#*weakly punches ground* i am coping with the finale | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

takamikeiigos · 3 years

Note

Okay I know made an ask already like 2 days ago🙄 but what if hawks s/o had to fake their death on a mission for like a month or 2😮‍💨 and when they come back the first thing they do is look for hawks even though they’re tired, beaten and look like complete shit😩😩 I’m just such a sucker for these kind of tropes !!!

Also how’s ur day been :))

ayo i got you fam!!!

this was legit all i could think of for like 3 days so i hope it's okay!!

Title: "You Came Back to Me"

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences (for now)

Relationships: Hawks x Reader

Tags: temporary character death, violence, drinking as a coping mechanism (minor on hawk's part), emesis

Word Count: 2.8k

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3

You look up at the villain who currently has you pinned to the floor, your ragged breaths leaving your mouth with every rise and fall of your chest.

His vibrant green eyes are piercing as they stare down at you, his expression wicked and merciless as he presses his foot harder against your throat as a warning.

"Here are your options, darlin'," he pulls his foot away, instead opting to sit back on his haunches. He brushes your hair from your face and rests his hand on your cheek. It makes you flinch and your breath hitch.

"You either find a way to dissappear, or I'll track down that precious little birdy of yours and take his wings for myself."

○ ○ ○

- three weeks prior -

"Let me come with you. Please."

"Kei.." you say softly as you back the rest of your necessities in your bag, finally turning to look at him.

He's on edge, you can tell by his posture. His wings are drawn tight to his back, but his feathers are puffed out. It reminds you of how hair stands on end and goosebumps make them selves known under fear and stress.

"You know I can't.."

"This is too much for one person to handle." His arms are folded across his chest now as he leans against the doorframe of your shared bedroom.

"You don't think I can handle myself?" The words leave your mouth sounding offended, and he instantly deflates.

"That's not what I meant. If you didn't know what you were doing, you wouldn't be working for one of the top agencies in Japan." Keigo steps forward, now in your space, and you can see a faint trace of fear flicker across his face. "I just.. this man is very dangerous, y/n. And if anything happens.."

"Hey. It'll be okay. It'll only be a month and I'll be home before you know it. I won't let anything happen, I promise." Your hand falls against his cheek and he nuzzles into it, both of his hands coming to rest against your own.

"You promise?" he asks quietly, needing one more confirmation that you'll be home and safe in a couple weeks.

"I promise."

○ ○ ○

"Have you made your mind up, sweetheart?" Kimura, the man who has had the utmost pleasure in beating you within an inch of your life, asks. He slams you against the brick wall of the alleyway one more time for good measure, his hand wrapped firmly around your throat.

"Please.." you gasp out, your hands coming to wrap around his wrist, trying to relieve the pressure against your larynx. "P-please promise me you won't hurt him, that you w-wont lay a hand on him.."

He chuckles darkly, tossing you aside onto the cold, dirty floor of the alleyway.

Your vision is blurring, slowly darkening at the edges, but you manage to see him move a few feet away, bending down to pick something up off the ground. You blink sluggishly and suddenly he's in your space once more, holding the object, which you soon realize is your phone, in your face.

"Go ahead, songbird. Give him one last goodbye."

You cringe at the abuse of the nickname that you hold so dear, but weakly reach out and take your phone from his hand, Hawks' number already dialed.

All you had to do was hit send and that would be it.

You close your eyes and rest your head against the brick wall, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You can feel tears burning as they make themselves known, clinging to your eyelashes and not yet falling to your cheeks. You blame it on the amount of pain you're in, but you know the true reason is because you're absolutely terrified.

You press send.

As it rings you notice Kimura bringing out his own phone, holding it up and aiming it in your direction.

What a sick bastard.

"Baby bird!" Keigo's voice comes cheerfully from the other line. Though it warms and calms your senses, it still makes you sad knowing that he's completely oblivious to what's about to come.

"H-Hey, Kei.." you try your best to keep your voice steady, but the damage from excessive force to your throat is unforgiving and the words leave your mouth sounding raspy and distant.

"Y/n, where are you?" Keigo's voice drops an octave and you can tell his worry has set in, which was exactly what you wanted to avoid.

"I'm okay, just uh," you pause mid-sentence, your throat tightening around the words as tears threaten to spill again, "just got knocked around a lil bit."

Your laugh comes out bitter. You hate the sound of it.

"Y/n. Tell. Me. Where. You. A-"

"Kei, listen. I need you to know how much I.." your voice betrays you and cracks, and you suddenly find that you can't fight the overwhelming fear and sadness coming over you. You weakly bring a hand up to wipe at your battered cheeks, tears continuing to fall and mix with the grime and blood that covers your skin.

You try again to steel yourself, another deep breath falling from your lips shakily, making your lungs rattle. It's becoming harder each second to keep your eyes open and your mind focused, but if you make it through this one phone call, you know you'll be able to rest easy.

"I need you t'know how much I love you. 'N that everything's g'nna be fine. That you'll be okay. And to not c-"

Suddenly a gunshot rings out and your whole world stands still for a split second, before turning completely sideways.

You register warmth blossoming over your abdomen, spreading and soaking your hero uniform. You can hear Keigo frantically yelling from where your phone slipped from your hand and landed on the concrete next to your head. And the last thing you see is Kimura holstering his gun with one hand, tapping away on his phone with the other.

"What a shitty ending for a hero, don't you think?" Kimura grins down at you.

Yeah. What a shitty ending for a hero.

○ ○ ○

The quiet trickle of water finds its way to your ears, and the feeling of something cold and damp against your forehead is a soothing contrast to how hot your body feels.

Opening your eyes feels as though it takes half of whatever strength you have left, and your vision swims. Suddenly hit with a wave a nausea, you lean over and vomit over the edge of the bed you're laying on. Luckily there's a bucket on the floor, and you assume it was placed there for a reason.

That someone placed it there.

In a panic you sit up, your wounds pulling tight and your body protesting. Your vision swims again and it takes you a few moments to ground yourself.

"Ma'am, please don't move too fast. You'll re-open your wounds and you're already in bad shape," a quiet voice projects throughout the room. You look up and notice an older man, probably in his sixties, sitting in a chair next to the bed you're currently occupying.

"Who are you? Where's Kimura?" You grit out, grabbing the edge of the blankets and tossing them off of you. The man in front of you is ready for your attempt at escape and he places steady hands on your shoulders, pushing you back onto the bed.

"Please! My name is Daichi Tanaka, I am a doctor! I found you in an alleyway near Higashiosaka. I would have taken you to a hospital but you begged me not to," the man pleads, his hands persistent on your shoulders.

You glare at him momentarily, before relaxing back onto the bed, still weary of his intentions.

"Kimura? Is that the name of the person who did this to you?" The man - Tanaka - asks hesitantly.

You ignore his question in favor for asking your own, "How long have I been out?"

Tanaka stares at at you, seeming to contemplate answering, but you figure he finally realizes you aren't taking any shit because his answer comes out with a sigh.

"A little over a week. You've been in and out, your fever finally broke this morning."

Over a week. You've been out for over a week and you don't know where you are, where Kimura went, and where Keigo-

Keigo.

It all comes crashing back to you and you lie back, your hands resting over your eyes.

Tanaka seems to have been reading your mind, because he pulls your phone from the nightstand next to you and passes it over.

"I wiped as much blood from it as I could. You have many new notifications and quite a few missed calls. I wasn't able to unlock it to call anyone, but it seems there are many people worried about you." Tanaka stands then, making his way toward the bedroom door.

"I will give you some privacy for now, but expect me to be back in twenty minutes to check up on you."

With that, Tanaka leaves, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You stare down at your phone, the screen cracked and a few specs of blood and dirt tucked into its crevices. You type your pin in and pull your notifications up, Keigo's name amongst others filling the screen.

You don't realize you're crying until a small hiccup forces its way from your mouth, your cheeks wet with tears.

You notice a voice-mail from him, and though you know it's only going to make you more upset, you force yourself to open it to make sure he's okay.

His voice floods the room and it immediately breaks your heart at how wrecked he sounds. You can tell he's been crying by how gravelly his voice sounds as the message plays out.

"You know," Keigo laughs bitterly over the phone, "I punched Ryosetsu in the face for letting you go on this mission alone. Gave 'im a real nice shiner on your behalf."

The message goes quiet and you can hear what sounds like a glass bottle being opened in the background, Keigo's quiet sniffles also making themselves known.

"Fuck, y/n. They didnt even.. they didnt even find your body. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, huh?

"They wouldn't even let me anywhere near the scene, I had to sit back at the office while they kept me informed. He said there was uh.." you assume Keigo pauses to take a swig of whatever he's drinking based off the tink of the glass bottle, "heh, he said there's a low chance you're even alive because there was so much blood. Fuck."

You grimace at how blunt he is with the statement and how distant his voice sounds. You can only hope that he hasn't been drinking as often as your thoughts are telling you.

"Please come back to me," he whimpers over the message, and a new wave of tears fall down your cheeks. "Please.. I can't do this without you."

○ ○ ○

A few days pass.

Tanaka refuses to take any of your shit.

He most definitely refuses to let you leave until you had one more solid meal in you, and one more day of rest.

You're still a little weak, bruises and abrasions littering your skin ( not to mention the nasty bullet wound Tanaka managed to sew up for you ) but you finally have enough strength to stand and walk on your own.

He pleads with you to stay one more day, just to ensure you're strong enough to be by yourself, but you shake your head and bow before him.

"Thank you, Mr. Tanaka, but I have to keep moving. It might be unsafe for you if I stay."

So instead he writes down his phone number on a crumpled piece of paper and hands it to you, patting your hand briefly.

"You're a strong one, just be sure to take care of yourself." He smiles kindly at you, and you nod before taking your leave.

○ ○ ○

Days go by as you hop around from town to town, only stopping for food and rest.

It's been a little over two weeks since you made the decision to distance yourself to ensure the safety of your friends and Keigo, and nearly two months since you were assigned the mission. While you knew faking your death was the only way to keep people from asking too many questions about why you suddenly disappeared, you weren't expecting to actually get shot and almost die.

You keep up with the recent events as best as you can, continuously watching news coverage and especially keeping tabs on Keigo's agency.

Your breath catches in your throat one day while you're moving through a rural seaside town, large red wings and a familiar hero uniform immediately catching your attention.

A flood of emotions run through you and it takes everything in you to not run up to him and hold him. But the fear of Kimura's prying eyes hold you back, and you steadily remind yourself that you're doing this to protect him.

You keep your distance and watch his every move. He's staring down at his phone for a while and after a few moments it rings. He brings it to his ear and though you can't hear what he's saying, it must be something important.

Because soon enough his wings are spread out and he's taking flight into the afternoon sky.

○ ○ ○

'Pro-Hero Hawks makes appearance in. Tanabe - finds lead on hero killer'

'Hanamatsu hero case still under investigation'

'Top Hero Agency in Japan pursuing hero killer - Kimura'

The news headlines on your phone cause your blood to run cold. How foolish of you to think Keigo would let this go so easily.

To think he wouldn't trace every piece of evidence and go to the ends of the earth to take down someone who hurt you.

○ ○ ○

You keep tabs on him as best you can. It begins to feel like you're stalking him, in a weird way, but you'll be damned if you did all of this just to put his safety on the line.

Keigo stays in Tanabe for the time being, the week passing by in a blur as you track his movements.

You figure Kimura went into hiding since his criminal activity fell flat after your encounter with him, but Keigo is as persistent as he's ever been, nitpicking every lead that comes his way.

A few days later word gets out that Kimura has been spotted in the village of Hidakagawa, just thirty minutes northwest of Tanabe.

You only hope you can get there before Keigo does.

○ ○ ○

Hidakagawa is exactly what you pictured, a perfect little town for a low-life criminal to live under the radar.

Its quiet and rural, its occupants living their lives happily tucked away from the bustling life of the city.

A few squad cars rush past you as you look at the map you have pulled up on your phone. It seems a little out of character for such a small town, so you push yourself forward and follow them.

○ ○ ○

When you finally catch up to the squad cars, the scene before you makes your hair stand on end.

Keigo has Kimura pinned to the ground, battered and bruised, his fist closed around a one of his feathers that he's currently wielding as a blade. A few dozen officers surround the scene, guns drawn and on edge.

Kimura smirks up at him and whatever he says is out of earshot, but its enough to piss Keigo off and send him into a frenzy.

"Kei, stop!" You find yourself yelling shakily. You finally manage to push through the barricade of officers and it's then that Keigo makes eye contact with you, his closed fist halted in the air.

Kimura takes the split second of distraction to knock the blade from Keigo's hand, flipping their position so the winged hero is pinned to the floor of the temple. He pulls out his gun and cocks it, pressing it to Keigo's forehead.

All the while Keigo keeps his eyes on you.

"I thought I told you to stay away, little one," Kimura grits out, wiping a trail of blood from his mouth, "Now it looks like your little hawk is about to lose his wings, all because someone can't listen."

You move on impulse when Kimura turns his attention back to Keigo, and you grab the handgun from the officer closest to you.

You waste no time in firing a bullet, hitting Kimura right in the temple. But as it strikes he squeezes the trigger of his own gun on impulse, which is still trained on Keigo, a second round going off.

- to be continued -

tbh i was super nervous to post this bc im so new to the fandom but here we go!!

also i just made up random characters bc im not quite caught up with the manga, and also picked random spots in japan that i know absolutely nothing about

rip to my writing skills lmfao

♡ ky

#im terrified to post this lmaooo #hawks x reader #bnha hawks #mha hawks #mha keigo takami #bnha takami keigo #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami #hawks #ky writes #ky answers #fanfiction #you came back to me

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hotchnisslovechild · 3 years

Text

Yin and Yang

When things go wrong while chasing after two unsubs, Emily gets hurt, and Hotch helps ease her pain.

inspired by “sirens” by thegraytigress rating: M for language, adult themes/situations, and canon-typical violence. the violent content could potentially be triggering to some, so read at your own discretion. words: 9140 also posted on ao3

A loud crack echoed through her head as she turned the corner of the alleyway, pain shooting up her jaw as she stumbled to the ground. Hard boots kicked at her head and her sides, causing her lungs to spasm within her and stealing her breath. She prepared herself for the worst. Prepared herself for being left there to bleed out, silently suffering the pain of her injuries alone in that alleyway. That was until he rounded the corner, catching her eye and igniting a small but substantial spark of hope within her.

Never had Emily seen Hotch fight the way he did against these men. He’s not one for hand-to-hand combat, usually letting his Glock do the work for him in taking down most unsubs. But this felt personal. A matter that could be and needed to be dealt with without firing his gun. One of his own was being mercilessly beaten to the ground by two men twice her size.

He preaches about objectivity on the job. He always has. Not letting things get personal. Simply doing what needs to be done to carry out their job. But things changed with Emily. Her sense of humanity rubbed off on him, balancing out his principle of remaining objective. The reverse happened in the same way. Hotch taught her to be objective despite her fight to hold onto her sense of humanity and compassion. They keep each other balanced. She is the yin to his yang. Their opposing forces of objectivity and humanity coming together in wholeness. Interconnected. Interdependent. Complete.

The humanity in him overrode his objectivity at that moment. As Emily lie there on the cold, hard ground, dizzy and bleeding out, she looked up to see her boss take down her attackers with his bare hands. With a vigor and intensity that was unfamiliar to her. She closed her eyes then, the pain shooting from her torso to her jaw almost too much to bear.

When she opened her eyes again, the alleyway was quiet. The worn-out grunts, loud cracks of punches, and rumbling sounds of struggle had disappeared, and the only sound to be heard was Hotch’s rugged breathing. He stood there for a long moment, doubled over cradling his hands in his chest, trying to catch his breath and regain some sense of composure. The last time he lost himself like this was with Foyet. He relentlessly beat his worst enemy to death with his bare hands to protect his son, the one person in his life he loved above everyone else. Putting every ounce of his weight into each blow his fist made to Foyet’s face, rendering him almost unrecognizable.

The adrenaline that coursed through him at the sight of Emily being attacked by these men gave Hotch a near superhuman strength as he fought them off. He used every last bit of his power to protect his subordinate lying helplessly on the ground. And for a man not used to physical confrontation, Hotch did a number on Emily’s attackers.

That adrenaline wore off as he stood above the two unsubs he and Emily were chasing. Both men looked dead, unconscious on the ground covered in blood with broken noses and ribs. For a brief moment, Hotch questioned what it meant that he was willing to go to such an extreme to protect Emily. To inflict more pain on her perpetrators than necessary. But the thought left as quickly as it came, and he finally turned his attention to his subordinate lying motionless in the darkness of the alleyway.

Using whatever strength he still had, he scooped her up bridal style and carried to back to their SUV. His legs ached as he made his way along the streets of the small town. He needed to get her to the hospital, to get her checked out as quickly as possible. If the circumstances were different, he would have called an ambulance. But in this old town, it’s faster if he just takes her himself.

Emily’s eyes drifted shut again once she was in Hotch’s arms. She grasped the fabric of his shirt like her life depended on it. She could feel the ache of his arm muscles underneath her. They twitched every few seconds under the weight of her. She felt safe in his arms. Comfortable despite the sharp pains in her face and stomach. The aches subsided as sleep slowly took over her as she buried her head in Hotch’s neck.

She awoke less than an hour later, blinded by the harsh light over her. When she slowly opened her eyes again, trying to adjust to the bright lights, she looked down at herself. She was still wearing the clothes she wore to work that day, only now they were ripped in several places and covered in her own blood. She looked around the room with squinted eyes, noting it as cramped but clean. Panic started to rise within her as she questioned where she was and where Hotch was. She could feel her entire body ache as she moved her neck to look further around the room. Wincing at the pain, she moved back to her original position. She shut her eyes trying to will the pain away. That’s when she heard the faint sound of footsteps in the room and moved her head up to look at who entered the room. Once again, she flinched at the pain caused by her sudden movements.

“Prentiss, don’t try to move. Please.”

She sees him standing in the doorway in his battered up and bloody shirt, holding a cup of water. She stared at him for a long moment, completely enraptured by him. The way his white dress shirt fit tightly against his shoulders with the sleeves rolled up enough to see the veins of his forearms. Backlit from the even harsher light outside of the door, she couldn’t see his facial features very clearly, but she forced back a smile at his hair flopping over his forehead.

As he stepped out of the light towards her, the beautiful image of him vanished before her eyes. She could make out the features of his face, dark and weary but clean. He must have had time to wash the blood off of his face. He looked sad. Sad like he did just months ago after everything with Foyet. Blaming himself for the loss of so many innocent lives. Being separated from his ex-wife and son. Coping with the death of his ex-wife. She hated seeing him look so miserable—

“How are you feeling?” he said from beside her, interrupting her thoughts.

“Like I just got the shit kicked out of me,” she says matter-of-factly. His face sunk further, looking even more miserable and tired than before. “Am I in the hospital?” she asked weakly.

“Yes, I drove you here because an ambulance would have taken too long,” he said as he set the glass of water down on the table beside her. “The doctor should be here in a minute.”

“Where is everyone else?”

“I called them once we got to the SUV and told them where the unsubs were. They took care of everything and should be headed back to the hotel by now.”

She shifted higher on the bed so she could take a much-needed sip of water. As her mind became less and less foggy, her head throbbed more and more, and the bed became increasingly uncomfortable.

Hotch watched her carefully as she took a sip of water from the cup he brought her. Her arms were clearly weak, shaking as they brought the cup to her lips. He wanted so badly to reach out and hold the cup for her, to help her in any way he could. But he knew she would hate that. She doesn’t like to be coddled. Much like him, she doesn’t want to be dependent on someone else or feel like she’s a burden. That’s just one of the many things he saw in her that he felt mirrored himself.

When the doctor strode through the door, Hotch took the cup from Emily’s hands, setting it back down on the bedside table. Emily frowned as she lay back against the bed, wanting at least one more sip. She almost felt addicted to the way the water gave her some relief.

The doctor took a look at her, clearly in a rush for some reason or another. She asked Emily a series of questions, palpated her abdomen, and examined some of the cuts on her face and stomach. It took everything in Emily to remain calm as the doctor prodded at her stomach with her cold hands. She never did like hospitals. The atmosphere of pain, fear, and helplessness. The harsh smells and sounds. It made her feel cold and closed in. She wanted nothing more than a reassuring look from her boss, telling her it’ll all be okay. But Hotch, ever the gentleman, faced the other direction when the doctor lifted Emily’s shirt to examine her chest and stomach.

The doctor quickly concluded, telling them that Emily has a concussion and some bruised ribs. No bones were broken and none of the cuts on her needed stitches. She left the room in a hurry, and a nurse came in with some pain medication and a plastic bag with ointment, wipes, and bandages to treat and soothe Emily’s gashes and scrapes. The nurse also brought in a wheelchair to help Hotch take Emily back to the SUV.

“I don’t need a wheelchair,” Emily said trying to shoo the nurse out of the room.

“We will take the wheelchair. Thank you,” Hotch said giving the nurse an apologetic look. She passed him the wheelchair and left as fast as she could, clearly not wanting to have anything to do with these two adults griping at one another over a wheelchair.

“Hotch, I don’t—”

“Please, Prentiss, just let me help you into the wheelchair,” he said slowly and tiredly. She was too worn out to put up much of a fight. She also didn’t want to put Hotch out more than she already had by trying to argue with him.

He slid his arms underneath her legs and back and lifted her into the wheelchair. She reveled in the feeling of his toned and solid arms around her, supportive and protective. Emily had no idea how he still had enough strength in his arms to lift her up again. She was doing nothing to help him either, practically dead weight in his arms. She figured his arms would be dead tired after fighting off two grown men and then carrying her sleeping body to the SUV and into the hospital. He was always surprising her really. She was constantly in awe of his resilience and toughness. Wearing suits to work each day did nothing but hide the true robustness of his body and what it was capable of. She was grateful any time she got to see him in something other than a perfectly tailored suit. Nothing compared to the private excitement she felt seeing his bare forearms and biceps on days he wore polos to work in the field. Often finding herself staring for much longer than deemed appropriate, especially in a workplace setting, wondering what it felt like to be held in those arms. She never thought that when she would finally be held by him, it would be like this. Both of them feeling weak and exhausted, wanting nothing more than to just fall asleep.

Emily didn’t say a word as he wheeled her out of the hospital to the SUV. Too drained to even ask to give a penny for her thoughts, he let the comfortable silence remain amongst them all the way back to the hotel. Because it was nearing 2 A.M, the rest of the team was already asleep in their rooms by the time Emily and Hotch got back.

Hotch took her by surprise once again when he followed her to her hotel room. A strange feeling of anxiety rose within her, as she started to feel like an annoyance. She doesn’t like asking for help, much less needing help. But Hotch was being so patient, so attentive. While he looked tired, he gave no signs that would suggest him feeling like Emily was in any way a burden. So really, her anxiety was unnecessary. And she knows Hotch. She knows he takes care of people fiercely and persistently no matter what. He feels responsible for people, especially his teammates. Even so, Emily still felt guilty making him feel like he has to take care of her.

“You didn’t have to walk me in here, you know.”

“I know,” he said casually as he set her medication and the plastic bag down on the bedside table.

Emily was instantly reminded of this same exchange that happened several months ago in Hotch’s apartment.

“You didn’t have to walk me up here, you know.”

“I know.”

Only that time, the roles were reversed. It was Emily taking care of Hotch. Going out of her way to make sure he wasn’t alone when he was hurting. She told him he wasn’t alone, that he had her. Of course not outright. Hotch and Emily had developed a unique way of communicating with one another. A sort of secret language where they can communicate so much with so few words. Or have a conversation within another conversation, like they had that day in his apartment. Emily didn’t have to tell hotch she was helping him through one of the darkest, saddest, most traumatic times in his life. Instead, she was a gentle voice of support. A presence of healing for him. She didn’t need to explicitly tell him she’s there for him and will never leave his side because he already knew.

Within the walls of that small, dilapidated hotel room, the tables had been turned. Now, it was Hotch comforting Emily willingly and fearlessly when she needed it most. He’s subtle, not overbearing. Offing himself as a rock for her to help her ground herself and get better.

But Emily was hesitant to accept this offer. Because it meant letting someone in, breaking down her walls, being vulnerable, needing help. Hotch had been through enough trauma that year. She didn’t want to add to that. Because she knows he would take on a part of her trauma and pain as his. She couldn’t live with herself if she was ever part of the reason he was unhappy.

“Seriously, Hotch, I don’t want to put you out more than I already have tonight. Go to your room and sleep. You’re just as beaten up as I am,” she tried, wincing as she sat on the bed. Her legs were too wobbly for her to keep standing. It hit her then that Hotch never asked to get checked out by a doctor at the hospital despite having been in a brawl with two large men. It made her stomach lurch with guilt thinking that Hotch was ignoring his own injuries just so he could help her with hers.

“I’m fine,” He wasn’t. But that didn’t matter, not right now. “I’ll get you some water so you can take your pain meds,” he continued, walking towards her bathroom.

Done trying to override his stubbornness with her own, she sighed in submission. Flinching as she did so, a sharp pain shooting through her ribs to her chest. She had no clue how she’d made it so long without taking some of that pain medication. The doctors and nurses were in such a hurry to get the two of them out of there that they didn’t even administer her any medication. She felt a soreness in her chest every time she breathed, forcing her to only take shallow breaths.

Hotch returned with a full cup of water, handing it to Emily then retrieving two pills of her prescribed pain meds.

“Tilt your head ba—”

“I can take my own pills,” she snapped, snatching the two pills from the palm of his large hand. After quickly swallowing the two white pills, she was hit with a pang of guilt yet again. This time for snapping at Hotch. He didn’t deserve that. He was just trying to help.

“Hotch, I’m sorry I snapped I know you’re just trying to—”

“It’s fine,” he stopped her. The look on his face had softened. His eyes were patient, composed. “Really. Let’s get you cleaned up and take care of some of these gashes,” he continued, gesturing towards her face.

Emily hated herself for snapping at him. Suddenly she felt like more a burden than she did before. More like a pain in Hotch’s ass at this point. What was she doing bitching and moaning at him? He was being everything she needed at that moment, offering to be her rock, and she kept trying to shut him down. She wasn’t used to this, having someone attend to her so persistently and remain patient with her when she starts being difficult. She’s used to people leaving. Abandoning her when she becomes too much to handle, too much for someone else to bear. She’d grown to deal with it, learned to just take care of herself, not put her trust in anyone else but herself. But Hotch stayed. And he wanted to stay.

He reached for the bag on the bedside table with everything he needed to dress the cuts all over her. He knelt before her, wiping off his hands with one of the wipes from the bag. Taking a new, clean wipe he held it over the gash on her cheek. “This is probably going to hurt,” he warned. She nodded slowly, closing her eyes to brace herself. He wiped away the dried blood on and around the wound. Her eyes started to water. Not from the pain or soreness. But because of how gentle he was. He held her chin and cleaned her swollen face like she was the most precious thing in the world, like she could break at any moment, crumble underneath his fingers.

He watched as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, biting back tears. The thought of causing her pain made his heart ache inside his chest. He wanted nothing more than to soothe her pain, help her heal. He grabbed the tube of antiseptic and squeezed some onto the tip of his finger. “This is going to sting,” he said firmly, trying to hide how much it hurt him seeing her in pain and discomfort. She didn’t say anything, just squeezed her eyes shut a little tighter than before. He slowly dabbed a bit of the clear ointment on her cheek.

“Ow! Fuck,” Emily cried, pulling away from him.

“I need you to hold still—”

“Just forget it, Hotch. I don’t even need it,” she tried, still facing away from him. The gash on her cheekbone began to throb and sting. It felt like fire spreading across the entire left side of her face. She started to feel ridiculous. She’s suffered through pain more intolerable and agonizing than this. “You can just go. I can do this on my own.” She didn’t really want him to leave, to abandon her like everyone else always did. She found comfort in his presence, under his care.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said firmly, his tone still soft and reassuring despite his deep, baritone voice. If he was feeling annoyed or impatient, he certainly didn’t show it. “Now, please just try to hold still. I know it hurts.”

Pain pulsated through Emily’s chest as she took a deep breath trying to calm herself. She hated losing her temper, especially with Hotch, especially when he was trying to help her. This was now the third time she’s lost her cool at him tonight. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, turning her head to face him again. She blinked away her tears, trying to regroup. Only for the urge to cry to come rushing back when Hotch continued to smear the antiseptic over her wound, once again feeling overwhelmed by the tenderness with which he touched her face. She stared at him, mesmerized by his focus. He caught her staring, meeting her eyes as he pulled his hand away from her face. Neither of them looked away for what felt like forever. The intimacy of it all made Emily’s heart race, even though they found themselves in this situation often, completely absorbed in mutual eye contact, unable to look away, allowing themselves to feel the uncomfortable excitement and unease turn into a sense of peace and closeness.

The moment ended as Hotch turned away, feeling inexplicably shy under her intense gaze. He quickly busied himself with the gauze and tape to dress her wound. With the same attentiveness and focus as before, he held the gauze against her cheek and taped it in place.

Everything just became too much. Emily’s eyes quickly welled up with tears, a rush of emotions overwhelming her. She was sad, angry, hurting in every sense of the word.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern and worry apparent in his voice. “Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head as she broke down into a violent sob. Fear and panic immediately displayed across Hotch’s face. He wasn’t hurting her, and she didn’t want him to think he was. But it was all too much. Pain burned and ripped through her whole body. She felt so weak, so frail. The pain medication doing nothing to relieve her of the torment of aches that spread from her face down to her legs. She saw him get up from his position on the floor, moving to sit next to her on the edge of the bed. The feeling of his hand starting to rub her back only caused her flood gates to open further, her sobs growing even more violent. Even sitting up straight became too much, took a level of energy and effort she could not give. So she leaned into him, buried her swollen face into his shoulder. He automatically brought one of his hands to her head and kept the other on her back, holding her against him, careful with his touch as if he were handling a fragile baby bird.

Sobbed continued to rack through her whole body. She was shaking, trembling, gasping for air against Hotch’s shoulder. “Shhh,” he whispered, so quiet that she could barely hear it. His hands moved in slow, gentle circles across her back. “It’s going to be okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. I got you. I’m right here,” he soothed with a slight hitch, trying to hold back tears of his own. She doesn’t say anything, just cries and cries, not knowing if she will ever be able to stop. With each sob, Hotch’s heart broke, cracking into pieces. He rarely saw her break down like this. She was an expert at compartmentalizing her emotions, filing them away to be dealt with at a later time, alone. He could see how their job affected her. The way madness pervaded her mind, how turmoil infiltrated her heart. Yet, there was a stillness in her soul. A sense of hope and courage that radiated from her and could be felt by everyone in her wake. She put on a brave face, a strong and confident exterior. Her world could be falling apart at the seams and even those closest to her would hardly suspect anything was wrong.

The fear and panic in Hotch’s chest only grew as she sobbed into him. “Everything hurts, Hotch,” she said, almost incoherently.

He was taken back to Colorado. The sounds of Emily getting kicked and thrown around by Benjamin Cyrus replaying in this head. Images of a broken and battered Emily emerging from the compound. He remembered the bruising on the palm of his hands left from digging his fingers into them as he heard Emily get thrown against a wall, knowing he could do nothing to help her or save her without jeopardizing the lives of everyone inside the compound. To him, she was worth the risk. The only thing that kept him from risking everything to save her was her reassuring “I can take it.” He remembered the guilt he felt listening to Emily take each blow. If he hadn’t sent them undercover, she wouldn’t have been in that position in the first place. If he had been more careful about restricting media coverage of the hostage situation, her cover wouldn’t have been compromised. He blamed himself for everything that happened to Emily that day, and now, with her crying in his arms, history repeats itself. He felt responsible for her getting hurt again.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Hotch whispered into her hair. The comfort of his words and his touch made her breathing slow, her sobs grow quieter, her hands stop shaking. “This is all my fault,” he breathed. Her heart split in two the moment those words fell from his lips. Her sobs came to a halt as she slowly pulled away from him, noticing the huge wet spot on the shoulder of his shirt from her tears.

She couldn’t let him blame himself for this. He was the one who saved her for God’s sake. He had no reason to feel guilty. “It’s not your fault, Hotch,” she tried, searching his face and only finding guilt and shame across his features.

“If I hadn’t got caught up in the crowds on the side of the street I would have gotten to that alley first. It should’ve been me.”

“That wasn’t in your control, Hotch. This is no one’s fault but the men who attacked me,” she said, her voice quiet and weak.

“Even if I had just gotten to the alley sooner—”

“Hotch,” she interrupted, starting to get a little agitated, “it really doesn’t matter. There was nothing you could have done. You can’t pin this on yourself.”

He locks eyes with her. “But it does matter” he hesitates, “because you got hurt.”

She couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She only looked down at her hands in her lap. Everything started to hurt all over again. Her head and heart ached from having to talk him down. She missed his touch, his warmth as he held her close to him. Her ribs and stomach still hurt with each breath she took. She was physically and emotionally drained. She just wanted to sleep the pain away.

It startled her when he suddenly stood up from the bed, causing it to creak loudly in the quiet room. She flinched at the sound, her concussion making her sensitive.

“Lay down,” he instructed gently. She complied willingly, trying to make up for being so damn difficult the past hour, hating that he felt guilty for her getting hurt, also wanting to just lay down finally. As she moved to lay down on the bed, though, she wavered, suddenly feeling incredibly dizzy. The whole room spun and moved around her. “Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered, gently holding her head between his hands to steady her. “Are you okay? Are you feeling dizzy?” he asked worriedly. She couldn’t answer, the blows she took to her head catching up to her. The bed felt like it was moving underneath her. She closed her eyes in an attempt to will away the vertigo. “Hey, hey, look at me,” Hotch said in the softest tone Emily had ever heard from a man. “Emily, please look at me.”

Emily.

Her eyes snapped open. That sure got her attention. And almost made her even more lightheaded. There was something so… intimate about Hotch calling her by her first name. Especially in this position with Hotch holding her face less than a foot away from his own, searching for her eyes, trying to make eye contact. He always called her Prentiss, always had. Even though he’s called her Emily on a few occasions, it still sounded a bit foreign to her coming from him. She’d never quite understood why he religiously called her by her last name. Her guess was that he was trying to distance himself from her. Didn’t want to get too close, too involved. Needed to set boundaries.

At least, that’s what she hoped the reason was.

Because that would mean he felt something between them the way she did. After Foyet, things changed between them. They spent more time together, blurred the line between being coworkers and being friends. She spent time at his apartment, helping him with household chores he couldn’t do without stretching the stitches in his chest and stomach. She took him to and from work much more than could be deemed necessary. They shared drinks after hours in his office, sometimes with the company of Dave as well. They were no longer just coworkers, speaking to one another only at work and about work. They grew into something more, and Emily wondered if Hotch felt that way about them too. She hoped he felt that way, hoped it explained why he still only called her Prentiss.

“Emily,” he repeated, eyes finally meeting hers. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” she manages, “I just got a little dizzy there for a sec.”

“Okay. Are you able to lie down now?”

“Yeah, I think so.” God, she felt so pathetic.

“Just take it slow, okay? Take your time,” he said moving his hand to the back of her head to guide it down slowly onto the pillow. If it could even be called a pillow. It was hard and lumpy, did nothing to make Emily feel comfortable in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar town. He watched as she tried to reposition her head on the pillow, wincing as she did so. “Feel better?” he asked.

She nodded, taking a shaky and painful deep breath. After laying down for a few seconds, the throbbing in her ribs and back faded into a weak soreness. She closed her eyes, savoring the relief she felt. She wanted to fall asleep right then and there, to take advantage of this brief moment of stillness.

Hotch observed the way her face relaxed. Her brow no longer creased; her jaw no longer clenched. She looked so peaceful lying there with her hands over her heart. He felt the corners of his lips curl up slightly. He didn’t want to disturb her, but he still needed to clean and dress some of the cuts and scrapes on her torso. His heart started to race when he thought about what that meant. He would have to undress her. His subordinate.

He would be lying if he said he never took notice of her looks before. She was a beautiful woman, radiantly so. She lit up every room she entered. It was impossible not to look at her, notice her. He would be ashamed to admit he’s caught himself looking at her in ways no boss should look at their subordinate. On days where she wore that one red tank top, he had to actively keep himself from staring at her chest, watching how it rose and fell with each breath she took. On nights off at a bar with the team, he found himself entranced by the way her hips would sway to the music, wearing a pair of tight, skinny jeans. He felt guilty looking at her like that. He doubts she would appreciate her boss checking her out. Even in the hospital room a few hours ago, he turned his back to her when the doctor lifted Emily’s shirt. He’d hate to make her feel awkward or uncomfortable. Now, he would have to be the one to lift her shirt and tend to her wounds.

He carefully placed a hand on her shoulder to get her attention, not wanting to startle her and add to the stress her body was already experiencing. “Hey,” he whispered, “I’m going to need to lift your shirt okay?” She slowly opened her eyes. “I need to clean and cover up some of the cuts and scrapes you have,” he said shyly, hoping he wasn’t coming off as awkward as he felt.

She nodded slowly, slightly amused by Hotch’s clear discomfort. He was cute when he was flustered and awkward.

He didn’t waste any more time, moving to lift the hem of her shirt up towards her chest. He was caught off guard by the look her torso, cut up and scraped with black and blue bruises starting to form around her ribs. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He hadn’t seen the extent of her injuries beyond her face. He wasn’t expecting it to be as bad as it was.

She noticed him staring at her with tears in his eyes, the pain from seeing such a horrified look on his face is almost worse than her injuries. “It’s not as bad as it looks, Hotch,” she tried. She remembered saying those exact words to Reid at the compound in Colorado, her face swollen and bruised from sacrificing her life for him. No matter what she said, Reid still blamed himself for what happened to her, much like Hotch does now. She lifted her head slightly to get a look for herself, quickly seeing how much darker her bruises had become since the doctor checked them out in the hospital. No wonder breathing and the mere thought of moving hurt so badly.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, not able to tear his eyes away from the injuries across her entire torso. She lifted her hand, with whatever strength she had left, to stop him from apologizing any further. She just couldn’t bear it, couldn’t handle listening to him beat himself up for something that was not his fault.

Blinking away tears and snapping himself out of his daze, he composed himself enough to grab another wet wipe to clean her torso. “This is going to hurt,” he warned again, “Let me know if it’s too much.”

She nodded, once again closing her eyes to prepare herself for the inevitable pain that would come from any pressure applied to her stomach. He slowly wiped at the skin across her ribs. He was so unbelievably careful, but it was agonizing. A muffled groan escaped her lips before she could stop it. “Too much?” he asked. She shook her head, encouraging him to continue. She wanted to get this over with, and she was sure he did too. The sooner he got this done, the sooner she could go to sleep and forget about the pain for a while. He continued cleaning her skin and the cuts just under her bra. She bit back her moans as best she could, not wanting to alarm him. She’d done enough of that the past few hours.

“I need to lift your shirt further up. Is that okay?” he asked timidly. He’s so damn polite she thought to herself.

“Just take it off,” she said, not thinking much of it. That was, until she saw his look of confusion and uncertainly. “It’ll make it easier,” she suggested, trying to relieve him of his doubts, “and I want to change out of it anyway. It’s all torn up and bloody.” He nodded, still feeling hesitant. In any other context, this would be so wrong. Undressing his subordinate while alone in a hotel room. But he wasn’t going to deny her request. If it made her more comfortable, he would do it. He would do anything for her. Anything.

As she lifted her arms above her head, he stripped the shirt from her, leaving her in only her bra and slacks. It would be a total lie if she said she never fantasized about this moment. She frequently indulged in the thought of him, her boss, undressing her. Never did she think it would happen under these circumstances. There was nothing sexy about what happened to them, what brought them to this moment.

There was a bruise across the swell of one of her breasts and a small scrape on the other. With the same gentleness as before, he cleaned the dried blood from her chest. When he began to wipe the other side of her chest, Emily let out a hiss, the skin and tissue there particularly tender and sore to the touch.

“This is the worst part. I’m sorry in advance,” he said, referring to the ointment he would have to put on the cuts and scraped all over her torso.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” she assured him. “Let’s just get this over with.”

As he did minutes before, he squeezed some of the clear gel onto his finger. Emily yelped the moment the cool gel made contact with her angry, swollen skin. “Here,” he said handing her the shirt he had just discarded from her moments ago, “Bite into this.” She closed her teeth around the fabric, clenching tightly as she waited for him to continue. A muffled cry coming from her mouth when he applied more of the gel to her inflamed cuts and scrapes. He worked as quickly as he could while keeping his touch soft and light. He hoped she couldn’t tell how much this was affecting him. Hearing her muffled cries, touching her broken and swollen skin, feeling her body tense under his care, it was almost unbearable.

He started bandaging up some of the deeper cuts on her torso, both of them relieved that the worst of it was over for now.

Emily’s usually not one to be shy, especially about her body, but she felt incredibly vulnerable and anxious lying there in only her bra and work pants, covered in ugly bruises and scrapes. She felt exposed, her wounds fresh, open, and throbbing, her flesh sore and tender. As much as she wanted to cover herself, the thought of moving was painful in and of itself. So she declined when he offered to help her into a new shirt from her go bag. “I really just want to sleep right now,” she said, exhausted from the pain and the pain medication making her drowsy. He nodded, taking her bloody shirt from her and putting all of the supplies back into the plastic bag they came in.

The world slowly dimmed as she nodded off to sleep, her hands returning to the position over her heart like before. The all-consuming pain from moments ago faded into nothing when sleep finally took over.

He watched her as she slept, once again transfixed by her peaceful expression. He couldn’t find it in him to sleep despite how much his body practically begged for it. He was devoted to watching over her. Like a kind of vigil, a reverent and purposeful wakefulness, making sure no more harm could be inflicted upon her.

Several months ago, the roles were reversed. Emily watched over Hotch as he slept, worried and waiting. Her face was the first thing he saw when he woke. Her presence a comforting light despite the panic that rose within him from waking up in a hospital room not remembering any of the events that brought him there. If he was being honest, there’s no other face he would have wanted to see at that moment.

When Emily woke a few hours later, she saw him, sitting in an armchair in the dark, watching her. Has he been here the whole fucking time? she thought to herself, somewhat pissed at him for not getting some rest himself. He needed it just as much as she did.

“What the hell, Hotch,” she groans into the silence of the room. “You didn’t have to stay here.”

“I wanted to. How are you feeling?”

“Still hurts to move. Or breathe,” she responded frankly. “How long was I out?”

“Only a few hours. The sun’s not even up yet.”

She sighed, her chest twitching in discomfort. Thankfully, the pain meds had yet to wear off, and the pain extending from her stomach to her head was reduced to dull aches.

She reached up to feel the bandage on her cheek, only to be reprimanded by Hotch, telling her not to touch it so it stays clean. “But it itches,” she grumbled, still feeling tired and agitated even after sleeping for a few hours. He stared at her, getting up from his seat in the armchair and walking towards her. He calmly pulled her hand away from her face and set it back onto her chest. The gesture caused her eyes to brim with tears, once again overwhelmed by the gentleness of him, of his hands. It amazed her that the same strong hands that took down evil in the world each day were the same gentle hands that touched her, cared for her.

He sat on the edge of the bed looking down at her, seeing the way her eyes got shiny with tears. “What’s wrong?”

She sniffled and tried blinking away her tears, feeling silly for crying over the gentleness of his hands. “Nothing. It’s all just,” she sniffled again, “it’s just a lot. And I’m still tired. Did you even sleep?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“How am I not supposed to worry? You brawled with two men twice my size, carried me in your arms for like a half-mile, and you still haven’t slept.”

“Emily,” he started.

“Don’t ‘Emily’ me,” she interrupted with a little too much bitterness in her voice. “I’m not going to sit by and watch you kill yourself just to help me. It’s not worth it.”

“But you are.”

Her eyes shot open. She stared at him in disbelief. Her whole body goes numb, and she can hardly breathe. There are no words that could express how she felt then. She’s terrified, stunned, and completely speechless. It’s just not possible. He can’t feel that way. He just can’t. She’s not worth that. She could never be worth that.

Sensing her shock, he placed his hand over hers on her chest, not sure if it would do anything to help, but it felt right. She shifted up on the bed, wincing slightly as she sat against the headboard, his hand still over hers in her lap. He mindlessly ran the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Hotch, you can’t say that,” she said, shaking her head, staring at their hands in her lap. “I’m not your burden to carry.”

“You’re not a burden. Sure, you can be a piece of work sometimes, but you’re worth the work. It’s work I’m willing to do. It’s work I want to do. You still deserve to be cared for. You deserve someone who is willing to do the work to care for you. It doesn’t make you a burden,” he squeezed her hand, silently telling her to look at him, “You are not a burden,” he repeated once she looked him in the eyes, tearing falling down her cheeks. He reached up to gently wipe away a heavy tear from her cheek.

The intimacy of the whole situation made Emily’s head spin. Excitement, nausea, fear, and anticipation bubbled up inside her. Before she could stop herself, she brought her lips to his in a tentative kiss. For a moment she panics, thinking that maybe she read him completely wrong, and she just ruined their entire friendship. But when she pulled away, his head followed hers, leaning in for more, craving more of her. Their lips met again, timid and hesitant at first, but the kiss quickly grew more intense, full of passion, need, and desire.

She had wanted this for so long, wanted him for so long, but he was always off-limits. He was her boss for Christ’s sake. It was explicitly against fraternization policies to be involved like this. It was wrong on so many levels, but no matter how foolish, crazy, and reckless this was, she didn’t care, and neither did he. This hungry and desperate kiss felt like an explosion of pent-up emotions, feelings they’ve had to stifle for months, years even. This kiss set them free.

He moved his hand behind her head with his lips still on her, guiding her head back down to the useless pillow beneath her. His heart pounded loudly in his ears. This was such a bad idea. This could ruin the friendship they’ve created and fostered in the past year. It could ruin any sense of professionalism between them at work. It was a risk, but it was a risk he wanted to take.

He climbed over her, covering her body with his, careful not to crush her fragile frame. He opened his mouth up to hers, letting her explore him, taste him. The feel of her tongue against his sent waves of electricity down his spine. He felt sparks between his hands and her skin with every touch. She was electrifying. He had never felt more alive than he did then, with her.

He broke the kiss to lean back and strip himself of his shirt, revealing his muscular, toned torso with a number of scars and some light bruises from the events of that night. Emily was transfixed, staring in wonderment at the beautiful man above her. She reached out to lightly run her hands down his chest, feeling his skin and muscles react under her touch. “Perfect,” she whispered so softly only she could hear it. He leaned back down to capture her lips again with his own. She ran her hands up his chest and shoulders, reveling in the firmness of him. She brought her hands to his back, feeling his muscles tense and relax as he moved his lips against hers. The feel of him was intoxicating. The taste of him was intoxicating. She never wanted this to end.

She let out a shaky breath as he kissed down the column of her neck. He sucked lightly on her vibrating pulse, tasting her skin, inhaling her scent. She gasped when he placed a feather-light kiss over the bruise on the swell of her breast. Waves of pleasure washing through her, drowning out the pain. He pulled away as he brought his arm around her back, looking at her for permission to remove her bra. She nodded breathlessly, missing the feel of his lips. He made quick work of unclasping her bra, discarding it onto the floor as he reunited his lips with her skin. He lightly licked at the skin between her breasts then moved his mouth to cover her nipple. She threw her head back with a moan and ran her fingers through his hair, holding him to her, anchoring herself to him.

He moved his attention to her other breast, licking and sucking at her nipple. Her skin was soft and warm under his tongue. He kissed every inch of her chest. “Perfect,” he whispered back to her against her skin, letting her know he heard her just moments before. She was just that. Perfect. He continued worshipping her skin, kissing every bruise, licking every curve.

She writhed beneath him, ribs too sore to arch into his touch, tape from her bandages tugging at her skin. She failed to bite back a cry, making him stop in his tracks, pulling away to look at her, to make sure she’s okay. Her eyes pleaded him to continue as she brought her hands to his belt, unbuckling and removing it swiftly despite her shaking hands. She grasped him through the fabric of his pants. His hips bucked into her hand, searching for friction to relieve him from the ache of his erection. She slid her hand into his boxers to grab the length of him. He was hot and heavy in her hand as she stroked him slowly, agonizingly so.

He leaned back down to plant slow, wet kisses across the sensitive skin of her neck. She had never been kissed with such affection and reverence before. It sent shockwaves of pleasure through her, desire rushing to her core, a throbbing ache between her legs. He slid his hand between them, unbuttoning and unzipping her slacks. He found her wet and ready for him when he slipped his hand beneath her legs. Her desire for him became frantic and frenzied. She slid her hand from his pants to hurriedly remove her own.

She wanted him, and she wanted him now.

She wiggled out of her pants as much as her aching body would allow. Hotch slid her pants and panties the rest of the way down her legs and threw them to the floor. He stepped off the bed to remove his own pants and boxers. She whined at the loss of his heat over her. It was almost torturous being separated from his body, from his touch.

He joined her back on the bed, crushing her lips with a deep, bruising kiss. The weight of him above her kept her grounded and secure, blanketing over her small and fragile form. She gripped him once more, impressed by the length and thickness of him. He groaned into her mouth, his cock painfully hard, throbbing and dripping in her hand.

His hand trailed across her chest to her stomach, finally reaching her folds. His touch sent shivers up her spine. She threw her head back against the pillow beneath her, letting out a breathy moan. His touch was as gentle as it had been all night, his soft strokes contrasting his rough, firm hands. He eased one finger into her, kissing her as he did so, stifling her moan. She clawed at the skin on his back as he fingered her with a precision and dexterity she had never experienced with another man. It was achingly intimate. He brushed his thumb against her clit with each gentle stroke. The sensation had her shuddering underneath him, writhing into his skillful hand.

“Please,” she whispered against his lips, aching for him to be inside her. She spread her legs wider and wrapped them around his waist, urging him closer to her. He slowly drew his finger from her, bringing his hand up to cradle her face, as his other rubbed up the back of her thigh. Reaching down she lined him up with her core.

She gasped when he entered her, the thickness of him almost too much to handle at first. He stilled, letting her adjust to his size. When she licked her lips and nodded, he pushed in further with a groan, sheathing himself completely inside her.

After months of silent longing and waiting, they were finally one, two souls fused together to make a whole.

She had never felt so full, so complete. The pleasure was all-consuming, a raging fire burning within her. When he began to thrust into her, she held onto him, grasping at his back as if holding on for dear life. With only a hair’s breadth between them, she basked in the heart of his form. The pressure of him on top of her, inside of her, it was a blissful pain. There was nothing like it, nothing that could compare to the pleasure of it.

Hotch shook above her, overwhelmed by the feeling of her beneath him and around him. His thrusts were deep, slow, and careful. It took all of his strength not to increase to the frantic pace he craved. He wanted this to last, but this slow rhythm didn’t match his frenzied, borderline feral, need for her.

He wrapped his hand around her ankle and moved it over his shoulder, changing the angle of his thrusts. Capturing her mouth with his own, he muffled her cry at the angle change. With each stroke, he brushed against the sweet spot inside her, making her tremble beneath him. When he felt her walls tighten around him, he sped up his pace, throwing caution to the wind. She felt so good around him, and it had been so long. He completely lost any and all semblance of control. Sensing her impending orgasm, he brought his hand between them to flick her clit.

She felt the familiar heat build in her stomach as he worked her higher and higher. She convulsed when he lowered his head to suck on her pulse point. Her orgasm ripped through her with a strength she didn’t know was possible. “Aaron,” she cried out. The name slipped from her lips so naturally it was as if she had been calling him that her whole life when really, this was the first time.

He loved the way his name sounded on her lips, the intimacy of it making his head spin.

He pulled away to watch in awe as her body shook at the force of her orgasm, slowing his pace, gently moving in and out of her as she rode out the waves of fire tearing through her.

Her moan echoed in the small room. Hotch brought his lips to hers once more to swallow each groan and cry, feeling her body begin to relax. He began to drive into her at a frantic pace, chasing his own release. He was so close, and she was so tight around him, the sensation was almost too much. He panted in her ear, on the edge, on the brink of falling over. “Let go,” she whispered in his ear, still breathless from her own climax.

“Emily,” he groaned as his body tensed, bowstring tight as he trembled at the intensity of his orgasm. The tension left his body as quickly as it came, and he fell limp beside her, still conscious of her injuries, careful not to crush her body with his own.

He pulled her into his embrace, kissing down her neck as the pleasure faded. She didn’t want it to end. She knew that once the pleasure left, the pain would return. So, she drifted off the sleep, the only thing she could do to hold off the pain that was sure to engulf her.

The room fell silent. He held her as she slept, listened to her breath become even and her heart rate slow within her chest. He wanted this feeling to last forever. What that feeling was? Comfort. Security. Happiness. Trust. Healing.

Love.

He loved her. She completed him. She made him feel one again, after all he had lost. He wanted to be with her forever. He wanted to live the rest of his life with her. The yin to his yang. Together embracing the dualities of each other and life. The ups and the downs. The beautiful and the ugly. The good times and the bad. The joys and the challenges. The light and the dark.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fic #hurt/comfort #angst #eventual smut #oneshot #my first fic longer than 1k words #i hope it doesnt suck

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scarecrow-supremacy · 3 years

Text

Arranged Love | Pt 6

Thank you to Mrs. Hatake for requesting this prompt to me!

In which: f!reader is interested in being in a fwb like relationship, but is forced into an arranged marriage with the one and only, Hatake Kakashi. Both (y/n) and Kakashi only agree to marry for the sake of convivence. (y/n) with her needs, and Kakashi with his wish to revive his clan.

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Cherry and happy Mind not so Which way should I go

"(y/n)?" Kurenai snapped her fingers in your face, trying to catch your attention. Snapping out of your mental pain, due to getting rather tipsy last night; you nodded in response. "So what up? You didn't come meet Anko and I here, yesterday?" Kurenai arched her black brows, "Anko also seemed quite shocked after she, erm, barged into you place." Kurenai looked you in the eyes, her straight face wavered as she gave in and laughed.

You flushed wildly, heat creeping up to your neck and cheeks, "K-kurenai! What did Anko tell you?!" You gasped exasperated.

"You and Kakashi going at it already, eh?" Kurenai smirked, "That explains why you aren't wearing your usual skirt. Covering up all those hickeys, aren't you?"

Still heavily embarrassed, you averted your eyes. I'm going to die of embarrassment! You started at the ground, trying to formulate a coherent sentence, failing miserably, "I...Uh! Well... I mean–Sorry... Hangover...Tipsy..." you mumbled rubbing you forehead, feeling sick in your stomach. Maybe you shouldn't of had that much sake with Kakashi last night... On top of that, the many rounds of sex you had had after that.

Kurenai rolled her eyes, "Spit it out, girl," she giggled, "Don't be shy," You knew that it would be impossible to hide anything from one of your best, most dear, friends. Taking a breath, you parted your lips to speak, trying to formulate what to say, yet something got in your way–

"Hey guys!" Anko greeted, sitting down with them at the little diner they were at, "Whatcha up to?" Hail Mitarashi Anko, queen of disruptions... your mind sassed; you saw Kurenai face palm. Looking at Kurenai, you tried to convey the message that you'd talk to both of them about that later. You tried to smile at Anko, yet it wobbled and formed weakly. Urgg, those painkillers didn't do shit to help...

Cleaning your throat, you tried to lighten thing up, mostly for you to get your mind to think straight, "How was your date, Anko?" You asked, smiling your usual close-eyed smile, "Did Raidō treat ya well?"

Anko blushed, chuckling happily, "He sure did! But I don't know if we'll be a thing..." She shrugged, "Good friends, but most probably not a thing." Anko took a bite of her Hanami dango, twirling the stick between her fingers, then looked you in the eyes, "Anyways, tell me about what I walked into you and Kakashi doing yesterday?" She smirked smugly.

"I was just getting to that," Kurenai nodded, "before you came."

You sighed, your mind contemplating. What do I feel about Kakashi... He was so sweet yesterday, but does that really make up for how much a bastard he usually is? Finally, you agreed to spill about what had happened, hoping that your mind would work on he spot. "Things are changei–" You were cut off again...

"Hello, ladies!" The voice of one Namiashi Raidō intruded your conversation, "I heard my name and decided to come over and see what's up." He said casually, Genma nodded his head as a greeting. There was a part of you was largely relieved that you had been interrupted by him. But you were positive that you wouldn't get away with it. Anko and Kurenai would get their way, you just knew they would.

"So, soon-to-be Mrs. Hatake, how ya feelin'?" Genma asked, his senbon needle somehow not stabbing his mouth has he spoke, "Anko told us about a lil' something. Copy Cat best be treating you good, Sugar."

You giggled at his nickname for you. It was entirely platonic of choice, seeing that Genma was gay, his eyes currently on Iruka. "ANKO!" It took you a moment to fully process what he had just said, "Why'd ya tell him?!" You felt a needle-like sensation within your body.

Anko sweat-dropped, "I was scarred and needed to get it out of my system. Plus, Genma's my boy, so I told him and Kurenai." She pouted, ordering some more dango from the waitress. Both her and Genma grinned as they high-fived. "Either way, you've got some explaining to do, Missy."

I buried your face in the collar of your flak jacket, fingers tracing you the clan sign on the yoga pant you had uncharacteristically worn. "Ughhh!" You mumbled, flustered as heck, head pain still throbbing, "It's weird, alright?"

The bunch broke out laughing, "Weird, eh?" Raidō chuckled, "Expand on that, would you?" What am I supposed to expand on? I don't even know the base info...

You lightly punched his arm, "Expand? Raidō, you're starting to sound like Ebisu testing his kids." You rolled your eyes, "'Please expand on you answer, and provide supporting evidence,'" You mimicked Ebisu's tone. Sharp pain struck your body, your expression faltered–

"Konoha to (y/n)?" Kurenai snapped her well manicured fingers in front of your face. Her expression showed concern, "You've seemed rather drained today," she noted, "Are you alright? We'll be here to help you. Always." She promised, the others showing their support.

Yet still you sat, clutching were at a slight lack of words, your mixed emotions not making this even the slightest bit easier, "Well... I..." your thoughts still were jumbled and unorganized. "I..." You looked away, "I'm not sure. I've been feeling weird all day, and I don't know why." You admitted, "Not just physically hungover and nauseous, but I just don't know what to think. I'm confused." You let it out. "I need some time, alright." You slumped in the seat, head leaned back.

Clearing your throat, you briskly pushed out your chair, shoving it back in as getting up, "Give me some time!" You voice was evidently pained. Clearly, your body didn't cope well with alcohol. "I can't with this right now. Plus...I have to go do something." You cast your friends a sad look, briskly walking away in hopes of getting some time to think. I need to go clear my head...

Loving or alone Struggling to know Choosing to hold on Or let go

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swanqueeneverafter · 4 years

Text

The Once & Future Queen Pt.2

Storybrooke. Present. Mayor's Office. (Snow White sits down with the brand new Reporter for the Daily Mirror.) Reporter: "So, Snow White, tell us about what's been happening in Storybrooke recently?" Snow White: "Well, as you know it's been a pretty tough time for our family and Storybrooke's community as a whole. The last time Emma went back in time, she was back before any of us could notice, but it's been a week already and we just don't know when she'll return." Reporter: "You say 'when' as if you're certain Emma will be back?" Snow White: (Nods:) "Absolutely. There's not a doubt in my mind that Emma will be back." Reporter: "What makes you so sure?" Snow White: "Because that's what we do in our family. We find each other. Always." Reporter: "I see. Moving on slightly, Tiger Lily and Mulan were also victims of the time travel spell. How do you see them coping with their current situation, wherever they might be?" Snow White: "Mulan and Emma have travelled together before. She's a strong leader and excellent fighter, so I'm very glad that they're together in this. As far as Tiger Lily's concerned, I couldn't say." Reporter: "There are rumours that Tiger Lily was once Morgause's Fairy Godmother. That it was she who took the child to be raised by the High Priestesses of the Old Religion." Snow White: (Shaking her head:) "Uther Pendragon is the one responsible for what happened to his daughter." Reporter: "Very well. Tiger Lily's wand was found amongst the wreckage of Camelot's council chamber, is that true?" Snow White: "Unfortunately, yes. If Tiger Lily had managed to hold onto her wand, I believe she, Emma and Mulan would have already returned to us." Reporter: "Because that's how your daughter returned from the past the last time?" Snow White: "Correct." Reporter: "Okay. One last question for now then." Snow White: "Fire away." Reporter: "With Emma now missing, it neutralises the one thing Storybrooke had in its favour above all the United Realms; the combined magic your daughter shares with Regina." Snow White: (Shifts uncomfortably in her seat:) "And your question is?" Reporter: "Knowing that Morgana and Morgause are both still free, should the people of Storybrooke be concerned for their safety?" Snow White: (Takes a breath:) "As some people are aware, I have been taking over some of Regina's mayoral duties lately, which includes assuring the people that things are well in hand. All I can tell you is that as long as Morgana and Morgause are out there, no one knows what their next move might be."

Seas of Meredor. (Morgause and Morgana continue across the sea with the ferryman. Wyvern shriek as they fly around the fortress while the boat continues to the isle.) Enchanted Forest. Past. (Tiger Lily and Tinker Bell sit talking outside a tavern.) Tinker Bell: "Wait, so you're telling me that not only are you from the future, but where you're from those two are married?" Tiger Lily: "Shh, keep your voice down. (Nods:) Yes and they have a son and daughter together." Tinker Bell: "Wow. I guess the Pixie dust did lie." Tiger Lily: (Shrugs:) "Not really, I mean it did lead Regina to her True Love." Tinker Bell: (Considers, then smiles:) "Yeah, I guess that's true."

(Sitting at another table, Emma and Regina talk while Mulan stands a short distance away looking pensive.) Emma: "So, why didn't the King take you with him on his royal visit?" Regina: "Oh, my husband and King Midas are old friends. With Midas now a widower, Leopold thought I would be too bored while the men discussed business of state." Emma: "I see." Regina: "To be honest I think he much prefers when I stay at home to look after his daughter, Snow White. (Catches herself:) I'm sorry, that was rude of me, we've only just met and here I am burdening you with my problems." Emma: "Not at all. It must be hard to be viewed more as a babysitter than a wife." Regina: "Yes. Although in some respects, it's very much a relief." Emma: (Reading between the lines:) "You and the King haven't..." Regina: (Shakes her head:) "Oh, no. I am barely older than his daughter, and as 'Royal babysitter' it would be unseemly for the King to be sleeping with the help. (Both women chuckle at this:) There I go again, being most indiscreet about palace life." Emma: "Perhaps I make you feel comfortable enough to speak your mind?" Regina: (Smiles:) "I think you're right. (Picks up her tankard:) It's a refreshing change." (They clink their tankards together and drink.) Royal Guard: (Approaching their table:) "Queen Regina." Regina: (Turns to him:) "Yes?" Royal Guard: "Snow White sent me and my men to find you. She became worried when you weren't in your room this morning." Emma: (Under her breath:) "God forbid." Royal Guard: "What was that?" Regina: "Well as you can see, I'm fine, thank you very much." Royal Guard: "I have orders to escort you back to the palace." Regina: "And so you shall, after I am done speaking with my friend here." Royal Guard: "My orders-" Emma: (Rising from her seat:) "Listen, pal. The Queen and I were just talking, there's no need for-" Royal Guard: (Draws his sword:) "Stand back, wench, or I shall have you arrested." Regina: (Also stands:) "On who's authority?" Mulan: (Running in:) "Come on, Emma. Let's go." Royal Guard: "Listen to your friend, Miss, or there will be trouble." Regina: "Now wait just a minute." Royal Guard: (Grabbing Regina's arm:) "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I have my orders." Emma: "Hey! Get your stinking hands off her!" Royal Guard: "Out of my way, harlot." Regina: "Hey, you're hurting my arm!" Emma: "That's it." (Emma hauls off and punches the guard, sending him to the ground. Sighing resignedly, Mulan draws her sword and turns to the oncoming guards. Dispatching them quickly, the warrior turns back to see Emma straddling the man and beating his face to a pulp.) Mulan: (Pulling Emma off of him:) "Now we really need to go, before reinforcements arrive!" Emma: (Giving Regina her most regal bow:) "It was a pleasure, my Queen." (With that, Mulan and Emma take off running into the woods while Regina waves after them, smiling. As the Royal Guard staggers to his feet behind her, Regina elbows him in the face, knocking him unconscious.)

Isle of the Blessed. Present. (Morgause and Morgana approach an altar.) Morgause: “Samhain is almost upon us. We must hurry.” Morgana: (Stops walking:) “I can’t do this.” Morgause: “Sister. (Takes Morgana’s hand and together they continue forward towards the altar:) Remember what I told you. It is the only way. What you are about to do will affect everyone, even you. But most importantly, it will bring our enemies to their knees. You must be strong, remember that. (Morgause presents Morgana with a dagger:) Do not be scared. (Morgana takes the dagger:) I am not long for this world. There is nothing left for me here now. (Morgause weakly climbs onto the altar stone and takes Morgana’s hand:) Please, Sister, let my parting be my final gift to you.” (Morgause lies down.) Morgana: (Standing beside the altar, dagger raised:) “Eala leofu sweoster, paem gastum befaeste ic pe. Alys pa peoster pe inne onwunap.” (Morgana poises the dagger to strike, her eyes glow and she plunges it into Morgause’s chest. Morgause gasps. Morgana is blown off her feet.)

Xena & Gabrielle's Campsite. Woods. (Xena attempts to sleep while Gabrielle sits stargazing.) Gabrielle: “Looking out at the cosmos makes you think... about where we are... where we’ve been...where we’re going now.” Xena: (Rolls over and looks up:) “Yeah... and like the bigger now. Look. (Pointing towards the distance, both Xena and Gabrielle stare at the unusual activity taking place in the sky:) Have you ever seen anything like that?” Gabrielle: “No. But I think we’ve finally found where Morgana and Morgause are. What do you say?” Xena: (Nods:) “I say, let’s go check it out.” Isle of the Blessed. (Cailleach strokes Morgana’s cheek and Morgana wakes. Morgana sits up and sees the cloaked woman standing in front of the rift.) Morgana: “Who are you?” Cailleach: “I am the Cailleach, the gatekeeper to the spirit world. You have torn the veil between the worlds. (Eerie screams echo from the rift:) The Dorocha. They are the voices of the dead, my child. And, like the dead, they are numberless. (Morgana looks around in fear:) You are right to be afraid, Morgana. Your enemies will rue this day and all the destruction it brings, but you must beware. Tearing the veil between the worlds has created a new world, and you will not walk through it alone. The one they call Merlin will walk in your shadow. He is your destiny, and he is your doom.”

Enchanted Forest. Past. (Having successfully evaded capture, Emma and Mulan find themselves outside yet another tavern. When the heavens begin to open however, they have little choice but to enter.) Tavern. (A man is scrubbing the floor of the tavern.) Man: “Ah, great to see the Sheriff didn't scare everyone off. (Stands:) What can I get for you?” Mulan: “Oh, we didn't come here for the ale.” Emma: (Looking around:) “Nor, clearly, for the ambience. We came... (Turns to see the man, who is revealed to be Robin Hood:) Uh...” Mulan: (Stepping in:) “To get out of the rain. Do you have rooms here?” Robin: “We do, yes.” Emma: (Regaining her thoughts:) “Great. We’ll take two.” Robin: “Yes, well, uh, they’re not free.” Emma: “Right! (Pats her pockets:) I don’t seem to... Mulan? (Mulan shakes her head:) We don’t actually have any money.” Robin: “Then you have a problem.” Emma: “But we’re willing to work for a room. Right, Mulan?” Mulan: (Nods:) “Certainly.” Robin: (Looking Mulan up and down:) “I'm not in that line of business anymore.” Emma: “No but, it seems, you won't be in the tavern business, either. Was that a tax notice I saw on the door?” Robin: “Get to the point.” Emma: “Please just let us stay here and we’ll work for room and board. You can’t say fairer than that?” Robin: (Considers:) “Hm. My wife was thinking about hiring some extra hands around the place.” Emma: (Laughs, relieved:) “You’re married?” Robin: (Confused:) “Yes.” Emma: “That’s wonderful news.” Robin: (To Mulan:) “Is your friend all right?” Mulan: (Nods:) “She’s had a long day, probably light-headed from exhaustion.” Robin: ��Shame. I could have done with you starting tonight. This floor’s playing havoc with my knees.” Emma: (Reaching out for the cloth in Robin’s hand:) “Not a problem! So we have a deal, right?” Robin: (Hesitates then hands over the cloth:) “Agreed. (Removing his apron:) Your rooms are up the stairs to your right. Now if you’ll excuse me ladies, I think I’ll turn in and give my wife the good news.” Mulan: “Good night.” Emma: “Yeah, night.” (Robin leaves.) Mulan: “I don’t know what you’re so happy about. We just escaped the royal guards to work for a man wanted by the Sheriff.” Emma: “Oh, details details. Think big picture, Mulan. Now we have a roof over our heads, Robin Hood is married and I just flirted with a younger version of my wife.” Mulan: “Yeah, about that, I thought you were concerned about messing up the timelines?” Emma: (Agitated:) “You are just determined to see the bad side to everything, aren’t you? Look, don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. Now quit worrying, grab a sponge and help me wash this floor.” (Although still concerned by the day’s events, Mulan decides to let things go for now, instead concentrating on finishing the tavern floor so that they both might get some sleep.)

Village. Present. (On their way to investigate the odd light in the sky, Xena and Gabrielle pass through a village.) Xena: “It’s too quiet.” (They enter the village and all is silent. A door creaks loudly and they freeze until a goat bleats and wanders out. Continuing on, they enter one of the houses. Inside, they stare at the frosted corpses of some of the villagers.) Gabrielle: “What could have done this? (They turn as something flies past them:) You see that?” Xena: (Shakes her head:) “We are literally chasing shadows. Come on.” (They exit the house and search the village, now bearing torches. Xena splits off from Gabrielle when she hears a door shut in a barn. Gabrielle walks around cautiously and a chicken jumps out at her. She sighs in relief. Something shrieks quietly behind Xena and she sees a wisp of it as it exits the barn. Xena chases the shrieking wisp but loses it. Screams echo around Gabrielle. A wisp shoots straight for her.) Gabrielle: “Xena!” (Gabrielle uses her torch to repel the wisp.) Xena: (Running to her:) “What happened?” Gabrielle: “There’s something out there!” Xena: “You saw it?” Gabrielle: “When it saw the light, it fled. I don’t think it’s something you can chase or something you can kill.” (The shrieks echo.) Xena: “We need to get out of here.”

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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maluminspace · 4 years

Text

Genre: Smut

Pairings: Ashton Irwin/Calum Hood/Luke Hemmings

Word Count: 3.3k

Requested: by @cashtonasfuck

Laura, I am FINALLY submitting a request for hogwarts!sos 🤦🏼‍♀️😂 please could I have poly!lashtum?? (Is that what we’re going with for Luke, ash and cal?😂) luke in ravenclaw, ash in hufflepuff and cal in slytherin? Cashton are in a relationship and Luke is jealous cuz he’s had a crush on ash for the longest time, and then they’re all studying together and cal notices Luke can’t stop looking at ash and cashton maybe Dom Luke? Hope that’s okay angel! 💙

Includes: Explicit sexual content, thigh riding, dirty talk, light dom/sub dynamic

Trigger Warnings: strong language

A/N: Please Lucy, you tried to end us all with this request! I hope you like how it turned out <3

***

It just wasn't fair.

Ashton Irwin was the sweetest person Luke had have ever met, not to mention the most handsome. Why the fuck was he already dating someone else?

Well, that question was very easily answered. Calum Hood was one of the most gorgeous boys at Hogwarts. He was acing every one of his classes and on top of all that he was the captain of the Slytherin quidditch team. Of course, Ashton had fallen for him, just like every other sixth year had. If only Luke had grown the balls to approach Ashton at the start of the school year, maybe then he’d be the Hufflepuff’s boyfriend instead of the Slytherin ‘golden boy’.

As if it wasn’t hard enough to keep his feelings in check, Luke had been asked to tutor both boyfriends in non-verbal spells. It seemed that the Ravenclaw boy had been gifted with a rare talent for performing the difficult wordless magic and his Charms professor had asked him to help out Ashton and Calum who were both struggling.

Perhaps one of the most unfortunate parts of tutoring for Luke, besides his ever-present jealousy, was fitting it in around his already hectic after-school schedule. Calum and Ashton weren’t any less busy either so finding a timeslot that suited them all had proven very difficult. It was for that reason that the three boys had been given special permission to use each other’s common rooms after curfew. That alone was a problem for the Ravenclaw, being alone with the two hottest boys in school in dark, quiet rooms late at night but knowing that he could never make a move on either of them.

“This is impossible!” Ashton huffed irritably, bringing Luke’s thoughts back to the present moment. The Hufflepuff’s handsome face was contorted in an exasperated expression, his cheeks flushed with concentration and frustration as he raked his fingers through his already unruly sand-coloured curls. “How do you do this so easily, Luke?” He asked, fixing the youngest boy with a watery gaze.

“Hey…” Calum said softly, reaching over to rub the back of his boyfriend’s hand gently. “You’ll get it, you’re the smartest person I know.”

Luke forced a smile, trying to stop himself from visibly bristling at the tender moment between the two boyfriends. Luckily they’d decided to study in Calum’s common room, which was very dimly lit and hopefully easy to hide his jealous expressions in.

What the Ravenclaw didn’t anticipate, however, is that having spent a good portion of his school life in this dark environment, Calum’s eyesight had adjusted to cope well in the lack of light, making it all-too-easy for him to notice the way Luke almost scowled.

“I’m definitely not the smartest person you know…” Ashton huffed, curling into Calum’s side for comfort. “Luke can cast the Colovaria charm silently, like he’s being do it for years!”

A hint of a smirk curls the corners of Calum’s lips as he stroke’s Ashton’s hair gently. “We can’t all be as great at Charms as Hemmings.” He said, “Some of us have other talents, isn’t that right, Lukey?”

The Ravenclaw tried to hide his reddening cheeks as he leaned over a white feather in the pretence of trying to demonstrate the colour changing charm again. Calum was effortlessly charming, his smooth voice affecting Luke in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge. “Sure.” He replied in a clipped tone, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Ugh, he’s just being nice.” Ashton sighed. His sentence was followed immediately by the unmistakable clatter of his wand being dropped on the table. “He knows I should never have been allowed into advanced level Charms, I’m too fucking stupid…”

“That’s not true.” Luke responded automatically, chancing a glance at the Hufflepuff across the table. “You’re not stupid at all. Non-verbal spells are really tricky, everyone struggles with them at first.”

Calum hugs Ashton close as he places a kiss to the older boy’s cheek, keeping his eyes on Luke the whole time. “Also, you’re amazing at a lot of other things.” He smirks, holding Luke’s gaze steadily. “Like Herbology, Astronomy and…” The Slytherin lowered his voice but something in his eyes made it clear that the slightly older boy still wanted Luke to hear the end of his sentence. “All the bedroom stuff… Especially blowjobs.”

“Calum!” Ashton hissed, his cheeks deepening in colour as he shot Luke a guilty glance. “You can’t say things like that when we have company.”

The Slytherin shrugged carelessly. “Why not?” He asked. “I’m sure Luke would love to know just how good you are at all that stuff.”

Luke had never felt so called out in all his life. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment as he stared, slack-jawed at Calum. The slightly older boy leaned back casually in his chair, pulling Ashton with him as though he’d made nothing but an off-hand comment about the weather.

“Shh, you’re making Luke uncomfortable.” Ashton hissed, nudging his boyfriend in the ribs. “He doesn’t need to hear about all that…”

Finally coming to his senses, Luke nods. “Ashton’s right, I don’t. Maybe we should just do this another night, I don’t think either of you are in the right frame of mind right now.” He reached for his feather so that he could pack it away with the rest of his stuff, but Calum caught his wrist in a firm but surprisingly gentle grip.

“Are you sure, Lukey?” The Slytherin asked, his dark eyes staring deep into Luke’s as though he was searching for something. “Because I have a feeling you think about Ashton doing stuff like that a lot” He smirked. “I bet you imagine him doing it to you rather than me, though.”

Luke was dumbstruck. He felt as though he was about to get punched by the most popular boy at Hogwarts for something he’d tried his very best to hide.

“Calum!” Ashton gasped, “You can’t say things like that to him… Especially when they’re not true.” The Hufflepuff turned to face Luke, the silent addition of the question ‘is it?’ written all over his beautiful face.

The answer should have been ‘no’ and it should have spilled from Luke’s lips instantly. The youngest boy just couldn’t bring himself to lie, though. He sat there, staring back at Ashton and Calum in an almost terrified silence.

“Of course it’s true, babe.” Calum explained to Ashton although his eyes never moved from Luke’s. “I see the way he looks at you every time we’re in the same room. He wants you as much as I do.”

If it was possible to dissaperate in the Hogwarts grounds, Luke would have done it in an instant. He just wanted to get out of this awkward situation as quickly as possible. “I should go…” He muttered weakly, trying but failing to twist his wrist out of Calum’s hold. “I’ll ask the professor to assign someone else to tutor you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t do that.” The Slytherin whispered gently, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “It’d make it a lot harder for us to put the moves on you, if we didn’t have these little late night study sessions.”

Luke was still so embarrassed at being caught lusting after Ashton by Calum, that it took his brain a moment to process what the Slytherin had said. When he did finally realise that he hadn’t misheard - that Calum had actually said he and Ashton wanted to make a move on him, he had no idea at all how to respond.

After a moment of the tensest silence Luke had ever experienced, Ashton sighed reaching over to stroke Luke’s hand that was still grasped in Calum’s. “I tried to tell Calum that it wasn’t a good idea to lay this on you whilst you were meant to be tutoring us.” The Hufflepuff smiled gently. “But seeing as he’s gone ahead and done it anyway, maybe I should explain some stuff.”

“Yeah…” Luke managed, his voice coming out in a strained whisper as his mind continued attempting to process what was happening, albeit with great difficulty.

Ashton bit his lip nervously as he shot Calum a sideways glance before launching into his explanation. “So, Calum noticed a while back that you check me out sometimes. I told him he was imagining things because there’s no way you’re into me.” Calum rolled his eyes at this point, a clear expression that he had no doubt that he was right. The eldest boy ignored him, though, continuing his hastily put together speech. “But anyway… basically we talked about we both think you’re cute and how maybe at some point we’d talk to you about possibly going on a date with us or something.” By the time he’d finished talking, Ashton’s cheeks were crimson coloured and he looked as though he’d liked the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Wait!” Luke gasped, looking between the two older boys in a confused daze. “You both like me, as in, ‘like’ me.”

Calum and Ashton both nodded in unison, their pretty faces staring back him hopefully.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but we wanted you to know that the offer’s there.” Ashton clarified, “We understand if you need time to think about it.”

Going away to sleep on the proposition would have been the sensible thing to do, Luke knew that. It didn’t stop him from wanting to test the other two boys on their offer immediately, though.

As if he could read Luke’s mind, Calum stood up, gently tugging Luke to his feet as he gestured for the youngest boy to join him on the other side of the table. “You want us to show you that we’re serious, don’t you?” He asked, guiding the Ravenclaw between himself and Ashton, who was gazing up at the two of them curiously, although there was undoubtedly an element of lust burning in his hazel eyes.

Luke nodded, suddenly finding himself speechless as Calum cupped his cheek gently. “Should we show him how serious we are, Ash?”

Without even waiting for an answer, Calum pulled Luke into a deep kiss. His lips felt so much softer against Luke’s own than the Ravenclaw had ever imagined and he immediately began craving more. He wrapped his arms around Calum’s waist as the older boy held his face in both hands.

The kiss lasted long enough to ignite a flame of irrepressible lust in Luke’s chest. When Calum pulled away and his dark eyes met Luke’s there was no mistaking that he felt the same. “Go and sit in Ashton’s lap, Lukey.” He instructed, “He’s been dying to kiss you as much as I have.”

Feeling dazed by the kiss, Luke did as he was told, dropping into Ashton’s lap as the eldest boy wrapped him up in a strong but tender embrace. “You looked so hot with Calum.” He whispered hotly against Luke’s lips. “Can I…”

Nodding fervently, Luke closed the tiny gap between their lips. To the Ravenclaw’s surprise, Ashton kissed harder than Calum, sliding his fingers into Luke’s curls to keep him as close as possible.

“Fuck…” Calum whispered, his breath ghosting over Luke’s neck as he leaned over the two kissing boys. “You two look so good…” His lips grazed the younger boy’s pale skin as he helped Luke to straddle one of Ashton’s muscular thighs so that they were at a better angle for kissing.

The youngest boy was overwhelmed. Never in a million years would he have thought that one of these study sessions would end like this - with Ashton kissing him whilst Calum nipped at his neck.

“You taste so good, Lukey.” Ashton growled between kisses. “I can see why Calum didn’t wanna let you go…”

A needy whine escaped Luke as he unintentionally slid further up Ashton’s thigh, causing friction to his cock through his trousers. Of course, being a hormonal sixteen-year-old, his body had already started to react to the kissing and touching. “Please…” He whimpered, “You both feel so good.”

Ashton smiled against the Ravenclaw’s lips, tugging his hair a little harder to let out a bit more of his sexual tension. “You have no idea how much we’ve wanted you.” He whispered, “Dreamt of this so much.”

“Ashy’s right.” Calum confirmed as his hands found Luke’s waist. “We’ve wanted you so much and now it’s happening, you’re even hotter than we ever imagined.”

It was impossible for Luke to remain still, Ashton was so strong and sturdy beneath him, his muscular thigh was an all-too-inviting temptation that he couldn't resist. He rolled his hips experimentally, a surprised moan escaping him when the friction it caused sent pleasurable shivers up his spine. “I-I can’t… you both feel…”

Calum gripped Luke’s hips a little tighter and began guiding him in a slow rhythm. “It’s okay, Lukey. Let us help you feel good.” He whispered before continuing to kiss down Luke’s exposed neck.

Ashton pulled back just far enough to watch the other two boys for a moment, groaning at how hot they looked. Calum was a natural at taking control and Luke seemed to thrive off of that, sinking into the older boy’s touch like he needed to be as close as possible to him. “Uh, I could watch you both all night.” The Hufflepuff said lowly, “You’re putting on such a good show for me right now.”

“Yeah?” Calum asked, quirking one of his thick dark eyebrows. “Lukey’s such a good boy, isn’t he, Ash? Look how well he’s riding your thigh, getting all hard for us.”

“Fuck…” Luke moned, his voice already so thick with lust that he was surprised any sound had escaped his lips at all.

“You like to be praised, Lukey?” Ashton asked, his lips grazing the outer shell of the Ravenclaw’s ear as he spoke. The younger boy nodded eagerly as he rested his forehead against Ashton’s. “Good…” The eldest boy grinned, “Because you’re doing so well for us, we can’t wait to see you come apart for us, can we, Cal?”

Calum shook his head, his dark curls falling into his eyes as he continued to guide Luke’s hips, helping hip to grind down onto Ashton, pulling gasps and moans from all three of them. The Slytherin took a break from nibbling at Luke’s neck, gently nudging the younger boy’s head to one side so that he kiss Ashton over his shoulder.

The way that the boyfriends made out over Luke, their bodies sandwiching the Ravenclaw deliciously, pulled the youngest boy even closer to an orgasm. “Fuck, please…” He whimpered, losing the ability to form a coherent sentence.

“Tell him how good he sounds, Ashy.” Calum instructed between kisses, his fingers curling tighter around Luke’s hips as the younger boy’s movements became a little more erratic.

Ashton complied immediately, his voice a little broken and weak now. “You sound so good, Lukey… Can’t wait to hear what you sound like when you cum for us.”

Every word made it harder for Luke to keep it together. His whole body was begging him to let go but he didn’t want this to end just yet.

“Is he making you hard, Ash?” Calum asked, pressing himself against Luke’s back so that the younger boy could feel the Slytherin’s hard dick against his back.

“Holy fuck, Calum!” Luke gasped, “You feel big…”

Ashton moaned into Calum’s kiss. “He’s making us both so hard, Cal…” He continued, “You’re such a good boy, Lukey.”

“He’s the best.” Calum replied, pulling back from Ashton just enough to shoot Luke a sideways glance. “Do you want to feel us, baby?”

Luke whimpered as he nodded, a stray strand of caramel coloured curls sticking to his forehead. He was very sure that touching Calum and Ashton would send him over the edge but he was more than ready for that.

The Hufflepuff took one of Luke’s hand and guided it between their bodies until the younger’s longer fingers touched Ashton’s hard cock through his trousers. “You see what you’re doing to us, Lukey?” He groaned, “no one has had this much of an affect on me besides Calum. I’m gonna be constantly turned on knowing that you’re both mine.”

Before Luke could utter another strangled whine, Calum shifted his position, moving to stand to the side so that it was easier for Luke to feel him. “Go ahead, baby, you can touch me.” The Slytherin prompted gently, “Want you to cum holding our dicks, knowing that you can have them anytime you like.”

The very second that Luke’s fingers curled around Calum’s cock, he knew it was over. Both boys felt so big in his hands and a tsunami of possibilities swept through his mind - a tirade of images portraying what these two boys could do him and what he could give to them in return, flickered before his eyes as his orgasm hit. Luke’s body trembled as he tumbled over the edge, burying his face in Ashton’s shoulder for comfort.

“Holy shit…” Calum groaned. “I almost came just from watching you, baby. You looked so fucking hot.”

Ashton nodded in agreement, his pretty face flushed and slightly clammy. “You’re such a good boy for us, baby. Love the way you fall apart for us.”

Luke whimpered helplessly, trying to gain the brainpower to speak again as he continued to shiver with the aftershocks of his pleasure. He calmed a little when both of the other boys wrapped their arms around him, enclosing him in a warm, safe cocoon whilst his breathing slowly regulated.

“That’s right.” Ashton soothed, gently rubbing Luke’s back, helping to ground him. “You’re safe with us, Lukey.”

The Ravenclaw didn’t doubt it for a second, he’d never felt so thoroughly taken care of before. “Wanna repay you boh. It felt so good.”

Calum chuckled softly. “We have all the time in the world to work up to that, baby. We don’t want to exhaust you too much on our first night, do we?”

Just as Luke opened his mouth to argue. Ashton cut him off with a brief kiss. “Calum’s right, Lukey. We have all the time in the world to try out everything you’ve ever dreamed of. There’s no need to rush it all right now.”

Pouting, Luke accepted the kiss and turned his gaze to Calum, staring up at the slightly older boy through the darkness. “But you’re both still hard… I wanna help.”

The Slytherin and Hufflepuff boys exchanged a glance, each of them allowing a tiny smirk to curl the corners of their lips before they returned their gazes to Luke.

“You can watch while we get each other off, if you want?” Calum offers, hope burning in the depths of his brown eyes. “You’re more than welcome…”

Luke didn’t need asking twice, despite his weak knees, he scrambled to his feet and stepped aside so that Ashton could get to his feet.

“To my bed, then.” Calum smirked, taking Ashton and Luke by the hand and leading them towards the steps that lead up to the sixth year dormitory.

The Ravenclaw had no idea what was in store for him, but he couldn’t wait to find out.

Tag list: @clffrd @byxthexway @afuckingunicornn @painkillerash @moonchildsblack @calumbbyyy @h0tsos @valentinelrh @sexgodashton @megz1985 @myfalsedevotion @aulxna @honeyedlashton @tea4sykes @ghostofmashton @fairyintheglass @cashworthy @cashtonasfuck @opheliaaurora23 @5sosnsfw @theagenderwhocriedwolf @myloverboyash @easiercake @irwinkitten @cxddlyash @malumamongmen @cashtonasff5sos @iovehemmings

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sonnets-and-snowdrops · 7 years

Text

Saiyuki Inktober 2017, Day 2 - “Past and Present”

Fandom: Saiyuki Pairing: A teeny, tiny sprinkle of 58 cuteness Rating: Parental guidance suggested. Unless you’re Gojyo, in which case, parental figures are, like, the least ideal people imaginable for coping with the content of this fic. (But in all seriousness, this fic does include mentions of physical and verbal abuse, as well as some mildly descriptive violence, and mentions of bodily fluids.) Word Count: Approx. 2k seriously why the heck can I not write short pieces gahhhhh one of these days mark my many, many words Author’s Note: Once again, I’m sorry for the ludicrous delay here BUT I’VE GOT WIFI IN MY PLACE NOW HECK YEEEEAAAAAHH DO A HAPPY DANCE WITH ME PEOPLE but yeah I also apologize again if this is kinda meh, still been busy with moving-in shenanigans

The guy who came up with the idea of putting one foot in front of the other must have been a stupid-ass motherfucker, Gojyo decides. He spits - or, he tries to, anyway - and a glob of foul-looking, brownish-reddish goop shoots sideways out of his mouth and dribbles down his chin before it drops to the ground, mixing with the gloomy, gloopy, late-night, rain-soaked mud. “Shoulda known,” he slurs aloud, to no one in particular. “Shitty trajectory, am I right?”

He is right, as it happens. Gojyo’s swelling face is pressed firmly against the loose-packed dirt of the path that leads away from the bad part of town, where he’d spent the past several hours gambling with the local gents and admiring the local ladies - and, his squirming stomach reminds him, knocking back the local spirits at a borderline breakneck rate. He’d lost the last round of seven-card stud, and neither he nor his woefully empty pockets had particularly felt like paying up. And so, he’d slapped the most charming smile he could manage onto his villainous visage, and he’d tried to sweet-talk his way out of his unfortunate circumstances.

It had been a pretty effective tactic, all things considered.

One of the guys at the bar had shrugged, and had asked Gojyo if he’d be willing to offer something else as payment. That had made Gojyo a little nervous, as was to be expected; but thanks to years of ingrained street-smarts, he’d managed to check himself before reflexively drawing his arms behind his back to cover his ass with his grubby hands. The guy had laughed, big and loud - he must have seen how shit-scared Gojyo was of the mere idea of someone making him pay up in that particular fashion - and he’d shaken his shaggy head, saying “Ain’t nothin’ much, Gojyo-san. I’ve just been wantin’ to punch that pretty face of yours for a long damn time.”

He must have blacked out at some point. Maybe it was the drinks, or maybe it was the pain, or maybe it was a finicky combination of the two. Heck, maybe it even had something to do with the wild, distant laughter bouncing around inside his thick, half-youkai skull - “I can’t stand to look at you,” came an all-too-familiar voice, hysterical and high-pitched, between blows, between the bouts of laughter - “I can’t - I CAN’T!” - an all-too-familiar series of punches to the gut and slaps upside the head had followed - if he’s honest, he wasn’t even sure who was hitting him anymore. It could have been the guys at the bar, beating the crap out of him for always being down on his luck financially but inexplicably up on his luck romantically - “How the fuck does a guy like you bag all those chicks, huh?” he distinctly remembers one leery voice sneering. “A dirtbag like you? I can’t believe it, man!” - or it could have been a woman who had been cold and dead for years and years, who never thought twice about raising her clawed hands to a little kid - “I can’t stand to look at you,” said the woman - “I can’t fuckin’ believe it, man!” said the guy - someone slugged him in the kidney, and he went down, hard, knees first - “I can’t stand it!” - he felt like he was on some kind of fucked-up merry-go-round, his world was spinning so gods-damned fast - “I can’t believe it!”- “I can’t STAND it!” - “I can’t” - “I can’t” - “I CAN’T” - “I CAN’T - !”

And then, somehow, he’d made it outside.

He’d found himself staggering, stumbling, stupid, towards home, in the bleak, black rain.

Of course, he remembers thinking. On a night like tonight, of course it was raining.

So, Gojyo had done the only thing he could do: he’d focused on putting one foot in front of the other, and steering his sorry ass towards home. Trouble was, when you were drunk off your face and reeling from just having been treated like a half-human punching bag, putting one foot in front of the other was a pretty harebrained thing to try and do.

As Gojyo quickly discovered.

His ankles got all twisted up beneath him somehow, and he’d ended up facedown in the slop of the road, frustrated, fatigued, and feeling more than a little bit like the entire contents of his stomach was about to come spewing out through his big mouth. “S’not even how people walk,” Gojyo had moaned weakly as he felt his body thud to the ground, for what wasn’t even the first time that night. “Feet go more side-by-side than that, gods damn it… stupid fuckin’ guidelines, not helpful at all…”

The worst part is, he isn’t even that far away from home. All he has to do is haul his wretched, wrecked self up from the ground and traipse the half a mile to his battered door. There’s a cold shower waiting for him behind that door, and a soft bed. There’s a fresh pack of cigarettes somewhere, one that hasn’t been soaked through by the rain. In the morning, there’ll be cheap whiskey and hot coffee (in that order) to take the edge off. Gojyo knows all of these things. And, if he’s honest, Gojyo wants all of these things, too.

But, just a little bit more, he wants to close his eyes.

And so, he does.

The next thing he knows, someone’s nudging him, and they won’t stop. He feels hands shaking his shoulders and grasping at his upper arms. He starts awake, and by reflex, he seizes up, clenching his fists and tightening his abs, readying his body for another beating - “Cut it out,” he tries to scream, but the words gets stuck in his scratchy throat -

“Gojyo,” says a voice.

Gojyo hesitates.

He knows that voice.

He’s sure he does.

But - but how - and why -

“Please,” the voice continues, “stay still, if you can manage it. You’ll hurt yourself even more if you thrash around like that.”

“…Hakkai?”

“Yes.”

“How - h-how the fuck did you - ”

“It’s four in the morning, and you hadn’t returned. I was curious.”

“Been out that late before, y’know.”

“Yes.” Even through his stupor, Gojyo can hear Hakkai hesitate. “The rain,” he says, finally. His voice has gone high and tight. “I couldn’t sleep. I took a walk. I found you here.”

“Mm,” is how Gojyo replies to that. In part, it’s because he doesn’t want to press the matter any further, and in part, it’s because that’s all he has the energy to say.

“We need to get you home,” comes Hakkai’s voice again. “I won’t ask what happened now, but you’re in terrible shape.” He pauses. “How do you feel?” he asks.

Gojyo laughs, a weary, broken sound. “How d’ya think I feel?!” he answers gleefully. “I feel like shit!”

“Do you think you can walk?”

“Do you think I can walk?”

“I don’t know, Gojyo. That’s why I asked.”

Gojyo laughs again. He shoves himself up onto one shoulder, leaning clumsily sideways so that he can look his roommate in the face - but a wave of nausea sweeps over him, and he hangs his head again. “I dunno, man,” he answers honestly. “I could try, but it’ll be one hell of a long shot. I kinda get the feeling that I’d take two steps, and the next thing we’d know, my guts would end up all over the road.”

At that, Hakkai goes strangely silent.

“What?” Gojyo says, lifting his head again, deciding that the roiling in his stomach might be briefly worth enduring. “What’d I say?”

Abruptly, Hakkai shakes his head. “Nothing,” he replies. “Nothing at all.”

“I said something, didn’t I?”

“No.”

“Look, you - you don’t have to haul my ass back, man - it ain’t your job or nothin’ - ”

“If your guts do end up all over the road,” Hakkai says, his voice clipped and quick, “let’s call it returning the favor, shall we?’

At that, Gojyo stops.

“Oh,” he says.

He really can be an idiot sometimes.

“Shit,” Gojyo mumbles. “I’m sorry, Hakkai. That - that wasn’t a guilt-trip thing, I swear - ”

“If it was, you’d be perfectly entitled, you know.”

“I - yeah, maybe, but - “

“Gojyo - I was only - “

“That’s not my style, man - I didn’t mean to - ”

“Hush, Gojyo. I believe you.” Hakkai’s face softens, just a little - not enough that Gojyo feels completely comfortable, but a little - and he nods his acceptance. Oh, Gojyo realizes, belatedly. That ‘entitled’ thing was his version of a joke. “It’s all right,” Hakkai says gently. “I understand that that isn’t what you meant.”

“Shit,” Gojyo says again, gritting his teeth and forcing the words out. “Shit, Hakkai - I’m sorry - ”

“I just told you, Gojyo - it’s all right - ”

But Gojyo shakes his head. “Not for that,” he says, and he hears the resignation that tinges his voice as he speaks.

“Oh?”

Gojyo cringes.

“For this.”

And with that, Gojyo promptly empties his stomach onto the road, right in front of the man whose life he never really meant to save - the man who became the roommate he never really planned to have. Still, Gojyo can’t help but feel a little thankful. What are the odds, after all, that he’d end up sharing his digs with just the kind of guy who takes weird, late-night walks at desperate times like these?

When it’s over, and when Gojyo can think straight again, he recognizes the feeling of firm, strong hands on his back. For the first time in a long, long while, he doesn’t get all tense when he senses the touch. He cracks his eyes open and glances up, and he sees Hakkai, silhouetted and pale, gazing almost sympathetically down at his fallen companion. “Thank you,” Gojyo says, softly.

“It’s my pleasure.”

“Heh. Doubt it.”

“Well,” Hakkai replies, “perhaps I’m using the word ‘pleasure’ a bit generously in this instance. Still,” he says, laying one slender hand upon his own stomach, “I won’t pretend I don’t have a debt to pay.”

“Forget it, man.”

“Gojyo - ”

“I mean it,” Gojyo says, giving Hakkai what he hopes is a fierce and determined stare - though, he recognizes that his odds are slim, given what he looks like at the moment. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“But - ”

“Just shut up and accept the fact that I’m grateful to you for this, would ya?” Gojyo snickers. “Talk about going above and beyond the call of duty. For real, man.”

“Gojyo, I really can’t - ”

“Look,” Gojyo says, figuring he’ll give this just one last try before he throws in the towel altogether. “I get that you feel indebted to me. Fine. That ain’t gonna go away any time soon, and I get that. But listen - we live in the here and now, don’t we, Hakkai?” Weirdly, it’s important to him that Hakkai actually answers this question. He waits, and when Hakkai says nothing, he repeats himself. “Don’t we?”

Hakkai nods, somber and steady.

“Yeah,” Gojyo says, finally, finally satisfied. “We do. So let it go, okay?” And he gives Hakkai one last, lopsided smile before he lets his face fall back into the mud. “What’s past is past,” he concludes proudly, “and you just watched me puke.”

#this is not a nice fic #warning ya now #inktober #saiyuki #saiyuki fanfiction #inktober fanfiction #saiyuki fanfic #inktober fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #58 #585 #gojyo #hakkai #del writes things

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