#(sorry this took forever!! and this goes for the rest of our threads too)

[whump-a-la-mode]

If you’re still doing bad things bingo, the on a leash prompt?

I am so sorry that this took forever. I was originally going to use this for Villainsicle, but I hope you enjoy this original drabble instead ^^

CW: Villain whumpee, sedation, death threats, vomit mention

Mad Scientist didn’t remember waking.

Of course, no one really remembers such things. Waking up is simply the last stage of sleep-- and during sleep cycles, memories are not stored. Thus, the exact moment in which the brain goes from unconsciousness to consciousness can be remembered as easily as one can remember what they were doing while fast asleep; which is to say not at all.

Yet, generally, once awoken from these last threads of sleep spindles, most remember what they do after waking up. And, for that matter, most remember what they were doing in the moments before sleep overtook them.

In that moment, Mad Scientist remembered neither.

They couldn’t say that the latter was exactly uncommon-- caffeine and late nights and bleary eyes were not exactly conducive to well-kept memories. But waking up? They should have remembered that.

And, they should have remembered how they ended up in such a place of sterile lights.

They blinked a few times, struggling and straining against the brightness. They were used to sterility, to the lights of a lab, sure, but this? It was like being on an operating table. It made their head throb horribly, and their teeth chatter moreso.

At last, their vision adjusted just enough to keep their eyes open, at least enough to scan the room. A skipping heartbeat accented the tightness growing in their throat, yet a certain fatigue remained, burrowed behind their eyes. It was that fatigue that was likely the only thing keeping them from screaming.

They had never been here before. This wasn’t home. They knew this wasn’t home and it wasn’t anywhere near home, not their lab not their bed not even their old clinic or anywhere they’d ever been, a lab an operating room any home they’d ever glimpsed-- they had never been here before. They hadn’t come here on their own.

They knew that. They knew nothing else, but they knew that.

The bright lights would have suggested them to be in a hospital room, and, in some senses, this place fit the bill. The floor was made of slick, laminated tile, while the walls were painted to look like white brick, though their texture betrayed that, underneath, they were nothing of the sort. Beyond that, however, nothing resembled a patient’s room.

For one thing, hospital rooms generally had beds.

They had hardly noticed just how long it had taken them to realize that, and when they finally did, they practically jumped, their heart skipping to their throat in time. Mad Scientist was not laid out on a bed, nor any piece of furnishing. Instead, they were simply on the tile floor. Their notice of this was accompanied by a sudden chill-- the floor was horribly cold below their hands and knees.

It was that realization that finally, finally, let panic take hold. Let the bursting heart in their chest explode from their throat.

They screamed.

Before, they could rationalize it. Before, they were in a hospital. Maybe they’d fallen, or had some kind of seizure in the night. Something they could explain. Something that would make sense.

This wasn’t a hospital.

Whatever it was, it was not a place they wanted to be.

There was a door on the other end of the room-- steel, but not visibly locked. Maybe it was just a huge misunderstanding and they’d explain it all away and- their thoughts were running far too fast, and their body far too slow. They rearranged their limbs until they were on their hands and knees, before attempting to rise to their feet, doing their best to ignore just how much they were shaking. It took a significant effort, but-

Something pulled them back down.

Limbs giving out again, they found themself practically sprawled to the floor. It took practically all the strength they could gather to raise a hand to their neck. The cold touch of their own fingers made them shiver, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of frigid metal, locked against their skin.

Whatever the object was, they couldn’t see it-- it was far up enough on their neck that looking down did nothing. Still, with shaking fingers, they approximated its shape.

A ring. A collar. It encircled their neck in its metal grasp. Though certain parts were smooth, most were not, instead covered in creases and raised pieces and tiny buttons. Technological. They could gather that much.

Whatever technology it contained, though, it was nothing compared to the simple thing holding them to the ground. Straining their arm as far as they could manage it, they touched the back of the collar, feeling the little metal loop that extended from it, and the similar loop that was attached. A leash. Attached to the wall, by the feel of it, though they couldn’t turn their head around enough to see. Their brain felt to be stuffed with cotton... or perhaps even made of it.

Their trembling hand fell from their neck, slamming to the ground.

For a moment, they lay. A peaceful, single moment. They thought they might even be able to slip back into rest.

Creeeeeak.

Mad Scientist tensed, hating how much they felt like a kicked dog. They gathered as much energy and effort as they possibly could, scrounging in the very bottom of their pool, but found only the ability to weakly lift their head. The rest of their body stayed on the floor like that, sprawled and limp.

The figure in the doorway wasn’t particularly large in stature, but from their angle on the floor, they appeared as a giant. Clacking footsteps brought them closer, until they were at their side, leaning down.

A broiling mixture of rage and fear mixed in Mad Scientist’s stomach.

They looked up to meet the figure’s face.

Hero. They felt about to puke.

Still, their anger did nothing to stop them from flinching as a hand was reached towards them. The touch on their chin was surprisingly gentle, though that didn’t change the fact that Hero was forcing it upwards, forcing their gazes to each other.

If they had the energy to, Mad Scientist would have spit right in their face. That’s what they told themself, anyways. Instead, they trembled.

“How does it feel?” The voice was a million miles away, and spoken from directly inside their head.

They wanted so fiercely to snap, to bark something back, but could only manage a simple:

“Mmm.”

“I bet. You should consider yourself lucky.” Hero grinned their stupid, crowd-pleasing grin. “Our usual protocol is a lot worse. Had this been a normal case, you’d be at an old farm upstate, right about now.” They laughed at their own joke. “But you, you are not a normal case.”

With surprising grace, Mad Scientist felt themself being laid back down onto the frigid tile.

“You have a lot to teach us.”

“No.” The word came out as a croak.

“They speak! I didn’t think you’d be doing that for a while-- our medics have some nasty stuff too, y’know.”

“Not... helping... you.”

Hero raised a brow.

“What made you think that it was a choice?”

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #villain whumpee #hero villain whump #villain whump #powered whumpee #scientist whumpee #whump trope #whump prompt #bad things happen bingo

[moon-light-jukebox]

Stay with me - [Hotch x Reader]

Request prompt: Heyyyyy I was wandering if you still took requests cause I’ve been dying to have this written. I’m thinking something about reader being youngest of the bunch at BAU and after a really intense and scary case everyone is kinda shook and in the jet reader can’t stop sobbing by herself in the back and hotch goes and comforts her and when they get home he goes with her home and holds her in her sleep and then they make love at like 3-4 am. I just need details and a lot of feels. I hope you’ll do it

Summary: After a tragic loss that rocks the entire team, Reader turns to her unit chief for comfort. 

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner / Fem!Reader

Word Count:  5.1k

Genre: Overwhelmingly angst. then some smut and fluff. 

Rating: Mature

Content Warning: Angst, mentions of torture suffered by a victim. Normal Criminal minds stuff. Smut. Oral sex (female receiving). Unprotected sex. 

A/n: I hope this is what you had in mind, Anon. This request just jumped out at me. This is set during season 9. 

-- Stay with me --

stay is a sensitive word. we wear who stayed and who left in our skin forever.

- Nayyirah Waheed

-- September 2, 2013 --

Some cases stick with you long after you board the jet home. Some cases crawl inside your skin and hollow you out. Some cases become a part of you.

The team had been called to Broken Arrow, Oklahoma to help catch a serial killer. I had only been a member of the BAU for 4 months, so it wasn’t uncommon for cases to still rattle me. Rossi said that I’d develop a thicker skin over time.

But this case seemed to even rattle him.

Over the past 15 years, on the same day every year, a woman’s body was found in a public place. She had been violently assaulted and tortured. The local M.E. always said the torture took place over the span of at least 10 months.

I felt my stomach roll when I read over the case file. I don’t think there was a form of pain he didn’t inflict on these women.

We had his prints; we had his DNA. None of that mattered, this man was a ghost.

September 1st had been fast approaching, and the local police knew they most likely couldn’t save the woman that had already spent the last several months with him. One deputy said that killing the woman would be a mercy, because “who could ever recover from that.”

We spent a week in Oklahoma; we started at the very beginning. I poured over the lives of 15 women, praying that maybe I could help us find 16 in time, praying I could save 17 before he ever touched her.

-- August 30, 2013 –

“Morgan,” Hotch said, his eyes scanning over the document in front of him. “I want you and y/n to interview Heather Pruitt’s brother.”

Derek’s eyebrows went up. “We’ve already talked to him, Hotch. He has an alibi. Do you think he knows something else?”

The unit chief nodded. “Heather was our first victim. She was important to the unsub.”

“Probably the most important,” Rossi chimed in.

Hotch nodded. “Understanding why Heather was so special to him is how we catch him.”

Morgan clicked his tongue against his teeth, nodding in agreement. “Okay…” he trailed off. “Are you sure y/n is up for this?” He turned to me; hands raised. “No offense, it’s just that…”

“I’m young,” I finished for him. Dr. Spencer Reid was the youngest person to ever join the BAU…and I was the second. I was 25 years old. The closest person in age to me was the resident genius, Dr. Reid, who was almost 32. I had earned my spot in the team, but I was no Spencer.

Morgan nodded, not looking abashed in the slightest. “Maybe Blake would be a better choice, Hotch.”

His dark eyes ran over me, considering Morgan’s words. “I’m sending her in because she’s so young. People don’t perceive her as a threat.”

“They never saw me as one,” Spencer said softly.

JJ laughed, swatting his arm. “You’re still not a threat, Spence.”

-- August 31, 2013 –

“Mr. Pruitt,” I said brightly, extending my hand. “Thank you so much for coming to speak with us.”

The older man nodded, meeting my gaze evenly. “Anything to help you catch this son of a bitch.” He turned to the woman beside him. “Rachel, darlin’, why don’t you wait right here? I don’t want you to have to…hear about what happened to my sister.”

The woman, Rachel, was small and pale. She had dark brown hair and blue eyes. “Of course,” she said softly, pressing a kiss against David Pruitt’s mouth.

"Do you need anything, ma'am?" I asked her.

“No,” she responded meekly. “I’m fine.”

I looked right into her eyes and smiled warmly at her before I turned away to follow Morgan and Mr. Pruitt into the interview room.

-- September 1, 2013 –

The entire team was standing around the precinct waiting for the call. JJ was gripping her cup of coffee tightly. Reid was staring at a map that was taped on the evidence board. Morgan was looking down at his phone while he talked to Blake. Hotch and Rossi were standing near the Sherriff of Broken Arrow.

We hadn’t stopped him. If he held to pattern, then victim 16 was already gone, and we’d be getting a call about her body soon.

I felt numb. I felt like I had missed something.

The shrill ringing of a phone made all of us tense up, every head in the precinct immediately turning to the receptionist at the front of the room. She spoke for a few moments before she hung up, giving the sheriff a grim nod. “She’s at the park off 6th street, Bruce.”

We all sprang into action, racing out the door to our vehicles. Morgan drove one SUV, Hotch drove the other. We knew we were too late for this girl, but maybe, just maybe, if we got there quick enough and the crime scene was fresh enough, we could find something.

The local police beat us there by a few minutes. Hotch hadn’t even parked before I was opening the door.

I couldn’t explain it then, but I had a feeling that settled in the pit of my stomach. It was a darkness I couldn’t pinpoint, the sort of thing that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

She was on a park bench, her eyes wide and unseeing. “No,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Morgan sighed out before he turned and marched back to his SUV.  

I felt someone’s hands grip my shoulders. “Y/l/n,” Hotch said gently. “I know, but we have to go. He’s revealed himself now. He’s going to try to run.”

And I knew he was right, so I bottled my feelings up as I ran towards the SUVs. We had to find David Pruitt before he left town.

He was our unsub. He killed his sister 16 years ago…and we were certain of that because the 16th victim was his girlfriend.

The same girlfriend that was within our reach yesterday. She was being tortured by this animal…and we had let her go home with him.

-- September 2, 2013 –

The mood on the jet felt heavy. No one was speaking, no one had said much of anything since we found Mary Beth in the park yesterday morning.

Her name wasn’t even Rachel. David Pruitt had to take everything from his victims, including their names. He broke her so badly that not only did she not scream for help in the middle of a police station, she probably couldn’t even remember her own name.

I couldn’t read the entire autopsy report. Rossi and Morgan went to the morgue to speak with the M.E.

Rossi said he was surprised she was even able to stand the day we saw her.

And that was the hardest thing of all. We fucking saw her.

I wasn’t quite sure how the rest of the team managed to keep their emotions so compartmentalized. I saw how this was bothering each of them, but none of them seemed close to breaking.

Not like I was.

I just kept seeing her face over and over again. Her wide eyes, her polite smile. The pictures of her broken body. How different her eyes looked when she was on the park bench. It was all on a loop in my mind.

When we boarded the jet, I sat in the very back, away from the rest of the team. I stared out the window, unseeing. How could I have missed it?

“Y/l/n,” a voice said softly. “Are you okay?”

I hadn’t realized that tears were slipping down my cheeks until I heard Hotch’s voice. I looked up at him. He was my unit chief, the strongest of any of us. If there was anyone I couldn’t afford to break in front of, it was him.

“Yeah,” I said hurriedly, wiping at my eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, y/n.”

I just nodded. Please leave, please leave. If he walked away, maybe I could hold it together a little while longer.

But he didn’t leave. He knelt down beside me in the middle of the aisle. In the months since I joined the BAU, I had made sure to never get too close to SSA Hotchner. There was something about him that fascinated me…and I knew he was a good enough profiler to see it, because I wasn’t skilled enough to hide it.

This was the closest I'd ever physically been to him. I was close enough to notice that his eyes weren’t a flat shade of brown; they were a warm chocolate brown and he had freckles across the bridge of his nose.

“Y/n,” he said softly, reaching out to take one of my hands in his larger one. “It’s okay. This isn’t your fault. This is the job; we can’t save them all.”

“But I saw her,” I whispered, feeling the dam break inside of me. “I talked to her.”

Hotch must have realized I was already too far gone to hold myself together anymore. I just kept seeing her eyes, over and over and over.

He stood abruptly, pulling me up with him. He led me into the back area near the restroom. There was a small countertop here, but most importantly, there was a curtain that could be pulled closed, giving us all the privacy anyone could get on this plane.

I stared up at him in bewilderment while he closed the curtain. By the very nature of the area and given how big he was, our bodies were much closer together than I had ever allowed.

“I know you won’t break down in front of everyone else,” he said quietly. “You still feel like you have something to prove. You don’t, but I understand why you feel that way. You’re a part of this team, y/n.”

I dug my teeth into my bottom lip, holding on to the last threads of my composure.

“Now, I can leave you here and you can pull yourself together,” he continued. “Or I can stay with you.”

This was one of the reasons I hadn’t allowed myself to be near him. There was something in Hotch’s eyes when he looked at me that always made me feel so safe. He was always fierce with a scowl on his face; occasionally he’d surprise me with his dry humor.

I hadn’t known his eyes could look so soft and it pulled on something inside me.  

“I was so close I could have touched her,” I whispered. “And he…he…” I broke off as the first sob ripped out of my throat. Mary Beth was 23 years old. She had a younger brother and two loving parents. Her best friend, Anna, wore Mary Beth’s favorite necklace around her neck. None of them had given up hope.

And I had let her go home with him to die.

I had to watch when her parents got the news that we were so close, but he broke her too badly, she never cried out for help.

I closed my eyes to stop the tears from slipping down my cheeks, desperately trying to pull myself together.

My heart hurt so badly I barely reacted when Hotch’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him. I just buried my face against his chest while he rubbed my back. I was taking the comfort he offered, even though I didn’t deserve it. I was vaguely aware of him whispering against my hair, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying.

I failed her.

It took a few minutes for my tears to slow. I was able to bottle my pain back up again and take a few breaths. My arms were trapped between our bodies and when I went to pull them free, Hotch started to release me, no doubt assuming I wanted to end our embrace.

I didn’t.

I took a step forward when he took one back, wrapping my arms around his middle, pressing my cheek against his shirt that I just realized was damp from my tears. “Is this okay?” I whispered.

He had frozen for a moment before his arms tightened around me again. “Of course, sweet girl.”

I was just so content to be in his arms that I didn’t even process the term of endearment. “I got your shirt wet.”

“It’ll dry.”

I hummed against him, still so reluctant to let him go. “You smell nice, Hotch.”

He chuckled quietly. “Thanks. And given our current situation, you can call me Aaron.”

I nodded; my thoughts still somber. “I let her down. I let her go. I could have touched her.”

His hands kept rubbing over my back. “You’ve never let anyone down,” he murmured. “Not even for a single moment.”

--

Aaron didn’t feel like my boss when his arms were wrapped around me. He was just a man who held me for as long as I had needed before finally releasing me, offering me a small smile when I moved int the bathroom to try and fix my face.  

I don’t know what he said to each team member, but none of them paid any attention to me when I walked out. They weren’t ignoring me, they just seemed unaware of what happened, even though I knew they weren’t.

Whatever he had done, I was immensely grateful.

It was just after 10 pm when the jet touched down in Quantico.

“Go home,” Hotch said as we all grabbed our go bags. “The paperwork can wait til tomorrow.”

Rossi clapped our unit chief on the shoulder. “This one was a hard one. I know it’s painful, but we can’t save them all.”

But why couldn’t I just save her? I thought.

When we were walking off the tarmac, Morgan spoke. “Kid, lemme give you a lift home. It’s not far.”

Reid’s brows drew together in confusion. “Yes, it is. You live on the other side of town.”

"Just let me do something nice for you, smartass."

Their banter almost pulled a smile from me, but I couldn’t. Everything still felt so heavy.

“What about you, y/l/n?” JJ asked.

It wasn’t a secret that I took the train like Reid did. I’d only lived in D.C. for the four months I’d been a member of the team. Reid didn’t drive because of car crash statistics; I didn’t drive because I hadn’t gotten around to getting a car.

“The train is still running. Which is probably good,” I muttered to her. “It’ll give me time to think.”

She just nodded, giving my arm a squeeze as we all walked into the bullpen to gather the things we had left before the case.

I stayed in the bullpen longer than everyone else. It’s not that I didn’t love them, I truly did. But I just…I couldn’t be brave right now.

“I know it’s not my place, but I really don’t want you to take the train home.”

My lips pulled into a smile then, even though I couldn’t bring myself to face him. “It’s no big deal, Hotch. I’m a full-grown FBI agent. I’ll be fine taking the train home.”

“You might be,” he conceded. “But I won’t be.”

“What?” I questioned, unable to stop my body from turning towards him.

Hotch stepped closer to me, looking slightly unsure. “I…I’ll be worried.”

His words felt important, and I realized the thought of him worrying bothered me.

He heaved out a great sigh, his eyes looked so tired. “Jack’s already in bed, Jessica is staying with him tonight. Please, let me take you home.”

How could I tell him no?

--

The ride back to my apartment was quiet. Hotch seemed to know where I lived without me having to tell him. He had turned the radio on in his SUV, but the volume was so low it was just background noise.

I watched the raindrops roll down the passenger side window and all I could think about was Mary Beth. I wonder if she liked the rain.

“Don’t do that.”

My entire body froze before I turned to look at the man in the car with me. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are,” he insisted. “Y/n, you did all you could. This isn’t on you. We were all in that precinct. I offered her my hand when she left the station.” His hands were now gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

“Aaron,” I whispered, reaching out to put my hand on his forearm.

“If you blame yourself, you’ll have to blame me too.”

Tears started to fill my eyes again. I didn’t know what to say. “I couldn’t blame you.”

I saw his throat work as he swallowed, his eyes fixed on the building in front of us. I hadn’t even realized we had pulled into my apartment complex.  

“Then you know why I can’t let you blame yourself.” He killed the engine and took his seatbelt off.

“What are you doing?”

He looked at me in confusion, like it should be obvious. “I’m walking you to your door.”

Oh. “Why?”

Aaron paused, considering his next words. “Because I can’t leave you yet.”

He was out of the car and opening my door before my brain could even process his words. I slid out beside him, clutching my jacket around myself. It didn’t help, the chill I felt was coming from inside of my body.

Aaron pulled my go-bag from the back seat then shrugged me off when I tried to take it from him.

Despite all the emotions I was feeling, I couldn’t resist teasing him a bit. “Are you secretly a gentleman, Aaron Hotchner?”

He looked sheepish for a moment. My mean ass, always scowling FBI unit chief that intimidated almost everyone on a daily basis looked sheepish because I called him a gentleman.

“Just don’t tell anyone,” he warned, shutting the car door.

I felt a tiny smile tug up the corners of my lips. The first smile I’d felt since…

Just like that, the guilt hit me again. How could I be smiling?

We had just reached my apartment door when a tiny sob ripped out of my throat.  “Aaron…I can’t stop seeing what he did to her. She was in pain. And she-she fought back. She didn’t want to…and I can’t.”

“Oh, sweetheart don’t do that.” He dropped my go bag and wrapped his arms around me, once again offering me the comfort I didn't deserve.

The only time I had felt right in the past few days was when I was in this man’s arms. My question slipped out of my mouth before I had a chance to think better of it. “Will you stay with me?” I whispered against his chest.

I felt his body stiffen. Fuck. I pulled away from him, quickly wiping at my face. “I’m sorry, Hotch. You’ve got Jack and you’re my boss. It’s inappropriate. I’m so sorry.”

My hands were shaking when I reached to pick up my go-bag from the floor.

“Y/n, it’s not that I don’t want to,” he explained, his hand grabbing mine right before I touched my bag. “It’s not Jack, he went to be hours ago. But I am your supervisor, and I can’t take advantage of you.”

His words hung in the air, feeling almost as heavy as the pain in my chest. “The only time I feel anything good is when I’m with you, Aaron.”

My eyes were fixed on his bigger hand that engulfed mine, but I felt his eyes on me.

“I don’t think I could leave you now even if I wanted to,” he mumbled.

My keys shook when I unlocked the door and once we were inside my tiny apartment, the gravity of everything finally seemed to hit me.  

"I can leave, y/n," he reminded me as if he could tell what I was thinking.

I licked my lips, looking around the room before I could look at him. “I want you to stay,” I pleaded, trying to summon every ounce of courage I had ever felt. “I know it’s not…I’m sure it breaks a million regulations and protocols. But…can you stay with me tonight? I just…I don’t want to be alone.”

What I was asking him for was so much more complicated than just spending the night at my apartment. I think we both knew that if he stayed something was going to change.

“Are you sure it’s what you want?”

I nodded, my eyes never leaving his.

--

I was sitting up in my bed, picking at the threads of my comforter when Aaron got out of the shower. He’d insisted I shower first while he went to grab his go bag and call Jack’s aunt. I felt the energy around me shift the moment he stepped into the room.  

“Are you okay?”

I bit my lip, unsure of how to answer him. "I don't know." I looked up, my eyes meeting his dark ones. "Can-can you stay with me? Just for a little while?"

For a moment I thought he might say no, but his shoulders dropped, and he jerked his head in a tight nod. “Of course.”

He came around to the right side of my bed, looking torn for a moment before I pulled the covers down, indicating I wanted him to get under. I laid my body down while he adjusted himself on to my bed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not in a suit,” I mused, motioning to his t-shirt with a faded FBI logo and his flannel pajama pants.

He scoffed, pulling the covers up to his abdomen. “It’s a rare occurrence.” He had settled on his back, one of his arms bent behind his head, the other one resting on his abdomen.

“Aaron,” I breathed out. “Can I…will you…I don’t want to-“

“Hey,” he said, bringing my attention back to him. “You can ask me anything, y/n.”

“Will you hold me?” I begged, my voice breaking in my effort to suppress my emotions.  

My eyes were shut tight, so I didn’t see the look of agony that washed over Aaron’s face. I only felt his body shift closer to mine before his arms came around me again, bringing me flush against his side.

At that moment, even though I felt terrible about myself, I found some solace in the fact that a man like Aaron Hotchner wouldn’t be holding me like this if I were truly a monster.

His big hand ran up and down my back while my head lay on his chest; I was taking comfort from everything about him, his smell, the feel of him holding me, even the steady beating of his heart under my ear.

I made no move to pull away from him; it was selfish, but I couldn’t let him go.

“Thank you for staying,” I whispered into the darkness. Right before I fell asleep, I think I felt his lips brush against my forehead.

--

Several hours later my eyes snapped open when my body jerked suddenly. The instant my eyes were open the nightmare was gone, I could barely remember any of it, not that I needed to. What else could it have been about?

“Hey,” a voice rasped out. “Are you okay?”

I realized I was still in Aaron’s arms. My head was still on his chest, one of his arms was wrapped around my body.

He had stayed with me.

“Yeah, I think so. Just a nightmare.”

He hummed in understanding. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think I can.”

Aaron’s arm tightened around me. “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

My fingers traced nonsense patterns over his chest, my mind racing. I felt so incredibly young then. I was lost in a sea of guilt and despair, and my only anchor was Aaron Hotchner.

It was easier to ask him in the darkness of my bedroom. “Do you feel this too?” I whispered.

The stillness that overtook his body indicated he knew what I meant. “Y/n…I...”

I lifted my head off of his chest, looking down at his face. “If I’m wrong, it’s okay to tell me.”

I saw those dark brown eyes scan over my face; I saw the indecision behind them. “I’ve felt it for a long time,” he said at last. “But you’re hurting, and I’m your-“

I brought a finger up to press against his lips, effectively silencing him. "Then make me not hurt. Please?" The finger I had on his lips started tracing the shape of them, over his cupid's bow, down to his fuller bottom lip.

With an amount of courage that I didn’t know I had, I pushed myself up, swinging my leg over his body. I leaned over his face bringing my lips so close to his. “Please,” I whispered against his lips. Just be with me. Be here with me, Aaron.”

I felt his self-control crumble a moment before one of his hands gripped my hip while the other slid behind the back of my head. He pulled me down until my lips were against his.

If I had allowed myself to think about kissing Aaron Hotchner before, this wouldn’t have been what I expected. His lips were gentle as the brushed against mine, his tongue wasn’t demanding when it slid against the seam of my mouth, his thumb brushed over my cheek while his tongue slicked against mine.

I was the one that broke our sweet kiss to pull my shirt from my body. Baring myself to him this way was nothing compared to how much of my soul he’d already seen. Those dark brown eyes were filled with heat when they ran over my body, his large hands felt reverent when they brushed over my skin.

He rolled us until I was on my back underneath him. Aaron kissed down the column of my throat, down over my collarbones until he reached my breasts. His mouth felt almost scalding when it covered my nipple. I arched up against him, a strangled moan tore from my throat when his blunt fingers slid into my panties.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered against my skin while he trailed wet kisses down my stomach. “Can I?” he asked when he reached the band of my sleep shorts and panties.

If I had had any doubts that I wanted Aaron Hotchner, that question would have gotten rid of them. I was begging him to take me, to make me feel anything other than the pain in my chest…and he still needed to make sure I wanted this.

I hooked my thumbs into my waistband, pulling them down while those almost black eyes ran over every inch of newly exposed skin. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” I rasped out.

He reached behind his back to grab the neck of his t-shirt, pulling it off of his body. Before I could blink, he had settled between my thighs, his mouth right above where I ached for him. “I can’t believe I get to touch you like this.”

Any response I would have made was broken off by a loud groan when his tongue parted my folds. His tongue circled my clit before moving down to dip inside of me. The moan that vibrated against me when he tasted me was the sexist thing I had ever heard.

I couldn’t feel anything but him.

My fingers threaded through his hair while his mouth worked me over. It didn’t feel like this was the first time we had been together like this. He touched me like he had known me for years.

But I needed more.

“Aaron,” I whimpered, my fingers tugging on his short dark hair. His eyes snapped open, but his mouth didn’t lift from my pussy. “I need to feel you inside me. Please?”

He pressed a final kiss to my pussy before he pulled away, moving up my body. Before he settled against me, he pushed his pants and underwear down his thighs. I felt how hard he was, how much he wanted this, against my pussy while his upper body loomed over me. One of my hands pulled him down to me, crashing his mouth against mine; with the other I reached down to grab his cock, running it up and down my slit.

Aaron moaned into my mouth when I lined him up and he started to press inside of me. He gave a few swallow thrusts, allowing my body to adjust to his size before he slid all the way inside of me.

I had never had sex like this before. Sometimes in the past, it had felt like I was just loaning my body out to someone, taking whatever pleasure I got in return. This felt so different. Aaron moved against me like he needed me, his lips ran over my skin like being allowed to touch me was a gift.

He set a steady rhythm, his hips moving against mine in just the right way. He was kissing my neck, moaning my name against my skin when he brought his thumb down to my clit, massaging me while he moved against me.

“Aaron,” I breathed.

His mouth was against mine again. "I've got you, sweet girl, I've got you."

My nails dug into his back, my body arched against him, and my mouth opened in a silent scream when I flew apart underneath him. His head dropped down against my shoulder as he found his own release inside of me.

Aaron’s big body was settled on top of me, but he didn’t feel crushing, it felt safe.

When we had both started to come down from our orgasms, he rolled us against until I was on top of his body, my head on his chest. He pulled the covers over our bodies and pressed a kiss against the top of my head.

“What happens in the morning?” I whispered out.

His head turned to look at the clock on my bedside table. “It’s technically morning now.”

“You know what I mean.”

I felt him nod. “What do you want to happen?”

I lifted my head up, my eyes meeting his dark coffee-colored ones. "Will you stay with me?"

His hand raised to cradle my face again, pulling me down to press the softest, sweetest kiss against my lips. “For as long as you want.”

--

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#Aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotchner Imagine #Aaron Hotchner fan fic #Aaron Hotchner angst #Aaron Hotchner smut #Aaron Hotchner x you #Aaron Hotchner x y/n #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds angst #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fan fiction #SSA Aaron Hotchner #request #request filled

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Fire & Desire (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

Summary: After the funeral, Naomi heads to Ethan’s apartment for comfort. Let’s pretend that 30 diamond scene in chapter 12 didn’t happen, okay? I made up 95% of this.

A/N: Guys, I have an embarrassing amount of rewrites/drafts of this on my computer. Pls enjoy.

~v~

In order to survive the past few days, Naomi has made it her mission to get through things one step at a time. Her first goal was to survive the toxin. She did. Then it was to just get well and be discharged from the hospital. The last step was to make it through Danny and Bobby’s joint memorial service in one piece. Not only did she do that, but she delivered a eulogy flawlessly, while her friends and colleagues all fell apart at the seams and waited for her to do the same.

But now that it’s all over, now that there’s no goal to work towards especially since Naveen won’t let her back in the hospital without clearance from a therapist, Naomi has never felt more lost or out of sorts in her life.

After the memorial, Naomi went home with her roommates and she regrets it. Jackie and Elijah can barely look at her without giving her pity glances, Sienna has been trying to feed her nonstop, and Aurora has convinced them all that she’s spiraling due to her meltdown at Ethan earlier that day. So she hid in her bedroom, pretending to be asleep simply because she was tired of them.

But sleep evades her. Outside of a quick 15 minute power nap, Naomi hasn’t been able to sleep, thoughts of being back in that hospital room never too far from her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, the fear took over, gripping her and refusing to let go.

So that’s how she ended up here, in Ethan’s apartment, on his couch, nursing a glass of scotch. Being at home wasn’t an option and there’s no one else she’d rather be with, so as soon as her roommates went to bed, Naomi slipped out and made her way across town to Ethan’s place. Ethan was shocked when he found her outside of his apartment at midnight, especially with the way their last conversation ended. He wanted to scold her for taking an Uber so late at night by herself, but of course he didn’t turn her away. 

“Are you hungry?” Ethan asks, opening and closing his refrigerator a few times, as if that will make food magically appear. “I didn’t cook today, but I can probably throw something together.”

Naomi doesn’t know if her appetite still hasn’t returned or if it’s her mind playing tricks on her, as she can still taste the vomit in her mouth at the mere mention of food. “No, I’m fine for now.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.” Ethan wants to ask questions because she’s obviously come here for a reason, but he doesn’t want to push her. “It’s late and you must be exhausted though.” He walks back to his living room and holds out a hand, which Naomi grabs. He ushers her to his bedroom. “You can sleep in here.”

His room still looks like she remembers. The king sized bed takes up most of the space, and he still has the most amazing view in all of Boston. The night is still young and bustling, the buildings all lit up.

“You’re sleeping in here too, right?” Naomi asks.

“I was going to take the guest room, or the couch.”

Naomi shakes her head. “Nonsense, you’re sleeping with me.”

Even though there’s no light other than moonlight spilling into the room, Naomi can still see his cheeks tinge pink. “I didn’t want to assume.”

“I think after our night together in the hospital, assuming will be safe. It’s cute, but we’re grown and you won’t offend my virtue.”

“Noted.” Naomi watches him as he moves around the room, a sort of anxious energy radiating off of him. He rummages through a drawer until he finds something suitable for her to put on. “Here you go.”

It’s a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from a charity 5k because of course Ethan is the type to participate in something like that. Naomi rids herself of the jeans and sweater she haphazardly threw on in her rush to leave her apartment and slips on the t-shirt, forgoing the pants. Their obvious size differences make the shirt look comically large on her like a nightgown.

“Fair warning, I don’t have a scrunchie or anything to wrap my hair in, so I apologize if you wake up to like...a lion’s mane of hair in your face.”

“I think I’ll survive.”

Naomi pulls back the covers and slides into the bed, moaning upon contact. Oh, to be rich and have fancy high thread-count sheets and a memory foam mattress. “God, I never want to leave this bed.”

“Keep making noises like that, and I won’t let you.” He doesn’t climb bed behind her, opting to sit on the edge. “You want to talk?”

“About what?”

“The fact that you’re here right now, instead of your own apartment.”

“Is it not enough to say I wanted to see you?”

Ethan scoffs. Naomi is charming, but she can’t bullshit him. “Sure.”

She doesn’t want to talk about herself. That’s all she’s done for the past 48 hours, and she’s tired of it. It’s selfish.

She manages to turn the tables on Ethan. “You look tired. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” Ethan assures her. “I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”

“I didn’t have you pegged as an insomniac.”

“We’re doctors, so it goes without saying that we’re all insomniacs.” Ethan sighs. “But to be honest, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep all week.”

“I get it. With the toxin, and Bobby and Danny, and Raf–”

“It’s not them, Naomi, it’s you,” Ethan argues. “I spend all 24 hours of the day with you on my brain, worrying about you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I thought you were going to die in my arms,” Ethan continues. “I tried to stay optimistic for you, but all I could think about was the fact that it could’ve been my last night with you. That night, after you finally fell asleep, I stayed up, analyzing your vitals. The only time I wasn’t looking at you is when I was looking at your chart. And every night since, I lay awake, forcing myself to not contact you.”

Naomi frowns. She’s spent so much time wrapped up in her own head, she didn’t take much time to think about how Ethan was affected as well. She’s sure she’d be a wreck if the situation was reversed, if he was the one fighting an unknown deadly agent. 

She crawls out the sheets and joins Ethan at the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think–”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me. You’ve been going through enough, I shouldn’t even be burdening you.”

“It’s fine. We shared deathbed confessions, I think I can handle whatever else you throw my way.”

Ethan turns to lock eyes with Naomi, her expression open and earnest. “I meant everything I said in there. I regret putting us on hold, and I’m sorry I wasted so much time.”

Naomi sucks in a deep breath. “Okay. So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m done pretending that I don’t have feelings for you. I’m done trying to hold you at arm’s length. I want you, Naomi.”

“Are you feeling like this because I almost died?”

“No. I mean, sure it was a major wake-up call for me, but I’ve felt this way for a long time. The last time you were here, the night of the softball game, I kissed you, and instead of making my intentions known then and there, I put it off, and that almost cost me everything. I don’t have all the answers, because I’m your boss, and people at hospitals like to gossip, but whatever this is, I want to explore it with you.” 

Naomi doesn’t say anything, her brain and heart trying to process all of this information. Ethan watches her, his heart pounding wildly. Did he seriously miscalculate her feelings for him? Did he pick the most inopportune moment to drop this on her?

“It took you long enough,” Naomi says.

He laughs, his relief evident and he grabs her hand. “Well I appreciate you having the patience of a saint, Rookie.”

“It’s because I am a saint.”

He runs his thumb along the inside of her wrist, tracing a pattern into the warm skin. The steady thump of her pulse is enough to soothe the anxiety that lingers. She’s here. She’s with him. She’s alive.

His other hand grips the back of her neck, forcing her to look him in the eye. Ethan’s gaze sweeps across her face, his 11 years as a doctor having given him a keen eye for detail. There’s her long, dark eyelashes, her full lips, her pronounced cheekbones, her button nose that crinkles whenever she’s smiling and laughing, a sight he hopes to see again soon. He doesn’t know what emotion is more overwhelming: the relief that she’s alive, or the fear that she was that close to dying.

Ethan is all too aware of the fact that he could’ve lost her. That he and Naomi would never share a quiet moment like this ever again. That she’d never know the full extent of his feelings for her, because he’d been too much of a coward to be honest a long time ago. The thought of the hypothetical makes his insides twist uncomfortably. He can’t dwell on it, not while she’s here, looking to him for comfort.

Without thinking further, his lips slowly collide with hers, pulling the younger woman into a kiss. She wastes no time, kissing him back with an unrivaled fervor that borders on desperation, but Ethan isn’t one to complain. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping her mouth until he finds her own.

The kiss sparks something inside of Naomi, a buzz building in the pit of her stomach, so potent and all consuming, it nearly startled her. For the first time in what feels like forever, the rest of the world fades away. It’s just her and Ethan, and this magical little flame between them. So she clings to it, to him, to them, and swings one of her legs over, straddling him. One arm wraps around the back of his neck, one hand tangles in the hair at the nape of his neck as she pulls herself closer. He tastes smoky like the scotch they drank earlier, and she swears the kiss alone is enough to leave her intoxicated.

Desperate for any sort of friction, Naomi rolls her hips into his. She can feel him hardening beneath her, his erection straining through the thin layers of fabric preventing them from being completely bare with each other. Unable to help himself, Ethan breaks the kiss only to let out a low, “Fuck.”

He needs to stop this. Logically, Ethan knows that putting a kibosh in this is the right thing to do. Naomi came to him because she needs a support system, and the last thing he wants to do is take advantage of her trust and manipulate her grief.

“Naomi, stop,” Ethan gently commands, hands gripping her hips in order to keep her still.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“We don’t have to do this tonight,” Ethan says. “Let’s just go to bed.”

“But I don’t want to go to bed.”

“But you should.”

“No. I want this, I want you.”

Her lips are on his jaw, kissing and biting, and it’s becoming harder for him to stay focused. “You’ve had a very long day, it’s been emotionally draining, and I’m sure you’re exhausted–”

“Oh my God, stop!” Naomi exclaims. “I don’t need another person explaining to me what I’m going through or what I’m feeling. Trust me, no one is more aware of my shitty life than I am.” She leans forward resting her forehead against his. “I get it, I’m the one who barely survived an assassination attempt, and I’m going to walk around with that for the rest of my life. For tonight, can I just be a normal girl who wants to fuck her boyfriend, or whatever the hell you are to me? Please?”

Despite the circumstances, his cock twitches almost painfully as soon as the word “boyfriend” leaves her mouth. He’s a grown ass man, he hasn’t used the term since high school, and here he is, ready to dissolve into a puddle of goo. What the hell has Naomi Valentine done to him and who is this mess of a man that she’s replaced him with?

Whatever she’s trying to do won’t work. Pushing aside her grief and trying to avoid the problem with sex isn’t a coping mechanism he’d ever recommend (not that he has any brilliant ones of his own, but still). It’s not going to fix anything in the long run. 

Naomi’s lips brush against his before giving him another teasing kiss before pulling away. “Please,” she whines. “I want you, Ethan.” Ethan has always considered himself to be a staunch man who isn’t easily swayed. Until he met Naomi. How can he be when she’s looking at him with those big doe eyes of hers, weakening his otherwise tough resolve? It may not help her tomorrow, but who is he to deny her reprieve at least right now? Saying no to her has never been a strength Ethan claimed to possess.

Not giving any sort of warning, Ethan grips the oversized shirt she’s wearing and forcefully pulls it up, barely giving her enough time to lift her arms and help with the process. Once the piece of clothing is discarded somewhere on his bedroom floor, Ethan flips their positions, Naomi’s back landing on his mattress with a soft thud.

He sucks in a sharp breath. Ethan considers himself to be a well traveled, well cultured man. He’s seen the Eiffel Tower multiple times, visited the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro, driven a Ferrari through the streets of Rome, drank wine while overlooking a Napa vineyard, and more. But none of those even comes close to the sight of Naomi naked in his bed, writhing on top of his sheets, her curly hair splayed out like a crown atop her head. She’s absolutely beautiful, and he’s a goner. He’s always known it, but this moment right here, right now actually seals the deal.

“Why don’t you take a picture?” Naomi asks, jolting Ethan out of his thoughts. He feels her dainty foot running along the soft cotton of his pajama pants before traveling higher, lightly brushing his side.

He catches her foot, his strong hand wrapping around her ankle, and yanks her forward. “I don’t need to take a picture because the real thing is just fine.” Maintaining eye contact, Ethan presses a line of kisses from her ankle to the inside of her knee, smirking as he feels the goosebumps pop up along the trail he’s set. “God, it really doesn’t take much to get you going, huh?”

“Not when it involves you, no,” Naomi replies.

Ethan drops her leg unceremoniously. His hands wander until they’re hooked into the waistband of her lacy underwear, and he pulls them down quickly, deciding not to make a production of it. A hum of approval leaves his throat when he finds her already soaked for him. He runs a finger along her spreading the wetness around before pressing the single digit into her. “I like that answer.”

Her toes curl at the contact and Naomi grips the sheets beneath her. “Oh, fuck.”

“Christ, you’re tight.”

“It’s been a while,” Naomi admits, panting heavily. “The guy I was into ran off to another continent, and put us on ice.”

Ethan can tell by her tone that she’s merely teasing, but his heart still hammers wildly nonetheless. He wasted so much time, and for what? He slides another finger into her, enjoying the moan she gives him in return. “It appears I have some atoning to do, hmm?”

Naomi nods. “A lot of atoning.”

“Very well.” 

She feels him remove his fingers, and nothing makes her head spin more. Lifting herself up by her elbows, Naomi glares down at Ethan. “What are you doing? You can’t just stop!”

“Relax.” Ethan forces Naomi back to her originally flat position. “I think you know better than anyone that I’m going to take good care of you.” She chooses not to respond, because they both know the answer to that is a resounding yes.

He spreads her thighs and Naomi shivers at the gleam in his eyes, positively engraved by the way he looks at her: all lust and hunger. Desperate for Ethan to actually do something, she tilts her hips up, hoping he’ll get the hint.

Ethan chuckles and places an open mouthed kiss on the inside of her thigh. She swears she can feel herself buzzing with anticipation, her insides on fire, and all she wants him to do is just touch her.

When he finally does, she’s shocked she doesn’t combust then and there. Her head tips back and a low groan tumbles from her lips, and her thighs clamp shut so tightly around Ethan’s head, she’d be apologetic if she wasn’t so far gone. Ethan doesn’t skip a beat though, his fingers digging into her thighs and spreading them apart, and then he’s back to his original mission.

Ethan’s tongue glides through her folds with ease, stroking her up and down a few times before closing his mouth around her clit and sucking hard. Her hips fly off the bed and she grinds into him with a reckless abandon she hasn’t felt in a really long time, but Ethan splays a strong hand across her stomach to hold her down, trapping her between him and his bed.

Trying to gain a modicum of power back, Naomi grips a handful of his hair and tugs at it roughly. It’s an action that makes Ethan growl, his mouth vibrating against her.

Her little moans and cries do nothing to help the raging ego Naomi claims he has, instead they only fuel him further. He ups the ante, his two fingers sliding back into her, curling in a come hither motion and pressing repeatedly against the spot that makes her see stars.

He can tell by the vice grip she has on his fingers and the way she’s undulating against him that she’s close. And while he’s content to draw this out for as long as humanly possible, until he’s wrung every little ounce of pleasure from her that he can, Ethan is well aware that the woman occupying his bed doesn’t have that type of patience.

Giving her a bit of reprieve, he takes his mouth off of her, only moving it slightly so he can kiss the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

“God, Ethan.”

“Say my name again, Rookie,” Ethan commands. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Naomi obeys without as much as a second thought. It doesn’t take much to get her to say his name again, the word coming out as a shout in between a broken cry. Ethan smirks, satisfied with his work, and his tongue finds her clit, stroking the tiny bundle a few more times until her orgasm zips through her with the intensity of a lightning strike. Her entire body tenses up as Ethan continues to lap at her, as she rides out the aftershocks.

When she’s finally in control of her senses again, the first thing Naomi notices is how absolutely wrecked Ethan looks, eyes red and glossy, mouth and beard soaked, and she wants to do nothing more than kiss him. So she does, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him back on top of her. She can taste herself on his mouth and it makes her moan.

Impatient, Naomi reaches between their bodies and tugs at the waistband of his pants. Ethan receives the message loud and clear, and he breaks the kiss to strip as quickly as he can. She watches as Ethan flings his shirt across the room and kicks off his pajama bottoms. He isn’t the only one with above average observation skills, and she notices the slight tremble in his hands, the anticipation as intense for him as it is for her. She’d be lying if she said reducing this great and powerful man to nothing more than a shaky mess isn’t a turn on. Once his boxers are gone, Naomi looks him up and down, every part of him still as she remembered.

Her eyes zero in on his erection, painfully hard. She wraps her hand around him, stroking firmly. “My my, doctor, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like me.”

The other four letter L-word rattles around in his brain, begging to be set free, and with more strength than he thought he had, Ethan manages to keep quiet. He’d never forgive himself for such selfishness if he blurted out he loves her in the middle of sex. Naomi has enough to deal with already without that added layer of complexity.

Ethan’s thoughts are interrupted, a sharp hiss passing through his teeth as he feels her tongue languidly glide across the swollen head of his erection before taking him fully in her mouth.

He doesn’t know what will kill him first: how good it feels, or the fact that she’s staring up at him with those fucking Disney princess eyes again, feigning innocence like she’s unaware of exactly what she does to him.

He allows her to get in one more stroke of her tongue before he grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls her away. One of her eyebrows raises in question. “What’s wrong? I was just getting started.”

He drags them back into bed before answering, “I need to be inside you. You can do whatever you want to me afterwards.”

She grins at the promise of a next time. Whatever she wants? “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Ramsey.”

“It’s not a threat, it’s a promise,” Ethan assures her. 

Naomi feels him, poised at her entrance and she arches backwards, too overly sensitive. Ethan’s hands are back on her hips, holding her in place, and inch by inch, he fills her. They both groan at the sensation, familiar territory but something new entirely. Her hands fly to his back, nails digging into the skin as she’s stretched to maximum capacity, uncaring if she leaves marks.

Ethan is unsure of how long they’ve been like this, but he’s nearly shaking with the restraint it’s taking him to not thrust into her. He drops his head, kissing a line across her collarbone. “Fuck, baby, I need you to let me know when I can move.”

The pet name wasn’t intentional, spilling from Ethan’s lips before he could stop it, but Naomi whimpers regardless. She hooks her legs behind his back, keeping him just as trapped as she is. “Please.”

He moves slowly, partially to give her a chance to adjust to his size, the other reason because he doesn’t want it to be over as quickly as it started. This, being inside of her again, is overwhelming and Ethan can’t believe there was ever a time he thought he could go without.

“You’re incredible,” Ethan compliments.

“Okay, say it again when I’m not in your bed. Like during a team meeting where you’re shooting down my ideas.”

“You are,” Ethan insists.

He thrusts into her again, and Naomi cries out, nails raking at his back. Surely she’s broken skin at this point, but Ethan doesn’t care. He’s never been one for pain in bed, but with Naomi, he’s willing to make an allowance, especially since it leaves way for pleasure. They move in tandem, hips moving against each other, both trying to coax out the release that’s been building. Unable to do much of anything else, Ethan leans forward, kissing Naomi again. She meets him halfway, just as eager as he is.

Eventually she has to break the kiss, and she gasps in a large breath of air, her lungs constricting tightly in her rib cage. In her distracted moment, Ethan manages to free himself of her hands marking him relentlessly, and he captures both of her wrists in one fell swoop. He holds them above her head in one hand, pressing her as deep into the mattress as possible. The new angle catches her by surprise and she can’t do anything but gasp into the air above her.

“Please.” She doesn’t even know what she’s pleading for at this point, but it’s the only word her brain can comprehend so she chants it repeatedly like a prayer until she’s shattering around him, mouth open, head tipped back, skin flush and warm. She’s perfect like this, Ethan surmises. 

It doesn’t take him more than a few more thrusts before Ethan’s own release takes control and he falls forward, leaning some of his weight onto Naomi. He doesn’t trust himself to not say or do something completely stupid, so he buries his face in the crook of her neck, biting down on the sensitive flesh.

It could’ve been mere minutes that they spent in that position, or it could’ve been hours for all Naomi knows, but when Ethan finally pulls out, he’s kissing her all over: her cheeks, her nose, her forehead.

He wraps her in a solid embrace, arms circling around her and holding her close, their erratic heart rates trying to slow down. Ethan feels at peace doing just this, holding her close to him, feeling the rise and fall of her chest.

Do you feel any better?”

That isn’t a question Naomi expects to hear right after sex, and it causes her to pause.  After a few more moments of silence, she answers, “I mean, the endorphin release was great if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not what I’m asking, and you know it.”

Naomi knew going into it that the sex wasn’t going to soothe all of her hurts and be the magical solution to her problems, so she doesn’t need some major “I-told-you-so” moment from him. But for the first time in almost a week, she feels like herself again. Within the confines of these four walls, Ethan didn’t treat her like some fragile little doll, and her mind was able to take a break from overthinking.

“It was nice to turn my brain off, if only for a short time,” Naomi replies. “It was nice to not be a captive to my trauma.”

Ethan’s fingers gently graze her scalp, massaging. “Do you think you’re ready to talk to me now?”

“No.”

She’s as stubborn as ever. “Fair enough. But if we were to talk about it, I would say that you went through something horrible and traumatic, and you have to allow yourself to actually feel and process whatever emotions you have. I’d also say that you are incredibly strong, but your strength doesn’t mean that you have to bottle everything inside in order to make everyone around you feel better, especially when you’re with me. Strong people have the right to be vulnerable too.” Ethan sighs. “But since we aren’t talking about it, I’m not going to say any of those things.”

Naomi curls in closer to Ethan, comforted by his body warmth. “I think I would really enjoy hearing those things if this was a conversation we were having.”

“Good. Now whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be prepared.”

“Thank you.”

“I think it’s what good boyfriends do. Or whatever the hell I am to you. That’s what you said, right?”

“Okay, I have an explanation for getting agitated about the technical definition of our relationship.”

“Oh yeah? I’d love to hear it.”

“I was impatient and horny.”

Ethan laughs, the warm and rich sound curling around her insides. It does more to help than she’ll ever be able to convey to him. “You’re also very honest.”

“To a fault at times, yes.”

A silence settled between them again, and Naomi feels her eyelids getting heavier. Maybe she’ll be able to finally get some real sleep, not the fitful unconsciousness she’s been subjected to for the past few days.

“Thank you for indulging me tonight,” Naomi says. 

He’s going to suggest she talk to a therapist. He’s going to say it multiple times, until he’s blue in the face and she’s tired of listening. But he'll leave her alone for tonight.

“You’re welcome. Now, get some sleep. The sooner you get to bed, the sooner we wake up, and I can cook breakfast for you.”

“Mhmm, sounds like a plan, Ramsey.”

Ethan can feel her falling asleep on him. He presses a kiss into her forehead. “Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“For the record, I am definitely your boyfriend.”

~v~

tags: @maurine07 @aka-calliope @edgiestwinter @soft-for-drake @greenbean-kylie @akshara16 @mrsramseyy @honeyandsunfl0wers @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @mvalentine @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

#open heart #open heart 2 #ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ns*fw #ns/fw

[yongiefilms]

GONE IN THE MORNING.

pairing: na jaemin x reader

genre: mostly fluff; slight angst; neighbors!au; neighbors to lovers!au

warnings: none really, except for cuteness that makes your heart ache and an up for interpretation ending 

word count: 3.4k (no longer writing 1k fics? who is she?)

summary: wondrous things happen when the sky goes dark. you can meet new people or grow closer to the ones you already know. the night is limitless with no boundaries and it was why it didn’t even cross your mind that you could grow closer to someone in just a few hours. you didn’t think you would open up to a boy several doors down the hall or fall as quick as the night turns to dawn, but life has ways of surprising you and it was something you would be thankful for, even if time was limited.

author’s note: this fic is dedicated to our forever loving and wholesome flirt king, na jaemin. thank you for always managing to make me smile and being the bundle of joy you are. happy (belated) birthday, angel. i love you till the end of time. also huge shout out to my proofreader, my partner in crime, and my renjun enthusiast, nini ( @dvrlingrenjun​ ) for enduring through this with me late at night (again). te amo. without further ado, i hope you enjoy this loves!                           

you liked nights like these the most. it was the calm before the storm. the only occasion when you could just bask in relaxation amongst your ever growing stressful week. between balancing classes and your part time job as well as other creative projects you had going, it had taken a toll on you physically, mentally, and emotionally. however, as much as you despised the unwarranted stress, it kept you busy and on your feet. you never were one to sit still and wait for something to happen. no, you were far from being that person because you just had to go out and make a change. you itched to create, it was instilled in your veins, and that is how you thrived. that is how you survived. albeit you still found something else that gave you just as much contentment, a time of day to help lessen the load.

every friday, or just any day depending on the circumstances, you would get up at the same in the middle of the night. it would be after the clock struck midnight and before the sun woke. those were the nights when you couldn’t sleep, but tossed and turned in your bed, waiting for slumber to take you under. sadly it never did because you were restless from your time consuming schedule and your body resisted the temptation of drowsiness. so it became a routine: you would throw the covers off your body to get out of bed after staring at the ceiling for instants too long. you would grab your phone and earbuds on the bedside table, essential items that you could not forget. then you would always put on the baby blue oversized hoodie that hung over your desk chair while slipping on your same old skool vans on your way towards the door to leave for a secluded place that wasn’t your bedroom. you didn’t have to go far because when you discovered the rooftop of your apartment complex that fateful night, it would soon become your second home, away from prying eyes.

the exact routine you found yourself following this particular friday.

your earbuds were plugged into your phone while your music was put on shuffle. your forearms rested on the brick railing, your chin on your clasped palms. your head was moving to the beat of the music as your eyes rested closed. no disturbance could be felt in that moment, even when you opened your eyes to glimpse at the skyline. the darkness of the city and sky met you. the stars twinkled like tiny specks amongst a greater universe, catching radiance with small movements. the city was still bustling with life too, even in the wee hours. the buildings stood tall and as black as midnight with the window lights going off and on within seconds as people went to the comfort of their beds. everything was sparkling anew and it felt wondrous. 

until a sound was heard, one that was drowned out by the blues ringing in your ears.

the creak of the metal door leading to the rooftop could be heard ever so faintly, disrupting the once quiet aura. walking through the entrance and emerging from the shadows was a figure of a tall boy, his head held high with beverages in his hand and a phone in his back pocket.

“shoot,” he muttered under his breath. the creak sound increased as he was trying to shut the door with his foot rather than his hands that were full with the drinks he was holding.

when the metal door slammed shut and he looked over at where you were, still unknowing to all that was going on, he let out a sigh of relief.

he tiptoed carefully to where you stood, making sure not to make any mere sound for the fear that he would get caught before the surprise. as he was striding over to stand behind you, he couldn’t help but stop to admire your loveliness. half your face was turned away from him, but your side profile was enough to leave him in awe. breathtakingly gorgeous is what you were and even if he saw you plenty of times before in the hall of your apartment floor, he never saw you in such a close proximity before, which is what made everything feel so surreal as if he saw you for the very first time.

although before he himself could feel like a creep for watching someone for what felt like years, he shook his head to get himself together. he was acting like he had a crush, when he should be acting like the confident boy he portrayed himself to be.

so he held his head up higher, relaxed his shoulders, put on his charming grin and strolled over to where you stood detached from the real world. when he reached you, he tapped your shoulder to make his presence known and your reaction was like any other kind of scare.

you jolted suddenly, but didn’t let out a scream. you swiftly pulled your earbuds out and whipped around to face the intruder who startled you.

when your wide eyes locked onto his own deep chocolate ones, you gave a relieved sigh.

“ah it’s just you,” you exclaimed, leaning back on the brick while closing your eyes shut for the merest second.

he chuckled, a teasing grin adorning his face. “yes, just me.”

you rolled your eyes, but didn’t respond to him.

his beam faltered before he cleared his throat and leaned on the railing, with the two bottles in his hand.

“so want some chocolate milk?” he handed one bottle out to you, waiting for a reply

you twisted ever so slightly to study him properly, your eyes furrowed. he could see a hint of annoyance in your gaze, which made him nervous. yet annoyance was far from it.

he stumbled over his words. his confident façade cracked. “i-i mean i s-saw you c-come up here while i was on my way to the small mart around the corner of the complex for a late night snack. i thought why not buy you one because i am always curious as to why you come up here and i see you come up often too.” 

you stared intently at him, making his cheeks flush due to the intensity. it was now his chance to turn away. 

“plus i thought you might want some company…possibly.” he then swung round, his cheeks still warm, but a smile was on his lips.

you let out a small giggle that bubbled up your throat and you immediately coughed to cover up sound. you didn’t want to chortle at his obvious embarrassment. you reached out to take the chocolate milk from his grasp. “i am just messing with you, jaemin. thank you.” you smiled in return. “i don’t mind the company at all.”

the breath he didn’t know he was holding came out, and he positioned his head to look forward at the gleaming lights of seoul. silence engulfed both of you, wrapping you in its embrace. the breeze was felt so prominently in the cool air and it was a quietness that stilled the heart. even so, jaemin had grown to hate the quietude after those moments. he wanted to know more about you if anything, even if he didn’t truly hate the soundlessness or your presence. he was simply drawn into the mysterious aura that surrounded you. he had to find out more about you, he had to figure you out for his own sake. 

he took a sip of his chocolate milk before proceeding to ask his question, courtesy of curiosity.

“so,” jaemin’s voice rang out, wavering the serene mood. “why do you come up here? if you don’t mind me asking. why the rooftop at…” he trailed off and glanced at the watch on his wrist to check the hour. “nearly 2 in the morning?” he marginally laughed. “i would think you would want to sleep to get some rest after tiring days.”

you hummed at his words, settling your bottle down on the brick. “i don’t know if i’m completely honest.” you picked at the loose thread of your hoodie sleeve. “usually i can’t sleep. i just toss and turn for the rest of the night, so i guess i just come up here to escape my restlessness. plus this view is beautiful.” you tilted your head up, admiring the cityscape once again.

jaemin could see your eyes reflecting the lights of the city, making your eyes glisten and it was just as striking as the skyline. “it’s just so calming up here. i am at peace where no one can bother me. where no one can find me if they don’t try hard enough. it’s my safe place of sorts. there is just something so stunning to see the world like this, amongst the chaos—at a standstill. i admire it more than anything because you get a whole new perspective, you catch something new every time you see it. there is allure in the night and maybe that is the night owl within me talking. i can’t help but flourish in the night. i feel alive then and it’s what makes me come back every single time.” 

you nervously giggled when you glanced at jaemin who was observing you a particular way, a look that was hard to decipher and you felt judged from the hard stare. if only you knew judgment was far from his mind. 

“sorry if i went too into depth for that question.” another titter. “frequently my words get the best of me.” you put your head down, uneasy at the fact that you got carried away.

jaemin’s lips that were pressed tightly together quickly morphed into a grin. “oh no! no, no, no!” he quickly declared, shaking his head. his eyebrows were creased and he was scared that he offended you with his previous expression. “don’t be sorry, in fact i get what you mean. everything you described makes perfect sense. there is something different about the air of the night. regularly, i feel like that too. i just bask in the tranquility when the rest of reality is in shambles.”

you raised your head up to truly see him. he was already glancing at you so softly, his eyes filled with stars. the breeze ruffled his faded blue hair after every passing second that contrasted the dullness of his grey hoodie, black light washed denim jacket, and black jeans he was wearing. he looked cute and you slightly shook your head to get rid of the idea, but the smile that had grown on his face was contagious for your lips twitched against their will to form a subtle grin.

you moved closer to him, to cherish his heat amongst the increasing coldness of the night, even if you were in a fleece hoodie that kept you most certainly cozy. you bumped your shoulder with his and leaned down, refusing to peer at him for the fear that those beliefs would make their way into your head again.

you took a deep breath. “i also come up here to feel less lonely.” you didn’t know where those words came from. you were never one to share your feelings. you were a closed off individual by nature, but by being around a boy who you truly didn’t know except for the passings in the hall, you just found yourself opening up for no particular reason. he drew you in, he made you comfortable, and you felt safe enough around him to share your most personal thoughts.

“i mean i still am alone up here, but i don’t feel like i am. i am surrounded by miles of buildings and blinding lights and people who i can barely make out on the sidewalk or those in their cars. so i may be alone, but i truly am not because the world is around me, keeping me company.”

you couldn’t see, but he nodded at your words in response. he licked his lips and moved forward, not meeting your eyes though he could feel you scrutinizing him when he moved. “well besides having this city for company, you also have me now. i may not be as many people as a whole city, but at least it’s something.” he bumped your shoulder, the teasing evident in his words and you laughed at his answer. 

“it’s enough for me,” you spoke, swiveling to focus on him, a giddy look on your face and you were glad he didn’t notice you.

however, from that point on it is where everything switched, for you opened yourself up after a long while to none other than your neighbor at apartment number seventy—na jaemin, and you were glad for it. you were grateful for him.

so you talked animatedly with the boy you had only managed to see for fleeting seconds each day. it felt like hours as you were talking, in fact it was possible that it was hours. the night was beginning to fade to daylight, but your energy hadn’t dwindled in the slightest. you could talk till the sunrise, but you were held back from reality. you couldn’t stay till the morning. you couldn’t stay with the boy that you felt a connection with. there was a spark, something that would be put out like a diminishing flame once the sun rose.

noiselessness had enveloped the both of you once again when the last words were spoken on his end. you could see the peak of the sun behind the clouds. the stars had disappeared and so did the blackness of the night. in its place was the warm colors of the sunrise soon to come with yellow, red, and orange intermixed to create an enchanting gradient.

you let out a loud sigh that caught the attention of jaemin. he regarded you with fretful eyes and in return you gave him a half smile.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, placing his hand on your arm and giving a soft rub to the clothed skin.

his touch burned when it didn’t before and you whipped your head the other way.

“it’s just that it will be my last time doing this,” you solemnly voiced.

his hand dropped and he brought it around to hug himself. he was confused and concerned, but terrified at the same second.

“love…what do you mean?” he questioned, his tone nearly sharp and uncannily high. 

you heart clenched at his affectionate name for you, one that just slipped out through conversation unknowingly and it stuck. it was sweet like him and it made you feel guilty, but you couldn’t let him suspect a thing. 

he was burning his eyes into the side of your head, awaiting your reply. “it will just be the last time i see this view.” your eyes squinted at the sky and you puffed up your cheeks. water was prickling under your eyelids, but you wouldn’t let them fall.

his voice croaked out. “what are you talking about?”

you were worrying him. he was curious. you couldn’t let him know.

you rotated your whole body and moved forward to be closer to him. a beam graced your face to give him reassurance that everything would be okay. to give him hope that would last till the occasion came. “nothing…” you paused and shook your head. “nothing at all.”

he was skeptical because his head tilted and his eyebrows creased, but he let it go. you stared at him then, you really stared at him. examining every feature of his face from all the tiny imperfections that you saw beauty in, to the outfit he was in, and the look on his face. you memorized his whole being so you wouldn’t forget. seeing him like that with his hands in his pockets, slighting shivering and flushed pink cheeks, it stirred something within you for you had the urge to lean forward and kiss him. you were unable to resist and succumbed to the heart, even if it made things more complicated.

he was surprised when your warm lips met his cold, chapped ones. the kiss was sweet and he tasted like iced lemonade on a hot day with the sun blazing down as teenagers basked in the heat by the pool. he reminded you of summer—interminable, pleasant, and extraordinarily sunny. 

you maneuvered your arms around his neck to get even closer to him as he brought his own arms around your waist. he hugged you so tightly and when you both needed to catch your breath, you were afraid to let go. you had to though, so you leaned back with a bashful grin on your face. 

his beam could melt ice with how bright and wide it was. “what was that for?” he locked his hands together behind your waist and gently swayed you side-to-side. he chuckled, waiting to see how you would answer.

you tilted your head down and lightly hit his chest, but your smile grew. “just because,” you murmured and his loud chortle was music to your ears. you wouldn’t forget his laugh, it was your favorite part of him besides his glowing grin. 

your head rested under his chin and he pulled out his phone from his back pocket to put on some music to fill the void of passing cars and city life.

the tears pricked under your eyes and one stray tear cascaded down your cheek, staining the hoodie in a dark splotch. he didn’t see it, too immersed in the scenery again.

“live in the moment,” you mumbled into his chest. “because i’ll be gone in the morning.” 

however, jaemin didn’t pay any mind to your words since after all he didn’t hear them, something that would utterly hurt him. so you remain cuddled up on the rooftop till the sun peeked over the clouds and the both of you rushed off for fear of getting caught.

jaemin had walked you to your door to make sure you arrived safely, even if you called him out for the fact that you were just a few doors down from him. he had rolled his eyes at your statement, but proceeded to kiss you once more. that would be your last kiss with na jaemin before he went down the hall to his own apartment and shut the door, awaiting for the morning that was only a few hours away.

if only he knew.

for when he knocked on your door several hours later, what he found out broke him.

you hadn’t opened up the door.

he called your name countless times but there wasn’t a response.

you weren’t there, something he refused to believe.

it was rather fortunate that the landlord was passing by in the hall several moments after and jaemin rushed forward on a whim to ask the man if he knew anything of your whereabouts.

“excuse me, sir?” jaemin asked and tapped the man’s shoulder as he was on his way down the hall towards the staircase.

the man whirled around with a stoic expression on his face. “what do you need, kid?”

jaemin gulped, but let an easy grin present itself. “do you happen to know where the resident in apartment number seventy-two is? they don’t seem to be home and i was wondering if you knew anything.”

the man grunted and shook his head, checking out the apartment doors, then gazed back at jaemin’s distraught face. “don’t know, kid. there hasn’t been anyone living in that apartment for weeks. i’ve been trying to get people to move in, but to no avail. no one wants to...wonder why.” he scratched his chin. “better get on that.” he proceeded towards his destination, but not before jaemin staggered forward.

“wait!”

the man stopped in his tracks and spun around, his eyebrows raised.

“but y/n lives there, sir! y/n has been for several months. maybe you got the apartment numbers confused. i am sure of it.” he spoke in a desperate manner.

the man shook his head. “no, i’m sure. no one has been living there so i’m sorry, kid. don’t know what to tell you. “ he heaved a sigh and went off, not sparing a glance at jaemin or his shocked expression.

nothing of what the man said could be right because jaemin clearly knew you had been living there for months. he always saw you around and those remarks couldn’t be comprehended.

if only he knew the truth of why you would be gone in the morning, escaping reality for a piece of make believe and leaving a loving boy behind in the midst. 

#dreamwritersnet #neowritingsnet #kwritersworldnet #nct-writers #kafenetwork #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fluff #jaemin fic #jaemin oneshot #jaemin drabbles #nct imagines #jaemin blurbs #jaemin imagines #nct fic #jaemin x reader #na jaemin soft hours #na jaemin scenarios #na jaemin drabble #jaemin x you #na jaemin oneshot #na jaemin fic #na jaemin au #jaemin au #jaemin x y/n #na jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #na jaemin angst #nct fluff

[andromeda3116]

so like i said i would do no more explaining but i was kinda jokey with that post when actually no i legit did put thought and purpose into this kanej playlist, so here’s a breakdown of the songs on it and which lyric(s)/to whom it applies. some of them, again, are more about the general vibe, but mostly there’s like. an actual reason i picked these songs.

kaz.

o. (not on spotify) the sewers belch me up, the heavens spit me out, from ethers tragic i am born again. [...] is it bright where you are? have the people changed? does it make you happy you're so strange? and in your darkest hour, i hold secrets' flame. you can watch the world devoured in its pain. --the end is the beginning is the end

i. god money, i’ll do anything for you. god money, just tell me what you want me to. god money, nail me up against the wall. god money, don't want everything, he wants it all. no, you can’t take it, no you can't take it, no, you can’t take that away from me. head like a hole, black as your soul, i'd rather die than give you control. bow down before the one you serve, you’re going to get what you deserve.

ii. there’s a shadow just behind me, shrouding every step i take, making every promise empty, pointing every finger at me. [...] i am just a worthless liar, i am just an imbecile. i will only complicate you. trust in me and fall as well. [...] why can we not be sober, i just want to start this over.

iii. i’d walk to you through rings of fire, and never let you know the way i feel. under skin is where i hide the love that always gets me on my knees. [...] i want it now, i want it now. don’t tell me that my ship is coming in. --nothing lasts forever

iv. one: take control of me, you’re messing with the enemy. said it’s two: it’s another trick, you’re messing with my mind. [...] there it goes again, take me to the edge again. all i got is a dirty trick, i’m chasing down the wolves to save you. i tell you i want you, i tell you i need you. the blood on my face, i just wanted you near me. --club foot

v. don’t waste your touch, you won’t feel anything. or were you sent to save me? i’ve thought too much, you won’t find anything worthy of redeeming. [...] reach out and you may take my heart away. --the leaving song, part two

vi. while i waited, i was wasting away, hope was wasting away, faith was wasting away, i was wasting away. [...] inside a crumbling effigy, but you promised. so dies all innocence, but you promised me. --the great disappointment

vii. welcome to the end of eras, ice has melted back to life, done my time and served my sentence, dress me up and watch me die. if it feels good, tastes good, it must be mine. dynasty decapitated, you just might see a ghost tonight. [...] the crown. so close i could taste it, i see what’s mine and take it. --the emperor’s new clothes

viii. all my friends were glorious, tonight we are victorious. [...] i’m a killing spree in white, eyes like broken christmas lights. my touch is black and poisonous. [...] throw the bait, catch the shark, bleed the water red. fifty words for murder, and i’m every one of them.

ix. just like romantic verses, just like a joyous end, just like a memory, it twists me. you land as lightly as the new snow onto the melting boy. you land as gently, you’re so cinematic, bathed in your radiance, i melt. --this celluloid dream

x. i’ll describe the way i feel: weeping wounds that never heal. can this savior be for real, or are you just my seventh seal? no hesitation, no delay, you come on just like special k, now you’re back, the dope demand, i’m on sinking sand. [...] i’ll describe the way i feel: you’re my new achilles heel.

xi. i choose to live and to grow, take and give and to move, learn and love and to cry, kill and die and to be paranoid and to lie, hate and fear and to do what it takes to move through. i choose to live and to lie, kill and give and to die, learn and love and to do what it takes to step through. [...] i’ve been crawling on my belly, clearing out what could have been. --forty-six and two

xii. do you listen to yourself? never live for someone else. do you like the way you feel? nothing hurts when no one’s real. [...] i wanna bullet-proof your soul, would you like to lose control? i won’t let you fall until you tell me so. [...] should have listened when you called my name.

xiii. you have forsaken all the love you’ve taken, sleeping on a razor, there’s nowhere left to fall. your body’s aching, every bone is breaking, nothing seems to shake it, it just keeps holding on. [...] i thread the needle through, you beat the devil’s tattoo.

xiv. i’m insane, but on my toes. i can keep the world balanced on my nose. i had a slumber party with all my foes, now i wear ‘em like a badge of honor on my clothes. if i’m crazy, i’m on my own. if i’m waiting, it’s on my throne. [...] can’t stop me now, i said i got you now. i’m right here at your door, i won’t leave, i want more. --what’s up, danger?

xv. the world is a vampire sent to drain, secret destroyers hold you up to the flames. and what do i get for my pain? betrayed desires and a piece of the game. [...] despite all my rage, i am still just a rat in a cage. --bullet with butterfly wings

xvi. can’t you see i’m sorry? i will make it worth your while. i’m made of dead men’s money, you can see it in my smile. oh, lazarus, how did your debt get paid? [...] when the fires, when the fires are consuming you, and your sacred stars won’t be guiding you, i’ve got blood, i’ve got blood on my name.

xvii. “oh don’t talk of love,” the shadows purr, murmuring me away from you. “don’t talk of worlds that never were, the end is all that’s ever true.” [...] every night i burn, every night i scream your name.

xviii. my heart’s a tart, your body’s rent, my body’s broken, yours is bent. carve your name into my arm, instead of stressed, i lie here charmed. [...] like the naked leads the blind, i know i’m selfish, i’m unkind. sucker love, i always find someone to bruise and leave behind. --every you, every me

xix. it don’t matter, i won’t do what you say. you’ve got the money and the power, i won’t go your way. i can’t take for the people, they don’t matter at all. i’ll be waiting in the shadows, until the day that you fall. [...] kill me if you dare, hold my head up everywhere. --underdog

.

inej.

i. i’m a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm, and the scars that mark my body, they’re silver and gold. my blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones, it keeps my veins hot, the fire’s found a home in me. [...] and i’m locking up everyone who ever laid a finger on me. i’m done with it, oh, this is the start of how it all ends. --yellow flicker beat

ii. just how deep do you believe? will you bite the hand that feeds? will you chew until it bleeds? can you get up off your knees? are you brave enough to see? do you wanna change it?

iii. i know it’s a lie, i want it to be true. the rest of the ride is riding on you. [...] wishing you could keep me closer, i’m a lazy dancer, when you move i move with you. --collect call

iv. don’t look ahead, there’s stormy weather, another roadblock in our way. but if we go, we go together, our hands are tied here if we stay. oh, we said our dreams would carry us and if they don’t fly, we will run. now we push right past to find out how to win what they all lost. oh, we know that we want more, oh, the life we’re fighting for. [...] there are no rules that we can’t break. --disparate youth

v. as i move my feet towards your body, i can hear this beat, it fills my head up and gets louder and louder. i run to the river and dive straight in. i pray that the water will drown out the din. [...] there’s a drumming noise inside my head and it starts when you’re around. --drumming song

vi. shoot me down, but i get up. i’m bulletproof, nothing to lose. fire away, fire away. ricochet, you take your aim. fire away, fire away. shoot me down, but i won’t fall, i am titanium.

vii. you’ve been walking, you’ve been hiding, and you look half-dead half the time. monitoring you, like machines do, you’ve still got it, i’m just keeping an eye. you say too late to start, with your heart in a headlock. i don’t believe any of it.

viii. i’m in need of a savior, but i’m not asking for favors. my whole life i’ve felt like a burden, i think too much and i hate it. i’m so used to being in the wrong, i’m tired of caring. loving never gave me a home, so i’ll sit here in the silence. i found peace in your violence, can’t tell me there’s no point in trying. i’m at one, and i’ve been quiet for too long.

ix. i am running, i will meet you halfway. when i get there, will you be waiting for me? and i’m scared that you don’t feel the same. and after all, just how much can i take? heaven help me, i think i’m in love, i’m all in love with you. ‘cause i can’t help myself, i’m falling down, i’m falling hard for you.

x. i never promised you an open heart or charity, i never wanted to abuse your imagination. i come with knives, i come with knives and agony to love you.

xi. stooped down and out, you got me beggin’ for thread to sew this hole up that you ripped it my head. stupidly think you had it under control. strapped down to something you don’t understand, don’t know what you were getting yourself into. you should have known, secretly i think you knew.

xii. go row the boat to safer grounds, but don’t you know? we’re stronger now. my heart still beats, and my skin still feels. my lungs still breathe, my mind still fears. but we’re running out of time, all the echoes in my mind cry. there’s blood on your lies, the scars open wide. there is nowhere for you to hide, the hunter’s moon is shining. i’m running with the wolves tonight.

xiii. a falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes. i screamed aloud as it tore through them and now it’s left me blind. the stars, the moon, they have all been blown out, you’ve left me in the dark. no dawn, no day, i’m always in this twilight, in the shadow of your heart. [...] i took the stars from my eyes and then i made a map, i knew that somehow i could find the way back. then i heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness, too. so i stayed in the darkness with you. --cosmic love

.

both/and.

i. shed a tear for each soul set free, but that’s what happens when you dance with me. pity the man who stands in my way, i’m a nightmare even in the day. i’d be wise with which words you say, ‘cause they could be the last breath you take. [...] call me a criminal, maybe, baby, i’m an outlaw. you know, i ain’t evil but i ain’t a saint.

ii. it’s my own design, it’s my own remorse. help me to decide. help me make the most of freedom, and of pleasure. nothing ever lasts forever. everybody wants to rule the world. there’s a room where the light won’t find you, holding hands while the walls come tumbling down. when they do i’ll be right behind you.

iii. i know you’ve suffered, but i don’t want you to hide. [...] i want to reconcile the violence in your heart, i want to recognize your beauty’s not just a mask. i want to exorcise the demons from your past. i want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart.

iv. you mean that much to me and it’s hard to show. gets hectic inside of me when you go. can i confess these things to you? well, i don’t know. embedded in my chest and it hurts to hold. i couldn’t spill my heart, my eyes gleam looking in from the dark. i walk out in stormy weather, hold my words, keep us together. steady walking but bound to trip, should release but just tighten my grip. night time, sympathize, i’ve been working on white lies. so i’ll tell the truth.

v. i, i came here in day, but i left here in darkness and found you, found you on the way. [...] your sins into me, oh my beautiful one. --silver and cold

vi. you wanna make me bad, make me bad. you wanna pay me back, pay me back. baby, it’s violence, violence. [...] but i like it like that.

vii. hey, baby, can you bleed like me? oh, come on baby, can you bleed like me? you should see my scars.

viii. i’m giving you a night call, to tell you how i feel. i’m gonna show you where it’s dark but have no fear. [...] there’s something inside you, it’s hard to explain. they’re talking about you, boy, but you’re still the same.

ix. you don’t wanna hurt me, but see how deep the bullet lies. unaware that i’m tearing you asunder, and there’s a thunder in our hearts, baby. so much hate for the ones we love, tell me we both matter, don’t we? [...] come on baby, come on, come on darling, let me steal this moment from you now. --running up that hill

x. feel my heart burning, deep inside, yearning. i know it is coming. a fettered heart, waking. tainted youth, fading. leave it all behind. delirious again, mesmerize my senses, souls entwine one more time.

xi. there is love in your body but you can’t get it out, it gets stuck in your head, won’t come out of your mouth. sticks to your tongue and it shows on your face, that the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste. darling heart, i loved you from the start, but you'll never know what a fool i have been. darling heart, i loved you from the start, but that’s no excuse for the state i am in. --hardest of hearts

xii. it’s fire, it’s freedom, it’s flooding open. it’s the preacher and the pulpit and your blind devotion. there’s something breaking at the brick of every wall, it’s holding all that you know. so tell me do you wanna go? where it’s covered in all the colored lights, where the runaways are running the nights. impossible comes true, it’s taking over you. [...] where the lost get found and we crown ‘em the circus king. --the greatest show

xiii. but if you’re troubled and hurt, what you got under your shirt will make them pay for the things they did. they said now, teenagers scare the living shit out of me. they could care less, as long as someone will bleed. so darken your clothes and strike a violent pose, maybe they’ll leave you alone, but not me. 

xiv. we are ready for the siege, we are armed up to the teeth. be careful how you live and breathe, release what’s broken underneath. how many times do you wanna die? how many ways do you wanna die? [...] you used to do a little but a little won’t fly, right before you hit your prime. that’s where we fell in love but not the first time. --the royal we

xv. and how can we win, when fools can be kings? don’t waste your time, or time will waste you. no one’s gonna take me alive. the time has come to make things right. you and i must fight for our rights, you and i must fight to survive. --knights of cydonia

xvi. look at me go, look at me high and low, look at me picking myself back up from the underground. i’ve died a few times before, i know what it’s like when i can’t see the light, i find a light of my own. [...] we were born alone, and we die alone. what a way to go, now i’m on my own. but i’m not sorry, no.

xvii. broken people, hollow and feeble, they’re rolling, rolling up the hill. [...] breaking in, in, in my eyes, i can’t see like this. i can’t let go, please help me down, i can’t be like this. --sweet

xviii. prey on the powerful, masters of the game, we run with wolves in the shadows, we chase ‘em down ‘til we’re face to face. [...] it’s in our blood, in our blood, in our veins. this is the world we made.

xix. and our lives are forever changed, we will never be the same. the more you change the less you feel. believe, believe in me. believe, believe that life can change, that you’re not stuck in vain. we’re not the same, we’re different tonight. [...] we’ll make things right, we’ll feel it all tonight. we’ll find a way to offer up the night tonight, the indescribable moments of your life, tonight. the impossible is possible tonight. believe in me as i believe in you, tonight.

#kanej #six of crows #listen i stand by my former statement that modern!kaz would be a *huge* fan of nine inch nails #although i will hear arguments for tool #he'd be into like old-school throwback industrial and goth rock #i mean. the barely-restrained rage of some of that genre? he'd be here for it #modern!inej is more of a fan of it than you'd expect but still not like. going to shows or anything #(she really *feels* the rage anthems) #that said #considering how kaz's memory works you know he gets songs stuck in his head like nobody's business #so anytime he annoys her she starts singing like. mamma mia. #if she's *really* annoyed she'll get the dj at the crow club to play abba albums until he apologizes #entirely against his will kaz knows all the lyrics to abba's entire discography because inej is 100% not going to stop the dancing queen #until he's apologized and she doesn't care how much swedish bubblegum pop she has to listen to #this is the one game he cannot win #once the marimbas start it's over. he has lost. the argument is done. it's just a matter of how long it'll take him to admit it. #inadvertently allowing inej to discover his hatred of abba is up there among the biggest mistakes of his entire life #shit i actually didn't mean to post this but like now that i have i guess here it is? #welp.

[hartigays]

3. “It’s always been you.”

3. “It’s always been you.”

billy storms out of the apartment, seething and fighting back tears. because billy hargrove does not cry. ever. he didn’t back when he lived with neil, he didn’t after his mom left, he didn’t when he got arrested for possession and almost lost his scholarship to UCLA.

he’s not about to start now.

not because steve pretty boy harrington has to go around acting like a grade-A asshole, with his soft hair and big eyes and pouty lips, screwing everything with a goddamn pulse. no sir. billy won’t give him that luxury.

the reality is, steve has always had a thing for plowing his way through as many people as humanly possible. or so billy heard all those years ago when he’d first arrived in hawkins and started inquiring about the pretty-faced indiana boy who billy just couldn’t seem to stay away from.

but billy thought all of that was behind them. they live together, for fuck’s sake. they’d moved out to california together so billy could go to school, and so steve could take a position at one of the offices of his father’s company in LA. steve hasn’t been seeing anyone, billy hasn’t been seeing anyone. they’ve been happy. content.

and okay, so maybe they aren’t dating. maybe billy hasn’t exactly told steve how he feels. but, like, steve should know. billy has gone out of his way to make it glaringly obvious. steve may be oblivious, but he’s not dumb. not like everyone thinks.

billy is pretty damn sure there’s no way steve isn’t aware of how he feels.

the worst part is, billy thought steve actually felt the same. at least, he had up until today, when he walked in on steve sitting on the couch with some girl, laughing and smiling and whatever the fuck else. he’d walked out before he could see anything more, despite steve’s desperate pleas for him to come back so they could talk.

there’s nothing to talk about. billy thought steve liked him, steve doesn’t. it’s done. he just needs some time to... process it, or whatever. billy finds himself on the beach soon enough, and he slips off his shoes so he can stick his toes in the sand, plopping down with a sigh.

it’s a private beach tucked a ways away from the pier, but billy knows the owners of this plot. they don’t stay at their beach house until the winter, when they want to escape to somewhere a little warmer during the colder months. he’s pretty sure the rest of their time is spent in aspen. so for now he’s safe to sit here and think, staring out at the water as the sun sinks below the horizon.

billy has brought steve here a lot. they’ve picnicked here several times, and billy even brought steve out a once or twice to teach him how to surf before they knew that steve was irreparably bad at it. the thought makes billy’s heart squeeze, and he has to pinch himself as a reminder to not be such a pussy.

because it’s whatever that steve is into some air-headed cheerleader type with a tiny waist and hair like strands of gold. it doesn’t bother billy one bit. not at all. he Does Not Care in the slightest.

maybe if he keeps telling himself that, it’ll somehow become true.

“thought i might find you out here.”

billy doesn’t turn around at the sound of steve’s voice, keeping his eyes forward even though his stomach sinks. “congratulations, you’ve finally managed to develop critical thinking skills. let’s bust out the champagne.”

“i can go if you want me to,” steve says softly, even though billy feels him sink down onto the sand next to him, close enough that their arms brush.

billy just snorts, shrugging. “i don’t give a shit what you do, harrington.”

steve just sighs, and for a long time he doesn’t speak. out of the corner of his eye, billy can see him staring out at the sunset, looking rather forelorn. billy wishes he could turn that look into something soft, something happy, but steve has made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t have that right.

“you know, i remember the first time you took me here,” steve says finally, and billy can’t help but glance over at him. steve’s smile is warm and soft, but tinged with something like sadness. “you tried to teach me how to surf. the first time, i mean. i slipped off the board and busted my ass so hard on it you had to carry me home.”

“you suck at surfing,” billy acknowledges, nodding. “badly.”

steve huffs a soft laugh. “yeah, i do. i just remember thinking that it was still one of the best days i’ve ever had. because that was the day i knew you loved me as much as i love you.”

billy goes completely still, his heart leaping up into his throat and his eyes watering, because what the fuck? where does steve get off making an admission like that just to make billy be less upset with him?

“don’t do that,” billy says, his voice rough. “you don’t get to do that. don’t pretend like you feel the same just because you don’t want me to be pissed at you.”

“billy,” steve starts, sounding distressed. he pauses, meeting billy’s eyes and fuck, they’re filled with tears too and billy doesn’t know how he feels about that. “it’s you. it’s always been you.”

the words break something inside of billy, and he crumples. he can’t pretend to be mad anymore when the truth is that he’s devastated. plain and simple.

“you sure have a funny way of showing it,” billy tells him, sniffling and wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “i saw you two. you were two seconds from playing couch twister. would’ve been if i hadn’t walked in when i did.”

“leanne is gay, billy,” steve groans, burying his face in his hands. “she works with me and she’s gay. has a nice girlfriend named annalise. they have a fucking kid. we were just- jesus, i can’t believe i even have to explain this. to you of all people. i’m the dumb one, remember? fuck. we were just going over some fucking spreadsheets. yeah, riveting stuff. super romantic.”

“i didn’t- are you fucking with me?” billy asks, because he’s starting to feel really fucking stupid and a small part of him is hoping he didn’t just throw a (rather humiliating) tantrum over nothing. “you guys were giggling. and sitting so close, i just... i thought you were making a move.”

“god, you can be more dense than me sometimes, you know that? we were giggling about you, dumbass. i told her that i liked you and she wanted to know more,” steve explains, shaking his head in disbelief. “it was just- i dunno. like two friends at a sleepover giggling about their crushes.”

“would you quit calling yourself an idiot?” billy huffs. primarily because he can’t think of anything else to say - his mind is racing too much. but also because it’s true. “this kinda proves that if anyone’s an idiot here, it’s me. i just- i don’t understand why you never said anything.”

steve is shoving his hands through the sand repeatedly, watching the sand run between his fingers. “you know i’m bi, i told you as much. i figured you were like me, or gay, or- i dunno. i just thought you weren’t ready to talk about it yet. i left the ball in your court, thinking that once you were ready, we’d, y’know. address the fucking elephant in the room.”

“the elephant being... ?” billy trails off. and he knows, but he really just wants to hear steve say it again.

steve rolls his eyes, laughing. “you know what i mean. but fine: the elephant being that i’m in love with you. and that i’m really, really hoping you love me, too.”

“i do,” billy says, his voice soft. “and i’m an idiot. i’m sorry.”

“you’re not an idiot. i probably would’ve thought the same thing if the roles were reversed and i walked in on something like that.” steve glances over at billy, giving him a tender smile. “just... next time, let’s talk to each other, yeah? i think that’ll save both of us a lot of grief.”

billy just hums, nodding his approval. they sit in comfortable silence for a little while, both still too nervous to make a move despite having just confessed their love to each other. at this point billy just finds it endearing, but he really, really wants to be closer to steve, and not just emotionally.

“i am gay, you know,” billy starts, his palms sweating, “and i really want to kiss you.”

“i know. and i think i’d like that.”

steve’s lips are soft and yielding beneath billy’s. his kisses feel exactly the way billy imagined they would - tender and sweet and a little shy, but curious. billy tries to keep it slow, not wanting to shove them into uncharted territory, but it’s only a matter of time before billy has steve’s back hitting the sand, hovering over him, their lips never breaking apart.

steve just sighs into the kiss, embracing the new position without complaint. he relaxes into the sand, one hand threading through billy’s curls, the other curling into the tufts of hair at the base of billy’s neck. it’s a kiss that billy never wants to end. but he knows there’ll be more. so much more.

“i’d say at least now we can get a cheaper apartment, but i think we’ll both still need our space every now and then,” steve says when billy pulls away, staring up a him with big eyes.

“yeah. plus it’s... ” billy trails off, his cheeks flushing bright red.

“it’s what?” steve asks, his brows coming together in confusion. “seriously, what were you going to say?”

“it’s home,” billy says gently, bracing both arms on either side of steve so he can swoop down to capture his lips again whenever he wants to. “home is wherever i’m with you, but- y’know. i like our place. it feels like us.”

“you’re such a fucking sap, oh my god,” steve laughs, but he’s smiling so brightly that billy thinks the whole beach could stay lit up for the rest of the night. “billy hargrove, secretly soft and mushy inside. who would’ve thought.”

“wasn’t, ‘til i met you,” billy tells him honestly.

and it’s true, for a long time billy hardened himself to the world, protecting himself with an armor of indifference until steve came along and melted him to his core. but billy isn’t one to complain, not when it means he gets to go to sleep and wake up to steve’s smile every day now, for the rest of his life. forever, maybe, if steve is up for that.

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#is this a modern au? does this take place in the 80s? the world may never know #hope this is enjoyable bby! #❤️❤️❤️ #harringrove #my fics #ask #gideongrace

[bayern-moni]

On the scale of 0-10, how much do you want to kick Madara's ass, Mito?

Mito: It goes between 7/10 in normal circumstances to 1000/10 when he purposely behaves like a scassapalle ( = pain in the ass but not quite that exactly).

Sometimes, I do want to kick his ass because it seems to be the only thing able to stop him from being too unnecessarily contrarious just for the sake of it, in a self-(and others)destructive way. Because, sometimes, Madara isn't able to see his own bullshit if nobody points it out to him, but unfortunately the only way Madara'd let himself listen to others' reason is if that person is able to beat it into him.

So be it, I'm fine with it and he is too. We made this deal and that's the start of our friendship, did you know?

So, I don't really want to kick Madara's ass per se, most of the time, even though he IS aggravating more often than what it's healthy. And grumpy, and rude, jumpy, spiteful, unforgiving, paranoid old-born man. Although his discretion, sarcastic spite and no-bullshit attitude can even be useful and entertaining when directed to the right people (and when you know how to channel him into them to prevent him from spiraling into even more twisted dramatics than those you're trying to run from). The point I'm trying to make is: you learn to handle a fight-or-fight, cornered and blunt cat and you'll know how to deal with Madara. So, I managed to reach a mutually respectful relationship with him, in spite of everything, because when he's not being ... well, himself, he's a very intelligent man and I enjoy our conversations. Although I really did want to kick his ass when I had no choice but to seal the Kyuubi into myself to help Hashirama in the Valley of the End. Because, only because HE thought that bringing a fucking Bijou at the edge of the village in order to fight Hashirama was a good idea, it does not mean that it is one. It wasn't. Not in the least, it was unnecessary and dramatic, even by his standards. I made peace with the fact I'm the first jinchuriki in Konoha early, so it's less of a big deal than it could have been, but still.

Paradoxically, I have to admit that the moments when I find him most annoying are those when he isn't even there. I'm talking about my own husband's apparent obsession with him and the (too many, if you ask me) times he just can't seem to be able to shut up about him. He told me the river story so many times I'm sure I could recite it in my sleep. I'm starting to feel like I'll be better off asking for a divorce and leave Hashirama to him out of spite. I'm sure my sanity would thank me if I did, but unfortunately I love Hashirama very much so I won't. Madara'd send him back to me within a day when the urge to strangle him for his overbearing attitude becomes too much, anyway, so it wouldn't even be a problem. In fact complaining about Hashirama's obnoxious antics with Madara is always funny, when I hear of people thinking that Hashi is a cause of contention/dislike between us I think it's just plain stupid, it's not like that at all. I know that Hashirama loves me, like he loves his brother, even Madara in a sense as well as the village.

But sometimes I feel as if all the years he spent associating his idea of peace with the alliance with the Uchiha, consequently his unwavering conviction that the only way he could achieve both was to necessarily bind Madara, the Uchiha clanhead, back to their old bond whatever it took (because it wasn't broken it was still there no matter what anyone thought it still was a gift from the divine) made him come to unconsciously link in his mind the very village's hopes of stability with Madara's own very ill-balanced stability and good will towards it.

In Hashirama's world, if Madara is pacified and he doesn't disrupt the village's armony for any reason, then the village will be fine, but the opposite is also true. Village is peace, peace is the dream, the village is the(ir?) dream (transitive property is the key here), but there's a sour, dissonant note: that's a very dangerous, unstable line of thinking, for all of us, himself and Madara included.

Because, differently from what Hashirama thinks, in Madara's vision, himself and that dream no longer coincide since when their bond was severed and it awakened his Sharingan at the river as a consequence. Their very definitions of that dream differed at the root. The mechanism stopped working, the gears need to be rearranged, not to be seen as the same as before, in order to keep working together. He's not the same as when they were little anymore and it isn't even only about Izuna's death but Madara himself. In fact it started before that, Izuna's death is one of the aggravating factors, not the trigger. Hashirama deep down knows it but he vehemently insists on ignoring it with all his might and that's what is deepening the fracture between them.

Hashirama refuses to see Madara for what he is but he wants to see only the kid he met at the river, because that kid is the one who gave Hashirama the confidence that his dream was possible. He still, genuinely, stubbornly believes that that kid still exists somewhere, because he must exist, because if Madara still believes in their village and keeps on giving him that confidence (that is, if Madara still behaves with Hashirama like that kid would, even while slowly breaking beyond repair on the inside), then eventually all will be fine and everything will adjust itself given enough time and hope. But when he doesn't, Hashirama becomes nearly paranoid and desperately tries whatever he can think of in the hope of tying Madara to their dream of the village again, this time possibly forever and indefinitely: calling him his brother (as if for Madara their real brothers weren't the only real bond while theirs is a breaking thread next to a fine but now forever severed cloth); nudging him to see Konoha villagers as they were his new family now that he lost his own (well knowing what kind of visceral bond that'd be if it were completed given that Madara is involved); giving him hope that he could be Hokage, a hope Hashirama didn't know it'd be crushed and burned to the roots by such a public humiliation. The worst part is that Hashirama doesn't even seem to be aware of half of these psychological issues of his. However, that's the person Hashirama sees, not the real Madara, never his adult, despairing, fierce-but-borderline-suicidal version. And Madara knows it, he resents it and will keep to silently poison himself with that knowledge in total, stubborn solitude until it will inevitably make him rot to the bone and erase the rest of the world with him. All of this while seeing all the underlying not-yet-born-but-still-there faults in the village's very system and Hashirama's rule! But, instead of just saying it so we can try to limit the damage, he just keeps them for himself as the indisputable proof of how the whole system is doomed to failure. To be honest, I do know why he doesn't talk, though, and that's because nobody'd listen to what is only considered an unstable, belligerent madman's apocalyptic words, no matter how prophetic they'll reveal themselves to be in the years. These are still other big reasons why I want to kick his ass, though, and I suspect that he knows. Count another reason, then.

They are just... Ahrg. Just talk, guys, like the mature people you ARE supposed to be but will never be. You understand that I'm in the middle of that, don't you? It gives me a massive headache on a good day and lately more often than not they make it a shitty day. I'm tired of constantly having to listen to Hashirama complaining about Madara this, Madara that, just because they're not sincere enough to just TALK and settle their differences within the limits of what it's actually possible, and because they don't talk about it (and when they do it seems like they are threading through two or three different discourses at the same time that nothing have to do with the problem at hand) they will never understand each other like they clearly need to and then we have to solve all the problems their bullshit leaves behind.

I'm not saying that they could resolve those problems by just talking, because they are too big for only the two of them and they often involve how something like world peace should be achieved. So, you understand why they'll never see eye to eye on that. But talking could be a start.

Mine feels like a full-time, underpaid and overly frustrating, babysitting job. Sometimes, I just want to kick both of their asses for being purposely (Madara) and unconsciously (Hashirama) difficult.

Sorry for my ramblings, but as a woman, a kunoichi and a wife I needed to vent a bit and too few people ask for my opinion nowadays, our self-appointed author first and foremost.

P. S.: I do want to kick his ass when he steals my hairpins out of spite after I have beaten him and Tobirama at shogi. 8/10, then.

For @dinainwater

It definitely got out of hand in the end 🤣 Rambling has always been a problem for me and rarely I manage to actually restrain myself, but I promise eventual next answers won't be this long. So, I hope it hasn't bored you (?) 😅. But I felt like Mito needed to make her opinion matter, so it was worth!

(If the reasoning explained above seemed twisted and unnecessarily difficult, it's because those two have a deeply unhealthy relationship)

However, thank you for your ask like always and I hope you enjoyed it 😁 whatever other question is always welcomed, don't worry 😊

*

#naruto shippuden #character meme #mito #mito uzumaki #madara uchiha #hashirama senju #tobirama senju #ask #ask me anything

[solynaceawrites]

Promise Me Forever [11]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC) Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, First Time, Friends to Lovers Chapters: 11/14 co-written by @lickitysplitfic​ Summary: An old, long-forgotten promise between gods comes back to haunt Dante when it deposits an unfamiliar woman on his door. Claiming to be the descendant of Ler, she says that they’re meant to fulfill the oath made by Sparda centuries ago, and all he can do is watch as she turns his life upside down. Yet when her parents come knocking, demanding the oath be fulfilled, he’s forced to choose: return to the bachelor ways he loved so much, or give in to the emotions brewing between him.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Lir can't stop smiling as she follows Dante through the streets of Fortuna. The aquarium had been everything she dreamed of and more: large tanks full of exotic fish, an open pool where she had been allowed to pet a sea urchin and a turtle—even if the ticklish sensation of the urchin's spines made her squeal—and even a hallway that passed through an exhibit where a shark swam directly overhead. Dante had been more than patient with her when she stopped and stared in wonder, gently pulling her to the side to allow others to pass.

Her hand reaches to her neck, where a charm he'd bought her rests. It's a simple thing, a shark's tooth on a leather thread, but she cherishes it more than anything else she owns, and he'd seemed pleased by how happy she'd been to receive it. Even now, he's more relaxed than he's been in weeks, strolling along with his hands in his pockets, pointing out the different shops and buildings he recognizes.

She's a bit nervous about meeting Nero and Kyrie again, more so meeting their children, but the high of the aquarium makes it easy to shift that into anticipation. Lir has always been good with children, something that came about when she'd been picked to teach weekly classes for reading and writing, and she hopes these will take to her as easily as the ones from her home had.

Their house is small, but cute, a bike sitting on the tiny patch of grass that is their front lawn and a selection of different kinds of balls on the steps. When Dante rings the doorbell there are shouts and footsteps inside, and Lir is shocked when two boys fling the door open. "Dante!" they scream, launching themselves at him.

"Hey boys!" he laughs, catching each one in an arm. Lir chuckles as he swings them upside down, holding them like footballs.

"Can I touch your gun?" one asks.

"No, Nero would kill me."

"How about me? Can I have one?" the other pleads.

"Maybe later. Go tell Nero we're here."

He swings them both upright and they take off, pushing each other as they disappear in the house. Dante turns to her with a grin and Lir laughs. "Is it always like that when you come over?" she asks.

"Pretty much! They'll be askin' for stories all night. Always gotta be careful which ones I tell, or Nero'll scold me about givin' 'em nightmares."

She nods, and then Nero appears in the doorway, eyeing both of them. "Guns?" he asks, and Dante shakes his head. "Sword? Any other sort of weapon?"

"Just my good looks," Dante jokes.

Nero rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Don't hurt yourself stretchin' like that." He steps to the side to allow them to enter. "Come on in. Kyrie's makin' spaghetti."

"It smells delicious," Lir says as she enters, and he smiles at her. "Thank you for having us."

"He treating you okay?" Nero asks suspiciously as he closes the door.

Lir nods, and he leads them back through the house. The boys are in the living room watching television and shooting tiny cars along an elaborate racetrack that takes up most of the floor. "Woah!" Dante exclaims, rubbing his hands together as he plops down with them.

Nero nudges her arm. "Come on with me, you don't have to play too," he says with a laugh.

Lir glances back as he leads her towards the kitchen, smiling to see him listening to the boys excitedly talk as they climb into his lap. She would have never guessed he would be so good with kids, and it really makes her happy . . . but then she realizes that is an incredibly dangerous train of thought and focuses squarely on the back of Nero's head.

In the kitchen, they find Kyrie humming to herself as she stirs a pot on the stove. The room smells of garlic and tomatoes and spices, and Lir breathes it in deeply, her mouth watering; visiting the aquarium had left her with a larger appetite than usual, so she's eager to taste the dinner Kyrie has spent so long on. "Get'cha something to drink?" Nero asks.

Lir nods, moving on instinct towards the stove. "What can I do to help?"

"Sit and relax," Kyrie laughs. "You're our guest."

She pauses, then takes a seat at the small table in the kitchen, where she'll be in easy reach if she's needed. Nero sets a glass of white wine in front of her and settles across from her with a bottle of beer clutched loosely in his hand. "Sorry if this is abrupt," he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "but I wanted to talk to you for a minute without Dante around."

"What about?"

Instead of Nero, it's Kyrie who answers, "He's worried that you might not be happy since this is an arranged marriage. Yes," she adds when Lir inhales sharply, "Nero told me. I'm not one to judge, so don't think that I will. But, having seen how poorly they can go, we both just want to make sure you're alright."

"Yes, it's all wonderful!" she answers immediately, wincing a bit as her voice goes a bit high pitched. Lir clears her throat when they exchange a glance, but she continues on, "Everything is fine. Dante treats me very well, I'm very happy. I'm glad to be here."

"Your family seemed intense," Nero says. He leans against the kitchen counter and folds his arms. "Did they pressure you?"

Lir shrugs, not sure how to answer. "Yes and no. But it was my decision in the end. We needed to do something about the oath, and Dante and I . . ." She sucks in a breath, wanting to avoid that topic altogether. "We figured it was the best solution."

Unfortunately by their expressions, Lir can see her explanation wasn't enough. "What oath?" Kyrie asks just as Nero says, "Best solution?"

"The, uh . . ." Lir shifts uncomfortably. "Sparda and . . . Well, he . . ."

"Sparda," Nero snorts, shaking his head. "At what point are people going to give up all this stupid crap?"

"Nero!" Kyrie scolds. He looks appropriately chagrined, and Kyrie sighs. "Lir, your business is your own. We just want to know you are safe and happy."

Lir nods. "I am."

"Good." Kyrie hands Nero the potholder as he moves to drain the pot. "So . . ." Kyrie says with a wink. "Are we expecting any little ones soon?"

Her heart pounds uncomfortably in her chest. It's an innocent enough question, one she'd heard directed to her friends, who would smile coyly and beat around the bush until all of them were laughing about it. But for her? Is it even possible? She's been regular since she was twelve, but there's no telling if any sort of pregnancy between her and Dante would hold, given that he's half-devil. Yet hadn't Sparda had children just fine, even if it had taken him two thousand years?

"Not yet," she murmurs. "We're still adjusting to this, and children would mean . . ." We'd have to have sex again, she nearly says, but cuts that short. "What about you?"

"Not until after we're married." Nero calls over his shoulder. "Besides, the ones we've got now are more than enough."

As if on cue, there is a crash from the living room, and Nero sighs as he places the pot back on the stove. "What have they done now?" he grumbles as he walks through the kitchen door.

Lir stands as well, but Kyrie just laughs and points to a drawer. "Will you set the table? We're just about ready."

Glad for something to do, she gathers silverware and plates and moves into the dining room on the side. It's a bit cramped, just enough space for six chairs, but Lir can't help but smile to herself as she carefully arranges the place settings, even folding napkins on top in pretty arrangements. This is much more her element, and when Dante swings into the dining room a moment later with one kid on his hip and the other on his back, Nero trailing after, they all stop short. "Wow," Nero says, lifting one of the boys and planting him on a chair.

Lir smiles, and Dante hands off the other kid before walking around to stand next to her. "This looks really nice!" he beams, holding out his hand to help her to a seat.

She looks at his extended palm and swallows thickly before pulling out a chair. "It's no trouble," she says, quickly sitting down.

He gives her a strange look, and she doesn't miss the glance Nero and Kyrie share as they bring the food to the table, and her face burns. After what her mother told her, touching his hand seems too risky; while Lir can't remember if she's done it before, and knows that she probably has—hadn't he helped her up after she'd fallen once?—she's afraid that doing it now, when they've gotten to know each other, will end with her parents taking her away.

"This looks delicious," she says to Kyrie. "Thank you."

Kyrie smiles, though it seems a tad uneasy. "Of course. Dante is like family, and you're included in that now."

Silence descends, broken only by the soft scraping of silverware over plates as they portion out the spaghetti and toasted bread, the two boys intent on eating, and Lir does her best not to sink into her seat. This can be salvaged, she thinks, and she turns to Nero. "Have you lived in Fortuna long?"

He shrugs, grating cheese over his pasta. "My whole life. Grew up in an orphanage for a while. Then Kyrie's dad took me in."

"Childhood sweethearts," Lir murmurs. "That's really sweet."

"Did you have someone before you moved here?" Nero asks.

There is a loud thump under the table followed by Nero's "ow!" Lir jumps, not sure if it was Dante or Kyrie who did it, but she answers, "No, it wasn't exactly encouraged."

"Did you know that my birthday is next week?" the younger boy pipes up.

Relieved for the interruption, Lir shakes her head. "I didn't! Happy birthday! How old will you be?"

He puts up five fingers. "Will you come to the party? Kyrie is making a cake and she promised it would be chocolate."

"That would be very nice," Lir answers.

She catches Dante smiling at her when the other boy asks, "Do you and Dante have babies yet?"

Dante chokes on the mouthful of beer he'd just taken, and her face feels like it's on fire, both from the question and his reaction. "No," she says gently. "We don't. Do you know what that means?"

The boy's nose wrinkles. "You haven't kissed?"

Lir laughs softly. "It means, of course, that you'll get more presents from us on your birthday if you've been a good boy. Have you been a good boy?"

He nods his head eagerly. "Yeah! I can tie my shoes and I'm learnin' how to write and I can spell my name!"

The boys dominate the rest of the conversation, and Lir is happy to ask questions with the occasional interjection from Nero or Kyrie. She can feel Dante's eyes on her though, and at one point swears she feels his hand on her leg, but when she looks down it is gone.

Kyrie offers coffee after dinner, but Lir glances at Dante. "We should get back," she says. "It was a long day, I'm a bit tired. If you don't mind?"

"Of course," Kyrie agrees. "I'm so happy the two of you came to visit, and I know the boys are, too. Nero, will you show them out?"

"Yeah." He stands, jerking his head. "C'mon. Least I can do is make sure you get to the crossroads safely."

Lir and Dante follow him. "This is far enough," Dante says when they're on the porch. Nero turns to him with a frown, and he shrugs. "Kyrie'll need your help with the kids, and I can get us back to our room. No need to worry. Besides, I need to talk to Lir alone."

"Careful out there," Nero says as he nods towards the street. "Demons don't normally come this far towards the water but strange things can happen." He glances at Lir and grins. "Of course, now that the two of you are hitched I guess we don't have to look there for those fuckers, do we?"

Lir sucks in a sharp breath and Dante punches his arm. "Watch the fucking language, kid," he says good-naturedly, then gives a wave as he hops down the steps.

She follows after, ignoring Dante when he holds his hand out to her. Instead she tugs her cardigan closed as they turn down the street. "They are a lovely family," Lir says.

"Yeah. Kid's got it nice now. And it's good that he does. He sure went through enough shit thanks to the Order."

Lir glances at him; his expression is guarded, not quite closed off, and she presses carefully. "What happened then? I know there were demons in the street, and a statue came to life, but the details weren't in the papers."

They pause at a crosswalk, and Dante watches the light. "A cult sprung up around my old man. Called him The Savior, built a church and a statue. Over time, I guess they got powerful enough that Fortuna couldn't do much about 'em. Anyway, they were turnin' themselves into demons, and they opened hell gates all over the city. I took care of those while Nero dealt with them. They'd raised him for years as a sacrifice." He pauses as they start to cross, then adds, "Not so different from you, I guess."

Lir stops, looking up at him in shock and hurt. "I'm not a sacrifice, Dante," she says harshly. 

He looks at her and shrugs. "You know what I mean."

"No I don't! I'm not . . ." She folds her arms and huffs, suddenly and furiously hurt. "I'm not anything."

"You're my wife. That's something." Lir stops on the sidewalk, and he continues on for a few steps before noticing and turning to face her. "I didn't want to push ya. I get it, I'm not the easiest person to talk to, and, honestly, I'm surprised you ain't cut and run yet. But something's buggin' you. Has been ever since yer mother called the shop. I thought comin' here would be nice for you, seein' the aquarium, maybe help you figure it out on your own."

"Dante," she whispers, clinging to herself.

"So, you can tell me, or not."

"Your wife," she murmurs. "Your wife. That's all I am, all I was meant to be."

"That's not what I—"

"Raised as a sacrifice, right?" Her lip trembles as she looks at him angrily. "A wife for you, to cook and clean and take care of the son of Sparda, right? Nothing else, nothing else wanted or needed."

Dante frowns. "What—"

"And you know the worst part about it?" Lir cries, her shouting actually drawing a few looks. Dante glances around, rubbing the back of his neck, just like Nero, and that makes her even angrier. Not caring about who is looking, she shouts, "You don't even care about Sparda! Or Ler, or any of it! It's all just a big dumb joke to you all, but this is my life!"

"Lir," he hisses, stepping closer and bending down. "You might not want to shout the name Sparda in the middle of the street."

"Why not? Let them hear about how useless he was at following through on his promises, or writing them down!" She stares up at him defiantly. "And you know what, Dante? It wasn't even necessary! They got it wrong! All we have to do is shake hands, and it's done, it's over with. So here!" Lir holds out her hand. "Shake and be done with it, and send me home. Just like you've wanted to do since I set foot in your shop."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He grabs her, not by the hand but by the arm, frowning down into her face. "What are you talking about?"

Lir grits her teeth. "We didn't have to marry. They had it wrong. So you'll be sending me back then, right? Well I'll save you the trouble, because I—I'm leaving."

Dante's eyes go wide. He drops his hand and takes a step back. "You're leaving?"

She presses her lips together, not knowing what to say. This isn't at all how she wanted to tell him, or do this—hell, she doesn't want to leave at all. But she is too angry now to back down, and Lir is afraid if she doesn't call her own bluff, she'll never be able to know for certain if Dante wants her, truly wants her. 

"Yes," she answers. "I was going to tell you when we got back, but . . ." Lir looks down so he won't see her eyes get watery. "This is for the best, Dante."

"What the fuck for?" He sounds confused and angry, but, worse, he sounds hurt, and she winces. "You said you didn't want to go back there. You said you wanted to stay."

"That was before."

"Before? Before what? Lir, if this is about us having sex—"

"It's not!" she insists. "It's . . . You always told me that you weren't the marrying type, and you didn't even want to do this until my parents showed up. Even then, it was just an obligation, so we don't have to . . . We don't have to keep doing this. I'll go home, and you can go back to the life you like without me in the way."

Dante shakes his head. "But Lir, I . . ."

"I should go back," she says, as if trying to convince herself. "I know you had this vacation planned, and the room . . . You can stay and I'll take the train back."

To her surprise, he reaches out and cradles her face in his hands. Lir blinks up at him, her heart pounding as he strokes her cheeks with his thumbs. She sinks into his touch, daring to hope that he will ask her to stay. As he steps closer, his face inching towards her, she imagines he will kiss her, and tell her he wants her, and all of this will be okay.

"There's no trains this late," he says instead. "Come back to the room and stay the night. I'll take you back to the shop in the morning."

Miserably, she nods, and they finish the walk back to the hotel in a heavy, oppressive silence. The fact that there's only one bed—something she'd barely noticed before—sends a fresh wave of tears to her eyes, which she does her best swallow. The last thing she wants after making such a mess of things is to cause Dante any more discomfort, particularly on her account.

Dante glances between her and the bed. "I'll take the floor," he offers gruffly. "You'll need sleep if you're goin' home tomorrow."

"No, no it's fine—"

He doesn't answer, just disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. Lir uses the opportunity to quickly change, pulling on a nightgown and stashing her clothes. She should pack, but Lir can't bring herself to do it, and when Dante finally emerges she rushes in for some peace so she can get herself together.

She brushes her teeth and washes her face, taking as much time as she can, not wanting to face him yet. When she has used up as much time as she thinks she can without him coming to find her, Lir turns off the light and opens the door.

Thankfully the room is dark, but when she makes her way to the bed she is surprised to find Dante on one side. Lir slips into the other, and without turning he mumbles, "Are you sure this is alright?"

"It's for the best," she answers uncertainly.

He huffs a humorless little laugh. "Best for who? You want to go back, that's one thing, but don't say it's for me. I already told you, I like havin' you around. Don't know how many times I have to say it before you believe it."

Lir rolls to her side and looks out the window. The lights of the city make the harbor glitter a bit, and suddenly she is homesick for her own seaside town. But the feeling is unwanted, mixing with wanting Red Grave, and the Devil May Cry, and Dante. He likes having her around . . . but that feels worse somehow.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," she whispers.

"Figured she told you something when I saw your face after you hung up," he mutters. "Just don't do it again."

"Not just about that." Lir feels him shift, the bed dipping and sheets twisting as he rolls over, and she wonders if he's facing her, if she should do the same. "I don't want to go back. There's just . . . I feel so guilty about staying. Your whole life was upended over something that could have taken five seconds, you've had to deal with me and my family. It doesn't seem right to ask to stay after all of this."

She can practically hear him thinking, the subtle bob of his throat and the way he exhales slowly when deeply considering something. It's one of the things about him Lir didn't know she knew until she knew it, like how he likes his socks folded and that he likes peanut butter on top of jelly, not the other way around. She listens to him breathe and think and she thinks of more, like how he slouches when he's paying attention but sits forward when he's tired, how he dusts the picture on his desk every day without fail, how he purposefully leaves her snacks on the bottom shelves where she can reach. Her chest grows tight as she thinks about all the things she's learned about Dante, and how much more she wants to learn, but now she might not get the chance.

"I ain't chasing you, Lir," he murmurs. "If you want to go, if you feel that strongly about it, then you can go. I've said what I needed to say. Sleep on it tonight and you can decide in the morning."

She hears him shift again, rolling over, and Lir looks out the window. He's said his peace, except for the three words she's wanted to hear most.

#dmc #devil may cry #dante sparda #lirael thorne #lir #dante/lir #dante/oc #dante x oc #dmc oc #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #story #myfic #collab #promise me forever #pmf

[wolf-555-writer]

Target On My Back Part 8

Sad to say, but this it the last part of the series. Hope you like this one and hope you’ve enjoyed the other parts as well! Thanks for all the comments and reads, really appreciate hearing from you guys :)

And special thanks to @kaddistar . You’re amazing! Thanks for taking the time to read it beforehand and give me feedback to get all the facts straight. And obviously the fucking amazing backstory. Couldn’t have done it without you! :)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7

Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow x Reader

Summary: Having found her true match, Natasha starts to think that even though her dark past, she does deserve happiness. But then you get shot and she blames herself for it. For the mistake she made and she starts to doubt all over again. Will Natasha be able to defeat the demons in her mind and finally get that happiness she deserves?

Word Count: 5,162

Seated on the roof of the SHIELD facility, the place she goes when she wants to be alone and think. It’s been a couple of months now since the incident. The missions are not the same without you. Natasha leans back, resting on her elbows. She closes her eyes and sighs, letting out a long breath. There was no time to drive to Headquarters. You wouldn’t have made it. Badly wounded, Clint and Natasha carried you into an emergency unit twenty minutes away from the grim warehouse instead. They made it in thirteen. Hanging on by a thread. Immediately put down on a gurney. Rushed towards an operating room by a fair amount of doctors, all dressed in white. Flatline en route... She still recalls what her shaking hands had looked like. Red. Covered in your blood. The round had pierced the vest, and didn’t leave an innocent flesh wound behind. But if you hadn’t jumped in front of her, she wouldn’t be sitting here right now. She has gone over the mistake countless times. It wasn’t supposed to go that way. Why didn’t she anticipate what was coming? Had she been off her game? Did she underestimate him? Being distracted? Distracted by emotions? It doesn’t matter anymore. It was stupid. Stupid of you to jump in front of her. It should’ve been her.

Natasha pushes the thought away. It’s not a good memory. She closes her eyes again and shakes her head as if to clear away the image, making room for a better one. It’s not a special memory, but it’s at least a tiny spark of happiness hidden in all the bad.

“(Y/N), you just missed the turn”. “No I didn’t”, you say, voice full of certainty, driving in a crappy old car with Natalia riding shotgun. Actually, it’s a stolen, crappy old car, driving away from a successful assasination attempt that won’t ever be traced back to the two of you. Not driving too fast, or too slow, calm and relaxed, not drawing any attention at all. As you’ve been trained to do. Flashes of blue lights fly by, going in the other direction fast, accompanied by a wailing sound of sirens. “Where are we going?”, Natalia asks once again. The answer she has to settle for is a mysterious grin on your face, keeping your eyes focused on the road that’s being illuminated by the poorly working headlights. The breaks screech and the vehicle comes to a lingering halt. Leaving the headlights on in the dark of night, you get out of the piece of scrap-iron, but pop your head back in and say, “You coming or what?”. Natalia opens the door on the passenger side, not knowing what you’re up too, yet liking the mystery of it. And being here in the middle of nowhere with none other than you. She walks to the front, leaning against the hood of the car, hearing the calming sound of the gentle waves in the sea. She glances at you when you appear, holding an item in your hand. A glass bottle. Unscrewing the cap, you place yourself next to her, close of course, and smile. “Want some?”. “I thought you’d never ask”, she teases and grabs the vodka bottle, taking a sip, not breaking eye contact with you. “Beautiful view, isn’t it?”, you hint at her, staring into her fiery green eyes for a moment, then averting your gaze to the numerous stars in the sky above.

It was indeed a beautiful view, as well as the stars... she calls to mind when another Agent steps on the roof. Natasha speaks, “I can't. I just… I can't keep doing this”. “I know, it’s been months. Just give it some time”, the person replies. “I don’t know if I can do that…”. “You just have to hold on a little longer, okay? Can you do that?”. A hand squeezes her shoulder softly, trying to give the redhead some comfort.

“And don’t be so dramatic, Nat”, the Agent says, sitting down next to her. “I’m the one that actually took a bullet”. “Just let me have this moment okay”, she jokes, nudging her shoulder lightly against yours. “Some days I can't stand the Agent assigned with me”, she complains. “I'm constantly busy holding their hand or telling them what to do”. 

“Ah, I see. That explains the drama”, you say using a sympathetic tone. “I just miss working with you”, Natasha reveals. “Don't go too hard on them, okay. I don't know if you've heard, but it's nearly impossible to keep up with the Agent Romanoff. She's just that good”. Natasha’s eyes glint and she grins at your last remark when a peaceful silence lays over the place for a minute.

“Were you thinking about that memory again?”, you ask her, referring to the moment you entered the rooftop earlier. The redhead stays silent and keeps staring at the clouded, grey horizon. “It’s a miracle I’m still an Agent you know”, she mentions after a couple of seconds, ignoring your question still. Borrowing a SHIELD helicopter - as Natasha phrased it - wasn’t taken up that well by the Director. However, he couldn’t argue with the end result, because she brought one of his best Agents back - like Fury expected she would. “Guess you are irreplaceable after all”, you react with a smile and cup her face with your left hand. “Especially to me”. You stroke her cheek with your thumb softly and stare into her eyes. She grins. “Wow, did you just make that up or was it rehearsed?”. “As a matter of fact, it came to me this very moment. I’m just that smooth”. Natasha rolls her eyes which is roughly translated to ‘how do I put up with this person’ and says, “Only ‘cause you took a bullet for me, otherwise…”. She doesn’t finish her sentence, instead leaned closer, and gives a sweet kiss on your lips which is more than happily accepted by you - not needing to know how that sentence ended anyway.      

After your lips parted your expression hardens. “I’m sorry Nat”, you apologize. “Sorry? For what?”. You take her hand in yours and tilt your head down as a sign of failure. It takes a moment for you to speak again. “That… that I don’t remember. That I can’t remember all those memories from our past”. She lifts your chin up and locks eyes, that mesmerizing grin present, knowing exactly what to say. “Well, let’s make some unforgettable ones then”.

Your face gradually lights up and you shuffle to the right with the use of both arms. Closely settling beside Natasha and she rests her head on your shoulder quietly. Mind unwittingly wandering to the event that happened 3 months, 2 weeks and 6 days ago - you know, approximately. How your heart had stopped, and fortunately began beating again - or so you’ve been told. It's all a blurry mess in your mind between Natasha firing her Glock and you waking up, more or less in one piece, in a hospital bed. There’s however one thing you do recall crystal clear. While Natasha took the kill shot, you had jumped in front of her, just in time, due to the other not-succeeded kill shot that would've otherwise torn through your lover's tactical vest. And, even worse, through her heart. She says it was stupid of you, only you would do it again, and again, and again if it means saving her. But seriously, sometimes it feels as if there’s a real angel guarding over the high-risk life you’re living, preventing you from leaving this messed up world.

“How did they find us anyway?”, you wonder out loud, breaking the silence. Natasha looks up and takes a few seconds to gather an answer. “I doubt the KGB was searching for a presumed dead person, so I guess they found me. But, as you know, got you instead”. “Hmm catchy, ‘presumed dead person’”, you repeat ironically. “But I don't know how. Fury suspected that it was one of our own who talked” - the reason why he didn't officiate your retrieval, as to prevent a rescue team from walking into a possible ambush. Besides, the Director knows perfectly well how competent the former spy/assassin is on her own - “But there's still no proof to confirm that. So, or they're covering their tracks pretty damn good, or we just don't know. Doesn't really matter now”, Natasha concludes.

“What do you think would have happened if that KGB officer took me back? To Russia?”. Calling him your ‘dad’ hasn’t even crossed your mind. The bastard didn’t deserve it. He deserved to be shot. A retribution for what he had done to your loving mother who gave her life for you. Natasha responds firmly, “I wouldn't have let that happen”. “I know, but what if?”. “Brainwash you. Use you as their weapon. Again. He might not have been able to kill you, but it sure as hell wouldn't have been a happy family ending”. “Understatement of the year. I got all the family I need here anyways”. You glance at Natasha. She grins again. “You're really on a roll today huh”. With a silly smile you shrug your shoulders and lean closer again, just like Natasha, and receive a warm kiss once more.

“Are you sure you ready?”, Natasha caringly asks, giving her watch a quick peek. “Never been more ready”, you confidently state, waiting for this moment for what seems to be forever. Sitting still is not one of your qualities and you’ve been training day in and day out since you gained permission to get out of that uncomfortable infirmary bed. Preparing yourself for what you do best. Natasha studies you with narrowed eyes for a solid ten seconds first, “Good. That said, we should go. Can't be late for the briefing”, and jumps up. You slowly follow as if having all the time in the world. “Relax, it's fine. Coulson has a soft spot for us”. Your colleague raises her eyebrows at that statement and corrects, “For you, you mean”. “No, not only for me”, you reply defensively. “Yes he does, it's very obvious. You're his favorite”. You scoff and place your hands on your hips. “No I am not. Take it back”. Natasha marches towards the rooftop entrance and sticks with her point of view. “No, why would I? It's true”. “Okay, then I guess Director Fury has a soft spot for you, considering you still have your job”, you counter after having reached the entrance too by taking a sprint. “True, but I just call him Nick”. With a surprising smile you close the door behind you. “You're joking”. “Do I look like I'm joking?”. Natasha has raised one eyebrow with a dead-serious expression present. You wave your hand in a nonchalant way. “Pff, I'll just ask Maria”. “It's Agent Hill”. “You're so gonna regret that”. She laughs and bites her lip after saying, “Oh I can't wait”. 

Natasha scans the crowded pavement across the street. A group of tourists following their guide closely while taking pictures of the same-looking shop-windows and of dull, concrete buildings. She doesn’t really see the point, taking a bunch of photos that will be stored away on some drive and never be looked at again. Her eyes move to a person who’s wearing headphones, a black hoodie, same colour backpack and ripped, faded jeans. Nope, too young. An expensive sports car pulls to the curb, and someone in a just-as-expensive suit, glossy golden watch showing off on his wrist, is shouting curse words into his phone while climbing out. Too rich. The SHIELD Agent is waiting patiently and leans back while speaking into her earpiece, “How’s it going?”.

A scope glides over ordinary people who are unaware that they’re being watched and fixes on the image of a woman, seated at a table outside of a cosy café. A cup of coffee in front of her, already empty, and wearing sunglasses to shield her eyes from the bright sun rays. She sits cross legged, a calm appearance, yet properly concealed from the public carrying a firearm and her hair is colored stunningly red. It’s Agent Romanoff. 

A voice returns in Natasha’s ear. “Watching your every move”. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be looking at me”, she implies to the other SHIELD Agent present on this operation, who is located in a five-story building across the street, scanning the block from this ideal vantage point. Natasha lowers her sunglasses a bit and peers over the metal brim at an apartment window, precisely in your direction and raises her eyebrows. “Fine, but it’s not my fault that you’re the most beautiful view”, you suggest and move the scope to a group of people who are crossing the street because the walk signal just turned green.

“Focus (Y/N)”, Romanoff says with a professional tone, though a small smile present on her features, and lays eyes on someone exiting an alleyway. Brawny looking, rough beard and ragged coat, two sizes too large, meaning it’s easy to stow a weapon underneath. No, too short. “I can't seem to spot this guy”. “Me neither”, you reply, while Natasha’s eyesight already hit her next possible target. A man who has his hands tucked away deeply in his rain-coat pockets, a hat on, possibly to hide his face, and accidently bumped into a couple holding hands. He seems jumpy and is sweating nervously, not mentally stable at all. Too paranoid. Then onto a blond, short-haired guy, eating an unhealthy burger, watching his surroundings intently - sort of - from inside a dark law-enforcement SUV. Natasha rolls her eyes and sighs. Too obvious.

“And not to mention the guy’s kinda huge”, Barton adds, taking another bite of his cheeseburger as he stares out the half-tinted car window. “Always bringing useful information to the table, Barton”. Natasha knows she shouldn’t take it out on her close friend. But she’s currently well past the point of slight frustration. The intel is correct. It has to be, because she is the one who acquired it. Her sources never disappoint- she makes sure of that. After all, she is still Black Widow. So why hasn’t the guy shown up? The man entered the country two days ago and he’s here for one reason, and one reason only. To kill. So she shouldn’t have to explain why it is of great importance to locate and capture him.

“Wait, hold on”, you return. “Found him”. See, I knew I was right, Natasha thinks, constraining herself from gloating too much. Leave that for, well, never. She doesn’t care about bragging rights or taking the self-centered glory for herself. She only cares about getting the job done. Natasha has her heart rate, breathing and mind under complete control. She’s ready. This is where the actual operation is about to start. She patiently waits for you to disclose the location. But it stays awfully quiet.

You feel a cold, metal barrel pressed against the back of your neck. The comm in your ear is snatched out and crushed inside a beefy fist. Patted-down and disarmed too. Shit. Well at least I have the target… Taking the information you have on the man into heavy consideration, then making a run for it doesn't seem the most thoughtful action right now. Especially if you want to avoid another shot wound to showcase itself on your body. And if the bullet doesn’t kill me then Nat will definitely kill me for getting shot again…  

“I still remember you”, a guy with a thick Russian accent speaks. “Yeah, seems to be going around a lot these days”. Word got out a certain KGB-snitch is still alive. And apparently you’ve pissed some people off - made even more enemies - during your previous employment.

With the butt of his gun he hits you in the head and grapples you by the collar of your jacket to brutally spin you around. Knocking you off balance, limiting a powerful counter-attack from your fist, or elbow, or knee, or- well, you get the point. Now away from the window, you face him, finally revealing himself. How in the world did this guy sneak up on you without you noticing? You didn’t hear a single sound. Not a light creak from the wooden floorboards. Or a squeaky hinge from the door. Not even a pair of footsteps. Guess he is a lot smarter than his appearance gives credit for. In addition to his covert approach, he also bypassed three- no, two-and-a-half SHIELD Agents surveilling the block and found your hiding spot too. You have to admit, the guy has some impressive skills, doesn’t mean it hurts less though. Big-guy shoves the SHIELD Agent against the red-brick wall next to the window you were previously monitoring out of and pushes the stiff barrel of the gun in the skin on your jawline. Well, he’s angry all right. You obviously did something to him that you can’t recall anymore. But it might be related to that nasty scar on the left side of his head that was recently covered by a blue baseball cap, and had just fallen off. “Some other friends of yours also gonna drop by?”, you challenge, which he answers with another hurtful strike of his handgun. You spit out some blood and mock, “Maybe they’ll hit harder”.

Big-guy’s expression doesn’t budge and your challenging remark earns you a steel fist to the stomach - Ouch - driving the much-needed air out of your lungs too. “You stupid if you think this ‘funny’ distracting will work. I still kill you for doing this”. With his free hand he points to the left side of his buzz-cut head. “And I work alone, is better that way”. Showing off your teeth that have become red with blood, you start to smile widely. “Well, that's a shame. Cause I don't”.

“Drop the gun”, a familiar voice orders. The man spins around and grabs you in a tight headlock, barking back at the SHIELD Agent, “No, you drop gun!”. Natasha hesitates but holds her aim. “I said drop it!”. His finger is now pressing on the trigger dangerously. “Do it, or I pull!”. She has a clear shot, but knows that if she takes it, he will too. And she is not looking to decorate these apartment walls with the insides of your skull. So, there’s only one option. “Alright, easy, easy”. She throws her palms up as a sign of surrender. “I'll drop it”. Is this her weakness? Would she have done this in any other situation? - meaning before you happened. Would she?

Natasha slowly lowers the gun to place it on the paneled floor and says to the guy, “Guess I forgot to look over my shoulder. It’s very important”. “Kick it away”, he grumbles. With her foot she slides the Glock towards Big-guy, also taking a small step in the process.

“Stay back! Keep hands up”, he shouts, prodding the muzzle of the gun against your temple aggressively. “Easy, easy”, Natasha says with her hands up again, now interlocked behind her head. “And this idiot forgot to look over shoulder”, he mocks with a hateful grimace and yanks on his arm, temporarily closing off your windpipe. “Jeez, thanks, I know I'm not perfect”, you cough-speak with a hoarse voice. Though, you do feel like an idiot. Too easily you got caught in this guy’s intense strong grip where it’s impossible to free yourself from. And even if you could pull it off, then there’s still the high, unavoidable chance of getting shot. Nice odds. Would this have happened if you hadn’t gone into the field today? Is it too fast? Maybe you should’ve taken more time to recover. The almost-fatal shot wound (the second one to be precise) has taken its toll on your body as you haven't reached your old physical level yet, lacking a weighted 10 percent still. The price to pay. Uncertain if you'll ever be able to reach that full 100 some day in the future. One thing is certain however, if this particular situation would’ve happened either way, then Natasha wouldn't have wanted anyone else other than you here. Somebody who thinks like her and understands her without telling or showing what to do. Somebody who can read her mind.

“But it's never too late to look over your shoulder, am I right?”, you state loudly. The humorless Russian has more strength, you’ve experienced that all too well. But what you lack in that department compared to him, you make up for in speed. “Huh?”. Before he can even comprehend what it is that you mean, you rotated your head to the side, as if looking- well, it’s not that hard to fill this in- and lowered your body just about enough to rule out an unfavourable outcome. A razor-sharp blade grazes your neck and thrusts into Big-guy, now sticking out of his chest below his collarbone. When putting her Glock down on the floor, Natasha had cleverly grabbed her knife from the sheath hidden at her ankle and threw it from behind her head, perfectly timed with your movement.

The tough guy screams in pain - remarkably in a high pitch for a dude his size - and tries to grasp the knife handle with his armed-hand, relaxing his other arm slightly. Which is more than enough for you. You grip his wrist and duck down, weaving under his bulky arm and stretch it behind his back in an unnatural position. Another cry of pain comes out and his knees buckle due to a firm kick in the back of them. The skilled knife-thrower, aka your colleague, has also jumped in, closing the distance first, and snapped the weapon that was about to be aimed at her out of his hand with a precise swing of her leg. “Impressive”, you say to the redhead, motioning to the sharp blade with your eyes, because currently you have your hands full.

At last an angry groan escapes Scar-face’s mouth when you safely detain him by cuffing his wrists together, nice and tight. Then your eyes shift to the doorpost, same as Natasha’s, when someone else arrives, severly out of breath. “What? Did I... miss all... the fun?”, Clint huffs, slightly bent over and leaning against the white-painted door frame with his arm. “We'll give you a little credit, okay Barton”, Natasha teases with a wink. “But you need to lay off the cheeseburgers. Probably better”, you advise your friend.

He looks up at you with an angry scowl which changes into concern promptly. “Hold up, you’re bleeding (Y/N)”. “Yeah, that seems to happen when I’m with the two of you”, you answer Barton, handing him the new detainee. “Wait- what exactly went down here?”, Clint asks suspiciously, pointing at the knife handle flaunting on the man’s chest. Natasha and you both shrug your shoulders in innocence. "Ugh, never mind", forcefully encouraging the massive, cuffed Russian towards the exit with an aggravated push, Agent Barton shakes his head as a reaction to his fellow Agents, “Why do I even ask”.

“First day back and you almost manage to get yourself shot again”, Natasha says, bumping your shoulder playfully while walking out of the apartment room side by side. “Yeah and it wasn’t even by you”, you joke. But when you glance at Natasha, you notice that she gives off an agitated impression. “Too soon?”

Holding up a small, squared mirror with a troubled expression, you hiss, “That’s definitely gonna be a scar”. Sorry, Natasha mouths, disinfecting the small wound on your neck that she caused after having cleaned up the dried, dark blood first. “Still, good thing you didn’t throw a Widow’s Bite. That wouldn’t have left a cut, but it would’ve hurted like hell”. “See, I do care about you”, she admits, tilting her head slightly, and putting down the medical supplies, “All done by the way”. “Yeah, love you too”, you say with an ironic tone and stand up from the exam table positioned against the back wall of the small infirmary. Mirror still in hand, you move it closer to your jawline once more and note, “Matching scars it is. Don’t even remember how that other one got there”. I do, Natasha thinks, but doesn’t consider it of great importance to tell. Could be because she was the cause of that one as well. So instead she says, with a quick wink, “Don’t worry, you’re still cute”, which makes your busted lips curve into a smile.

“Hey, you free the rest of the day?”, you ask the redhead, putting on a clean shirt - without a blood stain - and grab your leather jacket. “What are you up to?”, she replies with narrowed eyes. “Come on. It’s a surprise”. She is not a big fan of surprises, yet your mysterious look makes her very curious. So Natasha motions with an open hand to the door and says, “Lead the way”.

Having crossed half of SHIELD HQ by now, you encounter some other agents who are staring at Romanoff and you just a little too long with their judgy eyes. But you don’t care what they think of you or Natasha. Let them judge. About your shared past- which is actually unknown to them, because it's highly classified, strictly known by only a handful of people-, about your work as an agent, about your failures, not having a perfect record anymore. Nah, you don’t care. There are other, more important things to care about. And a special person in particular. Going inside an elevator that only goes to the basement levels of the building, you reach into your pocket. “I know it's probably not the same as that crappy car you told me about-”. Holding up two sets of keys, you look away and try to swallow a big lump that has formed in your throat, but feel a warm hand touching yours. “It's perfect”, Natasha says softly. “They are property of SHIELD, but I figured we could borrow them, all they do there is collecting dust anyway”, you continue. “I won't tell if you won't”, your now co-conspirator offers while you meet her fiery green eyes. You smile. “Deal”.

Entering the huge garage filled with a variety of exclusive vehicles as the excitement is radiating from your bruised face, you propose, “So, you wanna go for a ride then?”, throwing one set of keys her way. Catching them midair, Natasha gives the item in her palm a quick look. “You asked Coulson, didn’t you?”. You glare at her. “...No”. Natasha laughs. “I know when you’re lying”. “Okay, maybe”, you admit and proceed to your prefered means of transportation. The redhead eyes you and voices, “Told you. Totally his favorite”.

Before putting the matte black helmet on Natasha challenges, “It’s about time we finally see who is the fastest”. Also sitting on another motorcycle as you chuckle. “No cheating Romanoff”. “As long as you don’t put a hole in my back tire then we’re okay”, she counters sharply. Key in the ignition, ready to turn but you freeze at her reaction and look at her with narrowed eyes. “Too soon?”, she teases and closes the visor while speeding away with screeching tires. “You’re so gonna regret that”, you whisper and set the chase for Black Widow once more. This time with an entirely different intention. You tighten the grip on the handlebars with both hands and accelerate,  leaving a trail of white-grey smoke behind.

Feeling the chilly sea breeze on your skin, you slowly open your eyes and meet an orange-yellow painted sky. After an interesting run both stopped at the side of some remote mountain road to take a break and enjoy the beautiful view - you know which one. Your fellow Agent’s bike is standing next to yours, who might have reached this destination a fraction of a second earlier, but you would deny that of course. Still seated, your arms wrapped around the waist of the woman who’s currently sharing the leather bike-seat with you, not ever thinking about letting her go. She’s leaning back, cuddled up to you closely as she’s in need of some warmth to counter the cooling air around her. Both staring at the horizon where the sun is gradually setting, your chin gently resting on her right shoulder. Natasha rotates her head a bit in your direction. “Was it my fault?”. “Nat- just drop it”. “Please?”. You sigh. “Okay, I was mad at Barton”. “Yes, I noticed. Everyone noticed. My question is, why?”. “I didn’t like him knowing my past”. “So it was my fault?”. “Well… and also that you and him were so close”. You pause and Natasha glances at you, waiting for your next words. “Maybe I was jealous”. She laughs. “Maybe?”. “I was dealing with a lot of emotions at the time, okay. Give me some slack”, you counter and quickly add, “But I have it under control now”. Natasha looks at you, proud, and buries herself into your safe embrace again, resting her head against the side of yours. “Yeah, me too”.

“Told Barton the same after we had some beers. All he did was laugh, like non-stop for ten minutes”, you say with a light grumpy tone. “I totally understand why he laughed his ass off. I mean come on, ‘jealous’?”, Natasha says with a chuckle. “Clint and I are just good friends. You and I are-”. “Complicated?”, you finish with a half-smile. “Much more and will always be, is what I was about to say”, she mentions with a corrective voice. Shit, I almost forgot… You move one arm away from Natasha’s waist and still feel the item in your jacket pocket.

“I know we shouldn’t… but I brought something”. The redhead glances over her shoulder to look at your hand. Natasha’s eyes sparkle and she wants to speak, but is at a loss of words, and quietly takes one. “Cheers”, you whisper in her ear, holding up the bottle filled with vodka next to hers, “To making new memories”. She clings the glass with yours and repeats, “To making new memories”. And both take a chug of the strong alcoholic liquid. You wince a little. Oof, strong stuff. Yet Natasha seems unaffected by the Russian booze and gazes at the horizon again. Staring into the wide, unknown world, where nothing is certain. Except for one thing.

The target on your back will never go away, is what Coulson had said the moment you woke up from the almost fatal shot wound - the second one. It's a part of you. Of your past. Of your current job. You'll have to carry it with you until the end. What the end may ever be. You turn your head slightly to the left, and know it will be alright. No, not till the next time.

But till the end.   

Tags: @5aftermidnight, @ohfuckno​

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #natasha x reader #natasha imagine #Natalia Romanova #natalia romanova x reader #natalia romanova imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu #SHIELD #phil coulson #coulson #agent barton #clint barton #wlw fiction #wlw imagine #fanfiction

[7deadlycinderellas]

I have no use for rings of gold, I care not for your poetry 3/4

AO3 link

When Arya had last seen Sansa, she had been thirteen years old and full of giggles and sunshine.

She still exuded sunshine, but there were far fewer giggles. She had sprouted up during adolescence, her height making her look all the more regal. The gown she wore was a pale blue silk adorned in gold. It wasn’t as extreme as some of the southern gowns Arya had seen- it wouldn’t scandalize anyone at Winterfell- but Arya couldn’t help but wonder if she was cold.

She seems comfortable enough at supper though, even if Arya swears she can feel her eyes burning into the back of her head.

Margaery is beautiful and friendly, and the kind of woman who always has eyes on her. She is near exactly how Sansa described her in her letters.

It’s after supper, when Sansa corners Arya and asks if they could talk alone. Arya nods and the two make their way to the little solar down the hall from the children’s bedchambers.

When they shut the door behind them Arya turns and asks,

“OK, what do you want?”

Sansa looks offended.

“Can’t I want to privately catch up with my little sister?”

Arya raises an eyebrow. When Sansa’s face remains earnest, she sighs.

“Sorry, I guess I forget how long it’s really been.”

Sansa pokes her on the cheek, and then produces from her waist pocket a piece of cloth wrapping four lemon cakes.

While they’re munching on them, Sansa interrogates her.

When Arya tells her about having met Gendry on the street of steel well before knowing he was any sort of noble, Sansa practically squeals.

“That sounds so like you,” she insists, “Sneaking off and getting in trouble. But finding a bastard prince that way? It’s straight out of a song.”

Arya groans.

“I didn’t know any of that when I met him. He was just a smith and I was just a pest to him. “

Sansa raises an eyebrow.

“And now?”

Arya turns red.

Her embarrassment is interrupted by the door opening and Gendry entering, wide-eyed and frentic.

“Is that other woman you came here with-”

Arya rolls her eyes.

“Margaery Tyrell, you have to try harder to remember.”

“Whatever. She’s staying in the guest house, not near here right?”

Both of Arya’s eyebrows are raised. Gendry sits in one of the unused chairs.

“Cornered me after you left, plied me with questions. She’s terrifying.”

Arya snorts. Margaery looks like she’s studied and practiced every bit of the art of flattery and charm on high born men. No wonder she frightens Gendry.

Sansa laughs softly, and Arya reaches across to rub Gendry’s hand soothingly. She then notices Sansa go stiff, and remembers her insisting that they talk alone.

“I’ll apologize for my friend’s behavior. Southern ladies can be very different from us demure northerners, and the Tyrells are nothing if not ambitious.”

The nature of Sansa’s comment enters Arya’s mind and she feels her stomach twisting. Margaery did indeed seem very forward, and to Arya’s knowledge was still unwed. She spares Gendry a glance, he’s pale and jumpy and she feels a rush of affection. She doesn’t think she needs to fear.

Sansa coughs, and Arya squeezes Gendry’s hand reassuringly.

“I think we’ll head off to be, I’m sure you’ll be safe from her here,” Arya assures him, standing and leading Sansa off so that they’re alone again.

Once they’re in her room, Arya turns to Sansa again. They’re sitting on the end of her bed, and Sansa’s idly digging her fingers into the plush of the fur.

“Okay, what’s on your mind. I could tell there was something up just from your letters.”

Sansa frowns, and looks away. When she speaks, she does not answer the question.

“Your Gendry is quite handsome…”

Arya snorts.

“Don’t tell him, he’ll get a swelled head.”

She’s deflecting, but Sansa is not vexed.

“You like him, that much is easy to see-”

Her voice changes.

“But do you desire him?”

The question takes Arya aback, and she doesn’t know how to respond at first. With the back of her neck pink, she tries not to think of the strange feeling that’s come to sit in her gut whenever she thinks of her marriage, or of the dreams that have begun coming to her after they spend the day together, just talking and laughing.

“I-” Arya’s voice falters, “I don’t know, truly. I’m not sure what desire really feels like? But, when we’re alone, I do wonder what it would be like if he touched me sometimes. I want to know what it would be like.”

Sansa smiles grimly, but doesn’t speak. Arya interrupts her silence.

“Sansa, do you still want to marry Willas?”

Sansa sighs deeply, tucking her knees up under her chin, no easy feat with her voluminous skirt.

“Willas is wonderful. He’s courteous and kind. He’s always interested in what I’m talking about, and I’ve never heard him have an unkind word about anyone. I could spend every day of the rest of my life in his company and be perfectly content. I could probably come to love him, as Mother often speaks of how she came to love Father. But-”

Sansa bites her lip.

“I don’t want him, not as a woman wants a man.”

Arya is confused. True, Sansa had never spoken about lust or desire being involved in her vision of marrying a perfect man, but this is still an odd confession.

“Do you know, Sansa? How it feels? Otherwise, how would you know?”

Sansa presses her chin to her knees and wraps her arms around her shins.

“Yes. I have felt desire. But not for a man.”

Arya’s brain is spinning. She’s heard some about things of this sort, but always in places she wasn’t supposed to be listening. She thinks of what Sansa’s told her before.

“...Margaery?”

Sansa’s nod is so tiny Arya barely notices. When she speaks, her voice is mouse-like.

“When I first got to Highgarden, she was incredibly gracious. She’s Mace’s only daughter, but the whole keep was full of her cousins and daughters of other minor houses from the Reach. I think she realized that with the age difference between Willas and I that I might feel...alienated. “

“She taught me to ride better, took me through nearly every inch of the lands surrounding the estate. She helped me prepare for every ball and every masquerade. She was always surrounded by other girls, but she always made time for just us as well.”

Sansa’s voice has become clipped, as though she is short of breath.

“It was last year, when she was helping me with my costumes for the harvest masquerade. One minute she was helping me fix my hair so it would fit under my mask...the next we were kissing. I’m still not sure which of us started it.”

Sansa’s rubbing her wrists, seemingly unconsciously.

“I remember it started with her hands on the back of my neck...I never knew a person’s neck could be so sensitive…”

Arya’s words have frozen in her throat, so she just lets Sansa talk for a bit. Sansa’s gaze has gone off into corners.

“Her grandmother sent her with me because she’s trying to convince her to go against her father’s advice and seek a betrothal with Robb.”

Arya cocks her head when she responds.

“Do you think she will?”

Sansa sighs deeply, squeezing her knees as if trying to make herself as small as possible.

“I don’t know. It’s so hard sometimes to know what Margaery wants for real. She wears the mask better than anyone else I’ve ever met. When we’re alone...it seems like she wants me then, but it’s so hard to tell otherwise. She’s been being molded for this her whole life, more than we ever were.  I’ve seen her charm men as old as our father, and never break, not once. But if she marries Robb, she’ll come to stay at Winterfell and I’ll hardly ever get to see her again…”

Arya is at a loss for words.

“What are you going to do?”

Sansa sighs again.

“Mace Tyrell’s plan was to wed her to Renly Baratheon. She would still leave Highgarden, but Storm’s End is so much closer...and I feel like Renly would understand my pain a bit more.”

Arya crinkles her brow.

“What do you mean by that?”

Sansa snorts softly.

“Renly has often been a guest at Highgarden, but he is not enamored of Margaery. He seems to prefer her brother Loras.”

Arya snorts in response.

“Oh you seem to have found yourself in a mess Sansa,” she says, trying to sound sympathetic. She then rights her face and goes more serious, “You should tell Margaery how you feel. Whatever she does after that, at least you can say you’ve done your part.”

Arya quiets after that, her mind going through far too many things at once.

“Have-” her voice catches again, “Have you ever done more than kiss her?”

She doesn’t even have to look at Sansa to know both of their faces are glowing red. At some point, they’ve both flopped back against the furs on her bed, and she can’t even make herself look at her.

When Sansa breaks her silence, it’s with the same small voice from earlier.

“Quite a bit. Nothing that would- I’m not even sure there’s anything she could do to me to make people question my maidenhead.”

Arya’s shocked, not some much at what she’d done, but what she’d admitted. She still can’t look at her when she asks,

“Any advice?”

Sansa giggles, and they talk into the night. Sansa falls asleep at the end of her sister’s bed for the first time in forever, to the great confusion of the maid who’d been sent to look for her come morning.

The last moons leading up to the wedding are full of all kinds of things Arya dislikes. Seating plans, formal invitation writing, decorations.

And sewing, so much sewing.

“I still don’t see why we need to put so much work into a gown I’m only going to wear once,” Arya complains, when Catelyn accidentally sticks her with a pin.

“You’re soon to be named a princess, Arya, and possibly a future queen.” she chides, “People will expect you to be presented as best as possible.”

“Besides,” Sansa interjects, holding up multiple different colors of embroidery thread against the fabric, “This is the day everyone gets to come and admire you before you have to start the real work. This is the day you should put all of the fuss in, you can be practical every other day.”

Of course Sansa would think of that as a positive, so Arya bites her tongue.

She does refuse the gown being made of the fine silk Sansa had returned with from the south.

“It’s far too cold to wear silk,” she insists, “And the wool is produced here in the north.”

Regardless of marriage conventions, Arya knows she will never stop being a Stark.

In fact, winter is clearly creeping up upon Winterfell. The snow falls heavier and the wind nips and bites at more every day.

Gendry’s blood still hasn’t caught up to the north, and every minute he has to spend outside results in shivering and muttering under his breath. His annoyance makes Arya smile and tugs at her chest in a way she doesn’t understand.  

She tries, desperately, to sneak a snowball down the back of his shirt, but alas, he is too tall.

They eventually finish her gown, white lambswool with silvery-gray embroidery, and her cloak, heavy and lined with rabbit fur. They sit in her chambers, existing in the moment only to be stared at.

A moon’s turn before the ceremony, Arya goes to meet Gendry in the forge, and he scampers to cover something up.

She makes a face.

“What?”

Gendry frowns, sheepish.

“It’s not finished yet.”

She noses around a bit more, but Gendry won’t budge.

Two weeks before, one of the guards calls a party approaching from the Kingsroad. Arya feels her laughter spring into life when she recognizes who it must be.

Ned is older, more lined, with more gray in his hair. The years in the capital have taken their toll. But when his daughter, seven and ten and all arms and legs, flings herself at him, grinning, he is as young as he has ever been.

At supper the night he returns, Ned passes a scroll bearing the royal seal across the table to Gendry.

“This is the official decree,” he tells him, “As of the day of it’s writing, you are Gendry Baratheon.”

Arya sees Gendry go very red from across the table, and takes the chance to ask Ned.

“What are they going to do about the queen and her children?”

Ned sighs, and takes a sip of his ale.

“I think I managed to talk him into just exiling the children to Casterly Rock. They have done no wrong-”

Well, the younger two have done no wrong, Arya thinks spitefully.

“But Cersei’s fate is entirely up to him. Even if I was there right now, I don’t think I could stop the blood from flowing.”

Especially with the rumors about the Queen and her brother, that he fought so hard to keep from the King’s ears. He hopes his absence will at least allow a long enough time for the bodies to stop falling. He’s watched for far too long as the man who was once a dear friend be seduced by bloodlust and paranoia.

Gendry manages to excuse himself from the table early, and Arya stares after him.

Bran elbows her.

“You don’t have to try and be so sneaky, he’s just going to work on your wedding present.”

Arya squints at him.

“How do you know that?”

Bran shrugs.

“People say all kinds of things in front of me now. It’s like they think I’m a piece of furniture.”

“Gendry does not treat you like a piece of furniture.”

Bran exhales roughly.

“No, he doesn’t. But he does talk quite a bit about you to family members who aren’t you.”

Bran can’t walk off and leave her confused like he clearly wants to, but he doesn’t say anything else all the same.

Winterfell fills up with both guests and the huge numbers of staff that a lordly wedding requires. The crowds and fires do a great job at keeping the chill away. Things keep piling up and it hits Arya that she’s exactly a week away from being married, and somehow it’s not that, but the beyond that frightens her more.

But it’s a week before that she explodes with joy when the raven arrives with the news she’s spent so long hoping for.

She skips down to the forge where she knows Gendry is. He hastily tucks what he’s working on under a cloth before turning to find out why she’s bouncing off the walls.

He doesn’t even have to ask.

“The Night Watch gave Jon leave,” she tells him excitedly, nearly out of breath, “He’s going to be able to be here for the wedding.”

Gendry smiles. He’s never met Jon, but he can feel Arya’s joy radiating off her. And he knows the way she’s spoken of him over the years, that she still steadfastly calls him her favorite brother, still talks about how much she misses him.

It’s after a long moment, that Gendry realizes she’s still staring expectantly at the bundle on his workbench. He sighs.

“I suppose it’s close enough that I can show you,” he starts, rubbing it with the cloth a bit, “It’s not like I can give it to you in front of your mother anyway.”

Arya cocks her head in curiosity when he pulls back the cloth.

“Oh,” she exclaims, reaching out with one hand to touch the shining metal.

“I know how attached you are to Needle,” Gendry assures her, thinking about what she said about Jon, “But Arya, it’s basically a toy in your hands now. You need something with more heft.”

He reaches and guides her fingers over the design on the grip.

“I did have Bran give me a drawing of how Needle looked though, so I could make it as close as possible.”

Arya is touched, so touched she feels her eyes grow wet. She blinks rapidly to make the tears disperse, and wipes her face with the back of her hand. She can already hear her mother and her septa’s scolding voices going on about princesses not being supposed to carry swords, but right now, right here, in this dirty forge with her intended, not one bit of that matters.

She looks at Gendry’s face, so hopeful. She’s certain that he would never once ask her to stop playing with swords, or befriending the smallfolk, or speaking her mind. In fact, he seemed to welcome these things.

Gendry’s still looking at her expectantly, but his eyes turn a bit shocked when she sets the sword aside and reaches one hand out and gently shoves him until he’s sitting on the bench, his face now nearly at level with hers.

“I love it,” she whispers, voice feeling strangely breathy, “Thank you.”

They’re so close together that Arya’s next move is easy. She’s never kissed anyone before, not for real anyway. Even when she might have had a glimmer of curiosity with one of her male friends from the village, she never said anything. Most might have refused out of fear of getting in trouble for kissing a Lord’s daughter, but Arya suspects some of the others might have refused, then laughed at her, then stopped being her friend. She had never wanted to risk it.

But now? Arya would have admitted for years that she liked Gendry. Affection was something she knew and understood. But desire, what Sansa had asked her about, was something foreign, something she didn’t quite understand.

She wants to kiss him, she wants to know what his skin feels like against hers. Wants to know if that soft scent of skin and soot will stick to her.

She leans forward and closes the gap between them.

Gendry’s lips are softer than she expected. She feels the brush of his stubble against her chin, and that draws a sound from her that she didn’t even realize she knew how to make. Arya’s hands grip the edge of his wool tunic. He reaches up and brushes the back of her neck before running his fingers through her hair and she makes another vaguely embarrassing noise. Turns out Sansa was right about the neck thing.

Eventually, they have to stop to breathe. Arya studies Gendry’s face, her heart skipping a beat when he starts to grin.

Then he sneaks one more kiss to the corner of her mouth, grins even wider and whispers, “Told you you wanted a piece of this,” completely ruining the moment.

Arya rolls her eyes, shoves him back onto the bench and stands up.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she yells over her shoulder. The sword is still on top of his bench.

She’ll find a way to sneak it inside tomorrow.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #fic

[amoliveiraofficial]

tattoo ;; averoe discord thread

WHERE: Kingsboro, New York

WHEN: June 14th, 2020; June 15th 2020

TIME: Around 2:30 in the afternoon, at the tattoo parlor. And then around 3 in the morning, in their home.

WARNINGS: So fucking adorable- and long. But mainly adorable lmao

CHARACTER FEATURES: Avery Chopra, Monroe Oliveira ( @monroephile )

CHARACTER MENTIONS: Kami Desai ( @kamidesai ), Landon Davies ( @davieslandon ), Jenga Brady ( @jenga-brady ), Ellie Robinson ( @ellicfm ), Cleo Lopez, Max Slater (NPC), Luca Huntington (NPC), Liza Perez (NPC)

PROMPT: Averoe goes to the tattoo shop and then, share a late night heart-to-heart.

avery

"Okay- now are you going to tell me what it is?! Come on, Roe, you've been teasing this for weeks!" Despite adding a whine to her words, Avery was beaming brightly at the other girl. She was so excited to be with her to get her tattoo. It has been such a huge mystery to her and dammit, the young girl was not patient about this. "Please... A hint. Any little hint. I'm dying here, I need to know!"

monroe

"if i tell you, the mystery's going to be ruined, babe." monroe was excited to get this tattoo, she talked about it with kam a week ago, and she wanted this one to be a surprise for avery, which is why she had the other come with her in the first place. though a part of her is still nervous, she really hopes the dancer would love her tattoo. "no hints for you, baby, i'm sorry. you just have to wait."

avery

Groaning, she wrapped her arms around her and hid her face in the crook of her neck. "You're trying to kill me, babe, I swear... I don't have the patience to wait! You've been dangling this for so long now, I truly am about to die from curiosity. I already know it's gonna be amazing; Why all the secrecy, hm?"

monroe

"because i know you're going to love it, and it's absolutely worth the wait and surprise." monroe kisses avery's cheeks before they entered the tattoo parlor, talking to some of the people there for a bit before getting ready. she looks back at the other with a grin before taking her shirt off. "you can stay here and just hold my hand while this goes on?"

avery

"I'm gonna cry," she pouted, trying (and failing) not to smile as she kissed her. She waited as she talked with the employees, looking around the place before back to the older brunette. Smiling softly, she nodded. "Sure, I can do that. But I'm still dying over not knowing this, babe."

monroe

"baby, i know you don't have it right now, but i promise, it's going to be worth the patience." the dj took her shirt off and laid down on her stomach, she was so excited for this, for avery see the tattoo slowly be revealed. monroe takes her hand to hold. "you can guess though, while kami works on it. ready?"

avery

"You're gonna be the death of me, baby." Kissing her forehead, she then took a seat in a chair near the girl. Leaning forward, taking her hand and kissing it before leaning her cheek on it. Avery smiled softly. "Okay... Um... Is it dedicated to one of your favourite music artists?"

monroe

"feeling is mutual, angel." monroe just kept her eyes on avery, who...god....looking at her like that....she just wanted to tell her what the surprise is, that this is for her, but she has to be strong for this. "nope," she grins teasingly at the other.

avery

She leaned in the kiss her on the lips, gently bumping her nose against hers. Groaning softly, Avery continued to pout. "Um... Is it..." A thought came to her. Which, it honestly made her blush slightly. Laughing, she shook her head. "Sorry, this is probably wrong as well, but it'd be so adorable if it'd true: is it something for Mars?"

monroe

avery was getting close, but it's for the other tattoo monroe's just about to propose for them to have after kam finishes this one. she just grins, chuckling lightly at her guess. she had a feeling the writer wouldn't turn down the chance of them having a matching tattoo. "try again, baby. come on....just watch kam do his magic...."

avery

She pouted, trying to think of something. Anything! "Waffles?" she guessed as well. However, she then shook her head as she said, "I'm not anywhere close enough, am I?" Kissing her shoulder, Avery sat up to watch Kam's work. Her brow furrowed slightly. She noticed the tattoo outline and the outline... It looked familiar. "Hold up-... Is that...?" Standing up slightly to get a better look, her eyes widening as her other hand covered her mouth as she sat back down quickly in her seat to stare at Monroe. "Eros and Psyche?!"

monroe

"baby....i don't think waffles and i are in that level of friendship yet," she chuckles. "nope, not close, sorry baby." monroe kept her eyes on avery as she watches her tattoo slowly taking form, grinning at her realization. she was amused at the girl's surprise on her face. "mhmm....go on," she hums, letting the girl take her time in finally noticing the tattoo that was taking shape on her back. the dj then looks up at her with a smirk on her face.

avery

"I don't know... He seems to be your favourite." Of course, she wasn't going to add 'pussy' in there, not in front of Kam. But she knew that Roe would get it. However... The fact that the tattoo was the silhouette of Eros and Psyche... She hadn't been expecting that. Their tale were her favourite myth and her book was a modern retelling of them. So to see this on the skin of the girl she loves... Avery honestly became incredibly emotional. Smiling brightly, she soon also began to cry. "Baby... I... I-I don't know what to say," she finally mused, scooting her chair closer as she laid her forehead against the DJ's, kissing her hand.

monroe

“that is not true, he’s not!” monroe feigns offense at the girl’s words, but the chuckles once more. it’s been a little banter between the two of them which started on the week she was just staying at home after that little incident back the throuple. she isn’t even that much focused on kam tattooing her back anymore, she only kept her eyes on the younger girl who seemed to not believe what the tattoo is on her back. “your piece about eros and psyche is my favorite, so….,” she wiggles her eyebrows. she intertwines her fingers with avery, humming at her kissing the back of her hand. “you like your surprise?”

avery

"It totally is!" she joked. The little inside joke was truly becoming one of her favourites when it came to their quirks. Honestly, bringing Waffles into their lives not too long after the fight at Throuple had proven to become one of her best ideas. She couldn't stop smiling at the girl, her heart bursting with so much love and joy. "I love it," she whispered, unable to handle it anymore. She leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips, soon laughing a little as she wiped away her tears. "I can't believe this... Babe, how long have you been planing this?"

monroe

“mhmm, baby, you’re going to distract kam…” monroe jokes, pecking on avery’s lips once she leans her face close to hers. she was glad that the other loves her little surprise. “maybe a couple of weeks now?” she gives her a shy grin. “i had this idea of getting another tattoo, on my back this time, and instantly thought of your favorite myth. kam replied to my tweet and we texted about it for bit.” she brings her hand close to her lips, kissing the back of her palm. “i just figured this is the right time to have it.”

avery

"Nah, he's good," she mused, waving him off. All she could focus on was the girl before her. And listening to her... Avery let out another surprised laugh. "A-A few weeks?" With her eyes scanning Roe's, she leaned in for another kiss. It was so soft and gentle, but full of so much love. Love... Would that explain why she got this certain tattoo? Because she loves her? An entire zoo rampaged through her stomach at the thought. "I love it. I love it so, so much." I love you so much. God, I'm so in love with you. "I can't believe this... This is amazing, baby."

monroe

“yeah, remember when i tweeted about being tempted to have another tattoo?” monroe wiggles her eyebrows at the other again. “he replied to my tweet….maybe it took some time for me to text him because we had busy weeks after that? then we talked about it, scheduled the whole thing and now we’re here.” she hopes that even though she doesn’t know how to put her feelings to words yet, avery would know the message behind this tattoo. “i’m glad that you love it, angel,” she smiles lovingly, rubbing her thumb against her palm. “though, since you’ve mentioned mars….i have another idea.”

avery

"I-I remember, yeah. I just... God, I truly didn't think of this being a possibility," Avery admitted. It truly had been the farthest thing from her mind, not even an actual possibility. But it was real. It was happening. And soon enough, this was going to be a part of Monroe for the rest of her life. God, the idea of something that's connected to the writer being a part of the DJ for forever... It felt so special. Laughing, she nodded. "What's your idea, lioness?" She stared back at her adoringly.

monroe

the moment the idea came to mind, monroe secretly researched on eros and psyche tattoos, seeing which one would look good (and avery would love). she wanted a part of them, a part of the writer to be on her skin for as long as she lives. she wanted to be close to her even though they're not together, and this seemed to be a way. "see...he loves treasure planet and....i came up with thr idea of matching tattoos.... how about we have the planet mars and a pirate ship as our tattoos?"

avery

She's going to tell her. She's going to go with Landon's plan and tell her that she loves her. She cannot hold this off any longer, not after this. She can do it tomorrow, maybe even try to actually cook something. Make an effort. All she knows is that she loves her and she desperately needs to tell her. Listening to her idea, the younger girl beamed brightly and nodded quickly. "Yes! Yes, baby, I love that. I love that so much. It's perfect. Which one do you want? Where should we put them?" God, today was an incredible day.

monroe

monroe smiles when avery was up with the plan of having matching tattoos. "i was thinking about you having the planet mars while i have the pirate ship...it does makie sense that i have it right?" she was somehow a little pirate during her younger years, before meeting avery. she was excited to have this one with her and share it to the world, this is something permanent this time, to tell everyone whom she belongs to  "how about on our wrists? just cute little ones, i'm sure mars would love it when he grows up..."

avery

She grinned. "Sounds great, baby. Or should I say... my Tristan." Giggling, she rubbed their noses before kissing the girl. It was going to be perfect and she loved it so much already. The idea of them sharing something that meant a lot to their son... It felt amazing. She was certain that Mars was going to love it. "I'm all in. I love the idea of this so much. He's going to love it."

monroe

"oh, i'm definitely your tristan," monroe pecks on the girl's lips. things with avery is finally picking up, they've been in a slow pace for a year now, and she felt so stupid for realizing what really her feelings are for the writer are lately. it actually took for her so long to understand it. well, it's better late than never, right? "after this, we'll have the matching tattoos then. i'm excited."

avery

"And I'm your Yvaine," she mused. A grin graced her lips at the peck. She loves her. She loves her so much and she can't keep it to herself anymore. She wants to be with her more than anything. While she wished that this could've happened sooner, at least she was finally feeling more confident to tell her. And while there was still that small part of her that's worried, she was more so convinced that Monroe Oliveira was in love with Avery Chopra than that she wasn't. And she's going to tell her. Once the excitement of this has calmed down, she's going to tell her. "Me too, baby. This is such an incredible idea."

monroe

monroe's happy that her plan went well and avery loves her surprise. her reaction is the only important thing she cares about, she wanted her to know that she wants to be with her for the rest of their lives. god, she only wants avery marina chopra, no one else. the rest of their stay at the tattoo parlor went by a quick, with them getting the matching wrist tattoos after. they've kissed a lot in front of her friend, but she didn't care, she loves this very moment she shares with her. ------------------TIMESKIP----------------------------------- is this what jenga has told her that day when they were at the park? she remembers the older girl's words, i think there’ll be a breaking point moment where your heart can’t take it anymore. she couldn't take it anymore, her heart was about to explode. she kept on tossing and turning on their bed, watching the writer sleep beside her. fuck, she's so nervous.

avery

After that rather eventful day, it wasn't surprising that Avery had found it really easy to fall asleep once the time came- especially while curled up in Monroe's arms. She couldn't stop reeling over the girl getting that tattoo for her and then them getting those matching tattoos for their son. Honestly, she's never been so happy before until she had both Mars and Monroe in her life. And she wanted to spend the rest of her life like this with them. She loves them greatly, her heart just so warm constantly. It'd been the middle of the night when she woke up. Typically, they both ended up waking up at around this time for a soft middle of the night make out session. "Baby?" she croaked softly, reaching out for her.

monroe

her heart is beating wildly against her chest, it felt like those kettle drums being played so loud that you can hear it from afar. could avery heart it too? monroe tucks the girl's loose hair behind her ear, in some way, she was waiting for her to wake up. she just wanted to tell her, she doesn't think she can last another second without her knowing what she's feeling. "aves....baby...are you fully awake?" she asks, gently kissing the top of her head. "i have to tell you something, it's very very important. it can't wait."

avery

She smiled softly at the kiss, wrapping her arms around her. "Babyyyy," she mused, yawning softly as her nose scrunches up. Avery scooted as close as possible, blinking her eyes awake to look at her. Despite still being quite sleepy, she looked at Monroe as if she was responsible for all of the planets and the stars and everything wonderful and beautiful in the universe. "What is it, baby? You can tell me anything. I promise- I got you, remember?"

monroe

monroe takes one of the girl's hand and puts it on her chest, staring deeply into her eyes. she was struggling to put it into words. god, she wishes she was eloquent enough to tell her how she feels. avery and mars are her galaxy, and she couldn't imagine how the past year would be without the two, she can't imagine life without avery. she's her lucky star, someone who came in her very dark....very dull life and brightened it up, put life into it, made her feel so fucking alivem made her feel things she didn't know she could ever feel. fuck, how can she even start? she puts her hand against the writer's cheek, running her thumb against her skin. "i love you, avery marina chopra."

avery

... Wait... Wait, is this a dream? Is she still asleep? No way this is happening... Holy shit, it's happening. It's actually, finally happening. Avery laid there in silence, her mouth gaped open in shock. But then, her lips tugged into a huge grin and she laughed, pulling the girl into a kiss. "I love you, too!" Her words came out breathy, the brunette overcome with joy. She laughed joyfully again, her hand reaching to cup her face with her thumb caressing her cheek. "Monroe Eilam Oliveira, I love you. I love you so, so much. I always have, lioness."

monroe

part of monroe always knew that she loves avery, even before they started living together. it showed how her place back at southside drastically changed, with her always making sure the writer has a good time, even though they were having sex or just hanging out, sharing take outs and watching crappy shows on her laptop, or sharing new music or mix that she's made. the love she had even intensified the night she found out about her attack, she realized how scared she is of losing her. she wasn't just a roommate, but she's also her best friend. the day that the older girl decided about moving to the north, the other was the first person in mind she wanted to live with. they just.....fit so well together. they're soulmates. monroe knew that now. "i love you," she repeats. "fuck, i love you so much, avery. i can't even....i can't even put it words. i'm sorry i took forever."

avery

After everything they shared and been through with each other over the past year, it wasn't difficult for her to fall in love with the girl. And while she's fallen in love before with three different people, this love... this love she has shared and felt for Monroe... it was so different. It was more real. All of her past mistakes, she had subconsciously made sure to not repeat them with the girl. She made sure to actually talk to her, to stay put so that they'd be able to work things out. In the beginning after she realized that keeping her attack from her had been a mistake, she knew then that she needed to be honest about everything with the girl and to keep her in the loop with things. And she did, with all except for her love for her. Compared to the place she was at a year ago, she has become so much of a better person. And honestly? It was the love of her two most favourite people in the world that helped her with that. She has love Monroe since the moment she saw her, and her love for the girl has only grown more and more. For the first time ever, she can think that they're soulmates and truly believe it. Liza, Luca, and Max, there'd always been those doubts there. And while she'd been scared of potentially being wrong about the DJ's returned feelings, when she finally thought logically, she knew that those doubts were false. "I love you," she mused, softly putting her forehead against hers. "It's okay, baby. It's okay... We've honestly been saying it to each other now for so long; There's so many different ways to say and show our love. But god, I love you so much, Monroe. Ever since the day I met you, I've been in love with you. I can't... We're finally admitting it to each other. I've been wanting to tell you since New Years; I just wasn't sure how. Hell, I've been trying to. But something always stopped me: Mars, Ellie... myself... I love you, my Roe. Fuck, I can't stop saying it! I love you, I love you, I love you."

monroe

love was something monroe never really experienced before. it’s always been something short-lived for her, something that she could see other people having but not her. yes, maybe she’s had the platonic kind of love, but this? she’s definitely haven’t encountered that. not until she met avery, there’s always this certain warmth in her chest that only shows up whenever they’re together. it collapsed and became a kaleidoscope when they got even closer as time passed, her heart sinking at the though of losing her upon discovering that scar on her arm. things between them surely changed after that. she became…..closer, more protective of the other. there are even times she’d come to peppermints to pick her up and it’s not even her shift. she’s terrified to lose her, she didn’t know then, but now, she was so sure. so sure of what her feelings are for the writer. “so….that was why you were nervous back at new years?” she now realized that day the girl was about to tell her something, but then they were interrupted by a lot of things, that morning before they went to the aquarium, that night during the pride party. god there’s been a lot of occasions she realized that this has been what avery’s been trying to tell her. “i love hearing it from you,” she admits before pecking on her lips. “i fucking love you, so much.”

avery

Having felt love before and having been burnt by it all three times, she'd been rather scared when she realized she was in love with her. She'd been talking with a girl named Abigail at a New Years Eve party and gushing about her, having a bright smile and hearts in her eyes the whole time. The younger girl had just giggled and been like, 'Wow, you really love your girlfriend, don't you?' She couldn't even correct her: she'd been so stunned. And for a moment there, she wondered if this was a good thing. But the very second she saw her again, saw how her face lit up when she saw her as well, her fear had melted away and she was comfortable. A feeling that was different when she realized her feelings those other three times, having been scared all throughout. That was when she knew that this was real- and that this was so much better. "Yeah," she admitted bashfully with a laugh. "But... the thing is... while I wasn't sure how to tell you, I felt comfortable. I felt so comfortable and everything just felt so right. Everything made sense. I've never felt this way before... it's so new but I like it so much. Fuck, I love you so much." Giggling at the kiss, she scooted closer and held her in her arms. "Wait... So, what's our next step? Where... Where do we go from this, from now on? Because... now that I've told you... I don't think I'm capable of hiding my love for you again."

monroe

“now i get why cleo calls me stupid all the time.” monroe always makes sure that she’d always visit avery during her performance at the cove, bringing her a yellow rose, which she remembers, her favorite flower. she’s always hide in the crowd during the performance, or the restaurant owner would find her a place to enjoy her food while watching the other. “i didn’t know what i was feeling until lately….back at the pride party, before ellie interrupted us?,” she says with a shy grin on her face. “i’m kind of glad we were interrupted by her and mars a lot of times….this just….seemed like the perfect moment. my heart kind of just told me it’s the right moment,” she smiles, kissing the younger girl’s cheek. “well…i don’t want to hide it either, and i want people to know….that it’s official. so….avery…erm,” a blush formed on her cheek as she struggled on her words. “would you be my girl? is that how i’m supposed to say it?”

avery

"Oh god... She's going to have a field day with this..." Avery laughed brightly, hiding her face in the crook of Monroe's neck at the realization. Cleo had most definitely been one of the people who constantly encouraged her to admit to the DJ about her feelings. Only, she'd been less nice about it. Nonetheless, she was glad that this has finally happened. Took them much longer than she would've liked... But this has finally happened. And nothing could make her happier. Looking back at her, she smiled warmly. "It is, yeah," she noted, smiling only brighter at the kiss. With her smile only growing, she squealed as she nodded. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" Hugging the older girl, she finally kissed her passionately. "I would love to be your girl, baby! I would love that so much."

monroe

monroe wouldn’t prefer this in any other way. wow, avery’s officially hers and she was avery’s, there were those butterflies in her chest once more. she pulls the other close, humming as they’ve kissed. three in the morning, while the world is sleeping. it was just their souls who are awake, and they’re finally together, after what felt like forever of waiting. she carefully drags the writer on top of her. “hmm….you’re my girlfriend now, huh?,” she teases, wiggling her eyebrows at the other. “i just want to sleep like this…with my girlfriend on top of me. i like saying that now.”

avery

This felt like a dream... No. No, this was better than a dream. This was real life, now. And god, she's so happy right now. When she woke up at 3 am, ready to steal a gentle moment with the girl while the rest of the world is nonexistent, she expected for them to share a few kisses and cuddles. She hadn't been expecting to share their love for each other. But now that it has happened, she couldn't have asked for anything better. Grinning brightly, Avery giggled at the word. "I suppose so," she purred, giving Monroe heart-eyes. "And... you're my girlfriend now. How about them apples?" Nodding, she kissed the tip of her nose. This is happiness, isn't it? She loves it- loves her. "Mmmm, I would love to sleep like this. To sleep on top of my girlfriend. God, I love hearing you say that. I love you, my iridescent girlfriend."

#(📚 writings.) #( ft. monroe oliveira. ) #( sh. screwdriver cocktail // avery + monroe. )

[hms-chill]

Everything’s Bigger

Chapter 3

Henry's not sure how long they spend in bed. He knows he dozes, even as he tries to stay awake to make sure Alex doesn't roll over onto his bad shoulder. He's dozing when Cash comes in to wake him up with a gentle, "Henry? They've found the other man he was working with. The president is on her way, and we're hoping to move Alex to the hospital for some x-rays soon."

"It's... it's over?"

"It's over," Cash says, smiling. "Do you want to wake him up and tell him?" Henry nods.

"We'll be down in a bit." Cash nods and goes to finish things up downstairs, and Henry starts to kiss Alex awake. After a moment, a half-asleep Alex starts to move his arm up to Henry's face. Henry tries to stop him, but he's not quick enough. Alex yelps in pain, pulling the arm back to his chest as Henry pulls him into a hug. He's trying his hardest not to cry, but he's clearly in pain as Henry rubs his back gently.

"Hey, it's okay. It's all going to be okay. We can go to the hospital when you're ready, and they'll get you all fixed up. I know it hurts; I'm sorry. I love you."

"I love you," Alex says, then, "It... it hurts. It hurts so bad. It hurts to move and breathe... It hurts."

"I know. I'm so sorry, Love. We... we can go to the hospital whenever you feel ready to get up," Henry says gently. He's not sure what else to say, and even less sure what will make it past the lump in his throat. It hurts to see Alex in so much pain, especially when it feels like it's all Henry's fault. Alex is hurt because of him, and that is nearly enough to make Henry cry.

After a few more moments with his face buried in Henry's shoulder, Alex pulls back to ask, "I... we can go to a hospital? It's safe?"

"Cash said so. They... they've got all the bad guys. Your mom's on her way, probably with June, and I'm going to call home as soon as I can make sure it's okay to let them know."

"Another Texan succession plan, foiled," Alex mumbles, and Henry laughs, kissing his cheek.

"Do you feel alright to get up? It'll be going downstairs, then out to a van." Alex nods, and Henry helps him up, making sure he's steady. They make their way to the van, and Henry gets permission to call home, so he calls Bea and his mom, filling them in on everything that's happened. When they hang up, he calls Pez and fills him in, too. All the while, Alex rests on his shoulder, content to cling to Henry's arm with his good one and relax for a bit.

He refuses a wheelchair when they get to the hospital, and he only leans on Henry a bit as they make their way inside. They're eventually separated as Alex is whisked off to x-rays, and someone insists on looking Henry over to make sure he's not hurt before they let him go wait in Alex's room. He gets there just as Amy is finishing her security sweep, and he pulls her aside to ask a question. She hesitates, checks with Zahra, and gives him permission. Henry pulls out his phone.

Alex is back before too long, complaining about an uncomfortable x-ray blanket and that his sling is ugly, though Henry knows him well enough to be able to read the very real and entirely unrelated pain in his face. Ellen, June, and Leo are there before long, all with Texas-sized hugs for them both before Elle's pulled into a conversation and Leo offers to get them dinner somewhere local. Alex names a place, and Henry recognizes it as the place they were supposed to meet Liam and Spencer for dinner. He hopes they're okay; hopes no one else was hurt. He hopes so badly that he and Alex didn't ruin anyone else's life.

"No one else was hurt. Amy got the first guy right away, and the second wasn't able to hurt anyone," June says, pulling him out of his head. He's alone with the Claremont-Diaz siblings now; Leo must have left to get food. Alex has let his unshakable facade drop just a bit, and Henry climbs into bed to cuddle him.

"How is it?" He asks, and Alex grimaces.

"It hurts. They said it's fractured; I'll have to do physical therapy soon to make sure I don't lose range of motion. That'll hurt like hell, too, but at least it shouldn't take too long."

"I'm sorry. Thank you."

"Nothing to be sorry for; I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Zahra said we can have Twitter again, right?"

"That's right."

"Come here." He's got his good arm out for a selfie, and Henry puts his head on Alex's good shoulder, smiling slightly. Alex takes the selfies and goes immediately to Twitter with it, posting it under the caption "we lived bitch".

"People know that meme, right? Like they'll get that it's a meme?" He asks, and Henry nods, laughing a bit as he turns to press a kiss to the side of Alex's neck.

"Get a room," June mutters, and Alex glares at her.

"You and your partners are twice as gross. Besides, I'm hurt. I've been through something traumatic; I need the support. Emotionally."

"Fine; you win. I'm going to the bathroom. You're the worst; I'm glad you're safe, both of you. But Henry especially."

Alex's indignation follows her out of the room. Henry quiets him down with gentle kisses along his neck, and eventually, the pain meds kick in for real, letting him relax for real. They both spend a bit of time answering texts and letting people they're okay, Alex especially, since most people Henry knows are in bed. He checks in with Liam and Spencer, and they're okay. They don't mind rescheduling dinner, so Alex plans that for a bit, then calls his dad on FaceTime. Oscar wants to talk to both of them, so Henry is holding the phone, his head on Alex's shoulder, when June comes back into the room to say, "Alex? I... I think you'll want to come see this. Keep Dad on; he'll want to see, too."

June takes the phone while Heny makes sure Alex can get up without hurting himself, and they follow her out of their room. They're at the end of the hall, and just to their right is a big window overlooking a park. When they look down, it's full of people. People waving rainbow and other pride flags, people holding hastily made signs that say things like "Austin Proud", "Get well soon, Austin loves you", or just "Austin ❤️'s Alex". Alex's hand goes to his mouth, and Henry hugs him from behind, careful not to bump his shoulder. Oscar says something, but June answers for them as they keep looking out over the crowd gathered in the golden hour sun. Wordlessly, Henry presses a kiss just below Alex's ear, then steps back to take a few pictures: one where Alex's face is visible in profile, a few tears on his cheeks and sheer awe and joy in his face, and a few of his silhouette, the crowd below visible in the background.

When he gets back, Alex's voice is thick with emotion as he says, "They... I was right. They are good, and they... This is Texas. This is the state that raised me; this is the state I love. This is it right here, all sorts of people coming together to love one of our own."

"The guys who hurt you? They drove over from Louisiana," Henry says softly. Amy had texted him, offering him the opportunity to tell Alex face to face. Alex turns to stare at him for a moment, then starts to laugh a bit.

"Of course they were. Texas... Texas wouldn't do this to me. Not my Texas. No, this, right down there? That's my Texas."

Henry smiles, kissing him again and resting his head on Alex's as they look out on the crowd together. After a moment, he points to a cluster of people trying to make it through the crowd and asks, "Is that Leo? And his team?"

"I think so," Alex says, smiling. "Maybe... if the staff are okay with it, maybe we could eat out here. Have a little picnic. I don't think we'd bother anyone."

"Have your mom ask and I bet they'll let us." Alex laughs at that, and he doesn't wince after, and Henry calls that a massive win.

As Alex texts his mom and coordinates dinner, Henry adds the pictures he took to a thread with his second tweet post-shooting: "Hey y'all (did I use that right?), someone very close to me is in the hospital and feeling a bit betrayed by his hometown. Anything y'all can do about that, Austin?" It's already full of replies wishing Alex well, and sharing wonderful things that happened at Austin pride. Better yet, there are people saying they've donated to the Austin youth shelter, and they can't wait to see it open. Henry grins, closing the app and helping his boyfriend convince a nurse that, really, he'll heal faster if he can eat dinner looking out at all the support.

Later that night, when they've eaten their fill, Leo and his team unveil a mountain of get well cards and messages they'd been given on their dinner run. Alex reads them all, and he cries more than once before he eventually falls asleep covered in rainbows, glitter, and well-wishes. Henry takes another picture to add to the Twitter thread: "From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Y'all have shown us some Texas-sized love today, and I'm forever grateful."

On AO3

Notes:

A quick end, though there will be an epilogue! I'm getting that worked out and it'll be up soon. I just really wanted to get some of these scenes out into the world; Alex's love for/fear of rejection from Texas is something that really resonated with me and that I loved writing about.

#everything's bigger #FirstPrince #red white and royal blue #red white and royal blue fic #rwrb fic #rwrb #my fic: rwrb #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry fox mountchristen windsor x alex claremont diaz #alex claremont diaz

[quixzel]

Cryptid Seer AU origins (plz read the basics before you read this)

The light shines through the door to the kitchen shows a silhouette of a screaming woman begging for her life. The shrill screams echo throughout the dark house. “Please I have a son spare me!” She says. “Good to know, well come for him next” the man says. Membrane watches as he freezes in place not knowing what to do. He almost thinks about jumping out to kill the man but it’s too late. A clean slice goes through the woman’s body. She drops to the floor with a massive wound. Blood pouring out to her clothes. Drying into a dark red just as quickly as it came. “Don’t try to save her, she’s beyond your help” the man says. He exits the house as membrane is left holding maybelline close to him. “Don’t go” he chokes on a sob. She smiles and says “Please, promise me you’ll protect dib. I want him to live on”. Membrane nods as maybelline slips into a deep forever rest. Membranes sobs are the only sound in the quiet house. Their hushed and quiet. He can’t afford to loose dib too. He lays the body gently on the floor as he walks to the room with a nightlight on. Membrane picks up the sleeping child and brings him to his lab. “I won’t loose you too. I won’t loose you too” he repeats over and over again. He takes a special laser and forces the sleeping child’s eyes open. Just as the child wakes, he is silenced by membrane putting a hand over his mouth. The laser is shown over his eyes making the child cry loudly. After two long painful minutes membrane removes the laser from the child’s eyes and hushes him to go back to sleep. The next morning membrane wishes he didn’t wake up. He feels empty and heartbroken. The body is still in the kitchen. Membrane takes the body and puts in the body to preserve. He gets dib and watches the news. The headlines say all seers have been executed. Membrane looks down at the child and hugs him. 

 Still devasted from what happened membrane goes to his lab. He looks dearly at the body of maybelline and plucks a hair from it. 2 days later a child comes out of the lab. Sleep deprived membrane and a crying purple haired child come out into the light from windows. He stares at the child “Gazlene, that will be your name”

 DIBS POV (THE NOW) AND A MIX OF THIRD PERSON POV

 I slip on my boots as I straighten my uniform. “Gaz! Are you ready yet?”

She peaks out from the door to her room

“Sadly yea”

We get out from the door as the beep from her gameslave 2 dominate the sound  of our footsteps. We arrive at school, Membrane Private High. One of the best places to have your rich smart kid get even smarter. I walk in as I am greeted by many of the girls and guys all around. I’m kinda popular around here. I mean, I am the son of professor membrane. They sit down in class as the kind brunette teacher  greats them. The bell rings and and she starts “Today we will countinue our studies of......”

 TIME SKIP

 I walk out as a bunch of cheerleaders try to drag back in to chat some more. Gaz is waiting for me by the stairs. “Dads not gonna be home for the special dinner again tonight” she says. I roll my eyes. Of course he isn’t. I’m gonna inherit dads title and business , you would think he would at least be there for me. I pursue real science and I’m one of the top students at school. Why can’t he just come home and work in his own at the house. We arrive home and night fall comes as I finsh my homework. I check my phone to see if there’s any texts from dad. I scroll through my endless notifications from cheerleaders and popular girls who want me to come over tonight. I finally find dads text “I’m sorry son, but there was a sudden change for the new due date of the latest project. I checked your grades. Your gonna make a great scientist son.” 

I smile and yet I feel sour that he’s busy all the time. I look around the house bored only to catch me staring at an old picture of my mother. She’s with my dad and me as a baby. I rember that when I was 6 and gaz was 5, it was the first time dad left for work. “Dib your old enough to take care of youself and gaz. I’ll be gone”. After he left I immediately looked around the house in the rooms I can’t enter when he’s around. I ended up finding a box with a lock. On the top it says soemthing in cursive letters I couldn’t read it at the time. I used a bent paperclip to unlock it and it worked. The moment I did dad burst through the doors of the closet and took the box away. He hid it even better now and left again. Eh i guess I’ll check it out.

I go into the closet only to find the box laid out in the open. Almost like it wanted me to find it. I open it and find a jacket , some pictures,and a long thread of hair in a plastic bag. I close it to look at what is says and it’s maybelline, this is moms stuff. I take out the jacket and in the back it has a weird blue eyeball. Moms wearing this in the picture of her and dad. It’s their first date. It’s the first time I’ve seen dad without his lab coat covering his mouth. He looks happy. I look through and find a picture of gaz after she was born, that’s what the hair is there for. There’s a few more pictures but the last one is mom as a silhouette with glowing blue eyes with other silhouettes. Each of their names are written in white marker “Agent currywolf, Agent Darkbootie” and so on. Moms name is “Agent Wendigo”. The number of the people is on the back with it saying “Swollen eyeball network”.

  There’s only one thing to do and that’s call the number to see if they can tell me more about mom.

#cryptid seer au #invader zim #dib iz #dib #gaz #membrane #dib membrane

[capandbuckysgirl]

You’ve Left A Mark That Won’t Erase - 11

You’ve Left A Mark That Won’t Erase - Chris Evans x Reader

Another chappie… Sorry, I’ve been working so much that I haven’t even had time to sit down and type anything out, but we’re going to roll with it!

Warnings: Infinity War SPOILERS! Language, Possible timeline differences (this is a work of fiction), Slight Smut and a bit of angst!

GIFS USED ARE NOT MINE, CREDIT TO OWNERS!

Chapter 12-

Filming was just about over and we were going to go on a short hiatus. I was now definitely getting the hang of living on the road. Being pregnant and living on the road, however, was a totally different story. I was tired all the time, not to mention being totally fucking cranky because I was over-tired and sore. Chris and the rest of the cast and crew took it all in stride.

I would have been a whole lot easier to live (and deal) with if I hadn’t taken it upon myself to read the tabloids about Chris and myself. Not only was the press having a field day with the upcoming wedding and baby, but the fans took off running with the news, some of them not in a good way.

One page said that I’d gotten pregnant on purpose to trap Chris, that I was only after his money. Another said that they felt bad for Chris because he was now saddled with a kid with a nobody and he was too good not to marry me, that he felt obligated because (if the kid was his) he would never abandon his child like that.

Yeah, I was fucking livid. Watching Chris film was a bit of an escape, he was amazing as Captain America, and I couldn’t wait for the movie to open so others could see how fucking awesome they all were. I was so happy to be able to be a part of something so amazing.

We were all standing on the set of the train station, my heart pounding behind my ribs as I waited for Chris to make his entrance. I’d watched him do take after take of these scenes, but the brothers wanted him to re-shoot it.

As he walked from the shadows, the spear flew by his head as he whipped around and caught it. I watched in awe as he fought, going through the choreography that he’d worked so hard to perfect.

“That’s it! Goddamn, that’s a hell of a shot! Cut… Chris, excellent job!”

Exhaling, my hands were trembling as I watched him run his fingers through his now slightly shaggy locks. He looked so gorgeous and I was aching to touch him, to have him touch me.

I watched closely as he made his way from the set, a towel now in his hands as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. Costume was now surrounding him unzipping him from his Cap uniform. As if he could sense me, his eyes met mine over Andrea’s head, a smile forming on his lips.

I shrugged my shoulders and couldn’t find it in me to care that I’d been caught ogling him. He was my fiance, after all.

“Y/N,” Alex, one of the other make up artists called. “I know you’re about finished for the day, but would you mind doing a touch up on Zoe? She needs to do some re-shooting today.”

“Sure, let Chris know I’ll be back in a bit?”

“I will, honey, thanks.”

I made my way to the make up trailer where Zoe would be and stepped inside. Sebastian was sitting there talking to Zoe, his eyes all wide as he spoke.

“Y/N, how’s my favorite girl?”

“I’m good, Seb. Tired and sore, but good. How are you holding up, ready for our hiatus?”

“Hell yes, don’t get me wrong, being a part of this is fucking awesome, but I’m ready to head to New York and see my mom and some of my friends.”

“See how that goes, Y/N, we’re his friends while he’s here but when he goes home he’ll forget all about us.”

I chuckled slightly as I grabbed my apron with my brushes in it and got to work on retouching Zoe’s make up. Gamora is an amazing character, but her make up takes forever.

“You both know that’s not true, in fact, Y/N, you and Chris should come to New York for a bit while we’re off. I know my mom is dying to meet you.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re taking me home to meet your mom? I didn’t realize we’d become so serious!”

Zoe snickered as Seb stood behind me, his arms folded across his chest. Not even gonna lie, if I wasn’t absolutely, stupidly in love with Chris, Seb is amazing. He’s going to make some girl very happy someday.

“Oh, fata mea favorita, I’ll have you know that if it wasn’t for your obvious love for one of my friends, I could definitely see myself loving you, as more than a friend that is.”

“Well thank God she loves me then.” I smiled slightly as Chris entered the trailer, my knees becoming slightly weak as he stood next to Sebastian and mimicking his stance. “Always hitting on my girl, Stan.”

Zoe met my eyes for a moment, a tiny smile on her lips as I continued working, but I couldn’t help but eye them both. They were both so sexy, it was fucking criminal.

Yeah, pregnancy had definitely done something to my libido. I was constantly horny, not that I’d had much problem before pregnancy.

“You two stop, I’m trying to do my job here. Besides, don’t you two need to do some re-shoots?”

“She’s right, come on, Stan.”

I watched them both walk out of the trailer, my eyes rolling slightly before I concentrated back on Zoe.

After finishing touching up some more make up, I made my way back down to the set and sat down in Chris’ chair. My feet were starting to hurt and I wanted to break down in tears. I was just so tired and my mind wouldn’t shut up about some of the awful comments about me that were now floating around the internet.

Chris didn’t read any of those types of things, so he had no idea what was being said about us, about our unborn child. How could people be so hateful to someone they didn’t even know? Sure, I was engaged to Chris Evans (a man that most women would give up their souls to have a night with) and having a family with him, but wasn’t that what life was all about? Meeting and marrying someone you couldn’t imagine spending a day away from.

“Y/N, stop thinking so hard. You look so sad, what’s the matter, darling?”

“Hi, Chris. How’s Elsa?” I asked, changing the subject.

“She’s good, but we’re not talking about me or my family right now. Though, I will tell you, Liam was a tad upset when he found out you were getting married and not waiting for him.”

I snickered as I sat up straight, my arms opening as he walked toward me. I let him lift me out of the chair into a tight hug, and I couldn’t help it, I burst into tears.

“Oh, Y/N. You can talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“I did something stupid, I read some of the tabloids and fan boards after our red carpet debut.”

“You didn’t, why? Nothing good ever comes of that, Elsa and I have been supposedly getting divorced for years now.”

“I know, I knew it was a bad idea when I did it, but the things they’re saying about me. About how I trapped Chris by getting pregnant on purpose, how can they say such things? They don’t know me.”

“They don’t care who you are, who any of us are. Some people thrive off drama, that’s all this is. Hell, some of them are probably jealous.”

“I have no doubt, I mean, he’s so unbelievably gorgeous. He had a huge following before I came along.”

“You think him being with you will change that? I’m not trying to be crude, but people are still going to want to fuck him even when you two get married. The ring doesn’t change anything for some people.”

I knew he was right, he was married and there were plenty of people out there who would let him have his wicked way with them, married or not. It didn’t change the fact that some people were just giant dicks and said hurtful shit that I let get to me.

“Why is it that every time I turn around today someone is hitting on you?” (My) Chris laughed.

Hemsworth put me down and patted my cheek lightly. “Just remember, the only thing that matters is that you two are happy, don’t let them get to you.”

Nodding, I made my way to Chris, my arms wrapping around his neck.

“What’s wrong, baby?” his voice was softly, his breath fanning across the skin of my neck as his fingers thread up into my hair.

“I read some tabloids and stuff about us. Some of them weren’t very nice.”

“Baby, I told you not to do that. Someone is always going to have something bad to say.”

“I know, I just…”

“You were just curious, right?” I nodded as he continued to run his fingers up through my hair. My eyes started to cross, the feeling going straight to my core. I was a fucking horny beast.

“I’ll tell you one thing, nothing they said is true. I don’t even know what was said, but I know how this works, I love you and nothing they said matters.”

“I love you,” I breathed, my eyes finding his as I stood on my toes to place a kiss against his lips. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you, Y/N. Come on, let’s go to our trailer. I have a bit of a break and I want a shower.”

Fuck. Me. Wet Chris…

We got to our trailer, as the door closed I tugged my shirt up over my head and then worked my pants down over my legs.

“Eager, Y/N?”

“Fuck, yes!”

Chris laughed and then started tugging his own clothes off. We both stripped down completely and then made our way into the bathroom, a mess of limbs and tongues and teeth. Chris turned the water on without pulling his lips away from mine and then walked me back into the spray.

Hefting me up into his arms, he pushed my back against the cold tile, sending a shock up my spine and then started working kisses down my neck.

“I will never get tired of seeing you like this, like it’s our first time together. You and me, Y/N… I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

I moaned my agreement as he lined himself up with my entrance and pushed inside of me. He was right, I always felt like it was our first time. I wasn’t sure how I’d gotten so lucky, but he was mine and I was never letting go.

Fuck what all the haters had to say about us…

#masterlist repost #my work #winchesterswantmypie #chris evans x reader

[poppinsx]

a comprehsive list of the best lyrics in each taylor swift song (my opinions <3) since fearless:

jump then fall: but i’ll hold you through the night until you smile

untouchable: untouchable like a distant diamond sky

come in with the rain: i know you by heart, and you don’t even know where i start

superstar: i’m invisible and everyone knows who you are

other side of the door: and the faded picture of a beautiful night

fearless: you take my hand and drag me head first, fearless

fifteen: when you’re fifteen and your first kiss makes your head spin ‘round (how did she know!!)

love story: i was a scarlet letter

hey stephen: all the other girls, well, they’re beautiful, but would they write a song for you? 

white horse: this is a big world, that was a small town

you belong with me: i know your favorite songs and you tell be ‘bout your dreams

breathe: but it’s killing me to see you go after all this time

tell me why: why do you have to make me feel small so you can feel whole inside? 

you’re not sorry: and you got your share of secrets and i’m tired of being last to know 

the way i loved you: and my heart’s not breaking cause i’m not feeling anything at all

forever & always: were you just kidding? 

the best day: don’t know if snow white’s house is near or far away

change: it’s hard to fight when the fight ain’t fair

mine: braced myself for the goodbye ‘cause that’s all i’ve ever known

sparks fly:  my mind forgets to remind me, you’re a bad idea

back to december: it turns out freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

speak now: i lose myself in a daydream

dear john: i lived in your chess game but you changed the rules everyday

mean: you have pointed out my flaws again as if i don’t already see them

the story of us: you held your pride like you should’ve held me

never grow up: remember that she’s getting older too

enchanted: my thoughts will echo your name until i see you again

better than revenge: no amount of vintage dresses gives you dignity 

innocent: today is never too late to be brand new 

haunted: something keeps me holding onto nothing 

last kiss: i never planned on you changing your mind // i’ll watch your life in pictures like i used to watch you sleep and i’ll feel you forget me like i used to feel you breathe (this song is too much of a masterpiece to choose)

long live: i had the time of my life fighting dragons with you

state of grace: we learned to live with the pain, mosaic broken hearts

red: moving on from him is impossible when i still see it all in my head

treacherous: i can’t decide if it’s a choice getting swept away

ikywt: and the saddest fear comes creeping in, that you never loved me

all too well: you call me up again just be break me like a promise, so casually cruel in the name of being honest (naturally)

22: it’s miserable and magical

i almost do: i can’t say hello to you and risk another goodbye

wanegbt: this is exhausting (hehe)

stay stay stay: you took the time to memorize me

the last time: all roads, they lead me here

holy ground: for the first time, i had something to lose

sad beautiful tragic: you’ve got you demons and darling they all look like me // silence, train runs off its tracks

the lucky one: you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used

everything has changed: all i know is pouring rain

starlight: we could get married, have ten kids, and teach them how to dream

begin again: thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

welcome to new york: kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats under coats

blank space: stolen kisses, pretty lies

style: could end in burning flames of paradise

out of the woods: the rest of the world was black and white but we were in screaming color

ayhtdws: i’ve been picking up the pieces of the mess you made 

shake it off: and to the fella over there with the hella good hair 

i wish you would: i wish you knew that i miss you too much to be mad anymore

bad blood: bandaids don’t fix bullet holes

wildest dreams: someday when you leave me i bet these memories follow you around

how you get the girl: i want you for worse or for better

this love: this love left a permanent mark

i know places: love’s a fragile little flame, it could burn out 

clean: just because you’re clean don’t mean you don’t miss it

ready for it: burton to this taylor

end game: your handprint’s on my soul

i did something bad: you gotta leave before you get left

don’t blame me: i would fall from grace just to touch your face

delicate: are you ever dreaming of me?

look what you made me do: i’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams

so it goes: you did a number on me but honestly baby, who’s counting? 

gorgeous: whiskey on ice, sunset and vine 

getaway car: but with three of us, honey, it’s a sideshow

king of my heart: say you fancy me, not fancy stuff 

dancing with our hands tied: i’m the mess that you wanted

dress: even in my worst of times, you could see the best in me

tiwwchnt: feeling so gatsby for that whole year (bonus points for the haha i can’t even say it with a straight face)

call it what you want: i brought a knife to a gun fight 

new year’s day: please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh i could recognize anywhere

i forgot that you existed: it isn’t love, it isn’t hate, it’s just indifference

cruel summer: he looks up grinning like a devil (!!)

lover: with every guitar string scar on my hand

the man: they wouldn’t shake their heads and question how much of this i deserve

the archer: i’ve got a hundred thrown out speeches i almost said to you

i think he knows: lyrical smile, indigo eyes

miss americana: american glory faded before me

paper rings: the moon is high like your friends were the night that we first met

cornelia street: that's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend

death by a thousand cuts: but if the story’s over, why am i still writing pages? 

london boy: don’t threaten me with a good time (also the intro, ofc)

soon you’ll get better: desperate people find faith, so now i pray to Jesus too

false god: you’re the west village

you need to calm down: shade never made anybody less gay!

afterglow: fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves

me: i know i never think before i jump

it’s nice to have a friend: you’ve been stressed out lately, yeah, me too

daylight: the luck of the draw only draws the unlucky

(update 1/14/21)

the 1: you know the greatest loves of all time are over now

cardigan: trying to change the ending, peter losing wendy

the last great american dynasty: and in a feud with her neighbor, she stole his dog and dyed it a key-lime green

exile: you never gave a warning sign/i gave so many signs

my tears ricochet: when you can’t sleep at night, you hear my stolen lullabies

mirrorball: the masquerade revelers

seven: please picture me in the weeds before i learned civility

august: you weren’t mine to lose (but also, just the entire song)

this is me trying: you’re a flashback in a film reel 

illicit affairs: a dwindling mercurial high

invisible string: one single thread of gold tied me to you

mad woman: it’s obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together

epiphany: sir, i think he’s bleeding out

betty: i don’t know anything, but i know i miss you

peace: all these people think love’s for show, but i would die for you in secret

hoax: you knew you won so what’s the point of keeping score?

the lakes: i want auroras and sad prose

willow: life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

champagne problems: she would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked in the head

gold rush: at dinner parties i call you out on your contrarian shit

tis the damn season: to leave the warmest bed i’ve ever known

tolerate it: i know my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it

no body, no crime: good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy (honorable mention to the way taylor says “just” in “she thinks i did it but she just can’t prove it)

happiness: i hope she’ll be a beautiful fool

dorothea: you’re a queen selling dreams, selling makeup and magazines

coney island: do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? 

ivy: your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

cowboy like me: forever is the sweetest con

long story short: long story short, i survived

marjorie: you loved the amber skies so much

closure: i’m fine with my spite and my tears and my beers and my candles

evermore: barefoot in the wildest winter

right where you left me: she’s still twenty-three inside her fantasy

it’s time to go: that old familiar body ache that snaps from the same little breaks in your soul

#taylor swift #red #speak now #reputation #1989 #fearless #lover #folklore #evermore #this took me longer than it should have

[the--blackdahlia]

This Life Chapter 2

Title: This Life Chapter 2

Summary:  Dean Winchester is the Vice President of the motorcycle club The Hunters. After almost 7 years in prison, he's free. But things have changed and Dean has to figure out how to put things back together.

Warnings: Language mainly

AN: Still sending out lots of thanks to my beta @callme-kaz2y5-baby  !!

Song for this chapter: Home Sweet Home by Motley Crue

“What’s going on?” Dean asked. “Where’s Sammy?” Dean looked around at everyone. Garth, Benny, Bobby, even Cas Novak. But none of them were talking. “He...he wasn’t killed too...was he?” Dean asked. Instead of answering, Bobby just laid a newspaper in front of Dean.

The Stanford Daily.

Dean picked up the paper and looked at the picture on the headline. A charred up apartment building. It looked like a beast of fire just took a bite off the end of the building. Then Dean read the article.

A fire broke out at an apartment building near St. Clair Gardens. Severe structural damage was reported and one victim has been identified. Jessica Moore, 21, of Hanford. No word yet on the cause of the fire or if there are other victims.

“Jessica Moore. Why does that name sound familiar?” Dean asked.

“Jessica was Sam’s girlfriend.” Cas told Dean. Dean looked at Cas, then back at the paper.

“Is...is Sammy…”

“We don’t think so.” Benny said. “One victim was found. That was Jessica.”

“Then he should be home, right?” Dean asked. Bobby sighed.

“Dean, there were reports that the Horsemen were in Palo Alto the night that the fire happened.” Bobby told him. Dean gripped the newspaper then, growling slightly.

“I want all those bastards dead then. All of them.” Dean stated matter of factly.

“We’re getting there.” Bobby told Dean. “But right now, we’re just glad that you’re home.”

“Yeah, me too. Just this new freedom comes with conditions.” Dean sighed, leaning his head back against the back of the chair.

“I know. A lot of us have been there, done that.” Cas laughed. There was a knock on the door then. “Oh, I bet I know who that is.”

“Did you guys get me a stripper?” Dean asked.

“Damn, that’s what we forgot.” Benny laughed. He opened the door to show a scrawny boy standing there, holding a box of good smelling food.

“Traffic was shit.” He said, walking into the meeting room. “But I got everything on your list.” Dean looked the kid up and down. He was wearing the black vest like the rest of them, but his just had the prospect patch. The new kid.

“What’s his name?” Dean asked anyone in the room. Benny elbowed the kid in the side as he took the box from him.

“Uh, I’m Kevin. Kevin Tran.” He said. Dean smirked.

“Guys should’ve got me a stripper. Kid looks like an honor student! How old are you anyway?”

“Eighteen.” Kevin said, his voice cracking some. Dean just kept smiling.

“Well, good work Honor Student.” Dean said. “My favorite place?”

“Nothing but the best for you.” Garth joked. Dean smiled and dug into the thick burger from his favorite place. Kevin stood there awkwardly for a second before making his way out of the room.

“God, this is the best burger I’ve had in awhile.” Dean said, closing his eyes and smiling.

“Well, I think this might make it better.” Bobby said as he laid a patch down in front of Dean. Dean set down his burger and picked it up.

President.

“Bobby…” Dean said. “No.”

“No?” Bobby asked. “But…”

“I think this would look better on your vest than mine right now.” Dean said. “I mean, you and dad did make this club together. It seems right that you have it for now.” He handed the patch back to Bobby.

“Well, in that case…” Bobby pulled out a knife from his pocket and flicked it open. He cut the threads of the Vice President patch and handed it to Dean. “I think that this would be a better fit for you then.”

When Dean had went to prison, John was the president, Bobby was the vice president. That was how it had been ever since Dean joined. That’s how it had been since the beginning. While it was strange to see Bobby sitting at the head of the table instead of John, it was meant to be. It was a better fit than having Dean up there right now anyway.

The conversation flowed easy and before Dean knew it, it was night. Ellen was closing up the office while Jo finished up the cleaning. Dean made his way out of the meeting room and smiled at Ellen when he saw her, sipping on a glass of whiskey in the bar.

“Hello there.” He said, taking up the barstool by her. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Well, now I see why Jo was so excited this afternoon.” Ellen said with a tight smile. “I thought you weren’t getting out for awhile.”

“Got lucky I guess.” Dean gave her his signature grin. Ellen reached over the bar and grabbed another glass and the bottle of whiskey she had been nursing. She poured Dean a glass. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine I guess.” She said with a bit of a shrug. “Life goes on.” Dean rested a hand on her shoulder, and when she didn’t shrug him off, he figured it was a good sign. “I kept your apartment clean. I didn’t go through anything, except the fridge to get rid of anything that was expired or moldy.”

“Oh no, you got rid of Señor Smelly Fish in the back of the fridge?” Dean asked, playing fake hurt. Ellen laughed a little. Something she hadn’t done in awhile.

“Don’t worry. I replaced him with Ms. Odor Remover. Part of the baking soda family.” She teased back. Garth, Cas, Benny, and Bobby stood in the doorway of the meeting room. Dean just had the aura that could lighten people’s days. But, on the other side of that coin, he could be your worst nightmare if he was given the chance. A lot of the guys over the years had seen Dean pissed off. He could be very hot headed when he was pushed one too many times.

“Well, if Dean and Ellen are out here drinking, I think we should all!” Cas declared, going around the bar and grabbing a bottle lifting it in the air. Benny and Garth cheered out. They had been ready for a beer all day. They were about to let the booze flow when the doors opened and two guys made their way in.

“Well damn, I think we missed the party.” One said with a laugh. Dean looked over and his smile widened.

“Caleb!” He said. “And Jim!”

“Hey there kiddo.” Caleb Reeves said, grabbing Dean into a headlock and giving Dean a noogie.

“We were hoping we’d be back in time before you got out, but it doesn’t look like luck was on our side.” Jim Murphy laughed. Caleb let go of Dean and took up one of the stools.

“Where were you guys?” Dean asked.

“Palo Alto.” Jim said, heading over towards Bobby. “Bobby sent us out there.”

“What did you guys find?” Bobby asked. Caleb shrugged.

“Shit.” Caleb said. “No hide nor hair of little Sam.” Bobby cringed a little and Caleb looked over at Dean before looking back at Bobby. “He knows right?”

“Yeah, I do.” Dean looked over at Bobby for some answers.

“When Sam stopped answering calls and texts, I had Ash do some digging. He found the newspaper article for us. After that and a little research on this side, I asked for volunteers to head out to California and check for us. We couldn’t let everyone go, so I asked Caleb and Jim to do it, since they’ve known the kid the longest.” Bobby explained.

“And you guys found nothing?” Dean asked.

“Sorry Dean.” Jim said, patting his arm. “We tore that town apart.”

“Yeah, and got a little attention from a new club out there I guess.” Caleb added. Bobby looked over at him.

“New club?” He asked. “What new club?”

“Oh, just this club based out of LA or something. They think they’re tough shit but they sent one little punk to tell us to back off.” Caleb shrugged. “Nothing Jim and I couldn’t handle.”

“That might have been some good information to share.” Cas pointed out, taking a drink of his whiskey. Dean set quietly off to the side while the rest of them chatted away. It was nice being home, but things had changed so much in the time that he had been gone. Out of the original five; John, Bill, Bobby, Caleb, and Jim, only three were left. And as far as Dean knew, he was the only Winchester left. Sam ran off to get away from the club life, but the club life might have done him in.

“Dean-o.” Garth said. “Why aren’t you the life of the party?”

“I think I’m just gonna call it a night.” Dean answered. “It’s been a long day. Kinda miss my bed.”

“Go on then.” Bobby laughed. “Get rested up. Tomorrow you can get back to work.” Dean smiled and stood up, letting himself stretch.

“Thanks guys. For everything.” He big his farewells then headed out to the parking lot. He could see Jo trying to chat up the prospect, but the poor kid acted like he didn’t know how to talk to girls. Dean just shook his head and headed back to his apartment, right over the only sports bar in Wolfpine. For the most part, even during a rowdy game or fight, it was still pretty quiet.

Walking inside, it felt different. The first thing that greeted him was a picture of his family on the wall. Taken years prior, before prison and death and the whole nine yards. The quiet of the apartment as Dean went through, assessing what Ellen had done, was a little too much to bear. And as he stood in the shower, water and soap washing over his back tattoo that he got the year after he patched, a lightbulb went off in his head.

He was going to Palo Alto.

He was going to find Sam himself.

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