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britcision · 1 year ago

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I have been possessed by dark visions at 3AM for two nights in a row again so y’all enjoy this I guess

Why can’t these demons invade Ryoko Kui’s mind she can draw

Anyway Mithrun and Fleki both deserve to bite people way more and fuck psychic types Mithrun’s entire pokemon team is different Woopers and a single Clodsire it is his destiny

Warnings: mild physical violence, blatant attempts at emotional manipulation, the Canaries are not letting their captain go if they can help it

AO3 link for the full series:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54634867

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After Dinner Mints - The Plan

It was Fleki’s plan, which was never a good sign. Otta was the first to call it a fucking stupid plan, but had to admit that she didn’t actually have a better one.

(This being the main reason Cithis wasn’t the first to denounce the plan. Well, that and the backup being “set Cithis on the Queen or at least some high ranking official”.

Which was an even worse plan, because even though Canary convicts couldn’t do magic without permission, Cithis specifically wasn’t even allowed her staff within the capital’s city limits. She’d beaten the supposed restrictions far too many times.)

The good news was that they had six weeks at sea to lay the groundwork, and see if they could come up with a better plan. Or bail, if the current plan seemed unlikely to work, and come clean.

No one wanted to bail and come clean.

Luckily, the groundwork was simple, and they could get started right away. Once they were far enough from port that the squad could safely be on the deck without being in a sailor’s way, the four convicts gathered to a spot conveniently near where Pattadol was standing at the railing.

It didn’t really matter what the warden was doing; they all had a grand total of one job until the ship landed: keep out of the way. And Cithis had Mithrun duties.

Otta picked the spot, settling nonchalantly to lean against a stack of well secured crates where she could pretend not to have known Pattadol was even there. They had to be a little louder over the creaks and groans of a sailing ship, but that just made it easier to be “accidentally” overheard.

“So Fleki, why did you ask the Captain not to talk to the Queen after all?” She called. Lycion, leaning just far enough to see their “hidden” warden, gave the rest a discrete thumbs up.

Fleki sighed dramatically and threw herself to the deck, top of her head poking just past the stack.

“Oh, come on. You heard what he said, he wants to stay in Melini hunting monsters forever! That’s a worse sentence than prison! And he wouldn’t even pay me, at least I get something doing this shit.”

“And the chance to fly,” Lycion cut in, nudging her with a foot until she shifted to the left a couple of inches, “that’ll be in short supply in prison.”

“Hey, you heard Captain Flamela. We’re all looking at reduced sentences, especially dying in the final fight. I’m gonna be out in like, a hundred years tops and then I’ll be free and clear,” Fleki retorted, casually sending her familiar to sit at the top of the stack.

She couldn’t fully go into the bird, not and keep up a full conversation, but she could borrow its eyes if she didn’t need hers.

Cithis was pretending to ignore the lot of them, like she couldn’t have done that literally anywhere else on the ship. When Otta and Lycion began mugging furiously at her she rolled her eyes and sighed, examining her nails.

“Yes, being confined to some backwater country is far worse than whatever a reduced life sentence would be,” she said dryly, not bothering to sound anything but bored.

Otta flipped her off with both hands, but Fleki actually laughed, flailing in her general direction.

“Fuck off Cithis, you’re gonna be in prison for what, five minutes? Captain Mithrun’s the only person who’s ever kept you from doing exactly what you want,” she pointed out loudly, and Lycion hesitated.

Snuck another glance towards Pattadol and gave the ladies another thumbs up. Cithis shot him a withering look that he completely missed, then kicked at Fleki’s hand equally half heartedly.

“Oh, I’m sure our ever so wise wardens will notice that and they’ll have an incredibly well thought out plan,” she said flatly, raising her voice a little when Lycion made some frantic upwards gestures. “After all, our good captain is a war hero and has chosen his retirement; they can’t tie him to a prison simply to keep a single prisoner contained.”

“So you’ll be out of there or running the place in five minutes, maybe fifteen?” Otta asked sweetly, and Cithis chuckled. Tried to do it again, louder, when Lycion made another vague gesture.

“Twenty at the outside. I certainly won’t be wasting my time touring a backwater like Melini,” she declared archly, making an incredulous face at Lycion as his gestures suddenly became faster and more frantic, and much less discernible.

Abruptly he held up both hands and the group fell silent, Fleki focusing more of her attention into her familiar. Then Lycion sighed and relaxed.

“She’s wandered off. Possibly to go narc on us to some of the older wardens,” he added thoughtfully, head cocking to one side.

Cithis shrugged.

“What she does on the ship matters very little. And it’ll save us from having to re perform the pantomime for them too,” she pointed out with a sigh, flicking her hair back off her face.

Otta frowned, cocking her head to one side and examining Cithis thoughtfully.

“For real though, why are you in on this plan? I mean, you probably could get out of any prison they put you in, I heard how many times you were sentenced to the Canaries.”

Lycion looked over, equally curious, but before Cithis could compose some kind of dignified answer Fleki had snickered, reaching over to catch at the bottom of her skirt and yank.

“Because then she could never go see Captain Flamela again, she’d always be a wanted fugitive,” she teased in a sing song voice.

This kick was not half hearted. Nor did it make Fleki regret a single word, more’s the pity.

***

After some heavy debate they decided that once a day was probably often enough, if not a little too often to make an attempt. By the second week Otta had declared that to be far too suspicious; Pattadol no longer looked surprised to be coming across them “coincidentally” in weird corners.

Once every other day, for sure. And time to try a new tactic. There were only so many ways they could loudly declare accompanying the captain to be far worse than a prison sentence.

Which was why Cithis moved them on to pointedly discussing the captain, which they could at least do at regular mealtimes without seeming suspicious. Captain Mithrun never ate with any of the squads, but someone had to bring him his food every time, so it was a natural topic of conversation.

Most of the squad were seated by the time Pattadol arrived at the mess, clutching her bowl and looking uncertainly for a place to sit. The Canaries didn’t tend to eat with the ship’s crew, there just wasn’t enough space in a single room, which with their larger complement meant the room was both full, and entirely Canaries.

The ship usually carried at least three squads; they’d been loaded with four to tackle the Island’s dungeon, and on the way back Cithis had managed to persuade Flamela to switch her squad onto their ship (by asking. Once. And threatening a fate worse than death on anyone who commented).

Which meant that of the six “tables” made of well secured crates (the mess being a storeroom that the Canaries and off duty crew got access to to, once again, keep them out of the way), there should have been plenty of space for all eight wardens on board to sit together without having to associate with their convicts if they didn’t want to.

But Flamela didn’t like the other wardens. Or all five of her current squad’s convicts, to be fair. Flamela didn’t like many people, but she liked her convicts more than the other wardens, so she insisted the squads sit together. For “team cohesion”.

(None of which explained why Flamela would sit next to Cithis if they happened to be the first to eat, or why Cithis could eat wherever the hell she pleased, but it worked for their purposes.)

Which meant that if Flamela was at dinner, Pattadol could sit with her squad’s four convicts, or risk the captain’s temper if she noticed. It wasn’t like she was all that comfortable sat with the other wardens anyway, so her indecision didn’t last long.

Cithis raised a pointed eyebrow at Otta, who rolled her eyes and skulled the last of her thick stew, then stood and grabbed Captain Mithrun’s bowl. She tapped Pattadol’s elbow on the way out, pointed her to the other three, and waved the captain’s stew as an excuse not to actually talk.

Pattadol hurried to join them, darting a quick last scan to clock Flamela and the other captains. She still didn’t actually greet them, because even her first dungeon run hadn’t fully knocked her head from her ass, but Fleki deigned to give her a quick wave.

And then kept going like they’d actually been talking before she arrived.

“That’s a thought though, who’s gonna feed the captain when we’re all in prison?” She asked Cithis, still mostly ignoring Pattadol.

Cithis arched a brow at her, taking a delicate bite of the hard tack accompanying the meal.

“That’s not going to be my problem, is it? Besides, he does well enough between missions,” she pointed out coolly.

Lycion snickered, pointing his spoon at her.

“He does well enough when he’s somewhere stable, with a routine. Running around chasing monsters is gonna be more like dungeon busting than that, he’s going to need someone to remind him to eat.”

Both he and Cithis turned back to Fleki, who raised her hands quickly.

“Hey he’s rich, he can totally hire like, a chef or something. He’ll probably need a whole party anyway, it’s not like just me on my own would be enough!”

“Not like you’d be staying sober,” Cithis sniped with a sly smile, and Fleki stuck her tongue out at her.

“Oh like you’re a teetotaller. Besides, I can’t cook for shit. Lycion, you did better with that whole noodle making thing, you should talk to him if you’re that concerned,” she added quickly, kicking him under the table.

Lycion pretended to consider it, then shrugged.

“Sorry Fleki, demons or no demons, I’m still on a life sentence. It’s not like I can stop having an illegally modified body,” he said with a decidedly smug gesture to the tattoos on his bare chest.

Fleki stuck her tongue out at him too.

“Hey, being released on parole to the captain’s gotta count. It’s not like you can’t take care of him, at least you actually know what he needs! Some stranger’s only gonna fuck it up!”

“What do you mean?” Pattadol finally cut in, her curiosity getting the better of her. The three convicts shared a significant glance, then Fleki sighed, tossing an arm around Pattadol’s shoulders.

(Pattadol immediately shrank away.)

“Right, I forgot, you’ve only been with us since we got Cithis. Still, you know what it’s like taking care of the captain, right?” She poked, releasing the younger elf to grab her hard tack and submerge it in the stew.

Pattadol frowned into her own bowl, then up at the others.

“Well, yes. It’s not that hard, he needs to be reminded to do things more, but…”

Fleki started snickering into her bowl and Pattadol’s cheeks flushed, her grip tightening on her spoon. Lycion cut her off with a gentle smile, shaking his head.

“It’s not too hard when he’s on leave, or on the ship with a routine; remember, Fleki, we had Kabru in the dungeon too, Pattadol’s never seen how bad the captain can get.”

“We were in there all of two days before it was all over anyway,” Cithis added with a roll of her eyes, then turned a sweet smile on Pattadol. “Even I underestimated quite how bad it would be. We were very lucky to have Kabru with us; it’s usually much more of a struggle even to persuade him to eat.”

It was probably a mark of how quickly Pattadol was learning that she didn’t noticeably relax at Cithis’ smile, which Fleki and Lycion had to grudgingly respect. She did calm down a little more though, looking cautiously between the other two.

“How bad could it really be? He won’t be in a dungeon in Melini, just tracking the monsters…” she hesitated when Fleki suddenly groaned, dragging both hands down her face dramatically.

“Oh fuck, that’s a good point! They probably won’t even think to make him take breaks, he’s just going to ride into town to restock and go straight back out. If he remembers to restock at all!”

“They’ll make him restock, Fleck, unless he gets that dwarf cook to go with him whoever he hires is going to need to eat,” Lycion pointed out, then smiled at Pattadol again. “You know how we have to use the sleeping spells or potions to help the captain sleep?” He asked innocently.

Pattadol looked between them, visibly more concerned although not necessarily at them. Which was what they wanted.

“Yes…” she said hesitantly, and Lycion nodded.

“He doesn’t just lie down for them in a dungeon. You have to combat-cast to get him to sleep if he thinks there’s a demon nearby,” Cithis cut in, sighing with expertly performed delicacy. “What? There’s no point sugar coating it; you did see him when we had to stop for rations, teleporting every few feet. He gets… tetchy.”

“He gets pissy,” Fleki said bluntly, waving her spoon, “and if he thinks there’s half a chance he can order you to let him go until he passes out he’ll try it. He can’t even tell when his mana’s low, we all saw him carving the dragon.”

Pattadol actually winced at that, frowning down into her bowl. The convicts exchanged another meaningful look.

Then Fleki sighed and dropped her spoon into her empty bowl.

“Whatever poor bastard he hires is gonna be completely screwed.”

“Kabru will be in Melini, perhaps he’ll help again?” Pattadol asked half-hopefully, and the convicts exchanged looks again. Then Lycion shook his head.

“Kabru’s not going to be leaving the capital if he can help it; he’s finally got a chance to never see another monster again, and after Utaya…”

Pattadol blanched and stared back into her bowl, shoulders hunching.

“Right…”

Fleki gave her a cheerful pat on the shoulder, rising and grabbing her bowl.

“Hey, aren’t you heading back that way too? Maybe you can get a pixie and call in to check if the captain’s still alive like, once a week or something,” she said cheerfully, leaving before Pattadol even turned.

Cithis rolled her eyes, finishing the last of her own food.

“Well, he won’t be your problem either, warden. I’m sure you’ll be busy with diplomatic relations,” she added with a sly smile, and Pattadol’s pale cheeks flushed again.

“Y-yeah… right…” she didn’t seem interested in looking up from her bowl. Lycion and Cithis exchanged thoughtful looks, then both shrugged and left her to it.

Best to let her mull that over. They still had plenty of time before they landed, anyway.

***

As the fifth week came to an end, they were beginning to run out of angles to try. And no one had any better plans.

Well, Cithis was up to something with Flamela, but she refused to say what and Fleki insisted it was an illicit affair, not anything actually useful.

Flamela set Fleki to scrubbing every deck on the ship, so she was also less available for planning, which Cithis refused to pretend to be sympathetic about. Or even not to be smug.

They had one last idea, and not long to put it into action; if coming clean was their only option, they needed time to talk to an increasingly morose Captain Mithrun, maybe Pattadol, and at least one more warden willing to vouch for one of them.

Given that every single warden on the ship had two to three convicts already contemplating them as options to avoid prison, it wasn’t an attractive concept. So it was time to pull out the big guns.

(Flamela was probably Cithis’ backup plan; none of the captain’s three assigned convicts were unwise enough to so much as frown her, but it was pretty much assumed among the entire ship that Cithis wasn’t going to prison. One way or another.)

Fleki and Lycion took charge on this one, “casually” wandering into Pattadol above decks while Cithis took Captain Mithrun for his daily airing.

(That was getting harder too; usually the captain was compliant as a doll outside of a dungeon, but the closer they got to land the more sullen and argumentative he became. He didn’t even want them to talk at him, glaring at anyone who came near him and telling them all to leave him alone.

None of the squad paid him any mind; no one else dared look in his general direction. Which didn’t matter, since he only left his room when he was dragged out.)

As usual, they pretended not to notice her at first, watching Cithis gently guiding the captain around and between the other Canaries.

“I’m going to miss him,” Lycion suddenly said, resting his chin in his hands and propping his elbows on the railing. It actually sounded like he meant it, and Fleki hesitated for a moment before she caught sight of Pattadol further down the railing.

Setting her familiar into the rigging above them to signal Otta, she nodded and leaned up against Lycion.

“I know what you mean… I’m kinda worried about him. He’s tough, you know, but that just means people who don’t know him don’t realise that he needs help.”

“You could always ask him to talk to the Queen again,” Lycion pointed out, flicking a finger at her without looking her way.

Fleki sighed and shook her head, running her gloved hand through her hair.

“I mean, I could, but it’s not like I can do all that much on my own? He doesn’t listen to me like he does you or Cithis, and you guys both have the life sentences thing,” she said loudly, watching Pattadol from the corner of her eye.

Otta sidled up, giving them both a nod.

“What are you talking about?” She asked as if she didn’t know.

Lycion nodded onto the lower deck, where Captain Mithrun had tripped into a coil of rope. Cithis hadn’t helped him up yet, so he was just sat in it glaring at everyone around him.

“Our fearless leader. Until we land, I guess. Then he’ll just be… Mithrun.”

It felt wrong even to hear the name, Fleki and Otta shared an entirely involuntary shudder.

“He’s not gonna do well on his own,” Otta said bluntly, and Fleki and Lycion exchanged startled looks. That was a little more direct than they were thinking.

True though. Fleki huffed and ran her hand through her hair again, crushing a little actual guilt.

“Yeah… for all that he’s got a damn stupid life plan.” Which technically meant that they all did, now.

Life or the next hundred and fifty odd years, depending on how Fleki and Otta’s sentences were commuted.

Lycion chuckled softly and stood, stretching his arms back above his head.

“You know, when you think about it, what he’s planning to do is technically no different than what we did as Canaries,” he pointed out.

All three glanced at Pattadol.

Who twitched, maybe from their joint gazes or just from a breeze.

Down on the lower deck, Captain Mithrun was now refusing to be helped out of the coil of rope. Like he knew how much they needed him to be a really tragic visual aid.

“It’s technically a little safer, almost,” Fleki said “reluctantly”, pretending to be talked around.

Otta snorted and folded her arms.

“Running around some backwater country for the rest of his life following monsters around? Still sounds like a punishment detail to me.”

“That’s kinda my point,” Lycion pointed out with a snicker, turning now to lean his back against the railing instead. If he kept watching the captain he was either going to laugh or cry (possibly both), which wouldn’t be conducive to their mission.

Fleki sighed and tossed both hands into the air.

“Yeah, but keeping the captain alive on a mission was never a one person job! If the Queen’s gonna take this mission of his seriously, he needs a proper squad who can handle the monsters and his needs!”

All three glanced at Pattadol again.

She seemed to be ignoring them.

“Casually” sidling in her general direction, Otta came to lean against the railing too.

“I mean yeah, but it can’t be just anyone. It has to be someone who knows-”

“Oh for fucks sake!” Pattadol threw up her hands, turning to glare at the lot of them. “One of you, right now, I don’t care who but one of you tell me you don’t actually think I’m this fucking stupid!”

All three convicts were stunned into silence, staring at her for a long moment. Then Lycion leaned into Fleki, talking from the corner of his mouth.

“I did not know Pattadol could swear.”

About to agree, Fleki caught the look in Pattadol’s eyes and raised her hands in unequivocal surrender.

“We don’t think you’re stupid! Just… we… we weren’t being subtle, were we?” She asked mostly rhetorically, and Pattadol glared at her specifically before redirecting it to the group as a whole again.

“Not. Remotely. I was waiting to see if you’d actually come out and just ask me, but since you seem to think I’m some kind of credulous child I guess that wasn’t going to happen!” She folded her arms, scowling at them all.

Otta leaned in towards Fleki too.

“Somehow I’m more scared now that she’s not swearing,” she said from the corner of her mouth, and Lycion nodded sagely. Fleki nudged the pair of them.

“So… what do you think though? About talking to the Queen about…” Fleki waved a hand vaguely over her shoulder at the Cithis and Mithrun Rope Cabaret currently entertaining the ship.

Pattadol glared at them all for a while longer, then sighed and leaned back against the railing.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right. You four are the logical choice to go with him and keep taking care of him; it’s not that different from what you’d be doing otherwise, and you deserve a reward for your service. And it’d be a more useful way to finish your sentences than just in a cell.” She shot them all another glare, raising a finger sharply. “But! I also think you’re going to need another warden to accompany you. I don’t think you’d hurt the captain or try anything, but no one else is going to believe that you won’t just run the second you get a chance.”

The three convicts exchanged thoughtful looks this time.

“You could…” Otta began, but Pattadol shook her head firmly.

“The Queen has already asked me to return to Melini as her ambassador. I can’t do that and keep an eye on all of you. So you need another warden in on this plan…”

“I guess that’s my cue.”

All four jumped as Flamela approached the railing, her coal-black skin reflecting almost gold in the sun. She rolled her eyes at the lot of them.

“Don’t look so shocked. I’m not going back to the fucking capital to play political games, and I’m keeping a career where I can fucking stab something if I can. Cithis asked me before we boarded,” she snapped, glaring at the lot of them.

This time Otta leaned in towards Pattadol.

“Okay but did you also catch that because we thought-”

“Shut up,” Flamela snapped, shooting her another glare, “it’s your own faults for gossiping and playing stupid games instead of just asking.”

“But you don’t like Captain Mithrun,” Fleki butted in, talking over Otta’s protest.

Flamela shrugged.

“I don’t like any of you.”

“Except Cithis?” Lycion asked sweetly, unphased by her glare, “Or why would you agree?”

It was fascinating to watch Flamela blush, mostly for the sheer novelty. Usually all anyone really saw from her was anger. Which, to be fair, was definitely still present.

“There are so many worse things I can find for you to scrub than the decks,” she snarled, definitely not covering the sudden flush and fluster.

Surprisingly, Pattadol came to their rescue.

“I also think you need to let Captain Flamela and I present the idea to the Queen, and you four need to shut up about it from this point on,” she said firmly, as if there hadn’t been an interruption.

Even Flamela looked surprised, and a little impressed. Pattadol gave all three convicts a sharp look.

“You do also need to tell Captain Mithrun about your plan first. Now. Somewhere private,” she added sharply.

The three convicts now shared a bewildered look. This time it was Otta who asked.

“I mean… we can? But why? If you guys are gonna present the idea, shouldn’t you tell him?” She asked cautiously.

Pattadol gave her a look like she’d asked if water was wet.

“Because for the past five weeks you’ve let Captain Mithrun think you’d rather have your legs cut off than go with him, and he’s upset about it! He’s not going to believe this was your ridiculous master plan unless you’re the ones who tell him about it, he’ll just think we’re forcing you to go!”

There was a long, slow moment, and then Otta frowned, cocking her head to one side.

“That doesn’t really sound like him…”

“He has been in a weird mood though,” Lycion mused, glancing over his shoulder.

Cithis, who never started an argument she wasn’t certain she’d win, had sat down next to the captain. He was still glaring at her.

Pattadol groaned loudly, drawing all of their attention back to her.

“Of course he’s in a bad mood! As far as he knows he’s going to lose everything familiar in his life when we get back, and every bit of stability he’s had for twelve years!”

“He’s been a Canary again for-“ Fleki began, only to be cut off by Otta.

“Wait how do you know how long I’ve been in his squad for?”

Fleki shut her mouth, cheeks pink. Flamela sighed heavily, her hands on her hips.

“There’s records on all of you, and every change in personnel,” she said flatly, entirely unimpressed. “Honestly, you’re not selling me on this stupid plan.”

“I’ll tell you Cithis’ real favourite food?” Lycion offered innocently, grinning when Flamela glared at him. “She likes telling different people different things to see what’s the most difficult or expensive thing they can get her, but she loves shrimp.”

Otta and Fleki turned to stare at him along with the wardens.

“How the hell do you know that?” Otta demanded, already thinking back over half a dozen conversations with their squad-mate that suddenly all made much more sense.

Lycion shrugged.

“I can smell when people lie.”

“You can fucking WHAT?!” Fleki shrieked, over any and all other reactions to that fuck of a sentence.

Lycion blinked, mildly confused at best.

“What? I mean, not everyone. But people I know, sure, I can pick up the patterns, especially in my real body. And Cithis lies a lot.”

Even Flamela looked impressed (and not a little thoughtful), but once again it was on Pattadol to come to the rescue as Fleki tackled Lycion, catching the smaller elf by the waist and yanking her back before she could take them both over the railing.

“You NEVER TOLD ME you piece of shit! Mmmmmmmph!”

Clamping a hand firmly over Fleki’s mouth, Pattadol levelled a stern glare at the other two.

“You need to go and tell Captain Mithrun that you want to go back to Melini with him, now. Before lunch. And tell him that you’ve been working on a plan all month, and that Captain Flamela and I are going to help you. And tell him you’re sorry you didn’t let him know! Fleki I’m not going to let you go just because you keep licking me, promise you’re not going to just attack Lycion again first.”

Still glaring mutinously, Fleki instead grumbled something that might have been agreement behind Pattadol’s hand and sagged. Pattadol cautiously released her, ready to grab at any second, but she just sulked back to the other two convicts, arms folded.

Once she was satisfied that attempted murder was no longer imminent, the young warden nodded firmly.

“Go on then! Get him now and take him to his cabin, no one’s inside on a day like today,” she flapped her hands at them and the convicts turned together, Lycion tossing an arm around Fleki’s shoulders that she promptly bit, but otherwise didn’t object to.

As they walked away, Flamela frowned thoughtfully after them.

“Pattadol, you’re a middle child, right?” She asked, not actually looking over at her fellow warden. Pattadol jumped, startled to be addressed despite everything they’d just agreed on, and looked over nervously.

“Uh… yes?”

Flamela hummed thoughtfully, leaning forward and folding her arms on the railing.

“Your parents made a good choice. You would have been a very good Canary.” Then she sighed and shook her head, straightening almost immediately to stretch out her back. “Or a kindergarten teacher.”

Utterly lost now, Pattadol stared at her for a long moment, then back to the convicts who’d now reached the lower deck, heading to where one beleaguered deckhand was trying to get Mithrun and Cithis away from the rope. It didn’t look urgent, exactly, but it probably wasn’t good.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Pattadol’s mouth.

“Thanks… I think?” She said quietly, glancing back to Flamela out of the corner of her eye. Flamela gave her a brusque pat on the shoulder.

“You’re gonna need all those skills if you’re staying on as a diplomat,” she added bluntly, then turned and walked away in the opposite direction of the lower deck.

Once again cursing her own pale complexion that showed even the faintest hints of pink, Pattadol looked for her squad-mates among the bustling heads on the lower deck again, her hand drifting ever so slowly up to the place Flamela had touched.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Otta considered the two wardens.

“So did we miss something or has Pattadol always been the smart one?” She asked bluntly.

Lycion hummed thoughtfully and then shrugged.

“Well we definitely missed something, but it might be that she’s smart,” he offered. Fleki huffed and rolled her eyes, still not sure she was willing to forgive him.

(Or whether or not he’d been bullshitting.)

“Not smart enough to just tell us she agreed and save us all the trouble though.”

“That might more have been gross optimism,” Otta noted, nudging her way through the newly forming crowd. It meant they had nearly reached Captain Mithrun. And possibly that he was doing something worse.

“Or she wanted us to come to her,” Lycion offered, having a much easier time parting the other elves. The ladies fell into step behind him automatically.

“Same thing,” Otta agreed.

“So what are we actually gonna do about the captain?” Fleki wondered, noting the increasing density of onlookers, most of whom were solely focused on the scene before them.

“Oh, that’ll be easy,” Lycion waved away the problem, nudging between another two Canaries and breaking into open space.

The situation had escalated again without them, justifying the budding crowd. What had been one deckhand presumably trying to politely talk the captain out of the rope was now two deckhands holding a third, one performing a healing spell on a bleeding hand.

Cithis was back on her feet too, holding the captain’s jaw firmly and dabbing at his face with a napkin. He was still glaring, although the effect was lost with Cithis’ grip smushing up his cheeks.

“Honestly captain, I’ve told you about putting things in your mouth when you don’t know where they’ve been,” she scolded him, even as the others approached.

Otta sighed heavily and shook her head.

“This one’s your fault, Fleki, he never used to bite before he met you.”

About to open her mouth to argue or try to defend herself, Fleki huffed and closed it again when Lycion waved his freshly bitten arm in her direction. She rolled her eyes instead, folding her arms.

“Hey if people are gonna grab you they deserve what they get,” she grumbled, glaring at the deeply amused convicts and crew surrounding them.

“He nearly took my fingers off!” Howled the injured deckhand, proffering a freshly healed set of fingers that were still a little red.

Not releasing her grip, Cithis turned from the captain enough to narrow her eyes at him.

“You went to lay hands on a warden captain over a coil of rope. Count yourself lucky if this is the only reprimand you receive,” she informed him icily, as if biting was a very normal thing for a warden to do.

That was how they knew that she was reaching the end of her patience with the captain’s behaviour; usually she was all sweet smiles and gentle reconciliation whenever something went wrong. Things had to get bad before Cithis ever showed her temper.

The poor elf opened and closed his mouth a few times, staring from his fingers to the entirely unrepentant Captain Mithrun.

“But… I… we need access to the lines!” He exclaimed, flailing in the direction of the sails. “He can’t just sit in them!”

Cithis raised a frosty eyebrow at him.

“Are we likely to sink if you can’t tweak this particular rope in the next thirty seconds?” She asked viciously sweetly, and the poor elf’s crew-mates drew away on either side.

Technically, the poor guy was right. The Canaries were all supposed to stay out of the way as much as possible, and defer to the crew for anything related to running the ship. But it was a beautiful day, with clear skies and a calm sea.

Trying to claim there had been any real urgency to moving the captain would be difficult. It wasn’t the kind of argument anyone wanted to escalate any higher.

Lycion gave him a cheerful pat on the shoulder on his way past and a friendly smile.

“I think it’s probably best if you let us handle the captain, and you just handle the ship. Captain, if you bite me I’ll bite you back,” he warned Captain Mithrun, bending down and hauling the captain out of the ropes, tossing him over his shoulder.

The captain very clearly did consider biting him anyway, but let himself be carried like a sack of potatoes instead, glaring at Lycion’s ass.

Cithis maintained eye contact with the unfortunate sailor for a minute longer, then turned to follow Lycion with a haughty sniff. Fleki waved both hands at the onlookers like she was scattering ducklings.

“Go on, fuck off everyone, we’re all definitely going to drown and be lost at sea if there’s a moment’s delay on the ropes.”

Since the show seemed to be over (at least for now), they did begin to disperse, forming into smaller groups to talk about what the fuck that had been about. Which was fair.

Luckily, the threat of Cithis was enough to keep any stragglers from tagging after them as they headed down to the captain’s room. Not that all five of them could fit in the captain’s room; with Lycion depositing the captain on the bed, he, Cithis, and Otta could just about squish to stand in the remaining space. Fleki stayed in the hall, glaring about for onlookers.

Captain Mithrun treated them all to a truly dark glare for a minute, then turned to stare up at the boards above him, his face falling into more of a pout.

Lycion examined his face for a moment, then sighed and shook his head.

“Oh, Captain… we should have said sooner.”

Captain Mithrun didn’t so much as glance over, but Cithis shot him a questioning look. Given that she’d apparently been openly discussing things with Flamela, it seemed a little rich.

Otta cut in to fill them both in, folding her arms.

“We were just talking to Pattadol and Captain Flamela. They’re going to see if they can help get us assigned to go back to Melini with you,” she said flatly, shaking her head minutely as Cithis’ eyes widened. They could talk about that part later.

Captain Mithrun’s face froze, his one good eye sliding over to peer in Otta’s direction. She scratched at the back of her head, feeling sheepish.

“We knew you could only get like, one person as your ward, so we figured for all of us to go it’d have to be kinda the same thing as Canary duty. You’re still gonna be hunting down monsters, and you’re still gonna need someone to take care of you, so really the only difference is gonna be that there won’t be any weird dungeon magic.”

“Which is gonna make Otta way less useful, but she wanted to come too,” Fleki put in from the hallway, grinning and ducking as Otta swung at her.

“Hey fuck you there are sprites everywhere! And I can still dig traps and shit, I’ll be more useful than you in a fight!”

Lycion made an aborted move to try and get between them, but with Cithis in the way he’d have had to push past her. And he didn’t care that much.

He gave Captain Mithrun a cheerful smile instead.

“It’s going to be a little more dangerous too, since we won’t be able to resurrect anyone if they get killed, so we figured it’d have to be all of us,” he explained, and the captain’s gaze slid slowly over to him.

The defined lines of the pout were softening out, leaving the captain looking more confused than anything else. Lycion gently brushed his hair off his face.

“That is, if you’d like us to come with you, Captain?”

That caught Otta and Fleki’s attention, now rough housing in the hall, and both looked over.

The captain’s brow furrowed again, as if the question didn’t make sense. It was hard to tell what made sense to him, though.

“You wanted to go back to prison,” he said after a few minutes, pushing himself up on his elbows so he could frown at Fleki. Who shoved Otta off her and sat up.

“I mean, I said that at first cuz I was surprised! But then I thought some more about it, and talked to the others, and… well, it’s not that much worse than being Canaries. Not if it’s all of us.”

“Yeah, cuz you’d definitely die if it was just Fleki trying to take care of you,” Otta snarked, dodging away from a quick swat.

Captain Mithrun stared at the pair of them, his eye wide, looking rather a lot like a lost puppy. Lycion ruffled his hair, then carefully fixed it when the wide eyed stare turned to him.

“So, what do you think, Captain? Do you mind if we come with you tracking the monsters?” It wasn’t quite the same question, which might have made it slightly easier for him.

The captain stared at him for a long moment too, then very slowly shook his head. He looked almost like he was about to cry, and the two on the floor sighed in relief.

Then Fleki hauled herself to her feet, shoving Otta out of her way to dive into the room, half sprawling across the bed.

“Okay but that’s no you don’t mind, not no you totally want us all to go back to prison instead, right? She asked, propping herself up on her elbows and grinning at him.

Captain Mithrun hesitated again, looking at all four of them as though not fully sure they were here. When he spoke it was just as slow and careful.

“I… won’t stop you if you want to come with me?” It sounded like a question, like he genuinely didn’t know what she was asking or how to respond.

The day had gotten away from him somewhere, but at least he wasn’t glaring any more. And seemed much less likely to bite someone. Lycion even sat on the edge of the bed to let Cithis scoot over so Otta could squish in, with minimal mutual grumbling.

Captain Mithrun was never exactly enthusiastic about anything, but anything beat the sulking from the past few weeks. Pattadol was probably right; at the very least he’d been unsettled, or they’d just confused him out of whatever actually put him in a bad mood.

They didn’t usually push so much into his personal space, but if he’d been upset about them leaving he could probably use a little company. And it wasn’t like there was much of a choice in the tiny room.

If he got cranky again they’d be able to back out. Maybe even before anyone got bitten.

Lycion gave the captain another gentle pat on the shoulder.

“We can keep practicing making pasta together,” he offered brightly, and got a slightly uncertain smile.

“We’re going to have to catch Flamela up on the pasta making, she missed our first lesson,” Fleki snickered, pulling herself up onto the bed too.

That was an even worse idea than trying to fit three of them standing, but the captain didn’t lean away from either of them. He wasn’t his usual deadpan self exactly, but at least he looked a little happier.

Definitely still more confused than anything else, and occasionally looking around to check they were actually there, but the faint bemused smile hadn’t left, which was a nice change.

Things fell as silent as they ever got on the noisy, creaking ship for a few moments and were dangerously close to actually being peaceful.

Then Fleki’s head whipped around and she grinned at Cithis again.

“Oh, and did you know Pattadol can swear? She totally told us to fuck off,” she said brightly.

Mithrun blinked slowly, frowning at her, and even Cithis looked surprised. Otta sighed and shook her head.

“She did not tell us to fuck off.” She waited a beat, then grinned as well. “She asked if we thought she was a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah, she’s been onto us since we set sail,” Lycion chuckled softly, giving the captain a speculative look and then resting his chin on the much shorter elf’s head. Which tipped slowly upwards to look at him too, but didn’t move to dislodge him other than that.

Lycion decided to consider that a win, although it was always hard to tell how the captain felt about anything. If he felt anything about most things at all.

Too bad they were going to be keeping Flamela, not Pattadol while they explored Melini. Still, if she was doing diplomatic work, she’d probably be nearby enough to visit and check in.

She’d definitely love them visiting to make her their relationship counsellor with the captain. With both captains, since it wasn’t like Flamela liked Mithrun either.

It was hard to ignore the way the captain’s stiff back slowly, gradually began to relax back into Lycion’s warmth as they continued to chat around him. Or the way that his feet slid apart to let Fleki haul herself up between them when she started to slip with the motion of the waves, although that might have been to avoid being crushed.

Lycion scooped Mithrun fully into his lap and away from her anyway, making sure not to hold on in case the captain wanted to move away. He stiffened up again, but didn’t move. And slowly began to relax even further, finally resting his weight against Lycion when he didn’t move back.

Otta and Fleki both noticed, and Cithis looked decidedly speculative as she watched the tension slowly leech from the captain’s shoulders.

They’d always tried to give him as much space as he wanted, which had been blatant guesswork… and pretty widely varied, since Otta preferred maximum personal space and Fleki barely even acknowledged the concept.

Might have had something to do with how much time she spent outside of her own body on a regular basis, but the damn bird was just as inclined to burrow in and occasionally bite people.

Lycion wasn’t a fan of too much space either, or rather he liked a fair amount of physical contact. In his actual body for preference, but there was no chance of fitting that into the captain’s room along with the rest of them.

He could handle the spindly elf body for a good cause, and realising they might have been giving the captain too much space was a good cause. Captain Mithrun wasn’t a formal guy, so long as they did what he told them in a dungeon he’d answer to anything and let them get away with whatever they wanted.

It made it hard to see where his boundaries were, so they’d largely sided with caution. And apparently underestimated just how much he depended on them for stability, if nothing else.

Group cuddles on his bed? Probably not going to be much of a feature going forward, even if they did manage to snag an assignment still taking care of him. It got all five of them into the dinky cabin though, and since no one was making Cithis or Otta join in there were no objections.

Fleki was definitely gonna keep pushing until she finally located a boundary, either the captain’s or her own, and then promptly panic and never go near it again. Lycion could always grab her when he wanted attention, but he made a mental note to offer it to the captain more too.

After all, if they were all going to be keeping each other company even after the Canaries disbanded, they couldn’t rely only on Pattadol to tell what the captain needed.

They’d probably also have access to Kabru, with any luck whatsoever. And between the four of them, they could definitely convince Kabru that a little cuddling had been added to the captain’s daily routine.

Cithis had the same thought, exchanging a slow smile with Lycion as the captain very slowly melted into a puddle.

Going back to Melini was going to be a lot of fun.

——————

Pattadol totally also deserves to bite people much more often too, she gets no respect and while that is usually good for her development she does deserve at least a little! (She’d get more if she bit people)

Poor Mithrun has no fucking clue what’s going on or why, including why he is mysteriously now cranky all of the time, it’s not like his entire life has just been overturned and will never recover

There’s also a joke somewhere about Fleki having to learn to pull out now that they can’t just kill and resurrect her when her familiar gets eaten, but I couldn’t find it yet so just assume I’m funny 👍👍

Anyway, come join my touch-starved Mithrun agenda, the biting is not technically compulsory but here we are

#delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon spoilers #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi fanfic #after dinner mints #after dinner mints: the plan #lycion #lycion dungeon meshi #fleki #fleki dungeon meshi #cithis #cithis dungeon meshi #otta dungeon meshi #pattadol #pattadol dungeon meshi #captain mithrun #mithrun dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi canaries #they are not leaving their captain alone he’ll fucking die

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pearlythemc · 4 years ago

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Every time I try to draw a background

#send help #i'm struggling #I stayed up until 3am trying to draw a background barely getting through the sketch and scrapped it #why is art so hard

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dameronology · 4 years ago

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it's no use, i just do {bucky barnes}

'if i just wanted someone to hold, then really anyone would do/i'd close my eyes and really try not to turn them into you, but it's no use, i just love you' - no use i just do, hayley williams

(a.k.a: the one where bucky needs a hug, but specifically from you)

eugh more bucky stuff from my drafts? yes. i think so. truth be told, I started writing this like 3 months ago (whenever flowers for vases came out) but it's been sat collecting dust. enjoy :-)

- jazz xx

p.s this is spoiler free!

The nights were always hardest for Bucky Barnes.

The dark always reminded him of the furthest corners of his mind; the ones holding his worst memories, skeletons collecting dust, rotting away until he forgot about them completely or forced them out with intensive therapy. Both were options that he was completely dreading - so he forced them down, forced them to the back and did everything within his power to ignore. It was easy enough during the day, when he was surrounded by his friends, occupied by work and the buzz of New York City.

Then the sun went away, and with the rising of the moon came the echoes and ghosts of Winter Soldier's past. Thanks to the likes of Netflix and YouTube, the modern world was filled with enough things to distract Bucky from the grips of his own mind. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.

And tonight was one of the nights where it didn't. Every time he shut his eyes - squeezed them shut and gripped onto his thin blankets like a flimsy anchor to the present - he got flashbacks. Reminders of the things he'd done and the people he'd hurt. They always had the same look in their eyes, whenever they flashed into his mind. He couldn't see it then, but now he could feel again, he knew it was fear. The same look he had in his eyes every time he was clamped into a chair and forced to have the last remaining ounce of his humanity wiped.

Bucky's hold-ups about his feelings for you seemed almost comical compared to the problems he dealt with then. But he could feel more now, which meant his brain was so hyperaware of every little thing he felt for you; love, attachment, fear. All things that were enough to send him into a spiral, even if the feeling of your arms around him and lips meshed against his was the first reminder of his humanity since nineteen-forty-fucking-five.

Distance had felt like the answer. Cutting you out completely and acting like he hadn't fallen into your bed every night for six months seeking comfort. It was kind of a dick move, but it was one you understood. Actually, no, it wasn't, because you didn't understand a single thing the man ever fucking did. That's probably why you'd let him go so easily - people came and went. Maybe he was just supposed to be the latter.

How was it going, you ask? Given that Bucky had elbowed his way into your apartment complex at 3AM and was pacing outside your front door - pretty fucking terribly. Normally, he wasn't that bad at resisting the urge to seek you out, but tonight had been hard. Too hard. His hands were still shaking, shirt still sticking to his back with sweat. The nightmares had been...visual, to say the least. He felt like a monster, and you were the only person he trusted enough to convince him otherwise.

"Hey, dumbass. I have a Ring doorbell - what the fuck are you doing out there?"

Bucky jumped at the sound of your voice. Technology: 1. Barnes: 0.

The front door swung open, revealing a tired-looking you. Your hair was pushed back off your face, large nightshirt swamping your body. He knew you got mad when your beauty sleep was interrupted, but you got even madder when he suffered in silence.

"I..." Bucky trailed off.

"Nightmares. I know." You stepped aside. "Come in."

You didn't push any further, or berate him for his radio silence over the last few weeks. He was grateful for that. You were the only person who didn't ask so many questions all the time. Bucky didn't mind talking, but recounting his entire life story to Sam Wilson whilst they drove to Walmart wasn't his idea of fun.

Your apartment still felt homier than his. The walls were covered in photos of you and your friends and family, and shitty little drawings done by your various, younger relatives. Your fridge had postcards and letters hung on it, and there was clutter all over the kitchen counter. The thousands of pillows piled high on your sofa were practically a safe haven. There was a soft scent of vanilla hanging in the air from all your little diffusers, making him smile slightly.

"You got new curtains?" Bucky helplessly pointed to your window.

"How very observant of you." You placed a hand on his arm as you brushed past him. "What's going on, Buck?"

"With my life, or just tonight?"

"I don't think we have time for the first one." You fell onto the sofa. "Sit."

He took a seat beside you; not on you, but close enough so that your knees were touching. "Every time I close my eyes, I remember."

"That wasn't you." You gently reminded him, reaching out to push his hair back. "Not then and not now."

"I still did it though." He held his hands out in front of him. "These are the hands that killed innocent people. This is the brain that felt no empathy or remorse."

"No." You firmly said. "Those are the hands that fought in Wakanda, for the good fight. This is the brain that comes up with the worst jokes I've ever heard and regularly forgets to buy toilet roll."

His blue eyes wavered from the floor, capturing your gaze. He suddenly fell back against you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head in your chest. Everybody else went out their way to make him seem like a monster or a saint - but you? You just made him seem like a human. There wasn't a single perfect one of those. Steve Rogers probably came close, but he was a fucking terrible driver.

"I..." Bucky trailed off. He knew what he wanted to say. Just didn't have the courage to verbalise it. "I appreciate you."

"I know." You murmured, carding a hand through his hair.

Bucky had gone to therapy. He'd taken up exercise (and boxercise and jazzercise) and yoga. He'd tried those stupid fucking cleansing smoothies that his neighbour had sold him - at the time, he had yet been introduced to the idea of multilevel marketing schemes - and gone to meditation classes. None of it worked. Not for a single second.

Then you came in the picture, and he began to see colour etched into the edges of an otherwise black and white world. Where there had been nightmares and flashbacks, he'd found a peaceful night's sleep and pleasant dreams (normally of you, truth be told). The simplicity of it was what made it so complex - because he didn't understand it. Couldn't get his head around the fact that you actually, genuinely wanted to help him.

And he knew it wasn't just your touch or the softness of your skin against his. He'd tried it - sleeping with strangers and staying around the morning after to cuddle. Anything to find human contact with the emotion and the commitment; the very two components that were the secret ingredients to the two of you working so fucking nicely.

"Thank you." Bucky murmured.

"For what?"

"For just..." He glanced up at you, blue eyes holding an emotion you couldn't quite place, "treating me like everyone else. Like a normal person."

"You are a normal person." You softly smiled. "Maybe with a little more baggage, but to the right person, that won't matter."

"Does it matter to you?"

"That's a trap." You thinned your eyes at him. "But no, it doesn't."

He tightened his grip on you, the fear and anxiety draining from his soul. He knew now more than ever that the comfort didn't come from the way he was being held, or the way he was being spoken to. It was who was holding him, and who was speaking to him. You came out on top, every time.

That was why it worked.

It was you. And there was nothing he could do about it.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky barnes fluff #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #marvel x y/n #marvel imagine #marvel imagines

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

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Moments #6

Ooooh, lookie, it is past 3am :D Ooops.

Muse woke up and decided to write this little thing. it should be noted that my brain is in some kind of coma, so the result is, well...this.

Many thanks to @tsarinatorment and @janetm74 for the read through ::hugs you both::

This is just a little Earth looking after the Sky. I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

Scott has sixteen grey hairs in his fringe and about twice that on either side.

Virgil knew this because he had counted them three times now.

He let his head drop back over the back of the sofa and sighed.

Scott had fallen asleep beside him an hour ago, too damned stubborn to go to bed. Virgil had suspected this would happen, so had stayed up beside him while sending the rest of his brothers to bed.

Grandma had squeezed his shoulder as she left. He knew she was concerned, but he valued her trust in him.

Virgil knew how to look after his older brother.

Even if it required a butt numbing wait.

The movie had been an old one they had seen many times before. Virgil had planned it that way in yet another attempt to get his brother to fall asleep.

And he had. Just not in his bed.

Scott slumped over, obviously fighting his own body’s needs, until his head dropped against Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil held ever so still. Scott sleeping anywhere other than his rooms was rare and the few times he did manage to collapse at their father’s desk amongst all the Tracy Industries holograms, he had been alone in the room…only to wake immediately once Virgil or one of their other brothers went looking.

Scott’s sleep was fragile and precious, and Virgil was willing to do anything to protect it.

So when his brother started snoring softly into Virgil’s flannel shirt, he kept as still and quiet as possible.

Eventually, Virgil got daring and gently manoeuvred Scott millimetre by millimetre until his head was resting on a cushion in his lap. For a moment there, he thought he had blown it, but his brother snuffled and curled up against him and dropped into a deeper sleep.

And so started his vigil.

Virgil didn’t mind. He had his tablet and a backlog of both engineering and art periodicals to wade through, but his attention kept being drawn back to his brother.

The plaster on Scott’s forehead was ever so white against tanned skin. It highlighted the grey in his tousled mess of hair.

Virgil found himself counting and listing an event to blame for each of them.

He ran out of hairs before he ran out of events.

He didn’t dare brush his fingers through Scott’s hair. Didn’t trust his brother’s sleep was robust enough. So Virgil settled for cupping his head gently with one hand, barely touching him, but meeting his own need to connect nonetheless.

Scott was so young.

Commander, president, leader…awake he exuded so much energy and determination. The man was never still, always moving, possessing a vitality that kept this family alive.

But here, asleep, face slack, all Virgil could see was that big brother from so long ago, before everything happened, before life changed and hurt them so many times over. Before burdens bowed his big brother down under so much weight.

Back when they sat and did their homework together, Mom throwing out answers to questions while she tackled their younger brothers into the bath. Back when Virgil would sit out in the fields and draw, Scott hanging out with him despite the fact he couldn’t sit still. Eventually admitting that he just wanted to spend time with him.

Virgil had a sketchbook somewhere full of his brothers, and amongst those drawings were ones done out in those fields. His happy, smiling and smirking big brother.

Before the burdens.

Virgil couldn’t help himself. He touched one of the grey hairs, brushing it between his fingers.

Scott murmured in his sleep and frowned.

He snatched his hand away and his brother settled again.

Today had been another near miss, but Scott was safe, only a few scratches and bruises to show for it.

Virgil, of course, had more nightmare material, but then that library was so vast already, it would be shoved in with the rest and barely noticed.

But sitting here, looking down at his sleeping brother, he couldn’t help but try to think of ways to remove some of those burdens from his big brother’s shoulders.

They all took on their fair share. Virgil and John in particular took everything they could to help Scott. But still there were nights where Virgil had to drag the man away from his desk.

And he always protested. Why was everyone more important than Scott Tracy?

Virgil rested a hand on his brother’s arm.

Why did he need to give so much? Even now, the idiot refused to go to bed despite his exhaustion.

So stubborn.

Scott breathed ever so softly against red flannel.

Well, he was asleep now and Virgil had nothing better to do. His butt was already numb, but it was just part of the deal of being a brother to this…

Great man.

Another sigh.

The things he would do for the idiots he loved.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #earth and sky

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sequinsmile-x · 4 years ago

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Day-to-Day

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

A story in the “5 times + 1″ format.

Part of the Whatever Tomorrow Brings universe.

Chapter 1 - Amelia.

Read on AO3 via this link, or below the cut

March 2010

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if you get a case?”

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

“Sweetheart-”

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

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

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

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

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

May 2024

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And who said you could do that?”

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

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

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

_________________

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

“Em?”

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

He frowns at her. “What? No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

_________________

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

“She’s not that bad, Aaron.”

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

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

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

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

“Nothing, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Emily-”

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

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

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

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

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

_________________

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

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

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

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

“Amelia Hotchner?”

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

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

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

_________________

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

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

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

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

“She’s 15, Emily.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too.” _________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you want.” _________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

Plan B it was. _________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We really do.”

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

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

They both know she won’t.

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

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imagines-mha · 5 years ago

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class 1-B and night routines

Monoma: if monoma doesn’t annoy at least 2 people per night he simply will not sleep. Wears the comfiest pyjamas- like a 100% cotton top and plaid pj bottoms and everyones so fuckin jealous. He tells everyone he has a 16 step self-care routine he does every night but he really just brushes his teeth and then sits on his phone for like 2 hours? Ike what do you GET out of lying???

Tetsutetsu: he thinks going to bed after 11pm is criminal. Literally doesn’t understand the cryptidcrew™️ who DONT MF SLEEP. Works out before bed which is 👌🏻👌🏻 OOF. Aw hes the type of friend to make everyone tea and toast and send them asmr videos if they cant sleep i love him. He usually spends his night dancing around with pony and working off all his ENERGY

Kendo: “yall im turning into bed i’m too tired for this shit” “kendo it’s 7pm”

My girl will retire to her room as early as she can (usually with the rest of the girls) and she just RELAXES. Like self-care to the max: paints her nails, watches tv, plans her tomorrow, showers. She’s usually asleep at 10pm and wakes up the next morning full energy I want what she has

Awase: he has the WORST sleep schedule like fr. Literally sits up on tiktok until 3am and he’s just like “oh shit i’m up at 7…” *continues scrolling* like bro GET UR ASS TO BED U HAVE TRAINING AT 6AM. His night routine ain’t anything special- he sleeps in sweats and always keeps his window open (although someone told him about banshees once and now hes lowkey terrified lmao)

Kaibara- the type to fall asleep on the sofa and wake up at 4 in the morning to find tsuburaba in the kitchen eating a full course meal and he just SIGHS and goes up to bed in the worst mood bc why tf are his friends so WEIRD. Likes to watch the stars and edit pictures before he sleeps- its so therapeutic to him and also productive so he’s winning

Rin- he drinks coffee every night after midnight and then goes “oh my fuck shit i just drank coffee why am i like this” like congrats u fuckin dumbass now u ain’t gonna sleep. And he never fuckin learns. Always does his hw at like 11pm, Also stays up way too late binge-watching star wars smh

Tsuburaba: he gets up every night and treats himself to a three-course meal in the kitchen no cap no sound awareness my man will be blending shit full blast at 2 in the morning. Usually falls asleep sitting at the kitchen table and he 👏🏻 needs 👏🏻 a 👏🏻 chiropractor 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻. Also always forgets to do his homework until everyone’s packing up to go to bed and hes like “please,, anyone,, the math?”. Shoda wants to punch him so bad

Ibara: the most well-structured person in the entire building. At 7pm she has her shower, at 8:30pm she goes to pray, at 9:30pm she journals and draws to calm her mind, and at 10pm she meditates until she falls asleep- which is usually 10:20pm.. Everyone wants her self control and independance like damn how does she FUNCTION. Also queen of vegan self-care remedies

Pony: girl is chaotic as fuck it’ll be like 10pm and rin’s like “yo pony can i copy the hw??” And shes like “WHAT HOMEWORK.” . *cue two idiots freaking tf out*. She’s always wearing matching pj sets and fluffy socks and loves sliding around in them like a dork. Dances every night before bed to tire herself out like shes just in the lounge deadass vibing to taylor swift and a new person joins her everytime . people would be dead without her

Kodai: movies every night or she won’t go to class the next morning. Shes always just sitting on her phone w earphones in like she has absoloutely no time to deal with monoma’s shit so she just peaces tf out of existence. Cutest pyjamas ever i love her pyjama queen. The go-to girl for homework she just leaves her bag open, as long as u return it shes cool

Tokage: oh my god shes so CRYPTIC and FOR WHAT. Pranks pranks pranks pranks pranks. everyone hates her for it and she loves it so bad. Like she has the balls to prank kamakiri and that TAKES BALLS LET ME JUST SAY . she’ll just leave her body parts in people’s beds and its SO annoying. They usually just pick up her stray arm and fling it at the wall in revenge then act confused the next morning when she complains abt the bruises

Komori: cryptic as fuck. Does she sleep? Why is she always sitting at the table? What is she doing? . Closes her tabs whenever someone comes into the dining room and just stares at them til they leave again like :)). In the garden every night til she can’t bear the coldness- watches the stars and makes flower crowns and worships the moon i love her

Kuroiro: nighttime is the time he just evaporates like where tf is he like 🙄🙄 reel it in randy from monsters inc . Hiding in the walls and listening to everyones conversations and secrets is his only skill in life . Everyone thinks he doesn’t sleep and just wanders around (he does, he just likes to have an edgy reputation)

Kamakiri- did you hear that?? oh its just kamakiri fistfighting monoma in the hallway again. Fr takes no prisoners he needs his beauty sleep (or idk do bugs sleep lmao??). If you’re in his way while he’s RAMPAGING to his room youre dead bro when i say he takes bedtime routines seriously i MEAN it. He does self-care and tells NOONE but its lowkey cute idk lmao why do i have a crush on a bug lemme call my therapist real quick

Bondo- 9pm. Wind down time. A good book is all my mans needs and he’ll be out for the count in absolutely no time at all. Fukidashi will die jealous and bondo fucking loves it. Milks tf out of it too he’s like YAWN I AM SO TIRED OFF TO BED NOW TO SLEEP PEACEFULLY GOODNIGHT and everyone who WISHES they could sleep as early as that wants him to choke

Manga- king of never having hw done until 1am at the earliest 🤡. He lives on 1 hour sleep most nights and his speech bubble just says “no <3” until like 11am. Its cus of his crippling hyperactivity he’s running the halls at 3am practicing the entire mamma mia choreography ffs fukidashi U HAVE A CAREER AHEAD OF U

Reiko: energy drink addiction 101 if she doesn’t drink monster every night before bed she’s convinced she’ll die. “I sleep all day and party all night” she says, crying over math hw at 2am. Plays music too loud and has LED strobelites on ALL NIGHT. Shes deadass doing witchcraft in the lounge w komori all night during finals week she doesnt give a single fuck x

Shishida: another reader,, mans will finish an entire book in a night by the force of sheer willpower alone. Takes a bath every night and it makes his fur so fluffy and smell like apples smdnwjdnwd. Perfect snuggle buddy for wintertimes (pony LOVES HIM) and he’s that good man who carries tsuburaba to bed when he falls asleep at the kitchen table

Shoda: “please don’t speak to me while im doing my homework im 👌🏻 this close to having a mental breakdown and all it takes is a single poke to reel me over the edge.” Complains all day about being tired then goes to bed at 2am?? Like no shit ofc ur tired bitch . Always up for a deep talk at night he knows EVERYTHING abt EVERYONE and hes so trustworthy hed never tell a soul

Honenuki: he meal preps and does yoga before bed 🤢 like WHO HAS THAT MOTIVATION. Irons and sets his uniform out for the next day before getting his homework FINISHED by 9pm . He’s pretty flexible w what he does at nights it 100% depends on his mood. Usually he’s helping Tokage with pranks or working out w tetsutetsu tho. Used to annoy people who were up doing hw after 11 like “really tsuburaba? You should be ashamed”. Shoda almost DECKED him once for it tho and he was #traumatised and never did it again

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jasonmantzoukas · 5 years ago

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do you have any ben/leslie headcanons! i love your posts abt them so much it's great to see someone get as emotional abt them as i am asjdkajhjd

i got this message and i was like "god, i dont really know if i have any headcanons" and then i opened my notes app and started typing and didn't stop for over an hour

i'm literally putting this under a break and organizing it into categories bc it's absurdly long

here it is

A COLLECTION OF BEN AND LESLIE HEADCANONS

PRE-RELATIONSHIP/S3

basically canon but leslie definitely had a crush on a young benji wyatt and followed the story religiously for the first couple months before she started college

ben is only slightly jealous leslie had ann go out with chris to try and get more money for the parks budget rather than leslie asking him out with the same goal. he knows it’s insane, unethical, and illogical but he’s still excited that he gets to spend the night with her on a date plus two other people even if it is to accuse her of bribery.

ann realizes early on that leslie was attracted to ben and teases her mercilessly about it. she thinks it’s absolutely hilarious that leslie wants to make out with "mean ben.” after april and andy’s wedding, she realizes it's more than just attraction and she lays off.

before ben can even think rationally about what he’s doing, he’s in line at bed, bath, and beyond with a crock pot in his arms, calling stephanie to ask her to send him their family’s chicken soup recipe

ann knew ben liked her from the beginning and was totally positive when she ran into him in the hospital asking for leslie’s room number while holding jj’s waffles and a tub of homemade soup.

ben realizes he’s falling in love with leslie when he is at city hall with her until 3am one night trying to budget for the amount of cotton candy machines she wants for the harvest festival. in his exhaustion, he naively believes her when she tells him she’ll go home in a bit so he leaves. he never gets a text from saying she made it home so he stops at jj’s the next morning and brings a takeout container of waffles and a coffee complete with an outlandish amount of whipped cream and sugar to the parks department. he finds her asleep in the conference room. he starts trying to convince sweetums to donate more cotton candy machines that afternoon.

chris had to have known ben liked leslie. he’s not an idiot. in the deleted scene from their wedding, they read out emails from their “tumultuous first week in pawnee” and chris writes to ben saying, “why are you so focused on leslie knope?” ben replies saying, “i’m not. whatever. shut up.” there’s no way chris is this oblivious. ben takes her out for a beer. ben pays out of pocket for a children’s performer to help her out. ben shows up on chris and ann’s date just because he thinks leslie might be there. chris can’t be this dumb. but when they take the city manager jobs in pawnee, he knows it can’t happen so he cuts ben off when he starts to ask about dating someone in city hall. he cracks down on the rule in front of leslie after the tom incident to hammer it in. he starts setting ben up on a bunch of dates to try and head it off. he sends them to indianapolis for the little league pitch because, realistically, he knows they’re the best bet for success but makes sure to interrupt their dinner and invites them to his apartment to continue to run interference the rest of the night. after their fights in 4.06-4.08, he hopes he won’t have to worry anymore. the next work day, they come into his office looking nervous and happy and he knows he’s about to lose the partner and best friend that’s been by his side for the past decade.

april and andy knew they were secretly dating. it went unspoken aside from a few implicit teasing remarks from april and a few suggestive attempted high fives from andy but leslie assured ben they wouldn’t tell anyone despite their ostensible behavior.

BREAK UP

ben had commissioned the li’l sebastian plush for leslie after he had died but the toy shop didn’t finish it until after they broke up. he felt bad not going to pick it up so he did despite not being able to give it to her. he kept it for all those months and sometimes thought about getting rid of it but could never bring himself to do it.

when leslie made personalized copies her books for her friends with individualized annotations and notes in the bylines, she had two copies for ben. there was one that she gave him during their breakup that was very simplified and watered down where the note basically just said “i’m really glad you decided to stay in pawnee.” then there was a second copy that she kept while they were split up that was totally covered in notes and random thoughts she couldn’t say during their time apart. she gives him that copy when they get back together and it may or may not be the best gift he’s ever received.

april was much less abrasive with them during the break up because she’s a sweetheart and wants her friends to be happy.

the first time leslie admitted she was in love with him was during a long night of drinking and crying at ann’s house

ben craved the taste of sugar during their breakup because he got used to tasting the sweetness when he kissed her

ben found himself unable to sleep at night without the sound of leslie talking in her sleep to comfort him

april texted leslie the night of the halloween party to let her know that ben and andy were at the hospital after a fight and everything was fine and she didn’t need to worry. leslie was mad at andy for a few days after and he couldn’t figure out why.

the only photo in ben’s bedroom was of himself, leslie, and li’l sebastian at the harvest festival. if he got caught staring at it and crying, he would just say he missed li’l sebastian so much.

april and andy started having star wars and star trek movie nights to try and cheer ben up

DOMESTIC

ben and leslie got in the habit of having weekly game nights with april and andy during the campaign since they were all basically living together. it became a tradition that kept going as often as they could make it happen, even after the kids were born. they try to have game night at least once a month. april pretends to hate it.

one of my absolute favorite ideas about them is that she sleeps much better when he’s around to keep her grounded. after they get together for good, she starts getting closer to 5 hours of sleep a night.

another favorite involving leslie’s sleeping: ben is typically accustomed to tuning out incoherent nonsense that she babbles in her sleep but she also has some of her best ideas when she’s not busy trying to focus on a million different things. when he hears her coming up with legitimately good ideas or making speeches or having solid debate arguments, he takes out the notebook he keeps in his nightstand to record her thoughts and quotes. he revisits and revises the notes to strengthen her statements and make them more professional and less rambling but makes sure to keep her distinct voice apparent in them.

ben prefers pancakes to waffles but he will go to the grave with that secret

this isn’t a headcanon because nbc posted it but one of ben’s holidays on leslie’s calendar is watch synchronization day which is the day they celebrate syncing their watches to, as leslie puts it, “always be in harmony, like our hearts” which is just one of the sweetest fucking things in the world

leslie makes ben read and watch all the harry potters because he didn’t get into them when he first tried. ben is much more of a success than ann. she buys him a ravenclaw scarf for christmas.

their first fight as a couple was a historical debate gone awry

since ben clearly has some affinity for custom stuffed animals, he has some made for the triplets.

they’re both dog people but they adopt a cat because sonia and stephen beg for one and it does fit their busy lifestyle much better. they love the cat. they get a dog when the kids are older and life is slightly less hectic.

they both love striped shirts and sweaters so much that they have to make a conscious effort to avoid wearing them on the same day and matching

leslie makes sweets and bakes desserts while ben typically handles cooking the actual meals

BASED ON EPISODES, QUOTES, AND THROWAWAY LINES

i always loved the ann/ben dynamic in bus tour because there’s been such an obvious shift in ann’s attitude towards him in this episode. maybe it’s because she and tom just broke up and she just turned chris down again and she’s frustrated with relationships but i think it’s her realizing ben isn’t going anywhere. since the campaign is winding down, she realizes that things aren’t gonna go back to the way they were because ben is now part of this and he’s clearly in it for the long haul. ann’s definitely jealous that ben is just as important to leslie as she is and she now knows she’s never gonna get that full attention back. ann sits ben down to have a real “don’t you dare hurt her” speech after this ep and before win, lose, or draw. this is when he tells ann he wants to marry her.

they discover they both adore the princess bride after ben says “as you wish” to her one night and after that it becomes their movie.

the wildflower mural becomes a thing between them when ben says he considered that to be their first date, prompting leslie to tell him what the mural means to her.

ben puts banjo boogie bonanza on one of the mix cds he gives leslie at the beginning of their relationship

harrison ford movie nights start after they both reveal they had a crush on him as a kid. ben was obsessed with han solo and leslie was into indiana jones’ whole history teacher vibe.

they basically hate each other’s taste in music and stop exchanging mix cds once that becomes apparent that they aren’t gonna find much common ground. they both love tom petty, al green, and etta james and music in that vein though.

ben makes leslie watch game of thrones just to try to explain why he’s called her khaleesi. she gets into it, not so much because of the show itself, but because of how passionate her boyfriend is about it.

they start learning basic french during the s4 campaign because they think it will be useful to have a basic multilingual vocabulary for their political careers and because leslie confesses she has always dreamed of seeing paris. they study spanish next.

ben makes leslie watch the star wars prequels just so he can complain to her during them. he doesn’t think she’s paying attention and then he reads about midichlorians in the paper.

ann is also in on ben’s plan to sneak vegetables into leslie’s waffles.

they will sometimes jokingly refer to themselves as the “dream team” or “dynamic duo” because, despite chris’s absurdity, it’s true

i’m open to literally any origin of this because no matter what it’s perfect but i like to think that “i love you and i like you” started at some point in season 4 when, at some point, leslie went “i like you” and ben replied “you like me?” “mhm” “hm just like me?” “yes i like you. i love you and i like you. both.” “mmm i love you and i like you too”

i barely even register some of these things as headcanons since they just live so solidly in my brain

this might be my favorite ask ever thank you for loving benslie enough to ask me this and be genuinely interested

if anyone read all of this, i love you

#most of me loves you for sending this ask but i just procrastinated so much work while writing this #ben x leslie #otp: deeply ridiculously #cherubsona #mail #this is truly absurdly long no one is gonna read this

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ilguna · 4 years ago

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Malefic - Metanoia (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

warnings; swearing, BLOOD MENTION, angst.

wc; 500-ish?

NOTES; i give reader a last name to fit the world.

I WROTE THIS AT 3AM. IT’S NOT FANTASTIC. IT’S A BLURB. DON’T TAKE IT TOO SERIOUSLY. THANKS.

–

“(Y/n), just stop.” Finnick says, his entire face is twisted in anger, he motions for you to leave.

“Stop what?” You ask, stalking towards him, “I thought you knew what you were getting into. You said so yourself, you knew me.”

“No, that’s not what I said—“

“Really? Because I have a pretty good recollection of it.” You tilt your head, “You were the one saying that you’d be here through thick and thin. That you could handle whatever I dished out.”

“This is not what I meant.” He hisses, eyes snapping to you.

For a moment, you want to be angry. But you don’t even get a chance, because a smug sneer is crossing your face, “You thought I would be sunshine and rainbows?”

“Stop!” He says lowly.

“You thought that just because I’m dating you, is suddenly change like that—?” You snap your fingers, shaking your head.

“Shut—“

“You are by far the dumbest person I’ve ever fucking met. I even came with warning labels and you still managed to fuck it up.”

“Quit it.” Finnick’s face is straight and angry. You’ve briefly seen him angry, but not like this. This is different.

“Or what? You’re going to go crying to Johanna? Call me a fucking bitch and have her rub your shoulders and tell you that you deserve better?” You mock a sad face, “Have her tuck you in and read you a bedtime—“

Finnick shoves your shoulders hard, too hard. You stumble, arms reaching out behind you to catch yourself on the wall before it’s too late. It doesn’t work, your head slams into the cement wall, a white hot pain straight out of hell collided with your head.

You slide down the wall with no choice, fingers fumbling to the warm feeling that’s creeping down the back of your neck. At the sight of rich red blood, you’re looking back at Finnick.

You open your mouth, prepared to send him a snarky remark; a congratulations on him finally being able to hurt you in some way, since he can’t do it emotionally or mentally.

His voice overlaps yours, loud and roaring, “Don’t you fucking get it?! You’re so fucking manipulative!” He stands over you, seething rage, “You do this—all the fucking time and then wonder and pout about how no one wants you—

“This is why! You’re so fucking unbearably unloveable because of your stupid superiority complex!” Finnick’s lip curls, snarling, “You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, but the truth is, you’re worse. At least we figured out healthy coping mechanisms, you just sought out abuse.”

He doesn’t stay, he leaves immediately after. The back of your head is throbbing, gushing blood. You sit on the floor for a while, carefully leaning your head back against the wall while you try not to be bothered about the heat on your back.

At some point, the slightest head movement is enough to make you dizzy. You gently get off the floor, carefully placing a hand on the back of your head. There’s a good puddle of blood where you had sat before, and you find that you’re coated in it when you look in the mirror.

Smeared down the side of your face, around your ears and down your neck. You aren’t too focused on your expression in the mirror until you go to leave and catch how pale you’ve grown. You need to get help.

You’d take care of it yourself, be self-sufficient as usual. But they don’t keep medical stuff in the room. And if they do, you don’t know where to find it. So, you wander out of your room and down the hall until you find the elevator.

Its not empty when it reaches your floor. In fact, you’re face to face with Haymitch and Katniss. At first, they glance past you, until a voice that you hardly recognize as yours is leaving your lips.

“I need help.” You whisper, blinking to keep yourself awake, “Please.”

Haymitch sees you first, and snaps awake. Once the door is pulled up, he’s grabbing you to keep you upright, “What happened?”

“I fell. I blacked out and hit my head and when I woke up, I was covered in blood.” You look between Haymitch, and Katniss. Katniss looks less than thrilled to see you. You can’t blame her, “I’ll make it by myself, I think.”

“We should walk you—“

“No, you’re doing something important.” You pull away from him, “I’m not important. I’m nothing.” You make it inside of the elevator, pressing yourself to the corner to keep upright, “I’m sorry for asking. Don’t worry about me.”

You push the button to the medical floor, which has an asterisk next to the number. Haymitch looks like he still wants to offer help, and you think you see something different in Katniss’ eyes, that you easily play off as nothing, you’re just dizzy.

The elevator moved, leaving them where they are. You have to keep to the corner, away from the door since you didn’t pull it down like you should’ve. You go down for what feels like forever.

You’re motion sick at the bottom, but drag your feet long enough to make it. Black spots eat away at the corners of your eyes, white static taking over spaces where it shouldn’t be. You feel hands on your arms, and slump.

Whoever it is, follows you all the way to the floor, cradling you in their arms. You keep your eyes shut, hoping that the spinning motion will die out if you see nothing but darkness, but it doesn’t go anywhere. It feels worse.

“Hey,” the voice is gentle, and warm and too familiar, “(Y/n)? Please open your eyes for me, just real quick.”

There’s a pressure beneath your eyes suddenly, making you flinch.

“Look at me.” There’s a certain softness to it, too delicate, on the verge of breaking.

Your eyelids feel heavy, words barely forming in your brain long enough to form a lazy string of thoughts. Whoever it is, cares about you deeply.

What a waste, you think, you’d have a better chance at striking gold.

Your eyebrows draw together, and you struggle to open your eyes for a second to see who would be stupid enough to help you, much less care about you.

Oh. Of course.

Brown hair that looks golden in white light. Sea green eyes that used to catch the hearts of everyone in the Capitol, now filled to the brink with clear, wobbly tears. The lightest blink could send them over the edge.

Finnick, back so soon? What a surprise, you never learn.

“I’m sorry.” He says, slowly scooping you up, “I’m so sorry. I thought that you’d come down here sooner. I didn’t think...”

Taking the blame all on himself, as if you’re not the one that sat there knowing the consequences.

You blink, and struggle to open your eyes again. You think it would be better if you died here. If only you’d stayed in the dorm and let yourself wither away there. At least then you’d get what you deserve.

“This is a mistake.” The words are slurred, making no sense. Finnick looks down at you, worried.

“What?”

“Just let me go.” You turn your head, at the end of the hall stands bald Johanna. You think you can see the scar from when you slammed her head against the rock.

Now we’ll be matching.

“Shut up, don’t do this now.”

“Do you know the definition of insanity?” You murmur, eyes locking with his, “It’s when you do the same thing over and over and over and expect a different outcome every single time.”

You press your lips together, willingly closing your eyes now. Finnick’s saying something, you purposely drown him out, hoping that the usual coldness of the darkness, now replaced by warmth, is going to be enough to show Finnick just how good he’ll have it without you.

After all, you’re unbearingly unlovable. He shouldn’t be wasting his time on you.

#ilguna #metanoia #malefic #metanoia short story

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freebooter4ever · 4 years ago

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Semper Fi

Sledge and Snafu walk into a tattoo parlor, what happens? For @diasimar short sledgefu one shot that deals with the - ahem - sexiness of Snafu getting that inner thigh tattoo while in the Marines stationed overseas (suggestive nudity but nothing explicit)

Snafu gets the tattoo on Hawaii during one of the lulls in action sometime after his second stint on Pavuvu. He’s been carousing almost every night, gambling a lot, winning money, sending quite a bit home to his baby sister, spending even more on booze, meeting the finest of the fine in Hawaiian polite society. For the first time in months Eugene and he aren’t attached at the hip in a foxhole anymore, and Snafu’s going a bit wild. For some reason though, no matter how late Snafu returns to their tent, Eugene is still awake, his lamp turned on, his long nose in a book. Even if it’s 3am Eugene greets Snafu as he stumbles into bed, and then calmly continues reading until Snafu passes out. Snafu’s beginning to worry Eugene doesn’t sleep at all. Yet every time Snafu asks Eugene if he wants to come out with him, Eugene politely turns him down.

When it comes to gambling, Snafu tries to stick to branches of the military that aren’t the Marines. He already has a reputation amongst the first and the fifth, and almost every single one of his friends refuses to lose money to him anymore. It’s when Snafu discovers how easy it is to part Navy sailors with their money, that Snafu starts seeing the tattoos. Snafu asks around and discovers there’s a guy who will do it for cheap for armed forces, who is an artist with ink, and who even has some Marines flash to choose from.

Snafu announces his plans for a tattoo to Sledge that evening, who glances up from his book and replies that this is exactly why he takes the night watch these days.

“You’re drunk, Snafu,” Eugene says, “Go to bed. We’ll see if this tattoo is still a good idea in the morning.”

Snafu doesn’t tell Gene that he’s pretty sure this idea has been brewing in the back of his head for days. Instead he goes to bed. And he also realizes that there’s some part of Eugene stuck in those foxholes, still keeping watch, even though they’re on Hawaii where the worst that can happen already has. Gene shouldn’t be worrying about anything, and he certainly shouldn’t be watching over Snafu while he sleeps. If anyone should be looking after anybody it should be Snafu. He’s the one half in love.

“If I get a tattoo on my own, will you hate me?” Snafu asks Gene the next morning.

“Why would I hate you?” Eugene replies, genuinely confused.

Snafu shrugs. He always assumed Eugene would one day.

Eugene rolls his eyes, satisfied that Snafu is back to his normal enigmatic sober self, and then rolls over in his cot and goes back to sleep.

This time Snafu stays awake, studying Sledgehammer’s sleeping face, munching on a chocolate bar while Eugene snores. By the time Snafu finishes his breakfast, and Eugene is properly awake, Snafu gets an idea about how to put Eugene’s watchdog tendencies to good use.

“Why am I coming with you to Chinatown?” Eugene asks that afternoon as they make their way across Honolulu.

“Because that’s where Jerry’s shop is,” Snafu answers, “It’s art, Eugene, you’ll love it. Trust me.”

“Who’s Jerry?”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that, Gene,” Snafu sighs, “How are you even a Marine? We need to get you out more.”

“I get out plenty,” Eugene gripes and gets that cute nose wrinkle between his brows that happens whenever Snafu teases him too much.

Snafu grins.

“Just because I don’t drink, doesn’t mean I judge anyone else for it,” Eugene says defensively.

“I know you don’t, Boo, and all the guys respect you for it, but they’ll love you for it if you also join us from time to time. You don’t gotta do anything, just be there,” Snafu says.

“Huh,” Eugene says, and thoughtfully considers Snafu’s suggestion while they walk. It baffles Snafu sometimes, how Eugene actually take Snafu’s opinions into consideration. Gene listens, and thinks on it until he understands, and then adjusts his behavior as he sees fit, and he puts a hell of a lot more stock into Snafu’s judgement than Snafu could ever have imagined him doing. “Are you included in this?” Eugene asks after a period of silence.

“What?” Snafu holds the door open to the tattoo parlor for him.

“Will you love me if I hang out from time to time?” Eugene asks and hesitates in the doorway.

“I already love you, Gene, you don’t gotta work on that,” Snafu winks and playfully pushes Sledge’s ass the rest of the way into the shop.

Eugene looks endearingly uncomfortable standing in the middle of the tattoo parlor. Gene’s eyes go wide and they keep sliding over to the corner of the shop where a sailor with bulging muscles is having a delicate bird tattooed onto his bicep. Snafu slides his arm across Eugene’s shoulder to help the poor guy relax while they wait their turn to be helped.

“What am I doing here?” Gene hisses lowly in Snafu’s ear as he leans against him.

“I want to get the tattoo on a sensitive area,” Snafu whispers back and leans closer. Any excuse to hold Gene tighter.

“How sensitive?” Sledge is looking at Snafu like Snafu’s situation has gone from fucked up to total insanity.

“On a part of me that might make things a little too hot, if you know what I mean,” Snafu elaborates.

“Shelton, what the heck are you getting at?”

“I’m getting the eagle and globe on my inner thigh and I want you to be here to make sure nothing turns raunchy,” Snafu explains.

Eugene pulls away and stares at him for a full minute. “What the hell do you think is going to be sexy about a man sticking a needle in your skin for a couple hours?”

“I dunno, Sledgehammer, I’m just concerned he’s going to be nose to nose with certain areas of myself I like to keep private,” Snafu says.

“Then why not get it on your arm like a normal person?” Sledge whispers accusingly.

Snafu shrugs. He swears Eugene looks fiercely jealous, but maybe he’s just seeing things. “Hate me yet?” he asks.

Eugene just glares in response. And crosses his arms in a bit of a huff. But he doesn’t leave the shop. Eugene doesn’t say another word. He silently inspects the art Snafu picks out. And when it’s Snafu’s turn, Eugene stands beside him. He silently watches as Snafu drapes himself over the bench and splays his legs open. A strategically placed thin blanket keeps Snafu’s dignity intact, but his ass is otherwise as bare as the day he was born.

Eugene was right about the artist being professional and too focused to do much else. The guy doesn’t even treat Snafu like he’s a body made of flesh and bone, just canvas. The artist is firm, and calm, and certain of every mark he makes.

And the only thing Snafu finds distracting is the unexpected intensity of Eugene staring at Snafu’s crotch while the tattoo is being done.

At first it’s fine. The tattoo starts almost inside his hip and the pain is next to nothing. And certainly nothing Snafu can’t handle. Until the needle goes lower, into sensitive fatty areas, and the pain explodes.

“Fuck!” Snafu grits out as he tries to keep his body from reacting.

That gets Eugene’s attention on Snafu’s face, finally. Gene turns to him and takes his hand gently.

Snafu isn’t having it. He grips Eugene’s hand so hard his knuckles turn white and Eugene’s eyebrows shoot up on his face in shock. Snafu almost growls with the pain, and tears prick his eyes. In all Snafu’s half baked plans about giving Eugene something artsy to admire that they can both share, and by coincidence letting Eugene watch over Snafu’s dick for a couple hours, Snafu had never considered he might end up looking ridiculous in front of his crush.

“Hey, look at me,” Eugene whispers softly right beside Snafu’s head. Gene crouches down beside the bench so they’re eye level, and gently slides his fingers across Snafu’s cheek. He turns Snafu’s head to face him, away from the work being done on Snafu’s leg, and suddenly all Snafu can see is the adoration and concern in Eugene’s eyes.

“Sledgehammer...?” is all Snafu can manage to say.

Eugene holds Snafu’s hand tight and cups Snafu’s face, and whispers sweet nothings about how beautiful Snafu is. Something about Snafu’s stubble and square jaw, and something about the rain. And Snafu can barely pay attention, but if he watches Eugene’s lips form around the words long enough he almost forgets the pain.

‘Just fucking kiss me,” Snafu wants to be able to say, ‘I’ve been waiting for you to do it for months.”

He doesn’t say it.

He does, however, manage to survive his first (and hopefully only) tattoo experience thanks to Gene’s helping hand (Literally. Snafu hopes he didn’t maim Gene’s drawing hand.). The artist wraps Snafu’s leg and gives him instructions on how to care for the tattoo in the first few days. The artist also gives him and Gene a considering look, but says nothing. Snafu supposes the guy’s probably used to all sorts, what with him tattooing mostly Navy boys, a branch of the armed forces where what Snafu wants to do to Gene is almost legal. Almost.

Snafu’s leg doesn’t hurt too much, but he plays it up a bit for sympathy. Eugene steadfastly allows Snafu to lean on him the whole walk home, with Gene’s arm strong and secure around Snafu’s waist. To be fair it is hard to walk with a giant bandage around a guy’s inner thigh. Snafu is reduced to an awkward hobble. He is relieved when he can finally stagger into their tent and flop onto Gene’s cot.

“Snafu, wrong bed,” Eugene points out helpfully. He tries to help Snafu stand back up.

Snafu refuses and goes limp.

“Snaf, you’re on my book.”

Snafu does move for that.

Eugene rescues his book and then sits down at the foot end of the cot. “So how long is it gonna take to heal?” he asks conversationally.

Snafu grunts.

“I’ll bring you dinner,” Eugene announces. He pats Snafu’s ankle lovingly and stands back up with a sigh. A few hours of silence and he returns with rice. “I figured simple was better for now,” he explains.

Snafu makes no comment on his freely given dinner, and eats his rice quietly while Eugene carefully peels the bandage off Snafu’s thigh.

“It’s gonna look better in a few weeks,” Snafu assures him.

With his head still bent over Snafu’s crotch, Eugene looks at him skeptically from underneath his brow.

“Hopefully,” Snafu adds, his confidence faltering a little.

Snafu spends the next three days wallowing in comfort with Eugene at his beck and call. Somewhere in town Eugene picks up an odd smelling cream that Eugene swears on his life will help. Snafu agrees, not because he’s in pain or worried about the tattoo becoming infected. But because he just enjoys it when Eugene leans across Snafu’s legs on the cot to get a good angle, pushes down Snafu’s pants, and then rubs little feather-light circles over Snafu’s naked thigh to massage the cream in.

“Think you can walk now?” Eugene asks on the fourth day after he’s rubbed the cream into Snafu’s skin.

It takes Snafu a minute to remember that he never mentioned to Eugene that walking was no longer a problem after the bandage came off the first day. “Oh...probably,” Snafu says while keeping his voice deceptively light.

Eugene sighs. He’s been doing that a lot lately. “Better not try,” he says, “Just to be sure. It’s starting to scab.” Eugene trails a finger down the tattoo. He barely brushes the tiny portions of scabbed skin, but it sends a strange tingle up Snafu’s spine.

Snafu swallows. “Think it’s supposed to do that,” he opinions, “The scabbing.” - not the tingling.

“I might get Jay to bring you your dinner tonight...” Eugene trails off, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. All of Snafu’s focus is on Eugene’s hand still resting over the clothed portion of Snafu’s leg. Till he hears what Eugene said.

“What???” Snafu demands.

“I’ve been thinking of going out with the guys. Burgie says it’s Stringbean’s birthday or something,” Eugene says.

“What? No!” Snafu yanks his pants back up over his crotch.

“You said I needed to spend more time with them...”

“Yeah, but not without me!” Snafu exclaims, “I’ll come along...”

“Not so fast,” Eugene holds Snafu’s chest down on the bed with his hand, and briefly fulfills one of Snafu’s many fantasies, “If you get that tattoo infected, you might be stuck here even longer than if you just wait it out now.”

“But I...” Snafu is realizing his subterfuge in getting Eugene to wait on him hand and foot is coming back to bite him in the ass.

“Jay’s staying behind tonight to write a letter to his folks,” Eugene concludes, “He won’t mind bringing you food, honest.”

“But it’s pork chops tonight!” Snafu says as Eugene gets up to leave.

“I think Jay can handle carrying some pork chops,” Eugene chuckles.

Snafu’s losing him. He’s almost out the door. Eugene’s gonna find a replacement caretaker and that’ll be the end to Snafu monopolizing his time.

“Gene!” Snafu calls desperately. He scrambles out of bed and grabs Eugene’s wrist.

Eugene blinks at him in surprise. “I thought you were in pain...?”

Snafu opens his mouth and casts his eyes anywhere but on Gene so maybe Sledgehammer won’t see his guilt. In his haste, Snafu forgot to button his pants. They’re falling down his hips again.

“You were never in any pain, were you?” Eugene asks.

“Maybe for the first...” Snafu thinks hard, “...three...or four...hours...?”

“It’s been four days Snafu,” Eugene starts advancing on him like he’s gonna give Snafu some real pain to think about, “I help you limp to the toilet four times a day. I’ve been giving you sponge baths!”

Snafu trips backwards and falls onto Gene’s cot. “I’ve been reading your books aloud for you!” he protests, “You like it when I do the heavy accent.” As if that makes them even.

“You. Owe. Me,” Eugene emphasizes. And shoves Snafu flat on his back

“Semper Fi?” Snafu says with a grin.

“Get your own damn pork chops, Shelton,” Eugene shakes his head in disgust - the worst expression Snafu could imagine being on his face, “And get out of my cot. You are perfectly capable of using your own.” He moves as if to tip over the cot and dump Snafu out of it.

“Wait!” Snafu sprawls across it like a heavy starfish. “True, my leg doesn’t hurt, but I don’t want to move too much and risk breaking open the scabs,” Snafu protests, “Remember! Potential infection!”

Eugene stops, and considers this carefully. “Fair point,” he says.

“Fuck...” Snafu groans and pushes himself up on his elbows. “You listen to my advice too much, Hammer. Don’t go out with those guys. Stay in tonight. With me. I’ll even read to you from that dumbass history book you love so much.”

This gets Eugene’s interest. He knows Snafu prefers the fiction novels over the dry facts. But Eugene’s a sucker for timelines and dates.

Snafu’s got him on the edge. He just needs one last enticement to tip Eugene over.

“C’mon Sledge, help me out with this and when it’s all healed, I’ll let you and only you kiss it,” Snafu jokes, hoping that if he entertains Eugene enough, Gene won’t kick him out of his cot. Snafu wiggles his leg enticingly. It makes the tattoo jiggle. The Marines Corps eagle flaps it’s wings. Snafu smiles beguilingly.

Except Eugene’s not laughing. His eyes are devastatingly serious as he thinks over Snafu’s words. He sits down on the cot again, on top of Snafu’s feet. And leans forward, sliding his hand up Snafu’s leg the whole way. His fingers grip Snafu’s thigh just below the marred skin of the tattoo, as if he’s waiting for the day he can touch that skin without hesitance. He stares Snafu straight in the eye with an uncompromising look and says, “Deal.”

Snafu is hit with flashes of fantasy - of Eugene’s head bending down, his lips replacing his fingers, Eugene kissing his way up the tattoo straight to Snafu’s...

“Shake on it,” Eugene insists, holding out his hand.

Snafu shakes wordlessly.

And Eugene marches out of the room to fetch Snafu his pork chops.

Snafu drops back onto the cot again and wonders desperately if jerking off would reopen the wounds, or stretch the tattoo beyond recognition.

#sledgefu #bad germs

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smol-and-grumpy · 5 years ago

Text

Cross My Heart - CH.10

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: NSFW, flangst

WC: 2759

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s the third day that they’re in the new cabin and their daily schedule changed completely.

Mostly, they’ll get up around noon and stay up until late in the night. It’s easier for Dean to bring her along if he has to go into town. Easier to blend into the night without people recognizing her.

Not that they’ve been out and about a lot, but whenever he needs to, it’s better that way.

Dean would set the alarm in the mornings to send Chuck a text message on time so that Chuck won’t have to call in again. According to Chuck's answers though, it’s not like he cares. One time, Chuck answered the next morning at four, and it made her wonder if he’s been up til then or if he’s already up for the day. Not that she should care anymore either.

Y/N can feel that Dean hates Chuck. He doesn’t even need to say it, she just knows, because Dean would scoff every time he gets a text from Chuck and his mood changes for a minute or two. Until he realizes that she’s around either, and then he would slip back into being his grumpy self, turns his anger inwards and not outwards towards her.

It’s going to eat him up if he’s not careful.

They didn’t have sex again either. But they kiss and when it gets heavier, Dean always breaks away. She doesn’t know if it’s because he still thinks that he has to be professional with her when he doesn’t really need to anymore.

But he did move into the bedroom right from the start. Although under the false pretense that it’s easier to keep her safe when he’s in the same room. She just smirked at that and she swears she did see him blush.

So today, she gets up and after her shower, changes into some shorts when Dean walks in after he showered and she’s standing there naked.

His eyes widen and his lips are pressed into a thin line. There’s a vein standing out on his neck. It pulsates the longer she looks at it. He doesn’t say anything but he frowns when he sees her getting into the shorts without wearing any underwear, “I know it’s probably not my place to ask, but why aren’t you wearing any panties?”

Uh-oh.

Does she want to tell him that she’s been changing her panties more often, up to three times a day, because she’s wet all the time lately?

Nope.

“I don’t have any clean ones left,” She shrugs and finishes buttoning her pants up before she pulls a shirt over her head. She doesn't wear a bra either.

Dean groans and rolls his eyes, “Jesus, you are testing my patience.”

She laughs and walks past him but he holds her back, pulls her into a kiss, while he pinches at one of her nipples that pokes through the shirt, making her yelp up. He presses his damp body to hers, and she couldn’t miss the bulge in his underwear.

“Tonight, we’ll go to the laundromat.” He whispers into her ear and with a soft spank on her ass, he lets her walk out of the room.

It’s past 3am when they arrive at the laundromat that apparently opens twenty-three hours a day — at least that’s what it says on the sign.

It looks kind of grim inside.

Dean carries their bags with their dirty clothes in and to the back, and she follows wordlessly.

The back of the laundromat is well shielded from the front of the store by big washing machines. Nobody could see them from the outside and the bell on the door goes off when someone comes in. She knows now why he has chosen this laundromat. They can never be careful enough.

He jingles with the coins in his palms when he walks over to the vending machine where there are detergents, while he asks her which ones she’d prefer, but she doesn’t really know any of it because she hasn’t been doing her own laundry in years, so she let him choose for her.

Dean settles for something organic because apparently her skin’s delicate.

It’s the constant dropping of these hints that makes her blush and he fucking knows it. Smirks to himself, when he sees the flush on her face.

She’s never been at a laundromat before so Dean has to tell her what to do. They decide to wash their things together. The only thing they will do is separating the whites and start their own machine for that one.

When everything��s in the machines, Dean turns to her, “Everything in there that needs washing?”

Looking down on herself, she decides to drop her pants.

His eyes widen when he watches her shimmy out of it and throw it into the waiting machine.

“How are you going to sit on the chair and wait now?” Dean asks with amusement in his voice when he turns the machine on and she pulls at Dean’s oversized shirt that she’s wearing. It’s one of his shirts he once told her to wear and she uses it as a sleeping shirt now. It’s actually long enough and it goes way over her ass so sitting on any chairs should be okay.

She slums provocatively into a chair, the seam of his shirt pulled as far down as it could go, just to prove a point, which makes him grin.

Dean walks over to where a stack of magazines are laying around, and takes a couple, drops it on the chair to her right and sits down in the chair on her left. They’re both well shielded by the machines.

“How long does it take?” She asks him after about two minutes. She doesn’t like to read magazines and wishes she had a phone to pass the time like Dean has.

“About thirty minutes,”

“That’s so long!” She exhales, slumps further into her chair and Dean chuckles.

He pockets his phone back into his pants, “You’re very impatient, you know that? It’s driving me nuts.”

Y/N stands up, paces around to prove her point that she’s bored but Dean reaches out a hand for her, pulls her down, making her stumble into his lap.

“Christ, Y/N! Don’t walk around, someone could see you!” He hisses grumpily.

She sits on one of his thighs, feet dangle in between both his legs, his hand on her lower back while one strokes at her bare thigh.

“‘M sorry,” She mumbles and his hand travels up her back, resting at the back of her neck before he pulls her in for a kiss.

Dean pulls away and stares up at her, “It’s okay,” He says, “It would just make my job so much easier if you’d remember.”

Her heart sinks every time he mentions that she’s his job. Which is stupid and childish of her and she really shouldn’t be, because he’s right.

“I forgot that I’m your job. Sorry.”

He notices the change in her demeanor and places his hand beneath her chin, making her look at him, “Stop that, you know what I mean.”

“Yes, that I’m just a job to you,” She pouts and Dean’s thumb comes up to paint along her lips.

“You are, but also you’re not.”

She raises her eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“The truth is, your asshole husband hasn’t paid me after someone tried to kill us. I usually get paid daily. So, really, what I was doing for the last three days is purely on my own will.”

“You still report to him.”

“Yeah, but because I want him to think that we’re still on his side. Something about our whole situation rubs me the wrong way.”

“But we could just go forward with the things we know?”

“No,” Dean speaks in his final voice, “He wants to play dirty, he can have it.” He manhandles her on top of him so that she now straddles his crotch, her knees on either side of his thighs, and she can feel something swelling in his pants.

“But why? Why don’t you just walk away?” She’s baffled at his revelation. Baffled that he decided to stay and help her when he could have easily walked away.

He cradles her face in between his big palms, “Baby, you just don’t see it do you?”

Baby.

Her heart flutters.

Y/N bites down on her lips, shakes her head.

“I’m so fucking gone on you,” He whispers, his hands drawing her in for a kiss, his tongue teasing at her bottom lip, until she lets him in.

Dean's big palms roam her back, stroking downwards until he grips her hips, helping her grind on him. The kiss grows hotter, heavier, his tongue mapping out the inside of her mouth and she loves that, loves how hungry they get for each other, loves how his kisses tingles her in all the right places. She’s soaking wet and he must be feeling it too.

“Dean,” His name left her mouth in a whimper when he bites and sucks down her throat.

“We shouldn’t, we’re in public,” He mumbles against her skin but he doesn’t stop. It’s as if he’s not able to — like she isn’t either.

“Please,” Her hands finds his hair, nails digging into his scalp while he sucks at her pulse point.

He licks a broad stripe up her chin, kisses her again wet and sloppy, bites on her bottom lip, “Fuck,” His fingers gripping her hips so tight she’s sure that he’ll leave bruises.

She works her mouth along his scruff and across his cheeks, nibbles at his ear while her hands travel downwards. Sitting back a little, she makes more room for herself, and her fingers deftly work on his belt, “Please?”

Sucking on his earlobe, Dean lets out a moan before he tilts his head to her, face craning for her lips, “Okay, fuck— okay,”

Y/N grins into the kiss and her fingers lowering his zipper, and pulls his jeans down a little. She pauses and frowns but the frown turns quickly into a mischievous grin, “No underwear?”

Dean chuckles with a shrug, “It’s laundry day.”

She pulls the jeans down only enough to have access to his cock and balls, and wraps her hands around it, jerking him off while she kisses him, and he can’t help but to buckle up into her fist.

“That’s it,” He says, watching her spit on it to be able to massage him better, “Make it nice and wet, baby.”

God, the way he talks. She could come from that alone.

“Twist your grip at the tip,” Dean whispers as he watches her jerk him. He probably knows that her last sexual experience was too long ago but he doesn’t say anything mean, instead he helps her and tells her what he likes. She likes for him to teach her, would love for him to teach her even more things.

Y/N gets bolder and lays his cock onto his stomach, lifting herself up a little and rubs her wet cunt along it, lips parting so he could rub at her swollen and sensitive nub. Dean bunches up her shirt to be able to see better.

“Just like that,” His voice is raspy, his gaze on her pussy, watching her lips part and rock against his shaft, watching her slicking it up with her juice. Dean soon loses his cool, “Can you sit on it— I— fuck,”

His hands go up to squeeze at her tits before he loops the seam of the shirt through its neckline. She’s exposed to him from her tummy downwards.

Her hands braces on his shoulder and she lifts herself up while Dean grabs his cock by the base and then he helps her impale herself on it with one hand around her hips.

Y/N groans out at the feeling of him filling her and Dean throws his head back, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

Slowly, she works him in. Going down an inch and back a half. She lets his thick cock stretch her tight pussy on her way down, until she sits on him, her cunt presses against his skin.

“Oh my god,” She moans out, her eyelid starts to flutter, “I’m so full.”

Dean has to chuckle, pulls her face down to kiss her while she starts to move above him. He breaks the kiss to suck down her throat, “So good,” His breathing is ragged, “Jesus, baby, you feel so good around my cock.”

She’s rocks above him, doesn’t dare to bounce too hard because they’re in public after all. She almost forgot until the machines started to beep.

At one point, she switches to grinding because it feels so good to feel him deep inside of her while her clit rubs against his groin.

He reaches his hand below her shirt, pinches and twists at her nipples, making her moan out loud to which he has to hush her by shoving his thumb into her mouth. She sucks at it and Dean lets out a groan of approval.

Soon he replaces his thumb with two of his fingers and she sucks before taking his finger deeper, until she gags a little, “Fuck, I would love to feel your mouth around my cock, baby,”

“Mmh,” She moans, agreeing with him, because oh god, she wants that too.

“Such a good girl, taking my fingers and cock like a good fucking girl,” His voice a little strained, “You’re close, ain’tcha? Fuck—”

Yes, she is so close, and her pussy clenches even more when she hears the good girl comment. He knows just how to push the right buttons.

“Come for me, baby,” He helps her guide on his cock, hands firmly placed on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, “Did he ever make you come on his cock alone, huh?”

She closes her eyes, drags her teeth across her bottom lip while her grip tightens around Dean’s neck, “N— no,”

It’s true. Sex was never like this. She never thought sex could feel so good. How could she not know that sex like this exists?

Y/N opens her eyes to see Dean smirking at her, but his eyes stay dark and hungry.

He pulls her down, kisses her deep and rough, “Ride me, use me to come, baby. You’re doing so good, feels so fucking perfect,”

Her legs start to tremble and then it happens. A wave of pleasure crashes around her, making her slump down and she buries her face in the crook of his neck. She breathes heavily, takes in the smell of him. It’s intoxicating.

Dean follows her over the edge right after, kisses the side of her face, sucks at her skin as he moans softly into her ear.

“Oh my god, I just came without even touching myself,” She chuckles, feels Dean's laughter rumbling in his chest, and she pushes herself up to look at him.

He’s grinning, kisses her between her eyebrows, pecks her nose, the corner of her lips, “I think I passed out for a minute there,”

She giggles at that and pecks him back on his nose before she’s getting off of him but Dean holds her back, his grip tight around her waist.

“No, stay. A little longer?”

“Okay,” She says and she leans back forward, buries her face in his neck while he strokes her back.

It’s a long while until Dean speaks, his voice deep, it rumbles in her chest, “I promise, alright? Nothing bad’s gonna happen to you when I’m around.”

Y/N knows that already. Of course she does. She doesn’t know why she starts to cry, though.

They stayed in the laundromat longer than they thought they would because after their clothes were done, they had to wash the clothes where they just fucked in. And while they waited, they almost fucked again. Dean really had to walk it out as not to fuck her on top of the washing machine.

She had to laugh at him, although she was not opposed to the idea of feeling vibrations underneath her when he fucks into her deep and hard.

Before the laundromat closes for the hour that they need to clean the place, they are out and on Dean’s bike again, with her clinging to him as if he’s the only thing that keeps her alive.

And she thinks that maybe—

—maybe he is.

CH.11

#cross my heart #dean winchester #bodyguard!dean #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester x reader #nathalie writes

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browneyedmissy · 5 years ago

Text

Keiki In Real Life

Story Summary: Her brother was essentially a stranger to her and the prospect of meeting the people most important to him intimidated the hell out of her.

Chapter Summary: Keiki meets her brother’s girlfriend Casey and wonders whether she made a mistake coming to Boston.

Author’s Note: Oh god this has been in my drafts... since June. Which might have been around the time that Keiki was introduced? I think I mostly like this. I’ve been in such a dry spell when it comes to writing and stories that I just needed to finish something so if you see me using the same words a few times whooooooooooops. I swear there was a post that inspired this somewhere and if I find it I’ll link it!

I’m sneaking a recommendation in here, go read Estelle’s social media AU because it is literally the best serotonin right now.

The first time she met her brother's girlfriend, she learned a few... things about Bryce’s sex life she'd rather not know.

The girlfriend was cute, Keiki observed as she gave her a once over. Soft, wavy brown hair pulled up in a ponytail, warm brown eyes and little dimples that framed her smile.

She also at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed but before either of them could say anything they heard Bryce's voice as he came through the elevator with an armful of groceries.

"Keiki," Bryce said in an exasperated tone, "What did I tell you about-"

He froze when he recognized the girl talking to his sister and he dropped his groceries.

"Case, aww shi- I mean shoot."

Keiki rolled her eyes. "You know, I'm sixteen. I know a lot of curse words by now. In fact-"

"Keiki." He shot her a warning glance before his eyes settled back on the other girl. He shifted back and forth on his feet, a trait he used to do when they were young, Keiki observed. "This is my girlfriend, Casey. Casey, this is my sister, who is going to go inside for a moment.”

Keik glanced at Casey who couldn’t mask the surprise on her face. Bryce hadn’t told Casey about her, Keiki noted. A small part of her wanted to open her mouth and talk back but Casey seemed nice enough.

"Fineeeee." She sighed, drawing out the last syllable. She closed the door behind her, the sounds of her brother and his girlfriend's voices, muffled through the door. She caught her name a few times and she shut her eyes for a moment, wondering whether coming to see her brother was the right thing to do.

She had just settled herself into a show on the television when Bryce and Casey came back inside.

"Keiki, Casey's going to stay for dinner." He announced, sending his girlfriend a grateful look.

"Good, that means less chance of the apartment burning down." Keiki retorted. She watched as Bryce’s eyes narrowed for a second and prepared herself for an argument. They hadn’t spoken much since she had gotten there and she didn’t know why she felt the need to be so mean to him.

Before he could say anything, Casey interrupted.

“Come on Bryce, you can help me in the kitchen.” She glanced at the groceries that Bryce had bought. “Keiki, is pasta okay?”

“That’s fine.” Keiki replied, holding her brother’s eyes for a moment before turning back to the TV.

"What can I do, chief?"

"Chop and sauté the vegetables." She directed as she found his pots and pans.

There was a silence from the kitchen and Keiki heard Casey try to hide a cough at Bryce's lack of response.

"Where'd I lose you, babe?"

"Sauté." Her brother said sheepishly.

Keiki snorted from her spot on the couch and stretched out. "How'd you get through college?"

"Dining hall and take out. The Thai place down the street loves me." Her brother shrugged.

Casey glanced over Keiki’s way, giving her a thoughtful expression. “Keiki, will you take over for your brother? Bryce, can you boil the water for the pasta?"

"Oh, that I can do." Bryce grinned as he pressed a kiss to Casey's cheek. Keiki glanced at the TV, suddenly not interested anymore and made her way to the kitchen.

As Keiki stood at the cutting board and watched her brother, she noticed how much more relaxed he was. His smile when he had been in high school had always been over polite as if everything he did was on display. His brow had been furrowed most of the time when she saw him at home, in between his shifts at the hospital as if he didn’t know what to do with her.

But Casey- he looked at her with bright eyes and a perpetual grin on his face. Keiki couldn't remember the girls he had dated but it was as if every bit of him was drawn to her.

She felt her heart suddenly twist as panic began to fill her. Bryce didn’t need her here. He certainly didn’t want her here, not when he had pretty Casey who moved through his kitchen as if she knew it like the back of her hand. She wasn’t sure what she wanted or what answers she was looking for when she had bought her ticket, just that she needed to get out of the house.

“Keiki?” She blinked as Casey came into focus. Bryce had started setting up the table and Keiki had been blankly stirring the pasta sauce. “I think the sauce is ready, if you want to eat.”

“Uhh, yeah.” Keiki frowned, trying to collect her thoughts. “I, uh…”

“Hey.” She felt a warmth on her shoulder and she looked up into Casey’s kind eyes. “There’s more time to talk later, okay? For now, let’s have dinner.”

After dinner, she had claimed fatigue after dinner, still feeling unsettled. She wasn’t ready to talk, wasn’t ready to put words to how she felt, standing in the kitchen and Casey and Bryce hadn’t stopped her.

But Keiki hadn’t adjusted to the time change yet and some nights, especially when Bryce was at work, she would just lay in bed, listening to the sounds of the city. She glanced at her phone, 3AM blaring back at her in white light.

Keiki groaned and crept quietly to the door.

She had stepped into the kitchen and was reaching into the cabinet to get herself a glass for water when she heard a sound. She jumped around to see that Casey had stayed and she and her brother were fast asleep on the couch. They both didn't quite fit but despite that Bryce had an arm wrapped around her middle and their breathing was soft and peaceful. Keiki watched as her brother shifted and nestled himself closer into Casey before his breathing evened out again. He had a smile on his face, even while he was asleep and he just seemed to be... content.

Keiki blinked, suddenly feeling dampness at her eyes.

The selfish part of her was angry. She was angry that her brother was able to move on so easily to this life without her where he had a pretty girlfriend and didn't have to spare a thought for their parents- or for her. She could have screamed all of the feelings of abandonment and neglect that she felt but couldn’t explain while he played house in Boston.

And the other part of her wanted to be happy for him. He was lighter and more carefree than he ever was in even her rose-colored memories. These moments were saved for Casey and that peace he felt was something she yearned for.

She didn’t belong in Hawaii with her classmates that hated her and her parents that controlled every part of her life. She certainly didn’t belong here in this apartment with her successful surgeon brother and his new life.

Abandoning her water, she quietly crept back into the bed, staring at the shadows on the ceiling until sleep finally claimed her.

#bryce lahela #keiki lahela #open heart #missywrites #did you all forget bryce has a sister pb sure did #my brain is tired does anyone else wanna see the many wips i have lol #including a lakehouse distant shores au that i abandoned whoops #also using the outline feature in docs has changed my life

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jusananimehoe · 5 years ago

Text

Play with Me?

Here kiddies, have 2000 words at 3am of Chronostasis, the man is just so sexy, I can’t help but write him, especially in situations where reader is meant to be with Kai, woops, xx

“Catch me if you can”. Your giggles clearly weren’t amusing him, if the angry growl that rumbled through his mask was anything to judge by, but you laughed it off and went bolting through the corridors, breathing ragged, pulse racing as you pushed yourself faster, he’d catch you eventually of course, he always did, but until then, you’d have you fun. This side of the base was mostly empty, no Kai to terrorize you for just having fun, just fun to be had with your favorite babysitter, even if he was ready to murder you right now.

You leapt up onto the railing of a stairway, before jumping up into the rafters, grip tight on the pipes lining the roof to hold you carefully in place, eyes glimmering playfully at the annoyed man below you, you could practically feel his frustration, could see his scowl even through the mask. He gripped the railing tightly, gazing up at you, “You aren’t going to like what happens if you make me come up there”. His voice was ice cold, it sent enjoyable chills through you, shivers down your spine, all the way to your toes, it made you bite your lip, head tilting playfully to the side, outwardly flirting. Not that he’d ever notice, Kurono might as well have been blind to your affections for him, but then you were supposed to belong to Kai after all. Not that he’d ever touched you. Or ever would.

“Oh come on Hari”, you called back to him, smile widening as he sniffed unhappily at the use of his given name, it was an act and you knew it, he’d never of told you it if he hadn’t wanted you to use it, but god forbid he ever admitted any such thing to you. “You never play with me, just one game, please”, your heartbroken pout did little to persuade the yakuza below you, who was starting to lift himself up the railing, time to fly. You leapt off the roof, landing safely on the edge of a couch that lined the wall, and just as you straightened up to leap, you were trapped against it.

You squeaked in surprise and shoved Hari’s shoulder playfully, giggling as he pressed you back harder, he was always surprising you, so much stronger than that lean body would suggest. Your eyes dragged down it, tying to imagine what he might be hiding under that raincoat of his, the plain white pants could defintley fuel a fantasy or two when they were wet though. You chewed on your lip, eyes raking his lower half, before you snapped your gaze back up, unable to tell if he’d noticed your appraisal with his mask on. Let’s fix that.

You lunged forwards at him, and he reeled back, keeping a careful balance to prevent the two of you from falling, which ultimately led to you gaining an upper hand, pulling the mask from his face and throwing it before he could grab it, the glare he turned on you in return was so fucking worth it. Even furious with you, Hari Kurono was crafted from perfection. Silver hair falling just slightly across his face, you resisted the urge to carefully push a needle back behind his ear, losing yourself in those lovely, silver eyes of his even as he growled at you, leaning forwards again. Most people would have run from his rage, you giggled and rolled the two of you.

You wrestled half-heartedly with him, trying to win, to no avail, as he pinned you down below him. Maybe this is a win then? Your eyes flickered up to his pretty face, observing the flush in his cheeks from chasing you down, the disarray his hair was in, the annoyed glint in his eyes, accompanied by another emotion you couldn’t place, couldn’t hope for. You beamed at him, even as he frowned unhappily and then burst into laughter at his indignation. “Oh Hari, I just don’t get why you never want to play”.

He rolled his eyes but let you roll the two of you, allowing you to pretend, at least, that you’d gained the upper hand on him, straddling his waist, pressing him down, even as his grip on your wrists clamped tighter. No escape, not that you’d want to. He clearly didn’t realise how sexy he looked like that, pinned beneath you, hair shoved back, god you wanted to touch it. “You never specify a game”.

You were so distracted in your appraisal of him that you nearly missed his response, eyes snapping to his in surprise when your brain caught up to his words, raising a brow at him in a silent question. “You complain constantly that I never entertain your ‘playing’, and yet, you’ve never once specified what game we’re meant to be playing”. His voice was cool, bored, aloof, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity hidden in there, you just had to be familiar enough with him to dig it out. You should just go for it, what’s the worst he could do, tell Kai? It wouldn’t end with a great result, but did you care? No, not really.

You blinked down at him, biting your lip slowly as you dragged your hand slowly from the tops of his thighs, steadily up and over his chest, eyes glued to his expression the whole time, watching his chest contract in surprise as he drew a sharp breath in, grip on your wrists becoming painful as he jerked your hands off his body. “Silly Hari, we’re playing right now”, you whispered softly, head lowering as you lowered your body to his, wanting to feel more of him against you. “We’ve been playing all along, you see”? You whispered the words against his throat, nuzzling the skin there softly as he flinched and shoved you back, eyes hardening like jewels again. Here we go.

“No”. The word was sharp, commanding, it was his ‘this is final’ tone and you dropped your face instantly, shame settling deep in your gut. How pathetic, to throw yourself at him, seriously? You leaned back, hips rubbing unintentionally against his, drawing a soft gasp from you at the hardness you felt there. Hari, to his credit, barely blinked, but he did blink. You squirmed slightly again, feeling it rub against the growing heat of your core, watching in amazement as Hari’s eyes fluttered even as he growled at you. “No, we’re not playing this game”.

He sat up sharply, clearly intending to push you off, but you pulled your hands free instead, looping them tightly around his neck even as his head dropped back in exasperation, glaring at you. “Just tell me you don’t want me then, not one bit, you don’t want me at all, and I’ll leave you be”. Your soft murmur against his lips had you shivering again, and yet Hari seemed barely affected, cold, silver eyes boring into yours. He didn’t respond though, he didn’t say it, he didn’t say he didn’t want you but he didn’t say he did either. You ran a finger carefully over the needle of hair that had fallen in his face, brushing it back carefully and nearly flinching when he sighed softly. Sensitive, are they?

You pressed closer, chasing the heat of his mouth, panting softly against him. “One little game Hari, what’s one little game going to matter?” You licked softly at the corner of his mouth, feeling him arch underneath you sharply at the motion, eyes flickering up to yours, pupils dilated wildly, half in lust, half in panic. “Play with me Hari, please”, you whimpered softly, hips rocking against the growing tent in his pants as his eyes fluttered, only semi-hard but it felt huge.

“He’ll kill you”, whispered softly against your throat, warm breathing leaving goose-bumps on your skin as he breathed raggedly against you. Wet mouth sending shivers up and down your spine, wanting him to kiss you so badly. He lipped very gently at your jawline as you stretched into him, motion a silent plea for more. “He’ll kill you and then me as well, that’s what your little game will get us, and you know it”, his voice was breathy, snarky, but breathy, he wanted it too, you could tell. You leaned closer then, licking softly at the shell of his ear, smirking softly as his hips jerked forward against you, fingers tangling angrily in your hair, ripping your head back so he could face you, eyes glittering as you panted desperately against his mouth.

“So desperate, and I’ve barely touched you”, were the last words whispered softly against your lips before his lips slotted slowly against yours, testing, careful, even as you moaned softly into his mouth, hands tightening in his hair as his came to dig into your hips, pulling you flush against him. “Stupid, stupid little girl”, he spat, and then he licked into your mouth, tongue tasting the insides of your mouth in detail, exploring every little crevice, leaving you shaking and trembling in his lap as you rubbed slowly against his clothed erection, grinding down carefully to try and give him better friction, rewarded with a soft hum of pleasure against your mouth. You needed more.

His fingers dug into your waist tighter, but careful enough that it wouldn’t bruise before he pulled away to carefully nip at your jawline. You gasped and moaned softly at his ministrations, fingers pulling his hair, desperate for more of him. “He wont even care”, you moaned softly as he mouthed sloppily over the column of your throat, always careful with the hints of teeth. “He’s never wanted me, not really, and I’ve never wanted him”, you continued softly as his hands wandered up to cup your breasts through your shirt, drawing a deep, throaty groan from you. “Only-oh yes-only ever you”, you gasped out eventually, listening to his answering groan, as he dragged you closer, lifting your shirt carefully.

“Hari, please”, you whispered softly, dragging a soft groan from him as his name fell so haggardly from your lips, the desperation, the longing in it had him pressing closer instantly, tongue lapping slowly up your throat as he gradually pulled up your shirt, desperate to get his mouth around those perky buds.

“Chronostasis, where are you, did you find her?”

You’d never moved faster in your life, leaping from his lap like it had burned you, even though you desperately wanted to climb back into it and stay there forever. Hari had somehow got to his feet, pushed his erection down, and shoved his mask back on, and all before Kai came round the corner. He leaned over, grabbed you by the elbow, expression shifting back to annoyance, and strode forward to meet the yakuza boss even as you stared at the ground miserably.

“She just went for a little run, up to mischief, the usual, it was no hassle boss”, the words hurt, though you knew he had to say them or risk both of you being killed. You finally looked up, gaze meeting Kai’s before dropping it swiftly again, the disgust there drowned Hari’s annoyance right out.

“Excellent work Chronostasis, I must say, you caught her in record time. See to it that you don’t have to catch her at all in future, simply put, teach the little beast how to behave”. The ice in his voice made you tremble and shake even as Hari nodded and affirmed his agreement, twisting the knife even deeper, but at least Kai was turning away, he wasn’t glaring at you anymore, probably a good thing, he’d just hurt you more if he saw the single tear slip from your eye, might even slap it away, just to prove a point.

You walked forward in Hari’s grip, eyes downcast, flinching slightly when a warm hand brushed your tear away, you blinked in shock and turned to glance at him but his mask stayed pointed firmly forward, not a single look in your direction, even as his thumb began to stroke soothing circles around your elbow, a small smile tugging at the corner or your lips before you shoved it away.

Maybe he’d play more next time round.

#chronostasis #bnha chronostasis #overhaul #bnha overhaul #shie hassaikai #hari kurono #kai chisaki #eight precepts of death #myheroacademia #my villain academia #league of villains

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