#so they could run away together and she could transition n live her rock n roll trans lesbian dreams

[dkettchen]

Not to get on my old Marvel comics shit for 2 seconds but SSS chat I’m disappointed in y’all for not knowing Sera is not only canonically trans but also a lesbian smh

[ekaterinatepes]

Nothing but the Best

Author Notes: hello again my loves! Thank you for all your likes, reviews and specially your comments! I love it when you make questions and in general let me know what you think about the chapter. Thank you once more for all your support!

XII.

They say time heals all wounds, but there are some wounds that run so deep they refuse to stop bleeding.

https://youtu.be/s1tAYmMjLdY

A cold September afternoon welcomed the dying rays of the sun, the incandescent amber tones of the twilight illuminated the streets of Tokyo, ever so vibrant; full of life, people, delicious food, kaleidoscopic colors, laughter, children running…. Couples holding hands.

A tall man with a blindfold walked down a heavily transited sidewalk with his hands in his pockets and a small bag of pastries hanging off the side. Slowly, he made his way further away from the more concentric streets towards a park, he found a bench near a fountain and took a seat placing his bag right next to him.

The world remained the same and yet everything seemed to have changed, the days were now long and boring, conversations with people didn’t manage to hold his attention for long; missions were repetitive. Everything seemed… dull, opaque, flavorless, empty…

Everything, except perhaps his students who were the only sliver of hope he had left. Those kids would make it far in life, they were going to change the world and he was going to be there to help them along the way. A sad smile pulls at his peachy lips. You would have liked that. After all, the kids also enjoyed your company back in the day when you were still his. It was as if you had become their adoptive mother of sorts at some point. Your nurturing nature guided you to care for others.

A year ago when Yuuji was placed under his care and tutelage at Jujutsu High it had been hard for the boy. At the time the kid had just lost his only living relative and to top it off he also consumed the most powerful curse ever known to man kind.

He had so much responsibility on his shoulders Satoru couldn’t help but make the connection with himself when he was a kid his age. That’s how Satoru decided to take him home for dinner one night; he couldn’t have been more pleased with his decision. Of course, you adored Yuuji. His sweet snd enthusiastic personality, his polite manners and naiveté made him just endearing in your eyes.

Even Megumi, who barely spoke with his more taciturn approach asked about you. Satoru didn’t know how to answer. The dark haired boy would also come and visit your home to help you prepare some foreign delicacies you loved to cook. Sighing once more he ran his hands through his white hair.

***-Flashback-***

“So where’s Y/N-san? I haven’t seen her in a long time?” Asked Megumi right after Satoru returned from New York. It caught him by surprise

“She… she doesn’t live in Japan anymore” was all he said before changing the subject. Megumi looked at him with eyes wide open but decided not to pry.

Yeah… that probably was weird. Someone asks you about your spouse and you say they moved out of the country. It was pretty obvious what that meant.

***~End Flash Back~***

Sighing he opened the small paper bag containing his mochi, he loved his desert but lately he didn’t even have the will to indulge in sweets anymore. Satoru consumed insane amounts of sugar to stimulate his brain. The problem was that during the past year all that stimulation manifested in the form of vivid memories of you. Your voice, your smell, your presence. It was as if his brain chose to take him down the path to misery, as if to rub on his face what he could never have.

As of last week you were officially not Y/N Gojo anymore. He finally signed those blasted papers giving you your freedom and his capitulation.

It had been one of the worst days of his life.

After signing the divorce Satoru went straight to the liquor store where he found that exotic apricot liquor he liked in New York and bought a bottle. Once he made it back home he proceeded to get drunk out of his mind. The next morning he woke up by the pool, laying down on a tanning chair, wearing only a pair of boxers and hugging your wedding picture.

His head was killing him, at some point he had emptied his insides in the pool. A disgusted grimace reminded him he had to hire some help to take care of the house that was an absolute disaster, faithfully reflecting the state of its owner.

That morning, nursing a hangover he swore off alcohol for the rest of his life.

But hey! On the positive side he didn’t remember at all that night! Which means he ‘probably’ didn’t think about you (yeah right! As if he was ever not thinking about you) and how much he hated the fact you were not his Y/N Gojo anymore. You were not his wife anymore…

The memory made him want to cry like a baby. He lost the person he loved the most in his life because he had been one flaming idiot.

Despite all his efforts he could not forget you. Wherever he went, whatever he did… there you were, tormenting his waking and sleeping hours like his own personal curse.

He tried to get over you. He tried to be the asshole you knew him to be. He slept with so many women he couldn’t even count. But at the end of the night, in the throes of passion it was your face that he saw, your body that he craved, your flavor that he yearned and your name the one he called out when he climaxed.

He was absolutely fucked.

Revisiting memories of the last night he saw you he couldn’t believe how stupid he had been at the time. It took him so long to realize he had always been in love with you but Satoru, being well… himself, he didn’t want to see or admit that he had been head over heels, madly in love with you. He was a cynical bastard and that had cost him dearly. He chose to lie to himself thinking that THE Gojo Satoru was above all human weaknesses… including love. What an ignorant fucker he had been.

He wondered how you were doing and if you ever thought about him.

A frown made his handsome face look stern. Well… you were not alone anymore. Suguru also had stayed back in New York with you. After Satoru returned to Japan, Ijichi told him Geto Suguru wouldn’t be working out of Japan anymore. He had requested a transfer to the Americas.

Of course he did…

It had been one of the reasons Satoru fucked so many women. In his delusional mind he was ‘getting even’ with you for sleeping with Suguru. Not that he knew for a fact you were sleeping with him or not but… I mean….

Come on! It’s mother fucking Geto Suguru we are talking about here! 6’2 of pure sculpted muscles, tattoos and bad boy looks but with a Prince Charming complex. Yeah… Satoru was green with jealousy because he knew his former best friend was a better man for you than he ever was.

Looking down at his mochi bag he realized the small item had paid the price of his anger as he uncurled his death grip from the bag. Sighing he tossed the ruined pastry in the trash can to his left.

“Miss you….” He whispered to the wind.

———–

“I’m home!” You announced walking into your apartment. Setting you bag down as well as a couple of grocery bags “did you start dinner already?” You ask pleasantly surprised although you already knew the answer to that question since all the apartment smelled fantastic. Suguru walked out of the kitchen with a big smile wearing an apron that read ‘Kiss the Cheff’ nods “yes! I figured I would give you a hand tonight!” He answered as you walked to him to wrap your arms around his waist and give him a chaste kiss on his cheek “thank you Sugu. How was your mission?” You asked deciding to set up the table while Suguru finished dinner. “Not too bad actually, it was a special grade but nothing I couldn’t deal with” you returned a bright smile “I’m glad”

Your friendship with Suguru had slowly evolved into something else. You both spent all of your free time together. Your connection was deeper than mere sexual attraction. Suguru truly understood you, cared for you, shared your dreams and hopes. He was the type of poetic soul who would stay awake with you well into the night just to talk about the stars, the book you read that week that you loved, the new music you liked. It was wholesome.

On the more carnal side you desired Suguru and he desired you but you hadn’t taken what was going on between you two further than a few passionate make-out sessions and some cuddling.

After you last saw Satoru everything became worse before it got better. Suguru had been your rock, he had been there for the sleepless nights you spent crying. Without a word he held you in his strong arms and allowed you to let go. He knew you were deeply wounded, your emotions in disarray and your mental stability in peril. But Suguru never asked anything from you, he gave you the strength to go on. To take care of yourself, to keep going with your career. To have… hope.

It seemed like a dream to think that your life had changed so much in the span of a year. You weren’t able to recognise yourself anymore. Pain and duress molded you into someone new, better, more resilient, harder to hurt.

At this point, the only person you fully trusted was Suguru, he was always honest with you, no matter what happened or how much something hurt, he always remained true to himself and to you.

It was impossible not to love someone like him. He was the whole package.

Suguru was handsome, that was indisputable. But Geto was more than a pretty face. He was kind, truly kind! He did things out of the goodness of his heart, not because he expected anything in return. He was honest, Suguru Geto would never lie to you and THAT is what you loved the most about him.

He was patient.

He wanted you to be his but at the same time Suguru wanted you to heal, to have the chance to trust and love again, not as a means to forget about Satoru but because you wanted to choose a new path for yourself.

After diner you helped with the dishes and then settled on the couch. Suguru joined with a smile and two glasses of wine. He handed you one and sipped on the other one “what would you like to watch tonight Kitten?” He asked sitting next to you while picking a movie from the titles available on the screen of the tv.

“Anything you like! It’s your turn to pick” you said with a smile, leaning your head on his shoulder making Suguru smile. These tender displays of affection always made him feel so warm. Passing an arm around your shoulders he kissed your forehead.

You look up into his hazel eyes you blush. Suguru didn’t lose a second before he closed the space between your lips. The kiss was soft but meaningful, you didn’t hesitate to return it; wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to then climb on his lap straddling his hips.

The handsome sorcerer leans back, relaxing and running his hands slowly up and down your naked thighs covered only by the small fabric of your shorts, he strokes them softly leaving a path of warmth in the wake of his touch. Suguru deepened the kiss. His tongue delved in your mouth, slowly inviting yours to join the delicious dance. After a few minutes you pulled back, you are breathless. Your heart beats fast and the adrenaline was making you dizzy in anticipation.

Suguru looks at you, leaning his forehead against yours “I missed you” he ads before engulfing you in another passionate kiss, not even giving you the chance to reply. This time his lips are more demanding, his teeth nibbling your lower lip, requesting entrance. His tongue still tastes like the wine and you recognize his addictive flavor. Suddenly you find yourself laying on your back on the white couch, Suguru is on top of you and your legs are wrapped around his waist. Things are getting much more heated than you anticipated. Your hands roam the expanse of his back over hard muscles and warm skin covered only by the thin layer of his t-shirt. You know if you keep going this way you won’t be able to stop.

https://youtu.be/yBatuRGZAmA

A part of you doesn’t want this to end, you want to go all the way with Suguru. But… as much as you hate it, there is a tiny part of you that feels ambivalent about it. You wonder why is that you can’t just… do it!? You want Suguru! God! You desire him more than you can express with words, the growing wetness between your legs is evidence that you indeed were very much sexually attracted to him and yet your mind kept torturing you.

It was… complicated.

Your marriage with Satoru have been over longer than that piece of paper you got last week said. But erasing your feelings wasn’t something you could ever hope to do.

As much as you wanted to give yourself to Suguru it felt wrong that you were holding a part of yourself back. You wanted to give him everything, he deserved EVERYTHING of you. It wouldn’t be fair to just have sex with him when he deserved to be made love to.

You love Suguru, everyday that goes by your feelings for him grow and intensify, it was hard to even understand why would you hesitate and yet you did.

Your passionate kiss slowly becomes more tender until you are just sharing small pecks. Suguru pulls back with a little comforting smile; he felt the change in your body language, he knew what was going through your mind. You explained it to him before and he didn’t want to push you. He knew you needed to go at your own pace and he respected that.

“I’m… so-“ you starts apologetically but Suguru stops you with a little kiss “don’t… don’t apologize, I know baby…” he said reassuringly. Sealing his tender words with a kiss. When you separate again he asks “Alright little kitten, tell me… what’s it gonna be? ‘Dorian Grey’ or ‘Only Lovers Left Alive’?” Pulling you in his strong arms he cuddled with you on the couch, returning to the choices for movie you had.

You were so thankful for this man in your life “let’s go with ‘Only Lovers left Alive’”

With a last kiss he started the movie and pulled a blanket over you both.

He could wait, he would wait till the end of time. For you.

———-> Chapter 13/Part 1

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[amintyworld]

Wilbur's Crows - A Dream SMP Drabble

A/N: Have a little fluff for the soul, featuring Phil's Chat! - Minty

TW: Crying? (Lmk if I need to tag anything else!)

-------------------------------------

Sunrise bled through the white curtains, slowly melting away the peaceful starry night into a new day. Creatures stirred out of their slumber, and monsters retreating back to the darkness from whence they came, a few slowly turning to ash and bust. The smell of burning flesh ran potent through the forest, a smell that meant safety to those living within, a smell they were more than used to, blind to. The ground began to warm under the sun's gaze, the cool breeze of night turning to warmth. A warm hug mother nature gave to her children, easing them away from dreamland.

Beside a window, a crib rocked slightly back and forth as a breeze blew through the room. A messy brown-haired tyke held a teddy bear protectively to his chest, sleeping soundly. The light growing brighter behind his eyes, he shifted uncomfortably. Finding no relief, a noise of annoyance rose from his throat as he buried his face into the stuffed animal.

Swiftly, hearing the distress, a few black crows landed on the windowsill overlooking the three-year-old. Some brandished shiny necklaces they wore as a badge of honor. Some were simply bare. A crow to the left of the other two put down a shiny glimmering rock from its beak down by its feet, putting the gift aside for now. Looking to the side, the left crow could see the one on the far right putting down a large chunk of a diamond before the one in the middle met its gaze. Together, all three stared down at the toddler in concern for a moment as the small human squirmed, his chest heaving in breath like he was about to cry.

The two crows looked to the right one with the badge, wondering what they should do. The right one hopped over toward the headboard of the crib, taking in the child. Then, they let out a loud call. "Caw!" The loud noises made the small human's eyes snap open to see a black crow staring down at him, cawing. "Caw! Caw!"

The other two chimed in occasionally, adding to the caw-rus. That was, until the toddler in both annoyance and a little fear clutched his teddy closer and began to cry. The two on the windowsill looked at each other in panic - something was wrong with the small human, it was crying! - and began to caw louder to draw the attention of their owner.

As the door creaked open, all crows silenced, watching their owner as he entered. Watching for any sign of what he wanted them to do. The blonde locks fell a little past his shoulders, with kind blue eyes. He approached the child, reaching his hand down and gently brushing any hair out of his son's face. "Shh, it's okay mate, everything's okay..." When the child's eyes met his father's he silenced, simply looking up at him. Phil smiled as he moved to pick him up, holding the toddler against his hip. Wilbur's grip failed on the teddy during the transition, dropping on the ground as the left-sided crow flew down to try and grab it, flapping its wings wildly to get the surprisingly heavy stuffed animal in the air. Phil let out a warm chuckle as he kneeled down to take it, the crow backing off. After the small child got settled in his arms, he raised a finger to his lips and kissed it, pressing it to his son's nose as he giggled. "There's the Wilbur I know." Phil cooed.

Turning toward the window, his crows looked on silently, wanting to help but unsure as of how. "He's okay, Chat. Wilbur's okay." The caws returned in relief at the statement, breaking the somewhat silence. The crow with the necklace flew over toward Wilbur, trying to land on Phil's shoulder before the tyke waved his arms in protest and annoyance.

"Caw!"

"Caw!" Wilbur mimicked. "Caw!"

Phil chuckled at his son's outburst, trying his best to sound stern. "Now Wil, we don't wanna try to hurt Chat, do we?"

As Wilbur turned to face his father as he talked, the crow in question changed course, landing on top of Wilbur's head with a "caw". Phil tried to hold back his laughter at it all as the door creaked once more, someone else entering the room. Their voice was warm like Phil's but soft, comforting. "So I'm guessing Wilbur's okay?"

"Yeah, just a little grumpy this morning," Phil answered.

"Mumza!" A crow chanted.

She walked further into the room, behind her husband, giving him a small peck on the cheek. "Hm, I wonder where he gets it from..." She teased. Phil turned to face his wife with a smirk, leaning over to give her a proper kiss on the lips. As Wilbur moved closer, he could see a silver glint around her neck.

-----------------------------------

"Uhm, Wilbur..." Ranboo began as he looked up from the crafting table and out the window of their van. "Wilbur they're here again."

Wilbur sighed from his spot on the hammock, arm over his eyes. "You've gotta be joking. I told him to stop sending them!"

"Honestly? I don't think he has any control over them, they just kinda... do what they want." Ranboo shrugged.

Grumbling, frustrated, Wilbur marched out of the door of his burger van and toward the thousands of black crows lining the trees of the surrounding forest. A few brandishing those unmistakable necklaces, he knew exactly whose crows these were. He told Phil multiple times he was fine. He told Phil multiple times he didn't need a babysitter and that he wanted to change. Phil told him multiple times that he trusted him.

Ha, 'Trusted him'. He was sending in his fucking bird surveillance!

If scaring them didn't work, talking to them didn't work...

He pulled out a water bucket from his inventory, the murder of crows staring down at him as he stared up at them. "This is your final fucking warning, go away!"

Spinning he launched the water into the air as it came splashing down on top of the tree. Caws rang out amongst the forest as a few gave up and flew away, but the rest simply flapped their wings and flew a little higher, soaking wet... and mad.

"Oh Shit."

Wilbur's eyes widened as a murder of crows flew toward him as full speed, knocking him over onto the grass. Their talons caught on his skin and clothes, scratching and leaving him sore. Blinded by a sea of feathers and black, Wilbur struggled to his feet, coughing out a few feathers that landed in his mouth before finally getting his bearings, the murder traveling to settling on top of the van. After shaking himself free of feathers, guilt weighed on his heart - they were only following their owner, after all.

"Look, I'm sorry Chat. I... I didn't mean to hurt you, I... uhm..." Wilbur sighed. "I just don't like being watched, okay?" As Wilbur turned to leave, he heard the fluttering of wings and saw the crows surround his feet, one perched on his head and one on each shoulder. He mustered a bit of an awkward smile - it was strange that he was literally talking to birds. His father's birds, but still. "Thanks, Chat."

Walking off deeper into the forest, Wilbur could hear the flapping of wings behind him, and found himself smiling. Maybe it had some weird psychological effect from trying to run them off his property for almost a week straight... but his father's crows were growing on him.

They settled wherever he went as he worked collecting wood and finding some cows to bring back, the flapping always a telltale sign. One always liked settling on top of his head, and after a few hours, Wilbur allowed it. Chat was a silent presence, but not an unwelcome one to Wilbur, who didn't have many friends besides Ranboo to hang around.

As the day came to a close, he walked back toward the van. "I'm guessing I'll see you all tomorrow, then?" He got a few caws in response as the murder took off into the sky and over the horizon, back towards his father's home in the artic. One crow remained - the one perched in his brown curls. "Go on then, you'll see me tomorrow after all." Wilbur gestured toward the others. "And please learn to listen to Phil, okay? You guys could've gotten yourselves lost trying to find me."

The crow landed on Wilbur's outstretched arm, and for the first time, Wilbur could see the crow had something in its beak. A grand silver necklace with a black stone pendant, that shimmer silver in the sunset's glow. Wilbur's eyes narrowed, scanning it. "Is... Is this...?" He looked up toward the crow, who let out a caw and flew away.

Wilbur ran his finger over the pendant that he'd never seen before, and yet he felt like he'd known it his whole life.

Mom.

--------------------------

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[philliamwrites]

compromissum

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Xiao/Aether

Tags: #blood, #angst, #hurt and comfort

Words: 2.5k

Summary: [lat. compromissum: “mutual promise”] In which Xiao has made his very own contract with Aether, and in Liyue, the Land of Contracts, one who breaks their contract shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock.

Commissioner: CrystalNines

Notes: I swear, one day I'll learn how to write happy endings.

compromissum

     All is quiet. The shack hiding in the shadow of a cliff is abandoned and left to rot, its wood mouldy and old. No one has been here for a quite a long while and no one desires to visit this forsaken place tugged away in a corner of Qingxu Pool. Then, a figure breaks through the roof, destroying half of its construction.

    All air is knocked out of Xiao’s lungs as he slams onto the ground, but there is no time to catch his breath. He rolls to the side not a moment too late before a Geovishap drops through the opening in the roof and smashes into the ground right where he was laying seconds ago. It snarls, showing a row of razor sharp, enormous teeth the size of Xiao’s lower arm. The corner of Xiao’s mouth twitches as if to reply by bearing his own teeth.

    Blood, warm and wet, runs down his arm, making his grip around his polearm slippery and he shakes his head to clear the dizziness from the Geovishap’s blow earlier. There’s shouting from somewhere above his head, voices echoing over the valley with fear and worry palpable Xiao tries to ignore. He doesn’t need anyone to look after him. So many years have passed where he was out on the hunt by himself without anyone watching his back.

    But there’s one voice he’s learnt to pick out from a crowd, one that no matter when and where lures Xiao in even at a time like this when he’s facing a thirty-thousand-pound monster that can easily break his spine.

    The Geovishap charges. Xiao uses the end of his polearm to gain additional height and jump over it, its amber horn almost grazing the tip of his foot. Before the monster can turn, Xiao lunges forward, his polearm raised to strike and unbalance it, so he’d get access to the soft skin of its belly. But the Geovishap is surprisingly fast for something this big and sturdy, and it whirls around, smashing a giant fist, hard as rock, into Xiao’s side and he cries out, feeling his ribs break. Pain like someone split his side open bare-handed sears through him as he’s thrown against a wall and crumbles to the ground. Black dots dance across his blurred vision and the taste of iron fills his mouth. He spits out blood, his arms trembling from the effort to get back up.

    A shooting star crashes into the Geovishap—no, not a star. Aether. He plunges through the broken roof, fire blazing in his golden eyes as he brings his sword down on the reptilian creature in a single, deadly strike. The Geovishap roars a last time, then falls into himself and remains lifeless n the dirty shack’s ground.

    In his long life, Xiao has gotten used to seeing creatures lose their lives, often by his own hand, but it never ceased to make him wonder how something this big and wild a second ago becomes an empty shell, void of life—how easy and fast, seamless, the transition from alive to dead is. How nothing in this world cares about technicalities like good or evil for all is equal in death.

    In front of him is Aether, beautiful Aether with his sword still raised, its tip glinting in the setting sun like freshly tempered iron in heavenly fire. The sight reminds Xiao of this creature he’s read about a long time ago: Angels, they are called, that descend upon the mortal ground to bring justice in the name of something holier than them. Looking at Aether now, Xiao doesn’t struggle to imagine such a creature—the warm, red horizon illuminates his golden hair. A halo.

    Someone places a small hand tentatively on Xiao’s wounded shoulder and he recoils, finally tearing his gaze away from too beautiful Aether.

    “This looks bad,” Barbara says. For someone looking this frail, her grip is firm, and she doesn’t allow Xiao to wiggle out. “Let me take a closer look.”

    Xiao hisses, “No need.” It takes effort to get back on his feet, his muscles scream in protest but everything in him refuses to appear weak. “We still have one bounty left.”

    “Forget the bounty,” Aether cuts in, sharper than his sword’s edge. He closes the distance in a few strides and ignoring Xiao’s protests, Aether slides one arm around his waist and ducks under Xiao’s arm to steady him. “We’re going back to camp,” he declares and looks around, at Barbara and at Amber whose eyes are big and round with worry. No one objects.

    Except Xiao.

    “I’m fine.”

    “I don’t know what ‘fine’ meant for you back in your time but nowadays it doesn’t mean what you are right now.”

    “I am well aware of its meaning—” Xiao hisses when Aether leans a little too much into his hurt side.

    “Yeah,” Aether deadpans. “This sure looks fine.”

    Xiao can’t remember a time Aether has ever talked to him like that: Cold, dismissive, sneering almost. Not soft, kind Aether who starts to cry whenever one of Amber’s stray arrows accidentally hits a squirrel and they spend the afternoon burying it under a pine tree. This Aether doesn’t spare him another glance. He helps Xiao all the way to their campsite hidden inside a little cavern with a grim expression, his mouth pressed together into a thin line.

    When they finally reach their camp, Xiao disentangles from Aether and retreats to a corner further inside the cavern where a boar’s hide is laid out on the ground as a makeshift bed. It was easier to ignore his wounds with adrenaline pumping through his body but as it always does, the pain catches up to him in the end and leaves him paralysed with agony. When he lays down, slowly and carefully, gritting his teeth against any pained noise, he hears hushed whispers, his company’s mumbled conversation about him and what they’re going to do with him. Xiao doesn’t care. But this scene is familiar, and when he closes his eyes, his mind transports him to the past, to a time when the ground grew ill from soaking up too much blood and he’d lied on hard, unyielding stone that leaked grime and misery, falling into a dreamless slumber to four familiar voices.

    Xiao startles out of sleep, jolts right into awareness and almost smacks Aether across the face who dodges just in time as Xiao’s fist whirls past his jaw. They stare each other down for a long moment like two cats assessing each other to decide if they could trust each other. Eventually, Aether crouches down next to Xiao. He holds a little bamboo box in his hand and Xiao can smell the distinctive bitter note of the du huang mixture Granny Ruoxin gave them as thanks for driving off Hilichurls camping in the bamboo forest at the foot of the mountain that gently cradles Qingce Village.

    “Your wound. Show me,” Aether says quietly, even though there is no need to whisper. Looking over his shoulder, Xiao doesn’t see Barbara or Amber. They’ve left camp, probably to collect some berries or fetch water from the nearby river, which means he and Aether are alone and that’s something he’s tried to avoid lately. But that isn’t right either because it feels like the absence of a magnetic centre, and without it nothing makes sense at all.

    Xiao tries to sit up, but his limbs are still sore, and he feels like someone wrung him completely dry. The pain in his shoulder is a dull throb and he feels a rib poke somewhere it shouldn’t. His breathing is shallow, but he is breathing after everything and that is enough.

    “I can take care of it myself,” he says, his voice lowered as well as if they were talking about a small animal that might flee any second. He holds his hand out to Aether who stares at it as if Xiao has grown an additional sixth finger.

    “You’ve been with us for months now,” Aether says. “Why can’t you trust us? Why can’t you trust me?”

    Xiao’s hand drops back in his lap. In his whole life the amount of people he’s trusted can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Two had slaughtered each other, one had grown mad from the burden she couldn’t carry, one had abandoned him and the last had died by the hands of those who walked on the soil he prepared for them. Trust is a fragile thing, kept locked and hidden away and not even too beautiful Aether with his eyes and hair of golden sunshine and mind of gilded kindness could bring him to trust again.

    His silence appears to be answer enough. Aether’s eyes drop to the ground, disappearing behind a thick curtain of bright lashes like the sun setting behind the distant horizon to unimaginable places. Something inside Xiao uncoils at that sight. But then Aether does what he always does, something he’s unnervingly good at: He doubles back to strike when one least expects it. His eyes rise to meet Xiao’s and with a conviction that leaves no place for doubt or objection he says, “I don’t mind waiting however long it takes. You said to speak your name and you will appear to vanquish my demons and foes. But know that when you speak my name, I will come and carry your burden.”

    “Why?” Xiao demands.

    “Why not?” Aether asks with an intensity that Xiao isn’t equipped to handle.

    He huffs a little breath of annoyance. “I am not your problem.”

    “You’re not a problem,” Aether almost snaps at him, mirroring his annoyance like a shot deflected and cast back. Something in Xiao stutters like a flame struggling against the wind that tries to extinguish it. He remembers words Rex Lapis had told him many, many years ago after he’d saved him from the hands of an evil god that had marked him with ink that would never let him forget who he once belonged to: Even after all that darkness he should never stop looking for the light in everything and everyone.

    “Because people will come, and they will teach you about love and forgiveness. But you have to let them in, Xiao. First you have to accept this slight moment of vulnerability, and then you will be rewarded with goodness. Never lock away your heart, Xiao. It pains me to think you might be all alone forever.”

    Xiao closes his eyes, conjuring Rex Lapis’ face in his mind. What he would give if only he could see him one last time.

    Aether stirs, ready to return to his side of the camp but Xiao catches his wrist. At some point during the evening, Aether has taken off his gloves and now Xiao can see a line where they would end. The skin below is slightly paler, and his fingers are long and slender, beautiful. Hands made to be captured in coal paintings, so history won’t forget them. One part of him wants to put them to his lips and worship every single digit to engrave Aether’s taste onto his tongue, the other imagines cutting them off one by one and wearing a bloody necklace of Aether’s fingers, his own good luck charm for eternity.

    Without a word, he turns around and offers Aether his wounded shoulder. Behind him, Aether is very still first. Xiao can only imagine what horrid wound Aether’s eyes lay upon: The skin parted by jagged claws, left unattended while the blood has dried on his skin. Yaksha heal faster than mortals, but they are not invulnerable or immortal. Any other person, this blow would have killed for sure.

    Then Xiao feels a cool mixture carefully applied to his wound by warm, warm hands which doesn’t surprise him. Everything about Aether is warm.

    They sit in comfortable silence, the soft crackling of the fire in the background the only sound that fills the dimly lit cavern. Shadows dance on the wall and Xiao observes them for a moment, recognising this daemon and that impure ghost from his past until they all merge into an undistinguishable shape and he closes his eyes to block them out and simply feel Aether’s careful motions, the balm slowly warming upon his skin, the pain fading until, like everything else, it becomes a memory.

    When Aether is done, his hand lingers on Xiao’s back, his fingertips slightly grazing another scar that dips just below his ribcage. Xiao’s body tells his history in scars and he can still recount which daemon left which. Mortals tell you time heals it all and soon you forget, but Xiao doesn’t, he remembers everything. Xiao remembers everything.

    He turns slowly, and finds Aether still kneeling in front of him. Trying to meet his eyes, they are so close Xiao could count every eyelash framing Aether’s round, kind eyes. He takes Aether’s hand, a small hand, studies it and intertwines their fingers as if he already misses Aether’s small hand in his palm.“

    You know I would give my life for you,” Xiao says, for his contract to protect Liyue has been terminated with Rex Lapis’ death, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t set his own rules, live by his own contract.

    Something in Aether’s expression changes; an almost forlorn look but whatever he tries to find in Xiao’s face, Xiao can’t give it.

    “Xiao, we can still—” he starts, but Xiao silences him by lifting his other hand and grazing Aether’s cheek with his fingertips.

    “We already talked about this,” he says in a voice as if he’s trying to explain something to a child. “I serve, but I do not love. I cannot love for my first master has taken that ability and it was lost with his death.”

    His feelings for Aether could be love in a different world, a different time. But right here, right now, they are what is left of it; a shadow, only a memory. Desire maybe, worship, yes. But love wouldn’t leave this bitter taste in his mouth whenever he thinks of Aether. It wouldn’t.

    Aether looks gutted. His mouth twists, as if he’s trying to hold in tears; Xiao knows the feeling and he hates seeing it on Aether’s face, hates being the reason why Aether looks heartbroken, why he is heartbroken. In a different world, Xiao could be kinder to Aether and give him what he deserves. But in this, with marks upon him that will never disappear and the taste of dreams still fresh on his tongue as if he has never stopped devouring them, he is not what Aether needs.

    But he will make up for that. He will serve Aether until his dying breath and either fall in battle for him or remain by his side even as old age claims Aether, should he age like mortals do. It would be an honour to die for Aether and until that day comes, Xiao will stay by his side and only after that, he will allow himself to rest and let the kind, soft tunes of a flute carry his soul to the next world, hoping even one as tainted as his is allowed peace and respite. That is the compromise he has constructed, the contract he has agreed upon with Aether, and in Liyue, the Land of Contracts, one who breaks their contract shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock.

[harrytpotter]

RIGHT PLACE, WRONG TIME — Part VII

Plot: Y/N finds herself trapped in a time in which she doesn’t belong only to learn that maybe that was her place all along.

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,7K.

Right Place, Wrong Time Masterlist.

A/N: Each chapter i write of this story leads me to believe that’ll be at least a couple more than originally planned because i keep wanting to add things to the plot lol. Anyways, hope you guys like this chapter, i’m excited with this! :)

“Thought I might find you here,” you smiled at James, who sat at the higher goalpost in the Quidditch pitch.

“Aren’t you just a show-off riding your broom upright?” He chuckled at the vision of you standing on your feet on top of a broom several metres above the floor. “Come here,” he patted the spot beside him.

“What the bloody hell is that?” You nodded at a squared piece of metal James held with his left hand as you seated next to him.

“Oh, this?” James asked as he turned the box to you whilst levelling it with his eyes and pressed a button. “That’s a Muggle camera. A Polaroid, if I remember its name correctly.”

You quirked your eyebrows when the camera started to make some noises and suddenly spilled a black square with a white frame. James laughed at your reaction as he took the piece of paper out and started to shake it furiously. The black square soon transitioned into a very still picture of you smiling dreamily at the photographer. James handed it over to you.

“Why isn’t it moving?” You frowned, analysing the picture. “Godric, I look terrible.”

“Muggle pictures don’t move. They just... stay still I guess,” he chuckled. “You look perfect and I’m keeping it,” he grabbed the picture from your hands with a smile.

Biting your lower lip amidst a smile, you pulled the camera from James’ hands and, without a warning, snapped a photo of him as well. As the camera tossed the paper out once again, you took it in your fingers and started to shake it exactly like James did. When his handsome features showed on the paper, you couldn’t help but smile at the adoring gaze he was giving you in it.

“And I’m definitely keeping it,” you held the picture in his direction so he could see it.

“I look like an idiot!” He protested with a laugh.

“You look cute!” You argued, smiling.

He stared at you with the same gaze the picture you held had eternalized. 

“Where did you get it anyway?” You asked after a while, handing the camera back to him.

“With me, of course!” Sirius’ voice reached your ears.

Turning your head to your right, you smiled at the sight of the raven-haired boy with stormy grey eyes. “Owning a muggle camera, Sirius Black? If only mommy dearest could see you now,” you teased, laughing.

“I’d say I’d get disowned, but bugger me, that already happened,” he shrugged with a loud laugh, flying on his broom until he was in front of you and James.

“It’s nice to see you smiling again and making jokes about your misfortunes,” you smiled dearly at your friend.

“Like you once told me, I’m much more than my twisted family,” Sirius smiled back at you. “Thank you.”

You, Sirius and James smiled warmly at each other for a few seconds before the grey-eyed boy pulled the camera from James’ hands and got ready to snap a photo of the two of you, “strike a pose, lovebirds!”

James quickly got a hold of your waist and brought you closer to him, planting a kiss on your cheek. Tangling your legs with his, you wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled playfully.

“Aren’t you such a cute couple?” He winged his brows, showing the picture to you and James.

“Aren’t you such a tosser?” You rolled your eyes at him, pulling it out of his hand. “And that’s mine.”

“That I am! But you know what I’m not?” He mischievously lifted a brow at you.

“I’m positive I’m going to regret asking, but… what?” You crossed your arms defiantly.

“A bloody coward who are afraid to own up to their feelings!” He shouted amidst a hearty laugh, speeding off in his broom.

“Oh you did not just call me a coward, Sirius Black!” You cried out, hopping on your broom and flying after him.

You could hear James’ laugh behind as he followed your trail whilst you cut through the air in high speed, chasing your other best friend. The three of you looked like little kids, flying across the corridors of Hogwarts, laughing, cursing and teasing each other, completely ignoring the fact that neither of you should be out of bed by this time.

After a few rounds, Sirius got a little advantage on you and James and got off his broom, ditching it recklessly inside the nearest broom closet and starting to run on foot. He ran for about five minutes before stopping to catch his breath and hiding behind a statue. Sirius shut his eyes down as he tried to stead his breathing and suppress the laughter that threatened to burst from his lungs.

“Where the bloody hell is this damned dog?” You hissed at James, trying not to alert Sirius of your presence as you hopped off your broom yourself, a little further from the bloom closet.

Landing right beside you, James took his index finger to his lips and grabbed you by the hand, pointing his head to a shadow with a curly long hair standing a few meters ahead of you. Exchanging mischievous grins, both you and James started to tiptoe in its direction, ever so silently. Once the boy entered your visual field, you realised he had his eyes shut and, looking at James, you bit your lower lip devilishly. The messy-haired boy nodded at you with a lopsided grin as the two of you cautiously got even closer to Sirius, ready to startle the living hell out of him.

However, before you could scare him away, the loud sound of footsteps and an incomprehensible nagging approaching your location startled the three of you. Sirius widened his eyes and James pushed you behind the statue, before getting into hiding himself.

“You do realise this space is quite small for the three of us, don’t you?” Sirius shot you and James a glare.

“At least we’ll go down together, Pad,” you wiggled your brows sarcastically. “Unless you’re a bloody coward who’d much rather throw your own friends under the bus to save yourself.”

“Like I said, love, you’re the only coward among us,” he smirked gleefully.

“Aren’t you just asking to be hexed, Black?” You smiled wryly at him, wand in hand.

“Please, go ahead; I’d love to see that!” Remus joked as his head popped behind Sirius. “What are you three idiots doing behind this statue anyway?”

“We just heard footsteps and-,” James started to talk but suddenly stopped as he realised something. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

“Guilty,” Remus shrugged playfully. “When I woke up and didn’t find you in your beds I figured you’d be doing something stupid, so I came looking for you. Then I heard your very discreet and quiet giggles and cursing and decided to follow you idiots.”

“Did you just prank us by pretending to be Filch, Moony?” You asked, astonished.

“Indeed, my dear Beastie,” he smirked satisfied.

“That was… genius!” James frowned in awe.

“You were supposed to be the nice one, you know that right?” You winged a brow at him, a lopsided grin forming on your lips. “Come on, boys, let’s head back before the actual Filch catches us.”

Taking the lead, you started to walk up the corridor, James by your side and the other two boys right behind you. The four of you were still discussing Remus’ brilliant tactic when a distant meow erupted with the wind and made you all freeze.

“That was not funny mate,” James rolled his eyes at Remus after the initial shock. “That bloody cat creeps me out.”

“It wasn’t me,” Remus frowned. “I swear!” He added at the sceptical stares.

“Well, in that case…” Sirius rested his left hand on Remus’ shoulder. “RUN!”

You, James, Sirius and Remus held hands as you lot desperately ran in the opposite direction of Mrs Norris’ meows. You passed through the halls heading to the Gryffindor Tower like a blur, laughing and slipping, chests pounding and adrenaline cursing through your veins.

“I- I think- I’m going- to faint,” Sirius muttered breathlessly, stopping abruptly. He leaned against the rock-wall, a hand on his chest and another on the wall, steading him.

“Seriously, Padfoot?” James rested his hands on his knees, catching a breath. “We’re literally one turn away from the Fat Lady portrait.”

“Well, Prongs, ‘m sorry if not everyone here is a damn jock!” He quirked his brows with annoyance.

“You realise you’re also on the Quidditch team, right?” You chuckled.

“As a beater!” He cried out hysterically. “It’s not like I have to run in my broom through and through across the pitch for the entire match!”

“Padfoot…” Remus started, massaging the bridge of his nose to suppress a laugh. “Stop being such a drama queen, would ya?”

Before Sirius could hit back, a new meow sound alerted you of Mrs Norris’ closeness. Turning on your heels, the lot of you got ready to get back on running towards the opposite direction, but a creepy laugh coming from the hallway ahead of you, frustrated your plans.

“Fuck, it’s Filch!” James hissed, heaving a sigh.

“Now what?” Remus asked hopelessly. “If we turn around, we’ll run straight into Mrs Norris. If we go this way, we’ll run straight into Filch.”

“Well, we obviously can’t be here like sitting ducks,” you muttered, pacing around and desperately wishing a way out.

“Would you stop already?” Sirius rolled his eyes at you when you were about to complete your third round.

Before you could tell Sirius off, a sudden noise of rocks moving was heard and a large door made of bronze materialised itself on the wall out of thin air.

“What the bloody hell is that?” You asked no one in particular, approaching the door with a straightened arm, ready to touch the patterns engraved on it.

“Our way out, apparently,” James said as he took your opened hand in his and pushed the door open, dragging you inside the unknown room.

Sirius and Remus followed the two of you, closing the door behind them whilst looking around the peculiar room. It was messy and had all sorts of things scattered around it: an old enchanted harp that was playing a soothing old music by itself, a wooden cabinet with a strange shape and endless piles of old books and trinkets.

“What is this place?” You asked, gobsmacked. You had never seen it before and you were sure if anyone would know what that room was, it would be the three boys standing beside and behind you.

“I- I don’t know…” James whispered, equally awestruck. “We’ve never seen it before.”

Splitting up, each one of you followed a different direction, all eager to explore the newly-found refuge in Hogwarts. You wandered through the aisles, taking in the most strange and unique sights as your eyes spotted interesting magical objects. Turning on your left after a few meters, you went deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of junk, stopping suddenly when something odd caught your attention. On top of a blistered, small old cupboard laid a stone bust of an old warlock wearing a dusty wig. What really stood out to you, however, was an ancient discoloured tiara, sat lopsided upon the bust. It was beautiful and unique: a silver diadem in the shape of an eagle with open wings; it had a blue sapphire shaped like an oval right below the eagle’s head. Etched upon its surface was a quote: "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure." You found yourself hypnotized by its beauty; it was as if you could feel an invisible force pulling you to it, wrapping you in its magnetic strength. You stretched your arms, reaching for the strange object. A cold and cruel chuckle filled the air.

“Y/N…” The voice to which the chuckles belonged to, whispered. You could feel your skin crawl, terrified, but you couldn’t break out of the trance.

Your fingers were almost touching the diadem when you felt a light pressure on your shoulder. Looking to your left, you found James staring at you with a frown.

“Are you alright, love?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. “I’ve called your name a few times but you didn’t seem to be listening.”

“Yeah- Yeah, ‘m fine,” you muttered slowly, retracting your arm and clutching your hands together on your chest.

James tilted his head as he eyed the object that had you so interested, turning his body in its direction. “What is it anyway?” He asked, walking towards the stone bust and motioning to grab the tiara.

“Don’t touch it!” You bawled as you quickly grabbed his hand. “I don’t think this is… good.”

“Do you think this is… dark magic?” James asked incredulously. “It wouldn’t be inside a room in Hogwarts if it was.”

“I just...” you started, resting your face in your hands. “Just please don’t touch it, ok? If anything ever happens to you, I-“

“Hey,” James whispered, taking your hands off your face. “I find it extremely cute that you’re worried about me, but you don’t have to, okay? I’m never leaving you.”

“Promise?” You stared pleadingly into his eyes.

“I promise,” he reassured you with a sweet smile. James cupped your cheeks with his hands and placed a kiss on your forehead, closing his eyes and letting his lips linger on your skin for a little bit longer before pressing his own forehead against yours.

You rested your hands of top of his and smiled at the messy-haired boy. The urge of kissing James felt so right in this moment, but you knew that was your hopelessly-in-love heart speaking. Unfortunately, your head knew better and the image of Lily and Harry floated in your mind, so you just stood there, staring lovingly into those piercing hazel eyes.

“They’re too quiet, Moony! I think they’re making out, we can’t barge in there!” You and James heard Sirius’ urgent whispers to Remus on the other side of the junk pile.

“They’re not making out!” Remus’ voice whispered back. “I too wish they were, but I don’t think they are. Are they?”

“No, we’re not!” You shouted with a roll of your eyes, smiling and getting away from James before your two friends could see you.

“But you should!” Sirius winged his brow as he entered your vision field.

“I agree!” James shrugged playfully, winking at you.

“Aren’t you forgetting about a little detail called Amos Diggory, mate?” Remus teased, pursing his lips together to suppress a laugh. “Too soon?” He added at the death glare James sent him.

“You can tease all you want, Moony,” James gave him a lopsided grin. “But don’t complain when you’re not chosen as best man in our wedding.”

“Excuse me? Wedding?” You looked at James, flabbergasted.

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged before wrapping his arm on your shoulders and guide you to the door. “I’m making you Mrs Potter one day.”

“You sound awfully sure for someone who doesn’t even got the girl yet, mate,” Sirius joked.

“But I will, Pads, but I will!” He patted his friend on the shoulder with his free hand.

“Aren’t you a cocky git? Godric!” you bumped your elbow against his side.

“What, love? You seriously thought I’d hand you to over to Diggory without a fight and watch him being happy with the woman I love? Not a chance!” He said bluntly with a confident smile.

You grimaced as you stared at the floor without knowing what to say. Your cheeks were warm and your stomach stubbornly fluttering at his words.

“Alright lovebirds, as your future best man that will always look out for your best interests, I advise you to head back to bed before the day rises and get some sleep,” Sirius smiled satisfied at his two smitten friends.

“And who made you best man, again? That will be me and you know it!” Remus teased, playfully wrestling the raven-haired boy.

And like that, amidst wedding chats and playful teases, the four of you headed back to the Gryffindor Tower.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @treestarrrrrrrr @fanfic-enthusiast-collector @jgtfvhsg @jullianerey @silver-winter-wolf @ladylizziesficsaves

[slater-later]

I Want to Watch You Grow

Brian Kelly x Trans Masc Reader

Read it here on AO3 if you would like!

- This is a Brian Kelly x Trans Man reader fan fic. This conronicles your long term relationship with Brian and your development with yourself. Your body, and transition as a transman.

- I hope everyone enjoys this. Finds space within themselves and their relationship with the world. It’s okay to be trans, being trans is beautiful. it’s a difficult, glorious journey that is far more of a beginning then an end. Living happy life, being proud of yourself and your body.

- The fic is long, about 12 pages. So please, soak it in, and I wish you the happiest day!

The two of you had been dating for some time. You had met at a small high school party. A good group of friends coming together around a Summer bonfire, slipping your feet out from the well worn sandals and wiggling them infront of a fire. The soles of your feet toasted, turning them around to be goldened on both sides. You held a long metal skewer with two plump marshmallows on the end, rotating it around as you warmed it to a golden ball of glory.

It was sweet, being able to spend time with old friends and make some new. Your friend Ronnie had invited the skater kids from school to join you. He had bonded with them over their mutual love for rock and rap music. It made sense, they both loved Public Enemy. Blasting ‘We Got the Power’ out of their car radios whenever they had a chance. 

You enjoyed it, they threw out some good rhymes and it was a battle cry for your youth. You generation. You couldn’t help but bob your head to the music and belt along.

It was towards the end of the night when you two met. Brian had showed up late, hair slicked with a heavy line of sweat. A shirt quickly shoved into his pants, trying to clean up for his group of friends after a long day of skating.

He had skipped out of work that day- well, really, the restaurant was slow so there wasn’t much need for two busboys. He had spent the rest of his afternoon and late into the stary night, skating at the skatepark. The street lights clicked on and it had made it hard for him to see the clear edges of the ramps. It was time to turn in and get a bite to eat. Putting aside the new trick he caught from someone else. Trying to nail it. 

If he knew it could be done, then he could. He just needed enough time and perseverance to figure it out.

With skating, the possibilities were endless. It was his place to let go of life’s worries and focus on something where had complete control. The complete right to be, what and who he is, with no to tell him otherwise. Skating was like a lifeblood for him, his way of life.

His boundless universe.

He came jogging in, skateboard in hand as he approached the group huddled around the warm fire. 

The trees swayed, creaking under the age and weight of their own majesty with a long gust of wind. It was dark, the hum of Summer turning to a deep pitch of haze. Black rolling in, only to be illuminated by the glaze of starfull and a half crescent moon. The forest was thick, lulled by the hum of heated crickets and hushed by the cool breeze of night. Smoke pooling from the warm fire, whisping and licking up the sky with powerful might. Your toes curled, seeking a gentle relief from its delightful burning flame.

They were roasted and baked. You tucked them into the ground, shifting your heals to push back the brush and find a damp, cool, interior.

Brian waved, throwing an arm up to welcome everyone. A boy buzzed in the background, rolling a hit out of a cheaply made bong. Coughing as he blew out his lungs. Stoned till’ the cows come home.

“Hey guys! Sorry I’m late, it uh, took me a while to find you guys,” He smiled, strolling on into the circle and making his way over to Yabbo. Giving him a high five and saying hello to Buddy. 

You popped your marshmallow onto a graham cracker and some chocolate. You munched on your treat, washing it down with a sip of beer.

You watched Brian that night, catching his eyes as he chatted with Buddy over some trick he had been captivated by. Transfixed on trying to nail, to, gleam the cube. 

He noticed, his shit stain smirk would appear even in mid sentence. Hands flailing out, gesturing and expressing his exasperation on some wild tangent he was on about skating. About life. About love. It was amusing to watch him, loud and audacious as he was. He could even make Buddy loud, who was normally a quiet and reserved guy. Get him chuckling about some silly joke he made, and pairing it with an audacious face. Hands whipped out, a cross between a dragon and a gorilla.

You had finished off your second beer, musing with a friend about the stars as you gazed. Heads turned up, pondering the wide expanse of space. Its’ glorious bounds, its beauty, its’ wonder.

It put things in perspective for you. Not in a scary way, but in a comforting one. That sometimes, our emotions can feel massive. And they can be! But they also fall away, soothe and ease, as we realize, this shall pass. As all things. Even life. And so, what we must work towards is enjoying it. Like moments like these- feet kicked up on a stump, back eased into a lawn chair with a good beer in hand, spending time with friends. The summer breeze cooling your warm skin, still tanned and glowing from a long day spent outside. Walking, running, and spending time with those that mattered to you. You can’t steal back time, but instead, enjoy it.

Brian tapped Buddy’s shoulder, gesturing for him to shift over as he stood up. Slicking to the outside of the circle, making his way over.

He stopped at the bag of mellows, nabbing two and popping one in his mouth. Munching on its sugary goodness as he finished the trip. Sliding down and popping on the ground, criss-cross-apple-sauce style.

You picked your chin up from the stars, turning your head towards him, “Hey.”

“Hey,” He smiled tiredly, softly. It had grown late and the group had died down, calming and chatting amongst themselves. “So, I uh, don’t think I caught your name,” He mused, chuckling with an anxious delight. He had caught your fancy and talking to attractive people always made his insides flutter.

“It’s Y/N, what’s yours?” You smiled, letting out a tiny yawn, hand hovering over your mouth.

And on command, it was his turn. “Briannn.” He said, pushing through his wide open mouth, eyes turning to closed slits. Watering. 

“Jesus, I’m beat,” He muttered, whipping his eyes.

“You too?” You couldn’t stop, the two of you speaking through widely stretched mouths, yawning and releasing the tired souls of your body out into the air. Like ghosts being exercised. 

“Yeah!” He squeaked, putting his hand over his mouth. This time his mouth reaching out farther. As if a shark could unhinge its massive jaw.

Slowly, both of yours bodies cooled down. Chatted about the quiet, peaceful sounds of the forest. How the night made your feel alive, at ease within your own body. It was easy talking with such a nice man, cracking soft jokes and poking fun at the world. The politicians, the fat cats, and parents. Some stupid shit a drunk girl did at school, how the one guy on the football team fucked the head swimmer and stirred drama in the theatre group. He had been dating Jared, but it all fell for shit when he saw Sam in those swim trunks.

You both agreed, he looked mighty fine in the spandex speedo. And Tom did too, especially when he found out how kind he was.

“So who do you think is the biggest class clown? Don or Vinny?” You mused, shifting your weight in your seat. Turning towards him.

“Ahhh, I’m not so sure. Vinny is my man, but I really like Tabitha-”

“That bitch?” You shot, clicking your tongue. “She fucking stole $20 out of my backpack, fuck her!”

His eyebrows knitted, looking disappointed. “Yeahhh, she ain’t very nice. I disagree with you there,” He looked at the blaze, shaking his head. “But it’s not a ‘frienship’ competition. I give her props pouring that bottle of stinky slick on that jerk in Ceramics. That one that makes all those gross racist comments in school.” Fuck him for his piece of shit mind. There was no reason to be like that.

“-Ugh!” Your eyes rolled, shaking your head, “I know, I fucking hate him. He’s a piece of shit,” Internally you groaned, thinking of his disgusting face.

“For that, I respect her. The fool won’t change his mind and he needs to learn that he can’t do shit like that. It’s not like he’ll listen, I’ve tried,” He popped a mellow into his mouth, chewing. “She got 3 days of suspension for that. It was pretty ballsy,” Shitting on racist was both funny and satisfying. 

“What-? Why did she get that-?”

He shrugged, looking amazed, “I don’t know. It’s fucked up, that’s school for ya. It’s not right.”

You shook your head disgusted. If only they would understand, listen. “Ok, so, who has your favorite comedy?

“-Sam,” He smiled, poking a branch into the fire.

You watched him stir up the flame, picking at a log and turning it over. 

“Same, he’s really nice. He’s quiet but he has a smart tongue on him,” Slowly the fire grew. Emboldened by the new life, “Tom’s really lucky.”

Brian shot you a look, teeth flashing in a grin, “Cuz Jared’s so hot?”

You shot up in your seat, pushing yourself closer to him- “Okay though, right?!” Brian burst out laughing, head thrown back as he boomed. 

You waved your hands up into the air, desperately. “He has those pecs! Those thick arms! I just wanna be hugged by him!” He was a big tall teddy bear! A muscular one too! Who doesn’t love a big teddy bear?!

“I know, I know!” He slapped his knee, face red and warm, and it wasn’t from the booze. “He’s cute! He’s really cute!” He laughed, smiling through his big open mouth.

The two of you talked for the rest of the night, making another round of smores and sipping on the last of your cold beer. It was easy, talking to him. You found a kind of warm comfort and acceptance by such a free soul. By someone who really just wanted to be seen and heard, and loved for who he was.

*****

That night would bloom into many others. A few months you spent together, as friends, and the others, as lovers. You slowly got to know each other over time progressed. Eventually, love bloomed. Infatuation took to desire, day dreaming about the next time you’d see him. Hand propping your chin, staring off into a whiteboard filled with math equations as the teacher droned on. The last week of school was a buzzkill, bittersweet, and painfully long. 

You wanted it to end. For it to be Summer, to be scott-free and without responsibilities. But that also brought changes and your second stage of life was on the horizon.

****

The time came and both of you decided to take a year off from college. Work and save up some money. Spend time together as much you can. 

You planned on going away to school a few hours away. Brian hadn’t quite decided, but it looked to be the same. 

Both of you would attend the same school and it would work out well. Eventually, you both got through the next four years with your brains intact for the better. He majored in music production with a minor in entrepreneurship. He wanted to do something in music, start his own band and maybe build his own label. You majored in _____ and loved it. And your relationship had lasted, strengthened. Finding a quiet peace and home in one another. A thing you quietly wished for in your heart and didn’t know you needed until you found it.

The freedom to be yourself with another. One who would love and accept you, regardless of the circumstances and the changes.

But it didn’t always make it easy. You had been having feelings about your body. Ones that you didn’t quite like and found increasingly frustrating to have. To not have the words, the names, to understand and express how you felt.

You already knew you weren’t straight. That had long been established to yourself and to Brian’s knowledge. He didn’t care- well, that wasn’t quite the right way to put it. He was supportive of your queerness and actually encouraged it. You both were fluid as a snake- bodies and gender thrown right out of the door. What mattered was the person, the attraction, and the two of you- had a lot of that for one another.

He also wasn’t one to put up many questions about the way you dressed. Switching out fem for? Masculine? He was game. He liked your style, even sowed on some patches on your jacket when he asked. Though as time wore on, catching the way you shield away from your chest… Your feelings about your body… He noticed. 

“Hey babe?” He slid into the frame of the doorway, hand grasping the side of the wood as he leaned in. Watching you do your hair, clothed, and fixing your hair.

“Yeah? What’s up?” You looked at him through the mirror, running a comb through your head. “Is my coffee ready?”

“Yeah, it’s on the kitchen table. With your toast,” He walked in, looking quiet. Tentative. “Can I talk to you about something?”

You turned, “Yeahhhh…” Your voice fluttered, knowing that face he makes. It made you uneasy. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“Are you… alright? You’ve been distant lately, like somethings on your mind,” He paused, looking down. Guilty, “Did I do something wrong? Are we alright?” He leaned his back against the wall, thumbs hooked into his jean pockets. Glancing up at you.

You set down the brush, turning, “Yeah,” You coed softly. Tenderly to the sweet man, “We’re okay, I’m just going through some stuff,” It was easier to put that into words. You needed time to figure things out, to share how you felt. You didn’t even have them for yourself, at least not clearly.

You hoped time would reveal itself, help your understand and work through what you were feeling.

And you didn’t know how it would change you. Or, for the matter, Brian. Your relationship with him.

He gestured to you, beat, “Do you.. Wanna talk about it?”

It fell on silence, unsure.

“Yes… but not now. I need some time,” You stepped, drawing his eyes.

“Like… how long?” It was bugging him, an itch he can’t scratch. A problem he saw, a frustration he can’t touch.

It was yours, and one that effected him. He wanted you happy and content.

To ease your pain.

“I’m not sure,” You slipped a hand into his and locked fingers together. Drawing his hand up and lined your hips with his. Brian’s other slip around your waist, pulling you close. “You’re going to have to wait, to trust me until I’m ready to talk about it. But I do love you- and it’s not because of you,” You pressed your lips to his, slowly lifting them away. “Or something you’ve done. We’re okay.”

“Alright, I just-” He looked into your eyes, vulnerable. “I want you to be happy, no matter what. Whatever it is.”

“And I thank you for that, I really do. I appreciate it,” Another press, lips locked, tongues twisting for a moment. 

“Oh? Is someone?” 

You laughed, caught red-handed, “Yeah, a bit.” You mused.

****

And for a while, it was left like that. You ordered yourself a proper binder and he was properly happy for you, seeing you excited to go and slip it on as soon as it came in the mail. You checked yourself out in the mirror, beaming as you found a sense of newfound confidence and comfort in your appearance. Your body.

He liked the way you smelled after you changed deodorants. You smelled rich and musky, one that you both adored. For him, it was intoxicating. Even picked up your armpit in bed as you yelped, his head buried in your pit to get a good whiff of your scent. Both of you sent laughing and shouting and you play fought in bed, beating back the monster you so endearingly loved.

“Fucking hell Brian!! Give me my arm back!”

“No! Never!” He bellowed, hand tightening around your wrist, pinning it against the wall as your feet kicked against him. He loved it, making you mad and crazy at the same time.

Tickling was your enemy! One that he used and abused, to get you laughing and squirming as he tied his body around yes. Pressing kisses to your cheek like a woodpecker.

****

Eventually, you found answers. The internet helped and a good stack of books about gender. It worked to ease your feelings about your body and the amount of envy you had for the masculine. It was difficult at first, being able to sort through attraction and gender envy at the same time. Slowly, you found answers. A confirmation of your feelings and way of life. The amount of euphoria you received when the simple stranger called you ‘man’ or ‘sir’ felt glorious. Elating and at home with yourself in a way that felt right. A homecoming.

You started to approach the subject with Brian. The two of you were friends with trans people, but it still felt fresh. Weird, and confusing to go through yourself. Being trans still didn’t give you cut and dry answers, it was a journey. A grey area because, even through they had gone through that journey, it was still personal. You had to find answers for yourself and the world is a weird, wild place.

But, it didn’t mean you were something else. Or strange for that matter- you were you, and that’s what mattered. You were exploring.

You two had been laying in bed. A quiet Saturday day spent outside, running errands and going to the farmers market to buy fresh produce and bread. It was lovely and peaceful. You guys had turned into bed early, curled under a soft comforter as you sprawled out in bed. The sun had set.

“Hey,” You whispered, dusting a piece of long hair out of his face. He was turned towards you, a fit of blankets wrapped around him as his body cupped towards yours. 

“Hey,” He yawned, eyes fluttering in sleepiness.

You dusted a finger along his jaw, his chest slowly rising and falling. A ham all baked like a warm potato. “Can we talk?”

He shifted his head closer to your touch, liking the way you slowly stroked his skin. “Yeah, what’s up?” He yawned.

“I’ve been thinking, for a while now. That I might be trans,” You paused, wanting to release the next few words from your brain. “I think I am.”

“Oh?” He shifted up, sitting up now and trying to wake up his brain. Serious conversation time. “Really?” His voice was kind, asking for confirmation.

You nodded, “Yes.”

“As in nonbinary or trans masc?” He ran a hand through his hair, swooping the fluff back. Pulling himself together.

You laughed, feeling the butterflies swarm in your stomach. “Trans masculine.”

“Okay,” he smiled, nodding. Taking it in. “So uh, what do you want to do? If anything at all?”

“Honey-” You pestered, giving him a look.

“I’m asking! That’s up to you!” He was ginger, trying not to pry but dying inside. The questions!

“Clothes, that’s for one thing.”

“You’re already wearing my boxers- we gotta get you more of those.”

You had been stealing them from him. They were comfy, among other things. You couldn’t help but crack a guilty smile. He had mentioned it before when he had ran out, pissed because he hated wearing dirty ones.

“And shirts, and some good cuffed jeans-” You added.

“Dickie’s has those, we can thrift you Carhart’s from Goodwill.”

You paused, holding your breath. Holding onto the next few words, as if they couldn’t be taken back. Releasing them into the world, “And transitioning. I think I want to do that too.” 

He reached for your hand, his thumb stroking your palm as the two of you laid in bed. Him looking down at you as your sprawled out, your elbow propping yourself up. “Okay, if that’s what you want, I support you. I want that too,” He pulled up your hand and pressed his lips to them softly. Firmly intertwining his fingers with yours, squeezing them tightly. Securely.

“Do you want to go by different pronouns? A name?”

“Yes, I want to be named Y/N,” You smiled, feeling his hands pull you in.  Draw around you in a deep hug as he slid down to your level, comforting and embracing you. “I want to go by he/him pronouns.” You chuckled against his skin, head buried into the crook of his neck.

“Well hello my Prince, I’m so glad to meet you Y/N,” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, smiling through it as your heart brust. Crying in relief, in tears of joy and relief.

“You’re not mad?” You squeaked, tears rolling down your cheek.

“Baby~” He purred, pulling back, to look into your eyes. “Of course not, I want you to be happy. You’re precious to me,” He said, soothing you. “Is this what’s been bothering you?”

You nodded.

“I’ve been… wondering about it,” He mused. “I kinda figured it out after you bought your binder and started shaving your face. You barely had peach fuz but you looked so happy… so, much more bright that day,” You had slowly been trying things out. Listening to your body and how you felt. Changing your style, presenting more masculine. You even bought clothes from the men’s section and started to let go using gender specific pronouns for yourself. To ease the pain of dysphoria while you figured out feelings. Your therapist helped. 

“But I’ve been waiting until you tell me, that’s your stuff,” He wiped your chin, brushing off the stream of tears. “I know you’d tell me eventually, whatever your answer was- I want to support you. I chose that long ago, I stand by that.” He smiled, adding, “And if things change in the future, that’s okay too. Gender and bodies are a tricky thing.”

There was so many choices- my so options- in how trans people choose to express themselves. All of them are valid, it’s what makes you happy is the most important thing. What aligns with yourself.

“Thank you,” You sniffled, peaking out a smile. You were happy, and now tired, and just wanted to curl up in bed. The rush of emotions flooding your system, the bent of stress and relief washing over your system. Draining you. 

You wanted to feel this moment in its security, its acceptance. “That means a lot to me Brian.”

“Of course- and for what it matters-” He leaned into your ear, whispering, “I think you make a handsome man. And will continue too.” 

“It doesn’t change things- between us?”

He shrugged, unfazed, “I don’t think so. I’m attracted to you and I like men so-” Another quizzical look, “I don’t see how it would change things in that department. I think I need to know more but I don’t think so.”

You raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“I want to read more about it so I can help you. I know it can be hard for trans people to get the resources they need to transition. We’re going to both go through this and I want to help you. -If that’s what you want, of course.”

“Oh! Okay,” you nodded. You slid down together, laying in each others arms. Curled underneath the seats, your tears dried up. Heart shining. “I want that, your help. I fucking hate calling the doctors office.”

He laughed, “I know! I know!” You would get stressed, talking on the phone could be weird sometimes. It made you anxious.

You tucked your head into his chest, hearing it beat with the life you held so closely. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close. “Thank you Bri, for everything.”

“Of course Y/N,” He spoke softly, warm. “I love you, you’re my everything.”

The two of you drifted off to sleep in bed, listening to the sound of Summer rain come in through the window. Drops slapping against the hard concrete, easing you into a deep slumber.

****

The two of you got along better after that. You were able to save up enough money to see a gender therapist. A general practice doctor that specialized in transgender health, giving you access to the hormone treatments you so desperately needed.

The changes came slow at first, the T being newly added to your system. Eventually, the body hair came in. Sprouting up your legs and turning thicker, darker, up your knees. Your body weight shifted, redistributing around your body with a healthy addition of exercise. Your jaw widened, spotting itself with facial hair which you so proudly grew. Cleaned up and trimmed, sculpting it to your desire. 

That was one of your favorite moments. When you asked Brian to show you how he shaved his face. He pulled out of his bag of clippers, helped you learn how to wash your face and spread shaving cream on your face. How to guide the razor against your skin, trimming the well grown facial hair.

“-Like this- you gotta go against the grain if you want it smooth,” You were both creamed up, with your hair clipped back. He had a headband pushing his strands back, keeping it from falling into his face.

“Okay,” You mumbled in front of the mirror, guiding the razor across your skin. Wincing when you nicked yourself and hoping you don’t do that again.

“It’ll get easier, trust me,” He assured, slicking the last bit of cream off of his clean face. He mostly kept himself clean shaven, though there was a time where he rocked a thin mustache. Even some musky stubble around his cheeks. Which you loved.

And so was your transition. 

In time, you qrew to love and enjoy your body even more. Seeing the face you so expected- and wished for- being reflected in the mirror. Muscles come in, adjusting your body shape to one that you desired.

Brian was very supportive. Even helped you find a good doctor for your top surgery. He pitched in money for your procedure, taking some extra hours as the store manager at the record shop where he worked. He was planning on taking it over from the owner in a few years. He had helped them expand into a second storefront. He was proud of it.

He drove you to your surgery, making sure you had everything prepared. Extra magazines, music, books, even your sketch pad and journal if you so wished it. You would sleep after your surgery in the hospital bed, groggy and tired from the boat load of meds and painkillers lulling you to a peaceful state. He wanted to make sure you were content, that you healed well and passed the time while you recovered. The tiny hospital tv having few channels to capture your attention. He ready to help you pass the time.

After your surgery, you couldn’t move your arms very much. At least not above your head. It would pull at your incisions, the area bruised and draining of fluids. He would tend to you, changing your bandages and helping you get things from the kitchen cupboards. Asking you to relax and let him take over- when you insisted on cooking dinner. That you felt fine, that the pain wasn’t too bad. Even though your chest ached, he didn’t want you to push yourself.

It was okay to lean on someone else, to let them tend to you at times in need.

He adored you and embraced the new found man you had become. He liked hearing you softly talk into his ear, listening to how your voice had dropped. Had changed, deepened, and thickened. It was an adventure for the both of you, one that you happily embraced and found a new home. In you, yourself, and each other.

He was proud to call you his boyfriend, his favorite man on Earth.

[lils-writes-stuff]

Foundation

spencer reid x reader

Best years part seven | part six | part five | part four | part three | part two |part one

Summary: an early morning case in arizona brings up some of the readers feelings and reminds her of her past. 

warnings: normal criminal minds things,

A/N: based on season 7 episode 18; it’s a cute one with lots of little reader/spencer moments

 Y/N laid on the plush bed, head lying on her pillow, sleeping peacefully. Spencer’s arm draped across her torso as he spooned her. The tranquil mood was what kept it so sound...until the moment was no longer so tranquil.

 Y/N jerked up as the sound of her phone ringing woke her up. 

 “What’s going on?” Spencer asked as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Y/N’s movements waking him up. 

 Y/N picked up her phone, reading the text from Penelope saying “911. Meet and debrief on the jet in one hour.”

 “Penelope, she says it's an emergency,” Y/N said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and sitting there for a second. 

 “Five more minutes,” Spencer said, moving over so he was closer to Y/N, his arms wrapping around her waist.

 “I know, but if we don’t get up now we never will,” she began to stand up but Spencer’s arms stopped her. “Spencer, come on bub we have to get ready,” she pleaded to her boyfriend. 

 “You’re warm and I want to cuddle,” he said, his early morning brain clearly not thinking straight. 

 “I promise you when we get back from this case I will give you all the cuddles you want and more, if you get up right now,” Y/N bargained to the curly-headed man. 

 He sat up, hair a tousled mess as he looked at her with sleepy, hopeful eyes. “You promise the cuddles and more?” 

 “Yes, I promise now let’s go get dressed,” she said standing up and making her way to the bathroom, Spencer following close behind. 

--------

 “Hi, hi, hi. Sorry for the cryptic late-night text, but I promised I’d fill you in here, and I am a girl who keeps her promises so,” Penelope said through the laptop screen as everyone entered the plane. “Okay, so this boy was found two hours ago in the middle of nowhere. Well, technically he was found outside of Crawford, Arizona, my point is he has clearly been to super hell and escaped some sort of captivity.” 

 “How do we know he wasn’t just dropped off there?” Derek asked, looking through the small file in his hand. 

 “Well, he has fresh cuts on the bottom of his feet from the local cactus fields, and that’s away from any roads, and his skin is rubbed raw around his ankles from chains,” Penelope explained. 

 Y/N looked through the file in her hand, thumbing through the medical report and the small number of pictures. Her heart clenched as she looked at the picture of the boy. Cuts and bruises adorned his thin arms, and his clothes tattered. 

 “He must’ve had a chance to escape and he took it,” Derek said.  

 “Or the unsub could have had him in transit,” Emily argued. 

 “My God, guys look at his eyes,” Penelope said as she looked at the picture of the boy.

 Y/N turned back to the picture of the boy’s face, examining the yellow colors of his eyes. “He’s jaundiced,” she said her heart aching. There were two types of cases she hated more than anything, family annihilators because she could never imagine what the parents thought in the leading moments of the unsubs killing their children, and child abduction cases.

 “He probably hasn’t seen daylight in a while,” JJ said.

 “Yeah, there’s a lot of scars here,” Derek said, flipping back and forth between the pictures. 

 “And those are the ones we can see,” Rossi said, making Y/N’s stomach from knots at the thought. 

 “Well, it’s hard to tell for certain, but he’s maybe thirteen,” Emily said, looking at the photo closely in her hand. 

 “Are there any missing children in the area, Garcia?” Spencer asked.

 “None until now, but, sir-” she pointed her attention to Hotch- “you may have more information than I do.” 

 “I do, earlier tonight another boy was reported missing in Flagstaff,” Hotch replied. 

 “That can’t be a coincidence, seeing how close the two places are,” Y/N said. 

 “Technically it could, but Arizona has the lowest abduction rate in the country so the chances of these cases not being related are ridiculously slim,” Spencer said, looking back down at the folder in his hand.

 “Yeah, that’s why child abduction rapid deployment will meet you on the ground,” Penelope told them. 

 “The Flagstaff abduction is Billy Henderson, 13, his parents say he was coming back from a friend’s house after dinner,” Hotch said, taking a seat on the couch as the jet took off. 

 “But he never made it,” Y/N added, causing Hotch to nod his head.

 “Okay, they set up roadblocks, but the unsub has a head start,” Penelope said.

 “Right now our best chance of finding Billy Henderson is to figure out what the first victim knows,” Derek said. 

 “Exactly. So, Morgan, you and JJ go to the hospital, see if you can get through to him, the rest of us will set up point at the police station,” Hotch told everyone, allowing them to nod back in response.

 “Losing this kid probably has enraged the unsub,” Y/N said looking over at Hotch.

 “And there’s no telling what he’ll do to Billy,” he added. “For now, get some rest, we have a long day ahead of us.” 

----------

 Y/N sat in the back seat of the car as Hotch drove her and Spencer to the Police station. The winding roads of the Arizona roads entranced her as she thought about the case while looking out the window. 

 “You’re on speaker, Garcia,” Emily’s voice said through the car speaker. 

 “Okay, I got the whole gang on,” Penelope said. “It looks like the first victim was definitely held in captivity in Crawford, Arizona.”

 “Why’s that?” Spencer asked.

 “Because a woman walked into Crawford P.D. this morning, she says she remembers a boy in chains, in Crawford, 30 years ago, just like the boy found last night,” Penelope explained.  

 “Is she still at the station?” Y/N asked, leaning forward so she could be closer to the speaker.

 “No, she dropped that bomb of information, and then she took off,” Penelope answered.

 “What’s her name?” Rossi asked. 

 “Her name’s Samantha Allen, most documents have her listed as Sam Allen. Thirty-six, never married, born and raised and lived in Crawford her whole life, owns and operates a nursery, the plant kind,  not the baby kind. Her mother died when she was five, dad’s a real estate developer,” Penelope said. 

 “Is there security footage?” Emily asked.

 “Yes, I’m sending that to you, it’s on your tablets right now,” Penelope answered.

 Y/N watched the video on the tablet that Spencer held in his hand. Watching how Sam turned to look at something, getting spooked then running out. 

 “You see that?” Y/N asked, pointing at the tablet. 

 “Yeah, what scared her?” Spencer questioned back.  

 “Dave, you and Prentiss see if you can find Samantha Allen, Y/N, Reid, and I will set up at the station,” Hotch said. 

 “All we can hope is that Morgan and JJ get through to the survivor,” Rossi said. 

 The three piled out of the car as they arrived at the station, Spencer instinctively looking back to make sure Y/N was okay. He flashed her a small smile which she returned with a small, tired one, but her eyes sparkling none-the-less. 

 “Detective I’m Agent Hotchner,” Hotch shook the detective’s hand when he reached him. 

 “Detective Perez,” he responded. 

 “This is Dr. Reid and Agent Y/L/N,” Hotch said pointing to the two beside him. 

 “I thought your team was bigger?” Perez asked.

 “The rest are following other leads,” Spencer answered, rocking up on his toes then back on the balls of his feet. 

 “Is C.A.R.D. retracing the escape route that the boy in chains took?” Y/N asked. 

 “They’ve been canvassing all night. There’s another team in flagstaff retracing Billy Hendersons bike ride, ” Perez responded.

 “Where’s Billy’s parents?” Hotch asked. 

 “Chief's office.” 

 Y/N turned around, noticing Spencer had wandered over to the shelf that made Sam react in the video. The shelves were full of photos and small statues. 

 “Detective, you talked to Sam Allen over here correct?” Y/N asked looking over to the detective. 

 “Yes, I did,” Perez responded. 

 “In the video, it looked like one of the photos upset her, do you have any idea why?” Spencer asked, opening the door to the room before they entered.

 “Yeah, well, it’s weird,” Perez said. 

 “Why’s that?” Y/N and Spencer said at the same time. 

 “Because most of these people have passed away. That’s our old chief-” Perez pointed to a photo, then to one above it- “that one there, he built the station and some of the houses around here, it’s J.B. Allen, Sam’s father.”  

 Spencer and Y/N looked at each other, both having the same thought that that was what spooked Sam Allen out of the station. Y/N called Emily and Rossi who were still on their way to Sam’s work, telling them that was why she ran out. 

---------- 

 “Softball, basketball, and soccer, you played a lot of team sports, sounds like me,” Y/N said as she looked at Sam across from her in the interrogation room. She had come back in after Emily and Rossi went to talk to her. She had a change of heart that brought her back here. “Was your dad a coach?”  

 “No, he was always busy with work, I guess that’s why he kept me busy,” Sam responded, her hands rubbing together nervously under the table. “It was okay though, the house was too quiet after mom died.”

 Y/N nodded as she looked at the woman across from her. 

 “She had cancer. I didn’t really know what that meant growing up, just that...she wasn’t gonna get any better,” Sam finished, her eyes staring absently at the aluminum table.

 “Okay, so let’s start with today,” Y/N said leaning closer to Sam. “What brought you to the station?” 

 “I saw that boy on the news, and I saw, um-- I really can’t explain it,” Sam struggled to put what she saw in words. 

 “It’s okay, take a breath,” Y/N said hoping to calm the woman into being able to place her thoughts together. 

 “It was like a movie, in fast-forward. It was dark, so dark, and that-- that little boy he had the same chains on his ankles, and then it was over,” Sam explained. “Those flashes that I saw, that boy, was he real?” She asked, her voice scared.

 “That’s what we need to find out,” Y/N said to her. She turned around and motioned for Emily to come in. 

 “You remember Agent Prentiss,” Y/N said to Sam. 

 Sam nodded her head and Y/N stood up allowing Emily to sit down to begin her part of the interview. Y/N walked out of the room, crossing her arms as she walked up to Rossi who was watching through the one-way mirror. 

 “You think the boy’s real?” Rossi asked her. 

 Y/N let out a huff. “I do, but I don’t think she believes he is yet.”

-----------

 Y/N exited the interrogation room and entered where the crime boards were set up. Hotch and Spencer talking to Perez. 

 “If J.B. Allen is a suspect, why aren’t we kicking down his door?” Perez asked as Y/N walked up and stood next to Spencer.

 “Because it’s too risky,” Hotch answered. “If Allen’s who we’re looking for, he has a psychiatric disorder that drives everything he does.”

 “He’ll do whatever it takes to hide Billy, and even sacrifice him if he needs to protect his freedom,” Y/N added. 

 “Everything that this unsub does is methodical, he had a secure place he was able to keep Angel for years, but when Angel escaped, he didn’t mourn his loss. He drove straight to Flagstaff,” Hotch said, sternness prominent in his voice. 

 “The question is why did he choose Flagstaff? He’d only drive sixty miles out of his way if he knew someone was there to make him feel better,” Spencer looked over to Perez next to him. 

 Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, her white long-sleeve shirt bunching up at her elbows as she pushed them up. She leaned over to look at the map Spencer had been working on. Her eyes scan over all the red pen markings, trying to engrave it into her brain.

 “We don’t think Billy was a victim of opportunity, we think he was a target,” Hotch explained.

 “So this isn’t a stranger abduction,” Perez stated. 

 “He probably saw Angel before, too,” Y/N said looking over to Perez. 

 “The question is, where would he have access to both these children?” Hotch asked. Y/N and Spencer’s eyes went back to the map, looking at all the areas circled in red. “I’ll go ask the parents,” Hotch said leaving the room. 

 Y/N and Spencer were left as Perez left the room soon after Hotch. 

 Y/N let out a huff, arms still crossed as she paced back and forth in front of the crime boards, staring at them intensely like they would give them an answer. 

 “I know how you, uh, ho- how you feel about child abduction cases,” Spencer said as he looked at Y/N from his seat at the table. 

 She let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, that’s why I told Strauss to not put me into crimes against children, that was her first choice,” she looked at Spencer, continuing her pacing. 

 It became silent for a moment, Spencer knowing nothing she could say would bring Y/N out of her mind. The only way for her to feel better was either to tell him how she was feeling (which he never pushed) or for them to solve this case right now.  

 “I just never could wrap my brain around this, I’ve studied all these killers and awful people, but my mind can never understand how someone could take a child from their family because they’re so selfish,” Y/N said, her pent up emotions now being released to Spencer.

 “I know, it’s one of the many things we can never understand, we can only go on what we know, but we’re going to save Billy Y/N, you have to trust that,” Spencer said, giving Y/N some more hope as she thought about the little boy seeing his parents again. 

 “Thank you.” She walked over to Spencer who sat in a chair, his arm wrapped around her waist that met his shoulder. Giving her a reassuring squeeze, she smiled and placed her arm around his shoulder.

-------------  

 “How’s it going in there?” Y/N asked Rossi as she walked into the bullpen of the interrogation room. 

 “She’s gone through it with her a couple of times now, but things keep getting cloudy,” Rossi explained. “I think this is the last time she’s gonna do it with her.”

 Y/N nodded looking into the room, Sam sat with her eyes closed, small tears running down her face as she explained what she was seeing to Prentiss. 

 Soon Rossi and Y/N were joined by Perez and Hotch, who walked into the room just in time to hear the last of the cognitive interview.

 “No, no, no he couldn’t have done this,” Sam said, pleading not to Emily but mostly to herself. “You don’t understand he raised me in that house, he couldn’t have been doing that all these years.” 

 “She doesn’t want to believe it, I don’t blame her,” Y/N said as she watched Sam cry to Emily. 

 “J.B.’s friends with the whole town, never remarried, raised Sam by himself,” Perez explained. 

 “That’s why this is so painful for her, she doesn’t want to believe what he’s capable of,” Hotch said. 

 “But her memories tell her very differently,” Y/N added, her eyes never leaving Sam. 

 “Exactly,” Hotch agreed. 

 “Do you believe her?” Perez asked. 

 “It’s very hard to fake visceral reactions like that,” Hotch explained. 

 “Yeah, but she’s talking about a time of serious trauma, on a night she climbed into bed with her dying mother. That plus her age,” Rossi said, trailing off. 

 “It’s the perfect storm for a recovered memory,” Y/N added. 

 “Wasn’t that a huge therapy trend in the 80s?” Perez asked.

 “A lot of women manufactured memories of their fathers doing horrific things,” Rossi explained.

 “And a lot of misguided therapists convinced them that their nightmares were real,” Hotch added.

 “It was a huge waste of our resources,” Rossi said, mind going back to the time. “I’m, uh, not sure about this.”

 “I think she seems credible enough where we could have discreet rolling surveillance, don’t you agree, Hotch?” Y/N asked, turning to the man beside her. 

 “Yes, I think that would be wise,” Hotch complied. 

 “You’ll have to use your own team, ‘cause he’d recognize members of this force,” Perez explained. 

 “If he has Billy, he won’t hesitate to get rid of him,” Hotch explained. “Y/N you go get Reid, I’ll get a C.A.R.D. team member to join you two.” 

 Y/N nodded.              

 “Allen can’t know we suspect him,” Hotch continued, then dismissed Y/N to go get Spencer.

-

 Y/N sat next to Spencer, watching from a distance as an undercover C.A.R.D. member put a wire into an electrical box, pretending to fix it.

 “He’s acting so normal,” Y/N said as she watched J.B. unload his truck. 

 “He could not be our unsub,” Spencer said, eyes pressed against the binoculars.

 “Yeah, but you should’ve seen how Sam reacted to her memory, it was too emotional for it to be made up,” Y/N explained, moving back from the spot by the door. 

 Spencer's phone rang and he pulled it out answering the call from Hotch. 

 “Hey Hotch, you know if J.B. Allen is our unsub, he certainly doesn’t seem unhinged,” Spencer said after answering the phone. 

 “Yeah, he went to the market today, and then he stopped by his daughter’s nursery,” Y/N added as she leaned closer to the phone in Spencer’s hand. 

 “Right now we’re watching him landscaping,” Spencer explained. 

 “At his house?” Hotch asked. 

 “Yeah,” Spencer and Y/N said at the same time. 

 “Is it isolated?” 

 “Very isolated, there’s a lot of land,” Y/N explained. 

 “You remember what Garcia sent us on J.B. Allen? He started his contracting business in 1975, married Sam’s mom that same year, she died when Sam was five, as we know. He never remarried and despite the newer subdivisions he built, he stayed in the same house he shared with his wife,” Spencer said, reading off of the folder in his hand. 

 “So he’s either sentimental, or he didn’t sell because he’s customized the house to hide his victims,” Hotch said. 

 Y/N and Spencer looked at each other, both knowing that was probably the reason. 

 “We’ll hit you back if he gets anything else,” Y/N said to Hotch before Spencer hung up and the two continued to watch J.B.

 Y/N picked up a newspaper and pen that sat on the table in the van. She noticed the crossword puzzle and began to fill it out. 

 “What are you doing?” Spencer asked, sitting beside her, their shoulders bumping. 

 “I’m trying to solve this crossword puzzle,” she said, her eyes staying on the page as she filled out one of the blanks. 

 “That’s wrong.” Spencer pointed to the word that Y/N hadn’t even finished filling out.

 “What, how?” She asked her head turning to look at Spencer next to her. Their faces so close she could feel his light breath. 

 “The answer’s chlorine,” he corrected. She looked back down to the paper noticing how the word ‘sodium’ indeed wouldn’t fit. 

 “Well, Dr. Reid, why don’t you answer it,” she said, handing him the puzzle and pen. 

--------------

 “You just have to talk to him Sam,” Emily said to Sam over the phone. 

 Rossi and Emily had joined Spencer and Y/N in the van when Sam decided that she was going to go in with a wire on. Y/N sat next to Spencer while he did another crossword puzzle, both of their eyes going back and forth between the puzzle in his lap and the screen with the live video of the front of the house.

 “You can do this,” Emily told her before Sam hung up the phone and entered the home. 

 They all watched as Sam jumped out of her truck and walked into the house. They all listened through their earpieces as Sam walked into the house and greeted her father. 

 “Chili, you want some?” J.B. asked. 

 “It smells great, dad, but I can’t stay,” Sam answered. 

 “Since when? It’s my chili,” J.B. said. 

 “He’s not trying to get her out of there,” Rossi said, two fingers placed on the earpiece. 

 “Not yet at least,” Y/N said, looking back down to the puzzle Spencer had just finished. 

 “Hey, is my old catcher’s mitt still in the basement?” Sam asked. 

 “Yeah, why?” J.B. responded. 

 “I was thinking about coaching softball down at the rec,” Sam answered.

 Y/N listened to J.B.’s voice carefully as he responded to each thing Sam said. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she tried to pick out anything in his voice.

 “Is it still in the bin?” Sam asked. 

 “Yeah, let me get it,” J.B, said, their footsteps being heard as they started to walk. 

 Emily looked back at the three behind her, making a face showing that it was suspicious as to why he wouldn’t let her down there. He then explained that he had too many boxes and he wanted to start a yard sale the next week.  

 They all listened with intent as Sam walked through the basement. 

 “He let her go down there,” Rossi said. 

 “Yeah, but he hesitated,” Emily argued. 

 “He’s not acting like he’s got something to hide, Emily,” Rossi said looking at the woman. 

 “That’s how he’s gotten away with it,” Emily continued, her mindset on J.B. being guilty of something.

 “Yeah, but we don’t know that,” Y/N said. She did have the same feeling, but with the way J.B. was acting, it told her otherwise. 

 “You find it?” J.B.’s voice was heard, scaring not only Sam but Y/N also as she wasn’t expecting to hear it. 

 Her little jump made Spencer chuckle before apologizing when Rossi looked back at him.

 “Told you it was a mess down here,” J.B. continued. Sam and her father had a small conversation as they exited the basement. They came into view of the camera again as they stood out on the front porch, saying their goodbyes, and then Sam getting into her truck.

 Emily picked up her phone when Sam called. 

 “I’m so sorry,” Sam spoke. 

 “It’s okay, you did everything we asked,” Emily replied. 

 “There was nothing in the basement, I’m sorry,” she apologized again. Her truck then drove past the van as she hung up the phone, being done with the whole conversation. 

 “Now all we’ve got is the kid,” Rossi said. 

----------

    Y/N walked into the room with the crime boards, following behind Hotch and Rossi. She looked between the two men’s shoulders to see Emily standing with Sam, who had a horrified look on her face. 

 “Guys, Sam’s father gave her gifts, trophies from each abduction,” Emily explained to the three. 

 “That’s significant,” Rossi stated. 

 “I didn’t know that’s what they were.” Sam turned back to look at Rossi behind her, a pleading look on her face. 

 “We need to find out if Angel had a puppy the day he was taken,” Emily said looking at Hotch and Y/N. 

 “I’ll call JJ,” Y/N said, pulling her phone out and calling her number. 

 The phone rang three times before JJ answered. “Hey Y/N,” she said with a sigh. 

 “Hey, JJ, listen I need you to find out if Angel had a puppy the day he disappeared,” Y/N said getting straight to the point. 

 “A puppy?” JJ asked, confused.

 “Yeah,” Hotch confirmed.

 “Ohh...that’s right,” a distant woman was heard through the phone. “Some of the neighbors were giving them away that day, they had a whole box, but I wouldn’t let the boys keep one.”

 “You guys hear that?” JJ asked. 

 “Yes, thanks, JJ,” Hotch answered. 

 “Uh, wait, Hotch,” JJ said before they could hang up. “Um, we’re trying to get a dental match. He’s got old bite marks on him,” JJ explained. 

 At this Sam gasped. 

 “What is it?” Y/N asked her as she turned to her. 

 “Oh- my dad had his teeth recapped a few years ago. He said something like, ‘that’s what happens when you get older’ or whatever. He made a joke about it,” Sam explained as she began to cry again. 

 Hotch and Rossi looked at each other before they ran out of the room to get Perez before heading to J.B.’s house.

 Y/N stood with Emily and Sam as they discussed more of her father throughout her childhood. Spencer walked into the room about five minutes after Hotch and Rossi left to go to the house. 

 “Hey,” Y/N said, turning to Spencer. 

 “Hey,” he responded, his hand grazing against her back as he stood between her and Emily to look at the map.

 Emily turned to the boards, looking over the pictures. Her phone rang loudly. “You’re on speaker, Garcia,” she said, turning back to Sam, Y/N, and Spencer who stood at the table. 

 “So I tracked J.B. Allen’s property developments over the last thirty years. They’re all over the map-- well of Arizona, anyway. Sending it to you now, hope you can make more sense of it then I can,” Penelope said. 

 “Thanks, Garcia.” Emily hung up the phone then looked at the map Penelope sent. 

 “Sam, the one thing that your memory and Angel’s escape have in common is he was getting rid of both boys,” Y/N said, bringing Sam’s attention over to her. 

 “He would only do that if he had another boy waiting in the wings, that means he met his victims before,” Emily elaborated on what Y/N had just said. 

 “How? I mean, they’re hours apart,” Sam asked. 

 “Look at the towns-” Spencer said pointing down to the map- “He had subdivisions in all of them. Construction sites are a magnet for 10 to 12 year-old-boys,” he explained. 

 Sam got the horrified look on her face again as another memory came back to her. 

 “He-- he gave kids a ride on the backhoe all the time,” Sam stuttered. “They would just line up for it.” 

 The three agents looked at each other knowing that was where he was finding them. 

 “My God-- I-I didn’t know.”

 “It’s okay you couldn’t have,” Y/N said comforting her. 

 Emily quickly called Hotch. “We found his target-rich environment,” she said after Hotch answered. 

 “The construction sites?” He asked. 

 “Yeah,” Emily quickly responded.

 “See if Sam remembers a particular one that he took her to frequently,” Hotch said.

 “Just one place?” Emily asked. 

 “He keeps his victims for years, the burial sites would be someplace special,” he answered. 

 “Is there a favorite place your dad likes to go?” Emily asked, looking at Sam. 

 She lifted her head up to look at her. “You mean like the- the lake or something?” She asked.

 “No, someplace probably having to do with his work, one he’s proud of,” Y/N explained. 

 “His first development,” she said looking up to Emily.

 “Where is it?” Emily asked.

 “In Mesa, every few years he adds on to it.” Sam’s words made the three-stop and look at her 

 “He adds another house?” Y/N asked, raising her eyebrows. 

 “He says that it’s the place that reminds him how he got started, it set the foundation for everything,” Sam explained.

 “Did you hear that?” Emily asked Hotch and Rossi on the phone. 

 “Loud and clear,” Rossi responded. 

------------ 

 Y/N watched as Hotch brought Billy into the room where his parents were. A smile on her face as she was finally able to be relieved from her worries from the case.

 Spencer stood beside her, placing an arm around her as he gave her a light hug. Her hand reached up to his chest, laying it there and resting her head on his shoulder. The two turned their heads to watch as J.B. was brought in by Rossi. Watching as Sam began to get choked up with tears as her father was arrested for all the cruel things he did that she never even knew about.   

 The team sat on the plane later that night. Most of them were asleep, but Y/N was wide awake. 

 Her eyes watched out the window, mind on the words that J.B. said to his daughter, “He says it's the place that got him started, that set the foundation for everything.” The words brought her back to her college years, specifically Caroline, and how she would always say that this was just the start. It was the first thing she said after tormenting one of Y/N’s friends for the first time. 

 “You alright, sweets? You’re crying,” Spencer asked from his seat across from her. 

 She hadn’t even noticed the stream of tears that were falling from her eyes. Her hand reached up and wiped her face. 

 “Ye-yeah, I’m good, sorry, I was just, um, thinking about what J.B. told Sam about his property in Mesa, it brought me back to something Caroline used to say,” she explained to him. 

 He looked at her with a sad expression, his hand reaching across the small table between them for hers. She placed her hand in his as he gave it a squeeze. 

 “She’s not here, Y/N, and I won’t let her hurt you again, I promise,” he told her with a serious face. 

 She didn’t take the promise to heart. She knew he couldn’t stop everything from happening, but she was happy that she had him there to be by her side no matter what. 

 “Thank you, Spence.” He gave her another squeeze as a way of saying you’re welcome. “You know, bub, you should get some sleep, those dark circles under your eyes make you look terrible,” she joked. 

 “Oh, my dark circles are terrible? You should see yours,” Spencer responded with a light laugh. 

 They sat and joked for a while before Y/N became tired and started to fall asleep in her chair.

 When she woke up the plane had just landed. It was early in the morning still, too early if you asked Y/N. After she grabbed her bag, she made her way to her car to go home. 

 “Y/N wait,” Spencer said, as he walked up behind her. “You promised me cuddles.” 

 His words were sweet and his tone was pleading as he gave her puppy dog eyes. She smiled at him, knowing he wasn’t going to back down. 

 “Okay, get it, we’ll have a movie cuddle date,” she said unlocking her car and placing her bag in the back. Spencer doing the same, then grabbing her arm and pulling her close. 

 “One thing,” he said placing his lips on hers. Her hands grabbed his sides, while his own cradled her face. The sweet kiss was full of love and tasted like lousy coffee, but the kiss made the butterflies in Y/N’s stomach fly around anyway. 

 “Ah, gross, get a room,” Emily said with a laugh as she saw the two kissing. 

 “Get some, Pretty boy,” Derek said chuckling while he passed them heading to his own car. 

 “Okay, let’s go,” Y/N said after she pulled away and got into the car, Spencer getting in right behind her.

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[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Insatiable Craving (John Wick x Reader)

Summary: AU. Visiting Daisy’s dorm, John runs into Y/N instead and they can’t keep their hands off each other. Part 1: Brooklyn Baby  | Part 2: A little loss of innocence | Part 4: Make it Hurt | Part 5: Play with Fire |

Author’s notes: Have some more filth. Feedback is appreciated

Wordcount: 2736

Warnings: age gap; smut (oral; dirty talk)

This wasn’t the first time that John visited Daisy’s dorm, though he had been out of the country when she did the typical transition of moving into college for the first time, leaving Helen to come with her alone, much to his ex-wife chagrin.

He still remembered the argument they had over the phone when he called to let Daisy know. John visited her as soon as he had been back, unsure how to mark this momentous phase of his daughter’s life since he had never experienced such things as college or even formal education.

Back then, Daisy had a different roommate who asked to be transferred six months in because his daughter was loud. Daisy had been hurt, of course. She was the life of the party and so used to everyone loving her all through high school. In college, it was harder for her to fit in, but one thing that John was proud to see was the resilience that she inherited from him and soon enough she found the right way to manage this new context. Right around that time, Daisy met Y/N, and they became inseparable.

Funny that John barely remembered meeting her back then. She was a meek and quiet girl, trailing along after his daughter and barely being able to hold his gaze. They met a few other times during the last three years, John was sure of it, but he couldn’t even recall what she looked like or if they even interacted. She was a completely different creature now and John wondered what happened that made her grow into her own skin and officially haunt his dreams.  

They both knew what they were doing was wrong, of course. Maybe if they had kept it as a one-time thing, an impulsive decision of two lonely people, it could have been forgotten and he wouldn’t feel as guilty.

However, she showed up at his step two weeks later looking for more, and that put them in a territory of crossed lines that could never be uncrossed. John was too far deep, enamored by her submissiveness, and willing to give herself wholeheartedly to him. He never had that before.

Helen had been his Dom during their whole marriage before that there was Marcus, who also took that position. Whenever he had one-night stands, John never let himself explore those urges. Too many consequences with too dangerous people. But with her? It felt natural to dominate her, command her every motion, and take care of her. It was the release he needed in a life that always seemed so out of his control.

John didn’t choose to be the killing machine that they made him. He didn’t choose to be so effective in his job or to be under High Table’s command, like an attack dog that all they needed to do was direct and release.

He didn’t even choose to be with Helen at first. It was more like a desperate need because she had been something bright and beautiful for the first time in his life. She chose to be with him despite all the ugliness of his soul but she also chose to let him go when she couldn’t take it anymore.

John chose Y/N. He could have sent her away when she showed up on her door. He could have pushed her away when she got on his lap. He could have taken the right path but in a life of darkness, what was one more sin? So he chose her but John had yet to make the call to see her again.

The night after she had visited him, John got a contract and had to leave. She had been disappointed by his sudden departure but accepted his promise of a call as soon as he returned, which happened this morning. Now here John was, ready for his weekly dinner with Daisy but knowing that afterward, she would be meeting him in a hotel, putting herself completely at his disposal.

As John approached the right room, he could hear loud pop music coming from the place. His knuckles rasped on the door and moments later Daisy yanked the door open, her eyes widening at seeing him. She forgot about their dinner, he realized.

“You’re back!” she squealed, throwing herself in his arms, John chuckled and hugged her. He loved how Daisy had inherited Helen’s brightness.

“Just got in this morning. Can you do dinner, or should we reschedule?” He settled her back on the ground, watching as Daisy thought for a moment.

“No, no. We can go. I just need to take a quick shower and get dressed,” she said, already moving about the room, gathering what she needed: toiletry bag, towel, and clothes. “I’ll be back in 15 minutes max.”

John just hummed in agreement, watching his daughter disappearing out the door. He had talked to Helen about getting Daisy an apartment in the city so she could have more space and privacy, but Helen wanted their daughter to make that decision herself; start to learn some independence and in the end, John didn’t argue.

Helen knew their daughter best after all since once they divorced, Daisy lived with her. It was logical, of course. John was always all around the world all the time. Helen was the one that could offer the girl a stable home. So she kept custody and since she and John remained civil, he had visitation rights, which he took advantage of whenever he was in town.

As Daisy grew older, John felt them distancing themselves. Maybe it was just the fact that Daisy had completely different interests and personalities. Or maybe she just sensed that he had been lying to her for so long, either way, John felt the strain and distance and tried his best to keep them together at any cost because the thought of losing his daughter put the fear of God in his heart. She was the only beacon of light in his life.

Just by looking at her side of the dorm, he could see it, her bright and bubbly personality on the pastels tones of her duvet and cheerful wall decorations with little lights and unicorn figures. Her desk was cluttered with makeup and hair ties and other little trinkets she collected over the years. She was, like her mom, an artistic person fond of vivid colors and chaos.

The other side of the dorm showed a much more subdued tone of its other occupant. The bed duvet a dark blue and the walls adorned with sticker notes and study aids, but a few inspirational phrases from famous thinkers. Above the neat and organized desk, there were shelves packed to capacity with books, most of them textbooks but John spotted a few classics too, family pictures, and a few medals.

Before he could take a closer look, have a chance to know a little more about the girl that had just wormed her way into his life, the door opened, dragging his attention away. John expected to see Daisy since her fifteen had long passed but instead, it was Y/N, face flushed, hair wet and messy, her clothes seemly damp and clinging to her skin.

“Mr. Wick,” she looked startled, flush getting brighter. “I thought…”

Her words hung unfinished as John moved closer, crowding her against the wall. He hadn’t realized how much he missed and craved her until he laid his eyes on her. Now all John could think was having a taste.

She met his lips willingly, arms coming around his neck and threading through his hair as John invaded her mouth with ferocity, nipping and sucking her lower lip, making her moan softly against him. She tasted and smelled of chlorine and though it was strange John liked it. He liked everything about her.

“We should stop,” he mumbled even if his lips were descending her neck, chasing her taste. “Daisy will be back from her shower soon.”

“How long she’s been gone?” she asked, tilting her head back, pushing her hair away to give him more space to work.

“ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”

“Then we have another 20 minutes, maybe 30,” she smirked at him, hand cupping John through his trousers and he grunted against her collarbone. “Daisy likes to take her time.”

She squeezed his hardening cock and John wished he had the strength of will to say no that they could get caught by his daughter, but he had spent a week having only his hand as his company and he missed her. He missed the feel of her tight cunt squeezing around him and he shouldn’t be that addicted over something he only had once.

“How do you want me, sir?” she asked, giving him a look through her lashes, and any sanity left for John’s flew straight out of the window.

“Knees,” he growled, pushing her down. “I want your mouth around me right now.”

She nodded, undoing his buttons with quick, nimble fingers while he gathered her hair, brushing them away from her face so John could see her as she licked her lips in want when she took his cock out of his pants and underwear, stroking him to full hardness.

“You’re so fucking big, sir,” she blinked up at him with a smirk. “I can’t fit all that in my mouth.”

“Take what you can,” he ordered, rocking his hips until she took the hint and brought his leaking tip to her lips. “But don’t worry, you’ll learn to take all of me because I’m gonna fuck that pretty little mouth.”

There it was again, the little whimper of need that she let out whenever John said something that aroused her. He bet if he reached between her legs right now she would be hot and soaked, maybe even ready to take him. John loved how horny she was; how she wanted him to use her in any way he saw fit.

Her tongue snaked out to catch the precum glistening at his tip and she hummed in pleasure before kissing the crown of his head softly, lips dragging over his length along with her tongue, exploring and discovering his cock. In other circumstances, John would let her keep going, take her time, but they were toeing the line of getting caught and he was too desperate for slow.

“Open up,” he ordered, tugging on her hair and taking his length in hand, stroking a couple of times to spark those bolts of pleasure all over his body, before he guided his cock into the wet heat of her mouth. Her soft lips pressed and stretched around his girth as he inched deeper and deeper until he felt resistance.

He let her adjust to his size, her tongue rubbing against this underside, her cheeks hollowing with just enough suction and he groaned at the feel of it and the look in her eyes. Big doe eyes silently asking if it was right; if this was how he wanted.

“Almost perfect, darling.” John caressed her cheek, feeling his shape against her skin before he adjusted the angle of her head ad pushed deeper. He saw the flash of panic in her eyes as his head pressed forward, activating her gagging reflexes.

She spluttered and choked, tears gathering on the corner of her eyes and saliva leaking from her mouth. John petted her cheek and shushed her, whispering encouragements for her to relax and breathe through her nose. He pulled back, giving her, a bit of reprieve, she gasped and panted, looking up at him with tear-stained face and pout as if already missing his cock.

John couldn’t resist bending down and catching her lips in a soft kiss before returning his length back into her mouth and this time, when he pushed farther, she was ready and forced herself to relax welcoming him in and swallowing around his head, making John groan.

“You’re such a fast learner, darling,” he praised, speeding up his motions, feeling the telltale drawing on his balls and busts of pleasure through his body. John was close and he couldn’t way to cum all over that pretty little mouth.

Her fists tightened on the fabric of his trousers as she relaxed her jaw and John started to fuck her mouth in a faster pace, the wet heat surrounding him felt delicious, but not quite like the velvet walls of her cunt, which he truly missed. But for now, this would do.

Later tonight, John would spread her open on the bed, make her cum as many times as she could handle until the was an incoherent mess, completely at his mercy just like she put him at hers with her sweet little smile and bewitching gaze.

Just the thought of having her all to himself without the worry and constriction of time was enough to send John over the edge and he felt the pull in his spin, the pressure becoming unbearable. He pulled out just enough to leave only his tip on her lips before he came with a grunt, hand tightening in her hair as his cum spilled over her waiting tongue and mouth.

She took all of it, looking at him hungrily, making a show of swallowing every drop. John groaned again and dragged her upwards for a savage kiss that made him taste himself, her hands clenching on his shirt as she moaned against his lips, her legs pressed tight together and John chuckled, knowing she was soaked and in desperate need for release.

“Remember, darling,” he said, pressing a soft kiss against her jaw. “That cunt is mine and you’re not allowed to touch it without permission.”

“I know, sir,” her voice was a little whiny, almost pitiful as she pouted at him.

“Be a good girl and get your reward later tonight.”

She nodded eagerly, meeting his lips again but the kiss was short-lived as they caught the sound of Daisy cheerfully talking to someone just outside the door. She quickly scrambled to her side of the dorm, while John turned his back to the door to tuck himself back into his pants.

“I’m ready!” Daisy announced as she busted into the room with a wide smile, her gaze bouncing from John to Y/N sitting at her desk, trying to do her best to not look guilty. “Uhh! You should come and have dinner with dad and me, Beebee!”

“Beebee?” John asked confused. She smiled at him and this time the flush on her cheek was more of out shyness than arousal like she reverted to timid girl the second they weren’t fucking.

“Just a silly nickname,” she shrugged.

“Yeah, because she’s a Brooklyn Baby!” Daisy declared with a proud grin and John had a feeling his daughter coined it. “Get it? Anyway, are you coming?”

John just hummed, glancing at her in expectation, part of him wanted her to come along but at the same time, he knew he wouldn’t be able to really focus if she was there, his thought venturing in dirty territories due to her mere presence.

“Thanks, but I have a paper to finish,” she said, smiling at Daisy. “Besides, I don’t want to intrude in your father-daughter time.”

“You can do it later,” Daisy insisted, shooting those very effective puppy dog eyes of hers, but the other girl seemed immune because she just rolled her eyes. “Come oooon.”

“I have a thing later.” Daisy’s pout turned into a smirk.

“Does this thing have anything to do with the reason you came home last week full of hickeys?”

John nearly choked in panic, covering up with a quick, fake cough as Y/N flushed bright red. He had forgotten completely he had left her those little parting gift.

“Daisy!” she chided her friend with a glare and John decided it was time to intervene.

“Sweetie, I’m sure your friend doesn’t want to have this conversation in front of me and we should really get going.” With one hand on the small of Daisy’s back, John guided his daughter to the door, pausing briefly to look at her. “You’re sure you don’t want to join us, Beebee?”

The nickname rolled off his tongue easily and her eyes darkened a little as she caught her lower lip between her teeth, giving him a very suggestive look.

“I’m sure, Mr. Wick. See you later.”

xxx

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[yourfriendslimey]

You Should Sleep Somewhere Else...

Paring: Im Jaebeom x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst

TW: Cheating; swearing;

@beomsbabe

Hello! Could you create an imagine where JB has a wife and a one year old but he’s acting strange and distant from them for some reason (you can pick a reason). If you could create a story out of that little description that would be awesome! Thank you !!

hi luv! sorry this took ages tpo get done! I kept getting majorly stuck while writing this out. It’s a bit sad but I hope you enjoy the read anyway! thanks for your request!

A soft breeze flowed through the cracked living room windows, leading the thin white curtains in a slow waltz. Warm light from the table lamps graced the space with a cozy golden glow which made you feel all the sleepier. Your weary bones sunk heavily into the couch; As you ran your hands down your face, a hefty sigh escaped your mouth. Your head fell back and for just a moment you let your eyes shut, relishing in your first break all day. You didn’t know how late it was, but the sun was long gone. You hadn’t even noticed the long day transition to night.

Today you ran what felt like and endless number of errands. On top of that, your usual sitter canceled, leaving you to juggle running through the shopping district with your baby daughter, Anastasia, who seemed much needier than usual. Her energy was up, meaning you barely even got to sit down. You made every attempt to tire her out: playing, reading, going for walk after walk. It wasn’t until after a large meal and almost half an hour of rocking and soft humming that she fell fast asleep. Of course, you loved her dearly. More than anything or anyone in the world. But caring for a one year old took so much out of you every day and it didn’t help that you were practically doing it alone.

You weren’t single. Quite the opposite. But lately your usually loving husband, Jaebeom, had grown cold and distant from you both and you couldn’t pinpoint why. You’d tried time and time again to get him to open up to you, but had no success, only garnering a dismissive “Everything’s fine baby, I swear.” But you knew deep down everything was most certainly not fine. The two of you hadn’t had a date night, eaten together, cuddled, or been intimate in weeks and it was starting to weigh on you. It wasn’t like Jaebeom to be so cold. A few months ago, you could barely spend time away from each other. But then he began spending later nights in the studio, or staying out at bars until the early hours of morning, barely acknowledging you when he eventually came home.

You stared at the clock on the wall, focusing in on its soft ticking. It was nearly 10 p.m. and you wondered how late he would be this time. It had almost become routine. Each night, no earlier than 12 am, he would stagger in half asleep or marinated in liquor. He would make a futile attempt to shut the front door quietly, you would spend the next twenty or so minutes watching your bedroom doorway, wondering if he would crawl into bed with you or simply collapse on the couch. Eventually you would settle back into the half empty space and wallow in disappointment. By the time you were up in the morning, he was already heading back out the door without so much as an I love you.

You fiddled with your wedding ring and felt tears form in your eyes. What happened to us…? You thought, the tears traveling down your cheeks and falling to your lap. Your heart ached thinking that maybe Jaebeom just didn’t love you anymore; that your marriage was crumbling; that the love you both used to cherish and nurture was left to shrivel.

You were snatched from your fog at the sound of the front door creaking open softly. Your eyes darted in its direction with surprise and for a moment your heart skipped. Jaebeom slipped through the door earlier than usual, shutting it behind him. Quickly, you wiped the tears from your face letting your features turn to stone. When he turned to see you staring, he paused, his mouth opening a bit to say something, but you cut him off. “Wow, you’re home early. And you’re sober?” you feigned surprise, hissing the final words. You looked your husband up and down, your attitude was obvious, the words acid flowing from your tongue. Jaebeom’s face began turning a light pink and you couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment, shame, or anger. You didn’t care rehardless. At the very least his body was responding. At the very least he was feeling something. You waited for what felt like minutes for him to say something, anything. But yet again, you were left hanging.

You scoffed, standing and heading to your shared room. You knew if you stayed around him any longer, you’d break down completely. “Wait,” his voice froze you in place. The air bolted from your lungs as your body began to shake. The wall you’d built around you began to crack. The earlier tears returned; this time much heavier. A sudden pain - an ache - reverberated in your chest. “Please…,” Jaebeom placed a strong hand on your shoulder. “Can we talk?” His voice was gentle, a hint of fear hiding somewhere within. With furrowed brows you turned to face him.

Now getting a closer look, you could see that he had been crying. His eyes were red and swollen, exhaustion hanging from them. Your own softened at the sight. You were so upset with him; so hurt; and even still, the sight of your love in pain melted your cold shell even more.

But you couldn’t just let it go. With a quick nod you folded your arms tightly and huffed. Shifting your weight to your right foot and jamming your tongue in your cheek you growled, “Fine. Talk. I’m listening.”. Jaebeom fiddled with his fingers, his eyes focused on the ground. He took a deep breath and met your gaze. “I did something I shouldn’t have. And I need to come clean.” Your face began to drop.

“I cheated on you, y/n… But I swear it was just one time and the biggest mistake of my life.” he rushed the words, almost as if saying them faster would make it hurt less. It didn’t. The admission hit you like a wrecking ball. You stood stiff; eyes wide. Had the floor collapsed from below your feet? Had the air grown thicker? Why couldn’t you breathe? The room was warm, and yet you were shivering more than you ever had.

“Please forgive me. I swear it was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.” Jaebeom reached out to you, but you knocked his hand away, shaking your head rapidly. You looked away and held up a stiff hand. Ever fiber of your being was screaming. You wanted to shut him out. Throw his shit out into the yard and slam the door in his face. But you had to know more.

“Explain.”

“It was about a month ago…when we finally finished shooting our newest video…and to celebrate we all went to a club.” You nodded, remembering that night. He had called you, letting you know filming wrapped and he was going to a nearby club with the boys. But you never suspected… your thoughts were cut off as he kept going.

“I was at the bar and some girl sat next to me. I-i don’t even remember what she looked like,” his voice grew shakier, “We just talked and drank for a while at first; I passed the time and that was it. wasn’t thinking. I had more than I should have. I was just so wrapped up in the excitement that I went way passed my own limit. She started getting a bit flirty. And in that moment, I flirted back. We uh… we ended up kissing and…we decided to take a walk outside…” he paused, tears sprouting from his eyes. Don’t say it… you screamed in your head, biting your bottom lip hard to numb your pained heart. “Fuck, y/n. We had sex…in the back of her car. I wanted to tell you when it happened, but I just couldn’t face you.”

You watched as he broke down in front of you, a puddle of shame and betrayal. But you felt no pity. Your heart was on fire and your head became a clouded mess. You stared into him; your distress ever present. “So th-that’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” your voice grew louder the more you spoke, “Because you couldn’t fucking keep it in your pants? You decided the best course of action was to ignore you goddamn wife?” the more words that escaped, the angrier you became. You had never raised your voice at Jaebeom before. But but the plug had been pulled; you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. “For weeks I have done nothing but worry about you. About us. Trekking through daily life acting as if everything was normal feeling completely alone. Thinking I fucked up, that I did something to cause the distance. Crying myself to sleep wondering if you still loved me,” you were shouting now; weeks of pain and tension bleeding out. “Do you have any clue what I went through? I have slept alone. Cried alone. Cared for Anna alone. You might as well have just left!”

Through the wall, you could hear Anna stirring from her sleep.  All your screaming must have woken her up. Your eyes burned into Jaebeom, full of rage. This man who was once your beloved husband, had instantly become a stranger to you. You pushed past him, making your way into Anna’s room.

You tiptoed to the crib, lifting your daughter and holding her close. You lightly bounced her in your arms, shushing her to calm her down. Your husband stood in the doorway, eyes pleading, but you couldn’t stand to look at him anymore.

In a cool and steady voice, you sighed, “I think you should sleep somewhere else tonight….”

“Baby please, we can work through this,” Jaebeom took a step toward you, but the molten look you gave was enough to push him back.

You turned your gaze back to your baby girl, “I’m tired. I want to sleep. And I want you out in the next half hour.”

And with that, Jaebeom slid out of the room and not much later was he headed back out the door

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Reader is with Ash (idk they can come from a party or other members house) and she suddenly hugs Ash and starts crying (she kind of brokes dow due everything that happend recently) and Ash is all confuzed and concerned

Last Girl - A. Irwin

Hey darling! Thank you for the request! It isn’t exactly what you asked for but I hope you like it and I’m sorry if you don’t!

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

TW: REFERENCE TO PAST DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, ANXIETY, PANIC ATTACKS AND INTIMIDATION. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS CAN TRIGGER YOU BECAUSE YOUR MENTAL HEALTH IS IMPORTANT

Getting to know Y/N was a challenge. An uphill battle that took longer than most would think.

On the outside, she was a bubbly woman. Always seen with a smile on her face and a bright eyed gaze that screamed joyful bliss.

On the inside, Y/N felt as if she were constantly living the life of a character in a horror movie. Specifically, the last girl.

Even now, as she stood next to Ashton at Calum’s house, enjoying a birthday party for the latter, she couldn’t shake the anxiety. Whenever she thought she was safe and free from what was haunting her, it reappeared. Sometimes in a new form, sometimes in the same form. Sometimes she had a break for a while until she was thrust into a sequel.

She had considered changing her name to Sidney Presscott just as her own macabre homage.

Ashton knew that if he could achieve only one more thing in his life, then it would be to allow Y/N to open up to somebody. Somebody she trusts.

Her life had been through ups and downs, Ashton knew that. It began when she was a teenager, through a cheating boyfriend.

Time and time again, relationship after relationship, she had her heart broken.

Betrayal, cheating, lying, and more recently, violence.

Her most recent ex, Matthew, was a kind man at first. He wooed her mother, earned respect from her father, worked his way into her heart and began to learn every soft spot that was left inside of the hardened muscle.

He knew where she was weak and he took advantage of it.

It started as emotional abuse, then financial abuse. She wasn’t allowed to have control of her own funds. She couldn’t pay for anything. Every purchase was made from his account.

He would call her names, degrade her. Remind her that he was all she had at that time. He plucked tunes from her heartstrings with the promise that if she left him, no other would love her again.

Then things became physical. It started as shoving and escalated to punching, kicking, choking.

Her fingers unconsciously grazed the fine scar that trailed through her left eyebrow.

Ashton smiled down at her, seeming to not notice the growing emotion in her features as he was getting more buzzed by the minute.

She didn’t mind. He was her boyfriend, not her therapist. If she wanted him to know how she was feeling then she would tell him. For now, she was perfectly fine with sorting this bout of emotion into the neat filing cabinet of traumatic memories and outbursts that she kept within her.

She could always handle herself. She had been doing it for so long that independence was a second nature to her.

Ashton, on the other hand, knew something was wrong with his girlfriend. He could almost read her expression like a book, after a year and a half of dating.

She had left her ex almost three years prior, yet she still held much of the trauma inside of her.

If Ashton rose his voice too high, she would flinch. If he wanted to pay for something, she would meekly accept and wear a fearful expression the entire time. She would apologize profusely for the simplest of mistakes.

It broke his heart to think of what she went through. He knew not the extent, but he knew enough to feel his heart ache for the woman he had grown to love, and complete contempt for the man that hurt her.

Y/N was handling herself well. She was doing her best to enjoy the party, and it was working. She downed a few drinks, danced a little with Crystal, and even joined in on laughter following some jokes told by Calum. Regularly, she would only laugh at what Ashton would say. He was the only one she really trusted.

The night was going more than well until her eyes met those of a single man.

He had a blonde woman by the waist, leading her into the large lounge room and Y/N felt her heart sunk as if full with thousands of lead bricks.

Instantly, her palms dampened. Her forehead began to ache with memories of the night she left him.

And then his eyes found her.

She didn’t know why he could have been invited to Calum’s party, or how even. She supposed maybe he just came along. The blonde woman seemed to widen her eyes when she landed then on Calum, and she quickly trailed after him.

It wasn’t rare for fans to sneak into parties just to get a glimpse of the men. But even as the woman walked away, Matthew still watched Y/N.

She seemed to shrink under his gaze, and Ashton caught sight of that. He didn’t know who the man directing such a dangerous glare towards his girlfriend was, but he made sure to tighten the arm that was around her and press a kiss to her forehead.

Y/N felt the care in the simple action and directed a shaky smile to her boyfriend.

Nevertheless, Matthew’s brown eyed glare focused on her.

He made attempts to work his way closer to her, yet she made an attempt to ignore his presence.

Crystal offered her a shot and she smiled with acceptance, downing the liquid and cringing as it burned.

The real trouble came when Ashton excused himself.

“I need to go to the bathroom, I’ll be back in a sec, okay?” He looked as if he were asking her for permission, watching as her expression changed for half a second before transitioning into a small smile and a nod.

He had barely been gone a minute when she felt the eyes on her back. Every time she turned around, Matthew was there. Her own personal horror movie villain, and she was in yet another sequel.

A hand graded her arm and she shuffled away. She ignored the questions from her friends as her feet moved on their own accord.

She was outside by the time she realised tears were streaming down her face. Her hands flew to her hair, tugging the roots firmly to bring her focus away from her mind and the man inside of the house.

Her vision was fuzzy, blurred by tears or the panic attack, she knew not. She made it to Ashton’s car before her knees gave out, and she crumpled against the side of the vehicle as sobs and fast paced breath rocked her figure.

Ashton was in the bathroom for two minutes. He counted, just to make sure he wasn’t away from Y/N for longer than he wanted to be. He knew something was going on with her, and while he was never the type to always need to be with his significant other, he wanted to make sure she was okay.

When he returned, the concerned gazes of his friends shone back at him, as if he were looking into a mirror.

“Ash, Y/N ran out.” Crystal walked towards him. It was hard to hear over the music, and some of his friends were too inebriated to realize Y/N had left. “I don’t know what happened. She just left and I couldn’t see where she went to follow her.”

Ashton furrowed his brows, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder. He nodded a thanks, his mind going elsewhere to find his girlfriend.

He felt eyes on him, and he turned to see the same brown eyed gaze that was fixed on his girl.

In any other circumstances, he would have approached the man, but for the time being, he needed to find Y/N.

Y/N knew her jeans were stained from the damp grass, and she knew her face would be blotchy, but she couldn’t force the sobs to stop.

Her head was staring to ache from her grip on her hair, and her eyes were stinging from the running mascara.

She barely even recognized the feel of a large hand on her knee until her face was pulled up slightly and her eyes focused on a head of red hair.

The hazel eyes of the person stared down at her and she watched the lips move but she was deaf to the sound.

Slowly her fingers were loosened and the pressure on her scalp began to fade. Her eyes came to focus on the face in front of her and she choked on a sob as she gathered the energy to wrap herself around Ashton.

“Baby? What happened?” He rubbed her back, rocking slightly side to side as he sat himself down so she could crawl into his lap.

Her face was pressed against his neck, her back rising and falling faster than he had ever seen her take in breath.

“Home,” was the only thing she could will her voice to say.

Ashton did his best to stand, cradling her against him as confusion washed through him. He had no idea what set her off, but he definitely had a feeling it was connected to the man who couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

He had never seen her have a panic attack before, nor had he seen her cry. She was always so held together and strong, and it broke his heart to see her in such a way, and to not know the cause of it.

He set her in the passenger seat, detaching her limbs from around his neck only for her to wrap them around her knees. Thankfully, she was no longer gripping at her hair, but he hoped the attack would come to an end in the few minutes it would take to reach their house.

He made sure to keep his hand on her knee the whole way home, only taking it off to turn into their drive way and then to rush around and help her out of the car.

Her heavy breathing had stopped, along with the tears. Now she appeared dazed and shaken, unsure if herself and stumbling about on wobbling legs.

It was a few minutes before he attempted to bring up the topic, but when he did, she pushed a deep sigh from her lungs.

“I saw Matthew. My ex.” Realization set in with Ashton. The brown eyed man. “The one who...” she trailed off, fingers skimming the scar protruding through her brow.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” he whispered to her softly, moving towards her as slowly as he could.

She resembled a scared animal at the time, curled up, flinching at every sudden movement, doe eyed and quiet.

“S’fine, Ash. It’s not your problem to deal with, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have made you take me home-“

Ash interrupted her by resting his large hand underneath her trembling chin. She flinched at the sudden movement before relaxing until his touch. She allowed her eyes to trail up and meet his hazel ones.

“Love, your problems are my problems. I hate that I couldn’t be there to help you and I’m seriously trying to not go and beat the shit out of him.” A soft sigh left Y/N and she nodded softly. “No matter what, you have me. You have me until the day you no longer want me, because I want you forever.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. She hadn’t heard such kindness before. Her past relationships had all combusted from the inside out, and after Matthew, she was convinced she would be living through sequel after sequel with similar villains.

“If you need me, I am here. You have this mindset that you’re always going to face trouble, but love, the last girl always has a happy ending in the end,” Ashton told her in a hushed voice. “I love you, Y/N.”

She let a few tears fall, slowly untangling her arms from around her knees to take their place around Ashton’s torso. Her head rested against his chest and she allowed the sound of his even breathing and thumping heart to soothe her muscles and mind.

“I love you, Ash.”

Tag list: @mantlereid @theanswertoeverythingisl0v3

[paper-whales-writes]

Flying the Pirate Flag

A/N: It’s finally here!

Pairing: Harry Hook x Reader

Word Count: 2,632 (oof)

Requested By: Anon

Summary: Justifying to the Core Four why you are dating Harry Hook

They left you. Albeit on the orders of their parents - or, more like,  Maleficent - but they still left you. Alone. Drifting through the Isle like  some discarded rubbish. Just as you were before joining their crew.    With your mother, Gothel, and her violent fits of rage, you can't exactly go  home for all the time you used to hide out at the hangout. Yet, your previous  place of hangout is too quiet; too lonely to hole up in all alone. You've  been there alone; shivering in your pleather cape and glaring at all of the  graffiti portraits that Mal painted of you all.    You have no food. No nothing. Just a pile of coins left to you by Mal before  she left. Always doubting your power to make your own decisions and your own  way in your life. Well, here's the time to prove that you can.    There is no room for weakness on the Isle. None. So, you have pulled yourself  up and paraded around the Isle; making a show of that yes, in fact, that you  are fine. Even when you really aren't.    Somehow, your wanderings lead you to the docks - also known as the Pirate  Quarter. Yet, now you're here, you might as start pushing the dominos of your  masterplan.    Striding onwards, you pass suspicious pirate; after suspicious pirate. Until,  finally, you push the doors of Ursula's eatery with a massive clatter. As  soon as you enter, a roomful of eyes stare back at you in disbelief.    "Well, well, well, look who's decided to turn up." Harry breaks the  silence, prowling towards you with his malicious hook outstretched in threat.    "Hello, Harry." You greet nonchalantly. "Is Uma here?"    Before he can answer, Uma rises up from behind the bar. Confident in her own  space. "When am I not here? But you know that Y/N, so what do you  want?"    You smirk, turning away from lap dog to top dog. But as you face Uma,  regarding her and sizing her up, you miss the appraising glances that Harry  is sending your way. If there's anything that intrigues Harry: it's someone  who knows what they want and isn't afraid to take it. Whatever the cost and  whenever the chips are down.    Slamming your blade into one of the eateries' table, you place your threat  into the open. Quickly followed by your offer. Literally laid on the table,  in the form of a map of the Isle.    "Territory. Mal ain't here and by my bet, she ain't coming back. I don't  want it, you do."    Both Harry and Uma drift closer; sharing looks of incredulity. "Why  would you give this to us?"    Leaning on your blade, you regard them with intensity. "Let's be real,  me and my one-man band can't hold all this territory and you'd probably try  and take it anyway. So, why not give it to you?"    There is even more appraisal in Harry's eyes, as he gazes you with both  confusion and respect. "What's it in it for you though, lass? The scales  look firmly tipped in our favour."    "I want protection. An alliance." You state, plainly laying out  your needs. "My old crew up and go with no word to me; the last I saw of  them, they were already driving away. No goodbye. No nothing."    The pirates are silent around you as you flash some emotional vulnerability.  But upon realising this, you quickly move onwards. "As you can imagine,  this mucked up my plans - royally. So, I need some backup while I reenact  them."    Uma nods slowly, "I can understand that. But what happens if they come  back? Will you drop us like a sack of rocks?"    You smirk, holding out your hand. "They won't. They'll be so wrapped up  in their own importance, that they'll only come back to flaunt it. That's  just who they are. I've seen that. And I need people real, who will be there  for my plans; for me."    "Well then, welcome to the crew." With a cutting grin, Uma's hand  meets your own.    "Get ready to cause some trouble, lassie." Harry smirks at yoy from  behind Uma's back.    -------------  Months have past since you've joined Uma's crew. Dare you say it, it's even  more fun terrorising the other inhabitants of the Isle under Uma then it ever  was a cog of Mal's crew. You've maintained your fearsome reputation, somehow;  with no strings of power lost.    Even more confusingly, Harry and yourself have been growing closer. Actually  - scratch that - you are close. From being shoe-horned together by your  leader to run the same missions; whether they be collecting money or scaring  rival gangs into submission. You've gone from being Mal's third-in-command to  having the exact same position in Uma's crew.    In truth, the transition has gone too smoothly and it makes you nervous.    "What are you thinking about, lass?"    With a start, you feel Harry's calloused hand snaking around your waist;  ensnaring you in his embrace. A brief smile manages to break through your  worrying face.    "Oh I don't know Harry, the usual things."    He spins you to face him and his expression clearly states that he does not  believe you.    Sighing, you continue: "Celia read my fortune the other day. A trade for  a trade, kind of deal."    "And what did it say?" He prompts after you stop to think for a few  moments.    "It was a return of the winds of the past. What if Mal comes back?  There'll be hell to pay if she realises I've changed allegiance."    Harry wraps your hands in his own; gazing at you in earnest. He doesn't reply  for a moment - merely staring at you in protectiveness.    "I don't think she'll come back, love. She's too busy conquering Auradon  and wrapping all those prissy royals around her finger. Besides, what could  she have expected? They were the ones who left you. They ain't ever tried to  come back and get ya, have they? Or get good ol' King Ben to bring you over  to Auradon."    "They've forgotten me." You whisper, tears starting to well in your  eyes.    "I think they have, love. So, ya can't keep feeling guilty and holding  yourself accountable to people who just aren't in your life anymore."    His calloused thumb caresses your cheek, as he gazes at you in concern. A  few, fat tears roll down your cheek and down onto the edge of Harry's slender  fingers. Amazing, that one of your previous arch-enemies is now comforting  you through some uncomfortable realisations. Six months has changed oh so  much.    You nod, still sobbing at the realisation that your closest friends have  abandoned you. Not even trying to get you back in their lives. Does this mean  that all the memories you have with them are tarnished? That they never cared  about you in the first place? Were you a friend, employed for merely  territorial purposes?    "Right, here's what we'll do. I'll do the usual rounds while you stay  here, with Uma, and help man the shop? Eh, what do ya say, love?"    You nod, sniffling; wiping your nose on a raggedy old handkerchief.  "Thanks, Harry."    "Anytime, love. I'm here for ya - we all are. You're part of the crew  now; I only wish you'd come over to us sooner."    Softly, he places a kiss on the end of your nose. Then, pulling back, he  smiles that incredible grin at you.    "I care for ya love, you're my bird now." He says, proudly, before  rising and striding over to the door.    "I'll be back as soon as I can, Y/N."    As soon as he leaves the premises, Uma places a hand on your shoulder. Taking  this as a prompt to turn around to face her, you stand and soon crumple into  her embrace.    "We've got you now, Y/N. The crew is family. We love you, and we support  you. Okay?"    You smile at her. "Okay."    She grins back at you, "Now let's show everyone not to mess with us  okay? There'll never be another Mal in our lives again!"    ----  As you and Uma sit talking in the eatery's downtime (or rather, constructing  plans for world domination), the quiet atmosphere is broken by thundering  footsteps running up the ramp and into the room. Both craning your necks  around to the doorway, you are confronted with the sight of your partner  skidding to a halt.    Both Uma and yourself speak at the same time. You, concerned with him and  Uma, concerned with the flow of normality.    "Harry, are you okay?"    "Harry, what's the matter?"    He quickly regains his breath, looking at you both with eyes clouded in shock  and anticipation. Sliding off his hat, he stalks closer to the pair of you;  stopping a mere few steps away from where you and Uma are sat.    "I can't believe I'm saying this, but she's back." His eyes land on  his captain first, but as soon as he speaks the name, all of the pirates'  eyes are on you. "Mal. She back - purple haired and everything."    "How ironic." You mumble to yourself.    Yet, before either Harry or Uma can ask you how you are faring, Gil also  bursts through the door.    "Uma, Harry; Y/N!" He breathlessly pants, bending over and trying  to restore normal airflow into his lungs.    "Evie, Carlos and Jay are back! I saw them with my own eyes!"    The looks exchanged are those of bewilderment; slowly changing into  annoyance. Everything you've all achieved since their move, all is in  jeopardy.    "They've even got Ben with them!" Gil proudly exclaims.    Silence.    "Ben?"    "You know, Prince - no, King Ben."    More looks are exchanged; this time of a growing awareness of an opportunity  offered. Here's a chance for you all to come out on top once and for all. To  show them that while they may forget about the Isle, the Isle certainly won't  forget about them. With this in mind, smirks are quickly exchanged between  you all; crowned on top with Uma's line:    "I have a plan."    --------  Both you and Harry are rushing to re-enact Uma's masterplan. That was quickly  conjured and drummed up by yourself and your captain, in the space of five  minutes. Following behind you are a scattering of members of the crew, ready  to nab Ben at the best opportunity.    An opportunity that is quickly realised.    As you watch from the shadows, you watch Ben wander away from the group -  even in spite of the warnings given by the Core Four. Exchanging a smirk with  your partner, you start to seize your moment. Moving forward as a group, you  are able to nab the King and into your clutches.    "Send him back to the ship." You instruct the pirates; meeting the King's  imploring eyes with no reluctance.    Yet, Harry and yourself remain sheltered in the shadows. Watching with the  group scramble around to look for the missing King, with lopsided smiles. For  you, this is a great cathartic release - especially being able to meddle even  as an agent of the shadows.    Harry, adjusts the pleather Cape around your shoulders; then places his worn  pirate hat on your head.    At your inquisitive glance, he smoothly says: "Just so they know you're  apart of the crew now, lassie."    With that, you let the show begin.    "Don't scare you, but that's my speciality."    His opening line has him emerging out of the shadows; grinning manically and  voice high-pitched at the excitement of it all. Meanwhile, you remain in the  shadows.    "Harry." Evie hisses.    Deciding to make your move, you slide out of the shadows even more menacingly  than Harry previously did.    "Don't forget about me guys. Oh wait, you did."    Raking your eyes over each of their shocked faces, your smile widens. Having  the upper hand is just too addictive.    "Y/N?" The disbelief is palpable.    "Hi guys!" You wave a mocking wave - a cheap imitation of the  finger bending greetings that Mal often gives in sarcasm.    "What have you done with Ben?" Jay is the first back on the ball.    "Oh, er we nicked him."    You hum in agreement.    "Yeah, and if you want to see him again, have Mal come to the Chip Shop  tonight."    "Alone."  You add in, sending dagger-like looks to where you  know Mal is dwelling in the hideout.    "Uma wants a little visit. Ah Jay, seems like you have lost your  touch."    With this, Jay's bewilderment culminates into aggression: rushing forward to  deck Harry. All that stops him is Evie holding him back.    "Jay." She chastises.    In a mockery, that you know from experience is historical, Harry yips at  Carlos. Rolling your eyes, you turn to follow him down the alleyway but a  grasping hand around your wrist stops you.    "Y/N, wait." It's Evie's calm voice that stops both you and Harry  in your tracks.    Before you turn around to face them, Harry mouths: "Are you okay?".  At your nod, he murmurs for only you to hear:    "I'll be back at the shop. You've got this. Hit it where it hurts."    You share a smile: fleeting yet strong. Then, you watch as Harry turns on his  heel; whistling the Core Four's song as he walks. It's this small thing that  bolsters you enough to turn and face the people you used to call friends.    "What? What do you want?" You snap.    "What's happened to you?" Carlos gets out.    "What's happened to me? Are you joking?" You rip your wrist out of  Evie's grasp.    "You all left me, to fend for myself. No letters, no nothing. You didn't  try to get me out of this hell. Heck, I bet you didn't even remember I am  here. You've abandoned yourselves. The people I knew would never have left me  - or any of the poor kids here."    "You're angry at us?"    "We didn't ask for this!" Jay and Carlos speak at the same time;  equally shocked and voices rising in anger.    "Could've fooled me."    "But Y/N -" you cut Evie off, as sharp as a dagger to the heart.    "When we see you on the TV, we don't see you trying to fight for us. We  see you prancing around in fancy clothes, with the very people who blame us  for our parents' crimes."    They don't reply.    "Why are you with Harry? Are you part of Uma's crew?" Carlos asks,  accusation smothering his tone.    "Yes, I am. I'm part of the crew and I'm dating Harry, is that a  problem?"    "A problem? I think it is!" Jay splutters.    "Oh my gosh Y/N, you've betrayed us!" Evie seethes, looking you up  and down in dawning hate.    "What else was I to do?"    They're all silent. Not offering any viable options. As they know, the Isle  is a dog-eat-dog world and you did what you did to survive. Heck, it's not  even your fault that you prefer the new life. It says more about them than it  does you.    "I cannot believe this! You leave me, emphasis on that, and then, you  come back and start blaming me for my choices? Are you for real?"    You huff a laugh, watching how they struggle to reply.    They can't even compute it. With this thought in mind, you smirk over at  them. "I hope you get your King back. Because if it's up to me, he won't  live to see another dawn."    As you turn on your heel, you hear Mal come out to the balcony.  "Y/N?"    You glare upwards at her, before flashing a steel smirk. "Look forward to  seeing you tonight, Mal."

“I don’t understand…” Mal looks towards the others to hear the story.

The smirk widens, “Oh Mal, it’s simple: I’m flying the pirate flag  now.”    Then, you start to walk away. Whistling all the while.

[the-omni-princess]

Blood Bound [Chapter One]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky x Witch!Reader

Summary: Vampires and witches have been known enemies since the dark ages. Backstabbing, secrets, and magic turned supernatural brethren again each other. As a natural-born witch, you grew up on these stories, your own monsters under your bed. What happens when one of those sworn enemies claims that you are his blood mate, the vampire equivalent of a true mate? Will you give in to this man out of time? Or destroy him for the sake of your Coven?

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: descriptions of pain and death and violence, witchy and vamp stuff

A/N:

First chapter! :D hope you guys like it. I rewrote it like 8 times lol.

-

[Series Masterlist]  [My Masterlist]

----

Excruciating pain. That’s the first thing a newborn felt when they were being turned. Bucky could just blame the vampire venom coursing through his arteries and veins, but it probably was a mixture of two things instead of the one. One, the way he died. Human death sucked. Being shot in the head, in a foreign colony, surrounded by people you didn’t know? That sucked even more. Two, how vampire venom affects the living. It knitted his wounds back together, burning pain as every organ in his body went through organ failure. Even though the bullet that killed him took his memory of his human life, it didn’t take the memory of his transition. When he woke up in the middle of the Spanish colony Florida, he wasn’t sure whether to thank Steve for turning him or kill him for cursing him with that pain.

Pain. That’s all he had known since he woke up in a field in 1703. Pain and hunger. Ravenous hunger that tore into his throat like barbed wire. Only sated by blood. Only another’s pain could ease his own. But it never disappeared completely. There was always a gaping hole in his chest after he fed, his hunger sated and yet something was always missing. He just couldn’t figure out what.

Decades of running, hunting, building a pack of vampires. It was more dangerous that way, but Steve wouldn’t abandon him; then when they found Sam during the American Civil War, bleeding out and crying out for help, they couldn’t abandon him either. Small packs were useful. They were family.

It didn’t help that he couldn’t remember his human life. Steve wasn’t much help either. He apparently knew him as a human, but only a few years before he turned him. Bucky had been running from something or someone but wouldn’t tell Steve. So, when he turned, with only flashes of his past to determine who he once was, the blonde could not even tell his friend about his life.

He was running again, abnormal speed, enhanced agility, jumping over rocks and fallen trees as he chased his prey through the woods. He couldn’t quite see what he was even chasing but he knew it was there. Its heart was racing, adrenaline pumping as it tried to outrun him. Foolish. Nothing could outrun him. Not even his own pack that was hiding a few miles away, deeper into the woods.

A sick craacckk made his pace falter. Pulling. Tugging. He stalled, allowing the creature to run away and into the shadows. Something more important was calling to him. The very hole in his chest that has haunted him for years was yelling at him with an impatient longing to move towards the sound. A flash of a memory passed across his eyes. Burning sage incense, a laughing girl, then a piercing scream. That caught his attention, memory flashes were rare for him, and he would take what he could get, already feeling the memory slip away from him.

Against his better judgment, Bucky listened. He stood at the edge of the tree line, just within the shadows to stay hidden. The Coven was rushing into a cottage, but his attention was diverted. You. That’s what the urge in him wanted. Her. His inner mind spoke, making it intentions known. As the winds shifted, your scent wafted straight into him. He involuntarily let out a whimper. The smell of your blood, a rich mix of honey and lavender, invaded his senses, and the inner voice preened again. Yours. He knew what this urge meant. He heard it from a few of the other nocturnal creatures. Bonded. The mortals called it soulmates, but it was deeper than that. Extremely rare, and most definitely the only explanation he had for wanting to fall to his knees in front of you. Bindings made nocturnals weak, the one thing you could use against any of them. Yet two powerful nocturnals bound together were a force to be reckoned with. A power only described by the ancients scrolls that were burned down in Alexandria. The world hadn’t seen true bounded mates in centuries.

He looked out towards you, using the self-control it took him centuries to perfect to not rush towards you. He might be attracted to your scent, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. He could smell exactly what you were in your very blood. Earthy tones, sparks of flame, and salt from the sea mixed faintly into your scent, just hiding behind the honey and lavender. Oh god. He wasn’t just blood bound to a mortal. No, he was blood bound to a witch.

---

The Coven was freaking out. Okay, well, Wanda was freaking out. The next day after what you referred to as ‘the event,’ all of you were in the cabin, in various states of calm and panicked, and sprawled out on the couches. All of the nearby contacted Covens felt the extreme power last night, yet none of them caused it. The Coven to the North hadn’t responded yet to Wanda’s calls, prompting her current freak out. The storm had blown in from the North, and now they were MIA.

Wanda paced up and down the carpeted floor of the living room, mumbling possibilities as to what had happened to the other Coven. “I’m sure they’re fine, Wan, can you please calm down? Your negative energy and attitude will only make you feel worse,” Natasha spoke up.

Carol sighed softly, crossing her feet as she sat on the rug at the base of the couch. “Y/n, how was the location spell?”

You shrugged, leaning back on the loveseat you were sprawled out on beside Maria, your calico cat Sasha on your lap. “It failed. More exploding crystals, more mess for me to sweep. Yey,” you sighed unenthusiastically. “Protection oil is brewing in the kitchen for another protection spell, was going to make a second batch later.”

“That’ll really help,” Maria muttered bitterly.

Glaring at her, you practically growled, the tension in the air thickening as your powers came to the surface, begging to lash out. Sasha felt the difference immediately, jumping off your lap and dashing into your bedroom. Natasha was quick to place a calming hand on your arm, her emotional powers calming your elements. The storm surrounding you calmed before dissipating entirely. “Well,” you took a deep breath, feeling your powers’ yearning to be used quiet down completely. “If you have any better ideas, I’m all ears.”

Carol stood, stretching her arms above her head with a groan. “Finish making any protection spells you can, all of us need to. The Council isn’t helping until something major happens so for now, it’s just us. Wanda, keep trying the nearby Coven. Everyone else, get to protections and identifications, we need to find this threat before it finds us.”

Natasha gave you a look at that, she was the only one you told about the red eyes at the edge of the woods. You even told her about the impulse in your chest to move towards it. She gave you another pointed look before following Wanda out the door, Carol and Maria following close behind.

It was late afternoon, and the sun was low in the sky, just peaking behind the trees. Streaks of pinks and oranges filled the sky just as you walked outside your protected home. You knew what you saw, and now you had to see what it was. The itch in your chest was back, and you followed it, letting it tug you towards the woods. I feel like a horror movie cliché. Yet unlike the first girl to die, you could protect yourself. Well, you hoped you could.

A shadow crossed your eyesight just as you explored further into the trees. Swallowing back your fear, you placed your hand on your chest, letting yourself grip your charm necklace through your shirt. “I’m not scared of you,” you called out, trying not to flinch as another shadow passed into your vision. This one was much closer.

“Liar,” a voice declared beside your ear, making you jump away from the deep and gruff sound. There was no one there, but you had most certainly felt the voice’s breath fan across your neck. Only one creature was that fast, and the very thought made you shutter.

“Vampire or not, I’ll kick your ass,” you snarled, challenging it. “I am not scared of you,” you insisted, despite it being a complete and total lie. Vampires were, coincidentally, one of the few things you were scared of. But, that probably was because of all the horror stories your mother told you when you were younger, the whole ‘they are backstabbers never trust them’ thing.

“I have no doubt you’ll try, little one,” the voice sneered, now sounding like it was coming from your left. You spun on your heels to face it, but the voice echoed behind you the next time it spoke, he was toying with you. Despite your fear, you hated feeling helpless and not in control more; you loathed being played around with. “Yet you are afraid. Your heartbeat alone tells me that. If you’re so scared why come out here without your Coven?”

You gulped, practically feeling him behind you. He was painfully close, and the feeling in your chest grew; your heart beat against your chest, begging to be closer to the voice. “Last night,” you didn’t dare turn, knowing the vampire was a foot away from you, his fangs could rip you open within seconds. “You were there, well here I guess. Was that sound you?”

He chuckled, “And here I thought it was you, little witch,” his voice was inches from your ear, making you shudder.

“Something’s coming. You can sense it too, can’t you?” you wrapped your arms around your chest, letting your eyes close. Despite the stories you grew up with, your very soul felt at ease in this killer’s presence, and that lack of control worried you.

“Regrettably so, little one,” your eyes shot open and you spun, effectively catching him off guard.

“Stop calling me that!” You froze, now face to face with the vampire. Oh god, he’s hot. Hazel hair, deep blue eyes, a sharp jawline with a cleft in his chin. He was just as stunned that you had turned towards him. It was a stupid move, really, but Natasha tended to call you hotheaded. God, even his eyelashes are pretty. Are all vampires this pretty?

He quickly caught himself, giving you a smirk, his fangs just poking from his pink lips. “Why? I thought you said you weren’t scared?”

You gave him a pointed look, digging your feet into the dirt as you tried to make yourself look bigger by squaring your shoulders. “I’m not. And that has nothing to do with the fact that I’m not little!” You hissed, letting your powers nudge towards the surface. The air around you electrified, little sparks running up and down your body.

The vampire couldn’t help the small smile on his face. His witch was more powerful than he thought. “It’s a term of endearment, I thought you might like it more than simply ‘witch,’ or some witch name like Sabrina,” he tilted his head to the side, crossing his arms as he regarded you.

You visibly relaxed, but you tried not to show that, “Why would you care what I think? Aren’t vampires supposed to hate witches?”

He chuckled, his laughter sounded like rich velvet, warming your insides as you tried not to squirm. “I guess they are, but you’re no ordinary witch, are you? Besides, aren’t witches supposed to hate vampires?” He shot back, letting his fangs take over his smile.

“We do, bloodsucker,” you sneered back at him, wanting to punch his smug face despite the tug in your chest. “And you are probably sensing my natural born abilities.” You weren’t quite sure what made you divulge that information, hell, not even the Council knew you were a natural born witch. Natural born witches were more powerful, rarer. They were dangerous. Only your Coven knew what you were.

He gave you a small look, letting his arms fall, suddenly seeming small. You thought he might seem nervous. “Do you not feel this tug then? The Binding longing to be near each other?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, blood sucker,” you tightened your arms around you, but with your suspicions that this pulling was a two-way thing being proved correct, you were a little less wary of the creature.

“James,” he quickly supplied, “My name is James. Are you sure you don’t feel it? That absolute needto be near the other?” He didn’t quite know why he was so fast to give you his name, but he did anyway, giving in to that feeling in his already dead heart.

“No,” you hastily snapped.

He merely chuckled, and you could feel your heart race at the sound. “You’re a terrible liar, baby doll,” he took a step closer, slowly placing his right hand above your heart, you didn’t move. “I can hear your heartbeat, I can hear the stutter in your voice, I can see your slight movements to get closer to me. Not to mention,” he was now inches away from you, and the pulling in your chest seemed to heighten, yet when he placed his hand to cradle your cheek it waned, calming. “Your powers have stopped trying to kill me.”

You blinked a few times up at him in confusion before sparing a glance around you. Shit, he was right. Your powers had lessened, now only a faint crackle in the air. Chancing it, you looked back at him, holding your breath at his blue eyes. Were they that blue earlier? They seemed familiar. You brushed that feeling away, deflecting. “Well… you’re not what I expected from a bloodsucker,” you countered.

His resulting smile sent your heart in a loop, and you inwardly groaned, knowing he probably heard it stutter. “We aren’t all evil, little witch. These good and evil vamps, just as there are good and evil witches, and those that walk the line in between.”

You bit your lip, definitely noticing the quick look he gave towards your lips. “This need, this ache. You called it a Binding? How do I know you’re not just using your vampire enticements on me?”

He smiled a toothy grin; the sight of his fangs sent a chill down your spine. “You felt it when I was still in the woods, and you were at your home, did you not? Enticements do not work that far. Has no one taught you what a Binding is, Sweetling?”

You shook your head, fighting against the impulse to lean into his hand, and also ignoring the petname. He was a stranger, a dangerous killer, and yet, you could feel the pull to just let him have you.

“Bindings, they are what the humans would call soul mates. A perfect other half. A person to complete your flaws,” he leaned in closer, “A perfect mate.” He was close enough you could smell him. A rich mix of vanilla and mint, with the scent of death and coppery blood hiding just below that. Humans couldn’t smell that though, only other supernatural creatures.

You gulped, quick to pull away. “You’re a vampire. You can’t be my other half. We call it something different, but I amnot bound to a bloodsucker. Any situation of witch soulmates was just that, between two mortals, not a vamp.”

“You know, I was human once, this feeling is just as strange to me as it is you, yet I do not want to stop it.” He admitted, taking the hint and stepping backwards. “It’s getting late, little one. Whatever is out there, I will not let it hurt you.” He let his eyes turn red, the blue swirling away to give way to crimson and burgundy.

“I don’t need your protection,” you tried to growl but it sounded more like a strangled whimper.

Your throat constricted faintly, and he just took a deep breath. He was using his vampire enticement to calm you, something you did not want to admit was working without too much effort from him. “I know, little witch, but I will protect you, Council and Coven and Packs be damned. You are mine, and I protect what is mine.”

And just like that he was gone, leaving you just as confused as when you stepped foot into the woods. Despite the more rational part of your brain telling you he was a killer, a creature you were supposed to hate, you couldn’t help but trust his word. Whatever this Binding was, it was compelling him to protect you, and though you didn’t really want to, you couldn’t help but feel intrigued and curious about what that would mean in the future.

---

Tags:

Permanent Tags:

@minetticatinwonderland  / @lumar014 / @maniacproffesor / @gollyderek

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings  / @darkness-doughter / @novaddictx / @thedancingnerdmermaid / @mood-pancakes / @gracethegeek9902 / @annavega333 / @ravennightingaleandavatempus / @thelibraryoffanfiction

Blood Bound Tags:

@itz-kira / @rinthehufflepuff

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

[harryimaginestuff]

Sarcasm is the Lowest Form of Wit

A/N: here is the request the anon requested ages ago (sorry for the long wait) Ngl I struggled to come up with how to write this one but I like how it turned out.

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2k

The one where there’s a side to you that he’s never seen before.

    Harry had met you almost five months ago on the set of his newest Gucci campaign with you being the assistant to one of the camera operators. He approached you the same as he did with anyone else, after all that was how he was raised; to treat everyone with respect and kindness. However your coy and shy behaviour drew him in, the way you bit your tongue on topics that you had little interest in, but as soon as videography or anything of that matter was brought up you would dive in, your hands moving in sync with whatever words came out of your mouth. You were passionate about your work, just as he was. And it was your passions that bonded the both of you the most.

    And now almost four months later you were his girlfriend, after a series of dates and casual hang-outs, he had been the one to make it official. He had taken your hand in his across the dining table as he looked deeply into your eyes as he proposed the question to which you quickly replied with an ecstatic yes.

    But for such a charming man, he had never been as nervous as he was now sitting beside you as the two of you awaited the arrival of all of your friends. You had begged him to accompany you to your reunion with your friends from school to which he hesitantly agreed to.

    It wasn’t as if this was the first time he was meeting the friends of whoever he was seeing, but the fact of the matter is that this was different, because you were different. He’s had his fair share of models and their model friends and although he found you extremely attractive, he felt this stunning beauty radiating off of you that he had never felt elsewhere. Therefore, he was well aware that the friends that were coming now, were the ones you had grown up with, they had watched you transition into the woman you were today, and there was no way that they didn’t love you, after all who wouldn’t which only mean that they would be 10x more protective over you.

    The two of you had already had a couple of drinks since you had agreed to come a little bit early to save some space, and although this was the first time you had properly drank in front of him (a glass of wine with dinner doesn’t count) he could see the sobriety in your eyes slowly leave as alcohol took its place. He was listening to you reminisce about your time in school whilst simultaneously playing with your ring-clad fingers.

    “Y/N!” he heard causing his gaze to turn from your intertwined hands to the owner of the voice.

    “George!” you said with the same amount of enthusiasm. From what you had just told him, George was one of your best guy mates and one of your first ones at that. He had been there for you when one of his mates had broken your heart as well as you being each other’s rocks during the rough exam periods. “What the hell have you done to your hair?”

    Harry watches on as you embrace the man, lightly ruffling his shoulder-length hair as you smile brightly at him. “You look like Tarzan but in a more ‘I’ve let go of myself way’.”

    Harry is left in slight shock at your words, and although they’re not outright rude they are certainly not the kind of words that he’s used to, especially coming from you; the sweetest person alive.

    He let out a breath that he wasn’t aware that he was holding as soon as George cackled loudly and pushed your intruding hands away, “Wow, Y/N I have not missed your crippling honesty that’s for sure.”

    Harry reckons that he’s never seen you like this, on the fast track to being drunk, your hands moving animatedly during whatever you were discussing, not just when talking about work. He figured that he liked drunk you, although he liked sober you more. With every drink you had you fell deeper into his side, your body slowly melting into his, and with every drink he had, the sloppier the kisses to your head and cheek got.

    But your displays of affection weren’t the only thing that had progressed as the night went on, it seemed that the more comfortable you got the easier the insults spewed out of your mouth. You had something to say to everyone apparently.

    He’d watch as you’d reply with a long and dramatic ‘noooo’ every time someone had made a dumb comment and the way you’d reply sarcastically to any question, but then immediately break out into a big grin as soon as the words came out of your mouth, even when you tried to be rude the kindness in you always managed to shine through.

    “Who’s this bitch?” that was another thing, apparently, drunk you was a fan of swearing a complete opposite to the way you cringe every time a foul word left anyone else’s mouth when there was no alcohol running through your veins. Harry turned to look at whoever was at the other end of your jabbing and seeing as everyone else was here, he assumed that the last girl to arrive was Anna, the last girl that you had spoken about as you prepped him for the arrival of everyone a few hours ago.

    “Late as I ever I see, I guess nothing’s changed.” You hummed, jokingly shaking your head.

    “Well I may be the same, but you’ve sure changed. The last time I saw a man attached to your side was back in school.”

    “At least I didn’t have a different man hanging off of me every second.” You laughed, patting Anna’s shoulder as she took her place next to Harry.

    “Bitch! You’re just jealous that I had boys all over me, but you were always too awkward to make any moves.”

    “True!” you pretended to sob, digging your head into Harry’s neck. He couldn’t help but laugh as he felt you inhale deeply, the hot air from your breath causing goosebumbs to rise on his skin, and his heart couldn’t help but stop as soon as you sent him a cheeky intoxicated smile before jumping back into conversation with George and the girl, Lily, who was sat opposite, whilst Harry properly introduced himself to Anna.

    “Karaoke!” he heard bringing him out of the conversation he was having with two of your friends. He turned his head to you slowly and cautiously, after all he knew how much you adored it. He recalled the first time he was at your flat, it was 2 months down the line, and you had dragged him into the living room and pushed him onto the sofa. And if he was being honest he did think that something sexual was about to happen, especially when you had reached into one of the cupboards, bending down but those dreams had immediately vanished as soon as you had turned around, with the widest grin he had ever seen, a karaoke microphone in your hand. That night you had begged him to sing a song, and since then it had become almost tradition for you to pick a song for Harry to sing.

    Which was why now, although hesitant to do so, he was sitting on a stool in front of the whole bar, with the opening track to Nirvana’s ‘Smells like Teen Spirit’ playing on the speakers. And despite the deafening noise, he still heard your voice ring out above the crowd, he didn’t know what to expect, perhaps words of encouragement like you always did whenever he sang songs but this time it was different, this time you continued with your insult rampage and lightly ripped into him.

    “Boo!” you shouted, hands cupped around your mouth, “Get off the stage you can’t even sing.” And despite the bright lights shining in his face he could still vaguely make out your figure. He could still see the way you laughed so hard at your own joke that your hands clapped together, kind of like a seal, he thought. He could see Anna lean over to you and whisper something in your ear causing you to crack up even further, your hands now moving to hold onto your stomach as your legs lifted off of the ground. If it wasn’t for the loud music playing by his ear, he would’ve missed his cue. But even as he belted out the lyrics to the song you had chosen, he still couldn’t help but stare at you, and the way your eyes crinkled, and your nose twitched as you laughed. He couldn’t help but think that there was so much more to you, because turns out you had some sort of twisted sense of humour that entailed making fun of your friends, and whilst many people go too far, you knew exactly when to stop. You were the perfect mixture of naughty and nice.

    You were perfect for him.

    And as the song ended, and soon the night he realised he never wanted to not see your smile again. You were special, and there was no way that he’d be letting you go.

    The both of you were now laying in your bed, cuddled under the covers, the alcohol slowly leaving the both of your bodies.

    “Did you have fun tonight babes?” you asked, twisting a stray strand of hair that fell into his face with your pointer finger.

    “I did. Learnt some new things too.”

    “You did?” you hummed sleepily, this time resting your head on his naked and warm chest.

    “Learnt that you were quite the bitch back in school.”

    You let out a breathy laugh in reply, your chest vibrating slightly as you giggled at his words. “A bitch? Who me? Never.”

    He thought back to the night, and all the days and nights prior to this one. He thought of the way your hair and swished every time you turned your head and how every time you had walked past him you had left the most heavenly scent of coconut, which he now learnt was a result of your dousing your hair in coconut oil once a week before bed, something you ad roped him into doing now too. ‘For soft, thick locks,’ you had said.

    He had thought back to the way your hands would always find their way to his, and the way your fingers would grip onto his.

    He thought back to the first time you had cried in front of him after he convinced you to watch ‘Marley and Me’ to which you had originally objected because ‘it makes me cry like a baby’. And just as you promised, you had been reduced to a crying mess by the end of it, and despite the fact that snotty tears should be the least attractive thing in the world, he thought you’d never looked cuter. That was the one of the first times where he saw just how big your heart was.

    He thought back to tonight, and the way you found rude humour so funny and how you took joy in mocking and teasing the people you loved most. He thought back to the way you couldn’t even keep on a mean face for more than five seconds as immediately after something remotely mean came from your mouth, you would break into the biggest smile.

    It was this moment, when he was playing with your hair, and you were lightly stroking his back that he realised that he loved the way your eyes crinkled and your nose twitched, he loved the way you always smelt like coconuts, and he loved how you had shared your routine with him. He loved the way your hands would always hold onto his and he loved the way your soft finger tips felt against his calloused ones.

    He even loved the way you cry, how your whole body would shake with every breath and how you would do your best to hide the tears that streamed down your face. He loved your crappy humour and your dead jokes too.

    In fact…

    “I love you.”

[hoshigomi]

Valley of Xuanyao // RAY! (not a review.)

Some thoughts on Xuanyao/Genyou/Dazzling Valley/Mysterious Valley/whatever you want to call it + Ray!

(This isn’t a fully-formed, plot critical review by any stretch of the imagination, but I wanted a chance to say everything I loved about these pieces of theatre, as well as a few criticisms I have.) (These are all my opinions and I’m sure people would agree or disagree with plenty of them!) (It’s literally just a couple lists, read at your own discretion.)

There are MANY SPOILERS HERE so watch out.

First off: Genyou no Tani / Valley of Xuanyao / Chinese Aterui (I guess it’s not as much like Aterui as I initially assumed) / AVATAR (the blue people one) (but set in China) / not NOT Pocahantas ~

Call it what you want, I’ll admit right out of the gate that I didn’t follow the entirety of this show. It got a lot better on the second and third try, but the first go was a little rough. 

Official plot summary here. 

Things I LOVED:

This show is beautiful. The set is very Alphonse Mucha aesthetic in style, and it makes me very sad that exactly 0 pictures do it justice. Not only is the set STUNNING, but it’s INNOVATIVE as well, the way they used huge hilly mountainous set pieces to create, well, valleys (haha) and set the scene actually grabbed my attention SEVERAL times. There are also no pictures that do the palace set justice, but the grandeur of it took my breath away, as did the EASE with which the set took us between settings. Unfortunately the visual aesthetic of the show is like not something I’m skilled enough to describe in words, but my point here is that if you get the chance to see this show, it would be worth it for the visual feast alone. 

This show is beautiful (music edition). BOY! The music is HAUNTING and POWERFUL and simple and complex all at once. I have told several people that if either the opening or finale songs are put on that custom CD maker thing in the theatres I would literally buy a custom CD just to get my hands on these songs like a couple weeks before their official release. I got chills every time Shirotae Natsu opened the show (we could NOT ask for a better new fukukumichou), and without fail, at the (spoilers) mass exodus of the Wen people (hello, Coto Moses?) song. 

The show is beautiful (general stage edition): It’s SO DANCEY. IT IS SO EXPRESSIVE. Even though the vast majority of the cast is costumed… nearly identical to one another, watching a n y one of them is a treat different from any other. There is no shortage of opportunity for these women to emote physically, and not a single one of them holds back. There are also like a billion acrobatic tricks in this show for some reason. They don’t take you out of anything, it’s just all VERY PHYSICAL. The Wen men and women specifically use physicality HARD to express their… history, I guess? There are several scenes with a few singers and a few dancers working together to tell a story. They give me CHILLS. The women (led by Honoka) in the palace also serve to set the aesthetic world and honestly I don’t have anything smart to say about them but they blew me away. Aomi Sario does several cartwheels. Yuunagi Ryou jumps like five feet in the air and does a somersault. I don’t know why any of these women are airborne as much as they are but they sure are good at it. 

Other standout things I loved- there were a LOT more, but I need SOMEONE to talk about these people and moments, and I guess it’s my burden to bear. 

FOR SOME REASON OOKI MAKOTO TALKS LIKE A LOT. She may talk more than Amahana Ema, freshly-transferred Ayaki Hikari, or Kiwami Shin. I can’t stress enough how much there is NO REASON FOR THIS. She ALSO, in a TURN OF FATE, IS NOT PLAYING AN OLD MAN. She’s playing a young soldier (NO FACIAL HAIR!!!!!) who at one point is goofing around under a tree on the edge of a stage and does some incredible pantomime work getting a spider off of her. I’m a little in love with her. I could not be happier that they truly just let her GO OFF this show. If you have ever liked Ooki Makoto, you need to see this show. 

Ooki Makoto is always accompanied by Tenju Mitsuki who, as usual, is doing The Most for the Least Payoff because she like angered a God in her past life but not enough for the God to not give her the most beautiful face known to man. She doesn’t get to do much at all, unfortunately as USUAL, though her character very much has the vibe of her Kamatari character, and she does get to do a really fucking sick trick where she gets hit by an arrow and despite watching her through opera glasses three times in a row I have no idea how she does it. 

SEO YURIA REALLY STEPPED UP HER GAME? This was a good meaty role with a nice little bit of her Red Oni from Another World mixed in for like chaotic measure. She sounds vocally FANTASTIC and looks at times actually TRULY PHYSICALLY IMPOSING. I’ve always been theatrically on the fence about Seo, but it looks like she’s really finding where she fits onstage and her strengths and is working HARD. I’m really into it. 

Arisa Hitomi does beautiful work as the narrator of the whole piece, more or less, I just wish we could have seen more of her. That’s kinda how it’s gonna go from now on huh. Sigh.

Amato Kanon Amato Kanon Amato Kanon Amato Kanon Amato Kanon Amato Kanon . I will live and die in Hoshigumi, but if one day they move her to somewhere else to be top star, (after I mourn for a year and go through the five stages of grief), I will be right there by her side. Her character is spunky and fun and young and then gets tortured and killed (sorry, I said there were spoilers) in a way that I almost couldn’t WATCH. She’s an expert on throwing her (rapidly becoming lifeless) body around onstage in a way that really, really, really broke my heart. I winced. I’m sure I’m not the only one in the audience who would have put myself in her place to save her. 

It’s very cool when they use projections to enhance moments in this- like a sword striking a rock and the sparks that fly, or the mysterious man disappearing. Additionally, the SOUND DESIGN of this show was pretty flawless.

Current Kumichou and Soon-To-Be-Senka member Mari Yuzumi played, obviously, Coto’s mom, and the two of them share some really beautiful moments and part of a song- it was a fitting and sweet part to give her, and I’m so glad she got some real stage time here because lord am I gonna miss her. 

There’s a little drumline throughout some scenes of Wen people featuring (I THINK) Toudou Jun, Asamizu Ryou, Sayaka Rin, Sakuraba Mai, and POSSIBLY Kuresaki Rino. They don’t do anything to serve the plot, they just sometimes act as a transition in and out and winding through group scenes. It kicks ass. 

Though this show was by NO MEANS an “ensemble show” (it was obviously very heavily (and wonderfully!) pulled by Coto, and all the ensemble was…. To be honest, visually mostly indistinguishable from one another), it like… WAS an ensemble show. There are MANY scenes with the HUGE chunks of the troupe, whether it’s the soldiers doing some INCREDIBLE sword and spear work or the dancers as the Wen people telling stories through the sheer power of their NUMBERS, or the women in the palace with their ribbons and dance, the real power of this show is in the ensemble and what they give to the story. Personally, ensemble driven stories tick ALL my boxes, so even if the plot was a little rough for me, the sheer POWER of Hoshigumi really made this a show that I realize now, sitting at my desk in Tokyo, I wish I was seeing again like today. This show did a complete 180 for me, and I can not recommend it enough. It isn’t FUN, but I can’t find the words to express how MOVING and BEAUTIFUL it is. If you can’t see it in person, I guess I recommend buying the blu ray, renting out a movie theatre, and watching it on as big of a screen as you can possibly get.

RAY:

Ray was just OKAY to me, though I admit I DID love it a little more with each consecutive viewing. I wonder how I’ll feel about it at the end of the Tokyo run- it very well might grow on me and stick in my heart as a revue I really love, but for now I’m personally a bit lukewarm on this one. I’m gonna express my three gripes first, and then move on to the things I love. 

1.) God this revue really fucking abuses projections. Not only does it OPEN AND END with an unnecessary mini movie, and not only do they use the projections to transition us literally through the starry galaxy to the PANTHEON which they make with like Windows Screensaver level skill and then for some reason also show us on a real backdrop- if they had the REAL backdrop, why did they need to also show us a CGI version?, but they also straight up show us MOVIES while people are singing. As captivating as I find every single woman in Hoshigumi, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the acid trip that was the projections. They weren’t STILL EITHER. They were THIS distracting, down to the literal giant eye. I hated them so much. They didn’t make any visual sense, they didn’t enhance a thing, they really weren’t even vaguely thematically appropriate. I hope beyond hope that the venues they use for the tour just don’t have the tech power for this and the projections get cut. I didn’t like a SINGLE one of them. 

2.) I can’t really explain this one but something was… missing. The numbers weren’t…. varied , I guess? They were all the same like. Power level and mostly had the same amount of people onstage (a lot), and while there’s NOTHING I love more than a big group number, this one had… I guess maybe too many? Or maybe it wasn’t the amount that is the issue, maybe it’s just how they weren’t like tonally varied. The numbers were all GOOD, but the flow was weird? I don’t know. Something felt off. If anyone sees this and gets what I mean, please talk to me about it. 

3.) And this one is personal preference, but I thought the whole Ray theme was…. Much too heavy handed for an ohirome GT. To clarify, I think this would have been VERY suitable for a taidan revue, thematically, but I think it’s too early to be playing top star name games and adorning the whole stage with her name… repeatedly. I GET that it’s clever because like, ray of light, starlight, etc, but I didn’t like it. I wouldn’t have liked like, Dramatic ‘S’ as a first revue either, for example. This isn’t personal or about Coto, if they had made Kai top and called her first revue like ‘Seven Seas’ I also would have been like ….#yikes. I just wish they’d save this stuff for later in Coto’s run. 

That said, the good outweighed the bad! Some numbers of note (this is NOT all of them, just the ones that stuck with me) include: 

The opening, which was very fun! The set was cool, multi layered and opening with just Coto inside like a cut out diamond shape on a platform and made good use of a pretty bare stage to really give EVERYONE a moment. There were more featured faces in this number alone that I didn’t even RECOGNIZE than I can count- and that made me really happy to see! Special shoutout to Taiki Hayate and Ruri Hanaka for getting to stand on the edge of the stage and sing. I just think they’re neat. The opening was rock-y and sexy and mature and it was very fun to get to see so many people shine in it. 

This was followed by Seocchi in a number with again, a BEAUTIFUL set. Seriously, when they aren’t abusing the hell out of a projector, this revue IS VISUALLY STUNNING. It’s like set on Jupiter kind of, there’s a swirling galaxy all lit up behind the dancers (Seo, Amato Kanon, Minato Rihi- who has big Renta energy and always makes me happy to look at) Aomi Sario, Ruri Hanaka, notably.) This number has big Look At The Youth Of Tomorrow energy. Seo sounds INCREDIBLE, and everyone who is featured here makes my heart leap. This was definitely one of my favorite numbers. 

There was a tango that would have been 90x sexier if only it didn’t feature those stupid turbans on literally everyone. Mikkii gets to sing her bridge solo (thank God), and the energy is rowdy. Everyone is in white pants.

The chuuzume is nice. It starts what feels like oddly early, but probably isn’t. They abuse the projections during the start of this one, (Hanagata Hikaru) and then thankfully pull the screen up and get rid of them for a while. The chuuzume is neat in that it also features a lot of little groups of siennes, from the young ones (who even get to SING small solos and things) (and I mean SMALL ones)- Amato Kanon has a solo at a point (and is CENTER ON THE BRIDGE for the kyakuseki part of the chuuzume), Aomi Sario and (iirc) Yuuhi Maki get a small duet, little groups are coming on and off constantly. It’s fun. They put the otokoyaku on the bridge and they do some sharp dancing and some kinda… seductive, to me, stuff. Most everyone is in red. The aesthetic of this chuuzume is GOOD.

THIS ROCKETTE MIGHT BE MY FAVORITE ROCKETTE EVER.

Aesthetically it is flawless, and it’s led by three girls including RURI HANAKA who gets a CENTER OF THE BRIDGE SOLO. These costumes are BEYOND adorable as well! Look at them! This rockette really shows off how skilled some of these girls are. They also do a lineup that goes as usual from shortest to tallest to shortest again, except they break this up by putting the three leads in the MIDDLE, which really means its like, short to tallest to SHORTEST to tallest to short again and believe me when I say it is COMICAL. There’s a solid foot difference between some of these women. 

The Olympics number which immediately follows the rockette is lovely, it features a biiiiiig group of the cast and then Mizuno Yuri, Otosaki Itsuki, Sazanami Reira, Aomi Sario, and Amato Kanon as the colors of the Olympic rings. Musically this one didn’t stick that hard with me, but it’s a visual treat, and everyone’s dance proficiency is on full display. Plus if you look at the back of the stage you’ll see Yuunagi Ryou and Hiroka Yuu doing like a dance battle and pulling and pushing each other around which is extremely relevant to my interests. 

From here it got really lovely for me personally. Amahana Ema and Kiwami Shin led Swingin’ On A Star on the bridge (and both of them sound lovely and sweet), and then theres a couple dance featuring about 10 or so people including  Toudou Jun and again Yuunagi Ryou (this is the only place in the revue I didn’t have trouble spotting her unfortunately, and I’m GOOD at finding her), going on while Maisora finishes up the number. It’s sweet and it’s sugary and it’s a piece of like small lightness after all the very Heavy and Full group numbers before. 

The kuroenbi is pretty good, it felt somehow… unfinished? But immediately after that is Coto jumping into You Are My Sunshine which I personally find to be the most charming thing in the world. It includes solos for Seo, Hanagata Hikaru, Aichan, and a LOT of attention on Hoshigumi’s musumeyaku who get to ALL line up on the bridge together and sing. It’s a treat. It made my heart happy and made me grin really big. 

Other shoutouts go to 

Sazanami Reira and her wild hair flips

Akachan who for some reason sounds vocally like she’s underwater, which was hard for me to place until recently 

Maisora and Coto who really DO work together well as a combi though these two shows didn’t give them much chance to see that (please watch Mozart once it’s out on DVD to see what these two can DO together)

Mari Yuzumi for still killing it with everyone else in every number despite the fact that she’s so up there that they’re moving her to senka after this- boy I am gonna MISS her

Amato Kanon for holding my future in her, soft, capable hands.

Minato Rihi for smiling like Renta

The upperclassmen for not letting being completely sidelined ruin their attitude and for still giving their all to everything and pulling my attention with their YEARS of expertise

Kisa Kaoru, Soua Takeru, Houma Toa, Hiroki Yuzuha, and Kuresaki Rino just because they make me smile.

Sakuraba Mai and Haruto Yuuho who should actually be a top combi together. 

Seo Yuria for really just like stepping it up all around and drawing my attention and taking up SPACE.

Ruri Hanaka because holy shit, girl….

All in all, this was a good pair. Not every revue works for everyone, and maybe this one just didn’t grab my heart the way I wished it did. It was still fun, and it definitely had enough numbers that I loved for me to want to go back multiple times, and whatever Ray lacked, Valley picked up for me. It’s a good set of shows, and everyone does really lovely work. I can’t wait to see where Coto and Maisora’s Hoshigumi goes!

[stachestachestache]

600 Celebration: (In)Sanity

Summary: New parenthood with Lance.

Somehow 600 of you decided my weirdness is fun to follow so I’m writing a series with six installments to commemorate this milestone, cuz why not? Thank you for following and being part of this community with me. I really do enjoy being on here and being insane with each and every one of you. This is the fifth installment of the series!

Word Count: 898

Warnings: Exhaustion? Also soft Lance Tucker (who I do actually believe would be a good father... or rather fatherhood would make him a better person?)

A/N: Really trying out some writing and stuff. Feedback is always appreciated. Continuing with the dad theme just cuz I love it.

The delivery had gone rather smoothly, although Lance was sure he was never going to have feeling in his left arm ever again.

Your labor had taken close to 20 hours, but with the distance of several days and the cutest baby girl anyone could ask for, the entire ordeal felt like only several minutes, forgotten in the haze of the bliss of new parenthood. 

Lance had fallen in love with his child the moment he knew she existed. For you, it was a more complicated process, one that necessitated seeing a face and meeting an actual human -- one existing and living in the world, and consequentially, a person you could learn to know and love.

Still, you were a goner the moment your child was placed on your chest, slimy and bloody in her grand entrance into life. A tiny nose, tiny mouth, and eyes that were somehow impossibly bluer than her father’s.

The two days following in the hospital were almost like a lucid dream. You were parents. Responsible for a living, breathing being, charged with raising her to be a good and independent member of society, although that was far down the line... for now, it was all snuggles and cuddles and so very soft skin.

It’s a whole new journey... a journey that begins with sleepless nights and physical pain.

Your return home started out tame but quickly transitioned into a challenge of your wits. It was a never-ending stream of feeding, changing, rocking to sleep, bottles, washing, waking up. At the end of day four, you nearly broke down in tears from sheer exhaustion, your body heaving in protest at the lack of rest. It wasn’t that Lance was not helping, quite the opposite really, but there were things only you could do.

A week in and you were ready to ask if there was a return policy on your baby. Your child, despite your best attempts, was refusing to go down for a nap, which only made her over-tired and more finicky, thus making it even harder for her to go down for sleep: a feedback loop that only got worse with each progression. 

Lance had run to the gym for a couple hours to make sure the building hadn’t burned down or been run amuck. 

When he returned home, he opened the front door to be greeted by both of his girls sobbing uncontrollably. You stood in the middle of the living room, shirtless, hair in a bun, rocking your inconsolable newborn, who had tears running down her face and was screaming louder than Lance thought was physically possible for a human her size.

“Lemme take her off your hands, babe,” his arms reached out the moment he set his things down by the door.

“I’ve tried everything. She won’t eat, she won’t sleep, she doesn’t need to be changed...” you bemoaned, collapsing on the couch once your daughter was safely cradled in her father’s arms.

Lance could tell the situation was dire as he stared at your curled body... he had never seen you cry so desperately, not even in the delivery room in the toughest moments of labor. 

“Let me call my mom. She can watch Olympia for a couple hours while we get some rest.”

Lance had ushered you upstairs and into the bathroom for a shower after a quick call to his mother. You stood under a hot stream for what felt like three hours but was only twenty minutes. You cried some more, until there were no tears left and then lifted your hair to let the water wash away the hardness of the day. Tomorrow would be new and you’d learn all over again how to navigate this new challenge. When you stepped out of the shower, you shrugged on a soft robe before exiting in search of your baby, not bothering with clothing -- they always ended up discarded for feedings or covered in vomit anyway.

You could hear Lance pacing with Ollie (your preferred nickname for you daughter, although Lance was not quite yet on board) in her nursery. It was rarely used, as she had been staying in your room since her return home; it made night feedings easier.

You stood quietly at the doorway, just watching father and daughter. Lance was humming, but soon progressed into a low and quiet melody that you couldn’t make out.

“We’re just trying our best, so take it easy on mama, alright?” Lance said to your daughter, when her eyes began to droop and he could finally take a seat on the rocking chair in the corner. He caught your figure from the corner of his eye and lifted his head to greet you with a smile, beckoning you over with a shake of his head.

You walk over and Lance lifts Olympia in his arms to make room for you on his lap. Wet hair tickles his chin, the warmth of your body against his settles something deep within him, something that not even his athletic accomplishments ever seemed to satisfy. This was what he was searching for all along.

Taking your daughter into your arms, you lean back on Lance to say, “If there were an Olympic game for being the best father, you would win gold for sure.”

Lance feels euphoria spread across his chest, “That’s the only gold I care about now.”

When Lance’s mother finally arrives, she finds you three curled up together on the rocking chair, snoring away with Olympia carefully grasped between four hands.

@tatathepotatosworld Almost forgot to tag you!

[hornsbeforehalos]

A Reminder

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC Warnings: Mentions of Panic attacks and depression, smut, language, fluff. A/N: I know I know I know. I need to be writing Forever. I get it. Oh well. This just kinda came out, idk. My best friend needed some Dean, my brain told me, so I had no other choice but to deliver. Cuz what else are friends for? I love you, best friend <3

Per usual I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters associated with the show. I just play with them. 

Don’t repost my work, I’ll find you.

TAGS:@coffee-obsessed-writer @sorenmarie87 @pink1031 @journeyrose @kazosa @through-thesilver-lining @death-unbecomes-you @donnaintx @docharleythegeekqueen @closetspngirl

Dean tried to focus on the steady purr of the Impala’s engine to drown his nerves as he raced through the winding roads of the mountains. He grit his teeth as he fought back all the horrible thoughts running through his head, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he maneuvered the car around a curve. His heart rate accelerated right along with the speedometer of the car, his eyes stinging as his vision clouded with unshed tears. 

Dean was panicking.

She hadn’t answered the phone in days. 

A thousand ideas of what could be wrong clawed at his chest like a hungry wolf, and he swallowed thickly, pushing the pedal below his boot as far down into the floorboard of the car that it would allow. 

He needed to get to her. And fast. 

It wasn’t very long in reality, but a lifetime in Dean’s mind, before Baby’s tires came to a screeching halt outside of her house, the lonely, dim porch light calling to him like a beacon in the surrounding darkness of the woods. A frown dipped his face as he noticed the rest of the house dark, and he drew his weapon before approaching the steps to the door. 

There seemed to be no sign of forced entry, the sigils lining the doorframe all intact and deeply charged. Dean twisted the handle carefully and found it unlocked, and pushed the door open so he could step inside. 

Nothing seemed out of place, even though the hunter only had the dark shadows of the house to go on. After toeing off his boots by the pile of other footwear, Dean wandered through the living room and kitchen and into the hallway, ducking his head into each of the rooms to find her children sleeping soundly. A smirk crept across his face at the sight of her son sprawled across his bed, one foot hanging off the side. 

He tiptoed silently back across the floor towards her room, cracking it slowly to avoid it creaking. As his eyes finished adjusting to the darkness, a smile spilled over his lips at the sight of her form safe and sound on her bed, her breathing even and slow as she slept. 

Her energy was off though, even he could feel it. 

He let his shirt and jeans fall to the ground quietly before he let the mattress dip with his weight, pulling the plush blanket back so he could slip in and encase her with his own warmth. Her body instantly responded, the need for bodily comfort and contact taking hold as she nuzzled her face into his chest. 

“Dean?” She whispered, confusion thick in her sleepy state of mind, “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Why haven’t you answered your phone?” He whispered back, his voice husky as his breath trailed over her face. Dean’s fingers found her face to smoothback the hair from her temple, his strong arms holding her to him tightly.

“I, uh…”She trailed off, sighing gently against his clavicle, “You were hunting, I didn’t wanna bother you.”

“It’s bad again, isn’t it?” Dean responded, squeezing her even closer, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t…”She started, but was softly shushed by Dean’s lips finding hers.

“You never bother me, sweetheart.” Dean cooed once he pulled away from her mouth, “I’m always here.”

“I’m sorry,” She replied, sighing again. Dean could feel the wetness leaking down her face and to her neck, the damn finally breaking as he cradled her, gently rocking them back and forth the best he could. Her fingers gripped his back tightly as he held her to his chest, her frame shaking as she let all her emotions out. 

“There, feel better?” The hunter smirked once she was all cried out, his fingertips trailing languid down the sides of her arms. 

Sighing into him again, she nodded her head, sniffling quietly, “Thank you, Dean.”

“Anytime, baby girl,” He promised, kissing her forehead gently before giving her another squeeze, “You need to talk to me when it starts getting like that. I would have been here sooner.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” She apologized again. She opened her mouth to say something else but was cut off by Deans lips, the soft pillows pressed against her own in a more hungrier fashion then before. 

“Stop saying that,” He growled lowly, rolling them so he was hovering on top of her between her legs, “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for, Jenny. It’s my job to be here for you.” 

Instead of waiting on her response, he dipped his head between the junction of her shoulder and neck, his teeth finding the soft flesh there easy to bite down on. The gasp that came from her in reply had him rolling his hips into her, the thin cotton of his boxers doing little to hide his growing need for her. 

“Do I need to remind you how much I love you?” He rasped after licking the reddening mark, his breath hot and heady as he lapped his way back up to her lips. He nipped at the plumpness of her bottom lip, receiving another gasp in return as her own hips undulating off the bed to grind against him. 

“Dean,” She whimpered, her fingers finding his back again to leave pretty crescent moons in his flesh, “Please.”

“I got you,” He breathed, lifting himself up to his sit on his calves so he could make work of her clothes. Once she was naked before him, the dim light of the moon shining through the window made Dean bite his lip as he contained himself from simply ravishing her. 

“Look at you, princess.” He rasped, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he gazed up on her lovingly. Her natural instinct was to shy away from his stare, her thighs moving to close as her hands went to cover herself, but one look from the hunter had her stopping short. 

“Good girl,” He praised, prying her legs apart once more so he could slot himself back between them, “Don’t hide from me.” 

“Why ...Why do you…?” She started to say, but Dean shushed her again with a finger to her lips.

“Don’t finish that question.” He warned, letting his finger guide a line down her throat to the valley between her heavy breasts. 

“You know all the reasons why I love you.” Dean started, the thick husk in his voice driving her crazy as he drew a heart on her chest with his finger. He let the digit teasing her drag itself to the left to her nipple, circling the nub until it reached its peak, before smoothing transitioning to the right side and repeating the motion. 

Her lips quivered as she whimpered for him again, her back arching as the man leaned over her once more, his hot, wet mouth enveloping the tight pink nub, teeth grazing and nipping gently as he did so. 

“Fuck,” She gasped, her hands shooting out to the back of his head and neck, “Fuck, Dean.” 

“Mmmm,” The hunter hummed, taking pride in the way he could unravel her. His tongue twirled and his teeth assaulted as his palms came together on either side of her, pushing her tits together so he could easily switch back and forth between both nipples. He pulled his mouth away finally with a loud pop, earning him a mewl from the woman already writhing beneath him. 

“You have the best fucking tits in the world, darlin’,” He drawled beore returning his lips to her flesh, snaking further and further south. The soft, wet muscle in his mouth dipped into her belly button as Dean ran his rough, calloused palms over the scars he knew she hated there, until his large hands gripped her hips, his fingernails biting into the soft, pliable flesh.

“So soft,” he murmured as he continued his ministrations, his teeth finding purchase and leaving a sharp, stinging bruise that enticed a hiss from her lips. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she scratched at his scalp, “So fucking gorgeous.” 

A shaky breath left her body as he hovered over her core, a low, deep, vibrating growl leaving Dean as he dipped his tongue lazily through the crease of her folds. Another whimper passed through her, urging him on and bringing a wicked smirk to Dean’s face. 

“Smell so good, baby girl. Taste even better,” He promised before his fingers found her folds, peeling back the wet layers before his tongue found the hidden pearl of nerves. 

Electricity shot through her bloodstream upon contact, her body sent into overdrive as he worked her over. He threw her thick thighs over his strong shoulders as he devoured her, his mouth licking and lapping their assault as Dean let a thick digit enter her slowly. 

The long, drawn out cry that erupted from her had the strong-willed hunter’s jaw ticking as he steadied his control, his resolve always wavering when it came to the noises he could get her to make for him.

“That’s my girl,” Dean praised as he separated his mouth from her, watching in the pale moonlight as his finger disappeared into the moist, pink flesh of her sex. He added another just to watch her squirm, the muscles inside of her threatening to clamp down on him at any moment as he twisted his hand. 

Just before he knew she was about to come, Dean pulled his hand away so he could hear her whimper in frustration. He loved that sound, but there was one sound he loved even more. 

“Knees,” He growled, giving her thigh a smack that while soft, still echoed through the room. She scrambled to her hands and knees, her back arching to present himself for her just the way he liked. 

“Fuck, Jen,” Dean groaned as his fingertips trailed over her slit before a louder, more firm crack sounded, the stinging pain coaxing a deep moan from her throat, “Love your pussy.”

“Dean, please, fuck me.” She begged, looking over her shoulder at him through her hair, “I need you.”

“You got me, baby,” He urged, his bruising fingers finding her hips again before swiftly entering her in one deep plunge, his body curling over her back, “You got all of me.”

“Fuck,” she gasped at he sudden fullness, her hips automatically bcuking back to meet his thrust, “Yes.”

Dean instantly set a brutal pace, wanting her to feel every inch of him inside her, wanting her to know that she took him apart just as much as he did her. His throaty, raspy moans and grunts pushed her closer and closer back to the edge, the strong muscles of her pussy fluttering involuntarily as she felt the first pinpricks of her orgasm arriving.

“Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna-” She whimpered, her arms collapsing. She fell forward, allowing her back to arch and give the hunter behind her even more access to her deepest parts. 

“Yeah you are, princess. Let go for me, Jen.” He growled, pulling one of her arms behind her back to hold her in place as he fucked into her even harder than before, his throbbing cock threatening to split her at the seams, “Come for me baby, so I can for you.”

“Yes, Dean. Fuck, please come.” She begged, eyes rolling again as her body began to quake under him. 

The shudder that ran through Dean as her body tightened and released rhythmically was enough to set him off, and he shoved into her one final time before spilling himself inside her. Ecstasy shot through both of them, loud, satisfied moans and trembles leaving them as they came down from their highs. Dean collapsed on top of her, his sweaty chest pressed firmly against her back as they caught their breath. 

“You’re squishing me, Dean,” She huffed after a few moments, feeling the chuckle of a reply from the man on top of her.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he grinned as he rolled off, pulling her tightly against his chest before pulling the blankets up around them. 

“Thank you,” She said after a few moments, smiling up at him as he tucked one of her curls behind her ear.

“For the sex? Baby, you don’t have to thank me for that.” He teased, earning him a snort.

“No, for knowing I needed you here, asshole.” She rolled her eyes, smirking. 

“I always know, although I would have been here faster if you’d have answered the phone.” he replied back matter-of-factly.

“I promise to work on that.” She promised, sighing as she nuzzled into his chest again. 

“You wanna try and get some sleep?” Dean asked, his gaze moving to where light was starting to peek through the curtains.

“If we can, yeah, before the kids get up and-” She started to say, but was interrupted by her bedroom door slamming open and her twin daughters bursting through.

“Mom! Dean’s here!” They both screeched in unison before turning around and seeing him, their eyes widening and smiles splitting their faces instantly, “DEAN!”

“Hey kiddos! How are my favorite girls doing?” He laughed as they jumped on him, their arms wrapping around his neck and squeezing, “I missed you two! Where’s your brother?”

“Oh God, Liam! You were right! Dean IS here!” Caitlyn yelled as the two ran out of the room, their footsteps sounding through the house.

“I guess sleep is out of the question,” He chuckled, shaking his head as he dragged the blanket out of bed with him to close the door so he could find his clothes, “Breakfast? I know you got pork roll.”

Jen smiled up at the man she loved, at the man who loved her, and chuckled, “I swear, you and fucking food, Winchester.”