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weasleylangs · 3 years

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crossed wires - g.w

Pairing: George x Fem!Reader, Platonic Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: George has always felt second best to Fred. He’s never blamed Fred, of course, but the jealousy is getting to be too much when he’s convinced the girl of his dreams is in love with his twin. Warnings: Miscommunication, jealousy, swearing Word Count: 3k

A/N: Oh look it’s Fae who can’t go three fics without writing friends to lovers with miscommunication wah. I combined two requests I got so I hope both of the anons enjoy it!! Also thank you to the lovely Zahra who once again helped me with a title <3

taglist: @amourtentiaa @whizboingies @harrysweasleys @lumos-barnes @weelittleweasley @freds-slut @starlightweasley @weasleyclaw @spacexcowgirl @lumosandnoxwriting @peroxide-prinxcesss (sorry your tag isnt working D:)

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It was a nice, warm spring day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and as usual, George finds Y/N sitting by the lake with a muggle book in her hand. Her usual weekend plan was simple, all she ever wanted to do was read, catching up on the story she’d left behind the weekend before.

It was one of the things George loved about her, that she was always able to sneak a book in somewhere and lose herself in the pages no matter what chaos was going on at the time. He stood a bit behind her, admiring her for a brief moment. Her hair was pulled up into space buns, loose pieces of hair falling and framing her face as she shook her head to move them out of her sight. She was curled up on a blanket she’d dragged down from Gryffindor tower and she was leaning against the tree right at the shore of the lake.

“Oi, Y/L/N!” George yelled and while he immediately regretted disturbing her, the cute look on her face she gave him for interrupting it made his heart swoon. “What do you want, Weasley?”

She squints as if she’s trying to work out which twin is standing there but they both know she hasn’t mixed the twins up since she was 12. “Wanted your attention, as always.” He winks and Y/N hides behind her book in hopes he doesn’t see the shy look that overtakes her face. They’ve been friends for seven years, but George’s relentless and joke flirting never fails to make her face warm.

“Have you heard about Lee and Alicia?” George says, sitting down next to the girl and Y/N sighs, accepting she isn’t going to get any further into her book right now. “Did Alicia reject him?” The boy shakes his head as he chuckles.

“Quite the opposite really. Thought she was going to cry of happiness when he’d asked her to Hogsmeade today.”

Y/N ponders his words. Lee and Alicia have always been a hard pair to pinpoint. One second they were flirting and annoying everyone with their public displays of affection and the next they were fighting over something stupid. “Hopefully this stops them bickering over my bacon and eggs in the morning,” Y/N mutters as she closes her book.

She’s acutely aware that everyone in their year is starting to seriously pair up. Fred and Angelina had gone to the Yule Ball together the year before, she knows for a fact Roger Davis plans on asking Patricia Stimpson out sometime this week and with Lee and Alicia seemingly confirming their relationship she gets uneasy.

“How do people do it?” She asks no one in particular, “I’m so scared of rejection I could never just ask someone out.” George knows how she feels, after all, he’s been wanting to ask out the girl in front of him for weeks, months maybe even years at this point. But he’s always been convinced no one sees him outside of the duo that is Fred and George, nothing more than a star quidditch player alongside his brother, a pranking prodigy alongside his brother.

“I don’t know, I barely mustered up the courage to ask you to the Yule Ball last year,” they both chuckle at the memory of George stumbling over his words as he asked Y/N to the ball ‘as a friend’, although George never admitted it to anyone, he so desperately wanted it to be more than friends.

“I want to tell the boy I like that I like him but…” She trails off and George wonders why she’s being so coy. “I don’t know how to go about it.”

George thinks for a moment, thoroughly convinced Y/N is asking him because he’s positive she’s been crushing on Fred since their fifth year.

“Well…” He pauses. Or should he tell her how Fred would like to be confessed to? “Something extravagant, of course. A grand gesture,” he laughs awkwardly and he knows Y/N isn’t fully convinced by the way she looks at him but she hums in agreement nonetheless.

“Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a grand gesture romance kind of boy, Georgie…” She trails off and George resists the urge to tell her he actually told her how Fred would like to be confessed too, but before he knows it, she’s standing. “I have to go meet Angie, I’ll see you late George.”

George has been sulking all day at this point that not even a prank on Filch can get him to smile. Fred and Lee have been pestering him all day to ‘fess up what’s bothering him but he refuses to budge. He knows that if he even hints at what’s bothering him, Fred will reject Y/N and while he wants nothing more than to be the one she confesses to, he doesn’t wish the embarrassment of rejection on her.

“I think Georgie’s got girl problems,” Lee says, nudging Fred and puckering his lips as if to kiss him. Fred laughs and shoves Lee away, teasing him with a threat to tell Alicia he’s moving onto a Weasley brother but stops when he realises George isn’t laughing alongside them. “Wait, is it a girl problem, Georgie?”

George can’t meet Fred’s eye for the first time in his life, but he knows he can never keep anything from his twin flame. “Yeah, it is.” The boys beside him whoop and holler, teasingly saying Georgie’s got a crush before they sit down on the couch in front of him. “What’s wrong, then? She rejected you?”

George sighs, “No, no… I’m just positive she likes someone else.” Lee scoffs at this. “As if, you’re George Weasley, mate.” George laughs at Lee’s comment, knowing Lee is being completely honest.

“Well, even if I am George Weasley, I’m just pretty sure she likes a different Weasley,” George says, not being able to meet Fred’s eye. George, admittedly, has no reasoning for believing Y/N likes Fred, it’s just always been the case. He’s never blamed Fred for this though, Fred has always just been the more noticed twin due to the fact he’s more exuberant and honestly, it never bothered him.

Until now.

It’s two days later when Y/N drags Fred by his robes into an empty corridor. George hasn’t even looked in Y/N’s direction since their talk about crushes and she’s starting to get fed up, and what better place to get insider information than from his twin brother who doubles as his best friend.

“Geeze, woman, what is your problem?” Fred asks, fixing his robes that have now fallen off his shoulders. “What’s going on with George?” she demands.

Fred looks at her confused, having not noticed anything different going on with George beside his obvious sulking over a girl but he knows better than to mention anything like that to Y/N. Unlike George, Y/N was very happy to spill the beans regarding her raging crush on George to his twin brother and Fred’s been subtly trying to get them together ever since. When he asked Angelina to the ball last year, he purposely did it in front of both George and Y/N in hopes to inspire George to ask her to the ball himself and he can only hope that Lee and Alicia finally making it official could serve as some inspiration for his oblivious best friends.

But now George has a crush on a girl, and while Fred hopes with everything he has that it’s on Y/N but he can’t be sure.

“I haven’t noticed anything wrong with George,” Fred says, hoping Y/N doesn’t pick up on the lie. “We’ve been working on shop business, maybe he’s just busy?”

Y/N pouts at this, wondering what she’d done for George to only act weird around herself. She plays with the ends of the sleeves of her robe as she thinks back to their last conversation, “I think I made him uncomfortable.”

Fred cocks his head in confusion. George’s best friend beside himself and Lee has always been Y/N, and Fred thinks there’s not a thing in the world she could do that would make George upset, but before he can question her, she speaks again. “I mentioned I wanted to tell the boy I like that I like him but I think… I think maybe he realised I liked him and he’s backing away so my feelings go away.”

Fred notices the tears starting to fill Y/N’s eyes and he quickly pulls her into a comforting hug. “Love, I don’t think that’s the case. George is dumb, but he’s not cruel.” He gently runs his hand through her hair as a comfort, knowing it calms her down. “Maybe… He likes you back, and he thinks you were talking about someone else?”

Y/N ponders his words for a second, genuinely considering it. There’s a chance Fred is right, after all, he knows George better than he knows himself sometimes but Y/N is refusing to get her hopes up. “

What the pair don’t realise is that George has been looking for Fred for the last 10 minutes, after he was late to their meeting at the library to work out the kinks in their Skiving Snackboxes treats when he spots them.

They’re still hugging but George is far enough to not be able to hear anything they’re saying and his heart sinks. He knew Y/N liked Fred and to him, the image in front of him is confirmation he’ll always be second best, even to his number one girl.

He clears his throat as he gets closer and they jump apart, Y/N not being able to meet his eye makes his heart sink so he looks away, barely acknowledging her presence. “You’re late, come on Fred.” He’s blunt and both Y/N and George feel terrible at this moment. Fred senses the tension, quickly composing himself and bidding Y/N goodbye and grabbing George by the shoulder to leave. “What is your problem, mate?”

George makes a noise that’s between a grunt and a ‘shut up’ as he quickly walks to the library, not wanting to confront the current feeling of jealousy rising in his throat.

George is the furthest thing from being on cloud nine as possible. His new lifetime ban from quidditch has made his already sour mood worse and he feels terrible for anyone who has come into contact with him in the last week. He wants nothing more than to fly out of this school on his broom and never look back while he finally opens the shop with Fred.

His mood is somehow worsened when Y/N comes through the portrait hole. It’s 11pm and George was hoping he would have the common room to himself so he could sulk in peace and maybe work on some joke products. But she barely even acknowledges his presence on the couch, taking a quick glance at him and looking away and rushing up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

The sinking feeling in George’s stomach is back, as it always is when he sees Y/N these days. He’s convinced someone worked out his crush on her and told her, and that her only response to that was to blatantly ignore him. He can’t talk, he knows he can’t. He’s done his fair share of ignoring Y/N over the past week but he didn’t think he was being as obvious as her.

He doesn’t realise how long he’s been sitting in the common room, furrowing his eyebrows and contemplating the situation until Fred waltzes down the boys' dormitory stairs, sleep in his eyes and his messy hair sticking up everywhere. “Why the fuck are you still awake, mate?”

George shrugs. He knows he’s been short lately with Fred too, but it’s not Fred’s fault. Just anything these days brings jealousy to his stomach and he can’t bear the thought of ever being mad at Fred for something out of his control. “Still having girl problems?” George shrugs again.

“Listen, mate, do you like Y/N?” George is taken aback by Fred’s forwardness and he feels his face heat up and he knows he’s bright red. “No,” he squeaks and the look of smugness on Fred’s face tells him he knows he doesn’t believe him. “Okay, fine, I do.”

Fred doesn’t know what to do, he never expected to get this far in his line of questioning for George. He knows he shouldn’t tell Y/N’s deepest secret to George but it’s killing them both not being together and thinking they don’t like each other. Fuck it, Fred thinks as the words spill out, “She likes you too, you fucking git.”

George looks at him, dumbfounded. “No she doesn’t, she likes you.”

Now it’s Fred’s turn to look at his brother dumbfounded. Not even for a second did he ever consider Y/N would have feelings for him, even before she confessed her feelings towards George to himself. It’s always been Y/N and George in his mind, the sun and the moon, the stars and the planets. He can’t ever imagine Y/N fitting so perfectly with someone than his brother and then he starts to laugh.

“You think Y/N likes me? Are you seriously that daft?”

George doesn’t appreciate this, his arms crossed protectively across his chest, “Don’t laugh at me. People always chose you.” He’s quiet in his words but Fred’s heart sinks. “Mate, you know that’s not true.” He takes the seat next to George, fully awake at this point. “It is though. And it’s not your fault, don’t worry. People always prefer the more outgoing twin.”

“I don’t.”

George and Fred’s heads snap up to where the voice came from, spotting Y/N standing on the stairs in an old t-shirt and sleep shorts. She’s picking at the skin on her fingers, the nervousness obvious. “What did you just say?” George asks, timidly.

She walks down the last few stairs, “I said I don’t prefer the more outgoing twin. I’m-” she takes a deep breath as she prepares herself for the confession she didn’t plan on doing- ”quite fond of the shy, only a little bit responsible twin.” Fred is smirking again as he usually is, and quickly leaves the pair in the empty common room.

“I thought you liked Fred,” George whispers when she takes Fred’s old spot, “I didn’t think I ever had a chance with you.”

She giggles as she softly takes George’s large, calloused hand in her own and she rubs her thumb soothingly along the back of his hand. “You’ve owned my heart for years, Georgie. I thought I made that obvious last week on the lake.”

George thinks back to the moment of the lake and everything makes sense. Why she was being so coy when she mentioned confessing to someone and he suddenly feels very dumb. He pulls her hand up to his mouth and kisses her knuckles. He can’t help but feel incredibly overwhelmed, by the emotion they’re both letting out and how beautiful Y/N looks by the warmth of the fire. “You’ve owned mine for years too. How dumb are we?”

She shakes her head and cups his face in her hands, “We’re not dumb. Just…” she pauses, finding the right words, “Clueless.” She giggles and George realises how badly he’s missed being in her presence.

“I’m sorry for the last week. I’ve been a right prat, haven't I?” She nods and laughs again. “You have, but this just means you can spend the rest of our lives making it up to me.” She teases and George raises an eyebrow at her. He’s quick to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap and shoving his face into her neck.

“The rest of our lives, huh? Getting a bit ahead of ourselves, aren’t we Y/L/N?” He teases, but he’s joking. He’d be perfectly happy spending the rest of his life making up for this past week if it meant spending the rest of his life with the girl in his lap.

“Hey, it’s taken us years to get together, I’m not letting you go now, Georgie.” She winks and George wants nothing more to press his lips to hers.

So that’s what he does. She makes a noise of surprise at first, and he almost pulls away out of fear that this isn’t what she wants. But she’s quick to pull him back to her. The kiss is desperate, years of pent up emotions and pining being communicated through it.

Both their hearts felt like they were about to beat out of their chests and Y/N couldn’t help but think this was better than she could ever have imagined. George’s lips were slightly chapped, days of chewing on them out of nervousness would do that but it was so distinctly George that she didn’t care. George pressed against her lips harder, making Y/N let out a slight moan that only he could hear and he couldn’t help but smile.

It was the most perfect first kiss either of them could have ever wished for and when they finally pull apart, Y/N can’t help but admire George. His hair is messy from having her hands run through it, his lips are slightly swollen and his cheeks are flushed red. He looks absolutely breathtaking and Y/N has to resist the urge to pull him into another kiss.

“Does this mean you're my girlfriend, now?” George questions. Y/N pretends to ponder for a moment, both to lightly tease George and to genuinely contemplate her answer. But she knows in her heart, she wants nothing more than to be George’s and a smile slowly overtakes her face.

“Maybe take me on a date first?”

#george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley one shot #george weasley imagine #george weasley

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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intergalactic au w/ zhongli, childe, and xiao

prompt: futuristic/intergalactic!au w/ zhongli, childe, and xiao for my 1.5k follower event pairings: zhongli x gn!reader, childe x gn!reader, xiao x gn!reader, word count: 2.8k words (i really like this au, ok?) a/n: haha oh jeez ok my knowledge of intergalactic stuff is an amalgamation of different stuff so this is gonna involve a few different types of space stuff! some of these are longer than others, apologies for the discrepancies in length! i had to stop some of these from becoming full fics hhhh

ZHONGLI

“so,” you state, unceremoniously slamming your hands down on the metal lunch table in front of you. “rex lapis. discuss.”

the two colleagues sitting in front of you differ in reactions to your noisy gesture. the shorter and angrier of the two, xiao, jumps slightly at the sudden intrusion, despite the bustling noise of the starship’s cafeteria surrounding the three of you. at his side, zhongli sits, regal as ever, sipping on a cup of tea that fails to shake within his grip. the brunette sets the drink down on the table before him and looks at you patiently.

“what do you wish for us to discuss?” zhongli asks while xiao scowls at you in annoyance.

“there’s nothing to discuss,” xiao grumbles, cutting up cubes of the low-grade tofu in front of him with the side of his fork absentmindedly. “he died. the end.”

“did he?” you challenge and xiao lets out a heavy sigh of a man worn out by your mere existence. “alright, zhongli, hear me out on this. what if it’s just a coverup by the liyuean fleet? none of us really even knew what he looked like, who he was, et cetera et cetera, y’know? so like... he could very well be alive.”

“indulging in conspiracy theories,” xiao mutters. “how mature of you.” he grouchily stabs some of the decimated remains of the tofu cubes in front of them and takes a bite, wincing slightly at the low quality texture. however, zhongli’s honey eyes shine with mirth at your proposition.

“i believe that such notions are never beyond the realm of possibility,” zhongli confesses, causing xiao to sputter and choke on his cafeteria meal.

“you have to be kidding me. that’s the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard. they could’ve just said he retired or something. why would the fleet cover up his existence with a falsified death?” xiao challenges, his gaze flickering between your smug expression and zhongli’s entirely placated one.

“some people say rex lapis turned into a dragon and flew away. oooo~! watch out, xiao, he’s going to come for you, oooo~!” you mimic the sounds of a ghost as you flap your hands in a wing-like motion, leaning in closer to xiao, who leans away in repulsion and fear. xiao shrieks slightly as you breach his personal space and he hides behind zhongli’s figure, whose intense gaze causes you to stop your teasing and sit up straight, despite a soft smile gracing his elegant features.

“(y/n),” zhongli questions in a soft tone reserved only for you. “did you finish your review of the engine room’s oxygen and sediment filter?”

you look sheepishly down at the tray of food in front of you. “no, but... nobody’s allowed in the engine room right now. some dumb intern got his keycard stolen so the whole room is on lockdown while they reprogram everyone else’s.”

“well, if you have no other tasks to complete today, would you like to assist me with my research?” zhongli asks and, with no hesitation, you nod in response.

“of course! do you still need help with analyzing how to best redirect flow of air in the suits of the astronauts traveling to planet 48-ab-9?” you say, looking to make sure you and zhongli are on the same page. he smiles at you, which gives you the answer you need before the words even fall from his lips.

“yes, but there may also be possible diversions to other planets and air pressure within the spacesuits on one planet may cause ruptures in the other and-” zhongli begins, but is interrupted by xiao standing up abruptly, the tofu on his tray barely touched.

“i am full!” xiao declares, which causes you to narrow your eyes at him in disbelief. zhongli, however, buys xiao’s blatant lie. “which means, like every upstanding worker of the liyuean fleet, it’s time to return back to the contractual chains of coding hell!”

you can only watch as the green-haired man scurries off without waiting for your responses, far too eager to return to the cybersecurity job he always seems to complain about.

“so, where were we?” zhongli asks, capturing your undivided attention once more. you let out a soft huff of amusement at the situation and flash a smile in return.

---

zhongli is a consistently overlooked member of the liyuean fleet, residing as one of the few interplanetary geologists on board. to put it simply, zhongli works alongside you, an environmental engineer, to help ensure the safety of liyuean fleet explorers as they venture into unknown territory. you develop the products and do routine maintenance on various air quality-related machinery within the massive mothership of the liyuean fleet, while zhongli studies previously-recorded information about other planets in order to provide hypotheses about what potential new planets’ geological systems may be like and what needs to be done for astronauts to acclimate to them.

the talkative geologist is polite to all, but talkative to few, one of whom is you. while the two of you work side by side, the man has a tendency to ramble about the compositions of different planetary soils and what they means to human life should they encounter it. if you’re being honest with yourself, the topic nearly puts you to sleep, but you find it adorable that he can talk so passionately for so long on such a mundane topic.

you let zhongli ramble for three reasons. one: you don’t have the heart to tell him to stop. two: you have a massive crush on him that only seems to worsen the more you see his amber eyes nearly glow with passion whenever you ask questions about his work. finally, three: you’re waiting for zhongli to slip up and reveal why someone of his talent finally got assigned to the mothership immediately after the supposed death of rex lapis.

as he launches into another rambling session, you can’t help but zone zhongli out as a startling idea pops into your head about the calming man who loves three things in life (history, tea, and rocks, in that order).

could he be...? you push the thought out of your head and decide to accept the liyuean fleet command’s announcement at face value. commander rex lapis is dead and there’s absolutely, certainly, definitely no way that zhongli is the man who once brought the tsaritsa’s warships to a crumbling halt.

right?

CHILDE

the dashing rogue with a heart of gold is certainly one of the most respectable men in the galaxy. he saves damsels in distress and redistributes wealth to the poor. he’s perfect in every manner -- don’t you see his charming smile? how could you not trust him? he’ll lure you in with sweet words and false affections, brushing your hair behind your ear as he makes you giggle and flustered due to his flirtations. the illusion pops when he waltzes away from you with a wink and you realize you’re missing your wallet a few minutes later.

childe, a man of many aliases ranging from the theatrical tartaglia to the mythological ajax, is one of the galaxy’s most wanted thieves. he’ll insist he’s not a kleptomaniac, but feeds off the golden veins of wealth he steals from others as if he is a vampire, a primal instinct he can’t seem to control. no target is too big or small for the man, especially if a rival is involved.

in this case, it’s you. he finds you at a bar, in which grating electronic music blasts overhead and rainbow lights paint his skin in different colors as they flash to the beat. childe is forced to yell over the music, yet none of his signature charm is lost as he does his best to cozy up to you, buying you a drink and warding off any unwanted suitors, especially the alien with eight hands who wont stop insisting that he just wants to hold one of yours.

you almost let yourself get swept away in his radiant baby blues and his wispy, ruddy brown hair, but you’re smarter than that. you can see the intelligence in his eyes and you wonder if he can see it in yours. despite his kindness and his genuine enthusiasm to hear what you have to say, he holds an arrogance in his posture that shows that childe is underestimating you. you know what he’s after: the keycard to the liyuean fleet engine room, one you had swiped off some unsuspecting intern earlier in the day to deposit in your own safekeeping, in hopes to one day sell it to likely nefarious evildoers who would pay a pretty penny for an access key like that.

but buyers have never been one to keep secrets and you’re far too aware that loose lips sink ships -- or in this case, the main starship of the liyuean fleet -- and childe is far too aware of the card that lies within your possession. you smile as you feel his hand gently tug your wallet out of your coat pocket, an action that would have gone unnoticed if you weren’t a master thief as well. you let him walk away as he winks at you and promises to see you again, a blatant lie on his behalf.

you’re gone from your seat before he realizes the keycard isn’t in your wallet -- nothing is. it’s empty, aside from a faded business card offering the services of your thievery, with a smiley face drawn on the back and two words: duped ya! emblazoned next to the face that taunts childe. a rush of adrenaline ripples through him and he’s not sure whether it’s due to rage or excitement. as he reaches into his pocket, he decides it’s the former as childe realizes the keys to his ship are missing.

childe can’t help but smile when he sees his ship missing in the public dock nearby. after all, he had a new goal: tracking you, his treasured spaceship, and that damned keycard down, even if he would have to scour the entire galaxy just to see your eyes once more.

XIAO

“hey,” a familiar voice barks, which xiao ignores as he nuzzles his face further into his elbow, having fallen asleep at his desk. “hey!” the voice is more insistent and he feels fingers dig into his shoulder, shaking his slumped over form and moving xiao’s wheeled office chair slightly. “get up. you’re sleeping on the job and night shift is coming soon.”

as the voice continues to not leave him alone, xiao finally realizes who is speaking to him. its you. upon this realization, xiao concedes and sits up, wincing as he adjusts to the harsh fluorescent lights that illuminate the room.

“there is no night shift. we’re in space. that’s not a-” xiao complains, but upon seeing you and realizing what you’re holding up in a bag in your hand, ceases his whining and instead chooses to look up at you with wide eyes. “holy shit, is that surface almond tofu?! how did you get that?!”

“sheesh.” you begin, waving the bag slightly back and forth. “i didn’t think you would get this riled up over it.”

“i would sell my soul for a bag of that after suffering through the eternal misery that is the food on this godforsaken ship.” xiao deadpans and you can’t help but think he’s almost serious. he extends his hands to you and you can’t help but note the way the sleeves of his uniform are pushed up to his elbows, especially since his forearms showcase a plethora of scars that you rarely get to see. they signal that the man is an outsider to your legion of computer nerds (and that his well-defined forearms are really hot, but that’s beside the point).

you quickly snap out of your daze as his hands crinkle the bag you’re holding and you lightly swat his hands away from the bag, glaring at him. a scowl crosses his features at your actions and he slumps against the back of his chair, swiveling to fully face you.

“the tofu is yours, but i need something in exchange,” you bargain and you watch as xiao’s eyes narrow at the horrid implication held within your tone. “a lot of my cybersecurity guys are out trying to rework the engine room’s login mechanism... it’s a long story. anyways, i was wondering if you’d find it within the kindness of your heart to pick up one of their shifts.”

“you’re not paying me for this shift, are you?” xiao asks and you can feel your face scrunch up in irritation.

“listen, i went to hell and back to try to get you this tofu so you would say yes and you’re worried about payment? they cover lodging and food when you work he-” you begin to rant, but a rare smile from xiao makes the words die on your lips as you feel heat rise to your face.

“i never said i wouldn’t. you’re always so quick to judge.” his tone is condescending as he smirks smugly at you, reaching to take the bag of tofu from your now slackened grip as you stare at him, visibly flustered by his haughty tone in tandem with a grin you scarcely see.

“oh... uh, alright,” you try to recover, readjusting your posture to stand up straighter, willing yourself to stay composed. his golden eyes stare directly into yours as he plucks a cube of tofu out of the bag with his index finger and thumb. without breaking eye contact, he pops the tofu cube into his mouth and, after swallowing, licks his lips. “let’s um... let’s get started!”

---

xiao is a former yaksha, an elite fighter who served as part of commander rex lapis’s most trusted squadron of soldiers. after an injury rendered him unfit to return to battle, xiao decided to look for other ways to help defend the liyuean fleet, which resulted in him joining your group of cybersecurity experts, who protect the fleet by making sure all systems remain secure and that there are no electronic security breaches.

at the beginning of his job, xiao was fairly terrible with technology and would have been fired nearly immediately for his incompetence if not for his direct recommendation from rex lapis himself. unfortunately for you, you were assigned his superior and nearly lost your mind when the man had to stare at the keyboard in order to know where the keys were as he typed. xiao’s attitude was initially offputting, both sardonic and angry, but he eventually sheathed his bitter defensive weapon of haughtiness and condescension in order to ask you for help outside of work hours to help him learn how to be better at his job.

now, several years later, the two of you are fairly good friends (as good as one can be friends with xiao, you think) to the point where he whines about his dumb bumbling friends (zhongli and some other person you had yet to catch the name of) who run in circles around each other, despite the fact that they blatantly like each other. each time he complains, you scratch your head in confusion, because you and him do the exact same thing.

you’re not entirely oblivious. you’ve realized that xiao acts... different around you than he does around most people. he’s softer and more open, but you don’t want to get your hopes up, so you’ve made yourself more open in return, hoping that he’ll realize your interest. often times, your flirtations will leave him flustered and reeling, but on rare occasions, xiao will take the opportunity to fluster you instead, which is far more effective than any way you could try to charm him. you’re fairly sure he can read you like an open book, so you wait for him to confess his emotions to you.

little do you know, xiao feels the exact same way about you as he awaits your confession. no, he’s not scared of rejection. he’s a former yaksha, do you know how many people he’s taken down? why would he be scared of heartbreak and the utter agony that follows as he’s forced not only to deal with rejection but report to you at work every day? ... oh. maybe he is a little scared. just a teensy, tiny little bit scared.

but hey, if the two of you are lucky, maybe you’ll both confess at the same time after the tension between the two of you nearly suffocates you both.

#fun fact: the intern who lost the dumb keycard is xiangling #she saw some food and got distracted #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #zhongli #childe #genshin impact #//writing #//zhongli #//xiao #//childe #//1.5k event #xiao

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depressedacadamia · 3 years

Text

Dimples

Summary: Apparently Nico has dimples and Will did not know.

A/N: Heheheee, motherfuckers my exams are in a week and a half and I haven't revised shit. Instead, I'm writing these. Wish me luck, this might be the only fic I post for the next 2 weeks but if you're lucky, I might post pt 2 for 'How to passive aggressively say Fuck you in flower'. Toodle pip and <3 from mee!

Extra edit: I forgot it was solangelo week, woops.

Read on A03

Nico Di Angelo was not known for smiling. He was not known for grinning or laughing. He was however, known for snarling, sarcastic, outdated remarks and terrifying people to the point where they’d rather face death itself than face him and his wrath.

So of course, Percy and every logical being would avoid him at all costs when he was in one of his ‘moods’. These so-called ‘moods’ referred to when Nico seemed particularly dangerous, like when his eyes had a dangerous glower to them that hinted he enjoyed threatening others a tad too much- in fact, so much so that Leo had suggested that Nico may be a sadist (That hadn’t gone well for Leo, to say the very least).

But of course, William Andrew Solace was in no way a logical being nor was he very fearful of Nico’s alternating and very much violent auras. Now, this wasn't necessarily a bad thing necessarily, in fact, it was the very thing that had started their relationship and while everybody thought Will was insensitive with his historical jokes he made towards Nico, Nico greatly appreciated being able to understand something from his time.

Will, on several occasions, related him to Captain America in Marvel's Avengers.

So when Nico, in his terrifying rage, stormed into the infirmary, Percy wasn’t sure what he was about to witness. Were these two having an argument? Nico looked like he was going to set the infirmary ablaze or perhaps bury it 6 feet under- it was truly the unpredictability that created the suspense and fear.

“Where are they?” Nico’s voice was calm, cold but sharp. His words felt like the gentle, smooth slant of a knife, apply pressure and you get cut. Nobody dared to answer. The infirmary’s silence seemed like one of lambs, too scared to speak out until another leader did. Whether they expected Nico to simply leave if no one answered, they certainly did not expect him to ask again.

“Where. Are. They?” He punctuated his words, his voice combined with a deadly hunger that could only be satisfied with death.

The room felt like a cave. The only words being echoed back were Nico’s own words, bouncing off the smooth walls of the infirmary. The corners seemed dark, the white presence of the infirmary slowly being poisoned. It seemed like fate sealed their hands- they were like lambs to the slaughter: helpless.

“WHERE ARE THEY!” Nico roared. This time, he did not wait for a response. He took a small glimpse at the camper in front of him, who was obviously avoiding his gaze, and the next thing the kid knew was that he was pinned to the wall with a metre of stygian iron under his neck. The kid hyperventilated and in a moment of sheer panic and pure fear, blurted,

“I don’t know where they are! “

Nico, holding the camper up with one hand, shoved him into the wall again. “ But you hurt them anyway?”

The camper was completely clueless but he wasn’t stupid. Simply denying whatever Nico was accusing him of would increase Nico’s rage and that could lead everyone down a very dark road.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt them! I swear...” He started to sob. “ I swear it was an accident!”

“You hurt them! That isn’t an accident. You will pay for your crimes. I swear I will-”

“-Dear god, Nico what the hell?” A voice of pure confusion entered the infirmary. Nico, on recognising the voice, felt his head snap backwards-trying to find the course of the voice. There on the other side of the infirmary, with his leg in a cast, stood Will solace, still as unfashionable as ever.

Nico almost teleported to Will, considering how fast he appeared by his side. “ Are you okay? It’s okay, I found out who did it and-”

“-Jesus, Stalin, calm down there.” Will looked at the terrified boy who was in tears. “This kid knows nothing. He wasn’t even there. Were you just putting on some show trials?”

Nico had to resist the twitch in his lips at the communism jokes. Ever since Will had found out that Nico’s weakness was communism jokes, he had been exploiting it, just like the working class were exploited, and using it to his own advantage.

“Wait, this kid wasn’t involved?” Nico looked at all the terrified people in the infirmary, still frozen to their spots, waiting for the go sign for them to continue with their lives.

Will waved his hand. “Go ahead, continue with your business. He will be on his best behaviour now that I’m here.”

“Uh, says who?”

“Says my broken leg.”

On the mention of a broken leg, Nico’s worry instantly returned. His hand reached out to touch Will’s face, in a gesture of affection before quickly snatching it away. Will reached for his hand, took it in his own and intertwined their fingers as in to say It’s okay, they support us. It’s okay, I love you and you love me. It’s okay, I’m not ashamed of being in love with you.

Nico appreciated the gesture and once again, fought the urge to give in to the overwhelming desire to smile at his perfect boyfriend.

“Are you okay? Can you show me your leg? What happened? Why can’t you heal it?” The words began flying out of Nico’s mouth, the concern on his face unhideable. His eyebrows were cutely creased together and he kept on placing his hands all over Will- it was driving him crazy.

“Calm down there, communist. This is my injury, not yours.” Will joked, trying to hide his blush- truth be told, he did not want to tell Nico the real reason behind how he broke his leg because it was honestly the most ridiculous reason one may ever hear in their entire life.

Nico let out a little snort of laughter after hearing another communist joke but was careful to keep it on the downlow. He noticed that Will was being quite indirect and avoiding his gaze: he knew that could only mean one thing.

“What did you do to break your leg?” Nico smirked wickedly, understanding that Will had, once again, been quite idiotic.

Will, gasping in mock offense but also quite embarrassed by how well his own boyfriend knew him, let out a bubble of nervous daughter. “ Hahaa, what do you mean? I broke my leg the same way everyone else does...”

“... which is?”

Due to the vast amount of broken legs he had healed, Will actually knew how to answer this question. “ Through sports.”

“Sports?” Nico snorted. “ You? Sports? Have you ever even run in your entire life? I swear the only thing you do is heal and read. Maybe sleep on the offhand you listen to me.”

“You can’t talk over there!”

“Just tell me how you broke your leg, for the love of the Gods!”

“I was having a competition with Percy for who could heal faster.”

“You were doing what?”

“A competition Nico, have you ever heard of one? Normally the losers forget they exist so I wouldn't be surprised that you had never heard of one-”

“No, I know what a competition is, you idiot. What I don't know is, why on earth you were having a regeneration competition with Percy of all the demigods you could have chosen, you chose the one with the ability to heal themselves as well?”

Will pouted slightly, his eyebrows making a small frown. “I would have thought you would be halfway through murdering Percy right about now.”

“If Percy managed to win, then honestly, you kinda deserved it.”

“I thought you liked me!”

“I thought my boyfriend wasn’t an idiot!”

“Technically I won because Percy was too baby-ish to break his own leg!”

Nico took a very long pause. Slowly, he began shaking his head, from side to side. The expression on his face was illegible but eventually it morphed into one of laughter. His laugh was rich and so was the expression on his face. His lips were curled upwards, his eyes were creasing, with long beautiful dimples on both sides of his face- as clear as the moon on a clear night.

The infirmary was silent. They simply stared at the beautiful angel who graced the place with their voice. They were horrified and in awe. Nico Di Angelo was capable of smiling! He was capable of laughing!

It was a fucking miracle.

“What did I tell you!” Percy yelled, throwing his arm over Annabeth who simply sighed. “I fucking told you! I knew he had dimples!”

Will, slightly stunned, simply took Nico’s face in both his hands. His crystal blue eyes were wide open and to Nico it looked like the ocean was inviting him to take a dive into int’s complex and unknown depths.

Into the unknooooowwwwwnnnnnn.

He cursed himself for that being his first thought. He then cursed Will for making him watch Frozen because it was apparently culturally inappropriate to not have seen it. Then he cursed himself again for cursing Will.

“Holy shit,” Will whispered as he stared into his boyfriends grinning face. “Holy fuck Nico, you never told me you had dimples.”

“Language.”

“Holy shit, holy fucking hell. You cannot smile at me like that Nicolo Di Angelo and expect me to keep my language appropriate. Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror?”

“Calm down,” Nico groaned, throwing his head backwards. He could feel his palms getting sweaty from Will’s words- what could he say, he was slightly embarrassed.

“Wait!” Will cried. “ Do it again. Smile again!”

Nico gave a sultry smirk and Will whacked his arm. “ I asked you to smile at me, not seduce me. Smile!”

“Who wouldn't be happy to be seduced by me?”

“Just smile, please!”

Nico sighed before looking at his gorgeous boyfriend. His eyes darted down at the cast around the leg and immediately Nico remembered the cause of injury. He started laughing, his lips stretching into a genuine smile and his dimples flashing all across his face. Will, still holding his boyfriend's face, couldn’t help himself as he brought their lips together.

Will was so used to feeling Nico’s smile when they kissed so when he brought their lips together, he didn't know what he was expecting. It felt different for some reason, it felt more.. It felt better, it felt like he was getting a new piece of Nico. Feeling Nico smile and seeing him smile were two different things and now that he could picture Nico’s smile as he kissed his smiling lips, Will thought he’d explode from happiness.

Will pulled away quickly, his hand still cemented to Nico’s grinning face. He had pulled away just so he could see Nico’s smile and more importantly his dimples again.

“What?” Nico’s innocent voice and grin combined confirmed for Will that if he died on that very spot, he would have died a happy man.

“Holy shit, you’re the cutest person ever.”

And with that, he brought their lips together again.

Neither of them noticed Thalia and Annabeth sulking as they paid up their debts to Percy from losing the bet.

#will solace #nico di angelo #solangelo #will solace fanfic #nico di angelo fanfic #solangelo fanfic #solangelo week #solangeloweek2021 #will x nico #nico x will #Nico x will fluff #Nico x Will fanfiction #nico x will fanfic #percy jackson #pjo #thalia grace #annabeth chase #hoo #percy jackson fanfic

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gohyuck · 3 years

Text

1/7 of my milestone drabbles!

pairing: streetracer!mark lee x reader

genre: fluff/angst/smut

word count: 2.1k

plot request: @hansolstea said: streetracer au + “if you think you can beat me on the tracks, then you’re on the wrong side of the wheel”

warnings: not chronological so pay attention to timestamps, ambiguous relationship between the main characters, mild car accident, explicit sex, choking, ...cumming inside, mild overstimulation, slightly shitty aftercare due to the setting

SATURDAY 1:27 A.M.

“fucking take it.” he growls in your ear from above you, burying your face further into the pillow and readjusting your position so your hips are higher in the air. you let a gasping moan out without meaning to, and mark, almost without thinking, lands a hand against your ass in response, drawing forth a keening wail. “you think you’re all that, huh? think you’re invincible? hm? answer me.”

“n-no, fuck, mark, i-” he speeds up his hips, pistoning into you at a breakneck pace, almost smothering you into the motel bed’s surprisingly soft pillow. it’s obvious that he doesn’t care about what you say as long as it isn’t the safe word. you already know he’ll leave you bruised and battered, aching from how hard he’s fucking you, but you also know not to expect anything else.

mark lee is not your friend. mark lee certainly isn’t your lover. mark lee is a cocky, inflammatory bastard who has never hesitated to push your buttons in public. he brings out the worst in you, and you bring out the worst in him.

unfortunately for everyone involved, mark’s the best fuck you’ve ever had, and you know that he’s never had as good a time sticking his dick in anyone else.

as he pulls out, causing you to whine at the loss of contact, only to flip you over and immediately plow into you again, hard arms caging you in against the bed, you can’t help but think back to the series of events that led you here. not four hours earlier, you’d been on the ‘track’, jeno’s ford mustang right beside mark’s chevy corvette c6. everything that had happened there had led to what’s happening now.

“fucking take it,” mark growls again, almost unaware of what he himself is saying at this point. you’d laugh at him if you weren’t drunk off of him. his words bring you back to the present, your back arching until your chest meets his. “someone has to put you in your place.”

FRIDAY 9:55 P.M.

“come to get your ass beat?”

mark whirls around to see you leaning against your brother’s bright red mustang, a smirk adorning your features. he’s always been reactionary when it comes to you, and tonight is no different: his relaxed gaze hardens immediately as it falls on you, and his otherwise gentle smile morphs into a sneer. still, he attempts to maintain his composure, never wanting the first of you two to break.

“you’re not even driving tonight, princess. that’s big talk for someone too scared to race against me.”

“not my fault my brother wanted a piece of you first. be grateful - you couldn’t handle going against me.” you respond with ease, pushing yourself off of the car in favor of walking towards the man you can’t stand. his shoulders tense up for a moment, only to ease up again as he rolls them back, shoving both of his hands into his black bomber jacket’s pockets. you take a split second to appraise him, though you pray he doesn’t realize that you’re checking him out: black bomber, plain white tee, a thin checkered red flannel, ripped black skinny jeans, a dark brown belt, and a black beanie. even you can’t deny how attractive he is, no matter how badly you wish you could.

your eyes have trailed to his chest, and when you snap your head up to look at him, he’s smirking. that bastard.

“if you think you can beat me on the tracks, then you’re on the wrong side of the wheel,” he shrugs his shoulders, very obviously presenting you with a challenge. “should be inside the car, not outside it… unless you’re afraid, princess. i’d let you off the hook if you were, of course. it would be understandable: nobody wants to lose.”

“call me princess one more fucking time-” you retort, so close to him that you can smell his cologne.

“princess.” he draws the word out, and that’s the only mark lee you’ve ever known. the pain in your ass. he’s a good friend of jeno’s - hell, your brother even looks up to the man smirking at you right now - and gets along well with everyone you know. you’re the only exception, and you don’t know how to feel about that.

anger. arousal, maybe- no, just anger. it’s just anger, you tell yourself. before you can even sort out your own thoughts, you find yourself turning, yelling out your brother’s name.

“i’m driving tonight,” you call out, leaving no room for argument. “me versus mark.”

jeno looks at you, then at his friend, and then back at you, mouth falling open as if to argue. as his eyes meet yours, though, he knows: bickering with you is futile. your brother tosses you the keys to his precious car, and when you meet mark’s eyes again, you’re the one smirking this time.

“good luck,” you sneer, leaning close until you’re as in his face as you possibly could be. “princess.”

FRIDAY 11:39 P.M.

you’ve never seen him look quite this downright pissed. mark is genuinely one of the more easygoing, mild-mannered men you’ve met, only even acting ‘riled up’ whenever someone - typically hyuck or yuta - makes an inflammatory or downright jokingly flirtatious comment at him. it takes a lot for him to feel rage, and even you don’t think you evoke emotions that strong from him. he’s been insanely annoyed with you, yes, but it usually isn’t anything too far past that.

now, though? now mark fuckin’ lee has a steel grip on your left wrist as he tugs you out of the car. it isn’t too bad - the bumper is crooked, now, and one of the sideview mirrors is dangling and both taken together will cost a very unsexy couple of grands to fix without accounting for the paint - but you can hear your brother’s bemoaned wails at what you’ve done to his precious car. you’re surprised at yourself, too: you’ve never crashed before.

you’d looked over at mark for a split second too long while going just a hair too fast, and then, suddenly, the side of your - jeno’s - car was scraping some corporate compound’s metal fence. you’d panicked to a stop upon hearing the metallic crunching noises, and had only later heard mark’s c6 screeching to a halt up ahead. he’d yelled your name, you’d thought, but you were still dazed.

that, and jeno, who’d been just ahead at the finish line, had already started screaming by then. not for you. for his car.

“what the hell were you thinking?” mark yells, pulling you just a little too hard, causing you to stumble into his chest. “why didn’t you slow the fuck down?”

“i- shit, i didn’t realize until it was too late.” you can’t even throw the same tone of voice back in his face, too preoccupied with the realization that, had your steering been just a little off, you might be mangled in the mustang right now.

the race had gotten cut short then, with you apologizing profusely to your brother for as long as possible afterwards. mark had stepped back, watched on as the two of you assessed the damage to jeno’s car. it was only everyone else had left and jeno’d realized that he’d have to drive home with his car in the mess that it was that mark had stepped in between you and your sibling, offering to let you stay with him for the night rather than risk you and your brother killing each other over the mustang (‘nana’, so affectionately named by jeno after his best friend).

“thank fuck,” jeno’d said, eyes practically rolling into the back of his head in exasperation.

“fuck this,” you’d muttered under your breath, though a part of you truly is thankful for the intervention and the distraction both. mark had heard you. jeno hadn’t.

you expect to pull up to the apartment mark shares with his friends yuta and jungwoo, but, instead, he pulls into the parking lot of a motel you know well. of course you do - you’ve rendezvoused here with him on multiple accounts before. it’s only then, as mark fixes a hard, dark gaze on you, that you realize what you’re in for. his mouth meets your skin, your hands meet his hair.

“someone,“ he murmurs into the flesh that joins your jaw and neck. “needs to teach you how to slow down. that someone, though,” a fresh hickey blooms against your skin. he pushes open his car door with the hand that isn’t gripping your shirt’s hem. “sure as hell won’t be me.”

SATURDAY 1:29 A.M.

“someone has to put you in your place.”

mark reaches up your body then, curls a hand gingerly - almost too gingerly - around your throat. he presses lightly against the sides, only enough to make you feel slightly lightheaded. he’s looking down at you directly, gaze hard, daring you to look back. you’re close but it isn’t enough - you’re on an edge, but there’s nothing else behind you, no catalyst to push you into bliss.

his hand tightens, the other comes down to your pelvis, thumb swiping experimentally against your clit. you can’t help yourself - you tighten immediately around him, back arching slightly as both of you let out choked moans simultaneously. he swipes against your clit one more time before settling his hand against your hip, starting to rub circles into your bundle of nerves if only to feel your vice grip around his cock. you practically keen, gasping at the sheer amount of sensations your body feels.

you’re on the edge. you’re about to fall. mark’s hips stutter against your own, and he plays with your clit even more vigorously as he cums, not bothering to pull out. he never does, anyways. the hand around your neck tightens just a bit before he lets go of your airways entirely, and the sensation of finally being able to breathe properly again does you in, your chest fully arching almost against mark’s own as you reach your own orgasm.

it feels like an eternity until the stars are all out of your eyes, but you find yourself falling back to earth as mark finally pulls out. you’re panting, catching your breath, eyes glassy as you try and fix your gaze on him. he notices this, chuckling softly.

mark heads to the room’s bathroom, and you hear running water for a second before he emerges with wadded up toilet paper and a wet towel. you wince, knowing he’ll use the one-ply toilet paper on you first, but also knowing that neither of you are shitty enough to leave a cum-covered hotel towel behind for the staff to find. he wipes up the mixture of yours and his cum up from between your sensitive thighs, quieting shushing you and apologizing as the scratchy toilet paper meets your still-sensitive pussy. once he’s sure it’s all cleaned up, he wipes you down with the wet towel, doing his best to soothe your skin.

once he’s discarded the toilet paper and put the towel up, mark pulls on his boxers before gently pushing you over to get into the bed beside you. everything smells like sex, but you can’t bring yourself to be as disgusted by it as you think you should be. you move onto your side, wrapping an arm around him and throwing a leg over him, ignoring the fact that he’s like a space heater and you already feel sticky as it is. he allows his arm to wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer.

“i’m serious, you know,” he mutters after a while, sighing as he speaks. “you need to learn how to slow down. that could’ve ended very, very badly tonight… and as much as we… have our ‘differences’ or whatever, i don’t know what i’d do without you. okay? so pay more attention when you’re driving. you’re too valuable.”

there’s no response. mark shifts so he can see you, and he realizes that you’re fast asleep, bare chest rising and falling in tandem with mark’s heartbeat. you haven’t heard a word of what he’s said. a small smile graces mark’s features.

he lets his head fall back onto the too-flat motel pillow, finding that he, too, is suddenly very tired. his eyes slip shut, sleep pulling him in as the night goes on. he pulls you closer on reflex. you allow yourself to get pulled closer in the same way. in the morning, you’ll ask him what he means by ‘you’re too valuable’. you’ve got at least six hours ‘til then. you fall asleep with a smile on your face, mirroring mark’s own.

#mark lee #mark lee smut #mark lee angst #mark lee fluff #mark lee x reader #nct smut #nct 127 smut

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mymommykinkismywholepersonality · 3 years

Text

Sub! Yandere punishing his love

Warning!!! Rape! And reader beats the yandere! Please don't read if those subjects make you uncomfortable <3

You could do whatever you wanted to him.

Yell at him.

Call him names.

Slap him, choke him, ʙᴇᴀᴛ ʜɪᴍ until his skin had changed from a neutral tan to blue and purple. He would take it like a good boy should. I mean he knew the adjustment was hard on you and its not like he would delude himself into thinking he was worthy of you. Maybe that's why it ended up this way, because you seemed untouchable to him. But he needed you, so so ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ . He couldn't bare being without you.

"Y/n-"

"Don't call me that you waste of space" you growled, interrupting his plea.

"Right, Mistress. You can't keep doing this, I know you don't want to be here but I promise I can be a good servant! I can take care of you and please you, let me prove it!"

Getting on his knees he kissed the ground where you had stood not a moment before, never making eye contact per your instructions.

"I don't want you, I don't need you, and I sure as hell know a psychotic shit like you could never please me! I'll escape and when I do, you'll finally get your wish of being handcuffed but it won't be by me!"

Enunciating every word by grabbing his leash and yanking on it hoping it'd choke him out. But you didn't bother this time, knowing the crazy man before you adored any markings caused by you. The room was silent, even if it was underground with walls of concrete usually your captor would be crying by this time. You'd attempted to escape before and you had almost achieved your goal this time, it struck paralyzing fear into him. He didn't want to but he knew he had to come up with a consequence for you. Something to discourage you from running away.

You watched with uneasiness as his brown eyes squinted in concentration. Even though he had never laid a hand on you before, other than abducting you and dragging you back into captivity, you didn't trust him, obviously. Maybe he'd finally snapped and would kill you, the thought made your heart fill with a twisted hope of freedom. Without a word he crawled to the door and left you without his usual lecture so you lied on your bed and screamed into your pillow wishing the nightmare would end. Little did you know, it was just the beginning.

A few hours after he didn't bring you dinner, thinking he was trying to punish you, you fell asleep. To escape from your unfortunate predicament or to gain strength for your next escape strategy you didn't know. But when you woke up, you noticed the time on the clock was far earlier than when your internal alarm would usually wake you. You tried to sit up to see what had woken you up, well you knew what but you wanted to know why, only to find your hands chained to the bed by heavily padded cuffs. Anger coursed through your body until you realized your legs were chained and spread as well. That anger turned into fear at what he might be planning. In the beginning he usually kept your arms shackled in some form or another but never your legs.

"Oh Mistress! You're awake!" Snapping your head in the direction of his voice your face flushed with embarrassment then paled from the sight before you. He was just standing there. Cock in hand as he secured a ring around the base, preventing it from getting any harder than it already was. You felt like there was a boulder on top of you. Then pure rage took over.

"Don't you dare even think about putting that disgusting thing inside me!" You screamed at him, only to be met with a laugh infuriating and confusing you more.

"I would never do such a thing Mistress! Not unless you commanded me to of course. I know you may be mad right now but I'm gonna prove myself ok? I'm gonna make you feel so good, I'll be useful to you I swear! So just relax. Let me please you the way you deserve."

Sliding on the end of the bed your heart sped up when he brought out a knife.

"W-what are you doing?!" Instead of answering you he simply put his fingers to his lips in a shushing motion, carefully cutting off your pants. When you realized what he was going for you started shaking wildly in a desperate attempt to free yourself.

"No! Stop! You can't!" Your cries fell on deaf ears as he focused on removing your underwear without cutting you in the process.

His moment of triumph was your moment of doom. Without wasting any time he brought his face in between your legs. Experimentally he pushed his tongue in between your folds, vibrating your core with a moan. He knew the only satisfaction he should be getting was from bringing you pleasure but he found it impossible not to enjoy himself. On one hand he knew he was disobeying you and the guilt was eating at him, but you tasted better than anything he could recall! And he needed to show you he was capable. With that in mind he pointed his tongue to go further inside you and inhaled your scent.

You were making many different noises, some gasps for air, pleas for him to stop, until he angled his face just right. When his nose rubbed on a small bead at the top of your pussy, the noise you made was undeniably angelic to him. Knowing the treasure he'd found he brought his mouth up as he gave a gentle suck to the pearl.

"N-not there! Please!" at this point your fear had overcome your anger. You had screwed your eyes shut until you felt his warm mouth leave your clit, finding him crawling up to you. As he hovered over you, your anger returned but you couldn't stop the frustrated tears.

"You're so beautiful when you cry."

He stated lovingly, leaning down he starts to lick the tears off your cheeks, muttering something about not letting them got waste.

"Please stop, you've proven yourself, you're useful whatever! You don't have to let me go please just stop." You struggled to hold eye contact, his gaze being so intense.

"I'm sorry Mistress, I love you so much" you felt a moment of relief as he peppered your face with gentle kisses until he started to speak in between them "But I won't stop. Not until I make you cum."

More sobs racked through your body meanwhile he positioned his face near your heat again. This time he was relentless, licking and sucking on your most sensitive nerve, simultaneously scissoring you open with his slender fingers. You jolted when he found your g-spot, giving him all the instructions he needed. Eventually after what felt like years to you but seconds to him, your thighs spasmed. Quickly he replaced his fingers with an open mouth, tongue lolled out expectantly for your orgasm. He gently rubbed your clit until your legs had stopped shaking.

"S-stop! You said you'd stop! I did it! I came!" Babbling out your exhausted protests you could barely hear his response, still nestled in your opening.

"Can't waste! Gotta clean it all up, gonna clean Mistress up!"

Another ten minutes passed until he felt confident none of your pleasure juice had gone to waste he finally pulled away. Soon he unlocked you and braced himself, expecting you to hit him but to his dismay you just curled yourself in the corner of the bed.

"I'll replace your clothing Mistress, I'll even let you pick them out! Whatever you like is yours." He said kneeling at your side, smiling as though he'd won the lottery and hadn't just defiled you.

It took a good moment before you could speak and even then it wasn't audible to him who was barely a foot away.

"What Mistress?" he asked, eager to follow your command once again.

Without warning you began screaming at him, "Get out! Get out! Get out!" You started swinging at his face and when he fell back you tried to get off the bed to continue your attack but failed miserably still being sore. Only then did his expression change from lust to worry. Quickly he dove to your side and tried to help you up only for you to push him with all your might away.

"Mistress don't strain yourself, let me help!"

Struggling onto the bed you continued to shout at him until he started to leave. Hand on the knob, he turned to look at you but you were already boring holes into his head.

"I left dinner on your desk, please make sure to eat Mistress."

And with that he was gone, but you knew he'd be back. Eventually you regained the strength back into your legs and walked over to the desk littered with crayons. You quickly bunched up the note he always left on your meals and discarded it. Sitting, contemplating whether or not you should eat, when your stomach decided to speak up for you. You'd missed lunch due to your "break out" but at the same time you knew how genuinely distressed he'd get when you refused to eat. After mulling it over, you decided to listen to your body. After all, you were the only one you could rely on. Opening up the container you found your favorite meal. As you ate you wondered if this was his sick form of apologizing but it didn't matter. You couldn't give up.

#yandere imagines #sub character #dom!reader #yandere prompts #yandere

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fairestwriting · 3 years

Note

slams open your door/ one angst request for a childhood g/n reader with deuce, ace, jack, ruggie and vil coming right up! "if we're still single by 30, let's get married! (for housing benefits lol)" it was a childish promise made in jest, but the boy never forgot. in the end, it ends with unrequited/pining feelings from one/both sides that cant be returned due to bad timing/prior engagements/etc when they reach of age (go hogwild with the scenarios lis!!)

(slams my hands on the table) yes yes yes yes YES i love this trope

+ if you like my writing, you can buy me a ko-fi to support me!

Deuce Spade

You make the promise to him after you confessed to your crush sometime in 7th grade and got rejected, left to cry by yourself behind the school. Out of all your friends, only Deuce came to comfort you -- And so you, in your dramatic childish glory, feeling like you’d never find anyone to love, tell him the two of you should get married if you’re single by 30.

Deuce remembers every detail of that event down to how your eyes gleamed with the tears, how the light of the sunset casted that golden glow on your hair -- It was when he knew he loved you. It took him a while to find the right words to describe the feeling, but he’d been feeling it for a long time.

He doesn’t pursue you because he feels like he’ll grow out of it. You go to NRC together, the two of you against the world, and it’s like everyday he falls in love a little more. You support him through his attempts of being a honors student, and on the day of your graduation, the first thing you do is hug each other tight, cheering about how you made it, you finally made it.

You don’t lose contact with each other even after school. Deuce and you are basically attached to the hip, meeting up every other week to talk about college and then your jobs. Through all of this time you’re friends, both of you go through a handful of relationships each, but none of them are really serious. As you approach 30, Deuce remembers that promise from back then.

When your birthday comes up, you’re sort of gloomy over recent breakup, and Deuce, naturally, is the first one to be there for you. He shows up in the morning with a gift and makes you breakfast, your dear best friend warming your heart once more. You rant about your latest partner and exchange anecdotes about how last week went before everything goes silent, and suddenly his hand is hesitantly on yours.

“D-Do you remember, um.” He begins, face flushed. “That promise we made in middle school? That if we were single until 30...”

You blink. Really, that? It felt like so long ago -- It was hard to remember even. You can barely catch what he was going to try to say before you laugh your middle school self off, snickering at how naive you were -- Something in Deuce seems to shatter, then, and his hand retracts. It’s so fast you can barely tell what’s happening.

And he stays with you through the birthday regardless, of course he does. He’s your dearest friend, isn’t he?

the rest is under the cut cause... its long

Ace Trappola

You hated Ace, initially. You met in kindergarten and he was the worst, literally. Always pulling pranks on everyone and acting just so infuriatingly cheeky, your 5 year old self learned real rage through that little redhead boy who always hid your things just to get a rise out of you.

One day you decided to prank him back, causing massive trouble in the classroom that ends with the two of you getting intensely scolded, and that’s how, somehow, a beautiful friendship blooms. Ace gets this sparkle in his eyes when you’re done getting yelled at, and says that the two of you should be friends and work together on doing this to other people.

Since then you two became inseparable. You’d never stop bickering, but you also never left each other’s side. The two of you were a menace, an absolute terror to your teachers -- Whether you were a good kid before meeting him or not didn’t matter, Ace is great at being a bad influence.

Near the end of 4th grade, you begin hearing about how one of your classmate’s single parent was getting married again. This sparked a big conversation between your class, somehow, with everyone declaring who they wanted to marry. It was a silly childish thing. When your turn comes, you proudly announce that when you grew up, you’d marry Ace if you hadn’t married anyone else by 30, ‘cause no one else would choose him but me! You snicker after making the comment, amused at how mean you were being, but somehow your snarkiness seems to fly over Ace’s head.

It’s a thing that happens that you two never really talk about again, but it ticks in the back of his mind for his whole life as you two grow up. Even entering middle and then high school, he always remembers it when he goes through some sort of romantic disappointment. You really were the only one who always stuck around, after all...

Years go by and somehow you’re still by each other’s side. Every birthday that passes Ace thinks about it a little more, he wonders if that promise from ages ago was true. When your 30th birthday comes up the promise is constantly in his mind, he’s driving himself up the wall with expectation. And he doesn’t even know why he’s feeling like that, really, you two are just childhood friends, right? There’s no reason for him to be feeling so... like this.

Eventually, he just blurts it out, a couple days after said birthday. You two are probably just hanging out and ranting about work when he goes “Hey, you remember that stuff you said in 4th grade? About, uh, us getting married?” And you go silent for a beat. His heart races as he wonders what the hell he’s doing, even.

But you laugh it all off. What, that stuff about marrying you? Yeah, I was such a dumb kid. I was right, though, look how you’re still single, you joke, and it feels like a punch to the gut to Ace. He laughs awkwardly with you. Yeah, sure, how foolish the two of your were for thinking of something like... you two... being together like that...

Jack Howl

Jack was, before everything, the scary boy in your 2nd grade class. Beastmen weren’t exactly common at school, especially wolves like him, so he ended up sticking out quite a lot. Most kids, your friends included, thought he was far too scary to approach. And Jack himself seemed to be fine with that, not really interacting much with anyone.

That was all he was for you until, one day, an older kid gets mad at you during lunch for bumping into them and staining their shirt with juice. They’re about two or three years ahead and so much taller than you, you’re genuinely scared -- And who would know that in a moment like this, the one kid in your class you weren’t very fond of would stand up for you, convincing the bully to go away.

Afterwards, Jack asks if you’re okay, you two end up eating together, and the rest is history. You find out he was actually really sweet, despite seeming so tough, and you get comfortable with it. Jack was always a reliable, loyal friend, someone you knew you could count on.

This included when your friends started being weirded out by you for getting close to the scary boy in class. They get it in their heads that you have a crush on him and tease you for it, which makes you upset, but Jack stands up for you again. This was enough for you to be pretty starry eyed at the age of 7, so you declared that, hey, who cares about what these mean kids are saying! Maybe you and Jack should be together anyway. Actually, if you two got to 30 and you were still single, you should get married! Jack gets just as starry eyed as you, and you seal a pinky promise that day.

What you never knew, though, was that he wouldn’t grow out of it -- Because as time goes by and you two grow up alongside each other, it ends up slipping your mind. You meet new people and learn new things, getting into some relationships here and there, and though you’d taken the promise seriously for a bit when you were a kid, it was just something you laughed about now.

You don’t even remember it on Jack’s 30th birthday. You’re one of the first people to show up to the small gathering, naturally, you had known each other since forever. You’re teasing him about how he was so perpetually single even now, that you were reaching “marriage age”, and this seems to fluster him a bit.

“Well...” He starts, his ears going slightly limp. “I wanted... to keep that promise, you know. From when we were kids.” His voice is quiet, uncertain. It’s different from how you usually hear him talk, and you have no idea what he’s talking about. You question him about it, and he’s wide eyed when he realizes that you actually forgot.

He questions you about it. How could you forget? You two actually made a pinky promise about it -- But you’re just confused as to why he’s bringing this up, saying that of course it wasn’t a big deal, you two were just kids when it happened! Was he really expecting something from that? And when you ask him that, he’s silent.

Needless to say, the birthday is soured. Jack asks for you to leave, it’s a mess. You don’t know what you did wrong, exactly, just like you’re not sure how you could possibly fix this.

Ruggie Bucchi

“Partners in crime” was the only possible way to describe what sort of relationship you had with Ruggie. It starts in elementary school, you’re walking around in a farmer’s market near the slums and you catch him taking a handful of apples from a stand, without paying. Your eyes are wide as you remember who that boy was, a classmate of yours, and despite what your family had taught you about stealing, you walk up to the person taking care of the stand, and start chatting with them to distract them.

You’re not sure what really made you want to help this boy you barely knew, but it turned out to be the one thing in your life you’re the most grateful for, because the next day, when he sees you again in class, he runs up to you to thank you so many times in a row. And since then, you two started spending time together.

And you got along so well! Ruggie got along with most of the other kids and you had some friends of your own, but nothing was compared to how close the two of you were. You two scheme your way in and out of trouble through your school days, and at one point you can barely imagine your life without him.

Sometime mid 6th grade, your classmates start talking of crushes and dating and such, which gives you a lot to think about. You’re a bit upset that you seem to be the only one who isn’t in on the new fun, so one day, when you’re hanging out with Ruggie, you complain about feeling like you’d be single forever. Ruggie laughs and says that if no one wanted to be with you, then no one would want to be with him either. You still wonder what that meant.

In a fit of childishness, you say decisively that if you two were single until you were 30, you’d get married. Looking back on it, you can’t tell if you were kidding or not, but Ruggie and you shake hands mid-laughs, like you’re sealing a deal.

So time goes by. You don’t think too hard about that promise and Ruggie... doesn’t seem to, either, you actually wonder what’s going through his head often, because he rarely tells you what he’s thinking. You end up going to NRC together, to both of your families’ joy, and that just ends up making you closer, as two kids from the less-privileged side of the Afterglow Savannah in such a prestigious academy...

Your bond ends up really fire-forged after those four years, so it’s no surprise to anyone that you’d still be close even after you graduate, even as adults. Nothing could break a friendship like this.

You think about it on the day of your 30th birthday, when you’re out for drinks with Ruggie to celebrate. Really, how the hell did you stick to each other’s side for so long? You ask him as you loop an arm around his neck, and he grins. “Well, maybe we should get married like you promised then, y’know... when we were brats.” He says, a little quieter than your previous conversation. There’s a hint of some kind of different feeling there that you don’t catch at the time, scoffing at him and going, yeah, in your dreams.

The rest of the night goes normally, though you don’t hear from him for a couple days afterward... and when you do, he barely looks you in the eye. You wonder if anything bad happened, if you did anything wrong.

Vil Schoenheit

When Vil Schoenheit moved into your town, everybody was talking about him before he even really set foot into the classroom. Everyone had seen him somewhere -- The poster boy of villainy in all your favorite movies, a kid with a pretty face and a haughty aura.

You’re as curious as everyone else to meet him, though you don’t really share that strange vindictiveness the other kids seemed to have, angered at Vil himself for what his characters put others through. It’s so stupid, you thought, isn’t he just the actor? He might actually be nice.

When he arrives into the classroom, people are about as annoying towards him as you expected. Their disdain towards Vil bothered you, he’d barely said anything to others and yet they were already pegging him as a mean, arrogant person. So stupid, you repeat to yourself, and you decide to talk to him normally, and that’s how your ages-long friendship came to life.

Vil wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met. You come to find that he’s rather haughty, yes, and very strict with pretty much everything, but he was also very kind deep down, and willing to help you with anything you needed. He was a good friend. He was also, as you came to find out as you grew a little more, astoundingly pretty. With people disliking his “villainy” or not, by the time you’re starting middle school, he already consistently gets confessed to.

You’re a bit jealous. Not because you wanted Vil for yourself, no, he was just a good friend, but you wished people would find you as attractive as they found him, sometimes. You express that to him when you’re walking home together one day, and he laughs it off, saying it wasn’t as good as you thought it’d be. Still, you make him promise that if you were single by 30, he’d have to marry you, because if he just let you die alone, he’d be a bad friend. Vil seems strangely mesmerized by that, but he agrees.

Time goes by, you get to watch each other grow. Even with all the people going in and out of Vil’s life, he seems to keep you closer to his heart than everyone, and you never really lose contact with each other. Even when he’s busy, with movies or modeling or school, he still makes time to check up on you, and you see each other often.

When you’re actually nearing 30, Vil has reached a sort of stardom that burned your eyes just looking at, and you were so goddamn proud of him it was real. Somehow, he still makes time to show up for your birthday, after about a month of not really seeing each other -- And he spoils you to death on that day, the two of you spending all of it together and talking until it was late at night.

As the sun is about to rise, though, Vil’s chattiness subsides. About as sleep deprived as you, he says, softly “So since we’ve gotten there, and we’re both still single... maybe we should fulfill that promise from years ago, shouldn’t we?” You take a moment to process it, it’s tough remembering exactly when you made such a promise, but eventually you do. You feel like that should’ve been a joke, but the way Vil looks at you isn’t saying joke at all.

You sort of laugh it off either way, though. What, that silly promise? You ask, are you rubbing it in that you’re prettier than me? I can still find a partner looking like this, y’know. You think it’s funny, but Vil suddenly falls completely silent.

He then sighs, almost wistful, and says “Sure you can” before the conversation progresses... you’re not sure what happened, but life goes on after that like nothing happened. Deep down, Vil is feeling stupid for having taken the promise to heart, like he should have known better... but if you never really meant it, then what could he do but give it up? Even though it was the thing he wanted to do the least... he valued your friendship too much to do something that could possibly ruin it.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst imagines #twst x reader #deuce spade #ace trappola #jack howl #ruggie bucchi #vil schoenheit #deuce spade x reader #ace trappola x reader #jack howl x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #lis writing

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cherry-lipbalm · 3 years

Text

a son of a bitch in a camper van. spencer reid.

3.9k words.

masterlist

the gif’s a bit blurry yet he’s still endearing x

in which things happen just like that.

Local law enforcement, accompanied by the BAU, have been sitting in a besieging of this goddamn camper van for so long now that the majority of them were highly considering setting up a tent. If it hadn't been already, it sure as hell was scraping up to be a long night.

Spencer couldn't feel his feet, and he had given up on aiming his gun at the RV a long time ago. The sheriffs had been handing out fold-up chairs for those who were observing any potential activity and hadn't resorted to lounging in their cars.

Morgan had offered his to Spencer, who took it gratefully after he got up from falling on his ass when Derek pulled it out from under him. Spencer was only just about to jump on him when they spotted Hotch's glare from over his shoulder. This is a crime scene they could practically hear him say, so Spencer settled for a harsh shove on his colleague's arm and they left it at that.

And that was probably the most exciting thing to have happened over the course of this man-watch; and that was... three hours ago, now? Time, at this point, had become unsubstantial.

"Are we sure he's even still in there?" Morgan asked, gesturing to the derelict camper van a few yards away from them. He had retrieved another chair, and was sat behind the barricade of police cars, but nonetheless held tightly onto the gun resting in his lap.

"I think so," Spencer squinted over the red and blues, assessing the vehicle. If you could even call it that; the thing was basically crumbling to pieces. As much as he believed it, he couldn't comprehend how someone was actually in there, and for so long. It looked uninhabitable.

"The whole thing’s surrounded," a new voice interjected into the conversation, "he went in, and hasn't come out. Detectives say they can see him walking about now and then."

Morgan and Reid both turned in their chairs. If the dire situation surrounding them wasn't so obvious, one could have easily believed they were on a fishing trip of some sorts, except one should know that Morgan had already taken Spencer fishing once, and the result was... eventful, to say the least. A trip to the ER and five stitches later, Reid vowed to never do anything with Morgan ever again.

"Hey, sugar. How you holdin' up?" Morgan greeted, relaxing back into his not-so-relaxing chair.

Y/N sighed, a guttural groan emitting from the exudation of her breath. She looked up to the sky, and was thankful that at least they had a pretty night to look at, because this guy was not moving any time soon.

Reid and Morgan both assessed her as she stepped out from behind their set-up, coming out of the shadows almost menacingly, into the light of police sirens and the distant lamp beaming from inside the camper van.

"I'd be holding up a lot better if this bastard did something," she said. Her feet crunched the soil as she grabbed a spare chair and planted it next to Spencer. He tried to resist the urge to pull back her chair. Emphasis on the word tried.

When Y/N's bum didn't connect with the seat, the realisation hit her too late and all she could do was let out a yell while she headed straight for the ground.

"Oh, you dick!" She cried when she plummeted into the grass. Looking at her mud-ridden hands in disgust, she didn't hesitate to wipe it on Spencer's beloved dress shirt, making sure to taint his sweater vest too.

"Hey! Hey!" He retracted frantically, shoving himself into the side of his chair to get away from Y/N and her hands that could deposit any more Earth onto him. All the while, Morgan laughed his head off, almost facing the same fate as Y/N when his chair leaned back from his laughing fit.

"Children," Hotch called, reprimanding them over Y/N's grimaces and the boys' amusement, which quickly ended when they saw the Unit Chief striding over.

"Did you see that, Hotch? That's harassment in the workplace!"

"Can I please remind you that we are on a crime scene. We are the FBI, and no doubt are going to make a lasting impression on local law enforcement, is this really how you want to be remembered?"

The three fell into sullen expressions, bowing their heads ashamedly as to not make eye contact with him. But Morgan was still snickering subtly behind his hand, and Spencer was biting down on his lip to avoid a sudden burst of laughter that he knew would be more than inevitable while they were being scolded due to the pseudobulbar effect; he'd explain it to them when they were no longer being rebuked.

Eventually Hotch did walk away, leaving them with a castigating glare Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to shake. In response, she took the subsequent silence as an opportunity to slap Spencer on the arm, hard.

"Ow!" He hushed, immediately rubbing his bicep where he was sure a bruise would be forming. If he wasn't aching he would be impressed that she managed to inflict so much pain from so low down.

"Nice one, you got me in trouble with Hotch!" She hissed. Derek had resumed laughing.

"Sorry, teacher's pet," Spencer called her. Then, whispered here we go to himself at what he had just unavoidably instigated.

"Coming from you?" Morgan and Y/L/N said simultaneously, a snark tone to their words. He pursed his lips and looked to them blankly, rolling his eyes at their unified laughter.

They all eased a bit after that, despite the wake of Hotch's wrath. Spencer pulled Y/N up from the ground, and then began to aid her in wiping the soil from her trousers, prompting an awkward encounter when he realised his hand was right on her ass. She gave him a glare, and he raised his muddy hands in surrender while he sat back down, leaving her to do it herself.

When she was somewhat clean, she dragged her chair back and sat in it, pointing a warning finger in Spencer's face as she did so to let him know not to try anything sneaky.

When she relaxed, Y/N thought the scenery was quite nice; get rid of the police cars, black SUVs and the serial killer less than ten metres away from them and it could make for an ideal holiday destination. All they needed was a couple of beers and a bonfire.

Ah, fire. Warmth! Y/N was beginning to forget what it felt like. She wrapped herself further into the complimentary FBI jacket she'd been given upon her arrival to the team. It made for cool recognition, and got her into a lot of places, but, god, did it do fuck all for practical thermal purposes.

"You're cold?" Spencer queried when he noticed her enveloping her arms around herself.

"Freezing," she replied.

"You should go in the car. Emily put the heating on in there earlier, it'll be warm now."

"What? And leave all the fun for you guys? Over my dead body," she turned her head to shoot him a smirk. He inhaled deeply, faltering a smile in her direction and let a comfortable silence fall between them. Y/N even painted on a genuine grin for him, and let the blush she felt warm her up from the cold.

The next few minutes after this go very quickly, but from what Y/N can barely grasp, it goes like this: the camper van's door is thrown open, and out comes this beast of a man who, if he had them, would have had guns blazing. This is evident from his demeanour; the word beast did not originate from his physique, no, he is a fragile, small boy, but the way he is yelling and screaming is nothing of the juvenile sort. And so, he is doing his yelling and screaming and, frankly, taking no prisoners.

All he has on him is a revolver, but it's enough for every police officer and agent to swing into action. Spencer and Morgan's chairs both fall to the ground upon the abruptness of how they suddenly stand, guns drawn. Y/N is already one step ahead of them, and fails to shield herself from their unsub behind any car door like everyone else had the sense to; even if he were without weapons, they were facing the human embodiment of the word danger.

Spencer shouts at Y/N to defend herself, but she pretends she doesn't hear because this bastard made her wait four hours in the freezing cold, the least she could do was have an eye on him, so Spencer takes her cover.

Which turns out to be the fault in this story, because Spencer loves Y/N. And anyone with a pair of eyes can see it and, unfortunately for them, their unsub happened to have a pair of eyes.

He sees the way this pipe cleaner of a man is aiming his gun at him so determinedly, and how his gaze is switching between him and this girl in a frivolous FBI jacket. And he's already blissfully aware that there's no way he is getting out of here alive, but if he is going down then he's sure as hell taking someone with him. He only has one bullet and figures it's a 2 for 1 deal judging by the way pipe-cleaner man is so obviously in love with shitty-jacket girl. And then next thing anyone knows is Y/N is on the ground again but this time a bullet has buried itself in her chest.

Spencer takes the shot, and then a few more even though their unsub has fallen to the ground. And as much as he wants to rush over to Y/N he knows he doesn't have the emotional capacity to see what state she is in, but what he does have is rage, and a whole lot of it, so he just keeps on shooting. He's already dead but that doesn't matter. He keeps shooting until his barrel is empty and Hotch is pulling him away.

A detective approaches the unsub, even though his fate is more than assured, while a flurry of people surround Y/N, falling to her side, but she's only asking for one.

"Spencer," she utters. It hurts for her to talk or even breathe but she knows the pain will only continue so she pays the small price of adding to it in order to make sure Spencer is by her side for the remainder of it all.

Morgan grabs the boy, shakes him from his trance and then pushes him through the crowd so he can kneel beside Y/N. The squelching noise of his trousers drenching in her blood almost makes him vomit, but he swallows it down for Y/N's sake. He already covered her in mud, he knows better than to be sick on her too.

"Y/N," his voice trembles, but the way he turns to shout at the people around him is so full of strength and fury that people jump immediately into action. He yells for an ambulance, even though there's already one on scene and it's just behind them, but what else can he do?

"I'm fine," Y/N manages, "I'm fine."

She was not, indeed, fine.

She tries to scramble to her feet, but finds she can't even attempt sitting up without a pain searing throughout her whole body, ripping her nerves apart like resolute Velcro.

"It's alright," Spencer says, panicked as he tries to keep her from hurting herself. He brushes the blood-stained hair from her face but regrets it when he sees how it's contorted in pain. Thankfully, she soon relaxes, until he realises that's not a good thing at all.

"No, no, Y/N, stay with me alright? Can you do that? Listen to me!"

So he's yelling at the girl he loves, which is no use because she can't hear him and her eyes are already closed. He's so desperate that he pushes her eyelids open himself, but what lies underneath is unresponsive. He holds his hand tightly over what pulse she has left.

Y/N is dying in Spencer's arms. And she can't help but think that if she was to go, she wouldn't mind it to be here and now. But, with what lingering conscious remains, she realises it wouldn't be her who would have to face the repercussions of her death, it would be her friends. Her family. Spencer.

Spencer who had done nothing but love her ferociously ever since they had met; silently and from afar, but passionately nonetheless. She loved him too correspondingly and too much to kill him with the grief.

So she takes a breath.

But he doesn't even have a chance to say goodbye, never mind ask to go in the back of the ambulance with her when she is ripped from his grasp and placed onto the gurney. The ambulance doors slam close and he forgets what it feels like to move. Morgan's hand on his shoulder feels foreign, and when he does eventually move, it's a surge of chaos.

Their unsub isn't receiving any medical attention, because Reid sorted that out irrefutably, so there's really not that many people around and Morgan isn't even fully aware to stop him when Spencer steals his gun from his holster and marches to the corpse lying in the grass. Surrounded by the greenery, the son of a bitch looks almost peaceful so, when Spencer is unloading the bullets on him, he makes sure to add a few in his face for good measure.

This time, no one stops him.

———

"How is she?" JJ asks, who's only just arrived at the hospital in a hurry after receiving the call. She's pretty tenacious considering the situation, especially when you compare her to the ball of pink and panic standing next to her.

"Is she alright? Oh, God, please let her be alright," Garcia utters. She's straight in Derek's arms, who's been crying but to no one's acknowledgement because they all decided they need to be strong, for Y/N's sake. Still, it doesn't stop JJ shedding a few tears from moment to moment.

"She's in surgery," is all Hotch says, because it's all he knows. One minute he was scolding her to get off the ground and the next he was begging her to.

JJ takes a seat immediately next to Emily, and they unanimously clutch onto each other's hands. Opposite them, Morgan and Garcia do the same. It is here that JJ realises the person who should probably be in the company of his friends the most, isn't.

"Where's Spence?"

"Bathroom," Morgan tells her. "He's been in there a while. Won't talk to anyone."

So when Spencer does come out, almost on cue a few seconds later, everyone stands up attentively and tries to decide whether they will ignore his red eyes. They do, and Spencer sits down in a chair next to Morgan. He virtually collapses into his side.

Morgan is reminded of their fishing trip turned ER trip a few months prior. From the way Spencer is resting dependently on his shoulder, the days are identical, except this time Spencer's pain isn't physical and can't be fixed with five stitches.

Everyone looks at Spencer with evident pity, so he burrows himself further into Morgan's t-shirt. When Derek feels the wet indication of tears, he stands up with an arm wrapped around his shoulders and says "let's take a walk".

Spencer doesn't want to, but he's already reached the grieving stage and his body and mind are no longer connected. The only way in which they are associated is that Spencer's mind is mush and his limbs are moving so similarly sluggishly that Morgan is verging on dragging him along the hallways.

Just when Spencer is thinking that Morgan has really just brought him to aimlessly wander the corridors, his friend stops him and holds onto his shoulders. He notices how he has to look away for a moment because he never really managed to register just how bloodshot his eyes were.

"Listen here, pretty boy. You got a girl in there who is fighting for her life. She is, without a doubt, scared, okay? So you need to be strong for her and for yourself, alright? And when she pulls through, because she will, you've gotta take that strength, and you've gotta use it," Morgan said. He was prodding a finger to Spencer's chest to try and get his message across, but he had no idea what that message entailed.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you gotta get your girl, man," his shoulders dropped.

Spencer's face portrays a small smile like he always does when he's hopeless, and his mutterings are almost drowned out by the incessant beeping of hospital machinery, but Morgan catches them.

"What if I don't get a chance to?"

They're interrupted then, much to Morgan's gratitude, because he really didn't know how he was going to respond to that.

Hotch is at the end of the hallway, his chest rising quickly in a pant. Spencer fears the worst.

"She's out."

And suddenly, nothing else matters. Not to Spencer, at least. He shoots off down the hallway like a rock in a catapult; so quickly that Morgan doesn't even ascertain his disappearance until the news has sunk in and he's chasing after him too.

He keeps thinking that. Nothing else matters, nothing else matters. He repeats the mantra in his head while he meanders frantically through the halls; he lost sight of Hotch a while ago when he raced past him and now he's realised he doesn't even know where Y/N is. Nothing else matters he justifies when he bumps into a nurse during his frenzy and doesn't have the time nor consideration to apologise.

When he reaches a small empty square, with four hallways sprouting from it, he cradles his hands behind his head and tries to control his breathing; something he's forgotten how to do correctly. He steps forward, hoping his feet will just know where to go.

Somehow, they do.

He's only taken one step, but when he advances into the hallway to his right, he hears someone breathe his name; it's weak, and feeble, but he'd know her voice anywhere.

His mouth is already agape when he looks over. The door is wide open, just like his eyes with a mixture of hope and fear-stricken astonishment. Inside the room the team is crowded around the bed, looking down on the fragile agent.

Just like before, he forgets what it feels like to move. His feet are stuck in place and even though his mind is racing there is no telling his limbs to do... anything. So, for now, he just peers into the room. Y/N's eyes are begging him to enter but he can't bring himself to do it. If he walks in that means it's real. The heart monitor, the bandages, the dried blood coating her neck that the nurses missed in their clean up: it's all real.

"Reid, trust me. This is a hell of a better ending, okay? This is the one you want," Morgan clasps his hand down on Spencer's shoulder, hissing to him to try and spark some kind of unlikely reaction, but to no avail. Spencer didn't even realise Morgan and Hotch had caught up to him.

He enviously watches them enter the room with such ease. They kiss Y/N's cheek and hug her close. Morgan leans his hands on the end of the hospital bed and tries to talk to her, but she's only looking at Spencer with betrayal in her eyes.

Before Spencer can whisper a futile apology and rush out of the hospital, his brain almost goes into override, suddenly providing him with all the reasons he should do anything but that.

He sees Y/N's face, the way she smiled at him before. The way she's always smiled at him. He hears her laughter, feels her touch. He feels the warmth he experiences whenever she is near. And suddenly, again, nothing else matters.

Nothing but you.

Hotch instinctively lets a hand hover over his holster due to the precipitous manner Spencer barges into the room with. The sole of his shoes squeak against the floor in his hurry and Y/N would grimace if she had the space to because next thing she knows Spencer's lips are on hers and his hands are encasing her face in a way that doesn't make her feel claustrophobic like she always thought it would.

She can't help but think how embarrassing it is that her coworkers are watching this scene unfold —her boss too, and she knows he'll probably be obliged to give them some talk about appropriate behaviour between colleagues, but she doesn't care. Nothing else matters but Spencer.

He doesn't stop there, Spencer wants to kiss her more and Y/N is more than happy to allow it. Her fingers can only fondle the wrinkle of his shirt because it hurts to much to raise her arms, but Spencer is practically lying on top of her and she can get a good feel of his torso through the clothing. His warmth radiates onto her and she hums happily against his lips. When he begins to pull away, she grabs onto his tie and doesn't let him.

She thinks a few of the team have turned around, because it's eerily silent except for a few sniggers from —who she assumed— Morgan, and excited squeals from —who she knew was— Garcia.

When Spencer pulled away, successfully this time, he let out a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he croaked.

"For what?"

"I should have covered you."

"Shut up. From what I've heard you covered me pretty well," she said, and Spencer knew she had been told about his vengeful face-shooting incident. He bowed his head, and smiled weakly when Y/N pulled him back up from his tie. It became less weak when she pecked his lips.

"I'm okay," she whispered to him, like they were the only ones in the room, "we're okay. He's gonna rot for it."

Spencer nodded, and what he couldn't say in words he made up for in affection: his kisses were short, but none lacked the passion that was necessary to tell her how he felt. She felt every one of his kisses throughout her body. Where her chest ached with the pain of being shot now burned with a feverish love for Spencer.

"I, uh, I am going to have to hold a seminar on fraternisation next week," Hotch leaned forward to interject, which worked a treat in eliciting the laughter needed to brighten the mood.

Those that had turned swirled back on their heels and beamed at the new couple. Spencer sat on the edge of Y/N's bed, his hands encased around hers and resting on his lap. They exchanged assuring glances momentarily within the soft conversations of the team.

When Y/N looked up to Spencer again she smiled, and he knew she was thinking the same thing as himself: these people matter, and you, you matter the most.

fin.

#spencer reid gifset #spencer reid #dr Spencer reid #dr reid #Spencer Walter reid #dr Spencer Walter reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #Spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid imagines #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid one shot

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captain-josslett · 3 years

Text

Broken Melody - Part Thirty Five

Masterlist

Summary: Grammy Award winning Emma Danvers is the first to say she has a pretty good life. But what happens when it implodes around her and it looks like things will never be the same again?

Words: 4.1k+

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Injury

Pairings: Emma Danvers x Lena Luthor, Alex Danvers x Sam Arias

This Part: Has the surgery been a success?

Man, sorry for the delay. Life has been hectic here and thankfully my Dad is okay. Despite having a mini heart attack and not being happy about the new meal plan and exercise he is doing 😅 I'm already 2k in on part 36... so hopefully won't be too long

Thank you for reading and let me know if you wanna be tagged or any general feedback will be greatly appreciated. Please! I like knowing your thoughts.

Taglist: @finleyfray, @life-is-hella-unfair, @natasha-danvers, @supergirl-writingz, @camslightstories, @thinking1bee, @aznblossom

Lena holds her breath, along with everyone else in the room, as they watch Emma open her mouth.

‘Please work, please work, please work, please work, please, please, please.’ Lena wishes over and over, trying not to squeeze Emma’s hand too tight with her nerves.

But nothing happens.

Only the sound of her breath emits from Emma’s throat.

At this realisation, Lena’s stomach drops. She immediately schools her expression and tries to keep the devastation off her face as pained hazel green eyes snap to hers.

“Okay.” Doctor Sloan’s voice is calm despite the growing tension in the room. He pours some water into a cup and holds it out for Emma to take. “Have some water and try again.”

Lena observes the slight shake in Emma’s hand as she reaches out and takes the cup, lifting it to her lips. Wincing as the cool liquid slides down her swollen throat.

Taking another deep breath Emma slowly opens her mouth again and tries to make any sound.

Nothing comes out.

Doctor Sloan begins talking, his voice is soft and reassuring but all Lena can hear is the blood pumping around her ears and she lowers her head.

‘This is your fault.’ Her mind whispers cruelly to her. ‘If you hadn’t left her that day, if you had been there this wouldn’t have happened, if you had been enough-’

A scrape of a chair makes Lena’s head snap back up. Seeing Eliza jump up quickly and hold a clearly distraught Emma in her arms.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Eliza whispers into Emma’s ear as her daughter nuzzles her face into the crook of her Mom’s neck. Her mouth opens in silent sobs, her breath coming out in pained gasps.

Lena peers behind her, Alex, Kara, Lucy and Sam have disappeared from the room. Nia has her head in her hands and Lena can see tears falling to the floor, Brainy and Winn are already looking over their tablets, conversing on the next steps they could do to help. J’onn sadly meets her eyes and goes to sit in the chair Eliza just vacated.

“I don’t care!” Alex’s enraged voice yells from the open door leading into the corridor, making Lena let go of Emma’s hand and stride out of the room towards the other voices of her friends. Promptly closing the door as she steps through it, not wanting it to further stress Emma.

She pauses at the scene in front of her. Alex’s face red with fury, the doctor against the wall with Alex’s arm pressed against his neck. Sam and Kara have their hands on her shoulders to stop her, while Lucy just watches with her arms crossed tightly against her chest and Doctor Hamilton stares at the scene with her mouth open like a goldfish.

“Look, I know you’re upset, I get that.” Doctor Sloan says calmly, trying to soothe the furious redhead. “We knew this surgery might not succeed but others still might, possibly, work. This is a foundation for us to work on, to use different therapies, injections in her neck. There are other options we can use.”

“Alex.” Kara pleads softly, tears brimming her eyes.

“It didn’t work.” Alex gasps out as she shakes with adrenaline.

“Not this time.” The Doctor says with genuine sorrow in his eyes. “But I promise you, I am going to do everything in my power so that one day your sister can talk.”

“And sing.” Lucy narrows her eyes at him.

Doctor Sloan pauses and takes a deep intake of breath. “Hopefully.”

“Hopefully?!” Alex barks, her rage reigniting.

“Babe, that’s enough.” Sam pulls her girlfriend off the Doctor and holds her in an embrace.

“It didn’t work. It didn’t work.” Alex’s muffled voice can be heard weeping out.

Tears prick Lena’s eyes and she clenches her jaw. Slowly she builds up an expressionless mask to hide the devastation she is feeling. A wall to keep her pain in.

She watches as Doctor Sloan turns to leave with Doctor Hamilton and Lena strides after them. Stepping into the CEO, scientist role and out of her girlfriend status.

“Doctor Sloan.” She calls after him, passing her desolate friends on the way.

“Ms Luthor.” He nods at her apprehensively.

“I would like to discuss with you the equipment you used.” Lena motions for him to lead the way to Doctor Hamilton's office to continue their discussion.

Lucy watches her leave with the Doctors and debates about whether she should follow or not.

Deciding against it she turns back to Sam, Alex and Kara. The blonde superhero was now hugging Alex as the two sisters tried to console each other.

Sam and Lucy’s eyes meet and Lucy nods before turning back to go into the room. They will get through this. They have too.

-- -- --

Two Days After The Surgery

Emma is lying on her side in her bed. The room is in partial darkness with the windows being slightly tinted. Not allowing the sunlight to enter all day and distorting the colour of the sunset that she is ignoring.

Her throat feels tight and itchy from the surgery and all Emma really wants to do is sleep to escape the memories of the past few days. To escape to dreams filled with beaches, quiet places and safety.

Not the memories of seeing the devastation written on everyone’s faces. The absolute agony that exploded within her at the realisation that the surgery hadn’t worked.

The way her Mom was the only one who comforted her right away. That Lena had let go of her hand and disappeared, along with her sisters. When all Emma needed and wanted in that moment was to be in her arms. To have Lena’s soothing voice reassure her things will be okay. For her sisters to be sitting on the bed with her and comforting her.

She hears a light knock on the bedroom door but doesn’t move, just keeps staring ahead.

“Love?” Lena’s voice softly calls into the dark room after she pushes open the door. Emma hears the soft patter of Lena’s footsteps on the carpet until Emma feels the bed dips behind her. “Hey.” Lena coos out and wraps an arm around Emma’s waist. “Are you okay?”

‘No.’ Emma thinks but instead she reaches for her girlfriend’s hand and squeezes it three times.

“I love you too, but you didn’t answer my question.”

Emma doesn’t respond, just stares straight ahead at nothing. Her eyes fill, for what feels the millionth time, with tears.

“Em.” Lena’s voice cracks and Emma feels Lena roll her onto her other side. Darkness surrounds Emma as Lena holds her close but Emma doesn’t move.

“Lee?” Kara’s voice quietly calls from the bedroom door and Emma hears two sets of footprints pad over to the bed. “Hi little one.” Kara says softly but Emma keeps her head nuzzled in Lena’s chest.

“Has she been in bed all day?” Alex’s voice queries Lena.

“I- yes, I think so. I did try to get her up earlier but she just lays here.”

Emma hears Alex sigh heavily and feels Alex get on the bed behind her. “Hey peanut.” A hand touches Emma’s shoulder and she unintentionally flinches under her sister’s hand. “Sorry.” Alex’s hand falters for a moment but gently lowers until it's fully resting on her shoulder again. Emma slowly breathes out and forces the tears to not fall.

“Everyone’s here for a Superfriends night. We will do whatever you want.” Kara's voice sounds airy and light but frustration bubbles within Emma. All she wants to do is lay in bed and sleep and not have to perform. To pretend she is okay.

Emma lets out a heavy breath through her nose, to try and release the bubbling frustration she is feeling.

“You don’t have to love. You can stay in here and rest. No one is expecting anything from you.” Lena says softly in Emma’s ear and kisses the top of her head.

Emma nods but stretches against Lena. Signalling she is about to get up.

Seeing this Alex moves off the bed and Emma rolls over and tries to sit up. The room spins, making her flop back into Lena.

The raven haired beauty chuckles, thinking it's due to Emma’s stiff body that she’s fallen back.

“I’ll help you up.” Alex reaches down and takes a hold of Emma’s hands. “On the count of three. One, two, threeee!”

Emma lets Alex help sit her up, also feeling Lena placing her hands on her back in case she falls again. When Alex moves away Emma carefully moves her legs off the bed, squinting her eyes as Lena turns the lights on.

“You are cleared to eat soft foods, so Nia and Brainy made us macaroni and cheese.” Kara says while heading into the walk-in wardrobe to grab Emma some fresh clothes. “I mean, it was Brainy’s idea which was really sweet.” Kara places the clothes by Emma and gives her a small smile.

Emma curves her lips up in response and nods. Wincing at the movement and runs a tired hand through her hair.

“We’ll see you out there.” Alex grabs a hold of Kara’s hand and they leave the room.

“Do you need help changing?” Lena asks beside her, having shuffled across the bed to sit next to her girlfriend.

Emma shakes her head and removes her t-shirt, exposing her naked chest. Making Lena groan.

“I can’t believe we have to wait over a month for me to ravish you.” Lena moans softly and kisses Emma’s cheek. “Good job we fucked in the bath huh?” Lena kisses Emma’s lips and the blonde kisses back. Smirking as Lena runs a hand gently over her chest.

The couple had been prepared that they couldn’t have sex for a while after the surgery. But when Doctor Sloan admitted the time frame to being a month and a half, Lena wanted to punch the Doctor.

Emma turns and raises an eyebrow at her. “I can still please you.”

“I know love. But I want to please you as well.” Lena slowly leans in and tenderly kisses Emma’s lips. “Plus, we do have to be careful.”

Emma lets out a heavy breath as she sighs and nods. Grabbing her clothes she quickly changes into loose jeans and a navy t-shirt with a sloth surfing a wave, while Lena waits on the bed.

“How do you make a simple outfit look so sexy?” Lena smirks at Emma, her eyes bright and glistening.

Emma gives her a small smile in response, which causes Lena’s to drop slightly.

“Hey, come here.” Lena opens her arms and Emma momentarily hesitates before falling into them. “I know this is less than ideal but we will get through this.”

Emma snuggles her head into Lena’s neck and breathes deeply. Allowing the feelings of safety and love to replace the anxiety she was feeling.

“Hey love birds!” Lucy shouts from the living area. “If you don’t come now all the food is gonna be consumed by two and a half cranky Kryptonians!”

“Hey!” Ruby squawks from the other room as Kara and Sam join in.

“Excuse me?!”

“I’m not cranky!!”

“Point proven babe.” Alex laughs and the sound of a light slap follows. “Ow! Hey Emma, help me!”

Pulling away from Lena, Emma quickly gets up and rushes into the living area. Alex is rubbing her arm and rolling her bottom lip forward as Sam shakes her head and chuckles.

“Emma!” Ruby yells and rushes over to the blonde.

“Ruby! Care-”

The teenager collides heavily with Emma, making her dispel a lot of air as she wraps her arms around her.

“-ful.” Sam finishes and rolls her eyes at her daughter. “Seriously that kid.”

Emma hugs Ruby back and smiles at them. When the teen breaks away Emma quickly moves to Alex’s side and wraps her arms protectively around her sister.

“She slapped me.” Alex whines and snuggles closer into Emma.

“Aww baby! I barely touched you.” Sam rubs Alex’s shoulder and sweetly kisses her cheek. Emma kisses Alex’s other cheek and shoots Sam a dirty look, making the brunette laugh. “I promise I won’t hurt her Em.”

Emma quickly nods and Alex nuzzles her nose into the side of Emma’s face.

“So food now?” Kara smiles brightly and lifts the lid on the simmering pan. “Rao, this smells so good!”

��Ooo yummy!” Ruby agrees as she takes in a big sniff of the delicious food.

“Thank you Kara, Ruby.” Brainy nods his head and picks up the spoon to dish the macaroni out.

“Yay!” Kara super speeds into a seat at the extended dining table with Ruby following right behind her. J’onn and Kara have flown in another fold up table and chairs so everyone could sit around a table together and eat.

Emma lets out a heavy snort through her nose as she watches her sister and the teenager.

“May they never change.” Alex laughs and moves to get everyone's drinks.

“Emma! Come sit next to me!” Ruby pats the vacant chair next to her. Emma grins slightly and goes to run over to them. Suddenly the room shifts and morphs around her.

‘Fuck no!’ Emma’s eyes go wide and she tries to avoid crashing into the table. Instead she trips on a chair leg, sending it flying and causing herself to slide across the floor, hitting her head on the back of the sofa.

“EMMA?!” A chorus of voices cry out her name and many rush over to her.

‘Ow.’ Emma moans, quickly sitting up with a cheerful smile on her face to show she was okay. But a blush colours her cheeks, showing her embarrassment.

“Stay down!” Alex orders furiously, her worry giving away to anger and Emma freezes as her sister kneels in front of her. “I need to check your wound.” She snaps and reaches out to pull the plaster away.

“Alex, wait!” Lena shouts urgently while kneeling next to her. She gently takes Emma’s hand and helps her sit fully up against the back of the sofa. “Deep breaths for me okay?”

Catching on to what Lena is trying to do, Alex’s face softens. “I’ll be gentle.”

Emma nods and focuses her eyes on Lena’s as Alex slowly pulls the band-aid off.

“Wow, this is actually healing really well.” Alex mutters and gently presses certain parts of Emma’s neck for any tears in the stiches, causing Emma to tighten her grip on Lena’s hand. Trying to keep herself grounded in the present.

“So, I was thinking-” Lena begins talking, seeing how Emma’s eyes were starting to glaze over and wanting to stop Emma’s nosedive into an episode. “Maybe we should take that trip soon?” Relief fills her as Emma’s eyes are able to focus on her and her eyes start to brighten with interest. “Go somewhere like the Maldives to unwind, swim in the sea, snorkel and you know-” Lena coughs lightly and lowers her voice towards Emma’s ear. “Other things.”

A quick puff of air escapes Emma’s lips as she voicelessly snorts.

“What like food?” Kara pipes up as she watches them from the table, having frozen in shock at Emma’s fall.

“Yes Kara, especially the food.” Alex says sarcastically and rolls her eyes at Emma, causing the blonde to grin. “Can someone get me a wi-”

“Here you go babe.” Sam appears in a blur and hands Alex a cleansing wipe and a new neck plaster.

“Thanks.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Ruby asks nervously to her Mom.

“Yes Rubes she is.” Sam hugs her daughter reassuringly and ushers her back to her seat.

Alex does the task quickly and soon everyone is sitting around the table eating the meal Brainy and Nia had made while listening to Winn’s story about successfully stopping a bank robbery with James.

“And then the idiots decide to run while-”

“I swooped in and pummeled the sons of bitches and-”

“James! Children present!” Sam barks.

“Moooom!” Ruby whines but motions for James to continue.

Emma’s eyes quickly move to Winn and watch him deflate back into his chair as James takes over the story. As if sensing her gaze Winn looks up at her and Emma lifts her mouth into a smile. The corner of his mouth lifts up and he nods before shoving more food in his mouth.

“Sweetheart?” Eliza quietly catches her attention from across the table. “You need to eat some more.”

Emma glances down at her bowl of food and realises she’s barely touched it. Lowering her fork Emma scoops up a few pieces of macaroni and slowly chews it. The pain almost makes her wince but Emma doesn’t want to seem ungrateful for the kind gesture Nia and Brainy did for her.

Her Mom nods and smiles at her before turning back to J’onn to continue their conversation.

Emma continues picking at her food and listens to the different exchanges happening around the table. Her stomach pinches as she wants to join in the conversations but knows the rhythm of communications will severely slow down while she signs and someone speaks her words out for her.

Instead Emma keeps her head down and continues eating, imagining different melodies and lyrics for songs. Her fingers softly moving against the surface of the table as if she is playing ivory keys.

If anyone notices Emma’s subdued mood, they leave her be. Putting it down to fatigue from the surgery and emotional exhaustion from the aftermath.

Lena does slip her left hand under the table and rests it on Emma’s right thigh, making the blonde jump but Lena soothingly rubs her thumb back and forth, settling Emma quickly.

“-you think Emma?” Winn’s voice asks, bringing her out of her little music bubble.

“Winn was asking whether we should all go to the carnival next week?” Lena says helpfully having seen Emma snap out of her daze.

But before Emma can even process James pipes up.

“It may have to be the week after, there’s the convention at the arena.”

“Also gives us time to hire it out for a few hours.” Alex nods in thought. “Be nice not to have to wear face modifiers.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Lena nods and smiles.

“That sounds like fun!” Nia claps her hands and beams at the group.

“And talking of next week, as everyone is here, Alex’s moving date is a week tomorrow. If anyone wants to help?” Sam says with a bright smile, causing Emma to smile back and nod.

“Really? That soon?” James enquires, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yes, I’m practically spending all my time at Sam and Ruby’s apartment, so it makes sense.” Alex glares right back at her friend.

“And you don’t think you are moving too quickly since-” James jumps as a foot kicks his shin, he turns his head and glares at Winn.

“No, I don’t. Since it was your sister who left me.” Alex responds coolly.

James lifts his glass in surrender. “True. And someone has to keep the typical u-haul lesbians trend alive. Cheers.” He smirks and downs his drink, Alex lifts her beer and salutes him before taking a sip.

The night continues without any more hitches as the superfriends clear the table and a group game of monopoly starts. Emma typically pairs with Lena as her partner and mainly rests her head on Lena’s shoulder as the game progresses.

“What do you think love?” Lena asks, trying to keep Emma involved in the game. “Shall we swap our browns for the green James and Winn are offering?”

Emma nods, seeing it would be a good swap as they already had the two other properties and would create a set.

It was indeed a good move as more and more players land on their properties and Lena gleefully takes their money.

“Thank you kindly!” She smiles brightly as Sam thrusts all of Alex’s and her money, bankrupting them and winning Lena and Emma the game.

“Well done Aunty Lee.” Ruby yawns and copies Emma by resting her head on her Mom’s shoulder.

Lena smiles at the teen and the game is packed away. The group starts saying their goodbyes, all giving Emma reassuring hugs and consoling words.

Soon only Alex, Kara, Lena and Emma are in the apartment. The sisters hover by the balcony door while Lena finishes packing up the dishwasher, having already said her farewells. Kara seemingly held onto her longer than usual as they hugged.

“So, shall we have a sister night here on Friday?” Kara nervously asks as she fiddles with her glasses.

Emma slowly blinks while leaning against the window, feeling her eyes growing heavy, but she nods and smiles sleepily at the thought of a sister's night.

“Yea, sounds good.” Alex agrees and goes to give Emma a hug. “Goodnight peanut.” Emma wraps her arms around her sister and squeezes.

“Goodnight little one.” Kara comes behind Emma and Emma moves her arm back to try and hug her other sister as well.

Emma takes a deep breath, soaking in her warm feelings of love she is getting but immediately a silent yawn escapes her mouth.

“Sounds like someone needs to go to bed!” Alex laughs, Emma leans her head back against Kara’s shoulder and nods. Allowing her eyes to close while her sister’s hold her up.

“Okie dokie.” She hears Kara say and her smile widens at the phrase until suddenly she is lifted into Kara’s arms.

If she could have used her voice, Emma would have squealed in surprise. Instead a heavy, quick dispel of breath leaves her mouth.

“Sorry little one!” Kara exclaims after hearing Emma’s heartbeat increase in speed and she carries her baby sister into her bedroom. She smiles sadly as Emma wraps her arms around her shoulders and holds on. Alex glances over at Lena who is watching with sadness in her eyes.

“How are you doing Lena?” Alex asks, making Lena’s somber eyes snap to warm brown ones.

“Me?” The raven haired beauty asks, taken aback by Alex’s question.

“Anyone else in this room?” Alex quips and leans on the island.

“Well, I’m fine.”

“Fucked up. Insecure. Neurotic. Emotional.” Alex lists off the familiar phrase and raises her eyebrows at Lena.

Making Lena chuckle. “Sounds about right.”

“But seriously, you know where I am if you ever need me. Kay?”

Lena’s face softens and she swallows deeply. “Thank you. And the same goes for you.”

Alex nods and Kara reappears in the living area.

“Shall we go?” Kara asks and heads towards the balcony, Alex turns to follow her.

“Oh and Alex?” Lena moves around the island to stand in front of the redhead. Making Kara whirl around by the intentive tone of her best friend’s voice.

‘This should be good.’ Kara smirks and watches.

“Yes Lena?” Alex asks and watches as Lena transforms into the powerful CEO and sizes the redhead up.

“As Sam is my oldest and dearest friend, I feel it is my duty to warn you that if you ever hurt her in any way, I will hunt you down and use other methods more painful then you can possibly imagine to hurt you back. Your little finger trick? Has nothing on what I can do.”

Seeing how serious Lena was Alex nods, schooling her expression to not smile. Knowing that Lena does infact mean it and the different ways of torture Lena can conjure up. “I will keep that in mind.”

“Good.” Lena nods then opens her arms to hug the redhead, which Alex gladly accepts. Suddenly a force plows into them, making the pair sway as Kara wraps her arms around them.

“Kara!” Alex laughs and Lena kisses her best friend’s head affectionately.

Soon the sisters finally leave as Kara flies Alex to Sam’s apartment. Lena watches them disappear into the night before closing and locking the balcony door.

“Hope, please turn off all the lights and engage security protocol.” Lena quietly calls out as she makes her way to the dimly lit bedroom.

Her stomach pinches as her eyes focus on a fast asleep Emma propped against the headboard as if waiting for her.

Lena silently steps into the room and closes the door, hearing the whirl of the security locks sliding into place.

Immediately she turns back to her girlfriend and walks softly over to her. Grimacing at the angle of Emma’s neck, imaging the painful tug the blonde will be feeling if she stays in that position for much longer.

Carefully Lena maneuvers Emma’s body to a lying position, the blonde doesn't stir once but immediately curls towards Lena’s side of the bed. Lena smiles sadly and quickly gets ready to join her girlfriend.

Finally she slides under the covers and lays on her side to face the still sleeping Emma.

“Goodnight my love.” Lena whispers, gently kissing Emma’s lips and wraps her arm around her waist.

(Part Thirty Six)

#supergirl #supergirl tv #supergirl fanfic #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl imagine #lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor x baby danvers #alex danvers imagine #alex danvers #alex danvers x baby danvers #alex danvers x sam arias #kara danvers #kara danvers x baby danvers #kara danvers imagine #b!d #baby danvers #supergirl baby danvers

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petrichoravellichor · 3 years

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Title: A New Kind of Life

Wordcount: ~10k

Rating: T

Summary: What if, when Sam and Dean break into the Empty, Cas isn’t the only one they save? A post-15x19 fix-it fic in which Crowley gets a second shot at the redemption (and family) he deserves.

(Read on Ao3)

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Chapter 1 (of 5) (Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Chs. 4 & 5)

“Crowley! Wake up, you son of a bitch, wake up!”

Crowley opens his eyes to Dean shaking him hard by the shoulders. Which is strange: the last thing Crowley remembers, he was dying, alone and forgotten in a parallel universe.

He isn’t there anymore. Instead, Dean is kneeling over him in a dome of golden light beyond which everything is dark, and for a brief, absurd moment he’ll chastise himself for later, Crowley thinks he’s somehow ended up in Heaven.

Then he glances past Dean and sees Sam with an exhausted-looking Castiel slumped against him; next to them is a younger man Crowley doesn’t recognize, but his eyes are molten gold, the same color as the dome surrounding them all. The amount of raw power emanating from the golden-eyed man makes every one of Crowley’s hairs stand on end, and not in a good way.

No, definitely not his idea of Heaven.

Crowley snaps his gaze back to Dean. “What—” he begins, but Dean cuts him off, hauling him to his feet.

“No time for questions!” Dean yells, and it’s only then that Crowley registers the roar coming from beyond the dome: it’s as though they’re standing in the eye of a hurricane as all around them things blow apart. “Come on, we gotta go!”

And then they’re all running, the dome of light moving with them like a shield as wispy black wraiths crash and burn against its perimeter and somewhere unseen, a hideous voice howls in rage.

*****

Once they’re safely back in the Bunker war room, Dean takes hold of Castiel and, along with the golden-eyed man—whose irises have faded to a soft, concerned blue—ushers him off in the direction of the infirmary, promising gruffly as he goes that he and Crowley will talk later.

Patience, however, is a virtue, and Crowley isn’t feeling particularly virtuous—especially not after seeing how tenderly Dean and Castiel looked at each other as Dean wrapped an arm around the angel’s waist and led him from the room. The sight had left a bitter taste in Crowley’s mouth, one he does his best to ignore. There will be time for that later; right now, he needs answers, and he’s not waiting on Dean in order to get them.

He crosses his arms and fixes Sam with an expectant glare. “All right, Moose,” he says, "out with it: what in God’s name is going on?”

Sam snorts, looking tired. “Um, yeah, about that...” He gestures towards the map table, then heads over to the liquor cabinet. “You...might wanna sit down.”

Crowley arches a brow, but he does as Sam suggests. Sam joins him a moment later and, after pouring them each a drink, spends the better part of the next hour telling Crowley all that’s transpired in the three years—three years—Crowley’s been dead.

Which is, it turns out, rather a lot.

Lucifer’s spawn survived his birth and is none other than the golden-eyed man Crowley saw when he woke up; his name is Jack, and for all intents and purposes, he considers Castiel to be his father.

An alternate version of Michael got a hold of Dean for a while, until Jack killed Michael at the cost of his soul, then, in a soulless rage, killed Mary.

God killed Jack. All Hell broke loose. Rowena, who’d apparently survived Lucifer’s last attempt to kill her, died to fix it and was now Queen of Hell.

Billie brought Jack back to kill God. Dean tried to kill Billie, so Billie tried to kill him. Castiel managed to take Billie out by admitting his love for Dean, at which point the Empty took Castiel—

Of course, thinks Crowley, the bitter taste in his mouth returning with a vengeance. Of. Bloody. Course...

The brothers had stormed the Empty not for him, but for Castiel. Good, noble, righteous Castiel, the wayward Angel of Thursday who’s been hopelessly in love with Dean for longer than Crowley has known him...and whom, it seems, Dean has finally admitted to loving back. Sam and Dean had saved Castiel because they loved him, because Dean loved him, but Crowley...They’d probably only rescued him because they’d figured they owed him for saving their denim-clad arses that day at the lake.

Now, as Crowley half-listens to Sam talk about defeating God, he glowers down at the map table and wishes they hadn’t bothered bringing him back at all, because it’s one thing to die unloved; it’s another to have to live that way. Crowley’s done both, and he knows which he prefers. At least in the Empty, he’d been at peace.

“Crowley? Hey, you okay?”

He looks up to see Sam regarding him from under a furrowed brow. Bollocks...

“Naturally,” Crowley says, leaning back in his chair with a dismissive smile. “That’s quite a tale, Moose. It sounds like you and Squirrel have outdone yourselves these past few years, even managed to pull one over on God; bravo. I’m sure Lucifer’s spawn will make a spectacular replacement: he is, after all, three.”

Sam’s eyes harden. “Jack’s nothing like Lucifer; he’s good, and he’s got us to help him, and Amara—”

“Oh, Amara! Now there’s a recipe for success if I’ve ever heard one: God’s evil sister and her Satanic great-nephew with billions of raw souls at their disposal. How could that possibly go wrong?” Crowley scoffs, shaking his head. “Honestly, there’s just no learning with you lot, is there? You just keep humming the same damn tune, then acting surprised when the notes turn sour, and it never even occurs to you to pick. A new. Bloody. Song.”

The frown on Sam’s face intensifies. “This is different. Jack, Amara, they’re on our side, and now that Rowena’s in charge of Hell—”

Crowley snorts. “Right. Care to wager on how long that lasts?” Then, at the look of sudden wariness on Sam’s face, he rolls his eyes. “Calm down, Moose; that wasn’t me plotting a coup. I have no plans to try and take back the crown.”

“You don’t?”

“Why on earth would I?” Crowley takes a sip of brandy, grimacing slightly at the flavor—for all the changes the past few years have wrought, the Winchesters’ abominable taste in liquor remains tragically consistent. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I hated Hell as much as the blasted place hated me. If Mother thinks she can do better, she can have it.”

They sit without speaking for a moment; then Sam clears his throat. “You know,” he says quietly, “Rowena regrets how things ended between the two of you.”

Crowley stiffens, a stab of anger piercing his gut. “No, she doesn’t.”

“She does,” Sam insists, and how anyone can look so stupidly earnest is beyond Crowley’s ability to comprehend. “She told us so.”

Crowley scoffs. “And you believed her?” he demands, left hand closing into a fist at his side. “You know, for the longest time, I thought you were the smart one.”

Sam sighs. “Crowley...Look, I’m not saying Rowena’s perfect—”

“She’s quite literally the Queen of Hell, Moose.” Crowley manages to keep his voice level, but his fingernails are digging into his palm. “I’d say that’s about as far from perfect as anyone can get.”

“—but I think you two should talk.”

Crowley’s hand starts to bleed.

“I mean it,” continues Sam, when Crowley says nothing. “When I was a kid, my dad...he wasn’t there the way he should’ve been, and we fought a lot, and there were times I felt like I hated him, but when he died...”

A multitude of emotions flicker across Sam’s face in rapid succession, too fast for Crowley to name them all, but the final one, the one Sam looks back at him with, is regret. “When he died,” Sam continues, “I didn’t care about any of that. And maybe I should have. I know I should have. Believe me, I tried. But I just...kept coming back to the fact that what I was feeling, the good and the bad, I’d never get to actually say it to him, and if he was somehow sorry for the bad, that was something I’d never get to hear.”

Crowley’s anger flares white hot; his hidden palm is slick with blood. “If you have a point,” he growls, “I’d encourage you to come out with it.”

“My point,” says Sam, curtly, “is that you actually have a chance at some closure, and I think you should take it. For your own sake.”

Crowley clenches his jaw, looks away. “For my own sake,” he echoes, softly. As if his and Sam’s pain is the same. As if Rowena is capable of causing anything but. “Tell me, Moose: since when do you or your imbecile of a brother actually give a damn about my own sake?”

He raises his gaze to stare coldly at Sam who, for the first time since they sat down, seems at a genuine loss for words. Crowley snaps his glass down on the table and stands. “Thought as much.”

He shoves his hands in his coat pockets and turns to go—where, exactly, he has no idea—only to nearly crash headlong into Dean, and suddenly, Crowley’s anger turns to outright fury, because at the end of the day, it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that Crowley had gone up against Hell and his mother and even his own better judgment for Dean more times than he could count.

It didn’t matter that the two of them had shared a bed when Dean was a demon, doing extraordinary things to triplets that Crowley would have kicked out in a heartbeat if he’d thought he could get away with it.

It didn’t matter that Crowley had sacrificed his life to save Dean and Sam and the whole bloody world.

None of it mattered, because for all the times Crowley had chosen Dean, Dean had never once chosen him. Then again, Crowley thinks, maybe it’s his own fault for expecting any different, his due comeuppance for stupidly believing he deserved to be loved. It doesn’t matter; he knows better now.

“Hello, Dean,” he snarls. “Come to look in on me now that you’ve seen to your angel? Well you needn’t have bothered; I was just leaving.”

Dean frowns, crossing his arms. “The hell do you mean, you’re leaving?”

“I mean get out of my way.”

“No.”

“And why not?” Crowley demands, voice rising. “Am I your prisoner? I’ve already told your oaf of a brother that I’ve no interest in causing any sort of trouble in Hell, so if that’s what this is about, then you can just—”

“Damn it, Crowley,” snaps Dean, “no, that’s not what this is about; it’s about where are you even gonna go. You got a place somewhere we don’t know about?”

“I’ll find one.”

“Or,” Dean counters, “you could cut the crap and just stay here.”

That catches Crowley off guard, but only for a moment; he gives Dean a hard look, determined not to let the surprise show on his face. “And why on earth would I want to do that?”

“Because you know it’s the smart thing to do,” says Dean, face impassive, “and last I checked, you were an asshole, not an idiot.”

And it’s not that Crowley doesn't know full well that running off half-cocked into a world whose dynamics have fundamentally changed is naive at best and suicidal at worst—that isn’t what makes him nearly scream in rage, because he knows it’s patently true. No, the infuriating thing, the truly mortifying thing, is that Dean knows him well enough to know that he knows it, and that if Crowley does leave, he’s only going to prove Dean right.

The thought is more than Crowley can bear; still, if he doesn’t get out of this room right now, he’s going to start shouting—at Dean, at himself, at everything. There are other, less crowded places in this godforsaken Bunker, and it’s past time he went and found one. He’s not going to give Dean the satisfaction of watching him break.

Crowley pulls his fury tight and close, stepping forward into Dean’s space and glaring up at him with every bit of defiance he can muster. “Funny,” he sneers, “because last I checked, you were both.”

And he vanishes before Dean can respond.

*****

Crowley finds an unoccupied room at the far end of the hall and decides to claim it as his own for the time being. He bolts the door and turns to collapse onto the bed...only to freeze dead in his tracks.

His mother is standing in the corner. As Crowley gapes, Rowena takes a step forward, face pale and incredulous. “Fergus?” she whispers. “Gods, is it really you?”

Her voice snaps Crowley out of his shock, and he narrows his eyes. “Mother,” he growls, the word like poison in his mouth. “What do you want?”

“Sam told me they were going to try and get you back,” Rowena says softly, eyes roving over Crowley’s face as though seeing him for the first time, “and I wanted...I needed to see if they’d done it, if you were all right.”

Crowley glares, making a mental note to have a word with Sam about this particular indiscretion. “Well, you’ve seen me. Now get out.”

Rowena recoils, and if Crowley didn’t know any better, he’d swear his words actually hurt her. “You’re angry,” she says. “You’re angry, and you’ve every right to be, but if you’d just let me explain—”

“Explain what?” Crowley snaps. He clenches both hands into fists, ignoring the burn in his left palm. “What could you possibly have to say to me that I’d want to hear? You hate me, remember?”

“I love you—”

Crowley barks out a laugh. “Really? Have you forgotten the last time we saw each other? You left on a bus after you sent my son to his death, all because you wanted to watch me ‘suffer the loss of a child’, of my child!” He stumbles towards her, half-blind with rage. “Tell me, Mother: did losing me bring you any suffering, or were you just sad you weren’t there to collect three pigs in exchange?”

Rowena looks as though she’s been slapped. “Of course I suffered! Do you have any idea what I went through trying to get you back? I faced Death herself; I begged her to return you to me, but she wouldn’t do it! Ask Sam, ask Dean!”

“They’ve already told me,” Crowley grinds out. “It doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say that?” Rowena is crying now, tears rolling freely down her face. “Of course it matters! I did it because I missed you, because I love you!”

“You’ve never loved me a day in your life.”

“That isn’t true! I did love you; I do!” Rowena takes another step forward and reaches out a hand. “If you could just find it in your heart to forgive me—”

“Forgive you?” Crowley snarls, and it’s all he can do not to spit in her face. “You don’t get to ask for my forgiveness, not after any one thing you’ve put me through, not after everything! What was it you said to me that day at the bus station, your parting words? ‘Who better than me to crush your shriveled heart’? At least I had a heart, once; you never did.”

“Fergus—”

And Crowley explodes. “GET OUT!” he screams, seizing the lamp off the bedside table and hurling it at his mother with all his might...only to watch as it flies right through her and crashes into the wall.

And then Rowena’s gone, just like she always is, and Crowley’s alone, just like he always is. He stands in the middle of the room and stares hollowly into empty space. “Astral projection,” he says, quietly; it always had been one of his mother’s favorite tricks. “Of course.”

He spends the rest of the night warding the room as many ways as he knows how, determined not to let his mother or anyone else get the drop on him again.

#crowley #spn crowley #fergus macleod #crowley macleod #crowley fic #spn #supernatural #supernatural fix-it fic #spn fix-it fic #fanfiction #a new kind of life #my writing #here we gooooo!!!

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oogaboogasphincter · 3 years

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A Magpie, a Goose and a Sparrow Walk into a Found Family Trope (Ezra x f!reader)

Summary: A nightmare caused by trauma he endured before and on The Green haunts Ezra one night, his fear bleeding into reality. Under the fog of sleep, he hurts you, thinking you are the monster that is endangering you, Cee and himself while on your next trip. He apologizes by doing something that terrifies him: opening his heart up to another person.

Word Count: 10.7k+ (holy shit i deeply apologize for putting my readers through this agonizingly long junk)

Rating: M (mature) just to be safe (some pretty intense themes but i don’t think there’s anything too explicit)

Warnings: non-fatal manual strangulation and bruises from it, swearing, sexualization of two adults, mild references to sex, mild allusions to sexual arousal, discussion of trauma and its effects, Prospect (2018) spoilers, some argument, hair braiding, one (1) ✨neck✨ kiss, one use of (y/n), sprinkles of that sexual tension we all love, a resolved ending!

Author’s Note: first off, thank you SO much to @martinsmomo for this request!💜💕 this was so creative, i hope i did it justice :). second, AHHH!!!!! my first piece ever!!! i haven’t written anything on my own time for my own enjoyment since i was like 13, which may or may not be apparent by my comma splices, repetitive sentence structure/word choice and disagreeing verb tense💀. the thought of i have no idea what i'm doing never left my mind while i was writing this, but i just tried to go with it and have fun :). ALSO, i had so much fun reading all of the lore about the world that Prospect (2018) takes place in. Here is a link to a pamphlet about a lot of stuff that is featured in the movie, which i used while writing this piece. i highly recommend you check it out! i tried to stick to as much canon stuff as i could, but 🦋The Blue🦋 is something that i made up. also this is not beta’d, i just wanted to throw this into the void and see what happens✨. i also also want to point out that in no way am i trying to romanticize or sexualize domestic violence. i know that the subject matter in this piece can be triggering, and even though the violence wasn’t intentional and it’s resolved through love, i don’t want it to be misconstrued as something that it’s not. with that being said, i hope you enjoy it! :)

gif by @anakin-skywalker

A grunt stirs you from your deep slumber. Your eyes open easily, a treat that you weren’t given often due to the dryness of the pod’s recirculated air. The inside of your shared galactic chamber is as dark as your mind; no illumination to shine on your thoughts and wake them up or to show you how Ezra is doing. You know the grunt had come from him, as the only other passenger was his adopted daughter, Cee. You turn in your pilot’s chair, looking over your shoulder to try and make him out through the impossible darkness.

Parcel-Class Planetary Drop Pods were designed to fit only two travelers, however the three of you had decided to embark on your next journey together. To save on costs, your partners opted for a model without cots. Being the gentleman that he is, Ezra insisted that you and Cee sleep in the pilots’ chairs. He had thrown a few blankets on the cold, flat floor and had proudly announced, “Sleeping quarters fit for a king!”, eliciting pitiful laughter from you and Cee.

Now, your eyes can’t find the sad bundle of warmth that is his sleeping figure. He is a restless sleeper, and every time he made a noise that was more than a good-natured hum or a soft swish of rearranging his blankets, you would wake and turn to make sure that he was okay. You would do the same for Cee, but she was a fantastic sleeper. Not too deep, not too light, and never made a peep. You turn back around, giving up on trying to spot Ezra in the dark, when you hear another grunt.

This one is louder than the last.

You turn back around yet again, your own blanket falling off of your chest and into your lap. Eyebrows furrowing together and eyes squinting, your pupils strain themselves to find any shred of light to let you see. The noises increase in abundance and volume. Ezra’s sleeping fit has transformed from a halfhearted rustling to an aggravated clamor in less than a minute. Your eyes stay on the dark patch of space where you know his “bed” is situated while Cee arises from her sleep. Her chair lets out the slightest creak as she follows your gaze and attempts herself to see what all of the commotion is about. She asks you, “Is he okay?” Ezra answers her with an irritated growl through his teeth. You say to her, “I don’t know, I can’t see him, should we-”

Your suggestion of waking him up is cut short as two hands wrap around your throat. The hands twist your head to face forward, and you’re greeted with Ezra’s sweat-slicken face. Instinctively, you grasp at his forearms in an effort to ease the constriction of your neck.

Cee screams, “Ezra, let go of her!”

He defies her command and puts one of his knees in between yours on the seat of the pilot’s chair and leans closer to you. The brown eyes that you had grown to love now bore into yours with unwavering menace as the pads of his fingers press harder into the sides of your neck. His palms are flush with your larynx, threatening to crush it. You want to let out sobs of heartbreak, but are unable to. He’s restricted your actions to only being able to watch him attempt to strangle you. Your fingers aren’t able to get a grip on his limbs due to his angry sweat and your panicked claminess. Your mouth hangs open as his is shut tight, his jaw muscles stuttering with intense rage. He starts to growl through his teeth again, but a flash of light turns it into a howl.

His entire body falls back, his hands losing their purchase on your neck. You suck in a harsh breath and lean forward as Cee grabs your hand and pulls you out of the pilot’s chair. In her other hand she grips a Boscelot Frontiersman: the source of the light that had extracted Ezra’s shriek and drilled its way into his thigh. He sat on the floor in front of your chair and laced his hands just above his injury, throwing his head back and wincing.

Cee puts some feet in between the two of you and guides you across the floor to the other side of the impossibly small pod. Hoarse coughs begin to rise from your surprised larynx, accompanied by trembling of your entire body. Cee, still holding you by your arm with one hand and the Thrower in the other, yells your thoughts at Ezra, “What the fuck was that for?!” She flicks the lights on, allowing everyone to see each other’s face for the first time all night.

Ezra stares at the two of you in disbelief. Both brunette and blonde strands of hair are stuck to his forehead with sweat, eyes depressed from the subsiding adrenaline, his whole body drenched in distressed perspiration. You and him lock eyes, even through your flailing about as you continue to choke on air and delicately place your own hands over where his just had you in a vice grip. He knows what he’s done as soon as he sees you. He begins to cry and opens his mouth to start an apology that can never be adequate, but Cee hurls a field kit at his head. It hits him and he takes the blow without complaint. His devastated eyes keep to your bloodshot ones as he opens up the kit and starts to treat his justified wound. Cee stares at him with aggravation, and so do you, but her expression is void of confusion.

You are confused as all hell. What could have possibly made him do that? He seemed to be having a nightmare, but that didn’t give him the excuse to nearly strangle you to death.

Your coughs and stress start to dwindle as all of you sit there, not saying a word, the only other noise in the room being Ezra opening and closing medical supplies. He squirts a sanitizing solution over his wound, hissing, and then he takes out a Patch Gun. This sets your heart racing. The strangling was unpredicted and almost successful, would he get up once he was healed enough and try to do it again? You push yourself back against the wall and keep your widening eyes on him as he sprays the medicated foam into the hole the Thrower had burned through his trousers. He squeezes his eyes shut, winces intensely, and then fails to keep a painful wail inside his chest. You’ve seen him treat himself before, and usually his next step is to throw more than the recommended amount of pain relievers into his mouth and chew on the tablets, redirecting the pain from his injury to his mouth. He doesn’t do that this time.

Instead he throws the used Patch Gun to the side, closes the field kit and pushes it Cee’s way. He breathes your name out of his mouth, causing you to retreat further into the wall. You bring your legs to your chest and wrap your hands around the back of your neck, resting your elbows on your quaking kneecaps. Burrowing your face into the cavity you’ve created, you start bawling. Pain sears your throat, and is only intensified by your sobs, but you can’t help it. You’re absolutely terrified. Ezra says your name again, genuine with care, in an effort to get you to look at him. You shake your head once and continue to gasp into yourself. Cee startles you by touching your shoulder, and she quells your worries, “He won’t do it again.”

Her five simple words plant a seedling of peace in your heart, but it is nowhere near close to blooming. You don’t look up as she gets up and goes over to your pilot chair and grabs your blankets. Her footsteps return to you quickly, and within moments her warm, calm hands are draping the fabric over your shoulders. She rests her chin on your shoulder, moving with your heaves. A softening tone takes over her beautiful voice as she murmurs “It’s okay”s, “I’m here”s and “You’re safe”s into your blankets. Before you know it, your body succumbs to the overwhelming desire to heal mentally, emotionally and physically with sleep. Your trust in Ezra may be broken right now, but you know that Cee will watch over you. Despite her lack of size and experience compared to Ezra, you know she has the upper hand on him intellectually. He may be full of wondrous prose, a never-ending vocabulary and sharp wit, but Cee has had him in the palm of her hand ever since they met. You can sleep knowing that she can protect you and herself, if need be.

You peek out underneath your arm to qualify to yourself that Ezra is in no shape to attack again.

He sits where he landed when he fell, slouching with exhaustion. His eyes sparkle with tears of regret, his eyebrows quirked in a way that reads “There aren’t enough ways to apologize, but I’ll try every one until you forgive me.” You close your eyes, lay your head against the wall and beg the Sandman to bring you all a night of peace as you rest until the Sun comes up.

The pale blue morning light penetrates your eyelids and alerts your brain that it is time to get up. You awake to find Cee and Ezra sound asleep, her in her pilot’s chair and him in his “bed”. You are still huddled up against the wall, opposite to Ezra, and look upon him with a wary gaze. The fear he inserted into you last night makes your nerves feel like static, but at the same time you can’t help but be relaxed by his presence. It’s obvious he didn’t cause any more damage during rest of the night, so maybe his eyebrows were telling the truth: that he is sorry.

The muted sunshine washes his complexion out and dulls the warmth that his chestnut locks hold. It makes the blonde patch in his hair and the arc scar on his cheek glisten cerulean. His expression is relaxed, eyelids fidgeting under the controls of REM sleep.

The sound of Cee’s alarm clock distracts you, and moments later her hand reaches out and pushes the ‘stop’ button. Awakening limbs appear above the back of her chair, accompanied by a yawn. Your eyes dart to Ezra. He’s still asleep. She turns to you first and smiles, “Are you alright?” You nod once, return her smile, and you both turn to the slumbering man. She says, folding her blanket, “He’s fine. Calmed down after you fell asleep. He said he had a nightmare that you had turned against us. He said he wants to apologize but understands if you don’t want to speak to him.” You sigh through your nose, glancing over at him, “That’s okay. I think I would like some time away from him though. Just to process things, y’know?” Cee turns to face you, “That’s what I figured. I told him that.” You look at her and nod once.

She gets up and stretches again, folded blanket still in hand. She puts it on her seat and looks up at you excitedly, “Want to come look for aurelac with me today?”

“Definitely.”

Her face lights up with a wide smile and you mirror her reaction. Getting up and dropping your blankets to the floor, you go over to the compartment in the wall that holds your equipment. You take out what you’ll need - suit, helmet, air filter and a few Slurry Packs - and close the latch. The door slams shut harder than you intended, the resulting crash jolting Ezra awake.

A shy, apologetic smile graces his face as he meets your eyes, and you return the expression. You were still tightly wound, but were ready to start dispelling the fear, and that began by being cordial with him. His smile fades when his eyes lower to your hands and take in what you are holding. He gets up off the floor and inquires, “What do you have all that for?” His expression is neutral, but you worry that you will anger him by telling him what your plans are.

He had made it very clear since you joined him and Cee that he did not want you to prospect. He had told you that it was too dangerous of a task in itself, let alone the implications that came along with it: bartering, lying, gambling, stealing, killing. He didn’t want you or Cee to be subjected to any any of the horrors that accompanied prospecting, but Cee had been stubborn about her desires and had proven her abilities. She was great at prospecting, possessing an attention to tedium and an unwavering sense of calmness while performing the task. For a man who seeps with wisdom, Ezra wasn’t all that good of a prospector. He had the tendency to lose patience and cripple under pressure, which sometimes led to compromised digs.

“I’m going to look for aurelac deposits with Cee.” You nudge your head in her direction and she smiles at Ezra. He waves his hand dismissively, “That’s all fine and dandy,” now pointing a lazy yet warning finger at you, “But don’t you dare let prospecting dance upon those beautiful brain waves of yours.” His comment irritated you. You had never shown any signs of true disobedience to his wishes, besides the casual sigh of boredom or the bratty roll of your eyes. The words also set your heart aflutter. As you try to hide your blush and bury your annoyance, Cee says to him, “We don’t be doing any prospecting if we can’t find any aurelac.” His head tilts in agreement. He pads over to you and gingerly puts a hand on your shoulder. He had sensed your irritation and repeats his mantra of why he doesn’t want you prospecting, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Your anger became fiery again. Shoulder jerking to flick his hand off, you jab at him, “Because I’m safe in the confines of the pod?”

He points a finger at you again, this time accusatory, “That was purely an accident. Do not take it as anything but.”

Cee commands, “Both of you, stop, now. I’m not dealing with this all day. It was an accident. An inexcusable one, but an accident.”

Your and Ezra’s eyebrows had shifted to take on the same irate slope, however you both decide to just let it drop. You visibly signal your concession by dropping your shoulders and Ezra reflects you. He spins on his heels to open his own equipment hatch, and you turn to the wall yours is on. You all face the walls and change into your suits, a ritual of trust and time efficiency you decided on when the three of you agreed to work as a group.

Once dressed, you exit the pod, Ezra being first and Cee being last, and embark on your daily journey. The Sun had retreated behind some dark grey clouds. The sky was a royal blue, the ground was greige and the dark foliage that surround you drips with dew. You were stationed on the Blue Moon, an orbiting moon in the Bakhroma System. This place wasn’t highly traveled like its permanent sister (the Green Moon), due to the popular aftermath of the Aurelac Rush. Although Cee and Ezra had been there and left, many people in the galaxy still went to try and scoop up some valuable remains. Unlike The Green, The Blue wasn’t known for its abundant aurelac deposits, which is precisely why your partners chose to come here.

Their original plan was to travel to The Blue with just themselves, but while on a stop to Puggart Bench you had entranced Ezra while Cee tried to scope out her old friends and catch up with them before she set off on another mission. Demonstrating your eagerness to explore the galaxy and your expansive knowledge of it, Ezra decided to add you to his partnership. It didn’t hurt that you also tried to express your attraction to him, complimenting the rugged floater on his impressive vocabulary. He had complimented you on your willingness to listen to his ramblings, and it had been love ever since. Neither of you had come out directly and said “I love you”, and you hadn’t partaken in any physical affection, but your yearning for each other could not be more understood. His adoration for you only deepened when he saw how you interacted with Cee. Being closer to her generation than Ezra’s, you were able to connect with her like contemporaries. However, you were far enough away from her age group to the point where Ezra couldn’t act as a father figure to you. This duality made you irresistible to him.

Back to the present, you gaze at the back of his helmet intently, waiting to see what his plan of action for the day is. The Green requires visitors to wear air-tight suits and breathe through air filtration systems at all times because of harmful spores that float in the atmosphere. The Blue’s spores are far less harmful, and helmets can be taken off for 45 minute intervals, but the three of you only took them off when the confinement of the helmets became a little too much. The glass window of Ezra’s helmet swivels to you and he asks, “Split up, hourly check-ins, reconvene for lunch?”

As you’re thinking of your answer, you notice his eyes dart repeatedly up and down your body. You can tell by the way his mouth is slightly parted that he isn’t assessing your body language to predict your response. He’s thinking about all of the ways he would devour you for apology’s sake.

You look to Cee in the middle of your answer, “Sure. I’ll go with Cee today.” She smiles at you and turns to him. His mouth closes and he looks down to fiddle with his radio with thick-gloved fingers, “I’ll be on channel one.” Cee says, “Okay,” and beckons you to follow her as she sets off on a worn path. You and Ezra look at each other one more time before you turn in opposite directions and begin your divergent treks.

Catching up to Cee by jogging, your steps slow to match her pace once you are by her side. There’s silence between the two of you for a little while as you weave your way through trees of varying heights, eyes keeping to the ground to spot humps in the dirt. Humps gave away the location of aurelac deposits. A couple of slips were shared between the two of you as you climbed over hills and shuffled through valleys, the forest floor littered with puddles. What The Green has in vegetation, The Blue has in water. There were multiple lakes, some touting depths that are only achievable by advanced marine technology. Rainstorms are common, but they never grow to something like a hurricane. Everything was doused in a blue hue, whether it was the air, the water or the plants. The spores in the air resembled stagnant raindrops, peculiar in the way that they seemed to stay in their place in the atmosphere.

Cee broke the silence, “So, are you okay?” You know exactly what she is referring to and answer, “Yeah. Still a bit shaken up and confused, but other than that I guess I’m fine. I can feel bruises where his hands were.” She turns around to look at you and you lift your chin for her to see. She grimaces and says, “Yeah, you can see where each finger was and everything.” You look down, feeling disappointed that the event even happened. You ask her, “So he had a nightmare about me?” You watch the back of her helmet as she nods, “Yep. He just said that he thought you were going to endanger the three of us. He didn’t say in what way, really, just that you were a threat.” You take a moment to process the information and then fire off another question, “So, I have nightmares too, but I don’t act on them in real life. So why did he do what he did? Is there, like, an underlying feeling of distrust that he has for me, or...?” She started shaking her head halfway through your last sentence, “No, no, not at all. It’s just that The Green was so traumatic that I can understand just how vivid nightmares about it can be. And even though I don’t know much about what he went through before I met him on The Green, I’m sure prospecting was just as dangerous as it is now. I wouldn’t be surprised if at one point, or at a million points, someone that he trusted backstabbed him. But it’s nothing personal against you at all.” You nod and take in her words, trying to reassure yourself that you can trust him, even though he had done everything he could to prove you otherwise the night prior.

Cee stops and turns to you, chuckling, “If anything-”

A short sound on your radios cuts her off, and Ezra’s voice comes through the speakers, “How are you little birds coming along?”

Cee answers, “Fine. No deposits yet. What about you?” She grins at you, not forgetting to finish her comment as soon as he leaves the two of you alone.

“Nothing. I’ll be shocked if we stumble across any hint of a deposit today. Like every day. Over and out.”

You look at her, eager to hear what she has to say. This only widens her smile, and she rolls her eyes as she begins, “Like I was saying.” You both laugh as she continues, “If anything, you’re the best thing that’s happened to him. I’ve never seen his eyes light up so much at anything like they do when he looks at you.” You blush and look down at your feet shyly. She gives you a playful shove and knocks you out of your butterfly-ridden trance. Her tone changes serious as she sighs, her pitch dropping a little bit lower than normal, “You really don’t have to worry about him hurting you or me. He’s just fucked up from our time on The Green. I am too, but I experienced it in a slightly different way, and deal with it differently too. I mean, I lost my father, but he killed two other people. It got us out of there, but that’s probably going to haunt him for the rest of his life. And since it was recent, he’s still trying to figure out how to handle the whole thing. I’m not making any excuses for him, because he didn’t have any reason to attack you, regardless of any dream, but he seriously wouldn’t do that under any other circumstances.” She puts an assuring hand on your shoulder and smiles. You smile back and nod once in understanding, saying, “I believe you.” She pats your back, and you both turn to continue on your walk. A few moments pass, and she lets out another laugh. You teasingly ask her with a smile on your face, “What is it now?”

“I mean, it’s obvious that Ezra’s been through some shit, because the guy’s fucking weird as hell.” Your helmets are filled with your cackling as thoughts of the strange man play out in your head. Cee jokes, “I mean, little bird? His confusing speech pattern in general? Someone who talks in crosswords is either an ancient person who is trying to be clever in their last days because that’s the only form of strength they have left or just some asshole who finds enjoyment in verbally tricking people.” Another few moments of giggling pass before she ends with, “And what’s with the drawl?” She turns to you, the injuries in your throat burning from laughing so hard, “Have you ever heard someone else, in the entire Bakhroma System, talk like that?” You shake your head while wheezing and she says, “I haven’t either. So how did that weirdo even get here?”

The surrounding forests may be quiet, but the inside of your suits are filled with the joyful laughter of two friends who continue on their merry way to find some aurelac.

What yesterday lacked in aurelac, it made up for in emotional gains. You had spent the rest of the day with Cee, strengthening your tender bond, exploring the terrain that The Blue had to offer. Ezra kept to his promise and checked in on you two hourly, making sure that you hadn’t run into any other travelers or went too far off the grid. Your group hadn’t crossed paths with any other citizens of the galaxy since you landed, which didn’t surprise or disappoint any of you; the three of you needed some peacetime for regrouping.

You start today by scanning the pod’s dashboard of lights to make sure nothing is out of order. Because of his contempt to the idea of you prospecting, Ezra had assigned you to be the pod’s programmer. Pods were cheap to rent, so they were justifiably subject to malfunctions. Given that Cee and Ezra were tasked with mapping out The Blue and harvesting aurelac, you obliged to take the responsibility of operating the astronomical vehicle. The other job you had been given was keeper of the harvested aurelac. Once in its containers, you were to check on the gems every day and make sure that none had cracked during transport. The problem is that you haven’t had any luck at finding such valuables. It has been documented that The Blue does contain aurelac, but that it is extremely difficult to find. However, the average gem on The Blue is thrice the size of that which The Green holds. So the size and abundance differences are a lawful tradeoff.

While you’re analyzing a digital screen on the dashboard, an expressive yawn escapes a man’s mouth. You twist to see Ezra stretching his arm out, eyes and nose scrunched in delight at the wringing out of his muscles. A smile graces your face as you take in his exaggerated display of awakening, and he mirrors your smile when he opens his eyes. His arm relaxes at his side, and a raspy morning voice greets you, “Hi.” You smirk at his unadorned statement and say back, “Hi.” He holds your gaze for a moment before turning to pick his mechanical arm up off the floor next to him. After losing his arm on The Green, his prospecting abilities fell drastically. He had to take out a loan to pay for the artificial limb, but it would restore his talents, so it was a fair deal. That’s why the three of you had gone on this mission, rather than building your friendship on Puggart Bench: to harvest aurelac to repay the loan.

Cee grabs both you and Ezra’s attention as she wakes with a start. Getting up and out of her pilot’s chair, she merrily folds her blankets and marches over to her equipment hatch. You and Ezra share a look of bewilderment, and he questions, “Good morning?” She flips around to you both, forgetting that you were in the pod with her. She cheers, “Good morning!” Reading the two confused expressions that watch her, she explains, “I want to go and look at this area that we missed yesterday. It has a lot of hills, so maybe that’s an indicator of more deposits. I was going to look at it yesterday, but then we came together for lunch, and I completely forgot about it until now.” Noting that she is the only one in the pod that is anywhere near awake, she asks both you and Ezra, “Is it okay if I go by myself?”

Memories of the last 36 hours flicker in your head, discomforting your nerves. It’s not that you don’t trust Ezra, but you don’t trust Ezra. The outburst that he had the other night frightened the shit out of you, and you’ve been wary to interact with him at all, let alone without Cee present to diffuse the situation if it got too tense. The fear he had shoved upon you was still fresh, but the excitement in Cee’s face and your tiresome brain convinced you that it would be okay. Maybe during this time alone you could patch things up with him. Him and Cee had given you a general rundown of what had happened on The Green when you first met, but you could prod Ezra about the details. Hopefully you could uncover some explanations to his night terrors.

You look over at him to gauge his reaction to her proposition, and he’s staring at you with puppy-dog eyes. His mouth is turned up in a soft smile, and you can’t help but grin at the way his hair is still unruly from his sleep. Suddenly you feel a pleasant heat between your legs, and you can’t tell if it’s just your body waking up or the overwhelming desire to pepper a million kisses over the sleepy man’s face. Refusing to admit to yourself that the latter is the true culprit of your wetness, you shake your head slightly to rock you out of your trance and say to Cee, “Yeah, that would be fine.” Ezra’s smile at you widens before he turns to Cee and inputs, “I concur. Like always, just be sure to watch your surroundings carefully. You’ll find us here when you return.” She nods once and turns to her equipment hatch, signaling you and Ezra to turn to yours as well to give her some privacy as she changes. Once changed, she closes her hatch, puts her helmet on and departs, “I’ll be on channel one. See you guys later!” You and Ezra both give halfhearted waves, still too tired to formulate any meaningful words. The door to the pod closes behind her, and you are alone with Ezra.

The anticipation of being alone with him made you more anxious than how you feel now, letting your eyes fall to the man still on the floor. He’s already looking up at you, the lazy smile still pulling at his cheeks. The desire to invite yourself into his bed, wrap yourself in his blankets and limbs in order to match the warmth that is flooding your genitals, and doze off into a lustful nap tries to take over your mind. You fight it with everything you have and make your way over to your pilot’s chair. Positioning yourself so that you’re facing Ezra, he simply asks you, “Hungry?” You nod your head and he reaches behind himself. His hand reappears with a Bits Bar, tossing it to you. The only sounds that fill the pod are the crinkling of the wrappers and your respective chewing. Although you’re both preoccupied with eating, Ezra’s silence is deafening. He tended to drop his confusing lingo when talking to you, since he wasn’t trying to trick you. He hadn’t had the courage to reveal his true feelings to you yet, which will be so poetic and heartfelt it will make you sick to your stomach, so he stuck to simple statements. He wanted you to note the difference between his conversations with you and other people, so he made it a very clear point to forgo his prose and expansive vocabulary. He wanted you to note that he revealed his truest sentiments to you and tried his best to hide them from others.

The peaceful nature of the morning encouraged you to bring up an irritating topic with him, “I only want to prospect because I want to help you guys.” He tries to keep his eyes on his food, knowing that looking into your eyes will ignite his possessive and protective nature, “I know that. And it doesn’t matter how many motives you come up with, birdie, there will never be a time when you’re in my care that you will prospect. That’s the extent that I will let this conversation fester to.” His dismissive demeanor infuriates you. You fire back at him, trying not to let your tension leak into your voice, “I’m not Cee. You are not my parent or my guardian, you’re my partner. So there’s no social expectation that I have to submit to your desires.” His irritation grows, entertaining his fingers by folding the wrapper, “That is technically true. But a good partner will never put their partner at risk. And I have deemed it risky for you to prospect.” His retaliation sets you off. You didn’t want this to turn into an argument, but you also don’t want to back down from this. Your eyebrows crease together in frustration, your arms cross and your mouth sets itself in a frown.

He looks up from his distraction and becomes infuriated by your look. Now he’s pissed. He begins a verbal knife fight, “Maybe if you had experienced what it’s like to have a shitty partner, you would appreciate my efforts to protect you.”

“I’m not ungrateful.”

“In a way, you are. You abandoned everything you had on Puggart Bench once you met me and Cee. You had friends, a nice family, a stable living situation, a good education. Don’t blame me for a position that you put yourself in.”

“First of all, that’s how it looked to you. Second, a good education in prospecting! Maybe if you weren’t staring at my ass every second of every day, you would have asked me what I was studying. I can probably prospect better than you can.”

“I’d find pure, mocking enjoyment in seeing you try to harvest. I would bet my life that I can prospect better than you can, even with my impediment!” He motions to his mechanical arm.

“You wouldn’t have the impediment if you weren’t so fucking devious! And don’t even get me started on the arrogance, or the fucking pretentiousness!”

Your overheated exchange comes to a halt when the pod’s door opens. Cee climbs in, and you and Ezra try to mask your fury for each other as much as you can. She acknowledges the two of you and says, “Just need an air filter.” The atmosphere turns awkward as you watch her get what she needs out of her hatch. She’s leaving as soon as she came in, and you hold up a parting hand and say, “Be safe. Have fun.” She tilts her chin at you, and Ezra chimes in, “Be safe, Sparrow.” She exits, disappearing into The Blue.

Her interruption quelled the fire that burned between you and Ezra, subsequently drowning you in a wave of guilt over your words. Ezra’s looking down at his hands, shadows keeping his expression unreadable. You uncross your arms in defeat as you feel tears gather on your bottom eyelids. Opening your mouth to apologize, Ezra puts his hand up and directs, “Don’t apologize.” You protest, “But-” He cuts you off, “Don’t. Apologize.” You audibly sigh and sit back in your chair, not facing him anymore. You wish you could just kiss him. It would shut the both of you up and finally bring your shared, passionate feelings to the surface. Instead you opt to stare at the program board in front of you. How sexy. Such allure. You roll your eyes at your own naivety.

Both of you sit and replay all of the moments that led you to the peak that you sit atop, questioning how to safely start the descent. You decide to break the silence with a neutral topic, “Why do you call her Sparrow?” Staying turned away from each other, Ezra answers, “Well, now that I have two little birds in my life, I have to distinguish them.” Your heart glows at his comment, but it’s not enough to wipe the somber expression off of your face.

“Why Sparrow though?”

“She’s adaptable. She’s been able to keep a sane mind while traveling through Puggart Bench, The Green, The Ephrate, The Blue. The presence of others doesn’t deter her from her work, yet she’s not aloof to their existence.”

His musings entertain you. Your anger begins to become a thing of the past as you get off of your chair and sit down on the floor a few feet away from him. Being on a literal level playing field only increases your ease.

“What are you?”

He smirks, “A magpie.”

“I should’ve known.”

You share a bit of laughter before he explains, “I’m intelligent in trickery. I take pride in my illusions, but that’s not all I possess. Once I find my mate, I become protective of them, sometimes to the point of absurdity. A magpie male and female share the brunt of building a nest; as all great relationships should split the responsibility of reconciliation equally.” Regarding his last sentence, he raises one eyebrow at you. You stretch your legs out so that the soles of your shoes touch his.

“Magpies mate for life.”

You break your eye contact. You have grown shy from his pointed allusions, so you playfully fiddle his feet with yours. A moment passes before he says, “You’re a snow goose.” Confused, you look up at him, “A snow goose?” He nods enthusiastically, “Yes, a snow goose.” You shake your head, giggling, “I’ve never heard of those.” He leans forward with shock, “Really?” “Yep.” He shakes his head once and stands up to open his equipment hatch above you. He pulls out a book and sits back down, this time beside you. All About Birds. You assume the birds are alphabetized as you watch him flip the book open about 4/5 of the way through, and he presents you with a page: “Snow Goose”. Amused by the fact that he wasn’t lying, you let out a laugh. He laughs with you, “My Goose needs to brush up on her avian animal knowledge.” A minute has to pass before the cackling subsides. Then he paraphrases, “Snow geese are another adaptable bird, preferring to travel in packs. They roost mainly in bodies of water: marshes, ponds, the like. Ringing true to stereotypes of the general breed, they are very territorial of their property once they claim what is theirs. Snow geese have a brilliant white coat, which I equate to your magnificent aura. They are similar to magpies in that they mate for life.”

You look up from the book and are greeted with chocolate eyes glazed in infatuation. Thighs and arms pressed together, you turn to rest your chin on Ezra’s shoulder. Flickering eyes go back and forth between his eyes and his lips, signaling to him that if he wanted to kiss you, you wouldn’t object. He inserts, “Snow geese also don’t lack in paying homage to their reputation of being loud bitches.” You gasp and lay a swat on his chest as he chuckles away at his poking. After he has had his fill of laughing, you return to your resting place on his shoulder and let out a sigh.

A few quiet moments go by before you look up at him and admire the handsome, irritating, brave, stubborn, loving man who are you enamored with. You reach your hand up and comb your fingers through his hair once, twice. He leans into your hand as you continue to brush his locks, “Ezra?” He hums, eyes closing rapidly from the lulling pleasure you’re giving him, “Mm-hm?” You whisper, “I’m sorry.” A stark contrast from earlier, he allows your apology. He opens his eyes and they’re dripping with honest remorse and helpless romance, “I’m sorry too.”

Yesterday didn’t amount to what you had originally planned to accomplish, but it was still a good day. Despite all of the insult hurling and badmouthing, you and Ezra ended the day on a nice note. Getting to the bottom of his nightmares could wait for another time. You both had needed a day of fun together to put aside your hostilities before you embarked on discussing trauma. Cee had returned without a problem, hands void of aurelac but filled with notes of The Blue’s landscape.

You wake up, startled, All About Birds slipping off of your lap and onto the floor. You had sliced it out of Ezra’s dormant fingers after he had fallen asleep, your curiosity piqued from his earlier paraphrasing. Cee’s awake and bustling about in the pod, trying to find something, anything, to eat that isn’t a Bits Bar or a Slurry Pack. As you lean over to pick the book up from the floor, you catch Ezra’s eyes on you.

He’s standing at his equipment hatch, doing some much needed cleaning up. He’s a traveler who believes in organized chaos, that putting things in their “right” place takes up too much valuable time.

You smile up at him shyly and as you sit back upright with the book in your hands he says, “Did you find any specimens that better suit us?” You shake your head, “No, you were pretty damn spot on with your choices.” He flashes a smug grin, one that paints your face pink with amusement. Cee plops down in her chair with a huff of defeat, unwrapping a Bits Bar. Ezra hears her and says, “(Y/N) and I will take today’s assignment, Cee. You’ve warranted yourself a break after your ingenious expeditioning yesterday.” She says, “Good, because my legs feel like jelly.” The three of you laugh and you get up and rush to your equipment hatch. With your and Ezra’s friendship on its way to restoration, you were excited to find what the day would hold. The two of you get dressed in a flash, and you tell Cee before putting on your helmet, “We’ll be on channel one, like always.” She sticks a thumb up from behind her chair, and with that you and Ezra are on your way out of the pod.

The rays of the Sun today are periwinkle, streaming through small gaps in the overhanging vegetation. The air is tinted royal blue, the trees shimmer with teal sparkles, the soil a shade of navy. You inhale deeply as if you can smell the fresh air through your air filter, imagining a place where you could be with your gang without all of this clumsy equipment, without giving up the majesty that this landscape has.

Ezra snaps you out of your daydream, “Where to today, Snow Goose?”

You pull out a map from a pocket on your back and scan it, looking for any uncharted territory. “Let’s go west today. There’s a big chunk of land that we haven’t documented yet.”

He nods and begins your quest by turning to the left and walking. You follow him, folding the map and keeping it in your hands. Little conversation is shared between the two of you for the first bit of the journey and the silences aren’t awkward. The majority of your time is spent looking up, admiring the scenery as the Sun comes up and illuminates more of the land. Different hues of blue are unearthed as light reaches deeper crevices: the underside of leaves show turquoise veins, the inside of a hollowed tree trunk boasts a purplish-blue hybrid. The puddles on the ground vary in shape, size, depth and color, and are scattered about the ground in an oddly methodical fashion.

After a while of marveling at the sights, you regret getting dressed so quickly. You hadn’t brushed your hair properly, and the braid you had put it in was loose. Rubbing against your helmet with all of your head turning, the braid had fallen almost completely out of his shape and it was threatening to combine with your sweat to mold to your face. You instinctively put your hands to your helmet to try to push it out of your way, but you are met with glass resistance. Ezra, peeking over his broad shoulder to make sure he hadn’t lost you, notices your frustration, “Let me help you with that.” You furrow your eyebrows at him and wave off his help, “No, it’s okay. I’ll deal with it.” He shook his head quickly and spins on his heels, looking around and spots two conveniently placed tree stumps, one behind the other, that will accommodate te his fantasy. He gestures to them, “Have a seat, Goose.”

You stand there, not wanting to indulge in the dream. This was just as much of a dream for you as it is for Ezra. He watched you, everyday before you went out of the pod, braid your hair and willed that one day it would be his hands that would twist your smooth locks. And everyday you braided your hair, you would envision him standing behind you, concentrating hard on his handiwork, his hot breath cascading down the back of your neck, his knuckles grazing your back. Ezra starts walking over to the stumps and motions for you to follow.

You obey his command and sit down on the seat in front of his, scooting back so that he doesn’t have to reach very far to touch you. A depressing gasp fills the air as you detach your helmet and set it in your lap. Ezra’s gloves appear over your shoulder, “Can you hold these for me?” You were already turned on enough by the thought of him braiding your hair, now he would be braiding your hair with naked fingers and you got to hold the battered material that guarded those impossibly large hands almost everyday? Yeah, this is an illusion. You wait to wake up from your slumber. but are reminded that this situation is very real when Ezra’s fingers reach around your head to brush the sweaty hairs out of your face. His touch is gentle, unlike from the incident a few days ago. Now that you aren’t fighting for your life, you can take in the small, romantic details that you didn’t notice before. The pads of his fingers are rough but not scratchy. You see his fingernails, neatly trimmed and free from any sort of grime. How he pulls off that sorcery while being a prospector, regardless of the gloves, you will never know.

You tense as his fingers glide over your bruised neck, collecting your hair and bringing it all to your back. He holds your hair in one hand while the other stutters on a bruise. He senses your unease and strangles out, “I’m sorry.” You grip his gloves a little tighter, trying to fight your tears from spilling, and shake your head slightly, “It’s okay.” You’re ready to move past it. It’s important to remember that it happened, but you’re ready to rebuild your relationship. Like he jabbed at you the other day, leaving Puggart Bench had been tough for you. You worry that your leaving left behind permanent scars that would impact the relationships you had there. Ezra and Cee feel like the only friendships that you can count on to last. You need them.

Knocking you out of your despair, Ezra pulls your hair to one of your shoulders and rests his chin on the other. He turns his head so that his breath spills across your bare neck. He runs a finger lightly across a bruise and asks, mouth millimeters away from your skin, “May I?” You nod, and he plants an imperceptibly light kiss on your neck. You let a tear dribble down your cheek, wiping it away as quickly as it ran.

A thought enters your mind: my god, his lips are soft as fuck. The combination of the softness with the tickling of his patchy facial hair was heavenly, if not orgasmic. You giggle at your own thoughts* (*thots), intriguing Ezra, “What is it?” You decide to be transparent, “Nothing, it’s just that your mouth is soft as fuck.” A hearty laugh erupts from his chest, “Now I don’t want to put an end to your seductive observations, Goose, but I want this to be an innocent affair.” You smile and sit up straight, letting him know that you are willing to drop the flirtation. For now.

His fingers separate your hair into three sections and he says, referencing the other day, “As a treaty to our battles, I would like to clarify that I don’t think you’re ungrateful.” A soft smile graces your face and you input your own treatise, “And I don’t think you’re arrogant or fucking pretentious. You are a little devious though.”

He chuckles, “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be the scoundrel that I am, now would I?”

You shake your head no. No, he wouldn’t be the scoundrel that you are not so secretively in love with. As you sit there, enjoying the limited amount of time you are allowed with your helmet off, the details of your dreams prove to be true: you can feel Ezra’s concentrated breath warm the nape of your neck, his knuckles tap your suit when he twists your hair a certain way. You yearn for the day that you will be able to touch each other, feel each other’s true weight and texture, without the suits getting in the way.

“So, if you’re so good at prospecting, why don’t you tell me how you do it?”

His tone is playful and your situation could not be more peaceful, so you decide to indulge him, “Well, first you have to find a deposit, which is usually indicated by a lump in the ground.”

He verifies your first step, “Uh-huh...?”

“Then you want to pour a solution into the deposit’s hole. You don’t want to pour too much though, or else it could cause an explosion.”

Ezra’s hands stop. You turn and ask him, “Is everything okay?” He nods, his eyes first staring off into the landscape and then refocusing once they land on you. He continues to involuntarily nod as he says, “That’s what permitted Cee and I to escape The Green. She threw an entire pint of solution into a deposit. Nearly blew the entire place to bits.”

You feel rude when you realize that your mouth is hanging open in shock. You close your mouth and words about his time on The Green tumble out of his, “I am devious, indeed. But there were people--beings--there that would make me look like an angel. I take responsibility for killing Cee’s father because he tried to hijack my stash. A man’s work is no petty thing, Goose. I ended up having to kill two others there, in the end. I overestimated our luck after the first one, thinking that it would’ve been a simple escape. I killed the other mercilessly. You see now, Goose, the dangers that I encountered on The Green alone. I would never be able to forgive myself if I allowed you into harm’s way, and you became a tragedy.”

You reach a hand out and cup his face, which he leans into. He still holds onto your hair, your braid halfway done, and you say, “I was ungrateful, and I’m sorry for that.” He shakes his head once, taking your hand from his face and kissing your palm, “Now you see why I wanted to strangle you in my nightmare. I dreamt that you were someone else, some other thing, that was threatening to drag our trio back to that wretched land.” You both breathe out a shaky laugh, trying to lighten the mood. Even though it was nervous, you are glad that the both of you are taking some steps in the right direction.

He clears his throat and sits up straight, “Now, after you dodge an eruption, what is the next step of prospecting?”

You face ahead and let him continue your braid as you speak, “Next you want to remove the husk from the deposit, and cut the cord that connects the two. Then you want to remove the inner membrane from the husk.”

He quizzes you, “And what’s inside the inner membrane?”

“The aurelac gem.”

“Correct. Continue.”

“Then you want to cut out any blisters, but if you cut too carelessly you could puncture it, which will release acid. If that happens then the gem ceases to be worth anything.”

“That’s where my expertise usually falters.”

“Finally you want to remove the gem from the inner membrane, douse it in fazer solution, and you have your stone.”

He tests you again, “What is the purpose of the fazer solution?”

“To stabilize the gem and increase its clarity. Higher clarity grants higher payout.”

He pats your shoulder twice and ties your hair off with the hair tie you used for your loose braid, “Fantastic job, Goose. Couldn’t have explained it better myself.” He stands, walks around your stumps and holds a hand out to you. You take it, even though you were perfectly capable of getting up yourself. You got to hand him his gloves, and he stops you, “Wait a minute.” Both of his hands come to the sides of your face and push a few stray hairs behind your ears; the finishing touches to his masterpiece. You can tell he did a good job without having to look at it, since it didn't feel too loose or too tight, and the problem you had before was now solved. His tongue darts out and runs the edge of his bottom lip before he takes a step back, throwing his hands up, “Voila!” You giggle, eliciting a smile from Ezra wide enough to make the skin around his eyes crinkle in happiness. You hand him his gloves, which he puts on before you both secure your helmets back to your suits.

Ezra checks in with Cee, “Everything alright, Sparrow?”

A few seconds pass before she answers, “Yep, just listening to my music. Everything alright on your end?”

“Affirmative. We’ll be staying outside for lunch. Over and out.”

Ezra’s eyes gaze into yours for a brief moment before they move past your shoulder, eyebrows raised and mouth agape. You ask, “What?” before turning and following his stare. A patch of undisturbed soil, littered with lumps. In his rush by you, Ezra grabs your hand and pulls you along with him as you run to the potential aurelac deposits, laughing at his enthusiasm. He halts at the brink of the field, choosing which one he wants to dig up first. You suggest, “Why don’t we start from the outside and work our way in?” He nods, “That’s a great idea,” and drops to his knees. You stare at the mound in front of him as you sink down to the ground, pulling out your map. You mark where this field is located as he preps his harvesting tools. Once he’s prepared, he sighs and takes your hand, “Do you want to help me, Goose?”

You nearly spring to your feet with excitement, “Would I ever!”

He beams at your reaction and begins the process by clearing the dirt away from the mound to reveal the deposit. “How about for this first time, you just hand me the tools?” You nod, taking this as slowly as he wants to, “Whatever you’d like.” He grins as he cuts a hole in the deposit, knife already in hand. “Solution,” he requests. You hand him the bottle and he does the honor of pouring it over the deposit. A white steam emits from the hole, and he reaches in and grabs the husk. “Let me cut this cord, you can do the next one.” You agree and watch as he cuts it with his knife. He places the husk on a flat patch of land and requests his next tool, “Scalpel.” You hand him a Ralon Crusader Laser Scalpel and watch him work.

Laser scalpels are primarily used for precision work, like this step and the removal of blisters, while any generic knives will do the job when cutting the cord or opening up the deposit.

You watch as he makes an incision in the husk, handing you back the tool once he’s done. He wrangles the inner membrane out of the husk and holds his hand out. You know that he wants the scalpel back, and you give it to him. He flashes you a smile for your readiness, but then hands you the scalpel back. You take it, confused, and he says, “I’d like you to cut the blisters off of this one.”

Your pupils narrow and your muscles grow tense. You know the steps of prospecting backwards and forwards, but you had never carried out a lab experiment, let alone prospected aurelac in the wild. Ezra lays a gentle hand on your forearm, “I have eternal faith in you, Goose.” You move toward the membrane and turn the scalpel on. Ezra holds it steady for you as you go to remove the blister. There’s only one, which is a slight relief. You plunge the scalpel into the membrane, thinking that the skin would be thicker, and a hiss greets you. You pull back as the membrane deflates and an amber liquid seeps from it, the hissing never stopping. Your mortified eyes look up into Ezra’s and you immediately apologize, “I’m so sorry, Ezra, I thought that-” He raises a hand, “It is not a big deal in the slightest, Goose. I’ve never come across a prospector that didn’t puncture the membrane, or fail to mix the fazer solution correctly the first time.” He senses your lingering humiliation and grabs your shoulders, turning you even more towards himself, “Really, it’s fine.” You want to melt into his hands, crawl into his lap and just hide there until you feel better, but you know that you have to move on.

He points to the mound behind you, “Let’s try that one.” You stay on the ground and move the tools with you, while Ezra stands and walks over before he squats. You hand him the knife, watch him repeat the process and hand him tools as he needs them: slice the deposit, squirt in the solution, remove the husk, sever the cord, open the husk, take the membrane out. He looks to you, “I want you to try again.” Turning the scalpel on, its vibrations feel more vigorous against your heightened nerves than they did last time. Ezra assumes his position of securing the slippery pod, and you begin cutting. Again only one blister, you circle the blemish with the blade. Once the circle is complete, Ezra reminds you, “It’s easiest to pull it off with your fingers.” You follow his directions, turning the instrument off and setting it to the side. You pull on sticky flesh, and the part that you cut comes off easily. Ezra sighs, “Incredible.” Sliding his fingers in between the membrane and the aurelac, he pulls the rock out and discards the pouch. He calls for the fazer solution, which you hand him and watch as he washes the gem with it. Another hissing sound can be heard, much quieter than the one that came when you punctured the membrane. He holds the aurelac up to the blue Sun, and both of you observe, amazed, at how the light shines through the gem. Aurelac is an amber-hued stone, sometimes with ripples in the color, encased in a foggy crystal. The blue light complements the orange shade of the gem exquisitely.

Ezra turns to you, eyes bright with satisfaction, hands muddied with gristle, “Superb job, Goose!” He leans into you, helmet shields touching and reaches forward to kiss your glass. You smile and laugh with him in gratification. You can’t wait to harvest the rest of the mounds with your partner.

A warmth you have never felt before bestows itself to you this early morning. It flourishes in your heart and subsequently pumps through your body, reaching from the crown of your head all the way down to the soles of your feet. It stretches from your ribs to the ends of your fingertips, running in cycles back and forth. The cause of this pleasure was not from the large aurelac haul you had pulled yesterday, but from the man that you harvested with. Ezra’s arms encircle you, heavy with sleep. You’re swaddled in his blankets with him, the depths of sleep tempting you to fall back down to their level of subconscious. The Sun hasn’t risen yet.

You had crawled into Ezra’s awaiting lap after Cee had fallen asleep the night before. It wasn’t that you felt like you had to hide your feelings from her, but the dynamic still made you feel a little bit awkward, even with Ezra’s reassurance and Cee’s encouragement to pursue him. You would feel more comfortable if she were to wake up and find the two of you in your designated sleeping arrangements, and not in an amorous yet innocent entanglement of limbs.

You can practically feel a rainbow sprout from your chest as you look up at Ezra, finding delight in his relaxed expression. His hair is messy not from the tossing and turning of a restless night’s sleep, but the enamored strokes of a yearning partner’s fingers. The whirlwind of malachite butterflies in your stomach nudges you away from sleep. You press your hands into Ezra’s chest, where they have been resting, and turn to nuzzle your nose into his collarbone before you start to slip out of his embrace. Gently lifting his arms off of you in an effort to keep him asleep, you fail. He cups the side of your face and rubs his thumb back and forth against your cheek a few times before he lets his arm fall to his side. He gives you a smile of understanding, allowing you to leave him only because he will dream about holding onto you for forever once he drifts off again. You give him a playful boop on his nose before you stand and trudge over to your pilot’s chair, sinking down into your own cold blankets. You try your best to recreate the heat you just deserted by bundling yourself up tight, but it’s not the same. However uncomfortable, you quickly succumb to the temptation of sleep.

The true morning gives rise to an energetic group of prospectors. Still joyful about yesterday’s collection, you, Cee and Ezra are enthusiastic to stroll around The Blue again and see what else could be in store for you. Stretching in your chair, Ezra grabs your raised hands and leans over the back of your seat. You look up into his eyes and he greets you, “Good morning, Goose.” You smile and tease, “Good morning, Magpie.”

Cee blurts out, “Finally, you give her a nickname too!” You and Ezra laugh as he releases your hands, and you turn to face Cee at her equipment hatch. “I like Magpie too. Very fitting,” she raises an eyebrow at Ezra and he shoots you a wink. You get up to fold your blanket, Ezra glides over to his own equipment hatch, and Cee says, “You know, I say you guys last night.” Your face instantly beats red, and Cee notices, “No, it’s fine. It makes me happy to see a couple that can get over obstacles and love each other through it all.” You still feel a bit embarrassed, but shrug it off.

A word she chose makes you question Ezra, “Are we a couple?”

“Of course. We’ve always been partners, haven’t we?”

Suited up, the three of you enter The Blue. After your daily assessment of the land (beautiful, as always) you turn to Cee and wait for her direction. She had mapped out the majority of the Blue Moon the day that you and Ezra stayed inside the pod, so you trusted her guidance the most. Ezra asks, “Where to today, birdies?” Cee analyzes the map before pointing to an area, “This block was filled with hills. It didn’t look like there were many deposits, but then again I’m not the best at spotting them.” Eager to start, you ask, “Which way do we go?” Ezra glances at the map, points to the right and commences your expedition, “This is the way.”

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beauenfer · 3 years

Text

True Happiness

ﾟ: *✧𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫: @beauenfer ﾟ: *✧𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4,651

ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*: .: ⋆*･ﾟ: ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

•‎𐩐 ༘ ✦* FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

•‎𐩐 ༘ ✦* PAIRING: Angel x fem!Reader

•‎𐩐 ༘ ✦* WARNING: 18+, not very explicit but there’s sexual content, some language

•‎𐩐 ༘ ✦* SUMMARY: After an argument with Angel, reader doesn’t think he loves her. He shows up to her room that night to prove her wrong. But all actions have consequences, as the old saying goes

ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*: .: ⋆*･ﾟ: ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

“YOU THINK I WANTED THIS?” You cried, whipping around to look at the man you loved. But he was no more of a man than you were. He was a vampire, a killer. He’s hurt innocent people to fulfill his own boredom and pleasure, he had two hundred years on you, and he was considered a monster, yet you couldn’t help but fall in love. You must’ve looked crazy, at least to him. With your frizzy hair, red cheeks, quivering chin, and swollen, bloodshot eyes. You’d been fighting for over an hour, at least, over something you regret even admitting.

Angel looked at you with a simple frown, wearing the white tank top he always wore when it was just the two of you. He clenched his jaw, looking at the floor. And for some reason, that made you angrier. It made you think he couldn’t even look at you.

You quickly walked up to him, and shoved his chest in a fury you’ve never felt before. You felt like your skin was burning, a kind of rage that had you thinking dangerously. You couldn’t see due to your tears blurring your vision. They were relentless, falling down your cheeks, to your neck, down to your shirt in wet patches around the collar.

“What? You can’t even look at me?! Am I that repulsing to you?!” You exclaimed, wiping your tears with your palms to give yourself some dignity.

Suddenly, Angel’s face had morphed into his vampire one with a growl. He reached you in one big step and grabbed your wrists, forcing you to look at him. You sobbed as he jerked your arms, hovering over you as your legs seemed to have gotten weak.

“Do you love this, huh? You may think you love me but do you love this? The monster? Don’t stand there and tell me you love me when you don’t! I’ve killed people far more innocent than you and liked it! I loved to hear them scream, make them beg for mercy!” He hissed, his fangs poking out from behind his lips as he spoke with fervor. He was trying to give you all the reasons you shouldn’t love someone like him, trying to convince you he wasn’t worth loving. But you knew better than that.

“That wasn’t you! That wasn’t you!” You could barely breathe, closing your eyes because you couldn’t look at him. You were just rambling and sobbing all at once. Your chest felt like it was going to explode and your heart was hurting. You told him you loved him, you told him you didn’t care that he was a vampire, you put your heart of glass out in the open and it felt like he had crushed it. You didn’t think you’d be able to handle this rejection.

“It was me! I’m a killer! I’m a monster! Monster’s don’t love!” He growled, jerking you in his arms one last time before you fell to the ground, sobbing on the floor. Angel just turned around, clenching his fists.

You looked at the tattoo on the back of his shoulder, feeling something spark inside you that had your shaky legs standing you up. You closed your eyes for a few moments to calm your tears, a sudden realization that all this yelling was getting you nowhere.

You inhaled shakily, giving Angel your final words.

“I know what you are, perfectly well. You were a killer, you were a monster. But you’re not anymore. So stop trying to make me hate you.” You paused to see if he would react, he stayed turned away. Another tear fell down at the silence, but you continued.

“I love you, Angel. And I am so sorry for that. I didn’t mean to, it just happened. Shit happens. But it’s your decision whether or not you want to do anything about it.” You spoke through your teeth, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your flannel. When you still didn’t get a response, you scoffed to make one last jab at him.

You were hurt, taking his silence as your answer. You nodded your head wordlessly, snatching your bag off the couch and turning around to leave. In your departure, the flames from the fireplace roared, spitting out flames like it knew the pain you felt.

“Guess that’s it then.” You grimaced, walking towards the door.

Angel waited a few moments until he turned around, about to speak. He sighed when he saw an empty room staring back at him, mocking.

You were already gone.

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“Wait, you told him you loved him and he didn’t say it back?” Willow asked in astonishment, and you could just imagine her expression. Sitting on the edge of the bed just like you, a toothbrush in her mouth with her blue pajamas. Her nightly ritual before she went to bed.

You clenched the phone in your hand, looking down at your lap as you remembered. Your jaw hurt from yelling, your eyes hurt from crying, and you still couldn’t control your sniffling. It may have happened a fews hours prior, but it still felt like you were there, standing in front of the emotionless man you thought would love you, you thought you would be with forever.

Looks like you were wrong.

“Basically, yeah. I’m sorry, Willow, I don’t want to talk about it right now. It’s still just so... fresh, you know? And I just really feel like going to sleep to see if today was just a dream… I’ll tell you tomorrow. Me, you, the gang. Buffy’s house, right?” You forced a smile, but quickly went back to frowning. If you were being honest with yourself, you knew you didn’t feel up to hanging out with the gang tomorrow. You wanted to sit in bed and relish in your last day of isolation before your parents came back, a bowl of your favorite icecream as you had a romance movie marathon for the rest of the night. But you owed it to them, having spent the last few weekends with Angel, talking about his past, snuggling on the couch, and just enjoying each other’s company before you had to leave that morning. And who knows, maybe the get together with the gang would be the best thing for you. You really did miss them.

You heard Willow let out a sigh, feeling your sadness through the phone.

“Hey, if you’re not feeling up for it, we don’t have to. We can just do it next weekend!” Willow suggested, understanding how badly it can feel when you thought someone didn’t reciprocate your feelings. She always did have a thing for Xander, after all.

You let out a pathetic laugh, rubbing your nose with the tissue in your hand. You sniffled, shaking your head.

“Oh Willow, I can’t do that. I’ve missed out on so many nights as it is... Trust me, I’ll be all bright and bushy-tailed in the morning. Promise.” You smiled, hoping you could believe your own lies.

“Okay. Are you sure you’re gonna be okay by yourself tonight? I can come over, cheer you up with some sugary goodies!” Willow exclaimed, concerned for your well-being. She knew you were feeling fragile right now, and maybe a friend is what you really needed.

“Willow!” You giggled, admitting that this conversation has made you feel a little better. And had your voice always been that scratchy?

“Alright, fine. Remember, there’s plenty of guys who want to go out with you! Like, um, you know, Lucas. Or-or Thomas. Angel’s an ass.” Willow stated, making you let out a genuine laugh. You loved Willow’s loyalty, and the fact she was already trying to hook you up with someone else.

“Thanks, Willow, but I haven’t even stopped crying much less thought about moving on. I’m going to go to sleep now, okay? I love you.” You brought the tissue up to your nose, tears glazing over your eyes. You hated the fact that you couldn’t stop crying.

Willow nodded her head, slumped over.

“Love you, too. Be careful and dream good things. Like puppies.” Willow barely smiled, hearing your goodbye on the other end before hanging up the phone.

You did the same, sniffling some more. The house felt deafening, big and empty. There hasn’t been noise for the last week, ever since your parents went to LA for some convention. They were both doctors, which meant they were away a lot. You were always scared of being home alone, the knowledge of what ghastly things that could break in had you make Angel stay the night with you so you felt safe. But not tonight. Angel wasn’t going to protect from the silence, much less anything ever again.

You got off your bed to put your phone back in its socket, the sound of your own footsteps obvious in the quietness of the house. You wanted to cry, cry and cry and cry until you couldn’t possibly cry anymore. You wanted to scream and throw things in some way to relieve the pressure on your chest. But at the same time you were just exhausted, void of anything. Is this what it felt like to break up with someone? You didn’t know. Angel was the first boyfriend you ever had, and you thought he would be the last. But maybe, just maybe, Angel was right. Maybe monster’s couldn’t love.

You shuffled over to your nightstand, lighting up the candles there. They smelt like cherry blossom and rosewood, two sweet scents that gave life to your now dull senses. But as you lit the last candle, you felt that familiar gust of wind on your back, gently blowing your hair against your neck.

You heard the cars in the street below, the ruffling of the trees, and the buzzing of the wildlife outside your window. Your hand paused above the candles, hovering over the flame so that you could feel the heat on your palms.

“Can we talk?” His voice was also so quiet, so calm. It would have spooked you, the suddenness of it all, but you had gotten used to Angel showing up so unexpectedly.

You swallowed, closing your eyes so you didn’t cry. He didn’t deserve that satisfaction.

“I’ve already said what I wanted to say. You can leave.” You mumbled, ignoring him as you stayed turned around, trying to distract yourself with ruffling your pillows.

You didn’t hear him come closer, but you felt it.

“Please.” He sounded so pathetic, like you were the one who broke his heart. How dare he sound like you were the one to blame for the current situation. Even if he was trying to act like he gave a damn about your feelings, he was still acting like the gentlemen you knew him to be. With his please, his thank you’s, and his your welcome’s.

You felt uncomfortable; you really didn’t feel like having an even more heartbreaking discussion and having to act like it didn’t affect you. You didn’t have the strength not to cry.

Despite your bitterness, you couldn’t help but turn around at the sound of his voice, so sad. You had to breathe when you looked at him, the heavy atmosphere in your room making it seem stuffy. You had to breathe or else you’d choke on it. The candles flickered noisily behind you, and you could barely see Angel's face if it wasn’t for the moonlight.

He had on that same white tank top from earlier, his leather coat slung over it. He stood by the end of your bed instead of by the window, his fingers nervously fidgeting together. When you finally looked at his face, you didn’t have the strength to look him in the eye. Going by his features alone he looked broken. And you knew if you looked him in his maple-colored eyes you would see his sadness, and a million other sad things swirling in its depths. To be truthful, you knew if you looked into his eyes you wouldn’t have the strength to look away, and you would end up feeling that familiar flutter in your stomach only love could give someone. You knew you wouldn’t have the strength to say you hate him. Because in all reality you didn’t. You still loved him, and you always will.

You were a stubborn person though, known to hold grudges. So you crossed your arms and cocked out a hip, supporting your weight on one foot.

You cleared your throat, trying to give him the meanest look you could.

“Fine. Let’s start with why you’re here. Interrupting my alone time.” You gave him a sarcastic smile, not wanting him to think you were as affected by earlier as you actually were. You had suddenly gotten loud, the whispers voiced before forgotten. In your opinion, whispering would make it too intimate. And with your nerves, you just wanted to cover up the wobbliness in your voice.

Angel didn’t stop looking at you, perfectly statuesque.

“Like I said, we need to talk. And besides, I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know you don’t like being alone.” He still murmured, but that was usually how loud his voice got. One of the reasons you loved him. He was always your peace when you caused storms, the beast to your beauty and the cold to your hot. That was one thing Buffy always said. You two were just harmonious. You clicked.

You swallowed, but your throat was dry.

You felt a pull in your chest when he sounded like he cared, remembering your fear of your empty house. He wanted to make sure you were okay? You forced yourself not to focus on that.

“Well, I’m a big girl, Angel. I can handle myself against the big bad house.” You snipped, throwing your hands up impatiently. Truth was you wanted him to stay, stay and say he loved you. Stay and protect you like he’d been doing ever since you met him. But that inconsolable part of you wanted him to leave so he didn’t see you cry into your pillow.

He sighed.

“Listen, I think we both said things we shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to get... physical with you. I never wanted you to see that part of me.” Angel looked down at the ground, ashamed. You just shook your head at the statement.

“What do you mean that part of you? Angel, you are aware that I knew you were a vampire, right? I looked past that because it doesn't define who you are.” You gave yourself the opportunity to drop the facade, but regretted it as soon as he looked up at you with those sad brown eyes.

You continued when all he did was look at you.

You took a step forward, everything you wanted to say earlier suddenly being poured out when you were supposed to be hating him. But now here you were about to expose your soul even more than you did before. See? You couldn’t be mean to Angel even if you tried.

“Angel, do you really think you being a vampire had anything to do with us? I knew you were a vampire long before I even met you. I didn’t care then and certainly didn’t care when we started dating. I didn’t fall in love with you because I wanted some fling with a guy who occasionally drunk blood so I can go around school and brag about how cool I am. I fell in love with you because... “ You couldn’t finish, getting distracted by the way he was looking at you. He looked at you like he’s always known you, like you were the only he would die for. He looked so intense, and your breathing had gotten a little heavier. You willed yourself to look into his eyes, stepping up to him.

“Because what?” Angel murmured, his breath fanning over your lips. You stood just below his chin, looking up at him with an undying devotion his eyes reflected.

You continued, your voice just as soft as his.

“I fell in love with you because you were always there when I didn’t even ask you to be, waiting to see who you’d had to kill whenever you’d see me cry. You’d always be the one asking if I’m okay, and you’d always make me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. I fell in love with the way you’d hold me when you’d sleep and make me feel safe. I love how you were always so supportive, honest, and caring. You always made me feel special. I fell in love with the man... “ You tentatively reached up and touched his face with your palms, slowly rubbing your thumb on his cheek as a fond smile cracked through your frown.

“...not the monster.” You whispered, glancing down at his lips when he leaned closer and his fingers hesitantly traced along your hips. The space around you seemed electric, and your body buzzed to be touched by him. You leaned towards him pathetically, forgetting about how you were supposed to be crying your night away at the thought of what you and Angel could’ve been.

Angel kept glancing between your eyes and lips, more confident as his hands gripped your hips and he pressed his forehead against yours.

You closed your eyes and swallowed, struggling to catch a breath in the heat you were feeling. You both knew what you wanted, but you needed to hear him say it.

“(y/n)...” You hummed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I love you, too. I love you more than life itself. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before I just didn’t know how.” Angel had his eyes closed, whispering his confession that had your heart swelling and smile growing. You felt something wet on your lips, a tear you didn’t realize had fallen. At this moment, nothing in this world mattered except you and Angel. Your love, your one and only. You were excited, excited for the future you were going to share with Angel. But you could barely focus on anything right now.

All you could focus on was how close Angel’s lips were to yours, how his hands gripped your hips like he couldn’t believe you were real, standing in front of him in your pink pajamas and fuzzy socks, the most beautiful he’d ever seen you. All that registered in your mind was how hot you were, the dim-lighting of your room and the crackling of the candles behind you, the smell of cherry blossom and rosewood getting you more worked up than you were.

Everything about this moment was perfect. The darkness, the moonlight, the candles.

But above all, the romance between two passionate lovers added to the ambiance.

You really couldn’t believe that Angel loved you.

“Angel.” You murmured, your nose bumping his.

“What?” He responded, his fingers digging into your skin.

“Kiss me already.” You breathed, already reaching up towards his lips.

It was with your permission did he finally do it, his arms quickly going around your waist and pushing you into his chest, kissing you with an intensity that made your heart swell. It was full of passion, and said the feelings the both of you were feeling but couldn’t put into words.

Your hands were in his hair, on his arms, anything you could grab as he bent down and picked you up. You jumped, seperating from him to wrap your legs around his waist, boosting you up to his height.

You couldn’t keep up with your own breaths, knowing your lips must’ve been puffy and pink just as his were. There was a moment where you both paused, equally as emotional and aroused as the other. You stared into each other's eyes, knowing what was about to happen but unsure how to go about it. You had never felt so vulnerable with another person and more loved than you did in that moment. Every word said earlier that day and every tear fallen was forgotten now, because all you could feel was happiness and love and every other emotion swelling in your chest.

“I love you.” It felt unfamiliar on your tongue to say, but that was the only thing you could say. You gripped his face and kissed him once again. He only took one step forward as you started shoving his jacket off his shoulders, his hands gripping your thighs as you landed on the bed, one of his hands going up towards your shoulder to support his weight on top of you. He fell between your thighs, his mouth going down towards your neck as he took his jacket off the rest of the way, throwing it to the floor behind him blindly. You let out a moan, opening your neck as your hands pulled at his hair.

You felt like crying, but not for the reasons you did earlier. You felt so loved, so cared for, so safe. Angel was the only one who made you feel like that, the only one that made you mad enough to care, the only one that could get you so emotional. You bit your lip when he nipped at your jaw, a smile breaking onto your face as your back arched into him.

In all the haze you were feeling, you didn’t acknowledge his hands languidly unbuttoning your pajama top. All you could feel was the coldness of his body and the coldness of his fingertips, but also the hotness of his mouth on your base of your neck.

You were letting out all kinds of desperate noises you never imagined you could make, leaning up and taking off your top Angel had unbuttoned. While you did that, your lustful gaze couldn’t leave Angel when he picked himself up on his hind legs and took off his tank top, just throwing to the side like he did with his jacket.

He stopped there, the candles illuminating both your faces in a flickering orange glow. He stared at you, at your white bra your heaving breasts were about to spill out of, the way you leaned back with heavy eyelids looking at him like you wanted to be devoured. He thought you looked so angelic, your hair laid out on the bed like a halo, but you were biting your lip and looking at him like you were nothing but sinful.

He felt the same way you did, pure love and devotion to you. It was then he realized, with you lying down beneath him and his fingers itching to touch you, that he would do anything for you. If you told him to leave, told him you never loved him in the first place, he would never feel the same. He loved you in a way that seemed to take control of his life. All he could think about was you, all he could see was you, and now all he wanted to do was feel you. Make you feel as good as you made him.

You grabbed the gold chain around his neck, pulling him down to your lips. As you moaned into his mouth, his hands were reaching up to grab at your breasts from above the material of your bra. You reached down and yanked your shorts off, but as quick a pace as it felt like, you were both going at a sweet pace, nothing but your breathy gasps and small moans filling the silence. He didn’t want to rush this. He wanted to touch you, feel you, be the only one to make you feel like this for the rest of your lives.

A few moments later, of confident strokes on your soft skin and you grabbing at everything you can, you both ended up fully exposed to the other, your clothes thrown all about the room as the soft fabric of the duvet helped you relax against the bed.

You grabbed at his shoulders as he thrust into you slowly, making sure you felt him inside you. Surely enough it made something pull in your stomach as you threw your head back against the mattress, your mouth wide open as you breathed a moan into Angel’s ear.

He had his head buried into your neck, letting out a few groans of his own when you would clench around him. Your nails dug into the griffin tattoo on his shoulder, beads of blood poking through but immediately being healed as quickly as they came.

You couldn’t stop from moaning directly into his ear, one of your hands holding the back of his head into your neck as he thrust into you some more. You felt so full and good, feeling every time he would slide out and back in because it would send another pleasurable pulse up into your core.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, Angel could feel it against his own from the way he held you to him so tightly. You felt another tear fall from your eyes as he continued on, making you feel things you knew no one else could ever make you feel. You felt like sobbing he felt so good, but that was not only from the tightness in your stomach and the hot pleasure in your core, but also because you loved this man with your whole being, and just thinking about the intimacy the two of you were sharing made you emotional.

Angel was holding you so tightly and driving into you so passionately it wasn’t long before you had reached your peak, crying his name out into your room as he growled in your ear, finishing the same time as you in one more thrust that you curling your toes and grabbing the blanket between your fingers.

When you were both done, he held you underneath the covers, you curled against his chest and sleeping soundly, a tingling still in between your legs.

He told you he loved you one last time before he went to sleep himself, a tender kiss on your forehead the last thing he did before closing his eyes.

ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*: .: ⋆*･ﾟ: ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Angel snapped his eyes open at the crack of thunder, a pain in his chest that had him gasping for air as he collapsed out of the bed, the heavy pounding of rain blocking out his cries as he crawled to the window.

You were still blissfully asleep, an absent smile on your face as you clutched the blanket up to your chin on the other side of the bed, the rain lulling you into a deeper sleep.

Angel looked up at the sky as he gripped at his chest, groaning in pain on your bedroom floor as the moonlight shone down onto his nude form, curled into himself at the agony. As his soul died inside of him, all he could think about was you. His love, his salvation, his true happiness.

You see, you loved Angel with all your heart, you would do anything for him, die for him, love him in a way he’d never been loved before. Angel was your calm in the storm, the only sane thing in your crazy, crazy world, you would be aimless if you didn’t have him by your side. You planned on waking up snuggled into the love of your life, a smile on your face and a new glow to your skin.

But Angel was no longer the man you loved. He had become the monster because you were his weakness, the only thing in this cruel world he truly cared about. It was because he loved you that he could no longer.

It was because you were his true happiness, did his curse get revoked, because the man you loved had turned into the monster he always was.

Angelus.

#btvs imagine #btvs fanfiction #btvs #btvs x reader #angel btvs #angel fanfiction #angel x reader #angel imagine #angel fanfic #angel

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

"Caught In The Storm" *Part 9*

So....did y'all like that cliffhanger?

Because...HAHAHA JK THAT'S NOT THE ENDING.

No, but actually...it was the original ending, but the original ending ended up being REALLY short. So, I wrote an ALTERNATE ending, that actually I really would prefer being the ACTUAL ending, but it had to go a different direction BEFORE the cliffhanger, so....you see my dilemma.

SO---

Here's what we're gonna do:

I'm going to put the ORIGINAL ending first, and then space it out, and put the ALTERNATE [better tbh] ending.

That way, you can have both. And I don't have to backtrack to undo my mistake due to my ADHD brain changing things 24/7.

Kay? Cool.

Also no neither of these are the ACTUAL ending, I refuse to have an odd number of chapters. REFUSE. So chapter 10 will be like an epilogue. Don't look at me like that.

Tag List

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@word-scribbless

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@aprildecker-blog

@gibbs274

@lolliepopsicle

@objection-argumentative

Part 10 (Epilogue is here!)

(This Gif is For the FIRST ending, there's a 2nd GIF that would be SPOILERS.)

Short Simple Ending #1

Raphael sat in his loft drinking scotch, for which he had done most of the day. He wasn't dressed, he hadn’t showered, he was a mess. He didn't know if he could ever come out of this. He sat there wallowing in his regret and sorrow, going over every interaction you two had ever had in your entire lives of knowing each other pinpointing everything he could have done differently. What he should have done differently, and the fact that if he had, you'd be there with him right now instead of getting married to someone you didn't love. He's just in the middle of chastising himself again when he heard a knock at the door.

“Liv, I told you I don't need your help; You can't help me right now!” he yelled to the door

“It's not Liv…”your voice came softly through the door.

His eyes lit up, he raced to the door and threw it open. Revealing you and your wedding dress, sopping wet.

“Well I hope you're happy!” you stomped into his apartment angrily.

“...What would I be happy about? Where is your husband? He asked half jokingly.

“I Don't HAVE a husband,” you spat.

“Really now?” He was enjoying this too much.

“No, I don't. And you just made me humiliate a poor, generous, loving, caring, amazing man. And I just dumped him in front of all of his friends and family, and in front of a million fans on a live stream and now everyone knows and I'm probably laughing stock right now!!!” you screamed angrily, pacing the apartment.

“I did all that?” He smirked.

“Yes, you did!” you crossed your arms as you walked back to him.

“And how did I do that?” He took both of your hands and pulled you closer, still smiling like a Cheshire cat.

“By telling me you love me!!!” you kept your angry face stoic. “How could I marry Nathan when I knew that I was supposed to be with someone else?”

“You couldn't,” He smiled.

“I couldn't…” You whispered as he pulled you even closer and took you in his arms.

“I love you Rafael,” you looked right into his big green eyes. It was the first time you had actually said it to him in those exact words, with all the love and emotion you had always meant it to be.

He stared at you for a moment, running through the words in his mind. He had yelled them so angrily and upset at you last night, not the way you needed. Not the way you deserved.

“I love you too, Y/N,” He smiled, cradling your face before pulling you into another mind blowing kiss; it had only been the second time you had ever kissed in your lives but it felt like you had done it a million times, like it was supposed to be this way. Like it was always supposed to be this way.

You were so glad you stayed through the storm.

-----

Actual" Really Long, Detailed, Funny Ending #2

-----

"But you don't love him,'' Rafael pointed out.

"You don't know that!" You snapped.

"Yes I do!" He shot back.

“How could you possibly know that?”

"Because you have never looked at him the way you look at me!" He exclaimed.

Your face went from upset and sad, to absolute rage after hearing him say that.

"You arrogant, selfish, son of a bitch…" you growled.

"How DARE you say that to me?! How DARE you use my own feelings and how much I loved you against me? Get out," You grabbed his arm and dragged him to the door.

"No look I'm sorry Y/N, but it's true. You don't love him and you're only marrying him to spite me!" He continued to dig himself a hole.

"So what?!” You said without thinking, making you both go wide eyed and silent.

“Are-- Are you serious?” He stammered.

“What if I was?” You now had an idea reeling.

“Wha...why would you…?” His eyes narrowed.

“Let’s say that I don’t believe you right now, which I don’t. And I kick you out of here, and I go through with my wedding in the morning? After ALL of this?” You gestured between the two of you.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" Rafael asked as he eyed the two empty bottles of champagne.

"Don't even-- Maybe," You stood in front of the view of the bottles. You waved it off, trying to focus.

“What if I told you that the ONLY way that I will believe that you are completely serious and NOT just drunk, is if you try and stop my wedding?” You smirked.

“You’re not--” Rafael started to laugh, but you kept a serious face on. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know Rafael, I guess we’ll see tomorrow who’s ‘serious’ and who’s not!” You slammed the door in his face, leaving him dumbfounded.

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

The next day you were in the bridal room getting ready; It was pouring rain outside, it seemed appropriate.

Amanda, Kelsey and Olivia were helping you polish your tiara, ironing your dress, fixing your makeup and all that jazz. Hundreds of fans lined outside the church since someone had leaked where you were getting married. Everything came down to this moment. It was supposed to be the biggest day of your life, and you were terrified. But not for the reasons normal brides would be worried about. For one you were hungover, and for two you had made the most idiotic ultimatum to Rafael last night. Why would you DO that?! Why did he bring out the absolute snarkiest, competitive side of you?

“You're shaking,” Amanda noticed.

“It's just nerves, you need some champagne'' Kelsey grabbed a champagne flute and shoved it in your hand; you downed it.

“You're doing the right thing,” Kelsey assured you, as if she knew what you were thinking. You looked at Olivia and Amanda.

“And what do you say?” You genuinely asked them both.

“I think that whatever you want to do is the right thing,'' Olivia replied, squeezing her hand. You smiled thankfully, glancing at the door.

He hadn’t come yet, maybe he was just drunk. Maybe he was lying in his bed hungover, wondering why he went and made an ass out of himself for no reason. Then again, maybe he was waiting for a big crowd for a huge display of affection, God WHY did you do this...

------

When it was time, you walked up to Finn who was waiting at the doors of the chapel. He was dressed in a tuxedo with a baby blue tie.

“You look beautiful, baby girl,” he smiled. “Are you ready to do this?”

“Now or never,” You smiled, still glancing at the exits. You noted the cameras that were set up to livestream this to millions of people; you had totally forgotten about that. Oh god, now if there was a “public display” it wouldn’t just go to the guests, it would be broadcast around the world!

The Wedding March began to play as the chapel doors opened. You proceeded to walk down the aisle and looked at everyone watching you. All of your past and present family from the SVU squad was there. Grandpa Kragen and Grandpa Munch, Uncle Brian, Uncle Tucker, etc.

Then you looked at Nathan's family, a bunch of white rich stuffy but welcoming people. You noticed all of the crowds lining outside the windows of the church cheering you on, some crying, some holding signs. Then you looked at Nathan waiting for you at the end of the aisle smiling proudly. He really did love you.

You reached the end of the aisle and took Nathan's hands.

“Dearly beloved, we're gathered here today…”

The Preacher went on through the normal wedding exchanges until he got to “the” line..

“If anyone here has any reason that these two should not be wed, please speak now or forever hold your peace,” The preacher announced as you held your breath.

You anxiously looked around the chapel, looking for any sign of Rafael. Maybe he had snuck in the back, or was hiding behind a lady with a hat. He was going to come, wasn’t he? Maybe you were right, maybe you were right along.

….Nothing. He wasn’t there. He didn’t come…

You felt your heart shatter, you were officially dead inside. And now the husk of you was being married off to this poor man.

“Do you Nathan Lee Price, take YN to be your lovely wedded wife, now and forever, through richer and poorer, sickness and health, before and after you both shall live?

“I do,”

“Y/N, do you take Nathan Lee Price to be your lovely wedded husband, now and forever, through richer and poorer, sickness and health, before and after you both shall live?”

You looked to Nathan, then you looked to your side of the wedding, then you looked to his side, you looked to the fans outside again, you looked to the sky, looked to the ground and then you looked back at Nathan.

"I…"

“NO SHE DOES NOT!!!!”

The chapel doors swung open revealing Rafael dressed in a tuxedo. The entire room gasped in horror, and you tried your best not to run to him right then and there. He ran down the aisle until he reached the altar.

“I’m sorry sir, we’ve already past the--” The preacher started to talk but Rafael put a hand in front of his face.

“I don’t care, padre,” He chortled.

"Cutting it a little close there, counselor," You muttered.

"You're the one who chose to get married during rush hour in New York City, carino," He winked.

“Man, are you serious? Really? You’ve had all this time, and you decide NOW that you want my fiancé?” Nathan asked him in a hushed voice, trying to be discreet.

Rafael however, was NOT trying to be discreet.

“This woman told me last night, if I really loved her, that I would come and stop this wedding,” He was addressing the crowd. “That I would stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life,” He turned to you and Nathan. “Marrying someone she does not love,”

The room gasped again, Nathan’s family looked horrified. Camera phones began filming, fans outside were going NUTS.

“...Is that true, Y/N?” Nathan asked you with the most pitiful look.

“I mean I--” You looked from him to Rafael, who had a huge grin on his face. Well, you DID ask for this.

“I didn’t use those exact words,” You shrugged apologetically. The pastor closed the Bible, the guests were chattering like mad, cameras flashed, the mob outside began to force themselves inside to see the drama.

“I..I can’t believe this, I can’t believe you…” Nathan shook his head in disbelief.

“Nathan I’m really sorry, I just--” You looked at Rafael again; his grin wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. “I had to be sure that he really loved me,”

“So he had to PROVE his love to you, when I have shown it to you EVERY SINGLE DAY?” Nathan started to yell, forgetting about appearances.

“I mean, no-- it’s a whole thing, you wouldn’t understand--” You started to laugh unintentionally, thinking of how you and Rafael had your own twisted sick sense of humor.

“You’re goddamn right I don’t understand!” He continued to yell.

“...She’s a flair for the dramatic Nate, what can I say?” Rafael smirked as he stepped up on the stair you were standing on and wrapped an arm around you. You really hated that you were enjoying this at Nate’s expense but-- Rafael was right. You wanted him to publicly admit it, and he delivered. And you were ecstatic.

“Yeah well, I hope you’re both happy in dramatic HELL,” Nathan spewed before stomping off out of the chapel with his groomsmen quickly tailing him. His side of the wedding began exiting the chapel furiously grumbling and yelling profanities at you.

You glanced at your side of the room, the entire NYPD. They all surprisingly looked very pleased, although some people like Kragen were skeptical about this suave ADA coming in here and sweeping you off your feet. They shook their heads and a few applauded, especially your current family.

“Oh we’re not done folks,” Rafael announced as he grabbed the preacher before he could leave.

“Wha...what now?” You were confused but growing more excited by the second.

“You wanted me to be sure that this is what I wanted,” Rafael took both of your hands. “And I want you to KNOW that this,” He gestured between the two of you. “This is all I will ever want, for the rest of my life. And I want to prove it to you,” He smiled at you and pulled something from his jacket pocket.

“Oh, Rafa you really don’t--” You started to say that stopping this wedding was proof enough for you, but he was already down on his knees.

“Y/N….Will you marry me?” He asked. “....Right now?” He added, gesturing to the preacher. Now it was your side’s turn to gasp loudly again, as you stared at the huge diamond ring Rafael was holding out to you.

Where did he get that? WHEN did he get that? Had he been planning on proposing to you before? A zillion questions ran through your brain but you did your best to quiet them all so you could focus on the ONE question that mattered right now.

“....DUH!” You finally slapped him over the head playfully and grabbed the ring from him. He laughed and slipped it on your finger before pulling you into a beautiful, perfect kiss. Everyone on your side laughed and cheered, happy their baby girl was getting her happy ending.

“Well alright then, I guess let’s start this thing over!” The preacher laughed, opening his Bible once again.

“Rafael Barba, do you take Y/N to be your lovely wedded wife, now and forever, through richer and poorer, sickness and health, before and after you both shall live?” He asked Rafael.

“I do,” Rafael beamed at you.

“Do you--” .

“WAIT,” You put up a hand to stop him, making everyone start to mumble curiously again. Rafael’s face fell.

“...Are you serious? You’re changing your mind?” He muttered anxiously.

“No!” You shook your head. “No I…” You looked at the floor. “God this is so stupid…” You laughed to yourself nervously, not really believing you were actually going to admit this.

“....What?” Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“I um…” You bit your lip. “Oh God…” You turned to the preacher. “Sorry!” He brushed it off.

“Baby what are you--” Rafael was seriously starting to worry.

“Please, please don’t freak out,” You begged him. His eyes remained confused, but soft and understanding.

“Okay…” He gave you a look.

“I um,” You took a deep breath. “I may or may not have learned this...just in case,”

You took another deep breath, and recited the words you had practiced in front of your mirror for MONTHS after you had first met Rafael.

“Yo, Y/N, te tomo a ti, Rafael Barba, como mi esposo,”

Rafael immediately broke into the biggest smile you may have ever seen on him, tears instantly wet his eyes as you spoke.

“Prometo serte fiel en lo próspero y en lo adverso,” You continued, vowing you were NOT going to break down crying.

“en la salud y en la enfermedad, Amarte y respetarte todos los días de mi vida.,” You finished successfully without shedding a tear, unlike Rafael who was a full on hot mess of tears in front of you.

“Baby I…” He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you did that,” He whispered, tears still catching in his throat.

“I told you,” You bit your lip. “I have always been in love with you,”

“And I am so in love with you,” He grinned, pulling your face into his for “the” kiss.

“Well I guess you can kiss the bride!” The preacher laughed sarcastically as everyone broke into cheers.

You glanced up at the cameras as you walked down the aisle with your new husband. God you hoped that hadn’t blown up in your face, but if it did-- you had your Rafa to hold you through the storm.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba imagine #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu fanfiction #caught in the storm

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