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piratefalls · 10 months

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another long list, except it's a day early because this is how i give thanks.

list one. list two. list three. list four. list five.

No Sense or Sensibility by inexplicablymine

“When and where was your first kiss.” Oh shit. The thing is… Alex actually has an answer to this one, it’s just a matter of admitting that it happened. ____________________ Kennedy’s. 7pm, Pub Quiz and Ice Cream. Every Monday ‘til death due us part. Alex liked his little routine, until Derryl got it in his head to host The goddamn Newlywed Game instead.

I'm Rememberin' I Promised (to Forget you Now) by Angelwithwingsoffire

It's been six years since Alex Claremont-Diaz graduated law school. And he's made a good life for himself, working with a firm he enjoys and making a difference in the world. Until a part of his past he'd thought he'd gotten over seven years ago walked back into his office asking for his help. To get a divorce. Which Alex has never done before. But he's never been able to say no, and he's willing to put his heart back under the bus for the chance at one more smile.

Rogue's Gallery by OrchidScript

Loathe as Alex was to admit it, Henry Fox was going to be a legend someday. He already was in the bureau depending on who was answering. Tied to art theft, jewel theft, one or two little sweet confidence schemes, and an alleged counterfeit Super Bowl ring, but caught on three counts of art forgery, the blond Brit had run circles around the Art Crimes division for six years. He was quick, smarter than the average bear, and more detail-oriented than a nuclear chemist. He had a penchant for nice suits, silk ties, and gin tonics with lime. He wrote letters to agents in taunting poetry, tucking them under windshield wipers or posting them to the office directly. Once, he managed to drop one directly into the pocket of a plainclothes officer without them seeing his face. _____________________ Henry Fox is a famous art forger, and Alex is the FBI agent who caught him three years ago. When one of Henry's aliases comes up attached to a new case, can the two put aside their cat-and-mouse past to put the copycat away?

Queer little ducks hold a special place in my heart. by anarchyat4am

Henry’s at a local Hispanic Heritage Month event browsing the art stalls when his gaze catches on a kid looking around with both purpose and nervousness. She’s fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt with one hand while she bites the nails of the other one, eyes alert and searching. Lost, then. And oh, Henry recognises her. She’s a regular at his bookstore, even at only six years old, and is there at least weekly with her dad—Alex, who she’d introduced to Henry as her papi—or various aunties and uncles, most of whom Henry doesn’t think are actually related to her. Keeping one eye on her, he lets his gaze sweep the vicinity but doesn’t see anyone else he even remotely recognises. Shit. He has to do something. “Sirena?” he calls gently. * Henry... is more than a bit useless around hot guys. So when he finds the lost kid of the gorgeous dad who frequents his bookstore, he pulls himself together until they reunite, only to then be devastated by the revelation that the man thinks Henry hates him. And, well... courage always rises, and all that.

just say you won't let go by viciouslyqueer

After dancing around each other for months, Alex and Henry finally get together. The morning after comes with a slight misunderstanding and comforting words.

We were supposed to find this by kiwiana

Still, half an hour after shaking Prince Henry’s hand for the first time, he finds himself back in his hotel room with one shoe and sock hurriedly tugged off and his right foot resting on his left knee. Just to check. Just in case Alex is somehow, by some miracle, about to become the first documented case of Surprise! You Can Totally Have A Different Soulmate, We Fucked Up And Your One Kind Of Sucks. No such luck. The words are the same as they’ve always been, etched into his skin in a careful, calligraphic font. The kind of handwriting someone might have if, for example, they came from the sort of family that valued tradition and etiquette far higher than letting their children write like normal human beings.

Sit. Down. Please Stay. by politics_and_prose

Alex adopts a dog he found abandoned on the side of the road. She's nervous and he wants to make sure he knows how to give her the best life possible. Enter Henry Fox and his beagle David.

muscle memory by stutteringpeach

It's been ten years since Alex was in London to stage a PR friendship with Henry after ruining the royal wedding. It's also been ten years since Alex dropped to his knees in front of Henry in a Kensington Palace kitchen. But now Henry's in the Hamptons for the summer, and who should he bump into? None other than Alex Claremont-Diaz, who happens to be working in New York all summer long.

The Perils of Midsomer Residency by clottedcreamfudge

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you that care should be taken, given the Mountchristens' local influence?" Liam nods. "Sir." Luna then turns to Alex. "Do not piss anyone in that family off." Alex throws his hands in the air. "So many aspersions have been cast on my good character this morning that I could start a fucking farm. An aspersions farm." Luna narrows his eyes. "Correction," he says, "have another coffee and then do not piss anyone in that family off. Don't make me regret fast-tracking you through the ICI Development Programme." * After getting shot in the line of duty back in Texas, June forces Alex into a change of scenery. Because how much can really be going on in the quaint little English county of Midsomer?

something that feels like forever by dearestalez

“You’re crying,” she pointed out. Alex choked on a laugh, wiping his eyes. “I’m just-” he sniffed, holding her so delicately Henry felt herself melt into the touch. “I’m so happy for you, baby.” — alex and henry are so in love it makes me want to rip out my heart and stomp on it but slash pos

behind brick walls by weather_stained

After Henry and Alex move in together, it takes quite a while for them to fully adjust to their newfound freedom. Alex very much enjoys watching Henry grow more comfortable in his own skin after a lifetime of looking over his shoulder.

It's a (Birth)date by Celaestis

5 times Henry is oblivious that they're dating and 1 time he isn't.

Save a Horse, Ride a Princess by affectionatelyrs

“I have to say, this is all quite literal, don’t you think?” Alex wouldn’t know literal right now if it hit him in the head. “Huh?” Henry points at Alex: “Pillow Princess,” and then to himself: “Cowboy. Ready to ride and all that.” Alex nods dumbly. “Right.” - Or, Alex and Henry dress up as the ultimate couples costume for Halloween — themselves — and they both feel some kind of way about it

baby boy by smc_27

It starts as a joke. Alex taking the piss about how much money Henry has. How he could have anything he wanted, from anyone he wanted, if only he just asked.

My Songs Know Secrets You're Sick of Keeping by ma_lark_ey, paythe_piper

"How about this," Alex offered, "If I win AOTY, I announce Henry and I in my acceptance speech. If I don't, we do it your way." OR: Alex is a world famous pop punk star, Henry is still the Prince of England, and the public is onto them.

Au Naturel by cmere

The French doors leading to the office are thrown open, so he has a moment to take in the scene in front of him: Alex, lying on his stomach on the floor, feet kicked up and crossed at the ankle, surrounded by books, papers, and two open laptops. None of that, however, catches Henry's attention as much as Alex's hair, secured in a small, messy knot on top of his head with nothing but a single wooden chopstick. Henry blinks rapidly several times. "Alex," Henry says, somehow hoarse. Alex's head whirls around. There's a single, perfectly curled tendril over the apple of his cheek; his scruff has hit the mystical, magical point where it's more soft beard than prickly shadow; his reading glasses sit atop his adorable nose; and Henry realizes with sudden gravity that he's not entirely in control of his physical responses anymore—something has to give. Alex hasn't really been bothering with some of his usual upkeep, and Henry is kind of extremely into it.

You deserve my love by whateveridk

“I’ll leave as soon as you tell me to." Henry had turned towards him, stealing himself, sticking his chin out, and said “leave.” Alex has been picking up the pieces ever since. Two years later, living with Nora and June in NYC, it still haunts him, but it's fine. Whatever, he is fine. And then... Breaking News: Prince Henry comes out as gay So it's not fine, Alex is not fine.

sex ed in 6 steps by coffeecatsme

“Please tell me you used a condom, Fox,” Alex drawls out, leaning against the wall, and Henry chokes on his next breath.“Excuse me?”“You’re gonna tell me all about this tomorrow, but for the love of God, tell me you used a condom and we won’t have mini Henrys on campus anytime soon.” Or, 5 times Alex thinks Henry's straight and 1 time he finds out the truth. Or, 5 times Alex jokes about Henry's sex life and 1 time he gets to be a part of it.

More Than A Makeover by everwitch

The Fab Five—Alex, June, Nora, Liam and Spencer—descend on a New York based shelter for disenfranchised queer youth to give the place a much needed makeover. As the week progresses, sparks start to fly between Alex, the culinary representative of the queertastic quintet, and Henry, the sweetly charming founder of the shelter. It’s a deeply emotional week full of unexpected realizations, and certainly a week that strengthens Henry’s friendship with Pez in ways that neither of them quite knew they needed. As the week comes to a close and the Queer Eye team say their goodbyes, it remains to be seen what will become of the warm connection between Alex and Henry. Will it last, or was it too much of a perfect miracle to ever grow into something real?

The Royal Wedding by DracoWillHearAboutThis

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE HENRY OF WALES AND MR ALEXANDER CLAREMONT-DIAZ ARE ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED HM Queen Mary is delighted to announce the engagement of Prince Henry to Mr. Alexander Claremont-Diaz. The wedding will take place in the Spring or Summer of 2025, in London. Further details about the wedding date will be announced in due course. Prince Henry and Mr. Claremont-Diaz became engaged earlier this week during a private holiday in Paris. Prince Henry has informed The Queen and other close members of his family. Prince Henry has sought and received the blessings of Mr. Claremont-Diaz's parents. The couple will live in Nottingham Cottage at Kensington Palace.

A Toast to the Night by allmylovesatonce

Henry looks up from his drink and swears his jaw drops. Standing in front of him is one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen. From his dark brown curls to the way his deep eyes gleam as he stands there, an awkward smile on his face. Henry is nearly sure this man is going to ask for his seat. He probably has some woman with him, scouring for a place to sit. “Uh, hi,” the man says. “Hi.” “Look, this is really awkward,” he says and Henry feels the confirmation in his gut — also maybe disappointment. “My ex-boyfriend just walked in and I really don’t want to talk to him. I was wondering if I could sit here with you so that he won’t talk to me.”

That's What You Get For Waking Up in Vegas by bleedingballroomfloor

The bartender slides Alex the whiskey and shot of water before turning her attention to the person behind him. He turns around at the same time as the person speaks, “Gin and tonic” in all rounded vowels, a distinct English accent shining through, and he swears his heart stops. “Holy shit,” Alex says before he can stop the words from slipping out of his mouth. “Henry?” When Alex is celebrating June and Nora's bachelorette party in Vegas, the last person he expects to see is his ex-boyfriend Henry, who moved back to London nearly a year ago. Waking up next to him the following morning, naked and sated with a marriage certificate poking out of his pocket, he starts to wonder if he's truly over Henry.

hang on 'til the chaos is through by ShyAudacity

David is lounging on his spot at the foot of the bed when Alex comes in. He opts not to turn on the light, not wanting to disturb Henry, but then quickly finds that the light is on in their bathroom. Henry must still be getting cleaned up before bed; Alex can say hello and check on Henry when he steps out. It’s weird that he’s still up. Henry was awake well before Alex was this morning and… come to think of it, Alex can’t remember him ever coming to bed last night. Alex has only made it through the top three buttons on his dress shirt when he hears a terrifying crash come from the bathroom. Clutching his chest, he steps towards their shared bathroom, afraid to see what’s on the other side. “Henry? …H, what was-.” Alex stops short in the doorway, startled to find the love of his life in a miserable heap on the bathroom floor.

Sad Again (Don't Tell My Boyfriend) by lucy_in_the_sky

After proposing to Alex, Henry writes a letter to his father reflecting on all the moments he’ll never get to share with him. AKA Alex comforts a mourning Henry and promises to be there for him, forever and always.

monster mash by matherine

None of Henry’s answers to “Who are you supposed to be?” are particularly funny to anyone but him, especially in his inebriated state, so he’s completely given up on making any sense when the latest person asks him, someone who he assumes is yet another sorority girl in a skimpy costume from the glimpse of a cheerleading skirt he gets while they brush past him to open the fridge. “George Villiers,” he offers. “Deep cut, England,” a decidedly male voice snorts, and Henry can’t help the way his head snaps up, eyes wide.

Take it Down Low / Make Me Get High by Mags (sparklepocalypse)

“Henry,” Alex rasps wonderingly, sounding almost entranced, “I want to eat your ass.” Henry’s train of thought screeches to a halt with such force that for a moment, he thinks he might’ve had a stroke.

how did a middle-class divorcé do it? by Time_Sequence

Not really concerned, Alex watched the typing bubble appear – disappear – appear again, like Henry couldn’t quite find the words to say what it was he was thinking. Most likely, he was trying to find the perfect sarcastic quip in response. What came through made him genuinely pause. HRH Prince Dickhead💩: You complete and utter moron Then, HRH Prince Dickhead💩: Royalty can’t marry divorcees If Alex had been having a good time before, he definitely wasn’t now. - When a joking interview reveals that Alex and Nora drunkenly married ten years ago, suddenly Alex's upcoming wedding to Prince Henry is jeopardised.

discreet packaging by demigodbeautiies

“Please, please, please explain to me,” Zahra says, finally, sounding more than a little bit long-suffering. “Why I had to have the head of the Secret Service sit me down and tell me to give you a talk about avoiding bomb scares with unidentifiable packaging.”

the world watched (and the world smiled) by fangirl6202

"Oh,” Alex says finally, faintly, touching one hand to his lips. Then: “Shit.” His mind catches up then, realizing that Henry is walking away and he doesn't even think twice. He begins to quite literally chase after him, trying to get to him before he can get away or, God forbid, try to fly back to England and ghost him. Henry is very pointedly not looking at him, stuttering apology over apology until Alex has to quite literally throw himself in front of him to get him to stop. Alex doesn’t know what to do. But the answer is simple, isn’t it? So fucking simple. He takes Prince Fucking Charming’s lapels into his hand and kisses him back. Or; it's New Years, and Henry stays.

Rabbit Hole by TuppingLiberty

Some sort of non-famous au, don't worry, there's not really a plot. Alex has been going down a research rabbit hole for hours and Henry comes to rescue him.

Let Loose Your Glow by athousandrooms

“Seems like my liege was caught in a situation where he’d rather the ground swallow him whole.” Pez nods towards a spot to the side, and Alex follows his gaze. He spots Henry easily – a tall lighthouse of tousled blond hair – talking to a girl who is clearly into him. His expression looks perfectly polite, but he’s subtly leaning away, and he looks tense. So, Alex makes an impulsive decision. Whatever happens, this is going to be fun. *** Or: Alex is so very definitely straight, so pretending to be Henry’s boyfriend to get him out of an awkward situation should just be a fun little pastime - except that he doesn't really want to stop, and he has no idea why. But maybe it's okay to not think too hard and let himself go with the flow, for once.

Things I Cannot Accept by SprigsofViolets

In 2016, Ellen Claremont lost the presidential election. In 2019, Alex Claremont-Diaz is not the first son of the United States, so he’s shocked when his path crosses with Prince Henry for the first time in almost four years.

How well you play...that's up to you by happinessofthepursuit

Treacherous (adjective) guilty of or involving betrayal or deception; (of ground, water, conditions, etc.) hazardous because of presenting hidden or unpredictable dangers. Or, how to describe surgical residency in a single word. A Grey's Anatomy inspired AU.

In Accord by absoluteaudacity

Pursuant to the establishment of an ongoing relationship between The Crown and the Office of the President of the United States, the representatives of the The Queen and Her interests are authorised to establish a contract of marriage between His Royal Highness Prince Henry of Wales and Alexander Claremont-Diaz.

A Heart Even More Your Own by chaa_kiao

“Guess you’ll be writing those poems after all.” He swallows. "I should go." Henry’s mind— every part of him, really— his heart, his body, his fucking soul— is screaming at him to take it all back. To hell with the monarchy, the American presidency, damn it all. This is the man he’s spent his entire life loving and he’s throwing it away for a legacy he doesn’t give a single fuck about. He forces out a rough “I think so,” but he can’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. “I love you.” “Alex—” “I know,” Alex says. “I just had to say it.” _______ Or: Alex and Henry getting back together takes a little bit longer this time.

you are my mountain (you are my sea) by alasse

Five times Alex and Henry have important conversations in houses, and one time they have a very important conversation in a castle.

Down For the Count by LolaLand (Lola_di_Penates)

Alex came to Las Vegas to count cards, not feelings. Henry came to win it all. Is it possible to find something real in Sin City, where nearly everything isn’t as it seems? OR Goodbye reality, hello Vegas (the blackjack/poker AU).

Let Them Eat Cake by rohruh

“I wanna eat you out,” Alex’s voice comes out raspy and intrepid through the phone pressed against Henry’s ear. Henry lets out a soft whine at the admission, his breath up-ticking in synchrony with his hips as he thrusts up into his hand. “I’d like that,” he tells Alex eagerly, cradling the phone in his palm as though he could materialize Alex right there in front of him if he presses it against his ear firmly enough. “I’ve never done it to a guy before,” Alex confesses. “Is it… different from eating out a girl? I bet you’d taste so good, baby. Fuck.”

A Thousand Words by Thunder_Cakes

After that Han/Leia mural both their accounts go silent for a while. For months, actually. They’re both in therapy after Alex tried to post a selfie with June after election night and had a panic attack before he could hit “Share.” Suddenly the thought of sharing the details of his life and loved ones with the world is paralyzing. Wonder why. or: Alex, Henry and what they choose to share of their life

All for a Taste of the Honey by chamel

“So you’re telling me you’re not in favor of this plan,” Henry says eventually. “No, I’m fucking not,” Alex huffs, glaring at him. “It’s stupid and dangerous and unnecessary.” Henry cocks one perfect eyebrow at him. “You have another idea for how to get access to the room where he does his deals? The one that only ever admits Vega, his associates, and the strippers who entertain them?” (Or, an FBI agent!Stripper!Henry fic. Henry goes undercover at a strip club, and Alex has a lot of feelings about that.)

in the mood for... by carzla

Henry knows that he’s the one who said “casual”, and it had been a reminder to himself that that was all it could ever be between him and Alex. So, telling Alex that they should “make love” is probably a mistake in syntax bigger than he could safely afford. But they’re in Paris and Henry is feeling terribly, terribly maudlin.

something good and right and real by HypnosTheory

“This is pretty expensive for a high school trinket.” “Everything is bigger in Texas,” Alex jokes. Henry looks up at Alex, who’s standing with his shoulders relaxed for the first time since October. The relief of his mother’s victory has made him loose-limbed and calm, his smile easy and lovely. Henry looks down at the crown in his hands and back at Alex. He imagines the gold half-buried in Alex’s hair, heavy on the man’s brow, decadent and royal. Henry swallows, face heating, and holds the crown out to Alex. “Put it on.” -- After the election, Henry explores Alex’s childhood room. He finds trinkets of a young Alex that intrigue him, including a crown that gives him some ideas.

In His Wildest Dreams by myheartalive

Once Alex has pulled out, Henry turns over to face him. He strokes the hair softly away from his face and Alex smiles at him. “So… that happened again.” Henry leans forward and kisses him on the forehead. “Indeed.” There’s a sort of thoughtful pause, where Henry can see Alex working to pull together the right words. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you that… thirsty?” “Oh, bugger off,” Henry says, but he’s laughing. It’s a fair description. “No, but I mean it. You were like… urgent. It was hot.” “It felt hot. I liked waking up like that. With you up against me, trying to have your way with me.” — Set in and around the Henry bonus chapter, this is a story about Henry and Alex’s hectic schedules, family appearances etc. pulling them apart, and about what starts to happen between them, in the quiet of night: their sleeping bodies turning to each other, finding their sweet spots and opening up. And Alex and Henry learning a lot about each other in the process — Mind the tags, y'all. That particular tag features prominently and it’s a major plot point, so if that’s not your jam, just hit the back button.

until next time!

#rwrb rec list #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #alex and henry #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #alex x henry #fic rec #rwrb fic rec #rwrb fanfiction

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clareguilty · 3 years

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Gabriel Reyes/reader, a/b/o and The Works™

this is the third kinktober prompt for this year!!!

Gabriel Reyes/fem!reader | a/b/o, marking, biting, praise, all that jazz Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~3000

Jack Morrison was getting another medal.

It was everyone’s favorite joke at high command. It seemed like no one wanted to implement any serious policy or sign an actual resolution in favor of giving the golden boy of the Omnic Crisis another fancy award.

So Jack had been stressing himself out all week trying to write an acceptance speech that wasn’t passive aggressive, and you spent too long picking out a formal gown, and Gabe had sat on Reinhardt’s desk laughing and stuffing his face with carbs and fruit because his rut was due next week.

Jack took the teasing in stride and managed to come up with a speech that wouldn’t outright offend the Prime Minster of Russia. Everyone piled into the jet to Moscow with a garment bag and a carryon and a strong cup of coffee at four am the day before the banquet.

This was normal for you. In a world after the omnic crisis, head of Overwatch’s reparations department and mated to the commander of Blackwatch. You found yourself flown across the world dozens of times a year for negotiations and assemblies and ceremonies.

You and Gabe strapped in next to each other on the jet. “I haven’t seen the dress you picked out,” he nodded his head to the garment bag.

“I guess it will just be a surprise,” you purred.

He grinned and leaned in to kiss you.

“It’s too early for this,” Ana groaned from across the aisle. Gabe shot her a toothy smile and made sure to nip at the shell of your ear. You smacked his leg and shoved him back into his own seat.

The hotel was a beautiful historic waterfront building just across the bridge from the Kremlin in the heart of the city. The five of you piled out of the black SUV that had escorted you from the airstrip and made your way inside.

The hotel manager greeted you as well as an official from the Kremlin. Jack was the main recipient of ass kissing and pleasantries, so you simply smiled and nodded and shook hands wherever necessary.

The suite was entirely too big and fancy for a two night’s stay. You and Gabe poked around for a bit, but there were no fun secrets. You took the sitting room, and Gabe set up at the desk in the bedroom as you both buckled down on your work for the day. Gabe had operatives in Bolivia he needed to check in with, and you had a meeting with representatives in London.

He found you a few hours later slumped in the armchair with your head in your hands.

“They still being stubborn?” he asked.

“They won’t budge on anything,” you groaned.

“Change into something casual. Let’s go out for a little bit.” He was already in a hoodie and dark jeans, beanie sticking out of the back pocket.

You nodded and went to find a sweater.

Gabe’s impromptu date night in Moscow turned out to be a lot of fun. Ana and Reinhardt came to meet you at a bar for a little bit, and the two of you wandered around the city until sundown.

The next day was more meetings and frustration until you had to get ready for the banquet. You and Gabe slipped past each other in and out of the bathroom as you showered and shaved and styled your hair and perfumed and moisturized.

You shimmied into the dress half an hour before the car was due to pick you up. It was slim and black, sleeveless with one band that crossed over your collarbone and shoulder. You frowned when you realized it covered your matebite, but it wasn’t a big deal.

Gabe grinned salaciously as he zipped you up, unable to resist leaning down and nuzzling into your neck. “Cool it.” You shoved him off with a giggle. “I have to make it through a whole ceremony and dinner.”

He pulled on his jacket and the two of you made your way downstairs to wait for the car.

For some reason, the event coordinators split you into three cars. Jack rode by himself, you and Gabe in one car, and Ana and Reinhardt in the last. They looked intimidating in their dress uniforms, and you felt kind of ditzy in your sexy cocktail dress next to three enormous well decorated Overwatch officers.

The ceremony was only slightly dull, and you clapped at all the right spots and pinched Gabe when he looked like he was zoning out too much.

Dinner was much more enjoyable. You had been seated with people you knew from other events and assemblies, so conversation flowed well. A string ensemble played and a few people got up to dance or mingle once they cleared their plates. You caught sight of a British Parliament member speaking with a small group of tuxedoed men, and Gabe saw the determination in your eyes.

“Go get him, sweetheart,” he kissed your cheek and pushed you towards the Lord. You excused yourself quickly and approached the older gentleman ready to push for your negotiations to take center stage in the Palace of Westminster.

The poor Lord was not expecting to be accosted by you at a banquet, but graciously listened as you explained your struggles in negotiating reparations in London.

“You’ve got some real fire in you,” one of the tuxedoes remarked as you shook the Lord’s hand and he scampered away sufficiently cowed. He had an American accent and shiny hair. He reeked of confidence and you knew it was a combination of his nationality and his status as an Alpha.

You cocked your head nonchalantly. “Takes a lot of persistence to get anything done in Parliament.” You knew he was probably referencing the fact that you, a tiny omega, had just approached a government official and demanded that he push for your cause, but you brushed it off. Most of the time people were respectful, but you still ran into pushback every now and then because of your status.

The American laughed, tossing his head back. “And wit to match!” A waiter came by with champagne and he snatched a glass to press into your hands. “What’s your name?” he asked, placing a hand on your back and guiding you back into the crowd of tuxes.

You tensed under his touch. This wasn’t your Alpha. It was extraordinarily rude to touch anyone without permission, especially an omega. But still, you had to be polite, so you introduced yourself.

“If you ever need any help getting through to politicians, you should give me a call. I’m on the UN Peace Council, you know? I was appointed during the crisis.” That information was probably supposed to impress you. It probably would have if you were anyone else.

You nodded politely, taking a tiny sip of champagne and glancing over your shoulder to look for Gabe. You had your own gripes with the UN peace council. Jack and Gabe butted heads with them nearly every other week.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you smiled, attempting to turn and address the other men.

“Here,” the American pulled out his phone. “Let me get your number. Maybe we could meet up for drinks before we both leave Moscow?”

“Oh,” you found your escape. “I left my phone back at my table.” You turned to make your way back to Gabe and Ana, but the UN asshole grabbed your arm. You knew exactly what this was. This guy probably didn’t run into many omegas in professional settings, and he thought you would just go along with everything he said because he was some big shot Alpha.

Laughable. You were a high ranking member of Overwatch. A diplomat. The mate of Gabriel Fucking Reyes.

“Just put your number in and I’ll text you,” he insisted. You struggled out of his grasp and shot him the sternest look you could manage.

He laughed again. “I love how feisty you are!”

Clearly, everyone in the vicinity was also uncomfortable with the exchange. This was not the time nor the place to be asserting dominance over an omega.

Your blood boiled. You didn’t want to make a scene at Jack’s reception -- though he probably would have loved it -- but you were seriously about to deck this guy.

“Cariña,” a familiar voice washed over you and the effect was immediate. You leaned back into Gabe’s chest, taking a deep breath to slow your heart rate. “Jack was looking for you. He wanted to introduce you to someone.”

The American Alpha puffed his chest out, clearly ready to challenge until he took one look at Gabe.

“Commander Reyes,” he greeted. All of the bravado and pushiness was gone in an instant.

“Hello.” Gabe was stiff, clearly trying to hold his tongue. His arms snaked around your waist and he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“Would you hate me if we left right now?”

“Absolutely not,” you spun in his embrace so you could look up at him. His expression was stoic as always, but you could see the tension and the anger in his eyes.

You didn’t even look back as Gabe walked you to the table to collect your things. It was a little rude to leave without saying goodbye to anyone, and you weren’t sure if Jack had actually wanted to introduce you to someone, but Gabe looked ready to tear someone’s head off.

He stopped caring about decency the moment the car door closed.

There wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver considering how enormous your mate was in the tiny sedan backseat, but he pinned you to the leather seats and kissed you like his life depended on it. You wound your fingers into his curls, gasping as his hands slid under your skirt and up your thighs. The driver coughed, and you giggled at the slow whir of the partition motor giving the two of you some privacy.

“I can’t believe he touched you,” Gabe snarled.

You shivered both at the possessive edge in his voice and the disgusting memory of the other Alpha’s hand on your arm.

“Make me forget about him,” you whispered, hooking your leg around his hips.

He rose to the challenge. Super soldier strength shredded your lace underwear, dress hiked up around your hips. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee, trailing up your thigh at a torturously slow pace. He had barely sucked a mark into the skin when the car stopped. A glance out the tinted window showed that you were back at the hotel.

“Thank you!” you called to the driver in your terrible russian accent as you yanked your dress back down and teetered on your heels on the pavement. Gabe half carried you with an arm around your waist as you breezed through the lobby to the elevator.

The elevator was another brief attempt to continue. You managed to get Gabe’s jacket and shirt open before the door slid open and you were staggering down the hall.

He dragged you into the bedroom, pinning you to the bed on your stomach so he could yank down the zipper on your dress. He couldn’t keep his lips away from your neck. The moment your matebite was uncovered he dragged his teeth over the mark. A shiver ran all the way down your spine.

“You’re never covering this up again,” he growled, rutting against your hips clumsily. “I want everyone to see that you belong to me.”

The words made your stomach flip. You wriggled your way around onto your back, pushing your dress over your hips and to the floor. “You’re going to hit your rut early.”

He didn’t seem fazed. “I’ll just fuck you until we have to leave for the flight.”

You figured Ana, Jack, and Reinhardt wouldn’t appreciate Gabe in the throes of his rut on the flight back to base tomorrow, but they had probably experienced it before. You could only imagine how bad he was back during the crisis. The thought only made you wetter.

He must have sense the spike in arousal, because he settled more of his weight on top of you. “What are you thinking about?” he demanded.

“You. During the crisis. Alpha Commander Gabriel Reyes.” You trailed a finger down his chest. “Were your ruts worse than they are now?”

He smirked. “They’ve gotten worse again since meeting you.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, mustering the last of your coordination to get Gabe undressed. He made sure you were laid out comfortably on the bed -- grabbing a few pillows to place under your hips and head -- before sinking all the way inside you to the swell of his knot.

Gabe always fit inside you so well. The perfect stretch. And he filled you so deep when he knotted you. You knew that his ruts could get intense, and you would probably be exhausted and sore by the end of it. Still, you had been mated for a few years now, so you had figured out how to manage.

“You feel so good.” You closed your eyes and lost yourself in the situation.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m going to knot you so good.” He rocked forward, teasing you with the stretch.

“Please,” you begged, nails scratching at the shaved hair at the back of his head.

He shuddered and set an impossible pace as he began to fuck you. Sometimes you forgot that you weren’t just mated to an Alpha, but to a super soldier. No one else could fuck you like he did.

“You want my knot? Want me to breed you full? Want me to remind you who you belong to?” His words were low against you skin as he kissed along your neck. One of his hands was rubbing your clit, the other holding your thighs open so he could reach deep inside you with every thrust.

“Yours,” you gasped. “I’m yours.”

His teeth found the unmarked skin of your neck, just above your collarbone -- opposite the side of where your matebite was. The skin was practically electrified, especially when Gabe was fucking you like this. He didn’t bite down, but the sensation alone was enough to have you coming on his cock.

“Fuck,” he growled. “That was so good for me, baby. You’re so perfect.”

“Do it,” you begged. “Bite me. Please.” It was a little unorthodox. Normally couples only exchanged one bite. A bite on both sides was usually the sign of a triad or a pack. But you had just been touched by another alpha and Gabe was fucking you so good and you wanted him in every way possible.

He blinked, trying to think through the haze of his rut. “You want that?” He didn’t even wait for you to respond. The thought alone had him spilling inside of you, and he pulled you onto his knot. His teeth found that same patch of sensitive, unmarked skin, and he bit down just as he locked inside of you.

Nothing felt better than coming to the sensation of being claimed. It was the strongest orgasm you had ever experienced.

“Fuck you’re perfect. My perfect little omega. You wear my marks so well. Everyone is going to know exactly who you belong too.”

You couldn’t respond. Too busy marking Gabe’s chest with hickeys and lovebites. He was too massive for you to reach his neck, but you would make do. You were still coming down off the intense rush of endorphins, and everything was a little fuzzy and felt just a little too good too much too fast. You had come twice in less than the span of a minute, and Gabe was only just getting started.

He soothed the aching bite, holding you close as you were locked together. His knot probably wouldn’t go down for a while, but he was less riled up than before now that he had satisfied himself somewhat.

“I love you,” he kissed the top of your head, rolling so you could lay on his chest.

“I-” You cut yourself off, blushed, and buried your face in his pecs. You would happily die there.

“Yes?” He was curious now. You weren’t usually shy with him.

“I’ve been working on something. It’s super embarrassing.” You didn’t look up.

He lifted your head, forcing you to meet his eyes. “What’s embarrassing? I just dragged you out of a dinner party at the Kremlin so I could fuck you. I think I’m the more embarrassing of the two fo us.”

You laughed and kissed his chest right above his heart. Mustering all of your courage, you found your voice:

“Te amo. Me encanta pertenecer a ti. Tú eres mi mayor alegría.”

Your accent was decent, but you had no clue if your grammar was correct. The words were unfamiliar and clumsy, even though you had practiced them a hundred times. Spanish was not a language you were familiar with, but you knew that Gabe had grown up hearing it. You wanted to try and learn for him.

He understood immediately what you were tying to say, and you could feel the rumble of his laughter beneath you.

“Don’t laugh at me!” you whined, smacking him lightly on the side.

“I’m sorry,” he grabbed your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. “It was very sweet. I love you too.”

“I need a lot more practice,” you pouted.

He petted your hair, staring at you with a dopey, lovestruck expression. “I can’t believe you let me bite you again.”

You shrugged, feeling the pull and ache of the new mark in the motion. “We can let one of them fade.”

He smirked. “What if I like you like this?”

You bared your own teeth. “Can I return the favor?”

You weren’t expecting to rile him up, but the words were enough to make his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck,” he groaned. “You good to go again?”

You nodded, pushing up to a seat so you could ride him. He grabbed your hips, holding tightly as you slowly rocked against him. You knew the pace was probably no where near what he needed, but you wanted to take your time.

He didn’t give you the opportunity, rolling to pin you beneath him again and dragging your hips up to his. “You wanna bite me? You better earn it.”

#gabriel reyes #gabriel reyes x reader #gabriel reyes/reader #reaper/reader #reaper x reader #reaper #smut #lemons #kinktober 2021 #ow fanfic #Overwatch #overwatch fanfic #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega au

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dameronology · 4 years

Text

old times & new times {luke skywalker x reader}

luke skywalker + 2) ‘you pushed me away’ (from the angst prompts) for @mszosterstark

i’m so sorry this took so long!! i’m still working through requests from like...october?? i hope you enjoy! ❤️

-jazz xx

Luke Skywalker should have been happy.

The war was over and the Rebebllion had won. The Empire was in a million little pieces over the moons of Endor and it felt like the sun was finally starting to peak through the cracks of years’ worth of storm clouds. He had a family by his side and his future as a Jedi was looking brighter than ever. This was everything he’d wanted for so long; it was everything he’d fought for, everything he’d envisioned. He’d never been a the grass is always greener kind of guy but Luke knew there was something missing.

It was you.

Back in the days of the war, when he’d sneak to your room at 4AM or when you’d slip out of the base to go for an early morning walk, you would spend hours talking about your future. At the time, neither of you had known whether or not you even had one, but it had a fun coping mechanism; pretending, acting like you were certain that the Rebellion was gonna pull through. You’d day-dreamed about where you were gonna live and how you were going to get married. Whilst Han and Leia were a few feet away going back and forth, you and Luke were the very opposite. Solid. Secure. Permanent.

There was a sense of irony to that statement now, considering that the two of them were better than ever and Luke had managed to lose you entirely. He couldn’t even recall how it happened and that was probably the worst part. He’d just been...busy. Stressed and torn in a million different directions by the war. It was the usual story of not realising what you had before it was too late. By the time Luke even realised that he’d been taking you for granted, you were already out the door. The new galaxy was calling, full of opportunity and excitement, and you weren’t going to wait. Ironically, it had been a world that he had helped to create - and he’d lost you to it.

Luke would have asked - begged, even - for a second chance if he knew where to find you. But that was the thing: he couldn’t. He’d asked around but nobody seemed to know. Someone thought they’d seen you on Naboo, and another pilot could have sworn you flew past him on his way to the Outer Rim. You were everywhere and no-where. Seen by everybody and seen by no-one.

Life sometimes had a funny way of working out; when you spend hours searching high and low for something, you won’t find it, then the minute you stop, it’s right in front of you. If Luke had known that was the case, he wouldn’t have bothered looking in the first place. He almost felt his soul leave his body when you walked into the New Republic base, arms linked with Leia as you laughed together. His sister hadn’t half given him a bollocking when she found out how he’d treated you. Really, it was a miracle there were no sharp objects within the vicinity.

Your eyes met from across the room -- you stopped in your tracks, the smile falling from your face and your brow furrowing. It could have been worst, right? You could have burst into tears, or gone right up to him and smacked him.

‘Luke.’ You forced a smile. ‘Hi.’

‘H-hey.’ He hadn’t stuttered in a long time; not since he was trying to chat up his cute neighbour on Tatooine. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you here.’

‘Likewise.’ You replied. ‘I thought you were out on Coruscant these days.’

‘I am most the time.’ He said. ‘But I guess I’m all over the place.’

‘In more ways than one.’ Leia muttered. ‘I’ll give you two a minute.’

The Princess released her grip on your arm, shooting her brother a look that said if you try anything, I’ll know. Of course, she wanted nothing more than you both to be happy but it was simply in Leia’s nature to look out for you. After giving you a brief pat on the shoulder, she looked between the two of you and floated away, leaving a trail of expensive Alderanian perfume in her wake.

‘It’s been a while.’ You awkwardly shuffled on your feet, eyes falling to the floor.

‘Where have you been?’ Luke gently asked. ‘I, uh...I was looking for you, for a while.’

‘Everywhere, actually.’ You replied. ‘I guess I’ve been doing a bit of everything.’

‘But you’re back here now?’ He had a hopeful glint in his eye that you hadn’t seen since long before the war. ‘For good?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ You shrugged. ‘Why?’

‘You know why.’ Luke muttered. ‘I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left.’

‘I’m not the one who left, Luke.’ You reminded.

‘I got home one day and you were gone.’ He shot back.

‘That’s not the full story.’ You quietly sighed. ‘You pushed me away.’

He’d cocked it up; let the person in the galaxy slip through his fingers, right in front of his very eyes. People were lucky to find what you had two had once in their life, let alone twice. He knew he was never going to find someone like you again and frankly, he didn’t want to. He wanted you and only you, and he would have gone back in time and relived the horrors of the war if it meant convincing you to stay.

‘I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t change anything but I am.’ Luke slowly reached a hand out towards yours. His fingers gently brushed the back of your palm, and you didn’t push away. That was a good sign, right?

‘I know.’ You offered him a small smile. ‘But in the grand scheme of things, life isn’t bad, right? We won the war. The Empire’s gone. That’s all you ever wanted.’

‘I wanted it with you.’ He replied. ‘I spoke about this kind of future with you. It doesn’t feel right to have all this without by my side.’

‘I get that, but if you’d focused solely on our relationship, we might not have all of this. You did what you had to do and I respect that.’

‘That’s the past now - the war, the Empire, letting it consume my life.’ He put a hand under your chin, prompting you to finally look up at him. ‘Please let me make it right?’

You missed him - you couldn’t deny that. You’d been thinking about him a lot, wondering how he was doing and whether you should reach out. Thanks to Leia, you knew that he’d been okay (sometimes barely) but you couldn’t help but feel like you should have been there. He still had a lot riding on his shoulders - rebuilding the New Republic, training to be a Jedi, sorting out the remaining Imps - and you’d always been his support system. In return, he’d been yours. There were days when you still needed him and it had hurt to be without him.

‘How?’ You asked quietly.

‘I’m free tonight.’ Luke replied. ‘Let’s go to Tatooine, to that little diner we used to love.’

‘Luke, Tatooine is ages away-’

‘- I have my X-Wing!’ He insisted. ‘C’mon. It’ll be like old times.’

‘Do we want it to be like old times?’

‘Then it’ll be the first of new times.’ He flashed you a smile. ‘Please?’

‘Yeah, okay.’ It didn’t take much convincing, not when Luke was involved. ‘I’d like that.’

He leant forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. ‘Thank you.’

#luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker imagine #luke skywalker x you #luke skywalker angst #luke skywalker fluff #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars x you

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

Text

After a little more chatting on the Novigrad discord server, this fic was deemed in need of a follow-up.

After that winter in Kaer Morhen, Aiden never wanted to go back there or let Lambert return. They spent many nights wrapped around each other, Aiden trying to keep the ghosts of the past at bay with his body. It didn't really work though, Aiden was no match for the history the whole keep carried for Lambert. At the first sign of the snow melting, Aiden was packing them up and getting ready to go. As soon as it was safe, he steered Lambert down the path, away from Kaer Morhen.

"Thank you for the hospitality," he'd said to Vesemir at the door, "but I won't be returning again. Nor will Lambert for as long as I live."

True to his words, Aiden only ever took the south, to the Caravan or warmer climates for winter. It especially hurt to see Lambert trying to piece himself back together after Kaer Morhen, only reaching a semblance of his usual self around the point where he would seek Aiden out each spring.

Years went by and Aiden got to sit back and watch Lambert blossom out. The snark and barbed comments lessened, mellowing into slightly less pointed humour. In fact, Aiden would have gone as far to say that Lambert was becoming popular in the Caravan. He was welcomed with claps to the shoulder which no longer elicited flinches and snarls. Training sessions were eagerly changed if Lambert wanted to help show moves and forms that were only taught to Wolves and, if he simply joined in, he never struggled to find a sparring partner. Smiles came easier, so did laughs and, if it was possible, Aiden fell even more in love.

Which was why, when out on the Path, he kept his ear to the ground, listening for any rumour of other Witchers - specifically Wolf Witchers. It worked, for several years they had peace on the Path, left alone. The closest they came was a story of a heavily scarred Witcher passing through a few weeks earlier.

Naturally, it all had to end. Aiden just about caught sight of Eskel approaching the Caravan early one winter, eyes set on Lambert who was sat with a couple of the others at the edge of a stream, feet dangling into the cold water. They were all relaxed, at complete ease as they jostled and laughed.

"You're far from home," Aiden growled at Eskel, a hand on his chest to stop him. "What brings you here?"

The glare sent Aiden's way meant nothing. There were much worse things Aiden had faced down in the name of love.

"He's not been home. Vesemir said he wouldn't be back. I just wanted to check he's alright."

As Eskel didn't press to get closer, Aiden stepped to the side and nodded towards where Lambert had his head thrown back in a loud, braying laugh.

"I've never seen him like that," Eskel admitted softly.

"And if you get closer to him, you won't see him like that again." It wasn't a warning, merely a statement of fact. "So consider carefully, is your satisfaction worth his happiness?"

For a long minute Eskel stood in silence, swaying towards Lambert even if he feet didn't move. In the end, shoulders dropping, he turned away.

"You obviously give him something we can't. Take good care of him."

From then on there wasn't even a whisper of a Wolf Witcher in their vicinity. It wasn't until a couple of years later that Lambert froze, head snapping in the direction of some woods off to the side of the road.

"Danger?" Aiden asked, noting the way Lambert's heartbeat picked up, breathing a little more ragged.

"No." Lambert shook his head. "Just thought I'd caught scent of something familiar."

The wind changed and Aiden could smell it too. Well, he could smell the blood. A glance at Lambert and there was a sinking feeling in his gut. Without a word they were veering off the path and into the woods. Just as Aiden feared, there was Eskel in a pool of blood, his things strewn around him. Eyes glassy as they stared at the sky, each breath was a choked gasp.

"Shit." Lambert was on his knees and pulling his potions out without hesitation. There was no denying how his hands shook as he tore open ruined clothes to reveal several stab wounds. Bandits had obviously gotten the jump on Eskel. Half a potion was poured over wounds while the other half was tipped between blood speckled lips all while Lambert cursed. "You stupid bastard."

"Sorry," Eskel slurred, coughing on the potion.

Healing was slow business and Lambert was on edge throughout the hours it took. He shied away from Aiden's touch, eyes roving over Eskel's body, cataloguing the new scars he'd accumulated over the years. The problem was, Eskel kept mumbling apologies which only left Lambert more and more bewildered.

In the end Eskel's mind cleared as the potions and rest worked their magic. Not yet strong enough to sit up, he turned his head to look at Lambert.

"I really am sorry."

"For what? Drinking my last potion?"

Aiden wanted to bang his head against the nearest tree as he listened to the two Wolves. Not that Eskel was helping matters. "No, the whole, you know."

"Nearly dying? Yeah, that was fucking rude."

Wanting to scream and smack their heads together, Aiden was helpless to watch as, after a tense moment Eskel sagged and said, "Yes Lambert. I'm sorry for nearly dying."

Year of knowing Lambert meant Aiden got a front seat view to witnessing how he sagged a little in disappointment and rubbed at his chest as though a phantom pain had taken up residence under his fist.

In the end they parted ways a few hours later, the remainder of Eskel's things carefully gathered and put away. He had a horse to track down and some bandits to educate in the way of manners. It left Aiden and Lambert on the dusty road, much more subdued than before.

That was the last time Eskel saw Lambert and Aiden for another four years. Winter was coming and he was holed up for another quiet winter with Vesemir and Geralt. Since Lambert left, rifts had appeared between them all, leaving the cold months lonely in company. The door opened unexpectedly and Lambert trudged in, hunched over and heartbeat fast in his chest even after so long away.

"I thought you wouldn't come back for as long as Aiden was alive," Vesemir rumbled.

The silent, sad stare Lambert gave them before his face creased into a snarl of rage told them everything. That winter was perhaps one of the worst. Lambert was unmoored, with the loss of Aiden he fell back to old habits, unable to face the past he'd share with Aiden and see the Caravan. Those memories hurt more than the ones Kaer Morhen held.

Come spring, Geralt walked with Lambert, promising to avenge Aiden. However, Eskel had a different task. He was going to retrieve Aiden's medallion for Lambert. In a way, he succeeded but also failed. That next winter, Eskel waited eagerly for Lambert to return. He had the medallion but he also had a very grumpy and still healing Witcher attached to it.

#lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert #aiden #eskel #the witcher #tldr: aiden looks after lambert the best he can

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mxvladdy · 4 years

Note

i have an angst request, i guess??

could you imagine the reaction when MC and a brother are cuddling, being real sweet and tender, rubbing sensitive bits of skin ect.

MC stares off for a bit and the brother thinks they’re being nostalgic but when they ask what they’re thinking about 😘 MC just says “oh? i’m just remembering that i’m a potential food source for you guys 🙃“

~My first request! Yay!~

I hope you like it. I just picked just 3 brothers that I thought would be fun. But if you want more lemme know!

Lucifer

Quality time with him is rare. He's a busy demon after all.

But after an unsightly incident a few years back he has been trying to take some time out of the day for himself. It is also the perfect excuse to have some quality time alone with you.

He likes to have you sitting on top of him while he lounges. Your weight and heartbeat were soothing. A living noisemaker.

It has become a routine now. You come and rest with him and enjoy each other's company.

This time you were a little distant. Your eyes constantly track the motions and actions of his mouth. You seem fixated on every little thing he does. From a sip of his drink to the way he scowls while reading the evening news. You’re mesmerized by something.

He takes it as you reliving the taste and feel of his lips on yours. He'd be happy to give you a reenactment. But, when he leans in for a kiss, he senses...fear?

No. Surely you had gotten over that little mortal hurdle. For all things unholy, he hasn't even threatened you in over a year.

He'll pry, demanding a reason for your sudden apprehension. If anything to mask his own fear with righteous indignation.

When you tell him it takes a lot of effort not to laugh. It wasn't a ridiculous notion. He had indulged once or twice in his younger years-not that he would tell you. The thought had crossed his mind not that he would tell you. But really you would have been dog food before he would put any effort into it.

He'll brush your concern off. He has no interest in your flesh in such a rudimentary form. Now that pretty little soul of yours was another matter...

“You seem- distracted.” Lucifer’s purrs against your temple kissing it tenderly. His deep rumble resonates down your spine. “What are you thinking about γλυκιά μου?” He drags a razor-sharp canine down your neck teasingly. “Something good perhaps?”

“No, sorry.” You burrow closer to his chest. “Just had a… thought.” Lucifer’s thumb stills, halting the teasing pattern he had been tracing into your thigh. He scowls brushing his nose across the crown of your head. If you were thinking of anything other than him, then he was doing this wrong.

That thought was… offending. He had carved out a spot for you in his already ridiculous schedule, and yet you seemed miles away. Normally these precious moments were spent with you snuggling close loving his undivided attention, and him loving yours in kind.

Tonight your demeanor was so demure. You clung to him as usual, soft lips trailing down his jaw to the little sliver of exposed skin from where he had loosened his tie hours ago. But, it just felt like you were just going through the motions. “Speak.” A request and order in one.

"If given the chance, would you eat me?"

"What?" Lucifer cups the back of your head and pulls you away to make eye contact. "What?" He balks, eyes wide. His expression was completely undignified. That certainly wasn't what he was expecting.

You explain to him about a conversation you had overheard in your early days of the exchange program. For some reason, it just hit you then at the feel of his mouth on you.

"I- hmmm. Personally, I would have fed you to Cerberus. I don't particularly enjoy the taste of human flesh." He settles back into his office chair unfazed. He thought he had something to worry about. "Besides, I have come to find I like you warm and breathing." He pinches your side teasingly ready to get the evening back on track.

"Wait! You thought about it!?" His blasé tone takes you aback.

Lucifer knocks his forehead into yours with a snicker. "Not too hard. Besides you'd probably give my pups indigestion with all the trouble you’ve turned out to be."

Beelzebub

He likes to spend time with you at his favorite cafe. The one with the little tea cakes and great sandwiches.

Normally you will spend a weeknight there studying and munching together. One hand scribbling away in your notebook and the other engulfed in his large hand. By the end of the night though, you always find your legs interwoven with his and his ginger head resting on top of yours.

He is full and happy. So happy in fact, he steals a kiss, and then another.

It’s a good thing he picked a booth in the back so the rest of the cafe can ignore the couple nestled closer and closer in the back. He sneaks a few more peaks in here and there, whispering softly. It was going great until- He hadn’t expected to feel you lock up. Was it something he said?

You’re embarrassed when he pulls away and tries to brush it off. You just got swept up in some thoughts, no biggie.

He won’t pry, he gets it, it happens to him too. But, when you untangle yourself from him he has to know what’s up.

When you tell him he is distraught. Because he 100% has and probably still will eat a person. He might have munched on a witch that had pissed him off just the other day…

What he hates most is he can’t really lie and deny that he hasn’t thought about it.

“You taste amazing.” His words ghost over your lips as he savors the sweet mix of your coffee and natural flavor. You always taste like spiced oranges and honey when your lips brush. It’s intoxicating. Suddenly the flavor of you changes, a sour note hits his tongue. You go still and look out across the small cafe.“Are you ok?”

You pull away blinking rapidly. “Yeah-sorry.” You chuckle humorlessly. “Just...had a thought.” You try to move back into his arms but he stops you.

"What's the matter?" He tilts your chin up with a callous finger. You turn your head away and answer. "What?" He could hear you just fine. Superhuman hearing and all, but he just couldn’t comprehend what he heard.

"Do you consider me as a food?" You repeat yourself. "I know demons eat people, and like you've mentioned it before. I guess, I don't know. Shouldn't I be scared?" You've never seen a demon wilt before. Beel recoils and tucks in on himself. His hand flops down to sit on his thigh.

Of Course, he did think about it. Hell’s he had considered it. Aside from being a demon, he was the avatar of gluttony. How many nights had he laid in bed, stomach growling, and your scent filling his nose when you first arrived. Mammon had a work out the first few weeks of school dragging him away from your immediate vicinity. It was fortunate for the both of you that you had bonded so quickly or else he could have ruined everything.

His silence was enough for you to know. "Crazy how things turn out right?" You try to lighten the mood. You stroke his hair gently trying to comfort him. "Sorry, I kinda ruined date night huh?"

"No, no this is good." He chuckles rubbing his neck awkwardly. "Or I mean. We should talk about this. Before Diavolo started working on the exchange program, human souls and flesh were pretty common delicacies." Beel collects his thoughts with a sigh. “The verdict didn’t go over well at first. I wasn’t too happy either if I’m being honest. But, I’m happy he did it in the long run.” He meets your gaze with a warm smile. “You’re the kinda treat I want to enjoy for eternity.”

Asmodeus

A deviant. An absolute terror when it comes to PDA. He doesn’t care if it’s class time. If he wants to be in your lap then that's where he'll be.

He'll nuzzle the crook of your neck whenever he finds his way on to your thighs. He always has a compliment ready for you. New perfume or cologne? Is that shirt the one he bought you? He'll dote on you for hours until you are a blushing mess.

He schedules out movie nights with you. Just the two of you, some good drinks, plenty of pillows, and no bothersome brothers.

The movie he picked tonight was an oldie from the Devildom. He was feeling a little sentimental and thought you would enjoy seeing some culture. You agree, but forget one little thing.

Old Devildom culture was...pretty graphic.

Asmo doesn’t notice how your mind drifted off during the opening act. He is busy creating a new trail of hickies along your shoulder and upper arm around his pact.

He does notice when he hits the sensitive spot of your neck that normally has you squirming but-nothing. Huh? Was he losing his touch? He is usually so aware of his partner's mood. He asks what’s wrong.

Your question comes out of left field. He panics, figuring the movie wasn’t the best for this conversation. He turns it off and gives you his full attention.

Has he eaten a human or two before. Yes, back when he was young and would get swept up in the heat of the moment. Crimson was a lovely color on him.

You try to console him. Really you get it, it was an errant thought. You know he won’t eat you.

Can he still call you a snack tho?

You watch the movie in dead silence. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you figure you should probably be disturbed by what you see on screen. Were you that desensitized? Probably. Should that worry you? Maybe? You try to weigh it out in your hand. The black and white feature flashing across your eyes. You have seen worse in crappy human B rated horror movies. But, those were special effects and pints of red-colored slime and food coloring. You had a nagging suspicion that the scene in front of you was real. You glance down at the slim demon trying to fuse his body into yours. His body flickering in and out of focus in the flickering lights of the movie. You try to focus on him, his warm body nestling closer to you under the blankets. It worked for a moment before another loud roar from the screen dragged your eyes back up.

The contrast between the violence on the projector and the soft innocents of Asmodeus’s lips on the corners of yours was wild. He wasn’t even paying attention to the film. Typical. This was his normal ploy to have you all to himself. It worked though, and you loved it. Oh- You watch with wrapped attention as the human on screen was consumed both body and soul by a horde of demons.

“Is the film more magnetic than me?” Asmodeus pulls away licking his lips. His rose-colored gloss was smeared across his cheek. You shudder blinking past the sudden thought of what that soft red color also looked like.

"Nah," You huff wrapping your arms around him to press your chest to his. He purrs practically preening from your attention. "Just thinking."

"Oh~" You can feel his playful smile stretching along your hairline. "Care to share." He nips your earlobe.

"I just, humans really are just kinda food to you guys huh?”

You’ve never seen Asmodeus move so fast before in your life. One moment he is doing his best impression of an octopus and the next he is standing several feet away from you, hands raised in a mix of shock and defense. “Where would you-” He trails off hearing the sound of violence and death behind him. “Oh Hells.” He clicks off the projector in a panic. “I am so sorry honey! I did not think that through.”

You laugh awkwardly. “Would this be an inappropriate time to say I would go straight to your thighs?”

Asmodeus snorts in the dark. “Hips more like. You are nothing but sugar and fluff.” He flips the lights back on and he comes back to kneel next to you. He cups your face. “You know I would never do that right? I can’t say I haven’t done it before but I’ve never thought that about you.”

You hum kissing his warm palm. “Should I be offended or thankful?”

He hits you playfully. “That’s not funny!” You laugh taking his light swats, grateful that the mood in the room was already lightning.

“It is and you know it.” You scoop him back into your lap and snatch the remote up from where he had tossed it. “Come on let’s finish movie night. I’m picking the show this time.”

#obey me #obey me lucifer #Obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #fun prompt!

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junicai · 4 years

Text

Aria at Award Shows

Iconic Outfits

2020 AAAs NCT Daesang Award

Peoples’ jaws dropped when they saw Aria sidle up alongside the other 23 boys, strolling out like she owned the building. The heels gave her enough height to be nearly level with Renjun - something she wouldn’t let the boy forget - her hair dyed back to a natural black like it had been during NCT2020 promotions. It was rare that Aria didn’t look slightly apprehensive about stepping out onto a red carpet, but the confidence was rolling off her in waves. As she walked, the slit in the dress seemed to keep on going, trailing up her leg and changing the otherwise classy dress into something that left the innocent bystanders in the first row suffering from a high chance of a heart attack.

tldr; Aria’s hot and people are Noticing.

2019 Show Champion NCT 127 ‘Superhuman’

NCT’s second win with Superhuman left a huge divide in nctzens; a rift between those who were ot21 stans and ot22 stans (sans and plus Aria). Up until then, there had been rumors around whether Aria was to leave NCT now that there was a new girl group supposedly debuting under SM. Their management team had refrained from publishing a response - but that only lead fans to create their own speculations and theories. This outfit played perfectly into the growing rumor; with the large circular pendant on Aria’s bracelet having two chrysanthemums etched into the gold. The flower symbolized happy endings and goodbyes, with nctzens taking this as the proof that Aria was truly set to leave NCT in the coming months.

tldr; nctzens need to learn how to Chill.

2017 M! Countdown NCT 127 ‘Cherry Bomb’

Unfortunately, this era was the cause of a lot of strife for Arizens; the stylists either hit it out of the park and Aria was drop dead stunning - or she ended up looking a little like a bratz doll a toddler had gotten their hands on. Unfortunately for Aria, their first win with ‘Cherry Bomb’ left pictures of her in a plastic, obviously dyed blue skirt and cherry pink hair to match immortalized on the internet forever.

tldr; arizens hoped that her stylist got fired after this era. the plastic skirt wasn't the worst thing they'd done.

Other Iconic Outfits

Seating Arrangements

Depending on the venue, idols are normally sat on straight rows of chairs and benches, or at round tables. Given the choice, Aria would always prefer to sit at one of the tables, as not only does it give her a chance to not have to worry about her legs being seen while being covered by the tablecloth - if there is one - but it lets her keep everyone sitting near her in her direct line of vision.

However, should she have to sit in one of the main rows, she’ll normally end up squished beside one of three boys - Donghyuck, Yuta and/or Renjun. Should one of those three be unaviliable, Doyoung and Jeno are usually quick enough to fill in the empty space.

Donghyuck would always be her first choice, was it not for the boy’s incessant energy that sometimes left her nerves fried before their performance. Most days she adored the company - adored him and his efforts to get her mind off their impending songs with various games and ways to pass the time (they're not allowed play footsie anymore though, because Aria stomped on his foot with her heel once) - but other days she just needed someone to hold her hand and say nothing. That’s where Yuta and Renjun come in.

As Aria’s found out over the years, for all the man’s tactile affection and loud displays of love, Yuta’s highly perceptive to when she needs some silent comfort. Now, she’s not sure if he’s that perceptive to everyone or just her - but either way she’s not complaining.

With Dream, Renjun is the one she’ll sit with and doodle on the white napkins that are laid out on the table for lord knows what reason. After being bored out of their minds for their first few award shows, Renjun had snuck two black ballpoint pens into the venue in the inside of his red suit jacket. The drawings had become somewhat a tradition, and the best doodle normally is uploaded to bubble shortly after the show has ended.

All in all, Aria’s normally quite content to sit in the centre of the large group of boys - split over several rows or tables, boisterous and bubbly with energy. The only real downside to it all is the lack of blankets available to protect her modesty once she is seated.

Most venues split the idols fairly evenly between the boy and girl groups - with blankets being allocated especially for the seating of girl groups. This meant, unfortunately, that when NCT files into their seats and sits down, there is rarely something in the close vicinity that Aria can borrow quickly without causing a fuss.

Sometimes she gets lucky - other female idols might spot her and are normally kind enough to hand over one of their cushions or blankets, content to share with their neighboring member. Occasionally though, Aria has no such luck and is left to either pull down her dress multiple times per minute to cover the prickly feeling over the tops of her legs when she felt like eyes were boring into her, or wait for some kind of break so she could go find a spare covering.

Aria supposed after the third time something like that had happened, her members were getting fed up with it all.

At first it was their plan B: should some type of cover-up not be available in their immediate vicinity, Johnny or Lucas or Jaehyun - once, even Dejun - or another member who ran hot near-constantly would shrug off their jacket and fold it over Aria’s legs, pulling it up and then lifting her hands to place them in her lap to hold their jacket there.

Eventually it became their plan A however, now commonplace for Aria to go looking for the member who was wearing multiple layers and who wouldn’t suffer from the loss of their outermost one.

Iconic Moments

Twitter: [180821] and people rly say nct doesn’t care abt aria :/

Red carpets were always something to dread, in Aria’s eyes.

The cameras flashing bright enough to blind you, and the knowledge that if she stumbled or - god forbid - fell it would be immortalized forever on Koreaboo’s newest blog post.

However the worst bit, was always the footwear. High, stiletto heels that left her teetering around on nothing more than her tippy-toes, precariously balanced as she made her way up and down stairs, over carpet and tiled flooring alike.

Aria was used to wearing heels, but the one’s she performed in were usually fitted with various types of ankle support and a thick heel to give her balance. Wobbling around on a heel the same width of a piece of uncooked spaghetti was not something she’d willingly choose.

Not to mention the blisters.

Designer shoes were gifted to the company on a regular basis - shipped over just in time for Aria to slip into the pair before stepping out of the van into the sea of bright flashes and reporters. It always seemed like designers were too pre-occupied with making a shoe look good rather than making them actually wearable.

The first time Aria had been gifted a set of heels - early 2018 - she made the mistake of assuming that they would be in similar comfort as her performance heels.

Two hours later and with a wad of bloody tissue stuffed into the back of them, Aria had learnt her lesson.

From then on, it was commonplace for Aria to bandage her heels before she went out to shows - not quite as heavily as she normally would for a performance, but just enough to stop the skin splitting under the constant abrasion.

She’d only been caught out badly once - but it was all caught on camera by a fan sitting close by, and spread over twitter like wildfire.

Aria had limped her way back over to where NCT 127 was sitting, lips pressed together in a tight line and hands clenched in the tight material of the leather trousers she had been given to wear. The trousers stopped a few inches above her ankles, so the red mess of her heels was clearly visible as she hobbled over and sat down with a thud onto the seat.

Donghyuck placed a hand on Aria’s shoulder, leaning in so that he could see her face behind the curtain of hair that she had let fall to hide her tear-filled eyes from him.

“Riri?” Donghyuck whispered to her, thumb beginning to rub soothing circles into her arm. “Hey, Riri? What’s going on?”

Aria only shook her head, gesturing to the pair of torturous heels on her feet.

Donghyuck inhaled sharply when he saw the blood trailing up her leg and soaking into the back of the heel. He turned to his side to elbow Doyoung, grabbing his attention.

“Hyung. Hyung.” He hissed, Doyoung turning around with an over-exaggerated sigh.

“No, Hyuck, I told you I’m not going to-” Doyoung cut himself off upon seeing Aria’s pain-filled face. “Aria? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

Donghyuck slid off his seat onto the ground despite Aria’s protests that the floor wasn’t clean, get up, and explained what had happened to his hyung. Sliding her heel off as slowly as he could to not pull at the skin more, he muttered apologizes to Aria as she inhaled a shaky breath before exhaling it on a small, wet cry.

“Hyung, did you bring anything for Taeyong-hyung’s shoulder that we could use?”

“Yeah, yeah I did give me two seconds.” Doyoung bent into the small bag that he had tucked underneath the seat, pulling out a length of bandage that was stowed away in the outermost pocket.

Donghyuck took it from Doyoung’s hands with a small ‘thank you’, moving to kneel back down in front of Aria and taking her ankle back into his lap.

“Hyuck, no I got it, c’mon the ground isn’t clean-”

He silenced her with a look. Aria settled back into her chair - defeated - and Donghyuck wrapped the bandage around her heel as quickly but as painlessly as he could manage.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Twitter: [190323] HSHS ARIA IS A CARAT WE’VE WON LADIES N GENTS

Maybe Aria should have been paying more attention to the camera that was slowly panning around the idols, projecting their faces up onto a large screen beside the stage, but she was too engrossed in the current group’s performance.

“그렇다고 네 맘이 작다는 게 아냐,” Swaying gently side to side and mouthing along to the lyrics, Aria was happy enough to smile along to the song and move her hands in a small mimickery of the choreography she’d taught herself off the group’s dance practice video she’d watched only a few dozen times.

It wasn’t until Mark poked her in the side that Aria broke out from her own little bubble, twisting her head to look back at him and then up at the screen when he pointed.

There, her face, staring back at her from the big screen was enough to make her mouth drop open a little bit and her eyes widen. She clapped a hand to her mouth before turning to hide her face in Jaehyun’s shoulder, shaking with embarassed laughter.

Aria could hear Taeyong’s teasing laugh in return, before a hand came and ruffled the hair on top of her head, that she swatted away.

--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Twitter: [170911] lmao same aria

Aria knew she was there.

She knew that she was sitting right there and that she was in one of those really skimpy dresses stylists loved to put girls in because apparently female idols don’t deserve modesty and Aria knew that she had a blanket for once and she should share it but oh my god.

It was Chungha.

Aria was going to pass out.

Taking side glances every few seconds only confirmed the fact that Chungha was pulling down her dress to cover as much of her legs as possible, tucking her ankles together and underneath the seat.

Ok.

Ok, she could do this.

Aria took a steeling breath, before shifting on her seat to face Chungha on more of a diagonal. She lifted her hand before lowering it slighly, looking away.

Should she- no ok she’s doing this.

Without giving herself time to talk herself out of it, Aria moved to rest her hand on Chungha’s arm. The older woman jerked slightly - startled - and Aria was quick to apologize.

There was no audio in the video uploaded - the original poster having been too far away to capture much - but the two women talked for a moment before Chungha pointed to the blanket and then herself.

Aria nodded emphatically, and Chungha’s face crumpled into something fond, bowing her head in thanks before they unfolded the blanket another time and Chungha scooted an inch closer to Aria so they’d both fit.

Chungha sent Aria another grateful smile before refocusing on the performances - apparently not noticing, or perhaps choosing not to comment on the rather obvious red tinge that the younger idol’s cheeks had taken on.

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 3 years

Note

I have a weird request:

Android!Virgil and Cyborg!logan in a kinda dark fic about Virgil figuring out that he's an android/breaking down a bunch of times and having to be updated or repaired with new tech and memories. (The new tech being fake stuff to make him more human-like. Like a fake pulse or something) and every time he gets a reboot virgil and logan re-fall for eachother. (Romantic analogical with background royalty or rociet, you choose.)

Rust and Bones

Word Count: 1,524 CW: Abuse implied, memory loss, food mention, mentions of bones.

Author Note: Soulmate trope in use- Ink marks are present on the body. When your soulmate is in the vicinity, the marks will slowly move to follow them, reaching out and being on the body part closest to them. When you touch, the ink marks connect with each other in the place with the most contact.

Logan crowed in triumph, his hands hovering in the air as Virgil turned on. “Virge? Darling, can you hear me?”

Virgil looked around the room. “An500, ready for instructions.”

Logan sighed. Once every three months, Virgil’s owners, Logan’s stepfamily, sent him off to be upgraded and reset. Logan had been trying to think of a way to at least get around the memory wipe but it seemed nothing worked. “An500, register your name.” He waited the three heartbeats it took for Virgil to look at him. “Virgil.”

Virgil smiled. “My name is Virgil.” His voice still sounded so robotic.

Logan stood. “Free from factory settings. Use personality pre-set two.” This was the closest he’d gotten, being able to pre-program his snarky personality.

Virgil blinked a few times. “Personality pre-set two, initiated.” He looked at Logan, voice changing from the standard cheery to his usual sass and indifference. “How can I help?”

Logan rubbed his elbow, where flesh met metal. “I’m Logan, by the way. Start by putting those tools away, please.” He gestured to the table beside them that was covered in tools. Tools Logan had used to try to fix Virgil.

Virgil got off the low stool and started gathering the tools. “You gonna tell me where to put these or am I just supposed to guess?”

Logan groaned, trying to get his eyes to focus. “Of course, sorry.” He picked up a tablet and sent the labeled map of the workshop directly to the android. “There. Now, I’m going to wipe this grease off.”

Virgil gave a thumbs up, focused on his task.

Logan entered the tiny bedchamber he occupied, more of a closet than a room, filled with pictures and memories of him and Virgil. He ignored every memento and went through the doorway leading to his bathroom, a place even smaller than his bedroom. Luckily, some water came out of the tap when he went to shower.

The dirt and grime of his week washed away, leaving a purple ink splot on his shoulder, the part of his body closest to Virgil. He rubbed the soulmark, hugging himself as it slowly followed Virgil’s movements around the workspace. Holding his hands in front of him, Logan looked at the metal hand and forearm that was starting to rust, desperately trying to imagine it as flesh and bone. He’d been so young when it happened, he didn’t even remember becoming a monster.

Some would see that as a blessing.

The water didn’t stay hot for long. It never did. Still, he stood under the cold spray for a few moments longer before dressing.

The weeks passed slowly, lonely without his Virgil’s company. Sure, Virgil was there and helpful but it wasn’t the Virgil he knew. It wasn’t the Virgil that would hold him as he slept, that would laugh with him during repairs, that would do a hundred little things to make the time pass easier. Their usual banter was gone, replaced with sarcastic replies that shut down conversations. It was as if a stranger was wearing his lover’s face.

About a month after the reset, Virgil found Logan counting what little cash he had. “What are you doing? What’s the money for?”

“I’m doing odd jobs here and there. The family doesn’t know about it and I want to keep it that way. I want to get out of here one day, start a new life somewhere.” A life where he didn’t have to worry about the love of his life not knowing him, a life where he wasn’t worked to the bone with nothing to show for it.

Virgil’s face fell. To anyone else, it would have looked barely different, but Logan had spent the last year studying Virgil’s micro expressions. “Oh. Okay. I just came to tell you that I’m finished. Anything else you need?”

Logan shook his head. “No. I’m sure the family has some use for you.” He hoped Virgil came back in one piece.

He didn’t.

Not fifteen minutes later, Logan heard a loud thump and snap and rushed up the stairs to find Virgil lying on the ground, his left leg broken just below the knee. Oil leaked from the break and from his eyes as he cried black tears.

Logan’s stepmother turned to face him. “Oh, good, you’re here.” She pointed at Virgil. “Be a dear and fix it for me?”

Logan held back a scream of anger and frustration and instead went over to Virgil. “Hey, you’re going to be fine. Just focus on me, baby.” His voice was low enough that only Virgil could hear.

Logan wiped the tears away as Virgil clung to him. Logan tried not to think of the purple and blue ink drops that were winding around their highest point of contact. He helped Virgil stand, holding the leg in his flesh hand and supporting Virgil with the metal.

They made it down the stairs and Logan helped Virgil sit on the table while he gathered supplies. “What happened?” Logan kept his voice soft and gentle, no judgement found within.

“It all happened so fast. I was first just trying to help with something but she bumped me and suddenly I was falling over the stair banister, my leg taking the brunt of the impact and snapping.” Virgil watched Logan sit on the low stool in front of him and get to work on welding his leg back on. “Thank you.”

Logan looked up at him. “This fix is only temporary. Your leg will be replaced when you go in for maintenance.” He tried not to think of what else maintenance meant for him.

“I didn’t mean just for the leg.”

“Oh.” Logan realized he meant the comfort from earlier. “That was nothing.”

Virgil reached out, stilling Logan’s hands. “You’ve never treated me as anything less than human. I think it’s what I love the most about you.”

Logan didn’t dare look up from his purple hands being held by Virgil’s blue ones. Finally, he kissed the back of Virgil’s hand, rubbing his thumb over it. “How could I not treat my soulmate well?” His voice was quiet.

Virgil tilted Logan’s face up and lent in, being met halfway.

The next two months found the pair renewing their romantic relationship and taking on more odd jobs to make more cash. The plan was for them to run off in the dead of night, before Virgil was reset. However, as all plans tend to do, it went awry.

Logan’s stepmother stood at the top of the stairs that led down to the workshop, the farthest into the space she’d go, three days before the planned escape and told him to get Virgil ready. He knew that meant he was going to the shop to be reset and upgraded, probably to have his leg replaced as well. When Logan asked why, she tersely replied that they had an opening and agreed to take him early.

Logan went and told Virgil, too agitated to stop pacing. Virgil stood from his stool and held Logan, one hand fumbling in his pocket. “Things are going to be okay. I thought this might happen.”

Logan sighed, laying his head on Virgil’s shoulder, watching their soulmarks move to that spot. “What do you have in mind?”

Virgil pulled a thumb drive out of his pocket. “This has all my memories up until two hours ago. You hold onto it while I’m reset. Then, while they expect you to be putting me back to normal, we escape. Go as far as we can and don’t look back.”

Logan carefully took the backup drive. “How long have you been planning this?”

Virgil shrugged. “Since you told me about the memory reset half a month ago.”

Logan nodded, remembering the night he’d woken from a nightmare of Virgil being reset, and stowed the drive in one of his pockets. “Okay, this can work.”

The worst feeling Logan ever felt, bar the first time Virgil didn’t recognize him, was having to watch and do nothing as Virgil entered the truck that would take him to be reset. Logan spent the next few hours in agony, pacing the length of his bedchamber. All his and Virgil’s personal belongings were stored in an old suitcase his stepfamily had thrown out for having a broken wheel.

He received a message that Virgil was done that evening and rushed to the front gate to wait for the truck that dropped him off. He brought him back to the workshop along with as much food as they could smuggle in unnoticed.

It was only a matter of ten minutes for Logan to put Virgil’s memory in. They shared a tender kiss and both shed a few tears. Logan filled Virgil in on what he missed while they waited for the sun to set and the house to quiet down before they left, exiting out a side door.

Logan had a bus pass from traveling to and fro and androids rode free, on account of being seen as property rather than people, so they hopped on the bus to see where it would take them.

#cyborg!Logan #android!Virgil #soulmate identifying marks #soulmate au #memory loss #established relationship #virgil sanders #logan sanders #analogical #ace writes #I hope you like it and I'm so thankful for your continued patience

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sofiaaaaaaaa03 · 4 years

Text

Lively

Summary: Reader enjoys singing to themselves while Din is gone for bounty hunting and one day gets caught.

(I’m new to the app so I lost the message the person sent to me, but here’s the first request I managed to copy before I lost it. I really hope the person enjoys it. I had a lot of fun!)

Request: My prayers have been answered! Thank you so much for doing this, the lack of Dad!Din Djarin with young adult reader is killing me. Ok, so could you do a one shot the where reader (who is around 17) really enjoys listening to music and singing, but is afraid that it’ll annoy Din since he’s usually so quiet. So when Din is looking for bounty’s, the reader listens to music through her speaker rather than her iPod (or whatever is the space equivalent of an iPod) and just sings her heart out. But Din comes back early to find the reader singing to herself along with the lyrics, and surprises her. I’ve got some song suggestions, you can choose which one can fit the mood of the one shot. I tried to give you a wide range of genres, but not too many songs. Let me know if you need anything.

Pairs: Dad!Din Djarin x Young Adult Reader

Words: 1,520

A/N : So I got a little carried away and ended up writing a little backstory for the reader because I imagine that they’d be from Earth and still LOVE listening to earth tunes. Like, can you imagine Din’s confusion to most human songs’ lyrics? Anyways, I really hope you guys like it and please request more things for me to write or tell me your thoughts on the story. I’d really appreciate your feedback!!

Ending up in outer space was the last thing you’d expect to happen when you turned seventeen. You thought you would be dealing with high school drama and figuring out where you’d be attending university. Not getting picked up by an alien spacecraft during a camping trip and taken lightyears away from Earth. It was too much for you to handle as you had no clue what was going to happen to you, so you quietly hummed your favorite song to help calm your nerves of whatever impending doom you would face. Though it seemed that you were not meant to face such a fate, when blasting came from the corridor of the ship and what seemed to be an armored knight entered the room, finding you huddled in the corner wearing nothing but your pjs.

You later found out that the knight was known as a Mandalorian while conversing with him under the star lit cockpit of his ship.

“Never heard of it.”

“You’ve never heard of Earth?” You looked at him incredulously, shocked at his indifferent tone.

His helmet humbly shone as he shook his head. “Wherever you’re from, kid, it must be far. Is there anyone you know around the system that can look after you?”

You shook your head. If he didn’t know about Earth then you must be really far from home. This could be why people back home haven’t been able to find any alien life forms. They were so far out of reach that they didn’t know about humans back home. Did that mean you couldn’t go back home? What would you do now that you were stranded?

The Mandalorian looked at you for a moment before sighing. He confessed that he lived with a son who needed to be watched over while he was out pursuing bounties and offered you to stay with him for the time being so long as you watch the child while he was gone. He would also do his best to find any information about this Earth you spoke about and try to return you to your home. By Creed, he’d said. Which confused you at the time though you didn’t try to argue, not wanting to get marooned your first day in space. From that day forward, you began your life with the Mandalorian and his child.

--------

“When are you coming back?” You followed Din as he activated the boarding ramp to lower to the ground. He was off to retrieve another bounty. You could tell by the puck he carried with him. Whoever’s information was in it was not going to have a good day, you were sure of it.

“End of the day, if things go well.” Din began to make his descent down the ramp, not bothering to turn around and face you. “Close the ramp. You have your coms in case anything happens while I’m gone.”

You watched as the Mandalorian set off for the nearest town, waiting for him to distance himself from the ship before pushing the button that’d close the ramp and heading back inside to get Grogu. You stopped in the middle of the main corridor, looking inside Din’s bunk. Grogu cooed inside the makeshift hammock, sleepy eyed and yawning.

“Din’s gone. You know what that means?” You picked up Grogu and made your way to the cockpit. A small squeal erupted from the small green thing in your arms, causing you to chuckle as the doors to the cockpit opened dramatically. For a baby he sure was able to understand so much. Plopping onto Din’s seat (something you only had the courage to do when he was gone) you pulled out your phone and began connecting it onto the main board.

Back on Earth, it was no secret about your love of music. You used to spend hours in your room completely losing touch with reality while you sang your heart out. It was different in space. Though the music to you was foreign and full of languages that were not of your native tongue, you enjoyed them nonetheless and even listened to them using an old datapad you found in the ship. Never aloud though. You were afraid of overstepping your boundaries with the Mandalorian you’d lived with. The fact that he never said much intimidated you enough. You didn’t want to annoy him. Besides, after a long day he deserves to come back home to peace and quiet.

That didn’t mean that you couldn’t enjoy yourself while he was gone. Oh, on the contrary it became tradition for you and Grogu to turn the Razor Crest into one big speaker while the two of you jammed out to music. As it turned out, Grogu really enjoys the 70s.

The two of you pranced around the ship for what only felt like an hour, when in reality the suns of the planet had gone down a long time since. Grogu had tired himself out and fell asleep the moment he returned to his little hammock. You, on the other hand, sat in the cockpit where the music was currently playing in. The wires had to be redirected and closed so that the only area the speakers played music in was where you were. Even though Grogu was sleeping, you were far from done listening to music. At the moment, you were singing your heart out to Killer Queen. You had been silently listening to the music before. But with a classic like this it deserved to be sung with. Or at least, that’s how you felt.

Unbeknownst to you, Din was making his way to the ship when he heard sounds coming from within. This worried him for a moment. His instincts told him that someone else was inside and with the kids. Quickly making his way up the ramp, Din upholstered his rifle and scanned the main hull of the ship. A moment passed. The hull showed no signs of struggle. Taking several steps forward Din picked up on the light snoring coming from his son’s hammock. He checked Grogu quietly, careful as to not wake him but still wanting to make sure that he was alright. Comforted to know that his son was safe, Din admitted to himself that he was being too rash with an intruder inside of the ship and took a moment to glance around the vicinity in search of his other ward. Where were you? He checked your empty cot before making his way into the cockpit.

“Didn’t know there were concerts on this ship.”

“Dank Farrik-” You jumped out of your seat, startled by Din’s clapping that had interrupted your vibes. You were too busy singing to hear the Mandalorian’s steps as he entered the hull. “I didn’t hear- how long were you watching?”

Din made his way beside the main chair, placing a hand on the headrest. “Long enough to know you messed with my cables. How’d you learn to do that?”

“Peli taught me some things last time we were with her.” Your ears burned hot. “She thought it’d be useful to learn in case you needed an extra set of hands.”

You stared at anything but Din, still embarrassed from the startle he gave you. With his helmet on it was virtually impossible to look at him and tell what he was thinking. To know if he was annoyed. If he was upset at you for messing with his ship, he certainly didn’t show it. Was he going to kick you out? Leave you stranded? You sighed, closing your eyes and waited for him to say something.

A chuckle emitted from Din’s helmet. “Y’know, I was wondering where that song was from.”

You opened your eyes, tilting your head at him questionably. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” He sat on the co-pilot’s seat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, “Grogu has been mumbling some sort of uh… song whenever he doesn’t see you around. I always assumed that it was his way of calling for you. Didn’t really know where he’d gotten it from, until now.”

A large smile found itself on your face.

“Really?” Din nodded. “He really loves Earth music, yknow.”

“He doesn’t do a bad job mimicking it either.” A pause. “You two should play it more often when we’re travelling. It’d certainly make the place more…”

“Lively?” You added with a smirk.

Din hummed, nodding at your words. “Yeah, kid. Lively. Alright, out of the chair. We gotta hit hyperspace for our next commute.” He ruffled your hair and chuckled at you swiping at his hands. You settled in the co-pilot’s chair while he positioned himself on the pilot’s chair, grabbing your phone and staring at it for a moment. Its wires remained connected to the ship’s board.

“Here.” He handed the phone to you. “I’d like to learn more about your music...if that’s alright with you.”

You smiled, hitting shuffle on the playlist and listened to the music flood into the cockpit. You didn’t fail to notice Din’s foot tapping to the beat of the song.

#din djarin #din #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #star wars x reader #star wars #din djarin x reader #dad!din #grogu #the mandalorian x reader #y/n #din djarin x y/n

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violet-knox · 4 years

Text

The Family Secret

Chapter 1: Spinner’s End

Pairing: Young!Snape x Reader

Summary: Excited for your summer break, you make plans with Severus to visit him at Spinner’s End. Nervous about your visit, Severus does everything he can to make your stay delightful, but nothing goes as planned when his father comes home early from work.

Word count: 6951

Warnings: Implied child abuse (not explicit)

A/N: It’s been such a long journey finishing this story up. Things did not go as planned when I signed up and there were times I didn’t think I’d manage to finish it. But here we are, and I’m so happy I pushed through.

This story has 5 chapters and since I didn’t plan anything for Sev’s birthday, I thought I’d make it up by posting the first (and longest) chapter today. The next chapter will be posted on Wednesday the 13th and after that, I’ll be posting one chapter every Saturday in January, the final chapter posted on the 30th. It was a pleasure to participate in the @snapebang and I hope everyone enjoys it!

He could still remember the first time he’d told you about his home on Spinner’s End. You’d only been dating two weeks and he had no obligation to tell you anything about his life, but he just couldn’t help himself. He’d been hoping for so many years to find someone like you, someone he could care for that would return the gesture. Someone he could love, trust and he did. He’d found you and there was no one else in this world he would ever trust more than you. Perhaps that was why he told you where he lived after you said you lived in Cokeworth as well, knowing the reputation Spinner’s End had built for itself. Lily had never cared for his family’s financial status, but her sister had, as did the majority of those he’d meet. He was afraid you’d react the same way, that once again his parents would ruin yet another good thing in his life, but you didn’t. You didn’t even hesitate to smile. But if you’d told him back then what you’d asked of him now, he would have questioned your knowledge on the reputation Spinner’s End carried and reconsidered telling you about his upbringing.

Filthy, poor, loathsome, shameful, pathetic; those were the words he and many others would have used to describe his home, yet you seemed completely oblivious to those characteristics. You didn’t care about how small he claimed it to be. You brushed away his own distaste for the place and his offer to take you somewhere else. You simply asked again: Can I come over this summer?

The answer was much simpler than he’d made it out to be in his mind: Yes, but you shouldn’t. Yet he could only imagine the hurt in your eyes if he’d responded that way. He knew you’d understand if he explained, but you’d already tolerate so much of his own burdens. Who was he to ask you to carry anymore? In all honesty, he was surprised you’d stuck around this long after everything you’d seen at school. The way he was treated by others; like a filthy raccoon who wouldn’t stop trespassing on their property. You should have run for the hills the second you got a glimpse of who he was, but you didn’t. You stayed by his side and yet, despite everything you’d been through, he still questioned your loyalty. It was as if the moment you understood where he came from, the moment you’d seen his home, who his father was, you’d abandon him like everyone else before you.

It seemed however, that no matter what he’d say, no matter how hard he’d try, you’d always find your way back to him to put his heart back together. He loved your loyalty to him, your compassion for him. He loved everything about you and only a fool would shun the insurance you offered him of your expectations for Spinner’s End.

“Severus, if you don’t want me here, I understand,” you said as you followed his lead down the street of Spinner’s End. Reservation still lingered in his chest and judging by your tone of voice, you were certainly aware of it. He was nervous more than anything. Yes, his father was away for the weekend and his mother never bothered to care for his presence anyways, but he still couldn’t help the dread in the back of his mind. Bringing you home was a risk, one that could end your relationship if you hadn’t been sincere about your views of his family.

“N-no! I do, it’s just-” He paused and squeezed your hand as he looked away. “My house- where I live… It’s not what you imagine and my parents- they aren’t exactly the best of people.”

You’d seen him distressed before, the sorrow in his eyes when Lily cut ties with him, the anguish he went through when James and Sirius continued their harassments at school after the Whomping Willow incident. But you’d never seen such disappear written on his face before, as if he was preparing to lose something he held dear. You’d never meant to cause such emotions when you’d asked to come over for a few hours, but if you’d known the stress he felt now, you would have buried the thought deep in your mind, never to see the light of day and save him the hurt he felt bubbling inside him now.

The way he tightened his hold on you made you feel all the more guilty. This was supposed to be a pleasant evening and Severus was acting as though you held a gun to his head. But you knew that once you’d entered his house and shown him you couldn’t care less about his living situation the mood would lighten.

“You know I don’t care for that. Your home and your parents will never change how I feel about you,” you said, pulling his arm closer to your chest. Your words had the exact effect you’d intended as you felt the tension in his muscles release. His shoulders dropped slightly, but his hand tightened its hold on yours.

Turning his head, Severus looked into your eyes and felt the assurance you offered seep into his recurring horrendous thoughts of abandonment. He always felt so safe with you, assured of the exclusion of the terrors the world offered when he was around you. As much as he hated to admit it, you were his rock, he couldn’t live without you and that was precisely why he feared your visit to his house. Why would he risk losing someone as important as you? And for what? A glimpse into his sad childhood on Spinner’s End?

Nothing was worth losing you and if protecting his relationship with you meant you’d never meet his parents or step foot on Spinner’s End then so be it. He could live with hiding his past. He could learn to move on, he wanted nothing more than to move on, but he knew he’d never be able to find anyone as thoughtful or as loving as you.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you offered, watching him hesitate to climb up the first step of stairs leading to the front door. “We can turn around and head to a park or something.”

You couldn’t stand how uncomfortable he looked. You didn’t want to see him like this, your heart aching as his hands shook, stuffing them into his pocket, clumsily searching for his keys. He was like a delicate, expanding bubble, ready to pop at any moment, exploding into a mess of emotions and you couldn’t bear seeing him in such a state.

“No,” he said softly, retrieving his keys from his pocket. “We can stay.”

Stretching out his hand, offering it to you, he took another step towards the door, watching you slide your fingers against his palm, gripping him tightly as you stepped forward as well. As much as he would have liked to take you up on your offer, he knew he couldn’t back out now because he knew exactly why you wanted to come over in the first place. Curiosity was a trait you’d never tried to hide and one that made itself more apparent the closer you got as a couple. You wanted to know everything about him because it made you feel closer. You wanted to trust him, to know him better than anyone else ever had. He could see your hurt when he told you about Lily, how much he’d wanted to share everything with her, how he thought she understood him, so he knew you’d want nothing more than to gain his trust enough to share everything with you.

Slowly, he put the key into its lock and turned it, opening the door to his childhood, his summer prison. Everything he hated about himself was all stored under one roof, all about to be exposed to you. There were no words to describe the hatred he felt for this place, Lily being the only reason he had to look forward to returning every summer but as she broke off their friendship, his willingness to withstand this house sizzled away, leaving him with nothing but animosity. And then he met you. You were his new light, a clean breath of air amongst the smoky darkness surrounding him. You were his new reason for withstanding Cokeworth and Spinner’s End. Withstanding another summer under this roof was only made bearable by the thought of you existing within the same vicinity.

The smile you wore on your face as you followed him, stepping within the threshold of his less than desirable home eased him a little and he wondered if you’d intended to appear happy simply because you knew how much it soothed him. You were always canny like that, catching onto his likes and desires faster than he was willing to admit, but it didn’t bother him. He was grateful for it and only wished he could return the favour.

“It’s nice,” you said to him as he closed the door behind you. Any expectations Severus had given you were shot the moment you stepped inside, the walls bare, a singular couch and armchair squeezed into the shoe box sized sitting room. The couch was old, probably as old as the house judging by the chipped drywall and the worn-out floors. It faced the ashy fireplace which seemed to endure the same negligence Severus had said he’d felt over the years. The armchair’s cushion dipped in the middle as if an invisible being was sitting on it, the arms themselves scuffed from the ends. The only decor you could find was a singular picture frame of a couple you could only assume were his parents that looked as though it had been gathering dust for a while.

“You’re not being truthful,” he replied bluntly as he let go of your hand. He took a look around the room and sighed. No matter how much he tried, there was no way he could have made the place presentable for you, but at least he’d managed to clean the floors of any broken shards of glass or stains left behind by whatever it was his father had decided to leave around the armchair.

“The way you were describing it, Severus, I would have thought you lived in a dustcart.” You turned to face him instead of the room, placing your hands over his arms to get his attention. His hair was already over his face, his insecurities spilling out of him and you’d barely been here ten seconds. The house was quiet at least and you knew if you just sat down a while, he would get used to the idea of sharing his space with you.

Severus’ gaze seemed to be fixed on the scenery behind you, so you slowly moved your hands up his arms and onto his shoulder, one reaching up to gently hook under his chin, encouraging him to break free of whatever horrible trance he was under. Your eyes finally met yet he still wouldn’t let go of the fear buried deep in his chest.

“Sev, I love you,” you spoke softly, entwining your fingers in his hair, taking a step closer to him. Severus leaned into you, your touch a comfort he could find nowhere else. The tension in his shoulders started to ease until he realized he’d forgotten to thoroughly wash his hair today. His hand jerked up to remove yours from the shameful oily mess on his head, kicking himself for forgetting something so trivial. Already this day was going downhill, and he could only imagine the treachery that would follow.

“Can we sit down?” You asked when you felt his hand on your wrist, pulling you away. You could tell he was still so uncomfortable and a part of you had begun to wonder if it was really his home he was ashamed of or if it was you.

Severus, unaware of your own worries, slowly nodded his head, turning towards the couch, inviting you to sit beside him. His actions were almost robotic; one foot after the other, his legs bending enough to sit in his seat. He wasn’t sure what to do next, or rather, he wasn’t sure if you were disgusted by what you saw and were just too kind to say anything. He wouldn’t blame you if the next thing you did was ask to leave. In fact, he’d sort of expected it to happen at some point, he just had no idea when you’d ask.

“Severus?” Your voice seemed so distant, like you weren’t actually here and for once, he hoped that was true. Your scent however, the glimpse of your face in the corner of his eyes told him otherwise. “Sev, if you’re worried about me don’t be. I’m fine with your home, I really am.”

Severus looked down to find your hand on his knee, your thumb slowly rubbing circles into his trousers as a way of comforting him. His lips gently twitched into the subtlest of smiles, his hand overlapping yours as he looked at you with softened eyes. He nodded his head in understanding and found himself silently thanking you and everything you were. Your presence, your joy, your mere existence was all a gift he was lucky to have received.

“I-I can make tea,” he offered, hoping it would ease the tension around you both. You nodded your head and he got up from his spot, asking you to stay where you were, Merlin forbid you see another inch of this disgraceful prison.

Severus creaked open the door that led to the rest of the house enough for him to slip through, quickly closing it after he stepped inside so you wouldn’t see your vision wouldn’t be tainted with any more of his embarassing life. He hastily made his way to the kitchen where he found his mother sitting near the window reading yesterday’s paper, likely stolen from the neighbour’s bin as she smoked what he guessed was her third cigarette today judging by the time.

Opening the cupboards, he found the old rustic kettle and filled it up with water before digging for the matches and lighting the flame on the stove. He left the kettle there as he went back to find two clean cups. He’d opened all the cupboards in the kitchen before looking around countertops. He found two mugs, both dirty on the kitchen table, but one was chipped to the extent he was sure you’d noticed, so he cleaned the acceptable one and continued his search. Waving his wand, he watched the ditry mug levitate to the sink where it began cleaning itself. Looking back around the kitchen he found another mug on the countertop of the window, used as an ashtray.

“Mum, can I use that mug?” He asked her, hoping she was in a well enough mood to simply wave him her approval. He watched with anticipation as she took another puff of her cigarette, acting as if he wasn’t even there. This was rather usual for her, but unfortunately for him, it meant she wasn’t in the mood to be disturbed.

“Why?” She asked, keeping her eyes on her paper as she blindly tapped the end of her cigarette into her makeshift ashtray.

“I-I have a friend over and I wanted to make tea.” He paused and watched her eyes move from one side of the page to the other. “I’d asked you yesterday if it was alright for her to come over and you said it was.”

Sometimes he wondered if she cared more about her smoke breaks than she did him because it was moments like this where she’d pay more attention to those sticks of tobacco than she would her own son that had him questioning her priorities. The cigarette hung from her lips as she turned the page, staring at him like he’d said something damning.

“A friend? Didn’t that Evans girl stop speaking with you last year? And why on earth would you want to bring her here of all places?” She suddenly seemed very interested in his evening plans when he’d explained to her multiple times over the last few days he was planning to have you over. But why would he ever expect her to listen when she’d done nothing of the sort the last 17 years. He in fact, could hardly remember a time where she’d managed to hold even half a conversation with him.

“Why do you care?” He snapped back at her. Frustration rose to his mind, his face turning red with anger. She had no right to question his personal life. She had no right to speak to him like he wasn’t worthy of speaking to other human beings.

His expression hardened when he locked eyes with her, watching her take another drag of her cigarette as her lips stretched into an ugly frown. Tossing her newspaper in the direction of the bin, each page flying around, landing all over the floor, she put out her cigarette in the mug before pushing it with her index finger so it fell off the windowsill.

“Clean that up,” she commanded lazily, easing off from where she sat and dragged her feet along the floor to the door. “And I suggest you see your friend out before your father gets home.”

He didn’t take his eyes off her until she was completely out of sight, heading up the stairs, the house whining in agony with every step she took. Storming to the door, he closed it roughly, immediately regretting it when he remembered you were in the sitting room waiting for him. It was then he’d realized the kettle had been whistling, steaming angrily before he removed it from the stove and turned it off. He looked to his side where the broken pieces of the mug mixed with the ashes of his mother's cigarette. With a sigh, he took out his wand and wove it over the area, trying to focus on the task at hand, putting aside his feelings towards his parents.

He’d been so used to locking himself in his room or storming out of the house, returning when it was pitch black after interactions like that, but he couldn’t do that this time and it threw him off. He had to get back to you, get back to the safety of your bubble. At least with you, he could stand to be in this house, he could bear the backlash of his mother and the miserable life he led here.

The mug put itself back together and he picked it up to examine it. He’d gotten rather good with this spell after he’d begun taking every broken dish, jar or whatever else his parents felt like breaking that day back to Hogwarts and fixing it the second he was allowed to do magic again. Turning seventeen was one of the best gifts he’d ever been given. No more restrictions, no more rules. He was able to do magic freely now and it had saved him more than once this summer, apparting away if they ever got too loud, cleaning his room faster than he’d ever previously managed. It kept him connected to his real home, even if he was miles away.

Placing the mug in the sink, he washed and dried it, stopping the spell he’d previously cast and set aside the dishes for now. He walked over instead to the mess his mother had made and wove his wand over it to vanish the ash and newspaper. Finally, he made earl grey tea and even managed to find some biscuits to go along with it. His smile slowly began to return as he made his way back to you, opening the door with one hand as he carried the tray of treats in the other. Placing it on the coffee table in front of the couch, he took his seat next to you.

“Sorry, we don’t have any cream but there’s sugar if you like,” he said, gesturing to the small jar next to the cups. Your lips twitched into a smile as you watched him pick up the jar and unscrew its lid. He put two teaspoons of sugar into his tea before looking over his shoulder to see if you wanted any.

“One is fine. Thank you Sev,” you motioned to him. He gave both cups a quick swirl before picking them up and handing yours to you. He sat back on the couch and looked down at the liquid swirling in circles, the awkwardness settling back into place before you spoke, thoughts of the consequences he feared to face for bringing you here returning to him.

“Is everything alright Sev? I heard something breaking while you were in there,” you said, nodding your head towards the door he’d just emerged from. You didn’t want to push or make assumptions, but Severus had told you his father was at work, which meant the footsteps you heard heading up the stairs not long before he returned to you were his mother’s. He’d barely ever spoken to you about her, but you knew he wasn’t too fond of either of his parents. You were never one to pry on someone else's personal life, but with Severus it was different. You cared so deeply for him, you wanted to know everything, the good and the bad. But common dignity stopped you from asking him before about his family, hoping if you were patient, he would eventually trust you enough to share everything without you having to ask.

“It was nothing, I just dropped one of the mugs, but I managed to put it back together,” he lied, looking away to take a sip of his tea. He kept his eyes on his cup as he lowered it, his hair defensively falling into position over his face. You noticed his gaze dropping and knew there was more to what he was telling you. Your shoulders fell in disappointment as you realized today was not the day he’d open up to you. But you had to look on the bright side, he trusted you enough to bring you to his home and you’ve been here a full ten minutes without him trying to push you out.

“So, will I get a tour later?” You smirked as you took a sip of your own tea. “Will I get to see your room?”

“Why do you want to see my room?” He asked, confused at your odd request. Your smirk didn’t help matters either. He was now unsure of how serious your question was.

Sliding closer to him, you bit your bottom lip, unable to suppress your growing smile. It was absolutely adorable when he wouldn’t understand some of your hints. The way his brows would furrow, his eyes shifting like a lost puppy unable to comprehend where he was. “Well, wouldn’t you want to see my room if you came over?”

You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle when you saw his eyes light up with understanding, a sly smirk of his own appearing on his lips, his cheeks tinting a light shade of pink. “I suppose. But my room isn’t really anything worth seeing. It’s small and cramped. I keep everything worth keeping in my trunk. Honestly, the dorms back at Hogwarts are more appealing.”

“I don’t care how it looks,” you said, placing a hand on his knee in comfort. What you would give to see him just a little more proud of himself, just a bit more confident. Sometimes you wondered if all that affinity shared between you meant anything to him or if he even realized how much you’d been there for him, how you’d always be there for him. But in the end, your crazy thoughts of his negligence towards you was always just that; absolutely nonsense. “I only care that it’s yours.”

“Alright,” he reluctantly agreed. It was odd speaking to you about something he’d always been so insecure about, yet the feeling of worry over whether or not you would leave him after what you saw was beginning to dwindle away. Even with his mum unable to spare him a shred of decency, the evening had felt as though it was going fairly well thus far. At least you seemed to be enjoying the biscuits enough to eat a second even though they turned out to be stale. Still, you managed to find a way to turn the situation around, dipping them into your tea. You’d even finished your tea before him despite his vitality to speak as little as possible. He would much rather listen to you talk about how your summer had gone so far and all the plans you had for your last year at Hogwarts than speak of his home and life on Spinner’s End.

Life could never cut him a break and just when he thought he was finally grasping at happiness, Fate had to intervene, ruining any spark of joy ignited within him. Fate was cruel to him today just as she was cruel to him when he’d finally found a home in Hogwarts, introducing him to Potter while taking Lily away from him. Today, Fate had decided to shake up his plans with you and test him instead. The sound of the front door opening dropped his heart down to his stomach. He knew it was over the second his father took a step into the house, to be greeted by his son sitting with a stranger he’d been told nothing about.

“What is this?” His tone showed resistance as he stared at you and Severus sitting on the couch. He was holding back like he always did when they were out in public. Your presence was taming him, but Severus knew it wouldn’t last long.

“H-hello,” you hesitantly tried to introduce yourself, feeling the tension in the air. You assumed the man who’d stepped inside the house was his father, but judging by the look on the man’s face, he had no idea who you were. Did Severus not tell either of his parents about your visit? Thoughts of disappointment and guilt filled your mind as you stood up, stretching your hand out to him. “I-umm, I’m (Y/N).”

The man squinted at your hand, staring at you in silence. You felt wary of the situation you’d suddenly found yourself in. Your introduction clearly doing you no favours. Awkwardly, you lowered your hand to your side along with your gaze in embarrassment as you sank back down on the couch beside Severus.

“We were just drinking tea,” Severus finally spoke, trying to explain with as few words as possible why there was a stranger in the house. Looking at him, you questioned why his voice had suddenly lost all its power. It sounded as though he was speaking to a wall, you’d never heard his voice so monotone before and it frightened you. Perhaps he was right, and you shouldn’t have come over.

Severus watched his father squint at the two empty mugs on the coffee table, evidence that you’d both finished your tea a while ago. Severus could already tell lies was all his father would see. The way his father’s black eyes pierced his, he knew nothing he said now would forgive inviting you over.

“I see.” Severus felt a slight shiver run up his body from his father's simple words, but he still maintained eye contact with him all the same, hoping he could at least try and brace himself for what came next. He watched the man take a few steps around the couch, speaking one final word as he opened the door to the rest of the house. “Severus.”

His voice commanded obedience from Severus and immediately he knew he was being asked to follow him to the kitchen. Shrugging his shoulders, he let out a small sigh. His hair fell over his face as he closed his eyes, trying not to think about what was to come next. Reluctantly, he stood from his place and motioned to begin following his father through the door when he felt a hand tightly grasp at his, holding him back.

“Sev, is everything okay?” you whisper to him, your brows furrowed, and your voice muffled with worry. Severus sat back down on the edge of the couch next to you, his gaze still lowered in shame of the interaction you’d just had with his father. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to come home until the evening.

“Severus!” His mother’s voice echoed through the room, a sign he was in deep trouble. His punishment was always worsened whenever both his parents were there to discipline him and he wasn’t ready to face those consequences tonight. Not tonight of all nights. He couldn’t handle it knowing you'd be in the next room.

“It’s fine, just- umm, stay here,” he told you quickly before standing up, pulling away from you and marching straight into the kitchen like a soldier ready for battle. You sat there frozen for a moment, the silence around you deafening. Severus looked so upset when he’d left you, wearing the same look he’d have after an interaction with James and his friends. This summer was supposed to be about building your relationship with him, growing closer to each other and enjoying your time together. You never thought you’d see that look on his face in his own home with your company.

“SHUT UP EILEEN! THIS ISN’T ABOUT YOU!” The voice of his father roared throughout the house. Your heart stopped at the sudden burst in rage coming from the other side of the door. Your chest rose with panic and fell with worry. Against better judgment, you stood up and slowly walked over towards the commotion, fear of those doors bursting open as you got closer. Your palms pressed against the chipping paint as you listened in on the rest of their conversation.

“This is about your ungrateful son!” The man continued pouring his anger out on those in the other room. “How dare you bring some stranger into my house!”

Your heart ached for Severus. You weren’t a stranger to him and-

“I live here too!” You and Severus were a lot alike in more ways than one, but it seemed in this situation, your thoughts had aligned more than they ever had before. Unfortunately, it seemed his father didn’t care to allow Severus any sense of belonging.

“ON MY DIME!” The man screamed.

Your heart sank as the yelling continued, the more they spoke, the more you were certain Severus was living in a toxic environment, one you’d be forced to leave soon, forced to abandon the one person in this house that seemed to have a kind soul. You had to do something, you couldn’t just stand here. Intervening would be a horrible idea, you or Severus could wind up injured, or worse. No, you couldn’t let yourself be separated from Severus, you couldn’t leave him during a time like this.

Every bone in your body resisted as you went to cautiously open the door enough to look through to the other side. You saw the light on in another room where all the yelling was emerging from, and quickly took this chance to slip through the door, closing it behind you and making your way up the stairs. You paused halfway up, crouching down in fear of being caught, hoping Severus could free himself of the entrapment his parents had suddenly put him in.

“You should have quit that ruddy school a long time ago, gotten yourself a job and contributed to this household like I had when I was half your age!”

It seemed the man had no sense of pride, happy to have his son throw away his potential all for his own benefit. Helping him pay the bills instead of watching Severus build a future for himself was apparently the right priorities to him. Severus was a brilliant wizard, and you knew his skills would provide him with many opportunities in the future. You’d always told him that, even before you started dating, you’d never missed out on a chance to let him know how much he inspired you, how you had him to thank for so much of your own success at Hogwarts. It didn’t matter what his father thought so long as Severus knew he wasn’t wrong to focus on his studies, to strive for a better life than his parents, you were happy.

You hurried up the rest of the stairs, optimistic they would finish their episode of abuse soon and began to look around on the second floor. You found two bedrooms and a bathroom. The first bedroom you would have assumed was the master bedroom as it contained a queen-sized bed, but the bundled up sheets and pillow in the corner had you second guess your assumption. It appeared as though someone had been sleeping on the floor, but when you entered the second bedroom, you knew that person couldn’t have been Severus. This second bedroom had to be his room. His trunk was in here, shoved into the closet, an old desk with one of its legs repaired with what appeared to be a chopped stick of a broom sat opposite of the twin sized bed that filled up most of the room.

Sitting on his bed, you felt the springs in the mattress snap and you almost jumped up in surprise, but you kept yourself still, worried that any noise you made would bring you unwanted attention from downstairs. Poor Severus was already being scolded for your presence in this house, you didn’t want him blamed for the risky choice you made of sneaking into his room. Down below, you heard the sound of a door shoved open followed by footsteps before the shouting resumed.

“She’s not there Tobias,” spoke his mother. Just as you’d suspected, they’d gone looking to kick you out of the house. What followed was a sentence you never thought you’d hear, something you felt so offended by, you would have given up your position just to prove them wrong.

“Another friend abandoning you,” his father scoffed, a bit of spite in his tone as he talked down to Severus. “I could only be so lucky as to have the same privilege.”

Severus didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to believe you’d abandoned him, but he could however believe his parents scaring you away. He wondered how his summer would go now that you knew everything about his life. He tried to picture you receiving his countless letters begging to see you and throwing them in the trash without so much as glimpsing at his words. He tried to imagine how his final year would go without you by his side, celebrating his freedom alone, watching from afar as you went on to find someone else, all because of the horrible way his parents had treated you.

You’d told him so many times, tried to reassure him so many times you weren’t going anywhere, but deep down he knew they were just words. They meant nothing and in the moment, you couldn’t handle the horrific truth. He didn’t want to believe it, but he didn’t blame you. He didn’t hold it against you for leaving. That luxury was only to be held by his parents. The luxury they’d held over him since the day he was born. Severus bowed his head in shame. He was embarrassed for opening up to you like that. For trusting you and thinking you’d be different. His shame slowly turned his disappointment into rage, tears pricking his eyes, daring to expose his emotions to his parents when he was already so vulnerable.

Let them punish me. Let them relish in my embarrassment. I deserve it.

“I’m taking you to the mill tomorrow,” his father informed him. “You’re getting a job to pay back all the money I put into you the last 17 years.”

His life was over. He knew it and so did his parents. He was doomed to work for his father for the rest of his life, always in his debate. He wasn't to graduate Hogwarts, he wasn’t to send you any letters, he wasn’t to dream of the great wizard you said he could be. He said nothing in response, the pain he felt in his chest, his face, his ribs, his stomach, his heart all too great to allow him the energy to speak a single word.

He watched his mother walk back to the kitchen and lift up the chair his father had thrown at him, tucking it into the small kitchen table. One of its legs was broken and he knew if anyone sat on it, it would break. But so long as it appeared put together, so long as it looked fine, he knew they wouldn’t care. His father went and sat down on the chair no one but him was to use and waited for his mother to serve dinner.

Severus once again found himself completely invisible to them. They’d let out their emotions, lashed out at him and made sure he knew his place, then went back to their lives, pretending like he didn’t exist. He’d only wished they’d done that when you were here. If they didn't acknowledge your presence like they did his own right now, perhaps you’d still be together. Perhaps he wouldn't have to live the rest of his life alone, but such a mercy was too much to ask of course. He was made to be punished, he was born to suffer and that was to be his fate until the day he died.

Slowly, he walked out of the kitchen, not to make a sound lest he be noticed again. He held his breath with each step he took, exhaling when he reached the second floor. He turned to make his way to his room, twisting the knob, ready to crawl into bed and drown in his tears, but the second he opened the door, about to throw himself onto his mattress, he was met instead with a sight he’d never dreamt of seeing. You were there, waiting for him, waiting to comfort him, your arms warm as you wrapped them around him. His lips trembled as he lost himself in you. He was falling in love with you all over again, the rush of emotions all too great to conceal.

He’d barely managed to close the door, trapping you both in the cold darkness of his prison before everything he’d kept buried inside for 17 years spilled out silently. He trembled as he let his body lean on yours. His muscles giving out, too tired to continue standing, his mind too beat to stay strong. He couldn’t do it anymore. He was too exhausted.

“Severus,” you whispered into his ear, testing the waters, knowing you couldn’t let yourself be heard. His tears were silent, and you knew you had to oblige to the same rule, but you couldn’t hold back. You couldn’t let him think what you knew his mind would have concluded not moments ago. “I will never leave you.”

His grip tightened when you spoke, reminding him of why he’d opened up to you in the first place, why he’d trusted you. He hugged you with as much strength as he could muster, letting his tears leak from his eyes, soaking your shirt as you stood there frozen in time. He’d lost himself in his mind before feeling your hands move down to his waist, pushing him away just enough to guide him into his bed. The covers were pulled over his body as he nuzzled into yours, feeling its warm embrace comfort him as you held him once more. His tears began to dry as the safety of your presence soothed him, telling him it would be alright. He had nothing to fear, nothing to worry about because he had you and you weren’t going anywhere.

Adjusting your position, you slid down the bed enough to lay on your side, facing him. His eyes were half open, his breath heavy as you rose your hand, gently cupping his jaw, your thumb slowly swiping his cheek. He relaxed under your touch, your eyes, your smile assuring him he was safe. The darkness welcomed him as he closed his eyes, focussing on your touch, the only sound in the room, his heavy breaths.

“Sev?” You broke the silence, whispering his name. “I think you should come stay with me awhile.”

You’d been reluctant to offer an escape from this house, but the way he looked, the exhaustion on his face broke your heart. It angered you and you couldn’t let him stay here. You couldn’t let him endure one more second of the abuse in this house.

His eyes opened and met yours, your chest aching as the light in his eyes faded away. He slowly nodded his head in agreement, fear of what his parents might do to him if he was caught trying to run away bubbling in his mind. He was afraid, yes, but staying here and living the miserable life they’d planned out for him was a much worse fate than anything else he imagined they would do if they caught him. He’d been wanting an out for so long, and here you were offering him just that.

Next Chapter

@sleepysnapesnake @wanderingtrails @darkthought15 @bush-viper-cutie @fluffymadamina @dracos-mudblood @mitchiesdungeon @severuslovebot @ravenhopeflyte54

#Severus Snape #Severus x reader #Severus Snape x reader #Snape x reader #young Severus Snape #young Snape x reader #my fanfic #my writing #pro Snape #snapedom #snapebang20

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thatcartoonnetworkblog · 3 years

Text

Cartoon Network Hotel Review

WHAT TIME IS IT????

If you don’t find yourself screaming this when you get here, even just in your head, then you’re in the wrong place.

But after a nice drive through Amish Country, the Cartoon Network Hotel is nice and visible right outside of Dutch Wonderland. Coming in, you see images of some of your favorite characters, right before Finn and Jake welcome you at the front.

Granted, it looks like I came off season- with fall and school just starting, Dutch Wonderland is only open on the weekends, and the hotel wasn’t exactly packed from what I can see. Which made for a good time for the indoor pool to be under renovation, so I sadly didn’t get to check that out. But hey, the outdoor pool was running just fine, although it was mostly empty, just myself and a family.

I didn’t take any pictures of the pool, since I didn’t have my phone (but a couple of Ice King’s penguins are playing life guard duty, alongside a pretty cute girl), but I did snap a photo of the Powerpuff sprinklers! They look pretty cool, right?

But that’s jumping ahead. Anyway, as mentioned, today it didn’t seem so busy, so despite arriving a couple of hours before 4 PM check-in, I was able to get a room right away. It must have been busy enough that I didn’t get the Gumball room I asked for, but instead I got my second choice, Steven Universe.

But I mean, look at this. I can’t complain. I was just thinking that I wanted the SU room instead, anyway.

The rooms are themed to one of six shows/franchises, the other four being Powerpuff Girls, Ben 10, Adventure Time and We Bare Bears. The former two seem to be primarily inspired by their recent series however, not their classics, so your mileage will vary there. I asked a receptionist which show tends to be the most popular choice, and she says that it rotates. Apparently PPG does get picked often by those who grew up with it, which makes sense, although those aren’t my Powerpuff Girls.

So, some things of note- there are four exclusive channels to the Hotel. Gumball and Teen Titans Go get their own 24/7 channels, which seems redundant since they’re basically all CN shows anyway. But they also have a FanFavs channel, which shows various episodes from various series, and New Shows, which I’m not sure if it shows currently unaired episodes or not. I couldn’t get that one active for long, but I did see part of a Victor & Valentino episode. I did have FanFavs on a bit as background noise, and they seem to mostly show:

Adventure Time

Regular Show

Steven Universe

Ben 10 (2016)

Mao Mao

Thundercats Roar (seriously...)

It seems like they mostly rotate from those shows, but I’d like to believe there’s more. Griz is on the cover bar for it when you connect to wifi, and you’d think they’d also show at least the 2016 PPG show as well, as that’s all over the resort.

They also do showings of cartoons in the kitchen at 3 and 9 PM, as the kitchen is closed during those times. My flight was very early, so I missed the 9 showing, as well as the Summer Camp Island-inspired bonfire that happened before, but I caught the 3 o’clock cartoons. They played episodes of Craig of the Creek, Total Dramarama, Teen Titans Go, and Gumball. Pretty cool, although these are basically the only four shows the channel plays anyway, The intro they use for the screenings shows clips from classic Looney Tunes, Tom and Jerry, and Scooby-Doo cartoons, but none of those were shown today. Maybe they’ll throw one in at another time? Probably not Scooby... or maybe just a movie, since they apparently play movies as well sometimes.

I didn’t stick around for most of the TDR cartoon though, as I was participating in the Craig of the Creek scavenger hunt. They hunt various CN characters around the lobby vicinity, and you try to find them in the right spot.

This is what you get if you win- a COTC pin and a Hershey bar. But hey, you can’t argue with results, and this is about it for Craig merch.

The gift shop almost exclusively focuses on the six shows with featured rooms, and a lot of merch isn’t exclusive. I did get a couple of things though.

The beach towel is based on the designs you see all over the hotel and has a couple of series not otherwise represented in terms of merch, like OK KO, Summer Camp Island, and the aforementioned COTC. Oh, and Clarence! Almost missed him in the bottom.

I got the stickers because there are more COTC characters, and again, the designs are nice. The SU pin was cool, and if there was a similar one for AT or Gumball, I would have got that as well. And I got the Anais keychain because Gumball merch is strangely rare despite its popularity, especially for her. There were also some pencils, notebooks, a couple of T-shirts and a hoodie. I almost got some pencils.

There’s also an arcade and an activity center, but those do seem mostly for kids, plus you have to pay for most of the crafts. I think the coloring is free at least, and there are a couple of nods to classic shows I found that I’ll share on another post.

Just as there are some nods to classics around the place, primarily the elevator and kitchen, but the people who want to see Dexter and Johnny and the Eds aren’t the target audience for this resort. Which is unfortunate, but the thing is, besides the fact that we’re getting old and today’s kids need their own shows, Cartoon Network has become a big deal internationally over the past decade, moreso than during their supposed heyday in the late 90′s-early 00′s. The six shows featured aren’t just picked for being the most popular, they’re all big draws overseas. We Bare Bears sells a LOT of merch in Asia and parts of Europe, even if it doesn’t seem that big of a draw stateside. Hopefully they can make this a tourist spot.

That said, I do hope that they consistently update things in the years to come. Part of the problem with the Nickelodeon Hotel over in Orlando was how stuck it was in the mid-2000′s. Sure, SpongeBob has remained a big draw over the years since, but when I visited the place around 2010 (didn’t stay, but took a tour), it was apparent that if your kids weren’t big fans of Rugrats or Jimmy Neutron, and they probably weren’t around that place until its last days, there wasn’t much reason to stay over.

I do think that Craig deserves his own themed room, and it may be time to swap out Powerpuff for it. Let’s admit that the 2016 reboot was a failure and move on. Or maybe just double down and replace the reboot designs with their classic look.

But hey, my final thoughts on the Cartoon Network Hotel? I had a lot of fun, and got the best sleep I had in ages. I’m not sure if I’d go again, though. At least unless it changes things up a little. Part of the thing is that this is really for the kids who love today’s new shows. And I do really love three of the six shows heavily featured here- four if you count the original Powerpuff. But I’m just not the right age for this place.

If you love any of these shows and/or Cartoon Network’s brand as a whole, I recommend checking this place out, but only if you’re near the area. Don’t make it a pilgrimage. Unless you have enough friends to make grouping up on the Steven Universe Dream Suite worth it.

That said, look at these Bear macrons. So damn cute, and tasty, too!

#my ramblings #cartoon network #cartoon network hotel

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teawaffles · 3 years

Text

It Happened One Night: Chapter 3

Two days later. This was the evening the wedding celebration would be held.

After seeing John off, Sherlock stayed in his room on the first floor, reading a newspaper he’d ordered.

Before he had left, John tried to invite Sherlock along, saying they may as well go together; but Sherlock excused himself by pointing out how it’d be troubling to leave Miss Hudson all alone in the house at night, and so he should stay behind. John couldn’t very well object after Sherlock brought her into this, so after a bit of grumbling, he reluctantly headed down to the village.

It was currently approaching midnight. The party would probably be ending right about now, and John should be on his way back.

Outside, the rain was falling in torrents. It had been sunny all day, but further into the night, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. There didn’t seem to be any strong winds, but occasionally, the raindrops lashed against the window. John would probably be covered in mud when he returned — a pitiful sight, Sherlock reflected to himself.

Resolving to treat him to something when they returned to London, Sherlock turned his attention back to the paper. As he remembered the motley and ever-changing nature of London, he bemoaned the ennui of these countryside days once again.

“More art thefts occur in London. From multiple eyewitness accounts, the Yard has surmised that the culprit fled to the west.”

An article suddenly caught his eye.

“Fled to the west”. The Cotswolds were also to the west of London.

“……No way.”

He shook his head, banishing the thought that had formed in his mind.

——However, it was times like these when the strangest premonitions came true.

As dawn approached, and the rain had begun to ease up, John returned in a panic.

“There’s trouble, Sherlock!”

As soon as he arrived at the mansion, John ran to Sherlock’s room and shook awake the man who’d fallen asleep in his chair. Sherlock rubbed his bleary eyes.

“What happened? Did you forget some of your tales?”

“That’s not it! A theft has occurred at the party! Look, there was a small shed near the inn, right? A painting was in there, and it got stolen!”

Right as John said that, Sherlock bolted upright and prepared to leave.

Those quick movements elicited a gasp of admiration from John.

“Did you have a feeling something would happen? I’d expected no less.”

“That’s not too far from the truth. Well then, let’s go. Tell me the details along the way.”

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

The rain had stopped when they left the house, and the dark clouds that blanketed the heavens had already drifted far away.

The sky was tinged with the glow of dawn, and the hills were but black shadows in the distance. Amidst the contrast of the two, the two men hurried towards the village.

Meanwhile, John summarised the events that had transpired.

The innkeeper — it seemed his name was Roy — had organised the wedding party for his daughter Patti and her fiancé Daldry. [1] Around twenty of his acquaintances had been invited, and perhaps he’d been forcibly invited like John, but for some reason, the artist Rheos was also there.

During the party, John recounted to the crowd some of the more difficult cases Sherlock had solved. It wasn’t a fantastic attempt, but it hadn’t been dreadful either; once he’d finished, his role for the night was complete. Everyone had been in a welcoming mood, and he enjoyed the food and conversation after that. Rheos had also been unexpectedly open with the guests.

“Isn’t that great? I was sure you’d tell some needless jokes that would fall flat.”

“I’m the storyteller you personally endorsed, after all. I managed to reach the end without spoiling the mood.”

Sherlock spoke as if it had been someone else’s problem, and John responded with a touch of sarcasm.

The incident occurred around one hour after that.

As night fell, the rain had turned into a downpour. Some guests had to leave regardless, but more than half of them chose to wait until the storm ended. In the heat of the excitement, some of them had gotten carried away and frolicked in the rain, and somehow Rheos had joined in as well. He’d seemed like a shy person: John distinctly remembered his surprise when he saw that happy-go-lucky side of Rheos.

Amidst all that, Patti’s fiancé Daldry had heard that the nearby shed housed some famous artists’ paintings. It seemed that this piqued his interest, and he headed to the shed alone. There, he discovered that one of the paintings had gone missing.

“……Well, it’s a bit rough, but that’s the gist of what happened.”

Sherlock hummed as he nodded.

“By the way, what were you doing before the incident occurred?”

“While everyone else was partying away, I was just sitting in the corner.”

“I see. And what did everyone do after that?”

Sherlock stared ahead as he spoke, and John also fixed his gaze on the road as he replied.

“For the time being, I’ve asked the guests to remain at the inn. The innkeeper’s contacting the police, and those who left early.”

“Good work. You acted fast; it’s a big help.”

“You’re welcome.”

Finally, the two men arrived at the village inn. Inside, the guests had been on edge as they awaited the detective and his assistant’s arrival.

“Mr Holmes!”

Suddenly, a scrawny young man — Rheos — dashed over to Sherlock.

“Please, you must find my painting quickly! You’re a famous detective, aren’t you?”

Perhaps it was because he was the victim of this case, but Rheos looked even paler than before: his pasty complexion was almost like that of a corpse. He was as timid as he’d looked, and it showed from his panic. In addition, for some reason, his clothes had been horribly stained with mud.

“Hey, please calm down. Worrying isn’t going to bring back your painting any faster.”

Rheos had worked himself into a panic, but in response, Sherlock took on an exceedingly calm attitude. His gaze then landed on the innkeeper at the back of the pub.

“Excuse me. How long until the police arrive?”

“They’re coming from the next village over, so it’ll take a while.”

“Got it. Well then, let’s do some simple interviews. Who was the the first to discover the crime?”

Sherlock promptly began his detective work. Perhaps he wanted to complete the investigation before the police trampled all over the crime scene.

A tall man raised his hand.

“It was me. I’m Daldry, Patti’s fiancé.”

“So you’re Daldry. How did you discover that the painting was missing?”

Sherlock posed his question upfront, and Daldry responded with clarity.

“Last night…… Or today, to be precise, I heard that there was an expensive painting in that shed, and it drew my interest. Art appreciation is a hobby of mine, and I think I was also a little too drunk at the time: I normally wouldn’t do such a thing, but I left the inn, and walked through the storm to the shed.”

Daldry looked around the room, as if to judge the reactions of the people around him, and then continued.

“The shed door wasn’t locked, which I thought it was a little unsafe. Then when I looked inside, I saw two easels. One held a painting that seemed to be unfinished, and I understood it to be Rheos’ work. But the easel in front of that one had nothing on it, which I thought was strange: if he was referencing another piece, then there should be a painting there. So I went back to the inn to look for Rheos, since he’s the one who borrowed the shed.”

Rheos cut in. “When I saw Mr Daldry enter the shed, I wondered what was going on, so I went after him.”

But Daldry seemed not to mind as he continued.

“I think I must’ve crossed paths with him on my way back to the inn. About a minute after I returned here, I heard a scream. We all went to the shed to find out what happened, and I saw Rheos fallen on the floor in front of the easel. That’s pretty much how I discovered the incident.”

Sherlock placed a hand under his chin as he summarised the events.

“So you’re saying that the painting was already stolen when you first entered the shed.”

“Yes; and by the way, since the party began, no one else but me went into the shed.”

Then Sherlock threw a question to Rheos.

“When did you last see the painting?”

Rheos calmed down a little.

“Um…… Right before the party began.”

“So, it was probably stolen in the middle of the party.”

Sherlock turned back to Daldry.

“John told me that there were others who went out into the rain, yes?”

“Yeah, since it was a celebration: everyone was excited beyond their years, myself included, and there were quite a few people going in and out of the building.”

Perhaps it’d been like how children get excited when a storm comes. At Daldry’s words, among the crowd, they could see people hiding their faces in embarrassment — Rheos included.

It seemed the young man was feeling awkward after remembering how he’d let himself go when he’d been tipsy. At that, John broke into a little smile, but Sherlock gazed at them with indifference.

“In that case, back then, who didn’t go outside?”

Around ten people raised their hands this time, including the innkeeper Roy.

“I was chatting with Patti and some friends,” Roy said, and a woman beside him spoke up as well.

“That’s right. I was talking with my friend Amy throughout. My father was also speaking with his friends in the vicinity. Then, we heard a loud commotion outside. Even though the atmosphere was so lively, and we were having a great time…… this just had to happen.”

“I see. So you’re Patti. I’ve got it, thank you.”

Sherlock seemed to have picked up something from her account. He looked out the window of the pub, towards the shed. Even from this distance, he could see that the bare earth had turned to mud from the rain, and the footprints of many people coming and going were clearly visible.

He turned back to Daldry.

“When you went to the shed, did you see anyone’s footprints on the ground?”

Daldry clasped his hands together, and made a troubled expression.

“About that…… I’m not really sure. It was pretty dim, and the ground was dark, so I didn’t get a good look.”

“Fair enough.”

Sherlock didn’t seem particularly disappointed, and fell silent.

An uncomfortable hush descended upon the room.

The theft could’ve been the work of an outsider. But equally, the criminal could also be hiding among the party guests. In fact, since the criminal had known there was a valuable painting in the shed, the latter was more likely. From Sherlock’s questions, at least, one could tell he was pursuing that line of thought.

It seemed the guests had caught on to that as well: they looked at one another, and no one said a word. Perhaps some of them were close friends who wanted to stick up for each other, yet no one stood up to proclaim their innocence — in all likelihood, nobody could dismiss the suspicion that the culprit was among them.

This party had been meant as a celebration of joy, yet everyone could sense the urgency permeating the room. Sherlock beckoned to his partner.

“John, let’s take a look at the crime scene. Everyone else, please wait here for now.”

He directed the guests in his usual tone of voice. Then, he and John headed to the shed.

The little hut stood alone, surrounded on all sides by bare earth. As they walked across the muddy ground, John spoke up.

“Sherlock, have you deduced anything so far?”

“Sorry to say but, I don’t have any leads yet.”

Sherlock groaned as he studied the feel of the mud beneath his feet.

“If just about everyone had stayed inside the building, then it would’ve been obvious when anyone ventured outside. But a good number of them were carousing in the rain, so it’s become harder to narrow down just who went to the shed.”

“True, and there were others who already went home — the list of potential suspects is pretty long. However, can’t we cross off those who stayed inside throughout, like Mr Roy and Miss Patti?”

“Certainly, if we can confirm that they didn’t just agree on the same story beforehand, then we can clear them of suspicion at this point. Still, they must have left the scene at least once or twice.”

“But if they went out into the rain, wouldn’t their clothes and shoes be dirty?”

“They could say that they went outside after the incident occurred to see what was going on, and got them dirty that way — it doesn’t prove anything.”

“I-I see…… In other words, just as you said, there’s a fair chance that any of them could’ve stolen the painting.”

“Exactly. But it’s pretty difficult to see the entrance to the shed from the pub, so I was hoping that someone had noticed a suspicious person somewhere……”

“Only Rheos said that he had seen Mr Daldry heading to the shed.”

“Did anything catch your eye back then?”

At Sherlock’s question, John scratched his head in anguish.

“Sorry. I was tired from all that storytelling, so I wasn’t paying attention to anyone else. To be honest, I can’t be sure that Mr Roy and the others had definitely stayed inside throughout.”

“Then, did you see Rheos join the crowd outside?”

“That, too — I did glance at the entrance of the inn at some point, and I saw him partying outside for a split second, but that’s it.”

“Alright, I got it. But you don’t have to worry about remembering all the details, y’know. It’s not like anyone could’ve predicted that something like this was going to happen.”

“Thanks.”

John gave him a small smile in return.

However, in the end, they had no proper eyewitness accounts. All they knew for certain was that they had made no progress in their inquiry thus far, and it was like this that the two men arrived in front of the shed.

Footnotes:

[1] Daldry is a rare surname (in the book it’s written as ダルドリー), but it is a real one!

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #forbidden games

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lettrespromises · 4 years

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> LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification.

> Letter object : the heart’s warmth and the body’s flames.

> Todoroki Shouto and Bakugou Katsuki sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

@bruised-cherry sent a letter : ❝Hiya, Nikki! Can I request a one-shot(if you're down) where Todoroki and Bakugou's(poly relationship) s/o got into a little argument with each other and now their s/o is rejecting them and ignoring them. Since it's summer, TodoBaku turned off the air conditioning, AC, etc, knowing their s/o would need them soon. And just, kinky, dirty ass s m U t :) (and lana spelled backwards if you're down with that, if not that's cool). Sorry I'm a kinky hoe 👉😅👈❞

Author’s letter :

❝ dear bruised-cherry,

first and foremost, i would like to apologize for taking so long to write your promised letter! nonetheless, i had a lot of fun writing it, hopefully it will reach your expectations!! it’s 4:05am as i am writing this and my brain is unable to write proper words i’m sorry—

sealed with a kiss,

nikki.❞

Genre : Pure smut, angst if you squint.

Warnings : Cursing, sex, vaginal sex, blow-job, cunnilingus, anal sex, daddy kink. (Please consider that the characters are aged up.)

Word count : 5.8K.

This day seemed to counterbalance the already established rules of time and space, you were secretly convinced that minutes were hours and each time you would lay your eyes upon any item with the sole purpose of indicating the current hour, you felt as if time had stopped. It was a long, long day. Truthfully, you wished you could have had the opportunity to meet someone whose quirk was time control to ask them to skip the remaining hours of the day.

The root of the problem was deeply imbedded with the increasing attacks committed by the villains in town, you were on a mission with both Bakugou and Todoroki- a clear lack of communication and coordination signed a burning defeat for the three of you. A mission built and perfected during several months had just blown into pieces, your efforts, tears, blood and energy were the combustibles to the pain fueled by this defeat. Each one of you attempted to exude this loss in your own way while making your way back home. Todoroki, sat on the passenger seat, found the cure to his own inner built-up anger by digging his pearly whites into the flesh of his thumb while observing the passing scenery before his eyes. Bakugou, unexpectedly, made a martyr of the steering wheel by squeezing the non-existent life out of it, causing his fingers to turn white in the process. You, on the other one hand, kept on reminiscing the earlier events of today, your mind roaming over and over again to find what went wrong, you weren’t exactly angry : disappointed in yourself was a more precise way to describe the matter.

The silence was deafening, almost agonizing. Truthfully, silence was even more intimidating than noise- a noisy ride would have included the repertoire of Bakugou’s insults flowing freely from his mouth, it was expected. But silence, on Bakugou’s end, echoed to a level of anger rarely ever reached, metaphorically speaking, Katsuki was a living and breathing ticking bomb at this very moment.

The sound of the car door smashing broke the silence as you arrived home, Bakugou was already inside, his hands shoved in his pockets as expected. You freed a sigh you ignored you were holding from your lips, an early sign that you knew there was little to no seconds left on the ticking bomb. Todoroki sent an apologetic glance in your way, you knew he didn’t mean no harm, if anything, it was a silent sign to encourage you before facing the aftermath caused by the explosion of the bomb.

Flower vases left shattered on the floor, a door handle scarred by the scorching hot imprints of Bakugou’s unforgiving hold and a continuous flow of insults as background noise- those were the said aftermath of the explosion. Bakugou’s body language radiated off pure anger, like you or Todoroki had barely seen before, his rage was exuding from the pores of his palms through a dangerous marriage of small explosions and smoke. He was roaming back and forth in the living room, his stare was focused on the explosions emanating from his hands as a way to convince himself that the more explosions would be set free, the less he would feel angry.

« Fuck, fuck, fuck… Goddamnit, fuck! What the fuck went wrong, hah?! We planned this shit entirely, from start to fucking finish. What the fuck went wrong?! You tell me instead of staring at me, do fucking something for once! » The words echoed and morphed into a roar sent directly your way, anger lacing his every word.

« Bakugou, don’t say things you don’t mean. » Todoroki stated, the pseudo comfort embedded in his voice radically clashed with the heat of Bakugou’s words.

« Don’t say shit I don’t mean? Who the fuck are you to tell others what to do when you couldn’t even do shit when we were facing those bastards?! You didn’t do shit, you fucking left us on our own and arrived at the very last second. So tell me, give me one good fucking reason as to why I should take shit from you! Fucking say it to my face, because I’m dying to know what’s your excuse. » The sounds of Bakugou’s explosions slowly adopted the structure of a crescendo, but Todoroki remained unfazed, his facial expression didn’t betray his pseudo serenity. « I was evacuating the civilians, you knew that, I don’t understand why you act so confused. We prepared this plan together, the three of us, you knew what my role was. »

You were stuck in the middle of a battlefield, torn between two sides but the tragic twist of this scene was that you couldn’t find the strength to defend one of them. You needed to remain objective and impartial, something obviously easier said than done. Your eyes darted from one figure to another each time you heard the sound of either Todoroki or Bakugou’s words, truthfully, you felt paralyzed under the lack of options in this crucial situation- on one hand, Katsuki was nothing short of acerbic when anger consumed him, on the other one hand, Shouto’s calm attitude hid a dangerous amount of anger building inside of him ready to explode if Bakugou’s venom stung too hard to Todoroki’s liking.

« Oh yeah, yeah. You were on you own, hah? Evacuating civilians and shit, am I supposed to feel fucking sorry for you when Y/N were busting our fucking asses out there to take down those bastards? You’re trying to play it solo like your old man? You know what, the more I think about it, the more you start to act like him-… »

« Katsuki! That’s enough, shut up! »

It was your turn to let anger lace your words in such a way that they developed their own toxins, purposefully made to sting Bakugou hard enough to cut his rambling. Endeavor was a touchy topic to Shouto, and as soon as Katsuki pronounced the words ‘old man’, a hint of flames appeared on Todoroki’s collarbone- it was only a matter of second before an inferno invaded the living room.

« You never know when to stop, do you? Do you have any idea of how ridiculous this is? You, Bakugou, you should know out of all people that his father his a sensitive topic, and yet you let your anger get the best of you every damn time. Todoroki, were you really ready to blast your flames at him? Aren’t the both of your grown men, or am I mistaken? How disappointing, how fucking disappointing. » You dropped every last ounce of energy in your tirade, every last bit of emotion in the process too. You felt so numb, deprived from your own vigor.

Both Todoroki and Bakugou’s eyes fell on you as soon as your roaring words broke their mutual verbal assaults, their mouths were set agape- they did have words on the tip of their tongue, but they couldn’t find the strength to give life to them. There it was again, the deafening and agonizing silence.

You couldn’t bare standing in the same vicinity as them, disappointment clouded your vision and the more you looked at them, the more your vision became foggy- but it still remained unclear as to whether it was due to the disappointment or the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. Without wasting yet another second, you went upstairs and locked yourself in your room, giving yourself some privacy to wipe away your tears.

Downstairs, the silence was still suffocating both Bakugou and Todoroki, their stare were still laying upon the spot where you used to be just a few seconds earlier, they just hadn’t processed your sudden disappearance. They blinked once, then twice, and a third time to make sure they weren’t dreaming and once they were convinced it was very much real, they looked at each other and sighed as if they were, too, deprived of their own energy.

« Bak-… Katsuki, it was my mistake to threaten you with my flames, I apologize. » Todoroki’s tone was soft in comparison to his last statement, a sense of compassion replaced the anger laced in his words.

« I shouldn’t have talked about your shitty dad. » A sentence, which, in Bakugou’s vocabulary echoed to an apology, but with the cruel exception of the forbidden word which begins with an ’s’ and ends with ‘-orry’.

« I assume Y/N is not going to talk to us for a while, and, don’t take it personally but her presence is very much needed. » Bakugou frowned as Todoroki’s words connected to his eardrums, needless to say, he knew he was right but didn’t care enough to admit it and grant him this silent victory.

« I might have an idea, half-and-half, use your shitty quirk to lower the temperature of the house, you know how much she fucking hates cold temperatures. That’s gonna make her move her ass out of the bedroom. » Todoroki only quirked his eyebrows in response while Bakugou was adorning his most victorious grin, he knew this plan meant an automatic win- both of them could handle cold temperatures thanks to their quirks, you on the other one hand, were more fond of warmer temperatures.

Todoroki sighed, perhaps already regretting his choice to follow Bakugou’s antics, but if it meant that he had to play dirty to get you, he was ready to deem himself as the dirtier player in the game. Soon enough, a frigid fog invaded mercilessly the first floor, and your bedroom was the first victim of the unforgiving coldness. Little did you know, this was the beginning of a series of crushing defeats on your end : seeking warmth underneath your blankets? Didn’t work. Blow air on your hands? A total fail. Looking through your boyfriends’ closets to find one of their thick hoodies and wear it? Not the solution you needed to cure the problem.

You were running out of solutions, and that’s when your unconsciousness crept in and murmured suave temptations to your ear : the welcoming warmth of Bakugou and Todoroki’s bodies, their arms wrapped around you like a human cocoon to protect you from the cold temperature. It sounded like a dream, and you had the means to make it real- but at what cost? You roamed around the room, not only to create body warmth by moving, but also to accelerate the train of your thoughts. What was more important? Freezing yourself to death with your pride as an inexistent shield from the cold, or embrace the agonizingly tempting warmth radiating from both of your boyfriends?

The answer to your rhetorical question manifested itself rather quickly- in the blink of an eye, you had already wrapped your hand around the doorknob and raced downstairs towards the personifications of your very own personal heaters under Shouto’s puzzled expression and, in contrast, Katsuki’s triumphing grin.

« Hah? Have you finally decided to show up, princess? » Anyone could have noticed the more-than-obvious obnoxious tone dripping from Bakugou’s words, he glanced over at Todoroki who grinned at him in response, silently thanking him.

« Just keep me warm. » You found a perfect spot right between Katsuki and Shouto on the couch, your knees were brought to your chest, your arms were encompassing your legs- if anything, you were pretty close to looking like a sphere, but you were ready to contort yourself in any position to gather some precious warmth. Eventually, you let out a silent sigh as soon as you felt their respective warmth hit the surface of your skin as a sign of satisfaction.

« I think you forgot the magic word, love. » Shouto teased, his warm index gracing the cold flesh on your shoulder, such a tease.

« Ugh, fine! Keep me warm, please. » You emphasized the pleading word, just enough to make them grin even wider in victory.

« ‘Wasn’t so hard, was it, princess? » You couldn’t exactly tell if you hated or were absolutely enamored with the teasing tone of his voice, but once thing was certain- the grin plastered upon his face was a thing of beauty.

Bakugou, as expected of him, took the lead, or rather, sent a silent challenge in Todoroki’s way which dared him to take the upper hand of the situation. He wrapped his arms around your waist in a lion-like manner, ready to protect what’s his, with the help of his strength you were now sitting on his lap. The grip around your frame didn’t move one bit, not only did he want to provide you as much warmth as his quirk allowed, but he also wanted to maintain control. Your head was laying upon the surface of his shoulder, your face was facing Todoroki who admired you as if he had witnessed the renaissance of Venus under your traits.

« I will help you feel a bit more warm, alright, love? » You hummed in response to Todoroki’s one-sided interrogation.

Another source of warmth was more than welcome. Thus, Shouto wasted no time and placed his hand upon the surface of your cheek, daring to cross Bakugou’s self-claimed territory in the process without any ounce of shame. The amount of space between the two of you had dangerously reduced until totally disappearing which cleared Todoroki’s path on his way to show you just how much he could warm you up. His lids fluttered shut in anticipation, and there it was, the oh so fabulous source of warmth- he planted his lips on yours in perfect harmony. After all, a promise was a promise, correct? Regardless of how it’s executed, correct? That was exactly Shouto’s mindset as his tongue grazed your bottom lip to beg for access to the inside of your mouth, a wish quickly granted which allowed him to spread the warmth of his tongue inside your mouth as his pink muscle met yours which only announced the beginning of the dance of pleasure. Your actions corresponded to his, and his initiatives echoed to yours— soon enough, your tongues were melting in each other’s touch. As much as he wanted to keep this going forever, the way you grabbed his wrist was an indicator that you were starting to lack oxygen. Of course he ended the kiss, but not before he dug his teeth into your lower lip to which you responded with a semi silent whimper.

Bakugou observed the scene from the side with the same smirk gracing his facial features, he would be the worst liar on Earth if he were to say that seeing your mouths collide in harmony wasn’t the epitome of poetry in motion. But who was he to let Shouto get the best of you? Who was he to let Shouto make you whimper first? He craved, no, he needed to make you melt under his touch.

« Want us to make you feel hot, princess? Be careful what you wish for. » This sentence was his final warning before flipping you over on your back, offering him the best position to physically tale the upper hand under Shouto’s amused stare. You looked so pure and yet so sinful at once, a paradox which drove of them crazy as they imagined the most unholy deeds they were going to do to you. Katsuki’s index hooked the fabric of your hoodie (more like his, but it’s just a slight detail which turnt him on even more) before to pull it over your head.

Oh, and what a gorgeous sight to behold— your naked upper body, in all its glory, a body worthy of the most descriptive pages of a novel. He couldn’t help but snicker at the ethereal scenery before his eyes, he knew he was going to devour you and make you his, no matter what.

« Don’t give me those eyes, woman, I fucking told you I was gonna make you feel real hot. You won’t need this shitty hoodie to keep you warm. »

The assault was given once his pearly whites dug into the soft flesh of your neck, reflex kicked, you titled your head to the side to give him more room to play with. It was a succession of biting, licking, biting again until your skin adopted a purplish tone which echoed to a mark of both domination and belonging. Of course, you belonged to him… And Todoroki. Once he was satisfied with his artwork, he licked the abused flesh one last time before smirking to himself as a sign of victory.

You couldn’t expect Todoroki to be left out of the party, after all, you did belong to him too. He pushed Bakugou to the side just enough to bask in the glory of your half-naked form. The gleam in his eyes reflected nothing but pure adoration, he was torn between the will to worship each inch of your body and the tempting option to make your legs weak until you can’t form proper words anymore. Oh, well, both were bound to happen.

« Oi! If you wanna touch her, don’t fucking push me! » Bakugou’s rambling was cut short as soon as Todoroki’s lips crashed on his, the blonde eye’s widened in surprise but he eventually allowed himself to crave to the passion.

« I don’t need your permission to touch what’s mine. » Todoroki whispered against the flesh of your breasts, emphasizing the very last word strategically.

The sight of your hardened nipples caused him to lick his bottom lip in anticipation, just a way to warm up his lips before devouring your flesh. Todoroki wasted no time and took this opportunity to let his tongue grace your left bud, the motions were repetitive and hypnotizing— from circular motions right around your nipple, from vertical licks to sucking motions, each deed was designed for your own pleasure while your whimpers falling free from your lips and the hand stuck at the root of his hair encouraged his actions. Your whimpers were cut short once Bakugou’s lips found yours and dragged you in a tongue-led kiss, and to no one’s surprise, you followed his already established rhythm, but goodness, it was deliciously intoxicating, letting you crave for more. And somehow, the sound of your hushed whimpers created an even more attractive melody.

Now, it was Todoroki’s turn to take advantage of the vacant place left by Bakugou who was now bent on your side which meant that your whole body to discover for the umpteenth time. A trail of kisses left from the valley of your breasts to your lower belly indicated which dangerous way Shouto was bound to take. He took a glance at the liplock share with Katsuki who offered you no rest no matter if you craved for oxygen or not, the same amused grin still plastered upon his facial features, and augmented the temperature just a bit more.

His finger drew an invisible line along the edge of your underwear, a pre-meditated deed which only announced in advance what he was bound to do, he was just one step closer to make your legs crumble under his touch. In a swift motion, fueled by his own personal hunger to satisfy his fantasies, Todoroki got rid of your pants and he could already discern the wet patch adorning the cotton surface of your underwear, what a sight to see. A new trail of kiss was left upon your skin by Shouto, this time, he focused on the inside of your thighs and followed a vertical pattern until reaching the climax of his journey : your already dripping heat.

« Are you already this wet for us, love? How kind of you. » The amused tone which embedded his voice hid a hidden sinful tone, such a contrast, but only Bakugou and you could catch the double-tone.

Bakugou, on the other one hand, mimicked Todoroki’s earlier antics (only to outdo him, his own ego was his sole motivation) and made a victim of your breasts. One lovebite on your neck wasn’t enough, he craved to make you his even more, on every inch of your body. This thought was the reason behind his will to bite the generous flesh of your left breast, which clearly isn’t abused enough to his liking. And so it began once more— biting, licking, biting once more just hard enough to make you whimper in response, suck on your flesh until it becomes purple and has his name written all over it. From the love bite, Katsuki kissed his way until your nipple, the motions of his mouth were strategically chosen to make pure sounds of pleasure fall free from mouth mouth, while his thumb and index were twisting your nipple while following the circular motions of his tongue. The harsh grasp you held onto his blonde hair was only one of the first hints that you were on your way to reach a state of pure bliss, the moans echoing in his head were his favorite hint though.

The sensation of a sharp lick across the fabric of your underwear awakened a new whimper on your end, this time, it was higher which only echoed to a higher level of pleasure. Todoroki’s lips curved into a grin at the sound of it, what a marvel to hear. The fabric which separated your core from Shouto’s lips was seen as a taunt to the latter, but fret not, said taunt was quickly taken care of as soon as he got rid of your underwear, throwing them who-knows-where in the room.

And so the temperature augmented yet again— an experimental lick caused you to bite your lower lip to refrain any moan to escape from your mouth as you closed your eyes in anticipation for pure bliss. Your reaction was the best indicator to Shouto who had found yet another motivation to make you come undone— getting to hear your agonizingly breathtaking whimpers and moans fall in cascade from your lips. Your core was wet, much to Todoroki’s delight, and he could almost hear you calling his name, begging him to eat you as if you were his last dinner on Earth.

His mouth married the shape of your core, his tongue danced beautifully against your folds as if your core had been specifically created to welcome the wonders of his mouth. The licks left by his pink muscle were executed differently in several ways— vertical licks, circular shapes, he based his actions on the sound of your shameless moans and whimpers to predict his next move.

« Shouto, S-Shouto! » Your first begging, which didn’t go unnoticed to both of the protagonists of your very own pleasure.

« So eager, aren’t you, love? » He kissed these words into your skin, words embedded with adoration and love in the process.

Well, there was someone whose name hadn’t been begged, and truth be told, it was getting on his nerves. How dare Shouto have the honor of being begged and not him? Oh, well, he was about to change that right away.

« Open wide, princess, I’ll give you something to fucking beg about. » The same usual smirk accompanied his words, he already knew what was bound to happen, and the knew what effect it would leave on you.

By the time you were busy with Shouto, Bakugou had already taken care of his own clothing by… taking everything off. Isn’t it easier that way? His genetically given large hand stroked tentatively his length, just enough to cause a layer of pre-cum to cover his tip, once he was satisfied with the result, he wasted no time to shove his entire member in your mouth in a swift motion. The warmth of your lips was the most delicate welcome he could’ve asked for, regardless if you were to choke or not, he’d find a way to make you beg his name until it becomes the only thing you’re able to say. Your throat grazed the sensitive tip of his grit, earning you a hushed grunt as a reaction which was a rarity coming from Bakugou. Both of his hands held a harsh grip on your hair, and he used said grip as a level of pressure to thrust himself into your mouth under the mesmerizing sounds of your choked whimpers. It was a scenery of beauty, he was the sole holder of all your attention— you were looking at him through your lashes with pleading eyes, silently begging him to keep going until you were to choke on his member. A silent sign he didn’t miss, he knew you like the back of his hand, after all.

Eventually, Shouto complied to your begs, you wanted more? Oh, you were bound to get more, more precisely, you were bound to have exactly what you deserved. Todoroki and tease were very close to being synonymous, hence why he purposefully used the pad of his thumb to create circulate motions on your sweet bundle of nerves which was the key to make you come undone, and, of course, two of his fingers which had already found a shelter inside your folds while pumping in and out, over and over again, until bringing you to the brim of ecstasy.

Under this new pressure, the need to express your pleasure through moans was almost impossible given the fact that each sound coming out of your mouth was rendered hushed by Bakugou’s length. Your wrapped your hand around his phallus to not only catch some cruelly needed oxygen but also set free all the sounds of pleasure trapped inside you, as soon as your mouth was set free, a pure sound of bliss fell free from your lips. A sound so sinful and addicting at once that both Bakugou and Todoroki couldn’t help but repeat said sound in their head over and over again.

« Oi, princess, I didn’t fucking tell you to stop so keep sucking until I say otherwise, did you fucking get that? » It was a one-sided question, your answer wouldn’t matter anyway.

And there he went again, shoving his member inside your mouth as Bakugou began chasing his own pleasure— if he was careful enough, he could picture the shape of heaven when his lids fluttered shut. This time, his thrusts were harsher, clearly designed to attain his climax. But he wasn’t the only one who was close to reach the seventh sky— the addition of Shouto’s fingers pumping in and out, the oh so right pressure on your sweet of nerves and the precise licks left on your wet folds was nothing short of divine, that divine that it was going to make you reach your orgasm sooner than you thought.

Reflex kicked, your grip on Shouto’s hair became gradually tighter as you felt the knot in your stomach grow more and more until it became out of your control, you rolled your eyes back in ecstasy and the pearls of tears on the corner of your eyes were now rolling down the surface of your cheeks. Through choked sounds, you encouraged Shouto to keep going and going until you could touch heaven by the tip of your fingers. And then heaven came to you, the liberating sensation of floating on a cloud overwhelmed you as you reached your orgasm, manifesting the pure sounds of bliss through the hushed sounds caused by Bakugou’s intrusive length.

« You’re such a good girl, love, you came undone for us. Such a good girl… » The end of his sentence was whispered in marvel against your core, it was a sight he could never get bored of.

His tongue found once more its way to your folds, licking each and every drop of your juices to satisfy his own pleasure. Your taste was his favorite, it was addicting as hell, so addicting that before to swallow said juices, he would always make a mental note of how your cum feels on his tastebuds.

« Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, god-fucking-damnit! » Bakugou’s grunts followed the structure of a crescendo, he threw his head back in pure pleasure— he was so close, so fucking close, he wanted to reach the seventh sky as well.

Todoroki grabbed him by the nape of his neck, his fingers digging right in Katsuki’s flesh, and planted his lips still coated with your juices right upon his. Bakugou could taste your sweet nectar on Shouto’s lips, and perhaps it was the last thing necessary for him to come undone— your taste always had the ability to bring him over the edge, and once more, this time was no exception. Bakugou groaned against Shouto’s lips before breaking the contact between them to share a pure sound of ecstasy of his own and eventually, come undone right in your mouth. A string of the blonde’s cum dripped down from the corner of your mouth, and observing you use your tongue to collect the remaining cum on your chin made Bakugou if he wasn’t going to come undone twice in a row at the sight of this.

« Come on, love, we’re not done yet. » This was the final chapter of all of Shouto’s fantasies, a chapter which was finally bound to take form.

Todoroki snaked his arms around your form to place you right on his lap, once the position was comfortable for the both of you, he placed his length right against your twitching core which was already begging for him to fill you.

« Please, j-just fuck me already… Please… » Another auditive wonder— the sound of you begging was worthy of the most beautiful symphony.

« You asked so nicely, love, who am I to refuse? » A rhetorical question, as expected of Shouto when he led the teasing game.

Shouto filled you instantly, shoving his entire length inside you which caused the unexpected appearance of a moan which you could hardly suppress even by biting your lower lip. An initiative quickly ended by Bakugou’s intervention who tilted your head just enough so he could plant a rough kiss upon your lips in order to prevent you from hushing those sounds of pleasure any longer.

« Don’t be fucking shy, let us hear what you gotta’ say, baby girl. » You looked at Katsuki with pleading eyes, you knew that you were not going to be able to suppress or refrain any of your moans or whimpers, you knew you were bound to become a vocal mess.

Shouto’s hands held a strong grip on your waist, so strong that the tip of his fingers turnt white under the pressure. His rhythm was frantic from the beginning, using the combination of his hips bucking upwards and his arms wrapped around your middle to clash against his testicles. You had the best spot to hear up close and personal the ravishing sounds of bliss coming out of Shouto’s mouth like a broken record. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as a desperate cry for support as his hips were pounding deep inside you until reaching your cervix.

Behind you, Bakugou had already made sure to wet his fingers to prep you. Prep you for what exactly? Oh, well, we all know Bakugou doesn’t handle well being left alone, especially when Todoroki has the advantage of him. The tip of his fingers brushed against your rectum until two of them entered your second hole, he expected this reaction but your moans were ethereal, especially when he was the cause of them. His fingers pumped into your rectum just enough for you to get used to the stretch and to the knew (and double) sensation.

« Be a good fucking girl for daddy and let him fuck you from behind, yeah? » He studied your facial expression and the irregular pattern of your breaths to know whether or not you were fond of his new antics, to which you confirmed his doubts by whispering an almost inaudible « Y-Yes, daddy… »

Nonetheless, the elongated moan you let out in his favor once his fingers reached a bit deeper in your rectum was enough for him to get the clue and replace the feeling of his index and middle finger with the width of his length. A pure sound of pleasure with his name written all over it, if you were to ask Bakugou, he would tell you right away that this is what heaven felt like.

« I-I’m going to cum, I can’t-… » Shouto’s hot breath crashed against your equally as hot skin, it became impossible for him to suppress his grunts any longer.

Bakugou mirrored his pace which had suddenly quickened under the pressure erupting in his lower belly, he could already touch the clouds of the seventh sky, and you were the key to unlocking the divine skies of heaven.

« Fuck… Fuck, I’m close too. » Their grunts matched in unison under the melody of your repetitive moans caused by the double pressure.

With one last thrust from both protagonist, you felt two rushes of hot liquids invade your insides as a moan signed their orgasm. That was it, they came undone and touched heaven as they came inside of you, all the pent up pressure in their abdomen had been set free for your greatest pleasure. You rolled your head back on Katsuki’s shoulder, oxygen had become a rarity under the frantic thrusts of the two newfound victims of passion. Once your lungs felt full again, you released an elongated sigh which drained all of your strength in the process.

Bakugou pulled out first, causing you to whimper at the sudden sensation of vacuity replacing the ever so addictive sensation of being filled by the man who held the keys to your heart. As he pulled out, his arms snaked around your middle and he dragged you with him, hot breaths crashing against your blazing skin. Katsuki put your head over his chest while you mustered up the last bits of vigor you could invoke to find shelter in his comforting embrace.

As soon as Shouto evened his breathing pattern, he felt the urge to join you and Katsuki— laying by your side, his arms draped over your waist, he felt at peace with the two most important people in his life, the true definition of perfection to him. Silence came back again, but this time it was comforting, a silence which held all the fierceness of your feelings for one another. A few kisses were planted here and there on your skin as a silent way to show gratitude, but all three of you were absolutely drained because of passion.

« If you’re still feeling cold, I know a fucking way or two to fix this shitty problem, princess. »

#shoto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todobaku #todoroki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shouto x katsuki #todoroki x bakugou #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #todobaku x reader

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ghostlywritten · 3 years

Text

If Only I Had Stayed In The Shadows - Chapter Five

James Potter x OC

Words: 3,5k

Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four

Time flies fast when you have fun. And I had a lot of fun for a week after the party. Despite the harsh weather, despite the essays piling up, despite the training sessions getting tougher it was all worth it in the end when I was left alone in the Common Room with James, chatting about everything and anything. Occasionally even Sirius, Remus and Peter would join us if they weren't in the mood to go to sleep yet and we would play Chess or Exploding Snap.

Of course I knew I would never be part of their unique friendship quartet but I was glad they would let me join in on their fun from time to time. Though I suspected they mainly missed James and didn't want to abstain from him too much.

One particular evening left me alone with Sirius and a few empty bottles of Firewhiskey after Remus and Peter decided to head to bed early and James insisted on retrieving some midnight snacks, sneaking off with a Disillusionment Charm. How he had managed that spell when we hadn't learned it in class was beyond me. Anyways, this got to be the first time I had ever been in the lonely presence of the school's heartthrob with no one and nothing in the near vicinity to distract him from me.

I swallowed nervously whilst the dark-haired boy seemed pretty relaxed, his posture slouched in his armchair.

"You know, I do wonder sometimes how things come together," Sirius' voice cut into the silence and I looked up from my fiddling fingers in my lap to see him pensively watch the flames flicker around in the fireplace, the light giving his features a warm glow.

"In what way?" I asked quietly, not wanting to somehow interrupt his peaceful posture.

"I mean, the way things have turned out in the end," he said, waving his hand to gesture around us, "Everything that brought us to the point of sitting here in the Common Room of the Gryffindors in the middle of the night. I got the best friends I had ever imagined I would get. Ever." I smiled at this. "I'm a Gryffindor, which is the least likely house a Black would get in. I ran away from home and am living with my best friend the life and with the family I've always dreamt of." Now this wasn't exclusive news. Everyone knew about Sirius' escape from the Black House last summer and that he was staying at the Potter's. I was sure a lot of people had their opinions on it but were clever enough to not voice them out, at least not with any Marauder nearby.

I was a little surprised however that he opened up about it when he had refused to say anything on the matter for the past months. One glance at the empty bottles on the table gave me the answer though. 'Everyone gets a loose tongue after a few drinks. Good thing I don't drink...much.'

"I'm glad you are out of there," I said sincerely, recalling the one time I had been pushed into the boy's locker room by my fellow female, giggling team members and had caught a glimpse of the many bruises on his back. I didn't know why but I immediately had a hunch that those hadn't only been from Quidditch. They had looked too nasty. My attempts to talk about child abuse with him were instantly cut off by the boy himself, the cold glare still giving me chills even in mere memory.

"Me too," Sirius sighed blissfully, "The Potter's are truly the best."

"Now all that is missing is the future Mrs. Black," I teased.

He wiggled his eyebrows, "I have encountered a lot of worthy candidates so far. Wanna be next?"

"Thanks, but I'd rather not catch anything," I replied, wiggling my eyebrows back at him. He gave me a mock affronted look before he smirked devilishly, my breath catching involuntarily at the handsome enhancement of his features, "Don't worry, I wouldn't ever date the future Mrs. Potter."

I almost choked on my spit, "Excuse me?"

"Oh, you heard me just right," he barked out a laugh at my red face, "And you can't tell me there is nothing going between you two."

"Ehm, I can because there is nothing going on between us," I retaliated, forcing down the blush from my cheeks.

"You don't have to hide it from me," Sirius said with a shrug, his shit-eating grin still ever so present on his face and I grimaced at him, "I don't blame you. And the Potter's are the best family you can meet."

"Sounds like heaven," I replied deadpanned and he nodded his head with wide eyes and a straight grin before he reached for his forgotten half-empty glass of Firewhiskey. Sobering up slightly, I pondered on my next words before voicing them out carefully, "Don't you miss your actual family though?"

"Hm?" Sirius hummed but I knew he had heard me clearly, stalling as he took a long sip of his drink.

"You don't have to answer that if you don't want to," I added hastily when I noticed how his features hardened, "I'm just a curious cat, wondering if I could ever leave my family like that."

"Do they abuse you mentally and physically every hour of the day?"

"Ehm...no."

"Then you don't have to wonder about it," Sirius said darkly, "You can consider yourself one of the luckiest people on earth." I kept quiet, watching him close his eyes and breathe in deeply through his nose. 'Maybe I should have just kept quiet like always,' I thought, mentally kicking my tactless ass.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," I apologised softly, looking down at my lap awkwardly. Hearing him sigh made me peek at him through my lashes, "It's okay, Cec." I beamed in relief at the nickname. "My family is just a touchy subject."

"I get it, you don't want anything to do with them," I agreed quickly, trying not to agitate him further.

"It's not that I don't want to...," he sighed for the umpteenth time, rubbing his eyes tiredly, "I just can't deal with them anymore. And Reg..."

"Regulus Black? Your brother, right?" I asked, having heard that name before. Apparently, he took after his brother, being the heartthrob of his year and part of the Slytherin Quidditch team albeit a Seeker.

"Yeah, my little brother," the dark-haired boy said, a smile unconsciously lifting the corner of his lips before they dropped into a bitter frown, "Of course, he is just as brainwashed as the rest of them, all thanks to our dear mother," he almost spat the last word and I winced at the hatred in his tone. At this point, it almost sounded like he was talking to himself, barely realising the other presence in his proximity. "I wish he would have just come with me," he mumbled, a vulnerable look on his face.

"You could still try to be close to him," I offered a weak suggestion, which he immediately dismissed with a scoff/hiccup. "Yeah, right. As if he would listen to me after I ran away. He won't even look my way anymore."

"But-"

"Don't think I haven't tried. He even said we weren't brothers right when I left." I frowned at the crack in his voice, my heart squeezing slightly at the pain in his eyes. Who would have known how much he suffered under all that loud and playful facade of his.

"Maybe he was just mad that you were leaving him behind," I pondered softly, racking my brain about how to make him feel better, "Sometimes we say things in the heat of the moment that we don't really mean." Sirius kept quiet, pensively watching the flames as he refused to make eye contact. I looked away from him, figuring he wouldn't like eyes on him at his vulnerable state, "I think, you two could still be close despite all the differences."

"...You really think so?"

"Yeah, one of you just has to make the first move."

"How do I know he won't reject me?" he asked like a small child, the armchair he sat on suddenly looking too big for him.

I thought it over. The possibility of rejection was definitely there, I wouldn't lie to him about it. After all I knew nothing about his brother's personality. "You don't," I responded, "But the world is full of lonely people waiting for the other to make the first move. And so many bonds get lost because of it. Don't you think that's sad?" His grey eyes snapped over to mine for the first time we had started this serious talk, surprise flickering through them before they were set into something akin to determination.

Before he could open his mouth to say anything though, James came bustling through the portrait hole, his arms packed with various snacks as he giggled like a fool. "Dig in, guys!" he cheered, dropping everything on the coffee table and just like that the serious mood was broken.

I watched Sirius pick up some cookies, munching on them as he chatted up a storm with James about the upcoming Quidditch match. By now, I knew it had been mostly the alcohol that made him spill everything. I just hoped he wouldn't feel too awkward about it the next morning.

The game against Slytherin had packed a punch. The Hufflepuffs' Bludgers were nothing against their aggressive tactics.

Let's just say no player got out there unscathed and the Snitch got caught by Regulus Black - the Slytherin Seeker - just before Angie managed to get a goal that would have gotten us a win if it had only been a few seconds earlier.

I rubbed my sore side where a Bludger had hit me at the beginning of the game as we went inside the locker room, the Slytherins celebrating on the field and laughing at our backs.

"Worst game ever," Frank, who was trudging next to me, muttered and I nodded wordlessly, my eyes watching the stiff back of our Captain as he led us into the little hut.

"This game was pathetic!" James hissed as soon as the door closed to our locker room, "Nothing worked the way we have practiced. Sirius, Frank where the hell were you two when they rained the Bludgers down the Chasers?"

"I-" Sirius started but James continued, still heated, "Oliver? You're the Keeper, right? You are supposed to keep the Quaffles out of the hoops and not hit them through!"

"I didn'-"

"And Angie? Were you even on the field? I couldn't bloody see you once near the opposite hoops."

"James, I was trying everything," Angie protested next to me, "The Slytherin Chasers w-"

"Don't even try any excuses on me," James spat agitated, "I know you want to quit after break but the way you play makes me think you want me to kick you out right now."

"James," I spoke up astonished as Angie sat back with a pissed off look. I knew he could get angry from past experiences during matches but that was straight out rude. "Calm down, we all tried our best."

"Tried your best?" the boy hissed, and I resisted the urge to tell him he sounded like a snake. No, that would probably make him madder, "If that's your best you can say bye-bye to your dreams of becoming a professional Chaser, Cecily. Not even the Montrose Magpies would want you!"

My eyes widened in surprise, his words cutting a knife through my chest.

"James," Sirius started this time, his gaze actually serious for once as I deflated into my seat, feeling more hurt than I had expected, "It's enough now."

The Captain sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself. "Fine. Get dressed, we will talk about this at practice next week. Whoever needs to go to the Hospital Wing, stay back. We will go together."

I jumped out of my seat as soon as he dismissed us, rushing towards the girls' room to take a shower and change, his words repeating in my head like a mantra.

"Don't take him seriously," Angie soothed, interrupting the silence around us, "He always gets pissy when we lose a game."

"I know," I said with a sigh, wincing when I touched my side. Angie grimaced at the already bruising spot, "You should get that checked by Madam Pomfrey."

Nodding in agreement, we walked out together.

"Don't you wanna wait for the others?" Angie asked as I kept walking. "No, let's just go," I said over my shoulder, forcing her to concede when I didn't stop.

"Ms. Grant," Poppy greeted me, "It's been a while. I hope you realise, neither the sweets nor Mr. Potter have changed my mind, no matter how persuasive the Pixie Puffs can be."

"It's not that," I replied, shaking my head at Angie when she gave me a questioning look, "I just need to get my side checked."

"Ah, the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor has been today, right?" Poppy remarked, frowning at the sight of my bruise when I lifted my shirt, "Honestly, this game should be banished from school. It always gets way out of control."

"Still nothing that you can't fix," I replied, watching her shuffle through her cupboards after setting me down on one of the beds.

"What was that about Pixie Puffs and Potter?" Angie asked as we waited.

"Just me unsuccessfully trying to get an internship here at the Hospital Wing," I explained quietly as the doors of the Wing opened once more to reveal the other players trudging inside, pushing aside the few Slytherin players that tried to walk in as well. Luckily, they were in too much of a good mood to stir up a fight like they usually would, instead opting to just verbally make fun of the boys in the background.

"Didn't I tell you to wait?" James asked annoyed as he sat down on the unoccupied bed next to us.

"Yes, and I didn't," I snapped back, pissed off at both him and the pain in my side. James opened his mouth, but Sirius clasped his hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. Shooting the grey-eyed boy a grateful look I turned around as Poppy came back, gesturing for me to lift my shirt. I obeyed, hissing as she applied some balm on the bruise but sighing immediately in relief as the pain diminished into a dull ache. "Apply this once more tonight and it should all be well by tomorrow," the matron instructed as she handed me the tube and I thanked her with a quick smile before I hopped off to leave. Bidding the others goodbye, I ignored James' lingering look, particularly at my bruised side, and left to have a quick dinner and head to bed.

This day had been exhausting enough.

The following days were miserable to say the least. The Slytherins were still gloating about their win, classes were hell as nothing went into my brain and on top of that I wasn't on speaking terms with James and therefore, the rest of the Marauders as well.

It wasn't like I didn't want to, but his words had left a sting more painful than the bruise on my side; Bringing up my deepest desire and throwing it back in my face was a big no-go. I almost regretted opening up to him like that and the more days passed with him not talking to me the more I wished I hadn't ever walked up to the Quidditch pitch for that game with a little extra-confident swagger in my steps.

I also wished I didn't have to attend the regular Quidditch practices; James was more commanding than usual, which led us to double laps and longer simulated games until it was pitch black outside. The only bright side was that at least Sirius tried to cheer us all up and even occasionally chatted with me in-between breaks.

"I think something is wrong with Peanut," I mused, adjusting my grip.

"Something is wrong with what?" Sirius asked perplexed.

"Peanut," I repeated, gesturing towards my broom. The dark-haired boy stared at me. "You...named your broomstick Peanut?" he asked slowly, uncomprehending.

"Yeah, why?"

"Just- no matter," he dismissed quickly, his lips twitching in amusement, "Why don't you tell James that something is wrong with Peanut? He can fix it."

Raising a brow, I stated, "First of, Peanut is a splendid name for a broomstick." I rolled my eyes as he burst out into small barks of laughter. "Secondly, I'm not on speaking terms with our dear Captain right now and you know that."

"Yes, I do." It was his turn to roll his eyes. "And I still think it's ridiculous."

"It's not! He mocked me!" I protested.

"Yeah, but weren't you the one, who told me that people say things they don't mean in the heat of the moment?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, "I don't appreciate you using my words against me!"

Sirius grinned before he turned sirius again, "He was angry, and I can safely say that he did not mean a single thing he's said back then."

"And why isn't he talking to me then? He hasn't even apologised!"

"Because he is also proud ass. Or rather, he doesn't know how to approach you," Sirius snickered and my eyes widened in surprise.

"He doesn't know how to approach me?"

"Yeah, he thinks you are angry at him-" "Which I am!" "-and he is still trying to figure out how to apologise." I stayed quiet, watching the subject of our conversation fly around the field, giving instructions to each player. "If you let it up to him, I would say he will work up his courage by the end of the year. At the earliest."

Later that evening, I decided to stay up after dinner. The others went to bed quickly whilst I sat on my bed with my broom on my lap, contemplating whether I should go down or not. I didn't even know if James still waited at the fireplace as I hadn't been there the past few days but figured it couldn't hurt to try.

Putting my robe over the sleeping clothes, I softly padded outside, carefully taking a peek around the corner into the Common Room after walking down the hallway. The space was empty except for one lonely person lounging on the loveseat in front of the warm fire, the sight achingly familiar.

Swallowing nervously, I gripped my broomstick tighter as I headed down the stairs with purposefully loud steps (as far as possible with socks on). His glass-rimmed eyes snapped over, widening, and he immediately sat up when I approached him.

"Hey James," I greeted him awkwardly, holding my broom in front of me with both hands, almost as a form of protection.

"Hey Cec," he breathed out as if in relief, his eyes rapidly flickering from me to the broom and back to me.

"Um-"

"Come sit," he offered quickly, patting the seat next to him and I obliged, relaxing and simultaneously feeling nervous at the proximity, "Why do you have Peanut with you?"

"Oh, right. Ehm, I think something is wrong with it," I explained, handing it over at his request, "It's not turning as smoothly as it used to."

"Hm, 'might have gotten tweaked during the last game," James mused, brows furrowed in concentration as he examined every inch, "It got hit by a lot of Bludgers, didn't it? Bloody Slytherins. But nothing I can't fix."

"Yeah, I figured that was the cause," I nodded in agreement and his eyes flickered over to me, the fire giving his irises a honey-coloured tone. "What about you?" he asked softly, "Is your side doing better?"

"Perfectly healed, thanks," I informed him, melting slightly on the inside at his concern, "You know Poppy." He cracked a grin at the nickname (causing my heart to miss a beat) before looking back down at the broom, his gaze turning serious.

"Cecily, I...wanted to- you know- I kind of said some messed up things after the game," he stammered slightly, fiddling with the broomstick nervously. My features relaxed at his nervous state and I allowed a small smile as he continued, "I really shouldn't have said what I said- you know the thing with the Montrose Magpies and you- and everything else I said to the others, I didn't mean any of it and I will never do it again, I solemnly swear! I guess, what I'm trying to say- and what I've been trying to say the past few days, but I didn't know how- well first, I figured I should probably give you some space since I never do that with Evans and she always gets madder and madder, but-"

"James," I cut him off and he immediately shut his mouth, "It's alright."

His brown eyes widened, "Really?"

"Yeah, I get it. It's okay."

"You are not mad anymore?" he asked tentatively, staring incredulously as I shook my head, "It's that easy?"

"Well, it can be," I replied with a grin before sighing, "I just don't wanna be mad anymore." And I missed his presence. But hush.

James also sighed, in relief as he leaned back. "Good, I don't think I could have waited any longer."

"Waited? For what?"

"Asking you out, of course."

This time, I really choked on my spit.

Chapter Six

#James Potter #james potter x oc #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #marauders imagine #sirius black #remus lupin #Lily Evans #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #harry potter imagine #marlene mckinnon #Marauders

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 3 years

Text

Correspondence, Chapter 03

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary: An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Mentions of alcohol, a very long conversation happens where Hotch is a little buzzed. Big, BIG focus on their age difference, and unintentional misinformation. Spencer has no idea Hotch thinks he’s older, or at least not OLD older, and gets a little panicky/clams up -- and yes I realize Hotch could just background check him and find it out but he respects the man enough to not do that. The chapter is linear, it just encompasses a lot of time passing so hopefully that’s not too confusing. Set in season 6, self beta’d.

Word Count: 5025

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

Chapter 03

Early September 2010

And so, it begins.

The dynamic shift, the vast change in how Hotch and Dr. Reid had been corresponding for the past few months. Evolving from something so professional and academic to something… looser. More freeing. More room for error, of course, but the risk turns out to be more than worth it for what they gain.

The texts are sporadic, at first. Short interactions, here and there, all stemming from that first, longer conversation about Jack. Hotch follows up the very next day, after he gets to talk to his son in the morning over pancakes. Jessica hovering nearby the whole time. She had apologized for her harsh words, and commended him after the fact how he’d approached Jack on the subject and led the little boy into a conversation rather than a lecture like his teachers had done. Because, as Spencer had mentioned -- there was no need for one. Jack already had the situation handled.

[]6/4, 12:39[] You were right.

[]6/4, 12:39[] He invited the kid that was bullying him over for a playdate. Trying to win him over by killing him with kindness.

[]6/4, 12:43[] My kind of kid.

[]6/4, 12:44[] You’ve taught him well, Hotch.

And that was it. That was all it took to kick off what turns into a frequent occurrence. Slowly, as time passes, their quick texts turn to conversations that naturally revert to work. It’s where they spend most of their time, after all, and what they had bonded over in the first place. But unlike in their emails, it isn’t just about the cases or profiles or statistics required to crack them. It’s much more opinionated than that, erratic in it’s content and frequency. Commentary on Hotch’s team, ideas on the cases they work, case studies and research projects and sometimes even just office gossip that somehow always makes its way to Hotch’s attention despite everyone trying to keep it from doing so.

Or just Dr. Reid observing their antics. This is the beginning of the tonal shift, and Hotch can’t help but think… it just might be a welcome one.

[]6/12, 10:03[] Your tech analyst always sends me rainbow font emails.

[]6/12, 10:07[] Yes, she’s doing that with everyone on the team. It’s Pride month and she’s being supportive.

[]6/12, 10:11[] She considers me a part of the team? How sweet of her.

[]6/12, 10:12[] You are, and as far as the bureau goes you might as well be.

[]6/12, 10:13[] I doubt I could sneak you into payroll, though.

[]6/12, 10:21[] I bet Ms. Garcia could.

[]6/12, 10:28[] Don’t. Say. Anything.

[]6/12, 10:29[] But yes, she could.

It turns into a small reprieve, for Hotch, in the constant deluge of bureaucracy and violence that fills his work day. The single moment he allows a sliver of himself to appear through the cracks of his armor he has to wear to guard himself from it all. To be the stoic leader the team needs, the unmovable tree in the storm.

Only in his quick, typed under the table conversations he has with Spencer does he allow himself the slips of humor. Barely there traces of a smile. Finding the smallest spots of light in his dark days, in his work that can surround and consume to the point of suffocation. Hotch thrives in it, he always has -- while others have drowned. But he doesn’t mind finding this small self-indulgence. Making the decision for himself that he can joke and poke fun at his work and not feel guilty about it. That, for once, he can allow himself this.

Until one day, Spencer returns the favor -- and starts talking about his own work.

[]7/21, 16:17[] If I leave all of my Ph.D. applicants in a ditch in the desert, is that still murder?

[]7/21, 16:30[] Technically or hypothetically?

[]7/21, 16:34[] Different question, would you be my legal council if I snap and it happens anyway?

[]7/21, 16:37[] Of course.

[]7/21, 16:38[] But as your attorney, I have to advise you that we never had this conversation, and murder is wrong.

[]7/21, 16:40[] Hypothetically.

Spencer takes a little longer to open up, but when he does it is through this window into an academic world Hotch had never planned or thought he would ever be privy to. He begins to reveal pieces of it, bit by bit, until Hotch starts to form a picture in his mind of what shape this professor’s life really takes. Making deductions based on his speech patterns, what goes on throughout his day, his word choices, and profiling the man through text message without even meaning to.

He tries to put a stop to it as soon as he realizes this. Dr. Reid isn’t just a consultant anymore, he is his friend -- and Hotch will always do his utmost to not profile his friends. But it’s a little too late for some aspects that can’t help but stand out as time goes on. Such as the inkling that the other man probably isn’t senile with a cane and a stooped back, like Hotch had first thought. Certain parts of his day allude to someone who is a bit fresher to the academic scene -- instead of spending decades on a college campus.

But Hotch sets that aside, to be scrutinized at a later date, and instead turns his focus into enjoying what Spencer has to offer him. As his friend. The stories he shares freely, now that they’ve spent all this time breaking down the barriers. He regales Hotch with his own daily problems, grievances, as well as the little bright spots that he just wants to share with Hotch so that it can lighten up his own days. Which were much more bleak, and crowded with danger and horrid things.

Hotch lives for those messages.

[]7/28, 20:42[] So I have a godson.

[]7/28, 20:44[] He’s four, and he just came to visit last week with his mother. Have you and Jack ever done science experiments at home?

[]7/28, 20:46[] Because I have some that are definite crowd pleasers. Do them right, you can call them ‘physics magic’. I can send you the instructions, it’s well worth it.

[]7/28, 20:47[] I’m not sure how helpful I would be in a scientific area, but I’m always willing to try.

[]7/28, 20:49[] I’d require video evidence of it, then.

[]7/28, 20:50[] But they are so fun, I’d forgotten how much.

[]7/28, 20:51[] No children of your own?

[]7/28, 20:54[] Never found the right person, but I always spent so much time on my degrees that I hadn’t really thought about being a parent.

[]7/28, 20:55[] My Godson really brought it to light, though. I love having him here.

[]7/28, 20:56[] I bet he loves when you come around, or when they get to visit you, too.

[]7/28, 20:59[] I work in a science lab, with lasers and telescopes bigger than my first apartment. My approval rating is pretty high when it comes to my godson.

Although Hotch finds that he doesn’t always start these interactions, the ones that lead to topics outside of work, he also isn’t against them in the slightest. They begin to start messaging at all hours, because of this; first thing in the morning, during their lunch break, whenever something pops up -- what used to be jokes that would just be kept to themselves, turn to conversation starters. And that development shifts the dynamic even more.

[]8/11, 10:31[] Coffee shops always make me feel old, and like I’m a grad student all over again.

[]8/11, 10:38[] You don’t have a T.A. to run and get you coffee?

[]8/11, 10:41[] Of course you would send out for coffee.

[]8/11, 10:42[] Well my order is two steps, not sixteen.

[]8/11, 10:43[] Tyrant.

[]8/11, 10:43[] Pretentious.

They start to tease, banter, and poke fun at each other. Comradery, friendship, and the more it goes on the more it seems to spiral towards something else. Something new.

But it’s these small moments, messages, conversations that can last a minute or an hour, that make Hotch’s chest feel so much lighter as the weeks go by. Hints of a smile easing onto his face, smoothing out and softening the edges in a way they haven’t in a long time. Garnering some attention from the rest of the team, or whoever is in the vicinity that felt brave enough to mention it.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

“No one,” Hotch would answer, schooling himself and pocketing his phone. “Just a consultant on a case.”

This is how it goes… for months.

They never speak on the phone. Never even hint at video calls. Never send pictures. (Although Spencer does make a mention once or twice about that promised video when Hotch finally gets around to attempting the ‘physics magic’ experiment he’d emailed him. Hotch secretly hopes that maybe, one day, Spencer will just get to show them in person. Instead of Hotch having to record it for anyone to witness.)

But they talk like clockwork. Play chess on the regular, allowing them to talk more fluently with a laptop to aid the flow of conversation. It starts with once a week, then twice a week, standing dates after hours that meld so seamlessly with their messages every workday. They keep it to the weekdays, at first, since Hotch is busy with Jack on the weekends. But that doesn’t last long. Suddenly, without warning -- it becomes every night as well. That shift is such an organic, natural progression, that it slips in without either of them making comment on it. A silent agreement, because mentioning it would mean admitting why they were pushing this in such a new direction.

They just… missed talking to each other. Two days was too long.

Now, it’s every day.

They text for hours; check in on each other at random throughout the day even when Hotch is on cases or Spencer is busy with his duties as the leading doctoral expert of Caltech. Times when they should be swamped, unavailable to anything other than their primary focus and work load, still littered with short messages. Before and after each flight, when Hotch gets back to his hotel at night, when Spencer has to lecture out of town and they just so happen to be passing each other during travel -- mere states away. So close, yet so far. It’s all the time, it’s constant, and it’s wonderful.

Spencer still helps with cases. Often, even more often than he ever helped the L.A. field office. But it’s not always through email, anymore. Sometimes it’s just easier for Hotch to shoot him a quick text. A detailed message in the middle of their everyday banter and dribble but no less out of place, knowing the good Doctor will answer him quickly. Time is of the essence when they are on a case, but they are always on retainer for each other. Waiting in the wings, ready to jump in with quick, snappy wit and bitten-back smiles, and Hotch feels so good. So light. Better than he has in years.

Happy.

Hotch is happy, finding a friend in Dr. Spencer Reid, even if sometimes that friendship seems to transcend layers he didn’t know were there. Developing into something else, something he hadn’t touched in a long, long time.

Months pass. Months. Like a blur. Like they’ve only just started this thing that’s anticipatory and comfortable and flexible in its medium and that is so easy -- everything Hotch needs in his life -- that he can barely imagine what his days and nights were like before this. Before Spencer.

But it’s months into this correspondence, this charged and bright thing, that he’s home late one night with a Scotch in one hand and a losing game of online chess long forgotten on his laptop screen. Lost in messaging Spencer, back to his phone instead of the chat feature of the chess game. Because texting is their comfort zone, now. He never thought it would be, had seen teenagers and adults attached to their phones like a lifeline and used to scoff about it, but he finally has begun to understand.

Because here he is -- not even looking up when he takes a drink -- lost in his conversation with Spencer. Making each other laugh, in a way he hasn’t in so long. Loud and high and afraid he might wake Jack down the hall so he stifles it with another sip of his Scotch.

[]9/8, 21:12[] If Jack wakes up, you know that’s it for us. He’ll never go back to sleep.

[]9/8, 21:13[] Then stop laughing so loud. I honestly can’t imagine you laughing enough to wake him.

[]9/8, 21:14[] Usually I don’t. I never laugh like this, but I used to.

[]9/8, 21:16[] Mr. FBI isn’t allowed to laugh, I thought. Didn’t they beat that out of you at the academy?

[]9/8, 21:19[] I was able to retain a smidgen of humor, it’s well hidden. You just seem to bring it out more than others.

[]9/8, 21:20[] I’m flattered.

[]9/8, 21:20[] You should be.

[]9/8, 21:21[] If my team saw me crack a smile I’d probably be forced to get a CAT scan.

[]9/8, 21:23[] Do you need one? I have an M.A. in Cognitive Sciences, I’ll be your second opinion.

[]9/8, 21:24[] Probably, but I’ll live.

[]9/8, 21:25[] Very stiff upper lip of you. They teach you that at the academy, too?

[]9/8, 21:26[] No, that would be Scotland Yard. I liaised there for a while.

[]9/8, 21:28[] Wow, you get around. Have you been anywhere else on your global exploration?

[]9/8, 21:31[] Hardly that, I just go where the bureau tells me. I’ve already been bounced all over the country before landing at the BAU. All you can do is keep the ‘stiff upper lip’ and adapt.

[]9/8, 21:31[] “Keep Calm & Carry On”?

[]9/8, 21:33[] Garcia gave me that on a mug last Christmas. I still don’t know what it’s from.

[]9/8, 21:34[] Your age is showing. Get with the times, old man.

[]9/8, 21:35[] You’re one to talk.

[]9/8, 21:35[] What?

Hotch bites back a smile, thinking about how for months he had been so sure Spencer was this elderly professor in his 60’s or 70’s that just happened to find their conversations interesting. That was… very apparently wrong, Hotch can see that now, but he hadn’t had any evidence to the contrary for the entire time they corresponded those first few months.

He could have done a background check on the professor at any time, is sure Garcia already has one saved in a file ready to send him at his first request, but it’s more fun this way. The not knowing, the learning about each other piece by careful piece. Even the smallest bits of information, such as age.

He bet Spencer would get a kick out of his first impression of the man, though.

[]9/8, 21:37[] Oh come on, you know.

[]9/8, 21:39[] No, I actually don’t. Congratulations, you’ve stumped the super genius.

[]9/8, 21:39[] But really, what do you mean?

[]9/8, 21:42[] I always just assumed you are at least ten years my senior, maybe even fifteen. How are you more with the times than I am?

[]9/8, 21:43[] I work at a University. I am surrounded by hormones and the dribble of youth.

There’s a slightly lengthy pause after that exchange, enough Hotch starts to pay closer attention through the buzz of liquor settled over his skin pleasantly.

[]9/8, 21:49[] How old do you think I am?

[]9/8, 21:50[] I don’t know, is it rude if I answer?

Hotch is not laughing to himself, he promises.

[]9/8, 21:52[] Why do you think I’m older?

[]9/8, 21:53[] This feels like a trap.

[]9/8, 21:53[] It’s not.

[]9/8, 21:56[] Well, honestly just from your academic achievements. Not everyone has that kind of time. And all your departments you run, you have to have a pretty level head and knack for maturity to keep that all in order. Especially doctorate students.

[]9/8, 21:58[] Thank you, I think.

[]9/8, 22:00[] I bet you’re the coolest old man on campus, though, don’t get me wrong.

Hotch does outright laugh after he sends that, manages to keep it a little bit quieter, and commends himself on having the upperhand in the conversation for once as he stares at his phone for a few minutes, awaiting an answer.

If he had to guess, Hotch supposes he’s held on to that stubborn image of Spencer being a stooped old professor out of habit. But the more the two have talked, after he'd gotten to know the man and his written verbal expressions and just the way his life runs day to day, it’s pretty easy to see that that is not correct. Spencer could be someone around Dave or Jason’s age, but more likely even younger than that -- closer to his own.

And that… is an intriguing thought that sparks something in his chest. He smothers it with another sip of Scotch and realizes that it has been a solid five minutes of silence. With Spencer not even typing out a response.

[]9/8, 22:06[] Was it something I said?

[]9/8, 22:07[] No, I’m just… contemplating my answer.

[]9/8, 22:07[] Answer to what?

Hotch hasn’t drank that much, but he doesn’t believe he asked a question at all. He scrolls back through their conversation and doesn’t see one. Spencer has asked a good handful, though, all about Hotch’s perception of his age.

Interesting.

[]9/8, 22:09[] Respond, not answer.

[]9/8, 22:10[] I’m all turned around now.

[]9/8, 22:12[] Flustered in your old age? Now I’m flattered.

This is almost like flirting. Skirts the edges of it, and Hotch feels more emboldened to try the more Spencer tap-dances around what is obviously Hotch’s incorrect assumption of his age. He had had no idea Hotch thought he was older, that is apparent, and it’s throwing the other man for a loop for some reason Hotch can’t ascertain.

[]9/8, 22:15[] I’m not old.

[]9/8, 22:15[] I’m not even older than you.

[]9/8, 22:16[] And how do you know that?

[]9/8, 22:17[] Just trust me on this.

[]9/8, 22:17[] Well, how old are you?

Another long, lengthy pause that Hotch waits for with baited breath. He knows that Spencer is there, that he’s staring at his phone and trying to decide the best way to answer without really answering anything. It’s only a matter of minutes, but that is a long time for them. When they are deep in a conversation like this.

Hotch isn’t laughing to himself anymore, but he’s more pleasantly confused than worried. He really has no idea what is making Spencer so hesitant.

[]9/8, 22:22[] Spencer?

[]9/8, 22:25[] I’m not going to tell you.

[]9/8, 22:26[] What, you want me to guess?

[]9/8, 22:28[] You’ll never guess.

[]9/8, 22:29[] That sounds like a challenge. How many guesses do I have?

[]9/8, 22:31[] None. Listen, I don’t want you to know. I shouldn’t have said anything.

[]9/8, 22:33[] I’m afraid it’s going to change your perception of me, and we’ll stop talking like this.

[]9/8, 22:34[] Just keep imagining me with wrinkles and a cane, I’m okay with that.

That drops the small smile right off his face.

Hotch is… surprised by this turn of events. What could be so shocking about this that Spencer thinks they would stop talking to each other? They’re corresponding every night. How could he possibly stop on a dime like that?

It doesn’t make any sense. And that’s not the alcohol talking.

[]9/8, 22:37[] I honestly don’t see how that would be possible.

[]9/8, 22:39[] I’m not going to stop talking to you just because you aren’t the senior professor I imagined running Caltech with an Iron Fist.

[]9/8, 22:40[] Now you’re projecting.

[]9/8, 22:40[] You saying I’m too strict?

[]9/8, 22:41[] Tyrant, I think was the term I chose.

[]9/8, 22:42[] Pretentious.

[]9/8, 22:44[] But Spencer, unless you are somehow underage with five Ph.D.’s, there’s no reason for us to stop talking.

[]9/8, 22:47[] You would not believe how many people treat me like I'm underage, to this day. So that doesn’t inspire confidence.

Hotch pauses with his glass halfway back to his lips, only a few sips left in the glass. Staring at his phone and struggling to make sense of what Spencer is saying. Hotch had been trying to joke and tease with him, but now the word ‘underage’ feels like a glaring beacon of a word on his screen.

He’s very suddenly more than a little nervous, even through the haze of alcohol. He is 45 years old, no matter what he keeps telling Spencer -- there is a limit to this being appropriate or not. What that limit is, he’d have to consider when he’s more sober, and it makes him feel like he should be reigning in the flirtatious notes that keep worming their way into the conversation.

But it’s not actually possible for him to be that young, and everything he’s learned about the man indicates he’s closer to his own age. Was he in his 30’s? Even that felt too young for what Hotch had (subconsciously) profiled -- no, it has to be something else.

No matter what, he didn’t want to keep getting Spencer worked up like this about it. His age hadn’t bothered Hotch before that night, so maybe if he drops it they can revert back to how they’d been spending their late evening hours before this turn in the conversation.

[]9/8, 22:50[] But I’m NOT underage.

[]9/8, 22:51[] If that needed to be said.

[]9/8, 22:53[] Can you buy alcohol by yourself?

[]9/8, 22:54[] Yes.

[]9/8, 22:54[] See this is what I was afraid of.

[]9/8, 22:55[] Relax, I was trying to tease you.

[]9/8, 22:57[] You don’t have to tell me, Spencer. I’ll just keep picturing Sean Connery, or John Steinbeck in the later years.

[]9/8, 22:59[] I see you have a type.

[]9/8, 23:00[] Well, who do you picture when you think of me?

[]9/8, 23:01[] Hugo Weaving, Matrix era. Or Richard Feynman.

[]9/8, 23:02[] Well now I feel typecasted. Who’s Feynman?

[]9/8, 23:02[] An American Theoretical Physicist from the 40’s-60’s.

[]9/8, 23:03[] Ouch. How old do you think *I* am?

[]9/8, 23:04[] I’m afraid to answer that.

[]9/8, 23:04[] O.u.c.h.

[]9/8, 23:06[] You’ve been borderline flirting with me, and you just said you thought I was in my 60’s! What was I supposed to think?

[]9/8, 23:07[] If you’re looking in that age bracket, I’m sure I can get you the Biology Department Head’s number.

[]9/8, 23:07[] He’s 72 with rheumatoid arthritis.

[]9/8, 23:08[] You are hysterical. So funny.

Hotch is smiling wide down at his phone again, feeling lighter and glad he got them back on track.

But…

He can’t help but think back to what he just tried to drop entirely. Blame the Scotch, or whatever drive to know that makes him dig down and root out information in cold cases in his spare time, Hotch doesn’t think he can let it go. Not when it was something Spencer hadn’t meant to be a secret in the first place. Not when, knowing that it has created misinformation between them unintentionally, results in Spencer shying away and hesitant to tell Hotch anything more about himself.

Not when he’d said ‘flirting’, because that had been what Hotch was doing, and he can’t even describe how disappointing it would be to quit while he was ahead. When the build up has been so gradual and easy and everything he’d been looking for and could never seem to find.

Now, this slight disruption is sticking in his mind, sharp like a thorn in his side. Always there, making itself known, and he wonders if he is lucid enough to try and draw the information out of Spencer via interview tactics -- or if the brilliant man would see right through any of his attempts.

Probably. Who was he kidding? Spencer had more degrees and college hours under his belt than Hotch could manage in a lifetime. Best to do this the old fashioned way, then.

[]9/8, 23:10[] 38.

[]9/8, 23:11[] Oh. Really? That’s kind of young to be Unit Chief, congratulations.

[]9/8, 23:11[] No, not me. You. I’m guessing 38.

[]9/8, 23:12[] Oh.

[]9/8, 23:12[] Incorrect.

[]9/8, 23:13[] I don’t even get a hint?

[]9/8, 23:13[] Nope.

[]9/8, 23:15[] We’re not playing a game. I’m not telling you.

[]9/8, 23:15[] So you won’t guess my age, either?

[]9/18, 23:17[] Chicken.

[]9/8, 23:17[] 45.

Hotch near throws his phone across the room. Almost makes a quip about how reading his file is cheating -- but he knows Spencer just made a stupidly accurate ‘educated guess’ because he knows fucking everything.

They really should just put him on the payroll. Hotch is being selfish keeping the man all to himself.

But God, is he enjoying it, too.

[]9/8, 23:19[] There’s no way you profiled that with that kind of accuracy.

[]9/8, 23:20[] How do you do that?

[]9/8, 23:21[] Black magic.

[]9/8, 23:22[] I’ll get it out of you one day, I swear.

[]9/8, 23:23[] And as a man of your word, I believe that you truly believe that.

[]9/8, 23:23[] Full of jokes tonight, aren’t you?

[]9/8, 23:25[] I live to amuse.

[]9/8, 23:25[] And make you smile.

[]9/8, 23:27[] You are one of the few that do.

With a careful pause, nothing left in his glass, a thought perched on the edges of his mind that is already watery with cognitive dissonance, Hotch starts typing before he’s even fully made the decision.

[]9/8, 23:30[] You really think my flirting is borderline? I was going for subtlety, but I must be rusty.

[]9/8, 23:32[] Actually, I just thought I was projecting.

[]9/8, 23:23[] You were married, I didn’t want to presume.

Oh.

The consideration is touching, and sobering even in the dimness of his home office, but it draws the softest of smiles back to Hotch’s face when he begins to type out his answer.

[]9/8, 23:35[] Thank you, for thinking of me first.

[]9/8, 23:37[] But Haley and I separated a long time before she died. We were actually divorced before she went into WICSEC. I miss her every day. But I did try to date for a while, before that.

[]9/8, 23:39[] No luck? I would have thought the FBI badge would at least garner some interest.

[]9/8, 23:40[] I’ve been told I’m intimidating.

[]9/8, 23:41[] I don’t think you are.

[]9/8, 23:42[] You will if you ever meet me. I’ve made underlings cry before without speaking a word.

[]9/8, 23:44[] The Hotchner stare. Have you coined that?

[]9/8, 23:45[] I should. It’s got a ring to it.

They banter and causally slip a few more… flirtatious comments in, and Hotch realizes it really isn’t that much different than before. That he had indeed been flirting with the man long before he knew his age. Which was odd, he didn’t typically go for older men and women. But now that he’s aware Spencer is younger than he thought, possibly even his own age (he swears he is, would put money on it if he could), somehow there’s more of a charge in their correspondence, a warmth and buzzing elation that has nothing to do with his Scotch. Especially now that it’s long gone.

It’s all Spencer, and how they compliment each other, and Hotch finds himself near giddy with that information.

He tries, towards the end of the night where it tips over into the early hours of the morning, to imagine an image of Spencer again -- and finds that he doesn’t even care to. He’s enamored with the man and his wit and the way he makes Hotch laugh without trying. How he looks, his age, it doesn’t matter. Not really. Not to Hotch.

But he is still curious why Spencer won’t reveal it. He can’t be that young.

[]9/9, 00:43[] You really won’t tell me?

[]9/9, 00:45[] Maybe one day. When I’m feeling brave.

[]9/9, 00:46[] Well, I’ll be there. Waiting.

[]9/9, 00:46[] 32.

[]9/9, 00:47[] You’ll never guess.

[]9/9, 00:48[] There’s only so many numbers.

[]9/9, 00:50[] Goodnight, Hotch.

[9/9, 00:51] Goodnight, Spencer.

(tbc...)

Tagged List: @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @merpancake

#I've read and rewritten this chapter so many times I'm starting to hate it #but it's super important so I hope it lives up to expectations #we get to all the good stuff after this #but the development here is something I've spent WEEKS trying to make realistic so #I hope you all enjoy it <3 #Chapter updates are Saturdays at 5pm EST #if you want in on the tag list just message me <3 #HotchReid #Heid #katyswriting

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