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mediocre-eternity · 10 months

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You have something autistic going on with you (lovingly) <3

I’ve seen this theory about myself roll around this website for some time now. I would be lying if I said I haven’t thought on this… though again— I think the books my coven has published have only served to bring you closer to us and not us closer to you.

I’ll explain.

To you, I am a character in a novel. And I do this, too— relate to characters in novels all of the time. I see myself in many, many people on the TV screen or movie screen. I think “they must get it.” But they are fictional characters. What you need to understand about myself and my cousins in the Blood is that you are first and foremost our prey. And though we may flirt and dance and talk with you, maybe even call you friend, your amazement by who we are is second to our natures as killers. I would not hesitate to rip the throat out of any mortal I see fit. So, I cannot be categorized in a way humans are. Whatever horrific atrocities live in my memories, whatever quirks I may have as a result cannot be conceptualized in a way a human could ever understand.

For example, I have such a mastery of the Mind Gift most humans don’t understand they are dead until I’ve done sucking from them. And even then, most die peacefully in a bed of roses, thinking perhaps they might just take a nap. Then they are gone, without any knowledge of who I was or what I was. And though I may use my real name on this website, you, reader, have no idea who I am and wouldn’t recognize me even if we were standing face to face. Do not look upon me as a human because simply, I am not.

Now, that being said. I do have self awareness. I am not a benign creature lost in their own era because I am hundreds of years old. I can understand things. I see that when other’s dissect my carefully curated novel persona, they tend to write me as a person who has many difficulties grasping what they might be going through in their own minds.

I know I’m not normal. I know I don’t share commonalities with others like me. I don’t see or experience the world they do, even though we are all damned immortals. I understand entirely that I do not speak as much as I think and as much as I’d rather just convey my thoughts to others outright. I am better at lying than most, too…

Oh and I fall into these horrible pits of non-existence where I can tune out rather large swaths of time for myself (which is what I’m trying not to go through now, for Daniel’s sake). If allowed and in good company, it can be extremely hard for me to stop talking (another reason why I’d prefer if I can just exist mind-to-mind). If something catches my imagination, I ruminate and write about it for days, months, sometimes years. I read obsessively…the same book over and over and with music too, until I remember the timing of the notes out of habit. There are episodes of shows on the television that I can recite back to front. And movies. Dune, most recently.

I have a reputation as a hyper-sexual and though I enjoy sex, sex as a tool is something I’ve perfected and there are periods of time where I can completely remove any emotion from the act and use my raw talent at seduction to get what I want. I am such a master at sex, it’s merely a routine characteristic of mine.

Those closest to me become frustrated because it’s so extremely hard for me to understand simple directions. The “packet on the glass” meme has been quoted to me many, many times. I am so well aware of the joke in this. Daniel uses it as a way to torment me when he’s trying to explain how to work something out. I would rather just explore the internet for hours…or ponder a new genre of music than understand the minutiae of tit and tat.

I’ve had to make considerable effort to drone out the horrible, torturous nuisance of modern New York City police cars. No longer is it a deafening alarm, but now a horrific rumble that makes my heart and stomach feel like they’re going to explode. It’s taken years to live comfortably with them and they’ve driven me to intense violence in the past.

“Attenzione! Pickpocket! Attenzione! Borseggiatrici!” Has been on repeat in my head for seven solid nights.

Furthermore, I am friends with many a vampire made within the last few decades. Most notably Benji, who I share many, many commonalities with including our young age in which we came into the Blood. Benji always remarks “oh I have ADHD, I’m ADHD, it’s my ADHD” and he was, truly, given a diagnosis for this before many children were, according to him. He believes this is because he was “in the foster care system” and a refugee so they wanted to give him a label as soon as they could. Whoever they are. (Again, me and Benji even share our beginnings as boys in a family of other boys. Though he had no softness from any Master to aide him).

The most interesting conversations have come from us comparing our lives to each other’s. Benji can get locked into one task or one hobby for hours on end as time passes and passes. We both need to be completely alone on our own terms…

I suppose what I mean to convey is that I’m well aware of these little labels that humans might call each other, or some medical diagnosis that might explain why my humor is off or why others are so terrified by my silence… Why it takes me several attempts to convey a mundane idea verbally or even why I clasp my hands a certain way! If a reader finds a kindred spirit in whatever idea of me that they have, then I’m overjoyed that my novelization has shown some camaraderie to you. And, learning of other’s perceptions and experiences has indeed helped myself, too.

My above warning to you, though, mysterious friend, is to not make a habit of finding commonalities with monsters. My kind feasts upon your kind nightly. In great quantities. And any malady or neurodivergence will not, and cannot, protect you from a very unlucky night.

Autism, ADHD, boarder-line, bipolar… What wonderful new ways science has advanced to help the human race.

But all I care about is your Blood.

#the vampire armand #the vampire chronicles #tvc #interview with the vampire #iwtv #queen of the damned #daniel molloy #devil’s minion #asks #anon #armand #tva #Anne rice #autism creature #I’m autistic #I hope this gives some perspective on my own experiences with being neurodivergent #I love armand so much #he’s so dear to me you have no idea #edited because some things were a little OOC IMO

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sodapops0lstice · 2 months

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Still have splatstuck on the brain so I'm gonna give you what weapons I think everyone has anyone who isn't listed is too old to play or will be in a potential part 2

June - Kensa Mini Splatling

I know in my heart she's an Inkopolis Square girl so she's getting a Splatoon 2 weapon. We already know she has an affinity for slow hard-hitting weapons which is just the splatling to a T. Plus the special is the Ultra Stamp which I mean, c'mon obvious and obvious. AND it's sub is toxic mist, mist is basically a type of wind, well it's the airiest of all the subs and that's good enough for me.

Rose - Octobrush

We're going with the Splatoon 1 setup for the Octobrush this time. I think brushes are the closest to her needles in the sense they're actual hobby tool turned weapon. The Squid Beakon as a sub alludes to her light aspect (lighting the optimal way for her teammates) and Kraken as a special is obvious, large and strong squids are her thing. I also like to think she uses an Octobrush specifically cause she's still caught up in the rush of when Octolings on the surface were counter culture and "scary".

Dave - Splatana Wiper Deco

I don't think I need to explain why he would have a splatana. But Deco specifically because it's the less known one and Dave is a massive hipster so obviously he'd choose the one people use less.

Jade - Grizzco Charger

In Splatstuck, Jade is raised by Salmonids so I don't think she has a regulated weapon, instead finding a Grizzco Charger left by Grizzco employees, she (and Jake) help out Salmonids fighting off the employees, they're family after all.

Jane - Tri-Slosher Nouveau

This is mainly cause of the Taticooler to be honest. I assume Jane plays support in Turf War and the Taticooler is the BEST for support. The Slosher is also a hard hitting weapon that takes a lot of niche skill which is also a household commodity, like her weapon in Homestuck. (Maybe she spoons the ink out with a Crocker Corp spoon!)

Roxy - S-Blast '91

The MOST Roxy weapon ever. Blasters are an in-between fistkind and riflekind which is her strife specibis. The S-Blasts are based off the Super Scope for the SNES which is a retro system and we all know Roxy loves her retro video games. The special is the Booyah Bomb which gets stronger with team rallying which Roxy as the appointed "friend leader" does herself. And to be honest, burst bombs just FIT her, no explanation it's vibes only.

Dirk - Order Splatana

How'd he get that?

Jake - Grizzco Dualies

Same story as Jade, just instead Dualies since he has an affection for dual pistols in Homestuck. (The Grizzco employees don't think it's fair, how come all they get is some shitty slopsuit while the Salmonids have TWO Inklings that both have OP weapons that have 0 cooldown)

Karkat - 🚫

In Splatstuck, Karkat used to be a VERY red Inkling before undergoing to partial grayscaling, he still retains his freewill but his ink colour never recovered, staying permanently grey. Because of this, he isn't able to play nor work at Grizzco (Grizzco has anti-Salmonid specific ink), so instead he just hangs out with his friends and plays a bit of Tableturf instead. Strangely though, he always finds himself wandering back to the Deca Tower...

Aradia - Tri-Stringer

I believe Aradia used to be in the Octarian Army that was then Sanatized but made a good enough recovery to participate in battle. I think the Tri-Stringer is the most "adventurey" of the weapons and Aradia l0ves adventure 0u0. Toxic Mist could also be interpreted as a Mist of The Supernatural/Death which is common symbolism, which is also her deal. Killer Wail 5.1 is less Aradia-y but I like to imagine after who knows how long of being a silent unfeeling soldier then a husk from sanitization how GOOD it would feel to just scream into the Killer Wail.

Tavros - Carbon Roller

As an Inkling who's legs didn't quite grow right due to him and Vriska playing Turf War together when they were far too young, he had to get inventive when he actually came of age to play Turf War. He got Equius to strap a roller to his wheelchair, choosing the Carbon Roller because it's the fastest and the very helpful Autobomb. The Ink Storm is just a reference to his aspect. He still prefers Tableturf though, he's Karkat's rival.

Sollux - Dualie Squelchers

He sticks to a theme, of course he's gonna have the twosies weapon. Squelchers specifically because I imagine he's intense about Anarchy/Ranked and is into competitive. So obviously he's gonna for the meta option.

Nepeta - Aerospray MG

She's just here to have fun, Fizzy Bombs are fun and so are Reefsliders. Surprisingly, incredibly talented with it, way more wins than you'd ever expect.

Kanaya - Splatana Stamper Nouveau

Do you want me to lie to you and tell you she would use something else? It's literally a chainsaw. Nouveau specifically because I think she likes the Crab Tank, it's her compromise for Karkat after he couldn't play anymore. She intentionally roughs it up to annoy him.

Terezi - Cherry H-3 Nozzlenose

Intentionally chose a Nozzlenose cause she knows no-one likes them. I assume she finds the Bubble Blower fun to use aswell but she absolutely chose this one because 1TS TH3 T4ST13ST >:]

Vriska - Octo Shot

Back when Octolings were still ascending to the surface, Vriska was by far the youngest. While most were in there teens or atleast fully formed, Vriska was only 8 years old and still in that peculiar half squid half kid stage of development. Because of this, her memories of Underground are tinted rose, wishing to go back and become a soldier (much to Aradia's displeasure who stayed underground and had experienced that reality). Because of this, she's chosen the Octo Shot and cannot be talked out of it.

Equius - Sloshing Machine

A STRONG weapon for a STRONG guy. I like to imagine he made his own Sloshing Machine, Autobomb and Stingray so well that Turf War regulators don't even notice it's not Sheldon-made. It's a point of pride for him.

Gamzee - Inkbrush

I think he likes to not think and just run around and paint with his Inkbrush, it's hairs are probably all clumpy and frayed. Terezi definitely bats him when he's using his Baller special.

Eridan - Tempered Dynamo Roller

I think Eridan doesn't even play Turf War, I think he finds it uncouth (pretendin to be real soldiers from the great turf wwar is ridiculous and a slap in the face to the actual important people) , but he knows Feferi likes it so he just SAYS he plays the Tempered Dynamo Roller, just because it's the most expensive Roller. Everyone's waiting for him to realise they've been discontinued and they know he's a big liar.

Feferi - Heavy Splatling Deco

I think she got this from Meenah after she got too old to play Turf War because Feferi begged for it. She switched out the special and sub to Point Sensor and Kraken Royale. She's incredibly skilled at it and is basically always playing with Sollux.

#solar systems #homestuck #splatoon #splatstuck

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spinaroos-47 · 2 years

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uhhh what’s your favorite toh character writing-wise? like the most interesting character/ most well-developed character in the show?

I am going to resist the urge to focus on Hunter here fjsnfnfnd but just know that i do really like his development and writing (minus one personal gripe). He is my blorbo for a reason and its mostly how he's written

But i really do think that the owlfam trio got really strong amazing arcs througout both seasons. Luz's is going on a worrying direction, but not from a quality standpoint, Im just worried about the inevitable darkest hour relapse she most definetly will have :'3 but i do really love how theyve been dealing with her problems and struggles. She's a very solid protagonist

Eda also got a very strong arc going, comparing between luz and king, she's closer to an end of hers than her kids are. Doesnt mean any less about it, i just think her resolution isnt going to be as messy as the other two, which is good, variety is good and boy this situation is already quite distressing, i need a breather gjsjfnfndn. The whole curse and Lilith thing is handled so well and Raine's introduction in S2 really got to show us a side of her that we didnt see much before. Both her and Raine do wonders on eachother's arcs.

And king, my dear poor boy, my heart aches for him so much. I already said before that i care a lot about him, and every single King episode in S2 breaks my heart. He's just a kid and he's dealing with feelings so big and that ideally he shouldn't be having to deal with this young, or that he shouldn't have to deal with at all in the first place. And even on s1 i like how he's not just for comedic relief. He is that but he has a depth to his character basically since the first episode. And he's quite relatable on quite a lot of his episodes. Since my first watch of really small problems i have deeply related to what he felt there. He's painfully obvious on what he's going through, and tbh sometimes i feel like the fandom overlooks that. He's not taken seriously, he wants people to spend time with him, and that kinda gets reflected on the fandom as well. No one gets him like i do/j

Not to mention how he went from a little kid with delusions of being a king, to getting the HORRIFYINGLY PAINFUL realization that his life was a lie and that he's actually just a kid, to trying to find his dad, understand more about himself and just be a kid, to learning that he's a freaking Titan and that who he thought were his demon family were the killers of his species, to wanting to shoulder everyone's burden because he's a Titan and he wants to help people, to finally, sacrificing everything to save his family, which includes doing the thing he feared the most, luz going to the human realm and not being able to return to the Boiling isles

Not to mention all the complicated feelings about luz returning to the human realm. She's his sister, she's the closest bond he had with someone besides Eda. The first episode of season 2 had him desperately wanting luz to stay in the demon realm, and by the finale HE was the one who pushed her and the others through the portal

He's gotten to mature just as much as Luz, and while this isnt a totally bad thing, its heartbreaking that he hasnt really got to fully be a kid ever. Before, it was him being so sure of him being a a terrifying demon king, of course he was pampered and etc but its not the same as knowing you're a kid and letting yourself be a kid. And then he learned the truth, he tried to be a kid but that basically lasted two months and during that he's had to deal with other complicated stuff and trying to know more about himself. And after all that 2B happened which didn't really leave room for him to just be a kid, especially after he learned that he was a Titan. He matured a lot but he shouldn't have had to mature that much, he deserves to be a kid and not have to worry about anything else besides his friends and family, possibly school, and goofing around. Its tragic honestly.

I hope he gets to really be a kid after all this

You're welcome for this accidental essay fjsndnrnr

#toh #ask #long post

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katyspersonal · 1 year

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WASN’T THAT MICO COMIC GOOD?? Did you see the little hints about Rom in the first two parts? I loved that so much and it fits so well with our ideas about them being siblings. I’m so obsessed with the idea that Rom ascended unexpectedly and left Micolash behind, which sort of sent him spiraling into further madness. If I remember right, you have different ideas, but the sibling thing is mutual!! Idk, there’s something so natural feeling about. Kos choosing Rom and Mico being left in the dust, only to go crazy trying to play catch up. I love these characters.

And unhinged madman Micolash is the best. It was so nice to see him in character <3

That comic with Micolash going full psycho mode on a poor Choir member is just...

I mean there was also the sheer agony of seeing that comic was made in 2016, I feel like Micolash is hardly ever portrayed that way anymore. Maybe Rom decided to also hide the secret of his depraved, mad personality from humanity for a good measure so now everyone blissfully sees him as the cutest blorbo that isn't dangerous at all? heheh; /lh

Also YES for the siblings headcanon club! I honestly just came up with it based on this line:

It felt like it had to be them based on various tiny things! Each Brain Fluid has different description, and this particular one drops from a female just-head patient guarded by the black Church Doctor doctor! However it doesn't feel for me like THEY are the mysterious brother and sister, since black doctors are lower rank and I feel someone that discovered Arcane has to be the white doctors rank. Lore does say that black ones dispose of "failures" but the white ones are who experiment! Besides, that head calls for Maria for a comfort which is odd if her brother is RIGHT here?

My latest idea on how the things happened came from not knowing in canon where did OoK's umbilical cord go! So here is the timeline:

🎀 Byrgenwerth obtains OoK's cord after Fishing Hamlet massacre, along with other things, Willem is unsure of how to make the best use of it but intends to investigate its features

🎀 Rom casually goes, 'Wait but if we don't know, why won't we ask his mother? o:' and nobody has a heart to tell her Kos was murdered and cord wasn't "just found laying somewhere" (Caryll attempts to say something but the whole class gives him killer glare). However, this exact question gives Micolash an idea, as the only one who figured by now that every single thing Rom says, even if naive/dumb one, tends to be worth of considering (fate foreshadowing much?)

🎀 He steals the cord and has a hunch to call Rom with him to attempt a ritual of beckoning spirit of Kos with it, trying his hardest to ensure her he wants no harm but instead to advance humanity in the way no such terrible thing can happen again

💦 Kos blesses Rom with eyes, thus making her 'Patient Zero' brain fluids of which could be used to transmit to other people with the water; Micolash gets no eyes but weird telepathic connection with her - similar to Willem/Ebrietas, Izzy/Fauna and... whatever strange thing went down between Ludwig, Laurence and Flora. Being the will of a Great One in mortal world is the closest analogy I could give.

(I have an idea that after this point the eyes of siblings change from brown to arcane blue... Because Micolash's face data oddly has brown eyes, but his cut-scene model has blue)

💦 Willem is angry when he discovers the insane plan the two pulled, but can't deny that despite being crazy it was genius. (Except he fucking can because Micolash is cursed with never having his contributions acknowledged). But this encounter is not only the root for Research Hall antics, but also for Laurence learning that grieving Great One moms can be beckoned by a child's cord!

💦 Research Hall gets a different formal leader in stand of Willem however in actuality everything there is manipulated by Micolash from the shadows, Insight-granting brain fluids found within Rom's spinal cord quickly become mass distributed and created in large quantity (of course at the expense of other humans), but instead of true progress, it seems like patients are merely suffering witnessing horrors of the Deep Sea. Micolash is THE cruel mad doctor everyone is terrified to get under treatment of, always yelling at patients for being 'useless cowards' upon failure after failure to reach deeper into Sea and giving them more 'water' than they could handle (and always using Adeline as a model patient example -_-)

💦 Some patients discover the alternative - ones reaching for cursed Amygdalae knowledge become Gardens of Eyes (to later to be taken in Byrgenwerth), others discovering the 'stars' to give Blacksky Eyes and some live to become Living Failures. However...

sjdsahdsgs no, no, sorry, but seriously tho, Maria was soon to suspect that something is wrong and the "progress" with the Sea doesn't seem to be... a good faith, to say the least. That was true; Micolash knows just what Kos wants, remember? Hunter's Nightmare is meant for HUNTERS, yet patients, innocent victims, are there too! And that was Micolash's fault; during his procedures, he'd ensure that combining their sheer terror with arcane would make them good fundament to ensure the creation of the Nightmare, as Kos was weak and her wish alone was not enough. (not saying he didn't still genuinely wish to learn more about the Sea from them...)

💦 Maria begs Brador to get a word out for her because Healing Church would LISTEN to him, and it works out in the end. Micolash is striped of his influence, along the lines of the Church re-purposing itself to seek the abandoned Ebrietas and focusing on the 'stars' for good, much to Micolash's resentment.

☄️ Speaking of resentment! His envy and bitterness towards Rom were increasing, largely based off the fact that Kos chose her as knowledge-bearer, not him. Around this time, he was to take the pain and anger about his failures out on her, rejecting her as a sister, calling her names, asking why Kos picked him as the one to ruin human lives and not Rom because 'you did just fine having ruined MINE!' and so on.. She never was ready to hear something like this from the brother that she was looking for her entire life and idealised. That caused Rom's attempted s*icide by downing way too much liquid, and she had another communion with Kos - never knowing whether it was just a dream or she did go somewhere that day. It was attempt of Kos to truly adopt her as a child upon her pain of 'no longer having family', that Rom rejected because she was unwilling to abandon humanity without even trying to help them against the mess they got themselves into. However, that still gave Rom absolutely unique Insight and properties (and gave her those strange tails).

☄️ Micolash was able to restore his presence and status in Healing Church's 'nerds' faction (that was only Choir by that time) by presenting Rom and her new abilities! Like 'look, I can not only ruin patients, but give them skills none of you can dream about, right? :)' . Rom became the head of the Choir, and the best way to communicate with Ebrietas, especially since Caryll was gone by then.

☄️ Rom's precedent also became an inspiration for the Choir to use little orphaned children to beckon the hearing ear of the Great Ones the best! She had intellectual disability* making her as naive as a child, and just like Micolash, she was an orphan herself. So like... why not use people with the same features, right? Pure naive mind, combined with yearning for a parent.

🕷️ In uncertain time, Rom reconnected with Patches and was able to seek selling herself to Amygdalae - ensuring her association as a 'Spider' despite connection to all three kinds of the divine. It was done under encouragement of Micolash, as Amygdalae knew the secrets most forbidden, all about immortality, splitting soul and body, true nature of the 'Moon' behind the 'Stars', and much more.

🕷️ Micolash would eventually separate from the Choir and have his own faction, researching the forbidden and knowledge basically opposing the 'stars'! Some left with him, like our friends Damian or Iosefka! Depending on the timeline, Edgar would either fake leaving the Choir with him to be the secret agent, or only appear later after Mico's leaving and...

🕷️ Rom, however, would stay in touch with him - especially through various reflective surfaces. And because she could use bodies of water to hide things, when Choir provided her a whole giant puddle in where Altar of Grief is now. She would secretly help, down to coordinating his cultists to be undetected, helping him with directions and... reviving body of Queen Yharnam (and Mergo that got fused with her womb, an actual thing happening irl). So the cord of her (eternally) infant could be taken...

And... this is where I get lost. x) No, honestly. I am not sure how she became a true Great One. Since Altar of Grief has her petrified body but we fight her in the lake (astral) and dungeons (physical), I presume she has the same body-soul split as Queen Yharnam, but... how?

I have this scene in my head where Fauxsefka discovers all the lies, secrets and twists Rom was pulling all along, and how she was helping Micolash all along, and how there is now a perpetual ritual to beckon Bloodmoon that was obscured. Naturally she exposes her before everyone, asks her how much Rom truly knew and said nothing, calls her a twisted monster (with only Julie getting defensive). And Rom is not able to explain her motivations, or how she had to play the slow game because Choir people were not ready for harsh truth about the world, nor they had the same approach as Micolash.. She just cannot deliver her point at all, and both ascends and soon turns into stone out of raw panic and despair. She was willing to escape the uncomfortable situation, and she is an idiot god that doesn't realise the extent of her powers, so... this happens. It'd put a permanent tension between Fauxsefka and Julie, that will only truly break later when they have to work together upon return to Byrgenwerth. Also Micolash would probably comment how undergoing something as extreme as becoming a god for a 'dumb' reason was a very Rom thing to do, ahaha.

But yeah, for all I know it could be something else? I just gotta agree with Micolash here - it IS a her thing to do, to accomplish something incredible without trying over a very humane reason.

And I totally agree that he was jealous. And... well, I guess he also did resent her for rejecting Kos' offer. She rejected something Micolash wants above everything else (being Kos' surrogate baby) for the sake of something he has nothing but disdain for (the humanity). He had to hate her, we know this much </3 On the other hand, it is things like this that make me slightly regret picking the siblings idea, because can you even comprehend how much drama it'd contain as a romantic ship, and how satisfying the happy alternative would be?

But heyyyyy, the story makes sense, right? This is kind of more important! Because I do not have feelings, only logic, right- right...? sighhhhhh

Anyways, you didn't really ask for this, but the ask felt prompting enough, so here are my thoughts on the timeline and the story! Would like to hear yours!

#bloodborne #rom the vacuous spider #micolash host of the nightmare #bloodborne headcanons #ask replies #it was actually very nice to find this ask in my box today #like... i did not have a good day at ALL so getting to talk about something like this was very nice;#that comic was super nice though #it is just... it is very rare to see micolash portrayed as MICOLASH #he is not the most emotionally stable person in the block #and not in the 'he is a silly man!!!' way but more like 'he is fucking insane' way #just sad that this approach almost entirely died beyond 2016-17 #though honestly many characters got either forgotten or twisted into bleak shadows of their true selves #fandom living for soon-to-be decade does that to a mf #damn.... bloodborne IS old huh #also sorry for the stupid I AM SQUIDWARD meme i had no other ideas on how to show my point fdsjfdsfd

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witches-and-weirdos · 5 months

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Meria Hanmar

“The Imperium begins where we march!“

Briefly

General Meria Hanmar of The IIX. Legion is a female human

She is a famed conqueror and a bit of a rising star in her highly militaristic homeland

She is a skilled warrior, a born blood mage, a good tactician, and a highly intelligent and charismatic person

Age: About 32 years old, give or take, no one actually knows the real number

Height: 176 cm (5′9)

Visual Identifiers: Crimson eyes, several scars across her body (including some that should have killed her or amputated her limbs)

Main Goals/Motivations: - Glory! Conquest! Fame and Victory! - Hedonism - She enjoys learning about other cultures and absorbing history books - Growth in all her skills

16 personality types test: ESTJ-A / ESFJ-A (57-43%)

Shipping: Meria is bisexual, with a strong preference for muscular and intellectual people, not necessarily monogamous

Playlist

Trivia

Meria was an adopted street kid, she doesn't remember her real parents, and only has vague maybe-memories of her brother.

She was taken in by the now retired decorated veteran, General Graron Hanmar, when he found her beaten up and crying in an alley that much bigger street kids ran from screaming. She was surrounded by animated tendrils of blood.

She keeps a good bond with her adoptive father. Her adoptive mother, Seharen Hanmar, had died peacefully of old age several years ago. They couldn't have their own children and never adopted others.

Her 2 best officers are Lieutenant Vernan, a tactical mastermind, and Lieutenant Merdo, a monument to sheer might and indomitability.

Verses

Multiverse

Consider a strong conquering nation in your verse, or the closest equivalent. She is probably from there, or if not, then probably from a far away nation like that called Derum.

If Sci-fi with space warfare, her command ship is the Glory

League of Legends

Noxian

Location: Likely either on the frontline somewhere, in the Immortal Bastion, in her father's residence deep in Noxian land, or visiting allied or neutral nations to spend her free time learning about other cultures

Warhammer 40k

Imperial Guard

Location: Deruman Sector, holding the line against the worst horrors the galaxy can throw at mankind and reclaiming lost and contested worlds. Likely either directly on the frontline or on her command ship, the Glory.

In the heart of the Deruman Sector lies Nox Factoria, a forge world producing Titans, Power Armor and Power Weapons. As such, the sector is of extreme tactical importance.

She is known to have made temporary alliances with Xenos against even worse common enemies on many occasions, as well as temporary non-aggression pacts. She even has a reputation of keeping her word in these situations. It might sound a bit heretical, but it is quite very necessary.

Dead by Daylight (no recurrent memory erasure)

Killer

It's a shit situation, but what can you do... draws sword

"I'd rather be a king amongst peasants than a sheep amongst lions."

Power: Aim at a survivor and charge up Blood Magic. If line of sight is maintained for a few seconds, she can pull you towards herself. Injured survivors charge twice as fast.

Usual Playstyle: Haemorrhage & Mangled forever. Either ruthless chases and tactical objective control, or a friendly bloodpoint farm. Heavy nodding when outplayed. Last survivor usually gets Hatch. Knows where you live.

Stories

The Day Graron Came

"Have you ever fallen for someone you really shouldn't have?"

Lives (WH40k)

“As General, it is my job to trade lives for objectives at the best rate I can manage, and this one here is well worth a couple more good men. Tell them to set out at dawn.“

#Meria #Info Page

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god-whispers · 1 year

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apr 6

the great pretender

He knows your deepest secrets my friend God knows your heart He knows if you in word or deed offend

when you go to church on sunday with your neighbors and your friends do you go to church to worship or pretend

do you go to church to worship in humbleness and love do you go to church to feast on holy manna from above

do you walk each day respected by your neighbors and your friends do you go to church to worship or pretend

God knows your heart He knows your deepest secrets my friend God knows your heart He knows if you in word or deed offend

when you go to church on sunday with your neighbors and your friends do you go to church to worship or pretend

-------

there was a movie years ago called, the great pretender. amazingly, they seemed to do all things well enough they were never discovered, jumping from one occupation to another. well, i have news my friend, there will be no pretense with God. "there is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are naked and open to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account." heb 4:13 and we must give an account. "for we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each one may receive the things done in the body, according to what he has done, whether good or bad." 2 cor 5:10

God keeps a good set of books; all the good and all the bad. we may be able to fool everyone else, even those closest to us. i have heard of people married to a serial killer and never suspected a thing. i know i'm giving my age away, but in the hayday of radio there used to be a program called "the shadow." it's motto was, "who knows what evil lurks in the heart of men."

well, God knows! "o Lord, You have searched me and known me. You know my sitting down and my rising up; You understand my thought afar off. you comprehend my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways." psa 139:1-3 He knows us better than we know ourselves. it does no good to pretend to be something we're not.

yes, all things are naked and open to Him, so let's stop all the pretense and "worship the Father in spirit and truth; for the Father is seeking such to worship Him." john 4:23 let there be no more "vain repetitions" disguised as prayers or repentance. the Father wants us to worship, walk and live in the spirit of truth. even so heavenly Father, let it be according to Thy will.

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boldtint · 1 year

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Since I'm on somewhat of a roll of criticising StarCraft 2 specifically - here's more. Arcturus Mengsk.

Let's see, how the lore makes him seem, before I'll even say anything.

"Arcturus Mengsk. There's a name that is synonymous with terror, betrayal and violence. A living example of the ends justifying the means. The assassin of the Confederacy of Man. The hero of the blasted world of Korhal IV. King of the universe. A savage barbarian who never let anything or anyone get in his way. And yet, he is charming, erudite and intelligent. When you're in his presence you feel that he's really listening to you, that your opinions matter, that you're someone important if you agree with him."

So, an actual brutal killer, a barbarian, someone who's not gonna stand someone just messing with his plans. Combine that with his combat experience as a commander and you get a pretty scary character that will do anything within his power to keep his position. And considering that he's basically an emperor - he's got a lot of power to do so.

Got that all? Yeah, none of it matters, lol. Forget all that.

In the SC2's campaign he's set up as the main villain of the story. He's basically on the same level of threats as literal space demons (I'm joking, don't kill me, I know that they have a name), infinite zerg armies, and pretty much anything else of such grand scale. The ending of Heart of the Swarm involves us finally taking him down, and this is supposed to be an accomplishment, a major moment in the story, somewhat of a payoff for hard work, yet...

He doesn't do shit in that game. No, really, he does nothing like 90% of the time and whenever you actually interact with his forces they usually are just defending something you're trying to attack.

From the gameplay perspective he's basically a speedbump. Something to slow you down, instead of giving you an option to just speed through some places, just a bit more interactive. He never attacks you, he never tried to take back something you'd take from him, he never tries to assassinate the rebellion's leaders (DESPITE LITERALLY HAVING A DEAL WITH ONE OF THE CLOSEST PEOPLE TO JIM MAY I ADD), he does absolutely nothing. Mengsk is basically a punching bag for you to shoot over and over, yet somehow killing him must feel good?

Ok, maybe the story sets him up as a real villain? Maybe I'm supposed to hate him as a character, not as a competition?

Well, the game barely does anything to set him up as a villain either. Remember the intro to this post? Yeah, if not for wiki and basic knowledge about SC 1 - I'd never even guess anything like that was implied. We barely see him anywhere, except, ironically, around two short cutscenes, and the ending where he dies. His son has more screen time and he's even less of a character than him.

What about gameplay implications though? We do see him actually do something brutal and aggressive toward people that don't agree with him, right?

Well, we do see his forces shooting up a bunch of civilians... That started the fight first, because WE started a riot... Oops. Also he doesn't rescue a planet that needs evacuation due to zergs attacking... Even though we can't be sure he even got their signal at all. Oh, also he has propaganda machines, which are... Pretty basic tbh, even outside of this specific setting. Not like we don't have similar stuff today.

Ok then. We've got a dictator that we're supposed to hate, yet he basically done almost nothing to make us hate him. I'm saying "almost" only because of him basically killing Kerrigan because she had doubts about his plan, end even then - it's motivation for another character, player, at that point, could just pretty much ignore it if he doesn't care about that specific character.

Well, what can be done to actually fix him? What can we do to make people actually hate him for a reason, while being relatively in character with him?

First of all - make him actually commit actual war crimes that are implied. Show us how he's shooting a mass protest BEFORE that same civilian mass starts to throw Molotov cocktails at his people. Make us actually believe that there's no point in peaceful protest, since he stomps them with lethal force. It's kinda hard to believe that rebels actually have to conquer hearts and minds of the people if we basically get a lot of people killed, or straight up murder them by ourselves.

Secondly - give the man more screen time. Like, come on, we barely see him,.we don't see him reacting to anything. Even when Raynor and his crew steal a giant mech and use it to destroy a bunch of stuff during a parade - he's mostly silent. We don't see him being overzealously angry at Raynor and the other rebels for that. We don't even get news about rising defence budget or putting more forces into the cities to maintain order.

Thirdly - make him actually do something against us, oh my god. Even if we ignore the whole "won't tolerate anyone standing in his way" bit - he's a commander. He's smart enough to be an emperor and also smart enough to lead troops into war, yet we never see him do so against us. Yes, the zerg army is much more menacing in comparison to a bunch of weirdos in a spaceship, but when these weirdos start to disrupt your production chains or destroy military bases it quickly becomes a problem that needs a solution and that solution needs to be quick and final.

TL;DR: I'm a better space dictator man.

#starcraft 2 #game character #character writing #writing #writing and such #starcraft #long reads

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sunnibits · 2 years

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y’all asked for my Izzy Hands thoughts here you fuckin go >:) it got a wee bit long sorry

here’s some ‘meta’ that was living in my head rent free about Izzy’s role as Blackbeard’s designated killer and other stuff. some of it is probably bullshit <3

HELLO not to be overly dramatic about Izzy Hands on this good day but. I think a lot about how Ed tells Stede that he’s never actually killed people directly. And like, we can debate how true that is - particularly because honestly, Ed doesn’t seem to have any hesitation when it comes to killing people except for the case of Stede - but taking that as legitimate, he also mentions that he always ‘outsources the big job’. Now, I’ve already seen it pointed out by other people that the person who usually takes this job instead of Ed is Izzy - but, god, the implications of that are making me insane, I need to think about that more…

Because like yeah, it’s obviously not exclusively Izzy that’s doing all the killing, considering Ed has his whole crew and everything. And of course Ed is fine with maiming (love a good maim). But because I am of course crazy about Izzy Hands, I think about how Izzy is elevated above the rest of the crew. Yes, the whole crew is probably fine with doing all of Ed’s killing, but Izzy is Blackbeard’s first mate. His right hand man, his immediate second. By the time we start the show, it almost seems like Izzy is representing Blackbeard at this point - it’s kind of implied in other moments that Ed doesn’t even really get that involved in too much fighting anymore (they just see the flag and run away), and even in the third episode we see Izzy go to invite Stede to the ship on Blackbeard’s behalf. Ed specifically wants him to handle that personally, presumably because Izzy is the closest to Blackbeard. He doesn’t even feel the need to tell Stede who his boss is, because it’s just implied with his own title (but it course, Stede doesn’t know that). I know it’s reaching a bit, but I’m really into this concept of Izzy Hands as like, the primary representative of Blackbeard at this point. He’s Blackbeard’s right hand - and he does the murdering bit.

Because, of course, Izzy is heartless enough for it. As Izzy would see it, Ed is soft hearted. He doesn’t want to kill, but he wants to maintain this terrifying image, so Izzy does it for him. We even see this directly play out in The Art of Fuckery - Ed has to kill Stede. Ed doesn’t want to kill Stede. Izzy, very quickly, volunteers to do it. He’s not even shaming Ed for it, he’s just offering his service. Which like, a little off topic, but that actually ties perfectly into this whole rambling I sent to my friend about the idea of Izzy killing Stede as an act of service. His comparison of Stede to a dog is what really gets my brain churning - because they directly compare killing Stede to putting down a dog, and that’s not an act that is made out of hate. It’s something you don’t want to do, but you do it out of mercy, and you try to get it over quick. (Of course, Ed literally didn’t have to kill Stede, but the way that he saw it and Izzy saw it, it was this inevitable thing he couldn’t avoid it anymore). So by offering to kill Stede, obviously there’s a little bit of personal satisfaction because Izzy hates Stede, but it’s not just that for Izzy. At the heart, it’s an act of service. He’s saying ‘here, I’ll take the gun, you look away’. And in the end, when Ed can’t go through with it, Izzy takes initiative. (‘You’re not doing this - I am’). He’s so sure that this is what Ed needs, and obviously it’s not - (and obviously, like I said, duh Izzy is a bitch and he just wants to kill Stede BUT-) but hey, it’s not unreasonable for him to think that, considering even though he protests at first, Ed doesn’t even try to stop the duel once Stede accepts! He doesn’t intervene, he just sits by and lets Izzy do his job, even though it hurts, because that’s what he’s always done.

It just makes me wonder even more about how many times this has happened between them… Like, I wouldn’t be surprised if this exact thing has happened before! Ed gets attached to people, he falls in too deep, and Izzy has to carry out the kill. And Ed goes back to being Blackbeard, and Izzy goes back to being his right hand man. Maybe Ed cries alone in his room, but Izzy just ignores it, and stands outside the door until he’s done. He tells everyone that the captain is fine, and protects his reputation, and stands in for Blackbeard, like he’s always done. (Just like he does in the finale).

Basically, what I’m saying, if you want to be really poetic; Izzy is the one who gets his hands bloody just so Ed can keep his (mostly) clean. That’s what Izzy Hands does, and that’s probably why Ed needs him and keeps him around!

Gosh, which is just making my brain go off the rails AGAIN because that’s probably why Izzy is so shocked when things change! When Ed refuses to kill Stede, and he just lets Izzy go. Izzy’s like, what the fuck! You need me! You can’t be Blackbeard without me! But that’s just the thing. Because Ed doesn’t want to be Blackbeard anymore. Leaving Blackbeard behind, and not killing anymore, means leaving Izzy behind. He doesn’t need him anymore, he doesn’t need this gritty evil guy to do his evil things for him, and Izzy can’t believe that. (And oh boy, I have a whole fucking thing in my head about Izzy wanting to be needed, but I’m trying really hard to keep that separate because this is already too long). Even in fucking Episode 9! After Ed has literally given him up by just letting him be banished from the Revenge, Izzy still comes back to him and expects Ed to accept him! Hell, he didn’t even need to go to Spanish Jackie’s, but he’s still trying to execute the plan! He’s so fucking deep in denial that Ed has changed! He arranges for Stede Bonnet to be dead, and he arranges to get Ed out, he even says to Ed that this is a quick, humane way to do it!!! Oh my god!! He’s still just offering to put down his dog!! He’s still just trying to make it easy for Ed! He’s not even considering the possibility that maybe Ed has moved on, because Izzy can’t move on, he is going to push until the last minute to make things go back to the way they are. But damn if he isn’t going to try to make it gentle for Ed.

Izzy Hands has fully accepted his role as Ed’s tool to kill, he gladly makes himself into a monster for him, to protect his soft little heart: But then Ed just… gives it up. So all of that was for nothing - all of the killing, all of the years protecting Ed’s reputation, this whole identity that Izzy has constructed around Blackbeard and serving as his right hand man. Ed can leave Izzy behind when he wants to, but Izzy is literally nothing without Blackbeard. He’s just an angry, bitter little man with lots and lots of blood on his hands.

#i wasn’t even gonna put that last bit in but I was literally talking about this with my mom AND SHE SAID THE EXACT SAME THING #SHE BROUGHT UP A LOT OF THE SAME POINTS I MENTIONED I LOVE HER LMAO #EVEN MADE CONNECTIONS TO ANOTHER MOVIE AND PULLED QUOTES SHE WAS SO SERIOUS ABOUT LETTING ME RAMBLE #izzy hands #israel hands #ofmd #our flag means death #besties this got so long and off topic…#i swear I was trying to focus #THIS ISNT EVEN THE META I WAS SPECIFICALLY THINKING AB WRITING EARLIER #I KINDA GOT INTO IT BUT THATS A WHOLE ‘NOTHER THING #anyways yes. talked ab this w my mom and she was so great #she reached like the same points about Izzy doing all that for nothing - Ed discarding Izzy when he discards the image of blackbeard -#also the idea of Izzy’s identity being so tied up with Blackbeard that he’s nothing without it #also!!! she added a helpful point that it’s kind of implied that Stede will die eventually just from being a bad pirate #which I wasn’t even thinking about but that rlly makes it make more sense why Ed and Izzy treat his death like something unavoidable #she also brought up the question of who Izzy was before he worked for Blackbeard and ‘what he sacrificed to become that person’#engaging in my Izzy meta… she’s the real one

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tasmpeter · 2 years

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₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚ ﾟ. VIGILANTE & MAN-EATER PRESENT: ROAD TRIP TO MURDERVILLE.

* ੈ🩸‧₊˚ two: pocketful of sunshine

( i. skin | ii. pocketful of sunshine | iii. two of hearts | iv. disco tits )

— summary: man-eater & vigilante travel to idaho.

— pair: adrian chase/vigilante x mercenary!reader

— warnings: use of cigarettes, mentions of drinking, mentions of violence, mentions of psychopathy, swearing.

— authors note: here's a bit of a filler - not really since there is some good plot in here and interractions, but action in the next chapter! enjoy <3

masterlist 🩸 vig & man-eater masterlist

* currently revamping the series a little! just some minor editing & layout changes. this chapter is currently being edited <3

You ended up taking Adrian’s car. Your sports car was a bit unpractical for a road trip and would probably attach more attention to them than wanted. After years of collecting bounties, she made a very sizable income, to the point she was able to live a very lavish and comfortable live style in Gotham City. A penthouse overlooking Rykers Island, a fancy sports car, and expensive clothes she was never able to afford in a previous life. She didn't become a killer for the money however. She did it out of necessity. She had urges. Every since she was a little kid, she would have voices in her head, telling her to kill her pet dog, or to slice her parents throat in the middle of the night. The only way she was able to control these urges, was to live her life as a mercenary. The next kill always on its way. She wouldn't ever have to kill innocent people again in order to control herself — however, she doesn't talk about that. She also has a problem of trusting people. In fact, Adrian Chase is the closest thing she's had to a healthy relationship in years. She killed the last thing she was close to.

Adrian's Sebring — labeled the "Vigilante Mobile", was the perfect amount of practical and uninteresting that would be perfect for their murder spree. The pair did argue about it though. She did not want to leave her fancy sports car in Evergreen for however long it took them to finish their road-trip. Adrian promised that it would be fine and told her by the end of this, she'd probably have enough money to buy four. He wasn't wrong. She had plenty of money and this trip would only add to the pile, she just had a hard time letting go of personal items like that. She wasn't always rich, and that same mindset had stuck with her.

It was Adrian's first shift driving. They decided that each gas stop they took, they would switch drivers. They were nice like that. They had barely spoken to each other since they started driving — and they had been on state route twelve for a few hours. She was sharpening her knives and Adrian was blasting some wig metal music — much to her disappointment.

"So, how did a pretty girl like you end up killing people for money? Like, what is your superhero origin story?" Adrian took his eyes of the road for a second to stare at the girl in the passenger seat. She had changed out of her suit for a more comfortable attire — sweatpants and a cropped shirt that had the playboy logo on it. Adrian found it awkward, seeing the girl like this. Their few encounters had been very short and they barely knew each other. In normal circumstances, it seems like he would be taken to his death. But they weren't normal people.

She set her knife down on her lap and looked up at the boy. His glasses were slowly falling down his face and his sweater was pulled to his palms. God, he was fucking adorable. She wanted to ruin him.

"Are you really asking me about my past?" She scoffed. She made it pretty clear that she was not an open book and she did not like talking about her past.

"Well, we are going to be stuck together for awhile. Plus, I came inside of you. Just thought I might get to know you a bit more. All I know is that you kill people for money, have a fancy car, and have a tattoo under your boobs that says 'Lucky You'." Adrian did make a fair point. They hardly knew nothing about each other and were embarking on a cross country road trip together.

"Ask me something less personal. Like, not about my past, then."

Adrian pushed his large frames up his nose and looked over at the girl in his passenger seat, "Uh, what kind of music do you like? That's a good one right?"

He looked desperate for approval and she couldn't help but smile. She liked her men desperate, "Definitely not whatever you are playing." She laughed.

"What!? You don't like rock music? There is no wrong time to rock, ya know?" Adrian honestly looked offended.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes, "I like rock music, just not wig metal. I like 90s rock, and late 90s to early 2000s pop hits."

Adrian think he fell in love when she said that — or got horny. Whichever, he always got made fun of when he tried to play early 2000s pop music around Peacemaker. He got called gay a lot — partially true, but it still made him feel bad. "You like early 2000s pop music?! You definitely seemed more grunge."

She smiled at the way Adrian's eyes lit up. Maybe this trip won't be too bad after all, "Just because I kill people doesn't mean I don't like pop music! Especially early 2000s. Nothing beats Gwen Stefani, Brittney Spears, and Ciara."

She tried to act nonchalant about it, but Adrian could see her genuine love and interest in the music, "Well, luckily, I have just the playlist for you."

She started laughing when the Black Eyed Peas starting blaring through the speakers. Adrian started singing along and doing little dance moves with the song, trying to get her to join along. Finally, after a lot of persistence, she let her guard down and began singing too. To onlookers, they looked like a normal couple on a road trip, blasting shitty songs and singing. This was the first normal experience she has had in awhile — maybe even ever. This is what her life should be like. Singing in a car next to a beautiful boy, maybe behind on a couple bills, and loving live. However, that wasn't who she was and it won't ever be who she'll be. She will always be a killer.

They made their first stop in Pendleton, Oregon at a tiny little truck stop. Adrian had ran ahead inside screaming about having to use the restroom and she sauntered inside the gas station, browsing the isles for snacks and drinks. They still has about six more hours of travel ahead and it was her turn to drive. She picked up a four pack of Redbulls — desperately in need of caffeine, from the fridges, when Adrian popped up behind her. She jumped and dropped the pack of Redbulls on the ground, breaking the box that contained the cans.

"Adrian!" She whisper-shouted at the goofy boy in front of her. He just stood there, giggling at the girl who was now red in the face. He bent down and picked up the cans that were rolling on the floor and shoved them into his arms.

"You get to carry the snacks then." Adrian said, moving away from the girl and towards the candy isle. Last thing that boy needs is more sugar, she thought to herself, before following the boy.

He had a bag of Peach Rings between his teeth and was attempting to grab a bag of Sour Patch Kids while also trying to juggle for four cans between his arms. She marched over and grabbed the bag he was attempting to grab and plucked the Peach Rings from his lips. Adrian stood, baffled and a bit turned on by the girl. She stood in front of him. There was a very clear height difference between the pair. He almost towered over her — she hated it (that's a lie, she loved it.) Snapping her eyes away from the green eyed boy, she began perusing the isles for snacks. She landed on a bag of kettle chips and some Swedish Fish. Adrian had been following her around like a lost puppy up and down the isles while she delicately picked her snacks. Arriving at the counter, Adrian dumped the drinks onto the counter along with all the snacks in her arms. She had asked for a pack of menthols.

Back in the car, she was trying to light her cigarette while attempting to drive the Vigilante-Mobile. Adrian was growing increasingly nervous at the way she sped and swerved his car. Natasha Bedingfield's Pocketful of Sunshine blasting over the stereo speakers was not helping the situation.

"Uh, do you need me to light that for you?" Adrian asked, holding his hands out for the cigarette and lighter. She nodded and handed the items over to the boy in the passenger seat. Putting the menthol between his lips, Adrian sparked the cigarette up. He took a drag before passing it over to the girl — who was so obviously craving one. He saw a sigh of relief leave her lips after she took that first drag.

"So what's your favorite movie?" Adrian asked, his eyes shifting between the road and the girl in the drivers seat.

She took a drag of her cigarette, "I don't really have one. Don't really watch movies."

"You're kidding? You don't watch anything when you feel sad or after a long day?"

She smirked, "I don't feel sad, Adrian. I don't feel anything. Never have. But, to answer your question, sometimes I watch put It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia on in the background when I go to bed. Can't sleep in the quiet. Wha-What about you?"

So, she was like him. Maybe even worse. Adrian felt sad sometimes, rarely — but he felt sad when Peacemaker left or when Peacemaker would call him gay. But other than that, he never felt guilt, remorse, the normal things people are suppose to feel.

"I don't feel a whole lot of anything either. Sometimes, but never enough to mean anything."

She locked eyes with the curly haired boy. Maybe she found someone like her. Someone who understood her. "What's your favorite movie, Adrian?" She asked again, ashing her cigarette out the window.

"Inglorious Bastards. I like when they kill the nazi's." He answered so nonchalantly.

She giggled at him and their eyes locked, "I like when they kill the nazi's too."

Adrian would tell himself that was the moment he fell in love with her. Maybe they finally found someone who understood them. Peacemaker would always tell him Inglorious Bastards was not Quentin Tarantino's best movie — he liked Reservoir Dogs more. Adrian didn't know much about love. He didn't think he's ever really loved anyone. The closest thing he had to that was Peacemaker — and sometimes he made him feel really, really bad. But in the movies, love is liking the same things and understanding each other and listening — and not cheating on someone. She snapped Adrian out of his introspection by singing a horrible rendition of Toxic.

"You are so bad at singing." Adrian laughed.

"Shut it, you aren't any better!" She yelled back, flicking the finished cigarette out the window.

"Keep telling yourself that, Pearl." He was attempting to give her a cute nickname.

She looked back at him with anger in her eyes. She hadn't heard that name in years, "Don't call me that ever again or dump you in the bottom of the lake."

Her father was the last person to call her 'Pearl' — and he ended up the same way. She dumped his body, filled with rocks and covered in a black tarp, in Morrison Harbor, and sat there while she watched it drown. She didn't miss him.

The ride was silent after that. Adrian upset because she snapped at him, and she was pissed that she heard that name spoken to her. She smoked half the pack of cigarettes on her way into Idaho. Adrian wasn't keen on picking up on social cues, but it was very clear she was pissed. She would huff and bite her nails and run her fingers through her hair. They arrived in Twin Falls, Idaho around midnight. They found the only hotel open at midnight that had vacancies. It was a decent hotel. The fine line between motel and four star hotel. At least they had a bar downstairs. She was exhausted from driving all day and really needed a fucking drink. They dumped their bags in their third floor room. Two beds.

"Rest up. We are leaving at 6 to go kill that fucker," She shouted while grabbing some clothes from her bag and rushing to the bathroom, "I'm going out. Just stay here and don't fucking do anything. And don't fucking follow me!" She yelled, stomping out of their hotel room, probably down to the bar.

Adrian sat on the twin bed at the shitty TV in front of him and he felt sad. He felt like a fuck up. Maybe that what people thought of him. He crawled under the covers and watched a Western movie until he fell asleep.

#adrian chase x reader #adrian chase x female reader #vigilante x reader #vigilante #adrian chase #peacemaker #dceu #dc tv universe #peacemaker hbo max #vigilante and man-eater #tasmpeterfic #freddie stroma #freddie stroma x reader

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sortasirius · 4 years

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Dean Winchester be like:

I hate myself because it’s what my father taught me to do. I hate myself because it’s a defense mechanism. I use sarcasm to cover up the fact that I believe I am worthless. I raised my brother into a good man, that’s the only good I’ve ever done. I’ve saved some people, they don’t say thank you, but that’s okay. I wish I could have been the man my father wanted me to be. I break everything I touch. All the people I love I end up killing or leaving me. I am broken. I don’t do romantic love, it’s asking for me to get my heart broken, more broken than it already is. I sold my soul to a demon so I could save my brother, because he’s the best thing I ever did, the only good thing. I’m afraid to go to Hell, but I pretend I’m not, because what’s the alternative?

Hell proved that I was the person I always knew I was, a bad person, willing to torture to get out of pain. I met an angel, he’s not like I thought. He’s a soldier, like me, he’s taking orders from a father he can’t see. He starts out as an ally, but he’s different than the others, they say he likes me. He’s awkward, he stands too close to me sometimes. I started the Apocalypse because I wasn’t strong enough. My brother is going down the wrong path, and I don’t know how to stop it. The angels tell me Lucifer has to rise, but the one that pulled me out of Hell disobeys to help me stop it. I think I should consider him a friend. Lucifer rises anyway.

The angel is on the run from Heaven, he’s a good guy, I like him a lot, more than I think I should. I don’t know what to do, if I say yes to Michael, we can save some people. Maybe I’ll get to know peace, maybe my father will be proud of me then. The angel and my brother are angry at me, but I’ve always been a coward, they just don’t know it. But they know me best, I can’t say yes to Michael if it means disappointing them.

My brother goes to the cage with Lucifer and Michael, the angel disappears, and I’m left to pick up the pieces, living a life I feel like I stole from somebody else. I always sleep with a gun and holy water under the bed, even though I know every entrance is secure. My brother comes back, but he’s different now, he’s not the same, I should have looked for him. I feel guilty. We found out his soul is gone, his soul, his soul. The angel is back, but he’s no real help. I kill myself to speak to Death, who brings back his soul in exchange for me playing Death, where I learn a few hard lessons.

I find out the angel has been working with our enemies. Why does it feel like my heart is broken when he won’t meet my eyes? I leave him to the demons, but not before one last look. I’m not sure why. The idiot, he ends up dying trying to get souls from Purgatory, desperate to win his war in Heaven. Why does everyone leave me? The Leviathan are out there, a new threat. At least I know how to kill, so I won’t have to think about the muddy trenchcoat in the trunk of my car. I lose the closest thing I have to a father with a bullet to the brain. I feel like I’m spinning out of control. My brother loses his mind. The angel comes back, he doesn’t recognize me, that hurts. When he does remember me, I tell him we need him, but I really mean that I do.

I get sent to Purgatory, I meet a vampire turned ally turned new best friend, but I won’t leave without the angel, I can’t leave without the angel. We find him, he was running from me, why does everyone run from me? We make it out of Purgatory, the angel gets left behind. It turns out my brother didn’t look for me. Why am I so dispensable? The vampire is the only one I can trust now. I dream about the angel, about the way I couldn’t save him. I feel like I can’t save anyone these days. I see the angel in the air around me, am I going crazy? But then he shows up behind me, why do I care so much about him? I don’t even care where he came from, as long as he’s here. My brother takes on trials, they start to hurt him. We find a place to call home. I’ve never had my own bedroom before. The angel is distant, I wish I could reach him. He doesn’t answer my prayers. He and I find the angel tablet, he hits me. I tell him I need him, never able to tell him that I think I might love him too. He snaps out of it then walks out of my life again. I wish I was lovable. I almost lose my brother to the trials, he has to know I can’t lose him, he’s all I’ve got. The angels fall, I wonder about my angel, if he’s alright.

My brother is dying, and I make a deal with an angel to save him. My angel says he’s a good guy, and I’m too desperate to vet him properly. I watch my angel, now a human, die in front of me, the angel in my brother saves him, it’s one of the only times I’ve ever put someone else over my brother. I feel guilty about that. I have to kick my angel out, it tears me in half to do it, but I have to protect my brother. I watch the angel from a gas station window, I try to find the courage to go see him. I use humor to hide how much I miss him. My brother finds out about the angel, which cost the life of a kid I was supposed to protect, he’s so angry at me. Well, I deserve it this time. I take the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, it can’t be all that bad. I start to lose my grip on myself. My angel gives up an army for me, and it’s the closest I feel to being me in months. My brother and my angel try to stop it, but it’s too late. I die in my brother’s arms.

I wake up with black eyes. I don’t care about anyone, anything. There’s a tiny part of me that’s screaming to wake up, but I drown him out easily enough. My brother finds me, says he wants to cure me. I don’t want it, I don’t want to be me, not feeling is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. They do cure me though, my brother and my angel, and waking up from the blackness is like surfacing from deep water. For a while, I feel loved. But after what I did, I don’t feel like I deserve it. I’m still not me, and when my friend, who I loved like a sister is taken, I go off the deep end again. It’s too easy, but violence is all I know. The angel tries to stop me. I have him where I want him, a blade to the heart and this is all over. But I still can’t kill him, I still can’t kill the angel. Death tells me I have to kill my brother. I almost do it. But killing Death releases me, and I’m me again. Sometimes I still wish I wasn’t.

I have this connection to this Darkness. It scares the hell out of me. I wish I understood it, I wish I could stop it. Am I pulled towards the Darkness because I, myself, am darkness? Is it because I am, because I’ve always been bad? I lose the angel to Lucifer himself, how did I not notice until it was too late? Why would he leave me like this? Will I ever get him back? My head is foggy around the Darkness, but not when it comes to him. I just wish I could get through to him. Lucifer taunts me, my heart rips in half. We get the angel back, but nothing good can last in this life, can it? God himself returns, I have to sacrifice myself to stop the Darkness. I’ll do it, because of course I will, if I have an opportunity to do some good, I’ll take it. The Darkness doesn’t kill me. She thanks me.

My mother is alive. It’s everything I’ve always wanted. I have to learn fast that she’s not what I thought. That’s hard. Me and my brother end up in prison for trying to kill Lucifer, and we find out this girl is going to have his kid. How will we kill someone innocent? I can’t think about that, I’m a killer, I’ll kill if i have to. The angel kills a reaper to save me, but what will happen to him? We start looking for this kid, but do we even want to find it? The angel nearly dies for me, he tells me, my family he loves us. I wish I could tell him the same, but the words won’t work right in my brain, so I do what I always do, I look away. The angel finds the girl, but the kid inside her gets to him, and he runs away from me. Why does everyone run from me? We find them just in time to find a rift to another world, and my brother has to drag me away from the angel, who is going to sacrifice himself to kill Lucifer. He comes back, but before I can say the words I’ve been holding onto for so long, he dies in front of me, only this time, it’s real. My mom is taken from me too, and I’m left by the angel’s side, staring up at the sky, wondering why, why me?

I bury the angel, my brother insists we can’t kill the kid, even though it’s his fault my mom is gone and the angel is... I beg God to bring him back, please, bring him back. You owe me this, please bring him back. He doesn’t listen. I’m alone. We burn the angel, and I try to learn to live with regret and grief and crippling pain all at once. I hate the kid, this is his fault. I kill myself again to save some souls, but also because I want to die this time. I can’t take it anymore. Death tells me I have work to do, but how much more work can there be? How much more can I take? It’s like the Universe reads my mind, because my angel comes back, and it’s like the last few weeks haven’t happened. I still can’t say the words, but maybe this time I’ll get there. Maybe this time. We go to the other world, we save some people, I find my mom. I let another Michael from the other world possess me to defeat Lucifer, but then I can’t expel him. Before he shuts me in my memories, I am desperately afraid.

My brother and the angel find me in my own head, the snap me out of it. I should have known this bar was too good for me, I knew I didn’t deserve it. I shut Michael in there, but I know I won’t last long. I think I’m too weak to hold him, so I build a box designed to hold me forever. I dream about it, claw the sides of the wall until my nails are bloody, but if it’s my eternity or Michael’s rule? I’ll take the ocean every time. The angel will always try to save me, I still can’t say the words. The kid, my kid, he destroys Michael, but something is wrong, and I don;t realize until it’s too late. My mother is dead, at the hands of the kid, and I have never been angrier. I hate the kid again, I hate the angel too, I hate myself more. I pull a gun on the kid, but I still can’t pull the trigger. Sometimes I wish I could put it to my own head. God comes back, turns out he was the villain all along. Typical. He kills our kid. I can’t let myself feel.

The angel tries to convince me that we’re real. How can I believe that? Is everything I am just a story? Have I ever chosen anything? Does the angel really care about me? Do I really care about him? Another one of our friends dies. I blame the angel, I push him away, because I can’t look at him if I think what I feel for him might not be real. I meet up with someone I loved. He’s a monster now, I have to kill him. He dies holding me. I wish I was dead sometimes too. My brother is sick, he gets kidnapped by God. I’m spinning in circles. Me and the angel end up in Purgatory again. He gets taken from me. I’m so alone, so scared, I break down in the one place I could get lost in forever searching for the angel, I don’t want to leave him, please, don’t make me leave him. I have to keep looking, get back to the real world to save my brother. How will I choose? Thank god, or, whatever, I find the angel. I’ll tell him this time, but he stops me. He must know. He doesn’t want me, no one wants me. Why would they? Chuck has taken everything from me. I have to kill him, no matter the cost. The cost is gonna be our kid, raised from the dead by Death. I guess the one thing we have going for us is we don’t stay dead for long. I’m ready to let my kid die for my freedom. My brother stands in the way, I pull a gun on him. He talks me down, he’s the only one that can. I decide to take it out on Death, my pain, my anger, my rage. I take the angel and we find her, she chases us. Another trap. I realize that I’ve trapped us both. Why am I so worthless?

The angel looks at me. He smiles. He tells me how worthy I am, that I’m good, that I changed him. How can I tell him how he changed me. He tells me he’ll die for loving me. Then he shouldn’t, I’m not worth his life. Don’t leave me, please, I can’t lose you, you don’t know what it does it me when you leave me. He tells me he loves me. I try to tell him a fraction of the things I feel for him, but it’s too late. He’s taken before my eyes, and this time I know there’s no getting him back.

I’m left on the floor, unable to move.

This time I know, I’ll never let myself love again, because my heart is so shattered that it’s powdered, there’s no repairing it now. I’ve always been broken, but this time I’m not just broken: I’m destroyed.

#so uh yeah idk what this is #dean #spn #my writing #supernatural #dean winchester #destiel #im so sorry????? idk where this came from #I have never loved anyone the way I love him

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scuttling · 3 years

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Head Over Feet - Chapter 1

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Spencer Reid/Female Reader (Unrequited) Word Count: 5,233 Chapters: 4/4 Complete Tags: (Will be 18+, NSFW in future chapters) Unrequited Love, TW Suicide by cop Summary: Falling in love with one of your two closest friends was never something you planned; it only makes sense that falling in love with the other would also come as a complete surprise. *Inspired by/in collaboration with @ssamorganhotchner. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Link to AO3 or read chapter 1 below! It’s 3 AM—well, you are in a part of suburban Indiana where it’s 3 AM, but that makes it a Virginia 4 AM—and rain patters against the window behind your head as you slump over in your usual spot on the jet’s couch. You are exhausted, the whole team is exhausted, and you’ve just closed your eyes when a warm body presses against yours, thigh to shoulder, and there is a soft sigh in your ear.

“I shouldn’t make coffee. I shouldn’t make coffee, right?” Spencer murmurs, and you turn to look at him, can’t help the fondness that shapes your smile. His hair is untidy from running his hands through it, his eyes tired and rimmed red, and his headphones are dangling around his neck, just like always. He’s so close to you your noses are almost touching.

You return his sigh. So many things in life are unpredictable, but your partner, your closest friend, is always a constant.

“You absolutely should not make coffee,” you say, your voice quiet in the dim cabin. “We’ll be home in almost an hour, and then you’re going to go to bed.”

“At this point, wouldn’t it be better to just stay awake?” he asks with a groan, resting his head against the seat behind him, and you roll your eyes.

“I know the statistics, and if I do, then so do you. Being awake for 24 hours is equivalent to having a 0.10 percent BAC. There’s no way you’ll make it through the day without hurting yourself.” You hear a soft laugh from your right, and it’s Aaron; you hadn’t even realized he was paying attention. You raise your voice a little. “Plus, Hotch said we don’t have to come in until ten.”

He glances over his shoulder at you, eyebrows raised.

“Did I say that?” His lips curve up in a soft smile, and his expression is warm despite the exhaustion in his eyes.

“Don’t you remember? I said, ‘Hotch, you should let us come in at ten so we can get some extra sleep. I think it would really benefit the team.’ Then you said, ‘You know what, you’re right. Wow, you really are the smartest and most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.’” You smile brightly, fully aware you’re being silly; it surprises you when his smile falters a bit, nearly imperceptibly.

“Hmm. Now that you mention it, I do remember something like that. I’m a great boss for agreeing to it.”

“The absolute best,” you reply easily, and the two of you look at each other for just a moment before he turns back to his work and you turn back to Spencer. “So, like I said. Hotch said we don’t have to come in until ten. You need to sleep.”

“It will be after 5:00 by the time we get to the office, more like 5:30. Ten minute wait for the forty-five minute train home means I’ll get there at 6:25—” You are not normally one to cut Spencer off when he gets talking, but this is sleep-deprived rambling, not an informational address, so you place a hand gently on his arm and he falls silent.

“So come stay at my place. I’m closer and you won’t have to wait for the train. We can get a few hours in and then stop at the coffee shop before we head to the office, okay?” The way he looks at you, soft, appreciative, makes it feel like you’re the only two people on the jet for a moment, and he wets his lips, nods.

“Okay. Thank you.” You smile.

“Of course. Maybe rest your eyes; if you fall asleep, I’ll wake you when we get there.” He turns on his music, leans against your shoulder, and takes your suggestion; it’s only a few minutes later that his breathing evens out, softens, and you try and fail to ignore the way that makes your heart ache in your chest.

When the plane lands and you’re grabbing your things, you come up behind Aaron, curl a hand around his arm just above his elbow. He turns to look at you, and he’s more worse for wear than you thought, so pale and tired up close.

“You’re going to go home and get some sleep, right?” All that changes is the set of his eyes, but that’s enough for you to know he has no intention of going home; you sigh. “Am I going to have to force you to come stay at my place too?”

It would be the first time he’s stayed over, where Spencer has crashed with you a handful of times; you are close with the both of them, but Aaron you spend more time with at lunch, or late nights eating dinner in his office, where Spencer comes over for movies or board games regularly. The dynamics of your friendships with them are so different, but both so good, so unexpected. You wouldn’t trade them for anything.

“That’s not necessary,” he says, doesn’t look like it’s a thought he wants to entertain. Maybe he thinks it’s crossing a line? Spencer will be there, so you don’t understand why he’d feel that way, but you don’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“I just want you to rest. It’s really no trouble, I have a guest room.” Spencer always opts for your long, overstuffed sectional sofa, so there’s more than enough room for Aaron to stay and get a few hours of sleep. He just shakes his head shortly.

“Thank you, but it’s fine. I’ll be alright. I appreciate your concern,” he says, and that’s clearly the end of the conversation. You just sigh, slide your hand off the back of his arm.

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few hours.” You walk away from him, over to where Spencer is waiting for you, and the two of you get into your car and head to your place.

By the time you get there, Spencer is basically a big, sleepy baby, and you have to carry both of your bags into your apartment and keep your arm around him so he doesn’t slump over. You lean him up against the wall while you unlock your door, then push him gently onto the couch while you grab pillows, blankets, and sheets.

He has clothes in his go bag to change into, but you don’t bother trying to wake him enough for that, just make up a bed for him and take off his shoes, maneuvering him into a somewhat comfortable position.

“Hmm. Thank you,” he mumbles when you cover him with a warm blanket, and he turns his head to kiss you softly on your cheek, then burrows his face into the pillow and falls asleep.

You walk into your bedroom, kick off your shoes, set an alarm, and flop down face first onto your bed. Later that morning, you and Spencer bring coffee and breakfast pastries for everyone; you take Aaron’s coffee and a cherry danish and walk up to his office, knock on the doorframe with your elbow.

You are happy to see he looks a little better than when you left him, and he even softly smiles when he sees you standing there.

“Good morning again. Brought you a little pick-me-up.” You step into the room, set down the coffee and the napkin with the danish on it in the middle of his desk, then lean against it with one hand on the desk and the other hand on your hip. “You look decent.” He chuckles lightly.

“Somehow that doesn’t feel like a compliment.”

“It’s not, it’s an, ‘I wish you would have gotten some rest instead of being stubborn, but I guess it turned out okay.’” He looks into your eyes for a moment, and you hold his gaze. “When someone wants to take care of you, Aaron, you should let them.”

He looks away first, down at the lid of his coffee cup, clears his throat.

“That’s not always possible, but I really do appreciate your concern.” He sounds crestfallen in a way you don’t quite understand, and you hate that he feels that he can’t accept help. You’d hoped he was over that kind of backward thinking.

“You can talk to me about anything. I thought we were close enough for you to know that.”

“We are,” he agrees, looking over at you. There is that same dejected set to his eyes, and it makes you hurt for him. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him like this, years, back when his divorce was still a fresh wound. “Sometimes that’s not always possible either, even if I might want to.”

“I won’t judge you, you know. I care about you.” You reach out to put your hand on his, a gentle, comforting touch. “There’s nothing you could say to me that would change that.”

You are interrupted by a knock at the door—it’s Spencer, with a mouth full of cinnamon roll. Aaron pulls his hand away abruptly like the two of you are doing something wrong, and you furrow your brow. Spencer doesn’t notice, or at least doesn’t say anything.

“Hey, JJ said there might be a case. We’re meeting.”

“Another case?” You take a few steps away from the desk, cross your arms, give Aaron some space. “We just got back five hours ago.”

“Sounds like we should have gone straight there instead. Spree killer, five dead.” He ducks back out of the room, takes off down the hall, and you turn back to Aaron. He’s standing, smooths a hand down the front of his shirt, and you sigh.

“What are the odds I can convince you to take a power nap on the jet? 50:1?” He cracks a smile despite his earlier demeanor, takes the coffee you brought and passes you on his way to the door.

“I’d guess more like 75.” You roll your eyes, grab his danish, take a big bite, and then catch up to him and hand him the rest to finish.

The case takes you to Connecticut, where you are paired with Derek to take witness statements at the precinct. The local police know the identity of the killer, a forty year old man named John Jackson, and your team has predicted that he won’t stop until you find him, and that he will likely attempt to go down via suicide by cop when you do, so everyone is on edge.

After almost three hours of taking statements, you and Derek break for water and coffee, stand at the watercooler shaking your heads.

“This guy is unpredictable. There could be another five, ten bodies before we finally catch up to him,” Derek says, taking a long chug of water, and you cross your arms, lean back against the counter of the kitchenette.

“Hopefully it doesn’t come to that. We’ve got roadblocks, right?” He nods.

“Every road in and out of town, with cops at all highway exits.” You vaguely remember the chief saying that, now that he mentions it; the hours are all starting to blend together, between the case and the lack of sleep, and your team is relying heavily on each other to fill in the gaps.

“Right. And helicopters.” You rub a hand slowly over your hair. “I hate these cases; it’s like the profile isn’t any good until you get to him, and by then it’s too late.” You check your watch, and it’s nearing rush hour, a good time to touch base with the team; you shoot Derek a glance, pull out your phone and gesture toward the hall, step out and dial Aaron.

When he answers, he sounds tense, so you don’t bother with pleasantries.

“Hey, just checking in. Derek and I are about done here; where do you need us?”

“There’s a checkpoint on I-95, mile marker 48; we have a few officers manning it, but we could use a car here, so if you two head there you can send one of them our way.”

“Got it: I-95, mile marker 48,” you repeat as Derek joins you in the hall. “Send a car your way.”

“Yes. Be careful,” he says almost like it’s an afterthought, and you shake your head lightly—as if you are careless any other time.

“We will, you too. Bye.” You end the call, lock your phone, raise an eyebrow in Derek’s direction. “Want me to drive?”

“Oh, and put my life in the hands of Speed Racer?” He takes the keys out of his pocket, holds them out like he’s handing them to you, then pulls them away.

“I've taken several defensive driving courses; I’m probably a better driver than you.” He holds them out again and you snatch them out of his hand. “And sometimes you have to be fast.”

That statement proves true when you are on your way to mile marker 48 and Derek spots the car the unsub was last seen driving. He confirms the plate number, confirms it again, just because your brains are kind of mush, and then you share a look and slam your foot on the gas.

Thank god for all those defensive driving courses.

“Hotch,” Morgan barks into his phone a few seconds later, “we’ve got eyes on the suspect. He’s headed northbound on I-95—we just passed marker 44. We’re in pursuit.” The unsub weaves in and out of traffic, a chorus of colorful language and horns blaring in his wake, and you do your best to keep up while maintaining a safe distance from other cars.

The chase goes on for several miles, and there seems to be no end in sight until you can eventually make out the red glow of the car’s brake lights from across the highway. It’s both a good and bad sign, one you were prepared for.

“He’s gonna bail, Derek.” You cut across several lanes of traffic to make your way to the side of the road, so you can pull off as close to him as possible. “We have to try to talk him down. Think he’ll listen to me?” The whole rampage was triggered by the anniversary of the man’s wife’s death, and you look similar enough that it’s a good possibility. Derek agrees.

“Worth a shot. Just keep your damn gun drawn,” he says, and you huff. You’re pretty sure every member of the team has used the ‘weapons down’ tactic on multiple occasions, but somehow only you and Spencer are always reminded of it.

“I will, but if he wants me to kill him, I’m not going to make it easy.” The unsub goes several hundred feet farther before pulling over, and you follow behind, turn on your four-ways, jump out of the car. Derek covers you, and you approach the vehicle slowly, gun drawn. “John Jackson. Leave your weapon on the seat and exit the vehicle with your hands up.”

The door opens, and you see one empty hand, but he still clutches a pistol in the other. Derek looks over at you, but you don’t dare take your eyes off of John.

“John. Put the gun down. I know you feel hopeless right now, like there’s no way out of this situation, but I promise you there is a way. I’m here to help you.” For the first time, he looks over at you, and you can see the pain in his gaze; it’s clear the man is broken, eyes sunken deeply in despair. He raises the gun—doesn’t point it at you, just raises it into the air.

“You can’t help me. No one can. She’s gone, and I’m left here—in pieces.” The last word is a sob, and you swallow hard, take a step closer.

“I know how much Kathleen meant to you, John, and I’m sorry for your loss. So sorry. But you know this isn’t how she would have wanted things to turn out for you; you know that, right? She loved you.”

“It wasn’t enough, in the end.” He wipes his forearm across his eyes, and Derek tenses, you can see it out of the corner of your eye, but that’s the only move John makes. “She took everything with her and left me empty.”

“It doesn’t have to feel like that forever. I promise you.” You take another step forward, hand outstretched. “If you just set the gun on the ground, I’ll come over and put you in some handcuffs. We’ll have to go to the police station first, but then we’re going to get you help. You’ll feel better.”

John says nothing for several seconds; you are so aware of yourself, your surroundings, that you feel each breath you take as if your body is moving in slow motion. You can see Derek tense again, just slightly; you can hear the sound of another car pulling up behind yours, of doors opening and closing, of shoes on pavement and guns drawn.

“John.” He sighs, presses his lips together, shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t want to feel better. I want to feel nothing.” He points his gun at you, and you don’t have another choice. If it’s not you, it will be someone else on your team.

He made his choice; you make your non-choice and pull the trigger.

You run to his side when he falls, and so does Derek: no pulse. You’re a good shot. It doesn’t feel like something to be proud of right now. You stand, and so does Derek; he reaches out a hand, places it on your shoulder.

“You tried, you know?” His voice is low, a little rough, and you nod your head. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Thanks.” You don’t say you won’t, can’t guarantee that. The two of you turn around, face the others, and you inhale deeply, exhale deeply, shake your head. Aaron and Spencer both come forward, and you’re a little torn, not sure whose eyes to seek for reassurance, whose words to seek for comfort.

Spencer makes the decision for you, jogs toward you and puts his hands on your shoulders, wraps his arms around you in a hug. You hold him close, rest your head against his arm, and look behind him, at Aaron, who seems more affected than you would have thought. You want to pull him in too, but he is not the public display of affection type, so you let Spencer be enough.

After a few minutes, local law enforcement arrives on the scene, as well as the coroner, and Spencer ushers you into an SUV so you can head back to the precinct.

That night, you are not just tired, but weary, when you make it home. You strip off your clothes and take a quick shower in hopes it will make you feel a little better, then pull on a short, fleece robe and pad to the kitchen to make a cup of herbal tea. You’re just throwing out the tea bag when there’s a knock at the door, and you take your mug with you to answer it.

You aren’t surprised that it’s Aaron on the other side.

“Hi.” Your voice sounds weak to your own ears, but he just nods, takes in your robe and mug of tea, offers his own greeting. “Do you want to come in?” You take a step back and he walks past you into the living room, sits down beside you when you curl up on the sofa. You face him, your shoulder against the back of the couch, your hands in your lap, holding your tea, and he mirrors your posture.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I know what happened today was difficult for you.” The expression on his face is careful, guarded, but concerned. “How are you doing?”

You reach forward to set your tea on a coaster on the table, scooting a little closer.

“I’m doing alright.” He looks skeptical, stares you down with serious eyes, and you sigh, give in to his silence. You’re not one to easily fold under pressure, but when Aaron is the one applying it, it’s difficult not to. “It’s never easy to kill someone, but… it’s just a little harder when it's someone who clearly needed help, something we could have given him. It’s harder when we’re just too late.”

“I can understand that. Things could have gone so differently if he’d gotten help when he needed it. Maybe no one would have gotten hurt.” He reaches out a hand to carefully cover yours in your lap, looks at you with tender eyes. “Try not to focus on the maybe, okay? Life is hard enough without beating yourself up for something out of your control.”

You nod your head, blink back tears, and lean forward, resting your cheek against his shoulder; he puts his arm around your back and holds you tightly, allows you your moment, and when you begin to pull away he reaches for your tea, takes a sip.

“Minty,” he says, then hands you the mug, and you smile softly, take a sip too.

“It’s Sleepytime tea. Helps me wind down before bed.” It’s not until you say it that it dawns on you—how late it is, that he’s here anyway after almost two days with no sleep. “Let me make you a cup and then put you up in the guest room. Please,” you murmur when he looks like he’s going to decline. “It would make me feel a lot better about today. Just knowing you’re nearby.”

“Are you trying to guilt trip me?” he asks, arching a brow, and you shake your head quickly, reach for his hand again.

“No, no. Of course not. I just know you’re tired, and it would be nice to have a friend close tonight.” You squeeze his fingers, your hand warm from the tea, take a deep breath. “Stay?”

“I’ll go get my bag out of the car,” he says eventually, and you can’t help smiling.

“Okay. I’ll make you some tea.” The next couple of months are fairly commonplace, with cases dotted here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing like those few sleepless days.

You have dinner with Aaron in his office a couple times a week, and it’s always comforting and enjoyable, that easy companionship. You spend time with Spencer at one of your apartments a couple evenings a week, and that’s where things get complicated.

He’s one of your closest friends in the world, one of two people you would do anything for, drop everything for at a moment's notice. As it turns out, he may also be more than that.

You’ve noticed for a while that you tend to gravitate toward him, that you’re drawn to him when he’s speaking, like an invisible magnetic pull. That you can’t help staring at his lips when he talks, his hands when he adds gestures, the serious look of contemplation on his face when he debates his next move as you play chess.

It feels innocent, mostly, until one day he leans over your shoulder to speak into your ear while you’re getting snacks in the kitchen, and you feel your face heat, your heart pound in your chest. He lays a hand on your back, which is not unusual, but he may as well be putting it down your pants for the way it makes you feel in that moment.

You open your mouth to say something, but ultimately you stop yourself. What would you even say? I think I might be in love with you? I think I want you? I hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship? Anything of those things would be the wrong thing, so you just push it to the back of your mind and do your best to let it go.

“Are you feeling okay?” Spencer asks one day while you’re pouring coffee in the breakroom, and rightfully so, because you’ve been avoiding him like he’s contagious for the better part of a week. He looks especially cute today, and he’s in a great mood, smiling and laughing at everything Derek and Emily say, and it’s too much for you to handle. You’re just proud of yourself for not saying something embarrassing.

“I’m okay,” you assure him with a light smile you don’t feel. “I’m just a little off today; I’m sure it will pass. Thanks, though.” You fill his mug, and he smiles back, nods.

“Of course. We can skip movie night tonight, if you’re not feeling up to it. I think we’ve both probably seen An American Werewolf in London enough times that we could recite it line for line anyway.” You have to laugh at that, because it’s true; it’s one of your favorites, always so easy to poke fun at that the two of you dissolve into giggles half an hour in.

“You’re definitely right about that. Yeah, let’s cancel for tonight. I’ll go to bed early, get some rest, be good as new tomorrow. Thanks for understanding,” you murmur, turning to look up at him, and he puts his hand on your shoulder.

“You’re welcome. I just hope you feel better soon.”

You hope you figure out what to do soon, too.

You’re getting ready to leave work later that night, shortly after everyone else has gone, when Aaron steps up beside you, clears his throat.

“Do you have plans for tonight? I was just about to order dinner.” You sigh, run a hand over your hair.

“Um. I was supposed to watch movies with Spencer, but I cancelled on him.” His gaze sweeps over you like he’s looking for signs of distress, eyes gentle but appraising.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes and no.” You immediately regret saying that, because it puts him on alert and you aren’t really in the mood to discuss it. “Yes—everything’s alright. I’d love dinner, if you don’t mind the company. And it’s my turn to pay.” You take out your wallet, shove the rest of your bag back under your desk, turn to look up at him. He’s still staring at you like he’s trying to assess your emotional state, and you exhale softly. “Can we just… eat and talk about Jack?”

It takes him a moment, but he nods, pulls out his phone. It’s nonchalant, just quiet acceptance of your terms; his eyes are kind when he looks back over at you.

“I have pictures of him from his last soccer game.” You feel almost overwhelmed with relief, lean against his arm to look at the photos of Jack and his friends in their uniforms, laughing and happy on the field. “Do you want tacos?” he asks, low, after a moment, and you nod your head and smile softly up at him.

“Yeah, but it’s Friday. Why don’t we just go eat? Work can wait until Monday.” It’s a suggestion you’ve made many times before, but this time, to your surprise, he agrees; you grab your bag, and he drives you to the restaurant where you have a margarita, and too many tacos, and so many laughs it’s like he’s almost a different person. He drops you off at your car afterward, and you lean across the seat for a hug, thank him again for taking you out—because, of course, he insisted on paying the bill even though it was your turn. It’s a better evening than you’ve had in the last few weeks.

You mess that up severely by going home and watching An American Werewolf in London anyway, and afterward you lay in bed, try to fall asleep, and think about what you’re going to do about Spencer. It’s almost midnight when you have the dumb idea to go see him—and it’s pouring, which makes it even dumber.

You text him to see if he’s still awake, and he doesn’t answer, but when you park you can see that his bedroom light is on, so you buzz anyway. He lets you up, clearly confused as to what you’re doing there so late; so are you, to be honest, but for some reason it finally felt like the right time to lay it all out on the line. When he opens the door, he looks even more taken aback than he sounded.

“Are you okay? It’s after midnight, and you’re soaked,” he says, pulling you inside and closing the door, and you shake your head.

“No, not really. I’m sorry for springing this on you, Spence, I really am.” You take a deep breath, try to calm yourself; your heart is racing. “I think I love you. You were the first person I clicked with when I started at the BAU, and it has become a genuine friendship that I treasure, but lately I’ve been feeling… more.” He wets his lips, frowns.

“I don’t think now is the right—” A slightly unhinged laugh escapes you, and it stops him mid-sentence.

“I know it’s not the right time, but I don’t think there will ever be a right time, so I’m just… just putting it out there, okay? I think I love you. I can see myself with you, I—I think we could be good together. And I know this is sudden…” you trail off when you see movement behind him; you lean to the side to peer around him, but he blocks you with his body. “Is someone here?”

“I tried to tell you it’s not a good time,” he says, and he sounds apologetic and maybe a little embarrassed on your behalf. You swallow hard.

“Who’s—who’s here? Is it someone I know?” He shakes his head, and you exhale a ragged breath. That’s a small miracle, at least, that you didn’t just spew a love confession in front of one of your friends—well, two of your friends. “I should go. I need to go—I’m sorry.” You back up, but you bump into the door noisily; you forgot he’d closed it behind you. Someone comes into the hall to check on the sound, and of course, it’s a beautiful woman wearing one of Spencer’s sweaters and not much else. She is your opposite in every way, and that makes it hurt so much worse.

You really never stood a chance.

“Spencer? Is everything okay?” she asks, arms crossed over her chest, and you fumble for the doorknob, wrench the door open, and take off down the hall.

You run for your car—the rain has only gotten heavier, and if you were soaked before, you’re downright sodden now, your clothes soaked through—and you tug on the door handle, but it doesn’t budge: locked, of course. You pat your pockets for your keys, but by the time you find them, the small surge of adrenaline you felt has left your body, and all you feel is heartbreak.

You rest your arms against the window, your head against your arms, and take several deep, gasping breaths; tears follow, burning hot, streaming down your face, and for a few moments you just let them, let yourself ache with embarrassment and bitterness until it physically hurts to continue.

You exhale softly, wipe your face with your wet sleeve as if that fixes the problem, and then unlock your car and head to the only place—the only person—you can think of with your head so messed up.

Taglist 🤍: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x reader #head over feet

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writingonsaturn · 3 years

Text

Better Unsaid

a/n okay this has been all over the place!! it was originally going to be a blurb and darker and closer to smutty (so keep your eyes out for that??? lol), but then I made it softer and the concept got away from me and it got soooo much longer than expected lmao and i still dont love where it ended so maybe part 2?? i have the idea i just dont know lol

summary: Reader is a princess and Anakin has been her guard during the most public season for the past two years (not the most logical thing but just go with it lol, it gets explained better in the fic) and after a near death experience the two are conveniently forced into a....

ONE BED TROPE ONE BED TROPE *cough cough* ONE BED TROPE WITH ONE PERSON HAVING TO WAKE UP THE OTHER BC THEYRE HAVING A NIGHTMARE,, :)))))))

His smugness is the only thing about him I can consider ‘ugly’. And because I am so desperate to not have feeling for Anakin, the Jedi who has been assigned to protect me through coronation season (which lasts for most of winter), for the last two coronation seasons, I hold onto my distaste for that side of him. Which is why I suppress my laugh as he waits for my reaction with that confident smile.

“Come on, that was funny.”

Rolling my eyes, I let myself sit on my bed. I can’t tell if he’s actually funny or if my evening has been so boring that his sense of humor has started to become appealing to me due to comparison. In short, the suitor I was forced to spend an entire evening with lacked personality so much I’m starting to find Anakin funny.

“You’re much more entertaining than this evening’s suitor.”

Anakin’s expression shifts slightly, his assured grin dropping slightly. “Another miss?”

“You have no idea.” I relax slightly, taking a moment to be glad that I completed my father’s request and now I can just enjoy the time I have with Anakin. “I know my father’s desperate to make sure my marriage is useful for our people and that he worries about this selection process because he always thought my mother would be here to help, but sometimes I wish he wouldn’t rush it so much. It feels like all he wants me for is to marry me off in exchange of finance or weaponry or something diplomatic.”

“You’re more than that.” His response is so soft I think I might have missed it if I needed it less. I curse myself for feeling so validated by him. His words shouldn’t mean anything to me. After all, he could easily just be saying that because agreeing with my father will just make me more unpleasant to be around.

I smile politely while avoiding his eyes. I keep my hands on either side of me, fighting the urge to fidget. “Thank you, Anakin.” My words sound weak in my own ears, so I’m sure he notices my shift in mood. “I’m tired today, I think I’m going to go to bed early.” Normally, I’d be able to shrug off these kinds of things, but the beginning of Coronation Season makes me irritable. The anniversary of my mother’s death hits me harder each year.

“Y/n.” My name comes out so velvety I can’t find it in myself to interrupt him. “You are more than someone meant to be used as some kind of royal currency, and I mean that as more than just a...friend.”

I let his last word linger. We’ve tried so many titles that never seem to fit right. He’s the chosen one, one of the most powerful Jedi to exist, and the Jedi assigned to protect me each Coronation Season because that’s when my mother was assassinated. He’s my guard, but we’ve spent too many nights laughing together and talking about everything and anything. And I guess now he’s my friend, even though sometimes when he looks at me in a certain way or sits too close to me or reaches for my hand to guide me somewhere I can’t breathe right.

“Anakin, you know I love when you’re here, even though sometimes you drive me insane. And I appreciate your kindness, but your words can’t change the truth. That’s how my father sees me and he’s not exactly wrong. I’m not a son, I haven’t been raised to lead an army or lead much, and--”

“I’ve seen you in meeting after meeting, convention after convention. I’ve witnessed the way you handle real problems and I know how you care about your people. You’d make a great leader, you don’t need a husband to be valuable.”

My chest swells, feelings I never let myself think about mixing with thoughts of Anakin that I’ve spent so long trying to avoid. “That settles it, you’re my favorite person.”

He grins, the look warm enough to melt the odd lump in my throat. I fight down a smile as he steps forward. “And I wasn’t before?”

“I take it back--your head’s big enough without the additional praise.”

Rolling my eyes, I lean back slightly in order to recreate the distance he so easily destroyed. “And I thought you had finally warmed up to me, princess.”

The use of my title makes me skeptical. The last time Anakin used it was when he was trying to ease me so that I’d walk around the palace garden so he had an excuse to do the same. It was beyond late and I was half asleep, but he had os much energy he was desperate and just needed to do one more thing. I felt bad that his schedule revolved so heavily around mine (and when he softens his eyes and says please, I’m left incapable of saying the word ‘no’) so I agreed.

“What do you want?”

Anakin dramatically clutches a hand over his heart. He throws his head back slightly as if he’s just taken a fatal blow. “When did you turn so cynical? I’ve been back for three days and I’m starting to believe you’re a different person now.”

Yeah...he’s definitely getting ready to ask for something that’s more trouble than it’s worth. Then again, everything with him seems to be worth it in some capacity. Even if it’s just that one smile he gets when he’s truly content and doesn’t think anyone’s looking.

“Mhm,” I mumble, still fighting a grin, “so you’re not going to ask me anything?”

His lips part slightly as he exhales. I watch the way his eyes narrow at my victorious expression. “I don’t have anything to ask of you, but I do have a small request. A request so small you won’t have to do anything but say yes.”

Suspicious. Too easy. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You just said I was your favorite person. Remember that.”

I’m too tired for his coyness. I’d rather him make his ridiculous request now so that I can be in bed within the hour. Though I can’t pretend I don’t normally feel better after letting him drag me along on whatever ‘adventure’ he just needed to complete while also not letting me out of his sight. I used to tell him that I wouldn’t tell anyone if I wasn’t under supervision for an hour or two a day, but he dismissed the idea immediately. That’s been the cornerstone of everything.

“What is it?”

He sighs once, tilting his head slightly. The way his eyes soften tells me he’s already won at least half the battle. “They still haven’t caught the attempted--” Anakin pauses, something behind his eyes darkening. I know what he’s remembering. Last night, an assassin had gotten closer than they ever had. I had almost been shot in the garden, Anakin had barely pushed me to the ground in time. A fact he’s been beating himself up for since, especially considering that no one has been able to find my attempted killer yet. “They were so close to you. They were within palace limits and they disappeared like they never existed. Who’s to say they don’t work here and are waiting for the next moment you’re exposed? Who’s to say they aren’t here tonight, waiting for me to retire for the night?”

I didn’t realize how my near death experience had been so personal to him. He, like everyone else, was beyond frantic after it happened. But my father put an end to verbal worry before it could truly begin. He said the best thing we could do was act like everything was fine as the assailant was searched for. Anakin hadn’t been particularly cheery after my father instructed the guards to focus their search on known enemies instead of prioritizing venting the staff closest to me. I comforted him as best as I could, but he didn’t feel like speaking about it and I had to worry about the suitor meeting my father wouldn’t let me cancel.

“Anakin, you’re right next door to me.” I have to fight the urge to reach for him. “I was fine because of you, and I will be fine because of you.”

He sighs once, his expression not easing. “And if the person is silent? The attacker could easily work in the palace, but no one wanted to direct the search inwards.” His words are more strained than I’ve ever heard them be. “I think it’d be smart for me to stay in here. I know you’ve refused having a guard stay in your room or outside your door, but...” Anakin sighs. “Your safety would be more assured.”

Him staying in my room? The only line I’ve ever been allowed to draw, and I’m actually considering letting that go. If he seemed even slightly less sad, I wouldn’t even consider it. It’s not a good idea. I’m already too attached to him. “Anakin--”

“I’d feel more assured.”

Damn him. Stupid, extremely sweet Anakin who makes saying no to him impossible. I stretch my arm forward, letting my hand squeezes his forearm gently. “There’s no reason to not feel assured.” He doesn’t ease, the cloudiness behind his eyes remains stubborn. “You’re still worried.” No reaction, the haze that’s taken him isn’t letting go. “Fine--but tell no one or my father is going to take to posting guards at my door every night.”

...I guess there are worse ways to spend a night. Which is kind of a problem since I’m trying to...enjoy Anakin less. Ugh, I even sound dumb in my head. “I promise, princess.”

Ugh, he’s adorable. “You’re intolerable.” I stand from he foot of my bed and pull back the covers on my bed. He doesn’t reply, something dark still playing for him. I watch him move to face the door. Wait--is he doing what I think he’s doing? “No, you’re not going to stand there all night. You need sleep.” He has the audacity to give me an annoyed look. “I already didn’t want to do this so now you have to listen to my conditions.”

He raises an eyebrow, his lips pressing together oddly. He’s trying to gauge something from my expression, perhaps he’s looking for buttons to press to get his way. I guess I look as stubborn as I feel because instead of arguing he just sits on the floor. What? I watch him cautiously, trying to figure out if this is some weird argument trick.

“What are you doing?”

“What you asked.”

And just like that I’ve put myself in a position that I will no doubt regret terribly the second common sense returns to me. There’s no way to deny that Anakin and I are closer than we probably should be. We’ve felt like friends first since the day we first met. I can’t think of any reason to not offer to let him sleep in my bed except those stupid budding feelings I refuse to label.

It’s not like I actually like him. I can’t--I’m going to be married to some nobleman and he’s prohibited from ever forming attachments. I’m not even sure if we’re allowed to be friends. Having actual feelings for him would be so, so pointless. It would just lead to heartache and the ruining of the one genuine relationship I have. I’m just a tiny bit confused right now because he’s objectively really attractive and he’s always there for me. Always there to make a joke after a particularly rough meeting. Always there to offer me a supportive smile. Always there to humble me when I teeter on acting like my father.

Anyone’s heart would flutter at that, so it doesn’t mean anything. And if it does, I need to squash any budding feelings now before I mess things up. Which is why I should keep him at arm’s length until I get it together. But is that fair to him? And what if doing that is making things worse? What if it’s just reinforcing the idea of having feelings?

This is ridiculous. I’m going to get over this if it kills me. It’s just a bed and it’s only sleeping. I’m meant to be able to lead an entire union and I can’t sleep next to someone and act normal?” “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

The second the words leave my mouth I regret it all. What’s wrong with me? Did I seriously think I’d be okay?

I hear his soft exhale, “I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places than on your marble floor.”

His voice sounds so weighted I can’t help but feel bad for not noticing that he’s still bothered. Whether he’s upset about his near miss or the fact that my father didn’t take his advice, I don’t know. But something’s wrong. The easy thing to do would be to just let him sleep it off. The smart thing to do would be to leave him alone until tomorrow.

I think of all the times that I’ve been upset and Anakin had refused to let me go to sleep angry or sad or overwhelmed. “I know, but it’s really not a big deal. It’s not like we don’t know each other. I mean, last Coronation Season you buttoned me into more gowns than my handmaid. And I owe you for saving me from one of the worst suitors I’ve ever had.”

“I’m starting to think we need to develop some kind of signal.”

The tiny bit of lightness that’s returned to his voice makes all of my internal struggle feel worth it. “You always seem to know.”

“That’s because when you’re reaching your limit, that one line appears between your eyebrows.”

I didn’t realize I had such a tell. I try to remember the way that the suitor drawled on and on about how amazing he was and how he couldn’t wait for the day he had a bride to bear his children and plan (tedious) social events. My hand moves to my forehead, trying to feel the crease Anakin mentioned. Can everyone tell when I’m growing tired? Am I that transparent?

Anakin’s slight laugh steals my attention. He’s facing me again, his elbow holding his head up on the foot of my bed. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t--I don’t think i get a crease between my eyebrows when I’m irritated.”

I hear him stand. I don’t realize he’s approaching me until he’s so close I could touch him without even needing. to stretch. “No, when you’re irritated you raise your eyebrows slightly, because that’s when you’re at your most sarcastic.”

“Really?”

The corner of his mouth tugs upwards. “Just like that.” I force myself to keep my expression blank. “When you’re reaching your limit, your eyebrows crease here.” His finger taps the space between my brows so gently I almost don’t realize what he’s doing. “And when you’re trying not to laugh--which is often, because you refuse to admit that I’m funny--you press your lips together in a way that forms a dimple here.” The knuckle of his pointer finger brushes against the bottom of my cheek.

I bite my tongue to fight the warmth spreading across my face. “I didn’t realize i was so transparent.”

“I can’t always tell what you’re thinking.”

“I’ll take it.” Maybe if I was less tired, I’d argue a little more. “You know you’re not that difficult to read either.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I can tell when you’re just being stubborn for the sake of it. I can see it in your eyes and you’re doing it right now.”

His expression harshens slightly before softening. “Y/n--”

“I’m not wrong.”

He sighs once, stepping back. I watch him pace around my bed before taking a seat on the edge of my other side of the bed. “Are you happy now?”

“Happy that I won? Absolutely.”

Anakin halfheartedly glares at me. “Careful, add a crown and a robe that trails down a throne and I’d feel like I was speaking to your father.”

“Careful, another side comment like that and I’ll ‘accidentally’ kick you off the bed in the middle of the night.”

“Not if I kick you off the bed first.”

I trace a thoughtless pattern on the fabric of my bedsheets. “What are you? Twelve?”

“I’m older than you.”

“Barely.” I continue the thoughtless pattern tracing as I fight the sleep from my eyes. “Your comebacks are usually more creative than that.”

He exhales, relaxing slightly as he rests his back against a pillow. “I’m tired, like you claimed to be.” His eyes flutter slightly, a bit of his exhaustion showing. “Go to sleep.”

I should. I’m too old to think I can put off a tomorrow I don’t want by just staying up. This is stupid. I’m too old to think I can put off the anniversary of my mother’s death by going to bed. She had been taken from us on castle grounds, killed by a revolutionist who viewed my mother as a class traitor. I still remember the way she slumped to the ground, her blood staining the snow beneath her. I remember the way the guards were so busy chasing her killer no one thought to keep me away from the body.

“Y/n?”

I scratch the back of my arm in hopes of banishing my thoughts. “Yes?”

“You’re being quiet.”

“You said to go to sleep, that tends to be a quiet thing.”

I can feel his eyes on me. “Since when do you listen to me?” Not trusting myself to actually reply, I only offer him a hum of acknowledgement. “I know you’re not half asleep.”

Folding my hands on my lap, I avoid his gaze. “It’s tomorrow.”

I don’t know why I trust him to understand my vague response, but I do. His silence stretches over us like a thin blanket on a cold night. Maybe he doesn’t understand what I’m implying. I can always correct him tomorrow, when my eyelids are no longer as heavy as my heart. The more seconds that pass in total silence, the more I think that maybe he’s fallen asleep.

I wouldn’t be surprised, Anakin has seemed tired recently, like some additional weight he won’t share with anyone has been thrust onto his shoulders. A small part of me rolls in guilt. I need to be a better friend, just because I’m suddenly a little too aware of him doesn’t mean I can shrug him off and ignore him.

My hand almost flinches away from the feeling of something surprisingly warm touching my pinky. When I realize that it’s just Anakin and that the contact was probably accidental, I force myself to ease. It’s not like we’ve never touched before, I don’t understand why I’m making it weird. Sitting in my bed in the dark doesn’t change anything. His hand turns slightly, pressing into mine a little more assuredly. Biting my tongue, I turn my hand slightly, exposing my palm. And just like that, our fingers intertwine.

“She would have been proud of you.” His voice comes out so low I barely register the words.

The words shouldn’t mean much to me--he never knew my mother and has no way to know what she wanted me to be.--and yet I find comfort in them. I smile, turning my head towards him. “You didn’t even know her.”

He rolls his eyes slightly, relaxing further before squeezing my hand once. “Who wouldn’t be proud of you? You’re kind and smart and decent to be around when you’re not telling me what to do.”

My heart swells in my chest so much I’m surprised it doesn’t burst. Could he be cuter? “Yeah...now I’m sure you’re my favorite person.”

“Now you’re sure?”

The smugness in his voice has me rolling my eyes. “Don’t make me regret saying that.”

“Maybe in the morning,” he says easily, “now go to sleep. There’s nothing worse than escorting you from meeting to meeting while you’re tired.”

“I’m not that bad.” Even in this darkness, I can make out the way he raises an eyebrow. “Shut up--I’m going to sleep, but not because of you.”

He lets out a slight huff. “You’re impossible.”

The desire to respond to his comment is not enough for me to win the fight against the weight of my eyelids. The moment my eyes shut, I feel powerless to anything that isn’t sleep. I let myself fall into a weightless sleep, my only tether being the Anakin’s fingers around mine.

A distant noise yanks me from my sleep. I’m too drowsy to do anything but register the sound. I hear another similar...whine? cry? I can’t tell and I’m too asleep to figure it out. I almost fall asleep again, but a third distressed sound keeps me from it. I wipe my eyes lazily with the back of my hand as I try to sit up.

Squinting, I make out a figure on my bed. It takes me a moment to remember Anakin and how I fell asleep. Our hands are still together and no light is peering through my window so it can’t be that long since I fell asleep. Another disgruntled sound carries itself throughout the room. I shift slightly, leaning over Anakin cautiously.

Golden brown curls are beginning to stick to his forehead and his eyebrows are drawn together sharply. He’s having a nightmare. I shift even further forward before cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder before squeezing him gently.

“Anakin,” I whisper, “it’s not--it’s not real.” His eyebrows draw together even more harshly. I shake him a little more stubbornly. “Anakin, wake up--you’re having a ni--”

My forearm is grabbed so suddenly I barely register it before I feel my back shoved into my mattress. I blink twice. His dark eyes are frantic and the look on his face is far from the gentle, easygoing expression I’m used to. He’s breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling from above me. I swallow a slight panic and something I don’t understand as I try to keep my eyes on his face and my thoughts away from how close he is. Anakin pries his fingers from my forearm one by one until only his palm is touching me.

“Y/n, I--”

“It’s okay.” Honestly, I’m more worried about his uneven breathing than the way he grabbed me. I can’t imagine everything he’s been through or how justified his nightmares are. Anakin moves his hand away from me. I don’t sit up until he’s off of me and sitting with his back against my headboard. “It’s okay--I just--you were having a nightmare and I thought I should wake you.” He doesn’t react. I turn my body further, keeping my back straight. Anakin doesn’t move, and the longer he stays still, the more I feel like I should say something else. “Do you want talk about it? Or do--do you want to talk about something else? Or go to sleep? Or get some water? Or--” The far off look behind his eyes silences me. I scoot forward slightly. “You’re okay, Anakin, I promise.”

His head turns at that, his eyes searching mine for something I don’t understand. “I thought...” He cuts himself off by swallowing once.

I shift a little more, trying to find anything normal in his expression. “Thought what?”

Anakin’s hand is on my arm so quickly I don’t even register his movement. I let his fingers press into my skin. He’s holding onto me like I’m a figment of a dream and he’s beginning to wake up. “I thought I’d failed.” He exhales, the sound heavy. “Failed you and that you’d--I thought I had lost you.”

A lump rises in my throat, thick and unmoving. Cautiously, I place my hand over the one still gripping my shoulder like a lifeline. “You didn’t. Nothing happened, it was just a dream.”

His gaze falls to the ground before he repeats the last of my words. “Just a dream.” There’s a hollowness to his voice I don’t understand.

I exhale, carefully running my thumb over his knuckles. “Yes.” He doesn’t say anything but his expression hardens again. I let us sit there like that for a long minute. “I promise.”

“You can’t promise things like that.”

I sigh, unsure of where to go from here. “Bad dreams are only bad dreams.” He doesn’t reply. “I think you should try to get some more sleep.”

Anakin is unresponsive. I shift back, but before I can transition from almost being on top of him to just sitting next to him, he pulls on my arm to keep in place. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“You almost died today, y/n. I was right there and if I had been a second later--”

“But you weren’t.” He doesn’t ease. “You were there and I was fine. Don’t torment yourself over what could have been. You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

“If anything ever happened to y--”

“It’s not going to,” I whisper, ignoring the way his hold on my arm tightens even further, “Especially this time a year when I have a pretty good gau--”

He tilts his head slightly, eyebrows drawing together and a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Pretty good? Really?”

“Someone needs to watch your ego, chosen one.” This time when he tries for a smile, the look has some strength behind it. Relief pools in my stomach. “Now get some sleep, tomorrow’s a busy day and when you’re sleepy you’re beyond irritable.”

Anakin lets me pull away enough to lay down, but he doesn’t follow. Not for a long second. When he does, his movements are impossibly rigid. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as carefully as I can manage.

“Y/n?”

I regret turning my head immediately. I didn’t realize how close he was. It would take no effort from me to make our lips meet. Wait--why am I thinking of that? I’m not allowed to think of stuff like that...especially not about him.

“Yes?”

He lets out a breath before moving his hand. I don’t understand his hesitation until I feel his hand cupping my cheek gently. “What if next time I’m not enough? What if next time I lose you because I’m not strong enough?”

I never thought my death would be such a personal thing to him. Sure, I knew that we had some kind of bond, some kind of friendship, and that my death would bring sadness. But I never imagined I’d matter enough to him that thoughts of my death would be frightening enough to slip into his subconscious and become a thing of nightmares.

“You are enough. Nothing is going to happen to me and if it does it’s not going to be because of you.” Anakin’s lips press together in a way that implies serious uncertainty. His thumb brushes across my cheek so unexpectedly I almost ask him what he’s doing. The intensity behind his eyes is enough to burn me. “Was your dream really that bad?”

He lets out an uncertain breath as his eyebrows draw together. I don’t miss the way his jaw clenches. “It’s more than the dream. I...y/n, princess,” he tacts on, a hint of humor returning to him, “you’re more than a mission to me.”

The admission is so soft I can’t help but smile. “I know, Anakin, we’re--”

“You’re more than a friend to me.” I don’t know if my blood freezes in my veins or if my lungs don’t contract when they should or if my heart literally skips a beat, but I know something in me completely stops at his words. “I--”

“Don’t say it.” I don’t know how I managed to cut him off so sharply and I’m a little disappointed when I do, but it’s the right thing to do. Thought of the code that’s so important to him have clouded half the immense shock and joy swelling in my chest. “What you’re trying to say...I um, I want to say the same.” I try to drop my gaze but he tilts my head up slightly with his hand. “But we shouldn’t, you know that.”

"You want to us to pretend that nothing’s different? You want me to escort you from meetings with one suitor to the next every Coronation Season until you’re married off?”

“No, I’m not saying that. The point is that I’m not saying anything.” His eyebrows draw together in uncertainty. “Isn’t it enough for now, for both of us to just know? If we say it...that could mean bad things for you. And I don’t want to be a bad thing for you.”

“You could never be.”

It’d be so easy to believe him. To believe him and to let him say what I never imagined I’d be able to hear and damn the consequences of tomorrow. “Can we just refrain from verbally saying anything until you’re sure?”

“I’m sure right now. I’ve been sure since the first time we ever walked in the garden together. The night after the first Coronation Ball I escorted you to.”

I remember that night well. The way he hadn’t scolded me for needing air or taking off my uncomfortably high heels to walk in the grass. “If you mean it, you won’t say it yet. I refuse to get in the way of what you’re meant for.”

His thumb runs my cheek entirely, stopping at the corner of my mouth. “Are you capable of not disagreeing with me?”

Rolling my eyes slightly, I place my hand over his. “Probably not.”

Anakin exhales, his playful irritation clear in the sound. “You’re impossible when you’re tired.”

“I am not tired.”

“I can see the sleep in your eyes.”

“I can see it in yours too.”

He pauses, eyebrows drawn together cautiously. “I’ll go to sleep if you do.”

He must be more tired than I thought if he’s compromising with me so quickly. “Deal.”

Neither of us close our eyes for a long second, we just watch each other with wide eyes. It still doesn’t feel like he’s eased, but he’s come back to me so much more than he was earlier. I’ll make sure to check how he’s feeling in the morning. The first morning after we’ve...I don’t know.

I’m trying really hard not to get excited because anything that’s been not said could be taken back so easily. That’s the point--but it’s hard not to let my heart get ahead of my rationality. I’ll just take the good for what it is for now and tomorrow we can figure out the rest. Even though he’s not allowed to form attachments and my father really wants to marry me off to foreign royalty.

Tomorrow. This can begin to be solved tomorrow. My eyes shut and I let myself roll fully onto my back. The second I’m comfortably settled, I feel Anakin shift against the bed. I’m too tired to open my eyes until I feel a weight placed against my chest.

I open my eyes on instinct, less surprised than I should be when I see Anakin’s head resting against my chest. Before I can speak, I feel his arm rest against my side. “Anakin,” I breathe, my hand moving to smooth his hair out of his face the way I’ve wanted to for so long. “What did we just talk about?”

“You said not to say anything,” he mumbles comfortably, “I’m not saying anything.” ...It is kind of the ideal compromise. Especially since I’m too tired to find reason and he feels so warm. “I can feel you overthinking. Go back to smoothing my hair before I have to rise and stand at your door so that your handmaid comes to wake you. Something tells me she’d be glad for the excuse to get rid of me.”

That might be the most dramatic thing I’ve ever heard him say. Selma is the most patient woman in the palace. “Selma would never report anything involving me, I can’t believe you don’t like her. She’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.”

“She’s the one that doesn’t like me,” he says, “she always watches me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m planning on stealing you away.”

Too tired to fight my smile, I go back to smoothing his hair out with my fingers. After a moment, he lets out an exhale that relaxes his entire body. “Goodnight, princess.”

“Goodnight.” The word is barely a mumble as I feel sleep tug against me for the second time tonight.

It’s strange, but my excitement doesn’t diminish my tiredness, it just makes the prospect of rest feel so much fuller. Safer. Because there’s so much to sort out and grieve but it’s okay, because we have the time and everything feels okay because Anakin is here, right beneath my fingertips.

#anakin skywalker #anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #star wars fic

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bokuroskitten · 3 years

Text

𝔅𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥

〈 you and kuroo have been together for years. Bokuto is his closest ally, so what happens when theres a breach.

† genre/pairing: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI Yakuza AU, Bokuto Koutarou x Fem!Reader.

† word count: 4.2k

† warnings: dubcon (corersion / power imbalance), pining, fingering (f!receiving), creampie, unproctected sex, aftercare if you squint, possessive behaviour.

❦ this lovely piece is for @sugawara-sweetheart decadence collab! I’m slipping in right before the due date hehe! Please check out all the other amazing pieces in collab. Also shoutout to @semisgroupie for beta reading this for me! Ily dee ❦ please let me know what you all think!

You can still remember it, the day Kuroo finally asked to be your boyfriend. Standing outside of the gym, still sweaty from practice. He had come all the way to Fukurodani Academy from his college in Tokyo just to make sure he caught you leaving the gym.

He had been so nervous, taking your hand into his and giving you that classic smirk you loved so dearly.

“I know you have a volleyball team to run, but do you think you have time for a boyfriend too?”

You had been together ever since, even when you graduated, even when Kuroo had to drop out to take over for his father, even when you discovered his father ran a large chunk of the Japanese Yakuza’s underground division.

Kuroo had always been careful, he never brought that life home to you. You were his angel, his precious kitten. Whatever hardships, shady dealings, and dangerous activity he had to do was kept away from home. Away from you at any and all costs.

His job and his life with you was kept separate, for your safety mostly. He has enemies on the other side that would do anything to get their hands on the great Kuroo Tetsuro’s little fiancé and that alone was enough for Kuroo to keep you safe, hidden, and protected with the help of his closest allies.

Which consisted of Bokuto Koutarou. You were already well acquainted with the silver owl, considering the two of you had gone to the same high school. Bokuto had gone into the Yakuza around the same time Kuroo did, easily making a name for himself so his father could enjoy the rest of his life without crime attached to his name. Kuroo and Bokuto stayed close, and got even closer when they had to step into this lifestyle.

Allies were important to have, Kuroo and Bokuto knew this and used their long term friendship to their advantage. Bokuto was one of the only people who knew exactly who you were, your true identity and your relationship to Kuroo. He was to look after you if Kuroo had any “business trips” or had to suddenly leave for “meetings.” Kuroo trusted him to keep you safe, and Bokuto promised to do just that.

What Bokuto hadn’t expected was to fall for you.

He had always seen you like a cute underclassman, always trying your hardest to make everyone happy. Never once did he think he’d start to notice the way your hips swayed when you walked, or how plump your lips were when you applied lip gloss.

It had to be your fault. Maybe you were doing this all on purpose. Bokuto knew himself, and he knew he wasn’t the type of person to fall for his best friend's fiance. So that means it had to be you, maybe you were trying to get his attention when you wore those pretty skirts, maybe you were trying to pull him in when you batted your lashes at him.

Bokuto couldn’t take it anymore, not when he started staring at you a little longer than he should, not when he started to get hard in your presence. Especially not when he started to fuck his fist late at night, hips humping wildly into his palm as your name vibrated off his lips.

So he decided to do something about it. The opportunity presented itself when Kuroo called him up, told him he had some last-minute business to attend to and if he could stay the night with you just in case. Of course, Bokuto agreed, reassuring him that you would be completely safe with him.

So that’s how the two of you ended up here, on the couch late into the evening. You were already dozing off, nuzzling your face into a pillow while your legs laid across Bokuto’s lap. Although a movie had been playing, his amber eyes were locked on your legs. He ate up the surface of your skin, eyes lingering until they landed on your crotch which was currently covered in a pair of satin red pajama bottoms.

The ones Kuroo had bought you for your last anniversary.

Bokuto could feel his heart picking up in speed as he smoothed his palm over your leg. Which had been resting on your knee, but he moved it up, rubbing soft circles into your thigh. You stirred a bit, a yawn slipping past your lips.

“Bo, m’sleepy, gunna go to bed.”

He felt his chest tighten, along with the grip he had on your thigh. It made you squirm.

“Don’t go just yet Birdy. Stay up a little longer, yea? We can watch whatever you want.”

“I won’t stay awake.” You rebuttal, attempting to pull your legs away from Bokuto’s lap.

He worked quickly, deciding on tickling your leg. You jolted from the suddenness of the attack, giggles and whines leaving your lips in streams as Bokuto persisted. He worked his way over you, fingers travelling up your sides and continuing the tickling until his hands found your hips.

Your eyes were sparkling with tears when he finally finished the onslaught, chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. That task only seemed more complicated when Bokuto’s large palms pressed your hips further into the couch, his much larger figure looming over you.

In the dimness of the living room, his eyes looked different. Lit up by only the subtle glow of the tv. His pupils were blown out, darting between you and your chest. You suddenly became very aware of his piercing gaze, clearing your throat which made his eyes shoot back up to meet yours.

“Koutarou… is something wrong?”

Bokuto had to hold back a moan at the sweet sound of your pretty little voice. Koutarou. His first name so easily slips off your tongue as if you already belong to him. The scar on the corner of his lip twitched when he grinned down at you.

Before you could ask him again his lips were on yours, smothering any words that threatened to question him again. Your eyes widened, shock and confusion and an odd sense of warmth filling your stomach.

You did the first thing that came to mind, you squirmed, whimpered beneath him.

Wrong. This is all wrong. Bokuto was your senpai, a friend, an ally.

What if Kuroo came home?

“B-Bo--” you managed to squeak out when his lips finally left your own, only to begin pressing wet kisses along your jaw, down your chin. Everything was suddenly a little hazy, and you couldn’t tell whether this sensation was fear or something else.

Something that you had only felt for Kuroo for as long as you could remember.

You snapped back into reality when his lips got dangerously close to your chest, lips threatening to pass the hem of the satin neckline. You yelped, fingers going into Bokuto’s hair and giving a harsh tug.

“B-Bokuto! What are--”

“Birdy--” There was a growl in his tone, one that made your fingertips go numb and your breath caught in your throat.

When he looked back at you he didn’t quite look like himself. This is what you pictured Bokuto looked like on the job. Eyes cold, lips held in a stern line. Not a single speckle of that sparkling gold that his orbs usually held. No traces of a grin that his lips usually graced.

This was Bokuto Koutaruo, a businessman, a potential threat, a possible killer.

“Birdy.” He repeated again, softer this time. He must have felt the way you tensed, the way you sunk further into the couch beneath him. He brought his face close to yours once again and to his displeasure you let out a soft whimper.

“Don’t be scared of me baby, I’d never hurt you…”

“But--”

“But what, pretty, what's the matter, hm? Don’t you want me to show you how much I care about you… don’t you wanna feel special…”

His words were slightly slurred, or so they seemed in your head. His tongue was against your ear, tracing along your earlobe as his warm breath fanned against your skin.

It was a familiar scent, bubblegum. Bokuto’s favourite. It seemed too sweet so close to your nose.

His hands smoothed up your sides, thumbs just inches away from slipping up your tank top and it had goosebumps forming all along your skin.

Wrong.

“We can’t.” You muttered, voice sounding much weaker than you wanted it to when Bokuto pressed another kiss behind your ear.

“Why not?” He was relentless, one knee slowly wedging itself between your thighs despite the way you were squirming.

“Kuroo--”

“Kuroo wants me to take care of you Birdy, and I’m doing just that, aren’t I?” You yelped softly when his teeth suddenly sunk into the flesh of your collarbone. When had he moved down so much? Why hadn’t you noticed his sliver spikes tickling your chin or the way his palms had begun to slide the silky material up your skin.

“I’m taking care of you by makin’ you feel good…”

“But--”

“Kuroo’s gonna be happy…” Bokuto continues, his words suddenly sound distant, your body unbelievably hot as his lips find the tops of your breasts. “His pretty kitty is gonna feel safe and pleased when he gets home…”

Your fingers were no longer lost in Bokuto’s hair, rather they were held loosely above your head, one of his big palms keeping them anchored there as he lifted himself.

You whined, the sudden loss of contact making goosebumps rise along your flesh.

Bokuto had a hard time keeping his grin to himself. Your lips were in a small pout, body squirming, eyes holding a little bit of confusion but most of all.

Desire.

He would get you there. He would hear it.

“I want you Koutaruo .”

“Your heart’s beating really fast.” Bokuto’s voice was low, nothing more than a whisper behind the static of the tv. It made a lump form in your chest.

Your chest tightened the further he pulled away from you. You weren’t exactly sure what you wanted, but you knew you didn’t want him to leave.

“Koutarou.”

There it was.

He leaned back in, his large palm sliding away from your wrists and down your arm instead. All the way down until he cupped your cheek in a large palm. His thumb swiped along your bottom lip.

He had to hold back a groan when your lips opened up just a sliver when your tongue threatened to touch his thumb.

“Let me take care of you, Birdy.”

“Will Kuroo really be okay with it?”

Your voice shook, soft and sweet and oh so innocent. Naive. Adorable.

Bokuto couldn’t wait to have you all to himself. Clearly, Kuroo hadn’t taught you well enough. But Bokuto would, he would teach you to stay away from guys like him.

“Course he will, baby, he always wants what's best for you, isn't that right?”

All you had to do was nod. A gentle, subtle nod. And Bokuto’s lips were back on yours. It was a deep kiss, pressed tightly to your lips and suppressing any chance of denial. Your fingers were back in his hair, but you didn’t tug this time.

Rather you just ran your fingers through silver locks. A bit stiff from the gel, and yet so very soft.

Soft like Kuroo’s.

“Spread your legs, angel.” That dizzy feeling was back when Bokuto’s words vibrated against your lips. Your legs spread open despite your confusion. They were commanded, working on their own.

Working because of the strings Bokuto has somehow placed on them.

“Good girl.” You shivered. That’s what Kuroo always called you.

Was it him speaking to you?

Bokuto was holding back a groan. He should have felt sick to his stomach, looking down at you between his legs with teary eyes and a slightly confused expression. He should have been thinking of Kuroo, his best friend, ally.

But instead, he just felt himself harden, licking along his lower lip and bringing his large palm to cup your sex. You were so warm, even through the fabric of your shorts.

He rubbed it, slow and soft, his eyes widening as he watched you, twitching and whimpering. You were already becoming so pliant, hips rubbing back into his palm. The longer it went on, the warmer you got.

He was so excited to split you open.

“Tell me what you want.” Bokuto looked into your eyes, waited. He knew the words were there on the tip of your tongue.

“C-Can you…” It was so cute, hearing you stutter over yourself despite the way you shamelessly pressed into his hand.

“Can you touch me, Kou...”

Finally he released his groan, loud and guttural. He moved his hands only a moment, just long enough to grip the hem of your shorts. In one swoop they were off your trembling thighs, discarded on the floor.

You were even more beautiful than Bokuto had imagined, one palm covering your flustered face while your thighs glistened in the dim glow of the tv. And there was your cunt, folds slightly swollen and shiny with your desire.

He would have taken a picture if he could have but that could be saved for another time.

“You’re so pretty baby, you’ve got the perfect little cunt.” Bokuto said with one of his signature grins, the ones that used to make your heart flutter back in high school when he would score a point.

His fingers were gentle, rubbing one large strip along your slit. Slowly he split open your lips, holding back the urge to drool. There was your perfect hole, fluttering around nothing.

Basically beckoning him.

“S-Stop staring Kou…” your voice was so whiny, so soft as you looked at him through tear clumped lashes. He hushed you softly, one palm on your cheek so he could have a better view of your face.

He just had to see what you looked like when he finally pressed inside.

“Can’t help it Birdy, you’re just so beautiful…” His thumb pushed past your bottom lip at the same time he pressed two thick fingers into your pussy. Your gasp was adorable, lips quickly latching onto his thumb to hide the whines.

His fingers alone were enough to cause a slight burn, the stretch feeling so much different than the one Kuroo could provide for you. It made you press your hips into his touch, your trembling fingers gripping his wrist with desperation.

Bokuto bit his lip, slowly pumping his fingers in and out. He would push all the way in until he reached his knuckles, allowing the cold surface of his rings to make you yelp every time before pulling out to just his fingertips.

He kept this pace until your hips began to match it, your adorable little body humping along his fingers as you tried your very best to keep yourself quiet.

Bokuto didn’t want that though. He wanted to hear you, needed to hear his name spilling off your lips. So he pulled his thumb from your mouth, gave your bottom lip a little tug as an act of encouragement.

“Feels good baby? Tell me how it feels?”

“F-Feels.” You were still stumbling over yourself. So cute. “Feels good…”

“Yea? I can tell, your pussy is swallowing me up.”

He chuckled when embarrassment flashed over your face, but before you could hide your face from him yet again he pressed the pad of his thumb to your clit. The action had you gasping, back lifting slightly off the mattress.

“That’s it…” Bokuto murmured, gaze locked on your face, how it scrunched up and twisted so pretty as the pleasure took over you. Your cunt squeezed around his fingers, an indication for him to add just one more.

“S’too much~” you tried whimpering at him, but Bokuto brushed it off with a couple of quick kisses to your lips. He had to prep you anyway, his cock was already threatening to rip through his pants.

When your voice heightened in pitch Bokuto picked up his pace. He brought his face close to your pussy, allowing his hot breath to fan over it. That had you grasping the cushions for dear life, a string of pleas leaving your lips.

“Want you to come on my fingers now Birdy. You can do it. It’ll feel so good. Be a good girl and cum.”

Your body reacted for you, lips hung open in a silent scream as his fingertips focused on that spongy spot within you. With a couple more tight circles into your clit you fell apart, walls clenching before gushing around his fingers.

Bokuto’s pupils blew out at the sight, nothing but primal desire flooding his system as he watched your arousal drown out his fingers. It wet his knuckles, coated his rings as he ever so slowly pulled his fingers free. The slick pop had both of you groaning softly, and he couldn’t help but watch as he spread his fingers apart to find strings of your arousal keeping them together.

He had to have a taste and refused to continue the evening without it. So he sucked his fingers into his mouth. His moan was nothing short of obscene, making sure he licked off every ounce of your essence.

You were panting as you watched him, eyes still tear glazed and body tingling as it came down from the high. When he finally noticed you staring he grinned.

But this time it was different. Not the scoring high school Bokuto, or the Bokuto who would flash this grin when he had a little too much to drink

This was different. Darker, carnal. It made a shiver travel all the way up your spine.

And yet you still didn’t say no when he told you to take your tank top off, didn’t say no when he pulled off his own black button up, back muscles rippling in the dim lighting as he pulled you into his lap.

And you definitely couldn’t say no to him when he pulled his cock free, the sheer length and girth making you whine.

He was so much bigger than Kuroo. Thicker, wider, maybe even longer.

“Shh Birdy, hold on tight. It’s only gonna hurt for a few seconds. Then I’m gonna make you feel so very good.” His reassurance puts you at ease. Kuroo had done the same for you, way back when the two of you first slept together.

Would Kuroo really be okay with this--

The gasp that was ripped from your throat made Bokuto that much more excited. Just his tip had pushed past the first ring of muscles and already there were tears in your eyes, nails digging into his shoulders at the stretch he provided.

“K-Kou, can’t, I can’t”

“Shh birdy. Remember I’m gonna make you feel good, promise.” And he really did want to make you feel good but fuck, with the way your pussy already clenched around his tip, threatened to suffocate him as he pressed in inch by inch, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his cool.

You were already creaming when he finally bottomed out, your legs wobbly when they tightened around him. Bokuto couldn’t tear his gaze from his lap, where he stretched out your sweet cunt. It was already drooling, swollen from just being split open by him.

Absent-mindedly he trailed his fingers over your tummy, fingers cursorily tracing the bulge he was able to form there.

There’s no way Kuroo filled you up this good, Bokuto knew that for certain.

“P-Please.” Your voice snapped Bokuto back to reality, the whine in your tone enough to make his dick twitch inside you. “M-Move Kou, need you.”

He sighed. Of course you needed him.

With his palms firmly grasping your hips he pulled you up his cock, just enough that the tip was still edged inside before he began to fuck you on himself. His arm muscles rippled with each push and pull, his hips thrust upwards every time he pushed you back down in order to help with the momentum.

You were gripping onto him so tightly, leaving red streaks along his shoulder blades. Your moans were sweet, sweet music, filling up the empty space with nothing but babbles and cries of his name.

There was still a part of him that looked at you with disappointment, a part of him that screamed how wrong this was, a part of him that knew if Kuroo walked through the doors right now you’d probably both be dead.

But when you looked at him with a tear streaked face, lips hung in a silent cry, skin rippling due to his relentless thrusts, how could he stop himself?

He was even more thrilled when your nails dug into his skin, along his back and shoulders, even along his forearms and pecks. “That’s it Birdy, you’re doin’ so well, takin’ my cock like this.”

The wet slapping sounds soon filled up the room, along with the moans and whimpers the both of you released. With a grunt, Bokuto had your back against the cushions once more, just so he could thrust within your tight cunt harder, faster.

Anything to feel you coming around him, to feel your walls squeeze him. It was everything he knew it would be, better even.

And he knew, Kuroo couldn’t make you feel this way, no way in hell could he even compare.

You had planned to ask him to pull out. No one had ever come inside you before, except Kuroo of course. It was his way of marking you, the subtle possessiveness always coming through when he would fill you to the brim and then plug you up.

But now, as Bokuto drilled into you, showered you with praises and sweet groans you lost all thought. All you thought of was the sweet sting, the stretch his cock could provide. The way he was able to smack into your sweet spot with every thrust.

So when he grunted out a “gonna cum.” you couldn’t find the words to stop him, rather you just let your eye roll back, let out a sweet cry when one of his calloused thumbs pressed into your clit.

Bokuto’s hips smacked into you once, twice more, before his balls twitched and his load filled you up. Rope after rope of warm cum spilled into you, one last strand being milked from him as you clenched up around him, finishing only seconds after he did.

His arms were around you, holding your trembling form so tightly to his chest. He had to look though, had to see exactly what it looked like when you were filled to the brim. So he pulled up just a little bit, moaned out loud at the sight of his cock, how when he slowly pulled it out it was covered in a layer of milky slick.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful…” He murmured, fingers scooping up the beads of arousal dripping from your used hole, only to push them back in.

He didn’t want a single drop wasted.

You were finally starting to come down from the high when Bokuto lifted his weight from you, the loss of contact making you shudder. In your right mind you could have covered up, but instead, you stayed sprawled out, lips tilted into a dumb little smile.

“K-Kou…” You murmured to him, making him look down at you as he stretched out, wincing from the marks you left that managed to break skin.

“Kuroo is gonna be so happy, you took great care of me…” Bokuto hummed, his smirk growing. He was so lucky, so lucky you were so sweet and naive.

He scooped you up then, carrying you bridal style up the stairs. As much as he would have loved to leave you there on the couch, a nice mess for Kuroo to come home to, he had to play it safe. He made sure to clean you up properly, tuck you into bed with fresh and clean clothes.

Bokuto couldn’t lose his closest ally just yet. So until then--

“I’ll make sure Tetsu knows. But you baby, I want you to keep it our secret okay? Can you do that for me?”

That sat funny with you, made your stomach tighten, just how it had at the beginning of the evening. You wanted to question him, ask why you couldn’t be a part of the discussion.

But when Bokuto loomed over you once more, one of his much larger palms easing itself over your neck, you were reminded yet again. Reminded of Bokuto and his power, his power over you.

And now over Kuroo.

“It's our secret. Remember that Birdy. Kuroo has always kept you in a cage, away from the world so others couldn’t hurt you, isn’t that right? Well now I’m going to do the same, keep you in a cage of my own, just the two of us…”

❦ @hqintheclub {check out the network}

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youarejesting · 3 years

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Hope in the sheets.10

[Masterlist]

Beta: N/A Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff, SMUT, Friends2Lovers, Words: 5k

Summary: You held many titles: his neighbor, colleague, wing-man… well, more likely a wing-woman, yet most importantly, you were his best friend. You had been friends since you were born. Between the two of you, you were younger; barely, but he never let you forget it. He always seemed to ruffle your hair and tease you, which could get rather annoying but he made up for it by treating you to things.

What if a drunken one night stand between you and your best friend Hoseok leads to more complicated situations? Your reckless twenties are cut short as you find yourself suddenly responsible for something a little more.

Warning: Implied sex, pregnancy, implied reader has baby.

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Hoseok and the others were eventually led into the birthing suite; the entire place had been cleaned and only the bare minimum of staff stayed behind. They were sorting out equipment and monitoring your current state. When his eyes landed on yours he felt emotions bloom in his chest. There you were laying in the bed, a small bundle of soft blankets nestled delicately in your arms. You had showered and dressed in a nightdress that had been packed in your hospital bag.

Hoseok’s lip curled. He was trying to hold his expression, giving you a forced smile before he broke out into tears. Holding your free arm out to him, he stumbled into your embrace kissing your forehead and telling you how much he loved you.

His words were broken by the force of each sob. “Are you going to hold her, or do we have to hold you?” Yoongi playfully teased. Hoseok wiped his eyes taking a few shakey deep breaths trying to calm his emotions.

When you moved the blanket to show your daughter laying gently against your chest, he was a mess once more. “Hobi, you want to hold her?”

“I can hold her?” He hadn’t even thought that far ahead. He could hold this baby, his daughter, he could hold her in his arms and she was real.

“Of course you can hold her.” You laughed, reaching up to wipe his tears away. Hoseok remembered everything he was taught from the birthing classes, practically reciting them out loud. You placed his daughter in his arms and his bottom lip fell.

Tears were his automatic response. There was nothing else, this miracle, this symbol of his love for you, his best and longest friend. This was his child, his flesh and blood and he couldn’t thank you enough for giving him such a gift.

“You have to stop crying Hobi, we need a nice picture for your family.” You smiled and he tilted his head back sniffing.

“I love you so much, and I love her, I just can’t stop crying.” The words broke again Hoseok turned to show off his daughter to his friends. They were some of the people he was closest to and when he looked at them they were all crying. Jungkook’s wet cheeks and red nose, Jimin’s sweet puffy eyes bubbling with tears, even Yoongi let out a stray sniff.

By far it was a sight to see big burly Namjoon openly weeping like Hoseok and cooing over how precious she was.

“Look how little she is,” Namjoon whimpered

“Her hands are so tiny too,” Hoseok said back. The two were just making it worse for each other, a back and forth of doting comments of your newborn each statement causing a fresh cycle of tears.

The nurse who had been checking your vitals waiting to take you back to the ward rolled her eyes. “I have seen some sappy fathers but you brought a whole troop.”

“Gentleman it’s time to let mum and her baby get some sleep, the father can come back tomorrow morning any other guests can come two at a time during visiting hours.” She ushered the other six males from the room, Hoseok kissed you his cheeks were wet.

“I don’t want to go.”

“Get some sleep Hobi, get the house ready. If all goes well I will be out of the hospital soon.” The nurse took your daughter from Hoseok’s arms.

“Wait, can I give her a kiss?” You whispered. The nurse nodded bringing your daughter over allowing you to kiss her goodnight before she was wheeled down to the nursery.

“Are you ready to go back to the ward? You should get some sleep. Your body will be exhausted. We will bring the child in when she is hungry.”

“Okay Hobi, I have to go rest now you head home and make the house all ready for when we come home okay.” You waved goodbye to him and watched as Jimin took his hand leading him from the room. He seemed reluctant to take his eyes off of you, his hand coming to lay flat under his heart.

You touched your collar bone watching him mouth the words 'baseline'. It was like everything you ever wanted but such a weird and obscure way you got there. You wanted to be with Hoseok and cherish him and be loved in return, but you never thought you would get there by completely derailing your relationship and almost ruining your life.

It was like you had to destroy what you had to build something better. It seems counterproductive and a step in the wrong direction but somehow you were able to shape the rubble of your friendship into a relationship stronger than before.

You love Hoseok with all your heart and he only has eyes for you. It seems you were both delusional to believe that you weren’t in love. Everyone could see it except the two of you and now it was painfully obvious.

Being a mother was kind of a shock. Scared when you woke up to cramps, only to remember you had already given birth, you were also woken throughout the night to feed your daughter. A part of you worried about taking care of someone, the responsibility setting in as being a mother was a full-time job.

“You are doing wonderful.” The nurse gave you some pain killers for your cramps, your uterus was slowly shrinking back to its regular size and you were uncomfortable. “Would you like me to get you anything?”

“I would love something to drink.” Voice hoarse from sleep, she nodded before setting off for you. You sat up watching the sunrise, your daughter sleeping soundly on the bed in front of you. She was so precious. Even with closed eyes she still wiggled and stretched her hands out to the warm glowing orb.

“Seonhee, do you like that name?” You whispered, taking out a small outfit: a white onesie with sunflowers and bright yellow footed pants with soft yellow ruffles on the butt. “Jung Seonhee.”

“Ah, is that her name?” The nurse smiled, placing some apple juice and water on the small bedside table. She sanitized her hands and began helping you with the baby's clothes and diaper, bagging the old clothes and disposing of the soiled diaper. She smiled down at the little girl in her bright outfit. “I think it suits her, Seonhee”

The doctor came by on her round, her hair pulled into a tight bun and her scrubs pastel blue with stalks. “You are looking better, how are you feeling?” There was no messing around, she was straight to business, checking for any concerns or pain. Your stomach was being palpated while she brought up things to look out for. “Ultimately if anything happens that you are unsure about, even if it is something silly like, should I have coffee while breastfeeding, call this number here, they are a great service and they will help you.”

“Thank you so much.” Taking the card you were handed and a little care package from the hospital, the nurse placed the card into the baby book which had accompanied you throughout pregnancy and after. “Am I okay to go home today?”

“You are all clear. Let us know what time you want to leave and we can have all the paperwork ready.” Pausing in the doorway, a young nurse almost bumping into her, she spun around, her coat swishing with her. “After giving birth a lot of women become a little moody, fatigued, or cry. This is totally normal as your hormones will be dropping back to a normal level. It is perfectly normal to feel these things during this time.”

“Ah, that’s good to know.” You replied while searching through the care package, glancing at some of the booklets and information sheets. There was a number for a community service where mothers take their babies to be weighed and receive checkups. The nurses had few information sessions on feeding techniques and developmental leaps.

Looking forward to being a part of a group of new mothers, you knew you would have a lot of questions eventually. It would be nice to know if other mothers have similar concerns or effective tips for any future problems.

Hoseok arrived with a big smile, kissing you sweetly before heading over to scoop up his daughter. “Wait Hobi,” you stopped him, “I need to talk to you before you get all teary-eyed again.”

“Okay,” serious expression on his face he gave you all his attention.

“We need to agree on her name and sign the birth certificate.” The smile returned to his face, the twinkle in his eyes never dwindling since the moment he stepped into the room. “I like the name 선희 (Seonhee) written as 善 meaning Good or nice and 希 as in Hope”

Hoseok watched you write an example on a scrap piece of paper, and began nodding enthusiastically. Hands shaking the two of you eyed one another passing secret smiles, the taste of giggles on the tip of your tongue. Once the document was completed Hoseok’s hand swooped up into your hair, cradling your nape as he kissed you.

Neither lazy nor heated, the kiss was full and romantic, his lips telling a story against yours. The world stopped and only Hoseok existed. Until a shrill cry broke through the silence and the two of you apart. The cry brought with it the sound of machines and nurses walking down the hall.

“You want to go home,” Hoseok raced around the hospital bed towards your daughter, wiggling in the tiny hospital portable bassinet. His style was honestly amusing. Strips of fabric hanging from a graffitied shirt with a cargo jacket and sneakers. Strange to see him holding a baby but you loved it so much.

Just because you were parents didn’t mean you had to get rid of everything you love. Sure you had to grow up and it was extreme. The transition you made while pregnant felt like your life was ending. That you would live to serve a tiny being. But seeing Hoseok still smiling the same, still wearing the same street hip hop style reassured you that you still had a life outside of being a mother and that would never change.

Of course, the two of you probably wouldn’t club anymore. It would be unfair if either of you went out without the other and unfair on your daughter if you were not there for her. Not to mention the cost of babysitting and the trust you would need in order to leave Seonhee with someone who wasn’t you or Hoseok.

Hoseok helped you with your bags packing the car, he had borrowed Jin’s for a smoother drive. Always thoughtful even on the littlest details. Sitting by the baby's car seat while Hoseok drove you home apologizing for every speed bump and every turn.

“Hoseok, I would like to go home before it is dark. You don’t have to drive that slow.” You laughed, he was being so serious like a knight or warrior preparing for battle to protect those he loves. In the reflection of the rearview mirror, you saw his lips twitch in amusement, the sun shining on his shaggy hair. “I love you.”

“Babe,” He whined, “you can’t say that when I am driving, I want to kiss you and then we really won’t get home before dark.”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours in the mirror before concentrating diligently once more on the road. He was singing softly to the radio as he crossed town, you must have fallen asleep as you were woken by his sweet laugh and some kisses on your cheek.

“We are home Lil darling.”

Breathing deeply trying to clear your head from your nap, as the fog in your mind disappeared your hands were secured in Hoseok’s as he helped you out of the car. Standing patiently for your body to catch up, the tender sensations in your stomach leaving you stiff.

“Seonhee, time to see your new home.” Hoseok scooped up the infant holding her to his chest as if it was the most natural thing like he had several years of experience. As opposed to this child being his firstborn. He took the soft yellow muslin wrap and covered her protecting her eyes from the afternoon sun.

Opening the door, you weren’t surprised, (mostly because you had spotted their cars on the curb) to see the boys sitting on your couch equally as excited to see you as they had been the day before in the birthing suite. Hoseok was placing your bag on the table when Seonhee started crying.

“Hey, sweetheart what’s wrong?” Hoseok patted her bottom to a steady rhythm hoping it would lull her back to sleep. Her crying continued and you felt your shirt grow damp, taking a seat you held out your hands for your daughter and nursed her while the boys kept their eyes firm on one another to respect your privacy.

“Are you drinking or are you sleeping?” You giggled at your daughter who was milk drunk. Burping her gently she wiggled releasing a few loud burps and spitting up a little onto the back of your hand and the small burp cloth you had been holding to her clothes.

“Let me take her while you clean up.” Yoongi smiled, scooping up your daughter, holding her so her head was supported, her arms and legs draped over either side of his arm. His other hand rubbed and patted her back gently as he swayed.

“You look like a squashed pie.” He smiled cheekily talking to the baby in his arms. “Cute bow shape lip from your mum, and your nose is very cute like Hoseok’s.”

“How dare you call her a squashed pie.” Namjoon tried to defend but when Yoongi turned he showed the infant, her cheek squished up against his arm, her drool slowly seeping between parted lips. “Okay, maybe a little but she is also adorable.”

“All babies look like aliens when they are born,” you grinned.

“But do you love her, more than anything else in the world?” Jungkook giggled trying to make small talk while also projecting his newfound love for such a tiny being.

“We just met, I need some time to get to know her some more.” You joke playfully curled up on the couch Seokjin handing you some dinner and a cup of tea while the boys took turns meeting your daughter.

“It says in the paperwork she can have a bath tomorrow, and that her first poo might be really yucky.” Hoseok read the take-home leaflets from the hospital and constantly checked on his two girls making sure they were both safe and sound.

“Put her in outfits you don’t care if they get destroyed,” Yoongi was singing something to the child. It was low and rough. He was talking about dreams, freestyling about how your daughter didn’t need to go to university and that she didn’t have to know everything right at this moment.

Placing the little girl into Jimin’s waiting arms. His eyes sparkled and his lip dropped as he turned soft for the little girl.

“Hello, I am Uncle Jimin and I am going to spoil you so much.” His sweet voice gasped. He practically wiggled on the spot when she brought her fists up to her closed eyes and yawned. Taehyung was quietly snapping photos, careful not to use the flash as he didn’t want to hurt the baby's sensitive eyes, even while they were closed. He assured you, that he would get photos of everyone holding Seonhee. He had already captured Yoongi and was taking a few extra of Jimin with the small bundle.

It was honestly nice to see them all so supportive and there for your daughter. Images in your mind blooming of her first Christmas and birthday and all that would follow. Namjoon would buy her a green bike with flowers and tassels on the handles and Yoongi, helping assemble it before she woke up, attaching the training wheels for her safety.

Learning how to wrap people around her finger from her Uncle Jimin and then using it against them. She would be a dancer like her father and would light up the room. You could see her performing on a stage with the eight of you waiting with flowers to throw on stage. Maybe she wouldn’t win the first prize at her first show but they would still take her out for pizza and celebrate. Her skills would improve and the day she wins the trophy she would be lifted onto Seokjin’s shoulders.

Not noticing you had started crying until Namjoon pulled you into a hug. “Hey what’s got you so upset.”

“No, I am not upset, I was told that as my hormones go back to normal, I might cry and be more tired and moody and upset and I just,” Sniffing Jungkook handed over some tissues and hugging your back. The newer of the group Taehyung and Jungkook had just fit perfectly into the group, it was like they were always meant to be.

“Hey love,” Hoseok said, coming over to kneel at your feet holding your knees softly. "Tell me what made you so upset."

“I was thinking about her first Christmas and her first birthday and how you would all be here and she would be loved and…” Taking a sniff and pushing the tears from your eyes you looked up at them seriously. “You can never leave now, we are going to be one big family. I hope you know you are now each my daughter's uncles and therefore responsible to attend events. If you didn’t want to be a part of the family, I am sorry you are now my family.”

More tears shook your form. “You're the only family I have, I wasn’t exactly disowned more than I left when my mother told me not to have my sweet daughter. My precious baby deserves a big happy family and so I am sorry you are stuck with me.

“And don’t even think you are getting out of it.” You pointed at Taehyung and Jungkook, “You are my family now. Seonhee needs lots of uncles to protect her.”

“We aren’t leaving,” Seokjin grinned, taking a turn holding the wiggling bundle, smiling for a picture, and looking at her. “She will be a heartbreaker.”

The first couple of weeks were a learning curve filled with broken sleep, reheated meals courtesy of Seokjin, and constant fatigue looming over your head. Jimin appeared one-afternoon Taehyung, Namjoon and Yoongi apprehended your daughter. Settling her into a baby carrier strapped to Namjoon’s chest. The thick bodyguard looked a little silly with a tiny child nestled against his pecs.

Seonhee was wearing a new outfit from her uncle Jimin. It was a sweet-footed onesie with bear ears warm enough for a day out in the park. Kicked out of the house by Jimin who stressed how much you needed a break. Hoseok was at work while you were still on leave which meant you took the larger portion of the home and baby duties.

Mostly because you were at home all day, but also not wanting to interfere with his sleep schedule seeing as he was going to an actual job that needed proper attention. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation from Jimin as he dragged you into the bathroom and started the bath filling it with a generous amount of bubble bath. It was the sleepy-time product you had chosen for your baby, emitting a soft lavender scent.

“You relax and I will wash your hair.” He smiled and he massaged your scalp to help relieve any tension, after washing out all your hair products he took your skincare products letting you lay in the bubbles as he pampered you. “You are such a good mum, you are doing amazing.”

“I hope so,” you yawned.

You stepped out of the tub, quickly wrapping yourself into the fluffy robe you hadn’t used in a while. Then sat down on your bed whilst Jimin dried and styled your hair. The others had returned, poking their heads into the room and smiling at your new refreshed look. You quickly fed your daughter while Jimin braided your hair securely.

“You rest okay, we will watch her until Hoseok comes home. Don’t worry we will come to you if we are unsure about anything and for food times.” Yoongi said playing some soft tranquil music on the small speaker by your bed.

It seemed pointless. Laying there believing it impossible to fall asleep. As you walked past the clock reading half-past one, your stomach rumbled in a gentle protest. Before you could even think of the food you wanted to get dressed, pulling on a white crop top and a baggy overall dress. Something easy to breastfeed in. It was definitely time as your breasts were heavier with milk.

Walking out you poured yourself a glass of juice and scooped up your fussing daughter, stomach growling again. Yoongi stood up marching into the kitchen, rapidly chopping ingredients. Soon the house was filled with a savory aroma and the glorious sound of oil sizzling.

Hoseok was having his first afternoon with Seonhee. You were going for a checkup. Jungkook was free and agreed to accompany you to your appointment, he almost paled when he saw the equipment on the table for your checkup. It made for a good laugh and endless teasing during your small coffee date afterward.

Jungkook’s phone buzzed and he grinned texting back quickly. “Ooh, what or who is making you smile so big?”

“Uh, I just got a funny text from Namjoon. Apparently, Hoseok asked for company so Namjoon and Yoongi stopped by the house after their errands.” He laughed, nose scrunching showing off his front teeth. “And well, your daughter may have accidentally had a poo explosion. So far from the pictures I have seen, Yoongi and Hoseok are covered in it. And while trying to help Namjoon dropped a whole bottle of baby powder and they are vacuuming the carpet.”

“Jimin and Taehyung agreed to pick up some more and I have been asked to keep you busy,” Your smile growing the more you heard, of course, they would make a mess on your first day out. Expecting something chaotic to happen but never something as funny as this.

“I am just glad it is something like this and not that someone is sick or hurt,” You smiled while eating a strawberry cheesecake and sipping coffee. Not making any move of leaving early and relieving them of their duty. It was a right of passage and showed just how much you trusted them. Hearing that something happened and not jumping to take over.

“They said not to tell you, but how could I not?” Jungkook turned his phone showing you some photos worthy of scrapbooking, the kind you would take out for Seonhee’s twenty-first and a story she would get sick of hearing at every family gathering. “Look at them.”

“Well while they are busy, how about we go grocery shopping? I think perhaps we can make something delicious for dinner,” Standing and collecting your jacket from your chair, and leading the way. Jungkook followed listening to your concerns about your weight and figure, he assured you how good you were looking and even offered to personally train you at 21, the gym.

Seonhee was growing steadily. Each milestone leading into the next, she would roll over and had started to crawl. Finding herself putting things she shouldn’t in her mouth. Going back to work was hard for the first few days, leaving Seonhee at the daycare was easy but she became more clingy when she came home. It was her way of coping with the separation that came with daycare and full-time work but eventually, Seonhee got into a routine.

Understanding that her parents were always coming back made everything in the house run a lot smoother. She had a small handful of sounds, mostly eomma, appa.

Work was a lot more tolerable and dare you to say fun. Jimin had quit his sugar baby gig and joined the company working alongside you. Sure he had broken a few hearts by canceling his service but he was happier. He never explicitly said it but you believed he was trying to be more independent and above everything else make himself more approachable to Taehyung.

Taehyung however left for a while, he had been away working with a few celebrities and luxury brands, photographing concepts, photos, and more. He had been pushing and working harder and harder as the days passed until he traveled away for his latest project.

It was a little sad that they weren’t together but you could see the longing in Jimin’s eyes whenever he replayed Taehyung’s Instagram story. Dragging him from his desk to have lunch together and distract him from the thoughts spinning around in his head.

December marked eleven months since Seonhee was born. Cruising against the couch and cabinets opening things she shouldn’t. You had invested in baby locks and a small playpen. Neither really did much as she knew how to push the whole contraption across carpet and tiles to get into things.

Mostly she would follow you to the kitchen hoping to get teething biscuits or any other treats her father would sneak her. He was never able to say no and you often found them sneaking snacks together where he would give you his big eyes and pouty lips claiming that she deserved a snack.

Christmas had your house filled to the brim with presents and boys, Seokjin was cooking in the kitchen with Yoongi’s help while Jimin and Jungkook were playing with Seonhee. Hoseok was helping Namjoon into a Santa costume in the backyard. No one had heard from Taehyung. You assumed he was busy with work and that he would be unable to make it.

There was a knock and Jungkook raced to answer it and laughed, “Finally, I thought you were skipping out on the family Christmas.”

“I wouldn’t skip out on the family Christmas, you are my favorite family,” Taehyung said handing over a suitcase to Jungkook and carrying in some bags of wrapped gifts, placing them under the tree. “Look at you, you have gotten so big!”

Namjoon Santa came in and delivered gifts and ran off getting changed only to come back and watch the gift unwrapping. Jungkook went to collect the two eldest from the kitchen, pushing Seokjin before dragging Yoongi out the two stopping in the archway.

“Hey, you are under the mistletoe!” Jimin giggled, proud that his trap had worked, he was hoping that some people would get stuck under it. “You are going to have to kiss.”

“We don’t have to, we are watching Seonhee open her gifts,” Jungkook said only to be grabbed by Yoongi who kissed the younger male and pulled away.

“Satisfied.” Yoongi turned back to the young girl opening her presents, Namjoon got her some picture books and a few educational toys. Seokjin had wrapped a small toy kitchen that was her size. Yoongi brought her to everyone’s surprise a little clam pool and some plastic toys to play with.

Jimin brought her a whole lot of princess dresses, tiaras, and fairy wings. Jungkook got her a cozy coupe red and yellow plastic car that she could push around with her legs. Taehyung handed her the small gift bag and inside was a night light that made the roof look like a galaxy and played soft music.

After Seonhee’s gifts from the boys, Hoseok brought out a box. He was struggling with it but when he opened it out popped a little dog who began licking her cheeks and wagging his tail intensely amongst the large group. “His name is Mickey.” Hoseok grinned watching Taehyung taking pictures and smiling fondly as she giggled.

Other gifts were exchanged, the most notable was Seokjin giving everyone matching sweaters with his face on it, and Taehyung’s gift to Jimin. It was a small bag and inside was the signature Tiffany blue colored box.

“You didn’t have to,” Jimin said softly and Taehyung smiled.

“I told myself I would support you, and I know you didn’t want to be treated like a sugar baby, I just told myself that I wouldn’t allow myself to date until I got you those earrings you really wanted. I wanted to give you something you could be proud of.” Taehyung explained, “And it was so hard to resist you when you kept inviting me over.”

Opening the box Jimin saw the earrings he had once mentioned ages back, the exact earrings Taehyung had handmade for him. “Now you can get rid of the ones I made you, they look horrible compared to these.

“I still love the ones you made and I will keep them forever.”

“I won’t treat you like a sugar baby anymore, I wanted to ask if maybe you wanted to go on a date.”

“Well, these earrings will get you about five dates.” Jimin giggled cheekily

“Five I thought for sure it would be five and a half?”

“Five and a free butt grab?”

“Deal!”

The nine of you were walking through the kid's attractions at the theme park seeing some familiar faces, you were having lunch when some music started playing. It was the theme park's dance parade and Hoseok was dragged into the dance by Taeyong.

You were giggling when WinWin dragged you up dancing with you and turned to see Hoseok on one knee, a ring box opened in his hands. You felt your chest about to explode as you tackled him to the ground sobbing in his chest. “Hoseok really, you mean it?”

“Of course, I mean it, I have loved you for years.”

“I love you so much, hell freaking yes put that ring on me, quick quick.” You kissed his face nonstop giggling between your tears. He was finally able to get the ring onto the designated finger standing and pulling you onto your feet. He kissed you passionately, you pulled back burying your face in his chest squealing.

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