to make it work properly and each attempt has him falling and getting hurt. Granny had to pick him up from the ground once when he fell and hit his head hard enough to knock himself out. She had been very displeased.

The Princess can’t tell him why remembers. All he does is look at him with pity and say she’s sorry. Sheik doesn’t want her to apologize, he wants her to understand. But she can’t. She has her father back, her Kingdom back, she just misses his mother and seeing him makes that feeling come back harder. She doesn’t want to see him, and he doesn’t want to deal with the looks she gives him.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. The house is empty, he’s too small to do anything, the only person in Kakariko Village who remembers him is Granny and hanging out with her is just–weird. She also sends him on fetch quests and he’s avoiding Hyrule’s Forest. He’s avoiding him. Sheik–had been tempted to go look for the Hero, but he shoved that feeling away as quickly as he could. It’s not right. He had pushed enough burdens on Link, he doesn’t need to deal with Sheik’s broken mind too.

So he trains. He trains to try and get used to his body, to try and wrap his head around what was happening, to try and give himself something to focus on. It works, mostly. He hurts himself, he falls a lot, he overestimates himself and his body and that leads to consequences. He thought it would be like riding a bike, but it’s not. It’s like having half of yourself cut off. Nothing reacts the same as it’s supposed to.

Then there was the emotional aspect.

He never realized how uncontrolled children's emotions were, until he was trying to contain all of his own inside of himself and it just–was too much. The stress, the pain, the grief and struggling kept boiling over. It felt like the smallest things set him off. The whispers from the soldiers, the looks that they gave him, the comments from the Princess. They think he doesn’t hear them, they underestimate a Sheikahs hearing. “Orphan” was the first word thrown around that caught his attention, then “the last Sheikah” was another, the comment of “finish their line” was what really made him snap though.

Sheik bit that guard, and the fight that resulted from it had quickly ended with a gash across his back, from his right shoulder down to the bottom left of his hip bone. And from there, the distrust between himself and the soldiers was like a great ravine. He kept watching, waiting for the next shoe to drop, the next one to want to gut a child. Not that he–really was a child. An adult mind and memories in a tiny body. But still, they didn’t know.

His mind rationalizes the fights as defending himself, the Princess tells him he’s being a child. That he’s causing her more problems. That his mother would be disappointed.

She would be.

But not for the reasons Princess Zelda thinks.

It shouldn’t be this hard to cope. To get his emotions straightened out, to make his mind stop feeling like it was struggling against itself. But he can’t, he can’t separate what he remembers from what’s in front of him and it feels like he’s suffocating under the weight of two opposing minds. Memories of things he did one day, that don’t happen now. Memories of his mom coming home and his tiny mind now not understanding she can’t. There are days he thinks he sees her at the Castle and when he blinks she’s not there. His head is playing tricks on him and it hurts. He lays awake in bed at night, thinking he can hear that man laughing at him and all Sheik wants to do is scream.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

He did it. So, why can’t Sheik?

The last fight with the guards draws unwanted attention, Sheik realizes this far too late. The Princess had been acting like a shield between him and her father, and when the King paid a bit too close attention, Sheik realized he was in trouble. They dragged him off to his office, shoved him inside the room and then swung the doors shut. The man sat behind a large oak desk, watching Sheik intently with those dark blue eyes. The Princess gets her eyes from her father apparently, Sheik didn’t remember that.

He stands from the desk and makes his way around it and Sheik tracks every careful movement with intent. It reminds him of something it shouldn’t, of that man, and Sheik has the briefest bits of fear fill his heart. In a way that nothing has since waking up in this timeline except his nightmares. He stops in front of Sheik and like with Ganondorf, he holds himself steady. “I understand you lost your mother and that is difficult, Zelda suffered much the same when her own passed. It’s never an easy thing. However, young Sheikah, you need to grow up now. You’re alone and no one is going to baby you forever. Learn to cope, not to cause problems, you do not wish for the fate that will bring you.”

Body of a child or not, Sheik knows a threat when he hears one. “Should I just stand there and let them say what they want? Just because of what I am?” He shouldn’t talk back, that will only get him in more trouble.

The King is so very neutral looking it unsettles him. “People will always say things you don’t like, part of growing up is learning to just ignore them. Your mother knew her place well enough to not fight over every single thing someone said to her. This is the fate your Tribe brought upon itself.”

And his mouth opened before his brain could stop it. “My Tribe did nothing wrong, the Hylians massacred my people in their sleep.”

There’s the sharp sound of skin hitting skin that echoes through the room and Sheik registers that before he does the fact he’s on the ground and his face is throbbing. He doesn’t move after catching himself on the floor, body frozen and tense as he waits for the next hit. It doesn’t come, instead the King moves back around the desk. “Pick yourself up and leave, remember this lesson for the next time.”

Lesson.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

He finally caves and goes looking for Link when he can’t sleep anymore. The Great Deku Tree was alive and thriving, the Kokiri were playing in their little homes, and the fairies that flickered around the lively forest seemed fond of him. He sneaks his way past all of them to get into the clearing where the Tree was, dropping himself down in front of it and nervously glancing around. He hadn’t actively looked for Link, but he figured it would be more polite and less–traumatizing for Link if he talked to the Great Deku Tree first. The tree for–their part doesn’t seem surprised to see him.

“Hmm… young Sheikah, what brings you here?”

Nervously he rubs his hands together and takes a step closer, his gaze running across the ground before raising to look at them. “Great Deku Tree my name is Sheik, son of Impa the Sage of Shadows. I’m searching for a Hylian who… used to live here. His name is Link.”

“So, you remember that which has not come to pass, do you?” As they all suspected, the Great Deku Tree remembered too. He wondered what it was about the both of them that made them an exception. He nodded his head and the Tree—sighed? Do tree’s sigh? “I’m afraid you’ve come too late. Link has left for Termina.” And there… there was the feeling of the rug being yanked out from beneath him. “He searches for something, I’m not sure what, perhaps himself. He was lost when waking up, and he hopes by traveling he’ll find who he is. If he’ll ever return, I cannot say I can only hope. Maybe he will find his answers there.”

It shouldn’t hurt, he shouldn’t feel like he was left behind. Is this again, the irrational emotions of a child or was it Sheik himself? It’s like the slowly forming cracks in his heart had finally shattered and it’s no longer enough to just hold himself together. The feeling of suffocating had finally just consumed him and Sheik crumbled.

It’s just too hard.

He sat there for a while, just crying into his knees while the Great Deku Tree was just there. They’re a tree, they can’t do much, but the isolation of snapping in the forest where no one can see except the trees is somewhat comforting. It takes him a bit to get himself back under control but when he does the Great Deku Tree finally tries to offer some form of comfort.

“You will be alright.”

And Sheik just doesn’t believe it. “Everyone leaves eventually.”

#▴ — the shade / facts.#▴ — path / guide of time #( can't brain but apparently can write pages of Sheik waking up with his memories as a child )#( I am sad now )#// drabble

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shion-yu · 6 months

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Day 22 - Punishment

“Would it make you feel better if you hit me?” Whumptober 2023! I’m using the @ailesswhumptober's prompt list. This story is about my OC Cliff - here’s his profile if you’re so inclined: https://toyhou.se/23741453.cliff

CW: Vague mention of child abuse

Elliot was pissed. He knew it wasn’t truly a big deal - Cliff hadn’t meant to leave an open half gallon of milk in their dorm room over the weekend on purpose. It was just a bad smell that would go away. But it was so hot being the very end of the summer that the horrid scent just lingered, sticking to everything insistently. Elliot had to spend his entire laundry budget for the month washing everything, although Cliff had paid him back. They had scrubbed everything down with disinfectant twice and yet, still, Elliot felt like he could still sense it ever so slightly.

Cliff claimed he didn’t smell it anymore, which just made Elliot more annoyed. “Just because you have the observational skills of a teenage boy doesn’t mean I should have to suffer,” Elliot had snapped at him.

“Aren’t we both teenage boys still, technically?” Cliff asked. They were in the second semester of freshman year of college and had been rooming together since after Christmas break. They were dating, Cliff had issues with his college football roommate bringing girls back to the dorms, and Elliot’s roommate had decided to study abroad for the second semester... It made sense to room together at the time, even though a lot of people said maybe being dorm roommates and dating wasn’t the best idea in the world. Now Elliot saw their point.

He liked living with Cliff most of the time. But Cliff could be insufferable at times and when he was, there was no escape - just their tiny little room with two twin beds and nothing more than six feet of space separating them at maximum. One of them would have to physically leave their living space if they wanted some air and it could get tense really fast.

“Cliff, I don’t know what to tell you. Just don’t do it again,” Elliot sighed.

“Would it make you feel better if you hit me?” Cliff said like it was a perfectly natural thing to say.

“I - what?” Elliot stared at him in confusion, then horror. “Of course not! I would never hit you, are you crazy?” He looked hurt, too. “Do you really think I would want that?”

Cliff shook his head. “No, I just wanted to ask. It’s not that weird.”

“It is weird, it’s really weird,” Elliot muttered. “Don’t tell me you have a kink for that or something... Do you?”

“No!” Cliff exclaimed defensively. “I just... that’s what I’m used to.”

Elliot blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your parents never hit you?” Cliff asked genuinely.

“No.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward silence. Neither of them seemed to know what to say next. Elliot sighed, this new information weighing heavily on his heart. “Cliff, I don’t know if it was just discipline or... worse, but whatever it was, my family definitely never hit me. They don’t believe in that,” Elliot said. “I would never want to hit you, and I’d never want you to hit me. Would you?”

“No,” Cliff said. Elliot wasn’t sure how he managed to look so horrified when he was the one who had brought up corporal punishment in the first place. “I don’t want to hit you.”

“Okay. Good. No hitting,” Elliot said. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be mad at you.”

Cliff was quiet as if he needed to consider this new way of life seriously. If Elliot didn’t hit him, how would he know he was excused? Might as well ask... “So how do I know when you’re not mad at me anymore?”

Elliot sighed in exasperation. Cliff really had grown up so differently from him that it was hard to reconcile at times. “I’ll tell you, how about that?”

“Okay,” Cliff said. “Does it help if I say I’m sorry again?”

“I know you’re sorry. You don’t have to keep saying it,” Elliot told him. Sometimes it was like teaching a kid with Cliff, he swore. “I’m going to take a walk, and when I come back it’s all okay, alright?”

“Alright,” Cliff said. “I’ll wait here.” He looked like a hopeless puppy. Elliot couldn’t help but smile a little to himself. Cliff really did have the best intentions most of the time, even if he was misguided and confused for half of it. Sometimes teaching him how to be a normal person was exhausting, but it could also be endearing. Elliot decided he could be patient for him; it was worth it.

#ShionWrites #oc: Cliff #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday22 #ailesswhumptober #day 22 #whump #male whump #hurt comfort #angst #tw: abuse

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moondustmanwise · 10 months

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Love

When I’d hear people say “love is unconditional” I’d smirk inside I’d think ‘Of course it’s conditional. It’s conditional on every smile you make the movement of your hand your tone of voice. Nothing LOUD nothing childish nothing d.i.s.a.g.r.e.e.a.b.l.e.’

I fear now, that my views of love are tainted by this thought ‘Is love unconditional?’ Of course not. If it was, then what was the point of living in a day to day musical with script and poise? If it was true, then who taught me it was not? And who taught them? And who taught them? And who taught them?

I wish I’d loved you better. When I loved you, I loved you like an addict I loved you like the deep ocean’s pressure loves a foreign body. When you said you wanted to try different pronouns, trying them on like play-clothes to see if they fit, I’d panicked, then. They say sex education should hide sexuality and identity that children should live with eyes covered.

If they’d uncovered my eyes, then I’d known You are not a ship of theseus, whose alteration would bring calamity You are a rose that by any other name would smell just as sweet. But they didn’t. And I didn’t know. And I moved the current pulling you deeper, when you realized my love was always conditional.

I don’t know why you hurt me. I don’t know why I’d lay down, flagellant, bowing before my goddess to whip me with words until I bled. I thought that’s what love is. That love was storms who’d strike you and rumble and quake. I am still much the same today. Beat me,

I w e

e p.

Beat me until my finger br ea ks and my lungs cr ck

a and I hate you.

But please. Oh gods please don’t leave me. Of course, you weren’t the one who broke my bones, that was another love. Another love, forged in blood, when mothers bend down to crying daughters and say ‘Boys will be Boys.’ So boys set claws in my skin and I trembled waiting for the tear.

Maybe that’s why I was afraid when you wanted to be something different than the crucified sanctity i forged. Maybe I was afraid of Man, and the going home. Of course, I am a liar. I was just a child, afraid of thinking she sees monsters in shadows.

We were both children, actually. And so was he, technically, Barely. Though, I don’t remember exactly I don’t remember much, actually.

I do remember, though, sitting in the bathtub. My mother in the room, and talking to me. I remember the asking the ‘if you had to choose between me and your reputation, which would you choose?’ And I remember the choosing of that which is so much less important than me. And I remember thinking ‘What a foolish thing I asked. Of course love is conditional.’

I am no longer a child. I no longer think that the changing of a name means the death of what was once there. I no longer acknowledge he born of the same womb as I but who caused the limp I carry for life.

I watch the seasons change, and my parents with them. Now, my father likes me more if I don’t mind my childish stimming and interests. Because as he dies, all he wants is the picture of a child hung in the Formal Dining Room in his head.

My mother no longer shrivels at the thought of acknowledging that her spouse is neither man nor woman but simply is. But she still dotes on granddaughters who will never be my nieces. She still tries to ignore my

anxiety

in that house.

I still wish that I knew that love is unconditional. But each time a friend leaves me because I cannot control my tongue and cannot stop the relating of all things to my patchworked memories of life, I remember that lesson that I was born into, and that I accidentally taught you.

That all love is secretly conditional.

#poetry #love #love poem #toxic relationship #trauma #lesbian #queer #pride #abuse #sibling abuse #autism #disability pride month

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ngscoffeecupcommentary · 2 years

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KHR - Chapter 4: Expulsion Crisis

I remember how ludicrous I found Nezu - and yes I still remember his name - let's see how angry this makes me now, as an adult.

Who let this guy anywhere near a teaching position. Wouldn't trust him with a pet rock. Calling a child 'a burden on society' and saying 'is there any reason for such trash to exist?' in front of the whole class with a smug look on his face. I mean I know things are rough in Japanese schools, but would this actually happen? Or is it a comedy exaggeration?

Either way, Nezu is not fit to be a teacher.

Gokudera immediately being threatening and spilling sensitive information out in public...oh dear - making things even more difficult for Tsuna (let's face it tho, that's his purpose this early in).

I love how Tsuna's greatest problem with getting expelled is that he won't be able to see Kyouko again - very teenager of him!

And here's Leon's first significant appearance! Showing off his suspiciously magic abilities as well as Tsuna's observation talent - something that will become Hyper Intuition (and it's kind of supported by canon that other people don't notice Reborn is Reborn when he's wearing his various costumes, but Tuna does...so this is also and example of something that started out as comedy and evolved into a power in a magic fire shounen manga)

'Reborn is teaching me all the basics of assassination' I wonder if this will ever come back? Just the image of Gokudera stuffing himself in that small cupboard with Reborn probably drinking coffee and looking smug is hilarious.

Gokudera is so earnest in wanting to help Tsuna ;o; still can't read the room and actually do what Tsuna would truly like, but he's trying! (more than anyone else so far) - also, doesn't listen to Tsuna when he protests immediately…*sigh*

Nezu setting them up and getting praised by another teacher for it… ugh...the standards in Namimori Middle are real low.

Tsuna's despondency may be selfish, but this is also a situation he's not at fault for, Gokudera got him into this trouble (and Reborn and Nezu) so I don't blame him for being fourteen. Gokudera is also thoughtless and casually dismissive, but somehow I expect more from him - maybe due to knowing he's had more actual life experience? Hmm.

Reborn is here to threaten (and shoot) Tsuna into trying!

Leon hops on no problem and Tsuna in his Dying Will state intuitively knows how to use Leon's transformation? Interesting…

I love how Gokudera just goes 'I was waiting for you Boss!' no doubt that Tsuna would follow him despite his protests. (though that may be putting on bravado). And then getting amazed at Tsuna using Leon dowsing rod, 'sublime' indeed Gokudera!

Interesting to see that depending on the area you're shot at, the Deathperation bullets have different effects - though I assume this is only when you're in Dying Will mode...I do believe that these specifics never come into play again after the initial introduction chapters.

Nezu going back on his word does not surprise me at all.

Neither does Gokudera's cool-headed verbal smack down.

Gokudera's lack of self-worth shows it's face for the first time, as does his actual intelligence and academic smarts.

Tsuna complaining about a 'pack of idiots getting bigger' and Kyoko staying away because of that, but Tsuna, my boy, it's not like you were doing well on your own haha.

Reborn telling Tsuna to learn from Gokudera is funny knowing Gokudera can't teach - if I remember right he's too technical and cannot figure out how to explain to someone at Tsuna's level or of Tsuna's type of intelligence.

Vol.1 . ch1 . ch2 . ch3 . ch4 . ch5 . ch6 . ch7 .

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scuttling · 3 years

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Lean on Me

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 4,717 Tags: SFW, Fluff, 5+1 Trope, Obliviousness, Mutual pining, Aaron Hotchner deserves good things, Canon typical injury Summary: Five times you want to kiss the frown off of your boss's face, and one time you actually do it. *Requested by Anon. Link to AO3 or read below! “It doesn’t make sense.”

You stick a tack in a photo of a murdered woman—unfortunately one of many you’ve stuck to this board—and turn to face Hotch, who is looking over your handiwork with a quizzical expression.

“What doesn’t?” He takes a few steps closer, crosses his arms in front of him.

“Why would the unsub leave his comfort zone? The first six abductions occurred within five miles of the college, so why did the seventh and eighth happen almost twelve miles away?” He reaches for the board, traces his finger along the circle Reid had colored in on the map. “We profiled that he’s disorganized and far from confident, so why would he do that?”

He looks over at you, frowns, and not for the first time your gaze is drawn to the little crease between his eyebrows that always forms when he is puzzled, worried, confused, stressed, or otherwise unhappy. In short, it’s there kind of all of the time.

For the first time, though, you think of how easy it would be to lean over, press your lips there, smooth it out, and maybe even get him to smile for a change. He has a great smile, when he lets people see it.

You shake the daydream, rewind back to the question he asked, and wrinkle your nose in thought.

“Maybe his circumstances changed? It's summer now, and there are still classes, but students aren’t living in the dorms. Maybe he moved back home or got an apartment off campus that’s within that area—or a job.” He sighs, runs a hand over the back of his head, nods.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. That’s good. I’ll mention it to the others.” He pulls out his phone, and you grab another photo, another thumbtack, but something stops you and you lay a gentle hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to think of everything, you know. That’s why you have us.” He exhales, his shoulders losing a little of their tension, and that forehead wrinkle gets a little less deep.

“Sometimes I forget that not everything needs to be done the hard way. Or by me.”

“What? You, Aaron Hotchner, doing things the hard way?” you tease, and you are gifted a glimpse of his rare, unfiltered smile.

“Okay, enough pointing out my flaws,” he says with a raised eyebrow, though he’s still smiling, and as he looks down to type out a text, you remember to pull back your hand.

“I would never.” He looks up from his phone at that—maybe at the conviction in your voice, which you hadn’t exactly intended—and his expression softens further.

“I know you wouldn’t.” You hold eye contact for a moment, and then turn to finish preparing the board, pinning up another photo of another woman and reminding yourself that they need you to focus on the task at hand. Two weeks later, you knock on Hotch’s office door, a stack of completed consults in your hand. He looks up, that familiar notch in between his brows, a scowl on his face; when he sees that it’s you, he tones it down a little.

“Draw the short straw?” he asks, and you figure that’s because everyone knows he is in a bad mood and they’ve been avoiding this office all day. You shrug.

“It was rock, paper, scissors, but yes.” He huffs a short laugh, and you smile, step toward his desk. “Anything I can do to lighten the load?”

“Technically you’re adding to it,” he says with a glance at the files in your hand, and you set them on one of the chairs with a purposefully loud thump and then take the other seat.

“Technically. But technically, you only need to review my consults; I can review theirs. Right?” He mulls it over a moment, like the thought never crossed his mind—of course Aaron I have to do everything myself Hotchner would never suggest such a thing, even as the team sits in the bullpen with nothing to do, seeing who can throw M&Ms into Spencer’s mouth from the furthest distance.

“Technically,” he agrees, and you pluck a pen out of his pen cup and take the first file off the pile, open it in front of yourself, careful not to cut into the workspace he’s occupying. You both smile softly down at your work, and you actively do not think about that wrinkle between his eyebrows.

About an hour later, he reaches for his mug out of habit but finds it empty; you stand, take it in your hand, and he makes a noise of protest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you say, and you walk toward the door. “I need some too. I’ll be right back.”

You pass through the bullpen—apparently the M&M contest led to a sugar crash, because Spencer is laying with his head on his desk—and grab your cup off your desk, take both to the break room to fill them.

Derek appears next to you as you’re stirring your sugar in.

“Coffee date with the boss?” he asks with a curious expression, and you shake your head.

“Of course not. I’m helping him with the overwhelming amount of paperwork on his desk so his mood improves, instead of just ignoring him.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Derek scratches the back of his head.

“Never thought of that,” he admits, and you pat him on the arm and take your coffees back upstairs.

Hotch looks up at you as you set his mug down, says a soft thank you, and you grab the pile of files you brought up, separate them, and head back downstairs.

“You review mine,” you say to Derek, handing him a stack, “Emily take Spencer’s, Spencer take Derek’s, I’ll take Emily’s.” They look at you like they have no idea what to say, and you just smile, tap the top of Spencer’s head with a folder. “I’ll come back down and grab them in a little bit.”

“Yes, boss,” Emily says, and you grin on your way back upstairs. Hotch is standing when you arrive this time, looking out the window over the bullpen.

“What did you do?” he asks, turning to you, frowning again. You’re so close that kissing that wrinkle would be effortless. All you’d have to do is lean in.

You smile.

“I delegated, Hotch. You should try it some time.” You put your hands on his arms and guide him back to his desk. “Now what can I help you with?”

By the end of the day, his desk is clean and his bad mood is long gone. He closes the last of his files, sighs deeply, covers your hand with one of his, and says thank you.

The next morning when you come in, there is a steaming latte and a cookie on your desk, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Your next case is draining, children abducted and left for dead, and everyone is on edge, but no one more than Hotch. You’re fairly certain his face hasn’t relaxed since the initial briefing, and he’d be a prime candidate for the old ‘your face will get stuck like that’ joke, if anyone was up to joking.

The team catches the unsub, saves one child, but not until after three are dead; you take a late flight home because no one wants to stay another night in a town it feels like you’ve failed, and everyone curls up to get some rest except you and Hotch.

You try to read the book you brought along—a science fiction dystopian novel, something to get you out of your head and away from real life problems—but you’re a little distracted by Hotch’s sighing. It’s become an every-five-minutes thing, and while you’re definitely on board with sighing as a way to decompress, he’s not decompressing. He looks like he’s in pain mentally, exhausted physically; you’re not sure how everyone else was able to ignore it and go to sleep, but then you figure everyone else may not be as in tune with him as you are. As observant.

As in love.

Not that that matters: you know your issues, and some of his issues, and there’s the whole superior/subordinate thing which doesn’t really do anything for you except give you a stomach ache. It would never work out, even if he somehow, miraculously, were to love you back—and that’s a pretty big if in and of itself.

But still, you notice him, can’t help it, and the sighing is getting to be a little much. You sigh yourself, put your finger in between the pages of your book, and walk over to take the seat next to him; he looks over at you, frowning just like always, and you carefully close his file and set it aside.

Neither of you say anything to the other, just look each other over for a moment, and then you lean lightly against his shoulder and flip back to the beginning of your book.

“I still dream of the island. I sometimes approach it across water, but more often through air, like a bird, with a great wind under my wings. The shores rise rain-coloured on the horizon of sleep, and in their quiet circle the buildings: the houses grown along the canals, the workshops of inkmasters, the low-ceilinged taverns.”

You keep your voice low and soothing, and you are just turning to page fifteen when you feel the weight of his head drop onto your shoulder.

The crease between his eyes melts away in sleep.

You read until you make it home, and you wake him up with a gentle nudge before the rest of the team drifts back to consciousness. He looks at you, blinks slowly like he’s trying to remember where he is, and then gets a little sheepish when he puts two and two together, realizes he fell asleep on your shoulder.

You just shake your head, give his arm a squeeze, and head back to your seat to gather your things. You, Hotch, and Emily are catching the elevator to the parking garage—after staying two hours later to work on some rush consults straight from Strauss—when he looks at something on his phone that makes him groan aloud. You and Emily share a look, and you ask what’s wrong.

“I just remembered I’m supposed to have a treat for Jack to take to school tomorrow and it’s, what, seven thirty?”

“So just stop at the supermarket on your way home; no one can tell the difference anyway,” Emily says, but you and Hotch both shoot her a skeptical glance.

“It’s all about the treats at a school like Jack’s,” you supply, and Hotch looks over at you like he’s surprised by your comment. “If they’re not homemade, the parents talk. Plus there’s probably an allergen list a mile long: no nuts, no eggs, no soy, no dairy. You have to pick him up from Haley’s tonight, right?” You’re pretty sure, but when he nods he confirms it. “So pick him up, go home and get some dinner, put him to bed, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way over with the goods. I have a great recipe for vegan apple cinnamon muffins that will go over really well.”

“You really don’t have to do that; I’ll figure something out,” he says, but you just shake your head and pull up the recipe on your phone.

“Forget it, it’s already done. I have everything I need at home already; let me help,” you murmur softly, and when he looks at you with the furrowed brow that comes with accepting kindness from someone else, you almost forget it’s not just the two of you in the elevator. It’s only when Emily clears her throat that the eye contact breaks. He nods.

“Okay. Thank you; I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” The elevator dings and it stops at the parking garage; the three of you get off and head in separate directions for your cars. “I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight,” Emily says with a grin, and you wave at her, hop into your car, and head for home.

About two hours later, you show up at Hotch’s door with two dozen apple cinnamon muffins, and unbleached, whole wheat flour in your hair, and he has coffee brewing, a smile on his face.

“You don’t know how grateful I am,” he says as he ushers you into the kitchen, takes the boxes of muffins from your hands, and pours you a cup of dark, delicious coffee. You sip it slowly, savoring the taste—you should have known he’d have incredible coffee—even though it’s far too late for you to be indulging. Unless you’re working a case, you usually switch to decaf by three.

“I know you are. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d appreciate the gesture.” You lean forward, open a box, and pull out two muffins, handing one to him. “I made a couple extra so we could taste test; if I accidentally put salt in instead of sugar, you’re on your own,” you joke, and you wait for him to taste it before taking your own bite.

“That’s delicious. There’s really nothing unapproved in here?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Nope, it’s all healthy and allergen free, except for the flour, but that wasn’t on the list you sent.” He reaches a hand toward you, and you don’t realize, at first, that he’s brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Messy baker,” he teases, and your heart feels really full, being in his kitchen like this, warm muffins and fresh coffee, even if your hair is a mess. You smile, and he smiles back before dropping into that serious expression, eyebrow wrinkle and all. You think about brushing your lips there tonight, but this feels like two steps forward, and you don’t want to risk taking that step back. “Next time I’ll help you.”

“Oh, next time? You plan on needing my baking expertise again? Fair warning, this is the only recipe I know, so I hope you like apple cinnamon muffins.” You take a sip of your coffee, look up at him, and he takes another bite, nods his head.

“I do. Especially these.”

In a perfect world, what comes next would be a cinnamony, coffee flavored kiss, but the world’s not perfect, and you yawn instead. You look down at your mug like it’s betrayed you, and Hotch chuckles low.

“It’s decaf. I know you usually stop in the afternoon; I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were up all night because of me.” You have always been a person who falls in love with all the little details about someone, so the fact that he’s noticed this, remembers this, makes your heart beat a little faster. “I should let you go. You’ve done so much today, between staying late and baking for Jack—for me. You need to get some sleep.”

He’s right, it’s nearly ten, and you should be getting back home, but this is a moment you never want to end.

You just nod, though, and he reaches out to brush his hand over your back when he walks you to the door.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate that you did this for me,” he says, soft, like he still can’t imagine you would.

“You’re welcome, Hotch. Any time, really; I’m happy to help.”

You get home, clean your kitchen, and have a very late dinner, and the smell of good coffee and apples and cinnamon is still in your nose when you drift to sleep. “You didn’t hear what he said,” Hotch snaps almost a month later, with one hand splayed on his hip and the other on the table in front of him. The moment you saw him engaged in an argument with a member of the Sheriff’s department, fire in his eyes, you’d grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a small conference room, shutting the door behind you. It took almost three minutes of staring at each other for him to say something instead of just glaring at you for interrupting the pissing contest.

“I don’t need to know what he said. I know you, and I know you handle people like that with a quick, sharp remark and then you wash your hands of it. You don’t argue back and forth, you don’t draw it out. You would have regretted it if you did that today, so I stopped you.”

“You think you know me so well, do you?” he asks in an unkind tone of voice you can’t identify, haven’t heard from him before; the expression on his face is familiar, though, a scowl that only puts emphasis on his handsome features—it’s unfair, really.

You exhale, cross your arms.

“Yes, and I know you well enough to know you’re irritated with him, not me, so cut the shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been quite that direct with him, and certainly the first time you’ve ever sworn at him; your immediate instinct is to apologize, but he surprises you by huffing a laugh. The angry lines of his face smooth into something softer.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. He just—I can’t stand people like that.” He scrubs a hand through his hair in irritation. “We’re here to work—to do a job they couldn’t finish on their own. Not to be… objectified.” He mutters the last word, so low you almost don’t hear it, and then there’s a knock at the door. Derek enters.

“Sheriff wants a word, Hotch; do you have a sec?” With one last look at you, he nods, brushes past him to leave the room. Derek gives you the barest hint of a smile. “He was defending your honor, you know.”

You frown. You didn’t know.

“That jerk was talking about me?” you ask, clarifying, and he nods.

“Something about assuming you’re an athlete because he likes your ass. Set the boss man off.” You walk over to him and leave the room together, heading back to your workspace.

“Well Hotch is right, we’re here to work, not to be objectified. I can see how he would get angry.” Derek shoots you a flat, questioning glance.

“You think he’d be getting that worked up if it was my ass that guy was talking about? Or Emily’s?” The two of you stop outside the conference room, and you cross your arms, lean against the doorframe, frown.

“So what are you trying to say? That he sees me as being weak, thinks he needs to defend me? I'm as capable as either of you.” That may not be strictly true, because you’re a little more brains than brawn, like Spencer in that way, but you can hold your own and you thought Hotch knew that.

Derek just laughs, shakes his head, and ducks into the room. You follow, so confused.

“I thought you were just playing it close to the vest, but you’re oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Oblivious about what?” Emily asks, pen between her teeth, feet kicked up onto a chair, and you shrug.

“I’m still not sure. Hotch got into an argument with a deputy about me, and I asked Derek if Hotch thinks I’m weak and that’s why he felt like he had to defend me.” She smiles broadly around the pen, pulls it out of her mouth with a grin.

“Oh, honey. That’s not it. You know that’s not it, right?”

“I clearly don’t know what’s going on at all, so no, if you’d care to enlighten me,” you say, sinking into an empty chair. “I hate it when you guys are cryptic.” You love your team, but they have a habit of doing this all the time, saying things to each other with their eyes, or just a few words that don’t have any sensible meaning that you know of. It’s like they live to talk over your head, to say things without actually saying them.

“Okay. Hotch has a thing for you,” Emily says simply, and you blink.

Well that’s the very last thing you’d expected to hear.

“He absolutely does not.” You look at Derek, who’s making a face like you’re the one being crazy; you laugh out loud, can’t help it. “He does not. I’m pretty sure Hotch doesn’t have things, and if he did, he wouldn’t have a thing for me.”

“Why not? Because that would be too convenient, since you have a thing for him too?” Derek asks, taking the seat across from you, and you grab the nearest case file, flip it open and focus your attention on it.

“I care about him, the same way I care about all of you, and he maybe needs a little more care—but you guys are reading into things.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything more, because Hotch, JJ, and Spencer return, and you all have a lead to work.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re being obvious about your feelings, though, especially later, when you get back to the hotel and the group decides to have a drink at the bar.

JJ and Emily hit the pool table while Derek and Spencer head up for drinks, and you are left sitting with Hotch at the table, pressed together in the inside corner of a booth.

“Tired?” you ask him, because he does look worn out, his tie a bit loose, his eyes a little red. You know he doesn’t get much sleep when you travel, and you can’t imagine he’ll go to bed even when this little detour is over.

“Always,” he sighs, but when he looks over at you, he smiles, just a little. “Just can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Yeah, it gives Southern hospitality a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” The people you’ve interviewed today are, on paper, quite respectable, but there’s a Desperate Housewives, ‘everyone is sleeping with someone else's spouse’ kind of thing going on, and it’s honestly exhausting. To your surprise, Hotch laughs.

“It really does. I don’t think I’ve ever missed the quiet solitude of my apartment quite this much.” You lean back against the vinyl of the booth, sigh.

“I miss my apartment, but it’s been too quiet lately. I prefer the sounds of someone else sharing space with me: the coffee maker percolating, the news in the background, the shower running, the sound of flipping the pages of a book or magazine.” You look down at your hands, because you’re getting a little more emotional than you usually let other people see. “Sorry. I’m not typically this open about being…”

You trail off, but Hotch looks over at you, concerned, the wrinkle between his eyebrows even more noticeable when you’re sitting this close. You think, just briefly, of running your thumb over it, but with your luck, Derek or Emily would see, and you’d never live it down.

“Lonely?” he finishes softly, and when you nod your head, he covers your hands with one of his own, bumps his shoulder against yours. “I get lonely too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You look up at him, feeling a little vulnerable, and his expression softens. “When we get back, maybe you could come over for dinner some night. Nothing fancy,” he clarifies, and you smile, “just two lonely people being a little less lonely.”

“That would be really nice.” You can see Derek and Spencer approaching out of the corner of your eye, and Hotch must too, because he removes his hand, slips back into the slight, persistent frown you have come to know and love. Derek looks at you, raises an eyebrow, and hands you your beer. You try to tell him to shut up with your face, plan to follow up later to see if that actually worked. “We have an agent down on the second floor,” Spencer says into his comms, and you immediately want to slap him in the back of the head.

“Don’t say agent down, kid; I’m like, slightly wounded at best.” You hold a hand against the stab wound on your side—the unsub honestly just grazed you, and you’d knocked him out with a single punch, which made you feel pretty awesome—and reach out the other so he can help pull you to your feet. Your hand comes up to your own walkie button. “I’m not down, I’m fine—just slightly stabbed,” you add, and Spencer is getting his cuffs on the unsub when Hotch and JJ burst through the doors.

Well, Hotch bursts. JJ follows behind looking strangely winded for one of the most naturally athletic people you know.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asks, and you lift your shirt to show him the sluggishly bleeding gash.

“I’m fine, see? It’s not even deep. Spencer saw blood and got a little ahead of himself.” You turn to Spencer, who sticks out his tongue, then back to Hotch, who looks haunted and pale, with that goddamn wrinkle between his eyebrows again. He’s bent down, looking over your wound seriously—you’ve had worse, so much worse, that you don’t understand why he’s so worried about it—and then he leans up, presses a hand to your cheek, and pulls you close for a soft, tender kiss.

If this were a movie, right about now a camera would be panning around you in a circle, as you wrap your free hand around his neck, pull him closer, melt against his body like it’s all you’ve been dreaming of for months, and the two of you would break apart smiling, maybe even kiss again.

It’s not a movie, though, so you just bleed out against your hand and freeze, because Hotch is kissing you at a crime scene and you almost got filleted, so you’re not sure if this is a you got hurt, so I’d better kiss you kiss or an I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever, and you got hurt so I have to kiss you kiss.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing a bit heavily, and you don’t know what to do, so you just lean in and press your lips to that wrinkle between his eyebrows that you’ve been thinking about so frequently since the first time you noticed it. You brush a hand through his hair, and when you pull back, he’s smiling.

“What was that?” He covers your hand on your side with his own and helps get you toward the elevator so you can be patched up by the EMTs; JJ and Spencer are left staring, open-mouthed in your wake, with an unconscious unsub at their feet, but neither of you are concerned about that.

“I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now: to kiss that spot between your eyes so you’ll stop frowning for a change. Since I couldn’t, I decided to find other ways to help you stop frowning so much. It kind of became my life’s mission.” He sighs, puts his arm around you and holds you close while you wait for the elevator to bring you to the ground floor.

“I stop frowning when you’re around because you’re around, not just because of the things you do for me,” he tells you, and he presses his lips to yours for another warm, soft, perfect kiss. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now.” You tilt your head, make a sound of contemplation, and he chuckles softly. “What is it?”

“I think those cryptic idiots we work with might be onto something,” you say with a grin, and when the elevator lets you off and Hotch helps you toward the ambulance to be patched up, Derek and Emily are waiting with concerned looks on their faces. They must be pretty confused to see you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you guys were right; Hotch does have a thing for me!” you call as you walk past them, and when your wound is properly dressed and wrapped, you put your arms around his neck and let him kiss you until the frown and accompanying wrinkle are nothing but distant memories.

*The novel excerpt is from The Weaver by Emmi Itäranta.

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt #aaron hotchner x gn reader #hotch x gn reader #request

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goldentournesol · 3 years

Text

Truth or Dare

(Spencer Reid x fem!Reader)

The one where Spencer is married with children and JJ confesses her love for him. Length: 2.7k A/N: this is technically a bonus chapter of The Receptionist and the Profiler but can definitely be read as a standalone. this is my take on the JJ confession, enjoy! don’t be shy, leave a comment or reblog! masterlist

Y/N furiously clicked her mouse in response to her computer screen lagging. She released an exasperated sigh and placed her head into her hands. She could practically feel the bags under her eyes increase in size and depth as she tried to regain control of her breathing. Raising two children and being the BAU’s liaison was proving to be extremely difficult, she couldn’t go out into the field or travel with the team as much. After what happened with Cat Adams, she had a hard time leaving Emelia and Adaline. Emily only requested her help as a liaison in the field when she absolutely needed it, anything else could be taken care of from Quantico. Her head pounded against her palms and her only reprieve from her incessant headache was closing her eyes. She must have dozed off in her office because the next thing she knew, she was waking up to a warm hand squeezing her shoulder.

She shot up in her seat, heart beating at an alarming rate until she was met with her husband’s eyes. Her shoulders instantly relaxed, “You’re back.” She said with relief, standing to wrap him in a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked into her shoulder, squeezing her tighter than usual.

She fought back a yawn and nodded, “Yeah, I’m just exhausted.” She pulled back and rested her hands on his face to inspect for injuries and found none on his face. A bandaged hand wrapped around one of her wrists and she gasped, “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s not that deep, just a little gash.” Spencer said dismissively, his thumb rubbing against her wrist. “Let’s go home.” She nodded and quickly packed her things, eager to see her two baby girls.

On her way out, she noticed JJ and Rossi speaking in hushed tones. She managed to wave at them as she and Spencer made their way to the elevator. Rossi waved back, JJ looked away. Y/N had thought nothing of it, perhaps this had been a hard case on her. At least they had Rossi’s wedding tomorrow to look forward to and unwind a little. The girls would be with a babysitter and Y/N was looking forward to dressing up and hopefully getting a little (a lot) wine drunk.

Spencer was silent the entire way home, which wasn’t uncommon, so again, Y/N had thought nothing of it. As soon as they made it through the door, Emelia and Adaline came running up to the door, squealing with glee. Each parent scooped up a baby girl and showered them with kisses until they switched.

Here, with a beautiful healthy daughter in his arms, he could forget about all the confusion of JJ’s confession. Spencer usually dealt with these difficult things on his own and in his head. He hadn’t had time to process it fully to bring it to his wife. He would deal with it later, right now, all he wanted was to spend time with his three favorite girls. Y/N hadn’t noticed anything different in the way Spencer was acting around the girls, but each hug he gave her felt a little tighter. She appreciated it and was definitely not about to complain about receiving tighter hugs from her husband.

The suspicions began the next day at Rossi’s wedding. With the girls not serving as a distraction, Y/N began to see the signs of Spencer retreating into himself. She hadn’t heard all the details of the last case yet, but Emily will soon let her know.

Emily was in the middle of giving a speech when Y/N snuck a look at Spencer beside her. He was politely listening, but everything about his eyes let her know that he was elsewhere. She caught JJ’s eye across the room, it seems as though JJ was staring at her husband as well. Before Y/N could ask with her eyes, JJ had looked away once more, the aversion of her gaze hinting at shame. A sinking feeling resided in her chest.

She leaned towards him, linking their arms together, her heart strings intertwining with his in some metaphysical sense. Her sudden affection made him turn to her and send her a small smile. He quieted down the question in her eyes with a tender kiss to her cheek, knowing for a fact that the woman across the room watched what happened, a silent declaration of what he chose, what he will always choose.

Before they knew it, the music began blaring with Luke, Matt, and Penelope stealing the show with their dance moves. Y/N couldn’t contain her laughter as she watched them all prance around. In true Garcia fashion, she approached her and pulled her up to begin dancing. Y/N looked back towards Spencer for help but he just laughed and encouraged her to dance. All too soon, the music morphed into a slow paced rhythm. Turning around to ask Spencer to dance, she found the seat to be empty. Eyes flitting to the bar, she found Spencer and JJ in the middle of a conversation.

“Hey, you can dance with me!” Tara said, whisking Y/N away from the scene. Y/N sent her a small grateful smile, but her curiosity was heavy.

“Is JJ okay? Did something happen?” Y/N asked Tara as they slow danced together. Tara was visibly taken aback by the question, she thought Spencer would have told Y/N about what had happened by now, but she decided that it was not her story to tell.

“Yeah, JJ’s totally fine.” Tara said dismissively and began steering Y/N away from that conversation. They soon broke apart to gather around the cake. Y/N was only half paying attention until she saw JJ take her place next to Will and was alerted of Spencer’s presence as he placed his hands on her hips from behind. She leaned into his warmth and let it go for the final time that night, she would ask about it when they were alone. But by the time the night ended, JJ was not on Y/N’s list of important things to remember. She was a little bit past tipsy and Spencer practically had to drag her out to their car.

The weekend went by smoothly, Spencer had his head buried in mountains of papers from his students even though Y/N told him that he could read them online and save so much paper. The weekend had come and gone and they were back in the office in the blink of an eye. The awkwardness between the two lifelong friends resumed. JJ was arguably the closest person to Spencer on the team (besides Y/N of course), so she found it more than weird that the two were actively avoiding each other.

Lunch time came around and Y/N had had enough of it, she snuck into Penelope’s office.

“Hey, sunshine!” Penelope greeted, taking a hefty bite out of her donut.

“Hey.” Y/N said, leaning against the desk adjacent to Penelope’s, stirring her coffee.

“What’s going on?” Penelope stared at her knowingly. Y/N immediately put the coffee down and stared at Penelope.

“Did something happen between JJ and Spence on the last case?” Y/N asked directly, deciding that beating around the bush would help no one.

Y/N didn’t miss the slight widening of Penelope’s eyes, “Wh-what? Why would you ask that?”

“They’ve been acting really awkward around each other and JJ’s been avoiding me like the plague.” Y/N huffed.

Penelope panicked, stuttering out, “I uh, I really think you should talk to Spencer.”

“No one’s telling me anything! Not you, not Tara! Should I be worried?” She asked, exasperated.

“Honestly? No, I don’t think so. Spencer loves you.” Penelope said surely.

Spencer loves you.

What does that even mean?

Y/N turned on her heel, leaving her coffee and marched all the way to Spencer’s desk. The carpet drowned out the clickity clack of her heels. Spencer raised his head from his files to smile at her.

“My office, now.” Y/N said simply, her tone neither angry nor cool, his smile retreating as he followed her like a puppy. Matt and Luke shared a knowing look between them and pretended to focus on their work so as to not get caught in the line of fire.

She closed the door and the blinds, crossing her arms and turning to see him taking a seat, “Care to explain why Garica just felt the need to assure me that my husband loves me? Or to explain why you and JJ have been acting so weird and having secret conversations? Or maybe why she’s been acting like I don’t exist for the past 3 and a half days?”

For a moment, Spencer looked like a child who had been caught stealing cookies out of the cookie jar, then his face returned to an unnerving mask of calm. This mask made her panic even more.

“Does this have anything to do with the hostage situation you two were in?” Y/N asked, she had just gone over the report that morning, but it had little to no details.

Spencer took a deep breath and rested both hands on his thighs, in any other circumstance, Y/N might have been tempted to sit across his lap and kiss him until they were both red in the face. But not right now, right now she needed answers.

“Yes, well--okay, yes. Something did happen. I promise I was going to tell you, but it never seemed like the right time to bring it up, I didn’t want to bring it up at home around the girls, and I didn’t want to bring it up here either.” Spencer said, leaning back to rest against the chair.

“What happened?” Y/N took a seat across from him, no longer feeling the need to attack, but rather to understand.

“JJ and I were being held hostage. The unsub, Casey, was about to shoot JJ and me. He told her to reveal something that she’d never say aloud and she…” Spencer swallowed, trailing off. Y/N leaned forward, already expecting where this was going.

“She told me that she’s always loved me and that she was just too scared to say it before.” He spoke softly, meeting her eyes.

Y/N blinked slowly, “Bullshit.”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows at her.

“Are you sure she wasn’t just saying that in front of the unsub to get him to back down? Are you sure it was real?” Y/N said, standing up from her seat. She paced around her room, trying to piece together any evidence from the past few years that could back up that claim.

JJ had been the one to push Y/N and Spencer together. JJ couldn’t have had all these feelings for Spencer. What about Will? Henry? Michael? They were her and Spencer’s Godchildren for crying out loud. Y/N’s brain was going a hundred miles a minute. Spencer watched her pace around the small office.

“I, I don’t know. It seemed real.” Spencer wished what he had to say would calm his wife, but he really didn’t know at this point.

“Do you…” she swallowed, the question heavy on her tongue, “do you feel the same?” The tears were ready, resting at her waterline, waiting for the call. Her insecurities were ready to take over.

“No!” Spencer objected, standing from his seat. Normally, his defensive reply would have made her suspicious, but the look of utter shock and hurt on his face quelled any doubt that arose.

“No, I don’t. I love you. I have always loved you. God, you know this, I’ve loved you even when you weren’t mine to love. I’ve loved you since I was just a baby faced profiler and you were just a receptionist. I will never stop loving you and the girls, Y/N.” He said definitively, walking towards his wife and grabbing her clammy hands in his. He pressed a gentle kiss to each of her hands, staring into her teary eyes.

The cavern in her chest began to patch itself up as he looked at her that way. She had no choice but to believe him.

“Okay, I believe you.” She smiled, a tear escaping. He reached up to tenderly swipe it away. With a simple tilt of his chin, he captured her lips in an intense, passionate kiss and like all of their kisses, he took her breath away. But something about the desperation in this kiss made it hard for her lungs to perceive air. He had a point to prove.

A few moments of silence passed between them and Y/N took a deep breath, “I should talk to JJ.”

Spencer hadn’t pulled away yet, “It’s your choice, my love.” He placed a soft kiss to the center of her forehead and stepped back to catch her eye, “Are we okay?”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at him, “Yes, we’re okay. Can you ask JJ to come in after you leave?”

With a nod and another kiss, he left the office to go summon JJ. Y/N took her seat at her desk and folded her hands in anticipation, the undeniable and unrelenting feelings of anger and jealousy coursing right underneath her skin.

A gentle knock sounded throughout the small office and Y/N invited her to take a seat before her.

“Listen, Y/N, if this is about what I said back--” JJ began, but Y/N wasn’t interested in any of the formalities.

“Did you mean it?” Y/N asked, making direct eye contact. JJ was taken aback at the similarities between Y/N’s question and Spencer’s. They had both asked in the same way. She wasn’t ready back then. But she is now.

“Yes..” JJ whispered, averting her gaze once more. The gaze of the wife of the man she thought she loved was too heavy to face straight on.

“Yes, what? Do you love my husband?” Y/N spoke with an unrecognizable sharp edge to her voice.

“Yes, I love him. I’ve always known it. Things just got too messy too quickly. I have Will and the boys and I would never ever give them up. Spence-- Spencer has you and the girls and I could never dream of taking him away from you.” JJ spoke clearly, her eyes reddening and glistening with unshed tears.

“You are the perfect wife, I watched him fall in love with you. You’re also the best mother to his children, it’s hard not to be jealous of you.” JJ continued. The sinking feeling returned to her chest.

“You have nothing to be jealous of, I’m just doing my best. You’re one of the greatest mothers I have ever known. I need you to tell me that this is where it ends, JJ. I cannot afford the stress.” Y/N replied.

“This is where it ends, I promise. It’s over. He has you and Emelia and Adaline and I have Will, Henry, and Michael. If we were ever meant to be, then it would have happened. He deserves you, after everything he’s been through. He deserves you.” She said tearfully, wiping away stray tears.

Y/N stood from her seat and walked around her desk to embrace her in a tight hug. JJ cried into her shoulder, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I know. It’s okay, we’re okay.” Y/N rubbed her shoulder, pulling away.

“Are things going to be awkward now?” JJ chuckled, blowing her nose.

“Only if you keep avoiding me.” Y/N joked back, JJ promised she wouldn’t and excused herself to get back to work.

Y/N followed her out and stopped at her door. Leaning against her door frame, she caught her husband’s eye across the bullpen and sent him a smile and a nod.

It’ll be alright.

They’ll be alright.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fic #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid oneshot #the receptionist and the profiler #tratp #spencer reid imagine #jeid #jeid confession

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goingmorry · 3 years

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Hello! Can you write monster trio reaction to someone flirting with their crush? Please ☀💛

[One Piece Headcanons] Monster Trio -> when someone flirts with their crush

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji Tags: female reader, jealous boys Author's Note: Thank you for the request! I love me some jealous boys. There's something about it that just hits right with me. 💖

MONKEY D. LUFFY

One clueless boi.

Figures out that he has a crush on you when he explains how he feels about you to Usopp.

Doesn't quite know how to express his feelings for you in a way that you'll understand.

Interrupts the other person from flirting with you.

"Hey, I found you!"

Barging in from god knows where, Luffy interrupts the man's playful antics by sandwiching himself in the tight space between you and the stranger.

Caught off-guard, the flirtatious man begins to shove the pirate captain away from his face, resulting in Luffy's muscular torso squeezing against your much softer one. The feel of his solid body against yours is enough to cause you to blush, prompting you to create some distance by pushing him away to the side.

"Listen, pal—" the man begins, about to give the straw hat pirate a piece of his mind for violating your personal space, but not before getting rudely interrupted again.

"Who's this guy?"

"An acquaintance," you pipe up instantly in response to your captain's inquiry, omitting the piece of information where this stranger spent the last twenty minutes hitting on you.

Apologizing for your captain's childish behavior, you give him a brief rundown of who precisely the straw hat-wearing pirate is.

"I'll call him porcupine from now on," Luffy says, pleased with the nickname given to the man sitting across from you, "Since he has spiky brown hair that reminds me of a porcupine!"

"I appreciate you taking the time to ask me out," you address the stranger, grabbing hold of Luffy's stretchy arm in the process, "But I don't think this is gonna work."

Pleased with the way events were unfolding, Luffy flashes you a toothy grin to which you cock an eyebrow in response.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"I-I don't know what you mean," he says, puckering his lips to the side. A telltale sign of an obvious lie.

You can't help but feel ridiculous for having a crush on the most insufferable pirate captain in all of existence, hoping that he, too, feels the same way as you do.

RORONOA ZORO

Only recently comes to terms with his feelings for you.

Hasn't figured out how he'll confess.

After all, romantic love is uncharted territory for him.

Won't really do anything unless he feels that you're in danger.

Pretends to be preoccupied with something else; ends up eavesdropping on your conversation with the flirtatious individual.

Inwardly though, he's more bothered than he lets on.

"Hey, I was wondering if you'd like to grab a coffee with me? I'd love to show you around town," the man says to you earnestly.

The sound of steel clashing against metal echoes loudly enough to startle people, their heads swiveling toward the origin of the noise.

In the corner of the room, the one-eyed swordsman sits upright, body tense in concentration while meticulously polishing Wado Ichimonji, one of his three signature blades.

Zoro ignores the curious looks thrown his way, focused instead on your interaction with the man in front of you.

The stranger's proposal was genuine enough. Objectively, he was undoubtedly an attractive man. Friendly and polite too from your conversations with him throughout the night.

He just... wasn't your type.

You were more interested in rougher-looking men. Someone who was strong but would never abuse their strength to harm the weak. Someone who was stoic but also had a heart of gold. Someone like—

Zoro glances in your direction, seeing the hesitation on your face in accepting the man's offer.

"Sorry, I don't think I can make it. I promised to do something with a friend," you explain, settling with a half-assed excuse for fear of confrontation.

It wasn't exactly a lie, not really. You did have plans to retrieve some supplies with a certain green-haired swordsman, though they weren't until much later in the day. But this man didn't need to know that.

Zoro wouldn't mind if you used him as an excuse.

The Pirate Hunter's shoulders relax considerably at your statement, switching his attention from you back to his current task.

Face expressing his disappointment at your rejection, the man's posture visibly deflates. "Maybe the next day then?" he adds as an afterthought.

Biting your lip guiltily, you shake your head, stray hair falling across your forehead. "Sorry, I can't. Our crew is leaving tomorrow night."

"Damn," the man says, scratching the back of his head in awkwardness before adopting a fake smile — one you choose to let slide. "I'm gonna miss you. After all, it's not every day that I get to meet such a fine young lady with the guts to traverse the terrors of the Grand Line. You take care of yourself, all right?"

"You flatter me," you giggle, cheeks tinged pink at the man's sincere compliment, "And likewise."

At the sound of your unrestrained laughter, Zoro pauses, deeply craving for the moment that he, too, becomes the recipient of your happiness.

SANJI

The person who flirts with you, his precious lady, better prepare for some ass-whooping.

Technically, Sanji can't call you his — not yet — though he has been thinking of the perfect way to confess to you.

Still, even though you're not officially together, he'll never not be feral when you're involved.

Deliberating for a few seconds before gesturing toward you, the stranger places his order with the barkeep and says, "And anything the pretty lady desires."

Pointer finger circling the rim of your shot glass in consideration, you smile at the stranger in gratitude. "In that case, I'll take another round then."

Exchanging a round of pleasantries and small talk, you and the stranger become reasonably familiar with one another.

Familiar enough to know that this man would rather whisk you away to a more private setting than converse with you under the public's watchful eye.

"I know of a better way we can spend the night together," he murmurs suggestively, low enough for you to hear despite the idle chatter in the background.

"Do you now?"

You weren't returning his flirtatious words, but you weren't exactly declining them either until you spot a tuft of blond hair in the corner of your vision, striding toward you with purpose.

When Sanji arrives, he's gushing praise and amorous advances, all for you. Ignored and uncomfortable with watching another man proclaim his underlying love and devotion to you, your newfound drinking buddy clears his throat to get your attention, earning a scornful glare from the cook.

"Who's this shitty and rude bastard?"

Unsurprising to you, Sanji doesn't even try to act civil. Your drinking buddy, however, is astonished by the cook's open hostility, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

Sanji doesn't buy the man's innocent charade, one eye squinting in distrust as he presses on, "I asked you a question."

Leaving out his invitation to you for more lewd nightly activities, your drinking buddy settles for a half-truth, "Just a guy she met at the bar."

Amused with the blond's jealous streak, you decide to cut in before things escalate beyond your control, "Any particular reason you're here, Sanji?"

At the sweet lull of your voice calling his name, the cook resumes his lovestruck behavior with a hint of seriousness when he whispers the sobering news to you, "Marines were recently spotted in town. We're leaving, my dear."

Seizing the opportunity, Sanji offers his hand, palm up, for you to take, and the significance of his action is not lost to you.

You recall his strict policy for only using his hands for cooking — how, as a child, Sanji found solace from abuse by preparing meals for his sickly mother, sparking his lifelong interest in the culinary arts.

Touched, you place your hand in his, a picture-perfect rendition of a prince charming whisking away his lovely bride-to-be. You tell him exactly that, and he graces you with an amused chuckle and a soft smile.

If only people knew the real reason you and him were fleeing the scene.

"Let me be your Mr. Prince then."

Your delicate hand dwarfs in comparison to his larger one, but that doesn't stop you from interlocking your fingers together like two intimate lovers.

Neither one of you says anything else, coming to the same silent conclusion that your growing feelings for each other would have to be addressed sometime soon.

#one piece #monkey d. luffy x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #sanji x reader #monster trio #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #one piece writing #mywriting

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

Twin!AU Part 2:

Gwaine is ecstatic to find that he’s technically dating Royalty (Arthur still isn’t best pleased), and Merlin begins to recover his true heritage.

Part 1 Part 3

Gwaine stares at the two of them open-mouthed from where he sits on the edge of the bed.

Re-telling the story had re-ignited Merlin and Arthur’s anger, but they do a good job of keeping it in as Gwaine tries to process that his partner and The Prince of Camelot are... twins. Gods this sounds like something out of one of Leon’s ridiculous fiction books: long lost royal twins and insane Kings and emotional reunions with long-dead, ghostly relatives. But to be fair, Gwaine has found that in all of his travels, Camelot has definitely been the weirdest place he’s ever been. Or perhaps it’s just the people.

He finally shuts his mouth, nodding slowly as he takes a deep breath and stands. He wipes his sweaty hands down his trousers briefly before stepping forward and pulling Merlin into a hug, making pointed eye-contact with Arthur over his shoulder. The only thing that Gwaine and Arthur had ever agreed on was that Merlin’s safety was of the upmost importance; this whole ordeal had just strengthened that agreement:

“That’s... you guys have had one hell of a day, huh? You said Gaius, and your mo- Hunith, and that bloody Dragon knew?”

Merlin tenses in his arms before pulling away, and Arthur’s expression turns stormy once more as he nods. Gwaine frowns, keeping one hand on Merlin’s shoulder as the servant (Prince?) responds bitterly:

“Hmm. We haven’t spoken to Kilgharrah or Hunith yet, but they’ll be getting a bloody mouthful from me, when we get time.”

Gwaine nods sympathetically, muttering his reply more to himself than the others:

“...Bastards.”

Arthur nods, but takes a deep breath as he puts his own hand on Merlin’s other shoulder:

“Agreed, but we’ve been gone too long; Leon’s been dealing with the council for at least half an hour and we need to go explain things sooner rather than later. News of my- The King’s arrest will spread like wildfire once it gets out.”

Merlin sighs, sagging slightly where he stands, and Gwaine steps even closer to him, moving his arm to be over his shoulder in a side-hug:

“Hey, I’m sure Arthur and Leon can deal with this if you’d rather hide out in here for a little peace. We could always set Morgana loose on the council, she’s bound to whip them into shape.”

(Yes, this fic is ignoring the timeline both in terms of the knights AND Morgana. She knows about Merlin’s magic, and Merlin, Arthur, and Gwaine (and Lance) know about hers.)

Merlin lets out a quiet huff of laughter, leaning into Gwaine’s side slightly as he looks up:

“No, I can’t. Arthur’s right, we need to sort this out sooner rather than later. I’d be perfectly content to not tell anyone about who I really am-”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow and Arthur narrows his eyes, ready to protest, but is interrupted by Merlin’s loud continuation before he can say anything:

“-but I know neither of you will let me get away with that so... here we are.”

Arthur nods decisively and Gwaine hides a grin, clearly thinking about how he’s technically courting a Prince. Arthur rolls his eyes at Gwaine’s expression, a small part of him cursing himself for letting the drunkard stay in Camelot, but the rest of him is grateful, knowing that Merlin needed more than Arthur on his side, especially now he had lost, or partially lost, Gaius, Kilgharrah, and Hunith.

The blonde Prince lets out a deep sigh, looking towards the door despondently as he decides that they really can’t leave Leon to fend for himself any longer. The three of them make their way from the room wordlessly, but Arthur halts the group again at the end of the corridor, turning to Gwaine with a thoughtful frown:

“Go find Elyan, Percival, Lancelot, Morgana, and Gwen. Gaius is a member of the council so he should already be there but double check he isn’t in his chambers, and Leon may have fetched Morgana himself, but I don’t know.”

Gwaine turns to look at Merlin and speaks quietly:

“What should I tell them?”

Merlin’s frown deepens and he glances at Arthur, but he just shrugs slightly, giving the choice to Merlin:

“They’ll all find out in the meeting anyway, so it might be best to pre-warn them so they aren’t blind-sided. Tell them the truth, I was born with magic, and am Arthur’s long lost twin brother, confirmed by Igraine’s ghost and then Gaius.”

He looks bewildered as he says it, almost as though he doesn’t fully believe it quite yet; Arthur nods in agreement and continues his instructions to Gwaine:

“Have everyone meet us there as soon as possible, I want to get this sorted now and I’m going to need as many people on my side as I can get.”

Gwaine nods seriously, pressing a brief kiss against Merlin’s forehead before rushing off in the other direction, hurriedly knocking on the knights’ doors down the corridor as Merlin and Arthur turn the corner.

They make quick work of the journey back through the castle, stopping just outside the doors to the Throne Room with sweaty palms and shivering lungs. The two of them listen to the annoyed sounding murmurs coming from inside for a few moments and the guards try not to give them odd looks as Arthur glances to Merlin—stood at his side instead of behind him—with a fond, though nervous smile. He puts his hand on the other man’s shoulder:

“We’re about to cause one hell of an argument, you ready?”

Merlin takes a deep, calming breath, smiling briefly as he hears Leon pleading with the council to be patient for just a little longer, looking to Arthur with anxious eyes and pale cheeks:

“Yeah. Come on, I think Leon might hurl himself from the window if we make him wait much longer.”

Arthur chuckles quietly, and the guards quickly divert their gazes when he looks back to the doors, taking one last fortifying lungful before walking forward and pushing them open with a bang, Merlin at his side.

The room goes suddenly quiet and Leon visibly relaxes when they walk in, bowing briefly before stepping aside and allowing Arthur to take his place in front of the thrones. There is no table in the Throne Room, so the council stand gathered in the middle, staring up at Arthur incredulously as he runs a hand down the arm of The King’s throne absent-mindedly. He was grateful to see Gaius present, despite not being in any sort of mood to talk to the man; he holds a smirk in when he sees several of the councilmen raise eyebrows at Merlin, still stood at his side when he technically shouldn’t even be in the room. There was even further incredulity as Sir Leon moves to stand guard behind him, as opposed to The Prince.

One of the Lords nearer the front of the small crowd finally breaks the tense silence:

“My Lord, what is the meaning of this? We were told it was an emergency, that we were meeting in the Throne Room as opposed to the council room, and were then made to wait for almost a candle-mark. The King has yet to arrive, what is going on?

Arthur turns to look at them with a raised eyebrow, back straight and face impassive:

“Patience, Lord Angar, The King will not be joining us, though we are waiting for a few more-”

The doors open before he finishes and every head turns to see the remaining knights, Gwen, and Lady Morgana enter, led by a serious looking Gwaine. All of them give Merlin a small smile and a bewildered nod, bar Morgana, who looks nothing short of furious as she moves to stand protectively at his side, glaring at any councilman who dares to look their way. The knights spread out, standing to attention with hands on their swords around the edge of the room, whilst Gwen moves to stand against the wall behind Morgana, Merlin, and Leon. Only Gwaine, Leon, and Lancelot are in full armour, but all the knights are armed and angry looking.

The councilmen, looking more confused and annoyed, look back to a still impassive Arthur. He fixes a short glare on each and every one of them before turning to face them properly and speaking confidently, his tone inviting no argument:

“The King has been arrested and confined to his chambers for the murder of the late Queen, and gross crimes against the Kingdom.-”

The room immediately explodes into angry and incredulous yelling, and Merlin flinches away from the sudden noise. Morgana squeezes his wrist comfortingly, knowing that it was only going to get worse when the rest of the truth is revealed, and Leon steps out from behind him, moving to be at his side with his sword halfway out of it’s sheath.

The other knights and Gwen all tense in place and Gwaine has to resist the urge to run to Merlin, knowing that the council’s disdain for both him personally and his courtship with Merlin would just make things worse. Arthur rolls his eyes at the cacophony of noise and slams the metal part of his gauntlet against the arm of the throne with a bang:

“ENOUGH! You’ll find, gentlemen, that remaining calm and quiet will make this conversation much easier.-”

He glowers at everyone until the hall is drowning in another tense silence before taking a deep breath, forcing himself to keep his hands from fidgeting as he continues:

“-It has come to my attention, through the Witch Morgause-”

A few murmurs of dissent go around the room, but they quickly cease when even the ever-calm Sir Leon begins to glare at people:

“-and further confirmation by The Court Physician, that King Uther used sorcery, against The late Queen’s wishes, in order to conceive a child. He was warned of the dangers, and went ahead with his plan anyway, which resulted in not only the birth of twins, one of whom was magical, but the death of the Queen.-”

At the mention of Gaius, the elderly Physician gets a few confused glances, and even more glares; no one likes being kept out of the loop, especially when everyone there is a Lord except Gaius. At the mention of twins, everyone’s attention is abruptly back on Arthur, and the knights have to resist the urge to look at Merlin, in fear of giving anything away too early.

Before he can continue, Arthur is interrupted by Lord Angar again:

“My Lord, I very much doubt the validity of anything you have just said, but either way, is this really the sort of meeting to be had with servants, a Lady, and your peasant knights present? I know you’re oddly fond of them but-”

Arthur, Leon, and Morgana have to resist the urge to punch the Lord in the face at his words. Gwen, Percival, Lancelot, and Elyan manage to keep their faces neutral, though Gwaine glowers openly. The knight does however hold in his smirk when he notices the fury on Arthur’s face. The Prince takes a threatening step forward but doesn’t lower himself from the dais as he speaks, his tone cold:

“Lady Morgana, Guinevere, and Merlin have proven to be better advisors to me than you ever have Lord Angar; Sirs Percival, Elyan, Lancelot, and Gwaine are amongst the best knights this Kingdom has ever seen, and you will show every one of them the respect they deserve, or you will excuse yourself from this room, and this council. Am I understood?”

The red of Angar’s face gets more severe as he splutters:

“My Lord you can not be-”

“Am I understood?!-”

Arthur’s voice cuts through everyone in the room, despite it’s low volume, and where Leon hides his proud smirk, Morgana doesn’t hold back at all, especially when Angar takes a deep breath and nods his purple head in embarrassment. The rest of the council seems to finally have grasped the seriousness and severity of the situation and play close attention to Arthur as he continues, no one daring to interrupt again:

“-This information changes everything we know about sorcery; my father started a genocide against an innocent group of people because he was too much of a coward to admit his mistakes and refused to take the rightful blame for killing his wife. I will not stand for this, and things will change very soon. If you are not outraged at the unjustness of his actions, at the death and suffering he has caused our people, the people we are meant to serve and protect, then you are more than welcome to leave. Meetings to organise and begin the process of legalising magic will start early tomorrow, and I will be accepting no excuses, this is non-negotiable. As for the matter of my twin brother...-”

Arthur glances back to Merlin, and at his slight nod, Arthur shoots him a small smile and holds his hand out to him. Merlin walks slowly forward to the sound of the council gasping and muttering to themselves, Leon stays barely a hair’s breadth behind him with his sword fully drawn:

“-may I present Prince Myrddin Pendragon.-”

Lord Angar, among others, looks seconds away from bursting once more, so Arthur hurries to continue, though still manages to keep his voice forceful and confident:

“-This information was unconfirmed for both of us until around a candle-mark ago; I have never believed in fate before now, though I think we can all be grateful that The Prince managed to return to Camelot all on his own.-”

He settles his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, but doesn’t pull him forward too much, understanding that his serv- his brother, probably wants to be as far away from the centre of attention as he can get.

“-I want him presented to The Kingdom and crowned before the month is out, this matter is also non-negotiable. Any questions?”

Lord Angar looks desperate to start yelling, but he also seems to have finally accepted that his influence over this room, and now the council in general, was tenuous at best. One of the newer councilmen, a young Lord who Arthur has a slowly growing respect for, steps forward slightly, bowing his head before meeting Arthur’s gaze and quietly asking:

“And The King, My Lord? Should we plan for your coronation as well?”

It was clear that the question was unexpected and Arthur frowns at the realisation that he had... arrested The King. Uther may have deserved it, but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to order his execution, and knowing Merlin he’d argue against it endlessly anyway.

Morgana senses Arthur’s hesitation after a second or two, thankfully before the council becomes restless and annoyed:

“You could always take over as Regent whilst we sort all of this out; that way we can revisit the issue of actually crowning you King later. Though we can’t confine Uther to his chambers forever, we’ll have to deal with him at some point.”

Arthur hums and nods, giving her a thankful smile before looking back to the young Lord:

“Lady Morgana’s suggestion is sound. I’ll take over as Regent,-”

He nods at Geoffrey of Monmouth, who takes a note down in the giant leather tome he perpetually has under his arm. If Arthur thinks about it for too long, he might come to the conclusion that the older man looks proud:

“-and we can revisit the issue when the dust has settled.-”

He rubs his eyes tiredly, as though the last day or so of drama had finally landed with it’s full weight upon his shoulders:

“-I think it goes without saying that, for now, none of this is to leave the room. I trust only Sir Leon with assigning who is to guard The King,-”

He glances to Leon, who nods seriously at his words:

“-keep it discreet Leon. I want to keep as much of this under wraps for as long as possible to avoid public panic; this is going to be a lot of hard work gentlemen, but I mean to see it through with or without your support, the choice is yours. The first meeting will take place in the normal council room tomorrow, two candle-marks after dawn. You’re all dismissed.”

The councilmen—including Gaius, after he sends a forlorn look Merlin’s way—slowly trickle out of the room, some looking angry, most looking resigned, but a few looking rather content, happy even (Arthur and Morgana take mental notes of who is who). The door shuts quietly behind the last man, leaving only Arthur, Merlin, Morgana, Gwen, and the knights left, all of whom understanding that the dismissal did not include them. Arthur lets out a deep sigh when the room quietens, looking back up to Merlin with a tired smile and even more tired eyes:

“Ready brother?”

He quirks an amused, but hugely pleased eyebrow as he says it and Merlin grins, rolling his eyes fondly:

“Not even close, but that’s never stopped me before.”

Arthur chuckles as the others all move closer, an odd mix of exasperated, because Merlin turning out to be Arthur’s long lost magical twin is exactly the sort of insanely dramatic thing that’s likely to happen in Camelot, and hesitant, because... how do they even deal with that? Other than with a great deal of confusion?

Gwen is the first to reach him, pulling Merlin into a tight hug that is very well received:

“I’m sorry Merlin, I can’t imagine how difficult this must be, and I’m so terribly sorry for all the horrible things I’ve said about magic.-”

She pulls back but doesn’t let go of his shoulders, staring up at him with tears in her eyes and a desperate look on her face:

“-You know that we all love, and trust you, don’t you??”

Merlin rolls his eyes fondly and pulls her back into a hug with a wide smile on his face:

“Of course I know that, I love you too Gwen. And don’t worry about it, you believed what you were taught, it’s not your fault.”

She looks like she wants to argue again when she pulls back, but Merlin just pats her cheek softly and gives her a warning glare. She huffs but dutifully steps back, allowing Gwaine to take her place as the rest of the knights pat his shoulders and run soft hands through his hair as way of apology and comfort.

Merlin smiles at them, but sobers quickly when a particularly horrible thought re-occurs to him. Gwaine squeezes his shoulder in question and Arthur furrows his brows:

“Merls?”

Merlin just sighs and leans into Gwaine’s side slightly:

“I need to talk to my... Hunith. And Kilgharrah, but I really don’t have the energy for him right now.”

Arthur nods in understanding, thinking for a moment before looking up to the huddle of knights (most of whom look marginally confused at the mention of whoever the hell Kilgharrah is):

“Percival, Lancelot, you know where Ealdor is?-”

The two of them nod, remembering the route from visiting with Merlin a few months ago:

“-Leave at dawn, take an extra horse and bring Hunith back with you. With all that’s going on, me and Merlin can’t afford to be gone for even a day and it’s a four days’ journey there and back.”

They nod, but Lancelot quickly responds with a quiet:

“We can leave now if you like, it’s not like the journey will take much prep. What should we tell her?”

He looks to Merlin, who frowns slightly as he replies, his words slow:

“Don’t tell her anything, Arthur and I need to have that conversation with her. She’ll panic when you turn up without me so feel free to tell her that we’re all alive and uninjured and not in any danger but... just don’t tell her the real reason.”

Their smiles are understanding, and just a little pitying, but they turn and march off the moment Arthur nods at them in approval, determined to do everything they can to make things go smoothly and easily.

It’s Elyan that breaks the now slightly uncomfortable silence a few moments later:

“So... do we still call you Merlin? Or is it Prince Myrddin, My Lord?”

Merlin grimaces the moment Elyan mentions what would soon be his official title, and the others grin at his reaction, chuckling as he runs a hand through his hair:

“No one’s called me Myrddin since I was about five, and I think it would be a little odd if that changed now, so Merlin is just fine.”

The others nod in agreement, though Arthur sighs as he responds, faux annoyance in his tone:

“Paperwork’s going to be bloody confusing.”

It takes Merlin all of three hours to figure out that Arthur had subtly assigned him a constant guard. The guard consists of Sirs Leon and Gwaine, so he isn’t... complaining, per se, but it's annoying, to escape company for a quick piss to find his partner and friend casually hovering right outside the door.

But to be fair, Merlin only notices when his brain registers that Gwaine isn’t there, and how odd that is. Whilst Merlin is interrogating Leon, Arthur is cornering Gwaine in a seldom used corridor, though the rambunctious knight beats Arthur to the punch:

“I think we’ve been here before, Princess.”

Arthur raises an amused eyebrow at Gwaine’s teasing grin, before sagging slightly in place and sighing. Gwaine sobers immediately, putting a hand on the blonde’s shoulder and trying to meet his gaze:

“Arthur?”

Arthur sighs again, looking up to him with tired eyes:

“This goes without saying, but Merlin.... he is everything to me. As far as I’m concerned he and Morgana are my only family, though I suppose I believed that before all of... this; but that’s besides the point. I know you won’t ever mean to hurt him, and I do trust you, as... difficult as that is to admit, but I need to you understand, Gwaine,-”

Gwaine nods in understanding and agreement:

“I do understand, Arthur. He’s everything to me as well.”

Arthur shakes his head and steps back, bringing himself to his full height:

“No, you don’t. He is my brother, and he was taken from me. He has suffered, more than I think either of us will ever know, and that stops, this Kingdom is now being built for him. But I would burn it all down if it would make him happy. Everything is for him, for Morgana, for my family. Do you understand?”

Gwaine nods, only once, before holding his hand out. Neither his hand nor his voice shakes as he responds:

“I’ll pour the oil, you light the match.”

Arthur pauses for a moment, as if trying to gauge his own trust in the other man, before clasping Gwaine’s hand strongly.

The seriousness of the moment ends when Gwaine lifts his other hand to tug sharply at Arthur’s hair before ducking under his arm and skipping down the corridor towards where they’d left Merlin and Leon. Arthur just huffs and follows him, definitely not sulking.

Merlin turns to them both with a scowl when they enter, immediately taking note of the residual gravity in the tightness of Gwaine’s shoulders:

“And what have you two been doing all of sudden?”

Leon bites his lip to stop himself from snorting in amusement, but fails miserably the moment Gwaine shrugs and opens his mouth:

“I don’t know, some sort of mutual arson pact I think.”

Arthur rolls his eyes first at Gwaine subtly, then at Merlin, far more obviously:

“Honestly Merlin, we’ve spent practically every second with you all day, you can’t go a few minutes without us?”

Merlin huffs noisily and turns around to grab Leon’s wrist, dragging him from the room and not looking over his shoulder as he snarks:

“Leon’s always been my favourite knight anyway.”

Gwaine and Arthur just look outraged, both speaking at the same time:

“Hang on, what about me?!”

They fix each other with narrow-eyed glares before shoving each other childishly, fighting over who could shoulder their way through the door first.

The next conversation, a few days later, is... a lot harder.

With Kilgharrah’s odd ability to seemingly know about everything that happens in Camelot, Merlin couldn’t get away with putting off speaking to him for long, especially with how The Warlock could feel the way he was angrily clomping about in his cave.

The short journey down through the dungeons, made by Arthur, Merlin, and Gwaine, was made mostly in silence. The oppressive feeling of Kilgharrah’s mishmash of emotions bouncing around in Merlin’s head made focusing on any other strain of thought impossible, and Gwaine and Arthur were too busy stewing in their own anger and worry to want to disturb him.

They pause momentarily outside the large iron gates leading to Kilgharrah’s lair, none of them looking to each other as they take deep breaths in an attempt to gather some bravery. Arthur and Gwaine have never said anything, but Kilgharrah terrifies the shit out of both of them; Merlin normally takes these trips alone—Arthur and Gwaine’s fear wasn’t difficult to pick up on and he never wanted to make them uncomfortable—allowing the other two their blissfully ignorant beauty sleep as he sneaks away to argue with a Dragon. But that’s obviously not in the cards today; no way either of them would let him face this alone.

Kilgharrah is waiting for them when they push open the gate and stalk out onto the ledge, and he raises himself to his full height, sparing barely a glance in Arthur’s direction and sparing Gwaine even less as he stares at Merlin with aloof, golden eyes:

“You have discovered who you are, Young Warlock, at long-”

Merlin interrupts him with a scowl and a held up hand:

“You had no right,-”

His voice is echoingly deadly, and the two knights find themselves being reminded of Merlin’s seemingly endless power. Merlin being angry at Gaius was... was like a child being heartbroken at a parent’s betrayal, which it was in some ways. But Merlin being angry at Kilgharrah... that was much more; like a God being angry at a creature of His own design. Merlin stands before The Great Beast, centuries old, full of unimaginable knowledge, and he stands tall, and proud, and angry.

“-no right, to keep this from me. You claim that no one can know their destiny, and then proceed to prattle on about mine in riddles. In my search for answers, you gave me more questions. In my search for comfort, you gave me fear. In my begging for help, you gave me nothing but pain. I’m done, you’re just as bad as Uther.”

Kilgharrah bristles, flaring his arched nostrils as his furious reaction ripples across his hardened scales:

“How dare you compare me to-”

Merlin interrupts him with a yell, his voice growling in it’s reverberation, a hidden power more ancient than the mountains themselves echoing in his words:

“You separated my brother from me and you had no right! You whine about how Uther took your kin from you, but you took my kin from me! You suffered so you made it your greatest goal to make everyone else suffer just as much. You are cruel, and cowardly, and I am done. You will not manipulate me anymore, you will not lie to me, or mislead me. You tried to get me to kill the boy, but I didn’t, and I forgave you. You tried to get me to kill Morgana, but I didn’t, and I forgave you. You keep trying to get me to free you, but I won’t. You will rot in here until you can tell me the truth, a truth I deem worthy, on why you kept my heritage from me.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, turning on his heel and marching out of the gate without another word, Gwaine following closely behind. Arthur stays, just for a few moments, though with Merlin’s sudden display of power over the beast before him he finds himself significantly less frightened:

“He’s right, you know. Every one of my brother’s successes has come to pass because he ignored you. You have haunted him every step of the way, causing nothing but grief; you should be grateful, Merlin has offered you a chance of redemption that I would not have.”

Arthur doesn’t wait for a response either, jogging up the steps to catch up with the other two just exiting the dungeons.

Merlin doesn’t ask what was said, though Gwaine does raise an eyebrow in The Prince Regent’s direction; Arthur gives him a short nod, acknowledging Gwaine’s need to know, need to keep a tight hold on everything so he could keep Merlin safe and happy. Or as happy as he can keep him in this situation. Gwaine relaxes when he understands Arthur’s promise to tell him later, trusting the blonde to have Merlin’s best interests at heart.

The slight relaxation doesn’t last long however; Merlin heads up through the castle towards the large doors leading into the courtyard. The other two follow him, knowing that the younger man likely needs some fresh air to recover from the pressing darkness and power and heaviness of Kilgharrah’s presence, but they quickly tense when he suddenly halts on the steps just outside the doors.

When they peer over his shoulder, they are abruptly reminded of the amount of time that had passed since Percival and Lancelot had left. And apparently returned.

Hunith dismounts her horse quickly, her mouth stretching into a relieved smile as she runs towards him. Merlin doesn’t move, just stares at her with blank eyes, and Gwaine’s eyes shift nervously between the two of them. Hunith’s relief is quickly dropped when she notices Merlin’s non-reaction, and she slows just before she ascends the steps, looking up at Merlin with her brow creased in worry:

“Son?”

Merlin’s expression hardens; his hands clench and his eyes and tone turn icy as he responds:

“I’m not your son.”

END of part 2!!!

Sorry to be a teeeaaasssee :))))) (Not really)

I’ve recently got a BUNCH more hours at work (which is like... good for me personally but not so great for my social life or hobbies lol) so things might take a little longer to come out from now, but I promise this blog is still ultra active and going!! I’ll just only have time to write in the evenings nowadays.

I’m not sure when part 3 will be, but it’s in the works and won’t be too long!! Two weeks at absolute MOST I imagine :D

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Everybody Talks Too Much (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Mute!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence Summary: Whenever Cassandra gets angry, no one wants to deal with her. Well, no one but you, that is. Thankfully, the middle child appreciates your company... not that she'd ever admit it. Notes: Another self-indulgent fic with a selectively mute reader. This one's a lil different. Sections in italic are mostly indications that the reader is miming actions in order to communicate, though there are a few internal thoughts that are marked as such. Unlike the past two I've done, this takes place pre-relationship, so there's some mutual pining of sorts. I think that's the word.

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Among the many servants of Castle Dimitrescu, there were a number of secret rules to be followed. Guidelines that were never written down, only spoken in hushed whispers, for specific (and dangerous) circumstances. Most could be divided into one of two categories: 1, how to reduce the chances of a Lady of the house killing someone. 2, how to make sure that if they kill someone, it will not be you. Of these rules, there was one that you knew best of all, despite never having been told it. Why? Because you have observed it time and time again. After all, the rule revolved around you. To put it plainly… If Cassandra Dimitrescu was in an awful mood, but had yet to draw blood, send in the mute.

Even now, as you rushed down a corridor, you did not know why this rule was in place. You simply knew that you had been summoned countless times by frantic maidens, to go serve their volatile mistress. Admittedly you did understand their eagerness to thrust the task upon someone else. Cassandra was often considered the deadliest of the Dimitrescu daughters, for she was the quickest to anger, the one with the deepest bloodlust, and took the longest to calm down. Personally, you disagreed, believing that it wasn’t terribly hard to know what she did and did not like. All it took was some observation. It was Daniela who scared you, seeing as she was unpredictable. She didn’t even need to be in a bad mood to want to kill you.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean that you saw no danger in working with Cassandra. In fact, you saw a fair bit, such as now: Right as you round the corner, a shiny object hurls past your head, embedding itself into the wall. Had you been walking ever so slightly faster… Well, you preferred not to dwell on such things, especially not when the one who threw the thing was still nearby. Based on the howling laughter and swarm of insects that moves around you, the intended target was Lady Daniela. Across the room is the markswoman herself; Cassandra stood tall, huffing in anger, staring at the spot her sister had just vacated from.

“Damn it!” She yelled, stomping her foot as if the resulting shockwave might do what her weapon had not. Oddly amused, you’re quick to remove the sickle from the wall, careful as to not damage it. It’s a tad dirty, but nothing you can’t fix with your handy pocket cloth. Cleaning as you walk, you slowly move towards your employer, not even bothering to spare her a glance. After all, you had your own rules for dealing with her.

(1: Avoid eye contact for at least one minute after an outburst.)

By the time you make it to Cassandra, the minute has come and gone, allowing you to ever-so politely look her in the eyes when you return her blade. She scoffs, then practically rips the sickle from your hands. This was your job, however, so you made no complaints. Not that you could, at least not verbally. Instead, you gave a short bow of acknowledgement. Afterwards you stood still, awaiting either instructions or a dismissal. Neither came.

“I can’t believe that little shit tried to take my favorite dagger and thought she could get away with it! Agh, the nerve of her! Can you believe this?” Cassandra snapped, turning to you as if you might agree with her. Nod, simple yet effective. “At least you know how to handle a blade. Damn Daniela is lucky she didn’t get any scratches on mine.” Then she pulls the knife in question from its place on her belt, letting it gleam in the light. A soft exhale, head tipping to the side, wow is it pretty. So is the one holding it. Your mind wanders but your gaze does not. Always polite, always ready to serve.

(2: Do not get distracted; she is no patient lover, rather a demanding boss.)

“Cassandra! What was all that noise a minute ago?” Someone called, interrupting your ‘conversation’. The speaker soon appears, being none other than Lady Bela, the most reasonable of the castle residents. Though that meant little, considering the nature of her family. As if to prove your point, Cassandra merely rolls her eyes in reply, refusing to divulge the truth. And so Bela turned her gaze to you, perking a brow. “Feeling up to talking today?” She asked, already knowing the answer. Of course, your hands are already moving, not even waiting for her to finish speaking. This is a game you know intimately.

A hand goes to your belt, moving to pull a nonexistent blade from its sheath. Raising it, moving it forward then back several times, launching it towards the wall- towards the hole left behind. Then shifting, waving your hand in front of your face while exhaling a sharp breath. Flinching. An exaggerated gulp, pretending to check if your nose is still attached, sighing in relief. Lastly, an inclination of your head towards the culprit. Cassandra.

“I was aiming for Daniela. Not that it matters, nobody got hurt,” she stated, confident. Both hands clasped together, then tapping the palms together, mimicking a heartbeat at a reasonable pace. Suddenly a stomp. The beating stops, and you hold your hands next to your ear, as if listening for signs of life. Pause. Three seconds. Worried expression, eyes wide. Finally, fast as a gunshot, the heart beats again, wildly. At this, Bela shoots her sister a look of doubt, as well as judgement. Hoping to change the subject, Cassandra looks to you. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Rubbing your chin, thinking. Squinting for effect. Ah, got it! Both hands go to your sides, lifting the imaginary hem of a dress you aren’t wearing. Waltzing forward, yet in place, with the poise expected of a professional maid. Then the focus shifts to your face. Fear. A silent scream, a hand at your forehead, feeling like you… might… faint. Falling backwards, making a step at the very last second to prevent a real collapse. End scene.

“Someone was scared?” Bela asked, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of herself. When you nod, she does as well, considering the implications. “Why would they send you?”

“I hardly care why, I just want to know who so I can kick their ass,” Cassandra interjects, taking a step closer to you. All you do in response is shrug. Unsurprisingly this is not enough to please her, and before you know it she’s wrapped a hand around your throat. “Give. Me. A. Name. Now.” A perked brow. Thoughts practically telegraphed. ‘What do you expect?’ Opening your mouth, slightly, then wide, back to almost closed. No sound comes out. Obviously. It’s not like you wanted to break your own rule, but in this case you had no choice.

(3: Give her whatever she wants, consequences be damned.)

Luckily for you, Bela acts as a foil to Cassandra, there to smooth the seas. Moving behind you, she reaches into your back pocket and retrieves the notepad you keep there. Then she’s handing it to you while making eye contact with her sister. Cassandra promptly releases you, though she’s clearly not pleased, going so far as to push you away in one last act of anger. Internally you roll your eyes. On the outside, however, you quickly write down everything you know… which isn’t much.

“I don’t remember who it was. A lot of people have asked. This happens a lot.” Then you hand the paper to Bela, who soon looks back up at you in confusion. Too antsy to wait for her own turn, Cassandra yoinks the notepad from her sister’s hands, reading it over several times before reacting.

“What the fuck? Why would they send you to me because somebody pissed their pants in fear? I’m going to kill someone. Ugh, I don’t- this doesn’t make any goddamn sense,” Cassandra ranted, pacing back and forth, looking like she wanted to destroy something immediately. To your surprise, Bela doesn’t look the slightest bit concerned. If anything, she looks amused, and smiles when the two of you make eye contact. Something tells you that she knows something that you don’t. Before you can react, she quietly retrieves your notepad and returns it to you. Then she pauses, thinking, eying you with curiosity.

“Why don’t you go for now? See if anyone thanks you for stepping in, hmm?” She suggested, tone implying that this was absolutely about something else entirely. Still, you don’t care to disobey, and so you bid the two of them farewell with a deep bow. As you leave, you can almost make out part of what they say next. But you’re certain that you must have heard incorrectly. “Showing your favoritism a little too much, sister? If even the servants can see it-” the rest of the sentence is cut off by angry muttering from Cassandra. After that you’re too far away to hear anymore. What a strange day...

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“Hey, you know where Lady Cassandra’s room is, right?” Ygritte asked, casually, definitely not having just been told by someone else that you were the solution to her problem. Pretending that you were unaware of this, you give her a smile and a nod. Later, behind her back, you will mentally add her to your list of people to watch out for. Maybe even decide to refuse to share your biscuits with her. In the meantime, you pretend that you don’t mind whatever task she’s about to dump on you. “Can you bring these books to her? I really have to get back to the kitchen soon, and that’s in the opposite direction…”

Technically true. Something told you that the real problem was that Cassandra had been extra loud the past few days. Regardless, you accept the books from her, leaving before she even finishes thanking you. Why do people do this? I don’t get it, you think. It’s like they think I’m immune to her rage. If that were true, I’d gladly throw myself between her and others. But no, that’s not the case. Hmmph, if only they saw my scars. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you keep walking, subconsciously rubbing the spot on your arm where Cassandra had cut you. Well, the worst spot. Being pain tolerant had made her take interest in you, during your first few weeks, but it’s what allowed you to learn her rules. Your rules, really.

Knock. Knock. A pause… three more, much softer. The door swings open, revealing your Lady, whose eyes widen at the sight of you. Tipping your hat (which you are not wearing), you greet her, forcing another smile. Then you present the books, free hand gesturing with a spiral motion towards them. She doesn’t respond. No, wait, she glances at the door hinges, considering closing the door in your face. Now both of you are staring at each other, daring the other to move.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she finally said. There’s a gruffness to her voice that you hadn’t expected. It’s unlike her usual tone, less angry, more tired. Were those bags under her eyes?... No, just smudged makeup. “Don’t just stand there- tell me why you’re here.” Again, you gesture to the books, extending your hands further towards her. This time she takes a half-step backwards to avoid you. Peculiar. “Someone else was supposed to bring them, dipshit. Fucking hell, why can’t anyone around here do their damn jobs?” At last, she takes the books from you, carrying them deeper into your room. Though she does not close the door, you assume that your job is done. Or maybe you simply do not wish to deal with a Cassandra who’s frustrated by your specific presence. Either way, it breaks one of your rules, though you do not remember until it is too late.

(4: Do not leave until dismissed by a member of the family.)

“Where the hell are you going?” The sound of buzzing flies, a blur of motion around you, then the form of Cassandra solidifying in front of you. One of her hands is raised, pressing against the center of your chest. She pushes you, hard, making you stumble backwards into her room. Next thing you know you’ve crashed onto her floor. A tad stunned, you bring a hand up to hold your head, blinking rapidly for a few seconds. There’s the sound of a door closing, and then someone’s trying to help you stand. “I didn’t say you could leave yet. Now c’mon, I’ve got stuff for you to do.” Then she’s guiding you to her bed, making you sit down on the end. Panicked thoughts race through your mind one after another. What exactly was she intending? Thankfully you don’t have to wait long to find out. “Read through these, and-” a pause, like she hadn’t known what she was going to say until she was already speaking- “take notes. Make a summary of the bookmarked sections, or whatever.” Handing you a couple books (neither of which being ones you had just brought to her), she sits on the other side of the bed, refusing to look at you. She does, however, say one last thing, voice barely above a whisper. “Just stay for a while, okay?”

Inside your head, you make a mental note to amend your list of rules.

(4.b: Do not leave until dismissed by a member of the family. If Cassandra asks you to stay, you stay, no matter what. It’s worth it.)

#cassandra dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #stayed up to write this #totes worth it

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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

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Tiny Treasures | JJK x Reader | 💜🐾(☁️)🔞

Commission for @eyerin !! Thank you sm for that request! 💖

Want to request too? Take a look at my ko-fi then! (ko-fi.com/bonnykookoo)

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Hybrid!Reader

Genre: hybrid AU, non-idol!AU, Web-Designer!Jungkook, bunny hybrid!Reader, featuring Taehyung: your local scatterbrain (TM)

Warnings: absolute fluff, it’s cotton candy I swear, so soft, so sweet, oh lord, reader is shy and sweet, Jungkook is whipped, he’s so sweet with her ugh, this is now my official emotional support Koo, some mentions of past abuse/neglect, did I mention that kook is whipped, because his heart go boom boom whenever reader so much as BREATHES, strength kink (hint), your local praise and size kink say hi as well, no smut would you believe it, possibly future parts? I dont know I just love them okay

Summary: Jungkook was a hopeless romantic believing in love at first sight- and then there was you, a bunny experiencing the tiny treasures of life for the first time. Together, with him.

It's busy in Jungkooks apartment- something thats unusual, considering that technically, the young man lives alone, doesn't really fuck around, and works at home as well ever since he took on the job as a web-designer. There was no reason to cause such an amount of stress in his home- other than the simple fact of his best friend currently pacing around, steps so fast and hard that Jungkook scared his flooring would soon melt underneath the older ones shoes he didn't take off in a rush. There were bags on his couch, bags on his counter, and a backpack somewhere in his living room- all because of;

"Okay so, she's okay with eating almost everything BUT!" Taehyung holds his finger up as if he's lecturing a child in front of him- which he's not, Jungkook is a full grown adult at this point, and looks at him unimpressed with furrowed brows as his older friend lists up things he needs to keep in mind for the hybrid he's looking after for the day. "Please make sure she's hydrated, she tends to forget to drink during the day. If she does and gets a headache there's medication in the bag that I've put on the couch- you've seen it right? Should I show you again?" He stresses, and Jungkook holds his friend's shoulders for a moment.

"Can you like, breathe for a moment please?" He says, and Taehyung nods, following the instructions for a moment before Jungkook continues. "Okay great. Now that you're not hyperventilating anymore I can tell you that yes, I've seen the bag-" He says, pointing towards the couch that's littered with so many things it seems like he's giving the hybrid up for adoption today instead of just dropping her off until tomorrow. "Second of all, I've taken care of Yoongi before and he's still alive, what's so different? Just because she's a bunny- or was it hare- wait is there a difference..?" Jungkook drawls off, suddenly thinking and not quite remembering if he's ever quite asked himself the difference of these two things. Taehyung however seems offended by that.

"Jungkook, she's a BUNNY, not a hare! That's a HUGE difference!" He whines out, and Jungkook looks at him a bit sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Oh god maybe I shouldn't go, this is a bad idea.." He says, already taking out his phone to cancel the date he has tonight, but jungkook holds the elders friend before he can make that mistake. Taehyung was a busy man, running a hybrid rehabilitation center in Seoul and Daegu- while talking to Busan's department for partnership. He really loves his job- but sometimes he gets too invested in it, just like now. He's finally got a date for himself after years of being alone; but he almost shot the poor woman down when he remembered that you, a newly rescued hybrid was staying at his home- something he never did before. Sure, he had taken over the rehabilitation of hybrids before, but he had never ever taken a case home with him. But after meeting you, seeing you, and knowing what you've been put through, his heart simply couldn't leave you at the shelter- even though he knew that it was probably the best place to be for you. But he had done what he had done now- there was no turning back with you. He couldn't leave you alone yet, so Jungkook had volunteered to look after you for the day and night, until Taehyung would pick you up the next day. The younger one had always looked after Yoongi, a cat hybrid later on adopted by Jung Hoseok, a friend of both of them; so he personally felt good about taking you in.

It was just for a day- what could go wrong?

"Come on, don't you trust me? Or is she like, super aggressive or something?" Jungkook asks, and Taehyung sighs. He hasn't told the younger one much about you, believing it was bad karma to talk about others when they weren't present. Yet this time he'd have to make an exception- because Jungkook needed to know at least some things about you and where you came from. Everything else would be unfair.

Taehyung sighed. "She's a category 3, so she's still recovering from her past home. She's just.. super shy and timid, and gets scared pretty easily so, I'm just terrified Jungkook. I know you don't want to cause any harm, but what if something happens and she just falls back? She's come so far these days, you should've seen her when I got her.." He said, and Jungkook looked at him- the eyes of the younger serious, reminding Taehyung that deep inside, he was more than just a schoolfriend. "When she got to me, she didn't even know how to use cutlery Kook. She.." But Jungkook smiled, placing a hand to his friend's shoulder in reassurance.

"I get it. I'll do my best, okay?" He says. "I promise I'll call you as soon as something's up, okay?" He says, and Taehyung nods. With a small wave he leaves the apartment to pick you up from the shelter- and Jungkook, in exchange, began to rummage through the plastic bags Taehyung had dumped onto his couch.

He was familiar with hybrids to some degree- he never really had owned one, and neither did his family. He knew that his brother owned a dog hybrid, but he had yet to bring him to family gatherings; Jungkook had never seen the puppy hybrid himself. His parents however said that she was nice, and Jungkook never really had any bad experiences with them. He sometimes visited Taehyung at work and conversed with some of the more chatty hybrids.

He was familiar with caring for them to some degree. As already stated before, he'd looked after 'grumpy-cat' Yoongi a lot back in the days when he was still in the center for rehabilitation. Jungkook knew about their different preferences in food, and their different behaviors. He, sadly, also knew about the mistreatment most of the hybrids went through before getting to the center into Taehyungs and his Staff's care- and he always hated it. The stories he sometimes heard made him sleepless during the night, made him research donation websites just to cleanse his mind for the moment.

But it only ever lasted until the next case would turn up at Taehyung's doorstep.

Quite frankly, Jungkook didn't know what he'd expected. After all, he'd never seen you in person, he simply went after Taehyungs description of you, but what was now standing at his door, was something that erased any thought he may had prior to opening it.

You were so.. delicate? Cute? He's never used the word 'cute' for a person before, because he simply thought aegyo and all of that was something girls put up for a facade of innocence. He hated that with a passion, cringing any time he saw it- yet there was, in his opinion, no other word that described you better. You were just as shy as Taehyung said, yet you forced yourself to bow a little as a greeting, taking a small step back however when Jungkook snapped out of his thoughts and opened the door fully to step aside. He threw a smile your way, hoping it could ease your nerves a little- and it seemed to work, because he saw your lips turn a bit upwards into a shy smile.

He felt as if he'd just won a ranked overwatch match against the seoul dynasty.

"Okay, I'm gonna pick you up tomorrow ASAP, okay? Are you gonna be fine here?" Taehyung asked you, and you looked over his shoulder- your bright eyes meeting Jungkooks, who was leaning against his kitchen counter, smiling boyishly while waving a little. It made you feel okay; he seemed nice enough, and after all, any friend of Taehyungs was a friend of yours. He'd taught you that. So you nodded, and Taehyung smiled, patting your head for a moment, your ears flopping to the sides before standing upright again after his hand left you. He waved goodbye and seemed a bit reluctant to leave- but you knew that Taehyung was excited for his date. He'd talked about nothing else these past days, and it made you happy to see him so giddy over something.

"So." Jungkook started, his voice fitting him, you thought. He looked fit, and comfortable to you- his oversized sweater probably big enough for you to hide in. Wait- what was that thought?! You averted your eyes immediately, ears shyly drooping backwards as you began to shuffle your fluffy socks on his wooden floor, the laminate suddenly super interesting. "Taehyung said you should have a nice healthy dinner- but I may forgot to buy groceries, so, is it okay for you to tag along?" He asked. "You can choose what you want to eat while we're at it, too." He said, and you perked up at that.

"I can?" You asked, ears slowly moving into a more confident position again, and he smiled at that achievement.

"Sure!" He exclaimed, and walked towards the door, grabbing his jacket, before he looked at you. You were staring at something- and as he followed your gaze, he saw your shoes. Simple sneakers in colors that fit your current clothes, but, was he connecting the dots correctly? He didn't want to offend you in case you were simply deep in thought, so he simply waited, slipping on his own shoes, as he watched you out of the corner of his eyes.

You really were struggling to tie your shoes.

So he simply sat down on the small step that divided his entrance from the rest of his apartment, and tapped the top of his knee. "Come here, I'll help." He said, and your eyes widened, shaking your head.

"I'll- I'll get your pants dirty.." You said worriedly, but Jungkook shook his head again.

"Don't worry about that." He said, and you hesitantly placed your shoe on his knee with just the very tip- something that made him smile a bit before he placed it down properly, tying the laces quickly.

"Sorry." You apologized, but he shook his head yet again as he tied the other.

"It's fine." He simply said, before you both got up, going outside. "Do you, uhm.." He began, nervously picking on the slight fuzz of his skin against his chin before he finished, by holding his hand out. "You know, so you don't, accidentally get lost or something. Taehyung would kill me." He laughed, and you blushed, before hesitantly taking his larger hand, holding it as he walked to the nearby grocery store with you.

Inside, it was busy as usual- but Taehyung typically didn't take you out during these hours, something about you maybe becoming overloaded by sensations and sounds. You've never been to a grocery like this before though- because while yes, it was a lot, Jungkooks hand never left yours even for a second. He calmly explained things you seemed interested in, and his entire presence calmed you down, even though you didn't really know him at all.

But your instincts were telling you that he was a good person; and until now, they had never been wrong.

"So, which one do you like?" He asked, pulling you from your thoughts as you were drifting off a little. He smiled at you, while you were looking at the shelves, pointing towards a pack of ramen. You've never tried it, but you had been interested when you saw them at Taehyungs place once or twice- however, back then you had been too shy to ask if you could maybe try it sometimes. "Hmm.. you sure about this one? It's pretty spicy sweetheart." He said, letting the petname slip as your ear flinched a bit into his direction, eyes widening a bit. Taehyung sometimes called you sweetheart as well- but somehow, in some weird way, it made you feel all tingly inside hearing it from Jungkook. "Uhm.. maybe, I can buy this one, and this chicken flavoured one- you can taste mine, and if you like it, we can switch. Okay?" He explained, and you nodded, not really listening anymore as you looked at him with an almost fascinated expression.

Taehyung had told you he had never truly taken care of a female hybrid, let alone a rehab-case such as you were. But he seemed so nice, so sweet, it was hard to imagine him not owning a hybrid- or being single. While Taehyung had never outright said that Jungkook was, you assumed so by the hints you noticed here and there. No other scent than his in his home, and you also remember Taehyung teasing the younger yesterday over the phone, saying something that at least Taehyung was getting himself some dating action.

For some weird reason, knowing that Jungkook didn't have a partner made you feel nice.

But then you remembered his words. "But- what will you eat if I eat yours?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"We'll simply switch then. I don't mind." He says, placing both packs in the shopping cart as you watched him. Your old home hadn't been too kind to you, yet you still didn't know anything else than the treatment you got back there. It was still new to you how easy going some people were, how much freedom you actually had. You've seen kids on swings last week, and a girl feeding a stray cat in an alleyway. Those were things you've never seen before.

"Okay, now the fun part." He says, and you look up at him, his head nodding towards something specific.

Icecream.

Your eyes widened seeing all the different packages and flavours, making your ears droop a bit in confusion. You were lost; what should you choose? You didn't know any of these except some flavors Taehyung had at his house. Jungkook, already connecting the dots, opens one of the doors. "Do you like fruity things? I personally like mild flavors, like vanilla." He says, picking a box of two separate containers. "How about this one?" He asks, and you nod excitedly.

"Yes please.!" You say, pretty much vibrating on the spot as Jungkook places the box into the cart, making an elderly lady next to the two of you chuckle.

"So sweet. And great manners too!" She says, before a hybrid walks up to her; his bright orange badge showing that the dog hybrid was a service worker. "Take good care of her, young man, yes?" She says, and Jungkook nods, squeezing your hand a little tighter as you both watch the lady getting escorted towards the cashiering section.

Jungkook had honestly never really thought about taking care of his own hybrid. He always worried that his friend's teasing was actually real- that he was too immature to quite take care of another living being except his own. Depp down he knew of course that he was capable of that, but insecurities sometimes still bit at his soul from the inside. He couldn't do much about that- he was a hopeless person in that department; still believing in love at first sight, and that human-hybrid relationships are nothing weird.He secretly loved romantic dramas, read shōjo mangas at the bookstore whenever he was too scared to buy them- afraid of being teased for it. He hated perfumes, enjoyed soft smells and fabrics, and even knew how to braid hair. He may looked like a typical muscle-head; with nothing filling his brain apart from protein powder and the need to work out and survive off of energy drinks and leftover cup noodles, but that wasn't really who he was. He simply liked to take care of himself, nothing more. He didn't work out for anyone but himself.

For some reason he enjoyed taking care of you like this. You were so sweet, so cute, that he couldn't help but already feel a little protective of you- that fact having only little to do with Taehyung. Maybe he simply needed a small push into the right direction to finally experience what it was like to have a hybrid, to test out what it was like to live with one.

But he didn't just want a hybrid, he noticed as he watched you carefully place the items of the shopping cart on the cash register, just like he'd asked you to do-

He wanted you.

He could feel someone staring at him. It was like it was piercing his neck, like laser dots on his skin, and it should freak him out like nothing else if it wasn't for the fact that he knew it couldn't be any other than you. He looked at the pot he was putting water in, the reflection showing your form sneakily watching him from the entrance of the kitchen. He chuckled. "Hm.." He began, dramatically sighing. "I wish there was a certain sweet bunny hybrid here to help me cook.. but I guess she's too busy.." He hummed, as he made sure the water in the pot was enough for one pack, before he turned around, your form now standing a few steps behind him. "Oh?" He said, acting surprised as you shyly smiled.

"Can I help.?" You asked, and he nodded, patting the counter to which you walked, squeaking cutely as he simply turned you around with gentle hands, lifting you up to sit between the stove on one side, and the sink on the other. You'd somehow come to the conclusion already that he was quite strong- but the short taste you got of his strength made your heart race a little. It was instinctively, really; your kind looked for partners with certain attributes, after all. They were supposed to protect you and your offspring at some point- even though that part made you look at your knees in shame, before Jungkook snapped you out of your thoughts before they could sway.

"Can you open the packages for me?" He asks, and you nod, taking them out of his hands and opening the foil carefully. You take out the still hard noodles before the flavor pack falls out, slapping on the floor as it falls down out of your hand. Jungkook however doesn't scold you- simply picks it up and gives it to you, and you look at him for a moment- watching him for any indication that he's mad. But he's not.

It's as if nothing had happened.

So you put the flavor pack and tiny oil package on top of the noodle blocks, so carefully Jungkook has to force himself not to just simply scream from how concentrated you look doing something so simple. "When the water boils, like, when it bubbles a lot, you can put these packs in, alright?" He says, and you nod, as if he's giving you instructions on how to prepare for war. He can't help himself at that moment, grinning so hard his dimples show as he reaches out to pet your head.

It's a little like Taehyung, but it feels a lot different.

With Taehyung, while you do feel safe and comfortable around him, and it feels nice, it's not at all like Jungkook. The younger one makes your heart race. He makes your pride swell, and your eyes sparkle- it's as if you've been given an award for the greatest achievement ever. You almost whine when he lets go.

So you later on put the packs into the boiling water with so much precision, immediately seeking his approval right after, to which he smiles at you. "Good job, Bunny." He says, and pets your head, absentmindedly moving the palm of his hand from the top of your head to instead cradle your cheek. Its such a soft and gentle touch that you almost go limp- closing your eyes and leaning into it. He only notices that when he looks back from the pots- now turned down a bit to a simmer as to not overcook- and his heart surely bursts in that moment.

You look so.. there's no word in Jungkooks head to properly describe the view he has, that image of you in front of him. He can't help himself- begins to trace his thumb against the soft skin, watching your ears relax and flop down. He can't imagine that someone like you could ever be done harm to; and while he doesn't know much about your past, he's sure it hadn't been pretty. It makes him want to just keep you right here, in his apartment, close to him, where he can make sure no one could ever cause you to be upset.

Both of you are abruptly pulled out of your thoughts by his phone ringing, the device so badly placed that it falls down to the floor after vibrating a few seconds. "Fuck!" He exclaims, picking it up and sighing in relief when it turns out to still be without damage. He takes on the call, and on the other side of the line, is Taehyung. He greets his younger friend, instantly asking him if you're okay- if you've eaten yet, drank anything, if you're homesick- all in one breath, it seems. Jungkook chuckles, simply placing a hand on your knee, thumb again tracing a pattern he's unsure of what its supposed to be. The warmth seeps into your skin through the fabric of your clothing. He smiles at you, and for the first time, maybe because you're feeling so.. smitten with him, you smile back. Not just a shy little lift of your lips, but a full on beaming smile, making his hand reach out to brush along your ear- internally gasping at how soft the fur is. How can something be this soft?! "Taehyung, she's fine. We're making ramen right now, she helped me cook, and afterwards we're gonna have icecream and watch a movie or something." He explains, and Taehyung claps back with something along the lines of 'but don't let her have the spicy stuff, she can't handle that-' but the younger one doesn't listen that much anymore. "Yeah yeah, listen, we're fine. Go get your girl, jesus." He laughs, and Taehyung chuckles as well, hanging up after reminding him to get you to bed at a reasonable time- as if you're a child he's taking care of.

Because that's the thing. You're not a child- and in Jungkooks eyes, you're not a pet. You're so sweet and easily interested in the simplest of things, he can't help but wonder if you had any hobbies. Did you like video games? Or drawing? Were you into books- hell, could you even read? He wanted to know so much more about you than just those tiny breadcrumbs of info he had gotten from Taehyung. He dearly hoped that maybe, maybe you would like to see him again after leaving tomorrow. He really hoped.

And as you ate, shaking your head at Jungkooks spicy ramen after tasting the broth a little from his spoon (which he did make sure to blow on as to not have you burn your tongue, bless his heart), he really did hope.

He really hoped that maybe, you felt just as happy around him as he felt around you.

It seemed that going grocery shopping, cooking, and eating icecream had taken its toll on you. Your eyes were practically falling shut every few seconds, yet you tried to stay awake as much as possible. Jungkook smiled at you, brushing some hair back before he moved your shoulder a bit. "Hey, bunny?" He asked, and you nodded, humming a noise of yes, you heard him. He chuckled. "You'll have to get up baby. I have to prepare the couch for you." Typically, it would be normal to give a guest the bed- if he was being a gentleman. But that was what he was being; because his couch was the most comfortable thing in his entire apartment for that matter. Yet maybe it was the sleep inside your bones making you drowsy, but you shook your head. "Hm?" He asks, and you suddenly move.

You shuffle around, suddenly hugging him tightly, head hidden in his chest as you rub your nose against the soft fabric of his shirt for a moment. "Don't wanna." You complain, and he swears he dies and gets ressurected all at once seven times in total at your next words. "Wanna sleep with 'koo." You drawl, and he knows he should not let you. You're not thinking clearly- but he can't deny you anything when you're like this, it seems. You've got him wrapped around your little finger, tightly, with no chance of escape.

So he gently picks you up after turning off the TV, bringing you to his bedroom, where he puts you on the bed, your tired form struggling to stay seated. He picks out a shirt of his to wear, and a pair of your shorts out of your backpack Taehyung has left for you. "Sweetheart, can you change for me?" He asks, and you simply let yourself playfully fall ontop of his mattress, making him sigh. You're going to be the death of me. "Oh really now?" He says, before he crawls over you, with the intention to tickle you a little awake- but he stops in his tracks. In fact, time seems to stop as well, as your eyes stare at him, so big and full of wonder he almost can't stop himself from looking at your lips.

But its you who shyly- and so quickly he almost doesnt catch it- pecks his lips before sneakily slipping out his grasp, taking your clothes with you into the bathroom, leaving him on the bed. He sits down, touching his lips for a second, absolutely unsure if he'd just experienced this, or if he had just had a fever dream of some sorts.

It's only when he notices you don't emerge from the bathroom, that he moves. He gently knocks at the wooden door, asking for you, but you don't answer. "I'm gonna open the door, okay?" He says, and does so seconds after, spotting you sitting on the tiled floor- now dressed in his sweater and your shorts, ready for bed. He notices however how you're hiding in the sweater- the hood covering your ears, while your hands shield your face. "Whats wrong?" He asks as he squats down in front of you, his hands gently pulling yours away from your face. You're not crying, thank god, but the look on your face speaks entire novels about how embarrassed you feel.

"M'sorry." You say, and pout, and he shakes his head.

"Don't be." He simply answers, helping you stand up after a moment. "Why do you feel bad?" He asks, and you shrug your shoulders.

"I just.." You start, but suddenly your eyes grow glossy. "I miss Taehyung-" You say, and Jungkook's heart drops for a moment. "-but I also don't wanna go home tomorrow." You finish, and Jungkook blinks twice, before he looks at you, confused. You didn't want to leave? Him? "I.. no, it's fi-"

"Say it." He demands- its not harsh, its not even loud, its almost just a whisper, tuneless words pressed out in a breath of air. "Don't keep it in- say it." He prompts you, and you swallow, not looking at him.

"I wanna stay with you." You say.

And he swears, the pain in his heart was the sweetest he'd ever felt.

The next day, after breakfast, Jungkook and you sit on his living room floor, him teaching you how to build a rubber powered plane- the one's he used to make as a kid. He'd kept a kit in his apartment back when he moved out of his family home but never got around to really use it. It was the perfect opportunity for you to enjoy the things you had missed out on in your life. He loved the way you so intensely watching his every move as he showed you how to put the pieces together. "And that's gonna fly?" You ask curiously, leaning over a bit as to get a better look at it.

"Hmhm." He says, holding it up, before giving it to you. "Here, turn this part until you can't anymore." He says, and you start twisting it for a while. "Don't worry, you can't break it." He says when you hesitate a little. He highly doubts you'll be able to snap the rubber band. "Tight?" He asks, checking, before he nods, standing up. "Lets go fly it outside!" He says, opening the glass door to the small backyard of his apartment. "And- Go!" he says, and you throw it just how he showed you minutes prior; letting it fly for a good moment before it landed.

"It flew!" You exclaimed happily, and he laughed as well, congratulating you as if you had just won a competition. He held you tightly to his body for a moment after you had jumped into his arms- and that was how you just stood there for a moment, simply existing, holding each other. For you, this was a moment of realizing that no, you're not alone. You're not useless, you're not just a pet, you're not just existing for someone's enjoyment. You had this one person at your side now, someone you could count on, someone to make you feel safe. And for him? Weirdly enough, he felt like the male lead of a romantic drama show- finally getting the happy ending he always craved in his life. He never knew what exactly he always wanted from his time here on earth. Was it success? Was it money? A big apartment, a nice home, a lot of friends? No, it was building a blanket fort with you in his living room. It was going to the grocery store with you, protecting you from big dogs that scared you, or holding you during the night. Every cheesy romantic thing he could imagine, now always featured you in his head; and it just, fit. It fit perfectly.

You fit into his life just perfectly.

It's later that day when Taehyung picks you up that he realizes that yes, he's positively in love with you. Because how can he not fall in love with those glistening eyes, hand waving goodbye for now because of course he can't just keep you like he wants to. There's paperwork involved, and your things need to be moved to his place- all of that needing to wait for social services to check his home, so that they can make sure he's really the right fit for you. It's then that he finally lets everything sink in, finally lets him think about what's going to happen, whats going to change.

And for the first time, he couldn't wait for it. He couldn't wait for things to change.

Jungkook baked you a small cake for your welcoming into his home- finally yours as well, as you hug Taehyung for the last time, the older friend waving before the door closes, Jungkooks arms instantly pulling your back into his chest. He leans his head down, kissing your shoulder, before he runs his sensitive lips over the so unbelievably soft fur of your ears. Three weeks had passed, yet to him it had felt like an entire year. Jungkook was sometimes impatient, and waiting had been pure torture for him. So now, as he was finally able to hold you again, he felt his entire stress vaporize into nothingness.

You giggled, before turning around, hugging him fully, and rubbing your face into his sweater, as if to get your scent onto him. Which was exactly your plan- after all, he was your human now, officially yours, so everyone should know that. The rumble in his chest that was his chuckle made you smile widely, grinning as you looked up at him, chin resting on his chest.

Oh may god have mercy on his soul!

He leaned downwards, finally capturing your lips with his, the first real long kiss to be shared between the two of you. Both of you melted into the sweet gesture, your ears falling down lazily as he showered you in affection; kisses to your nose, your cheeks, and your lips again. He continued until the corners of your eyes gathered tears from laughing so much.

This was how you were supposed to be. You were never supposed to cry because you were upset-

the only tears you should ever have to shed, should be tears of happiness.

(c) Bonny-Kookoo. Please do not translate, re-post or claim as your own. Thank you for reading- and please stay happy and healthy.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

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nice-kill-tanaka · 3 years

Text

🌄Kyoya + Rival Fiance🌌

Summary: Had you two not been paired off since you were young, your intellectual spats would have been much more...uncouth...to say the least. But, being maritally connected might be the needed push for you to realize your collective potential.

A/N: Outlet for needless unresolved sexual tension™️?? Yes please!

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👓Kyoya Ootori👓

You met Kyoya when you both were around twelve years old

Your respective fathers had reached a long-lasting stalemate in their efforts to merge their companies in a way that was satisfying to both sides. And this was a last ditch effort to successfully complete the deal crucial to your father’s company in particular

Your parents were reluctant, as you were their only child. But, cautiously decided to go through with it after you gave your (albeit, slightly uninformed) consent

It was a dinner for yours and the Ootori families alone. One to finalize the deal. One to introduce the young future “lovers”

You sat across the table from one another, exchanging glances of matching intensity and analytical intent

You knew next to nothing about the quiet boy in front of you. But, you did know that he, just like you, were used to being the smartest person in the room. And, if not the smartest, the most observant

Your first words at that dinner never went beyond greetings and farewells. Very suffocatingly cordial for what was supposed to be two young and bright kids brought together for what their parents described as the “greater good”

Make no mistake, you both knew that this arrangement held more benefits than a successful business deal

But, something about your future husband made you want to intellectually step on his neck (Lovingly of course ❤️😚🔪). And it was the same sentiment vice versa

Up until you and Ootori (The name you insisted on using to address him) started attending the same school, neither of you could pinpoint why the competitive tension between you two was so strong

But, you and Ootori do figure it out eventually, through learning about each other’s pasts

I’ll put it like this:

Unlike Ootori, your gifts were never overshadowed by well-off or talented family members. Though praise wasn’t a frequent thing either. You were always subconsciously told to improve though. Through that, you were almost always the one on top. And you knew it. You liked it there, sure, but you were never complacent. You wouldn’t be caught dead being surpassed because you didn’t bother to try

You were the monarch, and you stayed that way through working, soaring to higher levels than your adversaries could ever imagine

Kyoya, being the eclipsed moon to virtually everyone’s sun, had to learn how to flourish in the background. He knew that a lot of the time, he was the most capable person in the room, but other people didn’t recognize that. So, he had to make his mark through craftier methods

He was the one with his sights set on your throne. The only one able to conquer it. And you knew that

In summary your relationship is a constant back and forth between Kyoya using his silent cunning to surpass you, and you reclaiming your place with pure drive and spite. You were the one he wanted to overthrow, and he was the assassin you wanted to outsmart

“Hm, I wouldn’t have expected the fleeting top student to score so far below me. I suppose this is part of another big plan, Ootori?”

“Well, L/N, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that the class average is unusually higher than normal. You’ll have to work a little harder next time to maintain your far lead won’t you?”

Or:

“That’s the third time you’ve eaten lunch with the Tsuin sisters this week L/N. I didn’t know you were looking for new friends.”

“Networking is never a bad thing Ootori. I got their parents’ company to invest in our fathers’ partnership in less than a week. But sure, call it ‘looking for new friends’.“

Something like that 😂

The thought of becoming personally involved outside of social performances never left your minds. But, the lack of cooperation between you deemed the option unnecessary

You and Kyoya were still strictly rivals when you both met Tamaki Suoh

You, for one, never quite understood Tamaki and his motives. Especially when he proposed an idea he had for what he called a “host club”

When Tamaki spoke to you individually, he suggested that you become the club’s manager, since you politely declined becoming part of the act

The second time you spoke with Tamaki, it was with Kyoya, and you quickly realized what was going on

Though, you weren’t sure what made Tamaki think you and Kyoya would make a good team. You knew the potential was there, but pride was another big hurdle to clear

But, through a bit of convincing (and Tamaki’s puppy dog eyes), you and Kyoya agreed to partner up in running the technical business aspects of the host club. Kyoya as the vice president, you as the manager

Things were a little rocky for the first week or so of business. Both you and Kyoya had the same end goals in mind, but the friction was in how to go about it

Your approaches were more straightforward. Practicality and efficiency were what mattered to you. Sure, you didn’t mind playing the long game. But, if you didn’t have to, you wouldn’t

Kyoya’s approaches were intricate and methodical, designed for the sake of the long game. He was willing to wait for everything to fall into place, even if it wasn’t the best for the short term

But, since you knew Tamaki wouldn’t be much help to your dilemma, you and Kyoya had your first genuine conversation

“We do get things done eventually. But, only after a disagreement on our approach.”

“I suppose you’re right, L/N. Functioning the way we are now would only hurt us long-term.”

“So, is that an agreement to collaborate?”

“Of course. Besides, if we’re to be married one day, working as one unit is something we’ll need to learn.”

Kyoya gave you a cunning, yet teasing smile as he walked away. The club, undoubtably hearing what he said to you

You raised an eyebrow and gave a dumbfounded glance at your rival, who you just let stalk away without hearing your reply

This was the first time either of you verbally acknowledged your arranged marriage. Or, at least, met it with something other than dismissal and a nasty look towards the other person

Your ears and the skin between your eyes burned with heat, though you were sure it was only from Kyoya exposing your arrangement to the entire club. You had never felt so flustered by him, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to welcome the feeling yet

Kyoya on the other hand, wondered why he said what he did. It was something that slipped out in an attempt to make you all hot and bothered with no chance to reply. A small victory for him. But, what did he actually think of marrying you?

...Well, to be honest, he kind of liked it

Being able to marry someone on his intellectual level meant things would never be boring. Especially with you being so self aware

Besides, two minds for business meant neither of you needed to inherit something to be successful. You two could build your own economic empire from the ground up and still have time for vacationing on the weekends

((Ignoring the fact that Kyoya also finds you physically attractive. So, you guys would legit be the prettiest couple in Ouran))

From then on, your relationship became like a shiver of sharks. Dangerous individually, but when you see them together?

Pick a god and pray.

With your combined cunning and observational skills, no one can pull a fast one on the host club

Your little jabs at each other slowly became more playful, leaving the other with a burning face and a ghost of a smile

Even Honey-Senpai began religiously shipping the two of you

“Kyo-chan, Y/N-chan, can I be the ring bearer at your wedding?”

To which you both stare down at the cheeky little boy, then back at each other, aware of what he was doing. You smirk with endearment, and speak first:

“Well, that’s a big responsibility, Honey-Senpai. You think you can handle it?”

“You can’t get any cake on your suit, remember?”

Honey-Senpai faltered immediately at Kyoya’s last statement

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[🌌Take this for your travels, bud. Don’t worry about paying me or anything, everything’s on the house! Though 🍁likes🍁 and ☘️reblogs☘️ are appreciated!🌄] — Reagan

#extra supplies #caravan commodities #ohshc #ouran high school host club #ohshc x reader #ohshc headcanons #kyoya ootori #kyoya ootori x reader #kyoya x reader #ootori x reader #sorry this is kinda long 😅

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Note

Re; Ahsoka and Quinlan being the same age, now I'm picturing Ahsoka, Quinlan, and Rex eventually ending up in a weird sorta thruple where Quinlan comes in and out of the relationship but the door is kinda always open for him? And Rex spends a lot of mornings eyeing the tangle of orange and brown skin on the other side of the bed like he has no idea how he ended up here but he's (mostly) okay with that tbh

Context: Commander Buir in chronological order

YES okay so this is wild to me that people are invested in this but like half the time-travel fics with Ahsoka in the same age-group as Quinlan have me wondering if I should ship them. Let me just. Ho shit.

So, okay, I've explored a lot of possible dynamics but there's something really engaging about how Quinlan, trained as a Shadow before the Sith came back, could react to a War Padawan. Ahsoka isn't really infiltration material yet, she's very much a frontline fighter, but she's got a lot more experience with a kind of consistent dark atmosphere that most Jedi don't. They get exposed to plenty of dark stuff, sure, but not the kind of all-encompassing "this is my life for the last two years" thing that is usually reserved for the long-term field agents like Shadows and Watchmen.

The War Padawans, for all that they were supposed to be just normal Jedi Padawans, were living in the kind of consistently negative environment that's normally experienced by those Knighted Sentinels.

So Ahsoka, while still generally pretty young in these AUs, is a very odd kind of person to be around, because she's spunky and vivacious and snippy and affectionate and snarky and knows how to break every bone in your body from harrowing experience as the only thing standing between death and thousands of brothers.

And Quinlan, I imagine, really likes that about her. She gets it, and she's still an energetic and loving and trying to do her best to be a good person despite everything. He gravitates towards her and she... well, she's not blind. She can tell he's interested. And she's not upset about that.

ANYWAY, ONTO REX

So, Rex is... technically twelve. He hasn't exactly got a whole lot of experience with romance. He is also, up until the point of time-travel, legal property of the Senate and the Jedi Order, which means that Ahsoka, or at least her community, owns him. He was indoctrinated to serve her and that community. She also outranks him, for all that she usually lets him take the lead in the field due to experience. He's older than her physically and maturity-wise, but she's also had a grow-up-faster-than-you-should adolescence, and she has superpowers.

What I'm saying is, the power dynamic is fucked up.

(Unironically I spent hours last night realizing that it balances out a lot more than C*dywan does, which I'm censoring because by god do I not want discourse on this post. I like both ships, and don't want to argue about what's the most problematic. It's Star Wars. The only unproblematic ships are Bail/Breha and Owen/Beru.)

Here's the thing, though, because the main thing people seem to argue here is the age/maturity difference as a problem area:

The age difference in actual time is four years, which is smaller than the two main ships of the franchise (Han/Leia and Padme/Anakin, to be clear). The age difference in maturity is ??? We'll say that the clones started aging normally after they hit twenty, so the age difference in maturity is six years... which is still normal for SW ships.

(This is why I don't have any issues with the ship in a post-O66 context, once they've had a few years to move past the traumas and whatnot. The age stuff all evens out with time, they're a good team, and neither was grooming the other. It's not objectively any more problematic than most SW ships at that point, and I'm okay with that. They deserve to be happy if they want.)

But they get yanked away from all that structure of who owns what, who reports where, who has which rank, who's legally a person in the eyes of the Republic when they end up on Dagobah. Once they've registered when they are, the only remaining complications are:

He grew up in a cultlike environment and was indoctrinated to serve her (but has been replacing that indoctrination with genuine respect and affection for her as a person because they've worked together for two years).

She has superpowers (contextually not a big problem: we see several Force-Sensitive/Non-Sensitive ships that don't consider those powers a complicating element)

He's several years younger than her (canonically less of an issue than it could be: Cut got married and has kids) and has next to no experience with what a normal romance looks like except for hanging out on the edges of whatever the fuck his General has going on with the Senator

She's several years less mature than he is (...something of an issue)

So a lot of this is mostly okay. She feels weird about the fact that she's got more knowledge of romance and all that it entails. He feels weird about the fact that, despite her being older, he looks at her and sees someone that's still a little young, not quite a shiny. Except she is older than him, and he's seen her behead four people in a single move, and they've saved each other's lives more times than either of them can count anymore. He respects her, and the fact that she's babyfaced doesn't change the fact that, in terms of who they are as people and warriors, they're on a level playing field.

She still looks at him and mourns his lost childhood, and he still looks at her and takes a moment to see past the too-big eyes and adolescent proportions.

But they really, really care about each other, and maybe part of them is starting to recognize that there's a bit of a crush before they time-travel, but neither one wants to make a move. There's a lot of baggage on both sides, a lot of "but they're a child" and "but they're (literally vs functionally) below me in the chain of command, I can't take advantage of that" and all that fun stuff. It's the kind of situation where two people circle each other for ages without making a move, because actually making that move is terrifying on account of not knowing whether the other party knows they can say no, on top of the usual "what if it ruins our friendship?" thing.

What happens on Dagobah, though... is very tropey. They're sort of stranded until Ahsoka can fix the ship, and that takes time. The area is also very heavy with the Force, dense and heady with the energy it carries, and it's... actually really not great for Ahsoka. She keeps feeling like she's back on Mortis, and has nightmares from the trigger there, but also keeps hallucinating because she wasn't ready for the thickness of the energy (like Yoda) or still new enough to the Force that she couldn't feel how dense it all was (like Luke). She can't work on the engines as constantly as she'd like to get them out of there, and while Rex is a competent mechanic, he's not as skilled with it as the girl who jumped headfirst into lessons with Anakin.

Rex spends a lot of time holding Ahsoka and wiping her brow with a wet cloth while she's feverish and out of it. Yes we're going full Florence Nightingale romance here, let me have my fun.

They get the communications relay working earlier than the engine, find out the year is wrong, panic a bit. All is well. (It's not, but they're holding it together for now.)

Ahsoka keeps working on the engine when she's lucid. Rex keeps hunting up game and edible plants for them while she does. They cuddle at night, because it's not cold but it is empty of the people they care about, and they kind of want that reassurance of someone they trust and love at their back.

(Morai visits.)

(Daughter shows up in the nightmares, tells Ahsoka that age will not come for her beloved until the time is natural for it. The phrasing is dumb but she does manage to convey that the accelerated aging is no longer an issue, if it even was after they hit adulthood. Ahsoka is relieved.)

And, you know, emotions happen. She takes his hand while they're leaning up against each other. He kisses her forehead while she's having a bad spell. They cook together and tell jokes to keep sane and spar. They hug each other through nightmares and panic attacks. There is much blushing. There is much cuddling.

Once, they kiss.

They break apart, flushing and stammering and being very awkward about the whole thing, and make excuses to leave and panic about the fact that they!! Kissed!!!!!

A couple hours later they find each other again, and have a long and complicated discussion about why they like each other (war makes bedfellows, there's trust and affection and all that fun stuff) and why they're hesitant (age stuff, maturity stuff, prior indoctrination), and make the decision to take it slow. They cuddle, and kiss, and blush a lot because both of them are basically just dumb teens having their first real relationship.

They eventually leave the planet, make it to Coruscant, etc. It takes a bit for anyone except Obi-Wan to realize that something's changed between them. Most people didn't know them before, and Anakin's observation skills are currently at a very low ebb. But they sit together and hold hands, and flirt when they spar, and once or twice people find them kissing (both standard and Keldabe) in a corner while holding hands and then just smiling at each other like loons.

They end up rooming together because nobody has the heart to separate them after hearing about all the war stuff. Like yes attachment's bad, but these two do seem to understand loss of loved ones and recognize that they could lose each other at any time and death is natural and they won't lose their entire shit about it, and if even General Kenobi is anxious as hell about being separated from the people he fought side-by-side with for two years, then maybe it's just... really normal for those two to want each other's company, and everyone can just turn a blind eye to the romance happening.

They share a bed, but they only ever sleep in it. Like, there's some goodnight kisses and cuddles, but everything is very G-rated until they've had time to settle into being true equals instead of just the "well, I guess the power dynamics balance out? Maybe?" of before.

And just... yeah. Rex does not believe that he's in this good of a position whenever he has the time to think about it. He's got a girlfriend! A really pretty, smart, strong, skilled one! Who thinks he's a cool dude! How the fuck did a clone like him manage that? He wasn't even legally a person a year ago, how did he end up in bed with one of the most amazing people he's ever met? He spends multiple nights just staring at her while he tries to fall asleep, asking himself how he got here and just like... marveling at her. She's worth marveling at. He's in love and she's amazing and he has no idea how to handle it at all.

...yeah no I have a lot of feelings now.

#Rexsoka #Ahsoka Tano #Captain Rex #Quinlan Vos #time travel #Commander Buir #Phoenix Posts

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disturbedbydesign · 3 years

Text

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter Two

It’s almost midnight by the time Garcia is officially gator food, but you’re too wired for sleep. You head out, driving the hour and change to Miami, with a stop on the way to clean yourself up a bit in a gas station bathroom. You check in to the swanky South Beach hotel you’ve decided to treat yourself to, because you’ve earned it. The world is a better place without that man in it, the impressionable young girls of Miami are a bit safer tonight, and that’s enough for you. For the moment, it’s enough.

Your next target is a man you’ve been searching for for a long time, and he’s your own personal project, but tonight you aren’t going to think about him. Tonight you’re going to allow yourself a moment to breathe, to celebrate your victories—a party of one, as usual, but satisfying all the same. You don’t have that much time left before last call at the clubs so you get yourself together quickly and hit the spot closest to your hotel. Even at this time of night, there’s a line to get in, but one look at you and the bouncer is opening that velvet rope and beckoning you inside.

The place reeks of sweat and unchecked hormones as you make your way to the bar, the booming bass drowning out any and all thoughts you might have, which is exactly the way you want it tonight. You order a double vodka rocks and you wait to see what kind of man will approach you this evening: angel or devil. Of course, none of them are really angels, not in the club at this time of night, but some are far worse than others.

You have no problem with decent men. There’s nothing wrong with trying to get laid. It’s normal, it’s natural—you know that now. You’ve even learned to enjoy consensual sex with strangers. At first it was difficult for you—your body having belonged to others for your entire life. But it wasn’t long before you started to enjoy the power of choice, of having control over what your body did and who with.

A man approaches you—brown hair, blue eyes, muscular—and you hate that your first thought is of him but you can’t help it. The Winter Soldier had always been the stuff of nightmares—a ghost story to some, but the Widows knew better. He was terrifying, yes, but the few people who had seen the man’s face and lived to tell about it had always remarked on how handsome he was, even with that cold, dead-eyed stare. You’d seen pictures of him after he came out from under all that brainwashing, and they had proven the reports correct, but you’d never seen him in person until tonight. You couldn’t stand the sight of him in some ways, but in others…

You turn to the attractive stranger and smile, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he yells over the music. You raise your nearly full cocktail in his direction and he smiles awkwardly. “That’s the best line I got,” he says, and he introduces himself with a name you don’t commit to memory.

You give him a fake name and he reaches his hand out to shake. He’s got a disarming personality, but that doesn’t mean you trust him. You know better than anyone that there’s no better tactic than to appear non-threatening. Still, he’s incredibly attractive and you’re in the mood for a party of two tonight.

You let him talk for a while—about his job, about his family—and you pepper in a few lies here and there. He hasn’t laid a hand on you or invaded your personal space in any way that isn’t necessary among the crush of people at the bar. When the bartender signals last call, you decide that he’ll do. You’re rarely wrong about people, and even if you are, you could snap his neck like a twig if necessary.

You allow him to walk you out, expecting him to make a move, but he doesn’t. He just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, rocking a bit awkwardly on his feet.

You smile and tilt your head. “Nightcap?” you ask, and he follows you like a puppy to your hotel room.

You don’t want another drink and neither does he, but he waits for your signal before he tries anything. You try not to make it all seem transactional, but it’s not like your heart is in it. You let him kiss you and touch you, albeit briefly, and you pretend to enjoy it even though that’s not what you want. What you want is to be on top of him, using his body for the pleasure of your own, and it’s not long before you’re doing exactly that. Your beautiful stranger certainly doesn’t mind, not even when you close your eyes and allow yourself to think about someone else inside you—what his face might look like all twisted up and blissed out, what sounds might spill from his pretty lips, what the cold metal might feel like against your hot sweaty skin.

You make yourself cum and then kick him out (kindly). You’re gone by sunrise. You’ve got places to be.

*****

Natasha sits cross-legged on her couch, a pint of ice cream in one hand and scrolling her tablet with the other. After Miami, you’ve been a ghost. None of her usual contacts have been able to give her anything useful. You’ve gone underground, and she knows she won’t find you if you really don’t want to be found. Whoever your next target is, it has to be somebody big if you’ve covered your tracks this well.

She doesn’t regret not taking you in, even though Bucky had complained the entire ride back about how leaving you there was a mistake. But, as she’d told him, you have to want to come in. Trying to force your hand is not only incredibly dangerous, it defeats the purpose. Natasha doesn’t want to retraumatize you; she wants to help you. There’s no point in trading a floating cage for a gilded one.

She doesn’t realize she’s finished the pint until the spoon hits the cardboard. When she goes to pull another one from the freezer, her phone rings.

“What’s up, Rogers?”

Steve’s voice holds a barely contained anger that Natasha knows well. “You need to come in.”

She should have known Bucky would rat her out, but it still pisses her off. “Steve, it’s getting late. Can we do this in the morning?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replies. “Are you gonna steal another jet in the middle of the night?”

“Technically, I didn’t steal-”

“Natasha, please,” he says, and she can picture the set of his jaw on the other end of the line.

She sighs. “Alright, fine. I’m leaving now.”

When she gets to the tower, most of the usual suspects are gathered around the conference table. Steve looks pissed. Tony looks amused. Sam and Wanda look concerned. And while, to anyone else Bucky would be wearing no expression at all, Natasha can tell that he’s feeling a bit guilty—as he should, he gave her his word. He mouths “I’m sorry” when she sits down at the table and she raises an eyebrow at him that he knows to translate as a middle finger.

Steve tries to speak but Natasha cuts him off. “Save me the lecture, Rogers. I’m not going to apologize.”

Steve’s voice is stern but not unkind. “This needs to be a group decision, Natasha, and as of right now, you’re the only person who thinks this is a good idea.”

“That’s not actually true,” she says. “Wanda? Do you want to tell Steve what you told me?”

Wanda looks a little shocked to be called out but she answers, if a bit hesitantly. “It sounds like she needs help, Steve. Like she’s lost. I… I know what that feels like—when everyone thinks you’re a monster.”

Wanda and Nat’s eyes both turn to Bucky, looking for any recognition whatsoever that he, too, knows exactly where they’re coming from, but he’s completely stolid. Underneath his blood is boiling and he feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin, but the surface remains placid.

Tony pops a blueberry into his mouth and swivels in his chair to face Natasha. “So, let me see if I’m understanding this correctly, Romanoff. You want to bring in one of your former compatriots who has spent the last… what?... year or so on a globetrotting murder spree? Am I getting the general idea here, or am I missing something? I have to be missing something, because if I’m not missing something, this is categorically batshit.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Stark. But essentially, yes. That’s exactly what I want to do.”

Tony laughs. “Wow. OK. Well, Rogers—you and I rarely agree on… well… anything, but I gotta say, I’m Team Cap with this one.”

Natasha crosses her arms and huffs her displeasure.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, looking around and addressing the room, “but don’t we usually catch mass murderers? Isn’t that kind of our thing?”

The longer the conversation goes on, the more uncomfortable Bucky gets. It wasn’t lost on him that Tony’s eyes lingered on him when he threw out the term “mass murderers,” and he’s learned that it’s better to just let Tony go off when he feels the need. Still, he needs to get out of the room. He needs to take a walk, get some air, push all thoughts of you and this whole mess out of his mind, because if he doesn’t, he thinks he might go crazy.

“Are we done here?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Steve replies. “Sam? Anything you want to say?”

Sam takes a minute to gather his thoughts. “Look, Nat, I understand where you’re coming from on this. I really do. And it would be different if she was willing to come in on her own. But it sounds to me like she isn’t interested. She wants to be doing exactly what she’s doing. You can’t rehabilitate that. You just can’t.”

Steve looks apologetically at Natasha. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but it’s a no. I’m not necessarily saying we go after her-”

“I am,” Tony interjects. “I’m saying that. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Steve glares at Tony and it shuts him up. “Leave it alone, Tony.”

“You’re seriously telling me you want to leave this girl on the streets knowing what we know? Come on, Rogers.”

Everyone starts to raise their voice at once—everyone except Bucky, who is already sneaking out and halfway to the door—when Natasha shouts, “Enough!”

She takes a deep breath and blows it out, speaking softer now. “I’ll find her and I’ll bring her in, whether she wants to come or not. But it stays in this room—no cops, no agents, just the team. When I get her here, I’ll figure out what to do with her.”

“Fine,” Steve says, and the rest of the team assents. “Buck, you go with her.”

Every cell in Bucky’s body is screaming not to do it, but he never could say no to Steve. He grunts his agreement, refusing to even look at Natasha before storming out of the room and out into the humid mid-August evening. He walks all the way from Midtown to Brooklyn, but he still can’t shake the malaise that’s settled over him ever since Natasha first came to him with her plan.

Bucky knows that he should understand—and, in a way, he does—but he just can’t bring himself to feel anything for you except disgust. Natasha sees something in you that he just doesn’t see. All Bucky wanted to do when he finally got free of it all was prove to everyone that he was a good man—that he was not the things that he’d done. It took a lot of work and a lot of time, but he’s finally in a place where he’s separated himself from the Winter Soldier. That isn’t who he is; it never was.

Steve always knew that, and Natasha hadn’t taken much convincing. The others, though—some of them still don’t fully trust him, and if he thinks about it for too long, it cuts deep. So when Bucky thinks of you—free now, but still violent and bloodthirsty and absolutely unrepentant—it makes him sick. After all the work Bucky has done, how can Natasha look at you and him and think that you’re the same?

Not everyone comes out of their traumas unscathed. Sometimes people can’t come back from the things that have happened to them. That’s you. That’s who you are. You’re not good, you never will be, and as sad as it may make him, Bucky truly believes that you are beyond redemption. You don’t need to be saved; you need to be stopped.

Bucky gets a text as he unlocks the door to his Brooklyn Heights apartment. He’s been waiting for it, hoping for it, and now he has it. Natasha doesn’t know where you are yet, but he does. One of his contacts in Bucharest has a line on you, and he’s not going to let you get away this time. Much as it pains him, he doesn’t trust Natasha to keep her word to the team and take you in against your will. No, Bucky is going to handle this himself. You may be a Widow, but you’re no match for the White Wolf.

CHAPTER THREE >>>

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dark!fic #dark!reader #the widow and the wolf

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