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#my parents broke that chain but it’s still lingers!!!
astroluvr · 2 years
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Spilled Milk
Summary: You and Jack are co-parents, and have been for three years. The night he coincidentally comes over the night of your date, the kind of feelings and milk you cry over are spilled.
a/n: my love for co-parenting jack has reached a 17k word (allegedly) boiling point. it's a little messy, but i hope y'all enjoy!
***
Just as you were clasping your necklace around your neck, you heard a series of firm knocks from the down the hall, sending you flying down the hall. “Coming!”  
You tugged down at the hem of your dress as you scuffled to the door with your unzipped sandals. You groaned when you stumbled over Elle’s toybox before finally getting the door open. The chipper greeting that sat on your tongue faded when you saw who was standing at your threshold.  
“Jack?” you cringed involuntarily and Jack smiled. “Hey, what are you doing here?”  
You took a step back to let him in and he glided in, throwing his jacket over the side of the couch with a curious look. “Max told me he finished that volcano he was working on and I promised I’d stop by to look at it. They aren’t in bed, yet, are they?”  
“Oh, Jack.” you sighed, putting your hand on your forehead. “I didn’t know you were stopping by today, my mom got them.”  
“Fuck, that is right.”  
“Yeah, he didn’t even mention he invited you over, otherwise I would’ve called.”  
“Nah, it’s your weekend, anyway. I’ll go ahead and dip.”  
“Wait, do you want to try these cookies I made?” you invited Jack to the kitchen where you had a plate of cookies sitting out. “I waited until the kids left.”  
“Did you make edibles?” Jack furrowed his eyebrows and you chuckled.  
“No, I’m not that cool. I just didn’t want to share.”  
“But you’ll share with me, how sweet.”  
“We’re past the bitter break-up phase, aren’t we?”  
“Mmhmm.” he hummed as he sat on your barstool and picked up a cookie. 
You and Jack had broken up after seven years together three years back. Your son, Max, was only three and your daughter, Elle, was only one. The split was hard for all four of you, especially with the kids being so small and having no concept of what was going on. Things got easier when you and Jack got into a groove of switching off weekends and eventually organizing weekly dinners, but there was still a slightly lingering tension between the both of you.  
“Hey, what are you doing all dressed up?”  
“You’re just noticing. Every time you’ve seen me, I’ve been in sweats.” you laughed, taking a bite of another cookie.  
“Well, what are you doing tonight?”  
“I’m just going out.”  
“With who? Your friends?”  
“Jack, why do you care?” you chuckled while pouring yourself a glass of milk.  
“Maybe I want to hang out with you.” you flicked your eyes up skeptically and scoffed when you saw Jack’s smug smirk.  
“I’m going on a date.” you edged out, biting back a smile.  
“A what?”  
“A date.”  
“How much did you pay him?” Jack snorted and you frowned at him. “Oh, you’re being deadass?”  
“Yes, and he’s supposed to be here in a few minutes.”  
“You found a guy that’s okay with dating you with me as your baby daddy? Damn, that’s a keeper.”  
“Can you be serious? And can you start with helping me put on this necklace?” you walked around the island with a simple gold necklace in hand, holding it out to Jack.  
Despite being a good distance away from the tall man, he stepped closer to you, nearly breathing down your neck as he made sure the center of the necklace was perfectly set on your cleavage. Over all the time you two spent together, Jack had become perfect at clasping your necklaces or zipping up the back of your dresses. When you first broke up, it wasn’t something you expected to associate with him for so long.  
“There you go.” Jack murmured, adjusting the chain of the necklace before taking a step back.  
"Thank you.”  
He gave you a curt nod before sitting back down at the island, seemingly making himself comfortable. Even when he came over to hang out with the kids, he was standoffish until something broke the ice. You made a slight show of checking the time on your phone, knowing that Jack was watching you, but instead of him clearing his throat and politely leaving, he remained sat. You watched as he leaned back in the chair he was in, slightly spreading his legs with his hands splayed on his thighs as if he were analyzing you.  
“So, how long have you and this guy been going out? First date?”  
“Well, Emmett and I have known each other for a while and then a few months ago, he asked me out and it's been sort of a... every other weekend thing since.” you shrugged, playing it off as casual as Jack puckered his lips slightly and nodded.  
“So, when do I get to meet him?”  
You couldn’t help but scoff and let out a chuckle at that. 
“I’m being for real, Y/N. I mean, it seems like y’all are getting serious. I want to meet the guy that’s going to be around my kids before they’re around him.”  
“Well, I’m sure we can work something out if it gets to that. I can try and figure out a way where the five of us can get together.”  
Jack made a sour expression at the thought of there being five of you and cringing at how nonchalant you came across.  
“No, I mean before he meets the kids.”  
At that, you furrowed your eyebrows and narrowed your eyes. “Excuse me?”  
“If you and Emmett get serious and you want to introduce him to the kids, I want to meet him first.” 
“And why do you feel the need to do that?”  
“I want to know who’s going to be spending time with my kids.”  
“Introducing them doesn’t mean that he’ll be spending time with them and by that time, I’ll know who he is and whether or not I feel comfortable allowing him with them.” you spoke sternly, growing agitated with the tall brunette. “I’m a very capable mother.”  
“I know that, but what would be the problem with me meeting him? Being a second opinion.”  
“I don’t need a second opinion on my damn love life, Jack.”  
“If you’re bringing him around my kids, then that’s how it’s going to be.”  
“Who the hell do you think you are? If you want to meet him after I introduce him, I’m okay with that, but you won’t meet him before, I’m sorry.”  
“Then you won’t bring him around.” Jack shrugged, and you couldn’t fight the sneer that flashed across your face.  
“You are so immature.” you hissed at him, expecting the vapid remark to be enough to make him snap out of it, but instead he stood from the chair.  
“I’m immature?” you nodded as you busied yourself with throwing random things in the trash or shoving it into place. “It’s immature to want to know who’s around you? Who you’re bringing around my kids?”  
“Oh, my God, give up the ‘my kids’ speech. This is about your ego and wanting to keep me from moving on even though every time I open Instagram, there’s news about you out with some girl. What if I asked to meet your latest arm candy because who knows how many times the kids have seen some random girl’s clothes or a hickey or something!”  
“That’s not the same and you fucking know it.”  
“But it’s just as petty. When you dated that one girl six months after we broke up, I didn’t ask to meet her when you two took the two of them out for ice cream and the kids came back just raving about her. Do you know why Jack?”  
He went to open his mouth, but your fierce anger was enough to shut him down.  
“Because I trust your judgement and respect you as a parent, but you can’t do that same thing for me? You don’t even have any business knowing who I’m seeing because you and I aren’t together anymore. We’re not even friends, Jack.” you bit, and Jack puffed his chest up.  
“If I find out that he met the kids before I did, I am going to-”  
“You’re going to what?” you let out a humorless laugh and Jack was almost sure he saw your eye twitch. “You are unbelievable, Jack. You’re so unfair and entitled to what’s not yours anymore.”  
“I’m unfair?” he smirked, bending slightly to point a finger against his broad chest and look you in your eyes. “I’m unfair?”  
“Yes.” you mumbled quietly, crossing your arms.  
“You know what? It’s always been me that’s unfair and I’ve accepted it. I’m always unfair when I’m trying to do the right thing by us and I’m fucking tired of it.”  
“There’s no us anymore, Jack. We can’t talk about that stuff anymore. The only “us” is the kids, me, and you. There is no us.”  
“I fucking know that!” he yelled, making you flinch. “I know that when this guy comes into your life for good, I’m being replaced. I know that, but you cannot blame me for trying. You were my first fucking love, Y/N, you’re still the only woman I’ll love like this. I know I’m the bad guy- I know I’m the guy that couldn’t be bothered to make it home on time because he was drunk. And I know that you’re this angel that I didn’t fucking deserve. I know you found Mr. Perfect; I know you found the guy that’s not going to put you through what I did, but when you figure that out, when you’re sure of that, what we had, the smallest bit of what we had, is gone. It’s going to be gone and I won’t be able to do anything about it!”  
At the end of his rant, his fist crashed to the counter, rattling the glass of milk and sending it to the floor. There wasn’t a shadow of doubt in your mind that Jack would ever hurt you, but it didn’t stop you from taking a step back and swallowing before looking in his murky blue eyes.  
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” he sniffled, dragging his hands down his face and cursing to himself. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m acting like this. I’ll leave.”  
“It’s okay.” you shook your head, blinking back your tears to keep his guilt away. “No, we can talk.”  
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” you nodded in understanding but kept your eyes on the milk dripping onto the floor. “C’mon, look at me.”  
You sniffled when Jack stepped closer and allowed him to cup your cheeks and tilt your head up towards him. The sob you let out started in your chest and as soon as Jack saw the hiccup and quiver of your lips, he pulled you into his chest, one hand against the back of your head and the other on your lower back.  
“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” he whispered, and you pulled back.  
“It’s not you, Jack. I just miss you and I-it's been three years since we’ve broken up and I still don’t know how to deal with it. I have no fucking clue how to do what I’ve been doing since we broke up.”  
“Me neither.” he admitted softly, making you shake your head. “I know I’m being unfair, but I don’t know how to play nice when I’m fighting for you.”  
Your eyes softened in the same way his voice did as he kept his hold on you, savoring it for what it was. “Sometimes I don’t think I tried hard enough.”  
“You did, Y/N. By the end of it, it was me who was slacking.”  
“I think we were both just tired and maybe we did need the time apart.”  
“Not three years, though.”  
“Hey, you’re the one who kept your mouth shut for all those years.” you teased, poking his chest with a smirk and Jack chuckled. “Are we going to try again, Jack?”  
“I’m ready.” he told you, stroking your head softly and looking at you pensively. “Are you?”  
“Yeah.” you breathed out, smiling softly. “I want you back.”  
Jack opened his mouth, obviously to say something, but you didn’t give him the chance. You hooked an arm around his shoulders and pulled him down, causing the two of you to take a few steps towards the counter behind you. You gasped when your back hit the hardwood and Jack immediately placed a soothing hand there while he took the chance to lick into your mouth.  
Every part of you was on fire, that resistant spark that burned in the pit of your stomach was lit by the match of your and Jack’s revelation. Your grip on him tightened like he was only an apparition that could be whisked away if you let him go once more. The kiss became intertwined with emotions of lust and longing as your bodies were in a matter of seconds. You were attempting to untuck Jack’s shirt the same way he was struggling to tug up your dress.  
“Right here?” he breathed out, and you shivered when you realized the lower part of your body was exposed to Jack.  
“I don’t care, wherever.”  
“Fuck, okay.” Jack grunted, as he helped hoist you to the counter, undoing his fly between your legs while kissing the side of your neck while you tugged at his hair. “Damn, you smell so good.”  
“Jack, we need a-”  
Your sentence was interrupted by a knock at the door. You and Jack looked at each other- your eyes were wide and his were filled with annoyance as he returned to your kissing your neck.  
“Jack, that’s Emmett.”  
“Just don’t answer. He’ll go away.”  
“No, that’s not- fuck, Jack.” you gasped, squeezing your legs around his hips through his determined advances. “Jack!”  
“Y/N!” he exclaimed back to you, gripping your thighs. “Come on, baby.”  
“Move.” you whispered, and Jack rolled his eyes before letting you down.  
Your heart pounded in guilt, but the rest of you pulsed in pleasure as you looked to the man who could give you what you needed. Under his blue glare, you almost felt yourself go weak in the knees, but you knew you’d fight with a conscience if you left Emmett to knock on your door any louder.  
“Tell him Daddy’s home.” Jack said smugly behind you, and it took more effort than it should’ve to not drag him into your bedroom.  
With another tug at the hem of your dress, you opened the door and smiled sympathetically at Emmett who looked nervous. “Hey, Y/N, I thought something was wrong. I saw another car parked outside.”  
“Emmett, I’m so sorry.” you huffed, hearing Jack clattering in the home behind you.  
“I understand if you need a raincheck.” he smiled, and you wanted to yell at him for being so understanding.  
“Actually, I don’t think we'll be going out again anymore. I’ve had so much fun with you, and you’ve been so sweet to me, but there’s someone else. And it’s new! Very new.”  
“I don’t understand? You string me along for how fucking long just to drop me like this?”  
“I swear, I wasn’t trying to string you along. I promise.”  
“That makes it so much better. When were you going to tell me? I mean, what kind of bitch does-”  
“Aye!” Jack yelled, storming from the kitchen to the threshold the angriest you’d ever seen him. “Who the fuck are you to come and yell in her face like that? You better get ahold of yourself, man.”  
Emmett hardly seemed threatened by Jack who towered over both of you and kept a hand on your stomach to hold you close to his chest. “Your ex, Y/N, seriously? It doesn’t get any worse than that.”  
“You got something to say to her, you look at me while you say it.”  
“Jack.” you whispered, grabbing his hand to pull it away from you. “I can wrap it up.”  
Jack was bound to hold his place until you turned around and looked at him in a way that left no more room for argument. With another threatening glare that ultimately did make Emmett blush, Jack walked away as he mumbled something along the lines of, “Punk ass.”  
“I understand that I seem like a terrible person, and maybe this does make me a terrible person, Emmett, but Jack is and always was it for me. I also know that saying that makes it worse, but we weren’t it for each other. We had fun and I hate that it’s ending like this, but your person was never going to be me.”  
Emmett sighed and scratched his head. “I do understand that. I’m glad you’re happy.”  
“Thank you.” you smiled, reaching out to give him a friendly hug. “Have a good night, Emmett.”  
“You, too.”  
With a deep breath, you shut the door behind you and saw Jack leaned over the counter with a cookie in his hand and a new upright glass of milk next to him. You smiled back at him, and he sauntered over the counter.  
“Can I tell you something?” you murmured, placing your hands on Jack’s chest when he was close enough.  
“I want to hear everything you have to say to me.” he obliged, wrapping his arms around you.  
“When you bought up him meeting the kids, I knew we were over. Me and Emmett, I mean. I don’t want to share our babies growing up with anyone else or share this part of myself anyone else. I’ve been looking for someone to fill the hole you left, but I know that if I don’t find it with you, it won’t be anyone.”  
“I’ve tried to explain that to people, that feeling that’s left when you lose the love of your life and they nod and they say they understand, but I know they don’t. It only makes sense that it’s you that gets it, though, right?”  
You smiled and shrugged. “I guess it does.”  
You and Jack shared another kiss, this one mutually slower and softer. Your hands trailed as if you were trying to mold one another and remind yourselves what the other felt like. “I know you don’t feel like it tonight and I’m perfectly okay with that.”  
“Thank you.” you softly brushed the sides of his face, and he pecked your lips. “Now, it is still a child-free night, so my vote is that we go get in my bed and watch something that isn’t a Disney production?”  
“You are so lame.” Jack laughed, and you gasped to feign shock. “I mean, this is our first night back together and that’s what you want to do? It’s seven o’clock!”  
“What do you suggest, then?”  
“The fair is still in town.” he suggested, and you grinned. “And we can get on all the rides we want because we don’t have two kids with us.”  
“I love you, Jack Harlow.”  
“I love you more.” he said genuinely, and you scrunched your nose as you accepted the kiss he left on your temple before you went back into your room to change.   
|| 
You weren’t sure what lulled you out of your sleep as you held a sleeping Jack against your chest. He slept soundly, light snores disturbing the air. As you stroked his hair and kissed him delicately, you looked over at your door to find the three stuffed animals he won along with the new photobooth strip that now sat amongst the few framed pictures of you and your children.  
You and Jack made yourselves feel like teenagers again, running around the dark fair and getting sugar rushes from cotton candy and spending way too much money on rigged game booths, but Jack’s ego could not be disturbed. Not to mention the night ending much better than you expected when you stumbled through your front door while Jack talked about how much better he was than any guy that would've come along against your lips.  
It was no wonder why you could drift back to sleep so easily. That was until your eyes flew back open at the loud banging of the door and a phone buzzing from somewhere. Jack shot up, narrowly missing your chin and looking around.  
“What the fuck?” he grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat up, looking down at you and smiling proudly. 
“Jack, go see what it is.” you urged him, pushing at his side. “I’m naked.”  
“Stay like that.” he told you as he rolled out of bed and tugged a pair of sweatpants up his long legs.  
You threw your head back to the mattress and pulled the sheets up, hoping that it was someone looking to borrow an egg or two for breakfast. You listened out for whatever noise there was, only to hear two excited voices.  
“Daddy!” Elle squealed, jumping into Jack’s arms as you scrambled to get dressed.  
“Hi, pumpkin.”  
“Dad, what are you doing here?” Max asked, jumping in front of Jack happily while your mother stood at the threshold.  
“Um, your mom made some cookies last night and I wanted to come taste them.” he explained dully, looking at your mother who had a knowing look as you came down the hall with a robe covering your backwards clothes.  
“Hi, my loves.” you greeted, kissing both of their cheeks before looking up at your mom. “Hi, Mom, thanks for keeping them last night, but it’s a little early, isn’t it?”  
“No, it’s three o’clock in the afternoon.”  
You and Jack laughed awkwardly, and she smiled. “We must’ve overslept.”  
“There’s a ‘we’?” she asked, as Elle clambered down Jack.  
“We’re going to work on some things, of course, but yeah.” you nodded, placing a hand on Jack’s back happily.  
“I’m happy to hear that. Two grandchildren aren’t enough.”  
"Right, well, on that note.” you reached out to hug your mother who let out a hearty laugh.  
“I’ll see you all later.” she told you and Jack smiled politely as you guided her out the door and to her car.  
When you returned, Jack and the kids were already in the kitchen and you were dreading the pending conversation you expected to have, but their clamoring was only about what they wanted for breakfast. 
“Okay, I have one vote for French toast and the other for pancakes!” Jack stood behind counter, and you came up behind the two kids with a smile, a hand in each of their curly heads. “What do you want, Mama?”  
Your cheeks warmed at the charming nickname that hadn’t graced his lips in far too long before humming. “I’m in the mood for waffles, honestly.”  
“Me, too. Waffles, it is.”  
“Hey!” Max exclaimed, pouting. “You and Mama can’t team up!”  
“Yes, we can.” Jack teased, sticking out his tongue.  
Elle, of course, followed his example and mimicked the action to her brother. “No pancake, no pancake.” 
“You’re not getting your toast either.”  
“Don’t care.” she blew a raspberry, to which Max dramatically responded, leading to the both of them leaping from their chairs and running into the playroom.  
“No running!” you and Jack yelled at the same time and shared a look with one another. You got closer to him and kissed his cheek softly.  
“I could get used to this.” he murmured as he pulled down the waffle maker.  
“What’s that? Waking up at three in the afternoon to make waffles?”  
“That and being home with my favorite people.” he winked, earning your smile.  
“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind you getting used to that.”  
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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year
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Midnight Blades {9}
Aemond Targaryen x princess!reader (Dark!themes) Summary: After the time apart, reality sets in for the parents-to-be and it is time to clear the air between lovers. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fingering, violence WC: 2521
Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Part Nine || Part Ten || Part Eleven || Part Twelve || Part Thirteen || Part Fourteen || Part Fifteen || Part Sixteen || Part Seventeen || Part Eighteen || Part Nineteen || Part Twenty ||
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It was Ser Criston that broke the brothers apart and diffused the situation as Alicent reassured the other guards that had arrived to investigate the raucous that it was merely another sibling quarrel. Aegon sulked as he pulled himself to his feet, pushing away the armoured arms that offered to support him, and ordered them all to fuck off. 
You expected the hunger in his eyes to dissipate after the promise his brother made but it only heated as he licked his lips and held your stare with a smirk. 
“Your wife, Helaena, is waiting in the dining hall,” Alicent reminded her eldest son as she gently rubbed his shoulder and nudged him out of your room. Whatever discouragement Aemond hoped his threat would have failed as you saw the dark plans his brother had, he wanted what he couldn’t have and now it was a game, a hunt.
The door slammed shut by Aemond’s hand and he tore the leather eye patch from his head before raking his fingers through his silver hair. “Put the knife down, princess.”
Dark circles surrounded his eyes and the usual colour of his lips and cheeks were faded, he looked ill. You wanted to ask of his health and your lips even parted but you couldn’t bring yourself to voice your concern, he did not deserve it.
The air was heavy with tension as he stood half a world away, waiting for your weapon to be sheathed. You missed the fighting but it was another victim to your pregnancy, he would not risk the possibility of hurting the child growing within. With a huff, you hurled the dagger at the door behind him and turned away before the thud of the blade biting into the wood sounded.
“Good girl,” was all he murmured before making to follow you, until you pinned him with a glare over your shoulder at the sound of his first foot fall.
His hand reached into the small pouch hanging beside his sword and he pulled a silver chain from within. “A gift,” he offered as he opened his hand, “for you.”
“I don’t want your fucking gifts, I want my freedom.” You looked at the necklace and pursed your lips at the sight of the sapphire that had broken from Midnight, now bound in a new metal. “Pretty jewellery will not heal this.”
“That freedom is why we are here now, you used it to procure that tea. There will be no more wandering to the marketplace for you, princess,” he said with a shake of his head, tossing the necklace to the table. “Who knows what other tinctures you might find.”
He looked at your abdomen, his head tilting as if he could concentrate hard enough to see the babe, but there were no outward signs as of yet.
Your palm lay protectively over your stomach and your lip curled back at his implied tone. “You think I would poison her?”
“It is quite obvious you did not want her, it is not unreasonable to believe you capable of amending that.”
“Fuck you, Aemond!” You crossed the space in a blind rage, your hand snaking out to connect with his face but he caught your wrist before it could connect, a bruising grip that enraged you further. “You may have no quarrel murdering innocent children but I will have no part of it. I may not have wanted a child so soon but she is mine to protect.”
The tight grip on your wrist loosened and he lowered your arm to your side before placing his own palm low on your stomach. His voice was tender, despite the wild look still lingering in his eye, “She is ours. īlva byka zaldrīzes.” [High Valyrian: Our little dragon.]
His thumb rubbed small circles and you felt it as if there was no material between you, an ache throbbing between your legs. His eye closed with a quiet sigh as you stepped away from his touch and whatever sweet moment occurred, it passed. 
“I know your body, princess, I can feel your need, a mirror to my own.”
You turned away, heading towards the nook you had spent most of your time watching the city from. “I need nothing from you, save for my freedom.”
“Haven’t we moved past lying?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm, his long strides closing in until his chest pressed to your back and his hand cupped your sex over your skirts. “Your thighs will be slick with your wetness right now, your cunt clenching around nothing and wishing it was my cock that would stretch it and fill it.”
Your lips parted with a heady sigh before you came to your senses and pushed away. He stalked you as you dropped into the bay window, towering over your position, and watched as you hiked your skirts to your lap.
“I have satisfied myself since you imprisoned me in this room, and I will satisfy myself until I am released,” you threatened as you parted your legs and ran your fingers through your damp slit. “If I find myself with such a need that my fingers cannot suffice I am sure your brother is more than happy to fill the void.” 
The words were bitter on your tongue and when your fingers no longer glided over your clit, you dipped them within your folds to find them dry. 
The thunderous rage that had kept Aemond frozen still above you released with a dark laugh and he pushed your thighs wider apart. “Yes, I see how much my brother appeals to you.”
Your hands fell to your side with an exasperated groan as the ache left by lack of release grew along with Aemond’s amusement. Defeated, you laid back against the pillows and whispered to your husband, “I hate you, I hate what you have done to me.”
He traced his knuckles over your cheek. “You are a princess, you were born to breed - if not me it would have been another prince.” 
“I know what my life was destined to be,” you said as you pushed his hand away with a failing strength. “I hate that my body burns for you.” 
“Let me ease that ache, you can still hate me - I won’t take that from you too.” His thumbs drew small circles on your thighs, one feeling the scar of his initials on your skin. 
Goosebumps prickled across your skin and your breast felt heavy on your chest, the swells more pronounced than the last time he had laid eyes on them. 
“I hate how little my body hates you,” you murmured breathlessly as each circle of his thumbs brought him closer to where you needed to be touched. “It is a traitor to my heart.”
“At least that is what you tell yourself to sleep at night.” His thumb pad grazed over your slit and you inhaled sharply as the bolt of lightning that shot up your body, a quiet moaning spilling free from your lips. 
“At least I sleep at night,” you replied, reaching out to his gaunt face and touching the dark bags beneath his eye. “You have not.”
His thumbs parted your entrance and he licked his lips at the enticing sight of your arousal glistening for him. “I do not trust the guards to protect what is mine. They could not even protect me as a child.”
You ran your hands over his scar, knowing the tale well. “We are both hot-tempered and yes, I was not joyous at the news of being with child, but my hatred for you is born of this prison. Free me and end both of our suffering.”
“It is not so simple,” Aemond sighed, pulling your skirts back to hide the temptation to take you as he yearned to. “Your continued defiance has not gone unnoticed, and Aegon still has not forgiven the fact that you spent the afternoon aboard the warships. If you were to roam the Keep and make one mistake then not even the child in your womb could save you from his punishment.”
You crossed your arms and ignored the heat that flared in his eye as the movement pushed your breasts up until they threatened to spill from the bodice of the dress. “I can behave, I am not a petulant child about to throw a tantrum.”
“You threatened to cut my dick off, love, the entire court heard your screams.” Aemond chuckled as he stood to his full height and shifted uncomfortably with the erection filling his trousers. “They would probably argue that statement.”
“I was…emotional,” you admitted, tucking your legs up so you could wrap your arms around them. His snort was uncharacteristic and you grabbed the book, tossing it at him as he continued to laugh unapologetically. 
The book bounced off his hard chest and thudded to the floor but his smile only grew as he swiped it up and flipped through the pages, tutting to himself as he saw the markings and notes you had made along the margin. “Destroying priceless historical books, princess, how mature of you. Perhaps you need a nap to improve your attitude, or at least your aim.”
He tucked the book under his arm with a smirk and swaggered to the door with a pleased smirk. “We can discuss the possibility of supervised freedoms, within the walls of Red Keep of course, over dinner this evening. Until then, my love.”
The door shut behind him and the familiar click of the lock scraped into the stone, putting you back on edge once again. 
Reduced to your own company and now the lack of the book for entertainment, you picked over some of the food and your stomach settled as it filled. You had contemplated throwing the food out the window after Alicent’s visit but the only one that would be harmed by that would be the child you were growing. And, being hungry did not help to stabilise your moods, much to Aemond’s amusement. 
You were determined to be free of the chambers one way or another, four walls were never meant to contain you. Ser Negan had nicknamed you little sparrow as a young girl when your tutors complained you escaped the classroom by any means, even climbing down the brick and beam exterior of the tower so that you could play in the garden. 
‘You are a little sparrow, because they too are not meant to be caged.’
How you missed the old man, and your father too. Your father had not had the heart to punish you for wishing to play with the other children in the palace instead of learning royal protocol and the languages of the continent. Perhaps they did spoil you, a little.
You were lost to memories of your childhood as the afternoon passed by when a quiet sound in the walls caught your attention.
The airing vent grated as it was shifted from the stone and you hurried across the room to see which of the rat catchers were crawling through the narrow spaces to pass you the message that floated to the floor. By the time you moved the chair that hid the metal bars a flash of red hair was all you caught and you whispered your gratitudes to the boy as he scurried back to the lower levels where he was meant to be working.
The writing was nearly illegible but considering most of the rat catchers were children sold into slavery the fact that any of them could write at all was a miracle in itself. The White Worm had obviously made an effort to educate the basics, but teaching the children too much would raise questions that would not help their cause. 
Allies of Rhaenyra are arriving with the merchants. Thrice too many ships arrived this season. 
You balled up the parchment after deciphering the many spelling mistakes and tossed it into the fire. It would have been preferred to know what the council was planning to do, they could hardly cut off the merchant ships as the city supplies relied upon them. But, if the surge of merchant ships continued to arrive with Rhaenrya’s allies and they were left unchecked the Red Keep could be at risk of a siege. 
You were still staring into the flames when Aemond burst into the room like a hurricane, his eye scanning the space until he found you and his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.
“What is happening?” you asked as handmaids followed Aemond’s entrance and began to gather your clothes into trunks.
“It’s Aegon’s name day overmorrow and he wishes to hunt in Felwood,” he answered, rubbing his jaw where a bruise was beginning to blossom and an imprint of the King’s ring was pressed into the skin. “Our presence is required.”
“Your brother is a fool,” you huffed. “House Fell swore allegiance to Rhaenyra and now he wishes to camp on their borders.”
“He is the king and he can do as he pleases upon the land that is his, but I did try to get him to see reason.”
“That went well I see,” you said plainly as you made your way to the basin and wrung out a cloth. “Have you always fought like cats and dogs?”
He took a seat in front of the fire so you needn’t reach up to him and let you press the cool damp cloth to the bruise. The corner of his eyes pinched at the sting of the cut but he distracted himself from the pain as he placed his hand on your waist. “It was the only way to get father’s attention, now it is all we know.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t imagine what that must have been like for a child.” You gently turned his head back after he looked away at your apology. “Promise me that you will not neglect our child as your father did, swear by the blood, nor will you cage her when she displeases you.”
Your words cut through him and he blinked twice before he rose from the chair only to drop to his knees. Realisation and regret bled from his pale blue eye as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his bruised cheek to your stomach. “No more cages, no more neglect, I swear this to the both of you.”
Your stomach responded with a rumble that broke the heavy moment and he looked up at you with a commanding stare. “You need to eat.”
“Dinner has not yet arrived,” you pointed out with a wave to the table that had been cleared by maids earlier. 
“Not here,” he said as he rose to his feet and took your hand, placing it on his forearm and leading you to the door. “No more cages.”
You reached the doorway and paused before you could cross the threshold to the freedom you had so desperately longed for. “This does not mean you are forgiven.”
Looking from the corner of his eye he nodded to himself, “I know.”
Click here for Part Ten.
Taglist: @hopebaker, @xcharlottemikaelsonx , @eddiemunson17 , @ninjabritches , @solacestyles , @hideing , @missusnora , @marrianena , @jonsncws
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Note
Protective hug with Reigen and one of the kids?
this got so out of hand. so out of hand. thank you so much for the prompt! <3 i really went. frickng. this is 8.6k. but I’m really really happy with how it turned out! <3 ty again for the prompt
- future fic bc I love post canon potential, protective reigen, Teruki’s parents are the worst, heavily implied child abuse/neglect (not pictured), etc. married terumob at the forefront with backburner married serirei. because I’m a sap. everyone is protective of teruki and shigeo.
hope you enjoy! my formatting broke while copy/pasting to tumblr shdjkfsdf so here’s the AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43243897
~*~*~*~*~
Reigen is balanced precariously on his hand-me-down stepladder replacing the blinds when Teruki bursts into the office with a sound like a gunshot and nearly vaults Reigen to his death.
“Teruk—!” Reigen yowls, flailing. He's lucky enough that the blinds had already been secured to the window—he grabs ahold of the rail and steadies himself, then hops down the three steps to the floor. "Holy shit, don't do that to me—”
Teruki's across the room before Reigen's collected himself. His hands chain around Reigen's arm and the fear in his eyes brands straight to Reigen's soul.
“She found us,” Teruki blurts. “She knows where we live, Reigen, she—” 
“Okay, okay. Calm down.” Heat rips through Reigen's chest. Teruki is twenty six years old and all Reigen sees behind those eyes is a scared child. “Who found out where—” 
Oh.
Oh shit.
“Shit,” Reigen says out loud. He grips Teruki by the shoulders to hold him steady. Not even Claw could make Teruki tremble like this. “What happened? Are you and Shigeo okay?”
“We’re okay,” Teruki stammers. His gaze flickers around like he's expecting someone to hurt him. “Shigeo got the door, but she knew who he was and I never even told her I was gay. How did she know who he was? How did she know—” 
This has been the one lingering fear that has followed Teruki every year of his life. Claw has come and gone. Natural disaster has come and gone. But his parents—somehow they’ve managed to cling like the roaches they are, digging their grimy hands into whatever good things Teruki builds for himself.
Not this. Not fucking this. 
“I don’t know how much she knows,” Teruki says. “He told her off but she said she’s going to come back. What are we supposed to do when she comes back?”
Reigen hugs him. It feels like what Teruki needs. “It’s gonna be okay,” he says. The rage within him seethes and bleeds into the ferocity of the hug, but he can’t do anything about it. “She doesn’t get to do this.”
Teruki hugs him. Reigen’s hug is angry; Teruki’s hug is afraid. “What are we supposed to do? She hasn’t done anything for years, if we take it to the police—”
“She’s done enough.”
“We can’t prove anything.”
“We can try.”
“Shigeo answered the door,” Teruki says halfway through his second cup of tea. 
Reigen stops fidgeting with the blinds to join Teruki at the couches, sitting across from him. Teruki has been mostly silent thus far, breathing and sipping tea while recollecting his bearings. The sign on the door has been flipped to Closed. 
“He told me he’d handle it,” Teruki goes on, “but I didn’t like the thought of him being alone with her. I don’t. So I went with him.”
Reigen nods. He’s trying to keep things comfortable for Teruki’s sake, but anticipation gnaws. “What did she want?”
Teruki leans back. He swishes his tea and watches it until it’s still again. “... Apparently she and my father got divorced,” he says. “I figured it’s been coming for years, but she picked a weird time to tell me.”
“Yeah. Sounds like manipulation to me.”
Teruki’s smile is bitter. “That’s what Shigeo said.”
“What about your dad? What’s up with him?”
Teruki shrugs. “I’ve met him maybe… twice? He was always away when I was growing up. I don’t know if he ever wanted to be a father in the first place.” Teruki swirls his tea again. “They had to sell the house after the divorce, so she’s living alone just outside of the city. She gave us her address in case we wanted to… visit. I guess? She said she wanted to ‘reconnect’. Not apologize, just reconnect.” 
“What’s she expecting? A family reunion?”
Teruki huffs. It’s the first smile that’s seemed at all real since he got here. “Shige’s family would tear her apart. Ritsu’s been wanting to for years.” 
Reigen can empathize.
Teruki reaches the bottom of his mug and settles it on the coffee table between them. “Sorry,” Teruki says. His eyes are red, and he sniffs while he tucks loose hair back into place. “I appreciate you letting me stay for a while. Thank you.”
“Yeah, sure thing,” Reigen says. He hates that he can’t do more. “Do you guys have a game plan? What are you gonna do?”
“We’re going to file for a restraining order,” Teruki answers. “I hoped she would leave me alone once I was an adult, and I probably would’ve been okay with never pressing charges as long as she just… stayed away. But now she’s— stalking us. Enough that she knows where we live and who Shigeo is. If she’s willing to go that far, I don’t know what else she’s capable of.”
“Yeah, no, that makes sense.” Especially after a divorce. Knowing what he does about Teruki’s parents, it probably wasn’t a clean break. “And I meant what I said about security cameras. You and Shigeo already have a bunch of them outside, don’t you? Do they record audio?”
“Not yet. Shigeo’s getting those installed today.” Teruki rubs his arms. “I feel bad for leaving him at the house alone, but… I just, needed some time away after she was there.”
The wrath is back. That this person is managing to make Teruki feel unsafe after all these years is despicable, much less in his own home that he’s built for himself with his husband.
“Shigeo understands,” Reigen says. “It probably gave him some time to regain his bearings. You know how he is. Just call the police if she starts snooping around the place again, alright? I mean that. And call me, too.”
“Yeah.” Teruki grabs his shoulderbag. “Thanks. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”
Reigen nods. He jots a mental note: make sure Shigeo still has that spare key to the office. Teruki and Shigeo have a litany of places to hide out before the office, but if they need somewhere last second that’s completely detached from friends and family, Spirits and Such isn’t a bad choice. 
Teruki leaves with a short and tired goodbye and Reigen watches the sidewalk from the window. Once he sees Teruki turn the corner on the curb, he drops the blinds and locks up for the night.
Then he calls Shigeo.
He gets a single ring in before Shigeo picks up. “I almost killed someone today.”
“Yeah.” Reigen runs a hand through his hair. “How literal is that?”
Shigeo dodges that question like it’s a landmine. “I recognized her,” he says. “And she—somehow recognized me. I thought I could just tell her off and it would be over, but then she started talking about him and—” Shigeo heaves in a deep breath. “I told him not to follow me. He didn’t listen. How much did he tell you?”
“Just that she was trying to guilt trip him with the whole ‘divorce’ thing,” Reigen says. “And that you were pissed.”
“I still am. She gave me—she gave me her address. I almost—” Another very, very deep breath. “Reigen.” 
“Don’t beat yourself up over it too much.” Reigen doesn’t know what he would do if he ever met Teruki’s parents, but he’d probably end up with a fun story to tell his roommate in jail. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if it were me. It sounds like you held it together pretty well, all things considered.” 
“She knows I’m married to him,” Shigeo says. “How does she know who I am?”
“What about social media? You guys kind of keep up with that, don’t you?”
“We do, but our accounts are private. She shouldn’t be able to see anything, not unless she’s getting updates through somebody else.”
“Gotcha.” Reigen could punch a wall. “Damn it. Teruki talked to me, but have you talked to anyone?”
“I talked to Ritsu. He told our parents. They’re upset.”
Teruki’s parents set off an airhorn in the lion’s den with the Kageyama family alone. Ritsu is fiercely protective of his brother and subsequent brother-in-law, and the Kageyamas are fiercely protective of their sons and subsequent son-in-law.
“I also went to the gym for a few hours after I got the security cameras fixed.”
“Well, good.” The concept of that makes Reigen want to die a little, but weight training has been a good outlet for Shigeo’s overwhelming mental state over the years. “Are you home now?”
“Mm. I got takeout from Teru’s favorite restaurant, but I don’t know how much he’s going to eat.”
“Makes sense. I know you’re already going to, but make sure he eats something.”
“I will. I’m glad he talked to you. I have to call Ritsu back, he’s going to help me get the motion light installed tomorrow.”
“Alright. Oh—however much you paid for dinner, let me know. I’ll reimburse you.”
“What? No, you couldn’t…”
“I haven’t treated you kids to ramen in years, this ain’t gonna break the bank. Just text me. And don’t tell Teruki until you really feel like it.”
“… Okay. Thank you, Shishou.”
It’s no use telling Shigeo not to call him that. He already knows—now, the kid just saves it for nostalgia and the verbal equivalent of a hug or a promise, which is ridiculous but also makes Reigen emotional if he thinks too hard about it. Being fourty does that to a person, maybe. 
“Call the police if you get suspicious.”
“That goes without saying.”
“Call me too. I want dibs.”
“Family first. But you can deal with the leftovers.”
“Well, I suppose that’s only fair. Nothing hurts more than rubbing salt in the wounds.”
Shigeo kind of laughs. It’s as much of a laugh as he’s going to get out of the kid given the situation. “Thanks again.”
“Sure thing.”
Shigeo hangs up. Reigen packs up the office and calls Katsuya on his way home.
Shigeo is seated on the couch with a book, still bristling, when Teruki walks through the door of their home. 
Shigeo tries to shove his anger aside because Teruki has never liked seeing Shigeo upset, but this is one emotion he can’t stuff, and Teruki doesn’t like it when Shigeo stuffs emotions either. Maybe it’s better that Shigeo doesn’t pretend everything is okay.  
“Hey,” Teruki says, letting his shoulderbag slip to the floor.
“Hi,” Shigeo says. “I got takeout for dinner. You should eat something, even if you don’t want to.”
“Yeah, uh.” Teruki laughs, a little nervous and a lot ashamed. “I’ll do what I can. Thanks.”
Shigeo nods. He puts his book off to the side and drops his legs, opening up his arms. He makes grabby hands at his husband. “Come here.”
Teruki exhales deeply. He kicks off his shoes on his way over to the couch and collapses into Shigeo’s chest. Shigeo wraps his arms around Teruki’s head and hooks his ankles over the backs of Teru’s knees, wishing he were tall enough to envelop him completely. He draws his aura around them both and pours as much safety and as much love into it as he can. 
Teruki knows that Shigeo loves him and would protect him, but he has to feel it. 
Teruki’s arms slip under Shigeo’s back as he hugs him, too. His coiled-up aura unfurls against Shigeo’s, scared and stressed but trusting. Shigeo reaches for it with a thought. 
“St-Stop,” Teruki gets out weakly, even as he burrows into Shigeo’s hoodie. Shigeo frowns, confused. “Y—You’re gonna make me cry, Shige.”
Shigeo presses deeper. It’s not fair, but he couldn’t possibly pull away. Teruki hiccups and clutches the back of his shirt. 
“This is your home,” Shigeo says. His heart feels fierce, but broken, and he tries to keep his voice steady for Teru. “She doesn’t get to take your home away from you. I won’t let her.”
Teruki’s tears seep through Shigeo’s hoodie, next to his heart. “God.” He laughs wetly and brings a hand up to cover his face. “I thought I could hold it together longer than this.”
“I’m not really going to let you do that, either.”
Teruki huffs. Shigeo lets his aura bleed into Teruki’s and runs his fingers through his blond hair until the jitters in Teru’s aura soften into a thrum. It’s still more sensitive than his bassline, but no longer as frightened.
“… Thank you,” Teruki says. Shigeo nods. “Have—… Did she come back?”
“No. I would have told you if she did.”
“Right. I, um. I’ve been thinking about getting a hotel for tonight. My head’s spinning.”
“Would a hotel really help?”
“I don’t know, but it can’t hurt to try.”
“I think it might,” Shigeo admits quietly. “I—I want you to feel safe, Teru, but I don’t want our home to be a place you run away from. Your mom can’t take this home away from you.”
“I know, but…” Teruki trails, then sighs, curling his knees against Shigeo’s ribs. “Maybe I don’t know.”
“I’m here, too,” Shigeo reminds him. “As long as I’m here you’ll never have to see her.”
“I don’t want you near her, either, Shige.” Teruki’s fingers press over Shigeo’s heart. “I don’t want her anywhere near you.”
“I’ll keep a barrier up. We have plenty of cameras and Ritsu is going to help us with motion lights. If we’re here, then we’re home. She can’t touch us here.”
“Nothing’s ever stopped her before,” Teruki croaks. His aura is starting to crumple again. Shigeo presses him closer. 
“You were alone before,” Shigeo says. 
Shigeo’s phone rings. Teruki flinches and Shigeo smooths his hand over Teruki’s shoulder-length hair as he digs his phone out of his back pocket.
“It’s my mom,” Shigeo says. 
Teruki relaxes and Shigeo answers. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi Mom,” Teruki says loudly. 
“My boys,” Mom says. Her smile is just as audible as her concern. “Are you two home?” 
“We’re home, why?” 
There's a knock at the door and no question as to who’s behind it. Teruki huffs incredulously as he slides off of Shigeo and Shigeo gets to his feet. They head to the door together and Shigeo pulls it open. 
Mom yanks Teruki into her arms the second she gets a visual on him. 
Teruki hardly has the chance to jump before he realizes what’s going on and he’s sinking into her embrace. He’s taller than her, but he finds a way to press his face into her shoulder while she runs her fingers through his hair.
“Oh, Teru,” Mom whispers.
Teruki’s arms squeeze around her shoulders.
This is how it should be. It should be like this when mothers come to visit. 
It was not like this when Teruki’s mother showed up. She spoke in clipped and entitled tones with condescending words—she singled him out as her son in law and he loathed it. She called Teruki her son and herself his mother and he saw red. He told her to leave and she asked what gave him the right. That she has the right to see her son and that he has no right to keep her away.
“It’s going to be okay, love,” Mom murmurs, hugging Teru close. “We’ll figure this out.”
Teruki nods and steps back only to be met with an armful of Ritsu, despite Ritsu’s reluctance initiating physical touch. Teruki returns the hug with a joke about Ritsu’s height. Ritsu scowls but stays right where he is.
This is how family should be. Family should be like this, not like—
Mom locks Shigeo into an iron hug. It’s parental and full, but a different hug than the hug she gave Teruki. This hug digs into Shigeo’s heart like an elbow in the ribs. It grounds him. 
She’s angry, too.
“We’re going to solve this,” Mom whispers into his hair. “I promise. That woman isn’t going to lay a finger on Teruki.”
Shigeo wraps her up with his arms and his aura. He nods. 
Teruki’s mother told him that they have no right to keep her away.
Soon they’ll have the right to keep her away.
“We just need witnesses,” Tome says. “That’s it, right? She’s already a disgusting person, all we need is a way to prove it and get that restraining order.”
“It’s not that simple,” Serizawa says, watching her pace around the office. “She could contest the restraining order. The court doesn’t have to grant it if they can’t find a genuine cause.”
“So we prove it,” Tome reiterates, stopping in front of him and pivoting fully to make her point. “We get whatever evidence we’ve got lying around and drop the gaffle on her ass.”
“You can do all sorts of stuff in court if you know the system,” Reigen says, folding his hands. “Teruki and Shigeo don’t have a chance if she hires some skeezy lawyer who knows their stuff.” 
He thinks twice. Teruki said his mother’s living in an apartment outside of the city… Reigen lived in an apartment outside the city until he and Katsuya were able to afford a larger one together closer to the office. Any apartment that far out is cramped and cheap and doesn’t at all suit the lifestyle Teruki described of his mother.
He wonders how much money Teruki’s father walked away with in the divorce. Maybe she couldn’t hire a lawyer.
Tome throws her hands into the air. “Okay, so whatever. Teruki’s mom can’t win. She can’t win.”
Katsuya interjects. “As much as I understand the urgency,” he says, “going before a judge is not black and white. Especially not in family court.” 
“Besides, Teruki and Shigeo haven’t even decided how they wanna handle it yet,” Reigen butts in when Tome opens her mouth to argue. She’d make a good judge if she ever decides anthropology isn’t her thing. “We should wait to hear from them. There are plenty of ways to go about this.”
“They may even try going through the esper division of law,” Serizawa adds. “Shigeo mentioned looking into that. The only qualm is that this mother isn’t an esper, but they could still have it settled in a hybrid court. Especially since Shigeo is also an esper.”
“Wait, I didn’t know about that part.” Reigen spins the chair around toward Katsuya. “What the hell is a hybrid court?”
“I’m not sure myself. Shigeo said he’s looking into it. I think Shou is helping.”
Tome drops onto the coffee table with a groan. “I guess that checks out. Shou’s mom sort of had to deal with that when his dad went off the rails. But how’s that work when the espers are the ones wanting the protective order?”
“That’s why they want to involve the esper legal system,” Serizawa says. If Tome’s anger is problem solving and Reigen’s anger is cheshire smiles, then Serizawa’s anger is something quiet and very, very dangerous. “It’s the only way to ensure that she doesn’t try and flip this back on Teruki.”
“Right.” Reigen puts his head in his hands. The thought of his mom somehow finding a way to blame Teruki for all of the abuse makes him want to throw up. And punch a wall. “Damn esper descrimination.”
Tome looks disgusted. “That’s a thing?”  
“After the Claw shitshow, yeah.”
“How the shit—she’s gonna spin this like it’s Teruki’s fault?” 
“We don’t know that she would,” Reigen says. “And could you get off the coffee table? The hell do I have couches for.”
Tome kicks her feet up onto the table in defiance. “So what? Do we just sit around and wait for something to happen? I hate that.”
Reigen hates it, too. “Teruki and Shigeo are still figuring out how they want to handle this. If they go for a permanent protective order, they’re gonna need evidence. That’s step one.”
“Alright, evidence.” Tome leaps up and finally leaves Reigen’s coffee table alone. “I’ll talk to Shou and see if we can scrape anything up records-wise. He’s always down to clown on shitty parents.”
“Don’t do anything illegal.”
“You’re the one person who doesn’t get to tell me that. That woman’s got a lot of nerve messing with my boys. She can’t win.”
She shuts the door behind her. Reigen hangs his head. 
“It’s going to be okay,” Katsuya says. Stupid husband telepathy or whatever the hell. “Once Teruki and Shigeo decide how they want to handle this, I’m sure they’ll let us know if there's anything we can do to help.”
Reigen sighs. He can’t argue with that, and frankly doesn’t want to. “Right. Wanna go get ramen?”
Katsuya grabs his coat.
Teruki and Shigeo are set up on the couch with a dusty cardboard box sitting open on the coffee table. Teruki flicks through loose polaroids and album sleeves. Shigeo sorts with him.
“This one’s an option,” Teruki says, carefully drawing a photo from its lamination. He’s so young in these pictures—he can’t even remember when or where most of them were taken. Empty memories. “You can, ah… tell I wasn’t being taken very good care of.”
Shigeo looks at the photo over Teru’s shoulder. It’s objectively not a bad picture, Teruki just looks… sad, and thin, and there's a bruise on his head. He looks maybe five or six, which means he was actually seven or eight, and he’s holding his mother’s hand. It might've been the last time he ever held her hand.
“You’re so small,” Shigeo says with no air. 
Teruki blows all the air out of his own lungs and leans back. “Yeah. It’s good evidence, though, right?”
He hates the smile that claws its way onto his face, all muscle-memory. Shigeo hates that he smiles when he’s trying to hide something. Teruki hasn’t slipped into the bad habit this instinctively in years. 
Shigeo reaches for the photo. He stares intensely at it for long enough that Teruki feels self-conscious. “Did—” Shigeo pauses. “The bruise,” he says. “Did your mom…?”
“What? Oh.” Shigeo’s stress is making more sense. “Maybe once or twice? It didn’t happen a lot.”
“So she did.”
“Not often.” Teruki doesn’t have vivid memories of being hit. He has vivid memories of her voice and her damn words, and maybe being cornered in the middle of it. “I was mainly just left alone a lot growing up, and it was around the time Claw started catching onto me. She was way more into pretending I didn’t exist.”
Shigeo nods, stiff, and when he doesn’t stop staring at the photo Teruki reaches over and takes it out of his hands. He isn’t trying to upset Shigeo anymore than he already has, and in all honesty seeing his own face like that for too long is dragging up drowned memories. He doesn’t want to think about any of this.
He settles the photo onto an empty patch of coffee table. “Evidence pile,” Teruki says. 
He hates every part of this. 
Why’d he even keep the stupid cardboard box? Nostalgic childhood nothings, loose photos, the methodical albums his mother was so particular about keeping as he grew up. She always was particular about her image. He can’t say he grew up much different, but he’s not the person he used to be. When she kicked him out of her home he stole her precious albums to take with him, both to spite and remember her.
He still remembers the way she held his hand in that picture. It wasn’t because she wanted to. 
“What if it’s not enough?” Teruki whispers. 
“We might not even need so much evidence to get the temporary protective order,” Shigeo tells him. “Especially since the esper court is getting involved. They’re familiar with Claw. The fact that your mother abandoned you when she knew you were being hunted isn’t something they’ll let slip.”
Teruki takes an enormous breath. “Yeah.” God, his lungs hurt. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.” His head hurts, too. “I, ah, I have a couple bills that accidentally showed up at my old apartment instead of my parents’ house. It should be enough to prove she had me living alone as a pre-teen.”
Shigeo nods. “You have her text messages, too. We have enough. It’s going to be okay.”
“Yeah.” Teruki breathes and this time it aches instead of burns. “Thanks. I know this is a lot.”
“It’ll be over soon.” 
Teruki feels a little better after that. He finds a couple more pictures of himself as a child and even some he took of his apartment when he first moved in. Shigeo brews a fresh pot of tea while Teruki digs around in his old filing cabinet for those old bills. By the end of the night, well past ten o’clock, they’ve assembled a small arsenal of evidence to be taken to the court house first thing in the morning. 
After changing into comfortable clothes, Teruki scrolls through his phone while Shigeo brushes his teeth. Teruki thinks it takes longer than usual, but he’s on-edge, so it’s more likely that he’s reading into things he shouldn’t. Shigeo turns out the light on his way to bed. Teruki sets his alarm. Shigeo curls up on his side of the bed, taking half the comforter with him as normal. Teruki runs warm, so it’s alright. 
Realistically, he won’t be sleeping much tonight anyway.
Shigeo stretches over to kiss his temple. “Goodnight.”
Teruki kisses the top of his head. “Sleep well.” 
Shigeo rolls onto his side and Teruki watches the ceiling. It’s a still evening, a mute note in the air. Shigeo shifts a little. Teruki takes a couple deep breaths. 
Shigeo shifts again. Then again. His breath hitches.
“Shige?” Teruki reaches for him, with his aura first and then with his hand. “Are you okay?” 
Shigeo fails to stifle a brittle sob. 
Teruki is more alert now than he was seeing his mother’s face at their door.
“Hey.” Teruki gets in close. He searches blindly for Shigeo’s hand and slots their fingers together when he finds it. “What’s going on?”
Shigeo’s shoulders shudder. He presses Teruki’s hand to his lips, taking thin breaths. “You were so small,” Shigeo whispers, the tremors reaching his voice. “Why would anyone—how could anyone hurt you like that? Y-You were— Teru.”
Teruki’s gut wraps itself up in one giant knot. He shouldn’t have let Shigeo see the pictures—or at least he should’ve been more aware of how it would affect him. He wraps his arms around Shigeo’s stomach and tugs him back against his chest, not sure of what else to do. Shigeo doesn’t relax into him, nor does he pull away. His breaths rattle over Teruki’s knuckles.
“I’m sorry, Shige.”
“I’m mad,” Shigeo snaps. “And—...”
Teruki wishes he could see his husband’s face. He hates the part of him that’s relieved he can’t see his husband’s face. He squeezes Shigeo closer and Shigeo’s turbulent breaths dissolve into hiccupping sobs.
“You were so small,” Shigeo hitches. “Y-You were so small.”  
Teruki wants to take all the things that make Shigeo cry and rip them apart. He never wanted to be one of them.
“It’s okay,” Teruki says.
Shigeo snarls. “No it’s not.” 
“Sorry, that’s—that’s not what I meant. I’m okay. Okay?” He doesn’t feel very okay, but he doesn’t feel like it’s a lie either. Shigeo is rigid against him, heaving like a board refusing to buckle in a hurricane, and Teruki threads his fingers through Shigeo’s hair. “Let me hold you.”
“I should be doing that,” Shigeo bites, his voice wet. “I should be the one holding you.”
“You have been, Shige.” Teruki draws his fingers across Shigeo’s scalp, tracing his hairline. “You always do. Please.” 
Shigeo sobs. 
Teruki curbstomps his panic and buries his face against the top of Shigeo’s head, smoothing his hair repeatedly. Shigeo finally sinks back into him but the stress in his chest won’t let him relax, and Teruki hates that this isn’t a problem he can solve.
But Shigeo is letting him hold him.
“It’s okay,” he whispers into Shigeo’s hair. “Shh. We’re okay.”
He can’t remember the last time Shigeo cried like this. The occasions are few and far between and Teruki never knows what to do with his voice. His hands keep Shigeo close. Both of Shigeo’s hands clutch one of Teruki’s against his face and hot tears run over their knuckles. 
“S’Sorry,” Shigeo whispers through his tears, hoarse. “I’m sorry, Teruki.”
Teruki nuzzles the top of his head and squeezes his eyes shut when the burn turns scorching. “Don’t apologize. I don’t mind.”
Shigeo twists around to bury himself in Teruki’s chest, then he cries until he falls asleep.
The courthouse opens at nine o’clock the following morning. Teruki and Shigeo are downtown by eight fifty. Teruki speaks with the clerk and hands over the forums he filled in advance. 
The esper division of law is going to get involved. 
Shigeo isn’t as upset as he was yesterday, but the tension never left. He was tense even as he slept. If Teruki weren’t so strung-up himself he would be able to comfort him better. 
The esper court takes over as soon as Teruki brings up having been hunted by Claw as a child. 
It makes him sick that his mother’s threatening text messages are somehow more relevant evidence than the pictures of him as a child, given how Shigeo reacted.
That his mother is stalking him to the point of showing up at his home does not look good for her.
The temporary protective order is granted.
Teruki and Shigeo take a taxi home late evening with a yellow folder between them, a court date ahead of them and Teruki’s hand in Shigeo’s. 
“I’m going for a walk,” Shigeo says as soon as they’re through the door. He doesn’t ask if Teruki wants to join him, so this is probably a subtle way of telling Teruki he needs time alone. Teruki nods and hangs up his coat as Shigeo pivots back out the door. Teruki slides all the locks into place.
He gets the tea kettle boiling. The folder sits on their dining table, which has seen less use than their coffee table this week. Teruki stalls by glancing about his and Shigeo’s home. Humbly furnished and full of pictures; a few fingerprints in the paint courtesy of Tome and Shou; the bougie coffee maker as a wedding gift from Reigen and Serizawa; his mother-in-law’s choice of cutlery and his father-in-law’s electric mixer; fridge magnets that Ritsu mailed while he was off at college. 
That’s not all. He could look at anything in this home and tie it back to somebody precious in his life. This home is made of connections and promises and it’s Teruki’s and Shigeo’s and whoever else they welcome into it.
Teruki cuts the heat when the kettle whistles. He grabs his phone from the living room.
Reigen’s stepping into his and Katsuya’s apartment when his phone goes off. Some fumbling and light switching and shoes-kicking later, he gets through the door and answers the phone. Katsuya’s shoes are already here and the light’s on in the living room.
“Heya,” Reigen says, starting down the hall.
“Do you wanna serve my mom the restraining order?” 
“Heya?” 
“We got the temporary restraining order today,” Teruki says. “We have a court date, but she needs to be served before that can happen.” 
“Oh damn.” 
Katsuya looks over from the couch in the living room with a question and concern. Reigen waves a hand and Katsuya nods, understanding. He’ll explain after the call. “When’s the court date?”
“November seventeenth.”
“Gotcha.” Reigen hugs the phone between his cheek and shoulder, tearing a post-it note from the fridge to write on. “So, listen, as satisfying as that sounds, are you sure Shigeo doesn’t want to do it? Or I guess maybe that’s not allowed depending on what’s in the order. What about Ritsu?”  
“We talked about it. Shigeo could, but we think it’s for the best that you do it. If you’re willing, we’d love to give you the honor.” 
“... Well. In that case, gimme a time and place.”
Teruki gives him a time and place.
Friday, because she told Shigeo and Teruki that she would be at her apartment on Fridays if they ever want to ‘stop by’, and she’s located about where Reigen assumed. A tiny studio apartment on the outskirts of Seasoning City. A dank ride through a cheap train and a long walk through cold wind and autumn leaves. 
Reigen double-triple-quadruple checked the proof-of document to be filed once Teruki’s mother has been served, and Katsuya and Tome looked over it for him. So did the Kageyamas sans Teruki.
Hanazawa Eiko is the woman’s name. Reigen only learned that recently.
Instincts say he’s the wrong person to handle this sort of legal jargon, but he’s determined not to be. This is for Teruki and Shigeo. People usually hire lawyers or mediators to do this stuff because it’s easy to get wrong. Reigen refuses to get it wrong. 
He knocks on the door of apartment 417 and stands back and waits. The envelope is worth its weight in tears. The doorknob rattles. Then turns. 
Then he’s staring into the face of Hanazawa Eiko. 
She looks nothing like Teruki from her brown hair to her brown eyes to her confused and unhappy face. She has more frown lines than Reigen has years to his name. 
“Hello?” Hanazawa Eiko says. She stands in the door with her whole body, taking up as much space as possible. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Reigen Arataka,” Reigen says. “I’m a friend of the Kageyama family. Including Teruki.” 
She’s still confused, but the unhappiness tilts into interest. “Teruki.”
“Yep. I’m just here to give you this.” Reigen presents the file to her with both hands. “I’ve been given the honor of serving you.”
“What?” She rips it out of his hands and opens the slip.
“Ah, if you could not read it in front of me—”
“What is the meaning of this?” she says, meeting his eyes. She must’ve read enough to have gotten the gist. “He’s blindsiding us with this, now? Where is this even coming from? His father—” Fury, for half a moment. “His father is going to be devastated when he hears, don’t you understand?”
“Probably not as devastated as Teruki,” Reigen says. He shouldn’t, but. “You got on without him the first twenty six years of his life. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Fine?” She laughs, and he hates how it rings in the air. “My son stabs me in the back and you mean to tell me this is fine?”
Reigen stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Listen.” She shuts her mouth, brows drawn tight. “What exactly is your goal here?”
She’s gritting her teeth behind her lips. “I want my son back.”
“Gathered that, but why? Are you so angry he’s living comfortably without you that you have to come in and ruin that? Or do you have a conscience after all and you’re trying to soothe it in the way that best suits you?” He pauses. “Or maybe you’re lonely.”
Her face contorts. It isn’t anger. Not quite. “What do you know about our family?”
“I know Teru’s made his boundaries pretty clear,” Reigen says, “and what he’s asked for isn’t unreasonable. You tracking him down to his home regardless of what he’s asked for tells me everything I need to know about you.”
“What do you know about raising an esper?” Ah, sure. He could’ve expected this. “That boy put me through hell. All I ever wanted was for him to show a little appreciation.”
He thinks of Mr. and Mrs. Kageyama at Shigeo’s wedding, their tears and their laughter and their pride. He thinks of the jokes lovingly ladled at poor Ritsu about how finicky he’d been with the flowers. He thinks of the way they love and how much they’ve had to handle between their sons, and how angry and devastated they’d be if someone dared lay a finger on them.
He thinks about walking Teruki down the aisle. It’s not the same as raising someone, but it’s a culmination of all the things it should mean to be a parent.
“I’m not gonna argue with you,” Reigen says. “But if you’ve got a single self-preserving bone in you, you’d cut this shit out and let Teruki go.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“You’ve gotta understand. It’s not me. Maybe it’s the guy behind the counter at the discount drugstore. Maybe it’s the guy working nights at the restaurant no one really goes to. If it’s not them, it’s the person who owns the floral shop, or the woman who goes to the park every day with her kids. Or it’s a shady psychic business. The personal trainers at the gym. That weird girl with a telescope you wouldn’t give a second thought.”
“You’re espousing nonsense now?”
“What I mean to say is, this city is full of people who love Teruki and are looking out for him,” Reigen says, “and all of those people have people who are looking after them. I don’t know what foot you think you have in the door, but you’re gonna lose your chance to walk away real fast if you keep pushing. It’s not a threat. I just thought if you won’t do it for him, maybe you’d do it for yourself. That’s all I’ve got. Goodnight, Hanazawa-san.”
He turns away.
“Wait!” 
He stops. Eiko’s got a hand reached toward him, but she hasn’t closed the space. The envelope crinkles under the strength of her grip. 
“I—” Eiko begins, but that’s as far as she gets before the distress on her face tilts into something that could be shame, maybe, if not for her denial. She stares at her hand and then at the envelope and then at the ground. “I do want my son,” she says. The confidence is gone. The entitlement isn’t, but it’s changed. “I—... 
“... If you really care about Teruki,” Reigen says, “you’ll leave him alone. The only decent thing left for you to do at this point is to walk away.”
“Walk away?” Her face is incredulous. “The reason why he’s mad at me to begin with is because I walked away, and now that’s what he wants? How am I supposed to know what to do if nothing is ever good enough for him?”
God, Reigen does not want to have this conversation. It’s not the walking away that made Teruki put his foot down—it’s the neglect, the abuse, the abandonment. But this is not a person he can speak logically to. He can explain it to her until he’s blue in the face and she isn’t going to understand.
But her question isn’t disingenuine. 
Goddamnit. 
“He told you to leave him alone,” Reigen says. “I don’t think he can make it any clearer than that. You had a chance. You lost that chance. You don’t get to choose when you’re a part of his life again, if ever.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“... Become a better person,” Reigen says. “Do it for yourself and for the people you’ll meet in the future, and leave him out of it.”
He leaves her behind. She doesn’t call out to him again.
The seventeenth of November comes with a dry and biting cold. The one client Reigen had scheduled for today bailed, which likely isn’t a good omen, so he cranks his apartment space heater to max and leaves the office closed. He has no shortage of emails to catch up on. Not to mention the months-long anticipation building towards today.
He hasn’t heard from Shigeo or Teruki, and probably won’t until this afternoon, maybe early evening. Staying distracted with emails will help.
He gets a call just after noon. Shigeo.
He’s never picked up his phone faster. “Shigeo, hey.”
“She didn’t show up.” 
“How d— what?”
“She didn’t show up,” Shigeo reiterates. “The judge gave us everything we asked for. The whole order, we got everything.” 
“You—wait, what? She didn’t show? She missed the hearing?”
“Yeah.” 
“That doesn’t make sense.” 
“I don’t know, the court is going to get in touch with her, I think. But we don’t have to be involved. We’re… We’re done.” 
“Holy shit.” It was— easy? Reigen doesn’t want to think of it like that because it was hell for Teruki, but just like that? “That’s—How’s Teruki doing?”
“He’s… kind of in shock. But he’s good. We’re going to get food and go home.”
“Right. And how are you doing?”
“I’m also in shock, but good. I wasn’t expecting everything to be granted.” 
“Yeah. That’s good, though, isn’t it?”
“Better than good. If the order was just around Teruki and our home that would have been enough. The esper division was really sympathetic and a lot of people in the courtroom recognized us from what happened with Claw, I think, and when his mother didn’t show up— Oh, Teru’s back. I’ll call you later.”
“Alright. Take care.”
“Bye.” 
Shigeo hangs up. Reigen sits there stunned.
Just like that? Eiko didn’t show. Which also means she didn’t contest. He’s a little bit pissed that she didn’t show up, actually—could’ve at least had the professionalism to handle this properly—but on the other hand, it does mean she didn’t contest. 
It’s not like she would’ve had a choice. Contesting the order would’ve just made her look like shit, especially if what Shigeo said about the esper courts is true. Showing up was a basic courtesy, as was expected of her. Teruki would have been granted the order either way.
But bitterness aside, maybe this was her way of letting him go. 
Maybe this was her way of running trying to save herself. Who knows.
… In any case, trying to psycho-analyze her isn’t worth his time. The years to come will make her intentions pretty clear.
His phone pings. Group chat notification.
 [barbie and ken’s spiritual successor] The judge granted the protective order. We got everything we asked for.
 Tome’s the first to hop on and react with Serizawa right behind her. Ritsu is more generalized in his response, which likely means Shigeo called him personally like he called Reigen. Reigen pops in with a response similar to Ritsu’s with a dash of Tome to make it convincing; if Teruki is keeping details scarce while processing his mother’s no-show, he’ll play it cool.
“Let’s hear it for freedom!” Tome slams her mug into Shigeo with reckless abandon. “I knew you guys had it in the bag! There was no way she was gonna win after everything she did.” 
Spirits and Such’s favorite ramen shop has somehow stayed in business all these years—maybe solely on the patronage of Spirits and Such, but even so it’s a good ramen shop and the owner doesn’t mind their bombastic group dinners. They’ve got the whole crew with them tonight—Tome, Ritsu, Shigeo, Serizawa, Teruki, Reigen. Feels like old times.
“Ah, yeah.” Teruki rakes a hand through his hair, twirling noodles around his bowl. “My mom actually didn’t show up to the hearing, so we won by default.” 
“Oh, seriously?” Tome leans back, taking a large swig of peach-flavored soda. “That’s weird. Would’ve thought she’d be the type to fight.”
“Yeah, well.” Teruki glances sideways at Shigeo, who glances sideways back at him. They both face the group. “Thanks for sticking it out with me,” Teruki says. “Honestly, I don’t think I could’ve gotten through all of that without you guys. This… This has been a long time coming.”
“Overdue, if you ask me,” Reigen says, slurping ramen. “Don’t sweat it.”
Teruki smiles, and it’s real. “Thanks.”
Tome calls for a second round of noodles.
Shigeo shuffles out of the bathroom, dressed in cozy clothes and toweling his hair dry. His footsteps quiet and Teruki feels his gaze. “Teru?”
Teruki hums, lost in thought. His mother’s photo album is across his legs, missing several incriminating photos and leaving behind the rest. Shigeo draws close, settling at Teruki’s side. 
“I should get rid of this,” Teruki says. 
The words hang. He turns the page. 
“Do you want to get rid of it?” Shigeo asks.
It’s a spread of him running through sprinklers over the grass of his parents’ lawn. It was the last good summer he had up until middle school. “I feel like I should,” Teruki says. “... I feel like I should want to.” 
“If you’re sure you want to get rid of it, that’s fine,” Shigeo says. “But if you have any doubts at all, then it’s fine to hang onto it, too. It’s not something you can replace.”
Teruki hums again. 
Shigeo leans into his shoulder. “Are you coming to bed soon?” 
“Yeah.” He turns another page. Shigeo yawns and nudges under Teruki’s arm. “You can go on ahead, I’ll join you in a bit.”
“I’ll stay.”
“You’re just going to fall asleep on me.”
“You like it when I do that.”
Teruki huffs. “You’ll say it with that much confidence?”
“Sure.” 
Teruki leans into the back of the couch, taking Shigeo along for the ride. Shigeo drops his head onto Teruki’s chest. “What did I just say,” Teruki says, but he’s too damn smitten for his own good. An old coworker warned Teruki about the novelty of marriage and how it gets old and tapers off, but he’s been married to Shigeo for four years and if he could do it all over he’d still choose Shigeo.
Shigeo reaches up to poke him between the eyes. Teruki nearly sneezes. “Excuse me.”
Shigeo’s smile is made of sleepy adoration. “You make this face sometimes,” Shigeo says. “It’s cute.”
“I ma— what.”
Shigeo shrugs and turns into Teruki’s chest, settling down.
  “Wait, no you don’t, explain.” Teruki grabs him by the shoulder and tries to extract him. “Explain what that means. What face is it? I’ll make it more often.”
“Maybe now would be a good time to go to bed after all.”
Teruki pushes the album off his knees, wraps both arms around Shigeo’s stomach and essentially suplexes the both of them across the couch. Shigeo yelps. Teruki fails at not laughing.
“You’re hilarious,” says Shigeo. “Do you wanna go to bed now?”
“Alright, alright.” Teruki sits up, releasing Shigeo. “Go on ahead, I’ll get the lights.”
Shigeo slides off of him and to the floor before ambling to his feet. Teruki zips the album shut and clicks out the lights, double-checking the deadbolt and then following his husband into their bedroom. Shigeo has starfished himself on the center of the bed, which is just as well. Teruki drops over him sideways and Shigeo jerks awake with breathy ‘eep’. 
“Sometimes,” Shigeo says, his voice empty, “I think it would not be so bad to have two beds.”
Teruki knows he’s joking, so he laughs. “We could get two beds. Push them together.”
“Oh, and then when we’re fighting we can separate them.”
“I’ll gradually just inch mine closer and closer as the night goes on…”
“Like a serenade.”
Teruki makes a garbled noise. “Like a what?” 
“A serenade, like in that romcom we watched where the wife was upset and the husband cheered her up by singing.” 
“Wow, Kageyama, I didn’t know you were such a hopeless romantic.”
“We have matching socks. And it wouldn’t be romantic if I actually sang to you.”
“Maybe not romantic.” Teruki twists around, propping his elbows up on Shigeo’s chest. “But it’d be cute. I’d forget all about being mad at you. Just try it next time we’re fighting or something, I guarantee it’ll work.”
“Our marriage is doomed.”
Teruki kisses him. Shigeo goes quiet, startled—then he presses forward. Teruki wraps his arms under Shigeo’s shoulders to pull him close. Shigeo’s fingers thread into his hair. It’s quiet and it’s gentle—familiar and tired and soft. It’s just a kiss, but it’s nice. 
They pull away at about the same time. Shigeo’s eyes are so deep. Teruki strokes Shigeo’s cheek with his thumb. 
“I love you,” Teruki says.
Thank you.
“I love you too,” Shigeo says. 
“… I think I’m gonna keep the album,” Teruki decides, smoothing Shigeo’s hair off his face. “Until I know for sure.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
“Yeah.” Teruki leans in again and Shigeo meets him in a shorter kiss. Teruki pulls away, cups Shigeo’s face in one hand. Shigeo’s eyes are so dark that it’s hard to tell what color they are, but the red shines clearly under the moonlight. Shigeo blinks up at him. His brows pinch.
“Teru?”
“Yeah?”
Shigeo touches his face. “You’re crying.”
“Oh.” A tear splashes onto Shigeo’s cheek. Good timing. “I—I guess I am. Uh.”
Shigeo’s thumb brushes underneath his eye. It’s such a tender gesture that Teruki’s chest caves in. He tries to breathe through it, scrubbing his face. 
“Sorry, sorry, I—” It hurts. “I was just thinking—I love you, you know that, Shige?”
“I do.” Shigeo’s voice is so, so kind. “I love you too.”
Teruki sobs and Shigeo tugs him down, pressing Teruki’s face into the side of his neck. Shigeo runs cold. It feels nice. Teruki wraps his arms underneath Shigeo’s neck.
“I don’t deserve you,” Teruki gasps.
Shigeo’s fingers filter through his hair again. One arm winds around Teruki’s shoulders. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“You’ve put up with so much from me.”
“Not really.”
“You have, Shige.”
“It’s been worth it,” Shigeo says.
Teruki doesn’t know what he’s feeling. It’s hard to tell where the pain ends and relief begins—mainly he’s overwhelmed and he’s in love and overwhelmed with the thought of being loved, and overwhelmed with the thought of that love not coming from his mother, for as many years as he thought he was over it.
More overwhelming still is the possibility that she does love him, but would sooner go his whole life hurting him than show it. 
He means to keep the photo album. It’ll stay in the back of the closet where he has to go out of his way to see it. 
Shigeo’s wedding ring gets caught in Teruki’s damaged hair as he runs his fingers through it.
Teruki wishes he were at a better vantage point to crush Shigeo as close as physically possible. He also can’t fathom drawing back. 
“Thank you,” Teruki weeps. 
He feels Shigeo nod. “I don’t regret anything,” Shigeo says. “But I especially don’t regret you.”
That does it. Teruki goes for the vantage point, yanking Shigeo into his arms and wrapping him up in his aura. Shigeo squeaks, which is cute and hilarious and also makes Teruki cry harder. He’s holding something precious who holds Teruki’s heart like it’s something precious.
Shigeo is so, so gentle with Teru’s heart.
Shigeo acquiesces to the new position. He draws his aura over Teruki like a blanket and lets Teruki hold him. Teruki still feels like he’s the one being held.
“I don’t regret you either,” Teruki whispers.
Shigeo traces tiny shapes against Teruki’s chest. It’s all he can realistically do with his arms pinned. “That’s nice.”
Teruki laughs. And chokes on it. And laughs some more. It doesn’t take long before he realizes Shigeo is crying, too.
It isn’t over. It might never be completely over. But it’s forward. 
He can be okay with just moving forward.
129 notes · View notes
femalefail · 4 months
Text
I can't sleep.
I keep thinking about my body. I want to tell its story and even if you will not open your mind or sacrifice your time to it, I need to get it out so I can rest.
TW: sh, ed, sa, su!c!de, gender dysphoria, hospitalization
When I was first given this body, I couldn't have imagined the trauma that would come along with (presumably) having XX chromosomes. I was an innocent child in my mother's arms. An early Christmas gift from the deity in Heaven my mother so often cried out to for hope. I couldn't have known that I was fated to experience a chain of events that some might say resembled body horror.
When I was a small child, I was fascinated with life. I loved to watch plants grow and seasons change. I wanted to know what made life take such forms as bugs and fish and ferocious beasts and humanity. I loved to learn about the same forces who created me. I couldn't have known that these were the same forces that would destroy me.
When I was 11, I would stand naked in front of the mirror and sob. I would run my hands over myself, hoping that I could tug and pull my tiny curves back into straight lines. When I couldn't, I would scratch my hips with thumbtacks and broken razors. I couldn't have fought the urge to hurt myself.
When I was 12, I was a quiet girl, but there was turmoil brewing inside me. I wouldn't give in to nature's curse. I ate as little as I could to show the forces that created me that I was in control of my body, not them. I would scroll through pro-ana Tumblr. I read posts from all over the internet about how other people struggled with their bodies and with their lives. I came across videos of people treating their gender dysphoria and I remember instinctually denying that I was like them. Yet I lingered on that content. I watched them experience the joy of outwardly becoming who they are inside and I would shed happy tears for them. I couldn't have known that I would feel that joy firsthand one day.
When I was 13, I found my first boyfriend. He was my age. He liked playing a game called 'firetruck.' I also figured out how to shave my legs. I still don't understand why I was expected to devote so many hours of my weeks to ridding myself of my excessive, thick body hair. I couldn't have chosen to leave it alone, because the last time I did, a boy called me Gorilla Girl. I couldn't have known that my efforts were literally in vain.
When I was 14, I started to get the hang of the 'period' thing. After years of bleeding through my favorite jeans and wrapping sweatshirts around my waist to hide the stains, I figured out how to blend in. I had it worked out despite having a cycle that, for most other girls, would land them in the doctor's office. The pain was immeasurable, but I was told that there were many other girls who felt the same pain. The doctors said my flow would be normal once I matured. I couldn't have known I'd been lied to.
When I was 15, life became a blur. My inner turmoil broke loose and my parents saw it. My mother, who saw me as a beacon of hope, learned that there was no hope for me. She brought me to doctors who tried every medication they could to help my psyche. Every medication helped sedate me for a short while and then I would spiral again. I would end up in the ER, wishing I wouldn't cling to my life. I wished I had some control over the forces that kept me alive and destroyed me. I wished I could destroy myself. I couldn't have known that this wouldn't be the end of me.
When I was 16, I felt I was already dead. All the memories and love for life that I had collected as a child were tainted by the fresh trauma of being in lockdown facilities. I was still on medication that didn't work. It only numbed me. It only allowed the inner turmoil to simmer undetected. The scars on my body grew in numbers. I couldn't have known that I would live to be an adult with those same scars.
When I was 17, I was trapped in a relationship with another boy. He would say he loved me and then call me a bitch an hour later. He would say he loved my body and then violate it on the same day. He said he would love me no matter what, but when I asked him if he would kindly stop calling me a woman, he laughed. I was with him for two painstaking years. I couldn't have known that the threats he always gave me when I tried to end the relationship were empty.
When I turned 18, I was freshly out of yet another psychiatric hospital. I cried a lot that day. I didn't want to be an adult. I never wanted to grow up in such a horrid way. I looked back at my teenage years and wondered what forces were really behind this. I wondered if maybe there was a deity and they hated me. I couldn't have known it would get worse.
After I turned 19, I told my parents I wasn't a girl. My mother said she already knew. She had stopped attending church due to the other members' hateful words towards the community she suspected her children belonged to, but she still often cries out to her deity whom she loves. My father didn't really understand, but that didn't stop me from going on HRT with the health insurance his job provides. He didn't seem to care to stop it either. My parents were desperate for anything that might make me their beacon of hope again. We couldn't have known that my curse would prevail even through male puberty.
I'm almost 20. My scars are healed and I refuse to make more. I have come to terms with the fact that I'm disabled. I've also accepted the fact that the many ways I hurt my body have stunted my growth. I'm still in the process of getting diagnosed, but I feel like I'm dying every day. I self-medicate at the beginning of every waking moment to numb the pain. My doctors say I should stop self-medicating and then run tests that tell us nothing about the specific horrors of my body. My joints hurt more and more as time goes on. Every single one of them. My muscles are always weak. Pelvic pains and bleeding persist even though I got an IUD inserted and my doctors told me that the intense dysphoria that plagued me monthly was a thing of the past. Now, instead of bleeding monthly, I bleed every day. Eating hurts. Walking hurts. Using the bathroom hurts, and on top of that, I have to use the women's bathroom when I'm in public and fear for my safety regardless. I don't sleep well. I don't think well. And I'm so exhausted. I don't know what to do. I know I will look back on this and think, "You couldn't have known." But it still feels so hopeless. For so many years all I wanted was to destroy myself and now that I'm falling apart, I don't want to be. I worry that HRT has worsened my symptoms but even if that were so, I would still be subjected to bodily horrors without it. I'm not sure there is a way to lift this curse.
I don't know what you, as the reader, are supposed to take away from this post. I just need to say something. I suppose if you are not a trans person, you could gain some sympathy from this post. If you wonder why puberty blockers work and are advocated for, here's an example of the trauma that puberty can instill in a child. I'm a walking example of it. I have the scars to prove it. If you are a trans person, I suppose you could take away from this that you are not alone. We all have stories and I say we should tell them, even if some people are not willing to hear. Even if they resemble body horror in some cursed way. I need to share my story before it eats me up inside.
Also, if you are a trans person, I want you to remember that in many instances, you couldn't have known what to do. I want you to continually remind yourself that you aren't to blame. I often wonder why this is my curse. I want to feel trans joy and I do, but I still hurt. I wonder what I did to deserve this. I wonder when this will be over. I guess I can't know that either.
The story of my body is with you, Tumblr. FF
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Love Letter to a Rekindled Friendship
Sometimes I wish we never grew up, that we simply remained 16, childish and in our shitty little hometown. There is a great comfort in the way we were used to be picked up from each others' houses, no long train rides between our locations, our fathers waiting around for us kind of annoyed. ("I'm not your personal taxi driver.") A faint memory of the sweets at your house, the pancakes you used to make, the times your father went out fishing and your mum served me some of the fruits of his labor. Vodka bottles sneaked in and out (mostly by you), breathing in each other's laughter while smoking our first cigarettes. Talking about our common exams, instead of totally different majors.
On the way home, I am dreaming of your childhood room, with the guinea pigs and the huge teddy bear we gifted you on your bed. (You still have guinea pigs and even the same persian cat.) Mischief in the air, at all times (the greatest friendships have a hint of that) - it is still lingering around (even though we're NOT not up to no good). Exchanging how to woo boys (mostly me listening to you), riddling together ("does he like me, or does he not?") - after years I am now able to say that you were a great teacher. Locker room talk girl's version - much mooore innocent. ("Did you see the look on her face?" "What a bitch!")
Now we travel distances for each other so casually, as if they were not considered adventures back in our days. I still remember how small your hands are, and how thin your fingers looked, how you twist them while talking. How you throw back your head when you laugh and sometimes put your hands on your mouth while doing so, as if you want to stop the joy from spilling out of you. At least that didn't change. I remember your white shirt with black stripes (you probably threw it away). Your silver heart chain (do you wear it as often as you used to?). How you had the boys twisted around your finger (and me, too, but in a different kind of way). I remember over-salted pasta sauce and bad burritos (we considered them to be the best, now I know better). I remember ice cream shared in the parking lot, while cruising around on our longboards (gained the high school equivalent to the freshman 15 because of how regularly we did that). I remember how you broke my heart more than any boy did up until then (even though there was one doing that at the time, but your loss did hurt more). You had the greatest power over me, and at times I didn't know which parts of me belonged to you. Until today I still recognise aspects of you in me (and sometimes I don't, because I don't remember what was you and what was me, who started what and what belonged to whom).
Looking back, mutual growth apart from each other led to this; to me standing in your apartment, catching up and remembering much more of the fabulous than the terrible aspects of our friendship on the train ride to the town that was once both or homes. I wish you would come back with me, so that I can take you to your parents home and make sure that you are exactly where you belonged to when we were an unit. I want to fold you up and take you with me, but maybe, maybe, I think while remembering our day together, I did exactly that years ago and we never were truly apart.
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nonbinosaurus-wreck · 8 months
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No.3 Blame/Hope
I feel so angry all the time now. I know I have nobody to blame for it besides myself. Or I guess that is not entirely true. There is no one but me to blame for how I sit with this anger now. But I was not the one who put it here. I was full of fear for a very long time. I lashed out at the world, but it was for safety. I was violent. 
Sometimes the violence still lingers.
All of my good, my joy, my empathy, my kindness, it became buried under layers of hurt 
People who know everything I have been through are often surprised at the grace I afford others. Somehow I can hold peace after everything. 
This peace is a lie, I use it because I want to believe I can be better than my instincts, than what I learned.
No one ever showed me kindness, I had to learn it myself, I often blame my parents for my violent fits. They did not cause them but it is the scar left behind from everything 
                        BLAME.
I stood there and looked her in the eyes “ you are a horrible person.” “I hate you” “I should hope nobody has the misfortune of becoming your partner.” 
A month before I stood in the doorway of my room and saw my grandmother going through my stuff. “GET OUT” I grab her by the wrist and throw her out of my room. Afterwards I sit on the floor and cry. In these moments I never feel like myself. 
I feel a darkness surrounding me, enshrouding me in a pure emptiness. I can hear the echoes from years prior. 
I often think I will never get better. I often have Night terrors, they are always the same,being slammed into walls by him, feeling his grip tighten around my body. 
SOmetimes even when I am awake I feel his hands gripping me tightly, when I get really anxious if someone so much as touches me I could flip out. 
I pray that it does not make me bitter 
that perhaps this part of me that I have inherited does not define me. 
And what if it does, what if I must live my whole life the way my father lived his? Letting this dark leak into my life. Let it seep into everything I care for and slowly infect it.
I find myself running from it 
I wish people saw that I spend most days trying to be kind and level headed, I try to see reason, be kind. Because what happens if I stop? 
If the darkness finally catches up to me?
If I can’t break this cycle?
These raised fists? 
There will be no one left, besides myself.
To blame.
______________________________________________________________
These moments
These instants where you give in.
They are just that, instants.
Remember that, promise me. 
You do not have to be defined by the scars left on your body. 
I remember when you stopped getting hit for a long time, it would be about two years before he hurt you again. 
You didn't know better.
I watched you hurt yourself trying to learn who you could be
I saw that even as you suffered you lifted others up, you gave them a fighting chance
An ally to those in pain
You often think that since nobody cared, since they clipped your wings, that you would only be able to live in bitterness
It’s not true.
There is light, even in your darkness 
You need to let go of your fear 
I wish this where unspoken but the truth is it isn’t
You are not the marks from your fathers palms
You are not those moments of darkness
You are not the scars on your body 
You are not defined by the fear 
You are loved, someday you will meet people who are actually good for you
Nobody is perfect, but you will find people who won’t judge you
Who will not stare or assume.
They will finally let you stray from this idea that you must hide from your darkness.
You can face it
You may live with it forever but that does not mean you can’t break the cycle
One day you will wake and the chains that bind you will be gone 
You have already broke  this cycle more than you may ever know
Remember that no matter what 
Everyone is worthy of love
Even the scared little boy hidden inside 
Even your monster 
Even you
-sincerely your conscience 
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selene1998 · 1 year
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The Sinking
-Parental Abuse Trigger Warning-
its late at night when I get back & I see the lights still on. /the sinking/ I take the minute breathing in deep as the darkness outside creeps in; I prepare myself for the storm lurking inside not yet knowing what it holds. I grip my keys tightly as I force myself toward the door of the once warm home with pillars of brink now always looming in my mind as the place I felt most alone. I open the door finding mom & grammy there waiting as mom speaks. /deeper now/ I find my thoughts adrift as i think of my life its looming darkness & feelings of no escape. I trace my steps; every thought; what do they know? what have I done? Moms voice interrupts me sharp and cruel "why were u out so late" I answer truthfully knowing it holds no aide. /deeper/ she dismisses my answer as she reminds me again my actions reflect on her. "apologize to your mother want neighbors talking about her?" my grammys voice pierced my mind. I stood quietly as the moments passed like years "no" I finally spoke /deeper/. as the words left my mouth I felt an all familiar fear creep in. once the girl who feared failure on tests, now the woman who had feared being herself; fear had help me prisoner. As she stood to approach me I reminded myself again "this is it". I spoke calmly "i am leaving" no words more true yet unsure had ever spoken as I stood like a captain upon a raging sea. lightning in her eyes as my mom spoke "no daughter of hers would ever disgrace this family". I feel my eyes as I hold fight back the waves; This all familiar storm will not drown me now. /deeper still/ the darkness deep inside writhed as years of doubt, fear, and dread lingering in all corners of my veins. "were they right?" "was I wrong?" "could i ever live this life as myself and theirs?" I inhale the tension in the room again "you live under this roof you follow our rules" she continued her words like knives "I raised you, youd reply me like this?" she continued each word chipping away at the armor id fought once again to build up. "you are making a mistake, no woman will ever love you as we do" I again close my eyes as looming doubt takes over waves of fear bashing against my eyelids as I try to shut them out. "youll lose us and youll be alone" I stood my ground as I felt my grandmas hand on my shoulder as i force my eyes open. "this is your last chance to do the right thing" her words now flat "do the right thing?" the words rally in my mind like a broken track refusing to stop. now inches from both of them there is along pause in the air as a truth within me finally sinks in. The ache in my chest begging for freedom as the thought of giving up tears me apart. The storm now raging & the future unsure I speak the words that finally broke the chains. the chains that kept me trapped within four walls that kept me prisoner from those who loved me. the chains that tied me down to expectations of someone i could never be "I am now"..
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petrosapian · 3 years
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Will admit booktok... rancid vibes but they look happy wish that were me. Could have been but shame and guilt are integral part of my personality I blame my ancestors for being catholic
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sukirichi · 3 years
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acquainted
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You had no intentions of becoming acquainted with the clan your family had cut ties with, but when Naoya Zenin himself is willing to teach you a lesson and you’re determined to show him what you’re capable of, it becomes a silly game of power and dominance.
REQUEST. naoya putting reader back to her place
WARNINGS: Naoya Zenin, rough sex, orgasm denial, face fucking, slight voyeurism, degradation, slight bondage, cowgirl riding, manhandling, spanking, hate sex
WC. 5.4k+
NOTES. Because Naoya is my favorite, his fic is the only one I’ve ever edited, LOL. Even though this is requested, this is written out of self-indulgence, purely because I love Naoya and even though he’s nasty, he’s my comfort character. And freaking FINALLY I have written more for this man. I worship this King 👑
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There were so many ways this day had gone wrong. First, your shower broke. Second, the maintenance men couldn’t come until late in the afternoon, so you had to drive all the way to school looking like a half-mess. You weren’t a slob, of course, but you were beyond irritable at the thought your hair felt greasier than most.
So when an unfamiliar mop of blonde hair sat at your place, the sight of pierced ears meeting your gaze as you smiled at the young man, you had to clutch your bag tighter. No need to be harsh to anyone; you reminded yourself.
“Hi,” you greeted as politely as you could.
The young man in your seat was handsome — terribly so — feline eyes emphasized with an eyeliner, and stunning green eyes that peered up at you with utmost boredom. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint where you’d seen him before.
“I believe you’re in my seat.”
You expected he’d kindly take another seat since the hall was empty, but he only leaned back in your seat, brow raised with a slight smirk. “So?”
Your mouth fell agape, hands falling at your sides. Who was this guy? “What do you mean, so? Get the fuck out of my seat.”
“Women,” he rolled his eyes, “Always so tempered and dirty mouthed,” the words felt like stinging slap in your face, and he easily read through you when he snickered to himself, waving a hand in the air as if he was swatting a fly away. “I’m already sitting here, so go find someplace else. I came here first.”
“You little — who do you think you are?”
“Who do you think you are for speaking to me? Did I give you permission?”
His condescending voice made you lunge at him if not for your friend’s hand wrapping at your arm, shooting worried glances over the guy. His smirk deepened when your friend pulled away, the words mutter under her breath. “Come on, let’s go,” she tugged you away despite your protests, pushing your shoulders down to make you sit. Once out of earshot, she rolled her eyes. “I seriously hate that guy. Don’t you ever involve yourself with him.”
“Who’s that prick anyway? He acts so high and mighty like he’s some rich daddy’s son. Look, he’s totally claiming my seat as his!”
“That’s Naoya Zenin, and yeah, he is some rich daddy’s son,” she confirmed, shivering at the mere mention of his name. “He’s an absolutely big misogynist. Don’t be fooled by his pretty face — he’s the worst fuckboy to ever exist. That dick of his isn’t worth getting fucked over. He’s already made half the women in school cry and run after him like a horde of lovesick zombies,” your friend gagged with a shake of her head, “It’s terrifying, actually.”
“Fucking asshole,” you hissed under your breath, sending side glances at the corner of your eye.
That stupid guy was still in your seat, a bored expression on his handsome face, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks at every blink. He just had to be a sexist pig with that gorgeous face — no good men existed anymore. “Whatever. He’ll get a taste of his own medicine soon.”
“Whatever it is you’re planning, I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“I’m doing this for all of us,” you announced with your spine straightened. “I’m not letting a man walk like that acting like he’s got the whole world at his feet. I’ll teach him a lesson or two.”
“You do know he can sue you if you punch him right?”
“Who said I was going to punch him?” a smirk painted your lips at the same time he felt your eyes burning holes at the side of his face, your expression even more triumphant when he tilted his head to the side, eyebrow cocked at your gaze. He must’ve assumed you’d fallen for his looks judging by the satisfied smile on his face, making you laugh because it would be fun to teach him a lesson.  “No, I have a much more interesting plan in mind.”
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It turned out that Naoya wasn’t that much of a stranger.
You had his reputation to thank for — people spoke his name left and right that it was nearly impossible not to know of him. It had you wondering how you managed to live through university so long without knowing him when the name drowned you; he was a Zenin.
No wonder that name was so familiar.
The Zenin’s were a close business partner of your family, but they cut off ties with their company years ago due to them having an intolerable attitude. Clearly, it ran in the blood, and their heir manifested it so well.
Thoughts of Naoya and his stupid face were soon drowned out by expensive champagne, the golden liquid sparkling in your hands. You had to attend this dinner gala where businessmen and powerful families alike conjoined for a formal opportunity of forming connections and solidifying deals, pressuring you to be at your best behaviour lest you wanted your black card to be cut off.
You made your way through the crowd to get another one of those hors d oeuvres, opting to just sit in the corner while you watched your family plaster on big, fake smiles with even louder, faker laughter.
It was quite sad, really, that people had to do stuff like this, but who were you to complain when it was what fed you on a silver plate all the time?
For now, you just wanted to enjoy the new dress your mother had gotten you, the silk black material hugged around your curves delectably. Pearl drop earrings hung to frame the sides of your face, legs lengthened and accentuated with stiletto heels.
You felt sexy — especially when you got lingering gazes from men who were slightly older and definitely richer, though you made no move.
The last thing you wanted was to become someone’s trophy wife when you could become so much more.  Plus, only your parents had the task of befriending people and building trust with others. You were only here to help represent the name somewhat with your pretty face, not really having much of an intention to be acquainted with anyone.
You swiped another glass of fizzy alcohol from the waiter that passed by, glossy red lips pinched around the glass when a sultry voice mused at your ear, “Still can’t find a seat?”
Swirling around so fast that the contents nearly poured out the glass, you weren’t surprised to see Naoya fucking Zenin stood before you, his tall stature draped in only the finest and hand-stitched three piece suit.
He looked absolutely delectable this way, earrings glimmering under the golden chandeliers and eyes lined with kohl, the aura of elegance that perfectly concealed his less than pleasing personality excessively charming.
You were beyond appalled.
“Still can’t find a brain?” you retorted with a roll of your eyes, eyes still narrowed at Naoya’s displeased ones as you dunk your drink in one go. “What are you doing here, pig?”
“I’ll let that comment slide once — only because you look hot tonight,” his predatory gaze ran over your form, the careful pattern of him pausing at the swell of your breasts sliding to the curve of your hips heating up each inch of your skin. “And it’s Naoya for you. Naoya Zenin, the rightful heir of the Zenin Corp—”
“What’s that scent you’re wearing? Baby powder? Fitting for your cute face, actually.”
Naoya’s jaw clenched, clearly unaccustomed to people cutting off his holiness, and you had to bite down on your lip to prevent the chuckles from slipping through. “It’s Tom Ford.”
“Hmm, why am I not surprised? My horrible ex also wore the same scent. Maybe it’s a trademark for all limp losers, huh?” Naoya opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, stepping forward to grab at the space between his tie to pull him down. His face was mere centimetres away from you, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips, the intense anger flaring through those eyes hot enough to burn you. “You act so smug and defensive, Naoya. Trying to have a big man personality to conceal a small dick?”
“I have nothing to prove to you.”
“You don’t need to prove me anything,” you glanced down at his pants with a smirk, ignoring the heat pulsing in your veins because the sight contradicted your words. There was a noticeable bulge inside those shiny black slacks, though the last thing you wanted him to see was the way your mouth watered in anticipation. “I already know what I need to know.”
“Yeah? You and your shitty girlfriends can’t stop talking about my dick?”
You shrugged sarcastically, “You know women. We’re tireless complainers.”
Naoya’s jaw ticked upon you using his words against him, his hands coming up to caress at your neck, his nails scratching behind the thick silver chain you wore.
From afar and in the eyes of others, people would’ve thought you and Naoya were simply getting a little too heated, his lips dipped to graze your ear while his slender fingers pressed a little tighter into your air pipe. Your positions could easily be mistaken for Naoya seducing you, and you supposed he was, since your body responded differently from your verbal protests.
“You should watch what you’re saying,” he warned, voice low with warning. “I could easily dump your body into a river and no one would even notice. In fact, maybe the world might even thank me for doing them a service and ridding them of a spiteful woman like you.”
“Oh, pretty boy,” you chuckled back and stood to your tippy toes. One of your hands wrapped around his neck to forcefully tilt his neck to yours, nose pressed above his collar to inhale the intoxicating masculine scent he wore. “You’re all bark and no bite. Why don’t you show me what you’re capable of? If you’re as awful as they make you out to be, maybe I’ll shiver enough to drop my panties for you.”
You didn’t miss the way Naoya’s hands gripped at your waist to pull you close, enticing you to continue with your insults because maybe Naoya liked this a lot more than he let on. Could it be his superiority complex didn’t always like submissive women, after all?
Well, it would make sense; everyone always liked a little challenge, didn’t they?
If that was what he wanted, then you’d be generous enough to grant it to him.
“Wouldn’t you like to get a chance to put me in my place, to teach me a lesson for defiling the oh-so-mighty Naoya Zenin?” you purposefully toned your voice down to a more breathy tone, your chest swelling with pride when Naoya sucked in a sharp inhale beside your ear.
God, he sounded beautiful — and you hadn’t even fucked him yet. Now, you were eager to hear what else those disgusting lips could be capable of other than degrading you.  
Pulling away from him just to bat your lashes at him, heat pooled straight into your core when Naoya’s gaze had completely darkened, dark orbs pooled with lust and anger. Only he could make such an expression look so good.
“You don’t scare me, Zenin. You’re nothing but a small boy wearing big man pants.”
For a moment, your smile widened, believing that you’d won this time around. Naoya was still breathing hard at each brush of your stomach to his now hardening erection, but then he smirked and gently pushed you away from him. “I’m not fucking you here,” he stated calmly, not even bothering to keep his voice low. “You’re a lot dumber than I thought you’d be if you really think I’m whipping my cock out during this dreadful dinner.”
“This dreadful dinner you speak of is an opportunity for people like us to establish connections. I would’ve assumed you wanted nothing more to impress others but it seems I was wrong. If you hate this event so much, why bother coming here in the first place?”
“Just had a feeling I was going to meet a little minx,” he watched you seductively, his smirk adorned with his tongue peeking out to lick his lips — in turn wetting you in places he promised to make his by the end of the night. Curse him, you chanted in your head, curse him for being so attractive. It would’ve been easier if he was ugly. “And as always, I’m right.”
You tilted a brow, slightly impressed. “So you’ve done your background check on me. That doesn’t explain why you’re still here though. Surely a woman couldn’t be enough for a reason to make a man like you go all this way?”
“You’re right, a woman would never be a good enough reason, but I wanted to put you in your place,” his eyes flickered back up to you, now twinkling with danger and something else entirely. “Bad little girls need to be a taught to a lesson.”
“So what’re you waiting for? Go ahead and show me your ways, Zenin.”
“I will,” he nodded to himself, “I’m about to,” Naoya was nothing but confident as he strode your way until his arms was locked with yours, his breath tickling your collarbones that had unknowingly exposed itself at each heated touch. “You’re not that bad for a slut. You look like one, smell like one — I bet you also feel like one.”
A dry laugh left your lips as you fisted his shirt, mirroring his smirk to show that if a match was what he looked for, then a match he’d find indeed. Only this time, you would be worse.
“Why don’t you go ahead and find out?”
Naoya, despite being an absolutely poor excuse of a human being, was somewhat redeemable for being a man of his words. Find out he did, and he wasted no time into shoving you inside his McLaren, barely able to keep his hands off you the whole way up to his penthouse.
It was a blurry mess from there.
Moans spilled from your lips while he ripped your clothes off, not bothering to apologize that he’d just ruined one of your most prized possessions, his lust-clouded haze mumbling that he’d just buy you another one.
It was the last thing you expected to hear from him, but you couldn’t protest, not when he’d angrily snapped the buttons of his shirt away, a low growl mixing with your breathy whines as he loosened his tie.
Your eyes widened at the sight, legs rubbing together as you imagined what else he could do with that pretty tie of his.
Would he tie you to his bed, fuck you stupid and call you useless? Or perhaps, you could do it?
Naoya cut off your train of thought by pushing you back to his mattress, his hands tugging at his belt before he pulled his boxers down, his thick length slapping at his abdomen. Your mouth immediately watered at the sight. You were beyond wet from nothing but your sloppy make-out sessions, but would he fit?
Just the thought of him giving you that burning stretch made your legs spread beside his sides, the sardonic laughter ripping from Naoya’s lips absolutely disgusting.
“Fucking pathetic. You’re just like everyone else; submitting to me at the sight of my cock, but that’s not true, is it? Moment you saw me, I knew you were clenching around nothing,” he gripped at your jaw to force you to look at him. You glared up at him from his bruising hold, your cheeks squished under his rough hands. “But that’s okay; wanting me is not something you should be ashamed about. Although you should be thanking me I’m even letting you near me like this.”
“I’m so honoured. Come on, Naoya, let me feel you — let me make you feel good.”
Naoya, too lost in his ego, missed the sarcasm dripping in your voice. “So eager to be my cock sleeve, huh?” he grinned, tugging at your hair to push you deeper into his mattress.  “Get on your knees. Now suck.”
He was too harsh in his pace, determined to exert his dominance over you. You could feel every ridge of his vein as he continued fucking into your mouth, his abs rippling above you. It felt like witnessing a Greek god come apart, and you took pleasure in being his ruin, prompting you to hollow your cheeks and bob your mouth up and down on his cock harder.
Naoya’s chuckles were broken and often mixed with curses of fuck, you feel so fucking good, his nails now scratching at your scalp.
Soon, Naoya stilled inside you, his hold around your head deadly to keep you in place. Tears flowed down your face as he kept thrusting inside, making sure to hit the back of your throat before his muscles tightened. Spurts of warm cum followed after that, but instead of swallowing it like you expected he’d command you to do, Naoya whipped out his cock and came all over your face, his seed shooting all over your cheeks and lips.
You took it all obediently, just enough to give him the false pretense of submissiveness that he was so willing to force from you.
While he was occupied pumping his still rock hard cock, eyes closed and massaging your scalp almost soothingly, Naoya failed to notice your hurried movements of standing from the bed, fingers looped around his tie.
A small wail resonated from him when you shoved him down onto the bed, knees locked at either sides of his waist before you tugged at the cloth wrapped around his neck. Naoya kicked his legs behind you as you tied his wrists to the bed hard enough that Naoya winced, the tie only forming tighter at each lame grapple of his.
You looked back at how he got more beautiful laid out in front of you like that, chest heaving up and down while he struggled against the restraints, face flushed with anger — no, this wasn’t anger anymore — he was furious.
“What are you doing?! Get this off me — how dare you!”
“How dare you,” you spat back, discarding your lace bra off to wipe his cum away from your face, gagging when the bitter cum left a tang on your lips. “I just got my skin appointment last week and you came on my face like that?”
Naoya kept fighting back before he realised it was a futile attempt, leaning back down onto the pillows, though that didn’t soften his heated eyes on yours. You cooed at how adorable he submitted to you, running a finger down the sides of his jaw. “Aw, don’t look so angry, baby. I’m just starting my fun,” you purred, “You should’ve known better than to mess with me, Naoya. I’m not as nice as the others. And I’ll show you just how awful I can be.”
Naoya’s breath hitched when you shimmied out of your underwear, a dark glint in your eyes as you stretched the elastic into a fake arrow until it snapped into his face.
“You fucking bitch,” he growled, turning his face away from your panties soaked with arousal. “Once I get out of here, I will ruin you.”
“Huh, yeah, sure,” you mumbled incoherently, too lost in the pleasure as you sunk down on his cock. You were right, he was fucking thick, stretching you out better than any of your toys could. Plus, he was warm and leaking with pre-cum that he slid in easily, erotic groans leaving both your mouths once he was finally seated inside you.
Naoya was growling at you to let go of him when you laughed, lifting your hips up slowly before sliding back down on him just as slow, almost as if you made love to his cock the same passionate way you did with a lover. “You do have a wonderful cock, though. I’ve never felt this good in my life,” you leaned down to lick a stripe down to his neck, allowing him to hear the needy pants you graced with him. “You feel so good, Naoya, oh. If you weren’t such an asshole, I might even fall in love with you.”
“Go faster. This is unfair!”
Naoya tried thrusting deep into you, evidently unsatisfied at this torturous pace you set, but you only gripped at his thigh in warning, your eyes no longer sweet as you glared at him.
“Nothing’s ever fair in this world, sweetheart,” you reminded him, shivering every now and then as you bounced on his cock, his length slipping past through your walls magically. “Like how such a gorgeous face and amazing dick is paired with the most disgusting personality ever. No, it’s not fair, indeed...”
You closed your eyes with your head thrown back, placing your hips flat on his pelvic bone instead, fingers rubbing at your clit while Naoya throbbed inside you, desperate for release.
The little whines you gave were nothing but mocking. You knew that Naoya suffered through this position, but did you care? Absolutely not. With Naoya’s cock stretching you full and his tip kissing your most sensitive spots, in addition to your fingers rubbing and tweaking at your clit, this was the most pleasure you’d ever gotten from sex.
You were stimulated everywhere, your other hand reached up to tug at your hardened nipples.
Your walls clenched around him, signalling him that you were close and you let out a broken moan, falling forward to gyrate your hips around his cock to push you over the edge. It wasn’t enough to get him off since you were mostly still fondling with your clit, the sounds of your moans like torture to his ears.
“No, don’t you dare cum, I swear if you—” Your orgasm washed over you comfortingly like a warm blanket. Instead of seeing white, it was like your vision cleared, the sight of the sweat that made Naoya’s hair stick to his forehead in clumps crystal clear. You prolonged your orgasm by thrusting your hips in a sickening rhythm of thrust, pause, thrust, stop ­— and by then Naoya was losing his mind.
Naoya lost control as he snapped his hips upwards inside you hard enough that you winced in pain, pushing off his dick until he’s left humping the empty air, his body drenched with perspiration. “No, no, no, fuck you! Get back here you useless slut!”
You lay beside him, giggling in post-orgasm bliss. Just to tease him, you rolled to his side to press a kiss to his cheek, laughing harder when your lips came in contact with his flushed skin.
“You’re so adorable like this,” you cupped his face tenderly, perfectly aware that Naoya had begun to growl, his wrists almost bruised from how hard he brawled against his tie. “If I didn’t hate you so much, I would’ve let you cum inside me,” you offered with a pat to his chest, moving off the bed with wobbly legs.
“Well, whatever, that was fun. I would say we both had the most sensual sex of our lives, but that would be a joke for you, don’t you think?” you snorted as you inserted your arms to his discarded suit jacket.
Naoya stayed still on the bed, his cock still painfully hard and slick with your cum. “Don’t look so angry, Naoya. You had it coming for you. Don’t worry, though, as a thanks for letting me cum that hard — though I mostly did all the work — I’ll keep this between us so you at least get to keep whatever’s left of your dignity,” you blew a kiss his way, “Bye, sweetie. At least now I know people weren’t exaggerating when they called you a good fuck.”
Not bothering to slip your heels back on, you looped your shoes into the curls of your fingers, about to button Naoya’s jacket as you made your way to his door.
You never got halfway across the room when strong arms suddenly lifted you off the ground, your vision transitioning from his door to the pads of his feet, your body slung across his shoulder. Naoya gripped at your ass in warning when you kicked your legs, leaving him with no choice but to hug your thighs with one arm.
The next thing you knew, he slammed the balcony doors open with one hand and slammed you on the pool table. His rough hands yanked his jacket away from your body, the chilly night of the air bringing a shiver down your spine as it hit your drenched core.
Naoya had pinned your arms flat on your back in a painful angle, making you cry out just as he kneed your legs open, his free hand that wasn’t pinning you down aligning his cock against your hole. You were a moaning mess underneath him, the pain only an intoxicating addition to the pleasure he was pounding into you. Naoya then leaned to whisper your ear, the sudden movement making his cock slide deeper into you, the pleasure overwhelming.
“Oh, Naoya, fuck—”
“I am not just a good fuck,” he corrected you, “I am Naoya Zenin — and you will do well being silent and submissive while I fuck you, do you understand?” You were too lost in the feeling of him rutting deep into you that he had you seeing white this time around. When you didn’t answer, Naoya slapped your ass, your yelps echoing from the dead night. “I asked you a question.”
“No,” you bit back, “I refuse to—” you were silenced when Naoya hit your sweet spot, laughing at your state that you were too fucked out to give him a proper answer.
Naoya’s pace was merciless as he fucked deeper into you, the hand on your ass moving up to grab at your waist to keep slamming you back to his cock. He watched as your lips sucked him in so tight that he didn’t know whether you were pushing him out or refusing to let go. Turning your head to the side to gasp for air, you opened your eyes, only to be met by the sight of men crowding on the building across yours to witness your undoing by Naoya’s hands.
“I’ve barely started and you’re already so wet for me,” he mocked in your ear. As if on cue, squelching sounds accompanied your desperate moans, hands grabbing at nothing in particular. “Shall I try upping my speed?”
“N-Naoya- there are people looking.”
“Let them see,” he seethed, using one arm to lift your other leg up to the table to gain him more access into your warm, wet cavern. The sudden stretch made your muscles ache until you lay there limp; jaw clenched at the pleasure Naoya drowned you with. “Let them know how much I’m making this pussy mine. Gosh, can you hear yourself? You sound like a dirty fucking slut,” another slap landed on your ass, hard enough to leave a mark there for tomorrow. “You claim to hate me, so then why are you dripping all over me, huh? Pathetic whore. You women are nothing but cum dumps to me.”
Naoya spread your butt cheeks open, laughing at the silly way you clenched around him every time he pulled out, your puffy lips sucking him back again until Naoya buried himself to the hilt. His dick did wonders in letting out the most erotic whines and whimpers you never thought you’d be capable of, leaving you a drooling and panting mess under him.
“You little fucker, don’t even think about cumming inside me, I will literally castrate you and feed your balls to yourself.”
“Such a dirty mouth. Though that’s expected of a nasty woman like you,” he sassed, his thrusts faltering while his hand clenched your flesh tighter. That was enough to send you over the edge when Naoya slammed his hips harder and more desperately this time around, his cock twitching against your walls. “You wish I would cum inside you. But I have a better plan in mind.”
All it took was one rough hand for him to pull you before him, pushing you down into your knees again as he came inside your mouth. You could feel your cum and his dripping onto his dark marble tiles, the white pool of liquid shining.
Naoya thrusted lazily into your mouth, a sickening grin on his face while he kept you down there. His glare deepened when you tried to pull away from him. “Swallow, you slut. Or I’m fucking your face until I break your jaw.”
Furiously, you swallowed around his cock, Naoya groaning at the feeling of your walls convulsing around him. The moment you gagged from when his tip poked the back of your throat, Naoya pushed you off him until you were left choking on the ground. You gasped for air, hands clasped around your neck, sure that you were going to have a sore jaw and a fucked throat tomorrow.
You kept glaring at Naoya, but this didn’t deter him from gripping your chin down, humming to himself upon seeing that his cum was now gone in your mouth. “Hmm, so you did swallow it like a good girl. I’m glad I’ve disciplined you well.”
“Go to hell.”
“I’m King there already, baby,” Before you could retort, his arms encircled your waist until you were heaved in his arms again. You pounded against his back because you were too done, you couldn’t do another round. Naoya sighed as he threw you in the bed as if you were a ragdoll, disappearing in the bathroom for a while before coming back with a wet towel, which he rudely flicked your way. “Clean yourself up and then leave. Take the back elevators. I don’t want the staff to see a whore leaving my place.”
“You’re the one who brought me here.”
“Only because I had a duty to put you in your place,” He stared at you with his smirk now permanent in his face, admiring the bruises he left on your body.
“We’re not over yet, Zenin. I’m going to break you one way or another.”
You rolled your eyes at him, walking to his closet to wear one of his shirts. Naoya was silent the whole time as he watched you button his shirt with trembling hands, his presence hot on your heels as he followed you out the large room.
As you were about to leave, you picked up the towel you used to clean your cum with and threw it right at his face.
Naoya dodged it easily, eyeing the towel with a scoff. “Still resilient, I see,” settling down on one of his lounge chairs like it was a throne, Naoya rested his cheek on his fist as he stared you down. “But fine — I accept your challenge. A true man never backs down from a challenge, after all.”
“Oh, honey, I’m more than just a challenge,” you sneered.
Naoya’s gaze left your eyes to stare at your perky nipples that poked through his shirt, feeling his cock swell all over again. But he was a man of control and dignity — he wouldn’t do anything more with you, not when it was clear you’ve had enough for tonight.
It didn’t bother him though, he knew he’d have more opportunities to put you in your place.
“We’ll see about that. I’ll be the one to decide your worth,” he declared oh so smugly, the mere sound of his voice pushing you to slam a fist to ruin that pretty face of his, though you held your ground, far too tired to move a muscle. Naoya saw this too, and he smiled to himself, head tilted to the side as he studied the mess he’d made of you. “Tomorrow, same time same place?”
There was no telling what pushed you to agree, but the words left your lips far too confidently for you to even wonder why.
“Be ready for me, Zenin.”
“I always am.”
All the way back to the back elevators that Naoya had directed you at, you pondered on how you’d be able to tell your parents you suddenly needed a ride home when they had no idea you left the dinner gala in the first place. But most of all, how were you supposed to tell them you’d acquainted yourself with the Zenin clan all over again?
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ofduskcourts · 3 years
Text
Just a collection of canon Elriel moments / other characters noticing things to do with Elriel, presented without comment. Not including bonus content: 
“A faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers white-knuckled on that fork, but he kept silent.”
“But Azriel’s attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face. her shoulders loosened a bit.”
“Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, “can you truly fly?” he set down his fork, blinking. i might even have called him self-conscious. he said, “Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.” “That’s very beautiful,” she said.”
“Elain, noticing Azriel’s ease as proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well.”
“And I think Elain - Elain would like it, too. though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.” I smiled at the thought - at how handsome they would be together.”
“Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale, golden mass in his arms. he, too, wore his Illyrian armor, Elain’s golden-brown hair snagging in some of the black scales across his chest and shoulders. he set her down gently on the foyer carpet, having carried her in through the front door. Elain peered up at his patient, solemn face. Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?” She seemed so small before him, so fragile compared to the scales of his fighting leathers, the breadth of his shoulders. the wings peeking over them. But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded - just once. Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them.”
“Azriel knows you’re watching,” Rhys drawled from where he stood before the mirror in our bedroom, adjusting the lapels of his black jacket. […] Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise lounge across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports - likely information on the autumn court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the hewn city - the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. and my sister sitting within it. “Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” […] “You said your mother and father were wrong for each other. Tamlin said his own parents were wrong for each other.” I peeled off my dressing robe. “So it can’t be a perfect system of matching. what if” - I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden. “That is what she needs? Is there no free will? what if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”
I went to her immediately. “Do you need anything?” “No. I…I was sleeping, but I heard…” She shook her head/ blinked at our formal attire, the dark crown atop my head - and Rhysand’s. “I didn’t hear you.” Azriel stepped forward. “But you heard something else. […] “What did you see,” Azriel said, and I tried not to flinch as I found him at my other side, not having seen him move. again. Elain paused halfway up the stairs. slowly, she turned to look back at him. […] I faced Azriel, exposing my palms to him. “What does that mean?” Azriel’s hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. and without a word, he winnowed away.
The two illyrians paused their inspection of me long enough to note my sisters finishing up breakfast, Nesta in a pale gray gown that brought out the steel in her eyes, Elain in dusty pink. both males went a bit still.
I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? the herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. no shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went.
Nesta took a steadying breath, opening her mouth to either whisk Elain upstairs or move on. But Azriel asked softly, taking a single step over the threshold and into the sitting room, “What other?” Elain’s brows twitched toward each other. “The queen - with the feathers of flame.” The shadowsinger angled his head.
Lucien murmured to me, eyes still fixed on Elain, “Should we - does she need…?” “She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now - unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need…” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”
It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. the male who heard things others could not. Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed.
“You stole from the cauldron,'' I said to Nesta, who seemed ready to jump between all of us and Elain. “But what if the cauldron gave something to Elain?” Nesta’s face drained of color. “What?” Equally ashen, Lucien seemed inclined to echo Nesta’s hoarse question. But Azriel nodded. “You knew,” he said to Elain. “About the young queen turning into a crone.” Elain blinked and blinked, eyes clearing again. as if the understanding, our understanding…it freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in.
“The sixth queen is alive?” Azriel asked, calm and steady, the voice of the high lord’s spymaster, who had broken enemies and charmed allies. Elain cocked her head, as if listening to some inner voice. “Yes.”
Then Azriel, gently taking Elain’s hand in his own, as if afraid his scars would hurt her.
Varian angled his head. “So you three…because you were made, you can hear it? sense it?” “It would appear so,” Amren said […] But Azriel asked softly, “What about Elain?” Something cold went through me. Nesta was just staring at Azriel. staring and staring - then she broke into a run.
From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I'm getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, ``Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I'm getting her back.”
Azriel emerged from the deep shadows in the corner of the tent a heartbeat later. He jerked his chin toward the curtains in the back […] Azriel slid back the curtain - Elain was in her nightgown. gagged, wrists wrapped in steel that glowed violet. Her eyes went wide as she saw us - Azriel and me.
Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.” The shadowsinger only inclined his head.
The gray light of morning had broken over the world, mist clinging to our ankles as we headed into that camp, Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. He dripped blood behind him the entire time.
“We need to get Helion to take these chains off her.” Yet Elain didn’t seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger’s cheek.”
She refused the knife Cassian handed her, though. went white as death at the sight of it. Azriel, still limping, merely nudged aside Cassian and extended another option. “This is truth-teller,” he told her softly. “I won't be using it today - so I want you to.”
And now, standing amongst the sighing meadow grasses in his Illyrian armor, all seven siphons gleaming… Elain’s eyes widened at the obsidian-hilted blade in Azriel’s scarred hand. the runes on the dark scabbard. “It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say its magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.” […] Elain weighed my words…and slowly closed her fingers around the blade. Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade - Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife. Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade.
“You honestly think he’d ever give up truth-teller?” “He gave it to Elain,'' Mor said, admiring a moonstone necklace in the counter’s glass case. “She gave it back,” i amended, failing to block out the image of the black blade piercing through the king of Hybern’s throat. but Elain had given it back - - had pressed it into Azriel’s hands after the battle, just as he had pressed it into her hands before. and then walked away without looking back. Mor hummed to herself.
“Send Lucien, then. as our human emissary.” I studied the tenseness in Azriel’s shoulders, the shadows veiling half of him from the sunlight. “Lucien is away right now.” Az's brows rose. “Where?” I winked at him. “You’re my spymaster. Shouldn’t you know?” Az crossed his arms, face as elegant and cold as the legendary dagger at his side. “i don’t make a point of looking after his movements.” “Why?” Not a flicker of emotion. “He is Elain’s mate.” I waited. “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him.” To know when and if Lucien sought her out. what they did together. “You sure about that?” I asked quietly. Azriel’s siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. “Where did Lucien go?”
“And you?” I made myself say. “are you - all right?” Elain looked over a shoulder at me as we entered the foyer then turned left - to the dining room. In the sitting room across the way, all conversation halted at the smell of food. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?” she asked, a smile lighting up her face. I'd seen those smiles before. on my own damn face. […] Azriel emerged from the sitting room, a glass of wine in hand and wings tucked back to reveal his fine, yet simple black jacket and pants. I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. Her throat bobbed.
I strode to my seat - nestled between Amren and Mor - in time to see Elain say to Azriel, “Hello.” Az said nothing. No, he just moved toward her. Mor tensed beside him. But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.” Elain’s hands remained in midair, as if the ghost of the dish remained between them. with a blink, she lowered them and noticed her apron. “I-I’ll be right back,” she murmured, and hurried down the hall before I could explain that no one cared if she showed up to dinner covered in flour and that she could just sit. Azriel set the potatoes in the center of the table, Cassian diving right in. Or he tried to. One moment, his hand was spearing toward the serving spoon. The next, it was stopped, Azriel’s scarred fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Wait,” Azriel said, nothing but command in his voice. Mor gaped wide enough that I was certain the half-chewed green beans in her mouth were going to tumble onto her plate. Amren just smirked over the rim of her wine glass. Cassian gawked at him. “Wait for what? Gravy?” Azriel didn’t let go. “Wait until everyone is seated before eating.” […] “I never knew you were a stickler for manners, Az.” Azriel only released Cassian’s hand, and stared at his wine glass. Elain swept in, apron gone and hair rebraided. […] But Cassian waited until Elain had filled her plate before he took another scoop of anything. As did the others.”
Beyond the windows, darkness had indeed fallen. the longest night of the year. I found Elain studying it, beautiful in her amethyst-colored gown. I made to move toward her, but someone beat me to it. The shadowsinger was clad in a black jacket and pants similar to Rhysand’s - the fabric immaculately tailored and built to fit his wings. He still wore his sophons atop either hand, and shadows trailed his footsteps, curling like swirled embers, but there was little sign of the warrior otherwise. Especially as he gently said to my sister, “Happy solstice.”
“Az, this one’s for you.” The shadowsinger’s brows lifted, but his scarred hand extended to take the present. Elain turned from where she’d been speaking to Nesta. “Oh, that’s from me.” Azriel’s face didn’t so much as shift at the words. not even a smile as he opened the present and revealed - “I had Madja make it for me,” Elain explained, Azriel’s brows narrowed at the mention of the family’s preferred healer. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” Silence. Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. since you rub your temples so often.” Silence again. Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. I'd never heard such a sound, deep and joyous. Cassian and Rhys joined him, the former grabbing the glass bottle from Azriel’s hand and examining it. “Brilliant,” Cassian said. Elain smiled again, ducking her head. Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I'd never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.”
It was three by the time the others went to bed. by the time Cassian returned, quiet and brooding, and knocked back a glass of liquor before stalking upstairs. Mor followed him, worry dancing in her eyes. Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight.
“At least you’re honest.” Azriel smirked. “You and Nesta are wanted down there.” “Because of the shit with Elain?” Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?” Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. […] Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. “You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him. Cassian knew it was a lie, but didn’t push it. Az would speak when he was ready”
Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.
“She’s volatile right now. the last time she did a scrying, it ended badly. The cauldron looked at her. and then took Elain.” […] Azriel stiffened. “I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all.” Az hadn’t so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern’s war-camp
Amren said, “We do not have the time to wait for Nesta to decide. I say we approach Elain tomorrow. better to have both of them working on it.” Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the dread trove that Elain should not be exposed to.” “But Nesta should?” Cassian growled.
“Nesta has a week. one more week to find the trove with her own methods. Then we seek out other routes. she threw a nod to Azriel. “Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the trove, if she chooses to. don’t underestimate her.”
Feyre siad, “We won't allow any harm to come to Elain. Rhys warded her this morning, and we have eyes on her at all times.” “Eyes can be blinded,” Nesta said. “Not the ones under my command,” Azriel said with a soft menace. Nesta met his stare, knowing he was the only one aside from Feyre who could truly understand her hesitation
“She made ballrooms into battlefields and plotted like any general. like you two,” she said, nodding to Cassian and then, a bit more shyly, to Azriel. Azriel offered her a small smile that Elain quickly looked away from. Cassian tucked away his puzzlement. Lucien was certainly not here to snarl at any male who looked at her for too long.
Feyre and Rhys took their thrones, and Nesta and Elain came to stand at the foot of the dais, between him and Azriel
Elain just linked her arm through Nesta’s and led her toward the family room, where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it. “I was just checking on dessert,” Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met the shadowsinger’s stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.”
“Why don’t you sit?” She leaned against the doorway beside the shadowsinger. “My shadows don’t like the flames so much.” A pretty lie. she’d seen Azriel before the fire plenty. But she looked at who sat close to it and knew the answer. “Why do you come if it torments you so much?” “Because Rhys wants me here. It’d hurt him if I didn't come.” “Well, i think holidays are stupid.” “I don't.” She arched a brow. He explained, “They pull people together. and bring them joy. They are a time to pause and reflect and gather, and those are never bad things.” Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn’t stop herself from touching his shoulder. Letting him see that she understood why he stood near the doorway, why he wouldn’t go near the fire. His secret to tell, never hers.
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the-lonelybarricade · 2 years
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Hiii!! I've been following your work since the beginning and i just wanted to give u a big squeeze of a hug for blessing us with all of your fics 'cause i feel like we don't deserve u for blessing us with all these wonderful feysand content that u are sharing.
I hope all is well with ur life and in ur studies, and if it's not too much to ask, would you consider writing a feysand au where Feyre & Rhys aren't mates, but are happily in love and in a relationship--when all of a sudden, one of them meets their mate (preferably Rhys..?) or something like that 😚. Won't lie to u that im dying to know what events would play out and how Feyre would react if this scenario happened. Really no pressure to write this or anything just wanted to try my luck with this idea :DD. Thank u!
Bestie, ooof. What are you trying to do to me? Can you imagine how heartbreaking that would be for Feysand to be happy and in love, waiting patiently for the mating bond to snap only to find out they were star-crossed lovers all along? Well you don’t have to imagine it, because I already have. And if I’m going to be in torment over Feysand angst, I’m (affectionately) dragging you all down with me.
P.s. thank you for the submission lovely, I hope you enjoy <3
The Chains That Bind Us
Word count: 1,956
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Feyre and Rhysand were happily married. For 300 years, they had basked in what seemed like an infinite stretch of rapture, working alongside and complimenting each other with a grace and chemistry that had always felt predestined. They had always been certain they were mates, but time had flowed on and neither had felt the inkling of that special, magic bond.
They have resigned that perhaps the mating bond will never snap, perhaps that’s simply not what they were to one another, but that was okay. It was enough to be husband and wife, to be High Lord and Lady, to be happy and in love. They didn’t need a mating bond to reaffirm what they felt for one another. Things were already perfect as they were.
Until they weren’t. Until they had journeyed together to Illyria to oversee the announcement of the first all-female battalion. It had been a long term goal of Rhysand and his brothers to finally battle back the long ingrained sexism of Illyrian culture, and the visit was meant to be a celebration. A liberating ceremony, in honor of their mothers and all the females who had been victims of prejudice.
But when the leader of the battalion stepped forward to be acknowledged for her accomplishments, Rhysand had gone rigid at Feyre’s side, his breathing suddenly ragged. His pupils were blown wide, eyes fixed, riveted to the female.
Feyre felt her whole world had imploded in that moment. Especially when that female’s eyes had met her High Lord’s and had frozen just the same, the two bearing matched expressions of awe and disbelief.
She was certain she was going to be sick. Such a thing would be far from befitting of a High Lady, so Feyre had immediately winnowed back to their River House, back into their bathroom where she was instantly emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl.
Rhysand was there not too long after, holding back Feyre’s hair. They said nothing to each other, not until Feyre had recovered enough to turn and face her husband.
She was entirely unprepared for the way her heart shattered to meet his face, to meet those lovely eyes she had loved for centuries. Eyes that had only moments before been staring at another female with so much blind devotion it had torn her open.
“Feyre—” he started.
“I suppose we should have assumed that something like this could happen,” she interrupted, because she couldn’t bear to hear him apologize. Not for something like this, something that was entirely out of either of their control.
“It doesn’t change anything,” he insisted, but there was a strain to his voice that had never been present before. A bite that Feyre was convinced was the result of Rhysand battling against his instincts to return to Illyria, to that female.
“It changes everything, Rhys.”
She was already weeping as she choked the words out, because speaking them made them true. Those few centuries of bliss between them, they were a bubble, a perfectly crafted delusion that had finally popped.
“I love you,” Rhys seethed, as though arguing with himself. “I don’t even know that females name—”
“It doesn’t matter, Rhys. She’s your—”
“Don’t say it,” he begged, his voice a broken rasp. “Please, don’t say it.”
Somehow, that made it impossibly worse. That Rhys had been gifted this incredible, Cauldron-blessed thing, but was scorning it for her sake. Most Fae dreamed of the moment their mating bond would snap, and here was her husband acting as if it was his worst nightmare.
But Feyre knew what it was like for males. She knew he was clawing against every instinct in his mind, screaming at him to go to his mate, to know her name, to claim her. Feyre stifled another sob. Rejected mating bonds could drive a male mad. How could she ever think to do that to him? How could she deny him this piece of himself?
What broke her heart more than anything is that Feyre knew he would. Rhysand would reject his bond, would let that intrinsic part of his soul be torn away, for her sake. If Feyre asked, he would stay. He would stay and be miserable.
“I can’t do this to you, Rhys. I can’t force you to stay with me out of duty. I will not be your jailor.”
“You are my wife,” Rhys choked, reaching for her hand. He drew her palms to his face, allowing her to caress his cheeks. He shut his eyes as he nuzzled into her touch, causing his unshed tears to fall, racing down to collect at her hands. “You are my High Lady. You are the only one I want to be with.”
That wrecked another sob through Feyre’s body, which came out as a harsh exhale as she tried to restrain it. “You’d be a broken male without her, Rhys. The Cauldron—” she sucked in a strangled breath. Some truths were just too difficult to confront— “The Cauldron didn’t intend for us to be together.”
“Damn the Cauldron,” he growled, reaching for her with newfound conviction. “No one and nothing can decide who I love. No one can tell me that you are not who I belong with—who I belong to.”
Feyre allowed him to bundle her in his arms, to press her fiercely against his chest. She knew moments like this were fleeting, where they could hold each other as husband and wife. Already, their love was tarnished. Tainted. Blood spilled onto white snow. How long would it take for this mating bond to seep, to spill into the cracks, to spread until it consumed them? She couldn’t see an outcome where they could stay together unblemished, where they wouldn’t come to resent one another.
“Rhysand, listen to me love,” Feyre said, and found that her voice was steadier than she anticipated. “I care more about you being happy than I care about that happiness being found with me. Do you understand?”
“I would not be happier without you, Feyre.” His voice was ripe with earnesty. When she turned those eyes to meet his, those violet depths were burning, the silver constellations completely eclipsed by molten amethyst. He swallowed thickly. “Do I… want that female? Yes.” Feyre cringed to hear her husband admit it outloud. “But, that is just my instincts. I will be able to manage them with time. This bond is nascent. My love for you? It’s endured for centuries. The cauldron is not faultless; my parents were mates and they were miserable together. I could never imagine someone so perfect to walk beside me as you, Feyre. I do not seek another, no matter what fate has to say for it.”
Feyre allowed the comfort of his words to wash over her. She rested her head against Rhysand’s shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent, letting herself lavish in the rhythm of him, the beat of his heart steady in his chest.
“I will understand if you change your mind,” she whispered. “I do not hold you to your vows. If you become unhappy, if one day you cannot resist the pull you feel towards her… I will not hold it against you. I give you permission to… to leave me.”
Rhys let out a small, rueful laugh before he pressed a tender kiss to her temple. “How could I desert a love that is so selfless? The least I could do in the wake of such a declaration is promise to never see that female again.”
Feyre shook her head emphatically. “Don’t promise me that, Rhys. Just—just promise me that we’ll always be honest with each other. That we’ll always be a team, whether it be as rulers, or as lovers, or… or just as friends.”
“I promise,” he swore. “I vowed on my court and crown that I will love you for eternity. And I still know that to be true, even now. My soul… it might belong to someone else. But my heart, Feyre, it will always belong to you.”
There was something irreparably changed between them. They both knew it, could sense the way it lingered between them. The first crack, and possibly not the last. What they had was fragile now, but they had a gift for being delicate with one another.
The silence hung between them, a wretched, discomfiting presence that had never been there before. Both not quite sure what to say, not quite sure where this put them. She watched Rhysand’s lower lip quiver, understood that it was from the strain of not burdening her with his own turmoil over the situation.
Feyre tutted as she threw her arms around him, recognizing the signs of his crumbling. Rhys bowed his head in shame, burying his face into her chest.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped against her, releasing a sob of his own. “I’m sorry it couldn’t have been you. I wanted it to be you. I’m a failure of a husband, for putting you through this.”
“You are an excellent husband,” Feyre protested, threading her fingers through his hair soothingly. Her voice was still raw. “I don’t blame you for this, Rhys. I love you just the same.”
He lifted his head so their tear-stained faces were level. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, still glistening in silver. “What do we do now?”
They clung to each other so tightly, as if they pressed hard enough they could redirect fate, could mold their souls together and correct the misdeed of the Cauldron.
“I don’t know,” Feyre answered, burying her face in his shoulder as if it would hide her from the truth of the world. “I suppose we have no choice but to keep going. We’ll find our footing again. Together. And if we don’t… well, maybe we can wish on the stars.”
There was a huff of air at her ear. A laugh, she guessed, or something like it, something wry and humorless. Rhys moved underneath her, and Feyre pulled away to watch in confusion as her husband rose to his feet.
He extended his hand towards her. Curious, Feyre accepted, allowing him to pull her to her feet. In a blink, they were on the rooftop, beneath the stars. She hadn’t even realized the sun had set until she was staring up at the impossibly bright cosmos.
“Where better to find our footing than under those very stars?”
She turned to him, and Rhys was staring at her the way he had on starfall, all those centuries ago. Staring at her as if she were the brightest star in the sky, as though he looked to Feyre to cast his wishes.
“Will you dance with me, wife?”
Not convinced she was capable of speech, Feyre nodded. Using the hand he still held, Rhys twirled her into his arms. And though no music played, they found their own rhythm, lost in the cadence of each other, spinning endlessly under the stars.
As they swayed under the endless expanse of sky and starlight, Feyre mused how even the brightest of stars eventually burned out, but that didn’t make them any less worth wishing on. That didn’t mean they weren’t worth fighting for.
⟡⟡⟡
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cheekygreenty · 3 years
Text
Little Witch - Part 25
The Darkling x Reader
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The black kefta hung from the tent hook elegantly, its blue thread glistening in the rays of the morning sun. The night had been swept away from you in the blink of an eye with the bright light peeking into the tent like an unwelcome guest. The big bed was also empty, Aleksander's side cold and vacant with no trace of his signature warmth. His scent still lingered though, the thick sheet soaking in his presence as much as you.
The kefta felt particularly heavy as you lifted it around your shoulders and clasped its belt around your waist. You would be boarding the skiff any minute now ready to play along with whatever plan Aleksander had. Truth be told, you would follow him to the ends of the earth and back. He was your silent stone to lean on, the shoulder you wanted to cry on. His company brought comfort and security to you that nobody else had ever given you, not your parents or siblings, nobody. Whether that be plainly down to Merzost or your love for him, you didn't know and didn't care.
'promise me you'll run and hide'
Aleksander wasn't selfless or humanitarian, he always put his life goal ahead of everyone, ahead of you. But this time he was begging you to run, to save yourself if something happened. But what could possibly happen on the skiff of all places? The words were meant to be reassuring no doubt, but they felt like a goodbye and that hurt. It's just a normal skiff journey to Novokribirsk you kept telling yourself despite that daunting dread pooling in your stomach.
Alina had arrived not long ago, his signature black carriage carrying the cuffed Sun-Summoner and bringing her to her tent. You hadn't yet had time to see her, so now you walked with determined haste, ready to give her a piece of your mind as you whipped the tent flap opened.
She stood dressed in a black gown still void of a black kefta no doubt, her hair neatly styled in a regal updo with glittering jewels hanging from a golden chain. But that wasn't what caught your eye, it was the Stag antler sticking out from her collarbone, the skin red and irritated. Her usually expressive face was blank, no emotion visible on her pale skin. Despite her state, you could basically feel the buzz of her power from where you stood. The amplifier was doing its job.
Her eyes found yours with a sharp glare and anger flooded her whole being. With her quick demeanor change came the clenching of her fists and a slight spark of light, small and pathetic you thought, does she not have an amplifier?
'You betrayed me' She stood up and took a couple steps towards you so you did the same, coming face to face with the living saint.
'I did no such thing. Now sit down before you hurt yourself' You seethed and she faltered, sitting down with a defeated sigh.
'Are you here to take my light too like he did? I'm sure there's enough to go around.... you know if you'd have asked me and told me everything then this never would have happened.'
'What are you talking about Alina?' Your angry expression shifted into one of slight confusion at her words.
'Don't act like you didn't know. I know you're not innocent, Baghra told me as much.'
'Don't listen to a word that wrench says.'
'Then who can I trust? Huh? You? Aleksander?' She threw her hands up in desperation and leaned her head back against the wall. ''I can't trust anyone, only Mal....but his life is being held over my head like a bargaining chip.' Her voice broke toward the end of the sentence but she recovered, squaring her shoulders and looking ahead at the tent wall again. 'Even though I can't physically to anything, you two still have your insurance don't you?'
'You need to stop speaking in riddles Alina, the Apparat has rubbed off on you too much.' At his mention, her eyes squinted at you in anger, seemingly aware of his situation back in Os Alta.
'Riddles? Do you prefer lies?'
'No. I choose to omit the truth and say what one wants to hear.'
'I would know'
'Why do you keep saying we took your light? We gave you the Stag' You circle back to her previous accusation, not caring for her petty allegation.
'No, he took my light with the Stag. I can't do anything, nothing. He took it all and is using it against me. Just like you told him to right?' You pause, what.
'Excuse me?' You stared at the girl incredulously. Aleksander did what? 'Alina if you are lying to me I will burn Malyen to a mere ember.'
'Don't you think I would have done something to you right now?' Her voice sneers at you with a poison you've never heard from her before but then it softens to a pitiful infliction. 'Did you not know?'
'Of course I didn't!' You shoot up out of the chair, knocking it over in the process. She just accused Aleksander of taking her Grisha power, of stripping her from the one thing the Saints gave her, light. What you did was nothing compared to this, you never took it all, that would be immoral, sinful. But he did.
'I was wondering why you didn't just take it yourself, I mean you wouldn't need the Stag in the first place.' Because he didn't trust me enough that's why I didn't do it.
'How did he do it?' You stared impatiently at her, your feet feeling restless and your whole body on edge. The anger started to bubble in your gut, slowly raging fire throughout your body.
'He had David use Merzost to join us together using the Stag antlers. He took everything from me. I swear.' She looked petrified, broken. It made sense now why you could feel the power and she couldn't use it, why the antlers didn't quite fit around her collarbone, they didn't belong there. 'How do I fix this?'
Her pleading eyes stared into yours, begging for a solution you didn't have. You turned your head away, deep in rageful thoughts when a loud voice echoed over the rest, she could be lying. This was Alina Starkov after all, she could very well be lying about it all. But it would fit with Aleksander's hints here and there, his need for your validity of loyalty. It made sense.
You once again looked to her, eyes glaring into her own, and whispered with honesty 'I don't know.'
Just as you said aloud your sorrowful admission, the tent flap opened with a whoosh and the man himself entered donning his signature poker face. You took your steps backward, silently excusing yourself from the situation. You could feel his inquisitive stare on you but you ignored it, instead opting to quickly look at his hand. Saints. There, embedded into his hand was a bone fragment of the Stag. You bit down the gasp of horror and clenched your fists. How did I not see it yesterday?
You averted your eyes to Alina's once again and gave an almost missable nod and left.
What in Saint's name is he going to do and how can I find out before my conscience gets the better of me?
*****
You stared at the skiff and watched as the foreign diplomats boarded, each with a slight sheen on their brow. The Fold was an exhausting fear, one children and adults alike shared.
You looked to your left and spotted Aleksander and his troop of Grisha heading your way. While he spoke to Alina, you chose to stand alone and think, think of all the ways right now could go wrong. There were too many possibilities to count.
As the sea of keftas got closer, you walked on board, ignoring once again the look shot your way by Aleksander and Zoya alike.
Your steps were loud in your ears as your feet dragged on the wooden deck. Your head was still swirling with thoughts and scenarios, Aleksander being at the forefront of all of them. Why did he not tell me? Why is he doing this? What is he doing? It was a never ending turmoil.
The whirlwind of your mind was momentarily broken by the movement out of the corner of your eye. Alina was being chained to the deck, all freedom diminished. Aleksander stood behind her, unclasping her cloak to reveal a stunning golden kefta. You could see their lips moving and you could hear their voices, but your brain refused to process anything. You were shell-shocked, your eyes glued to his hand and the antler sticking out of it.
The skiff moved and jostled from side to side on the sands, the Squallers raising the winds to fill the sails. He dropped his hand but your eyes followed its movements. They flicked a sliver of light momentarily and you swore your stomach turned over and inside out. He must have felt your burning gaze on him because he looked up and searched for the target of your stare but it still wasn't enough to break your eyeline.
He appeared at your side suddenly , the same hand reaching for yours but you moved away on instinct. He moved to in front of you, gripping your chin up and forcing you to meet his eyes. They were cold and disconnected, like they usually were when he was deep in his revenge plans. It scared you, it always did.
'Why didn't you tell me?' You said calmy depsite the storm in your mind.
'It's for the best' He whispered, thumb carassing your cheek.
You roughly shoved his hand aside and walked away, choosing instead to stand next to Alina. You could sense her power on him but you could also hear the Merzost aspect calling out to you, begging to be taken into your grasp.
Before Alina had a moment to register your presense, the skiff entered the glorious sands of the Fold. As the shadows wafted in your hair and loomed between your fingers like water, your worries dissapeared and your head cleared. Your lungs breathed the familiar air in and out, spreading the feeling of home throughout your body.
Your eyes shut on their own accord, basking in the Unsea feeling as long as you could manage before all hell broke loose.
____________________________
Part 26
Heyyyyy besties guess who's back!!!!!!!!!!!
Masterlist
Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!) @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @adoringb @grisha-of-shadow-bone @rosiethefairy @carlywhomever @allisjustok @keepdaydreamingbb @luciadiosa @azkahanif
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goldenraeofsun · 3 years
Text
4:01 PM
Dean sips his whiskey and glowers across the bar at his own reflection. His wrist is burning like a brand, but it’s probably all in his head. The stupid timers don’t cause physical pain when they reach T-minus zero, Houston we have a problem. The numbers freeze, and that’s that.
Dean’s had counted down to nothing at exactly 4:01 PM, fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes of running into his soulmate, getting his number, continuing on his way to this bar, and telling the bartender to keep ‘em coming.
He refuses to look at the far corner of the room, the booth he had reserved like an idiot. Four PM, party of two, under the name Winchester.
On the bar by his glass, his phone is still lit up with Cas’s texts from the past hour.
Cas 3:11 I’m so sorry I have to move our appointment. My client just unexpectedly switched our time to 4pm.
Cas 3:21 I think I’ll be able to escape by 4:30. Can I meet you then?
Dean had responded with a thumbs-up emoji. He didn’t have it in him to say any more.
Cas 3:50 This city is impossible to navigate. How does anyone live here?
Cas 3:58 You were right, I should have rented a car.
Three minutes after Cas’s last text, Dean ran into his soulmate. Right on schedule.
As far as first meetings go, it hadn’t been as much of a shitshow as Dean had expected.
The dude was attractive, at least, and the first thing he did after bumping into Dean was apologize. But he was wearing a tailored suit and glued to his phone, so it definitely could have been better.
His soulmate would’ve run off none the wiser, except Dean had to blurt, “Wait!” because, despite his disappointment, Dean couldn’t let his soulmate disappear into the throngs of Michigan Avenue. Dean wasn't about to fall to one knee, but he also couldn't let his best shot just go.
The man stopped, irritated. His gaze refused to linger on Dean, instead fixating on a building at the end of the block.
Head swimming with too many thoughts to name, Dean couldn’t get the right words out. He gestured mutely to his wrist, pulling up the flannel to show him.
Eyes widening with understanding, his soulmate quickly tugged up the cuff of his sleeve, only sparing a second to verify his own timer stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice.” he said, distracted. “My name is James. Here,” he fished out a pen and something to write on from various pockets of his trench coat, “my number. We… should talk. Later.” He scowled, raising his other wrist to check at his watch. “I need to go.”
“Sure, man,” Dean said, mostly grateful he didn’t have to stick around and have some heart-to-heart with a stranger that was apparently meant for him. Whatever the fuck that actually meant.
“Thank you,” James said swiftly. Without another word, he took off back down the street.
Dean didn’t bother to watch him go. He had a barstool waiting with his name on it.
Sam will laugh himself silly once Dean tells him his perfect match wound up being some corporate suit. Dean once told him he’d rather microwave his own head than set foot in an office cubicle.
Sammy was the big soulmate skeptic in the family. He found his non-timer approved other half while he was protesting an illegal dismissal of a disabled employee. Three years later, when Sam bumped into Gabriel Crawford in a strip club at midnight on Dean’s birthday, he discovered Gabe was perfectly happy to let Sam live his apple pie life while Gabe continued to party like it was 1999.
Gabe made Sam promise to look him up if Eileen was ever down for a threesome.
Turned out, Eileen was.
Sam most certainly was not.
He still sends Gabe a card for the holidays, and usually Gabe sends him back candy samples from wherever he’s vacationing for the winter.
But everyone else Dean knew bought into the soulmates game, hook, line, and sinker. His parents were soulmates. Benny and Garth both settled down with theirs. Charlie and Aaron were holding out for theirs. Hell, even Jo had her weird thing with Bela Talbot.
Dean would’ve counted himself among their number - until he met Cas.
Well, until Cas messaged him on Bobby’s new ask-a-mechanic feature on the garage’s website. Cas had inherited a banged up 1967 Mustang and had no idea where to start with restoration. Apparently Gabe of all people was staying with Cas at his place in southern California, and he recommended Dean.
Why Cas couldn’t just look up a local place still baffles Dean to this day, but he has never been more grateful for Cas’s weird-ass logic.
Their relationship had stayed strictly professional until Cas’s actual car broke down on some random highway in California. Dean had tried to talk Cas through the repair himself, but it was no use. Cas either didn’t have the equipment for the fix, or Dean didn’t diagnose the right problem. Dean was about to hang up, when Cas had asked, clearly embarrassed, “Would you please stay on the line? I have this irrational fear of being murdered in the middle of nowhere where nobody can find my body for proper rites.”
Dean, almost surprising himself, didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, “Sure thing. Wanna put me on hold while you get in touch with Triple A?”
He spent an hour and a half on the phone with Cas, telling him stupid stories about the worst things people have done with their cars.
In return, Cas told him all about the stars that were just coming out in the darkening desert sky.
The week after, Bobby’s garage received a gift certificate in the mail. It was for a weeklong stay at the Chicago location of the five-star hotel chain Cas works for, in Dean’s name.
Those little chocolates on the pillows ruined Dean for motels everywhere.
At the bar, Dean signals the bartender for a refill. He glares down at his phone. The little rectangle contains his entire history with Cas, call logs, text receipts, everything.
He can’t look at it any longer. He shoves it in his pocket, and the receipt with his soulmate’s phone number crinkles in protest. With a sigh, Dean takes out the flimsy piece of paper.
James’s handwriting is neat, so Dean doesn’t even have the excuse of not being able to read a digit or two.
Maybe Dean will give him a call after his drink with Cas. Hopefully, once James finds out that Dean’s just a mechanic, lives in a shoebox apartment in Bucktown, and has never been to Aspen or the Alps, he’ll tell Dean to take a hike.
Dean flips the receipt over, and his stomach gives a sickening lurch. In pretentious curlicue lettering, the first words Dean reads are, The Nine Spheres.
James is staying at Cas’s hotel.
Fucking great. Dean crumples the receipt and shoves it back in his pocket. With his luck, James will probably want to meet in the restaurant on the first floor, the fancy-ass place with the steakhouse burger and truffle fries Dean would actually sell his soul for.
Dean actually dreamed about that burger, a few months after his Cas-sponsored stay. When he told Cas about it, Cas let out a bark of laughter.
In the next breath, though, he told Dean he does the same when he’s scoping out a new location and can’t stay at a nearby Nine Spheres.
Dean tips back his glass of whiskey. It’s stopped burning on the way down his throat, a good sign.
He was so stupid, thinking he could fuck with destiny, fate, or whatever shitty power up there decides soulmates.
Once Cas told him about his business trip to his neck of the woods, Dean had taken one look at the numbers on his arm counting down and did the math. He would meet his soulmate smack dab in the middle of Cas’s window in Chicago.
He could make Cas be his soulmate. Cas never brought up his timer, if it was still ticking, if he’d already met his other half. And Dean, coward that he was, never asked. If he didn’t know for sure, then there was that slim, slim chance that theirs matched up after all.
But no, Cas had to go and switch up their meeting time at the last second, and Dean had run into James instead.
His pocket buzzes with a new text. Mood lower than Cas’s voice register, Dean slides his phone out.
Cas 4:38 My meeting is over. Should I still meet you at the same place?
Dean 4:39 Yeah Hope its okay I got started without you
Cas 4:40 More than okay, considering my scheduling difficulties.
Dean 4:40 See you soon
Dean sighs and drains his glass.
Foot jiggling on the barstool and eyes trained on his hands clasped in front of him, Dean deliberately does not look around as the door opens.
And opens again.
And again.
Confused and irritated, Dean takes another look around. Above the bar, a chalkboard clearly proclaims Happy Hour from 4:30-6:30 PM. Dean ducks his head, scowling into the remains of his drink. He probably overlooked the sign before because of his single-minded quest to get shitfaced like a freshly-dumped senior at prom stuck next to the spiked punch bowl.
His phone obnoxiously tells him it’s 4:43.
That’s just great. Dean hops off the stool, meaning to ask the hostess if anyone’s asked for Winchester, when James pushes open the door.
Dean stops dead in his tracks.
James freezes, his eyes going wide. His trench coat swishes ominously to a stop.
Should Dean turn around? Pretend he didn’t see? Cas is going to be here any second.
Before he can make up his mind, James is walking towards him. “Hello,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”
Dean swallows. “Me neither,” he says honestly.
James scans the small crowd now gathered around the bar, brow furrowing in concentration. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”
Dean lets out a silent exhale of relief. He musters up a weak smile. “No problem, man. I’ll leave you to it.” As he turns back around, James steps up to the hostess stand.
James says, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the din, “I’m a bit late, but is there a reservation for Winchester? For 4:30?”
Dean could not possibly have heard what he thinks he did. But the timing is right - for once. He spins around, practically losing his balance thanks to the booze he already drank.
The hostess scans her sheet of names, shaking her head. “There was a reservation for Winchester at four PM, but that’s it.”
James’s face falls. Shoulders slumping, he pulls out his phone, squinting as the screen lights up. “He said he was here,” he mutters.
He can’t be Cas. That would be crazy - like, dingo ate my baby, crazy.
“Could be at the bar,” the hostess says flippantly, tilting her head to the crowded area. “Most of ‘em don’t check in.”
James’s lips press together. “Thank you,” he says to the hostess, his tone clipped. “I’ll wait there.”
Dean steps in front of him before James can get lost in the throng of people. “I heard you’re lookin’ for me,” he says with a confidence that’s only 99% bullshit.
James blinks. “You?”
“Dean Winchester, at your service,” he says, spreading his arms wide.
“Dean,” he echoes, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s body, drinking him in with his new eyes.
“Gotta say,” Dean drawls as his heart pounds with nerves. Doubt niggles at the back of his mind like an itch he can’t scratch, but he’s already made his memory foam bed. Might as well lie in it. “Cas is the weirdest nickname for James that I’ve ever heard.”
“My full name is James Castiel Novak,” Cas says, flushing. “James - that’s what I go by professionally. My family calls me Castiel.”
Dean can’t hold back his broad grin. “Family, eh?”
Cas’s expression takes a swift dive from embarrassed to mortified. “And friends,” he tacks on. He takes a step closer, staring at Dean’s face in wonder. “But you’re also my soulmate.”
Dean laughs giddily. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t beat around the bush. Not your style.” He jerks his head towards the bar. “I think I see an open seat. You wanna have that talk now?”
Cas hesitates. “Would you like to go to Nine Spheres instead? I’ve had business dinners every evening I’ve been in Chicago so far, and, while the food has been good-”
“It’s not the steakhouse burger?” Dean finishes for him.
The corners of Cas’s mouth turn down into a slight grimace. “Last night, a client treated us to tapas. I woke up starving.”
Dean smiles. “You know I’m always down for that burger.”
“Excellent,” Cas says with relish as he pushes open the door.
They walk onto the street, and it’s almost offensively quiet after the noise of the bar. It’s a balmy Spring evening, the sun still relatively high in the sky.
“You don’t seem disappointed anymore,” Cas says out of nowhere as they reach the end of the block.
So Cas caught on to that, back when they first ran into each other. Dean shrugs. “I just got stood up by the guy I’d specially set up to meet me at 4:01. Wouldn’t you be?”
Cas clears his throat, asking hoarsely, “You wanted it to be me?”
Dean throws him a look. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Cas just shrugs. The light changes, and they step off the curb.
“Were you… disappointed?” Dean asks hesitantly.
Cas lets out a surprised laugh. “Of course not. I didn’t even think - well,” he falters, casting a sidelong look at Dean, “I’m not disappointed. Believe me.”
The automatic doors to Nine Spheres open, hitting them with a burst of perfectly conditioned air. Dean hasn’t stepped foot in the hotel since Cas paid for his stay, but it hasn’t changed one bit. The same tiered giant chandelier glitters overhead. Giant pillars bracket the concierge desk to the left and the enormous staircase to the right that leads up to the second floor rooms. The tiled floor, so polished Dean can practically see his reflection, stretches the length of the lobby.
Dean sticks out like a flannel-wearing sore thumb. “Cas,” he hisses, “hold on. I don’t think I’m dressed right for this place.”
Cas sucks in a breath. “No,” he says as Dean’s heart sinks, “I suppose not.” He jerks his head towards the elevator bay. “Room service?”
Dean blinks.
“I’ve called for the burgers on several occasions at other locations,” Cas assures him. “It tastes as good.”
Was Cas actually trying to convince him to go up to his room? What a dumbass. Dean laughs.
Cas colors, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Forget it,” he mutters. “We don’t-”
“You know, if you invite me up to your room,” Dean cuts him off, “you’re going to have a bitch of a time getting me to leave, right?”
Cas stares at him.
“Dude,” Dean says, “I’ve never stayed anywhere this nice in my life. Between the food, the water pressure, and the robe that felt like I was fucking a cloud, I had enough of a hard time leaving last time.”
“I’m glad,” Cas says stiltedly. “We strive to provide the optimal experience to all our guests.”
Dean rolls his eyes. “’M saying, add you to the mix, and they’re gonna have to drag me out of here, kicking and screaming.”
“And if I don’t want you to leave?” Cas asks in an undertone as he pushes the up button for the elevator.
“Then I guess we don’t have a problem,” Dean says, winking.
Cas’s responding grin falls as the doors close behind them and the elevator starts moving. He shakes his head. “It’s a shame there are cameras in here.”
Dean leans in closer, whispering in his ear, “Doesn’t bother me much. Whaddya say to giving the peeping toms a show, then?”
Cas bites his lip, and this close, Dean can see how his eyes have blown black with want. “I - I can’t.”
It’s like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice water. Dean steps back, shame filling him. That’s fine. He can regroup. Hopefully Cas will be more receptive behind closed doors. It’s not the first time this has happened, anyway.
“Dean, I have to work with these people every day,” Cas hisses, wringing his hands. “The last time an executive got… busy with a coworker in the pool, the mocking didn’t end for weeks. Not to mention her rebuke from upper management.” He throws Dean a desperate look. “I would like for you to be fully clothed by the time you meet my coworkers for the first time.”
Cas is already planning for Dean to meet his people?
The elevator dings, and Cas steps out. “Are you coming?” he asks hesitantly.
“Oh, yeah,” Dean says quickly. As he follows Cas down the maze of rooms, he has to ask, “You were planning on introducing me to your coworkers?”
Cas’s cheeks pink. “Unless you were opposed to it,” he mutters as he stops in front of Room 1518. He sighs, making no move to insert his keycard. Instead, he lifts his head to meet Dean’s gaze squarely. “I’ve put in a transfer request to Chicago.”
“What?”
“It was before I knew you were my soulmate,” Cas says quickly. “I’ve never felt like I fit in in California, and my parents live in Pontiac. The Chicago office is decently large, and, well, I knew you were here,” he says, his voice going quiet near the end. He straightens. “So there were many reasons.”
“You’re staying?” Dean says, his mouth dry.
Cas bobs a nervous nod. “I hope that’s okay.”
Dean grins. “Sure is.”
Cas touches the inside of his wrist, his expression turning almost shy. “Of course, when I first pictured introductions, it was strictly as a friend. I don’t really know anyone else in this city well, and I’ve told you about my difficulty in social situations, so it would’ve been more for moral support than anything else. But after this evening -”
Dean interrupts his rambling. “Are there cameras in the hallway?”
“What- oh,” Cas says, his eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips before back up again. “Yes?” He points. “They’re all the way down there, though, so they can’t -”
Dean cuts him off with a heated kiss.
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artemiseamoon · 3 years
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Burning Bright
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Chapter 3 teaser
Chapters / fic info
Full chapter soon!
Warnings: minor angst I guess? Reliving old memories/loves.
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Bjorn
The moment Bjorn found out about his arranged marriage, it was a source of anxiety. He liked his life, loved it. Bjorn loved his freedom.
Bjorn had everything he wanted. He even traveled all over the world twice over. Though he had important duties here, Bjorn still took off whenever he felt called.
A marriage seemed like a dead weight to carry around. More obligations, more duties, more responsibility. Bjorn was already spending a shit ton of money on child support for those 5 kids. He didn’t want anymore chains.
Marriage was so far off his radar that Bjorn got comfortable, up until the very moment Ragnar broke the news. Bjorn was ready to be unimpressed with his wife, and see his marriage as a shitty debt to pay to his father.
But, as the wedding goes on into the night, Bjorn can’t keep his eyes off Carmen LeGrand. His anxiety and general inconvenienced feeling about all of this eases. Bjorn thinks maybe, maybe this wouldn’t be so terrible. Especially not when she looked like that.
Knocking back the rest of this drink, Bjorn pushes his thoughts aside momentarily and nods his head to the music.
“Did you ever think you’d be married?”
Bjorn turns his head to the left, following the question. He traces it back to a waiting Hvitserk.
Bjorn chuckles, “ No.” that was a lie, maybe it's because he was drunk, or because she was lingering in the back of his mind, the ghost of his past. Bjorn shifts in his seat to face his brother, “once. That was a long time ago.”
Bjorn slaps his hand down on Halfdans shoulder with a squeeze. Halfdan has a far away look in his eyes, he doesn’t respond.
Bjorn shakes him, “Where’d you go?”
Halfdan glances at him, “no where.”
Bjorn continues, his focus on Hvitserk now, “I told Halfdan all about her. The first one...I wanted to marry her. Then…I realized love, marriage and a happy family was bullshit.”
Bjorn rests his free hand on Hvitserks shoulder, “So I said fuck it. Oh the fun I’ve had.” Bjorn chuckles but even Hvitserk notices the slight change in his eyes.
Keeping a smile, Bjorn stands and looks around the room with a huff.
Halfdan stares at his empty glass and puts it down. Crossing his arms, he sits back in the chair, his eyes focused on no one, “Love.” he mutters under his breath.
It's a thing Halfdan didnt understand, or believe in really. Aside from the love for his brother, or the love for his best friend, Floki. Maybe he even had a little love for Bjorn too, though he never set out to be his friend. It was a job, so Halfdan took it. Some kind of relationship formed along the way, despite his best efforts to keep to himself.
But love for a woman? Halfdan didn’t experience that, he’s never loved a woman before, besides his mother. But, that was a complicated subject.
At this age, Halfdan was sure he would never know the pain called love that afflicted so many, and he was perfectly fine with that.
His thoughts continue to spiral on the topic.
“My brother was obsessed with love, with finding his Queen. That fool, how he believed…” Halfdan drifts off again.
Conversation falls quiet between the men. Hvitserk shrugs and picks up Bjorns' plate. Casually, he eats the rest of the food.
“I’d like to be married. Have children of my own - “ he says with full cheeks.
With a smirk, Bjorn glances back at Hvitserk then at Halfdan who offers a nod. Bjorn looks ahead again, scanning the crowd until he finds her.
Carmen is standing with her parents across the room. When Carmen sees him looking, Bjorn raises his glass, she does the same.
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On mobile I’ll add the tags later 💜
Note: the extended wedding scene is packed. We see lots of the family dynamics as well as glimpses inside our main characters (Carmen, Halfdan, and Bjorn) we will see a little floki too. I’m planning on posting the full chapter tomorrow.
Halfdan: @naaladareia @charming-merlin @gearhead66 @beyond-the-ashes @shadow-of-wonder
Bjorn: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @beyond-the-ashes @shadow-of-wonder *This fic: @tephi101 @readsalot73 @supernaturalvikingwhore maybe @fandomficsimreading ? @teishalicious Vikings: @punkrocknpearls @violetmoon74
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gloomybabygirl · 3 years
Text
{in my head pt.2} Poe Dameron x smuggler!reader (soulmate au)
series masterlist 
last part  *  next part
a/n: hi everyone! I can’t thank you enough for all the love on the first part of the series!! I was actually super nervous to post it and had my friends beta read it an unhealthy amount of times, so the feedback I’ve gotten has been wonderful :) p.s. the series tag list is open, send an ask or message if you want to be tagged for the rest!
warnings: alcohol consumption, soulmate trope, poe not clearing his throat, cliffhanger, I haven’t proofread this yet 
timeline: I never established this so here we go! this is set between force awakens and last Jedi! so we’re still on D’Qar ladies, gents, and nb friends. however Miss Rey has not yet traveled to see Uncle Luke 
word count: 4k oops
songs used: mr. loverman - Ricky Montgomery & the chain - Fleetwood Mac (kinda? I just listened there's no singing in this part lol)
summary: you and Poe spend some time bonding, you go on your first mission 
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You loved being apart of the Resistance. Waking up on D’Qar every morning was a blessing in your eyes. You had a purpose here. You’d never stayed on one planet for so long. Being on the run was your norm for the majority of your life. It was too dangerous for you to stay on one planet for too long (or stay in one region for that matter). The humid Jungle was the closest thing you’d had to a permanent home since you were a child. 
That is, D’Qar was the closet thing to a physical home you’d had in years. There was one person that had no trouble making you feel at home. You could be stuck in carbonite on a bounty hunters ship and hearing your soulmate’s voice wold make you feel safe. His sweet song felt like coming home to the warm embrace of a lover. 
But you hadn’t heard it in weeks. And it was starting to worry you. There had always been that nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you that he’d found someone else. But now that voice was trying to convince you of something much worse. You don’t know what you’d do if you’d spent all this time waiting for your person only to find out that something awful had happened to him. 
You’d rather find out he already belonged to someone else. 
You did your best to push the dark thoughts away, locking them in a box in the back of your mind. You couldn’t let yourself linger on the idea of him being dead or it would drive you insane. 
There were three people that did a magnificent job of keeping your mind off of all the negative thoughts. On days when it felt like the weight of the war was resting solely on your shoulders, your friends were the ones who could help you bear it. They were always there for a joke or a long talk, if that's what you needed. Of course you were there for them as well. It was the first time you’d allowed yourself to have people in your life that could rely on you. 
Days like today were your favorite. The weather was finally starting to cool down on the swampy planet, making the outside air somewhat tolerable. Everyone you loved was on base, safe and accounted for after a successful mission. Every time one of them left the base you felt as though you were holding your breath until they came back. But now, in Poe's small quarters with Rey and Finn, you felt the air return to your grateful lungs. Poe had devised a plan to hit up Maz’s on the way back from the mission and snagged a few bottles of jet juice, which you and the rest of the gang were all happily draining  in his quarters. The alcohol was just beginning to burn in your stomach and your head was the slightest bit fuzzy. You took your time soaking in the scene of your found family spread out on the cold permacrete of Poe’s room. 
Finn’s boisterous laugh rang out as his best friend finished telling every one about his adventure and a half to get the jet juice. Finn was especially fond of the tangy, red alcohol and was on drink number four down the hatch.
“Only you, Dameron,” Rey laughed to herself, gently taking the half full bottle out of Finn’s hands. His face of protest caused another round of laughter to erupt around the small room. He looked like a child that was denied a sweet by their parent. 
Finn fell back against the permacrete, his head making an awful hollow sound as it hit the ground. He didn't seem to feel it and decided the floor was his new best friend for the night. Rey got up from her position against the wall and began to pick up the empty bottles scattered around the room. 
“Looks like the jet juice served it’s purpose,” you commented, nudging Poe in the side with your elbow. Finn was now curling into the fetal position, trying to use a rug as a blanket. 
You had your legs resting over Poe’s strong thighs. He patted the side of your leg where his hand had been resting, carefully moving your legs off of him. “I better help him back to his room. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t end up running naked through the tarmac trying to fly an X-Wing,” Poe said. 
“I’d should head back to my quarters too,” you stood up to put your boots on, but Poe stopped you. 
“Actually, do you think you could wait here till I get back? I have something I want to give you,” Poe winked at you, helping Rey tug their friend to his feet.
You couldn't help the way your heart sped up at his words. And you definitely didn't miss the eyebrow raise Rey shot you from the door. 
“Yeah, I’ll just hang with BB-8 till you get back.” 
A low voice bellowed out from the door, “OOOOH HE GOT YOU A PRESENT! How romantic,” Finn was apparently trying to wake up the entire base with the way his voice was booming off the walls. You were sure he hadn't meant for that to come out so loud. Or to come out at all. 
Everyone went silent. You and Poe pointedly looked away from each other. His cheeks flamed red. You pretended to be preoccupied with the frayed laces on your Resistance issued boots. 
Rey looked between the two of you and then broke the awkward silence with: “Aaanyway, let’s get you to bed Peanut!” She sounded too cheerful, trying to reduce the awkward energy that hung in the room. Being force sensitive you could only imagine how she was perceiving the situation. She and Poe hauled their inebriated friend out into the hall, desperately trying to shush him as he was now singing. You hoped his poor soulmate wasn't trying to sleep. 
Finn clapped Poe on the back hard when they finally got into the drunk man’s room. Rey had helped Poe get Finn to his quarters but had dipped when Finn requested to be helped into his pajamas. They were close, but not ‘undressing one another’ close. Poe was itching to get back to his room and see you again, but he helped his buddy none the less. 
Finn was finally laying in bed when Poe turned to leave. 
“Are you okay?” 
Poe hesitated, then turned on his heel. “Yeah?” he furrowed his brow at the unexpected question, “Why?” 
“You haven’t been singing.” Finn was suddenly serious. 
Poe’s face softened when he realized what Finn was so concerned about. 
And he was right, Poe hadn’t been singing. It wasn't hard to miss, everyone on base noticed. The man who used to use every spare moment to sing to his soulmate had gone quiet. People actually missed hearing his voice all the time. Echoing through the halls of the base or out on the tarmac mixing with the whine of X-Wings taking off and landing. Finn wasn’t the only person worried about Black Leader. Leia had even mentioned something to her surrogate son a few days back. She enjoyed his singing more than anyone. She said it was a sparkle of hope during a dark time.
But the truth was, Poe didn't feel like singing. Guilt was the main thing keeping him from inflicting his voice on people whenever he could. How could he sing to his soulmate when he was fighting off feelings for someone else? He was doing everything in his power to stop you from being at the forefront of his mind all the time, but it was hard when your smile was his favorite thing to occupy his mind with. 
“I miss my lover, man.” 
He did. He missed his soulmate, whoever they were. He missed randomly hearing their soft voice humming through his mind. He missed the way he felt when he would sing to them. It was the closest thing he had to actually being with them, talking to them. He missed that he used to long for them. Lately that unconditional, blind love was being clouded by someone else. You. 
“Tell me more stories about your Dad.” You were sitting cross-legged on the floor across from where BB-8 was nestled in his charging station. He had been beeping and booping at you for the last half and hour as you waited for his father to return. 
The droid animatedly jumped into another anecdote about a recent mission he had gone on with his favorite person. He rattled around in his charging station, whirling his head around and beeping rapidly at you. 
“He did what?!” you asked the little orange droid as the blast doors flew open, revealing the man in question. You turned to face Poe, mouth still agape at the droids admission to you.
“Who did what?” Poe asked confused, walking into the room. The droid then decided he was done charging and rolled over to Poe for scritches. Poe kneeled down and gave his favorite little guy some love, looking at you for an answer. He laughed at the way you had your arms crossed and were giving him the same look Leia gave him when she found out he’d gotten into a dog fight.
BB-8 beeped adamantly at him. 
“Maker, Beebs, you told her about that?” He glanced nervously at you, only to find you were now trying to suppress a laugh. He was soothed by that damned smile that was burned into his mind. 
“Unfortunately for you, I can understand BB’s binary perfectly. Now I know why you have to work on your ship so often,” you teased. “You’re not exactly tender with her.” You were trying to keep up your facade of being angry with him for being reckless. You were failing, your smirk giving you away. 
Why did the fact that you understood BB-8 give him heart palpitations? His droid was absolutely going to get him into trouble with you one day. Apparently he can’t be expected to keep secrets. 
Poe ignored your jab and  walked over to sit behind you. 
“Close your eyes,” he demanded softly. 
“No, I don’t trust you. What kind of weird creature are you about to put on me?” you asked, twisting your torso to see him. 
He cocked his head at you, “Would you just have a little faith in me? I have something special for you.” He laughed. You narrowed your eyes at him but closed you eyes and turned around anyway, your smile growing bigger every second.
“Besides, if I was going to put a creature on you, I’d do it on front of more people,” he taunted. 
You laughed humorlessly at him, “Always the attention whore.” You heard him playfully shush you. 
Poe took a deep breath, silently grateful that you couldn't see the way his hands were trembling. He reached up and removed the silver chain from around his neck for the first time in years. He then carefully slipped it over your head and watched from over your shoulder as his mothers ring came to rest at your sternum. 
Deep breath. “Open.” 
You immediately turned toward him, a look of shock on your face.
“Poe what is this?” you asked, alarmed by the ring resting delicately on your collar bone. 
Poe's warm eyes held so much softness in them, you thought you would bust into tears right then. You turned to face him fully, confused as to why he just put this piece of jewelry around your neck. 
“A good luck charm,” he whispered, admiring the way it looked on you. 
“Is this the chain you wear every day?”
He nodded, still giving you that look that made you feel like the only person in the universe. 
“Then what's this ring?” The bottom of the silver chain was always dipped below his collar, if the ring had always been there, you’d never seen it. 
“It was my mother’s wedding ring. I wear it every day, take it on every mission, even sleep with it on. One day I’ll give it to my soulmate when I ask them to marry me, but for now it serves as a good luck charm for me,” He explained with a sad edge to his voice. 
You had become close with Poe Dameron in the last few months. While a large portion of that time was spent with Finn and Rey, you also had spent a few late nights just the two of you. He had a knack for making you laugh and you would often stay in his quarters long after the others had retired. Deeper conversations were far and few between, the two of you preferring to spend your time together in a fit of hysterics. It was strange to see this man so serious. There was no twinkle of mischief in his eyes tonight. 
You suddenly felt suffocated by him. His face was a mere few inches away from yours and you could feel his cool breath fanning across your face. His large hands rested on your knees, giving you a light squeeze and snapping you out of your haze.
“Poe are you sure you want to give this to me? I can't imagine how important it must be to you.” You reached up and stroked the smooth metal. 
“It’s the most important thing in the word to me. But I want you to have it for your first mission. Since I’m not going with you to help you when you accidentally shoot yourself in the foot, I want you to have a piece of me there with you. And what better to give you than my good luck charm?”
You felt your tears spill over, streaking hot and wet down your face at the sincerity in his voice. You couldn't believe he wanted you to have this piece of him with you. He was becoming one of the most important people in your life, and him sharing something so special with you meant the world. 
You were going down a slippery slope. If you weren't careful, you could fall in love with this man so easily.
“Poe, thank you. I don't know what to say,” you reached forward, pulling him into a tight hug. You nuzzled into his neck, letting the scent of leather and engine oil envelop you. He reached one arm securely around your waist and brought the other up to gently cup the back of your head. He took a deep breath in without meaning to, overwhelming his senses with you. He didn't want to pull away and had to hide his disappointment when you did. You kept your hands on his shoulders, squeezing slightly. 
“I promise I’ll bring it back safely so you can give it to your soulmate one day.”
_
The next few days were a whirl wind of meetings, briefings, more meetings, caf breaks, and did you mention meetings? You spent more time in the command room with your team than you did anywhere else. You forgot life existed outside the confines of the dirt walls.
But you were ecstatic that Leia trusted you with such an important mission so soon after joining the Resistance. Plus you couldn’t be more grateful for the people that were joining you for this mission. 
Finn was excellent for morale and a very smart man when he needed to be, unless of course he had jet juice in his system. Miss. Force-User Rey was always a good person to have on a mission. You brought a sense of craftiness to the crew, thanks to your smuggler skills. And Chewbacca was the only one (besides Poe) that Leia trusted to pilot the Falcon. Plus, he had a soft spot for smugglers, making you a new favorite of his. 
The one person you wished you could add to this team was Poe. His pilot skills would have been a great help to Chewie, he was talented with a blaster, and he was easy on the eyes. But he had a more important solo mission with BB-8 that Leia needed him on. He didn't make himself completely scarce though. He often came in and out of the Command Center, having his own mission to plan with Admiral Akbar. He made a point of bringing you caf every time too, he knew exactly how you liked it. 
You were terrified for your first mission as it was, but not having Poe there made everything ten times more dangerous in your eyes. 
The ring he had let you borrow was becoming a source of comfort. Whenever you got anxious about the mission you found yourself fiddling with it. The smooth metal was slightly worn in one spot on the band and you ran your fingers over it repeatedly to calm yourself. Something you caught yourself doing unconsciously on a number of occasions. 
The plan was simple. The Resistance had gotten word of an ex First Order official on the planet Ryloth, less than a parsec away from Tatooine. You and the rest of the crew were to go there and see what information the old Commander could offer you. Simple. But that didn’t stop you from needing to cover all your bases. Every single thing that could have possibly gone wrong had an escape plan to coincide. You were as prepared as you could be.
Your favorite part of the plan was your mode of transportation. As an ex-smuggler, you’d admired the Millennium Falcon and it's pilot for years. You’d heard every story surrounding Han Solo and his old piece of junk. Seeing it in person, let alone flying on it was something you’d never thought would be possible. But here you were, boarding the infamous ship. 
Finn and Rey brushed passed you, Rey laughing at the look of awe on your face as you were frozen in the doorway, the ramp hitting you on the ass as it closed.
You took your time walking around the hull of the Falcon. Taking a moment just to think about the adventures she’d been on, the places she’d seen. You laughed fondly to yourself as you remembered your favorite story. You reached out and placed a hand tentatively on the wall of the old ship. “So this is the ship that made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs?” you called out to your friends.
“Twelve,” Finn and Rey chorused from the cockpit, mixed with the indignant cry of your favorite Wookie. 
“Okay, twelve! Sorry, sorry,” you laughed and joined your friends in the cockpit. 
Poe was exhilarated every time he was in the air. There was nothing in the world that gave him the same feeling. This man was more comfortable in a cockpit than he was on his own two feet. If it were up to him, he’d never come down. 
But there was someone pulling him back to solid ground, like a magnet. Someone he couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how badly he wanted to exile them from his mind. He couldn't ignore your gravitational pull. He hadn't seen you in several days, you having returned from your mission two days prior. His mission was a success and he couldn't wait to tell you all about it. Leaving out the dangerous details that BB-8 was sure to fill you in on later. 
He was nervous to hear about how your mission went. It was a simple enough task, but he couldn't help but worry about you. He hoped his good luck charm was as comforting to you as it had been to him these last few years. He felt naked without it, this having been the first mission he hadn't taken it on. He found himself reaching up to stroke his finger across the band of the ring he had worn in from playing with it when he got nervous, but then remembering he'd given it to you. The idea that you were wearing a piece of him around the base made his heart leap in his chest. 
He was practically giddy when he leaped down from his X-Wing, already rushing to find you. 
Cool it Dameron, you have a soulmate waiting for you. 
Plus, he had to see the General before anything. Was he so clouded by his need to see you that he forgot he was fighting a war? 
A twinge of guilt hit him hard in the stomach, forcing him to take a deep breath and remind himself of the person looking for him somewhere in the universe. He let his feet take him down the familiar dirt path to the Command Center. The soft, damp earth caused his flight boots to sink slightly with each step.
He flooded his mind with images of what his future could be like with the person the galaxy had chosen for him. A small home on Yavin IV. Children he could teach how to fly the same way his mother taught him. A safe, quiet life with no threat of the First Order. No threats at all. He stored these images in the back of his mind for when he needed a glimmer of hope during the war. But lately he was using these daydreams as distractions from you. 
He stepped into he large room where Leia was addressing General Akbar and a few other pilots that had also just returned from a mission. 
When she caught sight of Poe her forehead created in confusion and she abruptly dismissed the debrief she was in the middle of with a wave of her hand. As they shuffled out of the room, several of them shot Poe sympathetic looks. 
What the hell was going on? 
“Commander Dameron, what are you doing here?” The General asked, walking over to him.
He hesitated, unsure as to why she was asking a question with an obvious answer, “I just landed from my mission, General. I’m here to debrief.” 
Leia dropped the General persona and gently caressed the pilots face, running her thumb over the stubble she resented.
She had always been like a second mother to Poe, and he like a second son to her. Their relationship was something special and unique. Something she thanked the Force every day for. However, her unexpected shift from serious Resistance leader to caring mother made Poe nervous. 
“I thought Finn or Rey would have been waiting on the tarmac to tell you.” 
Now he was starting to panic. What was he missing? What happened? 
“Come with me,” Leia softly implored, grabbing his calloused hand and yanking him out of the room. She tried to flood him with calm though the force connection she made with him, but his anxiety was too overbearing.
She continued explaining as she pulled him through the base, “The mission went south. There was no ex Order Commander on Ryloth. It was a set up. When they landed, there was a fleet of ‘Troopers waiting for them, ready to capture them and bring them back to the Finalizer for my son to interrogate.” She tried to keep her voice even for Poe's sake.
Poe was really panicking now, starting to pick up his speed. He squeezed Leia’s hand, begging her to continue. 
“They got out relatively unscathed. Chewie stayed on the Falcon so they were able to get away quickly. But Poe,” she stopped in her tracks, jerking Poe back to a halt. She looked him in the eyes, worried for what his reaction to her news would be. 
“Poe, the new recruit was badly hurt. They were shot in the side with a blaster and lost a lot of blood. They’ve been in the medbey unconscious for two days, but they’ll be okay,” she finished. 
Poe wordlessly turned and broke out into a run towards the medbay. Leia watched him go, knowing he needed to see you more than anything in that moment. She had felt a connection between you and Poe. She knew he wanted to wait for his soulmate, but she also knew that finding them was not likely. Part of her wished he would give in and let himself fall in love with you. Soulmate or not, she wanted him to be happy. 
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winterscaptain · 4 years
Text
still a chance.
Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader
a/n: the yearning in this one…i’ve outdone myself. okay so this one has been rolling around in my head for a long time. you’ll all be able to tell, but i love photos as a vehicle for storytelling. we use a lot of pictures in this story, and i hope you can “see” them - they brought me a lot of joy when i visualized them, and i hope i was able to do them justice. i also decided beth moves to okinawa instead of hong kong bc the museums in okinawa can’t be beat.  thanks to kira (@good-heavens-chris-evans) for encouraging me to post this tonight - you are a treasure and a gift.  words: 4,181 warnings: language, longing. 
AO3 | Masterlist | Requests Closed
+++
You kissed Jack’s temple and threw your backpack over your shoulder, leaning into the backseat. You carded through the honey-blond hair on the side of his head, reveling in the softness of it. “I love you, bud.” 
He sniffled, and it took all you had to keep it together. “I love you, too.” You could hear the effort in his voice. He was trying to be strong for you, for his dad. 
You kissed his forehead, lingering for a moment. You pulled back, your hands fluttering over his little shoulders, fussing for no reason. “You be good okay? You gotta be good for dad, alright?” You leaned in close. “He needs all the help he can get, and you’re his best teammate. You gonna take good care of him?”
He nodded. 
“Atta boy.” You straightened, slipping your arm into the other strap of your backpack. You faced Hotch, who pulled your collar from under the straps and fussed with them for a moment. He was stalling. 
“Aaron, I -”
He shook his head with a small smile. “I know. Call when you can. Your godson will miss you if you don’t.”
You nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’ll call you when I land.” 
“Seattle is great. You’ll love it.” He sounded like he was convincing himself as much as you. 
You threw yourself into his arms, and he wrapped around you as best he could with your backpack. “I love you, Aaron. Take care of yourself.” You pulled back and rested your hands on his shoulders. “Try to get me back home, while you’re at it.” 
“I’ll do my best. Fly safe.” 
And with that, you grabbed your duffle and walked into the terminal. You looked back once, finding two pairs of identical brown eyes watching you from open windows. You blew them a kiss, and they both raised a hand to catch it. 
My boys. 
+++
Emily warned you about Beth before you landed back in Virginia, but you were still nervous. Returning from a long assignment was never easy, especially when you knew coming back meant the real loss of something that never was.
You and Aaron had danced around each other for years, but never did anything about it, claiming team dynamic and stability for Jack after Haley’s death. Even then, neither one of you could deny how miserable it was to be apart. Your assignment to Seattle ended up lasting close to two years. You tried to keep in touch, but it was often too painful to be so out of reach. Your calls got farther and farther apart, but you tried to check in when you could.
Even then, you sent Jack semi-frequent gifts and care packages full of his favorite things. That boy was your favorite person in the whole world, and you his, second only to his father. It had broken your heart to leave him.
It would be a relief to see him again.
You stepped into Dave’s familiar foyer, toeing off your shoes. Everyone was in the backyard, relaxing after another homemade dinner. The whole team knew you were coming – except Beth and the Hotchners. Emily, JJ, and Dave spent an exorbitant amount of time and energy carrying off your surprise arrival.
When you stepped out into the backyard, three pairs of eyes flickered up at you before returning to their conversations. Emily, Penelope, and Derek hid the smiles that ghosted across their faces to avoid suspicion. Hotch and Jack had their backs to you, by design. Jack was watching one of Spencer’s magic tricks, Hotch was off a little ways with Emily, and Beth was at the bar with Dave.
Now was your chance. Approaching quickly and quietly, you put your hands over Jack's eyes and leaned in close to his ear. “Guess who, Jack Hotchner!”
He froze, and his little hands covered yours out of instinct. 
Wordlessly, he whirled around and threw himself into your arms. You landed hard on the ground, suddenly in tears. Jack was crying into your shoulder, his hands scrabbling for purchase on your jacket. You held him as tight as you could, the wave of emotion overwhelming you. You mumbled nothings into Jack’s baby blue button down - how much you loved him, how much you’d missed him, how happy you were to see him. You were sure none of it made sense.
“Are you staying?” Jack asked.
It broke your heart. “Yeah, love. I’m staying. I’m here.”
You weren’t sure how long you sat there, weeping together. It reminded you of those videos where parents or siblings come home from war and their kids just lose it. You never expected to be on the other side of that, but here you were. 
A hand on your shoulder jarred you from your haze. You looked up to find Aaron’s familiar brown eyes. You kissed the side of Jack’s head and stood. He stayed glued to your leg, and you picked him up, letting him hang off your hip as you straightened.
Aaron gathered you into his arms, and you wrapped your free arm around his shoulders.
“Good surprise?” You asked.
He only held you tighter.
You pulled back and swiped at the tears on your cheeks. “Whew. Alright.” You looked down at Jack, whose eyes were cleared of shock and tears, smiling up at you. “What did I miss?”
Aaron shot you a smile and gestured behind him. “Beth, this is Y/N. Y/N, Beth.”
You shook her hand with a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Beth. I’m glad these boys are in good hands.”
+++
Emily offered to drive you home. You were quiet, staring out the window much of the way. Your apartment was still mostly packed, but your bed was ready for you.
“Good to be home?” She asked.
You nodded.
“There’s still a chance, you know.”
Finally looking over at her, a sigh escaped you. “He loves her, Em.”
She snorted. “He loves you more.”
You shook your head.
+++
“Y/N seems so lovely,” Beth said, settling next to Aaron on the couch.
He hummed in assent, distracted in the extreme. 
“Jack was so happy to see her. It really was thoughtful of Emily to put that together for you both.” She kept her voice light, but couldn’t help but search his face for something, anything. She’d heard he closed off sometimes, but she’d never seen it first hand. 
He nodded, still silent. “It’s been a long time.”
Beth pushed down the pang of something achy in her chest and took a sip of her tea. “Ready for bed?”
Aaron nodded, and shot her a small smile. There was so much going on behind those brown eyes. He was quiet. Quiet and distracted. 
Your absence was suddenly the loudest thing in the room.
And Beth knew it. 
+++
Your room was so quiet. It had been quiet in Seattle, too. There, though, nobody you loved was close enough to touch. A fifteen minute drive would take you to your favorite house with your favorite view and your favorite boys. But they didn’t belong to you anymore.
Jack wasn’t yours.
Aaron wasn’t yours.
Beth had them now. Sweet, sweet Beth. She was so open and kind. The immediate liking you took to her was almost infuriating. You didn’t want to like her, and yet there was nothing to dislike about her.
You were gone. You came back. She was there. 
Now what?
You rolled over and checked your phone, finding a text from JJ. 
I’m so proud of you I’m so glad you’re home. If you need anything, I’m here. 
Then, some minutes later. 
If he doesn’t pull his head out of his ass you know who to call. 
You smiled, and replied. Derek?
Fair point. Go to bed!!
+++
Your first case back felt like slipping into a comfy old pair of shoes. Building and delivering the profile was as easy as breathing, the feeling of your weapon in your hand as you cleared room after room, the tight fit of your vest across your chest – everything was something you missed. You yearned for the physical feeling of the BAU while you were chained to a desk in Seattle, and it was a relief to have it back.
You and Aaron were back in-step with each other right away. It was almost like you’d never left.
Almost. 
When a few tears slipped down your cheeks as the jet cruised through the air, headed back to Quantico, Derek reached for your hand. The rush from the past week caught up with you all at once and wrapped around your throat. 
“We missed you,” he said.
You smiled at him. “I missed you, too.”
He watched you for a moment, squinting a little. After a moment, he looked over at Hotch, who was frowning down at his phone. You brushed the tears off your face and squeezed Derek’s hand once - a reassurance. 
He knew, just like you did. Just like Beth did. 
+++
It was the next time you all were over at Dave’s that Beth finally asked. 
“What’s the story there?”
JJ looked over at you as you reclined in one of the rocking chairs on Dave’s back porch, Jack in your lap. He was regaling you with another tale from school - one of the many you missed while you were away. Hotch sat nearby on the step, his elbows on his knees, listening to his son with upturned lips. Occasionally, you and Aaron shared a look over Jack’s head, knowing and steeped in time. 
“Oh, Hotch and L/N?” JJ said, following Beth’s gaze. 
Beth nodded, taking a thoughtful sip of her drink. 
“They’re close,” JJ started, choosing her words carefully. “Y/N was close to the family - close to Haley and Aaron before Jack was born. She’s Jack’s godmother, along with Haley’s sister Jessica. When Haley died...” She shook her head. “He’d never been in worse shape, but she kept him upright. Nothing’s ever happened between them, not like that anyway, but nobody on this team has ever managed to come close to what those two have.” 
Beth hummed thoughtfully. “How did Jack take the news of the Seattle assignment?”
JJ laughed a little, but it wasn’t really funny. “Not well. He was moody and irritable for months, like his dad. Both of them eventually got used to it - being on their own again.”  
“It’s lovely to have such good friends, isn’t it?”
“Our team is a family. We take care of each other.”
+++
A rare day off found almost the entire team headed to the lake for the afternoon. You drove, with Derek riding shotgun beside you. Beth and Aaron sandwiched Jack and his car seat in the back. As always, you made sure Jack was visible in your rearview mirror as you drove. 
JJ drove the other car, with Will, Henry, Dave, and Emily. 
Derek ran the aux cord, of course - he had the best and most varied music taste of the whole bunch. You belted along to whatever he played, dancing in your seat and laughing the whole time.
God, it is good to be home.  
“Are they always like this?” Beth asked quietly, over Jack’s head. She gestured to you and Derek, holding imaginary microphones to each other’s mouths and growing quickly out of pocket, much to Jack’s delight. 
Aaron nodded, making play at a long-suffering kind of exhaustion, but he couldn’t hide the fondness in his gaze as he looked at you. You met his eyes in the rearview mirror and grinned before turning your attention back to the road. 
“Y/N enables bad behavior,” he said, loud enough for you to hear, dropping back into his usual deadpan. 
You swung your arm back and swatted at him. 
+++
“What was she like?” Beth settled beside you, a glass of wine in her hand. It was movie night at the Hotchners, and you’d wandered down the hall to stretch your legs and grab some water. 
You got caught up at the wall of framed photos, stuck on one particularly lovely one of Haley - grainy and candid. Aaron’s handwriting in the top corner informed you it was from January 1993, Bainbridge Island, WA.
You smiled. “Charming, funny.” You huffed a laugh. “Damn near the most impatient woman I’ve ever known. She jumped the gun on everything, for better or worse. She knew how to throw a hell of a dinner party and gave the best Christmas gifts. She was the best mom. Jack was her world.” You reached up, touching the frame lightly with the pads of your fingers. “I was mad at her, during the divorce. We never fought, but I was upset with her and she knew it.” You laughed down your nose. “It was the only time she was more patient than I deserved.” 
Maybe you were revealing too much, but you continued. 
“I sometimes wish I could take it back - my anger. I wish I wasn’t half as mad at her as I was when she died.” You shifted your gaze, settling on a photo of you and Haley in the hospital a few hours after Jack was born. Haley looked exhausted, but happy, her hand reaching up to Jack’s little face as you held him with a fond smile. To this day, you have no idea how Aaron managed to get that picture. You tapped the frame with your finger, your tone brightening. “That was a really good day.” 
Just like before, Aaron’s handwriting in the corner gave away the date and occasion. October 7th, 2005. Haley and Y/N with Jack, 5 hours old.
“I can imagine,” Beth said with a light laugh. Her voice was pensive, thoughtful. “These boys are lucky to have you.”
The corner of your mouth tipped up, and you offered her your arm as you turned back toward the living room. 
You liked her. You did. That’s what made it so damn hard. 
+++
“Aaron, can I talk to you for a minute?” 
Aaron turned around, pulled from his work with the dishes, to face Beth. “Yeah. What’s going on?”
Beth sat at her kitchen island, the pads of her fingers tapping restlessly on the marble counter. Her eyes were downcast, avoiding him. “I got a job offer in Okinawa.” 
His eyebrows raised. “Oh?”
“I think I’m going to take it.” She looked up at him, her lower lip disappearing between her teeth. “What do you think?”
Aaron circled the island and sat beside her, reaching for her hand. She laced her fingers with his. He leaned forward, attentive. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”
She smiled with one side of her mouth. “I don’t think I will.” She looked down at their laced hands. “In the spirit of not regretting anything, I have something else to tell you.”
Aaron was quiet. Waiting. Listening. 
“I think you should tell Y/N how you feel.” 
He startled, sitting up straight. “What?”
Beth smiled a little wider, a gentle, soft thing. It made his heart ache and his head hurt. “She has your heart, Aaron. There’s nobody who knows you better. Nobody better for you.” She squeezed his hand. “You have a second chance. I think you should take it.” 
“Beth, I -”
“Aaron. Please. I’m leaving anyway, and you and I both know we won’t be able to swing the distance.”
He sighed. 
She’s right. 
“I’m sorry.” 
She smiled, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be. It’s hard to see the things in front of us, sometimes. Especially when they’ve been there for a long time.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up. 
“Now’s your chance, Hotchner. Don’t screw it up.” She shoved playfully at his shoulder, drawing a wider smile from him. 
The smile fell from his face as he looked around at the decidedly unpacked house. “When do you leave for Okinawa?”
She took a sip of her tea. “Next week. The movers are coming this weekend to pack up the house.” 
He laughed to himself. She’d already made up her mind, but was sweet enough to make him feel included. He leaned over and kissed her, sweet and chaste. A goodbye. “I love you, Beth.” 
She looked back up at him with a soft smile. “I love you, too.” Then, her face transformed, a mischievous smile on her face. “Need a ride?”
+++
You were laid out flat on the couch watching a movie when there was a knock at your door. With a sigh, you rose and popped the lid on your gun safe with your fingerprint before you unlocked the door. 
I really need a peep hole. 
Aaron Hotchner was on the other side, sheepish, with his hands in his pockets. You looked behind him, Beth’s little Civic idling in front of your building. She waved at you before driving off into the night.
“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”
You stepped back and locked your firearm away as he stepped past you into the house. When you turned to face him, he was studying the photographs on your bookshelf. Some were photos from your childhood, faded and well-loved. Others were more recent, and you knew he would see his face staring back at him in many of the frames. He paused at the shelf that held your favorites, always within your sight and reach. 
One was a photo Dave took about two and a half years ago, before you left for Seattle. You all had your backs to the camera, with Aaron holding one of Jack’s hands and you the other. Your head was thrown back in laughter as you helped Jack leap high into the air between you. 
Another was you and Haley, nearly a decade ago. You were cheek-to-cheek, her arms wrapped around you from behind, with both of your hands holding onto her forearm. Your smiles were wide, posed but genuine. A dry, crinkly rose petal from her funeral was tucked into the frame.
There was a collage of jet photos - Emily sleeping nearly-upside-down in one of the seats, Dave and Aaron pouring over a case file, Spencer, JJ, and Elle sleeping in a heap, Emily’s nail-bitten fingers resting on her copy of Slaughterhouse Five, JJ looking out the window during golden hour, the team crowded around the latest photos of Henry on JJ’s phone. They were all photos you’d taken on a whim and printed when the homesickness grew unwieldy. A few post-it notes you found while packing your stuff landed in there too. 
Derek, Penelope, Aaron, and Spencer smiled out of the final photo. It was the FBI vs. ATF baseball game the year Jack was born. JJ had taken it, all of you in your FBI pinstripe jerseys, capturing the moment right after the game-winning pitch was thrown. Derek was the only one who played, but the rest of you rushed the field to claim victory nevertheless. Spencer held the baseball in the air, mid-shout, while you were up on Aaron’s back with a victorious fist raised. Penelope’s feet were off the ground as Derek spun her in a circle and Haley was visible on the other side of the fence, holding a blanket-wrapped Jack to her chest and cheering. 
Those photos were the ones that came to the office with you when you moved to Seattle. More than one person asked if Jack was your son, and you always said no, but with a little smile that prompted more questions. 
“Do you have copies of these?” Aaron asked, his fingers tracing the photo of you and Haley. He was careful not to disturb the delicate petal. 
You stepped up beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Yeah. I have framed copies, if you want them. They’re still packed.” 
You stood in silence together for a little while, letting the nostalgia for the people and places and times past wash over you. 
“So…” you started, “are you going to tell me why Beth dropped you like a lost puppy on my doorstep on a perfectly respectable Saturday night?” 
He sighed. 
Uh oh. 
You took his arm and guided him to the couch, shoving wrappers out off the cushions (it was your day off, alright?) and plopping down in the corner. 
Aaron licked his lips, and you couldn’t help but look down at them. 
What I wouldn’t give…
“Beth is moving to Okinawa.” 
Your brow crumpled, and you immediately reached out, grabbing onto his forearm. “Oh, Aaron I’m so sorry.” 
He shrugged. “It’s for the best. I told her I didn’t want her to have any regrets, and it’s an incredible opportunity.” 
“Of course.” You shuffled closer to him, hoping your presence could be of some comfort. 
He opened his mouth and closed it again, as if he was fighting with himself. 
“Spit it out, Hotchner.” 
That drew a short laugh from him, and he ran a hand through his hair. All the air left his lungs in one huff. “You know how much I love you, right?”
You nodded, watching carefully as he flipped his hands palm-up before you. You gingerly slipped your fingers over his hands, feeling the callouses from years of handling pens and firearms. He closed his fingers around yours, his hands warm and familiar. 
“You know how much Jack loves you, right?”
You nodded. There was a point to this, you could feel it. 
“Beth said something to me tonight, and it...took me by surprise.” He swallowed, staring down at your linked hands. “She said I should tell you how I feel.” 
You squinted at him, more than a little confused. “Aaron, you tell me how you feel all the time. I know you’re not one to express your feelings with words, but you tell me how you feel every time you bring an extra cup of coffee for me, or save my favorite seat on the jet, or text me a picture of Jack.” You laugh through your nose. “You may not say it in so many words, but I know.”
You could tell he wanted to interrupt you, but you were proud of him when he didn’t. “Yes - yeah. That’s not what I meant.” 
He was growing frustrated with himself, and you squeezed his hands. “Hey. It’s just me.” 
“That’s the prevailing issue,” he said. 
What? 
“Aaron, you lost me.” 
He steeled himself, taking a deep breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, and you knew if both of his hands weren’t occupied, one of them would have been pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m in love with you. I’m -” he opened his eyes and faltered, exhaling, “so in love with you.” 
You let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. You tried to speak, but you were thwarted by your own closed throat. The incandescent joy lit you up from the inside. You were hot and cold all at once and you weren’t sure if you were breathing. 
I’m so in love with you I’m so in love you with you I’m so -
Aaron stood abruptly, releasing your hands and grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.
You swallowed, trying to get your bearings. “Aaron, wait. Stop.”
He turned, and you could see the raw hurt in his eyes. 
Oh. Oh my God he thinks I’m upset. 
Instead of ruining everything by opening your mouth again, you stood and strode toward him, grabbing his face and pulling him to you. Your lips crashed together, and you let out another completely-overwhelmed-wires-crossed noise. The tears fell down your face with abandon, but you ignored them, completely wrapped up in the feeling of his lips against yours.
You felt him freeze before he kissed you right back, his arms winding around your waist, holding you close. His hands ran up and down your back as you fought to get closer and closer to him. 
He pulled back first, chasing his breath. He pressed his forehead to yours, and you dropped your hands to his collar, winding your fingers in his shirt. 
“Aaron…” 
He surprised you by letting out a bark of breathless laughter. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” 
You pulled back, playfully lowering your brows. “How long?”
He looked up and made a great show of thinking. “Oh...I would say conservatively 2002, but that might just be when I noticed.” 
Your head fell gently to the left. You studied his face for a moment - his straight nose, high cheekbones, the bags under his eyes that seemed to get deeper every day, the stern mouth…You knew his face better than yours. It was the face that haunted your dreams. 
“What?” He asked. 
You replied, simply, “I missed you.” 
He kissed you, holding your face between his large hands like it was the most precious thing in the world. “I missed you.” He kissed each one of your cheeks. “I missed you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I missed you.” The corner of your mouth. “I missed you.” Your lips. “I love you.”
+++
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