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suzukiblu · 2 days

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Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Octopus behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I mean, unless you’d rather have gotten a tutor or something, I guess, probably Batman could’ve helped me find you a tutor,” Billy says, shrugging a little awkwardly. He used to help other foster kids with their homework a lot, though, and he taught a couple street kids he knew some bits and pieces of stuff, at least. And also–“Wisdom of Solomon, you know? It’s, um, kinda a thing. Anyway, I’m gonna help you with your powers, so it’s the same kind of thing, right? And it’s normal to read to your kids, too.”

“I don’t need to read to be a weapon,” Lynn mutters, still looking down at Tawky. “Not if I’m being deployed with a team, anyway.”

. . . Billy thinks maybe he could just go ahead and burn down whatever’s left of Cadmus. Like. Morally, and all. Ethically. Whichever.

“I’m not helping you with your powers so you can be a weapon,” he says firmly, making himself keep his voice even so Lynn won’t think he’s mad at him. Or, uh–royally fucking pissed at him, more accurately. That’s Cadmus. Like, definitely it’s Cadmus that he’s royally fucking pissed at. “I’m helping you with your powers so you don’t get hurt or accidentally hurt anybody else. Like–so you can use them however you want.”

“I’m the thing that gets used,” Lynn says as he folds one of Tawky’s ears back and forth, voice and expression both just distant enough to make Billy hate literally everything that’s made Lynn feel like that.

He is definitely gonna put in a request with the League to let him burn down whatever’s left of Cadmus. Either that, or there’s gonna be a real convenient thunderstorm concentrated right on top of it, and a whole lot of equally convenient and equally concentrated lightning strikes.

And if that fails, then there’s gonna be a twelve year-old “civilian” sneaking in with some matches and lighter fluid, and he’s just gonna commit arson the old-fashioned way.

“If anyone ever says that to you again, I’m gonna make them sorry for even thinking it,” he says as evenly as he can. Lynn’s mouth tightens. He keeps his head down.

“. . . why would you have read to me?” he asks, the question a little guarded. “That wouldn’t have taught me anything.”

“It would’ve taught you that I’d read to you,” Billy says. Lynn–frowns, like maybe he doesn’t understand what he means. Billy’s not sure he understands what he means, just . . .

His dad read to him. And his mom too.

And Uncle Eben definitely did not.

And Cadmus didn’t read to Lynn either, he’s betting. As far as he can tell, all Cadmus ever did was jam a really biased education into his head and lie to and mind-control him, in fact.

Cadmus was just really awful to Lynn in general, as far as Billy can tell.

Lynn thought they’d have kryptonite here, so . . . yeah. Cadmus was definitely awful to him.

Billy really, really wants to make sure that Lynn’s first thought is never something like that again. Or at least, that his first thought is never something like that when it’s about him.

About the person who’s taking care of him, he means. Lynn should–he shouldn’t–

Billy always felt safe with his dad. With both of his parents. He wants Lynn to feel that way too, because Lynn deserves to feel that way too. Like no matter what tries to hurt him, it’s gonna have to go through somebody else first, and somebody who’d never just stand by and let it get to him.

Billy doesn’t know if Lynn’s ever felt safe in his life, all things considered. He grew up in a pod being lied to and woke up to mind control and more lies and got attacked by, like, a giant mutated jerk of a doctor who’d been controlling and hurting him all his life already, and then he left the only place he’d ever known just because he thought it was the right thing to do, and . . .

Yeah. Billy can’t imagine “safe” is a feeling Lynn’s all that familiar with yet.

Can’t imagine he’s ever really felt it at all, at this point.

He–swallows, a little, and then makes himself smile at him again. Lynn’s still not looking at him, but Billy figures he’ll hear it in his voice, if nothing else.

“I’ll read to you anyway, if you want,” he offers as he links his hands together behind his back, his voice coming out a little awkward; a little quiet. He doesn’t mean for it to, but . . . “Even if you can do it yourself.”

Lynn doesn’t say anything. He rubs the pad of his thumb across one of Tawky’s paw pads and then squeezes it, just a little. Billy doesn’t blame him for wanting to hold somebody’s hand right now. It’s–a lot, probably. All this is probably a lot.

All this is definitely a lot, and Billy doesn’t blame Lynn for anything he’s feeling about any of it at all. When everything changes all at once like–when somebody’s whole life changes and they lose everything and everyone they had before, and . . . and . . .

It’s just a lot, he knows.

Like–yeah.

Of course it is.

“. . . sure,” Lynn says, and glances up–not at Billy, exactly, but in his direction. He’s looking at his shoulder more than anything else, Billy’s pretty sure, but that’s fine by him. He brightens instinctively, resisting the urge to float up a little in excitement.

“Cool!” he says. “Um–okay, yeah. Cool.”

Lynn ducks his head again, looking more towards the wall now. He’s still holding Tawky’s paw, though, and he didn’t, like, go run off and hide in his room or get mad or anything, so Billy thinks things are going okay, really. Even if–even if some of this is a little harder to talk too much about, maybe.

He really does want Lynn to feel safe with him, though, so he’s gonna have to be able to talk to him about the harder stuff too.

He can do that, he promises himself. Or–he’s gonna do that, anyway. He’ll figure it out, one way or the other.

Lynn deserves a dad who can do that, and Billy’s already decided he’s gonna be the kind of dad Lynn deserves, so–yeah.

He can do it.

He wonders if his parents ever felt like this with him. Felt like–like it was hard and scary and weird, but like they still needed and wanted to figure it out and do it right, whatever it took. Like it was more important to do it right than . . . than anything else.

He doesn’t know, obviously. And he’s never gonna get to ask. But . . . but he hopes he’s at least doing this right enough that they would’ve been happy about it. Been–proud of him, for taking after them. Being like them, even just a little bit.

They were both really good parents, and he just . . . they’re gone, and he’ll never see them again, and no one really remembers them the same way he does. No one loves them the same way he does. Not anymore.

So–so if he can be a good dad to Lynn like they were good parents to him, then maybe at least there’ll be a little bit more of them left in the world. A little bit more that they got to do; got to make happen. Make matter.

And maybe . . . maybe that means Lynn will love some part of them too, technically, if Lynn ever loves him.

If Billy does this right, anyway.

“Do you wanna walk to the library too?” he suggests. “It might be a little farther away than the diner, I think, but not too bad. And, um, we’ve got super-stamina and all, so yeah.”

“. . . I’ve never walked that far before,” Lynn says. Billy blinks, wondering how Lynn knows that. He didn’t say how far it was for sure, just–

Oh.

“You’d never walked as far as the diner before?” he realizes. Lynn nods stiffly. Billy’s chest sort of–hurts a little, maybe. “Did you like it, or was it too much? I know it’s kind of exposed and there’s a lot more people than you’re probably used to and all, so it’s okay if–”

“It was fine,” Lynn cuts in, and then hunches his shoulders a little. “Uh. I mean–it was fine.”

Billy’s own shoulders slump a bit in relief, and he smiles wider at him. Okay. That’s–okay, yeah.

He really likes Lynn. Like–Lynn’s really easy to like, he means. He’s glad about that. Not that he was gonna take anything back or send Lynn back if he was hard to get along with or anything, obviously, but . . . he’s still glad, yeah.

Really glad.

#octopus #wip: billy adopts conner and it actually goes pretty good!

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 3 days

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 114

Part 1 Part 113

It’s fully dark by the time they trundle into the trailer park. The sceneries nostalgic, almost. Steve at his side, his feet aching from too long upright, not another soul in sight. There’s no ash floating in the air, and no vines squirming on the ground, and the sky’s not an ominous red.

Will he ever be able to walk down this familiar stretch of street without thinking of that time?

He almost hopes not. Without the Upside-Down, when he and Steve ever come together like this?

Maybe it’s stupid, but he wants to hold onto those memories just as much as this one. They’re what got him here, holding Steve Harrington’s hand, floating past cloud nine and straight into the stratosphere.

His glasses are chock full of roses.

It’s a tragedy that he has to drop Steve’s hand to open and unlock the door, but he makes do.

Wayne’s on his recliner when they stumble through the door, holding a beer in one hand and the TV remote in the other. He glances away from the screen, double takes, then stares back, eyeing them both up and down with an eyebrow raised.

He takes a long, loud sip from his beer, then asks, “you boys have a fun night?”

Eddie glances at Steve, and it’s only then that he notices how disheveled they both must look. Steve’s lips are still swollen, and his hair’s fucked beyond repair. Steve’s eying Eddie in kind, making those same damning connections.

He looks worried around the edges, though, so Eddie does what he’s always done best: put on a show.

He turns to Wayne, hands planted on his hips and says, “Wayne, I’ve got something to tell you.” He reaches out, linking his hand with Steve’s once more. “I’m gay.”

Wayne snorts, coughing on his beer. It must burn because his eyes water as he gasps out, “you play too much, boy.” He wipes the overflow from his chin, glaring up at Eddie. “You finally figure your shit out?”

Eddie beams, squeezing Steve’s hand. “Stevie here figured it out for me.”

Wayne looks between them for a few seconds more before shrugging disinterestedly, says a flippant, “he’s my favorite son for a reason,” and then just turns back to the TV to continue flicking through channels.

And that’s it. That was all she wrote, and all that. The world just, keeps turning.

“Should we tell anyone?” Steve asks that night, curled up into his side the way he always is. “Besides Will?”

He pulls Steve closer, the fondness in his chest expanding to the point of pain. Will, who is a part of their fucked up little trio. Of course, they’ll tell him.

It might even help him come to terms with some things that were hard won, brutal battles for Eddie when he was Will’s age. Give the kid a little hope, and all that. Hope that there are partners better out there than Mike Wheeler, the turd.

Eddie hums, skimming his fingers up and down Steve’s arm. “Well, Wayne figured it out the minute he looked at us, that’s one down.” He holds up one finger before bringing it back to Steve’s arm and tapping it against it. “You told Carol, so that adds in her and Barb.” Fingers two and three, tap, tap.

“Jeff?”

“Oh, definitely Jeff.” Eddie raises a fourth finger, taps it once before unlocking his thumb so he can clutch Steve’s hand. He pulls it up to his own chest, pressing it to the beating of his heart. “He wants me to tell him about the Upside-Down.”

Steve’s quiet, and it’s too dark to read his face no matter how hard Eddie strains his eyes.

“Do you think I should?”

Steve sighs, digging his pointy chin into Eddie’s shoulder. “I don’t know, man.”

“Man,” Eddie cuts in, mockingly. “Your tongue was in my mouth like, ten minutes ago.”

Eddie’s body shakes with Steve’s quiet laughter. “Fine, whatever,” he huffs. “It’s not up to me, Loverboy.”

The nicknames got that same mocking edge Eddie himself had used. It still makes his heartbeat stutter in his chest.

“But I’m not sure this is a situation where not knowing would help them?” he continues, voice lilting up at the end like it’s a question. “I mean, it didn’t help us.”

Eddie sighs, letting himself melt into the springy mattress. Look at all of them. They’d left Carol in the dark, and she’d crawled her way into the inner circle by her hell-beast talons.

Stumbling around in the dark never helped anyone.

“I’ll think about it,” Eddie says, already knowing that its too late. The worm’s wriggled its way into his brain and made a home there.

But there’s an order to these things, and Will comes first, always. They clamber into Eddie’s van in the morning, ready to enjoy whatever somehow overcooked and overcooked concoction Mama Byers has made for breakfast.

Jonathan opens the door before they’re even out of the van. He leans against the door jam, crossing his arms and glaring hatefully out at them, still in his raggedy pajama pants.

“Johnny Boy!” Eddie calls, beaming as he bounds up to him, shoving past him to come into the house, uninvited. “You’re looking mighty cheerful this morning.”

“Sorry, I don’t have a cheerful face on for the early-morning uninvited guests,” he grumbles, stepping out of the way and letting Steve through with much less ire.

Eddie can’t blame him. Steve’s in his stupid yellow sweater looking soft and warm in the November air. Eddie can’t compete with that, doesn’t even want to.

“Is Will up?” Steve asks, in a far more appropriate volume for the early morning.

Jonathan gestures toward the back of the house before stumbling over to the couch and sinking into it.

Mama Byers isn’t anywhere in sight, and the house is quiet enough that their voices may carry. Eddie’s not worried. These people are his family, and more importantly, they’re Will’s.

If the wall’s have got ears, he couldn’t pick anyone better to be listening. He’d bare any bit of himself here, if Will needs him to.

Eddie grabs Steve’s wrist and pulls him along toward Will’s bedroom. It’s time to get this show on the road.

Part 115

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie upsidedown au #my fic #Eddie just thinks he's sooo sooo funny lol this is what he's like when too happy. just Relentless

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izzyreadingblog · 2 hours

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The dinner | Fridolina rolfo x reader part 1

+18 minors please do not read it.

A/N: English is not my first language and i'm a newbie writing this type of content, sorry if is bad and for the mistakes.

“Hello, sweetheart, I'm already home!” Frido announced, her voice full of love and warmth. “You don't know how cold it is outside, I'm an ice cube right now!”

You hadn't seen her yet, but you could hear her advance down the hallway, and you could sense the pout in her face because of her baby voice.

“An ice cube? You’re exaggerating, my love. And you know, you’re from Sweden, so you should be used to the Barcelona cold. It’s nothing compared with the swedish one!” you say.

“Do you think I’m exaggerating? This cold is worse than the one in Sweden!” Frido said, opening her arms when she arrived at the living room, to show off her outfit. Her inseparable black hat and a scarf that gave her three turns gave her a rather mysterious look, with just the barest glimpses of her beautiful blue eyes and the tip of her nose, red from the cold.

You couldn't help laughing. “Are we sure that my girlfriend is under all those clothes?”

“And you make fun of me, you who are on the couch so comfortable with the blanket and with a hot drink in hand,” Frido said, her eyes twinkling. Frido had detached herself from the scarf, the hat and the coat she was wearing.

“Hello, darling, it was you indeed underneath all those clothes,” you said, smiling at her. “Come here, let me give you a kiss.”

“Yes, it's me. Hello, baby,” the Swedish woman approached and threw herself on top of you to greet you.

You made a little hiss as soon as Frido got on top of you when you noticed how cold your girlfriend was everywhere.

“Frido, please get down, you're very cold!” you say.

“But it was you who asked me for a kiss!. Are you rejecting me? Don't you love me anymore?" You crawled backward on the couch, laughing, while the blonde chased you.

"I love you so much, but you're frozen, my love. Take it, put the blanket on it for a little while, and get warm." You threw it at her so that she would take it on the fly.

"You're not going to escape from me that easily," the Swedish girl said, moving to trap you into the corner of the sofa and grab your face with her hands.

"Frido, stop, you are going to freeze my cheeks!" you said, covering her hands with yours, trying to warm them because they felt like ice.

"Give me a kiss," Frido said again, with an adorable pout on her face. “Don’t I give you pity?”

“Pity? Nah. Look, it’s a good thing you have this beautiful speculated face.” You purred before catching Frido’s lower lip to lick it.

"Mmm," Frido moaned because of your action of pampering her mouth. “I’m starting to get warm, please keep kissing me and don't stop”

You couldn't help smiling at your girl's face of pleasure, who seemed to be in paradise with your attention. It didn't take long for you to invade her mouth with your tongue, slowly, tenderly, filling every nook and cranny with heat.

“I love you so much right now, baby,” Frido says with a smile on her face.

"I'm just warming you up, sweetheart," you whispered against her mouth.

You began kissing Frido all over her face, and the blonde-haired woman settled more comfortably on top of you. You let out a little cry of delight when she hid her frozen nose in your neck.

“Oh my goodness, Frido, please stop. Your nose is frozen! It's colder than an ice cube. Are you sure you went out in Barcelona and not to the North Pole?” You brushed your neck trying to warm it back after that icy contact.

“Yes, I’m sure it wasn’t the North Pole, even though it felt like it,” Frido says with a toothless smile. “It's so comfortable and good in here, my love. You are like a stove.”

“Am I your favourite stove?” you asked.

“Yep, you are my favourite, always,” Friso replied, kissing your chin and putting her icy hands under your plush pajamas without warning.

"FRIDOLINA ROLFO I'll kill you, stop it right now!" You said as you jumped due to the contact of her cold hands with your bare skin.

“I’m just trying to get warm. My hands aren't so cold anymore, are they? It's only at the beginning, that’s why I’m giving you kisses until they warm up, to make up for it.”

“I don't do that to you when I come home frozen,” you said, with a little laugh.

“You love this, don’t you?” Frido said, kissing you repeatedly.

“So now that we are here, can we talk about something please?” you say.

“Of course, my love, what are you going to ask me?” Frido walked away a few centimetres to be able to look at you because she knew that little tone perfectly.

“It’s nothing you don’t need to worry about…”

"I'm afraid, 'cause every time you say that is cause is something that really bothers you," the blonde frowned.

"Oh come on, don't be dramatic," you said, giving her shoulder a little pat.

“It's just that I know that tone and that innocent face. Come on, let it go, without anaesthetic. I'm ready,” Frido said, sighing theatrically.

“It's just that Friday is the company's Christmas dinner,” you said in a kind of low voice, feeling all the nerves building up.

"And are you going to go?" Frido asked with a grimace of displeasure. “You can do whatever you want and I hope you will do what you want, but with those annoying people… I suffer for you, you know? I don’t like any of them.”

“I wanted to ask you something…” You started slowly while fixing the collar of Frido's shirt to soften the blow. “That if you come with me to the dinner…”

“Oh, no, no, no” the blonde stopped you, catching your hands with hers and fervently denying. “Again, no, no, no. I’m not going to that dinner, sweetheart.”

“Oh, come on, baby…” You tried to use your big, puppy eyes and pout to get your way.

“No, baby. They are all so focused on work and money all day. I don't even know why you want to go, that's up to you and I respect that, but I don't even paint anything there. So no, I’m not going.”

“Oh, where’s your Christmas spirit, my dear? It's just a dinner, please.”

“My love, they can't even see me either. What's the point of going if we are not going to have a good time?” Frido tried to make you understand her point.

“To be with me? Make my night more bearable? Do it for me, pretty please. What does it cost you, love? Is just a dinner, is like 3 hours long, that's not much. I want to try and get along with them. It's the job of my dreams. It's very, very, very important to me," you whispered, giving Frido your best puppy eyes to convince her.

Frido softened with an amazing ease at your words. "Okay, but let's negotiate first," she conceded, scanning it with a slanted smile, and you knew that you had already won.

"Negotiate? What do we have to negotiate?" You raised your eyebrows playfully, aware of the game you were both about to start.

“Yes, negotiate. I say that you will have to give me something in exchange for that torture I’m going to endure if you want me to accompany you, sweetheart,” Frido said as she caught her lower lip between her teeth.

“Something like what? What do you want?” your scratchy voice brought out an even bigger smile on your girlfriend.

“I don't know, you're the one who has to convince me. What do you offer me, baby girl?”

“You love it, huh? Feeling powerful… you can tell that it doesn't happen very often” You couldn't help but tease her a little and play the game back.

“Is that how you want me to agree to accompany you? I think you're on the wrong track, baby. I'm always open to offers, but you've got to be generous after this misunderstanding."

Without a moment's hesitation, you reached out and took the blonde's hands to your assm under your pajamas, and raised your hips to increase the contact between your two bodies.

"Okay, let's see… You accompany me to that dinner and I'll reward you with the best sex of your life when we get home. Imagine it, I think is a fair trade." You proposed, and she was all ears.

"During dinner," Frido replied, leaving a little kiss in your mouth and squeezing her hands that rested on your buttocks.

“What?” You said, a bit confused.

“The dinner is going to be really long and boring and unbearable. I want us to have sex during dinner.”

"Oh, Frido, you're crazy!" you laughed. “There will be people, you know? My bosses, for example.” You still couldn’t believe what Frido wanted to do.

“And there will also be a bathroom, I imagine. You are a girl with resources, my love. You'll think of something to make it possible," Frido says with a grin on her face.

"Okay, I'll think of something," you nodded, already picturing the situation and all the different ways it could go. "So is there a deal? Or do you want to negotiate something more?"

"Mm, no. I'm not completely convinced and don’t want to negotiate anything more. I think it's a fair agreement."

"Oh, Frido," you began to unbutton the buttons on your girlfriend's shirt, covering with kisses the skin you were leaving in sight. "You don't know the dress I bought for dinner. I chose it with you in mind. You're going to love it."

"Oh, yes? Am I going to love it?" You nodded and kissed Frido again, leaving her breathless.

“It’s black, short and it makes my ass look really good… You’ll see it and I’m sure you will love it.”

“You do have a really nice ass, I can’t wait to see you in that dress, sweetheart,” Frido said, paying attention to that part of your anatomy.

“It’s worth doing the difficult thing, isn’t it? You come with me, like the best girlfriend in the world you are, aren't you?"

"Only if you go to dinner without panties," Frido laughed, her eyes twinkling.

"Yes, whatever you say, baby," you accepted Frido’s proposal and then sealed the deal with a kiss. "You are the best."

"I know," Frido blinked.

"Don't you feel like doing a little preview of Friday night right now?" you whispered in her ear. “I mean, so that you get completely get warm and all that as you were an ice cube…”

“It's always such a pleasure to make deals with you, my love.”

Frido smiled mischievously and got up from the couch with you hooked to her neck, to take you to your bed. You took just a couple of seconds to roll on the mattress to get on top of Frido and get rid of her clothes. You grabbed her sex with one hand above the black thong she was wearing, making her moan inevitably.

"The negotiations left you so wet, sweetheart," you whispered in the blonde's ear when you lightly brushed your centre with your fingers, without removing the garment.

“Baby, please” Frido bit her lip, eager to feel you inside.

You didn’t make Frido beg again and, without stopping to kiss her, you finally undressed her completely and took care with your fingers to give her an orgasm that left her in the clouds.

"Okay?" you asked, caressing her side delicately.

"As an advance for what is coming, I accept," Frido said with a feigned grimace of indifference, her agitated breathing and burning eyes saying something else entirely.

“Oh, you liar! Let's see what you know how to do.” You spread your legs, leaving her full access to your sex.

Frido didn't hesitate for a second to jump for the treasure. With her hands perched on your breasts, her tongue was in charge of driving you crazy, tracing patterns that quickly and intensely brought you to your climax.

“Not bad, baby. Again?” you asked, as you pulled the blonde's hair so that she didn't move from the place.

“As many as you want, my love,” Frido winked at you and then immersed herself again in your intimacy.

#woso x reader #ask #woso blurbs #fridolina rolfo x reader #woso #woso fanfics

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may--hawk · 2 days

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some of these days - chapter 3

Summary: After the Second Coming’s come and gone, Crowley moves to the South Downs. Aziraphale stays in London. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t come to visit.

Or, Aziraphale’s his own angel, now. He just has to learn what that means.

Crowley’s furious with him, simply vibrating with it the entire ride back to the shop, his rage filling the car like a low fog, making it hard to breathe. It’s three AM, and Aziraphale’s coat is wrinkled, and he’s forgotten his book back at the cottage. Crowley’s so angry he hasn’t even put his glasses back on, and his eyes glow yellow in the dark car like another dashboard light as he stares straight ahead. He’d torn out of the drive like - well, a bat out of hell, really - spitting gravel everywhere.88 There’d been no one on the roads at that time of night, and Crowley had hit speeds in excess of 120 mph, and Aziraphale had asked him to slow down, for Heaven’s sake, and then Crowley had called him an old maid, and he’d called Crowley reckless and said he’d get them killed, and Crowley, veering right to pass a truck, sneered, “Already done that, haven’t I?” and Aziraphale snaps, “Again, then.”89 The landscape flashes past them, ghostly in the headlights, the horizon brightening as they approach London at terrific speed. Oh, Aziraphale knew he shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have given into his great weakness, but he didn’t expect this. “Crowley,” he says, “I’m really very sorry. I only thought-”

“What givesss you the right,” Crowley snarls, and Aziraphale realizes that Crowley’s scared. Crowley’d been woken up from a dead sleep with something in his bed that hadn’t been there when he’d gotten in, and then he’d clocked that thing as an angel, and then he’d realized that angel was Aziraphale, and whatever Crowley’s thoughts on that might be, Aziraphale’s not sure, but based on the way he’s gripping the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, it’s not exactly positive. “After everything,” Crowley continues, “I tell you - I tell you, and then you forgive me for it, and then you fuck off back to Heaven, and then you end the fucking world, Aziraphale, and you think you can just pretend none of that happened?”

Aziraphale gulps and gulps again and looks down at his sleeves, which seem to have been caught in a sudden rainstorm. “Crowley,” he tries again as they pull up to the shop, “I’m so very sorry, please-”

“It’s alright,” Crowley says as Aziraphale fumbles to let himself out out of the Bentley, and those words shouldn’t make Aziraphale hope, that’s not Crowley’s understanding tone. “I’m sure I’ll forgive you sometime. How’s next week sound?” he yells after Aziraphale, and pulls away from the curb, a great, dramatic screech of tires that wakes up half the neighborhood.90 Aziraphale stumbles towards the bookshop door, heart pounding in his ears, hand pressed to his mouth to keep the noise in. The door swings open easily for him as he approaches. This is it. He’s home.

≠≠

Of course, it hadn’t gone like his dream, not at all, not really. Aziraphale had read that dreams were frequently amalgamations of things that both had and had not actually happened, twisted up in confusing ways.

In reality, it had been a little more straightforward.

Aziraphale had been given the trumpet to start the end of days, and had been told to blow it. It was his job, his sole purpose as an angel, it was explained to him, and when he’d refused, it had been suggested that if he was unworthy of doing the sole thing he’d been created by Her to do, then perhaps they should alleviate him of that bother, and Aziraphale was about to say Jolly right I resign, and you can stick your trumpet - but then the host had moved in, and he’d realized, swallowing, that they’d meant something a bit more permanent than just resigning. And then Crowley had barged up at the worst possible time, where angels feared to tread and all that, and then Crowley had been hit by all that holy power, a sheer blast to his pure essence, and the worst part was Aziraphale had been able to feel where Crowley was, and then where he wasn’t, something snuffed out in Aziraphale’s own chest, a star extinguished, and Aziraphale felt it, and oh God, it was terrible, and he’d cried out in anguish, Crowley, oh, God, Crowley, please, no, but it was already too late, and when he realized that, he’d raised the trumpet to his lips even as the eyes of the angels gleamed like weapons and he’d blown as hard as he could, took the sum of every single breath this body had ever breathed and poured it into the trumpet, to start the end, where the dead rose and walked the earth once more, and he blew and he blew and he blew, to bring it all down, the sound coming out holy and terrible, rolling out over the world; throughout the earth and across the universe every creature raised their heads and listened, the trumpet said come and see, it said the end has come, it had said, damn you all, because he’s dead.

And Aziraphale had stood there, teeth bared, panting, as at his feet Crowley had stirred and gasped and risen, and said, in a voice like the grave, “Aziraphale, what have you done?”

Keep reading on AO3.

#good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #my fic #aziracrow #aziraphale/crowley

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herebecritters · 4 months

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Please understand that, more often than not, works of fiction are a fictional exploration of concepts and ideas rather than a declaration of morality

#there’s a difference between fiction that condones disgusting things and one that’s breaking them apart and analyzing them through fiction #reading comprehension and understanding context is important YALL #please I beg learn how to separate fiction from reality folks #every so often I’ll see people making WILD claims about a person because they wrote a complex and flawed character #most of the people I know who enjoy exploring dark and questionable themes in their work are the kindest and most selfless people I know #while the people who sit atop a pedestal and judge every aspect of a stranger that they don’t know turn out to be the most selfish and vile #i should not be scared to write a story about morally questionable characters finding humanity #but yet here we are #Ive seen this kinda stuff do more harm than good too many times #sorry to post a hot take #just good lord I’m old I’ve seen this shit too many times #stop eating each other #you will see conflict and dark themes in my stories #if you cant handle messy themes in fiction please feel free to unfollow or block me for your own mental well-being #I’m sure I’ll regret posting this later but just putting it out there #hate being reminded that as a creator strangers are staring at you and making horrifying assumptions about who you are as a person

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adanseydivorce · 1 month

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was bored and did this ya books tier ranker … this is like the only ranked like this I’ve seen include individual books from series rather than just the first idk if I like that more or less

#in some cases it Is useful because I like the wicked king significantly more than the cruel prince for instance. in others it was a bit #confusing. did my best #the top row being trc tid and dosab makes so much sense.#I did try to go left to right in terms of favorite to least favorite in each row but it’s not an exact science #but for instance I def like the lunar chronicles way more than fangirl and they’re both in enjoyable but on different sides #there are also some books I read in high school or younger where I’m kind of dubious where they would rank now. we are okay for instance I #did like when I read it but didn’t have strong emotions vs I feel like if I read it now I’d connect to the subject matter a lot more #and then like fangirl would be the opposite I related to it in 8th grade but if I reread I think it might not hit #I also was mostly guessing about the tmi rankings I’d need to reread to be sure. but ik books 3 and 6 are the ones I liked best so they go #to enjoyable at least #did put all the Mara Dyer books in tier 2 because I just remember them making me so crazy. that should be my next paranormal reread fix nex #time I’m in the mood.#s speaks #s does things

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takeyourcyanide · 1 month

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While the static often brings forth great anguish, it can also be very silly and very funny. And given that I often only speak of the struggle it comes with, I figured I’d share some aspects of it that only make me giggle to myself and think “What the hell?” in a humorous way. (You might not find it super funny, but in comparison to the other more angsty things I tend to post, it’s straight comedy.)

Sometimes, especially when I’m struggling to properly translate the weird language in my head to English and struggling to process thought and such (i.e. thought disorder), I tend to mix up words. And it’s not just the normal accident either, I genuinely cannot say the proper word, my tongue won’t bend to my will at all. It’s certainly frustrating, but also something that tends to make me laugh. For example: one time, I was attempting to convey how I thought that a certain store had a decently wide and variable selection of items. My mouth and brain would not cooperate at all, and I just kept repeating “erection” no matter how hard I tried to form the word “selection.” I’m not choosing from fucking erections.

I often see and feel both pets that I and my relative’s have had in the past and present. For example: we used to have this black cat (that actually looked exactly like Blair, funnily enough, except her name was Mia. She was just as horny, though, and routinely assaulted us all), and I still see her following me around sometimes. I even felt her, along with other pets, sitting in my lap in the car, and could see her from my lower peripheral vision, and began to pet her, until I asked myself, “Did we bring a pet? I didn’t think we did…” And I looked down only to realize that there was nothing there.

When I was really young, and first began experiencing “tripping sober,” (Who says it wasn’t real? Dr. Status Quos 😞) anytime I heard a voice, particularly a male one (more common than female at the time, I hear both more often now, or seemingly sex-neutral voices, as in voices I struggle to tell whether or not are male or female) calling my name or saying something to me, I would automatically ask myself, “Is that the God I’m always told about?” And that right there, folks, is the backstory of a cult leader /hj.

#takeyourcyanide’s ramblings #takeyourcyanide #schizospec #auditory hallucinations #visual hallucinations #or should I say #supposed hallucinations #thought disorder #I’m not sure if I should put a read more thing on this one or not

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deadsetobsessions · 2 months

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Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3][Pt.5][Pt.6][Pt.7]

Danny was sitting in the back, his backpack obnoxiously taking up the seat next to him, when the door to the lecture hall creaked open near silently.

“What are you in here for?” Danny asked the guy who crept into class. He sympathetically took his backpack off the Seat of Shame and allowed the guy to sit down. Funnily enough, they had the same hair and eye color.

“Gen Ed. Undecided. You?” The guy grunted quietly back.

“Environmental studies. I’m Danny.”

“Tim.”

With the implicit understanding of two people in a required class they could not give less than two fucks about, Tim and Danny tuned back into the lecture. When the class was assigned group work, Danny looked over to see Tim softly snoring, head slammed down on the table.

“Tim. Wake up, dude.” Danny poked his shoulder.

“Huh? Class over?”

“Nah, we got group work. Discussion board.”

“Oh shit, thanks for waking me up. Wanna team up?”

Danny shrugged. “Sure. We should aim to post it in the middle so the professor doesn’t read our answers to the class.”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Any idea what we’re talking about?”

“Kind of?”

“Good enough for me.”

——

Tim Drake kept seeing Danny Fenton around on campus.

“Danny! Dude, what are you doing?”

Danny turned, gloved hands full of crumpled trash. “Picking up after the student population, apparently.”

“Didn’t think environmental studies was that serious.”

“Global warming is very serious, you jerk,” Danny smirked at him, crossing the grass to put the trash into the trash can. “Reduce, reuse, oil shouldn’t be spilled in water and all that.”

“Basic stuff,” Tim grinned. Nice, he basically had a friend past Bernard now!

They were friends, right?

“And yet humanity fails to comprehend it. Incredible. Incredibly stupid that is.”

“They get it. Major corporations just don’t care.”

Danny sighed. “True that. You on your way to your next class?” He took off his biodegradable gloves off (nitrile and nylon, baby!) and chucked them into the trash.

“I’ve got free time, actually. Prof cancelled for his daughter’s surgery.”

“Oh, shit, that’s rough! You wanna go downtown and join the strike?”

“A strike? What for?” Even as he asked, Tim hiked his bag higher onto his shoulder, ready to go. They fell into step as the two left campus.

“Apparently, Quillan Pharma was doing some shady shit at their manufacturing plants. I think it’s like killing kids, and pouring toxins into the ground.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. Oh! Poison Ivy’s gonna be there!”

Tim blinked. He casted a sideways look at Danny. Sure he’s been here long enough to know… but it couldn’t hurt to check. “You know she’s an eco-terrorist, right?”

“Okay, but like… people suck sometimes. And all she’s asking for is like don’t kill the planet. And she doesn’t do that whole mind control thing too much anymore! The Sirens are so cool. Plus, one of my best friends at home might actually kill me if I don’t try to get her autograph. Poison Ivy is like, Sam’s personal hero.”

Tim snickered. “Yeah, okay. Mind if one of my friends join? His name’s Bernard.”

“The more the merrier,” Danny nodded. “Ooo! Hot chocolate. Want some?”

Danny bought three drinks as Tim trailed behind, texting Bernard.

“He said yes.”

“Cool! We should meet up somewhere before the drinks get cold.”

Well, Danny got the autograph. Tim got a new friend, and Bernard got a drink from his crush.

——

“Oh, you’re the glowing dude that Batman always talks about!”

Danny blinked, eyes scanning the wing-like cape and the yellow emblem on the hero’s suit. Danny was indeed glowing, stars and nebulas freckling across neon green skin, and glowing hair the color of a white dwarf star, tinged with the blue from his ice core.

“I… have absolutely no idea who you are,” Danny lied, like a liar. He’s found a surprising niche of entertainment in messing with the local vigilantes and he’ll be damned if he missed this opportunity.

He heard a snicker from the comm lines as Red Robin visibly brushes it off.

“I’m Red Robin. Why are you picking up trash?”

“Picking up after you humans, apparently.”

The both of them blink, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. A moment of awkward silence passed before they both shook it off.

“Are you here to help? No offense, but the track record for you people is terrible.” Danny strode over and grabbed a bag. He opened it, and shook it at Red Robin’s face. “See? Batarangs, these odd bird looking ones, the R’s. Seriously, pick up after yourselves!”

“Oh, woah, can we have these back?”

Danny yanked the bag back before Red Robin could get close. “Pay me. These were incredibly tedious to pick up. Especially the batarangs. I mean, I even found a whole bunch of old rusted ones in the middle of the bay. What did you do, dump an entire bag in there from the air?”

Red Robin sighed and took out a wad of cash, with tracking fluid all over it. Danny grimaced, smelling the odd scent on the money. “That’s not real cash. It smells off. Are you trying to give me counterfeits because you’re broke?”

Red Robin gaped, oddly offended. “No! They’re real!”

“Doesn’t smell like it. It’s stinkier than the trash. Go get the one with the money, the litterer. Tell him I’ll be back the next full moon. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Danny grumbled, disappearing on the spot to watch Red Robin flounder with the stack of cash and the piles of dead bodies on the shore.

“What the fuck even is my life these days?” Red Robin wondered out loud, stuffing the cash back into his pocket. He looked over the plastic wrapped bodies and slumped, sighing.

Oddly enough, Danny felt a sense of sympathy. Well, he’s not getting paid for sympathy. He’s not getting paid at all tonight, actually. Danny flew off, plunging once more into the depths of the significantly cleaner waters, and used his ice to scoop out oil stains.

Danny glanced around and sighed. He had a lot of work to do.

——

“So you’re saying he’s like a werewolf mermaid fae child immortal god thing, right?”

Bruce grunted.

“B, what the hell are you smoking these days? You know drugs are bad, right? Do we need Superman to give you that PSA?” Jason snickered.

Tim, massaging his arms from having to haul an ungodly amount of dead bodies, grunted. He’s so similar to Bruce that it gave the people currently in the cave hives.

“He said full moon. I don’t think we can track him with regular stuff. The bugs kept shorting out.”

“Oh boy,” Dick sighed. “Don’t fall off the spiral cliff, Tim. You’ve got midterms to think about so no stalking the guy.”

“Yet,” Tim shot back, changing out of his suit.

Bruce grunted, setting aside a huge stack of cash.

#let Tim Drake go to college you cowards #he got his GED in this one boys #let Tim fucking age #danny phantom #batman #tim drake #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny the tired college student #bamf danny phantom #siren au???#sea cryptic Danny #bro I had war flashbacks to discussion board group work #terrible why do I do this to myself #the batarangs in the middle of the bay was from when Bruce tried to kill the joker and himself #Danny: people just can’t clean up after themselves these days #sea cryptic! danny au

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dancingbirdie · 8 months

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Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him.

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.”

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire.

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way.

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought.

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously.

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering.

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly.

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence.

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.”

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it.

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt.

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him.

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?”

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder.

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished.

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.”

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror.

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed.

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering.

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed.

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot.

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes.

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination.

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master.

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp.

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain.

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion.

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling.

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face.

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand.

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water.

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand.

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty.

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off.

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze.

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try.

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad.

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her.

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question.

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well.

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly.

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her.

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees.

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far.

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed.

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind.

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years.

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare.

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted.

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight.

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady.

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.”

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on.

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession.

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment.

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face.

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest.

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly.

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.”

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much.

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy.

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her.

She held his gaze, speechless.

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation.

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone.

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him.

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded.

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer.

“This… this is nice,” he whispered.

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response.

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next.

#astarion #dancingbirdiewrites #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #astarion x f!reader #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion fic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic

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marvelouslizzie · 7 months

Text

Pretty Little Thing - co-written with @notafunkiller

Summary: Your long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, is a regular at the bar where you work, and tonight, it's impossible to avoid serving him for the first time.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: +18, alcohol, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: @notafunkiller and I merged our separate ideas into one and this is the outcome. It was so much fun to write. We hope it'll me the same while reading too.

All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it’s hate. That’s never welcome.

You thought this night would be calm and easy, that nothing significant would happen. All that changed when Bucky Barnes set foot in the bar. It’s not his first time here by any means, but until now you successfully managed to avoid him by asking the other bartender to serve his side. This time, unfortunately, you are working alone. It’s a slow night, so there’s no way you can really avoid him.

You watch him find an empty place and sit down, and you really don’t know what to do. You can feel yourself sweating already. You are so nervous. Not because you are afraid of him or anything. He doesn’t look scary. Not to you. You are afraid to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you should be able to ask for his order and serve it without messing it up. That’s not so hard.

Just keep it simple, you tell yourself.

“Hey, what can I get you?”

Bucky looks up from his phone straight into your eyes, and you freeze a little.

“Hello, do you... a draft beer, please.”

His answer confuses you. That’s not his usual order.

“You sure you don’t want something stronger? We have that bourbon.” You curse yourself internally for paying attention and not being able to hold your tongue.

He raises his eyebrow surprised. “How do you know that? There is no way you served me any drinks cause I would remember you.”

He frowns as soon as he finishes speaking. Maybe you helped your colleague or maybe you were informed about what he drinks just in case he showed up. He’s still the Winter Soldier after all.

“I never served you before.” You say with a shy smile. You hope this is enough of an answer for him.

“Do I look like a bourbon man?” He asks playfully before giving you a smile that transforms his face a little, softening his features.

“You look like you enjoy quality stuff, and between you and me, our draft beer is shitty.”

That comment makes him chuckle. You’re so distracted by his face that you don’t notice how his eyes fall straight to your breasts.

“Thanks for the tip. Normal beer then?”

“If you insist.” You smile and open the small fridge under the bar where you keep some of the beers. You quickly open it and put it right in front of him, not realizing that gesture shows off your bartender skills a little bit.

He doesn’t look away from you as he takes a big sip before placing the bottle on the table quickly.

“For how long have you been working here?”

“For the past year.” You avoid making eye contact while drying some of the freshly washed glasses.

“Oh.” He sounds kind of taken aback. “I’m surprised you never served me. I’ve been coming here for what? Seven months?”

“Eight.” You bite your bottom lip as soon as the word slips out, trying to shut yourself up so you won’t mess up even more. What were you thinking? Well, you weren't…

His eyes immediately glow, and you wonder if you fucked up for good.

“So you’ve been keeping an eye on me?” He brings the bottle to his mouth and before you can say anything, you watch him finishing it in one go.

“I just noticed you.” Of course, you kept an eye on him, but you played it down a little.

“Well, I didn’t notice you,” he says regretfully. “And I wonder how. I am pretty aware of my surroundings... especially if they are full of beautiful people like you.”

You can’t help but blush, yet you try to sound unaffected. You don’t know if you succeed or not, though.

“This place is usually so crowded and full of… people. So it’s normal.”

“Neah,” he denies immediately. “Have you been hiding or something?”

“I was just on the other side of the bar.” And you were trying to hide from him, saving yourself from this embarrassment because you knew if you talked to him you would fuck up. You were right.

“So I was on the wrong side this whole time.” He shakes his head. “Another beer, please, doll.”

“The same?” You ask while trying not to dwell on the pet name he uses.

“Yes, please. And one drink for you. Whatever you want, if you are allowed to drink, of course.”

The way he offers to buy you a drink surprises you. You feel quite nervous, but you try to maintain your calm. He’s probably just being nice, right?

“I am allowed to drink, but that’s not necessary.”

He pouts. “I didn’t mean you need to talk to me for it, doll. There are no conditions for this drink.”

“Oh.” You didn’t even think he would take it this way. “That’s not why I said it’s not necessary. I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Okay. Whatever you want... I won’t insist.”

“It’s just… I am allowed to drink whatever I want. You don’t need to pay for it.” You try to explain so he won’t take it the wrong way.

“Alright,” he says, a little distant, as you open up another bottle of beer and put it in front of him.

“I just didn’t want you to pay extra when I can get it for free.” You don’t know why you are explaining yourself like this. It’s normal not to accept drinks from customers.

“It’s fine, I totally understand. Thank you!” He reaches for the bottle immediately.

You take a fancy glass out of the rack and pour yourself one of the ready-to-serve cocktails that your colleague prepared, right in front of him. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps staring at your hands.

“Thanks for the drink.” You say while putting the bottle away.

“Me?” He asks surprised. “Thought this is on the bar.”

“Well, you gave me the idea, and if you really insist on spending your money so unnecessarily, who am I to stop you?”

“That’s a good attitude.” He smiles again before bringing his bottle close to your glass. “Cheers to a good Thursday in a lovely company.”

You clink your glass with a smile on your face. It seems like he finally understood your intention, so you feel relieved.

“How does that taste?”

“Don’t let the color fool you, it tastes really strong but delicious.” You look at him for a second and notice that got his interest. “Wanna taste it?” You offer your own drink to him, and he contemplates for a few seconds before leaning in.

“Yes, I am curious.”

You hand the glass to him. Your fingers touch for a second, and you get so excited that you worry about dropping the glass. It’s like your heart is in your throat.

“Your hands are cold,” he comments casually before taking a sip right from the spot covered by your lipstick. You gasp. You have no idea if he did it on purpose, but the way he’s drinking it… your body is responding to that so much. You clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down.

“Delicious.” He smiles, handing back your glass, and you notice a bit of lipstick in the corner of his mouth.

It creates this internal dilemma. Should you just let him know about it or act like nothing happened and let him walk around like this? The second one could cause him a lot of embarrassment, and you don’t wanna be the reason for that. That’s why you suddenly find yourself leaning closer to him, just to wipe the lipstick off. He doesn’t move an inch, not jumping like you would expect, letting you touch him. When you realize what you are doing, you suddenly feel super self-conscious.

“You…” You gulp down. “You have… lipstick on… just here.”

You keep rubbing your finger against the corner of his mouth. You feel his stubble and how soft his lips are, but you try not to think about it. He chuckles, covering your hand with his. It surprises you so much that you freeze for a second. Then you look into his eyes, struggling to see if you made him feel uncomfortable or not.

“So considerate of you. Thank you.”

You move your hand away from his mouth but not away from his touch. Somehow you can’t find the strength to do that.

What he does next, though, makes you completely breathless. He brings your hand to his mouth again, but this time he presses his lips gently against your skin, smiling right after. Your eyes open with surprise, feeling completely speechless, yet you don’t move away. You don’t even realize you are smiling slightly.

“Your hands are still so cold.”

“Yeah…” You try to speak, but it feels like your words are stuck in your throat. “They are always cold.”

“We need to change that.” He places another kiss on your hand.

He’s surprisingly nervous as he leads you to the living room. Based on his confidence back in the bar, you didn’t expect him to become so shy all of a sudden.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“No.” You answer quickly. The only thing you want is to feel his lips again but you keep that thought to yourself.

“What do you want then?”

It’s obvious in his tone and the way he looks at you he doesn’t ask you about drinks.

“You.” You can’t believe you said this out loud, but it’s the truth.

He doesn’t need another push as he comes closer, grabbing you by the chin. Your lips crash together with an almost desperate hunger. He takes the opportunity immediately, getting his tongue inside your mouth in a fervent exploration. The sensation is electrifying.

You let him explore your mouth while you focus on his taste. It’s so unique and tasty, you just can’t get enough of it. Your hands slowly move toward the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels your touch, breaking the kiss just to move his lips to your neck.

“Mhmm… James.” His lips feel so good against your neck. It just sends a jolt of arousal through your body.

But then he freezes, with his mouth glued to your neck. You open your eyes confused wanting to ask him what happened, and that’s when you realize what you’ve just said.

“You know who I am?” His voice is a warm whisper against your skin.

“Of course, I know who you are.” You make it sound so natural as if there’s no way you wouldn’t know who he is. “You think I go to the houses of men I don’t know?” You say playfully.

“I didn’t mean that...” He raises his head from the crook of your neck just to look you in the eye. “I didn’t mean it offensively, I just wasn’t sure. I’m just stupid, I didn’t expect it.”

“I know who you are, James Bucky Barnes.”

“Fuck,” he groans, bringing his thumb to your bottom lip. “Say it again.”

“James Bucky Barnes or just James?”

He kisses you more desperately than before, his hands finding your hips as he gently grabs them, pulling you so close that you can feel his erection. You gasp so softly, but he hears it anyway, and you settle on his hard cock so it’s right against where you want it to be.

He moans. “Let’s go to the bedroom, doll.”

“Why?” You ask innocently as if you don’t know what he means. “Isn’t your couch comfortable enough?”

For him? Sure. But for you?

“The bed is better.”

“Okay.” You sound so obedient suddenly as you wrap your legs around his torso.

He immediately lifts you up without effort, and you smile, letting him carry you toward his room. He’s a super soldier after all. He closes the door with his foot as soon as you’re inside, then he gently puts you on the bed, like he’s afraid you might break. The way he’s acting is so endearing, but you want him to let go really badly. Even the manner he starts to take off your pants is too gentle.

You let him undress you the way he wants, though. Then you move closer to him, taking his clothes off, your movements not as gentle as his. You are impatient and needy. You see him holding his breath when you reach to touch his chest, close to where his metal arm begins, so you lean in to leave a kiss right there. You don’t know if you are crossing a line, but you have to. He should know that this is not something that would bother you, on the contrary, it turns you on even more. When he doesn’t move away from you, you keep kissing around his scars and his chest. Your hand is on his shoulder, gently caressing.

“That feels so good, doll,” he says with a sigh before he grabs your waist. “but it's time for me to eat.”

You find yourself on your back so suddenly that you don’t even have time to react. He quickly settles between your legs and you understand exactly what he meant. He lifts them enough so you can rest them on his shoulders as he gets more comfortable on his tummy. You feel a hole in your stomach immediately. You can’t believe Bucky is between your thighs, about to eat you out.

He’s taking his sweet time at first, kissing down your thighs and even smelling you before he finally brings his tongue to your entrance.

“Come on, James. Don’t tease me.” You look down just to see him smiling.

“Why not? You seem to enjoy it.”

“I would enjoy it more if you stopped teasing and started eating.”

Surprisingly, Bucky doesn’t waste more time and properly starts to fuck you with his tongue. He’s not too quick, nor too slow with his moves, and you’re shocked when he brings his fingers to your mouth.

“Need you to make them wet for me, please.” Even while saying that, he sounded a little too polite.

“On one condition,” you say, looking directly into his eyes. “Stop acting like I am made of glass.”

“But you kinda are.”

“I am not. Believe me.”

He says nothing, making sure to lick your slit before getting his tongue inside you again, his fingers, glued to your lips. You take it as a silent agreement and you open your mouth, suck his fingers, and let him wet them. When he thinks it’s enough, he gently takes them out and brings them right to your clit. He doesn’t touch it directly at first, teasing around it until you move your hips a little, needing to feel your clit stimulated.

“Please.” The way he’s taking his sweet time is so frustrating.

He lets his hand drop and instead of feeling his fingers on your clit, you feel his tongue at the same time he gets a finger inside you. You moan loudly, finally getting what you wanted from the start.

His other hand reaches for yours when he hears you grabbing the sheet, and you immediately hold it, enjoying how his cold metal feels. When you feel the second finger and he scissors both of them inside you, you’re shocked by how close you suddenly are. You can’t help but arch your back and move your hips, needing it faster.

He reads the signals pretty quickly and lets you use his mouth while he keeps pumping his fingers. It doesn’t take long for you to gasp, moan, and start to shake because of the pleasure he’s giving you.

“James! Shit. I’m- gonna… ahh… come.”

You moan louder than you expected, dropping your head against his sheets, possessed by a great wave of pleasure. You want to tell him not to stop anything, but you can’t. And you don’t need to as he keeps licking and fingering you while you ride your orgasm out, prolonging it as much as possible.

When it’s done, you are feeling so good yet you are hungry for more. You raise your head a little and see Bucky still between your legs, but this time his beard is covered with your slick. He looks so handsome. His blue eyes are shining and his hair is all messy. It makes you wanna kiss him and that’s exactly what you do. You reach down to him, and he meets you in the middle, kissing you the way he was just eating you out: with passion and hunger.

He’s less gentle than before as you feel his hands grabbing your breasts, but it’s still not enough. You cover his hands with yours and push him to grab them harder than before. You let out a muffled moan while kissing him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You find yourself blushing like you two aren’t having sex. To mask your reaction, you reach out to his hard cock, gently grabbing it.

“Oh god,” he groans as he instinctively squeeze your breasts harder.

“Mhmm, yes.” You lean into his touch. “Just like that.”

Bucky looks at you as if you said something shocking. Is he not used to communicating during sex?

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“You’re surprising me for someone so delicate.”

“I told you, I am not.”

He smiles. “Do you wanna help me put on a condom then?”

“I would love to, but…” You smile. “What if I told you I am clean and on the pill?”

“Fuck, I need you.” He kisses you suddenly. “Now.”

“I am right here.” It sounds so calming. “You can take me however you want.”

You’re not only on your back in the next second, but you also have his cock lined up at your entrance.

“Jesus, doll! For a pretty little thing, you’re quite nasty.”

“I just know what I want.” And this is it.

He nods, wrapping your legs around his ass at the same time he pushes inside you. In a second, your head is thrown back while you moan loudly. The way he fills you is so delicious. It makes you feel so full but not uncomfortable.

“You’re taking me so well already.”

“Please…” You raise your hips to create more friction. “Please, move.”

He brings his mouth to your breast a little before he starts thrusting, making sure to leave a small hickey right on top of it. It hurts so good, and you moan without holding back. It is music to Bucky’s ears. He just wants to hear it again, so he does it again.

“You want it rough, don’t you?” He thrusts harder than before. “You’re so needy.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is so shaky already. “I told you already.”

“Told me what?” He teases. “I don’t remember.”

“That I am not made of glass.”

“No, you are made for me.” He brings his hand to your face to move the hair strands that cover your eyes. “For my cock.”

“In that case…” You don’t know where the sudden rush of confidence comes from. “You are made for me. To fill me up.” You move your hips again, trying to fuck yourself on him.

“Oh, god. You’re so fucking wet,” he moans. “I am, I’m gonna fill you up so much.” He kisses you suddenly, your teeth almost crashing together because of the thrusts, but you don’t care.

“Can’t wait.” You tease him. “Don’t hold back, okay?”

He says nothing, letting his head drop a little so he can suck on your neck properly. He’s definitely fucking you harder. He pulls until he’s almost completely out of you before thrusting inside you again. And again. And again. It takes your breath away. The way it makes you feel is indescribable. You lose the little remaining control you had and just turn into a moaning mess.

“Say my name, baby. C-come on.”

“James?” You sound hesitant even if you don’t mean to because you don’t know which name he wants to hear.

“Again,” he begs, his metal arm on your leg pushing it right against his ass.

“James!” This one comes out so naturally. No questions, no hesitation. You just breathe out his name with a moan.

“God, you look so beautiful. So pretty with my cock inside you.” His thrusts get faster, and you have no idea how he can speak so well while you’re a mess.

“I’m so close,” you can barely say without taking a breath in the middle of the sentence.

“What do you want?”

“Just… harder.”

“Like this?” He asks, suddenly thrusting a little harder than before. “Or like this?”

“This! Yes! Just like this!”

“You just want it hard.” He whispers against your ear. “What a dirty girl.”

You hear him, but you can’t respond. You are too busy coming all over his cock, and it feels like you are in heaven. He continues to fuck you as the pleasure fades away, murmuring how pretty you are and how good you make him feel before he comes, too, grabbing the bedpost behind you with his metal arm. It makes a clicking sound, but you don’t care, opening your still foggy eyes just to watch him.

There’s so much come. You can already feel it dripping out of you as he keeps fucking you. You expect it to end soon, but it doesn’t. It goes on and on. The way he loses control as he comes just triggers another orgasm out of you. You would be surprised how quickly you could come again if it didn’t feel overwhelmingly good. You can’t think about anything other than him and the way he makes you feel.

His come is getting all over your thighs and ass, and the bed, as he moans. “Kakaya khoroshaya devochka.” What a good girl.

You can’t help but laugh despite not understanding a word of what he says. “Is that Russian?”

He opens his eyes, and the blue you love is almost completely grey. “Yes.” He sounds confused, too.

“What does it mean?” Your afterglow can’t overshadow your curiosity. “If you don’t tell me, this isn’t happening again.” You try to make it obvious you aren’t serious with your playful tone. Especially not after those orgasms.

“Look at you, little and feisty, blackmailing me.” He chuckles before leaving a kiss on your lips. “I told you what a good girl you are. I didn’t realize I spoke in Russian.”

You laugh a little. “Say it again.” You give him the cutest look. “Please?”

“Ty moya khoroshaya devochka.” He repeats softly. You’re my good girl.

You don’t even realize how content you look as you keep smiling.

“Now, I can get used to that.”

“Say my name again, please.”

You love the neediness in his voice. “James?” You tilt your head a little. “Or would you prefer Bucky?”

“Fuck, it doesn’t matter.” His thumb is suddenly on your lips. “I can get used to that, too.”

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unkreativstermensch · 8 months

Text

"Still super jealous as hell by the way.“

"Okay, now, can you…get outta my face?“ Steve annoyedly swats a hand at Eddie’s chest and ducks out of his space.

Eddie sighs and shakes his head. "Why are you-" He purses his lips, thinks. "You don’t…you still don’t like me very much, do you?"

At that Steve stops walking, huffs out an annoyed breath and presses his eyes closed. He turns to Eddie, looks at him with an expression Eddie can’t read and says, "No, Eddie. No, I don’t."

Eddie just watches him for a second, not sure what to do, studies his face, the furrow between his brows, the clear discomfort in his expression.

He scoffs. Getting a little angry. "Jesus, man,“ he says. "You just can’t get over it, huh? And here I was rambling on about how you were actually a good dude after all, but…no, turns out Steve Harrington is still just as much stuck in his stupid high school mindset as I would have thought.“

Steve just looks more annoyed now, a slight shift in his eyebrow and…he looks…frustrated? A little? How does that make sense?

"You,“ Steve says, voice low, but not because of the monsters, Eddie knows that much, "are unbelievable.“

Eddie blinks. "What?“

"Eddie, you’re the one who can’t get over it,“ Steve accuses him. "You always talk about that non-conformist shit and how people should just stop with the categories and drawers and labels but, dude, you’ve never judged people that way yourself! I have been saved in your brain as this dumb idiot jock ever since you’ve known me and…“ Steve huffs out an unbelieving breath. "And Eddie, I don’t know what to tell you…but you’ve never been nice to me. Ever. And when Lucas made the basketball team, which is amazing, by the way, you weren’t proud of him or supported him for that incredible achievement like you should have if he’s really one of your 'little sheep‘.“ He draws quotation marks in the air. "You punished him for it. You said you can’t make Hellfire? Fuck you. I’m just gonna have the most important part of the campaign without you, because you know what, you don’t deserve us anymore now that you’ve joined the dark side. Now that you’ve taken up a…a jock game. Because god forbid, somebody could actually ever enjoy playing sports.“

Eddie can’t follow. His mind’s lagging behind, still stuck on Steve apparently knowing DnD terms and saying he was never nice to him and-

Steve takes another step back.

"Eddie, for as long as I can remember you hated me. And yeah, sure, I was stupid and I did some stupid things, but…“ he shrugs one sided. "But I don’t think I deserve to be treated that way. I think I at least deserved a chance. And you never gave me one.“

Eddie blinks. "What do you mean I never gave you a chance, I-"

"Biology, sophomore year,“ Steve interrupts him. "We were assigned lab partners. I tried to really…put all of it aside, tried to get to know you, because actually, Eddie, you know what? I was sort of obsessed with you. Because you were so…loud and so unashamedly yourself, I admired you so much. You didn’t care about anything and you stood up for yourself and that’s something I’ve never been able to do, my whole life. I…“ Steve looks down, sighs a little. "I let people push me around because it’s the only way I feel like I can be of use. But you…you made me believe that maybe actually I…could do it, you know? Like, tell Tommy H. off or something…“ He looks so hurt. Eddie kind of wants to die. "But you…you acted like it was the worst thing ever, getting partnered with me. You didn’t even look at me. You…never gave me a chance, Eddie. So…sorry if one 'you’re actually a good dude, Harrington' doesn’t make me forget all of that, make up for it. Because I’m not so sure I believe you.“

Oh.

Oh no.

Eddie fucked up.

#Steve is so wrong about what made eddie act like that #my boy had a crush #a bad one #steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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atlabeth · 27 days

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take my breath away

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you help spencer train for his fitness exam. he kind of just wants to kiss you.

a/n: some fluff (and something short) after i broke my own heart (and my brain) in my last hotch fic! i’m truly in my criminal minds era. enjoy

wc: 1.3k

warning(s): reader is a runner so im sorry to my unathletic friends. but this is all fluff

“Spence,” you said, unable to bite back your smile, “how are you this bad at running?”

“I’m—” he held up a finger as he caught his breath and shook his head. “I’m not bad at running. My form… is perfect.”

“We barely made it a mile in,” you said, and you chuckled as he keeled over, his hands on his knees. “It can’t be that perfect.”

“It is,” he insisted, on the edge of wheezing. “I’m just unathletic.”

“You never did sports as a kid?”

“I graduated high school at twelve,” Spencer breathed. “I was too busy studying. Reading. Doing anything other than sports.” He looked at you and shook his head. “And I’m not crazy like you.”

Your smile only grew. “You should put your hands over your head. It helps get more air in.”

“That’s actually a rumor.” He shook his head again. “When you raise your arms, muscles that contribute… to the bucket handle movement of your ribs—” He heaved a sigh, his brows furrowing, and again, you held back a smile. You were sure this was one of his only weaknesses. “—they’re not able to function properly.”

“Alright, genius,” you said, mockingly but with love. “Recover however you like. You clearly need it.”

Spencer pouted as he straightened up, his whole face contorted in discomfort. When your boyfriend asked you to help him train for his upcoming fitness test, you didn’t think much of it—you got a full ride through college because of track, and you keep healthy with morning runs, so you were happy to help.

You’d thought about straight up offering a myriad of times—mostly after bearing witness to his attempts at running in the field. One time, the two of you were paired up to do some interviews, and it ended in a chase. By the time Spencer caught up, nearly dying on the sidewalk, you already had the unsub subdued and cuffed.

(It took him a while to live that down with Morgan.)

Spencer was gifted at other things, sure—not just everyone is a classified genius with an eidetic memory, and he’s the youngest recruit in history—and you loved him more than anything. But you couldn’t not make fun of him, just a little bit.

His face was still red, his glasses fogging up a bit from the humidity, and his hair was a mess, so you moved closer in order to brush the stray strands out of his face.

“Running isn’t my thing,” he said. “Well— fitness isn’t my thing. I’ve got everything else covered.”

“Oh yeah?” You started smoothing back the strands of his hair, and you offered a crooked smile. “Then why are we out here trying to improve your mile time?”

“Because it would be nice if Gideon doesn’t have to get all my fitness stuff waived again, and if I want that, I need the help.” His eyes didn’t leave yours, and once you finished, your hands lingered on his cheeks. You nudged his glasses back up to their spot. “And I think I’d run a marathon and die trying if it meant I got to spend more time with you.”

Your eyebrows rose. “If you want to run a marathon, I could probably get you there. It would take a lot of time together, though.”

“Please, no,” Spencer breathed. “Just the time together part.”

You grinned, and you patted him on the cheek before you pulled away. “Running is good for the soul. Why do you think I’m so happy all the time?”

“Well, this morning you said you were happy because of me,” he said. “Yesterday, it was because we had our first case-free weekend in two months. The other day—”

“That coffee I had?” you interrupted.

He nodded. “How’d you know?”

“Because you made it for me,” you said, “and I love it when you do that.”

Spencer shrugged. “You do it all the time for me. It’s only fair.”

“But that’s proof,” you said. “Running does make you happy.”

“Running does release endorphins, but anyone who likes it is crazy,” he repeated.

“That doesn’t sound scientifically backed.”

“The way I feel right now beats science,” Spencer huffed. “And you’re not happy all the time. You frowned 23 times while writing up your last report.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You were watching me? And counting?”

He shrugged. “You’re nice to watch.”

“Very smooth, Dr. Reid,” you said cloyingly. “But flattery won’t get you out of this.”

“I’m not trying to get out of anything!” he defended. You stared at him, and he held up his hands. “Okay— only halfway. But you are nice to watch. That’s why I’m still here.”

“If you’re watching me while we run, that might be why you’re doing so badly,” you said, amused.

“No—I think it’s the only thing keeping me going.”

“You don’t really look like you’re still going,” you said wryly. “You should be good at this. You’ve got long legs.”

Spencer shook his head as he screwed his eyes shut. He let out one last breathy sigh, and you hoped he’d finally recovered. “Also largely a rumor. It’s more about leg strength compared to bodyweight—long legs help with lengthy strides, but you need to generate enough torque to move faster than with shorter legs.”

You smiled. “You’ve still got facts? Even while you’re dying?”

“Mostly because Elle’s said it before too. She says I look like a baby giraffe learning how to walk when I run.” Spencer shook his head again. “I think the only thing my height is good for is getting things off of shelves.”

For once, you tried to reign in your joking. “Is there anything I can do to help? I don’t want this whole thing to be miserable for you. Running should be fun.”

“We can stop doing this?” he suggested. “I can let go of what’s left of my pride, get all my fitness stuff waived again, and go back to figuring out cases in an air conditioned conference room?”

You smiled, and you moved closer. “How about this?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you pulled him in for a kiss by the front of his shirt, effectively cutting him off. He hesitated for less than a split second, but his hands fell to your waist as he brought you in closer.

When you let go and moved away, he still had them there, and he was smiling like an idiot.

“Does that help?” you asked innocently, tilting your head.

“Yeah,” Spencer said, nodding rapidly. “Uh— yeah. I actually think I could go for another mile now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you ruffled his hair, messing up your earlier work. “I’d love to test that, pretty boy, but I don’t think you can make it another mile.”

Spencer shook his head. “If you keep kissing me like that, I think I can make it through that marathon you mentioned.”

“Sure I don’t take your breath away too badly?” you teased.

“I have some facts for that, but I don’t think they apply.” His lips curved up, and the redness from exertion mixed with his steadily rising blush. “Because you, uh— you did take my breath away the first time I saw you.”

“I should start calling you loverboy with material like that,” you mused. “Morgan’s annoyed that I took pretty boy from him.”

Spencer grimaced. “Just thinking of Morgan seeing me like this makes me want to get back at it. I can’t deal with any more of his teasing.”

“But my teasing’s okay?”

He frowned. “Of course. It— it’s kind of why I fell for you.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “That’s why you’re still at this. You don’t like things being handed to you.”

His cheeks darkened again, and you laughed as you leaned in to peck him on the lips one more time.

“Alright, loverboy,” you said. “Ready to get back at it?”

“No,” he said affirmatively. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“Not if you want to pass,” you said wryly, and you gestured back at the trail with your head. “But you know what they say—one step at a time.”

Spencer grumbled, and he shook his arms out again. “Fine. As long as those steps are with you.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

#i know this scene in the show does not happen in s2 but i alsoooo do not care lol. canon continuity is dead to me in my fics #s2 spence my beloved<3 #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #x reader #sadie writes

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pholla-jm · 2 months

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Heir

IMAGINE: HEIR ~ SUKUNA X WIFE!READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: sukuna is a bit ooc. fem!reader. not proof read. set in the heian era. true form sukuna. ***************

If someone were to tell Sukuna that in some years that he would have a wife, he would laugh at them… and then kill them.

But here he was, thinking about how his beautiful wife looked with a small bump on her tummy. It’s all he could think about really. Ever since he found out his wife is pregnant, his view of the world changed.

Sure, he still thinks that humans were lowly disgusting vile, but the world seemed like a better place with you and his future child in it.

His every day activities seemed a little less fun now, and all he thought about was getting back home to his wife.

After a day full of people worshiping him and some killing, he made his way back to his castle. Where his wife should be patiently waiting for him.

********

“What do you think you’re doing?” You hear the deep voice of your husband call out causing you to jump a little.

He had found you in a different room. It was bare at first, but you were starting to add things to the room.

You were working on a traditional crib for the baby, having different silks laid out in front of you to choose.

It was a bit early to start getting ready for the baby, but you were too excited.

You turn to look at him. He towered over you, with his four arms crossed as he looked at you with a disappointed look.

“I just want to make sure that the baby’s room is going to be perfect.” You say turning back to the silks.

Sukuna hums, sitting down next to you while observing the objects in front of you.

“How long have you been doing this?” You shrug, “not that long.”

“You could always have the servants do this, you know? You shouldn’t be working so hard.”

“Yeah, I know. I just feel like if I do this myself, it feels more special.”

Sukuna breathes out a happy breath, leaning his chin on one of his fists. He knew that you would make a great mother. Someone that is nurturing, and he knows that his future son will be loved and taken care of.

“Still, you should be taking care of yourself. It’s important that you and our son are completely healthy.”

You perk up hearing the word ‘son’. “Son? It’s a bit too early to know the gender.”

Sukuna just smirks, eyeing you up and down. “Trust me, I know it’s going to be a boy.” You laugh, “oh yeah? How so?”

He points at your belly, “It’s lower. A low stomach means it’s going to be a boy.”

Your eyes widen and you look away from him in disbelief. “Where did you even hear that? I didn’t know you believed in old wives tales anyway.”

“It’s not an old wives tale if it’s the current talk.” “The current talk? What, are you gossiping with the local ladies now?” You laugh at the idea of Sukuna gossiping causing him to frown. “Whatever woman. What they say is true.” “Okay, we’ll see.”

"I don't want you working on this room by yourself anymore. I have to be here to help you, okay?" You nod your head, a bit happy that Sukuna came up with a quick compromise. "Sound good to me. You can do all the heavy lifting."

Sukuna nods, then points at one of the silks that are laid out in front of you. It was a darker colored one, something that you knew he would like. “This one. It’ll be great for our son.”

You decide not to comment on the son thing again. With a smile, you pick it out and put it to the side.

Pushing your hands on the ground, you start to get up from the ground. “What are you doing?” “I have to use the bathroom.” You say. However, Sukuna gets up faster than you. He gently picks you up, carrying you bridal style. “I can walk by myself.” You tell him with a small smile.

You appreciate that Sukuna doted on you like this, but you don’t know how long you would be able to babied like this.

“When I’m around, you’re not doing a single thing. You understand?”

With a content sigh, you relax in his arms. Head resting on his shoulder, hearing the faint sound of his heartbeat.

“Yes, my beloved, I understand.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #oneshot #jjk fluff #jjk #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff

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rreids · 1 month

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PRACTICE RUN • S. REID X READER

fluff, based on a scene at the end of 1 x 04 , going on a platonic date with spencer (for him to know what it's like) that becomes very real, kissing, silly little facts (again, very loosely verified, read everything i say ever with a grain of salt), ~1.3k

“Spence?” You ask, glancing at the clock on your nightstand. It’s 10:30, everyone had left the BAU around 8 after finishing up paperwork on the latest case. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, exactly,” Spencer mumbles. “You know how I went to that baseball game with JJ? Last week?”

”Yeah. You have fun?”

”Yeah. I mean, I guess.” He sighs. “I think Gideon meant for me to ask her out like a date,”

”Did you want it to be a date?” You sit up slowly, tugging your blanket over your knees and putting your phone on speaker so you can rest your cheek on your propped legs.

”No.” He pauses. “But I want to know how to ask someone out. In case I ever want to in the future.”

”Well,” you stretch and yawn a little. “Do you want me to explain it?”

”Would you?” You can perfectly imagine the way his face lights up from the way his voice pitches up alone.

”Of course, Spence,” you smile. “The best thing to do is make your intentions clear. Either have established that you like them, or make it clear when you ask. Try to ask them to do something, just the two of you, that is a shared interest between you two.”

He hums.

”For example, you like film viewings and stuff, right?” He mumbles a soft agreement. “So, it could be something like ‘Hey, I got tickets for this movie on — and then whatever day —, I was thinking the two of us could go. I’d like to see it with you.’”

”That easy?”

”That easy. Sometimes I like to say ‘it’s a date,’ when they agree, just to make sure they’re clear on my intentions. Never a bad idea to be explicit in your communication.”

”You go on a lot?” He asks curiously. “Of dates, I mean. You said that’s something you like to say,”

”Not recently, but in college,” you smile softly. “Not everyone was 16 when they were in higher education,”

Spencer chuckles. “You’re right. Are they any… fun?”

”You don’t know?”

”No one ever asked me out. Or maybe they did. I’m not good at that type of stuff. What do people even do on dates?”

”Talk,” you chuckle. “Enjoy one another’s company. Really, it’s just any old hangout with different emotions.”

Spencer sighs, voice petulant when he speaks again. “Emotions are confusing,”

”I have an idea,”

“What is it?”

”How about I take you on a practice run date? So you know what it’s like.”

”Isn’t that weird?”

”If you make it weird,” you tease. “It’s up to you. We’ll treat it like a date but go as friends, just so you can get used to that type of environment and its expectations,”

Spencer clicks his tongue, and you picture him pursing his lips in contemplation. “You promise I won’t feel weird?”

”I can’t control your emotions, Spence, but I promise to treat you like normal.”

He’s silent for a bit. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat with a smile. “I’ll plan everything. Just tell me if you change your mind,”

.°. ݁₊ . ݁ ⁺₊

When you and Spencer finally have time, it’s when you’re off work for a day after a rough week in Montana. He’s dressed pretty normally, but he took more time than normal to try to tame his hair, and he’s fidgeting with the cuffed sleeves of his undershirt as you walk up.

“Spencer,” you call and he looks up, smiling nervously. “You ready?”

“What exactly should I be ready for?”

“I decided we should go to an aquarium. That okay?”

“We have a shared interest in fish?” He asks, incredulous, recalling you saying a date had to be something both parties liked. “It’s fish.”

“The information,” you poke his side. “You like learning. It’s cool, I promise. And you can even point at the ugly fish and say they look like me.”

Spencer tilts his head. “Why would I do that? You’re not ugly.”

You smile, unsure of how to respond. “Come on.”

He listens, and it’s a little awkward, him silent and studying you. There’s so much tension that you’re unexpectedly and uncharacteristically a little quiet, looking at the way the cyan lights in the tanks flicker and reflect in his eyes, making them into inky pools of brown, black, and bluesin the low lighting.

You realize he looks pretty… cute.

“Spencer,” you whisper, snapping him from his laser focus on a sign about knobbed whelks. “You’re meant to talk to me.”

“Sorry,” he whispers back. “I just—”

“Think they’re cool?” You ask lightly.

“Yeah.”

“You want to go see the otters?” You question, grabbing his hand in yours. “They hold hands like this when they’re asleep, so they don’t drift apart and lose each other.”

He stares down at your hand, mouth dropped a little as you dragged him. “Is that why you’re holding mine? So I don’t get lost or separated from you.”

“Yeah.” You grin at him and he smiles back, letting you pull him along.

The otters are cute, and he’s fascinated by them. “I never knew they were so vicious…” he trails off as he reads the sign, looking at one with big round eyes that stares at him through the glass.

“Maybe we can profile our next unsub as an otter.”

Spencer snorts. “Yeah, whenever we get a killer who throws their victims on rocks repeatedly. That’d be a signature.”

You smile and look at his profile in the glowing light.

“What?” He asks, shying from the intensity of your gaze.

“People normally look at the person they’re on a date — fake… date — with.”

“Do they always look this intently at them?”

“Sometimes,” you fix his collar where it’s flopped over a little. “When they want to kiss them,”

You trail your fingers from his collar over his neck briefly before dropping your hand, and you feel his pulse racing.

“Do you kiss people on fake dates? Or practice dates?”

“Most people don’t go on those, Spence. But normally, you ask if you can kiss the person — through body language or verbally, and kiss them.”

Spencer falls quiet, following you towards the sharks slowly before catching your wrist in a dim part of the corridor, and you can barely make out the way his tongue darts over his lower lip.

“How does that body language look? So I can identify it,”

Your heart races, and you step closer to him, breathing in the scent of his cologne. Your eyes partially close just from the anticipation. You let your hands rest on his shoulders, meet his gaze before lowering it to his lips and dragging it back on, curling your fingers on his collar. “Like this.”

Spencer swallows, and moves his hands shakily to your waist.

He waits for you to look at him, and then copies you, eyes falling to your mouth before sliding back up your face.

You kiss him and he startles a little, stiffening under you before sighing and awkwardly trying to match you.

His eyes shut instinctively and remain like that even as you pull back, cheeks so red you can see it despite the lack of light.

“I don’t know… how… to kiss.” Spencer mumbles. “I’ve read a lot, but you’d be surprised how little there is other than facts that roughly 60% of couples tilt their heads to the right to kiss, and that many recipients of kisses will tilt to the right if the person kissing them is doing—”

You kiss him again.

“Later, Spencer. We’re on a date.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “A real one?”

“Unless you kiss everyone you hang out with, yeah,”

“No, no, I don’t.” He clears his throat. “But did you know it’s—”

“Safer than shaking hands when it comes to the amount of pathogens transferred. I know.” You hold his hand firmly in yours. “Now we’re doing both.”

not proofread, like always. i'm trying to improve my characterization still so please forgive that it's still clumsy. i am also a stickler for cute awkward spence so. expect that too

#my works #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #cm spoilers #requested

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dudeitiskarev · 2 months

Text

I Want to Hold Your Hand | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau female reader

Summary: Hotch sends you home and you almost die, which only makes him realize how much he truly loves you.

Word count: 2.4k.

Tags/warnings: hurt/little comfort; season 1 Hotch my beloved <3; canon typical violence; Haley and Jack don’t exist in this universe oopsies; angst with happy ending; Hotch is a baby; probably very inaccurate medical talk bc all I know is from Grey’s; not beta read + English isn’t my first language so good luck with that.

Author’s note: remember when I said I was probably done writing for a Hotch? Turns out all I had to do was stop taking my antidepressant 🙄 anyway, don’t get your hopes high. I just needed to take a break from my never-ending Spence fic so I wrote this. Which is basically a rewrite of what happened with Elle. I just wanted to make Hotch suffer a little so I hope you like it!

MASTERLIST

A few hours ago, Aaron kissed the top of your head and sent you back to the hotel with a police officer.

Now, he was in a hospital waiting room with his heart in his throat, hoping the doctor would show up with good news.

You’d been attacked in your hotel room, and it was his fault.

“They’re gonna set up a bed for you in her room.” Jason walked in with a cup of coffee for Aaron. His fourth one already.

“She’s… not out of surgery yet,” Aaron shut his eyes. “We don’t know if —”

“The hospital chief, I know him.” Gideon sort of smiled. “I asked him if he could go check on her. All I know is that they’re closing her up now.”

The words began to sound far and faded as if Aaron was underwater. His vision blurred and his legs would’ve given up if he wasn’t sitting down already.

It was his soul returning to his body.

He didn’t want to get his hopes high, though. If they were closing you up it meant you were alive, but nothing else. There could be a hundred things wrong with you while being alive.

All he could do was nod and put his hands together over his lips like a prayer.

You were alive.

“The doctor should be here with the updates any minute now.” Jason sat next to Aaron and gave him a gentle tap on his back.

Gideon knew. Even when Hotch hadn’t told anyone about his feelings—not even you—he spent most of his day with profilers so of course the best one in his team knew about it.

“I’m heading back to the hotel soon,” Gideon continued. “See what the hell happened. Why… How did they let the unsub enter her room. Garcia should be landing soon. We need to check every security camera.” He smacked his tongue in disappointment and shook his head.

Aaron rose from his seat and tried his best to at least let his shoulders relax but every bit of him had turned into concrete.

“Where are Reid and Morgan?” He asked, pacing back and forth and stretching his neck from one side to the other. Even in moments like this, he needed to know where the rest of his people were. Especially in moments like this.

“Back at the local PD,” Gideon answered.

“JJ?”

“She’s talking to the hotel manager, making sure none of the employees makes any declaration to the press before we catch the guy.”

Aaron nodded, and soon, the doctor walked into the room with the updates.

“Surgery was a success,” he began. “We managed to repair all the damage and save her lung. Now, she flatlined once in the ambulance and then again during surgery so her brain has been through a lot.”

It wasn’t the time to profile anyone, but the way the doctor couldn’t keep eye contact for longer than two seconds told Aaron he was aiming at something more serious.

“Just tell us.” Aaron rubbed his thumb with his fingers.

“She’s not breathing on her own yet and according to her EEG, her last exam, her brain is swollen. It may take her a while to wake up.” The doctor gulped. “If she wakes up.”

Aaron’s entire world crumbled once again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and walked to a corner to pull himself together.

This was his fault. You might never wake up and it was his fault.

“When can we see her?” Gideon asked for him.

“You can see her now but… you need to be prepared. A machine is breathing for her. There’s a tube down her throat and it might be a lot to look at.”

Just picturing you like that turned his stomach upside down.

God, if you don’t ever wake up—

“She’s gonna wake up.” Penelope’s voice entered the room and so did the light she carried everywhere.

She was one of Aaron’s comfort people. If Penelope was there, there was hope.

“Garcia,” Jason said in a don’t tone.

“She’s strong.” Penelope walked up to Hotch anyway. “And people wake up from comas. Miracles happen and—” Her eyes filled with tears once she touched Hotch’s arm to get his attention. “She needs us, she needs you. And we need her.”

Garcia also knew, apparently. And if she knew without being a profiler, everyone else knew.

“I found this.” She handed Hotch a Polaroid picture of you. You were leaning on Garcia’s desk, your arms folded over your chest and with your sweet, sweet smile. There was the hope. “I took it a while ago and kept it on my desk along with the others but…”

Aaron took it with a shaky hand. You were mesmerizing.

“García,” Gideon insisted.

A nurse interrupted to let them know they could see you now.

“You go,” Gideon said to Hotch, taking a step back. “Just call me if anything changes. Garcia, you’re coming with me.”

“Yes, sir.” Penelope gave Hotch one last hopeful smile before following Jason out.

Aaron looked at your photo again and took deep breaths to gather himself as walked to the endless hall that took him to you.

“We’ll set up your bed in a few.” The nurse smiled at him, gesturing for him to go in. “She looks good. It might not look like it because of all the machines but she’s doing good. She’s a strong woman.”

Aaron said a quiet thanks before the nurse left.

It was just you and him.

The steady beeping of the machine brought him a sense of comfort—it meant you were alive—yet his feet were hesitant to take him next to you. He stood at the door for a moment, watching you from afar.

As the doctor had said, it was a lot to look at. It reminded him of the last time he saw someone close to him like this: his father. The difference was that back then, he couldn’t wait for his dad to die.

Today, he’d found himself praying multiple times to a god he wasn’t even sure existed most times.

He dared to move and when he reached your side, he almost crumbled. You had a few bruises on your left cheek, your knuckles were split—you even had a broken finger, and you looked beautiful as ever. He wished he could see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, catch you smiling at him.

Guilt brewed at the pit of his stomach again. He should’ve gone with you. He should’ve been with you.

He lifted one hand to stroke your head and tears welled up as soon as his skin touched yours. His chin quivered and he sniffled quietly as tears threatened to spill. He used the heel of his hands to dry them away. He couldn’t cry, even if you were in a coma and couldn’t see him like this—broken. You believed people’s energy had effects on others, and you needed him to be strong. He needed to be more like you.

His bed was set soon after, right next to you. His eyes were heavy, and his muscles were sore. Even then, he couldn’t bring himself to lie down. He was scared to close his eyes. What if you died while he was asleep? He stayed sitting down, holding your hand and never losing sight of you.

“It’s raining,” he said out loud, talking to you. “Every time it rains I think of you.”

He smiled at the memories. You’d shown up at his office for your interview drenching, and he was smitten from the very first moment he laid eyes on you.

“Agent Hotchner,” your perky voice caught him off guard. No one inside the BAU building was perky—besides Garcia.

You stood by the door, both hands behind your back waiting for his signal to come in.

“Please.” He gestured with his hand to the seat across from him.

He took half a second to study you quickly. Raindrops were gathered over the shoulders of your blazer and your mascara was a bit smudged under your eyes.

“Forgot your coat, agent?” He commented, peeling his eyes off you and reading through your resume.

“Didn’t think I’d be raining by the time I arrived, sir. I don’t keep an umbrella in my car either. I apologize for my… appearance.”

It wasn’t your appearance that got you on his team, it was your outstanding resume. It made him wonder why you chose to apply to the Behavioral Analysis Unit instead of staying at ViCAP. Your performance there was impeccable.

“I wasn’t feeling comfortable there anymore,” was your answer. “And I want to seek other paths, sir. And I know I’m a good fit for your team.”

You started the very next day, and he partnered up with you to keep an eye on you during your first cases. You were a quick thinker, were fast on your feet, and stayed calm under critical situations.

Not once he felt at a disadvantage in the field for working with the new kid, which only showed him how good you naturally were. He was drawn to you and it wasn’t just because of your professionalism.

It was your fast food order. It was the first joke you ever made that only made him laugh. It was your perfume, the way you spoke with your hands, and how you raised your brows when making a point.

Everything about you made him take a deep breath. You made him dizzy. Lightheaded. Drunk.

Exactly how he felt right now while holding your hand, except that now, the room was spinning at the mere thought of losing you.

“I love you,” he murmured, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your bruised knuckles with shaky lips. “I love you.”

He’d never said it before. He didn’t know he did until now.

“God, I love you so much. From the moment I saw you, you lit up my life. You made it better, made me better.” He kept talking to you, hoping that his voice would heal everything inside you. “I can’t lose you. I won’t make it.”

Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.

The rain stopped, the hours passed, and the sun never came out.

It’d been two weeks and he’d already made the habit of reading you at night.

“Studies have shown that playing music they really like and talking to the person in a coma increases their chances of waking up,” Spencer had said the day the entire team came to visit you.

Most nights he read case files. Others, he liked to read poetry.

You still hadn’t woken up, but the music, the poetry, and the flowers didn’t stop.

“I hope you don’t mind if I read something by Neruda,” Aaron said as he sat on the chair next to you. “Maybe not Neruda.”

It was one of those nights where hope had watered down with his tears.

He put the book down next to you and held your hand. He hadn’t stopped holding your hand; he hadn’t stopped kissing it either. He sighed deeply and stood up to draw the blinds, turning his back to you.

A loud smack against the floor startled him, making him turn around. The book he’d left next to you had fallen. He didn’t think he’d left it at the edge of the bed, but he picked it up without much curious and went to put it where it was.

Your hand twitched when he grazed your knuckles casually.

Then it twitched again—harsher—and a soft whimper came from your chest. That sound definitely came out of your body.

Aaron was quick to check on you, towering over you and watching you closely. Your eyelids started to move and the next thing he knew, he was making eye contact with you.

Those beautiful twinkling eyes took his breath away.

“We need a doctor in here!” He was quick to react, pressing the call button.

Nurses stormed inside and moved him out of the way to assist you.

“She’s awake. She’s fighting the tube,” was all he heard before a thousand tingles rushed through him.

You were awake.

Your doctor arrived soon after to examine you and Aaron stood there as they took the tube out.

You coughed and writhed with discomfort.

“Can you tell me your name?” Your doctor moved a small flashlight in front of your eyes.

You blinked a few times and searched around the room. Your eyes landed on Aaron. “Hotch?”

Your soft voice traveled to him and enveloped his heart, mending every bit that was broken.

“Hi,” he merely said.

You shook your head and said your name instead. Your doctor asked some more questions like your birthday, where you worked at and what was the last thing you remembered, and the entire time your eyes were trained on Aaron.

“It’s vague.” You took a sharp breath. “I think I was attacked but I don’t know how. I can assume by this unglued scar, though.” You put your palm on your chest.

“We’re still going to do some tests,” Your doctor said. “But you’re great. Pupils are responsive, your lungs sound healthy and there are no signs of brain damage. No memory loss. No speech loss either.”

“How soon can she go home?” Aaron asked, taking another step closer. He finally stood by your side, and you reached for his hand.

This was you. Sweet and caring even at your worst.

“I’d like to keep her under observation for a couple of days, then she can go. But just so you know, you can’t fly for at least two weeks after open-chest surgery.”

The doctor gave you some other indications before leaving, then it was just the two of you as it’d been for the past two weeks. Though now he got to see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, and catch you smiling at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, tilting your head to the side like a puppy.

“I sent you away and—“ he raised his brows.

“Don’t.” You squeezed his hand. “Don’t do that. Don’t… blame yourself.”

“I should’ve come with you. I should’ve— god, you almost died. You almost died,” he repeated in a whisper, shutting his eyes with pain.

The guilt was still there.

“But I didn’t.”

“I was so scared,” he admitted, daring to look back at you.

“I… don’t remember much. Just bits and pieces but I do remember that I wasn’t scared. I think. I… channeled you at that moment.” You laughed. “I remember thinking, Hotch wouldn’t be scared, he would put up a fight, so I did. I fought the guy, which got me almost killed but I wasn’t scared.” You lifted your hand and cradled his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “You have a beard.”

He chuckled. “Barely.”

“It looks good. I like it.”

He didn’t like it much, but he was grateful it was there so you wouldn’t see how hard he was blushing. He poured you some water and handed it you to distract himself from it.

“Where are we?” You then asked, taking a sip from the straw.

“Seattle.” Aaron raised his brows while licking his lips.

Last time you two were in Seattle, you’d kissed for the first time.

“Oh,” you mirrored his smirk. “So that’s gonna be like a three-day road trip back to Quantico?”

“It’s either that or two more weeks in Seattle until you can fly there,” he responded.

“Both sound amazing, don’t you think?” you scanned his face up and down and heat rushed to his cheeks again. “Thank you for staying with me, Aaron.”

I love you, he thought.

“How could I not?” he said instead.

Never said there would be a love confession now did I 🤭 But don’t worry, hotch confesses his love during the road trip <33333 also the title is a The Beatles song bc he played The Beatles a lot while reader was in a coma. And bc he held her hand a lot.

I hope you liked it!!!!

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