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shadowofroses · 2 years

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Orphanage ch1

Demon Slayer

Pairings: None as of yet

Warnings: Reader's name is set in the beginning, Owns library on Breathing Styles, used to have connections with Demon Slayers, MUZAN is his own warning, Dark fic of sorts, Muzan brings her the last of her line as a 'snack' to keep her in check. Dead Dove? Reader wants the Eradication of Muzan, Reader used to be a Mother, cannibalism

Partially on Ao3

Story:

Kind motherlike demon running an Orphanage. Broken away from Muzan’s curse ages ago, can create demons if wanted to. Muzan is fully aware of her, and she doesn’t try to hide, knowing very well if she goes to hide, he will come for her, and the children.

You send some to be Demon Slayers depending on their background. You knew where some Breathing Masters live from doing research.

To those around you, you never hid what you were to them, although they tended to call you an Angel or a Goddess.

At first the local town would offer you their dead. And you did take them. At first it was just a few every now and then which was fine. But then a child walked in on you eating a corpse. Upon scaring the child for life, you started to hate yourself in return for it. Especially for doing it so openly.

After that you opted for asking just for the livers. You didn’t need much to feed, it wasn’t like you used your Demon Blood Art often. Some of the families were wary of you, and this also changed how you looked to them in their eyes. You’ve met a few slayers before. You kept books of their breathing styles for your wards in case they ever decided to learn via books.

You knew of the ubuyashiki family through Muzan and his dislike of them. Each generation you gifted them something as a peace offering. In fact they made it a notion to have all Hashiras meet you at least once. However the latest hashiras haven’t shown up. You assumed that they disliked you dueto being a demon. Or maybe the latest Kagaya wanted to keep you more under wraps.

Regardless, lately you received a crow from Kagaya. Due to recent events he wanted his hashira to meet you, and be in more contact with friendly demons. Especially with the fact that the corps were dwindling as is. You currently had twenty children Wards, but you were very hesitant to send them.

Regardless you told him to send who he felt should go. You would have suggest their worst asshole, but you didn’t need the kids to be scared. You stated what books of Breathing styles you had, and that you would appreciate any information on unknown styles, to educate the kids.

What you weren’t expecting was a Sound Hashira, Flame Hashira and a Love Hashira along side three kids to come knocking on your door.

You asked one of the children to get the door, and to invite them in. Yuki answered the door. She was one of the oldest children, fourteen. And she had been working on her own style of breathing. Ice Breathing. Her Kimono was decked out with snowflakes which you delicately embroidered onto it.

“Miss Yameka?” You came forth, poking your head out of the doorway not wanting to catch too much of the sun, “We have company who would like to meet with you.”

As you were in the midst of doing dishes, you wiped your hands, “Haru, could you please take over the dishes. Yuki, please take them to the Chabudai, I’ll ready some Tea. Make sure the Windows are covered please, if you like you can keep them company as well.”

Yuki smiled brightly, “Of course!”

You turned to ready some water for tea. Once finished, you grabbed the pot, and walked into the dinning area. “Hello, I’m Yameka, it’s a pleasure to have your company today, I hope Ubuyashiki-san is doing well.” You bowed lightly and started to pour tea.

The pinkette beamed, “As well as he can be! Thank you so much for receiving us!” You smiled back, looking around and seeing the colorful people, “OH! We should introduce ourselves! I’m Mitsuri Kanroji, the Love Hashira!”

“I am the Flamboyant Sound Hashira Uzui Tengen.” You heard the white haired man say with a smirk but also keeping an eye on you at all times.

“I am the Flame Hashira! Rengoku Kyoujurou!”

“Kamado Tanjiro Ma’am!” He bowed, “ you noticed a box on his back and what you heard was scratching, and the scent of another Demon.

“Agatsuma Zenitsu!” You could hear his panic, which he was trying to subdue due to the fact that there were three other Hashiras that could take care of you if necessary.

“I am the Great Lord of the Mountains Hashibira Inosuke! You’re a Demon right?! FIGHT ME!” You both grinned and blinked at the boy as both other boys hit him upside the Mask on his head.

“Forgive him! He was raised by Boars.” Zenitsu bowed.

You laughed, “Really? That’s interesting! But no fear, there is nothing to forgive. I’m afraid I’m not much of a Fighter unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Rengoku kept his eyes on your form as Mitsuri grinned. “We were told you requested books about unknown Breathing Styles? I have a several books on hand, One is Love Breathing, Sound Breathing, Mist Breathing, Flower Breathing, Insect Breathing, and Beast Breathing!”

Your eyes widened at that. “Oh my, more than I expected.”

Uzui leaned forward, “Now my question is why would a Demon need these books?”

You shook your head, “Me personally. They are no use to me, however I love preserving history, and knowledge. Not to mention I take in Orphans, sometimes from parents unable to raise them, other times they are dumped off cause certain demons are not in the mood to kill a kid or an infant.” You watched them all stiffen at that. “Some Demons still have some morality. Not all.”

“And what of you?” Rengoku looked at you, and you looked into his unnerving eyes.

“A long time ago, I was human just like you all. Minus the Demon in the box of course.” You saw Tanjiro’s eyes widen at that. “I was ill, and suffering. I, like many Demons, fell prey to the wiles of Muzan…”

Now you saw everyone's eyes widened, and a gasp. “You can say his name?!” Tanjiro exclaimed.

You nodded, “I broke free of his curse a long time ago. He is fully aware of me, and I’d be a fool to hide myself from him.” You looked back to Rengoku, “Unfortunately he knows where I live, and that I take care of orphaned children and that I no longer fight unless provoked, which he is highly disappointed by, but however since I pose no threat to him once so ever, he sees no harm in leaving me be.”

“So you put the kids in danger!” Rengoku’s eyes flashed dangerously.

You growled at that, “I will put my life on the line before I let any harm come to these kids. Me being…complacent with Muzan is protecting those kids as well. Besides, I have sent some to Breathing Technique Trainers before, and for some to become Demon Slayers if they were determined. Most are. I’ve lost more children to your Final Selection than I have with Muzan.” You watched Rengoku slightly relax at that, but you couldn’t nail the emotion he had on his face. “I understand the risks. But these children need a bond, and some sort of stability in their early lives.”

“What do you eat?” Uzui glanced from you to Yuki, and back.

“I used to eat the corpses of the dead of the previous town. That was their idea at the time, for taking care of the children they considered cursed. However, One child walked in on that, and I didn’t want to scare another, so now I just request Livers of the Dead.”

Mitsuri looked to Yuki, “And you’re fine knowing she’s a demon?”

Yuki’s snowy hair bounced as she nodded, “Of course! She doesn’t harm us, she gives us space to explore and learn. If we want to become Demon Slayers she doesn’t stop us, in fact encourages us to!”

You smiled patting Yuki on the head, “Yuki, was unfortunately one of the infants left behind by one of the Uppermoons. He dropped her off, due to not wanting the blood on his hands that day.

Rengoku’s eyes jumped to yours, “Which one?”

“Uppermoon Three. Akaza. He dislikes killing or eating Women, which he avoids. He brought her here because he refuses to take children, especially females to Uppermoon Two’s; Douma’s location as Douma prefers to eat women. And he despises him.” You tilted your head to look at Yuki, “Yuki here is determined to become a Demon Slayer, and created her own Breathing Technique, which she has been journaling for me, but I can have a copy made for Ubuyashiki-san. I also believe I have two others that are not as known or well used anymore and another individual style derived of Moon Breathing.”

“Moon Breathing?!” You heard from Zenitsu and Mitsuri.

You nodded, “It’s one of the basic styles that were derived from Sun Breathing. Moon, Stone, Flame, Water, Wind, and Thunder. In history there has only been one Moon Breathing User, and he is Currently Uppermoon One. Kokushibo. When he was human, his Twin was the creator of Sun Breathing.”

Tanjiro’s hand hit the table causing you to look at him, “Ma’am! Do you know anything on Hinokami Kagura?!”

You blinked dissecting the words in your head. “Dance of the Fire God, I would assume that would be Sun Breathing as the words for Sun and Flame are too close. Historically there was a divide between those two branch users. Muzan hunted down Sun Breathing users as Demons are more threatened by Sun Breathing than any other style. Why do you ask Tanjiro?”

You saw something dawn on Tanjiro as you finished what you were saying. “My father would perform a Hinokami Kagura, which would be a dance passed down to the men in the family including these Hanafuda Earrings.”

You hummed, “That makes sense, due to that would ideally only put the males of the family at risk and hopefully sparing the women and having the style dying out due to the women not being educated in it.”

His eyes widened again realizing that that made sense. “I was out selling coal one day, and I came back my family was murdered by Muzan, leaving only my sister turned as a Demon.”

You nodded, “Thus since you weren’t there he thought he got all the male heirs of Sun Breathing. He does have a sick sense of humor later in life considering She most likely protected her family, and fought hard. So His humor would be for her to eat her dead relatives.” Eyes became stony all around. “That Said I’m very sorry to hear your story, and wish you didn’t have to go through that. I do have a copy of Sun Breathing already written out so you can go ahead and take that journal, it was written by Tsugikuni Yoriichi himself. If there is anything else you need in the future it doesn’t have to be this related, you could even ask me for a recipe, don’t be a stranger.”

Tanjiro’s eyes brightened and you could have sworn he sparkled, “Thank you so much Miss Yameka!”

You nodded, “Please, just Yameka.” You looked to the other Hashiras, “I can have another copy of Sun Breathing produced, along with Moon, Ice, Shadow and Celestial.and send it out unless you want to stay here long enough for me to copy them. I would like to keep my originals as the Children learn from those.”

Zenitsu tilted his head in thought, “why would you want to help us. Or encourage the children to be Demon Slayers?”

“You are not the only ones that are looking for the eradication of Muzan.” You said as a five year old white haired boy wondered in.

“Momma? Can I have a snack?”

Your face softened at that, “I’m a little busy, Haru should be doing the dishes, go ask her sweetie. Then make sure you get back to playing.”

“Yes!”

Everyone watched the child fumble off. “Momma?” You turned, seeing Uzui’s nonexistent eyebrows raise.

You shrugged, “I don’t ask them to call me anything other than Yameka, however some view me as a Mother Figure, I’m weak and I crave that honestly.” You sighed, Noticing the interested looks from them all, “I was last a mother six hundred years ago. My line still carries on strong, but I’m not a part of their lives.”

Rengoku felt that yearning deep into his bones. Mitsuri looked at you sadly. Inosuke grunted, “So what are we doing here? Trading sad stories? I was raised by Boars, and watched my Boar mother get killed so I wear her head.”

Everyone blinked at that, unsure of how to take it. “I’m sorry to hear that, side note, any children you would like to take with you guys to train, feel free as long as they agree to it. I believe Yuki would benefit greatly from being trained by proper Demon Slayers. Especially since I am fully aware of the Corps dwindling.” you watched as Yuki beamed. “Yuki, can get the Sun Breathing Journal for Tanjiro please?” Yuki jumped up without a thought and ran over to the Library.

Rengoku shifted, “You said you had Journals on Flame Breathing as well?”

You blinked, “it’s about a hundred years old, but yes I do.”

Rengoku sat up straighter, “Any chance I can get a copy of that as well?” He expected you to question him about this, seeing how he was the Flame Hashira and all.

You nodded “Of course, However I believe I only have up to the 7th form. I have no idea if more forms were created after that.”

Rengoku then beamed, “There are nine forms of Flame Breathing, the Ninth is named after my family. I don’t know what the eighth is however! I would highly appreciate the knowledge of the Sixth and Seventh forms!”

Which said everything. You nodded, “Of course, I can continue digging around to see if I can find anything on an Eighth form for you as well.” you stood up, “YUKI!~ Flame Breathing copy as well!” you yelled out, noticing the Sound Hashira and Zenitsu wincing. You gave a soft smile, “sorry about that!”

Uzui shook his head, “Nothing I’m not used to.”

Yuki came back out with a Sun Breathing and Flame Breathing book. Bowing and placing them on the table for the respectable people to take. You gave her a smile, “Thank you so much Snowflake.” you then turned to the Hashira, “Would you like to take Yuki back with you?”

Mitsuri wiggled in place, “Sure! We’ll make sure she gets proper training!”

“Yuki, please get some clothes or necessities for your trip.”

“Yes Ma’am!” you smiled watching the girl skip away.

“Now we don’t want to keep you…” Rengoku started to stand up.

Tanjiro frowned however as he flipped through the book, “Uh, this is torn.”

Glancing over your felt your veins freeze over. You jumped up to run into the Library and grabbed the other Sun Breathing book, torn. You growled at that, You exited, “Last person to enter my Library was Muzan looking for a book on Flowers.” you growled out, which put the Hashira’s on edge. “The Flame book is fine, correct?”

Rengoku opened the book, finding it in pristine condition. “Yes!”

“I have another copy of Sun Breathing hidden, but It’ll take a while to get, forgive me Tanjiro.” You went into a deep bow.

Tanjiro waved his hands, “Nonono, it’s fine, I understand!”

You sighed, “I’ll make several copies of it, I’ll send one to you, and Ubuyashiki, and lock the rest up.”

Mitsuri nodded, placing down a sack of books she was holding. “These are the Styles that we had!”

You gave her a smile, “Thank you so very much, I’ll make a copy of each of those and lock it up with the Sun Breathing ones as well so that we don’t have another incident again.”

The kids and Hashira got up. Uzui nodded, “we best be going, Thank you for receiving us Yameka. We’ll be in touch.” You saw something flash in his eyes.

“I hope so! Please don’t be strangers! I would love to hear from the Current Hashira, it’s been so long since I’ve been in contact with them. It would be a shame to become Estranged again!” You announced with a tilt of your head. You watched Yuki bound down the stairs with a sack thrown on her back and a sword on her hip. You gave her a hug and kissed her on the head, “Don’t forget to write from time to time, and kick some Demon ass.”

“Of course! Thanks mom!” Yuki announced hugging you tighter, the three hashira noticed when you started to tear up from her calling you mom.

You shook your head and patted her head, “Take care of my Yuki, If my other children express interest I’ll send them your way.”

“Right!” Rengoku stated giving you a longer glance before placing his hand on Yuki’s shoulder. With that, you said goodbye to the colorful group.

You found yourself upset over their leaving, and felt lonely even though you weren’t alone.

You watched as a Violet haired boy walked in an hour later, grinning with large pink eyes. “We caught a couple of Boars today! Me and Yuri!”

You smiled at that as you finished up the forth copy of Sun Breathing. “That’s great! Do you need me to Skin and Gut them for you Sora?”

Sora shook his head, “I gutted them on the spot like you taught me to, No idea if you wanted the organs or not. Can you eat Animals?”

You hummed in thought as you went to start on a copy of Moon Breathing, “I haven’t tried, only one way to find out right?” you said smiling as you ruffled his hair. “What is it that I tell you all, always be open to trying new things right?”

Sora beamed in response. “Oh! The sun has fallen!”

You stood up and stretched. “Great! I’ll get the grill going and see about cooking up that Boar for you all!”

Sora shook his head, “NO! I mean…’ he looked nervous causing you to frown. “Could Haru and I cook it? I want to get more practice in cooking!”

Your face softened at that. “Sure, If you guys need any assistance please call out.”

“Right!~” Sora grinned before going to get the boar to bring into the house.

You watched this, “The Pelt is outside set to dry right?”

“YUP!”

You snapped your fingers and watched as a Eurasian Eagle Owl flew down to your table. You patted his head, and moved to wrap a couple of the Sun Breathing books and tucked a letter into the ribbon. “Roku, could you please deliver this to the Demon Slayer’s Headquarters to Ubuyashiki-san. An Owl was larger than the crows, and you didn’t want to damage any crows with the weight of the journals. The owl hooted, and took off with the package. You called over a crow, “Please tell Kamado Tanjiro that I have sent his copy of Sun Breathing to Ubuyashiki-san.”

“CAW! UNDERSTOOD!”

You groaned, stretching your fingers. It’s been a while since you wrote so much in a short span of time. You went to put one copy of Sun Breathing back into the Library and then upstairs to lock a copy in a trunk under your bed. Laying it beside a painting of your human family. Under it, your daughters family, under that your grand daughters family, and Great Grandaughters family was the last one,as you had to cut yourself off from your family when your great great grandchild starts asking why you look younger than their mother.

You yearned to reconnect, but you knew better.

“Miss Yameka! Mr. Kibutsuji is here!”

Second time your veins froze over today. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, you straightened your western nightgown. Walking back down the stairs of your estate, you came to the sight of Muzan ruffling Sora’s hair. A possessive scent flowed off of you upon the sight, however you tried to reel in the emotions. Muzan only smirked in response. “Darling Child.” Holding a bundle in his arms.

You gave a soft smile, “Please follow me to receive you in the Library My Lord.” You bent down to Sora, “go play Sweetheart. Make sure the other kids stay away from the Library for a bit.”

“Alright!”

You led the demon into the Library. This couldn’t be a coincidence that Muzan showed up the same day as Demon Slayers. Hashira’s no less. And even a Demon Slayer traveling with a Demon. As Muzan walked in, he closed and locked the door behind him to prevent interruptions. “What do I owe the pleasure My Lord?”

He walked among the bookcases and allowed his fingers to trail the spines of books, before turning to you, and reaching into his jacket, pulling out a small book. “Returning a book, as it didn’t have what I needed.” The bundle in his arms cooed. A baby. You didn’t say anything about it. If he wanted you to know he would tell you.

“Oh wonderful! I know the girls have been asking for it lately, wanting to know the flowers of the area and all! They should be so pleased.” You lied out your teeth with a charming smile.

As Muzan moved to hand you the book, he made sure his fingers touched yours, and he looked you in the eyes, “Curious…there are scents of a Hashira in the dining area.”

You frowned, taking the book from him in thought, coming up with an excuse. “There was a man here earlier asking about adopting one of the children, but…I didn’t sense anything off about him.” You moved to place the book back in its designated place, but Muzan was right behind, pressing himself against you, and trapping your chest against the books.

“Even more Curious. Are you so weak now that you can’t tell when a Hashira has been here?” You held back a twitch at that. Muzan moved to turn you gently, “Allow me to rectify that.”

His blood of course.

Muzan has always been miffed with the fact that you broke away from his curse, always attempting to bring you back under. You loved your independence. But this was something that couldn’t be avoided. If you turned it down, you were negligent and working with the Demon Slayers. Something he couldn’t have.

You frowned, and lowered your head, only for him to catch it with a claw and gently tilt your head back up. “I was unaware of how weak my senses became.” You stared into his eyes, “It must have been caring for the children. I take full responsibility of my punishment my Lord.”

Muzan shook his head, cooing, “Nonono, even human children serve their purpose. Perhaps we can use this to our advantage.” His claw drawing figure eights on your skin. “My precious (Name), let me give you a gift?”

His blood of course.

“I would be honored.” There was really no way around it. You took a deep breath as the claw pierced your skin.

Thoughts clear, don’t think. You would send an Owl to Tamayo tomorrow. It was too late for sending for a Curse Removal, and you can’t risk the Owl taking Muzan to her. You felt a liquid fire coursing through your veins. Adrenaline picking up, as your body absorbed it as if welcoming an old friend. You ended up leaning against Muzan for stability.

You could feel him almost preen at the fact that he had you back. Withdrawing his claw he tilted your head up. (Name).

You heard his voice loud and clear. My Lord, how may I be of service.

“Beautiful, I noticed you have some Breathing Styles, have you ever considered one of your children to be spies of sorts?”

Mind blank, you tilted your head. “I merely collected them as a means to understand breathing styles and their possible connection to Demon Blood Art. However, you do pitch a wonderful idea.” Muzan handed you a Journal at this, you furrowed your brows at this, his fingers trailing yours as he did so. “Moon Breathing? But I have that…”

“Not this one.” Muzan purred. “Updated styles with Kokoshibo’s at least six more forms. Find one of the children to teach this to.” He tilted his head as he let go of the book. “I can even sacrifice one of my Lower Moons to make the kid a Hashira and get him close to Ubuyashiki.”

You crossed your arms, as he seemed to be attempting to search your mind. “I’ll see about finding a Nichirin Sword in any case…”

“How did you manage it?” You were interrupted causing you to look up at the Demon. “Your mind is empty. I know you’re not an imbecile.”

You gave a shrug. “Demons have different abilities, I just learned not to think about things. Maybe this is one of them.” Muzan’s hand trailed your neck, you knew he debated on squeezing it. “I daresay however, I thought you would appreciate it. You used to think my thoughts were so chaotic that you would tell me off for thinking.”

Muzan hummed, feeling his fingers trail against your neck, “This is true.” He stepped back and walked over to a window peering out into the night. “I prefer this actually. (Name) I want you to get stronger. You need to start eating again.”

You frowned, crossing your arms over your western gown, “I never stopped eating Humans. I just slowed down, as the town sends me offerings for taking care of their…’cursed children’; but if that is what you wish I shall.”

The bundle in his arms shifted again, and he noticed your curious stare shift. “Oh, actually I brought you a gift.” he moved to pass the infant to you. “A snack.”

You could not stop the rage that rolled off of you at that. Muzan smirked finally getting a reaction out of you, you reigned it in when you realized you slipped up. “So thoughtful my Lord. And I haven’t given anything back. I feel so selfish…”

You felt his hand raise to your cheek, you were not used to him being so handsy with you. “You are my gift, get strong…” he turned to unlock the library door, his hand on the handle. “Oh, she’s the last of your line…Marechi. Savor every bite my dear.” he exited the room and soon your house.

Rage flooded your mind, you saw red. You held the infant gently in one hand, while the other hand gripped the desk in the library with a grip so tight you splintered it. You felt your fangs grow as well. You picked up the lamp you had on your desk and threw it at the door.

You held onto the child as your body slid to the floor. The Child crying at the shattering lamp, causing you to break down.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #mdni #demon slayer x you #No pairings as of yet #dead dove do not eat

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getthebutters · 2 years

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How do I introduce a man to receiving anal pleasure?

Man ass, the sweet nectar of ambroisa that it is, invites many an ass-venturer to take a taste, bite, hell even a poke. No wonder, as a sexpert, I’m so often asked how does one help a man discover the power and pleasure of his bussy. Luckily, though the prize is epic, the gauntlet to grasp that sweet boochie isn’t as fraught as you might imagine! And I have the secret scrolls with knowledge to unlock your boy’s sacred temple!

Prepare for failure

Look, if your guy hasn’t played with his own butt before, it’s likely he’s not going to be into it. While there’s a chance he could be surprised by the pleasure, you should be prepared for your journey to come to an abrupt end at any point. Loving man ass is a tough life, but the benefits are worth it!

Ground Level: Eat his ass!

Put his pucker where your mouth is. Analingus is simply the easiest and most pleasurable intro to anal pleasure you can provide for anyone. Even if they’re not super into the idea of insertion, it’s hard to ignore the synchronous joy of a dick sucking, ball licking, with a little tonging of their booty hole thrown in.

While this is the most fun intro for him, it’s not normally how people asking for tips on this want to start. While eating ass is incredibly fun, especially man ass, this can be an offputting idea for some. Well, tbh, you just gone have to suck that one on up, unless that’s what your bottom wants. Access to his hole is a gift. Appreciate it properly and you might get access to it again!

After dinner activities

Once you’ve crossed that tongue to butthole boundary, just see how far he wants to go. Depending how he takes to it, you might start licking his hole during a morning session then have his ankles in the sky by noon. Most likely though, it’ll be a slow ramp up to penetration or pegging or whatever. As long as he’s comfortable and feels safe enough with you, that sweet little man ass off his can be yours in no time!

Ideas to take the anal further slowly:

Analingus. Make sure to push the tounge inside to familiarize him with that sensation. It also just feels really good for him.

External prostate stimulation via pressure on taint or vibration at base of penis

Vibrator on the sphincter itself

Fingers or toys (butt plug) inside to stimulate the prostate. Try adding a vibrator on the butt plug to send his hole into spasms.

Toys (dildo or vibrator) or penises for intercourse/pegging

What do you do with the dick?

That depends on him. In my real life experience, it seems like a 50/50 toss up if a guy can maintain an erection while being penetrated. But that doesn’t say anything about how he’d like his dick n balls pleased or ignored during anal play. Even if a penis isn’t erect, it can still receive pleasure. You’ll have to talk to him. I do suggest, trying to pleasure his balls, if he doesn’t usually keep an erection during anal play. IDK why but the two are often wired together in men who enjoy enjoy anal but don’t stay hard. If he's hard, though, that’s pretty much an invitation to suck or stroke on that.

THAT BEING SAID!!!

Since this guide will mostly be used by women, I’m going to share a common complaint from men who date women. According to several, they feel like women tend to have a strange sense of ownership over their male partners’ body. They say that women often push too hard for them to try new stuff, like anal, then make them feel bad for not liking it or only so much. Make sure you check yourself in this situation. His hole is sacred and vulnerable. You need to have the utmost respect for that sweet lil booty cat.

Here’s 4 tips to make sure your guy feels safe, respected and supported:

• Take it at his pace, not yours. I know the stereotype is that men like to move fast, but truthfully we like taking it slow just like the next. Yea, we get excited and rush things just like anyone else. But when it comes to anal, let’s just presume we’re gonna be taking it slow. If he’s an eager bottom nd wants more faster, that hole of his will let you know.

• Respect his no, as you always should. Don’t forget everyone must consent. Enthusiastically. No surprise fingers in holes. I feel Like I shouldn’t have to say that. But you’d be surprised how often I hear this method of attack suggested in media and real life.

• Make sure you’re caring for him emotionally. Remember, even a thug can get a little emotional when in a compromising position. Face down ass up and many positions that make anal easier, while amazingly hot, might also trigger some new feelings for him.

• Don’t tell anyone. Seriously, shut your fucking mouth about it unless he gives you permission. Yes, even to your closest friends who would never tell a soul. Do not betray his privacy to get it off your chest, or worse, idle gossip. I know that sounds harsh but it’s a hard-line boundary for many, MANY men. Your ability to keep it quiet, if that’s what he wants, will let him know you’re worthy of trust and more booty.

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honeypiehotchner · 3 years

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Version of You (Hotch x Fem!Reader) — one shot

Call 1-800-799-7233 if you think you are in danger/a victim of domestic violence, or visit this website for resources, live chat, and more (for the USA). This is a link to the wikipedia page that has international resources.

(I wanted to put that first because this fic deals with an abusive relationship and some scenes show the abuse. If you relate to any this, please seek help via the resources above. I want desperately to say my DMs are open, but for my own mental wellbeing, I have to let you know that the resources that I give above are about all I can do to help. You’re welcome to DM me if needed, but please know that it might take me a minute to reply, and I still will point you in the direction of resources that can better help you. I love and support and am with every single one of you, but I can only do so much through a screen xx.)

This is 100% a comfort fic, but I am safe and okay, I promise 💛 (Truthfully, this was really therapeutic to write.)

Small note: mental and verbal abuse is depicted here, not physical (though it does come close), but I wanted to remind you that just because abuse isn’t physical doesn’t mean it’s not harmful or real. Mental and verbal abuse is still abuse.

Summary: Hotch helps you find the courage within you to end your abusive relationship for good.

Warnings: depiction of an abusive relationship, verbal/mental abuse, violence (domestic and otherwise), angst, happy ending

Hotch Masterlist

Aaron is stunned and disappointed to find you’re still at your desk when he walks out of his office at the grand hour of 8 p.m.

You don’t even hear his office door open or close, but you do hear his footsteps on the stairs. By the time he reaches your desk to say goodnight, you’re already attempting to cover up any traces of emotion on your cheeks.

But Aaron is a profiler. On top of that, though, he’s one of your best friends. He’s known you for six years now, and given how much time the BAU members spend together on cases, he’d argue he knows every single person here better than they know themselves.

You’d agree. You hardly know who you are anymore. But somehow, Aaron knows. Aaron can see.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, already setting his bag down, already pulling a chair over, already sitting next to you.

You’re ready to tell him it’s nothing, to tell him to get home to Jack, that it isn’t important — but it is.

You’ve been with your current partner for almost eight years. Anyone would hear that and ask if marriage is on the horizon, or children, or something of the sort. But not Aaron. Because Aaron can see the pain in your eyes.

Truthfully, he’s seen that pain in your eyes for the past two years. Maybe more.

But recently, it’s gotten worse. A lot worse.

You’re on a “break” with your partner. Whatever a “break” even means, because you still receive phone calls and texts from them all day. You send the calls to voicemail unless you absolutely aren’t doing anything, and the texts you reply to with one word.

Going home is fine because your partner is gone — for now. Work called them away, so you’re home alone for at least another three days, but you expect they’ll want you to pick them up from the airport.

You’ve never longed for a case the way you’re longing for one right now.

This “break” has been easiest because your partner has been gone. You know if they were here, it wouldn’t have been a break at all.

“It’s made me realize that I...I want a break. A real break.”

“You want to break up,” Aaron says it for you, knowing you’re too afraid.

Your hesitant nod confirms this for him. “I do. I think I really do.”

Aaron has known the relationship hasn’t been the healthiest. You don’t open up about your personal life that much at work — you never have — but it has always been telling that you never go out for drinks with the team. And when you did, you’d have to answer texts every ten minutes. Your partner never accepted an invite to join the team for drinks or dinner, but would often get angry at you for being out, as if you hadn’t tried to invite them.

Raised voices, broken glass. Not a single hand was ever laid on you. No, instead, it was a wine glass your mom gifted to you when you graduated college when your partner was angry that you had gone out for drinks with the team after a difficult case. A coffee mug you gifted your partner for their birthday faced the brunt of their anger when you didn’t reply to a text message fast enough — because you were parking your car in the garage. Plates, picture frames. A coffee table once, three years ago. It had been a house warming present.

But they’ve never hurt me, you always argue — only with yourself. No one knows the truth, that you clean up after their outbursts, that you’re grateful to have some knowledge of first aid so you can tend to your cuts from the broken glass, or so that you could stitch up your partner’s hand with ease, because hospitals are expensive and the excuses you’d have to fabricate even more so.

They always apologize. Which is true. Apologies are frequent in your house. Sometimes verbal, sometimes in the form of flowers either on your desk at the BAU (that only Hotch seems to notice with a sad smile) or left on the counter at home. Sometimes, rarely, a fancy dinner and some gift, usually a necklace.

“If you need any help at all,” Aaron says, looking you in your eyes, carefully, intently. “I’m here. For anything.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. Your stomach rumbles loudly in the silence, making you chuckle awkwardly.

“Hungry?” He jokes, but is half serious. “I was planning to get something on the way home, if you’d like to join.”

You think it over for a moment. Your mind immediately jumps to say no because you think your partner is home...but they aren’t.

“Sure,” you say. “Why not. What’s on the menu?”

You gather your things and Hotch waits patiently, rattling off some ideas for food to eat until one grabs your attention.

Your phone buzzes with a text. Where are you?

Aaron notices your change in posture with a sigh. “Is that them?”

You nod slowly. “Asking where I am.” You quickly type back, Still at the BAU.

The reply is almost immediate, as always. Just checking. Love you.

Relief washes over you as you type back, Love you too.

Aaron doesn’t like what he sees. The panic that surges through you just from a text message, making you stand up straight, hold your breath, clench your jaw. Then the relief that relinquishes you when a reply comes and it isn’t negative for once. The sudden changes, the way your emotions are yanked back and forth. He hates it.

But he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he says, “Ready?” And waits for you to smile.

+++

Hotch really doesn’t mean for dinner with you to turn into somewhat of a routine. But it does.

It’s brought more smiles to your face than Hotch thinks he has ever seen in the past six years. And for that, he doesn’t regret the dinners.

Neither do you, until the worst thing that could possibly happen ends up happening one night, three weeks since the first dinner.

Your partner is going out with friends, so you think you’re in the clear to get dinner with Aaron. And when your partner asks where you are again, you say you’re still at the BAU. You were, but you and Aaron were in the elevator to leave when you sent that message.

The two of you grab dinner at one of your favorite spots, at a table outside because the weather is perfect, the sky is clear, and stars are beginning to show. It’s magical. Until it’s a nightmare.

“Well, well, well.”

The voice sends shivers down your spine. They’re supposed to be out with friends.

Aaron automatically stands, shoulders squared and face set. He’s wearing his gun, and you are, too, but you’d never use it on your partner. You can’t say the same about Hotch, though, and that terrifies you.

“Babe,” you say with a smile, and Hotch tenses, hearing the pet name fall so easily form your lips. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going out with your friends?”

Your partner crosses their arms over their chest. “And I thought you were still at work.”

“We are,” Hotch speaks up, startling you. “We’re discussing a case.”

Your partner looks around, raising their eyebrows. “I don’t see any papers.”

“Because we went digital five years ago,” Hotch replies coolly. “But aside from that, a federal investigation is none of your business.”

You swallow thickly, waiting for your partner’s reply.

But to your surprise, they only nod. “I understand, sir. I was only checking.”

Hotch holds back a scoff, but instead returns the nod. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Your partner holds their hands up in surrender. “Of course.”

“I’ll see you at home,” you say quickly. “Love you.”

“See you at home,” they reply, making you frown as they turn and walk away.

When you look back at Hotch, you nearly scream. It takes everything in you not to make the hugest scene right there, outside this nice restaurant, underneath these stars.

Your phone buzzes. One hour. Do not be late.

“Y/N—”

“Don’t,” you say quietly. “Just. Don’t, Hotch.”

+++

The next day, you knock on Hotch’s office door, twenty dollar bill in hand to pay him back for your dinner last night. You left in a hurry and didn’t get to pay. Thankfully, at least, arriving home with forty minutes to spare saved you from an even worse reaction from your partner.

“For dinner last night,” you mumble, sliding the twenty across Hotch’s desk. “Thank you.”

As you turn on your heel to leave, Hotch calls out to you. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Aaron says, making you turn back around. “I hope you’re...alright.”

You’re so very far from being “alright” that you almost laugh. Instead, you shrug. “It’s been worse.”

“Did they hit you?”

You’re too shocked to move. “What? No! Why the hell would you even say that?”

“Because I’ve been worried about you.”

“They have never laid a hand on me,” you snap. “Ever.”

“But they’ve come close,” Aaron says gently. “You know they have.”

You only scoff. You feel hurt. Insulted, even, that he would assume something like that. Your relationship with your partner is rocky, of course, but never physical abuse rocky. Never that bad.

But has it come close?

Sure, maybe you’ve felt the wind off a beer bottle when it grazed by your head on its way to the wall. Maybe you have had to duck to avoid getting glass to the face. Maybe.

Maybe they have come close. Closer than you want to admit.

But they’ve also loved you. Held you while you cried. Rewarded you after you cleaned up the broken glass. Left you flowers and jewelry and love notes.

They love you. Don’t they?

“It’s fine,” you whisper, blinking back the stubborn tears that have jumped to the front of your eyes. “They love me.”

“Love isn’t violent,” Aaron replies gently. “Love shouldn’t make you as terrified as I saw you when you left last night.”

“I know,” you choke out. “But I don’t know what to do.”

Hotch is rounding his desk and gathering you in his arms before the first tear slips down your cheeks. He holds you while you cry, letting you get it all out.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispers, resting his chin on top of your head. “Don’t worry.”

+++

It all comes to a head a few nights later when your partner springs a question on you. The question.

There, standing in the bathroom, you’re too stunned to speak.

“What d’you say, baby? Let’s get married, you and me.”

You don’t reply. You toss the makeup wipe in your trash can, flick the light in the bathroom off, and walk out into the bedroom.

“Baby?” They ask.

You’re facing the dresser, halfway to setting out a pair of pants for work tomorrow. “I...I can’t.”

“What?” Their reply is immediate and angry. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t,” you repeat, refusing to change your answer. “No.”

By the time you turn around, they’re standing up from the bed, arms crossed over their chest. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said no,” you say firmly. “I’m not marrying you.”

“And why not?”

“I—”

“Are you seeing someone else?”

“What?”

“Your boss? Are you fuckin’ him?”

“No!”

“Then why won’t you marry me?”

“Because I don’t want to!”

You’ve never raised your voice back at your partner. They’ve always been the one to raise their voice, and you stayed silent, tried to talk them down, be the quiet voice of reason.

But not anymore. You’ve had enough.

“You don’t want to?” They scream. “It’s been eight years and now you don’t want to. You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” you say through gritted teeth. “But I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“Baby…” They sigh, stepping closer, lowering their arms. “Why not?”

“Because,” you reply slowly, backing up. “Just because.”

“That’s not a good enough reason and you know it.”

“It’s good enough for me,” you say. You step to the side and keep backing out into the hallway, getting ready to run if need be.

“Where are you going?” They all but growl. “What’s wrong with you?”

You’re scaring me, you want to scream, but you don’t. “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine? Well I’m for damn sure not fine, I’m heartbroken,” they seethe. You see the tell-tale signs that they’re about to get angry — angry enough to start throwing things. You realize in a moment of horror that a paperweight is within their reach.

And they reach for it.

“Don’t,” you murmur, freezing when their fingers wrap around the glass. “Put it down.”

“Why?” They ask, calm as ever. “Don’t you want to see what you’ve just done to my heart?”

You shake your head slowly. “No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, no!” Your reflexes have gotten better since being at the FBI, and you duck right in time. The paperweight crashes against the wall behind you, shattering, denting the wall, and covering the couch in fine pieces of broken glass.

“See what you’ve done!” Your partner screams. “This could’ve been easy! You could’ve said yes!”

You spot your car keys on the counter next to you, and when they turn their back to you to grip at their hair, you slide the keys off and into your pocket.

I have to get out of here. It’s a thought that you never have. Normally by now you’d be vacuuming up the glass on the couch, apologizing every five seconds, pouring them a glass of whiskey or a beer or something. But not now. Not anymore.

You’re a few steps from the door when your partner notices. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Nowhere,” you freeze. “Go take a shower. Cool off. I’ll clean up this mess and then we can talk about this again, okay?”

They almost don’t accept your offer, but after a second, they nod. “There better be a beer waiting on me when I get out.”

“Of course,” you smile.

Your smile makes them suspicious, but they turn and head into the bedroom without another word.

Shaking, you turn to the closet to grab the vacuum, turning it on and beginning to suck up the glass off the couch.

But when you hear the shower curtain pull closed, you escape, leaving the vacuum running.

+++

It’s pouring down rain, you aren’t wearing any shoes, and you’re knocking on your boss’s front door. Can your life get any more pathetic?

When Aaron opens the door, he’s practically hauling you inside and out of the rain.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asks, already leading you down the hall toward the bathroom. “You’re shivering, we need to get you out of these clothes — you aren’t wearing shoes, fuck, Y/N, what happened?”

“They asked me to marry them,” you choke out. You aren’t even crying. You haven’t cried yet at all. “I said no. They almost hit me.”

Aaron feels a dangerous surge of anger course through his body. “Did they hit you?”

You shake your head, and it turns into a full-body shiver.

“Okay,” Aaron says, taking a deep breath to ground himself. “Okay, let me get some clothes for you. Do you want to take a shower?”

You shake your head again.

“Okay, that’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

You sit, shivering, on your boss’s toilet for a few minutes before he returns with clothes. A t-shirt and pair of sweatpants of his. Old ones, he says, they don’t fit him anymore. You smile slightly when you realize the shirt is from his college, the sweatpants from his law school. No wonder they don’t fit him anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” you say. “I—I think I left my phone there.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. Just get changed and get warm. Do you want some tea? Anything?”

“Just some water, please,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he smiles.

After he leaves, you change out of your wet clothes and into his shirt and sweatpants. You carefully hang your wet shirt and shorts over the edge of the bathtub, hoping that’s okay.

You venture out of the bathroom and follow the noise into the kitchen where you find Aaron putting up dishes.

“Hey,” he murmurs, straightening up. “Do you want ice with your water?”

“Um, sure.”

The sound of ice clinking into the glass makes you flinch, and you’re grateful Aaron’s back is turned away from you.

“There you go,” he hands you the glass.

“Thank you.”

You sip it quietly while he goes back to putting up the rest of the clean dishes in the dishwasher. Once he finishes, your heart is still racing, now with guilt from coming here unannounced. What if he was on a date? What if Jack was here?

“The guest room is all yours,” Aaron says softly. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

You nod slowly. “I don’t know what to do.” You pause, rubbing your thumb over the condensation on the glass. “But I told them I’m not marrying them. But I...I didn’t tell them I was leaving. Or where I was going.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not. They’re gonna be mad. I can’t— Oh my god, I can’t go back. Not alone, they’ll—”

“Hey,” Aaron shushes you, walking around the counter to get to you. “Don’t worry about it right now. We’ll figure it out. I’ll go with you. You won’t be alone.”

“Thank you.”

+++

The next morning, you and Aaron head into the office early so you have time to grab your go-bag and change into your work clothes that you left in there.

Thank God for having a job like this where it’s normal to have a few changes of clothes, a toothbrush, deodorant, and anything else you need in a duffle bag under your desk.

You and Aaron are the first people in the BAU, so you’re able to grab your bag and head to the bathroom to change without any questions. Once you return, you stuff the bag back under your desk and sit down, ready to bury yourself in reports for the day.

But before you can, Hotch calls you into his office.

“What’s up?” You ask when you step into the doorway.

“We didn’t eat breakfast,” he says, and that’s when you notice the two coffees and muffins sitting on his desk.

“Oh,” you chuckle. “I completely forgot.”

“Me too,” he smiles. “Here, sit.”

The two of you eat the breakfast in silence, but somehow you don’t mind it. You’re not in much of a talking mood, anyway.

Rossi arrives next and stops by Hotch’s office, not at all surprised to find the two of you eating together, though he does join with his coffee a few minutes later. The silence vanishes with Rossi, leaving laughter in its wake as he tells old stories about Hotch.

When the rest of the team arrives, they follow the noise to Hotch’s office, and soon you’re surrounded by your family. Your real family.

Once eight-thirty rolls around, you all begin to disperse, back to your respective spaces to start working for the day, and everything feels normal.

And then, in a matter of seconds, it isn’t.

The second your eyes land on your partner standing down in the bullpen, you fall to your knees, scaring the shit out of Hotch.

“What happened?” He blurts, kneeling down to you. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you shake your head. “No, no, no...No, Hotch, they’re out there.”

Hotch doesn’t need their name. The fear on your face is enough.

About this time, you hear Derek’s voice growing in volume. The most you can make out is, “Put...down…!” And that’s when your blood runs ice cold.

You pat your right hip, hoping, praying, your weapon is magically there, even though you know it’s not. You put it in the safe when you got home last night. You didn’t have time to grab it before you ran out and drove to Hotch’s place. You left it there, in the safe, because you never think twice about it since it’s locked away.

But now…

“Don’t do this, man,” Derek yells. “Put. It. Down.”

“Where is she?” Your partner yells. “Tell me where she is!”

“I’m not telling you shit until you put the gun down,” Derek says, firmly. You’re frozen in place, on the floor next to Hotch’s desk as you listen.

“They have my gun,” you whisper to Hotch. “I didn’t think they— I don’t know how they knew the code, I change it every week, I thought—”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” Hotch shushes you. “You stay here. Do not move. Try to get under my desk if you can.” He pauses. “There’s an extra pistol underneath. I want you to grab it just in case.”

You nod, but then a memory of last night grips you. “No! You can’t go out there!” You hiss, gripping Hotch’s arm.

Outside, you hear Emily’s voice adding to Derek’s, trying to talk your partner down. It’s a scene out of a horror movie. Straight from your worst nightmare.

“They already feel threatened by you, they’ll just shoot you the second they see you.”

“Not when they already have five guns on them.”

“Let me come with you,” you offer.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Aaron, I have eight years of experience talking them down. I know what I’m doing.”

Hotch doesn’t like that you’re right.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

You nod. You’re shaking all over, but you still nod.

“Okay. Crawl over and grab the pistol from my desk. Tuck it in your waistband, on your back. Go now.”

You stay low as you crawl over, finding the pistol strapped underneath his desk on the right side. Once it’s tucked in your waistband, you stand, facing the window. Hotch stands too, with his back to the blinds, and thank God they’re closed.

“Is she in there?” You hear your partner scream. “Is she with him?”

“Shit,” you mutter. “Shit, shit, shit, they’re gonna fucking kill me.” You hate that the possibility is very real. They have your gun. They could shoot you the second they see you. You’re not wearing any protective gear.

“No,” Hotch replies. “I’m not letting that happen.”

“Come out here, you lying bitch!”

Hotch looks ready to kill your partner himself.

“Babe?” You call out, putting on a false tone, the same one you always use when talking them down. “Babe, what are you doing here?”

You step into the doorway, feeling another frozen chill of fear shoot straight down your spine. They look crazed. Insane, even. Worse than you’ve ever seen, worse than last night, worse than the last eight years.

“Don’t babe me,” your partner seethes, but the gun is still trained on Derek.

You know it makes no sense, but you want them to turn the gun on you. Not Derek. Derek can’t be hurt because of you, not like this.

“Put the gun down,” you say, trying to stay calm and sweet, the way you usually have to be at home.

“I’m not listening to a damn thing you say,” your partner yells, and then the gun turns on you. “There he is.” The gun isn’t aimed at you. It’s on Aaron.

“Put it down,” Aaron’s level voice floats through the terror roaring in your ears. “I won’t ask again.” He shifts and you realize then that he has his own weapon trained on your partner.

“You won’t need to. Come out from behind my fiancé you coward.”

“She’s not your fiancé,” Hotch says. “And you won’t shoot her.”

“Want to bet on it?” Your partner lowers the gun slightly, now pointing it straight at your chest. Strangely, you don’t feel any panic surge through you. It’s telling. That even now, your head is telling you, they won’t hurt me, they never hurt me before.

“Don’t do it,” Derek yells. “I will shoot you, man. Don’t do it. You have six guns pointed at you right now. Do you really want to do this?”

The metal of Aaron’s pistol bites into your lower back when you shift on your heels. Your arms are frozen by your side, too afraid to reach for the gun.

“Put it down,” Rossi yells.

“You’ve got five seconds,” Derek adds. “Don’t make me get to one. Five. Four.”

Your partner’s fingers twitch on the trigger. Aaron catches the movement. Nods once when Derek says three. And on two, Derek pulls the trigger before your partner can do it first.

A broken scream rips from your chest when the bullet lodges itself in your partner’s side, your gun clattering to the ground. Derek steps forward and kicks the gun further away, out of reach.

Hotch lifts you around your waist and pulls you back into his office, kicking the door closed with his foot.

You’re numb to everything as he sits you down on the couch, wrapping his arms around you as you finally sob, letting out every scream that you’ve been holding in.

+++

Your partner is taken to the hospital to be treated for the gunshot wound.

Hotch tells you they won’t stand a chance at being acquitted, too many charges looming over their head already without the addition of domestic violence. You hardly hear his words, but you nod like you do.

He takes care of you while the commotion outside struggles to calm down. A blanket is wrapped around your shoulders, you hug a pillow to your chest, sniffling every few minutes as fresh tears cascade down your cheeks. Spencer brings you a mug of steaming tea that you barely manage to thank him for. Hotch thanks him properly for you before softly shutting his office door.

For months, you’ve been thinking about leaving them. For so long, you’ve wondered what life might be like without them. Now, you don’t know a thing.

You don’t know what to do. Where to go. Will you have to testify in court? If you do, will you have to talk about the...abuse? The abuse that you can barely bring yourself to label blatantly as abuse even though Aaron, your brain, everyone screams at you that that’s what it is — abusive behavior.

When you were a teenager, and even in your early twenties, learning about signs of abusive, unhealthy relationships, you never thought you’d end up in one. You thought surely you’d recognize the first signs and get out of there.

But instead, you did exactly what they said most people do. You brushed them off. You thought, oh, they just love me deeply, that’s all. They want what’s best for me, that’s all. They want me to be safe and protected, that’s all.

And that’s lovely, but there’s a difference. Between caring and controlling.

You never thought the difference would be so hard to see.

“Come on,” Aaron’s soft voice pierces through your thoughts. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You blink. “Where?”

“Wherever you want to go,” he replies gently. “Your apartment?”

Immediately, you shake your head. But then you pause. Because aside from your apartment and the BAU, you have nowhere else to go.

“Would you be comfortable going back to my apartment?” He asks. “I understand if it’s uncomfortable. I’m sure Garcia or Prentiss would be happy to let you stay with them, and I’ll gladly send them home with you.”

As much as you love Garcia and Prentiss, you strangely feel more comfortable with Aaron. After all, Pen and Emily don’t— or didn’t know about your partner’s behavior. Only Hotch knew.

“If you don’t mind, I’m...I’m okay with your place.”

“I don’t mind at all,” he smiles. “The guest room is yours for as long as you need.”

That makes you smile, though the expression feels foreign on your lips. “Don’t you have to stay?”

“It can be dealt with tomorrow,” he replies. “The paperwork will still exist tomorrow at eight a.m.”

“Okay,” you accept defeat. “Can I take this blanket?” You don’t like the idea of this weight leaving your shoulders.

“Of course,” he says.

You fall asleep in the car.

You didn’t mean to, but you were exhausted. And by the time you woke, Aaron had already carried you into his apartment. Startled, you gripped his arm a little too tight, but he shushed you carefully, letting you know you’re safe, he just didn’t want to wake you because you were sleeping so soundly.

He set you down on the guest bed where you tried and failed to get some rest last night, but now, you sleep like a baby.

+++

Months after the incident, the guest room at Aaron’s apartment has become your temporary home.

You still haven’t been back to the apartment you owned with your partner — even though their name is on the lease, not yours. You went once with Aaron to pick up your clothes and anything else important, but it was a quick trip. You were desperate to get out of there.

Aaron didn’t like what he saw. The broken glass, the dents in the walls. The way your body language changed immediately. Your unwillingness to return there is fine by him.

It’s a slow, uphill battle as you begin to heal. Your partner still sits in jail, awaiting their trial date. You know you might have to testify, but you know your team might have to be there as well, so that makes you feel better.

Aaron has been incredibly respectful of your space. You were the one who brought up the idea of carpooling to work, one of you driving every other day, to save on gas for the both of you. He had assumed you wanted to drive on your own and always have your car — which is true, but you didn’t mind riding with him.

He’s the only one your terrified brain doesn’t seem to be scared of.

And you’re not complaining. You’re grateful to feel a small ounce of safety after feeling every sense of unsafe for the past eight years.

+++

Your ex-partner’s trial comes and goes in the following three months. You did testify, along with the rest of your team, the verdict is guilty. Life in prison.

You wept on the steps of the courthouse from the sheer relief of it all.

“They’ll never hurt you again,” Aaron had told you and you didn’t believe him for one second.

Still now, as you know for a fact they are sitting in a prison cell, you have a small fear. But you think you always will.

You continue “rooming” with Aaron — that’s the best way you can think to put it — and you’ve come to really enjoy the weekends when Jack comes over. At the start, Aaron would try to take Jack out to the park to give you time alone, or you’d go spend some time with Penelope, but after a while, you started staying. And after a little while longer, Jack started warming up to you, and expecting your presence.

One weekend, you hear Jack and Aaron playing in the living room while you’re in Aaron’s office, trying to get some work done. And halfway through signing your name on a piece of paperwork, you hear Jack “whispering” to Aaron about you.

“Do you like her?” Jack whispers, but it definitely comes across as more of a soft shout.

Aaron’s eyes widen, and he presses his index finger to his lips. “A lot,” he says, but you don’t hear him — though you were straining pretty hard.

“Me too,” Jack giggles. “Is she your girlfriend?” He teases, poking his dad with his Lego sculpture.

Aaron pokes his son back with his own design. “No, buddy, she isn’t.” Again, you can’t hear him, but Jack’s question made your heart hammer in your chest.

You know you’ve had some feelings begin to develop because truthfully, they were blooming months ago, back when you began having dinner with Aaron. But then everything happened, and you still loved your ex, and things got too complicated.

Now, though, seven months out from the start of it all, the feelings are still there.

Aaron hasn’t made any moves, so you’ve kept silent. You don’t know how much of his good deeds are simply out of his own kindness. And you certainly don’t want to mistake it for something it’s not.

But kids pick up on things adults try hardest to hide.

You continue with your paperwork, listening to them continue to play.

It’s not until after Jack goes home to Hailey that his question is brought up, and it’s only because Aaron asked what was bothering you.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it,” he says. “But I’m here if you do.”

He’s always here. That’s what made you have a crush on him in the first place, years ago. He’s always there for anyone who needs him.

“I heard you and Jack earlier,” you start. “When he asked if I’m your girlfriend.”

Aaron sighs. “I’m sorry. I think it’s just confusing for him because to him, living together equals relationship since all he’s known is me and Hailey—”

“I’d like to be,” you interrupt his nervous rambling. “If that’s something you’d like, too.”

He blinks a few times, then smiles. “You…” He pauses. “Are you sure?”

“Aaron, I’ve liked you for so long and never said anything—”

“I’ve liked you for so long and never said anything,” he counters. “You’re serious?”

“Very,” you whisper.

When he kisses you, it’s what you’ve longed for all this time. It’s exactly what you’ve been yearning for. It’s exactly the kind of love you know now that you deserve.

Recovery has been messy, and will continue to be messy for some time, but you’ll have Aaron next to you every step of the way. Always.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #tw domestic violence #tw abuse #criminal minds #version of you song fic #criminal minds songfic #aaron hotchner songfic #version of you #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you

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sandbees · 3 years

Note

Hello Author-san!, Could I ask for a House of Mouse AU where its Yuu's birthday or something and while they were like partying the great seven just busts in through the door and was like "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

And maybe add another part where the great seven and Yuu was playing monopoly and some of the great seven were raging and the students were just utterly speechless since Yuu was laughing like they were old friends

(I hope that I'm not bothering you, Im really sorry for making my request specific)

Oh, it’s fine! :) I really like it when people send me requests and asks. It kind of shows how people also like my ideas and have their own ideas about it. It’s nice to hear what people think would and could happen. The creative process, you know?

Anyways, onto the headcannons;

The Great Seven found out VIA Mickey.

Weeks before, Yuu mentioned their birthday to her coworkers at the House of Mouse. They planned to create a celebration for the night before.

When that date came, Yuu got a note from the mirror stating that Yuu didn’t have to put on their work clothes for the day. Which was...odd, but maybe there was a special event happening that they forgot to mention.

(Which was sus; Minnie would never let one of the staff go to work without knowing anything that would happen)

But when Yuu came over, they were surprised to see that the club was open early; and a bunch of guests there yelling, “Surprise!”

They’re surprised, and also very happy. Yuu smiles and thanks them.

Mickey tells Yuu to take a break today; and they have a special birthday event today just for Yuu!

So Yuu ends up enjoying the party as a guest instead of a worker. All the guests come over to their table to congratulate them.

“Hey, how come you haven’t told me?”

They chuckle at Hades hurt expression, “Sorry, it never came up. But my birthday is actually tomorrow, if you want to visit.”

The night progresses and Yuu enjoys herself (even with some mishaps behind the scenes that they don’t need to worry about...)

By the end of the night, Yuu is carrying some presents that their coworkers gave them and wishing everyone goodbye.

The next morning, Yuu is getting ready for school. Crowley already sent them the Birthday suit, and well...it’s fashionable, if not a little embarrassing.

Yuu was about to leave when there was a knock at the door. They open it, and...

“Surprise!”

They blink slowly, shocked at the sight.

The Great Seven, each holding a present. What the-

They’ve heard that it was your birthday, and they have brought you gifts to celebrate! (They’re also kidnapping you so they can spend quality time with you. Sorry twst boys-)

The Queen of Hearts gifts them tarts made by the best chef of her royal kitchen and a personal flamingo croquet. Perfect for any croquet games in Heartslybul!

Scar gifts Yuu the horns of an antelope. Look, he usually doesn’t take “trophies” of his prey; but for Yuu, it is fitting, no?

Ursula gifts them a necklace that had a sand dollar as the center piece. “This will allow you to hide yourself in the sea; whether by making you completely invisible or changing your appearance to be non suspicious.”

Jafar gifts Yuu a emerald scarab beetle. It doesn’t serve any big purpose than to look pretty and as a morning alarm. “I’ve noticed how you own little to no valuables in your dorm...I hope it is to your liking.”

The Evil Queen gifts multiple vials. “Those history books were correct; I am skilled in potions and poisons. Should you find yourself in trouble in class, take a drop of the liquid. They are memory potions that may prove useful in the future.”

Hades gifts them a bone whistle. “It’s not as flashy as I would like; but give it a good blow and my buddy Cerebus will be running to your side! Make sure you feed him some steak though, or he might eat you!”

Maleficent gifts Yuu a tea set, along with tea from the Valley of Thorns. These kinds of teas are very rare; fae are usually the only ones to get a taste of it due to how long the leaves grow! Maleficent hopes that you use her gift wisely, as it is such an expensive gift. (And invite her grandson to your tea making experiences; that would make him happy)

Later, you all play monopoly during lunch. In the gardens. Where everyone can see you. (Students are making bets and Azul is in the middle of it)

Scar is the first to go, then it’s you. Then the game goes on and on.

Students quiver in fear as Jafar take’s Hades’ money. There is a stare-off and Yuu is worried that they are going to fight in the middle of the game.

There is a lot of arguing and yelling, and also some spells and curses thrown back and forth. Everyone is on the edge of their seats as they wait for the conclusion of the game.

The Evil Queen wins. (She raises an eyebrow at the students who didn’t bet for her, “As a Queen, I must spend my money sparingly so we do not go bankrupt. It is a simple skill needed for a ruler.”)

(Crowley takes like half of the money- Wh Crowley why are you betting you’re setting a bad example for the students-)

After the day ends, Yuu is pretty happy. Not only did they get good gifts from their friends; they got to hang out with the Great Seven! And play monopoly! Fun times; Yuu wishes the day would never end.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagine #twisted wonderland headcannons #twisted wonderland mc #house of mouse au #happy birthday Yuu :D #great seven #monopoly #ask

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tomoonine · 3 years

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oneus and their love languages

Hello there! I think this qualifies as a headcannon (?), would you do something like that about how Oneus would show love to their s/o, maybe their love languages? Btw, your writing is always so beautifully creative and detailed!

☽. after struggling through a semester, i’m back !! happy 2021 everyone !! sorry also if this took a while;;; the love languages are meant to describe a specific person’s preferred expressions of love so this is me basically assigning them love languages. most of the time, one’s personal love language is also how they express their own affection towards someone else so i hope this is alright!! (❁´◡`❁) if you enjoyed reading this, check out more in my masterlist! requested: yes; anon word count: 1.3k words

according to gary chapman (1992) there are five ways to express and experience love: words of affirmation, physical touch, receiving gifts, quality time, and acts of service.

[RAVN] — physical touch and acts of service

I don’t think we can deny that Youngjo is a touchy person;;; Plus, he’s very affectionate with the rest of Oneus so just imagine how much that would increase should he be in a relationship with someone;;;

Hugs? Hand-holding? Kisses? Cuddles? Massages? You name it, he’d love it for you and himself !! Please, he’s honestly ready to smother someone with affection, it’s in his Gaze !!

But he doesn’t limit himself to romantic advances such as these, he’s definitely the type to keep a hand on you at all times

There’s always a hand on your back wherever you go, he’s ready to give affectionate pats, and maybe his hand will find its way through your hair

Either way, he’s showing his love through gentle touches and he’d definitely would like these reciprocated

Though aside from that, I see someone as caring as Youngjo with a love language like acts of service

It might be motivated by his role as the eldest member, but he’s always there to help and care for the members

Such a role must be difficult to do, so I imagine how much he’d appreciate someone who would be with him through everything and remind him that he can relax too !! Someone who will let him know that they’re there to help

[Seoho] — words of affirmation and receiving gifts

Oh Seoho..... he really loves it when people compliment him, his smile is so precious every time ( T﹏T )

Especially since he’s been being more active in the music-production process, he really loves receiving praises for his work!! Do you ever think about how happy he looks whenever someone brings up Dizzy? He’s so precious :,)

With a significant other, I think even the simplest kind words would make Seoho utterly happy, and it doesn’t really matter if he’s asking for affirmation or you’re willingly it

What matters is that anything that can remind him that he’s doing well will make him feel complete, and motivate him to strive harder

Though at the same time, I feel like receiving gifts would be perfect for him too!!

And I say this because I’m sure so many people have gifted him Pepe-related items, and I see him using them often

So I do feel inclined to say that he may be the type to appreciate any form of gift, especially they come from the heart!! More so if they’re items you know he holds sentimental value over, like Pepe-related items

But gifts would make him feel happy that you’re thinking of him, and words of affirmation remind him that you love him with all your heart

[Leedo] — words of affirmation and quality time

He’s expressed his struggles to form the right words, so I believe that Geonhak would truly appreciate someone who could understand him and brings the words in his mind to life

I’d also like to highlight once again how important trust is, in my belief at least, to Geonhak, so I definitely see him with a partner who would actively listen to him and make him feel validated

Despite his struggles though, I think we, as fans, can really see his effort when he sends messages and letters to us, he’s really thoughtful and he’s genuinely looking after everyone :,) i’m so soft pls

So in that sense, I see him having such a love language, but apart from that I’m also inclined to believe that he might identify with quality time as well!!

He just seems like the type of person who would like a partner that’d be well-integrated in his life, so maybe you’ll catch him inviting you to the gym (whether or not you decide to exercise with him is up to you), to a coffee shop, pretty much anywhere!!

Maybe even just within the comforts of home, just as long as you’re there uwu

He also appears to be someone who may enjoy private and more intimate moments with his partner, so quality time would seem very fitting too

In the end, Geonhak is a soft guy who sees trust as very vital, and these languages help build up that foundation!!

[Keonhee] — receiving gifts and quality time

Do you ever remember how happy Keonhee was when he received Ryan-themed items? Because I do, it lives in my mind rent-free and I just really want to see him that happy everyday

Though I don’t see Keonhee as someone who actively seeks material items, he seems more like the type of person who considers even sent pictures via chat as gifts

In the same way he keeps everyone updated with his many selcas, I think Keonhee would feel grateful that his partner would gift him simple things because it will make him feel that he’s part of your life, and that you want him to be with you through even the most mundane of days

This is also why I feel like quality time would be his other love language, in terms of integration in each others’ lives

Quality time as a love language also entails uninterrupted and focused conversations, and Keonhee definitely would have a lot to share because of how much he enjoys discussions and conversations (he’s said it himself, he can be quite introspective !!)

A partner who would value their time together as much as Keonhee would may be important to him !!

Time itself is a gift, and every memory made with you is a blessing Keonhee will always be grateful for uwu

[Hwanwoong] — acts of service and physical touch

I admit, it took me a long time to decide which would fit Hwanwoong best? I feel like it’s because Hwanwoong’s love language may be a hybrid of these 5 or a completely unconventional one

But after enough research, I think Hwanwoong’s would be acts of service first and physical touch second!! Although physical touch would only manifest after a well-established relationship

I’ve seen Hwanwoong actively taking care of people around him, regardless if they’re a friend or a stranger, so I feel that he’d identify well with it

There have been testimonies saying how Hwanwoong helped people from being pushed, there are also clips of him taking care of the members (wiping sweat off, and the like)

Hwanwoong in everything gives his all, and his kind heart is always ready to give, so having someone who would give back to him will definitely bring a great change to him!!

But I see him having physical touch as a love language, even if he’s insisted that he’s not a fan of public displays of affection

I swear, through my research I have seen him sneaking a hand on members’ thighs, giving gentle pats of affection...

Plus, I think that dancing has taught him how to express his feelings through bodily movement, so I think he’d be very much capable of expressing affection and experiencing affection

Just as long as it’s consented HAHAHAHA but that’s just what I think !

[XION] — quality time and words of affirmation

Truthfully, Dongju actually seems like he could fit almost any of the five... For one, he seems like very affectionate person depending on who he’s with... quite an affectionate biter too, if you ask me

Then he’s definitely someone who appreciates trinkets and gifts that remind him of things he loves... Also someone who looks after people around him in his own special way...

Though ultimately, I decided to push through with discussing the aforementioned two !!

I decided with quality time because of how often Dongju actually holds solo vlives, posts on social media, and how long his messages usually are

He really goes out of his way to communicate with fans because he finds it healing for him, and I do believe that spending quality time with someone he loves would make him feel fulfilled in some way

Meanwhile for words of affirmation, I think, alongside how much love he puts in his messages for fans, it might be something he desires for himself

Dongju works hard to improve on his skills as an idol, and I think hearing words of encouragement and affirmation from time to time will make him feel validated for his hard work

Time and kind words are something he willingly gives, and I think for him to receive it will truly make him feel loved !!

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justcourttee · 4 years

Text

Call It What You Want-One Shot Song Prompt

So, I recently saw @marimacaron post this song prompt fic for daminette and I absolutely loved it and knew I had to try and write it! I hope it’s close to what you imagined :)

Marinette’s eyes fell to the glittering rock on her left hand, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she hit post on her computer. Within seconds, hundreds of comments and likes flooded her Instagram from fans and friends alike, most wishing her well for her engagement, a few earning a chuckle at their distress that she was now ‘off the market’.

She reached forward to shut her laptop when one comment in particular caught her eye.

@alyabloglyfe: Why are you still vying for attention? We all know @queenlyla is engaged to Damian Wayne, I mean, why would he be interested in a liar and bully like you?

Already, twenty fans were fighting the girl’s comment, dissing Alya and defending Marinette’s honor, but it didn’t seem to help the punch to the gut she was experiencing. Her fingers lingered over the keyboard, the room seeming to blur around her.

All of a sudden, she felt fifteen again, trapped in her bedroom only being able to scroll through the hate mail that flooded her inbox from all of her former friends. She thought that begging her parents to allow her to pull out of school and switch to an online platform would deter them from attacking her so often, but it only made things worse as they became more confident and vile in their bullying as they could hide behind a screen.

Every night, Marinette would cry herself to sleep wondering what she did so wrong to deserve all of this until one day she decided it would be enough. She deleted all of her social media, even taking down her MDC commissions page, asking her clients to meet her in person or via phone call to schedule fittings and commissions. And it worked, at least for a little while, until they started to vandalize her parent’s bakery, breaking windows and spray painting signs, the cops never seeming to catch them.

Her fingers tapped out the first sentence of her response, her eyes absentmindedly glazed over as she wrote a paragraph, then two, all directed to Alya. She was about to hit send when she felt a pair of arms snake around her shoulders, warm breath tickling the back of her ears.

“How’d your fans take the news?” his deep voice felt like a lifeline as she slammed her laptop shut, blinking away the empty feeling Alya had brought.

He let out a low whistle as he unwinded himself, allowing her to stand up from the desk and fall into his outstretched arms.

“That good, huh?”

She forced out a dry laugh as she buried her face into his chest.

“Just a few people upset that I’m officially a taken woman.”

It was his turn to laugh as she pulled back, taking in the sight of his carefree face. It was always so beautiful, so much peace that he held, all reserved for her.

“Do you have any plans tonight? You know Richard will want to host an exaggerant engagement feast.” He rolled his eyes, but his smile gave him away. She knew he secretly loved being the center of attention, especially when it came to his family.

“I’ll make sure to have everything done by 5 today, promise.”

Ducking under his arms, she slung her purse over her head, making a beeline for the door.

“Do you need Alfred to escort you?” he called after her retreating figure but it was too late, she was gone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Exiting the fabric store, Marinette made her way down Gotham’s winding streets, her head in another place as she tried to recall anything she could’ve missed.

“This is why you should’ve brought your list with you Marinette!” Tikki popped their head out of her purse, their arms crossed in a scolding manner.

“I would have Tikki, but you know how overprotective he is. He would’ve insisted I waited for Alfred to come down to the apartment to drive me and no offense to Alfred, but sometimes a girl just wants to be alone.”

Her pace slowed as a familiar landscape came into her sight.

“Oh wow Tikki, I haven’t been here in almost three years.” her voice trailed off as she scanned over the construction crew working on the new gymnasium.

“Gotham Academy! This is where you transferred to right?”

She didn’t answer the small God as she took a step forward, placing a hand on the elegant banisters leading up the school stairs. The fresh scent of cleaning supplies filled her nostrils as she closed her eyes, her mind falling back to the comment from earlier.

She was only sixteen when her parents allowed her to transfer. It was in both of their best interests as they couldn’t afford to keep repairing the bakery her former friends destroyed. She was a mere shell of a person when she entered those doors for the first time. She had already decided that she wasn’t going to make any friends this time around, after all, no friends meant no one to stab her in the back, as they all do eventually.

But then something strange happened. The student who was assigned to show her around for the first week was just as cold and calculated. His thorns were just as sharp as hers, neither opening up much to the other. She had planned for warm and inviting, the fake friends trying to pry her open, but she hadn’t planned for someone to hold her attention, someone as cold as her.

One week turned into two, and then a month passed and she dared to consider him her friend.

“Marinette? Marinette? Are you still in there?”

She slowly opened her eyes to a concerned kwami, Tikki’s small hands shaking her nose to the best of their ability.

“I’m fine Tikki, just a bit of reminiscing I suppose.”

Continuing again, Marinette soon found herself in front of her studio. The little bell rang through the place as ten heads popped up, all wearing bright smiles. Unique almost tackled her in a hug before the door had even closed.

“Marinette! We were so excited when you posted this morning! It was sooo hard keeping your relationship a secret when customers asked!”

Hannah and Brooke nodded in agreement as the girls all left their work stations to admire her ring.

“Can we help you design your wedding dress?” Hannah clasped her hands together, earning a chorus of please’s throughout the room.

Marinette chuckled as she brought the women into a big group hug.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now, enough small talk, let’s get down to business, anything new?”

It was as if someone switched a flip in the room, the girls jumping from excited to serious as they all handed in folders, giving her a brief of each new commission. It was going to be a long day of work, certainly. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Her keys jiggled in the apartment lock as she practically fell in, all of her energy drained.

“Damian? Do we have any coffee?”

She didn’t hear an answer as she reached for the cupboard, bringing down her favorite mug. Damian had given it to her a month into them dating. Her fingers absentmindedly reached to her neck where a small D sat on an elegant gold chain.

“I don’t understand Mari-san. You wearing his initial is a statement that he owns you. How is that romantic?”

She adjusted her phone to give Kagami a better look at the necklace, smiling softly as she held the D between two fingers.

“Because Kagami it’s not like that, I don’t wear it cause he ‘owns me’. I wear it because for the first time in a while, I really feel like someone really knows me, ya feel?”

“I do not ‘feel’ but if you are happy, then it is an acceptable gift, as is the coffee mug with the picture of you two.”

The whistle from the coffee machine drew her attention back to the present as Tikki flashed her a smile from where they sat on the Keurig.

“Thank you Tikki. I’m going to need this,” she held up her steaming mug, a tired smile flashing gratefully at the God.

Downing the cup, she placed it in the sink before pulling out her phone seeing three missed texts from Damian stating he would be home soon.

“Well Tikki, at least I’m not the one running late for once.” The two shared a small laugh before they headed towards her bedroom to get dressed for the night. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Damian squeezed her hand tightly as they made their way through Wayne Manner’s garden.

“There could be a small thousand here tonight, are you ready for that Mrs Wayne?”

His smile was blinding as her heart beat rapidly at the sound of him calling her by his last name.

“I most certainly am Mr. Wayne.”

As they rounded the corner to the back of the gardens, Marinette couldn’t help but laugh at the number of people Dick had invited. Loud cheers erupted from every inch of the yard causing her entire face to flash red.

“I might’ve underestimated, I’d say at least three thousand.”

He squeezed her hand once more before he was pulled off into the crowd. She smiled at the genuine fear crossing his face as people began berating him about children so soon.

“Well, well, well, a beautiful woman in distress. Please allow me to be your stand in to ward off the power hungry tonight.”

Jason slung his arm over her shoulders earning a laugh from the smaller girl.

“I am eternally grateful for your services Monsieur Todd.”

They chatted lightly as he led her back to where her future family all stood, all practically vibrating from excitement, even Bruce.

“Mari! I’m so excited! I really thought he was going to force me to hold this a secret for forever.”

Dick pulled her into a bone crushing hug, only pulling back when Barbara and Stephanie forced him to. They each took their turns expressing their excitement for the wedding, Tim even going as far as to say he never thought it would happen.

“What? We were all thinking it! Demon spawn? Happy and smiling all the time? It’s scary!” he shuddered sending another round of laughter throughout the group.

Marinette brought up her phone, snapping a picture, posting it immediately to her Insta.

@mdcdesigns: So excited to officially be a part of this family. (not that I haven’t considered them family for years now :))

She was about to slide her phone back into her purse when something caught her attention. Almost instantly, a private message from Alya sat in her inbox. She wanted to ignore it, but the curiosity was eating her up.

@alyabloglyfe: Soo what?You don’t post for months and all of a sudden you show up with a double post about a supposed engagement to Damian Wayne?

What is this?

A publicity stunt?

A desperate cry to try and hurt Lyla even after all these years?

I demand an answer ‘bestie’

Her heart beat clenched at the last message as she felt the tears trying to pool in her eyes. So many years had passed and Alya still believed her to be the liar and failure that Lila painted her out to be.

She wanted to respond to the messages, but she wasn’t even sure what to say. Her fingers lingered over her keyboard as she looked up, trying to collect her thoughts. Then she saw him. His calm smile, his shining green eyes, the love radiating from him all directed to her. His eyes met hers as he excused himself from the person he was talking to.

“Are you alright habibti?”

His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her into his side. It was as if everything faded away, the only thing she could see was him. Standing on her tiptoes, she gently placed a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m doing better than I ever was.”

He smiled, seemingly satisfied with her answer as she unlocked her phone once more, her fingers moving quickly across the keyboard.

@mdcdesigns: Alya, I don’t need this from you or Lila anymore. I have a world famous business, 1.3 million followers and fans, a loving new family and a fiance who loves me like I’m brand new despite the damage you put me through.

You don’t really want to know what I call this, because you’ll only distort it to fit your fantasy that Lila painted for you so you know what?

Call it what you want :)

She moved to the top of the screen, blocking her old friend without a second thought. After all, she had her new life and it had no room for the past to ruin that. Raising her glass, she leaned forward to clink it with the rest, a new sense of relief flowing through her.

“To Damian, for finally proposing before I had to.”

They all cheered to his mock protests as they brought their flutes to their lips, celebrating the next chapter in their lives, not a single worry filling the space, only love.

Permanent Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ash-amg @rebecarojas07

#daminette #maribat #song prompt

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bucky-blogs · 4 years

Text

Rising of the Sun

Pairing: Zuko x Reader, Zuko x Pregnant!Reader

Word count: 1,983

Warnings: Pregnancy, morning sickness

Synposis: “Hello can we have a pregnant reader with zuko’s baby??” - requested by @aqua-the-mermaid26 . Sequel to this fic

A/N: I love this so much bc this kind of fluffs are my weakness!! Hope you guys enjoy it. I really enjoyed writing this. Feedback is much appreciated. Requests are still open, just send an ask

The day you married Zuko was one of the happiest days of your life. After being crowned as fire lord, he proposed to you 2 years later in the turtle duck pond, where you spend most of your time while he was in meetings.

It was a magical night. You were both chilling under the tree while you watch the family of turtle ducks swimming around when he suddenly popped the question and, of course, you tackled him and said yes.

That was a year ago, your wedding day was on the day of the first full moon. That day, all of Fire Nation was invited to witness your union of becoming one, the gaang was there too, dressed in their best outfits but no one compares to your beauty that night. You were like a sun goddess that everyone worshipped. Zuko, being Zuko, forgot to write vows until the last minute, you just laughed at him and he poured his heart out for you and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Now things are going back to normal again, you just got back from your honeymoon in Ember Island where Zuko remodeled their old family home to relive some of his favorite memories of the past.

“Good morning, my love” Zuko whispered in your ear groggily as he tightened his embrace on you. You giggle, having been awake for a few moments now. “Good morning, husband” you replied sweetly.

He suddenly tackled you and is now above you peppering your face with kisses, “My wife, my queen” he said with every kiss. You started laughing and trying to push him away but he continued tickling your sides as well. “S-stop it, Zuko!” you tried to tell him while laughing and pushing him away.

“I’ll stop if you say it again”, he replied with a smile on his face as he sees your happy expressions. You knew what he was talking about. He loves it when he hears you say ‘husband’, it makes him weak in the knees.

“S-stop it, h-husband!”, you tried to say in between laughs.

He stopped, a smile adorning his face from ear to ear. It was a rare sight to see Zuko smile, and you cherished every moment you see it. You pulled his face down for a soft kiss, wanting to give him all the love in the world.

As you were kissing him, you suddenly felt a sense of nausea. You got up fast and raced to the bathroom to vomit. “Well, I didn’t know my morning breath was that disgusting for you to immediately throw up.”, he joked as he followed you and held your hair as you continued to puke. Once you were done, he helped you clean up. You smiled weakly at him and tried to ease the worry evident on his face. “I’m sure it’s just something I ate yesterday” you assured him as you caress his face.

Zuko told you to go to the infirmary immediately but you dismissed him, “I’ll go if it happens again, I’m sure it’s nothing” you keep assuring him. He reluctantly let you go so he can start his duties for the day.

Okay, you were wrong, you puked two more times that day and it’s made you weak for the rest of the day so, you visited the infirmary. As the healer checked you, the thought of being pregnant was on your mind. It brought a smile to your face, you and Zuko definitely talked about having kids. He was reluctant and scared of turning in to his father but you keep telling him that he was not his father and he’ll be a better father than Ozai was before.

The healer went to your quarters a few days later while you were resting and told you what they found. You were beyond ecstatic when you heard what the healer said. You were going to be a mother! Happy tears start to fall on your face as you basked in the great news. Of course, you were excited and you can’t wait to tell Zuko.

In that evening, you invited Zuko for a relaxing time in the turtle duck pond as you talked about your day. “I went to the infirmary a few days ago when I started throwing up and I just received the news today”, you told him softly.

A million thoughts already surfaced in his mind, what if you contracted an incurable disease? Were you terminally ill? Were you going to die? His breathing started to race and you turned to face him. “Zuko, stop panicking. Nothing’s wrong with me, in fact, it’s good news” you told him, trying to ease his panicking mind. He looked at you confused, how can throwing up be good news? He lets you continue, “The healer came to our quarters today and told me what was going on” you continued and looked at him smiling wide, “Zuko, I’m pregnant”

Words can’t explain the happiness Zuko was feeling that night, he was beyond shocked by the news. He never imagined himself being a father but now that he was with you, the thought of having children isn’t as scary as it was before. He hugged you tightly as happy tears stream down his face, “Thank you so much, Y/N. I promise to protect you both with all I have.” He kneeled in front of you and softly held your still flat stomach. “Hey, there bean, I promise to be good to you and mommy. I’ll protect you and give you the best life possible.”, he kissed your stomach, his lips lingering there and you feel tears in your skin.

You kneeled with him a few moments later and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You went back to your room and celebrated the night with love and care. You knew that Zuko was going to be the best father to your children.

FIRST TRIMESTER

Every morning, Zuko would wake up before you and kiss your stomach as he whispers sweet words to it. He always helps whenever you have morning sickness. He will hold your hair up and whisper encouraging words to you as you puke everything in the toilet. He’ll wash you up and kiss your head. Whenever you feel cramps, he’s immediately there to heat his hand the right amount and massage you where it hurts. He’s such an attentive husband and father.

He told the gaang the news via messenger hawk and he received letters back, congratulating him. He would announce to every person he meets, that you were pregnant. He can’t get enough of saying, “My wife’s pregnant”. Telling Iroh the news was the best, you traveled to Ba Sing Se to Iroh’s teashop to personally deliver the news to him. Iroh was ecstatic with the news, “I’m going to be a grandfather!”, he would say this to every customer that goes there, “And I’m going to be a father!”, Zuko would shout after he hears his uncle say it to each customer.

Eventually, the whole Fire Nation, nay the whole Four Nations, knew you were pregnant just because both of them wouldn’t shut up about it.

“Zuko, I’m pregnant, not ill”, you always tell him whenever you try to join meetings and he tells you that you need to rest. That doesn’t stop him from always preventing you from doing heavy work but you manage to convince him that you can still do it.

SECOND TRIMESTER

When your bump started to show, Zuko would always talk to it. “Hey bean, it’s your daddy here. Be good to your mommy while I do my Fire Lord duties alright?”, he would say this every morning.

There’s no day that he won’t talk to your growing bump. The morning sickness is gone now, you feel the baby kicks!

One evening while you were trying to sleep, you felt a flutter in your stomach. You sat up quickly and grabbed Zuko’s hand while he was reading beside you. He was confused at first but then he felt the sudden kick of your baby and oh boy, his face was just priceless.

“Was that our baby?”

“No, it’s some turtle duck living inside me”

He laughed and the whole night his hand stayed in your stomach, wanting to feel his baby’s kicks.

Every time you have an appointment with the healer for your pregnancy, he was always there. There’s a meeting at that time? Meeting postponed, you always come first. He’s there in every appointment and asks a lot of questions to the healer about you and your bean.

“Are you sure bean’s okay?”, he would ask this at least 5 times until the healer would get annoyed. “Why don’t you just live inside your wife’s womb and see that your baby is healthy?” the healer would reply to him.

He would just shrug it off and caress your growing bump.

THIRD TRIMESTER

If you thought Zuko was overprotective in the last few months, you were wrong. Now that you’re nearing your due date, he wouldn’t leave your side.

“Here let me carry that for you”

“Zuko, it’s just a blanket”

Foot rubs at night were amazing, he would massage your feet whenever it aches. The panic came as you near your due date, he wants everything to be perfect. He refused to have his baby’s room far away from him, so he told the maids to set everything up in your room. You didn’t know the sex of the baby yet so everything is in the traditional fire nation colors. You already received gifts from your friends and other people from the council, wishing you and your baby well. Katara went to visit you during this time. She felt your bump and gleamed, already knowing that your baby is healthy.

Zuko was against you going out of the palace but you were so cramped up in the palace and you convinced him to take a palanquin ride to town to visit the market and buy some stuff.

You should’ve taken Zuko’s advice, you suddenly felt a wet sensation down there and you gripped Zuko’s hand tightly.

“Zuko, I think the baby’s coming”, his eyes widen and he ordered the guards to take you back to the palace. You’ve never seen how fast a palanquin can go but now you saw it. Once you were back, you were immediately put to the infirmary as the healers’ fussed over you.

When it was time to push, Zuko was beside you holding your hand and whispers words of encouragement to you.

“You can do this, my love, I’m proud of you. Our bean is just a few pushes away”

A few moments later, you heard the cry of your baby.

“It’s a girl, my lord, and lady!”, the healer announced.

Tears of joy stream down your face as you hold your baby girl in your arms. Zuko was beside you, the same mess as you are as he looks at your baby. You gestured for him to hold her and his eyes widen. He got scared, afraid that he would drop your baby, thoughts ran in his head, what if he wasn’t good enough? But you already started to hand her over to him. He immediately held her like he was his world and all those scary thoughts inside his head vanished if you could just paint this moment, you would.

“What would you like to name her, Fire Lord Zuko?”, the healer asked. You talked about names before one for a boy and one for a girl.

“Arpina”, Zuko softly replied.

“Just like the rising of the sun”, you softly whispered. Zuko turned towards you and kissed your head.

This was the start of a new chapter in your lives, you wouldn’t trade for anything in the world because the sun rises with you.

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suzukiblu · 6 months

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WIP Wednesday Game

Taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

file names:

interdimensional kidnapping via Robin

the one where Clark is trans but Kon isn't

omegaverse nursing

weird Kryptonian bonding rituals

congratulations, it's a metaweapon!

snippet from "congratulations, it's a metaweapon!":

"Okay," Superboy says, his eyes still just barely narrowed, and then the whole room shatters.

Actually, "shatter" might not be a strong enough word, given that the floor and walls are all effectively gravel now and all the furniture is in pieces, as well as all the guards' weapons and body armor, and the directors have all been dumped on their asses.

Huh, Match thinks, tilting his head. Well, the Agenda didn't teach him how to do that.

"That's my kid you fucks said all that shit to!" Superboy snarls furiously, his fists clenched. The directors look alarmed, all three of them scrambling to their feet in an undignified rush. Spence looks bewildered. The guards look like they want to run for their fucking lives.

Match has no idea how Superboy got his TTK to do that so quickly and efficiently, and immediately wants to know.

"Don't take the stupid option," Spence says, narrowing her eyes at Superboy. She shifts like she's going to reach for the gun on her hip, but the holster is empty and the gun itself is in pieces on the floor, so Match assumes it's just an instinctive gesture.

"I could rip all your nerves out right now," Superboy says flatly, glaring back at her, and the guards all make some very alarmed noises. Match tilts his head the other way consideringly. Hm. That's a creative idea. He'd just have gone with causing a stroke or heart attack, probably. "You're touching the same floor as me and you can't fly. You couldn't do shit to stop me."

"Is that what you think?" Spence snorts dismissively, which isn't much of a bluff. "You wouldn't even if you could. Superman doesn't maim or torture, and you're no different."

"That was before you miserable pieces of shit told my kid he wasn't a person," Superboy hisses, baring his teeth at her. "So why don't you fucking try me, Spence?"

#meme #wip wednesday #omegaverse #wip: congratulations it's a metaweapon!

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buckybarnesthehotshot · 4 years

Text

iv: i hate you but i’m too tired for this shit (bucky barnes x reader)

i hate you but masterlist

summary: bucky and y/n can’t stand each other, but y/n needs help with her sister’s kids (enemies to lovers au)

word count: 2061

warnings: swearing, arguing, death, and this is not proofread

taglist is CLOSED

“Do you know where y/n is?” Bucky raised a brow at Sam as he pulled a carton of milk from the now-replaced fridge.

“Why? Are you gonna accuse her of burning the kitchen down again this time? I don’t think she burned down any kitchens today,” Sam chuckled, his gaze wandering around the newly repaired kitchen.

“No, it’s not tha—” Bucky tried to explain, only to get interrupted by Sam breaking out in a fit of laughter.

“Man, you’re in love with y/n! That’s why you’re always pissing her off!” Sam exclaimed excitedly, earning a smack across the shoulder from Bucky.

“Why do you always assume people are in love with other people? Last week, you said the guy in front of us in the café was in love with the barista just because he took ten seconds longer than he was supposed to for ordering a drink,” Bucky rolled his eyes at Sam’s childish remarks.

“You should’ve seen him! He was making heart eyes at her!” Sam exclaimed, holding his arms up in defense.

“He was on the phone with his girlfriend, Sam!” Bucky pointed out.

“Okay, that was a mistake on my part, but why are you looking for y/n?” Sam raised a brow at Bucky as he crossed his arms.

“She borrowed my van four days ago and she never came back,” Bucky shrugged.

“That’s because she went on an indefinite break from staying at the tower and all her Avengers duties. She even sent Fury an email about it,” Sam chuckled before pausing as his eyes widened, “wait, you let y/n borrow something you own?”

“She was doing that weird thing with her eyes; you know the one she uses to get information when we’re undercover?” Bucky scratched the back of his neck, struggling to describe what exactly it was y/n did to get him to hand over his van keys.

“You fell victim to her puppy eyes? Damn man, I thought it would take more than to get you to crack,” Sam broke out in a fit of laughter as Bucky scowled.

“Yeah, well, she did this thing where she held onto my shoulders and started shaking me!” Bucky exclaimed defensively. Sam shook his head as his laughter slowly began dying down.

“Man, so if HYDRA decided to capture you and gave you the puppy dog eyes, you would give up all the information they want you to give up?” Sam raised a brow at Bucky. Bucky, as though in deep thought, averted his gaze as he swiped his lip with his tongue.

“Well, no but—”

“Man, I should tell Fury to start looking for a replacement now,” Sam quipped.

“All I’m asking is you know where she’s staying? I wanted to pick up a few things from the hardware store, but since y/n has my van, I can’t really do that,” Bucky questioned, pouring milk in his cereal bowl.

“Can’t you have FRIDAY call her? Wait, she’s your teammate, you should have her number!” Sam pointed out as Bucky attempted to argue with a mouthful of cereal.

“She banned,” Bucky paused to swallow his food before continuing, “from contacting her through FRIDAY or via her phone number.”

“That’s all on you, Barnes,” Sam chuckled before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and walking away.

“FRIDAY, can I have a location on y/n?” Bucky requested as soon as Sam was out of earshot. To Bucky, talking to someone he couldn’t see was a little weird at first. Sure, when he was in Wakanda, he’d seen Shuri do it plenty of times, but he just assumed she had someone on comms. That was why the first time FRIDAY greeted him, he was startled—and whether or not he’d admit it, he pissed his pants a little too.

“Unfortunately, Agent l/n blocked any requests for her information,” FRIDAY explained. Bucky groaned in frustration; he just wanted his van back. Was that too much to ask for? That was when he was struck by an idea.

“FRIDAY, can I please have a location on my van?” Bucky requested, silently praying that his van did not somehow end up in another state.

“Your van is parked outside an apartment complex in downtown New York. Shall I send the coordinated to your mobile device?” FRIDAY questioned.

“Yes, please,” Bucky responded as he downed down the leftover cereal milk in his bowl.

Bucky checked his phones from any notifications from FRIDAY and there it was on his lock screen: y/n’s home address.

“FRIDAY, set my GPS on my motorcycle to the location of my van,” Bucky requested.

“The GPS on your motorcycle has been set,” FRIDAY responded.

Bucky left his bowl on the counter and headed into his bedroom to grab a pair of sneakers and a pale green jacket. He stared at the dark glove on his nightstand in consideration for a moment.

Even after he’d been pardoned for his crimes under HYDRA, people always had that underlying fear that Bucky would revert to his ways with HYDRA and the Avengers would be unable to do anything about it. Luckily for him, the people of New York only ever recognized him when his vibranium arm was on full display. After all, not that many people in New York sported a vibranium arm and a perfected scowl.

After careful consideration, he decided to ditch the glove for the day and hope the jacket would cover up the arm the way he wanted it to. After all, he was just heading to y/n’s apartment and he would head back to the compound.

He pulled his—well, it used to be Steve’s before the old man gifted it to him—motorcycle keys off the hooks on the wall and headed to the parking basement where he kept his beloved Harley Davidson. He mounted the bike and sped off, following the directions in which the GPS directed him through.

A grin found its way to the super soldier’s face. He was brought back to his younger days as he and Steve rode through the busy streets of Brooklyn whenever the Howling Commandoes didn’t have any missions to partake in—which was pretty rare. He felt young and carefree as his wind blew through his dark locks.

He remained like that for a while; in a state of nostalgia and an uncharacteristically happy grin on his face as he dashed through the busy streets. He only broke out of it upon hearing FRIDAY’s voice announcing that he was at his location; a shockingly large apartment complex.

“Shit,” he swore upon realizing y/n would be a bit tougher to locate than he thought. He didn’t think y/n’s life outside the tower would be as glamorous or at least not boring as it was. He was, of course, proved wrong at the sight of the massive building. Did y/n live in an apartment or a condominium?

Luckily, as Bucky entered the buildings (after having some complications with the metal detector, of course) he noticed there was a concierge stationed at the front desk. He silently prayed to whoever was listening that the lady stationed there would tell him which floor and which apartment number he could find y/n in.

“Good morning, sir, what can I help you with?” the lady—she couldn’t have been a day over thirty—greeted Bucky, a soft smile on her face.

“Hi, uh, I’m here for y/n l/n. Do you know what unit she’s in?” Bucky questioned, leaning closer to the desk. He didn’t want to raise his voice; the whole lobby of the complex just seemed like such a peaceful place he didn’t want to disrupt.

“Just a moment sir,” the woman smiled before dialing a number on the telephone and speaking to who he just assumed was y/n, “She’s in unit 8E on the eight floor, sir.”

“Thank you,” Bucky smiled as he headed into one of the thankfully empty elevators. He didn’t know why, but since his first elevator ride, he always found riding an elevator—an enclosed metal box—with a stranger filled him with unease.

Bucky arrived at the beige-carpeted hallway of the building as he passed by the abstract paintings hung on the wall and the doors with the unit number engraved in them. A, B, C, D; he passed by them all until he reached y/n’s door. He brought his fist up to the door before realizing there was a slight racket going on from within the door.

That was when he panicked; was his teammate in trouble? No, there would’ve been more noise if y/n really was in trouble. Of all the times he’d worked with her, y/n was known to let out a battle cry here and there whenever she got into a physical confrontation.

He relaxed, flicking his wrist against the smooth wooden door and waiting a moment for it to swing open and reveal a very tired-looking y/n who carried a wailing toddler in her arms.

“You’re not the gelato guy,” y/n frowned, pulling a chuckle from Bucky.

“And there’s no way in hell you’re y/n. You didn’t tell me you had a kid!” Bucky exclaimed, shocked at what he was seeing.

“First of all, we aren’t close enough for me to disclose that kind of information with you. Second, she’s not mine. Well, she kind of is but not really,” y/n shrugged, “wait, why are you here?”

“You borrowed my van,” Bucky raised a brow as he crossed his arms.

“Oh yeah, you might want to take a seat, though. I know it’s somewhere here, but the past days have been pretty hectic,” y/n chuckled dryly, stepping aside and letting Bucky into her apartment. The action itself shocked him a little. In all his days living with y/n, she’d never once invited him into her room or any room she was in whenever he needed something. On a normal day, she would’ve shut her door for a while and opened it as she chucked the item right at him before slamming the door shut again.

Bucky took in his surroundings; y/n’s apartment looked as though it was supposed to be a peaceful place. The spacious apartment’s furnishings matched those of the compound’s, yet it all felt more like an actual home compared to the compound. However, it didn’t take him long to realize some things were placed where they weren’t supposed to.

There were articles of clothing on the floorboards, a toy or two there, a pack of diapers in the corner of the room, and a child wrapping his arms around a sobbing teenage girl on the couch. Wait, a child and a teenage girl? How many people did y/n live with?

He awkwardly took a seat on one of the seats by the plush velvet sofa, trying to avert his gaze from the two on the couch near his seat. His super soldier hearing, however, betrayed him as he heard every sob and every word that fell from the teenager’s lips.

“I just can’t believe it!” the girl sobbed, her eyes red and puffy.

“It’s gon be okay, Livvy. Mommy’s gonna go back,” a smaller voice came to comfort her. A smile found its way to Bucky’s face as he heard the child’s attempt to comfort ‘Livvy’. God, it had been so long since he’d seen that kind of innocence in his life.

“I found your keys,” came y/n’s voice from behind him as she pressed the cold metal against his flesh hand.

“Did you kidnap these kids with my van?” Bucky quipped, his brows furrowing as he watched the interaction happening on the couch.

“Look, I’ll explain everything later if you end up sticking around. I’m too tired to even banter with you at this point,” y/n shook her head. As if on que, a knock came at the door and she swung it open to reveal the gelato guy!

“So, you’re fine with me just, staying here?” Bucky raised a brow in suspicion.

“Join us for breakfast if you want to. Just, try not be such a pain in the butt, Barnes,” y/n sighed. Bucky noticed how uncharacteristically tired she sounded. With a small nod, he took a seat at the dining table in her kitchen area. It wasn’t like he had much for breakfast, what harm could a little more food do?

i hate you but taglist: @sarcastic-britt / @kmuir1 / @shower-me-with-roses / @justab-eautifulmess / @thomasthetankson / @x-abi-sharp-x / @intovert-gone-wild / @brittanymcsharry / @leaving-the-past-behind / @xoxabs88xox / @mylifeiscrazy0423 / @howliebucky / @i-cry-so-much / @witchything / @naimalove143 / @simplybarnes /

Forever tags: @spatium-viatorem / @sxphiiwrld / @strangersstranger / @nerdy-bookworm-1998 / @cutie1365 / @valeriiaaass / @adorkably / @whatinthyworld /

MARVEL TAGLIST: @captainamerica-is-bae

BUCKY TAGLIST: @missmidnightxo / @tinymalscoffee / @howliebucky /

#bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x teammate! reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter solider imagine #winter solider x you #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #avengers #avengers x you #avengers x reader #avengers imagine

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13thbaronzemo · 3 years

Text

THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES: PART 3

Baron Helmut Zemo/F!Reader

Rated E (Explicit)

You are the Sokovian custodian of Castle Zemo, which now belongs to the dissolved nation’s neighbors, and the baron himself has ordered you to come on vacation with him in Ibiza.

Disclaimer: This is the continuation of a fanfic written before FatWS: Ep4 aired and set up after his separation from the protagonists and while on the run from the law.

'Castle Zemo has been here since before you arrived and it will still be here when you return,' Ms. Helena assured you. Unlike yourself, the castle didn't go missing for five years. After five years of mourning, you had been the first person she witnessed return from the ether. As far as she was concerned, you were the only ghost to ever haunt those halls. She saw, through your empty eyes, how impermanent life is. They were the same eyes she saw the first time you stepped foot into the barony after losing your whole world along with your hometown of Novi Grad.

'You can't waste your youth between these old walls,' she sighed. You realized, taking a look at your back at your life, that she was right. You've been displaced in time, both mourning and being mourned, and chose to become one with history instead of living in the present. 'Now, go! Get some fresh air, dance, get some sun, fall in love, get your heart broken! Live!' Ms. Helena, ready to return from retirement just so you could take a vacation, sent you home to pack your bags. 'Just remember to send me a postcard.'

You'd almost forgotten all about it, excited and exhausted as you were after the flight, but a rack full of them reminded you of your promise. Ibiza Airport offered tourists a taste of the island right after they stepped off the plane, so there were gift shops filled with mementos of times you had yet to live. You spent your own money in one of them. You were saving up the euros he slipped under your door and that you hadn't already use to pay for the car, train, and plane that got you here in the first place.

Not feeling ready to step outside into the world and the setting Mediterranean sun just yet, you took a seat in a little coffee shop that overlooked the bus stop and wrote to Mrs. Helena.

After you finished your drink, paid for it, and tipped the waitress, you took another peek at the envelope and the absurd amount of money still left inside. He gave you more banknotes than information about his whereabouts. You understood why he couldn't, being a wanted man and all, but you wished you knew as much about him as he seemed to know about you. All you could be sure of was that he wanted you here, in Ibiza, where he would be for the next 10 days. And while you had dreamed about him greeting for you here at Arrivals, with a flower bouquet and a sun-kissed face, as you sleept on the plane, you knew better than to hope. After all, it was the possibility of getting lost among all the tourists visiting the island that gave you the nerve to travel here. But, if you were to be honest with yourself, the smaller possibility of being accosted by him for the third time was what made you take time off from work.

As you boarded the bus that would take you to your cheap - well, cheap for the likes of a baron - hotel, you took one last lingering look at the Arrivals entrance.

The sun was sinking into the sea when you got off the bus, so you stood there and stared. You’ve never seen the sea and it seemed like a lifetime since you’ve felt the sun on your skin. The sea breeze must’ve frozen you in place because a family of five knocked you over and walked all over you. The father apologized for childrens' crimes in a language you recognized as Italian. You reassured him that you were fine in a mix of English and Spanish, the two languages you’ve been speaking to the airport staff and vendors since you landed. After shaking off the embarrassment and dusting off your jean shorts, you started moving again, dragging the small and swiveling trolley behind you. You had packed every piece of summer clothing you owned and there was still room left. That’s where you put the magnets and Mrs. Helena’s postcard.

Inside the hotel lobby, you could get stomped on if you were to stop and stare at another shiny thing again. It was crowded, but that is exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it? To go unnoticed? When the Italian father waved at you, hoarding his children into the elevator, you knew that you had already made an impression.

“How may I help-”

“Here’s my ID” you interrupted the receptionist. “I made a reservation via phone in that name just yesterday.”

You knew you were being rude, but you needed to get out of those clothes you’ve been sweating in since you left home. The last thing you wanted was to waste time spelling out your name.

“Of course,” she smiled. It was the same smile you’d put on during visiting hours. It was gone the moment she took a gander at your ID. “Excuse me.” She grabbed the phone off the desk and turned her back to you. Now, that was rude. Your Catalan wasn’t as good as your Spanish, but you did overhear the words ‘girl’ and ‘here’. “I'm sorry, Miss. There seems to be a problem with your reservation, but don’t worry, we'll sort it out soon.” Then, handing you back the ID card, she turned towards the sitting area and invited you to take a seat.

You swallowed a groan and put on your customer service smile before thanking her. After all, whatever mix-up may have occurred, it couldn’t have been her fault. Hell, it might’ve been your fault. It was closing in on a week since you had a good night’s sleep. On the bright side, you had some time to stare at everything shiny while you waited. You’ve never been to a place that glowed as brightly as Ibiza. Everything from the sun, to the sea at dawn, to the light fixtures in the hotel lobby, everything that glittered was gold.

When you looked back at the receptionist’s desk, you saw her looking back, but she wasn’t the only one. A man, no older than yourself, followed her line of sight and found you. From his black suit and hat and his white gloves and shirt, you could see that he was a chauffeur. What you couldn’t see was what he handed over to the receptionist. Stepping towards you, a smile spread across his face. As for yourself, you shrunk back into your seat.

“Good evening, Miss,” he spoke, his English spiced by a Spanish accent. “I’ve been sent to collect your luggage.”

“By whom?” You asked as if you haven’t already pieced the disparate pieces of the puzzle together.

“By his lordship,” he whispered before grabbing your bags. “He is waiting for you in the car. Follow me, please.”

Looking back at the receptionist one last time, you pulled the purse off his arm and slid it onto your shoulder. “I can carry this myself, thank you.”

“Apologies, Miss,” he bowed his head and followed you out the front door.

“Which car?” You asked once the both of you were outside.

“Follow me,” he whispered and walked ahead of you. When he walked out of the parking lot, you wondered if you should’ve believed a total stranger in the first place, but then he said: “The limousine.”

Sure enough, on the other side of the street, there was a black car and its shadow: a limousine.

“Just a moment, Miss,” he rolled your trolley suitcase to the trunk.

You slowly approached the side of it, the blackened windows preventing your eye from penetrating inside. Before you even reached the passenger door, it popped open. Taking a step back, you forced your spooked heart to settle. When the chauffeur finally made it back beside you, you were too startled to say anything about the seemingly faulty door.

“Forgive me, milord,” he bowed, backing away from the now fully opened door that was obscuring who he was talking to. “I shouldn’t have kept the young miss waiting. Please,” he waved you closer to the car.

As you approached it apprehensively, you heard a voice you had come to terms with never hearing again: “Good evening, my dear,” he removed a pair of purple sunglasses as he beckoned you inside with the same dark and deep eyes you were ready to miss for the rest of your life.

The interior was almost as bright as the lobby you left, white like marble and illuminated by a golden glow. One side had an entire cream couch just for the two of you while the other had a bar filled with crystal glassware and bottles bearing labels you don’t recognize. Yet it was him that you were most blinded by Baron Helmut Zemo. He wore a jacket that seemed the summer version of his fur coat and the button-up underneath was the same royal purple as his forsaken mask. As you took his hand and a seat next to him, you saw that the sun had managed to kiss his face, if only a little. Then, while you were lost in his eyes, he brought you back by bringing the back of your hand to his lips:

“How was your flight?”

“How did you-”

“How did I know you came here via plane? I didn’t, but it is the most popular way,” he smirked. “I did, however, know that you have a room here. Well, had.”

“I didn’t even get to…” you started, as he stroked your knuckles with his thumb, little circles to calm you down. “And the receptionist, she…”

“You’ll forgive her for not spoiling the surprise, won’t you?” Then, seemingly out of the salty Mediterranean air, he brought before you a bouquet of red roses. “Welcome to Ibiza.”

The drive to his villa was spent sipping the champagne he popped in his fingers and spilled all over his hand, giggles bubbling out of you as he offered you a crystal flute. With your heavy head on his shoulder and his arm around yours, you listened to his voice rather than his words. He talked about the sun that had just been swallowed by the sea, about how it gave life to everything on the island.

"Ibiza also has a nightlife, as I'm sure you've heard," he spoke into your scalp while his nose was in your hair. "I could tell you all about it, but I'd you live it for yourself. Tonight."

You were content floating in the foam inside your flute, getting drunk on his cologne and falling asleep to the soothing sound of his voice. "Is this a dream? Am I dreaming right now?"

"No, my dear," he rose from his seat when the ride was over. "And I have to wake you up now. We've arrived."

The night had already taken over the island by the time you got out of the limousine, but the horizon was as bright as ever. Stars, ships, and city lights which way you turned your head. And, when he led you inside, your eyes hurt from the brilliance of the interior. Everything was light and soft, nothing like the dark and chilly castle. There was life within these walls, potted plants, and music in the air.

"The bedrooms are on the second floor." He offered you his arm to take as he lifted your trolley in the other. "You can freshen up while I prepare something for you to eat. Are you hungry?"

"No, I had something to eat on the flight."

"A light snack then," he decided.

There were two bedrooms and two bathrooms on the second floor. He made it clear that you can choose to sleep in your bed instead of insisting on sharing one with him. You walked into the room that had his smell lingering in the air and, under his hungry eyes, into his trap. But you didn't mind being his prey. You even expected him to bite down on the fading teeth marks he left under your right ear. But he backed away while handing you your luggage.

After a shower that soothed your very soul, it was time for a change of clothes. You only had one dress that you hoped was fancy enough for a baron. It wasn't made out of any expensive material, but it did compliment your curves. As you walked down the stairs in your heels, you hoped you wouldn't embarrass yourself and fall like you did the last time.

As if summoned by the sound of your clicking shoes, he appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "A vision," he bellowed, eyes wide and arms spread wider. "You are a vision, my dear."

"I bet you say that to all the girls you bring back here," you blushed.

"No vision as lovely has ever stepped foot in this villa, I assure you," he offered you his arm to take again as he guided you to the kitchen.

"Or is that what you say to them?" You jabbed his side, hoping the joke would land. "Thank you for flattering me, but can you be brutally honest and tell me if this dress fits the occasion or not?"

"While it's a perfect fit, it is far too elegant for a nightclub," he sat you down on a stool before the bouquet of roses he'd placed in a glass vase and served you a china cup of cherry blossom tea. "If you'd like, we can go shopping for something more appropriate tomorrow. My treat."

He didn't let you protest, or dig up the envelope of banknotes from your purse. Instead, he insisted on keeping your mouth busy by feeding you himself because you two had a long night ahead.'

Between cheeses and grapes, he treated you to Turkish delights. The pleasure he took in watching you eat from his hand emboldened you enough to wipe the white powder off of the tip of his fingers using your tongue. The hunger in his eyes only grew when he slowly slipped one of them between your lips and you sucked it in. If it were up to you, the two of you'd be rushing upstairs into your shared bedroom and not come out until the sun does. However, when his phone started vibrating on the tabletop, both of you jumped.

"The chauffeur is here," he cleared his voice as he checked his phone. "Come, my dear." The baron had to clean your mess and his, the powder and your lipstick, with a tissue, before he could help you off the stool.

Before your mind could catch up with you, before you could ask why he sent the chauffeur away when he knew the two of you would be needing him tonight, you were already in the driveway admiring a purple convertible. It was a jewel on the road, the city lights and the night sky reflecting off of its polish finish, and you got to 'feel the sea breeze,' as the baron had ordered you to.

"Let your hair down and enjoy the wind whipping through it," he whispered. "The night is ours."

The night had barely begun to take over, yet you already felt like you conquered it. When you arrived in the island's paradise, the nightclub known as Eden, you knew that you made it to the top of the world. The guard let you pass as soon as they spotted you on the baron's arm and a second one guided you to the much less crowded and far more quiet VIP area. The speakers hummed through the walls that were drenched in blue and red lights and the dance floor was covered with bodies coming together in communion. It was a nightly ritual you can't remember the last time you participated in, but you recall it never attending one of this magnitude.

"Luciano," the baron called out over the beat.

"Baron," a man, dressed in black that seemed to blend into the shadows stood up from the table the bodyguard had led you to. "You're looking as alive as you sounded on the phone," he coughed in Spanish, putting out his cigarette to shake the baron's hand. "I can't say the same for myself." He was tall, taller than your Lord, and the darkness the strobe lights couldn't illuminate added his shadow to the height.

He chose to ignore your Spanish greeting as if you were just another in a long line of girls that had been brought before him. But that didn't stop the baron from introducing you as an 'hermosa visión'. The compliment made you smile just as wide the second time. And, after you were invited to sit across from this Luciano, he made a remark that you barely registered, distracted as you were by the sound of your Lord ordering drinks in Catalan.

"You're Sokovian like my Heidi, yes?"

You shook your head and said in Spanish: "Excuse me?"

"Heidi!"

A woman, sitting by herself on a black velvet stool, twisted her torso before turning off her phone. You were surprised to have missed her because, as soon as she stood up, she stood out with her dress as white as her skin and as bright as her blond hair.

"Good evening," the baron bowed his head slightly as she stepped closer to the couch.

"Heidi, this is the baron I told you about," Luciano gestured grandly towards your side of the couch.

"Baron Helmut Zemo?" She blinked, stars in her eyes the color of the strobe lights. "We thought you were dead or locked up or-" she stuttered in Sokovian as she sat down and leaned over the glass table.

"What is my silly girl saying, Baron? I could never learn the language."

"Papi," she spun around to face him. "You didn't tell me it was Baron Zemo we were hosting tonight."

"I wanted to surprise you, baby," he tucked her long blond hair behind her ear. "I know how much you've missed speaking in your mother tongue. Look, he even brought you a play mate."

When you were pointed out, you pushed your hair out of your face and waved. When he saw your stilted movements and your strained smile, the baron brought your shaking hand to his lips. He knew you had been placed in an awkward position, but he calmed you with a few circles drawn with his thumb on the back of your hand. He then made the introduction himself, releasing your hand so that you can shake Heidi's. Her smile was sincere, so yours grew at the sight of it.

"Why don't you girls go onto the dance floor?" Luciano leaned back. "The baron and I have business to discuss."

"Come on," Heidi dragged you up by the hand that was still in hers. "Business bores me."

"What was that, baby?"

"I said you're boring, Papi," she answered a laughing Luciano in Spanish.

As for yourself, you looked back at the baron who reassured you by squeezing your other hand: "I'll be right here, my dear. Now, go! Have fun! That's an order!"

You tried obeying his order, you did, but it took Heidi dragging you to the bar and buying the two of you drinks to relax your muscles and settle your nerves. She was brazen, sure. But she was also sweet. The smile that stretched her face also lit it up. She was another shiny thing you were drawn to on this island and she just so happened to be Sokovian. Three drinks in, she was already teaching you Catalan and a couple of her signature dance moves. You talked about Castle Zemo and the tourists who had thought you all the other languages. Soon enough you were grinding against each in the flurry of giggles. The music was just as addicting as the alcohol and it made you even more uninhibited. When she asked about the baron's performance in the bedroom, you answered so fast, your head started spinning. The best you've ever had. You asked about her relationship with Luciano and she wasn't ashamed to admit to her sugar baby status.

"Ladies, mind if I cut in?"

As if he could hear his name being whispered across the crowded dance floor and over the thrumming beat, the baron appeared beside you.

“Milord,” you blinked up at him, a sobering sight for drunk eyes.

“Hello, milord,” she wrapped her arms around you, not ready to let him have you back just yet. “Do you dance as well as you fuck?”

“Heidi,” you gasped, but soon you dissolved into giggles. You even wrapped your arms around her middle. “Stop it!”

“I’m afraid I’m not nearly as good of a dancer,” he smirked, seemingly unshaken by her slurred words. “Heidi, Luciano has asked to see you in what I believed he called his private booth. He tried calling you, but-”

“He wants to play,” she whispered in your ear. “I have to go, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” Then she kissed you on each cheek, each of them as sloppy and glossy. “Milord,” she attempted to make a curtsy but would’ve fallen over if you hadn’t caught her and sent her on her way.

In a sea of sweaty party people, you could only see him. The alcohol made everything glow brighter, including your baron. Like a moth who doesn’t know any better, you knocked your chest against his in an attempt to get closer.

“Are you having fun, my dear?” He steadied you with his hands, sliding them down your spine and stopping at the small of your back.

“Yes,” you smoothed his shoulder pads with your palms, enjoying the sensation of the fabric against your fingers. “But I thought you brought me here to dance.”

“For where I was standing, I could see the two of you were dancing,” he chuckled. “Were my eyes deceiving me?”

“You’re the one I wanted to dance with,” you slurred, emboldened by the liquor flowing freely through your veins. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you dragged him down and dipped your tongue into the shell of his ear. “Heidi’s pretty and all, but she’s not you.”

“My Lady,” he hissed, holding you so close he might’ve crushed you if he applied force. “What do you think you’re doing?”

With the beat of the music under your feet and his rumbling chest against your breasts, you swayed to the music in your heart. Your breaths were in each other’s ears, your lips against the shell of his and his under your lobe, in the same spot he left his stamp the last time the two of you were entangled.

“My Lord, what are you doing? You’ve barely touched me,” you gasped, grinding against him when you felt his teeth tease your sensitive skin. “You’ve barely spent time with me,” you moaned, moving your hands up and down his arms and feeling his muscles flex beneath your fingertips. “Why bring me here at all?”

“You needed this,” he grunted, his groin growing between your bodies. “You’ve been living among dead things for too long. You needed to be among the living again.” After licking the wound his teeth reopened, his mouth moved from underneath your ear to murmur: “And you needed me.” The hands slid down the small of your back to cup your ass cheeks and press your pelvis up against his. “You need me right now, don’t you?”

“I do,” you sighed, sinking your nails into his shoulders for stability. “I need you.” He had shoved his knee between your legs and your body compiled: you were now rubbing your bare cunt against his clothed thigh. If he hadn’t figured out that you left the villa pantyless yet, he knew now. “You ruined me for every other man.”

His hands smoothed your dress again, but this time they climbed up your spine. When they arrived at the back of your head, one got tangled in your hair while the other went right through. Yanking your head back, he exposed your throat to his teeth and your eyes to his hunger. The baron was starving.

While nobody else around you could hear it over the music, he must’ve tasted your moans under the teeth he was dragging up your throat. When his mouth made it to your chin, he chuckled: “What a spoiled little girl you are! Haven’t I given you enough? What is it that you want now? Me? Right here, right now?” Nipping the thin skin under your chin, he continued. “You could wrap those legs around me and I could slip my cock right into your sopping cunt. Yes, I know you’re not wearing any panties.” Releasing his grip on your air, he cupped your cheeks to keep your eyes on him instead. “Or do you want to be fucked in a bathroom stall like the dirty little girl you are?”

“Please,” you begged him, but you couldn’t even begin to articulate. Your body, hot and loose because of the liquor, was more coherent. Your thighs tightened around his own and your spine arched like a bow. “Oh, please.”

The baron bunched up your skirt in between your bodies with one hand while the other wound up around your throat, still tender from his teeth. “Please who?” He pressed you for an answer as he pressed his thumb against your slick and swollen clitoris.

“Please, m-milord,” you whined. “The bathroom. Take me to the bathroom.”

The walk to the men’s bathroom was a blur, but you didn’t need your eyes to find your destination. The baron’s hand was secure on your side, guiding you through the gaggle of dancers and hiding you from prying eyes. The bathroom was more light with more blue than red and the stall was more spacious than what you were used to. You initially imagined you must be out in the open, my when he turned the handle, it made a clicking noise, the sound of secrecy.

When he turned towards you, his eyes were wild in the blue neon lights and his hands were claws as he cornered you to capture your tender thighs. “You dirty girl,” he chuckled, as dark as his blown-out eyes. Then, as he lifted your feet off the tile floor and drove you up the wall of the stall, he snarled: “You couldn’t wait until we were back at the villa, could you? You had to have my cock right here, right now, didn’t you?”

You tried to get a hold of the tile wall, but failed and sunk your nails into his scalp instead. “Milord,” you called to him as you were climbing to the ceiling without your consent. “Milord, I’m gonna fall.”

Your Lord sat you atop of his shoulders, one thigh on each side of his face. “I won’t allow it,” he growled before his head disappeared under your skirt. “I’ve waited long enough for you to come to me, and I’m not letting you go now.”

He was right: you weren’t falling, you were flying. The swirling of his tongue around your cunt’s engorged numb was making your head spin and his five o'clock shadow scratching your inner thighs were stimulating every sinus. And you were sure that every ear inside the men’s bathroom could hear, but you didn’t stop yourself from screaming out for him.

When he slowed down his assault on your cunt, it was only to speak to it. “I missed this. I missed the sweet noises you make. I missed my sweet girl,” he licked up your labia, taking his time to taste it. “And I missed my sweet pussy.”

“Oh, God,” you called to the ceiling and the skies.

“No, not God,” he spat between your folds before sliding a finger between them. “I’m no God. No god is making you feel this way.” He pushed the protruding digit deeper before pulling it out again. “It’s a man.” Then, he pushed and pulled at a punishing pace, his mouth circling your clitoris again. “It’s me. Now, come on my tongue. Come on, come on my tongue like the dirty girl that you are.”

Baron Zemo had given out an order and you, his loyal servant, obeyed. Squeezing your thighs down on the sides of his head, you rode his face to the finish. You pulled at his hair and pushed his head down all at the same time. Everything was too much, but never enough. It was a sobering experience that made the alcohol in your veins dissipate. Still, as he slid you down the wall of the stall, you were drunk on the dopamine released by your orgasm.

“Just as obedient as I remember you to be. And twice as sweet,” he licked his lips as he whipped your face with his thumbs tenderly. His face shone with your juices, his chin being especially shiny. “Would you like a taste?”

You nodded, not feeling prepared to practice speaking just yet. He held up your head with a hand at the back of your throat while he brought the finger that burrowed inside you up to your bottom lip. You tasted the tip at first under his spreading smirk, but as soon as you took him in, he parted his lips and started panting. And his breathing got louder the more of him you sucked inside. When you took all of him, the entire finger up to the knuckle, and began bobbing your head, he gritted his teeth and groaned.

“Do you still want my cock, dirty girl?”

Pulling back from his finger with a pop, you bit your bottom lip. “Yes, milord.”

“Would you bow before me to get to it?”

“Yes, milord,” you smiled stupidly, drunk on the dopamine.

By the time he took himself out of his trousers, you were on your knees saying your pleas. You missed the taste of him as much as he claimed to miss your cunt. You stuck out your tongue and tasted his precum that was already pouring out. When the tip met with your mouth, you locked your lips around it and moaned. This caused him to call to the ceiling:

He grunted, grabbing you by the hair and yanking you off of him. “I want to paint those pretty little lips myself.”

You moaned aloud at that, eyes glazed over and mind muddled him. His touch, taste, and smell were taking over you again and all you could do was beg him for more, more, more. “Please, please, please,” you breathed as he slid his hand up and down his shaft and snarled, his teeth bared. “Please, please, please.”

He growled and the grip in your hair tightened. “That’s a good girl,” he managed to get out before spilling in your open mouth. “That’s my good girl.”

Once the steam started, he couldn’t stop himself. If you could’ve, you wouldn’t have stopped him either. The tangy taste of him transported you back to the first time he pushed you down into this position. He had a mask on then, but now his face was wearing his emotions. He was in pain, the pleasurable kind. His eyebrows were knitted together and his hair was falling on his forehead. While you were the one serving him, the one swallowing his come and cleaning his cock with your tongue, you felt powerful. And, as he called you his baroness and said you never looked more beautiful than you did in that moment, you knew that you would never feel this powerful again.

“Occupied,” he slammed the door in another man’s nose.

A voice swore in English from the other side. “What, man? The whole damn bathroom?”

Yes, the whole bathroom. Baron Zemo was standing at the entrance to the men’s bathroom to keep out men as you freshened up. You were starting to sober up, splashing water across your face to whip away your runny make-up.

“You remain a vision, my dear,” he held out his arm when you were done.

“Now I'm sure that’s what you say to all the girls,” you said, too satiated and exhausted to even think about the implications of your statement.

“There’s nothing more beautiful in this world than a woman in the afterglow,” he whispered, a wide smirk shadowing his lips before he swung the door open. “It’s all yours, my friend.”

“I almost pissed myself, man! Not cool!”

You smothered your laughter into his shoulder while he walked you back to the VIP lounge. “You think they noticed how long we’ve been gone?” You squeezed his arm with both hands. Your flushed and bare face must’ve been enough to give away the game anyway, so you didn’t know why you bothered to hide from Heidi.

“They’ve been gone for just as long,” he winked. “He called her into his booth, remember?”

The reunion with your Sokovian sister revealed that she at some point also had to remove her make-up. She invited you to sit next to her and immediately asked about the intimate details. You amused her but refused to drink any more alcohol. You asked for water instead.

While the two of you were swooning over the sex you just had, the men in question had yet to sit down. They had their backs turned to you and their glasses full. However, they never got to finish their drinks.

“Baby, it’s time to say goodbye to your new friend.” He didn’t even look at you as he said all this, focusing his narrow gaze on the other man instead. “The baron was just leaving.”

Heidi’s pitch was higher when she spoke Spanish, so she almost squeaked out: “Papi, make him stay.”

“I’m afraid it’s getting late,” the baron began apologizing. “It’s been a long day and we’re still suffering from jet lag.” He looked at you. That was your cue.

“Yes,” you yawned. “I’m sorry, Heidi. You know how far away Sokovia used to be, right?”

“Well, if you have to go, then you have to promise you’ll be back tomorrow. Papi, make him promise to bring her back tomorrow.”

Her Papi took one look at his baby’s pleading eyes, then another at the baron’s poker face, then sighed. “Very well. Baron, we’ll finish our talk tomorrow night.”

While Luciano looked more than eager to escort you out himself, he had to wait for Heidi to hug you tightly as she typed her number into your phone. She only let you go after kissing you good night.

“I didn’t even have to lie,” you yawed as he draped his suit jacket over your shoulders. “I so, so sleepy.”

“Which one wore you out, the flight or I?”

“Both,” you tucked your head under his chin.

Either the sea breeze had turned into a chill, or your tired body was cooling down. Whichever one it was, the chauffeur covered the convertible at the baron’s demand. It was either his warm chest that put you to sleep or the purring engine. Whichever one it was, you woke up to Baron Zemo caring you up the stairs like a groom would his bride.

“Hush now, my dear,” he shushed you. “Get some sleep. We have a full day ahead of us.”

#Baron Zemo #Baron Zemo x Reader #Helmut Zemo #Helmut Zemo x Reader #TFatWS

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creativityobsessed · 3 years

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Cherry Magic Content Masterpost

Since I’ve done a lot of Cherry Magic content now, I thought I’d make a directory post to pin.

Fanfiction:

Sister Magic - (Post Episode 6) Kurosawa's Onee-san has been listening to him talk about his crush for years. When Adachi shows up on their doorstep, she decides it's time to have a proper talk.

All You Need - (Post Episode 9) Adachi has had an overwhelming few days, and when he disappears to hide, Kurosawa goes after him.

Cooking Lessons - Kurosawa offers to teach Adachi to cook after he offhandedly mentions that he wishes he knew how. Through the cooking lessons, Adachi discovers some things about himself, and about what he wants.

Your Touch is all the Magic I Need - Kurosawa Yuichi ruminates on the ways that Adachi has become more comfortable with touch. [Note: Rated M]

Hexagon’s Bad Day - Rokkaku Yuta spends the day of his 30th birthday frustrated at the way all of his friends have found partners, and he is, somehow, perpetually single. He thinks of all the crushes he's had over the years, and hopes maybe this year, something will come of them.

Snow Day - Adachi gives Kurosawa a gift on his 35th birthday. Inspired by art by @drownjngindreams

In Want of a Wife - Urabe has the perfect way to avoid work functions - just say he needs to stay home with his wife! But when a new chief is hired, and he invites partners along, it gets much harder for Urabe to avoid going. Of course, that wouldn't be a problem... if he hadn't been lying the whole time. Or, Five times Urabe lies about having a wife.

Out of Memory - Between strange occurrences and odd emotions, something is not quite adding up for Kurosawa. Could the answer be hidden in his phone, which is suddenly and mysteriously out of memory? [4/4 chapters, total words: 11,013]

It’s the Little Things - While packing to move in with Kurosawa, Adachi finds a favorite toy that he'd forgotten about, and tells Kurosawa about the kind boy on the playground who gave it to him.

Let’s go Steal a Heart - Adachi is a hacker on a team of criminals dedicated to helping steal justice back from the rich and famous. When Rokkaku, the team's grifter, is unable to crack Kurosawa, the key to their latest con, they send in Adachi to read his mind. [A Leverage inspired one-shot]

Ice and Warm Cookies - Vampire Adachi Kiyoshi has led a quiet and lonely life for most of his adulthood, a life he's happy to maintain so that none of his coworkers realize his real identity. Unfortunately, his coworker Kurosawa Yuichi seems to have other ideas. [adapted from a chatfic on discord, 1/8 chapters currently published]

This Love Belongs to You - Over the course of their time at Toyokawa, Kurosawa's perception of his relationship with Adachi changes.

Bed Head - Adachi has an anxiety attack in the middle of the night, and Kurosawa comforts him.

It Reminds Me of You - A missing scene from the end of the practice date in episode 10. Adachi wants to cheer Kurosawa up, so he wins him a teddy bear at a nearby carnival game. [prompt fill for flufftober 2021]

Series:

The Wishes Universe:

Wishes - After hearing that Kurosawa would use the ability to mind read to fulfill whatever Adachi wished, he decides to try doing the same for Kurosawa - within reason of course. Feelings - After falling asleep on Kurosawa's shoulder, Adachi realizes he really likes what Kurosawa was feeling and starts chasing that high. A few weeks later, he feels it - but there's no way they could be touching. Is the Magic getting stronger?

The Someone Universe:

This series may be read consecutively or concurrently. Please see this post for a Recommended Reading Order.

Dear Someone - 29-year-old Adachi Kiyoshi receives a mysterious note one morning, asking him if he'd be willing to become friends via correspondence. Intrigued, he writes back. [9/9 chapters, total words: 19,325]

Becoming Someone - Kurosawa Yuichi has been pining over Adachi for almost six years. In an effort to approach Adachi in a way that won't make him feel uncomfortable, he begins writing Adachi anonymous letters. [10/10 chapters, total words: 23,932]

Meta:

Be Brave Adachi, Or the Musical Shaping of Episodes 1-4: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Addendum

Congrats to Cherry Magic, You Just Got Indexed: Or, why tf did I wake up to only 30 fics in the Ao3 tag when there were almost 300 yesterday? [1/13/2021]

#cherry magic #masterpost

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sisternihil · 4 years

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Chapter One: Illuminating

Series: Douce (masterlist)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None for this chapter; 18+ after

Word Count: 1.4k

The third Saturday of September was a perfect autumn day. Crisp and sunny. Just right.

The pumpkin patch was more crowded than usual with a suspicious black SUV obscuring the storefront. You parked and started walking down the dirt path to the patches when a gentle voice called behind you.

‘Miss?’

Spinning on your heels, assuming you dropped something you head toward the voice. You stopped several feet in front of him and glanced over his tall, thin frame. He was pretty, pale with plump lips albeit a bit dry. Light brown hair was tucked behind his left ear with soft curly ends resting at his shoulders and his eyes were brown, no wait, they’re hazel in the sunlight. He was beautiful.

‘Miss?’ He calls again.

‘Yes.’ you answer meeting his gaze.

‘I’m Spencer Reid from the FBI, I work with the behavioral analysis unit. We’re investing a disappearance that may have occurred in a corn maze in the area’ his tone was oddly calm considering the circumstances.

‘I heard about that, it’s terrible’ you say as you look down at your dusty shoes. His pants don’t quite touch the tops of his beat-up black and white Chucks and you notice that both his socks are different patterns and colors and you can’t help but smile wide at him.

Is he blushing?

‘Ha-have you seen anyone suspicious in the area?’ He inquires

He’s definitely blushing.

‘Unfortunately no, this is my first trip out here this year. Could I call you if I see anything suspicious?’

You hope he picks up the suggestion but you aren’t sure until he fumbles with his wallet to pull out a business card.

You take it and read aloud ‘Dr. Spencer Reid? You’re impressive you can’t be older than 30.’

‘I, uh, I graduated high school when I was 12 and I am actually 31.’ He’s smoothing his hair back and shifting his weight.

‘Now I’m just embarrassed for myself.’ You chortle, pocketing his card and turning back to the pumpkin patch

‘Uh, you know you could call me even if you don’t see anything suspicious’ he’s trying to sound as confident as possible like Derek had told him.

You face him and smile, ‘I will Dr. Reid.’

He gives you a small wave and slight grin and you try not to be too obvious in your excitement.

Is he the cutest guy you’ve ever seen? He has to be. Suddenly your focus isn’t about finding the most symmetrical pumpkin ever. Should you call him? He was probably just being nice. But he’s so cute. You fight with your inner monologue until you walk back with a pretty good pumpkin.

At the register, you grab fresh donuts and apple cider and tote them to your car. He’s leaning against a black SUV with another handsome guy and a pretty dark-haired woman. You assume those are his partners.

‘Is that her?’ Derek tilts his head toward you.

‘Yes, that’s her. Could you be more conspicuous?’ he breathes out

‘Did you get her name or number?’ both partners ask talking over each other

‘Well, no’ Spencer rubs the back of his neck ‘I just asked her to call me’

‘Go, go, go’ Emily and Derek say in unison pushing him forward.

You can hear someone jogging behind you as you shut your trunk.

‘Dr. Reid?’

‘Um, I forgot to ask, or, well, I wanted to ask, could I-I possibly have your number too?’

‘Of course’ you smile and squeeze his arm lightly. Laying his card on your trunk you send a text ‘Hi, it’s Y/N, the girl from the pumpkin patch’

His phone chimes, ‘that’d be me’ you state and open your car door ‘talk to you soon’.

‘Atta boy’ one of his partners calls out and you can see his male partner slapping his shoulder.

— — — —

On Tuesday you’re immersed in your tarp-covered living room floor with all the tools needed to carve a pumpkin and Hocus Pocus playing in the background. Deciding to finally reach out to the cute doctor you snap a picture of your pumpkin and mess and send it. A ping sounds almost instantly with a compliment to your design and Dr. Reid asking if he could call instead.

‘Hi’ you hope he can hear the smile in your voice.

‘H-hi’ you can, however, hear the nerves in his voice.

Spencer is fiddling with his tie trying to remember how to talk.

‘Spencer are you there?’

‘Ye-yea, I’m here. U-um, I wanted to ask...wouldyouliketogoonadatewithmeSunday’

‘What did you have in mind?’

‘Well, there’s this illuminated pumpkin patch I think you’d love and maybe we could have dinner first?’

‘That sounds amazing.’ you try to hide an excited giggle but it slips out anyway. Spencer lets out a sigh of relief and you carry on with some small talk.

Before you realize two hours have gone by and you feel as if you know Spencer better than anyone you’d met in the last year in the city.

Soft yawns start to interrupt the conversation and both of you bid farewell.

— — — —

Spencer can’t sleep. Not that that’s unusual but tonight he tosses and turns replaying their conversation over in his head. You giggle a lot and yet somehow her presence is very reassuring. He decides needs that.

Soft, affirming, and affectionate. Well, he doesn’t know if you’re affectionate yet or not but he imagines you are. When you touched him at the pumpkin patch he felt like his skin was on fire and he longed for you to touch him again. Wait, was he that touch starved? He decides he is.

— — — —

Sunday can’t come fast enough for either of you. Spencer had insisted that he would pick you up and you’d reluctantly agreed. Surely someone for the FBI wouldn’t be a creep. By Friday you had already picked out your outfit - a cozy sweater, jeans, and booties. You were only a little bit excited, okay that was an understatement. Spencer called every day when he was able and if he couldn’t you always made sure to at least say ‘hi’ via text.

Sunday comes as fast as you’d expect and a shrill ding sounds from the front door. Oh man, you’re fucked. His hair is messed up but in that perfect bedhead sorta way and he’s wearing black and gold horn-rimmed glasses. He’s got on so many layers you don’t bother to count and you realize the mismatched socks are a signature and not a gaffe.

‘I got this for you’ he’s reaching out to place a small ceramic ghost-shaped candy bowl in your hands with a handwritten note attached to the side. ‘I put all of my favorite candies inside and made a ranking chart for you’. You want to melt, how could someone be so sweet? Your cheeks feel unbearably warm as you invite him in while you put up your gift.

‘Let’s go’ you say as your smiling and pulling him out the door. He drives an old VW bug and this doesn’t surprise you in the least.

Dinner goes like catching up with an old friend and you manage to make him snort-laugh with a few really bad jokes.

‘What kind of overalls does Mario wear? Denim-denim-denim.’

Your final destination of the night is just within walking distance from the restaurant. You take note that Spencer walks on the outside of you closest to the street. As you’re about to point this out Spencer starts to explain the Middle Age origins of which side of a man was socially acceptable to walk on and why. ‘Do you know everything?’ It sounds harsh as you blurt it out and you correct yourself ‘I mean is there anything you don’t know something about.’

‘Of course’ he says excitable ‘information and science are constantly evolving so one can’t know everything.’

Your fingers brush against his lightly and he intertwines them. His hands are soft, warm, and engulfing. Fairy lights start to come into view and for a moment you’re almost overwhelmed. Spencer hands two tickets to a booth attendant and you stare in disbelief.

‘Do you like it?’

‘I love it’

Turning to face him you place a chaste kiss on his lips and take his hand as you start walking. Thousands of carved and lit pumpkins line a walkway with displays set up in intervals. Both of you are enthralled with the craftsmanship put into each pumpkin.

You watch his face as he studies what is before him. His profile is dreamy - a cute little nose and a jaw that could cut glass. You were fucked, absolutely, and thoroughly. You knew it when you first laid eyes on him and tonight just reaffirmed your suspicions.

You were deeply, deeply infatuated with Dr. Reid.

— — — —

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