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chasingpj · 3 years

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𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬

pairing: percy jackson x child of zeus!reader and jason x older sibling!reader

requested: yes!

warning: two curse words, mentions of stealing, death of a parent, and i believe that is it!

category: headcanons, fluff

a/n: i may have gotten too carried away but... i had a lot of fun writing this haha. i hope you guys like it!

pre-relationship

you and percy invented the phrase power couple but coming together took a while

your relationship dynamic would be very similar to thalia and percy's at first

you're both natural-born leaders, so you guys butt heads very often

you're more calculated and organized when it comes to things and percy being impulsive really annoyed you

he's lucky that even though he is impulsive, things somehow always work out in the end

if it wasn't for annabeth urging you guys to get along, you probably would still be at each other's neck

how did she get you guys to get along, you may ask?

she locked you guys in a storage closet :)

and said figure it out ♡

this happened after a friendly sparring practice turned into a full-on fight with your powers

annabeth insisted she wouldn't let you guys out until you declared to be friends

at the time, you were like, percy will never be my friend, ew

percy was just as annoyed

after a good hour of bickering and resisting your urge to choke him out

you guys found that you had a lot in common, actually?

huh, who would have known?

apparently annabeth

you guys talked about your life outside of camp and bonded over the worst teachers you've ever had

turns out, percy wasn't that bad

you'd never admit that out loud though

after a while, you started to feel things

were percy's eyes always that pretty?

yes, they've always been

oh look, those freckles over his nose? adorable

did you just call Percy adorable? yeah, you did… gross

you tried to deny your attraction to him

you were pretty sure this was a cruel joke from aphrodite (it was… more for your dad's than for you guys, though)

then you started noticing changes in his behavior too

now you guys were sharing blankets at the campfire when it got chilly

he even shared the blue cookies his mother sent him too

that's when you should have known he was down bad

both of you have awful sleep schedules

you hated sleeping in cabin 1

it was clearly built not to be slept in, and every few days, you found yourself having late-night conversations with percy at the docks

once the harpies snuck up on you and percy told you to get in the water with him

you didn't know how to swim, and you were kinda horrified of open water

you wanted to refuse, but you were cornered on the docks

you either jumped or got eaten

the last thing you said was that you couldn't swim before percy didn't give you a choice

he grabbed your hand and jumped in

his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you in the air bubble he had made around you guys

at first, you didn't focus on it

too busy trying to defend yourself from his teasing

he continued to mimic the way you screamed when he dragged you into the water

"wow, you can fly, but you can't swim?"

you rolled your eyes, trying to defend yourself

you called him annoying, and he playfully threatened to let you drown

you guys joked and laughed, staying a little too long underwater

after your laughter ceased, you found yourself looking into his eyes

the both of you became quiet

suddenly his arm around your waist, the way your chests were pressed against each other made you horribly flustered

and you're not sure what you were thinking

actually, you weren't thinking at all, but you leaned in and kissed him

like really kissed him, it was a proper kiss

ahhhhhh!!!

probably would have kissed him longer if the water nymphs didn't giggle, exposing their little audience

once you pulled away, they scattered, ready to gossip about what they saw

the news made it to atlantis pretty fast

after the kiss, things were so awkward

you avoided him for days, and he avoided you

annabeth felt the tension, and she was upset because just when you guys were getting along, suddenly, you guys were avoiding each other

the battle of manhattan was approaching soon and the last thing anyone wanted was for you guys not to get along

you both avoided annabeth’s questions, not ready to confess what you guys had shared

eventually, annabeth kept pressing you about what happened

you blew up and admitted that you made out with percy in the water

annabeth was speechless before she burst into laughter

you didn't understand why it was so funny at first

but then you did

the both of you laughed until annabeth said that she wasn't surprised at all

the battle of manhattan comes around, and in the urgency of the moment, you guys were able to rise to the occasion

your movements, thoughts, commands were completely coordinated

you guys were an extension of each other, kicking ass

at the end, you were both offered immortality

the offer took you back to a conversation you guys had where you spoke about how you'd never want to be immortal

the both of you exchanged looks before you simultaneously denied the gift

zeus was offended x2

after that, you guys returned to camp half-blood

the both of you were upset at the campers you've lost and trying to recover from the adrenaline of battle

you and annabeth sang percy happy birthday and the three of you sat together and ate blue cake in a comfortable silence

weeks passed, and one day, you're met with annabeth barging into your cabin asking when you and percy are going to talk about your kiss

it was the last day of camp, and she was insistent on you talking to him

you reluctantly agreed, mainly because annabeth threatened to lock you in a storage closet again

you guys sat on the dunes in silence for a while

the both of you wanted to confess, but neither knew how to do it

after some silence, the both of you spoke at the same time

you stuttered over each other and then began bickering back and forth on who should go first until you blurted out that you like him

you cringed and looked away as percy froze in his spot

it was silent for a moment before percy whispered, "I like you too."

cue your second kiss

your teeth slightly bumping with his since the both of you were smiling so much

and you swore you heard thunder in the distance even though there were clear skies

relationship

you lived in a foster home on the other side of manhattan, so you guys saw each other every weekend

you guys went on movie dates, long drives, and you would sleep over pretty often

for the spooky season, you went to haunted houses and carved pumpkins

you watched horror movies together, teasing each other when one of you jumped and tried to cover your face during the scary parts

you went to his place for Thanksgiving and you arrived early so that the both of you could help sally cook all day

you and percy put blue food coloring on the mashed potatoes

for the first time ever, you felt like you were apart of a family since sally had welcomed you with open arms

everything was going great but then december came around

the last time you saw percy, you guys were christmas shopping for his mom

your last day of school ended a few days after his, so you planned to meet at CHB

but when you got there, you found out he never arrived

you called his home from the payphone in the big house

sally was relieved to hear from you, a part of her hoping he was with you

but you both found out that neither of you had heard from him in a few days

meeting jason

you and annabeth tried everything to find him

then you got a dream from hera that the answer to where percy is was with the guy with one shoe

you arrive and you find this blonde kid and not your boyfriend; you were kinda actually very annoyed

but this blonde kid felt familiar

you weren't sure what it was, and then you heard his name — Jason Grace

surely, it was a coincidence that he shared the name of your missing brother

you were too young to remember his disappearance

the only remembrance you had of him was a picture of the both of you as toddlers sitting happily beside thalia

you always wondered who was the little boy in the photo and it wasn't until a few years ago did thalia tell you about him disappearing

you were a bit wary of him at first, especially since he had no memory of where he came from

it wasn't until he conjured lightning with his sword, did you have no doubt in your mind that he was your brother

the first night you guys spent in the cabin together was awkward

you couldn't really catch up since he didn't remember anything, so you told him what thalia told you about him and your mother

you didn't reveal him everything, not wanting to overwhelm him and you had decided to call it a night before you went into detail

you explained the rest of the story after he came back from his quest

you tried to ask him questions hoping he’d remember more, but his memory wasn't coming back fast enough

both you and jason were growing frustrated, so one day you iris messaged thalia

the both of you came up with an idea to jog jason's memory by showing him things that he enjoyed as a toddler

jason was pretty sure it wouldn't work, but he went along with it

thalia recalled that the two of you really liked watching the flintstones as babies

so you and jason sat down and watched every season available on dvd

and well, it didn't work...

thalia also mentioned you both really liked sweets, so you tried to jog his memory with candy bars

you had to convince jason to sneak out of camp with you

he thought it was such a bad idea, but you reassured him he'd be fine

after reluctantly agreeing, jason and you escaped at night to buy actually steal candy bars from the closest gas station

jason panicked as he watches you shove candy bars in your sweatshirt

"we're gonna get caught"

"if you keep looking that scared, we just might," you replied a little too calmly

he tried to relax, but he just looked like he saw a ghost the entire time

on your way back, you may have electrocuted a harpy and fought a couple cyclops and all the fighting and running made you lose one of your snicker bars

you were upset, to say the least

unfortunately, after stuffing him with chocolate, that didn't work either

then you tried to show him the few pictures you were able to salvage before you were taken to the foster home after the death of your mother

jason sat in front of you on the floor as you pulled the box from under your bed

you smiled, finding an old picture of your mother, and you put it up to his face, taking in the similarities between the two

"yep, you look just like her," you confirmed as you smiled sadly

even though jason didn't know her, he felt a sense of pride when you had told him so

every time a memory would come back, you were the first person he told

when his memories with lupa came back, you were shook

and then you teased him, saying that he's basically a dog

once you threw a twig and told him to go fetch

he didn't find it as funny as you and leo did, but oh well

you also asked if he howled at full moons, and you were met with the straightest face you've ever seen on jason

it was the funniest thing ever to you

every week you guys kicked ass in capture the flag

you guys were more alike than you thought

it was guaranteed that whichever team you were on would win

in the months when the argo II was being built, you had a lot of times to bond with jason

your dynamic was really fun as you were a bit more rebellious and silly while he was a lot more responsible and mature

after the argo II departed

you reuniting with percy was something you thought about for months

you were so excited when the argo II was officially ready to fly over to camp jupiter

your pulse was thumping in your ears when you saw percy in the crowd

after months of worrying about where he was and if he was still alive, it was almost surreal to see him right in front of you

you lunged into him so hard, he stumbled back as you kissed him

just like your second kiss, the both of you were smiling so hard your teeth kept bumping against his

"i love your new look," you commented on his toga, and he snorted,

"yeah?"

"oh yeah, it's kinda hot."

the both of you laughed, content to be in each other's arms again

after getting on the argo II, you were the reason jason and percy formed some sort of a friendship

you were the mutual ground for the both of them since they had a soft spot for you

the tension between the two was something you couldn't disregard and you hated how weird it was at the beginning

if they butted heads, you tried to mend the problem

you understood both of them well enough to understand where they came from

at some point, you and annabeth thought it would be funny to lock them in a storage closet

so you did

they kept complaining to be let out but eventually, they gave in

little did they know that you were standing near the door and listening to their conversation

jason told him how you helped him a lot and all the ridiculous things you made him do

and percy shared stories of you from quests and at camp

the both of them laughed and bonded over having someone as amazing as you in their lives

"y/n is pretty great," percy smiles

"yeah, they are," jason agreed

needless to say, your heart warmed at the praise from your two favorite boys

masterlists taglist: @xxyrr @nct127bee @mochabreezeee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @Slytherclaw-kitten @-thatgirloverthere- @passionswift @nanskidoodle @idk-bye-no @ilikefluffygingercats @all-hailreyna @autmngirlworld @Sunkissedskin1328 @Hermioneswifeee @quteez @hajigayy @aleksanderwh0r3 @drayshadow @tonyedwardstarkk @londoncherry @ashookykooky @lotusnegra666 @loverstyless

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

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Series Summary: After being arrested, Spencer Reid desperately tries to get back home to his daughter, Camellia, who was placed into foster care in your home.

Pairing: Single!Dad!Spencer x Foster!Mom!Reader

Content/Warnings: mentions of abandonment, unwanted sexual advances (outside character to spencer), swearing, mentions of cheating (doesn’t actually happen), happy ending

Word Count: 2.4k

Masterlist

Chapter 10

You woke up with Spencer’s arm lazily draped over your waist. Rain was pitter-pattering against the window.

You rolled over and cuddled yourself into Spencer’s chest.

“Good morning,” he hummed contently.

“G’morning,” you sleepily mumbled.

“Is my little angel tired from last night?” he asked.

“Very,” you nodded, “Do we have to pick Callie up from her sleepover?”

“She’s staying there until after her soccer practice. I have to go back to my house and get some more clothes to bring over here but other than that, my day is wide open,” he gently stroked your hair.

“I just have two appointments later in the day so I’ll have to go into the office this afternoon,” you yawned.

“I’ll make us breakfast,” Spencer tried to shift out from underneath the covers.

“Or…” you wrapped your arms around him once again, “We can get breakfast on the way to your house and then I get some extra cuddle time.”

“Sounds good to me,” Spencer pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Um hello?” Spencer asked as you both approached the woman standing at his front door.

She turned around and Spencer’s eyes practically bulged out of his head.

“Spencer!” she ran to hug him.

Spencer refused to unclasp his hand from yours, making it very clear he had no intention to return the hug.

“What are you doing here, Austin?”

Austin. This was Callie’s mother. The woman who abandoned them both.

“I’m in between jobs right now, figuring out my purpose in life, you know? I just took a bus and ended up back here again. Got me thinking I should stop by and check in,” she smiled like this was just a casual visit from a friend.

“You wanted to stop by after 11 years and no goodbye?” Spencer asked incredulously.

“I could also use a place to crash for a few days. How’s Camellia doing? Does she still do that thing where she twitches her little nose? I always loved that.”

“Don’t act like you know my daughter at all,” Spencer seethed.

“Spencer,” you got in between them, putting your hands on his chest to calm him down.

You turned to Austin, “One second.”

You led Spencer back down the steps, “Look, I know what she did was very wrong but she did give you the greatest gift of all, Callie, so maybe you could invite her over for dinner and she could just sleep on the couch for the night?”

“Just one night?” Spencer confirmed.

“If you don’t do this now, Callie will probably just track her birth mother down later in life without you there to supervise. Lots of my past foster kids have and it doesn’t always end well.”

“Fine,” Spencer relented, heading back up the front steps.

“You can stay with us for one night,” Spencer emphasized, “I will be watching you the whole time you’re with Callie.”

“Deal!” She clapped her hands excitedly.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself, opting to not give a label.

“Nice to meet you,” she replied with a sickeningly sweet smile.

She loaded her few bags of belongings into the back of the car as you and Spencer grabbed some more of his clothes from inside.

Spencer opted to drive so you headed to the passenger side. Austin grabbed the car door handle at the same time as you.

“Oh I’m sorry, were you going to sit here?” she feigned politeness.

“Yeah, I was,” you narrowed your eyes.

Spencer rolled the window down, “Austin, there’s plenty of room in the back.”

“Oh, of course!” she nodded enthusiastically.

You buckled as Spencer placed his hand on your thigh, in view of Austin. You settled in for the most awkward car ride of your life.

“Can’t you cancel? Please don’t leave me here with her,” Spencer begged as you got ready to go in for work.

“I would if they were just check-ups but Timmy has a rash I need to check out and I need to write a script so Jessica can get a refill on her medication. If you really don’t want to be alone with her, come with me,” you replied.

“I would but I also don’t trust her enough to leave her alone in your house,” Spencer sighed.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” you kissed him, “An hour and a half tops.”

“What do I even say to her?”

“You don’t have to say much. You’re already being generous enough to let her see Callie for the night. Just make dinner while I’m gone. You could offer her a bath or something if you want her to get out of your hair,” you suggested.

Spencer had offered Austin a bath so he didn’t have to deal with the awkward silence while you were gone.

He got to work cooking Rossi’s famous pasta for dinner, dicing onions and boiling the water. He would check the clock every minute and started a countdown in his head of when you would return home.

He heard the water drain from the tub upstairs.

Fuck, he thought, at least 10 more minutes until you’re home.

Austin sauntered down the stairs after her bath in just her bra and underwear, wearing one of Spencer’s unbuttoned dress shirts over top.

Spencer’s hands flew to cover his eyes, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Hopefully you,” she smirked.

“I have a girlfriend, well it’s not official yet but I am very much committed to her,” Spencer stated.

“If it’s not official,” she drew closer, “Then, this wouldn’t be cheating.”

“I don’t care if it’s technically not cheating. I only have interest in Y/N,” Spencer spoke firmly, his hands still over his eyes.

“Just once, Spence…for old time’s sake,” she whispered in his ear.

“No,” Spencer backed up further into the pot of sauce he was cooking for dinner, spilling a bit of the hot liquid on himself.

Spencer opened his eyes at the burning sensation, “Now look what you did,” he sighed frustratedly, starting to undo the buttons of his shirt, “I have to soak this before it stains. I can’t believe you. Why would you think this is okay?”

“Just go wash your shirt, Spencer,” Austin rolled her eyes.

Spencer, being so angry, didn’t hear the door open.

“I’m not finished with you, Austin,” he stared her down.

He heard a squeak from the other side of the room. You were standing there, fresh tears running down your face.

Spencer looked down at his unbuttoned shirt, Austin’s lack of clothes, and recalled the last thing he said.

“Y/N, it’s not what it looks like-” he tried to run after you but you were already out the door, slamming it behind you.

Spencer scrambled outside to where you were starting your car back up again.

“Y/N,” he frantically tapped against the car window, “Please let me explain.”

You didn’t even turn to face him, shifting the car into reverse and peeling out of the driveway.

Spencer stormed back inside, grabbing Austin’s bags, “Get the fuck out of Y/N’s house and get the fuck out of my family’s life.”

“But Callie isn’t even home yet,” she argued.

“Good,” Spencer yelled, “Because it took you less than 3 hours for your true colors to show again. You care about nothing! You didn’t want anything to do with us then so you don’t get to have anything to do with us now,” Spencer escorted her towards the door, “I will not hesitate to file for a restraining order if I see you near me, Y/N, or my daughter ever again.”

“Can I at least change?” she asked as Spencer threw her bags on the front step.

“You were plenty comfortable showing me who repeatedly told you no so might as well show the whole neighborhood,” he slammed the door in her face.

How dare he? In your house. Probably in your bed.

You went back to your office because Spencer couldn’t even leave you the dignity to retreat back to your own safe space that was now tainted with bad memories.

Luckily, you had a few pairs of spare clothes that you always kept in the office and a fully made cot in case a patient needed to rest. You settled yourself on the bed, letting the tears begin to fall again, drenching your pillow as you let sleep take over.

“Please pick up please please please,” Spencer begged.

“Hi, you’ve reached Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I can’t come to the phone right now-”

Spencer hung up and hit his head against the steering wheel. He had already said what he needed to say in the previous 20 voicemails, followed by the additional 30 calls he made every 15 minutes, hoping you would pick up.

“At least you’re not blocked?” Callie tried her hardest to put a positive spin on it.

She didn’t know the full story, coming home after soccer practice to see her dad crying on the couch. Spencer told her that her mother had come back and hurt Y/N’s feelings badly because that was essentially what happened, right?

Spencer had been replaying the situation over and over in his head. Yes, it looked bad from the outside perspective but he didn’t think he actually did anything wrong. If only he could find Y/N, explain it to her and have her believe him.

“Have fun at school,” he hugged her goodbye before she hopped out of the car.

“Remember to tell Mrs. Roberts to drop you off at our place, not Y/N’s,” he reminded her.

“Our house is going to feel so dull though. It’s always cold, did you notice that? We don’t even have a cat,” she whined.

“The least we can do is give Y/N her space to process,” Spencer told her, “If she’s ready for us to come back into her life eventually, we’ll gladly take it.”

“If?” Callie grimaced, “How bad did my mother mess this up?”

“I’d rather not say,” Spencer simply stated.

“That sounds promising,” Callie sighed, “Bye, Dad. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

“Could you give this note to Doctor Y/L/N?” Spencer asked the receptionist.

Y/N,

Your house is cleared out. Despite your previous statement, it is obvious we have overstayed our welcome at the moment. I hope if you give me a chance to explain, it will ease your pain and in turn, mine. I swear to you, angel, nothing happened. I can tell the full story whenever you are ready and I hope you can hear the truth in my voice.

Yours,

Spencer

“Jake Gomez?” he heard you call out.

He turned around to see a little kid hopping out of his seat in the waiting room and following you into the clinic area. You made brief eye contact with him and you looked so broken. It took everything in him not to run up and beg on his knees for your forgiveness.

Callie had a big soccer game coming up and you really wanted to go but you also really didn’t want to see Spencer.

Sure, you got his note but he could easily have lied. It was hard to argue with what you saw right in front of your eyes.

You pulled your hair back into a low bun and wore a hood pulled over a hat as well as sunglasses. You made sure to blend in with the crowd of moms.

You saw Spencer about 2 rows of bleachers down, leaning against the fence. God, why did he have to look so good in jeans?

Despite your sunglasses, one of the moms caught the subject of your stares.

“I’m pretty sure he’s single too,” she nudged you, “If I didn’t have a husband, I would be all over that fine piece of ass.”

You just nervously nodded in response.

The game had gone into overtime. The teams had to take turns shooting on the opposing goalie’s net. Each team must take 5 shots with 5 different players and whoever makes the most wins.

Callie was put in the stressful position of needing to make the shot to win the game for her team. She took her time, lining up the shot and stretching out her legs.

Callie ran in for the kick, faking left and when the goalie dived, she kicked right.

“Score!” the ref announced.

“Yes, Callie!” you stood and screamed in excitement, “That’s what I’m talking about!”

After the initial shock wore off, you realized Spencer was staring directly at you.

You grimaced, “Um excuse me, sorry, excuse me,” you repeated as you tried to quickly get out of the aisle.

“Y/N, please wait!” Spencer ran after you.

“I came for Callie, Spencer, not you,” you huffed, slowing to a walk because the parking lot was up a hill and you weren’t about to sprint the whole way.

“Please, Y/N, let me explain. I miss you so much, it hurts,” he pleaded.

“Oh you’re hurt?” you asked incredulously, “I’m sorry that me leaving after I found you cheating on me hurt you.”

“I didn’t cheat!” Spencer insisted, “She was coming on to me but I rejected her every single time. I was yelling at her for how inappropriate her behavior was, that's what you walked in on.”

“You were yelling at her with your shirt off?”

“I had my eyes covered at first so I wouldn’t see her indecent but I accidentally backed into the sauce and I didn’t want to stain my shirt.”

You sat there in silence, processing his story.

“Please say something. I’ll do anything to make it right, I need you back.”

A tear fell from Spencer’s eye which was followed by many more.

“I think your story is just crazy enough that I believe you,” you spoke.

“Really?” Spencer asked.

“Really,” you outreached your arms for a hug.

Spencer dove into your embrace like it was his air. He cried into your chest for 10 minutes until he finally met your eyes again.

“I’m sorry, I just thought I was never going to get to do this again,” he squeezed you tighter, “I love you, Y/N, and I want you to be my girlfriend. I actually want you to be more than my girlfriend someday but this is a good start for now.”

“I love you too,” you kissed him, “And just curious, what did you have in mind for the future?”

“I’m going to make you my wife someday,” he grinned.

A/N: one chapter left of this series! 🥺❤️

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @ssacalumsg0lden @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego @idonotexiste @beepbooptoop @tvandfanfic @mggsprettygirl @big-galaxy-chaos @navs-bhat @spencerreidsmommy @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @mggs-sidehoe @rexit-mo @hufflepuffhaze @xoxospencerreid @wifeyprentiss @reidsbookclub @spencersrose @pinkdiamond1016 @muffin-cup

series taglist: @ilovespencerreidmarryme @nani-2305 @obsessivelysearching @fantasynerd09 @bvttercupbby @britishspidey @ladyravenclaw @belledawnidk @annesauriol @smokey102 @lady-himbo @kaitieskidmore1 @westanspencerreid @manuosorioh @haylaansmi @unhea1thy0bsessions @meganskane @lovergirl24 @queenariesofnarnia @asexual-booknerd (additional tags in reblog)

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #cm fanfic #cm fic

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kissinginkitchens · 3 years

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You Bring Me Home — Chapter One: Flightless Bird, American Mouth

a/n: I've been working on this story for mooonths now and I'm so excited to finally share it with the world! It's heavily inspired by Harry's Behind the Album mini doc, except I changed the setting to Hawai'i because I've personally spent some time there and as they say, write what you know! YBMH takes place in the period between One Direction's hiatus and Harry's first album/tour, but with that being said, this is entirely a work of fiction and some events don't follow the true timeline. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my little story, I hope you love it as much as I do! It will be updated every Friday at 5 PM PST. My inbox is open, so feel free to talk to me once you've finished reading! I'd love to hear from you :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 5.5k

May, 2016

Harry watches LAX get smaller through the airplane window and visualizes all of his worries stuck at the terminal gate, their magnitude also diminishing as he takes flight. He sinks lower in his seat and skims through playlists on his phone when a nagging feeling at the back of his mind pulls his attention away from the screen. Looking up from the song choices, he spots a cell phone quickly lowered from his line of vision and a girl with flushed cheeks who quickly averts her gaze. Harry shoots a tight-lipped smile in her direction and goes back to his phone with a sigh. The days when he could roam the streets freely without fear of recognition—or worse, harassment—feel like an entirely different lifetime. He sometimes imagines that he’ll wake up back in his childhood bed as if the past five years had all been a dream, but he never does. In fact, his privacy and anonymity seem to dwindle with each minute of radio play that One Direction receives. It’s a bittersweet pill to swallow, but one he hopes will go down easier with some time in the Hawaiian sun.

His close friend and new manager, Jeff Azoff, had suggested the vacation as soon as the band privately agreed to take a hiatus.

“You’ll go home for a few weeks,” his voice had crackled through the speakers of Harry’s phone. “Visit your mom and Gem, lay low for a while until the smoke blows over,”

Harry mulled it over in his mind, eyes flickering over the rolling landscape outside of the tour bus window.

“Then what?”

“Then you go for a little vacation. The label offered to cover a house in Hawaii so you can start working on the album,”

“Alone?”

Jeff chuckled lightly on the other end before responding. “I mean, if that’s what you want,”

“No,” Harry corrected. “You and Tom should come. Mitch and Bhasker, too,”

“The dream team,”

“And there’ll be a studio there?”

“Yes,” Jeff started, almost hesitant. “But I don’t want you to think about that too much,”

“But you said the label—"

“I also said vacation. Look, Rob said ‘it will all happen in due time,' did he not?”

Harry twisted the rose ring around his finger, tracing over the silver petals and thinking back to his conversation with the CEO of Sony Music, Rob Stringer. Upon the proposal of his debut solo album, Rob had told him that the most important ingredient for a successful debut would be patience. The singer had agreed in the moment, but every day not spent in the studio felt like a test he hadn’t studied hard enough for.

“Yeah.”

“So you take the free vacation,” Jeff suggested. “You go out, live, get some writing material. Maybe mess around with some tunes. And then we come back to L.A. and get to work. But until then, I just want you to focus on taking it easy.”

So take it easy he had. Or at least he had tried to when he was back home in England. Harry quickly grew restless after what felt like the millionth awkward conversation with past friends and acquaintances, all of which eventually led to the topic of One Direction and it’s unexpected hiatus. After one month at home, his mind and journal were full of ideas for songs, things that he wanted to say before he lost his nerve. One night as he tossed and turned in bed, he shot Jeff a text, just two words that would kick off a three month getaway to the Big Island of Hawai'i:

I’m ready.

********

“Sounds great, I'll go put in your order.” Alani offers sweetly, trying not to overdo it with the customer service voice. After waiting on the family at her designated table, she heads back to the kitchen and finds her younger sister, Pua, crouched in the corner taking what appears to be a serious phone call.

“I don’t know, I just saw it!” Her sister cries in a hushed tone. “Where do you think he’s going?”

“Is everything okay?” Alani cuts in with concern.

Pua whispers into the speaker before bringing the phone to her shoulder.

“Harry Styles was just spotted on a plane this morning,”

“Who?”

“The guy from One Direction,” her sister explains with a hint of irritation in her voice. “The band who sings that song you secretly like, ‘Fireproof,'”

Alani vaguely recalls the melody, but she waits expectantly for Pua to elaborate. “And this is news because…”

“Because the band just broke up, so where could he possibly be going?”

"The unemployment office?”

Pua rolls her eyes and returns to her phone call while Alani envelops her in a tight hug.

“I’m just kidding!” Alani apologizes, squeezing tighter despite her sister’s attempts to break free. “I’m sure he’ll be living off of royalty checks until he’s, like, eighty,”

“Get off me, freak!” Pua cries out, finally breaking the embrace.

Alani clutches her chest and pulls out an invisible knife. “Ouch. I’m telling Harry you said that,”

“This is exactly why I don’t tell you things.” the younger sister huffs, storming out of the kitchen through the employee entrance where Alani’s best friend, Maleah, has just arrived.

“Looks like someone forgot to eat their Cheerios today,” she remarks, tying her curls into a high ponytail.

Alani shrugs and leans against the counter. “She’s going through something. Just discovered that boys in pop bands are, in fact, just regular boys.”

“Poor thing,” Maleah frowns. “We all have to learn eventually.”

********

The sky is a blend of cotton candy pink and burnt orange when Alani returns home from the café with a strawberry smoothie in tow. She empties the mailbox and sorts through the various bills and advertisements, but her stomach drops when she sees a familiar return address label. After a quick greeting to her excited dog who waits at the door, Alani bolts up the stairs and quietly shuts the bedroom door behind her. Breathe, she reminds herself before tearing into the envelope and discarding it onto the wooden floor.

Dear Ms. Hale,

We are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine. However, we regret to inform you—

She doesn’t read the rest, slumping to the floor in defeat. The sixth rejection letter from Rolling Stone lies crumpled at Alani’s feet and she kicks it across the room with a frustrated grunt. She had worked for over two months perfecting her analysis of Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi and its allusions to the environmental impact of urban development in Hawaii. As part of her initial research, Alani had even traveled to both the Royal Hawaiian hotel in Honolulu, which is the famous Pink Hotel mentioned in the song, and Foster Botanical Garden that Mitchell referred to as “the tree museum.” She was certain that her effort and persistence would result in at least a consideration. The second third time's the charm! Maleah had joked watching Alani submit the piece. Six articles in the span of two years, each one facing the same rejection despite the increased effort Alani had put in over time. The fact that the rejection letter hadn’t changed over the course of the two years brings an incredulous smile to her face, and her stomach turns when she considers that the editors probably hadn’t even read her work, anyway. All that effort, she thinks to herself, all that time, for nothing.

“It will take time,” her favorite professor, Dr. Hudson, had reassured her three months after the Joni Mitchell article was submitted. “Every great writer faced countless rejection until that one piece. Yours will come. Keep your eyes open and your pen ready.”

Alani sighs and lifts herself off the floor, choosing to crawl into her unmade bed instead of slumping onto the hardwood. She hears a soft scratching at the door before her King Charles Spaniel, Freddie, pads into the room.

“Come here, bubs,” Alani whispers. He obeys and burrows into the duvet, giving her temple a gentle lick before nuzzling into the nape of her neck.

“You still love me, right?” she asks, voice cracking. “Even if I’m a failure?”

Freddie sniffs her ear in response.

********

“Right,” Harry says, his tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth as he reads the map. “No, left, sorry,”

“Do you actually know how to read a map?” Jeff teases, correcting the turn.

Harry pouts in response, his brows furrowing. “In my defense, we’re literally in the middle of fucking nowhere,”

“There are worse places to be,” Mitch pipes up from the back seat. “England, for example, where they say things like ‘litchrally’,”

“Very well said, Mitchell,” Jeff Bhasker adds with a fake British accent of his own.

Harry turns to his friends in the back seat with a finger pointed like an agitated mother. “If you lot don’t shut up, I’m gonna lead us to a volcano and push you in,”

“Where are we even going? I forgot,” Tom complains.

“To get food,” his manager responds from the driver’s seat. “I think,”

“Why can’t we just stop there?” Mitch asks pointing to a café pulling up on their right.

Jeff merges into the turning lane quickly without a second thought. “Good enough for me, I’m starving.”

“Sorry, H.” Mitch pats his friend on the shoulder.

Harry scoffs. “You’re the one who wanted poke.”

The Aloha Nui Loa Café is much more spacious than the exterior suggests, yet it still feels cozy. The walls are painted sage green and adorned with various local art pieces, as described by the plaques that accompany them. A skylight fills the center of the room with plenty of warm lighting, leaving the space along the walls in a bit more shade for an intimate feel. In one corner, a hanging disco ball leaves freckles of sparkling light along the walls where the sunlight hits, making the whole image very idyllic in Harry’s mind. As if he couldn’t enjoy the setting more, he hears the beginning of an Otis Redding song that he’s had stuck in his head drift through the restaurant speakers.

“Welcome in!” a voice calls, which pulls him from his survey of the room. His head whips to the source—a girl around his age with wavy, dark hair and honey skin. “For here or to go?”

Harry takes a hesitant step up to the counter. “For here,”

She smiles warmly and pulls some menus from under the counter. “How many in your party?”

“Five.”

“Great, follow me.”

Harry and his friends follow the waitress to the corner of the room under the disco ball and take their seats at the round table.

“My name is Alani,” she introduces herself, setting the menus down. “I’ll be serving you today. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

Harry continues scanning the restaurant while his group orders. His eyes land on the shirt that Alani is wearing, a white tee with the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey” in blue lettering that surrounds a picture of a cartoon bee.

“Harry,” Jeff says gently, catching his drifting attention.

The singer turns to his manager, who nods to Alani waiting with a pen pressed to her notepad. Harry feels a rush of embarrassment creep across his cheeks and he clears his throat to cover it.

“Just water,” he says, eyes glued to the menu. “Thanks.”

“You got it.” Alani nods, flashing a toothy grin at the rest of the group before turning back to the kitchen. Harry. Her mind repeats, finding a hint of familiarity, though she doesn’t know why.

When Alani arrives at the drink station, she finds her sister staring at her, mouth agape, while Maleah unsuccessfully conceals her laughter.

“What?” she questions, checking herself for any embarrassing stains or smells.

“You were—and he—” Pua stammers. “He was—and then he—”

“That’s Harry Styles,” Maleah translates, her voice hushed as she peers over her friend's shoulder.

Alani turns to steal a glance at the table she just seated, but Pua and Maleah latch onto her and shake their heads frantically.

“Don’t look!” her sister hisses.

Alani smirks, amused at their reactions. “No shit. That’s One Direction?”

Maleah snorts, clasping a hand over her mouth as Pua huffs. “No, dumbass! It’s just Harry. I don’t know who the other guys are,”

“But the blonde guy? That’s not—?”

“No!” Pua and Maleah giggle in unison.

“Okay, geez,” Alani relents. She manages to steal a quick glance at the table over her shoulder, immediately searching for Harry. Her eyes scan over the long, curly hair kept out of his face by a pair of white sunglasses that she had seen on Kurt Cobain once. All of his features are sharp and striking, from his pointed nose and defined jawline to the bright blue eyes. Or maybe they were grey? Alani wonders, trying to remember the exact shade. He doesn’t look anything like the fresh-faced teeny bopper she’d had in mind, the one from a music video her sister had shown her a long time ago. She would have never guessed that the What Makes You Beautiful singer had so much dark ink trailing down his bicep and forearm, though her knowledge of One Direction was very limited.

“What did he order?” Pua questions, her eyes wide.

Alani quickly snaps back to reality and resumes filling the drinks. “A water,”

“Oh my god,” Maleah swoons. “I’m never drinking anything else ever again,”

“I didn’t even know you liked him,” Alani teases with an eyebrow raised.

Maleah sneaks another peek at the table and catches her lower lip between her teeth. “I mean, I didn’t really think so either but look at him. What a fucking dream,”

Harry was objectively handsome, this Alani could admit, but she personally didn’t see the appeal and had a strong feeling that he was just like every other male celebrity. The fact that he hadn’t even bothered to make eye contact with her only served as further proof of what she knew to be true.

“Okay, well, your dreamboat is waiting for his water. So excuse me,” Alani winks, making her way back to the table.

The singer spots Alani returning out of the corner of his eye and the sight of her causes a strange flutter in the pit of his stomach that makes him want to duck for cover. Instead, he pulls his phone from his back pocket and pretends to be occupied with something on the screen.

“Okay,” she greets, setting the drink tray down. “I have a Blue Hawaii, a Mango Mama, two Loco Cocos, and a water,”

The group graciously accepts their drinks with a chorus of “thank you," but the only one under Alani’s scrutiny is Harry. He still doesn’t meet her almond eyes, and though she figured he wouldn’t, she can’t help the inkling of disappointment that washes over her. After taking their meal orders, Alani heads back to the kitchen, checking on her other customers along the way. Harry’s eyes follow her and he observes the way customers light up at her presence, indulging her conversation with laughter. He watches as she lingers by the jukebox in one corner of the room, a detail he had missed in his initial scan, and waits anxiously to see what song she chooses. Baby I’m-a Want You begins softly and Harry feels the corner of his lip curl ever so slightly. Good choice, he thinks.

********

“He’s still here,” Pua muses, peering through the tiny window in the kitchen door. It had been nearly two hours and the five men were still seated around their table cracking jokes and doing a lot of talking with their hands.

Alani doesn’t look up from her bowl of sliced kiwis, offering a hum in response. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

“Nothing,” Pua shoots back. “Don’t bother him,”

“What kind of girls do you think he’s into?” Maleah asks, attempting to peek through the window.

Alani shrugs, bored of the conversation and of thinking about Harry. “I don’t know, but I’ll bet he’s a real sucker for the ones who stalk him while he’s eating,”

“How does he make eating a salad look hot?”

“Can we talk about something else now?” Alani whines, poking holes in a lone kiwi with her fork.

Pua tosses a wet dish rag in her sister’s direction and cheers when it lands in her face. “Go see if he wants more water, he looks thirsty.”

“I already refilled it,” Alani defends. “Twenty minutes ago. I’ve refilled it a hundred times, I’m surprised he hasn’t peed his pants.”

I’m gonna piss myself. Harry thinks, his right leg bouncing to distract himself. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. Like clockwork, she would return to fill his glass almost as soon as the last drop had been drained, and so what began as a little experiment slowly turned into a bladder hazard. But if the trend was to be trusted, she would be back any minute and he wasn’t going to miss it; afterall, there were only so many ways to casually linger in a small café without making it weird. Unable to bear it any longer, he heads to the restroom and hopes that Alani doesn’t clear their table before he has a chance to see her again.

Harry pads down the back hallway with his eyes cast down at the floor, which proves to be a mistake when he walks directly into another person.

“Sorry!” they both apologize quickly, Harry’s palm taking purchase on the other person’s upper arm.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” he offers, finally meeting the dark, mocha eyes already looking back at him.

Alani presses her lips into a tight smile. “Me either,”

Harry’s heartbeat picks up when he realizes it’s her, and he isn’t aware of how close they’re standing until he detects the faint scent of kiwi on her breath. He takes a step back and rakes a hand through his hair.

“So I guess I’ll just—”

“Yeah, sure.”

Green. Alani notes to herself. His eyes are green.

********

Shortly after Harry returned from the restroom, him and his friends settled their bill and headed out. Alani cleared their table and her eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw the hefty tip left behind. The word mahalo was also left behind on the receipt, underlined twice, and she wondered if it was his handwriting.

Later that night, she settled into bed with her laptop and hesitantly typed his name into Google. As she expected, countless articles about the split of One Direction emerged, most of them speculating what was next for each member. To her surprise, however, Harry’s name seemed to be mentioned more than his fellow bandmates as various sources labeled him “the next Justin Timberlake” and rising star of the group. Upon further investigation, she learned that the demand for information about the elusive Harry Styles was high, especially concerning any possible solo music. No news had yet been confirmed by Styles himself, nor anyone claiming to represent him, but she still wondered if his presence in Hawaii had anything to do with a possible solo project. Almost as soon as she thought it, Alani dismissed the theory in favor of the idea that he was most likely just taking a vacation. And from the buzz that she saw surrounding the news about One Direction, she couldn’t blame him.

The more Alani read, the more she wanted to know, and something deep down told her that his was a story worth telling. Of course, the only problem was that she had hardly talked to him, and there were only so many things she could say about the fifteen glasses of water he downed. There was no way of knowing if she would ever see him again, either, or if he was merely stopping in Hilo on his way to another island or somewhere else entirely. Alani sighed, thinking back to her most recent rejection from Rolling Stone. She knew that there was no possible way she would ever see or talk to Harry ever again, and even if she did, why would he bare his entire soul to a stranger? Still, she let her mind wander through the possibility.

Dear Ms. Hale, the letter would read, we are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine and are pleased to inform you that your piece on Harry Styles will be featured in next month’s issue. Additionally, we would be honored to have you on staff, effective immediately.

It was far-fetched, Alani knew this, but she dozed off that night with endless ideas swimming in her head.

********

By the third day after his visit, the only trace of Harry is in Alani’s search history. She would have completely forgotten about him if it weren’t for her sister’s constant reminiscing and multiple attempts to rename the house salad to the “Harry Special.” As a result, a part of Alani’s thoughts periodically linger back to that day and the subsequent hours spent on Google that she’d rationalized as research instead of stalking. Somehow the knowledge that she’ll never see him again only adds fuel to the questions still burning in her mind, but a customer clearing their throat while she sorts menus below the hostess podium interrupts her thoughts.

“Welcome in!” She calls, standing. “What can I—”

She stops in her tracks, unable to believe her eyes. Harry blinks and waits for her to continue.

“What can I get started for you?” Alani tries again, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her shock. Luckily for her, Harry had been too focused on choosing his next words to register her mistake.

“What’s in the Honu smoothie?” he asks, mentally kicking himself for asking such a stupid question when the menu just inches above her head clearly spells it out.

Alani hums, thinking back to the times she had made the smoothie herself. “Kiwis, spinach, mango, avocado, and a hint of lime,”

“I’ll take one of those,” Harry says, reaching for his wallet.

Alani punches in the order with trembling fingers and nods. “For here or to go?”

“To go,”

Disappointment fills her chest. Sure, she hadn’t planned on seeing him ever again, but the fact that she did felt like a sign. If she wanted to take the chance, she’d have to do it fast.

“Anything else?” she asks, weighing her options while he skims the menu.

“No thanks.”

Alani makes the smoothie quickly, head spinning. She had spent most of the night after their initial meeting planning out exactly the type of questions she hoped to ask him and what kind of article she would write. She was used to writing about what she knew—artists and music she’d admired for years— but she figured that starting fresh with someone she hardly knew would be a good challenge. Not to mention that it seemed like just the thing Rolling Stone would jump for. Alani finally works up the courage as she finishes his smoothie, but when she returns to hand it to him and hopefully strike up a conversation, his ear is pressed to his cell phone. She holds out the drink and he graciously accepts, giving her a small nod as a “thank you” and rushing out of the restaurant.

Two days later he returns and is seated at the counter, typing away on his phone. Alani feels both a rush of optimism and annoyance at the universe for dangling his presence so unexpectedly. She starts heading over to him, but Maleah cuts in.

“Trade me?” she proposes, eyes wide.

Alani blinks. “Oh, I would but I—”

“Please,” her best friend pouts. “I’m leaving to see my grandparents in stupid California for two months. Who knows when I’ll get the chance to see him again?”

Alani sighs, but gives in, reluctantly exchanging Harry for the family of four seated by the window. A strange feeling settles into the pit of his stomach when he sees that she heads in the opposite direction after a hushed conversation with another waitress. He doesn’t know why she traded him for a different customer, but he takes the hint.

A week goes by without another sighting of Harry and Alani has permanently taken on the role of greeting hostess in hopes of seeing him again. Her heartbeat temporarily speeds up when she sees a long haired customer approach the door, but her spirits quickly fall when the face doesn’t match his.

Another week brings another disappointing realization that Harry might be gone for good. One rainy morning when the restaurant is quiet and only two customers huddle together in a booth near the back, Alani hunches over the hostess podium and doodles on a stray receipt— a sunflower, a crescent moon, and two hearts. The bell above the door jingles but she doesn’t look up, too absorbed in her scribbles.

“Do you serve coffee?”

The familiar accented voice stops Alani’s pen dead in its tracks. She lifts her eyes first to confirm, and then straightens up when she sees that her ears haven’t deceived her.

“Yes,” she swallows.

“Great. I’ll take it to go,”

She slightly deflates, but Harry thinks he’s reading too much into it.

“Actually,” he corrects anyway, just in case he isn’t. “I think I’ll stay for a while,”

Alani flashes a warm smile and nods in the direction of the counter. “Right this way,”

Harry sheds his windbreaker onto the back of the seat, revealing a black and white Rolling Stones t-shirt that makes Alani’s blood pressure rise. A sign, she thinks.

“What do you want in your coffee?” she questions carefully.

“Nothing,” he responds, shaking out his damp hair gently. “Or actually, uh, butter...if you have some,”

Alani blinks, not sure if she’d heard correctly or if there had been some transatlantic miscommunication.

“Butter?”

“Yeah,”

“Like the—”

“Spread, yeah,” Harry confirms. “It’s weird, I know,”

She lets out a light-hearted laugh and nods. “It’s a...unique request,”

“I thought the same thing at first,” Harry confides. “It’s not bad, actually. But maybe I’ve just been in L.A. for too long.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

She offers a polite smile and heads to the kitchen where the cook and two other waiters talk amongst each other. Alani is grateful that the restaurant is slow this morning because she knows that it means minimal interruptions to her time with Harry. To ensure this, though, she asks one of the other waiters to cover the podium and returns to Harry with his coffee.

“One butter coffee, free of judgement,” the waitress announces, setting it down.

Harry grins softly, stirring the drink with the spoon Alani provided. “You can judge, it’s alright,”

“I just wanna know why,”

The coffee had been part of a fad diet while on tour in order to boost Harry’s energy on stage and stay trim for the hundreds of photo-ops he would be a part of. He doesn’t know how to communicate all of this to Alani, however, not sure how much she knows about that part of him, so he shrugs and tells a simplified version of the truth.

“I read about this trend a while back, it's called bulletproof coffee. Supposed to get your energy up and I needed it for my job,”

“Which is…” Alani trails off, downplaying the knowledge that she had acquired from Google.

“I make music,” is all Harry says and he takes a sip of the drink to avoid elaborating.

“Anything I would have heard?”

He swallows hard and listens to the faint rumbling of thunder outside before replying. “Possibly,”

“Try me,” Alani challenges.

He narrows his eyes and takes another sip of coffee. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself first?”

“What do you wanna know?”

Everything, Harry responds internally, though he reigns it in. “How you got into waitressing,”

Alani sighs, resting her elbows on the counter across from him. “There’s not much to tell, it’s a family business. What I really wanna do is write,”

“Music?”

“Articles. I’m studying Journalism at UH,”

Harry hums in response, filing the detail away in the back of his mind. “Sounds interesting. You ever publish anything?”

“Not yet,” Alani shakes her head gently, toying with the sleeves of her green University of Hawaii crewneck. “Hopefully soon, though,”

Harry racks his brain for something else to say, but before he can, Alani speaks up again.

“Is it my turn to ask something now?”

He offers a curt nod and stirs his coffee.

“What kind of music do you write?”

Harry chooses to be vague again. “Different stuff. Pop, usually. Been messing with some classic rock, though,”

“Explains the shirt,”

He peers down at the design on his tee and agrees. “Yeah, I guess so,”

“Do you like it?” Alani asks, her eyes begging to make contact with his again. “Writing music, I mean,”

“Yeah,” Harry confirms, tapping his spoon against the rim of the mug. “I really do,”

Alani’s heart pounds. This is her chance, a moment to finally secure her breakthrough piece. She doesn’t know how to approach it, so she opts to dive right in without looking back. The worst he can say is no.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“That’s cheating,” Harry teases lightly. “It's my turn,”

She pouts playfully, but obliges. “Fire away,”

Harry doesn’t know which question to ask first, but when he glances down at the crescent moon inked on her wrist, he decides to start there.

“What’s with the moon tattoo?”

Alani isn’t sure what she expected him to ask and wonders what purpose such a detail could possibly serve him, but she answers anyway.

“Oh, well,” she begins, tracing her index finger over the outline. “It’s kinda the meaning of my full name. It’s Mahealani, Hawaiian for ‘heavenly moon,'”

Fitting, Harry comments to himself. Every detail he learns about her makes him want to learn that much more, from her favorite foods to the last thing she thinks about before falling asleep. Studying her expectant eyes, he suddenly remembers that it’s his turn to respond.

“That’s cool,” is all he says.

Alani doesn’t know what to make of the faraway look in his eye, but she decides to pose her most burning question while he appears to be in good spirits.

“I know this is gonna sound totally out of the blue,” she starts, working past the lump in her throat. “But when you mentioned how you write music, I was just reminded of this assignment I’m working on in my class,”

Harry waits for her to continue, nursing his now lukewarm coffee.

“I’m supposed to write a piece about someone who I don’t know that well,” she continues. “You know, to practice our interviewing skills. And, well, I was just kind of wondering if you might be interested in helping me out—being the subject, I mean,”

Alani had every intention of telling Harry the truth, about how she really planned to submit the article to Rolling Stone in hopes of securing an internship before her college graduation next Spring. But as she started speaking, she quickly realized how it would come off: a complete stranger asking for personal information to submit to a well-known publication. She knew that there was a chance he would shut down and never return, so she lowered the stakes and hoped that this route would be less risky. Was it ethical? Alani hadn’t decided yet, but she would work out the details later. After six failed articles and two years of rejection, she saw a ray of hope and wasn’t going to let it slip away.

Harry ponders her offer for a moment, which confirms that she had recognized him. Normally he would be off-put by such a request, and to a certain extent he is, but there is something sincere in her voice that he trusts deep down. Before he agrees, however, he decides to fish around a bit to test her reaction.

“You know who I am,” he says gently. “Don’t you?”

Alani’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach, not sure what to say next. She hopes with every fiber of her being that she hasn’t upset him, or worse, ruined her chances, so she decides to offer some truth to throw him off her scent.

“My sister recognized you,” she explains. “That day you came in with your friends. I thought they were your bandmates at first,”

This lets Harry know that she isn’t a total stalker, which is comforting, but he wouldn’t have been minded if she were a fan simply engaging in conversation.

“Oh,” he laughs weakly.

“I totally understand if you say no,” Alani offers quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I just thought it was worth a shot. And that it might be more interesting than interviewing our produce guy,”

Harry decides to give her one last scan for any sign of insincerity. He’d always felt that his gut instinct was strong and it hadn’t led him astray thus far.

“An interview?” he clarifies.

“Just one,” Alani promises. “An hour, tops. And you can proofread all of it once I’ve finished, too.”

Harry waits a beat, already knowing his reply, but he wants to see how she will react to his silence. She doesn’t budge, almond eyes set and determined.

“Okay.”

next chapter

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #ybmh #she's here she's here she's here!!!!!

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stacispratt · 3 years

Text

glorious fire

big thank u to @coffeebucko without whomst this fic would not exist <3 thank u for chatting with me about stacijacob & also putting your eyeballs on the first draft of this thing!! without further ado here’s jacob asking how staci would kill him as foreplay

also posted on ao3!

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“When you fantasize about escaping,” Jacob says, as he looks up from his Chosens' reports to rest his eyes on Pratt's rigid form, “how do you do it?”

Pratt, sitting on Jacob's bed, in the middle of scribbling notes on his clipboard, only locks up stares at him. His eyes are wide, knuckles white, like he can’t believe Jacob is even asking— he thinks it’s a loyalty test. It’s as plain as day on his face. He stays quiet, manages to slip the pen into the top of the clipboard despite shaky hands. He's thinking up the perfect response, the perfect string of words to please Jacob, to make him secure in Pratt's loyalty. His fear.

That's not what he's looking for. Jacob’s not fucking stupid. No man in his right mind would think Pratt is loyal to him or Eden's Gate.

Silence sinks between them. The air sucks out of the room like a thunderstorm is about to break out, localized to just Jacob's bedroom, until Pratt looks like he might start to hyperventilate.

But Jacob Seed doesn’t repeat himself. He doesn’t ask again.

Instead, he sighs long and deep, and leans back in his chair. Looks back down to his records, though he doesn't read them. “When we were kids—Joseph, John, and me—we had some foster parents who worked us like dogs on their farm. Wouldn’t let us in the house, made us sleep in the barn." He taps his pen. "Beat us, too. Was doin’ my best to take the brunt of it, but one day I saw some bruises on John, even though he was just a damn baby.” Jacob pauses, glances over to Pratt, gauges his reaction. He's blank as stone, though there's something twitching in the corner of his mouth. Jacob hums once and sets his papers down. “So I burned the fucking barn down.”

He fixes his eyes decidedly on Pratt now, gaze hard and focused. Pratt's watching him back, like maybe he understands. Like maybe he knows better who Jacob is. What makes him tick, that— that what makes Jacob tick makes him tick, too.

“So, Peaches,” he says. “What barn are you burning?”

Pratt swallows so loud it clicks. Then he says, “I'd kill you while I shave your throat,” and Jacob smiles. He's not looking at Jacob anymore, he's staring at the floor— maybe the bloodstain on the unfinished concrete from when Jacob gave him the cut that now traces down the line of his cheek. His hands stay behind his back obediently, but his shoulders flex like maybe he's fiddling with his fingers. Weak, but Jacob can let it slide, so long as Pratt keeps outlining his escape plan. "And after– after you bleed out I'd disguise myself as a Chosen and escape."

Pratt's eyes fuzz out as he recalls his escape plan. It's not his realistic one, not a real plan. Jacob has seen him eye the weekly truck deliveries, sneak glances at the rotating guard schedule. Good. He's not stupid enough to tell Jacob his real plan. Just his favorite fantasy.

Jacob brings his hand to his face and rubs his mouth. "After. After I bleed out." He doesn't take his eyes off Pratt as his eyes rise from the floor to Jacob's face— first his finger perched on his lips, then to his eyes. He looks frightened, but not in the way he was at first. He doesn't look frightened of Jacob himself. More like he's frightened of his own thoughts, his own desires.

The thought has delight curling in Jacob's stomach.

"Yes," Pratt husks. "Yes, I have things to… to say."

An honest to God smile pulls up the corner of his mouth. Jacob is careful to cover it with his hand. "Like what?"

After a moment, Pratt says, "I guess you'll have to find out," his muscles tense like he's ready to bolt.

Jacob's smile widens into a grin. He fucking laughs. "Guess I will, Peaches," he croons, as he taps his finger to his lips, just once. "When you get the guts to dig in the knife, I guess I will." He hesitates, smile fading, then prompts, "Show me how you'd do it."

Pratt's jaw closes so tightly the muscle visibly flexes. Controlling himself, his gut reaction, but right after he does, he pries his mouth open and chokes out, "How I'd—?"

"Kill me," Jacob finishes for him, as he stands and comes around his desk. His arms fall to his sides, while Pratt's come up to his chest defensively. Jacob only hums and tugs his desk's metal chair into the center of the room. Over the old blood stain. "Come here."

He waits until Pratt steps forward to sit, then unsheathes his hunting knife from its holster on his thigh and offers it over his shoulder without looking.

Pratt hesitates for a heartbeat, then all at once swipes the knife from Jacob and presses it near instantly to his throat. Not hard, though— he'll need to press harder to kill Jacob.

But he never will.

Of course he won't. Jacob knows Pratt, and he won't. He'll never kill Jacob. He doesn't have it in him.

That's why he's never done it before when shaving Jacob. That's why he didn't do it in front of the Deputy. That's why he won't do it now. That's why it's only something Pratt thinks about late at night, lying on the dirt in a cage outside, when nightmares keep him awake.

Pratt takes a shuddering breath. Jacob tips his chin up in offering. He pulls the knife in toward him, and there's just enough bite to tell Jacob that Pratt actually managed to nick him. Warmth trickles down through the stubble on his throat and settles in the dip of his collarbone.

Jacob clucks. "Not a bad spot, if you'd actually make the slice." He grabs hold of Pratt's wrist and yanks the blade up his throat— hard enough that he can feel the skin go red and irritated, with blood vessels burst just under his first layer of skin. Pratt's hand trembles under his, flutters around the knife handle. "But you won't have any time to whine and cry at me if you get my artery. You'd have to cut…" he trails off for a moment while he guides Pratt's hand through the killing motion, glides the knife oh-so-gently across his vulnerable throat. "Just here if you want time to watch the light leave my eyes, Peaches."

Pratt's breath hitches audibly. Jacob adds, "Would even leave me the air to give you a little conversation, if you like." When there's no response, Jacob drops his hand to his lap and prompts, "Your turn, Pratt. Make the fucking cut."

Pratt still doesn't speak. Jacob insists, "Escape. Don't you want to? Don't you want to crawl to the Whitetails, beg and plead them to help you now that you've killed the Big Bad Wolf?"

The knife rocks against his throat as Pratt readjusts his grip. There's more pressure against his skin for just a moment, almost enough to make him bleed again, and then Pratt lifts the blade away from him, drops it to the floor, and steps back.

Jacob lets Pratt feel the silence for a few heartbeats. Then he stands, retrieves his knife, and straightens his back to look at Pratt. He doesn't smile this time, just steps forward to Pratt's figure, still as stone, and gently pinches his jaw between his thumb and first two fingers.

He doesn't speak until Pratt's damp eyes rise to meet his.

"You understand, don't you?" he murmurs. "You're a smart boy." Pratt nods, jerky as if he's controlled by broken machinery. Jacob strokes his jaw with the tip of his pointer finger. "Good. You're mine. And nobody else in this county— no Whitetail, no Hope County Cougar, no piece of their Resistance— is ever going to take care of you the way I do."

They breathe together for a few moments. Pratt's eyes have fallen shut, though tears still glisten at the corners and along his lashes. Jacob thinks absently how he wants to make Pratt cry until there's no more tears left in him— until there's no horror left worse than anything he's already felt.

"There's nothing for you out there," Jacob says. Promises. Reassures. "There's only me."

Pratt doesn't say a word, but Jacob hears him all the same:

Only you.

Jacob lingers. Strokes his thumb over Pratt's lip.

Pratt opens his eyes at the sensation, stares up with those wide brown eyes— Jacob exhales softly and sinks down to press their lips together. Slides his thumb out of the way just in time, drags the corner of Pratt's mouth down as he slots their lips together. Pratt's breath shakes out of him. Jacob swallows it up.

"Staci," he murmurs, and clenches his hands on Pratt's hip and the back of his neck when he shudders in response. Jacob holds him steady, no longer kissing him, though their lips still brush. He doesn't move. He waits for Pratt.

Who takes one more halted, shivery breath, then steps abruptly back from Jacob. He dips his head to escape Jacob's hold on his neck, then just stands there, three feet from him. Jacob hums. Runs his hand over his beard and rubs his knuckle into his chin. "Staci," he repeats, and it instantly draws Pratt's eyes to his— Jacob's never used his first name until now, and it's having just the effect Jacob hoped it would. He holds his gaze and doesn't move closer. Lets Pratt keep his distance. "We're all we can rely on. That's why we cull the herd. That's why we need to train them."

Pratt stares at him. Jacob can see the cogs turning in his mind. Can see him grinding up the we, trying to process it. Make it digestible.

"Together," Jacob adds, without looking away. After a moment, he steps forward, pats Pratt's cheek, then steps to the door and twists the handle. "Bring me a report on the Bliss supplies by ten. See you tonight, Peaches."

Alone in Jacob's bedroom, Staci brushes his middle finger over the developing scar on his right cheek. He follows it down to his mouth, and presses his first knuckle to his lips.

Staci, Jacob says in his mind, Together.

#stacijacob #fc5 #staci pratt #jacob seed #my fic #had tons of fun writing this ngl i missed them so so much

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kisskeiji · 3 years

Text

Poolside. (The afterparty)

Lost & Found.

WARNINGS: language, implied sex, alcohol consumption, Kuroo (yes), not proofread.

this is an extra chapter!

You did end up ditching the party with Atsumu, he followed you to your room and spent the night with you. You woke up the next morning with your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around you, despite the missing clothing items on both of your bodies, Atsumu was warm and you could hear him snore softly. You propped yourself on your elbow and tried to wake him up.

“Tsumu, we’re going to be late, wake up.” He stirred awake and groaned as he stretched his limbs.

“I don’t want to go.” He said closing his eyes again.

“I know but we have to, it’s getting late and you need to go to your room to get changed.” You ran your fingers through his hair pushing it back to see his face. He groaned again, turning his back to you. “Come on, big baby, get up.” You got him to stand up after a few minutes, but he made sure to complain, and whine and groan loudly to let you know that he didn’t want to go. You went to the bathroom to start your morning routine as he got dressed and fixed his hair, you came out of the bathroom pat drying your face with a white towel.

“Let’s go to the shopping district later, I want to walk around the city before we go back home.” Atsumu said as he tied his shoes.

“I can’t, my train leaves at four.” He chuckled at your answer.

“You are not riding the train back home by yourself.” He said confidently. “Your boyfriend is coming with you.” You smiled at him and walked closer with your arms crossed. “Let’s change your tickets and we can take the 6:00 p.m ride.” He continued.

“And Suna?” You asked.

“He can come with us, he is a shopping addict he is not going to say no.” Atsumu got up and stood in front of you. “Come on, I want to get you a Christmas gift.” He tried to convince you by wiggling his brows.

“You already gave me a Christmas gift, ‘Tsumu.” You rolled your eyes and hugged his waist.

“You deserve two.” He leaned for a kiss but you stopped him.

“Go shower and brush your teeth and I’ll kiss you.” You said pulling apart.

“You always do this!” He complained. You walked him to the door and held it open. “I’ll see you in an hour.” He looked at you with puppy eyes. With a hand on his shoulder, you forced him to lean down once again and kissed his cheek.

“So needy.” You sighed.

“Only for you.” He gave you a cheeky smile and started walking backwards to the elevator and sending you kisses, you made him turn back to see where he was walking and the door in front of yours opened.

“Would you look at that? A-list athlete Miya Atsumu walking out of his publicist room first thing in the morning, you don’t see that every day.” Kuroo teased.

“You were eavesdropping?” You asked unamused.

“Couldn’t help myself.” He stretched his back like an old man when you realized that wasn’t his room.

“That’s Hideko’s room.” He nodded. “Why are you coming out of her room?”

“Think very hard.” He narrowed his eyes and laughed at your disgusted expression.

“You fucked my boss? Out of all the people in that party, you decided to hook up with my boss?” You whispered in distress as he smirked, throwing his head back. “You are unbelievable.”

“Come on, it was a great night, we had drinks, hooked up with hot people. Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun.” He leaned against the door frame.

“No, sir. You, hooked up with my boss, I spent the night with my boyfriend.” You said with arms crossed, mimicking his position.

“About time you got a boyfriend.” He joked. “Well, I’ll see you at the poolside, Hideko is bringing me as her plus one, and I can’t say no to free food.” He closed the door and threw his coat over his shoulder.

“You talk as if you weren’t a supervisor at the association.” You deadpanned and he shrugged, after that he left without another word and his damned smirk plastered on his face. ‘Annoying.’ You thought.

You tried to put together something that looked at least decent to meet the team owners, the goal was to look casual without freezing to death and to not make a mess with your luggage since you were leaving that same day. Taking a last look in the mirror with pursed lips you huffed, team reunions were always nerve-wracking, Hideko always tried to keep you away from them but today it was inevitable. You took the elevator to the lobby and looked for the salon where the afterparty was being held.

It was a secluded area on the first floor with a terrace next to the pool, ambiance music and the clinking of cups and silverware could be heard from the entrance, waiters walked all over the area with trays of cocktails and appetizers. You recognized a few faces from your higher-ups and people you’ve never seen before, naturally, you greeted everyone and started small talks with some of them, coach Foster was the first one to intervene and save you from more awkward conversations with possible sponsors.

“Y/N, Imai was asking for you just now! Why don’t you go look for her?” He lied, giving you the opportunity to excuse yourself with a promise to talk later with them. You saw Akaashi talking with Inunaki and Atsumu next to the snack bar. You were not sure why it looked like it was a cocktail party rather than brunch. You avoided everyone else while making your way to them. You placed your hand on Atsumu’s lower back and he turned to see you.

“Hey.” He said. “Long time no see.” You hooked your arms on his and pushed him lightly with your hip making him laugh as he kissed your temple.

“Am I missing something here?” Hideko asked as she sat next to Inunaki with a mimosa in one hand.

“We know you two are close and grossly in love but this is a bit too much.” Inunaki took a sip of his own mimosa and Hideko hummed in agreement. Akaashi was quiet, he just stared at you knowing what was about to come once Bokuto came back.

“When?” He asked you, smiling brightly at him for being the only one who took a hint. ‘Last night.’ You answered simply; Inunaki’s jaw dropped and Hideko almost screamed of excitement.

“Wait, before or after midnight?” She asked abruptly and you heard Inunaki curse under his breath.

“Like five minutes before midnight.” Atsumu recalled raising his brow. Hideko clapped once and closed her eyes doing a little celebration dance.

“Pay up, fucker!” She exclaimed holding her hand open, Inunaki shot Atsumu an angry glare and took his wallet out of his pocket claiming it wasn’t fair and that he could’ve waited five minutes more to ask you out. “Where are Bokuto and Thomas? They are not gonna like this one.”

“What are you talking about, Imai?” Thomas and Bokuto were standing right behind you, he looked at your hand on Atsumu’s bicep and then back to Hideko who was still dancing in victory and counting the money Inunaki gave her. “You have to be kidding me!”

“You decided to man up now? Really?” Bokuto walked past you glaring at Atsumu to place a stack of bills on Hideko’s hand and then Akaashi’s. Atsumu and you were so confused, they all had a bet?

“Hold up, Keiji, you too?” You asked in disbelief and he smirked.

“I had faith in Miya-san.” He excused himself nonchalantly as Thomas paid him. “If anything, we were your good luck charm.”

“I can believe it from Hideko, but you Keiji-kun?” Atsumu shook his hand in disapproval. You were not mad at all, but you expected something like this from Suna and Osamu rather than your coworkers.

“Hideko-san, where’s your plus one?” You decided to tease her a little as payback. She stopped laughing and looked like she wanted to strangle you, now she couldn't escape Inunaki’s reckless jokes about her ‘getting some’.

“How do you know I have a plus one?” She placed her money on her bag angrily.

“I saw him walking out of your room this morning.” Her eyes widened and you continued. “Tall, black and horribly styled hair, and I think he works for the association.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s Kuroo!” Bokuto started laughing at Hideko’s face, you didn't say anything just started laughing along with Bokuto.

“You two know him?” Hideko asked.

“He is our friend.” Akaashi clarified because you were too busy trying to catch your breath.

“Bokuto I’ll give your money back if you don’t mention this ever again.” Hideko bribed but Bokuto shook his head.

“Nah, you can keep it, this is ten times better than money.” Bokuto started laughing again.

“You are lucky I like your work.” She glared daggers at you as you closed your mouth with a fake zipper still grinning and completely satisfied with your actions. “Well, I have to go. I don't like you guys anymore. Don’t drink too much and don’t be rude to anyone.” After Hideko left, your other friends also went to wander around the room talking to other people and you were alone with Atsumu.

“See? What could've happened if you were left alone with that friend of yours last night?” He passed you a cup of sparkling water as he spoke.

“Oh, don't worry I don't make the same mistake twice.” You said confidently drinking from your cup and he nodded. It took him a second to look at you with eyes wide open in horror.

“What do you mean twice?” You almost choked on your drink at his question.

Oh shit...

(a/n: extra chapter yay! i had this idea the other day while i arranged my notes, im planning on adding more of this extra chapters and making them more light hearted so i don't kill yall with the following chapters lmao, im currently working on the next one and i've been doing a lot of research to create a time line that is easy to understand and write and sticking as much as i can to how national teams work, i was really frustrated trying to organize everything but my brain is working again, finally. i'll see you soon,,,, or not :) )

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#atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #msby atsumu #atsumu scenarios #atsumu fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #hq imagines #hq x you #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi angst

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 4 years

Text

Broken Mirror: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

"When a good man is hurt, all who would be called good must suffer with him." - Euripides

Thinking about going on a date with Spencer is way different than actually doing it. Gideon got you two the good seats even if it is a first come first serve. However, you made sure to arrive early enough to get a seat by the exit so you didn't have to waste time just sitting around while everyone else leaves. Gideon picked a good day as well since they were playing a two special horror movies, Psycho and The Shining. Spencer hadn’t seen either of them, but you have and you knew you would have a good time.

“Okay, I got literally every sweet thing they had,” you announced, climbing into the bed of your truck. Spencer didn’t have a car since he preferred to take public transportation to work. Sometimes you would be his ride if he asked for it, so it was natural that you two take your car. It was better anyway since you had a 4x4 off road truck with a comfortable bed if you laid down blankets and pillows, which you did. Spencer leaned on the back of the truck as you sat next to him, handing him the candy he requested.

“I didn’t know you liked sweet stuff.”

“Sweetheart, my whole life revolves around sugar,” you chuckled, pausing when you realize what you just said. “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“For calling you sweetheart. It just came out,” you chuckled nervously.

“It’s okay. I like it,” he smiled.

“Great, okay,” you immediately felt better.

“So, what do we do here?”

“You’ve never been to a drive-in theater before?”

“Never.”

“Well, some people stay inside the car with the windows rolled down, but that’s only if they have a bench for a seat so they can sit really close to each other. I don’t have that so I chose the bed. We can sit anywhere we want,” you began to demonstrate by moving all around the trunk to show him before settling right… next… to… him, “even here.” You go to move, but he placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“You can stay here if you want.”

“Oh, okay, sure,” you cleared your throat, trying to get the awkwardness out of the way. It was clear Spencer didn’t do this too often which was fine, but you wanted to move past the awkward phase.

“Aren’t these movies two hours long each?”

“Yeah, or more, which I don’t know why Gideon thought getting us tickets for this day was a smart idea. He knows I fall asleep during movies all the time.”

“How do you know Gideon?” he asked. Your intentions were to lean against the car, but you shifted too much and ended up against his side, which he didn’t seem to care. Opening the bag of candy you got, you popped one in your mouth and chewed.

“He was the lead agent on my case,” you finished once you swallowed.

“What do you mean?”

“My sister was murdered by her boss since he kept harassing her at work and she would always deny him. He was the one who helped me through losing her. I mean, she wasn’t my blood sister since my parents were fostering a bunch of kids, but she was my sister. The man killed himself before Gideon and his team could get to him, but at least we know he did it. He had the whole plan and more laid out at his apartment.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” he said quietly.

“You couldn’t have. It’s fine. The more I talk about it, the less it hurts. I was the one who led Gideon to his apartment since I saw the whole thing after it happened. After that, Gideon and I stayed in touch and would occasionally ask me for help on cases. It’s why he wanted me to join the BAU.”

“That must have been so difficult.”

“It was, but I’m glad I have it. I get to help a lot of people because of it,” you grinned. The first movie started playing, and you and Spencer got comfortable enough to sit through four and a half hours of both movies.

“Did you know due to how repressed Americans were in the 1950s, Psycho is actually the first American film to show a toilet on screen. Consequently, it’s the first American film in which we hear the toilet flush,” you informed him.

“I didn’t know that, no,” he chuckled.

Halfway through the movie, Spencer began to feel your weight getting heavier as you gave up holding yourself up as to not crush him. He looked over at you to see your eyes closed and your mouth parted. He didn’t want to move for fear of waking you, but he couldn’t help but give a smile at your state.

Walking into work the next day, you couldn’t help but recall the events of yours and Spencer’s date. You did fall asleep halfway in the first movie, and you didn't know why he didn’t wake you since it was supposed to be a date. Nonetheless, when it was all over, you two got some ice cream which was way better. Gideon did a good job sparking up the flame between you and Spencer, but it was now up to you two to keep it lit.

“You fell asleep?” JJ laughed as you, her, and Penelope walked down the hallway to the bullpen.

Of course, you told your two best friends what happened on the date. You three were getting closer which is why you thought it would be good to engage in some healthy gossip.

“Yes, I did. I always do. But Spencer and I went out for ice cream afterwards which was way better,” you chuckled.

“Did he kiss you?” Penelope asked with a grin.

“No, he didn’t. Well, not on the lips. He did kiss me on my cheek, but it’s a first date and I don’t even know if it’ll happen again. I mean, he hasn’t really talked about it. We haven’t had time to really talk about what this might mean. I can tell he’s nervous and tense which can either mean he’s trying to find a reason to let me down gently, or he likes me but won’t do anything about it,” you explained as you walked into the bullpen.

Spencer was on the other end of it talking with Derek, and when you two made eye contact, you gave him a small wave. He stiffly waved back, and you looked away with a sigh.

“His emotional state is all over the place, but I don’t know what it means,” you shrugged.

“Reid, Morgan, Y/L/N,” Hotch announced when he and Elle exited his office, “document's up on the screen regarding the kidnapping of Trish Davenport.”

“That’s my cue,” Penelope left the group.

“Keep me updated,” JJ whispered.

“Have you read them yet?” Spencer asked as you three walked up the stairs to follow the duo.

“Yeah, I got a copy from the document examiner.”

“What does it say?” you wondered.

“That we've got until 8:00 tonight,” he sighed, closing the door once everyone was inside the briefing room. The note that was left for Evan Davenport, the father of the kidnapped girl, was up on the screen.

“You will follow instructions carefully. You will do this to ensure the safety of your daughter. You will wait for the call. You will answer the call at 8:00 P.M. You will write down the instructions and follow them to the letter,” Spencer read it word for word.

“That gives us less than 9 hours to get to Connecticut, work up victimology on Trish Davenport, and prepare her father for the ransom drop.”

“How do we know the letter is real?” you asked.

“The handwriting is a match for Trish's,” he explained as he showed it. “He dictated it to her, and they found saline on the paper.”

“Her tears,” Gideon muttered.

“He never says ‘I’. He doesn't say, ‘I will call’. He says, ‘you will answer the call’. He's distancing himself from the kidnapping. If he said ‘I’, he'd be taking responsibility for it,” Derek noted.

“There's also another missing element. No mention of the police.”

“Ransom notes almost always forbid police involvement,” Elle stated.

“So, is he expecting law enforcement to get involved?” you wondered.

“Well, if he's expecting us, let's not disappoint him,” Gideon smiled.

“Is everyone familiar with the father?” Hotch asked as he passed out the case files while the plane was in the air.

“Evan Davenport, U.S. Attorney, executive assistant southern district, New York, widower. He assigned U.S. Marshals three times in the past ten years due to death threats,” Spencer spit out the facts.

"Is the protective detail still current?” Derek inquired.

“Around the clock, but Trish declined protection when she turned eighteen.”

“But why kill the boyfriend?” you asked, crossing your legs in your seat.

“Well, if I'm gonna kidnap someone I know, I have to take out whoever's with them. It says here she's got a sister,” Derek stated.

“Cheryl.”

“Any problems? Were they close?”

“Yeah, they’re identical twins,” you showed everyone the picture of both sisters side by side. “Which makes me think was Trish the target or was Cheryl?”

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

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sassooda · 3 years

Text

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 37 - Destined for Greatness

w/c - 7,731

Suguru has been lying in bed for hours now as his mind wanders through his past and imagines different scenarios for the future. He sighs as he tosses and turns for the thousandth time, facing away from his door while his gaze takes to his new quarters that are viewable from this angle. This is by far the cheeriest room he has ever called his own. The walls are a warm yellow, the floors of solid hardened red clay and all of the matching furniture a light wood. His eyes take to the closed curtains with long thick white drapes, ‘This is so fucking annoying…’, he mumbles knowing there’s not even a window behind it, there’s no way for there to be when you’re underground. Sitting up now with aggravation, he reaches over to the bedside table and places the bowl of water he was using the night before, back into his lap. He wants to check in on Elska’s surroundings although he knows other Titers are tasked with the enemy’s usual surveillance. Before activating his technique though, he hesitates due to anxiety, ‘What the fuck am I going to do when we take her? What the fuck will she do?’. He hears footsteps approaching his door and knows Genghis must have already finished with most of the arrangements.

“Little one! Time to wake up!”. Genghis calls out in an eager voice. He stops and smiles when he sees that Getou is already awake and asks, “Aren’t you excited about today?”. He looks over the worrisome Suguru who’s vexation is transparent. The golden sheets drape along his body and slide from his bare skin whenever he moves under them.

Getou grumbles and turns his head, “I don’t think what I’m feeling is excitement…”. He keeps looking at the curtains that hide lies while wondering if he’s much different. ‘Will I have to subdue her when she lashes out? Am I going to have to hurt her when she resists?’. He’s had no qualms with doing so in the past but feels an incredible amount of pressure regarding it now. ‘Could we…like each other?’.

Genghis chuckles and ignores Suguru’s reluctant attitude while looking around the room, “This is definitely much more suitable! Did you really put in a request for a giant tub though?” He’s poking fun at his pupil but he was also puzzled by that. Genghis thinks the brighter room will serve them both well psychologically. ‘Not too shabby for being done at the last minute.’.

Embarrassed by the question, Getou submerges deeper into his bad mood and bed before retorting, “It’s for me. I’m tall.”. He was certainly not about to admit that it was for Elska, thinking she really must love them judging by how insane Naoya acted about it when the Zenin originally designed the first room where she was held. Suguru is aware that her reaction may be hostile overall and is dreading these coming days because of it so he hopes having one may ease her nerves. He doesn’t know that tub is Naoya’s thing.

Genghis isn’t really satisfied with that answer but continues on, “I’ve gathered the most adept offensive fighters we have to offer.” Knowing the Titer’s abilities are incredible but lack in the area of traditional combat, selecting the most capable available would be crucial. “I believe you’ll quite enjoy my plan…”. His teeth show in this smile now, he’s more than willing to share his enthusiasm.

Suguru finally turns to his mentor, interested. “Do tell me what you’ve concocted.”.

Genghis lights up, “So as we were discussing, we need to restrict their actions. We will make our move in a public setting but you’ll still be able to have your fun...we will have to harm innocents but I assume that’s not what troubles you.” He grins maniacally, “Mr. Satoru Gojo’s presence will be requested before the Elders here in a few and his curiosity will assure he attends.”. Genghis sighs, “I was worried Gojo might want to kill all of them but I brought in two special people to mediate our fictitious ambitions.”. He chuckles, “The silver shaman has no idea what’s in store for him.”.

Getou smirks at the thought of Gojo having the rug pulled from beneath him, “So we’re planning on having to deal with Toji, Zenin and Choso…aside from her today?” Genghis nods to his question but a heaviness forms in Suguru’s chest when he thinks about having to kill Choso. He’s still not on board with that completely and figures he’ll try his best to protect the hybrid in the midst of confusion. ‘Not him too.”. Getou wishes to find a way to bring the hybrid back to his side.

Genghis claps his hands, causing his yellow robes to flutter, “You better get up and get ready! I’m about to meet with our team. I believe your first sweetheart will be amongst them.”, he chuckles for the drama but honestly loathes that woman.

“Lidia?”, Getou stiffens immediately as that did not help his motivation. “She’s fucking crazy Master Genghis, I don’t want to be anywhere near her!”. Suguru takes his head to his hands as a few memories of her dependency and inhumane behavior flood him. ‘Psychotic bitch.’. Lidia always chased after Suguru when they were younger and at some point this wore on him as before he knew it, she was claiming them to be betrothed. She was obsessed with his destiny, his calling for the clan and would worship him in the most toxic ways due to it. Her need to be the only one in Getou’s life caused her to mutilate young women amongst Suguru’s outer circle out of spite and jealousy. Their time together did not last long as it quickly became a violent pairing, ending with him crushing her ribs under his usual technique. Suguru sighs, “She’s is not going to help me obtain another woman…”. He shudders recalling how after healing, she was back to throwing herself at him as if nothing happened. ‘Fucking…crazy…’.

Genghis hides his sneer, knowing full and well the history of the two. “On the contrary, she requested this assignment.”. He notices Suguru’s growing frustration and wishes he could explain exactly why he’s doing what he’s doing but instead says, “I’ve seen many outcomes for this and although they may have varied, I can assure you Lidia will serve a great purpose here.”. Little does Getou know, Lidia will be the proof offered to show Elska she will be cared for while in the Titer compound.

Suguru is skeptical to believe this and shows it through his expression as he rises from the bed and says, “Women are the bane of my existence…”. He stretches in his black briefs and cracks his neck while thinking something foreboding was eating at him. ‘I’m probably going to have to expose my other techniques now.’.

“You’re about to receive the most powerful wife in the world…and yet, you complain.”, Genghis teases as he’d probably be nervous too if the roles were reversed. He watches Suguru don a black robe, clearly showing signs of stress so he walks up to him and puts his jokes aside, “This is going to work out, little one, one way or another.”, and pulls Getou’s head down to plant a fatherly kiss to the top of it. After sharing the rare moment, he bows and leaves Suguru to his morning routine.

Getou watches him quietly walk out of the room with conflicting emotions. Genghis is the only man he’s ever looked up to, the only other human that ever offered genuine affection. Ever since Suguru was reunited with his mentor though, something has felt off or perhaps he’s just seems more purposeful. He’s not sure if this odd feeling is because of his own unstable emotions that threatened to derail his purpose of revenge or if there’s another reason but he can’t ignore it either way. He trusts that his mentor is still worthy of his respect and recognition though and finds his returning welcomed regardless. ‘All of those years…’, he wonders where Genghis spent his time and exactly why. ‘Did they really keep him away to simply foster my hatred for Gojo?’. He knows that doesn’t really make sense.

Genghis is turning a hall leading to stairs to take him upward. He sees two of the recruited Titers waiting for him outside of the designated meeting area at the top, smiles and nears them. The first one he shakes hands with is Sain Khun. The 32-year-old Titer was a remarkable martial artists and hunter. His rare eyes are more grey than blue and stand in contrast to his long black hair that he wears down. Sain is one of the handful of Titers that learned to channel their metaphysical natured abilities into to combative techniques but usually stays out of the political fray of the clan. ‘A fine young man.”. Before he’s able to address the handsome Titer, the second of the pairing cuts in.

“Master Genghis, I have more questions about this woman.”. Lidia shamelessly exudes her opinion of the situation and demands attention. She receives a sharp look from the clan’s head that only fuels her suspicions. “Are we certain she’s the best pairing for Master Getou?”.

“Miss Lidia, you look lovely today…”, Genghis takes her hand and kisses it, ignoring her inquires. He continues to smile until she speaks up again. ‘She never ceases.’.

“Can we trust that her intentions for Master Getou are ones we can stand by?”. Lidia shakes her long curly red hair that dances down her arms. Her green eyes narrowed still, she waits for an answer. “She’s not even human. What if she uses her powers to manipulate his biology as well?”. Her foot taps impatiently against the now softer ground, ‘I’ll fucking kill that bitch if she even looks at him wrong!’.

Genghis has already grown tired of catering to Lidia’s neediness in the short time they’ve come to know each other but understands she’s vital. “And what of your own intentions?”, he confidently questions her as he doesn’t need an answer. He already knows and is glad to see her heart hasn’t wavered from its possessive ways.

Sain feels forced as this greet was supposed to be simple. He cares not of Lidia’s unhealthy interest for Suguru and even with his instincts crying against Genghis, feels badly for the man. He decides to enter the conversation in hopes to shut it down. “Lusting Lidia, it’s time to get on with the meeting.”, and grabs her arm, leading her through the door where the rest of the selected wait.

Genghis takes a moment to center himself, ‘I understand your resentment little one…’. This quick exchange between them wasn’t the worst he’s suffered from the woman but he still cannot stand to be around her. He chuckles and whispers to himself, “But if she were any less obsessed, this wouldn’t work.”, and then enters the room with the rest as they lay out their plans.

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Elska is looking around at the busy street as they occasionally bump into passing people. “My prince, are you sure it’s around here?” She’s never been to this part of the city before and is feeling anxious by the crowd. The sun is out but a chilling breeze catches them every so often. Her mind is heavy and plagued with questions but doesn’t want to dampen Naoya’s mission for the day.

Naoya stops near the edge of the wide sidewalk and pulls out his phone, “I’m positive!”, while checking the map to make sure he could stand by those words. ‘Where is it?’. His brow creases as he studies the screen.

Toji huffs, “We’ve been walking forever.” He’s abnormally agitated but also hates crowds and is pinning the fault on being dragged out into one. He looks at Elska who’s eyes happen to meet his and feels his tension release ever so slightly as the wind blows her black V-cut dress along her knees. All of them are dressed up more than usual since Naoya begged for them to eat at one of his favorite restaurants. He sees Elska eyeing him in a way that foretells she finds his black pants and squeezing button up suiting and it makes him feel like he could deal with the clothed restriction for a while longer.

“It says we’re close!”, Naoya points to the map on his phone pridefully. It’s been a few years since he was on this side of the city and a lot has changed. He’s becoming frustrated with not knowing how much time they’ll have before Gojo returns, wanting to enjoy some normalcy. ‘I just want to treat her to nice meal!’ He turns to Elska and takes her hand, “Baby, I promise it will be worth it. I’m talking…food fit for a princess.”, when she giggles, he does too, being happy to see that she isn’t wanting to turn around. He looks to Toji now, “Want me to find you a walker?”, and snickers as the giant narrows his eyes before continuing ahead.

Elska feels Naoya’s finger lace into hers as they resume walking, with Toji on her left. She’s trying to be cheerful today, wanting to appreciate the time she’s spending with them but her mind keeps leading her into thought. The night before, Toji stopped her from feeding and although she was aware of why and understood the risks Satoru spoke about, she tried to proceed anyway. There were a weird few minutes where she could only focus on drinking from her beloved and flailed wildly as he restrained her. ‘Why did it feel like I wanted the Titer energy too?’. She thinks to hold Toji’s hand as well in this moment but stops herself as she doesn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to the three of them. ‘He looked so concerned all while I couldn’t even stop…”. The ancestral voice advised her to feed. Her heart aches as she knows this was out of character and extremely selfish when they didn’t know how it could affect her. The one thing keeping her afloat in this matter is how Toji held her after she snapped out it, how he seemed to understand without saying that she didn’t mean to.

Toji lets Naoya and Elska get a step ahead of him so he can keep his eyes on her. After their last outing, he’s remaining highly aware of their surroundings and is watching for anything suspicious. He sees Naoya in his dark grey slacks and black dress shirt, leaning down to talk to her as they maneuver through the groups of families and friends, keeping her close. ‘Is she really, ok?’. Toji recalls how she struggled against him the night before. Gojo tried to rush to the bed after seeing her reaction but Toji was also wanting to shield her from him. Her eyes changed, showing the dashes of his green while she clawed at his arms and flashed her fangs with a glare. Toji knew that wasn’t his Elska but didn’t want to make her apprehensive, so he hid her the best he could from Satoru until they reverted. He heard something from within while this was all occurring, a voice that he swears communicated for him to feed his master. ‘Is that even possible? What the fuck was that?’. He rubs his bicep after feeling a sharp pain run through his arm.

Naoya leads them to a building that has loud club music playing inside, the base being noticeable from where they stand. He looks up and scrunches his face, “What the fuck is this?”. He checks his watch that bares 1:39 and is further confused by the daytime club scene. ‘I’ve failed.’. Toji can be heard groaning so he orients himself to face them both, “It was right here!!”. He takes in Elska’s kind smile as she’s clearly not going to make him feel bad for being wrong. Not knowing what to do to save their lunch adventure he stands there awkwardly to think but hears Elska say, “Well let’s enjoy a drink while we look up somewhere else nearby!”. He smiles at her ability to always find a silver lining and follows behind her up the ramp that leads inside.

As they walk through the room on the first floor, Toji feels this intense wave wash over him. Music is drowning out most other sounds but the way the bass pulses through him allows him to feel alive. The stench of cigarettes, sweat and alcohol sting his senses while they find a seat at the bar. Once sitting, he can smell Elska’s perfume when she whips her hair behind her shoulders, exposing her neck to which causes him to stir in the stool. Naoya hands out drink menus from them all but Toji doesn’t even look at it, knowing his order already and wanting it immediately. He feels ready to pounce but is cautiously calming himself as he knows this is not the place, ‘I am NOT Gojo…’. When she crosses her legs he feels the sting in his arm again, bringing his mood back to a wavering position.

“I’m thinking a red…’, Elska states loud enough to be heard while looking over the wine menu. Naoya smiles to her words as he announces his choice of Mojito. “That’s why you’re so sweet!”, she jokes vaguely in regards to his actual taste. She places a hand on Toji’s right knee before turning to him and feels him jump. Her voice now concerned, “Did I scare you!?”. She giggles until she sees the intensity in his eyes, wondering why he’s exuding so much right then. Her breath was held in her throat as she waited for his eyes to glow, knowing that would not be good for where they are. They never do though and she eventually resumes respiration as he places his own large hand over hers. ‘What was that?’. She now swivels her head around the large room, taking in all of the day drinkers on the dance floor and seated randomly about.

The bartender takes their orders with a smile and begins to serve them up right there. He recommended a red for Elska that he swears was his personal favorite and proudly waited for the approving sip. When she stated its palatability, he then left to attend other customers while Toji stared him down menacingly. ‘That’s a brave man to be flirting right in front of us.’.

Naoya sips his drink while eyeing Toji chug his whiskey on the rocks. “Slow down old man, we still have to go somewhere to eat!”, he laughs at the eyeroll he receives and notices Elska drinking pretty quickly as well. “Baby, what’s on your mind?”, he knows something is bothering her and wonders if they’re both just nervous after the last Titer attack. ‘Maybe I can convince her to dance it away!’, he thinks as he imagines himself twirling her under the disco ball. He just wants her to have a good day.

After finshing her glass already, she sets it down and tells Naoya, “I’m fine, I promise! I just really have to pee!”. He chuckles and adjusts himself so she has more room to slide off the stool. She announces that she’ll be right back before searching the walls for signs indicating the direction she should take. A drunken man bumps into her shortly after leaving the bar and can feel Toji increase his presence so she turns around to show that she’s fine. The whole room was lively except for Toji’s motionless staring. ‘I better be fast before he loses his shit.’.

“She shouldn’t be alone.” Toji followed her with his eyes as she turned a corner down a hall. He’s worried about her and has this familiar unyielding need to be in her vicinity. It’s almost as if he knows something is about to happen. “I’m going to wait for her, watch the drinks.”. He hears Naoya protest with grief but faces him and says, “Boy, why don’t you find us a place to eat since we’re out here because of you.”, and places a hand on Naoya’s shoulder as he goes to walk past to counter the aggression in his voice. “Order another round too will ya?”.

Elska stands up in the stall and flushes but doesn’t leave. She’s feeling like Toji’s eyes were trying to tell her something minutes ago but she can’t figure it out. All she knows is that it was sexy. She opens the latched door to wash and dry her hands but takes in her reflection in the mirror and thinks, ‘Life is so much crazier now…’, but smiles to herself knowing she had fantastic support from everyone. The door pushes open abruptly behind her and she gasps in startlement before realizing that it was Toji himself. “TOJI! What if there are others in here?!”. She can tell by his focus though that it didn’t matter anyway.

“Doll…” he mutters as he locks the door behind him. He sees that she was caught off guard when she asks what he was doing in there but he just walks closer until he’s inches away. “I need…”, he lifts her up so she can wrap her legs around his waist and supports her weight with his right arm. “I need you.”, he whispers while dragging the tip of his nose along her collar bone, watching her skin change pigment from his glowing eyes. Her hands are roaming through his hair and he moans to the sensation of her nails against his scalp. “Right now.”. He nearly growls as he sinks her into his groin from above.

“Toji…”, she was right about his prior intensity but can’t find it in her heart to stop him as he begins kissing the crook of her neck. The music can be heard through the walls along with idle chatter and it all serves as a reminder for where they’re at. She thinks of her pheromones and instantly pulls herself out of their beautiful trance. She whispers, “We shouldn’t do this here, my beloved.”, and frowns as he lifts his head to meet eyes. “I can’t release them here, it’ll be a disaster…”.

He agrees that they shouldn’t have sex and nods with a grunt but that’s not truly what brought him in lady’s room to begin with. Feeling his fangs form he shows them to her and happily takes in her reaction as she smiles and moves her hair while saying, “Oh! ok…but we have to be quick!”. He squeezes her cheek with his right hand that supporting her rear and drags his teeth across the skin of her neck. “I just need to taste you.”, he wantonly groans before biting down. She gasps to his intrusion and grips his hair as he begins to suckle. His own whimpers could be heard between his gulps, loving every drop he’s being given as he deciphers her soul and feelings. Her flavor, now that he’s not as overloaded by the information, is reminiscent of the aroma born from a field of flowers. Each time he swallows more of her blood, his overall restlessness fades while her squirming increases.

Elska cradles his head into her while melting in the master’s ecstasy flowing through her. Her eyes are closed as she bites her lip and attempts to muffle her sounds. “My beloved…”, she whimpers to him while her fingers stroke through his hair. His hypertonicity dwindles as she feels his left hand travel up her back, resting a grip on the nape of her neck. “I love you, my beloved Toji…”, and gasps in desperation as she can sense his own, wanting to assure him of his importance. Those same fingers now dance along her clavicle as he brings them over the wounds to close them while panting into her neck. He leaves his face buried there, adorning the area with his lips slowly as he she can tell he’s gathering himself. “Do you feel better?” She caresses his temple and cheek hoping that he did, feeling terrible that she didn’t recognize or even sense his disposition sooner. When he lifts his head to look at her again, she feels the need to lock her lips to his as they both exhale in a gratified union. She moves the hair out of his eyes and kisses his forehead before he gently puts her back down, him looking refreshed with a bashful grin.

He grabs a paper towel from the dispenser and wets it. In the mirror he can see Elska’s loving eyes watching him and the scar on the corner of his lips bends pleasantly. While wiping away any evidence, he shyly adds, “I love you too, doll.”, the words still seeming unreal. After discarding the bloodied paper towel, he takes up her hands in his own, “I’m sorry for following you in here, I just…I really needed to do that.”. He’s still uneasy by how compelling the desire was. “I felt like I wouldn’t get another chance.”. He sees the concern on her face and doesn’t want to worry her, “It was just time for me to feed doll, everything is ok.”. Her hand sails upwards to hold his cheek and leans into it. ‘I have to keep her safe.’.

Naoya is watching the condensation accumulate on his glass and is now feeling nervous as he checks his watch again. ‘Where are they?!’, he swings around in the stool to check the room and feels an incredible wave of relief as he finds Toji and Elska making their way back to the bar. After they sit he asks, “Did you guys go to the bathroom at the dorms or what?”, but picks up on the weird laughs he receives from them. ‘He wouldn’t have tried something sly, would he?’, and squints his eyes at Toji. ‘He looks way better though.’, and decides to let it go as he’s sure even a quickie couldn’t be that quick. “Baby…”, Naoya slides his phone over in front of them as he finishes his second Mojito, “I’ve only been here once but they have beautiful seating along the water!”. He cackles, “…and it’s only about half a mile away by foot…”.

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Gojo is quickly walking through the whited-out halls with Choso following. He speaks without looking, “Choso, when we get in there…I have to warn you, you’re not expected.”. Gojo heard Choso stop in place so he turns around to see him. “You’re with me though so it’s fine! If they say anything to you, just ignore them. I will do the talking.”, and waves for the being to hurry.

“I…I don’t understand why I’m here with you and not everyone else…”. Choso is familiar with the Elders but can’t ignore the fact that he used to work for them where as he’s now on the opposing side. ‘Is this a good idea?’. He was expecting Gojo to sulk and whine to being called in today and is puzzled by how thrilled he seems.

Gojo jumps up to click his heels to the side before saying, “I don’t trust these cunts and I’m almost positive this is a trap of some sort…”. He notices Choso’s eyes widen with confusion so he continues, “If they’re trying to distract me from Elska, they fail if you’re there using your technique to watch her for me!”, his smug grin appears, “This way I’ll know the moment something happens.”. He’s sure the Elders have called him away in order to create an opportunity but has a mind to flip their plans upside down with this small act of rebellion. “I can never remember where to go! This shit all looks the same…it’s creepy.”.

Choso sighs but tries to keep up with Gojo’s quickened pace. The bright lighting overhead is blinding and causing him discomfort as he prefers darker places. He doesn’t know what to make of Gojo’s explanation but figures he’s along for the ride at this point anyways. “Do you think they’d even admit to what they’re doing?”. Choso understands the amount of secrecy the surrounds the Elder’s goals and is sure that he’s not even fully aware of their intentions.

“Yes. I will make sure they do.”, Satoru’s words are eerie but his expression is still delighted. “These fuckers have messed with us for long enough. They’re cowards, Choso and the things they want to do to my love are unacceptable.”. Gojo is certain that none of the others would have condoned what he’s thinking he’ll have to do which is why he said nothing before leaving. “They need to leave her alone and how can I call myself the strongest if I can’t protect her from these witless skin bags?”. Satoru at least wanted to inform Nanami of his meeting but hasn’t been able to reach the fellow shaman yet. ‘Did they get to him too?’. Gojo is certain that something happened with Shoko but was waiting to see how things played out. ‘As long as she’s fine, I know she can handle it.’, but worries about Nanami’s reaction if he’s already discovered this too.

‘What is he going to do?’, Choso feels like something big is about to happen, something that cannot be taken back. The unnerving pressure in his gut hints that whatever it is, it’s not good. “Itadori and the others are still on standby but isn’t it odd that they haven’t been given any missions?”. They pass more rooms before Satoru finally stops. Choso watches the silver shaman’s expression change to lethally cold one before straightening himself with resolve, and knows he should do the same. ‘I guess I have to just trust him…’, the thought not sitting comfortably at all.

Gojo quietly speaks, “Remember, don’t mind them, they’re not worth the stress. You do not serve them any longer.”, and places a reassuring hand on the hybrids shoulder. He’s impressed when he looks over the being, seeing that his previous nervousness has been cast away and replaced by a collected ensemble. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m right about him.’, and feels poised in the dark nature that lurks beneath Choso’s kindness. Turning back to the door, Gojo kicks it open fiercely before entering. “WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?!”.

Three people sit along one side of a long white table, seeming prepared aside from the sudden commotion. The first is a representative of the Kamo clan, a new middle-aged face Satoru has never seen draped in dark red robes. The second is a Zenin, the bought errand man known better as “Peaches” for a less known reason. Gojo knew him rather well from his childhood and all of the clan events he was forced to attend. The third, however, catches Satoru by complete surprise and angers him. The woman sitting as a representative for his own clan is none other than his mother.

Gojo seethes with white knuckled fists, “What the fuck are you doing here?”, as old anguish resurfaces between the two. Satoru hasn’t been home in years and purposefully. He was sure if he stayed any longer, he’d annihilate his own family.

The Kamo rep scoffs, “Yes… well hello to you too Satoru Gojo. We could ask you the same.” He points to Choso, “Isn’t that Kamo property?”. The hybrid and Gojo fail to give him the time of day, causing tension.

Gojo never takes his eyes off of his mother while waiting in silence as Choso dutifully ignores them. His eyes darken, “I asked you a fucking question you miserable old whore.”. He feels the urge to gather a technique but calms himself with his better judgement.

His mother speaks, “That is no way to talk to the woman who raised you!”, she laughs in a haughty way but brings her dramatics to a close, “Why else would I be here? You can’t be left to just do whatever you please…”. She tilts her nose up and displays her notion that she is untouchable.

Peaches shifts in his chair, “You have something that needs to be returned to the Zenin’s. Master Naoya was promised her hand.”. He’s honestly terrified of Gojo but would never allow this to show. Satoru darts stormy eyes in his direction and he feels a chill race down his spine.

“Let’s just be frank about it. You want Elska.”. Gojo voice is calm, almost lighthearted. He brings his gaze back to his mother, feeling a little better about the situation knowing he’s going to handle more business than he expected today. “Choso, please start now.”. Gojo doesn’t have to look since he can feel Choso’s energy gathering to form the window. He watches the representatives lean to figure out what the hybrid is up to and laughs out loud. “My friend here”, He scowls at the Kamo man, “is going to observe Elska while we meet.”. He winks to Peaches, “She’s with Naoya right now for your information…Toji too.”.

Gojo’s mother bursts into hyaena laughter, threatening to rupture the unsuspecting eardrums of the others. “You think you have it all figured out, don’t you? Such a pitiful child.”. Her long white hair waves in the air as she jerks her head to see Peaches’s perplexed expression. “Don’t believe him just because he speaks it…trust me…”, and folds her arms while thinking of how many more beatings her son should have to experience when younger.

Peaches clears his throat and tries to save face, “Surely this is some kind of joke. Master Naoya loathes your very existence Satoru.”. He’s now chuckling to himself having felt it was a test of some sort, “Are we not on better terms than that of your games?”. He’s now sure it was a lie.

Gojo regrets that Peaches is here today but is unable to overlook the fact that the old goat is in cahoots with this situation. ‘It can’t be helped!’. He turns to Choso now for the first time since they walked into the room and is reassured that nothing bad is happening. Now facing Peaches again, “You know… Zenin and I got off on the wrong foot.” He grins, “But now we have threesomes!”, loving the shock that plasters everyone’s face. The Kamo man choked on his own saliva to the mention. Gojo looks at his mother, “Don’t be upset just because no one wants to fuck you. It can’t be helped when your cunt leaks venom.”.

Choso sits motionlessly as he listens to the meeting unfold, completely flabbergasted by Satoru’s way of speaking. ‘What did his mother do to him to make him hate her so much?’, he hesitates to explore the options in his mind as he can only imagine. Aside from that though, Choso has never witnessed such a display of blatant disrespect to the higher ups and is completely unnerved by the silver shamans ever changing composure. ‘What is he planning to do?’, the ominous feelings he’s experiencing from this are only growing at this point.

Peaches is red with embarrassment, “HE WOULD NEVER DO THAT!”, and allows his anger on the matter to spill over. The representative huffs relentlessly to the accusations and feels disgraced for his ears being exposed to such vile talk. When expecting to see an angry Gojo, he’s further confused by the smile that meets him instead.

Gojo runs his finger along the table as he casually saunters in front of each of them. “If you three decide to get rowdy…I’ll have to kill you.”. He basks in the glares and especially enjoys his mother’s fear as she knew he was not playing around. Once they become settled he says to her, “You being here makes you my enemy, mommy. How long have you been involved?”. She starts to swat his question away with a scoff but everyone leaps out of their skin when Satoru yells, “HOW FUCKING LONG?!”. He increases his presence tenfold and watches the representatives writhe in distress before him.

She says nothing.

The Kamo rep is sweating bullets as he’s only heard the tales of horrors committed at the hand of Gojo. ‘Genghis said nothing about this hostility.”, he thinks to himself as he comprehends that he’s bitten off more than he could chew. He’s afraid to peel his eyes away from the powerful shaman making inquiring demands but also wants to flee the room. ‘This guy is even crazier in person!’.

Gojo takes a deep breath and exhales dramatically, “Well…this is going nowhere…”, and summons energy into his hand as he aims it at the Kamo representative. The nameless man cries out in fear and studders in his breathing. Gojo notices Choso jump to his feet but the being doesn’t say anything. Only when the defeated female voice utters, “3 years.”, does he quell his attack. He thinks about that answer for a moment before acknowledging her again. ‘That’s strange.’. Looming across from her he now asks, “I’d already had my love for some time before that, why did you join them to conspire against me at that point? Don’t make me blow this poor guy’s skull open…”, he warns of his lack of patience.

His mother sulks in her seat having her hands tied about the questioning, “I thought she was a passing infatuation at first, like all of the others but you completely neglected your responsibilities of being an heir because of that wretch.” She’s met with unforgiving eyes and wishes she was able to smack the audacity out of him but has learned the hard way about his response to abuse. “She is not yours Satoru and you jeopardize the entire balance of the clans with your actions of keeping her.”. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Peaches nod in support and feels reaffirmed by it.

Gojo slips a wild laugh and slaps the table, “She is mine though. I voyaged worlds away to find her. I went to incredible lengths to bring her back…”, he sighs while resting his hands on his hips. “You do know, mom, these Titers that have you in their pocket…they were going to use her to assassinate me.”. The atmosphere of the room deteriorates at the mention of the Titer clan. Its obvious that they were left unaware to Gojo having knowledge of the group’s silent partner.

His mother jumps from her seat and screams, “AND THEY SHOULD HAVE SUCCEEDED!”. All of the hatred she’s ever felt for her son sears the air around them, her chest feeling lighter for the honesty but heavier for the fear. “You were destined for greatness but even with your gifts, something is wrong with you! How you ever came out of me? I will never know…”. She feels she must stand her ground or else the structure they’ve served their entire lives will crumble. “You’re evil. You always have been.”.

Choso is still watching Naoya, Toji and Elska but can’t help but be distracted by the darkness exuding Gojo. ‘What is going on here?’, he doesn’t understand how this is official business and even finds himself feeling defensive over Satoru. ‘That woman is appalling.’, he thinks as he considers Gojo’s upbringing and decides there’s more to the man than he ever considered. He looks back to the window after surmising that none of the representatives would attack. Choso becomes rattled when the window shows Toji drinking from Elska in a cramped bathroom, ‘I can’t believe the lighting permits this, it must be dim.’, He temporarily becomes fixated with Toji’s fangs anchored into her as she quietly moans. He’s not seen anyone but her feed before. ‘So, his bite feels good to her as well?’. He brushes his lap as if to tell it, “Knock it off”, but his attention is soon stolen by Peaches’s mention of Elska.

“If you don’t return Elska Oda then this will be seen as an act of aggression Satoru, please…don’t do thi-…” Peaches can no longer speak as Gojo grips hit throat and is thrown into a fit of fright.

“I kind of liked you…I was use to you at least…but if you ask me that one more time, I will break your fucking neck.” Gojo feels his face twitch as he squeezes the old man’s beard into his throat, “You guys are fucking with me today and I don’t appreciate it.”. Never letting go, he turns to his mother but also glances at the petrified Kamo rep, “I do not give a single flying fuck about the clans, I couldn’t care less of your archaic ways and I am never going to surrender my Elska.”. As Peaches reaches a critical point of needing air, Gojo clamps his fingers deeper, “I left my love’s side today to be here because of your guys’ little fucking Titer friends. That is what we will discuss.”.

Gojo’s mother rushes to pull her son’s hand away but right as she’s reaching out, Satoru releases Peaches. She watches the old man heave and choke uncontrollably and shoots hateful eyes. “How dare you lay a hand on him? Do you fear nothing?”, she thinks to threaten with her husband but knows that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree so it’s likely useless.

Satoru smirks while studying Peaches inability to regain his breath, “I crushed his trachea a bit, he’s going to need medical attention soon.”. He watches the Kamo man stand up in disbelief and warns, “My mother is right about one thing, I do not fear you or your influence.”, and smiles approvingly as the man takes his seat again hesitantly.

“You psychotic little freak!”, his mother cries out in disgust, “We need to get him to a doctor!”. She feels herself fill with anxiety as she was not expecting him to go this far. “Let us take him!”.

Satoru hisses quietly, “If you guys weren’t so dead set in dicking me around then this wouldn’t have happened. No one leaves until I get some answers.”. He strolls around the table, loving how terrified the Kamo representative became when he was close. He yanks up the suffocating Peaches and throws him back into his chair, “Have some fucking dignity…I thought better of you.”. When Peaches makes eye contact, he can see the dread wash over the man, knowing their dynamic has changed forever.

The Kamo man speaks up sheepishly, “Wh…What is it that you want to know?”. He’s all for handing over the required information as he clearly cares about his life more than the others. Satoru’s expression softens as the other two representatives hang their mouths open, not expecting him to fold so easily. Gojo states, “Everything.”, which causes the rep to tense up as he doesn’t know where to begin. He hastily blurts out, “Suguru Getou inherited ancient techniques as well. The Titers are planning on taking the girl for themselves to ensure their supremacy.” He inhales sharply, “The head of their clan met his end by the hands of your company, they want to repay by being rid of you as you are their final target. You’re still too strong because of your infinity, so the girl’s fate was determined the moment you were born.”.

“You… weak imbecile…”, Gojo’s mother retaliates to the sensitive information by pushing Peaches backwards causing him to fall to the ground and thrash violently. Without so much as a second thought, she gathers energy into her hand and expels it at the Kamo man’s mouth. The representative dons his own matching blood as his brain matter exits the back of his head, decorating the white surroundings behind him. Only a cavernous jagged hole remains where the words escaped him only seconds prior. His body slumps over the table as he leaks his remaining essence into a pool that shortly forms a dripping pattern to the white tiled floor.

Choso defensively stands as the black tattoo on his faces begins to wave. “Satoru…”, is all he says while watching Gojo’s mother now strain to lift the blue tinted and gasping Peaches back upright his seat. ‘His mother is just as rash…’. Choso waits for a few moments longer but is eager to gauge Gojo when their eyes finally meet. ‘Why does he look so satisfied?’, he questions himself as he’s met with that smug smile. The Zenin man’s eyes look like they may pop out of his head but Choso can still make out the man’s reaction to his own presence. He hears Gojo say, “Everything is alright Choso, don’t worry. Just watch them.”, but the being is unable to simply sit with ease at this time. ‘How is this alright?’.

“And you wonder where I get it from?”, Gojo is irritated that the only man that was willing to talk is now dead but he’s also able to take the information to heart because of how his mother reacted. ‘So all of this really is because of me…’, he thinks of Elska with a heavy heart knowing all that she’s been through, even before he got his hands on her was his fault. ‘My love…I will make this right.’.

Gojo’s mother now sits back down, wondering if she went too far and gave away their hand. Peaches struggles to speak next to her but she can make out that he’s trying to question the fidelity of the Kamo’s last words. She sighs, “Look Peaches, I like you but I’m siding with Genghis.”. Peaches gurgles himself into a purple hue as he still cannot breathe or talk properly. She understands that Peaches was completely ignorant to the Titer’s planned betrayal to the Zenins and calm says, “They’re not wanting to eliminate other clans, they’re just going to help guide us to this proposed peace, don’t worry so much.”.

Peaches can only think of Master Naoya who he feels is in grave danger after hearing this information. ‘I…he has to know…Master Na…he needs to be made aware!’. He thinks to grab his phone but he wouldn’t be able to relay the information, nor is he fast enough to text it. Peaches chokes in his stress and can tell his body is slowly shutting down after being deprived oxygen and feels completely hopeless about his predicament. When his heavy eyes meet Gojo’s he freezes in apprehension while listening intently.

Satoru sighs dramatically with growing anticipation, “Now…where were we?”.

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Tagging : @angelofthorr ❤️

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litwitlady · 4 years

Text

Date Nights (5/5)

Read on Ao3.

Alex wakes up on Christmas morning at 4 am, unable to fall back asleep due to a mixture of nerves and excitement. Sliding out of bed slowly, he tucks the duvet around Michael and pulls on sweatpants as quietly as possible before heading into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

While the coffee maker works, he plugs in the Christmas tree and the garland over the mantle, admiring the twinkling lights and carefully chosen ornaments. For Christmas this year, they’d gathered with their friends and family early and exchanged ornaments. Liz’s gift had been a cowboy alien, glow in the dark and bearing no resemblance at all to Michael. Rosa’s had been a beautiful glass bulb she’d hand-painted with the cosmos. Kyle’s a simple wood-carved Merry Christmas. Rosa had gotten a hold of it and painted it with various iconography of the holidays - lights, Santa hats, and reindeer faces.

Max’s had been a collection of simple red Christmas bells, their jingle light and tinkling whenever either of them accidentally bumped into the tree. Isobel’s expensive and crystal - a star with swirls that reminded everyone of the console tech in Michael’s bunker. Maria had given them a giant, purple eggplant ornament as a joke, but they’d still hung it on the tree anyway. Smiling fondly every time their eyes landed on it. She’d followed the joke with a gorgeous, brightly-beaded patchwork that she said reminded her of how she felt when their love bled over into her sight - colorful, lacking definition, and like the calm that only comes after the storm.

Michael and Alex had chosen the rest themselves. A mixture of whimsy and classic Christmas. It was hodgepodge and lacked any real thematic structure, but it was also beautiful, filled with love, and theirs.

Back in the kitchen, Alex hops up on the corner of the counter and sips at his coffee. He had planned to let Michael sleep in for once, to cook him breakfast and spend the rest of the day either in bed or wrapped in a blanket on the couch. Keeping his gift for Michael a secret until sunset. But that’s not going to happen. He’s too keyed up. Too anxious to wait.

Pouring a second cup, he heads into the bedroom and sets the coffee on Michael’s nightstand. He finishes getting dressed so that it’s less likely Michael will be able to seduce him back into bed, and then gently shakes him awake. It’s not even 5 am yet so he’s not surprised when Michael mildly panics at being woken up while it’s still dark outside. ‘What’s wrong?’ He reaches out to palm at Alex, needing to make sure he’s okay.

‘Nothing’s wrong, but I need you to wake up.’

Michael’s eyes crack open and he blinks away the sleep before responding. ‘What? Why? We were going to sleep in.’ His voice is soft and groggy.

Alex grabs the coffee and hands it to him, hoping the warm drink will lure him into a sitting position. ‘I know, but I’m too excited to wait. I want to give you your Christmas present right now.’

It works. Michael sits up to sip his coffee and stare at Alex skeptically. ‘You’re making me nervous. You’ve got that look Isobel gets when she’s about to do something she loves but everyone else hates.’

‘Wow, Guerin. And to think I was going to scramble eggs while you showered.’

‘I’m much rather you join me. Eggs can wait.’ He slides his hand very suggestively up Alex’s thigh but gets his hand lightly slapped before he can do any real damage.

‘Nope. I’m not letting you get me naked. Not yet anyway. Now, go get ready.’

‘Okay. Now I’m definitely worried. When have you ever turned down sex? I can’t recall a single time.’ Alex swats his ass as he heads toward the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Michael pads into the kitchen where Alex hands him a bowl of scrambled eggs smothered with melted cheese and freshly chopped chives. ‘Eat fast.’ Alex’s own bowl is already half empty.

He only takes a couple of careful bites. Not because the eggs aren’t good - they’re great. It’s just that Alex is not the big gesture type, and Michael’s not great at receiving gifts of any kind, large or small.

‘Alex?’ He doesn’t know how to ask what he’s about to ask.

‘Hmm?’ He’s finished his breakfast. Sitting on the counter, phone in hand. Probably texting all their friends Merry Christmas.

Michael takes a steadying breath. ‘This isn’t...I mean, this gift isn’t...a proposal, right?’ The thing is he’s racked his brain two days trying to figure out what Alex has been so anxious about. Two days of his brain circling back to this conclusion every time. A proposal. Some giant gesture. Something so unlike Alex.

And to be honest, the idea of marrying Alex isn’t what makes him nervous. It’s the idea that Alex is only doing this because he thinks that’s what Michael wants him to do or needs him to do or some reason equally as unsatisfying. Because Alex’s meticulous, risk assessing brain cannot possibly think getting engaged so soon is a good idea.

The look on Alex’s face is hard to read. He’s tucked his phone back into his pocket and his lips have thinned like he’s trying to smile but forgot how. When he finally speaks his voice is low. Undeniably sad. ‘No, Michael. It’s not a proposal. Not really. But I guess you could say it’s not not a proposal.’

Alex slides gingerly off the counter, landing on his left foot and unable to meet Michael’s eye. That’s when he knows he’s messed up.

‘I didn’t mean anything by that. I just don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you aren’t ready for yet.’

‘You still doubt me. That’s fair.’ He rinses his bowl in the sink, keeping his back turned. ‘Well, it’s a good thing I hadn’t planned to propose then. Maybe we should just head to the Pony instead. Help Maria set up the charity lunch.’ There’s a tremble in his voice that Michael hates.

Alex starts to walk past him, but Michael grabs his elbow, spinning him back around. ‘Hey. Hey, hey, hey. I don’t doubt that you want this as much as I do. But I do think you’d ignore your own feelings to put mine first. I want us to be on the same page. That’s all.’

Tears burn at the corner of Alex’s eyes. Michael reaches his hand up to brush them away, but Alex takes several steps back, swiping at them with the back of his hands. ‘You’re right. I don’t make big gestures. They terrify me. This terrifies me - that I did this thing without your permission. So I’ve been a nervous wreck for weeks. Worried that you would say no or laugh or something else you would never do but that my brain wouldn’t shut up about. And now, I’m pretty sure I messed up. Let’s just forget about it and go help Maria.’

He leaves the kitchen, grabbing his coat off the dining room table. Michael doesn’t move until he hears the front door open and close. The door slams shut hard enough that the windows rattle over Alex’s keyboard, and Michael’s knuckles whiten as he grips the countertop.

This scene an all too familiar memory. Emotions high and Alex skittering away.

Taking a deep breath, he tells himself no. This is different. They are different.

Alex hasn’t run away. He’s just outside waiting, getting some fresh air and calming down. Clearing his head. Because that’s what they do now. They take breaks when needed, but there’s no running.

Michael stuffs his feet inside his boots and drops his hat on his head, coat in his hand. He finds Alex exactly where he expects to, huddled inside his Explorer and the engine already running. When he opens the passenger side door, Alex even manages a weak smile. ‘Sorry.’

‘No sorrys.’ He buckles his seatbelt and reaches across to squeeze Alex’s thigh. ‘We have plenty of time to help Maria. I want my gift.’

Alex nods but doesn’t move to leave. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, biding his time. Michael settles back in his seat to wait.

‘Promise me something.’ His fingers stop their tapping.

‘Anything.’

He shifts toward Michael as best he can with his seatbelt fastened. ‘If you don’t like the gift for any reason whatsoever, you’ll tell me.’

There’s no running and there’s no lying. ‘I promise.’

The drive out to wherever they’re going is quiet. Christmas music plays faintly through the speakers, but neither of them says anything. Michael’s not a fan of the tension between them, but the lack of anger or sharp words proves -- at least to him -- that they’ve really accomplished something by working hard to get to this softer place.

He watches Alex out of the corner of his eye. Eyes fixed on the road ahead and mind whirling. Every so often he takes a measured breath, loudly exhaling. The most obvious sign that he’s been back in therapy for a couple of months now. Michael aches to climb into his lap and soothe away all his worries, all his fears. But until he knows what this gift is, he knows he can’t.

About half a mile from Foster’s Ranch, Alex pulls the car off the road, coming to a sudden stop at the chained gates of the old Ellison property. Michael watches him climb out of the car and walk a few feet onto the ranch, ignoring the half-dozen no trespassing signs.

Worried that he’s about to have a panic attack, Michael follows him. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and studying his face. Nothing seems wrong, his breathing even. ‘You alright?’

‘Yeah. What do you know about Ellison’s Ranch?’ His eyes dart back to the locked gate.

It’s a strange question, but maybe he needs a distraction. Michael’s happy to comply. ‘Uh, Old Man Ellison was a bigger dick than Foster. Died earlier this year. No family so the property was supposed to go for auction. About a hundred acres, give or take.’ He shrugs.

‘Hundred and one.’

‘What?’

Alex motions to the wide open expanse ahead of them. ‘One hundred and one acres exactly. Homestead property, used by the Ellison’s for horse breeding mostly.’

‘Okay.’ Michael’s not sure where he’s headed with any of this. ‘Ellison hated trespassers.’ He points back to the signs. ‘His ghost is likely to murder us if we stand here too long.’ He laughs at his own joke knowing how much Alex hates even the mention of ghosts.

But Alex just keeps staring straight into the distance. ‘We’re not trespassing.’

‘Signs beg to differ. We should just keep going, Alex. There’s nothing out here but dirt.’ He turns to head back to the Explorer, hoping Alex will do the same.

‘I bought this place at auction last month. Signed the final papers Wednesday morning. We’re not trespassing. It’s ours. Merry Christmas, Guerin.’

Michael stops dead in his tracks, spins slowly around. Alex’s hands are now in his pockets, shoulders tense. ‘What?’ He rejoins him, wrapping his fingers around Alex’s bicep. ‘You had this kind of money?’

‘No.’ He risks a quick glance at Michael and then back out toward the mountains. ‘It’s the money from my dad’s estate.’

‘Your dad left you his estate?’ That’s the wildest thing he’s said all morning.

Alex snorts. ‘Fuck, no. He didn’t leave me anything. Left almost everything to Clay, a bit to Greg. His weapons collection to Flint. Nothing to me.’

That checks out. Entirely expected. But rage boils just beneath the surface of Michael’s skin anyway. Alex is and always has been the best of them. And even if he is biased, that’s still the truth. ‘Then how?’

‘The auction notice was in the paper one morning when I was having breakfast with Greg. We talked about it. I mentioned how perfect the acreage was -- meant more for residential living than farming or ranching. Mentioned wanting something like this for me and you.’ He smiles, a real one this time. Full-bodied and bright. ‘A week later they wired me the money. Greg wanted nothing to do with dad’s legacy, and Clay wanted nothing to do with any of us, really.’

Michael gawks at him. Mouth agape and eyes wide. ‘It was enough?’

Alex nods. ‘For the property, yeah. Razing that old farmhouse and building a home of our own? That’s going to be up to us.’

‘A home of our own?’ He knows he sounds like an idiot. Repeating Alex’s simple words back at him. But that’s the best he’s got at the moment.

‘I thought maybe we could design a space that works for both of us. A space adaptable to my mobility needs, roomy enough to have friends stay whenever they want. A home meant for a family with a couple of kids.’ He pauses, lets that sink in. ‘A dog or two. Maybe some chickens and goats out back. Horses, even. Since there are already stables.’

Michael steps behind him, pressing his chest into Alex’s back and wrapping his arms firmly around his waist. ‘Keep going.’

‘A workshop for you. One that’s not buried in the ground. Where the sun shines on your face and the stars guide you at night. A soundproof studio for me so I don’t bother anyone trying to sleep. And anything else, Michael. Anything else you want.’ His voice falters the tiniest bit, low and strained with emotion. Another measured breath. ‘It’s too much. Right?’

Yes.

But the thing is, Michael can see everything Alex described. The house, the workshop, the studio. Even the goddamn horses. And all of that is nice. Perfect. The best dream imaginable. But what sells him is the mention of kids. Their kids. Their kids growing up here. Safe and loved. Chasing after chickens and crying over skint knees. Michael holding his little girl’s hand as she wobbles down the steps desperate to run after the dog while Alex follows with their son in his arms.

Suddenly, his mother’s words come to him, unbidden from where he’d locked them away. The words he’d kept for himself. Don’t be afraid to fight for your own happiness, my love. How easily she’d seen through him and known exactly what he needed to hear.

So, he fights.

‘Yes.’ He whispers the words directly into Alex’s ear. ‘But we’ve always been too much. Me and you. Why stop now?’

Michael kisses down Alex’s neck and holds him tighter while the sun climbs higher overhead, illuminating the desert morning stretching out around them. Cars pass behind them on the highway and somewhere in the distance, a rooster crows. He replays the scene in his head again -- their little girl tumbling down the stairs, Alex snuggling their son into giggles.

Alex has made him this promise, and now it’s his turn.

‘Hey, Alex.’

‘Hmm?’ Michael knows he’s lost in his own daydream. Perhaps the exact same one.

‘Marry me.’

#malex #malex fic #christmas fic #all done #not sure if there will be more #no promises but you can beg #lol

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skylarmoon71 · 4 years

Text

Loki Laufeyson : (Short Story)- Chapter 4

"How are you holding up back there." you could barely reply, the very prominent stab wound in your stomach was making it a bit difficult to do much. You held your abdomen, resting your head on the back of the helicopter. Natasha was clenching our hand as Steve steered, hoping they could make it to the tower before you bled out. Your vision was getting a bit spotty.

"We're almost there Nat, make sure she doesn't lose consciousness!"

Steve called. Natasha nodded.

"You hear that, we'll be there in no time. Don't you dare close your eyes."

"I'm sorry." This was your fault. Since your conversation with Loki, you couldn't concentrate. Not only did you put the mission at risk, but you also managed to endanger your team. If Natasha hadn't gotten to you when she did, you would have been sporting far worse that a knife wound. You coughed, and some blood ran over the side of your lips. Natasha titled your body, ensuring that you didn't choke on your own blood.

"We're losing her!" Natasha panicked. You wanted to stay awake, but it was so hard. You felt so weak, and cold.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)!!"

~~~

"Get her back here immediately. " Steve is carrying your body through the hallway, and he stops when they get to the medical room. Tony and Bruce rush to your side, and the rest of them are gathered around, watching how pale you seem now. You're lying there and Bruce is reaching for supplies to get to the wound. Tony has all the equipment ready, and in seconds, Bruce has a pair of scissors, cutting around your vest to get to the wound.

"What the hell happened!" Bucky demands. He pushes forward, but Steve grabs his shoulder, shaking his head. Now isn't the best time to lose his temper. His lips form a thin line, and they can't do much but watch Tony and Bruce work. When the door opens behind it's Loki and Thor who walk in. Their smiling, discussing something. That all stops when they see your body on the table.

"Lady (Y/N)." Thor is stunned at the scene, and Loki takes a few steps closer. It's weird for him. He's grown used to your frown whenever he steps into the room.

Bruce has just finished hooking the patches to your body, and the vitals displayed in not to his liking.

"This isn't good, she's going to crash. She's lost too much blood. We need a transfusion."

As high tech as the building is, Tony doesn't have blood just lying around. It would take time to obtain some. As it stands, they don't have time.

"We're in luck, she's a universal recipient. " Bruce says in relief when he runs through your charts. Natasha is already rolling up her sleeves.

"I'll do it." Loki states.

They're a bit taken aback.

"That's generous of you, but you're not exactly human. We have no idea what kind of repercussions that will have on her." Bruce argues.

"It's because I'm not human that makes it the best choice. My blood should help to speed up her recovery."

"Brother, are you sure?"

"I'm positive. "

Maybe it's because he feels he owes you something. They don't really have the luxury to question it. Loki takes a seat, and Bruce is still a bit hesitant when he hooks up the needle to his arm, connecting it to yours. His eyes dart to the screen, checking to see if there is any significant change.

Positive or negative.

The steady beeping that follows makes Bruce sigh. "Her pulse is returning to normal. Blood pressure has lowered too." He's going over every bit of information, just to make sure this doesn't turn south, and Loki settles into the chair, watching your slow breaths. Your hands twitch, and he jolts when he feels a shock. He blinks for a second, wondering if he imagined it.

"Brother, what's the matter?" He's not sure.

"Nothing it's, I was sure I felt something." he squints, now he feels a bit of a migraine, and he grips the bridge of his nose.

"Where am I?" The voice in his head makes his eyes dart around.

"(Y/N)?" Loki speaks aloud.

They watch him wearily.

"Are you sure you're doing okay buddy." Tony asks.

You're still unconscious, so they can't see how he could be talking as if you aren't.

"It's (Y/N), I think she's...she's speaking with me."

"No way.. Even while she's unconscious are you sure?" Bruce's curiosity gets the best of him.

"Loki? Is that you, what happened. The last thing I remember I was on the helicopter and I.."

The monitor starts to flash, a loud beeping increases. Bruce scrambles over to the screen.

"Loki get her to relax or she's going to blow the machines!" He hollers.

He reaches over, taking your hand.

"Calm down, we've managed to stabilize your body. You're in the medical facility. You need to relax."

It's said so calmly, and you're not sure why, but you comply. When the beeping fades out, Bruce can breath again.

"How come you're the only one who can hear me."

"It must be the blood transfusion. Our abilities are somewhat alike in certain instances. "

"You're...giving me blood?"

Loki smiles. "Don't sound so surprised, I do have a heart mortal."

"Didn't I say stop calling me that. You're lucky I'm unconscious otherwise I'd beat your ass. Again."

This time Loki laughs out loud.

Tony watches suspiciously.

"What are you guys talking about."

"Trivial things."

Tony doesn't quite believe it. "Riiiight. Well she seems stable, and you two apparently have a lot to talk about so we'll just leave you to it. I'll take this in case anything changes." He grabs a smaller device.

"This will go off the minute she wakes up, or in case she goes jedi on us again."

Tony ushers everyone out, deciding that you and Loki need a little time to chat.

"Wait a second this is incredible. I have to study to see how far her telepathic waves-"

"Not now doctor." He has to pull Bruce out, and Thor sends a proud smile in Loki's direction right before they leave.

"Loki." There's a bit of uncertainty in your tone this time.

"What is it, if you're worried about being alone there's no need. I'm right here."

You never thought you'd feel so relieved to hear those words.

"T-Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. On the grand scale of things, I owe you at least this much."

He's referring to what happened when he went all crazy trying to take over the world. It causes a flash of guilt, and Loki is a bit overwhelmed by the weight of it when he feels your pain reflected off of him.

"Is that what you feel all the time." He closes his eyes to try and make it go away.

"Y-Yeah it's...it gets a bit hard to deal with." You have to get a better handle, because he's connected now. So if you aren't careful, he may feel all your conflicting feels, not just the negative ones. That unnerves you.

"You're not just a telepath, you're an empath."

"I have no idea what I am."

He recalls the story of your childhood. It dawns on him that whoever your birth parents were, they had to have been powerful people. Possibly not even truly humans.

"Have you ever tried looking for them, you're birth parents."

It's personal, and he knows that the question sends you in slight chaos. There is a sense of dread that runs through his veins. "I haven't." you finally respond. The sinking in his stomach disappears, replaced by a warmth.

"I already have a family." He wonders if the warmth is due to the memories you've had with your foster parents.

"I can feel how much you love them." It reminds him of the way he treasured his late mother Frigga. There is a lot he's regretted in his life. One of his biggest is possibly not expressing how she never made him feel like less than what he was. She was the one who got him into magic.

"You have someone like that, I can feel it. Who is she?"

You're not at full strength, otherwise you would have just picked the name right from his mind. But you hope that he wants to actually tell you.

"Her name was Frigga. She..she was my mother. She was an incredible person. She didn't deserve to..she shouldn't have died."

His grief, it was so strong. Not what you expected at all. Not for him.

"I'm sorry."

Loki shook his head.

"It's in the past."

"I'm not just talking about her. I'm sorry for what I said before. It was wrong, and cruel. I was trying so hard to look at you like you were a monster because I was pissed at myself. I didn't know how to deal with it, so I just took it out on you. I'm sorry Loki."

Loki smiled at that.

"I am sorry as well. For everything." his hand tightened, squeezing your palm, and in that room, all you could feel was a general warmth wash over.

For the first time since you came, you weren't angry.

31 notes · View notes

lovelivingmydreams · 4 years

Text

A story by heroes and villains Roman Castile: Prince

To bring out your inner truth, to stand by your friends. To be the hero of your own story.

The very next day he came out as gay to the school.

He walked through the hallways with his head held high, a confident cadence in his step. He knew that he was getting stares all over and that was rather the point.

When he walked into his first homeroom of the year he was pleasantly surprised to see Virgil there, and no Janus.

Upon seeing him Virgil’s eyes widened. Roman strode in proudly and sat himself on the empty desk next to Virgil’s, his back to the front, feet on the chair and planting his new sparkling, rainbow, backpack next to him, and dragging a hand to his matching hair.

“You are extremely extra any chance you get aren’t you?” Virgil chuckled.

“I am,” Roman agreed as he took off his jacket revealing the full extent of his once white, now rainbow colored shirt, which proudly read ‘I’m a Gay Disney Prince!’. The writing was part of the original shirt. Except for the ‘gay’ bit. That, Roman added himself while he dyed the shirt by using duct tape to write out the letters, paint the shirt and then take of the tape to leave one white word to contrast against the colorful shirt.

So he was pretty much a walking rainbow with a neon-sign on his chest.

It couldn’t be more clear if he shouted it at the top of his lungs. Or maybe if he kissed a guy in front of the whole school. But he wasn’t that extra and the guy he’d want to kiss would not appreciate the gesture.

“Well it looks good on you,” Virgil complemented and Roman made a bow.

“Why thank you, mi caballero guapo,” he teased. Just then their homeroom teacher came in and made introductions, prompting Roman to take his seat, while she handed out their schedules.

Roman looked over at Virgil’s and grinned widely.

“We have almost every class together!” he exclaimed excitedly. Sure the odds were in their favor considering they had the same homeroom, but it wasn’t a guarantee. Last year he’d shared homeroom with André and only had two classes in common.

“Aside from our electives that is. Why am I not surprised you’re taking drawing classes? Though you don’t really need the extra help. You are amazing as you are. Which reminds me. Did you think about sending in your designs?” When Roman looked up he saw that 1 his face and Virgil’s were much to close and 2 he was overwhelming Virgil with his fast paced rambling.

He sat up straight as fast as he could. “Sorry. Got a bit ahead of myself there,” he apologized.

Virgil blushed and looked away to stare at his hands that were tugging at his hoodie in his lap.

Roman tried his best not to hope that the color shining through the foundation was because his neighbor was at least a little into him. ‘He is uncomfortable for god’s sake! For once in your life try to not make it about yourself!’ he thought to himself.

“No problem… Well… I don’t know. You really think he’d want it?” Virgil asked awkwardly.

“Are you kidding? If I were forced in that atrocious ‘crime against fashion’ as you adequately called it, I’d be wishing on every star for a new outfit. And what you have drawn up. It’s not just an answer to his every prayer, it’s the most awesome costume he could ever hope for.”

Virgil offered him that adorable half smile of his and looked down. “Alright… I’ll send it in… But with some adjustments and under an alias,” he insisted.

“How about Dante?” Roman offered. He’d still know it was Virgil no matter what alias he’d choose. But BS and the others didn’t need to know who exactly designed his new look.

Virgil nodded. “Sounds good,” he agreed with the smallest smile.

Before Roman could ask what he was thinking about that made him smile, the door opened and none other than Janus strolled in.

“Mr. Bullard. So kind of you to join us,” the teacher noted displeased as she handed him his schedule.

Roman noticed Virgil’s good mood disappearing as soon as he walked in. Now Roman thought about it, while he got a rather detailed report on his neighbor’s summer, Janus hadn’t been mentioned once. Had Virgil and Janus gotten into a fight? Did this have something to do with the canceled plans Virgil mentioned right before the lamp came down?

Janus more or less ignored the teacher and looked around, eyes landing on Roman with contempt and narrowing when they spotted Virgil next to him.

He walked over. “Move, that’s my seat,” he growled.

“De ninguna manera. You want to sit with the coolest kid in school, get here on time,” Roman taunted confidently. He wasn’t scared of him and he wouldn’t leave Virgil with someone he seemed to want to distance himself from.

“Excuse me?” Janus’ eyes narrowed and he raised a fist as if preparing to punch him. Roman didn’t even blink.

“Mr. Bullard! Seat! Now!” the teacher insisted. Bullard glared at Roman one last time before looking at Virgil expectantly. “You heard the teacher Jan. Just go,” the purple wonder huffed.

Janus blinked a few times in disbelieve. Then his face hardened and he went to sit on an empty desk to their left.

“Good. As I was saying, I hope the rest of the year will go without any more incidents like yesterday. Mr. Anker, Mr. Castile, I speak for the whole school when I say that we are happy to see you two are back and unfazed by yesterday’s incident,” the teacher offered kindly.

“Thank you Mrs. Foster,” Virgil muttered a little embarrassed.

“I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of my radiant presence for another day,” Roman jested with a smirk. Causing his classmates to laugh. Well, most, Janus looked like he wanted to glare a hole in his head.

Roman ignored him. Virgil was chuckling next to him and that was a million times more interesting.

The teacher continued with taking attendance and going over all the basic first day announcements. When the bell rang Roman walked with Virgil to his locker, which happened to be only ten away from his. Virgil stayed with him as he retrieved his things and they talked about their homeroom teacher who seemed to be nice but firm. Something they could appreciate.

“Where are we headed next?” Roman asked as he dug into the back of his locker where his pencil case was currently hiding from him.

“Um…” he could hear Virgil digging through his backpack. He’d seen Virgil memorize their schedule earlier. He assumed that Virgil’s anxiety caused him to double check if he remembered right. Which wasn’t a bad thing to be honest. Better safe than sorry right?

“Hey!” Virgil exclaimed behind him. Roman dropped the case and turned around to find Janus looking over Virgil’s schedule with a frown.

“How can we have no classes together? I thought we were going to take sociology?”

“No!” Virgil stated firmly as he snatched the paper back. “You were. I tried to tell you that I wanted to do art, and you didn’t listen. Like usual,” Virgil bit at him before looking at Roman.

“We’re in building C. Let’s go,” he huffed. Roman nodded, picked up the case and shut his locker.

“Virge come on!” Janus objected frantically as he ran out in front of them, keeping them from making their way to class. “You are mad, I get it, I’m sorry okay? Can’t we talk about this? We always work things out,” he pleaded. Roman almost felt sorry for him. He looked genuinely terrified of losing Virgil’s friendship.

Virgil squared his shoulders and lifted his head.

“My decision is final J. I’m done enabling your behavior. I thought I was helping you out, but I was making it worse. I can’t protect you anymore… You are right. Sometimes we have to do what’s best for us. And for me, that is not being around you anymore.” Roman could tell that this was hard on Virgil. So when Janus reached out for him he went to stand in between them.

“He’s asking you to back off. Give him some space.”

Janus’ face went from pleading to murderous in a second. Next thing Roman knew he was pushed against a locker. “Stay out of it Chapero!” He said the slur in a mocking tone, with a purposefully horrible accent. Roman found himself letting out a growl as he turned their position around.

“You better not know what you just called me,” he warned.

“I don’t say anything I don’t mean. Payaso,” Janus taunted.

“Roman! What’s going on? Let him go. Let’s just go to class. Please.” Roman looked to Virgil, recalling that stress wasn’t good for him. “Sorry. You’re right. We’ll be late,” he sighed, letting go of the other teens collar and following Virgil, trying to calm himself down.

“Get to class Jan!” Virgil instructed his former friend.

“This isn’t over!” Janus replied. He didn’t come after them though. Good, Roman wouldn’t be able to refrain from using his powers a second time.

When they got outside and headed to building C Virgil laid his hand on Roman’s shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked worriedly.

Was he okay? “I’ll be fine, just pissed off. How about you? He was your friend for a long time right?” he asked instead.

Virgil sighed sadly. “He lives in the house next to mine. We basically grew up together I guess. And I tried to protect him from bullies as best I could, you know because of,” Virgil gestured to the left side of his face and Roman nodded in understanding.

“I didn’t realize he isn’t that same kid anymore. I guilted myself into sticking with him.

He was my friend, if I didn’t help him who would? He needed me. He stuck with me too. You get the picture. When he told me to take the same elective as him. I had enough. I told you about the summer camp I went to. What I didn’t mention was that it was a camp where they teach you to stand up for yourself. ‘your needs are important too’ and all that stuff. So when I got home I asked my dad to help me convince the principal to make sure I shared as little classes with him as possible. I felt shitty doing it. But at camp I also learned that me tolerating Jan so long isn’t helping him. Mrs. Danvers was on the right path when she separated us last year. We both need to learn be us without the other. And maybe when we’ve figured that out, we can try again.”

Roman nodded along, his anger finally calming down completely.

“What did he say?” Virgil asked. “Janus likes to brag that he is fluent in Spanish and French. I didn’t know he’d also learned slang.”

“He learned slang alright,” Roman huffed, back in a bad mood.

“I’m pretty sure he was just trying to get a rise out of me, which succeeded.” Why did he let that stupid word get to him? He should’ve just let it go.

“You sure you want to know?” he asked, not wanting to be the cause of more discord for his classmate.

“Yes. If it upset you that much, I do,” Virgil said firmly.

“Alright. Payaso, means clown,” Roman told him. Virgil nodded waiting for the other one. The one that had made Roman nearly see red.

“And… Chapero,” he felt his face reflect the distaste he felt just saying it. “It means- It refers to my…”

Roman gestured to his shirt, unwilling to say it aloud.

It was 2016! Being gay shouldn’t be looked down upon anymore. It’s just not right. That was what had bothered him really. Janus using his coming out to the school as a weapon against him. Especially because he lacked the spine to let Virgil know what he was saying.

“Seriously!?” Virgil growled already turning around, presumably to berate Janus on his behalf. Roman quickly grabbed the back of his hoodie to stop him. “We can’t be late. Not for him,” he reminded Virgil.

“You’re right,” Virgil agreed though he sounded extremely reluctant.

Soon they arrived in their classroom with a few minutes to spare.

Roman followed Virgil to a desk halfway the room. Not his own usual front row seat, but neither was it Virgil’s standard far back hiding spot.

“Well what do you know? My two favorite boys at one desk. Must be my lucky day!” Roman looked up from his backpack and saw that Stacey sat herself on top of his desk.

“Good morning to you too Stacey.” Roman offered politely. He knew it was his own fault, and she was his friend. But he was still a little jealous.

“Hi,” Virgil greeted casually, unknowingly making Roman feel significantly better. He didn’t look like he was very affected by the presence of a girl he was going out with.

“Ro. Guess where we’re going for our date?” Stacey asked, her eyes gleaming teasingly. She had called him last night to thank him and make sure that he was alright after being rejected. When he admitted he wasn’t technically rejected, he just panicked, she had burst out laughing. And now she was torturing him it seemed.

“No clue,” Roman admitted, noting that there was once again color shining through Virgil’s foundation. So maybe Stacey didn’t leave his neighbor as unmoved as he’d initially thought.

“The art studio! We’re going to go nuts on a blank canvas together. Isn’t that the coolest thing you’ve ever heard?”

It was a great activity to do together for two artistic people. Virgil clearly knew how to plan a first date. Stacey was going to love it.

“Well… It’s basically just hanging out,” Virgil corrected Stacey quietly. And Roman almost felt bad for feeling so relieved. He was getting emotional whiplash from this conversation.

“Yeah. What did you call it? Vibe check?” Stacey wondered.

“Something like that,” he nodded.

“Basically we’re going to roll with it as friends and see if we click romantically while we are pouring our souls out on canvas. No click? No hard feelings,” Stacey explained with a casual shrug. Then the teacher came in and she hurried to her seat.

During class Roman did his best to focus on the teacher. But every now and then his thoughts drifted to Virgil and what it would be like if he was the one going to the art studio with him. He imagined Virgil teasing him, because he wasn’t that great at drawing. Pretty soon they’d start painting each other and then… The bell rang. Right class, crush next to him.

The rest of the day went rather pleasant. At least until he was walking to his locker after Drama with Miguel and Kelly. He could hear a loud bang before they rounded the corner. There was shouting in the hallway and he and his friends hurried to break up what they were sure was a fight.

His eyes widened in horror as he saw Virgil was being held against the locker by his former best friend. Several witnesses were yelling at Janus to let Virgil go, but no one seemed willing to actually do something.

Virgil stared back at Janus with steady eyes. “No!” he stated firmly.

Roman had seen enough. He dropped his backpack and shouted at full volume.

“Let him go Bullard!” Everyone else fell silent. Janus looked over at Roman as did Virgil.

“I’ve got this Roman,” the shorter boy stated.

“I know. But you don’t have to do this alone,” Roman assured him, feeling Kelly and Miguel coming to his side. Time for Virgil to learn what it was like when your friends had your back.

“I texted the others. They are on their way,” Kelly informed him quietly. Roman nodded to show he’d understood her. Then he turned his attention back to Bullard.

“I’ll ask one more time. Leave him alone.”

Janus released his grip and Virgil barely kept himself from crashing to the floor.

“Think you can take me Castile?” he scoffed stalking towards him, putting himself between Roman and Virgil. He came to a stop a few feet away.

“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of getting me in trouble,” Roman replied firmly. His mother would murder him if he got detention.

“So you’re just talk then huh? Afraid to get your butt kicked in front of everyone? Trying to score easy points with Virgil? Hoping I’ll let you steal him from me that easily?” he taunted.

“Trying to repay him in some small way for saving my life yesterday. But none of that is any of your business. Virgil’s decision to finally break free from you has nothing to do with me, and everything with how you’re treating him. I don’t understand what he saw in you that made him stick around this long. But you took it for granted and now it’s done. Leave him alone,” Roman told him, hearing footfalls of his other friends arriving, once they were complete they started sending the crowd away.

“If you’re not going to help go to your classes.”

“No need for all of you to be late.”

“Go on. Nothing to see here.”

His gaze was trained on his opponent, but he could see and hear the crowd dispersing around them.

Janus’ eyes narrowed at him before his face and posture relaxed. He got a glint in his eyes, a smirk on his lips.

“What’s wrong Castile? Don’t want an audience? I thought you lived for the cheers of a crowd?” Roman let the words wash over him. If he didn’t get a reaction, he’d leave. He always did.

“Or maybe this is an exclusive event? Just for your little fanclub and Virgil? Is he your newest devoted follower?”

Roman quirked a brow. “You guys should head to class,” he told his friends.

“Ro!” Nora exclaimed in disbelief.

“You’ll all get in trouble if you don’t get to class in time. Now go,” he turned to Clara.

“Tell our teacher that Virgil and I will be there soon. I’m not feeling well and Virgil is looking out for me.”

“Making your friends lie for you Castile? Some friend you are.” That idiot really didn’t know when to shut his mouth.

“Or tell them the truth. Apparently Bullard want’s detention on the first day,” Roman corrected himself.

Clara nodded and his friends slowly walked away. Now Roman didn’t have to worry as much about holding back. He could convince one witness that nothing strange had happened if he used his powers. But all his friends standing so close? Not a chance.

“Now we’re talking! A private show, just for you Virge,” Janus looked behind him where Virgil was still standing, rubbing at his chest where Janus’ fist had pressed into him and looking at Roman with worry.

“Virge? You okay?” Roman asked, once more ignoring the taunts.

“Yeah, fine,” he muttered as he moved towards him, but Janus gestured for him to stop and Virgil obeyed, so suddenly that it almost seemed odd… Was that a reflex from years of doing whatever it took to appease his friend? Or should Roman take a look to see if his adversary was using some kind of power?

Being gifted wasn’t very common, or at least, knowing you were gifted wasn’t.

Animotropolis was one of only a handful of places in the world that had an a system in place to help gifted people for a reason. Roman knew he wasn’t the only one in the program right now, even if he was the only one in hero training, but he’d never met other members before.

Was Janus one of them? Or maybe self-taught? He could find out with just a well-timed peak…

No, not with Virgil so close and clearly upset. Looking meant seeing everything. Including how this situation was truly affecting Virgil. It felt… intimate and like a betrayal of trust.

He wouldn’t unless it was necessary.

“Just get to class. I can handle myself,” Roman assured Virgil. He could get to their classroom trough the hallway farther back. And once he was gone, Roman would be able to see Janus’ energy, read his intentions and defeat him without either of them getting hurt.

“Stop mocking me!” Apparently Janus didn’t like being ignored.

Roman readied himself to block the punch and failing that, absorb the impact so he could defend himself. But he never got the chance to do either.

Virgil had made his way between them somehow and was now sinking to the ground in pain as he clutched his stomach. Roman was next to him in a second.

“V… I” Roman glared up at Janus, who was staring at them stunned, fist still raised.

“Messing with him emotionally and mentally isn’t enough for you? You have to resort to physical violence as well? What kind of friend are you?” he demanded. He knew that this instance hadn’t been aimed at Virgil, but he hadn’t forgotten that Janus had clearly been too forceful when pushing Virgil against the wall.

For the first time since he’d met him, Janus didn’t have a snappy retort. He just looked away in shame and left.

Roman turned his attention back to his apparent guardian angel.

“You okay? Should we go to the nurse?”

Virgil shook his head. “No. Dad will lose it if he knows someone actually hit me. Let’s just go to class. I’ll be fine by the time we get there,” he assured Roman.

“Okay… If you are sure…” Roman allowed reluctantly. “Thanks for catching that one, but you didn’t have to. I did some self-defense courses.” More accurately he’s been trained in several forms of hand to hand combat for the past four years as part of his hero training.

“I would’ve been able to get out of harm’s way without hurting him,” he informs Virgil as he tries not to think about the fact that he, the superhero, had been saved twice by his romantic interest. And by the stars, it makes him like Virgil even more. Who wants a damsel, when they can have a knight in shining armor? Sometimes a savior needs saving. Then again, Virgil seemed like he could use some saving as well.

“I’ll remember that,” Virgil grinned trough his pain.

“Seriously though that’s the second time you’ve jumped to my rescue. Thank you,” Roman offered gently as he helped Virgil up and they both started walking to class.

Virgil grinned back at him through the pain. “Guess DreamPrince inspired me to be heroic,” he joked.

“He does seem to inspire a lot in you. I’m almost envious of him,” Roman admitted, not really looking at Virgil to hide his sincerity. “I’d love to be the one to inspire someone so much, artistically and the like I mean. Oh, that would be the dream. To be someone’s muse and have them be mine in return.”

Sadly Roman Castile didn’t inspire Virgil much. Not even remotely in the way Virgil inspired him. He was the one who’d made him want to be a hero. Thoughts of him had made him write monologues and characters, play and sing his heart out like never before.

He’s had other crushes. But Virgil seemed to be always there somewhere on the peripheral of his mind.

“That would be pretty cool I guess,” Virgil allowed, now seemingly back to normal.

“Are you sure we don’t need to have you checked out?” Roman worried. Virgil nodded firmly.

“I barely feel it anymore. He didn’t hit that hard,” he shrugged.

Roman decided to let it go.

The rest of the day went by without much trouble. Virgil even sat with Roman’s group over lunch. They didn’t sit next to each other for every class. Most classes they shared with a few of Roman’s other friends and they seemed to have decided that Roman had to be saved from embarrassing himself by method of constant supervision. So while they always sat close, they only shared a desk for English and History.

At the end of the day Virgil and Stacey left for the art studio and Roman couldn’t think of anything else than that all evening. That is until he got a text from Stacey.

“Awesome evening, no spark though. ;p Don’t blow it this time!”

Roman’s heart hammered in his chest. What was he supposed to do? Call him up right away?

No. He probably should wait for Friday. Hang out with him and see if sparks fly without the pressure of it being a real date. And if the evening sucked, well he had patrol after dinner, so that’d be too bad for any villains he came across.

@moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse @cirishere @hestianerd1

Passion and duty

Masterlist

#sanders sides #ts sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #janus sanders #hero au #fic #tw:slurs #tw: homophobia #Janus is acting not so great

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dcomicsficrecs · 4 years

Note

Do you have any fics with Jason just being a Bro™️? Or any with him rejoining the family after UTRH?

For the sake of this post not being too long, I am going to rec only one fic or series from an author, but all of these authors are great writers so I recommend checking their other works as well. Hope you will enjoy this fics as much as I do!

1. Jason and Damian being bros

1.1 Bet on it by Lysical

Even Damian could admit that his older siblings occasionally had their uses. __

"I need your assistance," Damian said, voice low and tense.

"No," Jason replied, and hung up.

Short but adorable story of Jason helping out Damian to hide something from their father, just like big brothers out to do.

1.2 Cracked Foundation by Cdelphiki

The last thing Damian expected to happen when he ran away from home was to spend a day crammed into a small space with Jason Todd. His father's second son was a black sheep. An outcast. An angry, insanity driven criminal who enjoyed screwing with the batfamily in every way he could. At least, that's what Damian thought. Maybe he was wrong about Todd.

Perfect hurt/comfort with a lot of family feels and Damian and Jason bodning. Bonus points: Jason actually apologizing for shooting him; exploration of Bruce’s relationships with them both too.

1.3 Good Grief by lysiabeth

“I know who you are, you know. I got my degree at GCU.” The girl says, eyes boring into Jason’s chest as if the red bat were still plastered on it, and Jason’s back stiffens.

“Right.” Jason’s teeth click together as he closes his mouth. He’s eighteen-hundred miles out from Gotham, and of all the Goddamn vet centres he could have broken into it’s probably the only one around that knows anything about his city.

WIP with 8K words so far but worth early reading and bookmarking/subscribing. Case fic, plus Damian and Jason bonding as siblings through Talia? Leviathan also plays a part in this story? Hell yeah.

1.4 Jason and the Three Terrors by Cdelphiki

One moment, Jason was peacefully sleeping, perfectly content with his life with the League of Assassins. Okay, so maybe not content content, but he wasn't unhappy, either. Then Talia woke him up at 2 am, threw three children at him, and told him to get them to America and far away from Ra's al Ghul.

What the fuck.

The last thing he wanted was to see Bruce. But with three brats relying on him and no Talia, there weren't many options for sanctuary. He just didn't expect the kids to grow on him so much in two short weeks.

A superb AU where Jason helps Damian escape League of the Assassin (against his wishes and with two unwanted additions to boot, which is half the pleausure). They aren’t brothers, stictly speaking, at the start of the fic, but become them as the story progresses.

It’s a WIP but it has 50K already and it will be so much more. I am excited with every update and I’m sure you’re gonna be, too.

2. Jason being a brother to Cassandra

2.1 Nests and Cages series by LanternWisp, Lysical starting with Needles or Pins

Jason Todd's journey back to the Batfamily. Takes place in the Frankenstein's monster of a canon I've stitched together. Each plot is rather self-contained, but the fics do flow into one another

Jay and Cass are bio siblings, and Jason’s slow return to the fold. I love this series, and I think it’s one of the greatest take on Lady Shiva being Jason’s mother too.

2.2 Didymous by Hinn_Raven

Didymous: adjective: growing in pairs or twins.

Cassandra and Jason are born twins, raised by their father to be killers. Two heads are better than one.

It’s a great AU with Jay and Cass being biological siblings.

2.3 the patron saint of the lost causes series by evanescent

Pre-Flashpoint AU based on canon what-if Lady Shiva was not only Cassandra's biological mother, but Jason's, too. Mostly focuses on Cass and Jason's relationship, and how that fact changes the dynamics in Batfamily.

It is also a great series with Cass and Jay being biological siblings and I recommend reading every fic of this series.

2.4 Rebirth by Ionaperidot

"The boy is clearly ill, and while she’s almost certain that he is, impossibly, Jason Todd, almost is not good enough. She can’t drop heartbreak on her beloved’s doorstep, and she can’t run the necessary tests when Damian is vulnerable to her father’s wrath. There’s no way around it. He’ll have to come home with her."

Unexpectedly in charge of a second son, Talia struggles to raise her children without unwanted attention from the Demon's Head.

An AU where Talia is the one who unites Cass and Jason. It also contains Damian, and he’s a little brother to them both.

3. Jason and Duke being bros

3.1 Bats are Dorks by Reah22

Duke hadn’t meant to literally trip and fall on to Jason. He really hadn’t. For the record, he blamed Steph. It was probably one of her old pranks that she forgot to take down. That, or she deliberately left it up for someone to trip over in the dark.

Just Duke and Jason, hanging out. Super nice.

3.2 oh, where do i begin? by LazuliQuetzal

“No, no, nothing’s wrong,” Jason says. “We’re a-okay. Just peachy. Good times.”

“Oh,” Duke says, lamely, working himself out of crisis mode. There’s an awkward silence for a moment before he speaks up again. “Why did you call?”

“Right, right," Jason mumbles, which seemed a little out of character to Duke. His sort-of wayward brother was generally intimidating, even when he wasn't trying to be. "Uh, Dick said that you had a guinea pig when you were younger. How do you take care of a guinea pig?” _____

AKA, not-exactly accidental guinea pig acquisition

Absolutely adorable short story about Jason going to his little brother for advice.

3.3 rockstar au series by addiebey starting with disconnect:

jason and duke bond. dick just doesn't get it, but what's new?

Another great no-capes AU. Only two fics from the series, both under 1k, are focused on Duke and Jason, but they are so great. The whole series is, actually, though it’s not finished. I am just grateful even this much exists, but I am definitely bookmarking and subscribing it in case there will be more. Please give this series the attention and praise it deserves.

There are, alas, not many Duke and Jason-centered fics. Though there is another one I wanted to recommend, about Jason training Duke, but I can’t find it for some reason. It was short and funny, and if anyone recognizes this description, I would be glad if you told me.

4. Jason and Dick being bros

4.1 i was naive and hopeful and lost by heroics (figure8)

Clark and Bruce take in a troubled teen.

The The Fosters AU no one asked for.

It’s a part of the series which is one of the best no-capes AU I’ve read, if not the best, and it’s a great family-focused fic with a good parent Bruce. The road for Jason to become Dick’s and the rest of the kids’ brother is slow but greatly written.

4.2 To Reconcile by CasualDanger

“Babs slapped me at your funeral.” Jason goes to laugh, but it’s just a cough and his mouth barely even twitches up. “She hated me in that moment. I mean, really, really hated me, like I did Talia after I found out Damian had died. And I wondered,” his voice cracks, eyes glassy now, “did you hate anyone when I was gone? Because I was gone?”

Short and emotional fic where Dick and Jason open up to each other during pressing circumstances.

4.3 Five Times Dick Grayson Read about Jason Todd in the Newspaper by Engineerd

If Dick hadn’t been special ordering the Gotham City Gazette, he wouldn’t have found out for - well. Years, at this rate.

Short and very full of emotion story. I love the exploration of Dick’s almost unchanging attitude toward Jason - well, unchanging right before the last time he would read about him (or almost the last time). They’re not really close here, and won’t grow closer, but sometimes siblinghood is like that.

4.4 The View From Jade by lowflyingfruit

Being transported to the past is not the sort of thing one normally expects. But this having happened, and with no easy way back, Jason's determined to make the most of it. Though the Bat still stalks Gotham's streets, the city's crime is run by the mobs instead of the rogues. There's no Joker yet.

There's no Robin.

Maybe there shouldn't be.

Time Travel Jason&Dick focused AU! One of the best time travel fics where they actually change stuff even if it doesn’t transit to their universe - for exception of their more strong brotherly relationships.

5. Jason and Stephanie being bros

5.1 this time, the loser wins by parkerstorms

They were two sides of the same coin. They understood each other. It was nice. It was a downright relief. She’d never had a big brother before.

There’s not a lot of Jason and Steph being bros stories I have not mentioned before, but this one is one of them, and a great one too.

6. Jason and Tim being bros

6.1 Bonding Habits of Robins by GoAwayOlivia

Giving each other shit is how the bat brothers show they care. Jason and Tim do it particularly well.

It’s a funny and nice fic with exactly what’s said in the summary.

There’s a lot of fics with Jason and Tim being bros but my memorie went blank when I tried to recall. Which is not a statement about their relationships or quality of fics that depict them, it’s just sometimes my memory doesn’t work properly. This is the case with the Jason and Steph, too. As soon as I remember or discover new fics about their relationships, I am going to update this post or maybe create a new one just for the three of them. We’ll see!

7. Batfam Jason-featured sibling relationships

7.1 If the Sky Comes Falling Down (For You) by lurkinglurkerwholurks

or, 5 times Jason Todd saved his siblings... and one time they saved him.

It was only by luck that Jason was still there when the bodies came crashing down the street. Bad luck, he would argue. He could hear them long before he could see them, their bodies preceded by the thunderous pounding of boots of asphalt and shouted curses. Three or four figures flashed by his little alleyway, a tight mob followed by a lone, slender figure in a streaming cape.

Summary speaks for itself. It’s a gradual description of Jason slowly coming back to the family after UtRH and starting feeling like their brother.

7.2 this is a long drive (for three robins who don't agree on much) by drakefeathers

(Bad Robins road trip AU!) Steph’s trip home to Gotham takes a huge detour thanks to Jason and Damian’s conflicts with airport security. She’s stuck driving the two brothers cross-country to reach Tim’s wedding in time.

Damian, Jason & Steph bonding road trip AU that warms your heart. Seriously, if you like any of these characters, you read this.

7.3 on a thin chain of moments and something like faith series by irnan

Jason really oughta know better than to talk to Bats.

Jason bonding with both Steph and Cass! Love it. It’s fluff and angst, which is hard to pull off together, but it works here. It also, in places, incredibly funny. I love re-reading it from time to time.

7.4 Tremor by LueurdeLaube

Nobody can tell Jason Todd that joking about his own death is not a valid coping mechanism.

Not about Jason being a bro per se but about Batfam and Jason so I hope it counts!

7.5. the lost sidekick society by redtruthed

The batkids make a group chat.

Chaos ensues.

One of the best groupchat AU for Batfam.

#Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #Cassandra Cain #Duke Thomas #Dick Grayson #Stephanie Brown #Tim Drake #Family #Siblings #Gen Fic #Batfam

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hillnerd · 4 years

Note

How about my Prodigal Prat Percy and My shy neurodivergent Hugo who is his favourite Nephew - if you like. (No obligation what so ever.)

It was take your kids to work day at the Ministry. Percy knew his own job was rather boring for his twin daughters. Lucy looked on with polite interest, while Molly didn't bother looking interested until she found out more about the Floo network and how there were maintenance workers who would go into it. "It's the most dangerous job at the Ministry beside those at the MLE office." Molly's eyes lit up. "What happens in there that's so dangerous?" "Well you have to go in there with specially charmed gear so you can breath and travel through it without getting your lungs messed up from prolonged exposure to all that soot and flame. Also the workers are fighting a tornado of flames and Floo magic when doing the charms in there-- so it's rather hazardous. Easy for someone to lose their footing and get tossed around for hours on end if you don't take all the proper precautions." "Oh! Ohh! I want to do that!" Percy let out a sigh. Of course she did. She said that about every dangerous job she'd ever heard of. Dragon taming, Auror, experimental potioneer, curse breaker... The list went on and on. "I'm sure you'd be very good at it. What about you, Lucy?" "I'd rather keep my feet on this side of the Floo," she quickly answered. “What kind of spells keep a person in place through that, though?” His twins weren't identical in looks or personality, unlike his twin brothers. He wondered if they'd be sorted into the same Hogwarts house or not. Molly was as Gryffindor a child as he'd ever known, but Lucy was harder for him to pin down. He looked at his pocket watch. Nearly half past three. "Time to meet your mother."

"Ohh Daddy can't we stay longer? I want to go do maintenance in the Floo!" "Only trained professionals get to do that, Molly," he said, leading them down the hall to Floo them to their mother. "I wanted to see the mail sorting room again," Lucy added, looking with longing down the hall. "There'll be plenty of other times you can see that," he said, but his chest puffed up a bit. Perhaps he'd managed to make their time at the office less than boring, after all. "As I recall, you both wanted to visit the Magical Child Welfare Office today." "The Adoption Carnival!" Lucy smiled, hands grasping together beneath her chin. She excitedly twirled her skirt back and forth like a bell. "I'd forgotten!" Molly gave a whoop, punching the air. "I LOVE the carnivals!" "Once you're done with your volunteering, you get to have fun with the other kids, but not until then." Both his daughters rolled their eyes. "We know, papa!" "You tell us that every time!" "I don't want you to forget the reason for the carnival," he forewarned, wagging a finger their way. "It's so the kids can find families, we know!" Molly moaned. "We're not dumb." "It's not a question of your intelligence. It's a matter of slowing down to recognize how lucky we are to have families, and to prioritize those children's needs." "Will there be a petting zoo?" He gave a sigh. Maybe they were a little young for him to be giving this speech. "I believe your mother might have mentioned baby nifflers." He could barely contain his smile as the girls squealed and laughed. When they arrived at the MCW Office it was controlled chaos, as it ever was.

Kids were running about in much nicer clothes than usual, though many weren't quite finished dressing yet. The twins were happy to join the ruckus, both yelling 'Uncle Ron, Uncle Ron!' and running across the den to join their Uncle in braiding some little girl's hair. Various Weasleys were part of the fray. He spotted George out in the garden setting up carnival games, Ginny polishing brooms, his Mum magically changing spots of grass to bright colors for a cake walk, and various other brothers and spouses were walking between booths, arms laden with supplies. Percy looked about for his wife. He soon found Audrey chasing down a four year old who was wearing socks on both his hands and running away with no trousers. Percy quickly headed the boy off, picked him up and presented him to Audrey. "Thank goodness for you," Audrey panted, blowing a curl out of her face. "This conejito doesn't like putting on trousers, even though he knows guests are coming." "Is that so?" Percy asked the boy with his sternest of faces, as his wife pulled the polka dotted socks from the small boy's hands. "It is quite important you wear proper attire when meeting new people." "Trousers are hot!" the boy exclaimed, head dramatically thrown back. "Hmm... A very good point," he nodded, looking to Audrey. "Perhaps we can turn these into shorts instead?" "You do it? I'm too tired to remember how to tailor things," she quietly griped, pressing her head against his arm. He tried his best not to smile when she was put out like this, but always found her pouting looks rather adorable. "Long day?" "Long month!" He quickly spelled the trousers into shorts and they finally got the wriggling boy. They went about the room tying shoes, tucking shirts. It took a whole lot of child wrangling from Audrey, her staff, and all the Weasleys-- but they finally were ready for the prospective foster families (and perhaps even future adopters) to arrive, and for the children to go about the carnival having an intense amount of fun. Later on Harry arrived with his own children, which caused a lot of turning heads, not only because it was ‘THE Potter,’ but because James had let out a cry of glee and immediately knocked over a table full of food. Percy’s twins joined with their cousins, and Percy was happy to let Harry look after them for a bit. With so many staff on hand this year Audrey didn't have to be as hands on for the paperwork side of things for once, giving them a chance to slip away. They went back into the center to their favorite spot, a little sunroom with an old comfortable couch.

"This looks to be your best carnival yet. Wonderful turnout."

"I'll feel better next week when I know if it paid off," she said with a sigh, putting her head on his shoulder. "But yes, it definitely looks like fun. Nothing but toothy grins everywhere I looked."

Percy nodded and leaned his head on top of hers. Their peace was broken by the sound of fireworks going off, making them both jump. "Those weren't supposed to go off for an hour! I was going to have ear plugs for the children and everything!" "Can we have a strict family foster George for a bit?" asked Percy, shaking his head. "Sadly he's past the age limit for fostering by fifteen years." She closed her eyes and rubbed her brows. Another great bang came, but this one sounded more like a slammed door followed by the pattering of tiny feet. Audrey made a move to get up but Percy waved her down. "I'll get this one." It didn't take much looking to find a head of bright ginger curls poking out from under a craft laden table. "Hugo?" Percy asked. His knees creaked as he squatted down, something they'd been more and more prone to doing lately. His tiny nephew had his back to the wall and hands over his ears as he rocked a bit. His eyes were tightly scrunched closed. Percy did a quick Muffliato, and closed the curtains with a flick of his wand.

Despite saying he'd take care of it, Audrey had some in to fix the problem. He silently mimed 'tell them I have Hugo,' which she immediately understood.

Knowing there was little point in talking to Hugo at this time, he gathered a few books and a cup of water. He gently placed them in front of his nephew as he waited for the boy to open his eyes. They had an old copy of 'Beedle the Bard' he'd given the house a decade ago he silently read. A good five minutes passed before his nephew started to move. "Water?" Hugo nodded before drinking the cup and giving a small 'ahhh' as he finished it. "I have a few books we can read from in the sunroom, if you like. Which do you prefer," he said, laying the three books out. "Beedle the Bard, Stellaluna, or Arrow to the Sun?" Hugo pointed to Stellaluna, grasping Percy's finger as they went to the sunroom to read. He read Stellaluna three times, at Hugo's silent request. The boy's bright brown eyes lit up every time the bat and her little bird friends hugged at the end.

"Do you want to go back to the carnival?" Hugo shrugged and buried his mop of curls into Percy's side. "Was it just the fireworks that were too loud, or were the people too loud too?" he asked, weighing his hands back and forth. Hugo put both hands in Percy's. "I understand. It was rather chaotic out there. Lots of noise." Hugo nodded. "If I put some headphones on to make it quiet, would you like to go outside? The petting zoo, cake walk and broom riding booth looked like fun." Hugo worried his lower lip, looking much like his father had at the same age.

Ron hadn't been on the spectrum, exactly, but he'd always been a more sensitive child like Hugo. That was most likely why he was so partial to the lad. He'd always preferred Ron to the rest of his siblings, though he tried to cover up his partiality the best he could. Whenever he had a choice, he'd make sure Ron got his castoffs first because it meant more to him and he showed such care and kindness to all his items and pets.

His nephew had just turned four and still barely talked, but he had that same deep care within him about things. He held books with reverence, smiled with the same whole-bodied smile, and had a natural curiosity all his own. He hoped to hear Hugo talk more, eventually, because he imagined the boy had quite a lot to say. "So, headphones?" "Are... Are they Muggle?" Hugo whispered. Percy had to fight back the mad grin trying to make its way across his face. He hadn't heard Hugo in months, despite being around the boy many times. "They're very close to the ones you normally use, so sort of," Percy answered, bringing Hugo with him to raid the supply closet. "Your Dad and Uncle George invented them based on Muggle technology, but they don't use electricity. They use magic to help cancel out certain sounds, but still let you hear the important things." He held up a pair and Hugo looked glum. "Ready for me to put them on you?" Hugo shook his head, brows furrowing a bit. "What's wrong?" Hugo looked away and bit his lip. His nephew didn't much like things that were different from what he was used to. What did his headphones look like? They weren't the mass-produced ones. No, they were the prototypes, so they'd used actual Muggle tech and just spells on top of it. Percy racked his mind trying to remember the details of them. "Sorry they don't look like your normal ones from home. Did you need me to spell them another color?" Hugo stopped responding, looking to the ground. "They do the same job though... I can magic them to look more like the ones from home. Make them have have the same padding on the inside, change the color... Make them plastic-looking." Hugo suddenly nodded, running up to Percy and pulling at his sleeve. Ah, he'd forgotten about Hugo's interest in plastic. It took a few spells before Hugo finally put on the headphones and smiled. "Ready to go back out?" His nephew nodded, giving a thumbs up and a broad grin. "Excellent. I have it on good authority that there will be baby nifflers at the petting zoo."

#Hugo Weasley #Percy Weasley #Audrey Weasley #Lucy Weasley #Molly Weasley II #harry potter next gen #fan fic #my writing #amysthefardareismai

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alottanothing · 4 years

Text

Left to Ruin: Chapter Twelve

Summary: Nouke struggles with the broken heart Ahkmenrah left her with. When he shows up on her farm days later, she fights to keep him from breaking it further.

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 7224

Warnings: SMUT Y’ALL. GOOEY, OH SO SOFT, SMUT. (18+ only), also brief mentions of blood and injuries

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe, @r-ahh-mi, @theultraviolencefan, @hah0106, @rami-malek-trash, @diasimar, @sherlollydramoine, @flipper-kisses, @ivy-miranda-2390, @txmel, @sunkissedmikky, @concentratedsassandcandy, @babyalienfairy, @edteche2 (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: @xmxisxforxmaybe gets an extra shout out for this chapter because this was the first time I’ve written explicit smut and she kept me from breaking down into a panic attack, while also giving me pointers. She’s a superb writing buddy and I love her. With that said, I did my best and I’m no longer cringing when I go back and read this, so that has to count for something right? Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Again, as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible

Having her heart broken proved to be useful. With it left in such ruin, Nouke was never more dedicated to her chores; she poured all of her focus on the farm and the more arduous tasks that were often left abandoned—Nouke did anything to keep from thinking of the ache in her chest. Plowing the soil from dawn to dusk helped distract from the gaping hole that her once sweet prince tore in her heart. She planted more of the land; fields that were left to weed since her father had passed were now ready to sew. When there was no more to be done in the fields, Nouke made repairs to the stables and wove baskets to store the surplus grain. That all worked for a while.

Despite her efforts, the dull ache of heartbreak always crept through her resolve.

At first, all Nouke felt was deep-seated anger coupled with a sense of betrayal; it writhed and festered until it plagued every recent memory of him with a veil of black. The mere thought of her king set her fists into a ball and her teeth against each other—grinding with resentment.

But anger was exhausting to hold on to. By the second day, her discontent faded altogether, leaving only hurt. Even the shroud of darkness that tainted every memory of her friend disappeared when her anger subsided. The pharaoh had bewitched her—not in the latter moments they’d shared but in the ones long before his crown heavied his head. In those moments of play and adventure during their youth: every game, every story, every sweet smile he'd lent as a child had worked into her heart and refused to let go.

His love never failed to trickle through every moment their eyes met, or how he always brought food to share when he knew she often went without. That love shone brightest the day he’d asked her to follow him throughout Egypt, and it was she who had taken that glimmer of fleeting hope and snuffed it out. He had offered her his world, and she denied him. The gods had presented her with almost every desire she had ever wanted—for a second time—and like a fool, she rejected their gift again. Surely the ache in her chest was penance for being too greedy.

On the third day, Nouke was certain she would carry the miserable heaviness in her heart forever.

It wasn’t until the fourth day that she actually missed him; missed his smile and his kindness. She missed his kiss and his gentle caresses; the way he drew his bottom lip between his teeth just before dazzling her with a grin. All of it was lost to her, and the notion made her laden heart too poignant to ease with distraction.

The only joy her spirit could cling to was the increasing wellness of her mother. Every day she ate a little more, walked a little farther, and smiled a little brighter.

In those few days of anguish, Maketaten only asked once what it was that cast her daughter with such sorrow. Nouke could, at most, manage a frown and a shake of her head, but it was enough for her mother to know it was a broken heart that afflicted her daughter.

The fourth evening Nouke worked tirelessly, doing whatever she could to steal away the notion of missing the man who broke her heart. Her mother felt well enough to help with some of the easier chores around the farm, and while Nouke was grateful for her mother’s help and company, she feared that she was not particularly affable company in return. For days, words were too difficult an obstacle to maneuver without provoking a wave of tears, so she said nothing.

The quiet air of the stables was filled with her mother’s soft humming: lullabies Nouke recognized from her childhood. To a degree, the gentle melodies fostered a warmth her cold heart was desperate to find. Even the corners of her mouth quirked into a content smile finding enough ardor to hum along—an elusive moment of peace.

“Don’t work too much longer, my love,” her mother cautioned a time later as the sun sank below the horizon.

“I won’t, mother,” Nouke promised, struggling to hold a genuine smile longer than a second or two. “I’m just going to finish, then I’ll be up.”

Maketaten kissed her daughter's cheek before venturing out of the stable.

Nouke watched her fondly as she went; thankful to still have her. She would always be grateful to her king for giving back her mother’s health no matter how much he’d hurt her heart.

A bereft sigh worked through Nouke at the thought of the pharaoh; how much she missed him, and how much she hated that she missed him. All those years of forgetting—learning to live without him—were suddenly tainted. She wanted that ignorance back.

Nouke let her mind roam as she finished her chores, searching for a memory that wasn’t somehow tethered to the man she loved. She held to thoughts of her mother and father, the few years their farm thrived and the three of them were genuinely happy—a time that seemed so long ago. She dwelled in the tranquility of those memories; recalling every sound and smell when they were new and exciting. For a moment, Nouke found peace there in the illusion of her past, wishing she could spend the rest of her days lost in that dream, until a hooded shadow appeared on the back wall of the stable jerking her back to reality.

She gasped as she turned with a jump, quickly reaching for the nearest tool to protect herself. Almost instantaneously her fear faded, exhaling a shaky breath as she found a pair of familiar, wide eyes locked with hers under a hooded robe. Her mouth felt suddenly dry, and her heart pounded as Ahkmenrah slid the cowl away before carding his fingers through his hair.

A different sort of fear worked over her, muscles growing tense to prepare for any more damage he could throw at her heart. Nouke watched him, watching her. He seemed frightened, almost lost, when his mouth hung open but no words came out.

“Your majesty,” Nouke bid him with a bow, glad to have managed words before him—her tone cold.

The pharaoh winced, and pain twisted onto his frozen features hearing her icy bravado, causing him to hang his head shamefully. Nouke wanted so much to find satisfaction in hurting him, to do to him what he had to her, but the anguish tugging at his handsome features only made her feel worse.

It took him several minutes to build up the courage to approach with cautious strides, but he stopped a little more than an arm's length away, too afraid to come closer. Without a word he carefully removed the satchel slung around his torso and offered it, keeping his eyes fixated away from hers.

“Fresh dates and figs—some of the sweetbreads we used to share as kids,” Ahkmenrah explained. “Medicines too, for your mother.”

A stitch came lose in her tightly bound façade when her eyes fell to the leather satchel before following the length of his arm to his face. He still wasn’t looking at her, but his grief was more real than the moon and all the stars in the heavens. Ahkmenrah was hurting too, just as much as she was.

“A peace offering,” he added, his tone almost pleading.

Several more of her stitch's burst, sensing the gravity of his own quiet misery. The look on his face and his listless posture was a mirror of how she had fared since leaving his chamber. Ahkmenrah had been carrying his hurt with him exactly as she had and the notion helped to combat some of her own despair.

With a hesitant gesture, Nouke took the bag, and when her errant glance caught the purple and yellow knuckles of his hand, dried with blood and split open, her brows creased with query.

“What happened to your hand?” she asked gently, in an attempt to coax out the Ahkmenrah she knew and loved. The unspirited husk of a man before her was not the sweet prince her heart yearned to have.

Confusion flashed across his face as he studied the injury, eyes darting wildly over each wounded knuckle as though he had no recollection of its existence. He flexed his fingers and pain flickered throughout his features, prompting a quiet hiss to escape his lips.

When he offered no explanation, Nouke realized whatever had happened to cause the ugly bruise was enough to shake him.

“Go to the roof,” she instructed softly, suddenly overcome with the need to help. “I’ll bring a bowl of water and bandages. It’s the least I can do.”

A faint look of shock flashed in his eyes, as though he could not fathom her want to help him, then he nodded.

Ahk left as silently as he’d come and Nouke exhaled a deep breath like she’d been holding it, making her almost dizzy. The smarter thing would have been to take his offering and bid he leave her sight forever. However, every time she looked at him, her mind went blank and nothing in the world seemed as important as him.

It took minutes for her to calmly restitch the hole in her composure he’d split simply by being near. She would return to him one last time with her heart completely protected. It was safer that way.

Nouke stalled for as long as she could, wanting to delay another evening of Ahkmenrah’s profoundly intimate glances; something she wasn’t sure her heart could weather. She checked once, twice, three times, that her chores were done before collecting as much courage as she could and gathered supplies to tend to Ahk's injuries. She ventured upstairs into the quiet living space finding it empty, her mother already asleep in the other room. Nouke emptied the satchel slung on her shoulder of the gifts inside and refilled it with rolled linen strips, a vial of medicinal honey, and a clay bowl.

Lastly, she grabbed the oil lamp from the table as well as a pitcher of water. It was a precarious task, balancing the lamp and the pitcher as she scaled each rung of the ladder with a single hand, but she managed it without starting a fire or spilling a drop.

Ahkmenrah was seated among the cushions and woven mats in the furthest corner of the flat roof. The sight caused her heart to flutter finding him so doleful and pensive while the wind swept through his curls as he looked out over his city.

He had broken her heart, but he would always have it.

The pharaoh stood in silent greeting when he noticed her, a woefulness dulling his usually crystalline eyes.

“Sit,” Nouke told him, every manner of cold resolution gone from her tone; her stitches already threatening to pull loose.

Just as she feared, he watched her with reverence and a cautious intimacy that was almost too much to bear, though she did her best to ignore it, placing herself across from him. Nouke kept her eyes trained on the supplies she removed from the satchel, laying them before her in the dim light flickering from the oil lamp.

“Let me see,” she said gently, holding out her hand, waiting for him to take it.

He was hesitant, but he obeyed. Nouke mindfully studied the abrasions, still curious as to what had caused them. She filled the bowl with water and tore a small piece of linen. Ahkmenrah’s attentive eyes weighed lightly on her as she cleaned the cuts, gently scrubbing until the dried blood no longer stained his skin.

“So, are you going to tell me how this happened?” Nouke asked easily, glancing to hold his gaze only a moment before settling her focus back to his injury. Any glance longer would have a negative effect on the resolve she was fighting to keep tightly laced.

“Or would you like me to guess?” she added in a jesting tone before she could think better of it.

He mustered a slight smile, and a puff of air through his nostrils that was more or less a chuckle.

“I struck my brother,” he said finally, in a timbre that sounded as though he could hardly believe he could do such a thing.

“You did?” Nouke had never known him to be violent or lay force to anyone. Although, Kahmunrah did have that effect on people.

Ahkmenrah nodded, and his eyes fell back to where she continued to wash his bruised knuckles.

“He hurt Setshepsut,” he murmured.

Oh—Nouke had difficulty combating the twinge of jealousy that bit into her, and the influx of envy secured those stitches a little tighter. Of course he would fight for his wife.

With a sigh, she kicked that specific thought out of her mind. It didn’t matter who he did and did not fight for; he was a pharaoh and she was no one. He would always do as he pleased.

“But…” Ahk said, and Nouke could almost hear him sifting through his thoughts by the way he spoke. “I think that’s only part of the reason…”

All at once, his words were whimsical, almost breathless; as though he’d just stumbled upon some grand epiphany.

“What’s the other reason?” Nouke husked out, fighting back hope she knew was dangerous.

The moment his blue-gray eyes locked with hers, free of the grief that had resided in them all evening, hope planted itself far too deep in her to root out.

“You,” he said with enough conviction to make several of her emotional stitches tear.

“Every time I look at him, I remember what he did to you, and I’m overcome with...” his voice trailed off as his eyes glanced at his bruised hand.

Ahkmenrah swallowed and exhaled deeply before he found the nerve to continue, “What he did to my sister was finally enough to fight back, so I struck him. For her, and for you.”

Nouke bit her lip to keep from smiling. Her heart was yearning again, pulling free the strings of her control, wanting to jump out and embrace the king with enthuse. But her mind valiantly fought against her wistful heart. Nouke's focus remained on her task, the cuts clean and scabbed over, leaving only the marbled bruise across his knuckles. With another strip of linen, she dabbed each cut with the salve of medicinal honey to ensure they healed properly.

“What did your brother do to Set—er—the Queen?” Nouke asked in an attempt to feed her curiosity and deter the deepening desire in her heart.

“Set ran away.”

Nouke looked up to meet the pharaoh’s eyes, her features contorting with question and shock.

“She did?”

Ahk nodded, and a trace of sadness returned to his blue eyes.

“That was why I was not truly myself the night you came to me,” he explained.

He felt responsible, she could tell from the slouch in his shoulders and the downward curl on his lips. The pharaoh felt guilty and more of her stitches frayed seeing his sadness.

“Why did she run away?” Nouke asked, stopping her task a moment to listen.

“Because I was a fool. She miss took my words—reading them as though I intended to break a vow I made.”

“What vow?” Nouke’s heart was racing, feeling as though a crescendo was building with every word they spoke; surging them closer to some unknown divine manifestation.

His eyes were reverent on her again, smoldering in the dim glow of the burning lamplight.

“The vow that once I found a second wife, I would free her of our union—free us. That way, she could be with the soldier she loves, and I can be with—”

Me—she didn’t say it when his words trailed off again, but she felt the trajectory of the sentence and knew it had to be true. Nouke’s heart was pounding, fighting to rip the stitches that remained. Hastily she looked back to his hand and meticulously began winding his injury with fresh linen, counting her breaths to keep herself calm.

Joy rushed through her, but Nouke refused to let it surface until Ahkmenrah said the words outright. She needed to be sure. Pressure built in the silence between them, and she stalled as long as she could, twisting and tucking the fabric strips over his knuckles until all she could do was meet his gaze.

“I am so sorry, Nouke,” Ahkmenrah said with such profound sincerity, she could feel it in her bones. “The moment you asked for an explanation I should have told you—I should have fought.”

“Fight now,” Nouke demanded, breathless as her head started to spin.

Pressure continued to build with every beat that passed with silence, and for a brief moment, she feared he wouldn’t fight. Then, Nouke caught the twinkle of sparks in his eyes. It was a mix of awe and hope and he took both of her hands in his when he spoke.

“I have only felt joy—true joy—when I have been with you. Never have you been second to anyone. You, Nouke, are my only one. Now and forever.”

Nouke's breath caught on a gasp as the barrier protecting her heart frayed completely. Tears welled quickly, filling her eyes and blurring his handsome face; but she could still make out his sweet smile. Nouke prayed he wasn’t a mirage, a cruel trick from the desert sent to break her heart completely, but Ahk’s soft fingers brushed along her jaw. They wiped gently at the tears staining her face, reassuring her that he was no illusion.

“I gave you my heart years ago.” He leaned closer with every word. “It is yours from that moment, until my dying moment, and evermore. Should you want it.”

Tears were shining in his eyes too, overcome with what his own heart felt.

His words rang like music in her ears; sweeter than any sound produced in song or with an instrument. Her reply was not with words—words were far too trivial. Actions spoke more profoundly than any utterance she could think up, and as a smile slowly unfurled across Nouke’s lips, she chose to show him exactly how his declaration made her feel.

Her tears of joy paved the way for her desire to blossom freely—her heart uncaged at last and filled to the brim with euphoria. In a series of lithe movements, Nouke moved into his lap, cradling his angular jaw, pulling his mouth to hers in a searing kiss while her legs wound around his waist.

The sudden intimacy took Ahk aback, his delighted shock manifesting in a low hum that vibrated from his chest and to his lips as she kissed him, his arms weaving around her. Nouke ran her tongue over his top lip, feeling the quirk of the pharaoh's smile as his mouth opened to capture it. His palms fanned open against her lower back, persuading her closer, drinking in every nuance of her kiss slowly, savoring every second of the intimate exchange.

When they parted, their shaky breaths danced across each other's skin in heated puffs, radiating like the glow from a dull flame. The black of Ahk's eyes was blown wide, and his parted lips intensified his expression of lust and adoration. Nouke’s gaze only surrendered his to marvel at every angle and shadow of his face until she became transfixed with the succulent sheen of his kiss swollen lips.

The sight worked through to her core, and she couldn’t quell the need to draw the pad of her thumb over his full lips—an act of wonderment and praise. The notion those lips would forever be hers to kiss and admire prickled her flesh with goosebumps as passion spread through her like fire.

When Nouke kissed him again it was with zealous haste and a sensuous yearning. And yet, there was a trace of hesitance to the play of his mouth against hers—a caution that only made her more ravenous for him. It was in the still too chaste way he kissed her back that Nouke realized his fear. Before, she ran when his advances grew too brazen with desire, but the circumstances were different: it was finally okay to want him.

A wave of determination surged and Nouke parted their kiss so suddenly, Ahkmenrah’s dark eye shrunk with sobering fear and his hands fell away—abruptly over cautions.

“What?” he whispered; eyes unblinking and earnest.

Nouke smiled, allaying some of his fear. Her heart was racing as she straddled his crisscrossed legs, rising above him enough to make a proper show of sliding her garment from her shoulders.

In a whisper of movement, the warn linen fell down her torso, pooling at the slight flare of her hips. Nouke gasped as the cool night air of the desert tingled over her bared skin causing her nipples to harden.

Ahkmenrah’s trained eyes never left hers, still too guarded to ogle her bared breasts, but his eyes smoldered once more into inky pools. The stars in the heavens glittered in their black mirror, and Nouke was certain the sky was never more beautiful than when it was reflected in his eyes. His breathing had all but stopped, his body completely still. Ahk swallowed, and the slow bob of his Adam's apple was somehow inherently a display of his own desire.

Without breaking their trance, Nouke found his hands with her own and laid them upon her naked flesh in an act of unbridled consent.

“Touch me, Ahk,” she murmured. “Please.”

She didn’t have to ask him twice.

His eyes drifted with wonder to where his fingers began to map her skin; the gentle friction of his hands was like striking a match inside of her. Nouke was powerless to the fire of his touch as it blossomed and spread. She could think of no words eloquent enough to describe the sensation of Ahk’s soft fingers venturing to explore every bit of her flesh. How many times had she indulged in the fantasy before that moment? Nouke couldn’t recall, but the reality was so much more profound than she could have ever imagined.

She whined in the back of her throat when he tentatively brushed the sides of her breasts, his thumbs sweeping over her sensitive nipples. Every ounce of Ahkmenrah’s hesitation evaporated as he read the language of her body, and the sounds his caresses coaxed out from deep in her throat.

As their eyes met again, Nouke found only exuberant desire and a thoughtful adoration free of hesitation in her lover's eyes, causing affection to swell in her breast. The grin that twisted onto the pharaoh's lips was impish; dripping with enthusiasm and a possessive pride that drove through her very nerves in a wave of molten desire.

Ahk drew her against his chest, luring her into a bruising kiss that filled her eyes with stardust. The play of his mouth and tongue was hungry and strong; overwhelmingly intoxicating paired with the way his blunt nails bit into the flesh of her back as he pulled her impossibly closer. She purred invitingly when his mouth left her to lay wet kisses down her neck and the center of her chest.

Nouke leaned into each nip—craving more and more of his lush ministrations. His mouth skirted along the globe of her breast, dragging his tongue over its curve before swirling the sensitive peak. She rejoiced the sensation with a sharp inhale, her body wantonly arching against him. Ahk’s responding growl reverberated through them both; a sound, deep and guttural, escaping into the air as he moved his focus to her other breast with the same fervor.

Nouke’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging as she hugged his face against her chest. All manner of rational thought was rapidly clouding over with a fog of desire, allowing her the mind only a moment to ponder which felt better against her skin: the pharaoh’s teeth or his tongue. Regardless, Ahkmenrah’s mouth was divine wherever he sought to put it.

Gradually, his kisses ventured in an upward trajectory; nipping and sucking and licking all the way from the swell of her breast, across the rise of her collarbone until lingering at the hollow of her neck. The warm silk of his lips pressed against her pulse as he laved the single spot, suckling a possessive mark until he cajoled a soft, wanton whine from her.

Nouke could feel the curl of his smirk against her flesh before he smoothed the bruise he’d left with his tongue. His mouth worked to hers again, capturing it with the same possessive pride—his tongue flicking across her lips causing her mouth to fall open with a sigh.

Ahk broke away long enough to shed the servant's tunic he wore, yanking it over his head in a single, swift movement that did little in the way of hindering their pace. Nouke bit her lip to keep from smiling too foolishly as she drank in the sight before her; his lean torso and sculpted shoulders smattered with freckles. Her pharaoh was a vision so beguiling; his physicality alone sent heat rushing between her thighs.

Before she had eloquently taken in the play of the muscles in his arms, they came to wrap around her once more, squeezing her, and the newfound friction of their naked skin elicited a shared moan. Nouke's arousal was dripping; aching to feel him inside her for the first time.

Ahk’s mouth moved against her’s as he masterfully cradled her waist and shifted them, laying Nouke amidst the nest of woven mats and cushions. He rocked back onto his haunches, eyes half-lidded and twinkling, as he drank in the sight of her with an open-mouthed expression of wonderment. Nouke did the same, propping herself on her elbows.

In the dull glow of the dying lamplight and the spill of Khonshu’s silver rays, her mighty pharaoh looked ethereal. The rise and fall of his proud chest, glittering with a light sheen of sweat, and the disheveled curls on his head were a sight she would hold forever.

Akhmenrah wet his lips as he crawled over her—the flash of his tongue utterly tantalizing. He buried his face in her neck, kissing the skin tenderly, the hot fan of his breath fostering a wave of goosebumps and she sighed. When he spoke, Nouke could feel the brush of his lips against her ear, and it made her toes curl.

“Will you allow me to worship you?” The base note of his voice dropped lower than usual, dripping sweet and sinfully and she almost moaned on account.

“Yes,” Nouke breathed out, one hand moving to tangle in his scalp, the other anchoring and digging into his shoulder as he laid across her.

The grin that Ahk met her with was absolutely lascivious; an expression so affectionate and salacious, warmth rippled through her body with an impassioned tide, causing Nouke's toes to curl and her mouth to fall open with a sigh because of it.

The pharaoh wasted no time trailing his deft lips down the middle of her torso, tasting the stack of her ribs—kissing them each tenderly as he went. Even the dip of her waist he lavished delicately with enthuse as though every part of her flesh was the sweetest nectar. His hands moved in tandem: trailing to knead each breast and laying light scratches down her sides before pressing into the soft swell of her hips.

In the stillness of the air, Nouke was almost certain the rapid beat of her heart thrummed louder than a parade of drums when Ahkmenrah gathered fistfuls of the garment hiding her center. His eyes skated up to meet hers, asking silent permission and she responded with an anticipatory gasp, raising her hips so that he could slide the bunched fabric off, leaving her bare before him.

As Ahk knelt between her thighs, his eyes exploring every dip, curve and swell, heat rushed to color Nouke's cheeks. Never had her few, heedless rendezvous' made her feel as profoundly exposed as she did then. It was a new level of intimacy that made her both acutely nervous and overwhelmingly excited.

Even so, a thread of apprehension stitched into the features of Nouke’s face, suddenly aware that Ahkmenrah was a king, and accustomed to only the finest things. She was no glittering princess. She was just the servant girl who loved him with all of her heart.

An unbridled look of awe consumed the pharaoh’s features as his mouth drew into an affectionate grin, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“I have traveled across Egypt and never looked upon such profound beauty,” he promised with enough conviction it was able to combat her blush, and her lips quirked into a grin of her own.

“Have you not seen yourself?” Nouke's eyes danced down his flawless torso, lingering on the hard line of him straining the fabric of his shendyt.

Ahk beamed all white teeth and full lips, sending butterflies to occupy her stomach.

“Your loveliness is beyond comparison," he assured her.

Her heart swelled and pounded rapidly as she held his gaze, her every breath long and slow. For all the apprehension she felt moments ago, all that remained was wanton need and affection.

His fingertips swept over the tops of her thighs—feather-light—as his wide smile softened into a gentle smirk.

“Lie back,” he instructed, gingerly urging her legs further apart.

Nouke did as he asked, locking her eyes with the stars as she reminded herself to breathe—the sensation of Ahk’s hands brushing closer to her heated center so distracting to all of her senses.

Without warning, a single, thick finger drew a swift line threw her center and he hummed, pleased at how wet she already was.

The surprise and the teasing way he only just swept over the bundle of nerves hidden in her core inspired a surge of pleasure so grand it manifested in the form of a gasp Nouke was both unable and unwilling to smother. Ahkmenrah purred again, a satisfied and lewd note, rumbling from deep in his chest that, itself, strove to finish her.

Ahk had only begun to touch her where she’d longed to have him, and already her body was begging to accommodate him. The desperate need to passionately tangle herself with another soul—with Ahk—was more than just a heedless play of the flesh. Nouke surrendered to it, bliss encompassing her entire spirit.

An unabashed and playfully arrogant smile played on Ahk's beautiful lips when she risked a look his way. The sight of the pharaoh Ahkmenrah nestled between her legs, looking so pleased, fixated warm knots in her stomach. Teasing kisses burnished the skin of her thighs; each closer to the hidden part of her, making the knots pull tighter with the ache of anticipation. Nouke whined feeling his impish smile against her skin.

Before Nouke could utter a verbal complaint to protest his playful lips, Ahk dropped his mouth to her; drawing his tongue up and flat through the center of her folds, stopping to curl around the bud of her clit.

Nouke’s hips bucked to chase the sensation of his mouth, her head falling back as her eyes fluttered shut, a moan rumbling from her throat.

"Oh...Ahk..."

Aptly, and without relinquishing his task, Ahkmenrah guided her legs to moar over his shoulders, her heels falling to dig into his back. A shudder shook her when the rush of his hot breath puffed against her quim, and the stars spinning in her eyes barely had time to settle before he swept his tongue through her silky folds a second time.

Ahkmenrah’s mouth worked her with all the confidence of a virile king—a notion that spurred a lusty haze to consume her— prompting his name to spill from her lips in awe and praise. Nouke welcomed the pleasure, letting every distinction of his ministrations kindle and feed the fire engulfing her. She willfully drowned in a bliss she had never known the like of before, wonderfully powerless to swim the current of his love.

Nouke arched to get closer, her body springing with abandon, brazen and greedy as she wove her fingers into his hair—tugging. Ahk stiffened his tongue, running it out to flick against her before sliding between her folds, avidly sampling the nectar within, and Nouke rolled unashamedly against his face. She was drawing tight around him, the beginning of the end finally in sight, and Ahk flicked against her in quick, delicate strokes until she keened and shuddered, yanking his hair.

Her hips swiveled again when his tongue brushed over the sensitive bundle, causing Nouke's vision to blur as that swollen bud became the focus of the pharaoh's ministrations. The heat pulsing through her began to coil tighter until she was tense and trembling—skirting the edge of her release. Every rapid hammer of her heart was muffled by every wanton moan that escaped upon every breath she took.

Ahk’s shoulders started to roll as his tongue slid and pressed and flitted to taste her, lapping up every ounce of her arousal with glee. He added a finger, then another, both hooking perfectly inside her causing Nouke's hips to buckle and her hands to tug his curls, finally tumbling over the peak of pleasure with a long moan.

All at once, Nouke’s breath caught as a flush spread across her chest. Her vision tunneled, graying the haze as he nipped the swollen bud, wrapping his lips around it and sucking as she came. She cried out, her body shaking, ears ringing, and wonderfully at the mercy of her climax.

Ahkmenrah slowed to delicate sweeps, carrying her gently through every tremble of her orgasm until she laid still. He waited until her fluttering stopped, sweetly kissed the juncture of her thigh in parting, then rocked onto his haunches to suck his fingers into his mouth, groaning happily while licking his fingers and glistening lips clean of her essence—obviously pleased with himself.

She smirked seeing his playful arrogance, and she implored him to kiss her with the peak of her tongue wetting her lips. Ahk’s grin grew; the puckish quirk of his gorgeously plump lips enough to work another wave of want to pool low in her belly.

He moved up her torso slowly, laying kisses to every inch of bared flesh, each spark sent to refuel her fire. When his mouth found hers, there was a musty undertone coating his lips that she quickly realized was her self, and Nouke chased the new tang with her tongue and ample curiosity.

Ahk shifted his weight, pressing his body against hers, kindling a euphoric friction that coupled deliciously with his dominating kiss, stirring a moan to spill from her lips. The hard line of his cock pressed against her hip evoked the familiar heat of desire and urgency to build rapidly. All at once, Nouke was overcome with the primal need to have him buried deep inside her.

“Ahk?” she bit out on a heated breath, breaking their kiss as her fingers moved to fumble the waistline of his only remaining garment.

Ahkmenrah grinned as a shiver shook him from the feel of her eager fingers toying with the fabric. Tenderly, he tilted their foreheads together, locking his eyes with hers, and she almost gasped seeing the affection swirling amidst the colors of blue and gray.

“Are you ready for me, my love?” he asked in a low bravado that made her shiver.

His hand snaked down every curve of her body before sliding a digit through her wet folds, causing her to exhale sharply.

“Yes,” she husked out just before Akh’s deft finger dipped inside, curling and making her body shake.

With a whine, she mourned it’s sudden loss while Ahkmenrah adjusted to make quick work of his shendyt. As he tossed the garment aside, Nouke took a moment to mentally thank all the gods responsible for creating someone as breathtakingly ethereal as her pharaoh—especially when she could marvel at all of his perfect assets properly.

Nouke half expected him to say something witty or charming when he returned her devilish grin, but instead, he surprised her by claiming her mouth, tenderly pulling her beneath him. In a swift, delicate thrust, he filled her, fixing them together as one being as her name tumbled from his lips in a guttural groan.

"Oh..fuck...you feel so good."

A shudder worked through her whole body as her legs wrapped around his waist, arms twining around his neck—relishing in the feel of him.

"So do you," Nouke gasped. The sensation was delightfully more profound than she previously thought possible. She savored every second, fearing the high would never truly be as grand as the initial time he sated her.

When her eyes fluttered open to share that moment with her magnificent king, his eyes were slits, his bottom lip caught between his teeth—the incarnation of pure ecstasy above her.

A slow undulation took to her hips, imploring him to move when he stayed still to savor her warmth around him as long as he could. Ahk hummed as she moved against him in search of friction, and he kissed her sweetly, carding his fingers through her hair.

"Make love to me, Ahkmenrah" she begged, rolling her pelvis against his, causing him to moan.

The pharaoh kissed her as he withdrew himself almost completely, then gently pushed back in teasingly slow, provoking a sigh past Nouke's lips. He set a firm, but unhurried rhythm that built the pleasurable pressure they were both starving for perfectly.

Nouke’s hands drifted from their place around his neck, raking her nails along his sculpted shoulders and down the muscles of his back, digging into his flesh in a gambit to hold her pharaoh against her. She was hungry to feel every inch of his body grinding with her own. When his thick fingers twisted and tangled into her hair, tugging firmly to tilt her head back, exposing the column of her throat, she sighed only to moan as his lips blazed a trail of sloppy kisses down her neck.

Ahkmenrah smiled at the sound he stirred and suckled with a little more fervor as he went, leaving multiple marks of his affection over her pulse and along her collarbone. She whined when his hand left her hair and rediscovered the globe of her breast, the soft pad of his thumb dancing over her nipple. They tingled to a point, and Ahk made an approving sound low in his chest.

The stimulation of his capable lips and hands, while his hips thrust into her with slow intimacy, was altogether otherworldly. Ahkmenrah worked her body with masterful finesse, able to conjure any noise he pleased with skillful ease. And she was lost in it. He loved her; she could feel it in every tender push of himself into her. Every move he savored as much as she did—her heart was unimaginably full.

Nouke’s hands fell to the curve of his flexing ass, nails sinking into the firm muscle. Ahkmenrah’s moan carried into the air, sweet and wonderfully obscene against the quiet; and Nouke captured his lips with a hungry kiss to muffle it.

Her enthusiasm prompted his tender rolling movements to give way to sharp, shorter thrusts that were delightful. Nouke was close; every hurried thrust and kiss tightened the coil in her abdomen, and the strain on Ahk’s face told her he was teetering on the brink too.

With another thrust, she crested, back bowing, and the rush of blood in her ears muffled her own cries: his name breathless on her lips and tangled in a string of other deities. Ahk’s hands cradled her, twisting behind her back to carry her through every moment of utter euphoria.

“I’ve got you, my love,” he murmured next to her ear—his voice low and smokey. “I’ve got you.”

His thrusts slowed to their previous gentle pace as she trembled and rode the rest of her release in his arms until she stilled. When her eyes opened, Ahk’s were on her’s, captivated.

He was still unsatisfied inside her, heavy with need, but he laid just as still as she did, awe twinkling in his eyes.

“Your turn,” Nouke husked out in a heated breath, her lips quirking into a smile as she traced his jaw with the tips of her fingers.

He smiled before they kissed, and she could feel his affection bursting from the meditative draw of his lips.

The roll of his hips gradually reached a frantic rhythm, desperate to find his own release as an animalistic sound rumbled past his lips when her textured walls tightened around him with every thrust.

Nouke’s devilish grin was hard to quell as she took in the sight of her king; the sheen of sweat glistening on his furrowed brow, lips swollen and wet, his eyes shut tight with concentration. Ahkmenrah had always been breathtaking, but seeing him wrapped in the throes of passion painted him in a new light that had her mouth watering.

Another wanton sound tumbled from his mouth when Nouke guided him close enough to draw her tongue over his Adam’s apple—suckling and teasing his neck to leave her own mark for the world to see. He shuddered, and his desperate thrusts grew even more erratic as she worked him to the peak of his passion every way she knew how.

Ahkmenrah came with her name spilling sloppily from his mouth in a flurry of sounds that swiftly molded into throaty moans. She felt him twitch inside her, a hot splash filling her with his seed, then he went still.

Nouke watched his half lidded eyes slowly drift to her while she gingerly toyed with the curls on his head, lulling him gradually back to reality.

“I love you,” he murmured, eyes sparkling down at her.

Nouke was certain her smile was absurd and telling of her affection. Her heart was pounding hearing him say those little words.

“And I, you. Now and forever.”

He matched her grin, kissing her once more, and maneuvered to lay next to her. Nouke fit herself to his form—he was warm in the cool air of night—resting her chin on his chest.

“Stay,” she begged gently, not wanting their time together to ever end.

He met her marveling eyes with a softness that wrapped around her heart and mended everything to have ever broken it.

"I wouldn’t dream of ruining this moment in any way.”

Tears threatened to prickle her eyes, but Nouke fought them. Instead, she kissed his chest and nestled herself there, where the thrumming sound of his heart could lull her to sleep as she hugged him to ensure he never again left her.

Moment by moment, the weight of the world faded around them until all that remained was the weight of the other tethering them to reality.

Next Chapter-> Chapter Thirteen: Love Over Duty

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