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sequinsmile-x · 7 months

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The View Between Villages

A feeling he hasn't had in years, since this place was nothing but a dot in his rearview mirror, settles low in his gut, slowly getting heavier the closer they get. A weight he'd forgotten, all of the people and places he once knew rising from the dead and chasing him down a street he used to call home.

Sometimes, you have no choice but to go back.

-x-

Hi friends!

This is part 1 of 2 of a fic based on a request I got a while back about a fic where Aaron's father was still alive.

The title is a song from Noah Kahan's album Stick Season, which, if you want to listen to an entire album about how going back home is never quite the same as when you were a kid and also EXACTLY the same all at the same time, I highly recommend it. I'm obsessed and am seeing him in November! (Listen to the deluxe version!!)

Part 2 will be up next week!

-x-

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Implied/Referenced child abuse, difficult childhood

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron smiles as he approaches the kitchen, the sound of his family loud as it echoes around his house. The morning light filters down the hallways, fainter than it had been at this time of day just a few weeks ago, a sign that fall was well and truly on its way.

Their home was rarely quiet. It hadn’t been since they’d bought the place. He still remembered Jack running through empty rooms the first time they brought him here, the sound of his footsteps chasing him as he ran from room to room. Emily had lagged behind, one hand pressed into her aching back and the other into her rounded belly, almost permanently winded as their son grew underneath her skin, stretching it almost to its limit. They’d managed, through no small miracle and a lot of help from the team, to get all of the furniture moved in and in its place before she went into labour. The house truly a home by the time they brought their newborn home, Nathaniel’s cries loud and relentless in those first few weeks of parenthood, the soundtrack they had as they settled into their new lives.

In the three years since then, things had only become more hectic. Nathaniel, Nate as he was known to everyone except Elizabeth who insisted on using his full name, was insistent on copying Jack in everything. Following his brother around the house and joining in with his activities when he could. So much so they had to keep a very close eye on him when they went to Jack’s soccer games ever since he’d run onto the pitch in the middle of a game. In the last year their youngest son, the addition to their family that had been a surprise and filled a gap they hadn’t known had existed, had joined them too. Leo was 11 months old and obsessed with Emily, keen to be wherever she was at all times, something that had started the second he was born. Screaming and crying until he was passed into Emily’s shaking hands, only calming when he was laid against her bare skin.

It still blew Aaron away sometimes that this was his life, that he’d got this second chance at the family he’d never truly had growing up. He spent years telling himself he’d blown his only chance, that his penance for not saving Haley from the monster he’d brought into their lives was to be alone. To raise Jack as best he could, but doomed to break his final promise to Haley like he had so many others, feeling wholly unable to be the person she had once known.

Then Emily happened. Beautiful, kind, Emily who had been there all along. She understood him in ways other people couldn’t, completely free of judgement when he had bad days because she did too. Their histories different but intertwined, forever sewn together in a way that he’d realised was impossible to unpick. She’d made the first move, something she still teased him about even now. She’d rolled her eyes and pulled him in for a kiss, breathlessly commenting afterwards that she’d got bored of waiting for him to admit he was in love with her.

They’d never looked back. Together they’d built what they had now - a family that they both protected fiercely. Three little boys who knew nothing but love, their childhoods so different to those of their parents, none of the violence or chronic disappointment neither he or Emily had faced respectively. They made sure Jack had space to talk about the things he had seen when he was too young to comprehend them and, whilst he’d long called Emily ‘mom’, Haley was a big part of their lives. Her presence felt on every holiday and birthday when Aaron or Jess, the only ones who had true memories of her, would share a story about her.

He smiles as he walks into the kitchen, met by the sight of Jack and Nathaniel sitting and eating breakfast and Emily switching between taking bites of her toast and spooning Leo oatmeal as he sits on her hip, his hands tight in her shirt.

“Morning,” Aaron says, a greeting immediately returned by his family. A chorus of mismatched responses that makes him smile. He walks over to Emily, pressing a kiss to her lips as she turns to look at him, a tired smile on her face, “You must have been up early, the bed was cold.”

She hums as she tilts her head towards their youngest, getting another spoon of, now cold, oatmeal into Leo’s mouth, “Your youngest woke me up at 4 am,” she says, raising an eyebrow at him, “I tried to get him settled in our bed but he wasn’t having it so I got ready for the day and brought him down here. Before I knew it, it was breakfast time.”

“Breakfast!” Nathaniel says enthusiastically, drawing their attention towards him, both of them smiling at him. He’d inherited a lot from Aaron, including his love of early mornings.

“Eat your toast, sweet boy we’ve got to get you ready for preschool,” Emily says, trying to suppress a yawn.

Aaron kisses her cheek and walks over to the coffee machine to switch it on, “You could have woken me up, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay,” she says, adjusting her hold on Leo as she pours more juice into Jack’s cup, “You’re still catching up on sleep from the case you got back from a few days ago.”

He’d been away for close to a week, the longest it had been in quite some time, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt relief as he did walking into his house to find his wife waiting for him. He hums and takes Leo from her, settling him onto his own hip as he takes over helping him with his breakfast so Emily could have a few minutes to eat her food in relative peace.

“Well,” he quips, winking at his wife when he looks back at her, “My boss is a bit of a taskmaster.”

She rolls her eyes at him and purposely hip-checks him as she walks to the coffee machine to pour them a mug each, “I have it under good authority you’re her favourite.”

When she left the BAU just before she had Nathaniel she never anticipated that in just a few short years she’d be Section Chief. After her return from maternity leave, she’d taken over the counterterrorism Unit Chief position. Her experience in the FBI and at Interpol made her a perfect candidate for a job that allowed her more time with her sons. When she was pregnant with Leo, the job of Section Chief became available and she was offered it. At first, she’d worried about what Aaron would say, if he’d be irritated that she was promoted over him, but he’d only ever shown pride at her getting the job. Happy to watch her flourish and pleased he could be by her side as it happened.

“She is always keen to give me feedback-”

“Mom and Dad are being gross again, Nate,” Jack says, stage whispering so they can hear him, making them stop their conversation.

Emily presses her lips together as she looks at her eldest, a look on his face that Aaron would always say the pre-teen never had before she moved in, “Sorry, Jack.”

Aaron chuckles as he shakes his head and hears his phone ring from his pocket. He hands Leo back over to Emily, the little boy babbling a word that was so close to Mama it made her chest ache.

“Hotchner,” Aaron says, answering the phone, taking a step away from his family so the boys don’t hear anything they shouldn’t.

“Sorry, Sir, I’ve got another one for you,” Penelope says, sounding regretful, “Three bodies and a fourth person missing, the locals have requested that the team get there as soon as possible.”

“Have you called the others?” He asks, and she hums in confirmation, “Okay great, let's just meet at the jet.”

“Thankfully it will be a short flight, you’re only going to Lexington, Virginia”

He pauses, frozen in space as the air leaves his lungs. He clears his throat, unknowingly getting his wife’s attention from across the room, “Lexington?”

“Yes, sir,” Penelope says, “At first I thought you’d have to drive but there is an airstrip nearby, and the jet already has permission to land there.”

He doesn’t listen as she rambles, the room seemingly closing in on him as everything feels too close and too far away all at once. It had been years, a lifetime really, since he’d been there. He’d been a kid, not looking back as the first place he’d called home was left behind him, getting further and further away as Haley sat next to him, both of their suitcases in the trunk of his worn-out truck that somehow made the drive all the way to Harvard.

He’d never gone back. The version of him who had lived there dead and gone, buried beneath everything he hadn’t been able to move past, and all the things that had happened to him since.

“Sir?”

He shakes his head at himself, “Sorry, Garcia. Yes - thank you. I’ll speak to you on the jet when we need to be briefed.”

He hangs up and looks at his wife who is looking at him curiously, a hint of concern shining in her eyes.

“Everything okay?” She asks, glancing at Nathaniel and Jack before she walks over, Leo still on her hip, his head against her shoulder.

“Yeah,” he replies, not sure he sounds convincing to himself let alone her, “Just another case.”

She stares at him, well aware that he is holding something back, but she doesn’t pry. Not when all the boys were in earshot. She simply files it away, ready to ask him about it later when they speak on the phone.

“The bad guys don’t wait I guess,” she says, leaning in to kiss him, exchanging a smile when he squeezes her hip and kisses Leo’s head. She turns, “Boys, come say goodbye to Dad, he’s got to go to work.”

She keeps a close eye on him as he exchanges goodbyes with their sons, something about the way he embraces them seeming even fiercer than usual, something about the way he kisses her more desperate.

She sighs as she watches him leave, his promise to call that evening echoing around her after the door closes. She blows out a breath as she turns back to Jack and Nathaniel, printing a smile on her face she knows they won’t see through, worry for her husband vibrating under her skin.

“Come on, we need to get ready for school.”

She casts another glance back towards the front door before she herds her children upstairs, the first seeds of concern truly planting deep in her gut.

___

Emily groans as she sits in her desk chair, rolling her neck as she looks at the piles of paperwork on her desk.

For someone who hated politics, but was damn good at it, she’d sure ended up in a job that had a lot of it.

It was the best thing for her family. It meant she got more time with her children, that she was in as close to a 9-5 job as she ever had been in, but she still felt as if she was making a difference. It was a bridge of sorts. A link between the life she never thought she’d have - children, a home, a loving partner, - and the one she wondered she’d ever escape.

Her eyes flick to a bright pink post-it note, Penelope’s familiar flowing handwriting on it, the glittery ink of her favourite pen shining out at her. Emily picks it up, and her smile fades as she reads it, her heart dropping into her stomach.

BAU in Lexington, VA. Hotel bookings in your pending approvals.

Emily holds onto the post-it tighter than necessary, the thick paper creasing in her grasp as she closes her eyes and shakes her head.

That stupid, stubborn, man.

She makes a decision in a heartbeat, not thinking twice before she picks up her phone and dials a familiar number, waiting as the call connects, “Jess? Hi, I have…a big favour to ask.”

It was a good thing she still kept a go-bag packed just in case.

___

“Why are we still on the tarmac?” Derek asks, leaning back in his chair as he turns to look at the door, “They haven’t even closed us up yet.”

“The pilot said there are some final checks,” Aaron replies, his eyes fixed on the case files in front of him, desperate to focus on something other than the fact he was about to go to the place where he swore he’d never return.

The place where his father lived.

He’d told so many people that his dad was dead, the lie easier than the truth, that there were times he believed it himself. So used to his life without the man who was supposed to have loved him that he couldn’t imagine seeing him again.

“Are we sure this place Lexington has a legit landing strip?” Dave asks, a familiar smirk on his face when Aaron briefly looks up at him.

“It does,” he replies firmly, shaking off the memory of the mostly abandoned strip of private land. How he’d snuck Haley there one night when she’d insisted on learning to drive in his truck, laughing from the passenger seat as she ruined the manual engine. Stalling every few feet on what used to be a busy runway used for goods.

“And don’t say legit,” a familiar voice says, pulling all of their attention towards her, Emily’s smile wide as she stands behind Dave, her arm resting on the top of his chair, “You’re too old for that.”

“Emily,” Aaron says, standing up as if on autopilot, taking her bag from her, a habit he’d never quite shaken since she’d been pregnant with Leo, “What are you doing here?”

She shrugs, attempting to remain casual, “It’s been a while since I came on a case, and my schedule looked okay this week so I thought, why not? It’s almost time for the BAU to be reviewed anyway.”

The others seemingly buy it, even if he doesn’t, well aware that last night she’d lamented about the number of meetings she had this week. She sits in the spare seat next to Dave and ignores how her husband is looking at her.

“It will be just like old times,” JJ says, her smile turning into a smirk as she elbows Spencer, “Shall we draw straws on who gets the room closest to them?”

Emily narrows her eyes at her friend, “We aren’t that bad.”

“Sure, Bella,” Dave says, patting her on the shoulder, a condescending tone to his voice, “I’ve got a leather chair in my home office that will never quite be the same because of you two.”

“Isn’t this the first time you’ve spent a night away from Leo?” Spencer asks, his eyebrows knitting together, and she blows out a breath. Familiar guilt building in her chest. The pull between being a good wife and a good mother felt like it was taking her in different directions for the first time ever.

“Yes,” she replies, exchanging a knowing look with JJ, “But it had to happen at some point.” The sound of the door closing cuts the conversation off and she reaches for the iPad closest to her, “Okay then, bring me up to speed,” her eyes flick to her husband, “It’s a short flight.”

They get a moment alone in the kitchenette. He follows her in there the second she says she’s grabbing a cup of tea. She expects it, her smile tight as she turns to look at him, the curtain he pulls shut after him a flimsy attempt at privacy.

“Em-”

“You really didn’t think I’d find out where you’re going?” She asks quietly, stepping forward, her arms crossed over her chest, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “It’s not a big deal-”

“Not a big deal,” she interrupts, cutting off his lie before he can finish it. She steps closer so only he can hear her, not wanting her words to be heard over the din of the engine, “Aaron, we are going to your hometown. To the place where your father lives. I’m not going to let you do that alone.”

He leans against the counter, closing his eyes as he shakes his head, “This is an abuse of power, you know that right?”

She shrugs her shoulders, “I like to think of it as a wife manipulating the system so she can look after her boneheaded husband, but you can call it that if you want.”

He smiles, a brief chuckle escaping him as he reaches out for her hand and squeezes it, “The kids-”

“Are fine for a couple of days. As soon as I told Jessica where you were going she volunteered before I could ask her to look after them.”

He sighs and nods. It had been Jessica’s hometown too. His decision to leave had caused a small exodus. Haley went with him and Jessica followed when it was her turn to graduate, eventually ending up in DC with them. Roy had followed suit, nothing left for him in their town other than his wife’s grave, and they’d all found a new place to call home.

“And you’re sure you’re okay away from them?” He asks, knowing she was capable but that a big driver of her decision to change jobs had been so she didn’t have to do this, so she could be there for their children in a way her mother had never been for her. “Reid is right, you’ve never been away from Leo before overnight.”

She squeezes his hand, “It will be fine,” she replies, ignoring how her voice shakes a little, “He’ll be perfectly safe with Jess,” she reaches out and runs her fingers through his hair, “I’m more worried about my biggest, and most stubborn, Hotchner right now.”

He smiles and grabs her hand as she lowers it, lifting it to his lips to kiss her knuckles, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Lovebirds,” Derek calls from the other side of the curtain, the levity in his voice seeming misplaced amongst their emotions in the tiny bit of comfort they’d quickly cultivated, “We’re about to start the descent.”

They exchange a tight smile and she squeezes his hand one more time before she drops it and they head back into the main cabin.

Once they land and drive the short distance to the town centre where the police precinct is, roads he once knew like the back of his hand, it feels harder to breathe with every passing mile.

-x-

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#emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfic #aaron x emily #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss

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sea-adhesiveness537 · 4 months

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Also gonna ramble a but about the pokemon themselves bc I love them (all these pokemon were caught in the first evolution and evolved to their final except for Missy and Trouble)

In order of capture:

Chandelure (Lavender) was Ingo's starter. She just kinda followed him home one day from a festival bc she thought his soul was pretty. Drayden was very concerned about letting Ingo keep a ghost type so young (like 9 years old) bc they have been known to feed of their trainer's souls but in the end he agreed mostly bc she refused to leave

Emmet's starter was Eelektross (Taser). Emmet actually was searching for a pokemon that day which is why the twins were in Chargestone Cave. Taser was having a casual battle with another wild pokemon and Emmet just kinda stepped in and started giving him directions. Taser was grumpy about it at first but then realised Emmet had good strategies and together they won the battle

When they became old enough to go on their pokemon journeys Drayden gifted them twin Klinks which were quickly named as Gear (Ingo's) and Station (Emmet's) (the train special interest was already strong in these boys). These would have been their starters had they not made friends with Lavender and Taser first. Emmet often introduces them the wrong way round as "Station and Gear" and Ingo hates it

Ingo's Crustle (the only one I haven't thought of a nickname for) was caught bc it was the only pokemon in the area that didn't scatter when Ingo yelled a little too loud in the middle of the forest and Emmet immediately demanded Ingo battle it for its bravery

Emmet's Galvantula (Goldie) was caught bc Emmet really really really wanted a Joltik (his favourite pokemon) and caught the first one he came across

Emmet caught his Durant (Stoker) after getting lost in Twist Mountain. He'd somehow lost sight of Ingo and Elesa and was panicking, crying and nonverbal. Stoker found him like this and sat with him until he was found. Stoker continued to follow them to make sure Emmet didn't get lost again. When Emmet noticed, he challenged it to a battle and caught it

After defeating Drayden's gym (and don't think he went easy on them bc they're family), Drayden gifted Ingo his own Haxorus' egg and gifted Emmet a Plume fossil which became their Haxorus (Freight) and Acheops (Piston)

After Freight hatched she immediately wandered off and got lost. They ended up finding her being mother henned by a Drillbur (Quake) who demanded she battle them to make sure they're good enough for Freight. She got emotionally attached and joined them

As young Depot Agents Ingo and Emmet were tasked with catching whoever was tipping over the trash cans around Gear Station. Ingo found a Trubbish (Daisy) and offered her a job cleaning up the trash around the station instead of making messes

As Subway Bosses the twins were widely known for being excellent trainers. This is why the local pokemon shelter reached out to them about a temporary placement for a Boldore (Missy) and Gurdurr (Trouble). They'd both been forced to evolve by their old trainers before they were ready and now weren't very well behaved around anyone that tried to take care of them, scared of the same thing happening again. They couldn't be released since they didn't have the survival skills they needed for the wild. Missy and Trouble were supposed to be placeholder names just for the short time theyvstayed with the twins but they stuck and they all got emotionally attached, so they took them in permanently

(This does leave Ingo with 7 pokemon, later 8 with his Alakazam, and Emmet with 6, tho Emmet's endless army of Joltik make up for that. The "6 is a team" thing is more of an etiquette thing and a league rules thing. Carrying more than 6 pokeballs at once is allowed, it's just customary to only use 6 if you enter a battle)

I have more to say about Ingo's Hisui pokemon too

🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿

Knowing all of their mons' origins is so interesting and very wholesome! Almost everything is fluffy and sweet, a nice change of pace from what I've been daydreaming about 😅.

Y'know, other than some occasional angst here and there, and the Hisui situation, the huge wholesome-ness percentage in your Poké paracosm reminds me of another friend's paracosm. While there might be some problems here and there and a hint of trauma a treat, her paracosm is mostly consist of wholesome slice of life stuff. Also, a lot of things in this info dump are so cute :>

#heartofdaydreams ask #immersive daydreaming #Poké anon

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kim-ruzek · 11 months

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Review of 11x22

I haven't done a fire review since 11x2 lol, but this finale was so amazing I'm going to do it once more. And because then all my incoherent brettsey thoughts are all in one area.

I'm going to talk about all the non brettsey stuff first before getting down to that.

I loved that we got my favourite trio all talking and being friends at the beginning there. I just love seeing them be talking and discussing things, especially as that's the thing Fire gets right over the other OCs. And then I also loved seeing Stella and Sylvie talking at night too. AND then them going to see Amber for Sylvie.

I also loved seeing Stella and Casey, one of my favourite friendships ever. I loved seeing Casey reassure Stella and him immediately coming over to help. (Although Dylan is definitely right, Matt being there wasn't just because of that, but Sylvie too).

As soon as Herrmann got that reading my mind went straight to "mouch is getting hurt" and I really wish I was wrong about that. That ending with Mouch, oof it hurts my heart so much and I swear to god they better not kill him.

Although that shoot out!! Intense and amazing. I loved Matt going to distract and telling Boden he's not his boss anymore technically especially because of Boden's face. I also loved Stella going with, and her two truck boys immediately being like yep us too.

I did also really like Stella talking to Boden, even if I'm not totally fine with why. Although I do like that because of what Kelly's mom said to Stella, it makes sense that this is where her mind would go. I also loved that helping Sylvie with Amber made Stella realise she shouldn't just sit and wait, but that she should go to Kelly. And I really hope TK doesn't decide to leave permanently so that we can see Stella hauling Kelly's ass back to Chicago.

Although I am a little worried that if he does, they're going to try and do a little love triangle-esque thing with Violet, Carver and Stella.

And I adored Ritter being a source of reassurance to Kylie AND that she got into the fire academy!!! My girl is going to be a firefighter!

Brettsey

It is so nice to see that this time Matt gave Sylvie a heads up and then seeing his response to her wanting to adopt Julia and him just immediately getting it and supporting her. And I adored how Matt straight away went with them to go talk to Amber and everything he said to her. That man loves her so fucking much!!!

I also loved that it was clear there's still those lingering feelings. Sylvie talking about long distance with Stella and then just all the looks Matt gave Sylvie. And the way he looked when he heard about the breakup. And oof the look when Sylvie got the good news and how he so clearly wanted to be part of that hug and wanted to be her Person again.

And then that ending scene!!!! Matt talking about their first kiss, and then saying he got the ring a year and a half ago! That it wasn't just a recent purchase but that it was when they were still together.

And I'm just going to cry forever about him saying three kids 😭. Him including Griffin and Ben and also just so immediately accepting Julia. And it's in total parallel to Dylan; Matt is at the same place as Sylvie, he wants a family now and he wants it with her.

Literally at the start of this season I never EVER thought we'd get an ending this fucking perfect. That Brettsey will get a proposal!!!

They obviously still have a lot to talk about, and work out, but I definitely think their time apart, and now with Sylvie starting this journey to be Julia's mom, means that they'll be able to work a game plan going forward. Plus, in a year both darden boys will be in college, they've also settled in so it's not like Matt can't visit a bit more, and they can just have a longer engagement and build up their future together, however that may look. If Sylvie moves to him or he comes back ect.

#ree has thoughts #brettsey #chicago fire #chicago fire spoilers #sylvie brett #matt casey #Stella Kidd #Violet Mikami #is it too soon to start tagging Julia Brett?#or will it be Julia Casey 👀

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helloalycia · 3 years

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The Wrong Lifetime — Fourteen // Wanda Maximoff

chapter thirteen | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | epilogue

author’s note: the last chapter is finally here! i hope you like it 😊

There were many times when I'd get distracted by thoughts of Wanda.

I could be going for a walk and remember that time she tripped over the flat pavement, almost bringing me down with her. I could be shopping for stationary and remember that time she almost bought the whole shop in one visit. I could be sitting by the water fountain and remember that time she tried to make a wish, only to drop her whole purse in it.

This time, I'd just woken up to the sun streaming through my curtains. I rolled over to an empty bed, hand brushing against the cold sheets as they expected more. For some reason, my subconscious decided to taunt me with a memory taking place just after we'd first made love in her room...

"I love you so much," Wanda told me with an enchanting smile.

I turned to face her, one arm comfortable under the pillow as the other rested outside the duvet, covering my bare chest. She raised her hand, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear before resting her hand there. I smiled at the contact and felt a warmth spreading all over me at the affectionate gaze she sent my way.

"I know, love, you only said it several times," I teased lightly, making her chuckle. "I love you, too, though, in case you didn't know."

She sighed contently, eyes closing. I admired how beautiful she looked with her hair sprawled over her bare shoulders, smile on her lips and freckles dusting her skin. Her touch still ghosted my body, taste still embedded between my lips, scent still wavering in my nose. She was permanent and I was certain she'd never leave.

"We should probably get up in case somebody comes to check on us," she said, interrupting my moment of admiration.

Her eyes flickered open slowly, blue with golden flecks glistening right back at me. Suddenly, anything that happened after this didn't matter to me. For once, I appreciated where we were, what we had and nothing more or less. No wedding, no future... just now.

"We should," I agreed regretfully, though her leg moved closer to mine and made me wish we could stay here longer. "I wish we didn't have to."

She smiled halfheartedly, hand moving down my cheek, caressing the skin, before they rested at my chin. She outlined my lips with her thumb before leaning forward and stealing a kiss.

"Can't we have a few more minutes?" she asked, lips brushing mine as she spoke.

She was making it very hard to deny her and judging from the playful smirk on her lips, she knew that.

"I guess we can," I agreed quietly, making her smile with satisfaction.

She rolled on top of me, capturing my lips in a kiss as her bare chest pressed to mine and my hand found her waist for support. As usual, the effect she had on me was indescribable and I couldn't imagine us ever leaving the bed. I knew for sure that I'd never been happier than I was in that moment.

It was such a perfect moment, but it haunted me. Nothing felt right without her. She'd overwhelmed all of my senses and remained, even when I didn't have her by me in person. The wedding was literally in a few weeks, but I hadn't managed to get over her.

How could I be her maid of honour when I could barely speak to her? Not without wanting to curl in a ball and cry afterwards. Every thing I did seemed to be filled with memories of her. She was inescapable.

A groan left my lips as I dragged my hand down my face with frustration. I couldn't let her get to me yet again. I had an interview with the local paper today. The last thing I needed was Wanda as a distraction.

So, with that lovely thought lingering in my mind, I dragged myself out of bed to get ready for the day ahead.

—

Press interviews weren't something I was used to.

Whenever Y/B/N had them with journalists for his books, I wasn't present. The only thing I heard was when he came back and told me how it went, then I proceeded to read about it in the paper the next day.

I was sat in Steve's office at Maximoff Publishing with Steve sat by my side, sending me a supportive smile. A journalist from the local paper sat before us, notebook and pen in hand as he watched on with curious eyes.

"So, Y/N," he began. "I'll start with the obvious, if you don't mind."

I glanced at Steve who nodded encouragingly. Clearing my throat, I looked to the journalist. "Sure thing."

He smiled and glanced at his notebook before asking, "How does it feel to be published? You're Pietro Maximoff's first female author."

"An author who happens to be female," I corrected, hoping I didn't come off as rude. "And that isn't something that should be new, in my opinion. It should be normalised."

He nodded, noting it down in his notebook. "Controversy... I like it."

Swallowing hard, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"I think the readers would like to know how you managed to score a publisher," he began his next question. "How exactly did you get noticed amongst the many authors that look to be published?"

Okay, not so difficult, I could answer that.

"Well, it was actually my–" I paused, Wanda's face flashing to mind. Okay, maybe a little difficult.

"Your...?" the journalist prompted.

I blinked, attempting to find my words.

"Wanda," Steve answered, starting me off.

I looked to him with grateful eyes before looking back to the journalist. "Right. Yes. Wanda."

"Your brother's fiancé, right?" the journalist asked for clarification.

"Yes," I answered, with an accidental clipped tone. "She... she was the one who gave my work to her brother. Asked him to look at it. And the rest is history."

The journalist was making notes as I spoke, nodding and humming in response, before looking to me with raised brows.

"So, the wedding," he said, making me wince subtly. "Are you excited?"

Forcing a smile, I said, "Ecstatic."

"How does it feel to have your two families uniting?" he asked, and I chewed on my lips, unsure how to respond.

"I– er–"

"Are you afraid that Y/B/N marrying Wanda may put him in Pietro's good graces?" he interrupted eagerly, leaning forward in his seat.

I opened my mouth to answer, but I didn't know what to say that wouldn't land me in hot water or make me look like a jealous sibling. Glancing to Steve questioningly, he thankfully noticed my speechlessness and gave the journalist a warning stare.

"Can you stay on topic, please?" he asked the keen journalist. "Y/N is here to talk about her book and nothing more."

"Okay, okay," the journalist gave in, making me exhale slowly. "What's next in store for your readers, Y/N? A sequel, perhaps?"

"I'm not sure," I answered truthfully. "I'm still in awe at the reception from the first one."

He nodded, note taking as he listened. "How many books do you think you'll get out of your career before getting married like your brother?"

I raised my eyebrows with disbelief. But I didn't get to answer as he was already moving onto his next question.

"Are you not worried about getting married? You know, men don't like smart women."

Narrowing my eyes at him, I clenched my fists by my side and was very close to strangling him before we were interrupted. A servant whom I recognised from home knocked on the door and earned everyone's attention.

"Oh, tell him to go away," the journalist said dismissively, waving his hand.

Steve looked to me and I plastered a bitter smile on my lips as I glanced at the journalist.

"I'd let him in if I were you," I told Steve, and he seemed to understand that I was about to pummel the journalist if I wasn't distracted, because he nodded and motioned for the servant to enter.

The journalist sighed rudely and I clenched my jaw before looking to the servant with a quirked brow. He looked out of breath, panting for air and face flushed red.

"Did you run here?" I realised, cocking my head to the side with confusion.

He nodded, straightening up and attempting to catch his breath. "Yes, Miss Y/L/N. Very sorry to interrupt, but your mother insisted I hurry."

My eyes widened. "Oh, God, what happened? Is she okay?"

"Kind of," he answered, before clarifying, "The wedding between your brother and Miss Maximoff has been cancelled."

"What?!" everyone in the room asked at the same time.

What did he mean the wedding had been cancelled?! Wanda and Y/B/N weren't going to get married?

"I don't know the details," the servant got out quickly. "I just know that your mother sent me to fetch you as soon as possible. She's distraught and requires you home immediately."

I nodded instantly, already making a move to stand up, then I remembered where I was.

"You mustn't publish anything you just heard," I told the journalist with a stern finger, but he seemed over the moon at the news.

"Go, Y/N, your mother needs you," Steve said, resting a hand on my shoulder as he, too, stood up. He side-eyed the journalist as he added, "I'll take care of this tool."

At that, the journalist's eyes widened with fear and judging from the smirk on Steve's lips, I knew things would be okay.

"Thank you," I told him, hugging him quickly, before looking to the servant. "I'll go now. Thank you."

After giving the servant some money to grab a treat and calm him from his breathless state, I got a carriage home with my mind racing a million thoughts a minute.

Why was the wedding off? My mum was distraught, according to the servant, so that could only mean it hadn't been her choice. Was it Y/B/N? Had he broken it off? Or maybe it was Wanda? But no. She'd never do that. She wouldn't hurt her family like that.

I wasn't sure what it was, but I definitely didn't know how to feel. This could either be heavily in my favour or go against me in the worst way possible...

When I arrived home, I found my family in the dining room. My mum was sat down, upset and shaking her head in her hands, tear marks on her face. My dad was sat beside her, rubbing her back soothingly and whispering calming things to her as my brother stood to the side, looking apologetic and uncomfortable.

"It's okay, mum, it'll be okay," he was saying to her from across the table. "It's not a big deal. I can find somebody–"

"Hello...," I began awkwardly, standing in the doorway and hesitant to move forward. "I just got the news from our servant. What happened?"

"Oh, Y/N, you shouldn't have–" my father began regretfully, before my mum slammed her hand on the table and glared at my brother.

"Y/B/N broke off the engagement!" she shouted with frustration.

"There you go...," my dad mumbled before returning his attention to his wife.

"Mum, I–"

"You did what?!" I cut Y/B/N off with raised brows. "You broke off the engagement? You dumped Wanda?"

He looked to me with sad eyes. "Y/N–"

"You idiot!" I shouted, feeling angry as I imagined the effect this must have had on the Maximoff family. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you–?!"

He grabbed my waving arm and dragged me out of the dining room, making me shove him off when we reached the hall.

"Why the hell did you break it off?!" I yelled at him with a glare. "Why would you–"

"I didn't!" he whisper-shouted back, looking down at me with a downcast expression. "She did!"

My anger faded as I realised he was telling the truth. He looked genuinely hurt, eyes glassy and a frown on his lips. Wanda was the one to break it off? What?

"She broke it off with me," he elaborated quietly, so our parents couldn't hear. "She told me this morning. She said she didn't love me and that she couldn't marry me."

I swallowed hard, looking away from him momentarily. "Why did you tell mum and dad that it was you who broke up with her?"

He pinched his forehead with agitation. "Because it looks a lot less foolish if I say it was me rather than her. She doesn't love me, Y/N. She never did."

I risked looking at him, seeing his disheartened expression. Part of me felt guilty because I knew it was my fault this had happened, but I couldn't exactly say that to him, so I stayed quiet. He shook his head once more before walking away, leaving me standing there with shock.

"Er, Miss Y/L/N?"

I spun around when one of our servants approached me.

"I know now isn't the best time," she began, "but a letter came for you earlier. I left it on your desk as you were at work."

Nodding, I offered the servant a halfhearted smile before watching her leave. There was so much to unpack right now...

I headed upstairs and to my room to see what letter was here for me. But I was finding it hard to focus since all that was on my mind was the broken engagement and Y/B/N and Wanda... I needed to see her. What the hell was I doing here?

Planning on going to see Wanda as soon as possible, I grabbed the letter from my desk with the intention of reading it on the way out, but then I recognised the handwriting on the front and paused at my desk.

It was Wanda's handwriting.

I hurried to tear open the envelope, wondering what she had to say. It was no doubt related to the broken engagement.

Dearest Y/N,

I hope that you manage to read this letter before you hear the news, but knowing our families, you'll read it afterwards. In which case, you will know that I have broken off the engagement with Y/B/N.

It was the right thing to do. I chose to do it and I'm sorry if it's caused tension between your brother and your family, but I knew that I couldn't go forward with it when I'm in love with you. I'm not expecting you to come back to me and run away together all dramatically – this isn't about that.

I did this for myself. I'm not in love with your brother and I never was. He should have known that. He had to. Because if not, I'm afraid I broke his heart. And that's the last thing I wanted.

I also did this for you. I need you to know that I'm not heartless or horrible and I didn't expect you to sacrifice anything for me. Cheating on your brother with you... I never meant for this to happen, nor did I mean to get in the way of you both. Falling in love with you was completely accidental, but I don't regret it.

I don't want to go on too much, but I just needed you to know the truth, from me, that I am truly sorry for causing you such pain. I'm still in love with you and I'll never forget what we had. In another lifetime, maybe we could have worked. I'm certain that you were always perfect for me, as was what we had. You are magic, Y/N. I just wasn't powerful enough to keep you.

When I finished reading, I flipped the page over, expecting to find more, but it was blank. She'd ended it there and I didn't know what to think. My heart was racing, mind adjusting too slowly for my liking. She'd broke it off with him for me. I knew she loved me, but I guess I'd never realised just how much.

After recovering from my shock, I put the letter away and left for Wanda's, not bothering to tell my family where I was going. My dad was attempting to console my disappointed mother as Y/B/N moped around somewhere else, so I took that as my chance to nip out without them noticing.

I was trying to plan what to say to her – I didn't even know what I wanted to say to her. She said she didn't expect me to get back with her, and even without Y/B/N and their engagement in the way, we still couldn't be together. Not like how we wanted to be. But I wanted to. I wanted her. All this time without her had been heartbreaking – I didn't want to leave her again. I didn't know the specifics of how we would work, but we could work. We had to.

When I reached her house, it was her mother who opened the door. And that's when I realised that I wasn't sure if she blamed Y/B/N or her daughter for the engagement breaking apart.

"Iryna, hi," I greeted with a nervous smile. "I'm sorry if this is a bad time–"

"Y/N, I'm glad you're here," she cut me off, immediately pulling me in for a hug. "Thank you for coming."

I nodded with mild confusion, returning the hug, before pulling away.

"I'm so sorry for the pain Wanda has caused to your family," she said regretfully. "I hope that your parents aren't as distraught as we are."

I eyed her strangely, still not sure what Wanda had told her. Either way, I didn't bother questioning it as my urgency to see Wanda was overpowering my curiosity.

"It's okay, Iryna, there's no need to apologise," I reassured her. "My family will be okay... I just thought I'd come and check in on Wanda. It's a lot, what happened."

She nodded sympathetically. "Thank you, sweetheart. You're such a good friend to her." She stood to the side to let me in. "Go on up. She's in her room. Hasn't come out since this morning."

I offered a small, awkward smile Iryna's way before letting myself in and going upstairs to Wanda's room. My palms were sweaty and my mouth was dry – stupidly juxtaposed – when I stopped before Wanda's door. On the way over here, I still hadn't decided what to say. I figured it would just come to me when I saw her. One could hope.

Knocking on the door, I heard her sweet, accented voice give me permission to enter. My stomach flipped at the sound and I did as she said. Closing the door behind me, I turned and saw Wanda sat at a stool before a canvas.

Noticing I didn't say anything, she glanced over her shoulder casually, probably expecting a family member. She widened her eyes when she realised it was me and immediately stood up, smoothing out her paint-covered smock in an attempt to look neater. The simple action warmed my heart – she was adorable and I couldn't help but smile.

"Hi," I said quietly.

She cleared her throat, eyes darting around nervously. "Hey. I didn't– what are– hi."

I let my eyes wander, admiring her messy ponytail and the strokes of paint on her face that she definitely wasn't aware of. She was stunning, even with her confused eyes and pursed lips. Better yet, her hand was ring-free and I was reminded of the fact that she wasn't engaged anymore.

"I assume you're here because you read the letter," she began apologetically, but I didn't let her finish because the longer I was in her presence, the more I realised I wanted to kiss her.

Approaching her, I found her eyes before pressing my lips to hers. My hands cupped her cheeks as I held her close, revelling in her taste and scent and touch. She was quick to react, her fingers curling around my waist and tugging me towards her, squeezing our bodies together. Breathing became a problem and we regretfully had to pull away, but remained close enough to exchange breaths and swim in each other's eyes. I'd never been more relieved to see the colour green.

"You're not mad," she realised, looking between my eyes as if trying to search for some anger.

"How can I be mad that you broke off your engagement for me, knowing we can never be together in the way that you deserve?" I asked with disbelief.

She smiled beautifully, making my heart flutter in my chest. "You still love me."

I stole another kiss from her lips. "I never stopped, Wanda. Of course I still love you."

She rested her forehead to mine and closed her eyes peacefully. "Thank you for coming back."

I laughed, feeling tears brim my eyes. "I'm not leaving again, love. We'll find a way to make this work. I promise you that."

Wanda Maximoff deserved the world. And I was going to give it to her in this lifetime and beyond.

#wanda maximoff au #marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff x you #marvel imagine #wanda maximoff #mcu #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader

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fific7 · 3 years

Text

Into the Darkness / Part 4

The Darkling x Reader

A/N: The final chapter. This does not follow canon, it’s literally just lemon zest 🍋 ... I have a vision of Ben Barnes in his black Kefta and riding boots permanently stuck in my brain right now. Attempting to write it right out of there.

Warnings: 18+ please due to NSFW content. Some dom/sub interaction, being restrained, coercion, questionable consent (thankfully it takes place in a fantasy universe), sexual content including oral, loss of virginity, very rough unprotected* sex. I don’t mention her actual age, but Reader is not underage.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

[My GIF]

The Darkling looked at you with icy eyes. He took off his Kefta and threw it onto one of the chairs, and began unbuckling his trousers. “Take your clothes off, and get on the bed.”

He was furious. Jealous and furious. He fucked you for so long and so hard that you were weeping rivers of tears by the end of it. He’d stopped several times to pull you into a new position, before thrusting back into you and continuing his attack. Every time you gasped more loudly than usual, he smiled coldly at you.

He was fucking you from behind now. As he was about to come, he grabbed you by the hair and pulled your head back, hissing in your ear, “Remember who you belong to, little dove.” Tugging at your hair, he commanded, “Say it! Say who you belong to!” as he released his come into you.

“You... I belong to you, moi soverennyi!” you managed to say, breathing shakily from his prolonged physical assault on you. That’s what it felt like to you, an assault, a punishment. He’d never been so rough with you before, so relentless while he was fucking you. It was well over an hour since he’d pounced on you when you’d first lain naked on the bed, and he hadn’t let up once.

He rolled off you, got up and stalked into the screened-off bathing area, where you heard him taking a piss. You surveyed yourself while he was absent; bites, scratches and fingermarks - which would surely bruise - were apparent all over your body. Your breasts were sore from his incessant kneading of them, your nipples inflamed and painful from him constantly sucking and biting at them.

Your thighs were marked by his fingers and a pink rash from his beard was already showing between your legs. That same beard had also scratched and irritated your mouth and chin. He’d sucked love bites onto your neck, collarbone and breasts. You groaned and turned over to lie on your back, pulling the covers slowly over your abused body.

He walked back to the bed, pulling the covers back off and barking at you to get up and get on your knees. You sobbed, “Please, please...no, moi soverennyi....” He grabbed your arm and pulled you onto the floor. “Shut up and do it!” You wobbled up onto your knees, aware of his hard cock right in front of your face. “Open your mouth.” You did so, and he thrust into your mouth, pushing in so fast and so deep that despite all his recent schooling of you, you choked immediately.

He didn’t stop or back out, merely began roughly fucking into your mouth. Eventually you managed to draw in a breath, and tried to stop choking as he thrust in and out. You thanked the saints when you felt his warmth flooding your throat, and swallowed it as quickly as you could.

He allowed you to get back into bed, and you sank gratefully onto the mattress, pulling up the covers once more. He joined you, firmly grasping your jaw with one hand, “Never, ever, act like that with one of my men again.” He released you, lying down on his back. “You are mine,” you heard him say in a low voice, “mine!”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

It had taken you forever to fall asleep and when you awoke early the next morning, every single part of your body was aching. You were suddenly aware of a pair of grey eyes on you. His head was propped up on his hand, and he was just staring at you.

He rolled the sheet down until your breasts were exposed. Leaning over, he sucked on one of your nipples, grasping your other breast and groping it. You winced, they were so sensitive after all the manhandling they’d endured the night before. He saw your expression, but kept on doing what he was doing.

“I’m the only one who gets to do this,” he said, giving your breast an extra-firm squeeze, which made you gasp. “I’m the only one who gets to do this.” He kissed you, thrusting his tongue into your mouth. “And I’m the only one who gets to do this.” His head disappeared under the covers, and you felt him tonguing between your legs. “And this.” He parted your legs and you felt his cock there for a split second, before it sank into you. He moved fully onto you, pinning your hands on the pillows above your head and began to thrust.

Your eyes were watering as he ground into you, in pain but trying not to cry out. He reached his climax, and pulled out of you, releasing your hands. He lay on his back, staring at the material of the tent above him. “Your body has made me insane. You have made me insane.” You looked at him, “What do you mean?” “I’ve lost my mind over you, you’re constantly in my thoughts. I will .. not.. have you speaking with or being looked at by other men.”

You sighed, “So...what?....I have to remain locked away from everyone? How is that fair?”

He didn’t answer you, but got out of bed and started to get dressed. “Two of the serving women will come to you this afternoon,” he said, “do as they tell you.” He pulled on his boots, shrugged into his Kefta and left the tent.

You had no idea what that was all about. So you ran a warm bath, soaking in it and tried to soothe away all your aches and pains.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The two serving women in their white and gold Keftas arrived after you’d eaten a light lunch. They’d brought an extravagant black silk Kefta with them, along with some ivory silk underwear, and said it was all for you to wear this afternoon. You were completely confused. Why? Wear to what? But you knew better than to ask them.

They cast odd looks at you, lingering on the love bites visible above your robe, and on the fingermarks on your wrists. You felt jealousy swirling in the air, but steadfastly ignored it. You were used to everyone’s wary, jealous and strange reactions to you these days.

However, you soon found yourself in yet another rose oil bath, this time insisting you didn’t need their help. You could only imagine the rumours that would fly if they saw your ravaged body. After your bath, you donned the silk underwear and put your linen robe back on.

Your hair was pinned up in a loose swirl by one of the serving women, you were dressed in the new finery and were then brought by them to the large meeting tent. They left you at the main entrance, so you lifted up the flap and stepped inside.

You could see him pacing beside the large campaign table. There was an unfamiliar man on the other side of it, dressed in the grey of the Oprichniki. The Darkling turned to you as you entered the tent. His eyes looked like a glacier, freezing you with their icy intensity.

“Welcome to your wedding ceremony,” he said.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d stumbled slightly as he’d said that. “What?” you shrieked. His eyes closed in irritation, “Be quiet!”

He walked over to you, taking your hand in his and lifting it up as if you were going to dance. “We are getting married,” he stated. “It’s the only way I can still my mind, rid it of this unease.”

“What unease?” you asked. “The feeling that if I don’t make this official, it will cease,” he answered. “That someone may try to take you from me.” You looked at him, amazed. Had this all been triggered by a short, innocent conversation with Ivan? “I was merely conversing with Ivan,” you mumbled.

He laughed, but it was not with amusement. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you? All the men look at you with lust in their eyes, and want to possess you. They are jealous of me because I have you. The women are all jealous of you because you’re with me.”

Your gaze dropped from his. “I never asked for this, it’s your doing.” He nodded, “Yes, I know. But if I marry you, it will still all the tongues from wagging. It will also prove that it’s a permanent arrangement. That you will not be replaced. That I will not release you to be with other men.”

He walked you forward to the table. The Oprichnik, meanwhile, went to the main entrance and brought two more people into the tent. One of them was Ivan, the other unknown to you but also dressed in grey. Ivan looked extremely uncomfortable but gave you a short nod. These were the witnesses, you guessed. The original Oprichnik was also an ordained priest, you were told.

You took a deep breath as the brief ceremony commenced. How were you feeling about this? No discussion, no betrothal, nothing - it was all his decision. Anger boiled up in your veins, before subsiding as you realised - and accepted - that it would provide a high level of protection and security for you and your family. And it seemed you didn’t have any say in the matter anyway.

After the Oprichnik finished intoning the marriage vows, you were both required to respond “I swear an eternal oath to you by these vows.” Neither of you would be able to break this contract.

You were surprised when at this point the Darkling produced two black wedding bands from a side pocket, both of them with his symbol engraved on them. Yours was slightly thinner than his, and he slid it onto your ring finger before kissing it, and your finger.

You placed his ring onto his finger, following suit by kissing it and his finger. And that was it. Ten minutes and you were bonded to each other for eternity in the eyes of the saints. He leant in and kissed you softly. It was in complete contrast to his earlier treatment of you, and you felt even more conflicted about this dark, mysterious and still dangerous man.

There were toasts with kvas, and then you both left to walk back to your tent. You noticed that Kirigan had taken a very long and circuitous route back through the Camp, and he had placed your left hand on his right arm. He’d then placed his left hand over yours, so that both rings were prominently on display. You realised that this was his very public wedding announcement to the Second Army. The whispers and wide-eyed looks you both received as you walked through the Camp were quite something to hear and see.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were introduced - albeit it briefly - to an entirely different General Kirigan on your wedding night. One who took his time to remove your clothes, layer by layer. One who tenderly stroked your face as you lay next to him in bed, one who very gently entered you after kissing you until you’d run out of oxygen. One who gasped out, “My wife!” as he released his come into you. Who placed kisses on your breasts as you drifted off to sleep after sex. He didn’t disturb your sleep any further that night.

In the morning, he’d brought you tea and sweet bread to wake you with. You stretched, sitting up as he placed the tray onto the bed beside you. “Good morning, wife,” you heard, as you looked over at him. He was already dressed.

“Good morning, moi soverennyi,” you replied, but he shook his head. “You should address me as moi muzh,” he said, “...which is ‘husband’. Also lord, bedfellow, helpmate.” You nodded, “As you wish, moi muzh.” He smiled at you, gently moving a strand of your hair back from your face. “I will address you as moi zhena.... ‘wife’.”

His fingers strayed down to your breasts, cupping one of them and rubbing his thumb over your nipple. “I wish I could spend more time with you ... and these beautiful breasts....” his gaze dropped to where his thumb was, “...but I have an important strategy meeting I must attend. It shouldn’t take long.”

His eyes darkened to stormy grey, “And I’ll then expect my wife to be ready to pleasure her new husband.”

You nodded, “Of course, moi muzh.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d dozed back off, enjoying some alone time and recharging your inner batteries somewhat. Then you felt a hand on your shoulder, shaking you, and the bedclothes were pulled back. Your eyes opened and met his grey ones. He was already naked, moving onto the bed next to you, pulling your nightrobe up and off over your head, his eyes roaming greedily over your body.

His hands, unsurprisingly, went straight to your breasts and began massaging them. You sat up, moving your arms a bit so that he had better access to them. You’d accepted his obsession with them, and now acquiesced to every touch. Apart from anything else, he was now your husband, and you were under oath to obey him in everything.

His stiffened cock was already leaking pre-cum, and you readied yourself. Not a moment too soon, as he then straddled you, parting your legs and sinking into you. You gasped as he started moving on you, back to a fast pace and deep thrusts.

You’d been moaning softly at each thrust, when suddenly you were aware of another presence in the tent. Your eyes widened as you looked over his shoulder; no-one ever came in except by invitation. A sound of a throat clearing, and the Darkling’s head whipped round. It was Ivan, looking both incredibly embarrassed and in great fear.

“Forgive me, moi soverennyi,” he muttered, “you know I wouldn’t normally intrude but there’s been a report of...”

You’d been shielded from Ivan’s sight by The Darkling’s body, but now he also pulled up the bed covers over the two of you. “Get out,” he hissed at him, “I’ll see you outside when I’m finished.”

Ivan swiftly left, and you wondered if he’d also taken leave of his senses. He surely must’ve had a fair idea of what Kirigan would be occupied with when he returned to his tent after the meeting.

Kirigan turned back to you, he’d slid out of you when Ivan had come into the tent. “Where were we?” he smirked. He pulled you back towards him, giving his length a couple of strokes before pushing back inside you, continuing where he left off. Once he’d released into you, he got up and started re-dressing himself.

He left the tent, returning twenty minutes later looking angry. “That was a complete waste of time.” You were sitting up in bed and smiled at him, “Then what was his real reason for disturbing you, moi muzh?” He shrugged out of his Kefta, placing it on the chair, before turning and looking at you. “Why do you think? He wanted to see me fucking you so he can relive it in his dreams and pretend it’s him, moi zhena.”

You cast your eyes down, “He finds me so attractive?” He laughed, “Of course he does! Every time he looks at you, he wants to fuck you senseless.” You looked back up at him, “Are you going to punish him, moi muzh?” Again he laughed, “No! He is already being punished, every single moment of every single day, knowing that you’re mine and that he will never have you. Why do you think I made him one of the witnesses to our wedding?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

A few days later, you awoke to a stiff cock hovering at your lips, so you obediently opened your mouth and lay there as Kirigan thrust far down to the back of your throat. You swirled your tongue around it and sucked on him as hard as you could, just as he’d instructed you. When you felt his warm release in your throat, you swallowed it down, coughing slightly when you weren’t quite fast enough.

He’d then followed his usual morning routine of fucking you a short time later, before dressing and going to his first meeting. Once again, an hour later, an Oprichnik came to your tent and said you were to attend at the meeting tent. Now familiar with what this would lead to, you followed him over there and waited in the side room. Kirigan marched in a few moments later, sitting in the chair and pulling you onto his lap as he unbuttoned his fly. His hard length was inside you in seconds, and you moved quickly on him to bring him to his climax so he could return to the meeting.

He pulled your face to his and kissed you hungrily. He drew back, looking intensely at you but saying nothing. You stood up, rearranging your clothing as you did so and preparing to leave. “Wait,” you heard, and you turned to him. He stood up, re-buttoning his fly, approaching you and placing his hand on your cheek. “You know that this is not just about sex, don’t you?”

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. He continued, “I married you because I wanted to fully claim you. But...” he hesitated then went on, “I also feel love for you.” You gasped, amazed at his confession. “You do?” “Yes, I do.”

You were silent. What did you feel for him? Attraction, fear (still), respect for his power, grateful for his protection, possessiveness.... but love? You looked up at him.

“I do have feelings for you, moi muzh. I think love is mixed in amongst them.”

He smiled down at you, “I’m glad to hear you say that. I hope that love will soon be dominant over the rest.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The next morning after Kirigan had left you, you had to run to the bathing room to vomit into the bucket there. This happened again twice in the afternoon. When this began to happen on a daily basis, he called one of the medics to examine you. Your monthly cycle had been due two days before and it hadn’t put in an appearance yet.

After carrying out a thorough examination and asking several more questions of you, the medic declared that you were indeed pregnant. The Darkling smiled broadly and kissed you, pulling you close against him.

“Well done, little dove. You are carrying my child.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

He was even more attentive to you after that. And as the days and weeks passed, your belly swelled, your breasts became even fuller - much to his delight - and your mood swings were atrocious. Even the Darkling didn’t feel brave enough during those to challenge you, when you said you didn’t feel like sex.

He still got his fair share on a daily basis, of course; since you’d come into his life, the Darkling was no longer prepared to go without sex, so he was still on you at least twice a day but had toned down his dominant preferences due to your condition.

But eventually, one evening you and he were looking at the grey eyes and dark hair of a miniature Darkling, who was named Aleksander.

The Darkling looked at the two of you, a smile on his lips. You saw the love in his eyes for you and this child.

“My son,” said the Darkling, placing his hand on the baby’s head and laying his other hand on your face, “my wife. I love you.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#the darkling x reader #the darkling #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #shadow and bone #ben barnes #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #the darkling imagine #the darkling fanfiction #the darkling into the darkness

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vimeddiart · 3 years

Text

Strangers

Patron-voted fic of my D&D beeflings! Read the previous comic and the first comic for this series for context!

On AO3

Clang.

The zinging cadence of his hammer hitting a new blade usually tempers his fraught emotions and lessens their intensity. The rhythm and beat usually calms him, the heat of the furnace and the steady drip of sweat as well. Except his heart thunders on and his breathing remains irregular and his eyes sting—not from stray embers or errant drops of perspiration—and his agitation grows.

It grows so powerfully that he miscalculates and swings his hammer much too harshly, breaking the blade he was trying to fashion which frustrates him further and he throws down his tools with a clatter, pressing the gloved heels of his hands to his brow.

Lazlo.

Tuhka releases a trembling breath.

Barely a day had passed since he had regurgitated all of the regret and agony of his childhood friend’s death right into said friend’s face before gracelessly fleeing, the bitter taste of tears still on his tongue and Lazlo’s look of resounding disbelief haunting him even here in the safety of his forge.

It wasn’t fair.

Why must he have been forced to carry the burden of grief and guilt for so many years? All those moments of remembrance, thinking of a friend—the only one he ever had— ripped away from the world much too soon, endless nights of pain and suffering, wishing he’d been taken instead...and for what? Lazlo was alive. Had been for perhaps as long as Tuhka had grieved his loss.

How much hatred—or worse, indifference—must Lazlo have harboured to fail in seeking Tuhka out...to reassure him, to reunite with him, to talk with him. They had been family.

Tuhka wrenches off his gloves and tosses them to the side, stalking towards the entrance of his smithy for some air, unable to concentrate anymore on his craft. His hands shake when he grasps the wrought iron gate.

A sound distracts him for a moment, one that carries over on the salty evening breeze that cools the sweat of his brow. Gravel crushed underfoot. It’s gone in an instant and even with his sharp hearing, Tuhka strains to listen for something further, ears swivelling in the hopes to catch it.

It doesn’t take too much investigation to track down the source of the sound once he decides to; a dark figure perched somewhat dejectedly on a boulder that offsets a scenic cliffside path Tuhka often takes to clear his head.

“You didn’t waste your grief, if that’s what you’re bothered about,” the figure says.

Tuhka’s breath leaves him in a rush as he’s met with a familiar blue gaze. He feels pulled forward by some invisible thread and settles himself on the far edge of the same boulder, leaving a bit of distance between them.

Lazlo sighs, drops his head into his hands. “When you left that day and never came back, I...believed you’d abandoned me, that you’d made good on your promise—”

“That was a child’s threat, I never meant to—” Tuhka began, needing to explain despite the betrayal he felt, still very fresh, that had upended years of mourning.

The other tiefling shook his head, dropping his hands away from his face and letting them fall to his lap. “I made a terrible decision, I paid for it,” the spectral left hand twitches and Tuhka notices it properly for the first time, heart squeezing despite everything and mind filling with more questions, “and I...went away for a long time. I didn’t think to look for you...I thought you despised me.”

He releases a mirthless laugh. “I don’t think I would’ve found you anyway. I’d have been looking for someone...quite different.”

Tuhka swallows hard. “I’ve...probably grown a bit since you last saw me.”

This startles a small, but real, laugh out of Lazlo, even if it does sound a little wet.

After a pause, Tuhka gathers strength from the stars and attempts to keep his voice steady. “That day...I went back for you. I did. I wasn’t going to, I was about to start a new life away from those bloody mines and I was so angry with you that I hoped you would stew in them forever...but then I remembered you wanted to get out just as desperately as I did and we swore to do it together so I went back to fetch you.”

Tuhka didn’t dare raise his eyes to Lazlo’s face, staring intently at his own hands grasping his knees even though the image was beginning to waver and blur.

“It was snowing and freezing and I walked through it without stopping, thinking that I would see you soon and whisk us away to a better place, until I saw the smoke from over the hill and I knew you’d gone ahead with our plan without me,” Tuhka let out a shuddering breath, “they said you got crushed in the tunnel along with that bastard foreman. Don’t remember much of what happened after that...just that I’d gone to fetch you and came back empty-handed.”

Tears flowed freely, despite previously believing he had run out of tears to shed. From the corner of his eye he noticed Lazlo wipe his face with a pure, white square of cloth.

“Told you the truth though…” Tuhka continued, after a none-too-discreet sniff, “mourned you like a piece of me had died. Couldn’t think of much else for a good few years,” He runs a forearm over his face roughly and finally turns to Lazlo, raw and exposed, “I would’ve looked for you in a heartbeat if I’d known you were alive. I would’ve.”

Lazlo lets out a sound like an animal in pain, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks that he no longer tries to wipe away. “I didn’t know...I didn’t know— I mucked up my plan and ending up losing everything, I— I was trapped for years without knowing how much time passed, I was...I was isolated from the outside in a way you won’t be able to understand but you must believe me, I never wanted to lose you—”

That final crack in Lazlo’s voice is what forces Tuhka to move closer and wrap an arm around his shoulders, mumbling soothing words until the sobs that wrack Lazlo’s frame subside. It reminds him of when he was younger—and much smaller—when Lazlo would do the same for him after a tumble, a run in with the awful foreman, or when overcome with a sadness he couldn’t understand, much less explain. Lazlo would have been there to comfort him, always.

As if hearing his thoughts, Lazlo lets out a tremulous sigh. “...Tables have turned, hm?”

Tuhka makes a tentatively amused sound in response. There is a whirlwind of emotion to wade through, but he can take this moment just to experience how real and solid Lazlo is. That he’s back.

“A right pair of bellends we turned out to be,” he ends up saying.

“Quite.” Lazlo sniffs, but there’s a small, albeit watery, smile on his lips as he straightens out of Tuhka’s one-armed embrace, and Tuhka tries not to let the empty feeling that remains affect him too much.

Something that has been niggling in the back of Tuhka’s mind takes on more force and the reason finally dawns on him.

“You sound different.”

Lazlo finishes wiping his face with a fresh, white handkerchief and makes a noise, muffled by the fabric.

“Yes, ah...I trained out the accent I used to have and replaced it with a new one.”

Tuhka blinks. “What’s wrong with your old accent? That’s the accent I have! I got it from you!”

“I needed to, ah...move in higher circles of society and I couldn’t very well sound like a common miner, could I?”

Tuhka opens his mouth to argue, a nostalgia for their juvenile arguments filling him in a split second, but Lazlo interrupts, “You know, we don’t have to speak Common if you’d prefer.”

They fall back on Infernal so naturally that Tuhka has to swallow a lump in his throat and keep the waver out of his voice. He never thought he would have this again. He’s a little rusty and out of practice but that doesn’t seem to matter in the moment—it’s like they’re back in the mines, speaking their language out of earshot of the foreman, making plans for the future in a world that was all dreams.

Tuhka tells Lazlo how he adopted Ooria (and not the other way round as she claimed to recall) and how she had helped him find his true self. He tells him about his work, his smithy and how he made a home on this cliff by the ocean. He doesn’t talk about the painful things, like crying himself to sleep every night for years from missing him, or the search for his adoptive mother who was now lost.

Lazlo talks about— what Tuhka suspects is— superficial milestones, his expertise in identifying gemstones, the places he’s visited and the night skies he has lain under and commemorated on his skin. Tuhka notices the glittering constellations peeking out of Lazlo’s clothes and his heart thumps, wanting to ask what made them special enough to wear permanently but he stops himself...still feeling like a stranger. There’s an undercurrent of darkness in Lazlo’s vague statements, of secrets untold, and Tuhka is slightly surprised by a keen disappointment that bubbles within him at not being trusted with them.

There’s a lull in conversation, an impending finality that Tuhka does not appreciate. He refuses to remain a stranger as well, which prompts him to realise that he hasn’t even properly introduced himself yet.

Feeling bold, he holds a hand out in the human way. “Tuhka Turunen.”

Lazlo’s gaze lands on the proffered hand and then flickers up to Tuhka’s face, seeming to weigh his options. He breathes out a laugh and leans forward, ignoring the hand to press his forehead slowly but firmly against Tuhka’s in customary tiefling fashion. An echo of the greeting they shared when they first met as children.

“Lazarus Astrophel,” whispers the tiefling formerly known as Lazlo.

Tuhka smiles. “Nice to meet you, Lazarus.”

They part and Lazlo—Lazarus—clears his throat, “My close acquaintances sometimes call me Laz. You may do so, after all we’re—” a beat of hesitation, “—old friends.”

His vibrant blue eyes are on Tuhka, almost as if expecting him to disagree. Tuhka doesn’t.

“Laz,” he says, smiling, “lot less likely to get mixed up with that.”

The sea breeze sighs around them, ruffling hair and clothing. Tuhka watches as Lazarus gets to his feet.

“It’s late. I should be going.”

Panic flickers through Tuhka. “You’re leaving?”

“I have business in town for a day or two, I’m staying at an inn there...The King’s Cushion?”

Tuhka nods, recognising the name. He gets to his feet as well, unintentionally towering over Lazarus.

“Stars...I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.” Lazarus grimaces.

“You’re welcome to visit,” Tuhka blurts out, trying to keep any semblance of desperation out of his voice and getting the impression that he failed, “you wanted to commission something, we can talk about that whenever you like.”

After a moment of confusion, Lazarus’ expression clears. “Ah, right, yes, that was what got us into this mess in the first place, wasn’t it? Yes,” he smiles, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

This time when he leaves, it’s with a lot less anger than moments after their first confrontation only days ago, and with a promise to come back. They had once shared everything, even their deepest desires. Now, after fifteen years apart, they’ve become completely different people—the fact that Lazarus came here, willing to talk, making promises to return even if there’s a chance he may not keep them...it’s a start. And that will have to be enough for now.

Tuhka sits back down once Lazarus has vanished from sight down the path and gazes up at the same stars he had begged night after night to return his best friend to him.

He thanks them for listening.

#d&d #tuhka turunen #lazarus astrophel #ash & salt #mine #almost forgot to post this

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manonblaqkbeak · 3 years

Text

Complicated

Fking finally lol. I’ve had absolutely no motivation to read or write these last few days, but I finally started this last night and finished it now. Here’s Day 15--a bad day, and part 3 of the mini-series i have going for this month.

Part 1 Part 2

cw: none that i can think of, but if theres anything, pls dont hesitate to let me know!

1.5k words

enjoy!! :)

Aelin had been sitting in her car for the last twenty minutes, staring at the motel door. She had no idea what she was going to say to Sam, but she knew she had to say something.

Something like, “I'm sorry that your biological daughter calls another man daddy and papa.” Maybe Aelin should have put a stop to it once Olive had started calling Rowan that, but hearing Olive say daddy in her tiny voice with a wide smile on her face made Aelin's heart flutter, and the sweet look of joy when Rowan heard her say it made Aelin think that it wouldn't be too bad.

She had got caught up in the fantasy of it all, but it was hard not to be sucked down into. She still loved Rowan and they had been dating seriously for the last six months. They had been friends for five months after she saw him at the nursery, and things had been going so damned well. Rowan and Egan had moved into Aelin's place two months ago—the four bedroom house previously owned by Aelin's parents before they moved into a small home—and she got along fantastically with Egan; he had a bit more of an understanding that Aelin wasn't his biological mother, since Rowan still had the photos of Lyria during the pregnancy, and she was determined to never replace Lyria, but when he called her 'ma' or 'Lin', her face would break into a smile so big she thought that it would be a permanent fixture on her face.

Aelin wasn't stupid, however, she knew that people thought that she and Rowan were moving too fast—namely her parents and Aedion, but when she and Rowan talked about the future, it felt solid, like it wasn't just a fanciful notion, but something real that was only a few steps away from being able to hold in her hands.

She had never been with someone that was so loyal to her, someone that cared for her in the way that Rowan did. That looked past her outer beauty and saw Aelin for who she was, and encouraged her to go for what made her happy.

It wasn't always perfect, they had arguments for time to time, but they worked it out, and that had shocked Aelin at first, that Rowan actually wanted to work together to fix the issue, that he actually communicated instead of just letting the arguments fade away. It wasn't like that at all with Chaol, part of the reason why their relationship crashed and burned.

So she hardly thought twice about what it meant to have Olive call Rowan 'daddy', that to Aelin, she was just building a family and a future, but she was starkly reminded that her boyfriend indeed was not her daughters father when Olive called Rowan 'papa' in the middle of the lunch that Sam was invited to at their place and the silence that had descended between the three adults.

Aelin almost choked on the pizza that she was in the middle of inhaling when Olive said that, her daughter sitting on Rowan's lap because she had been fussy and didn't want to sit in her booster seat. Olive and Egan were blissfully unaware of the awkwardness that was emanating from Aelin, the brown haired boy paying attention only to the TV that was playing his favourite cartoon, and Olive had simply wanted more of Rowan's attention.

Aelin glanced at Sam and found that the look in his eyes was utterly unreadable, which was unusual since Sam was easy to read, but for the first time in the years that Aelin knew him, she had no idea how to decipher his expression.

Rowan had opened his mouth, to say what Aelin wasn't sure, when Sam waved him off, and resumed the conversation revolving around the classic car that Rowan was fixing in his rare free time. So Rowan, knowing that it wasn't the right place to have that conversation, continued where he left off before Olive uttered that word that had never felt wrong before but suddenly left Aelin wanting to sink into the floor.

And when Sam had left after lunch, Aelin had decided that temporarily avoiding the topic was the best move, and after helping Rowan clear the table, Aelin had given Olive a quick bath in order to think about anything else.

All Aelin had been able to think about was what if somehow, by letting Olive calling Rowan her dad, she had doomed her daughter into developing daddy issues, that she would grow up confused on how to feel about her biological father when all her life she had called another man dad.

Aelin banged her head against the steering wheel, wondering how a good, decent day had gone to a complicated mess in a matter of hours.

She stayed there for a while, until she realised that she needed to be the adult she was and left the car, knocking loudly on the white motel door.

The door flew open and Aelin was greeted by Sam, a small smile on his face. “I was wondering how long you were going to sit out there for.” Having no idea what to say to that, Aelin stayed silent and went inside when Sam invited her in.

Aelin worried at her lip, and sat at the tiny table by the TV. She truly had no idea what to say.

Sam sat across from her and took her hands in his. Aelin looked up and found nothing but openness in his warm brown eyes. “I'm not mad, if that's what you're thinking.”

Aelin blinked at him. While Sam wasn't a violent man, she wasn't expecting that. “How?” she managed to get out after a moment. “How could you not be mad? Your daughter is calling another man 'papa'.”

“I'm hardly Olive's father, Aelin, I'm aware that I'm not the most active dad, I've seen her only a handful of times since her birth and she's nearly two. It's clear that Rowan loves her, and that she loves him. I actually saw all four of you earlier today, at the park,” Sam added. “I was feeling nervous, like I always do before I see Olive, so I went to the park to have my breakfast. I heard your laugh and I turned, ready to call out to you, when I saw that you were having a picnic and I realised that you already had a family, that Rowan and Egan are your family, and that Rowan is Olive's father in the way that counts, in the way that matters, and that I'm just an intruder in your lives.”

Gripping his hands, Aelin shook her head. “Sam, you can't think like that, you're not an intruder. You're Olive's biological father, you're important.”

“And I'll always be grateful that I had a hand in creating her, but Aelin, I want you to look inside yourself and tell me truthfully, in ten years time, who do you see by your side, Olive's side? Because I know that it isn't me.” And it wasn't, Aelin didn't to look inside herself to know that. She was already thinking deeply about her future long before Sam's visit.

“I want you to know though,” Aelin said abruptly, “that I didn't deliberately set out to have Olive see Rowan as her father, that I did talk about you from time to time, but I-I don't think that she could make the connection that the voice on the end of the phone belongs to you. But I promise that if see ever asks about you, I'll tell her, I won't hide anything from her.”

“I know that you will,” Sam said, “just maybe tell her in a nice way that she's the result of a broken condom.”

Aelin laughed, feeling light for the first time since this whole thing started. “I will. Although I think I'll have to consult Google for that.”

Sam nodded, because even he knew that there were no books that could help with that conversation. “But if she never asks about me, then don't tell her.”

“Sam—”

“If Olive wants to believe for the rest of her life that Rowan is her biological father, then I'm okay with that. I'd rather her be happy than confused. Because when I heard Olive call Rowan 'papa', it felt right, like it made sense. And I know that's how you feel, too. And I know it makes no sense, but Olive somehow just looks like she's Rowan's daughter, you know? And I don't want to get in the way of that.”

Sam was far too nice for his own good. People as kind as him were hard to find. It was a miracle that in this life that she had met two men like that.

Aelin wiped at her eyes, the tears falling suddenly and fast. “How are you so nice when your father is a piece of shit?”

Sam snorted and handed her a tissue. “Years of therapy.” He took a deep breath, and in his brown eyes, the eyes that she had once fallen for so deeply, Aelin saw acceptance. “There's also something else...I was doing some soul searching before you came over, and I...I know that I'm not on the birth certificate and that I don't really have a say—”

“Sam, of course you have a say. Like I said earlier, you're Olive's biological father. You might not be on the birth certificate, but if you have opinions, then you can share them with me, I won't bite your head off.”

Sam gave her a tiny smile. “And I appreciate that, I do. But what I was going to say is this: if ever in the future Rowan wants to adopt Olive, then you and he have my blessing.”

Aelin stared at him for a long moment, letting the words sink in, and then the tears started again and Aelin's body shook with the force of her sobs. Because if Sam's father wasn't Arobynn, then she would have had the family that Sam was wholeheartedly accepting that she had with Rowan. And that he was willing to stand aside to let Olive have the father that she deserved.

Sam came over to her, hugging her to him as Aelin sobbed into his shoulder, running his hand up and down her back. Aelin had never let herself cry like this in front of him, she never really liked crying like that, but she couldn't help herself and couldn't stop herself for a long while. It was a good ten minutes later when the tears slowly subsided and Sam slowly pulled back, giving her a once over with his kind eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Aelin said, loudly blowing her nose with a handful of tissues. “I just...I wasn't sure what I was expecting to happen here tonight. Never did I think that you would offer something like that, Sam.”

“I would be just like Arobynn if I forced you to be unhappy, and I never want to be like him.”

“You're not,” Aelin said, “you'll never be like him. I hope one day, Sam, you'll be able to have a family of your own.”

Sam kissed her cheek, the gesture sending her back to when they were teenagers. “I hope so, too.”

Aelin stayed for a little while longer, just talking and reminiscing about the old times. And when she went home, she kissed him on the cheek, thanked him again, and told him that he would always have a special place in her heart, because without him, she wouldn't have Olive.

Sam repeated the sentiment, and wished her nothing but happiness with Rowan, and that he was glad she found him.

Aelin was glad she found Rowan, too.

X X X X X X

Aelin walked into her house, and was greeted by two ecstatic children, acting like they hadn't seen her for years. Aelin smiled and gave them their hugs that they desperately wanted. She went over to the kitchen counter where Rowan was preparing dinner—grilled cheese, that she knew very well had veggies hidden within, because Egan acted like vegetables were the world's most evil thing to exist—and kissed him on the cheek. He kissed her temple in response, and Aelin breathed in the homely scent of him.

“How did everything go with Sam?” he asked, moving about the kitchen to start the side salad.

“Great, and there's something very important that I have to tell you.” Rowan raised a silver brow, but Aelin kissed his cheek again and promised to tell him later.

X X X X X X

Aelin was more than ready to climb into bed and fall asleep, but she needed to tell Rowan about her conversation with Sam, so when they got settled and comfortable, Aelin told him what her ex-partner said.

Rowan was stunned for a moment, and she hadn't even told him the best part. “Truthfully, I was mentally preparing myself for Sam to punch me in the face after lunch, but to hear what he said to you, I feel like a fool for ever thinking that he would resort to that.”

“If he was more like his father, he definitely would have. But Sam is the polar opposite of Arobynn, and truly wants nothing more than for people to be happy.” Rowan smiled and took Aelin's hand in his, and Aelin relished in the comforting touch. “And there's something else,” Aelin added, and it was ridiculous, but a tiny part of her was nervous, that told her that Rowan wouldn't want Sam's blessing, that he wouldn't want to legally be Olive's father. “Sam told me that if you ever wanted to adopt Olive, then you have his blessing, because he wants nothing more than for Olive to be loved and cared for, and he sees that you're the one that can help provide her with that.”

Rowan looked at Aelin, and her own eyes watered when she saw that his were filling up. “I would be honoured to do that, Aelin. It would make me the happiest man in the world to have that privilege. And after we're married, we can start the process, and maybe one day, when Egan's a little older and he has a better understanding, you can adopt him too, because I know you like him just as much as I love Olive.”

“I do,” Aelin said, choking up. “That would be—” Aelin stopped, her mind finally catching up with what he just said. “Did you just propose to me?”

Rowan cracked a smile and kissed her. He pulled away just so, their noses touching. “Not yet, I haven't found the right ring.”

Aelin laughed joyfully, even as her tears overflowed. “Just to let you know, I'm not helping you out this time. You'll have to figure it out on your own.”

Rowan kissed her again and again. “Don't worry, I've already got a few choices in mind.”

“Good. Make sure its sparkles.”

“I will,” Rowan said, and took her into his arms.

It wasn't too bad of a day, after all.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work #im jst glad i got it done lol

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anxiouslyfred · 3 years

Text

The Stone Gaze

Summary: Virgil hates that he can temporarily turn people into stone and hopes that whatever the mirror superpower his soulmate has is able to counteract it.

He wasn’t quite expecting the energy and impulsiveness of Remus when they met in an Art Exhibition.

/\/\/\

Virgil hated his powers. He hated a lot of things really, but the power he had was the number one thing he hated and that barely even counted as self-hate or self-deprecation given a lot of the reasoning for it was how his powers impacted his life.

The only time he'd come close to thinking his 'superpower' (as society had deemed things not everybody could do) was when they were studying mythology and had covered Medusa. She had turned people to stone permanently as a gift to protect herself from those who would idolise or attack her. Before they learnt the ending that had seemed like a pretty cool thing to be able to do, but then she was killed as part of a heroes journey and Virgil realised how little people would think of his power should they learn about it. It was mythologically a villains power after all.

Hiding his powers wasn't enough to keep Virgil from the attention of bullies. They picked on him because he always wore his father hoodie after they lost him to illness. They'd call him names because he'd learnt to keep his hair, especially his fringe long enough to cover his eyes so nobody would get accidentally turned to stone. Eventually they'd even harass him to do their homework because his Dad pushed for good study habits.

Refusing to react to their insults or requests only reached the point they tried to beat him up once. When the leader of that group had shoved him against a wall his hair had fallen backwards, leaving a clear gaze directed to the bullies. As soon as the leader became stone the other kids had fled, crying for the teacher to come help.

Virgil's Dad had been called to the school to pick him up and explicitly direct everyone's attention to what had clearly been happening, given the position the boy had been frozen in while refusing to allow any punishment to be given to Virgil. Even once that was accepted by the teachers and school they tried to demand that he wore sunglasses or a visor to school for the safety of staff and children alike.

“I will not police the clothes my son wears because your staff cannot respect someone who doesn't meet their gaze directly. He has found that the long fringe is enough to counteract his powers and given the years he has attended this school without incident that should be perfectly suitable to carry on with.” His Dad has lectured the head teacher that day. He'd given more evidence that Virgil hadn't listened to, but the sentence stuck in his head. Once more his powers were up to him to control and prevent from being used and it felt like an even heavier weight to carry than he'd already found it.

The days of his schooling after that were lonely, isolated as he feared anyone he might befriend would try to meet his eyes. The only hope he had for getting through his life was that somewhere in their world was his soulmate; a person whose powers would mirror his own, and possibly, on the nights Virgil was willing to dream impossible things, counteract his gaze that turned people to stone.

/Over to Remus\

Roman had been the one to bring Remus into exhibiting his work. Honestly, Roman had been the twin to get them both into the art world in the first place. The charismatic, charming artist, whose painting were filled with energy most paintings couldn't capture and dreamt of finding his soulmate. When the art world had discovered he had a brother just as skilled in sculpting they were pulled around and paired together for exhibits constantly.

Remus had originally tried to explain the truth, that their works looked like they held more of life in them because that was what their powers did. Roman could bring paintings to life temporarily, and had often painted portraits of his friends and family so he could still talk to them while they were away. Remus in contrast brought sculptures to life when he touched them with a wish to talk. They'd always be in different positions than he'd awakened them from by the time the power wore off so he got praised for how realistic or believable his positions were.

None of that praise meant anything to Remus though. He sculpted things to feel less alone, to have people to talk to that wouldn't react in disgust or turn away when he said something a little more twisted than society was used to hearing. Each model he made had a mouth to talk and their own way to express their reactions so he could for a while feel accepted by someone other than his brother.

Today he had actually listened to Roman's claims that it's better for their exhibitions when the artist spends times at the display. Of course that didn't mean he was going to dress any differently that normal, just throwing on the torn skinny jeans and an off the shoulder top, with a jacket draped over his shoulders for when the air conditioning got too cold. Art Galleries always seemed to keep the space too cold, Remus swore on it.

“You can't be in here Mate.” An angry voice said, a hand accompanying it yanking him around to face a tall suited man, scowling down at him. “This is an art gallery and I don't care what the fuck you did to sneak in here you're gonna be-”

Remus had already started glancing for a nearby sculpture to reach for when the words cut off. The man whose voice had slowly been raising had now turned to stone, finger raised to point out the door.

“I'm the artist?” He blinked, properly turning now to try and find who else was in the gallery that might have done it.

A few metres directly behind where Remus was, there was a man looking like he would run any second, staring at the floor as though ashamed. “Sorry, I didn't mean to do that.” He mumbled, “The yelling startled me.”

“You're okay, dude. No harm, no wild birds around here.” Remus nodded, reaching back to poke the side of the angry man, focusing on him being alive and calm now.

“Apologies, I probably shouldn't have yelled, but seriously, homeless people aren't allowed in art galleries.” The man who had been yelling declared, having taken a deep breath as the stone released him.

Remus just raised an eyebrow at that. “Just because I haven't dressed all posh like you doesn't mean I'm homeless. And given I'm the one who sculpted most of the statues in this gallery, I believe your judgemental attitude can be taken elsewhere, or shoved up your ass since that seems to be where the rest of your personality is kept. Have your fun in hell, not in my gallery.” He spoke quickly, already directing the man away from the gallery, and nodding to the security guard that wandered between their exhibits.

He didn't delay any longer than that, caring more for the man who had turned him to stone than anything more that could be said. That had to be the complete opposite to his own powers, whether it had been a permanent transformation or just a temporary one, he wanted to know.

Luckily the man was still stood there, blinking at the spot where the angry fellow had been frozen. “He- he shouldn't... That never wears off that quickly.” He was mumbling to himself, not realising Remus had returned.

“Hey there modern day Medusa, you doing alright?” Remus tapped his shoulder, tilting his head when the acknowledgement was for the man to stare at his neck rather than look at him.

“F-fine. Sorry about that though. It really was an accident.”

“Why are you apologising for helping me calm the situation down before he did more than yell? I got him out of the stone and sent on his way. It's all hot stuff in heaven today.” Remus was genuinely confused over what was upsetting the man in front of him. Everything had been sorted out so surely they could move on to talking about soulmates already.

There was a quick glance up, to stare at his ear now, or maybe something over his shoulder. “You got him out of the stone? That wasn't my power just wearing off more quickly than normal?” There was a plea in his voice, as though scared of his own power.

“Yep, and while I can't really prove that here, given everything is already photographed and needs to remain the same to be sold, you can come see my works in progress. I'm Remus, by the way, Remus Windsor.” The offer was easy to give. No matter what people believed about needing to test contrasting powers in public to understand if they're completely opposites, he just wanted to calm this person down. Roman would understand that and hopefully leave to paint in the park or some sappy shit like that.

“Virgil and, yeah, please can we do that?” Virgil nodded, holding a shaking hand out towards him, while the other started pulling the hair that had fallen to his ears back in front of his eyes.

As Remus took his hand he was finally able to meet Virgil's gaze and grinned, tugging on it so they could run out of the gallery together, looking something between art thieves making their escape and teenagers causing mischief.

/To the art gallery\

“Princess, you better get your fat ass and any talking paintings the hell out of here. I've got my Medusa and we need to confirm this shit without an audience.” Remus barged through the doors still tugging Virgil along behind him.

Virgil was astounded by what had occurred in the last hour. He'd only visited the art gallery on a whim, curious over just how lifelike a sculptures positioning could be compared to what he'd seen when accidentally using his own power on people. He hadn't expected to almost add to the exhibition temporarily or to meet someone who could be his soulmate there as well.

Now he could only look around the studio that Remus had explained he shared with his brother. The walls were covered in paintings in various stages of completion. Some looked finished but missing the energy that the paintings back in the gallery had held, others were clearly completely done, but held back. A few canvases were merely sketches or only had their backgrounds coloured in.

Then there was the stone. There were throughout the entire studio several large boulders, some chipped into enough that a hand could be seen reaching out, or the nose of a dog. A few were just legs waving into the air, vague shapes for the rest of the body chipped away but the lips immaculately carved. There was even a potters wheel at the opposite end with a few vases and ceramic models left on a table beside it.

“Remus, seriously, you cannot just kick me out. I'm doing an oil painting.” There was a man identical to Remus stood in front of the only Easel in the gallery, now turned to them frowning with his brush poised to the canvas.

Virgil dithered for a moment before stepping forward. “Oil paints don't exactly dry quickly. You could spare a few minutes for us to figure our if we're soulmates couldn't you?” He muttered, for the first time in years looking up as someone turned to him. He wasn't going to deliberately use his powers without permission now, but having some evidence that Remus actually can reverse the medusa affect straight away would seriously take a weight from his mind.

The painter watched him for a moment before stepping closer, setting his brush down. “I'm Roman. Wouldn't it be more useful for you to prove this on a real person? Although I can understand the uses of turning Remus's sculptures back to stone at will. There's been a few incidents where they've been even worse than he can be.”

“Roman's volunteering to be tortured. Let's do it, see how long we can keep making him stone and real again in quick succession.” Remus stage whispered at him, cackling when Roman flipped him off.

Virgil just nodded, “Only once. I want to know if Remus actually can reverse this.” He cautioned, but turned his head enough to properly meet Roman's gaze, watching as grey stole over his body in a second.

Before Virgil could worry over how Remus would react to seeing that done deliberately, he was leaning forwards to shove his brother backwards, giggling along with the action. Roman was human again by the time he hit the floor, now scowling up at Remus.

“Okay, Rude. I offer to help my darling sibling confirm their soulmate is theirs and you shove me to the floor. I cannot work in such a hostile environment. I'm taking my leave of you, pray it won't be permanently.” He stood up, throwing the glare at them and leaving with all the dramatics of a pantomime dame.

Virgil had to snicker along with Remus as the door was slammed shut. Honestly, half of it was that he had to laugh or he might just burst into tears. In all his wildest dreams he hadn't thought his soulmate would be so excited to have his powers with them.

“Let's try on my figurines! I'm trying to make a dragon witch I can set lose to torment Roman when I'm heading out, and already have my Cthulhu baby, just waiting to be given life. Wanna see if you can turn them back to stone if I wake 'em up?” Remus was once again holding his hand and tugging him to the other end of the room as soon as he finished laughing.

“Before we do that, are you wanting a romantic soulmate, or a platonic one? I don't really care which we have but I'd be happier if we got to know each other first.” Virgil hesitated a moment, tugging back on his arm.

Remus waved off the question. “We'll cross that bridge when we reach it. If you want sex or not I'm making models I can sleep with anyway. They're funny to talk to if they realise how I made their bodies. Come on, meet my Cthulhu baby!” The whine was emphasised by bouncing and Virgil's arm being jumped up and down rapidly.

“Okay, okay, guess that explains why some are so twisted around as though trying to hide their bodies.” Virgil laughed, walking once more towards the table.

Virgil hated his superpower, and probably always would, but perhaps Remus can help him find a couple of things it's good to be medusa for.

#dukexiety #soulmate au #creativitwins #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

Note

Hi Steph!! I was wondering if you knew of any really long fics (like 25k or more) that are only one chapter, I travel a lot sometimes and some places don't really have good enough internet for multi chapter fics. So yeah, any really long one chapter fics about John and Sherlock would be appreciated. Thank you!

Hey Nonny!!

LOL OKAY FUNNY STORY. I almost replied to this with “oof I’ll have to read EVERYTHING so I’m sorry.... and then... I remembered.......

I put chapter counts on everything 🙃😐

I’m not the brightest crayon in the box. 🖍

Anyway, so yes, I can definitely rec you some fics! BUT I should also offer you two suggestions you can totally do to read ANY fic!

On Ao3, you can click on the “Entire Work” button to load ALL chapters of a fic (it’s the very first button along the top) and in turn you can then just read it all there!

And the very last button along the top, you can Download copies of the fic to your phone or computer with eBook file types (AZw3 for Kindle, ePub for iPhone’s Books app, and MOBI is for other mobile devices and e-readers), the HTML if you want to read it as-is in a web-browser, or the PDF format which is a universal file format that is supported by everything, even web browsers, so it’s a good one to download if you don’t know what format you need :) If you read on an eReader, though, I can’t recommend enough just downloading the format for your device. You get to keep a copy of the fic AND the eReader keeps it nicely formatted. It’s a BRILLIANT, BEAUTIFUL feature that Ao3 gave us, because I like downloading all my fics and read them later in iBooks. Once you start that, Nonny, you can’t do it any other way. AND at the VERY END of the fics, it links BACK to the original post so you can bookmark, kudos, and comment on it!! <3

So yeah, two options you can do to solve your poopy internet and still read long fics hee hee! <3

ANYWAY EXCUSE FOR A NEW LIST LOL.

ALSO, side note, check out @silentauroriamthereal; a large chunk of her fics are both long AND one chapter, so it’s a good place to go and she’s a brilliant author so I don’t think you’ll be disappointed! <3 Plus a lot of her fics are on this list, so I am sorry hahah.

AND I wanted to make the list a bit longer than I had, so I picked fics over 20K, if that’s alright :) As always, if you wrote a 20k+ single chapter fic, let us know!

SINGLE CHAPTER FICS OVER 20K WORDS

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

The White Lotuses by SilentAuror (E, 20,340 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Burn, Domestic, Romance) – One day John realises that he just isn't where he belongs, which is back at Baker Street with Sherlock. So he goes back and Sherlock, in his own way, courts him. Romance.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

You're On the Air by prettysailorsoldier (M, 20,616 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Matchmaking, Radio, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Flirting, Bisexual John) – The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it's time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain--and notorious flirt--John Watson? Part 1 of 25 Days of Johnlock

whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.

Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant by teahigh (E, 20,776 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel, PTSD, Codependency, Fluff & Angst, H/C, Smut, Demisexual Sherlock, Experiments) – John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”

Winter's Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter's Delights

Love Is by SilentAuror (E, 21,508 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, UST / URT, Post HLV, Romance) – At Mrs Hudson’s urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him. Part 1 of Love Is

echoes through time by chellefic (E, 21,619 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Romance, ACD & BBC, Epistolary) – Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Past Abuse) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

Shallow Grave by SilentAuror (E, 31,672 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Angst, HLV Fix It, Infidelity, Pining Sherlock, First Person POV Sherlock) – Starts as Sherlock's plane is taking off at the end of His Last Vow. When he finds out that Moriarty is alive and that he's being recalled from his mission, Sherlock decides that he should have told John how he felt before he left. So he walks off the plane and kisses him.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Magical Realism || John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It's a lot less cracky than you're probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, H/C, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Bedtime Stories by Liketheriver (M, 34,388 w., 1 Ch. || Emotional H/C, Romance, Angst & Humour, Bed Sharing, John First Person, TRF, John Whump) – John's POV during Season 2 and beyond when Sherlock takes up semi-permanent residence in his bed. A collection of codas and missing scenes wrapped up into one long fic and topped with a bow that takes the story beyond Reichenbach and into happy territory once more. Part 1 of Bedtime Universe

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

Act IV by SilentAuror (E, 39,707 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV Sherlock, HLV Fix-It, Infidelity, Angst, Drama) – After Sherlock is shot, John moves back into Baker Street. They spend the autumn together as John tries to make sense of his life and make some important decisions about both Mary and Sherlock. Canon-compliant, excerpts from His Last Vow.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #long fics #single chapter fics #Anonymous

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procrastinatorimagines · 4 years

Text

Here For You Part 6

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Series: Here For You

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 (Final)

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 1,534

Summary: Y/N’s world spun out of control after she got pregnant, uprooting her life and moving to Chicago only for her brother to get involved in a murder trial. Now, her baby is finally here, and with Jay by her side her life feels like it’s finally coming together again, until someone from her past comes back into the picture and threatens to tear down everything she’s tried so hard to build.

The trial process was nervewracking, multiple interviews, assessing characters, income, stability... You were glad you had Jay to lean on when it got overwhelming, but you knew you were the best thing for Lucas, and you held onto that throughout the ordeal.

Between juggling raising your son and fighting to keep him, you made yourself think about your own future, not just in terms of Jay, but in terms of a career too. So when Lucas was big enough, you were going to start training to be a nurse. It was a time of near constant fear, but also hope; you could see your life beyond this, all you had to go was get past this colosal hurdle.

Tommy on the other hand, as you learned in court, didn’t have a job or apartment, and had bailed on two separate court-ordered rehabs, leading to hefty fines he couldn’t afford to pay. Needless to say, the trail was going in your favour.

Eventually, the judge ruled that you were to receive full custody, but adviced you let Tommy have visitation at your own discretion, and at a time when he was in a fitter state and child support was being paid regularly and in full, the issue of custody could be revisited. Tommy wasn’t happy, but it was everything you could have asked for.

You left the courtroom with your head held high that day, Henry passing you back Lucas as he and Jay led you out towards the elevators. Tommy chose that moment to approach, your smile wiped from your face in an instant.

“Y/N,” he said with force, making you stop in your tracks and turn to face him. He was angry, and while you couldn’t exactly blame him... wait, yes you could. Tommy was the one who wanted to take this to court, actually having the audacity to put you and Lucas through all that thinking he had a chance.

Jay put a protective hand on your back, positioning himself so that he was slightly shielding you and your son. “You brought this on yourself,” you told him, watching his eyes flare with rage as you continued, “if you’d have just reached out properly, we might have been able to sort something out without needing it to get this far.”

It wasn’t a lie, you would have considered it, maybe not when you were lying in a hospital bed with your new born baby obviously, and he never should have expected that, but you could have come to an arangement.

Tommy rolled his eyes and grumbled something you didn’t care to repeat, Jay tensing beside you. “Who the hell is this guy anyway, seriously?” He asked, gesturing to Jay with indignation, “this guy isn’t Lucas’ dad, I am, and what? He gets to be around my kid whenever he wants while I have to beg you for scraps?”

Lucas was starting to fuss in your arms as you took a step away from Jay towards Tommy, wanting to show him that you were fighting your own battles. Jay cast you a worried glance but he didn’t stop you. You took a breath, leveling yourself as you felt your blood boil.

“Yes,” you answered his question, much to his shock and anger, “Jay’s been there for me, for us, this whole time since we met, since you left. He’s a good man, kind and dedicated, and Lucas would be lucky to have Jay for a dad.”

You heard Jay suck in a small sharp breath, not expecting you to say that; Tommy gasped in surprise, almost looking hurt. Honestly, you were surprised you said that outloud too, but there it was. Henry was smiling in a knowing way, glad his sister was finally standing up for herself.

“You little...” Tommy hissed, taking a step forward and pointing his finger in an acusatory manner. Instinctively, you took a step back, a protective arm around Lucas as he started to cry. That was all the cue Jay needed to intervene, blocking Tommy’s path.

Security took a step forward, ready to de-escalate the situation if they needed to, but Jay had it under control, sensing the shift in Tommy’s stance and the way he clenched his fist. It was an obvious swing, one that Jay dodged with ease, a slight glint clear in his eyes, gaining all the justification he’d been waiting for as he aimed a well placed punch at Tommy’s nose, knocking him to the ground in one hit.

Tommy looked daised, steam practically coming out of his eyes as he tried to stand, clearly going for round two before he froze, staring at the badge Jay had just revealed under his shirt. Jay signaled to the guard to pick him up off the floor.

“Congratuations Tommy, you’ve just assaulted a police detective in a court house full of witnesses,” he told him, nodding towards the crowd of people who had stopped what they were doing to witness the commotion.

Any sympathy you might have had was gone as you looked him square in the eyes. “Goodbye Tommy,” you told him, turning on your heals as you soothed your crying son. You already had an actual baby to take care of, you didn’t need to pile a grown man onto that list. Somewhere down the line, you might consider letting him visit Lucas, but that wasn’t going to be anytime soon. Besides, after this there wouldn’t be a judge around who wouldn’t take your side on that matter.

As the doors shut to the elevator and Tommy was taken into custody, you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, grateful when you felt Jay’s fingers slip into your own. You glanced down at his bruised knuckles and ran your thumb over them lightly, squeezing his hand in thanks as Lucas began to calm down.

It had been satisfying to watch, if you were being honest, you knew Henry agreed by the smirk that had become permanently plastered on his face. Jay definitely enjoyed it a little too much, but you didn’t blame him.

You looked around at the people in the elevator. They were your family, Lucas’ family. You didn’t need Tommy, hadn’t for a long time, maybe now he’d realise that.

“What’s going to happen to Tommy?” You inquired once you were back in the comfort of your own apartment, Lucas finally calmed down and asleep after the ordeal at court.

“I don’t know, but after that outburst he won’t be allowed near you or Lucas for a long time,” Jay informed you, temporarily putting on his serious detective voice, “I’ll make some calls tomorrow.” You knew he would, he took yours and Lucas’ safety very seriously, Tommy was probably at the 21st right now nursing his nose.

“I didn’t want this, Lucas deserves stability, a good father...” You sighed with frustration, all the emotion you’d bottled up during the day and the trail threatening to boil over. Jay grabbed your hand and you met his eyes, “I meant what I said in there, about you. I want you in his life.”

“I want to be in his life, I love him...” Jay told you honestly, taking a deep readying breath, as if preparing himself for what he was about to say, “I’m kind of in love with you too.”

“Jay-,” You breathed, shocked by his declaration.

“I know you’ve been through a lot and this is sudden, but I love you Y/N, and I want to be a part of your life, both of your lives,” he continued, taking your other hand too.

His touch was strong, warm, comforting, everything you wanted for yourself and Lucas. Jay had proven time and time again the kind of man he was, without fail, he’d been kind, patient, supportive... everything Tommy had never been, everything you didn’t think you deserved, but here he was, ready to give it all to you without hesitation.

So you told him the truth, the truth you hadn’t even realised it until this moment, buried deep down as you’d tried to navigate your new life. “I love you too,” you told him, and it was like something cracked open in your chest, and you could breath again. You’d never said those words to anyone, not romantically, but you knew it your heart that you did.

“Yeah?” He asked hopefully, not quite believing that you’d said it back so quickly, or with so much confidence. You took him in as you thought of what to say, every detail.

“Yeah I really do, I guess I’ve been trying to fight it, thinking that it might be selfish to think about a relationship right now, but the truth is you are what’s best for him, and me,” you tried your best to explain, “I love you, and although I don’t know what’s going to happen with Tommy, I know Lucas could never ask for a better father than you.”

“You mean that?”

"With my whole heart.”

And then you kissed, and it felt like a promise, a promise of ‘i love you’, a promise of a future, a promise to always been there for each other, whatever came next.

#jay halstead #chicago pd #one chicago #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead imagines #chicago pd imagines #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #here for you

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sequinsmile-x · 2 years

Text

Tomorrow

They could have had forever and it still wouldn’t have been enough.

The final story in the Whatever Tomorrow Brings universe.

-x-

I've felt oddly emotional about this all day, all week really. Whatever Tomorrow Brings was the first story of mine that really started to pick up readers, and whilst I will miss this universe - it feels like the right time to say goodbye. I'll still be here, writing about our favourite idiots in love, just not this version of them.

I want to say thank you to all of you! To anyone who reblogged, liked or left kudos on any part of this universe. Thank you to the silent readers, those who come back time and time again. Thank you for loving my original characters so much - Theo, and especially Amelia, became so much more because of how all of you reacted to them.

This version of them, and their family, will always be important to me, and knowing they meant something to you too means more than I can ever say.

So this is it, the end of WTB. I hope you think I've done their story justice, and that when you revisit them in the future you still enjoy their highs and lows with them.

I love you all!

Please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 7.7k

Warnings: Major character death, grief, illness

Read over on A03, or below the cut.

June 2037

They hadn’t had enough time.

It’s all she can think as she stands in the home office they once shared, her eyes fixed on Aaron’s desk.

Vascular Dementia. Two words that permeated everything in their lives for almost three years, a diagnosis that rocked their whole family, and shook them to the very core.

Emily noticed it first. How her husband seemed to suddenly be more forgetful, easily confused in a way he never had been before. When she looks back on it she realises it had been slowly getting worse for a while, signs she had missed before it became obvious. Memories of what it was like when her mother was sick haunting her. At first, they’d assumed it was the same thing, a cruel twist of fate that took her mother and her husband from her with the same disease. She could still feel the pit in her stomach, heavy and dense, when she remembered the diagnosis, the cause the doctors assumed laid behind it.

It was George Foyet’s last laugh. His actions still impacting their family decades after he had briefly taken Aaron from them, only to permanently do it now. The injuries he had sustained had slowly put stress on his heart throughout the years, leading to this.

Aaron had been the one who had to calm her down once they got home from that appointment, initially letting her rant and rave, cursing a man long since dead, until she started to cry. Then he’d hugged her, held her in the embrace that had been her solace for most of her life and comforted her, like he wasn’t the one who hadn’t just been told he was dying.

“Mom?”

She turns from where she is standing, her chest tight as she turns to face her children, all three of them just inside the door, pulled shut behind them to give them some privacy. It’s why she’d sought solace here, to begin with, strangers in their home setting it up for the wake. It was setting her on edge, her nerves already raw.

Jack is standing with his hands in his pockets, his lips set in a firm line, a clear attempt to hold his emotions back. It makes him look so much like Aaron that her eyes sting, the seemingly endless tears making their presence known. The sight of him in a black suit sending her right back to the last time he’d buried a parent. He’d been so young then, the life he had known dead and gone with his mother.

Theo and Amelia are bunched together, the latter with her arms wrapped tightly around her brother’s bicep, holding him close, her head against his shoulder, tears on her face that she doesn’t even try to hide.

“The cars are here.” Theo says, his voice shaking slightly, attempting to smile at her, “we’re ready to go when you are.”

Emily nods and throws one look back towards Aaron’s desk, left exactly as it had been when he’d last used it, and she blows out a breath as she turns to her children.

“Let’s go, best get today over with.” She says as she steps towards them.

Amelia breaks free from her brothers and closes the gap between her and Emily, hugging her mother as she did when she was a little girl. Seeking her comfort like she was a child, not the grown woman she now was. Emily holds her just as tightly, rubbing her hand up and down her daughter's back as she cries.

“Come on, sweetheart,” she says, encouraging Amelia to walk with her, her arm around her waist, “you know how your dad felt about tardiness.”

They all chuckle, humourless and sad but it’s something. She guides her daughter towards the front of the house, her sons walking just behind them, and she is grateful Aaron gave her them. The family they worked so hard for.

They could have had forever and it still wouldn’t have been enough.

April 2035

“You want to do what?” She asks, venom in her voice as she stares at him, her mouth hanging open from where she sits next to him on their couch. He looks so calm it makes her even more irritated, like he hadn’t just dropped life changing news on her. He doesn’t bite, doesn’t react. He’d always been frustratingly patient with her.

“I want to sign a DNR.” He repeats, placing his hand on her knee and squeezing the joint, his fingers attempting to press comfort into her. “I think it’s the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to…” she blows out a breath incredulously, and she shakes her head, “how is signing something that means the doctors just let you die the right thing to do?”

All she can think about is what they were told 6 months ago, his increased risk of heart attacks and stroke. How to look for the signs. She’d barely let him leave her sight, worried she’d come home to find him laying on the ground. Images of what had been key themes in her nightmares over the years, flashes of a blood stain on a floor in their old house, becoming a very real possibility.

“Em,-”

“No,” she says, cutting him off. She stands up, his hand slipping from her knee, and she starts to pace the floor.

He stands too, still calm, and It infuriates her. Makes grief settle in her lungs as she becomes hyper-aware that she could lose him at any moment.

“Sweetheart,” he says, his hands on her shoulders as he stops her, making her look at him, “it’s only going to get worse, the doctor said we should think about it.” He wipes a tear away from her cheek that she doesn’t even realise has fallen. “I need you on board with this.”

She’s heard what he hasn’t said. He legally can’t make this decision for himself anymore. She was his medical proxy, and power of attorney had been handed over after his diagnosis. He’d already got worse, she knew that. Confused and frustrated more than he wasn’t, and she hated that they were using some of his increasingly infrequent lucid days to talk about this.

“Aaron,” she breathes out, “how am I supposed to sign something that says I don’t want them to resuscitate you if something happens?” She doesn’t try and cover her upset, her tears freely falling, there had never been any point in doing so around him anyway. “How are you so ok with this?”

He pulls her into a hug, his hand in her hair, holding her almost impossibly close.

“I have no other choice.”

She isn’t sure how long they stand there before she swallows thickly, the words bitter in her mouth.

“Ok, I understand.” She says, and he kisses the top of her head, and squeezes her tightly. “I’m going to miss you when you…so you’d better live for as long as possible,” she’s still crying, her words losing the humorous edge she was going for, she pulls back to look at him and sees tears in his eyes too, “Ok?”

He nods. “Ok,” he leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead, “I’ll miss you too.”

The next day he asks her where Haley is, and she has to excuse herself for a moment to pull herself together.

___

September 2008

Emily groans as she wakes up, unaware that she had fallen asleep in the first place. The first thing she is aware of, apart from the fact she’s on the couch, is the ever present nausea that rolled through her entire body.

She places her hand over her stomach, pressing into the still flat surface. She’d only been released from the hospital the day before, and Aaron and the boys were taking the doctor’s instructions to make sure she rested very seriously. She smiles as she realises someone, Aaron, had laid a blanket over her. She looks down and sees Archie cuddled up in her arms, and it makes her eyes water, forever at the mercy of her hormones, at the thought of Theo placing the orange cat there with her before Aaron ushered him out of the room.

She sits up slowly, blowing out a breath as she does, a pointless attempt to settle her stomach. She gives herself a moment before she stands, ensuring she has Archie with her, before she makes her way upstairs.

It was late enough to know everyone else would be up there, and Aaron would have inevitably come to wake her up, to encourage her into their bed, once the boys were asleep. She sneaks into Theo’s room on the way past, smiling as she places Archie in bed with him, kissing her son’s forehead before she slips back out.

She’s about to check on Jack when she hears him and Aaron in her bedroom, their hushed conversation travelling out through the gap in the door. Her curiosity spurs her on as much as her exhaustion does, and she steps into the room, spotting them in the ensuite.

“What are you two up to?” She asks, her smile widening as they both turn to look at her, shaving foam on both of their faces, clean skin showing through the patches they had already dragged the razor across.

“Dad’s teaching me how to shave,” Jack says, a shy smile on his face.

Emily exchanges a look with her husband and is proud of herself for not smiling. Jack, in no way, had enough facial hair to justify shaving, just the first hint of it on his upper lip, the odd hair on his chin.

“Well, have fun,” she says, “I’m going to get into bed.”

“Do you need anything sweetheart?” Aaron asks, already setting the razor in his hand down, ready to do whatever she requested.

“I’m ok,” she replies before looking back at Jack, “see you in the morning, honey.”

“Night, Emily.”

She climbs into bed, pulling the covers tightly around her as she tries to curl into a ball, another attempt to settle the constant twisting in her stomach. She dozes, the quiet sound of Jack and Aaron talking in the bathroom turning into white noise, and she’s unsure how much time has passed when she feels Aaron climb into bed with her, gentle as he pulls her back into him, his palm covering her belly.

“Are you ok?” He asks, kissing the back of her head, his thumb stroking at her belly button.

“I feel like shit,” she replies honestly, a slight whine to her voice, “but no more than usual.”

“I can go get one of your pills if you want,” he says, already pulling away, but she stops him, her hand over his on her stomach.

“No, I don’t need it,” she says, turning her head enough just to look at him, her lips pressing into his, “this helps.”

He looks at her as if he doesn’t believe her, but settles back down behind her anyway, his body moulding into hers, the space they had made for each other years ago.

“That was sweet,” she says, linking their fingers together on her abdomen, “Jack asking you to teach him how to shave.”

Aaron hums. “He was so shy about it,” he says, smiling into the back of her head, “Did I ever tell you that I taught Sean?”

She squeezes his hand a little tighter, any mention of his little brother always prone to make him sad, their relationship so fractured she wondered if it would ever be fixed.

“No, you didn’t,” she says, raising their hands to kiss his knuckles, “although, it makes sense, your dad wasn’t around.” She turns, the movement making her stomach roll, so she can face him properly, her forehead against his. “You’re a fantastic father, you know that?”

He smiles at the praise, his dimples on display. “And you’re an excellent mother.”

She chokes out a laugh, although it sounds close to a sob, her hormones driving her crazy.

“Our kids are so lucky to have us,” she quips, her hand running through his hair.

“They are,” he replies, pressing his lips to hers, “but you can be the one to have the sex talk with them.”

She laughs, properly this time, and she nods at him. “Fine, but you have to teach them how to drive.”

___

June 2037

She’s sitting on the couch, the tv on a mindless channel, when the front door opens, the sound of the key in the lock seemingly echoing throughout the house.

It’s muscle memory, a pavlovian response to years, decades, of Aaron walking in, his familiar footsteps against the hardwood floor, that has her momentarily forgetting.

“Mom, it’s just me,” Jack calls through the house, and she berates herself for the stab of disappointment she feels.

It wasn’t Aaron, it never could be again.

“I’m in the living room.” She calls back, hopeful that she had kept her voice even.

She knew her children well enough to know they’d discussed keeping an eye on her. It would have been Amelia’s idea initially, she knew that. Her daughter was still staying with her, sleeping in her childhood bedroom as if she didn’t have an apartment just 30 minutes away with her partner. She wasn’t here right now, and Emily knew it wasn’t coincidence that Jack was here when the house was otherwise empty.

“Is Mills still staying here?” Jack asks as he walks into the room, making a show of looking around for signs of his sister as he sits next to Emily, joining her on the couch.

“Yeah,” Emily replies, smiling, “She went home to get some fresh clothes, make sure Jamie has watered the plants correctly.”

Jack raises his eyebrow, “There’s a wrong way to do that?”

Emily laughs, the sound foreign to her ears, “Apparently.”

They fall back into the silence that had fallen over the house in recent weeks, laying over them like a thick blanket. Cloying and suffocating.

“How are you doing, Mom?” Jack asks, his voice soft, kind. A mixture of the three people who had raised him.

“I’m ok,” she replies automatically, a tight smile on her face.

Jack sighs. “Mom, you don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

She frowns, her eyebrows creasing together. “Do what?”

“Pretend everything is ok,” he says, “We’ve never lied to each other.”

Suddenly it’s like she’s watching his life play out in front of her. Like he’s every version of himself that she has known all at once. The terrified kid on the brink of losing his mother, the angry teenager once again torn away from the life he knew. The grown man, the father, she had sitting in front of her.

The years had gone by so quickly.

“No,” she replies, “We haven’t.” She looks down at her lap and plays with her wedding rings. She has Aaron’s on a chain around her neck now, sitting close to her heart. “I’m just…really fucking angry,” she says, looking back up at her eldest, her eyes welling up as she admits it out loud for the first time, “so angry that he’s gone.”

“I am too,” Jack admits, shaking his head. “It seems so unfair.”

“I hate him for leaving me behind,” she says, her voice shaking, “and I hate that I hate him. Because I’ve loved him for most of my life.”

Jack hugs her then, closes the small gap between them and puts his arms around her. She returns it gratefully, feeling a sense of relief for getting just a small part of what she was feeling off of her chest.

“He asked me to look after you, you know,” Jack says as he pulls back, a sad smile on his face. Emily tilts her head at him slightly, her eyebrows creased.

“He did? When?”

Jack chuckles dryly. “The last time I went to see him and he was lucid,” he shakes his head at the memory, “Sara stepped out with the kids, they were restless, and he said I needed to look after you. That you’d be so busy looking after everyone else you’d forget to do it yourself.”

She huffs out a laugh and wipes a tear from her cheek. It felt absurd. That he’d been dying, waiting for the end, and he’d been worried about her.

“That ridiculous man.” She says, another laugh choking on a sob, the sound dying in her throat. “Fuck, I miss him so much already.”

Jack nods his head. “Me too.”

___

November 2013

Emily smiles as she hears her husband's footsteps heading towards the kitchen, home late from meetings that she knew he’d rather have skipped. She looks to Amelia, the little girl happily sitting on her mother’s hip, and smiles, bouncing her slightly as Aaron comes into view.

“Look, sweet girl, Daddy’s home!”

“Daddy!” Amelia squeals, her hands already reaching out for him. He walks over and takes the little girl into his arms, kissing his wife quickly as he does so.

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, kissing Emily again.

“Hi,” she smiles at him, “how was work?”

“Long,” he replies, adjusting Amelia so she was comfortable in his embrace, her tiny hands playing with his tie, “I’ve got to tell you something, and you’ve got to promise to stay calm.”

She freezes, her eyes fixed on him as her throat feels tight. “What?”

“I got called by Theo’s school earlier.”

She frowns, confusion spreading through her veins. She’d seen Aaron since school would have ended, Theo was up in his room reading, acting like it was a normal day.

“What? Why? What’s wrong?” She asks, her words tripping over each other, fierce protectiveness and worry that only their children could bring out in her rising fast.

“They have some concerns because he hasn’t been eating lunch, and today they saw him giving his lunch money to another kid.”

She leans against the kitchen counter. “Is this kid bullying him?”

Pre-emptive anger fills her lungs, ready to go shout at whatever child was involved, and she glares at Aaron when he has the audacity to smile at her for a second, her reaction clearly predictable to him.

“They asked him that and he refused to tell them, they asked if we would speak to him.”

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He’s been making such good progress, Aaron, I don’t want him to go through this again-”

“Baby,” he says, placing a hand on her waist, “let’s not jump to conclusions, we’ll talk to him after dinner, ok?”

She nods in response, fighting against every instinct to run up the stairs and ask her son what was going on.

During dinner, Aaron has to place a hand on her leg, squeezing the muscle tightly as she watches Theo eat. She notices the speed at which he does so, and she chastises herself for not noticing it before.

Once Amelia is in bed, they call him into the living room, a nervous look on his face as he settles on the couch opposite his parents.

“Am I in trouble?” He asks, concern painting his features.

“No, sweetie you’re not in trouble,” Emily says, smiling at him in a way she hoped was reassuring, “we just need to talk to you.”

“School called me today,” Aaron adds, and Theo’s eyes widen, his nose scrunching up slightly, “they told me what happened with your lunch money.”

“It’s fine,” he says, slightly defensively, “I told them it’s fine.”

“Theo, we’re just worried that’s all, you should have told us if someone is making you give them your lunch money,” Emily replies, her hands in her lap as she plays with her rings.

“He’s not making me,” Theo says, sighing after he does, clearly not intending to reveal what he had.

“Ok,” Aaron says, exchanging a quick look with his wife, “what’s going on then?”

Theo stares at them for a second, before looking at the floor. “His name is Adam, his mom can’t afford to give him money for lunch, and she works nights so can’t make it for him,” he shrugs, still avoiding eye contact, “so I give him mine every other day.” He flicks his eyes back up to them, before looking back down, “I tried to give it to him every day but he wouldn’t take it.”

It shocks them into silence for a moment, and Emily looks at her husband before she stands, walking over to her son and crouching in front of him, ignoring the protest in her knees as she does so. She hooks a finger under Theo’s chin and makes him look at her.

“Theo, that’s incredibly sweet,” she says, making sure her voice doesn’t portray the emotion she’s feeling, “and I’m very proud of you for being so kind, but you have to tell us, or a teacher, if you find something like that out. It’s not up to you to fix that.”

He looks past her to Aaron, and without turning around she knows her husband has nodded in agreement with what she has said, before Theo looks back at her.

“Ok.” Theo agrees, nodding. “Can I go play my game now?”

Emily huffs out a laugh. “Of course.”

Theo stands up and hugs her, running over to do the same with Aaron, before he’s out of the room. Emily stands up straight, groaning as her knees ache. Aaron is next to her before she stands completely, his arms wrapping around her from behind.

“How the hell did we make the world's sweetest kid?” She asks, leaning into her husband as he kisses her temple. She turns in his arms and bands her arms around his back, mentally planning the call she’d make to the school in the morning.

“I have no idea,” Aaron says against her skin, “we’re sending him to school with double the lunch money tomorrow, right?”

“Damn straight we are.”

___

June 2037

Theo calls her before he comes to the house, as conscientious as he had ever been. She hugs him tightly the second he walks in the door, the first joy she had felt in weeks thrumming through her veins.

“Congratulations, honey. I’m so happy for you.” She says as she pulls back, smiling at her son, hers only widening as he smiles back.

“Thanks, Mom. We’re so relieved it’s finally happened.”

She looks past him onto the porch and sees he’s alone, frowning when she looks back at him.

“Where are they then?” She asks, raising her eyebrow at him, “I want to hug my son-in-law and my granddaughter.”

Theo, and his husband Sam, had been fostering a little girl called Florence for years, since she was only a few months old. They’d found out that morning that they were finally getting an adoption hearing, that their daughter would finally be fully and legally theirs.

“Flo insisted on going to the park,” Theo says as he rolls his eyes at the little girl's behaviour, “I dropped them off on the way here.”

Emily hums in her throat as she walks towards the kitchen, Theo following suit, “Tell her Nanna remembers everything, and I’ll keep this in mind next time she tries to scam cookies out of me.”

“You’re a soft touch and you know it,” he says, taking the coffee pot from her hands and proceeding to make it for her, “you’d give any of the kids whatever they asked for.”

She can’t argue with that, it was something Aaron had said multiple times since Jack’s first child had been born. However protective of their children she had been, it was increased tenfold for their grandchildren. She’s suddenly reminded of something, and she smiles at her son.

“Oh, I was in the attic going through some of your dad’s things, and I found something for you.”

She’s already walking towards the dining room where she’d been keeping some things, the self-imposed job keeping her busy, when she hears Theo call after her.

“Mom,” he sighs, “what have I told you about going up there, we’ll do it for you.”

Emily rolls her eyes at his over-protectiveness, making sure she’s back in the room so he can see,

“Honey, it’s fine,” she says, her hands behind her back, the item she wanted to give him hidden from view, “you ready?”

“Ready.” He says, smiling indulgently at her. She raises an eyebrow and he sighs at her, closing his eyes and putting his hands out.

Emily carefully places the worn stuffed animal in his hands, the orange fur faded through years of love, and age. She knows Theo knows what it is immediately, his smile widening as his eyes open, settling on his oldest friend. He chuckles and holds the toy a little tighter.

“Hi Archie,” he says, shaking his head, “it’s been a while.”

“He was up there in a box of your old things,” Emily explains, “I thought you could give him to Flo.”

“Thanks, Mom, I love that idea.” He says, briefly looking up at her before he looks back down at the orange cat, “Do you remember when Dad and Jack drove to get him after we left him behind in that god awful apartment?”

“Yeah,” she replies, the memory of it seizing up her chest, “I do.”

Theo looks up at her, his dark eyes shining. “I wish he was here, that I could tell him about the adoption too.”

“Oh, honey,” she says, closing the gap between them and putting her hand on his arm, “He loved her so much, she was part of this family the second you brought her here for the first time,” she smiles sadly at him, her throat tight, “another Hotchner girl who had him wrapped around her finger.”

Theo laughs through his tears and nods, “You’re right.” He clears his throat and tries to smile at her, “Will you come to the hearing? We’d love to have you there.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

___

February 2025

Emily can’t help but wince as she hears the brakes on the car squeal as it pulls into the driveway.

It was Amelia’s 16th birthday and, as promised, Aaron was taking her on her first driving lesson. He’d taught both of the boys. There had been a few tense moments that had led to crossed words, but overall it had gone smoothly, both Theo and Jack passing the first time.

She knew that Aaron was worried about teaching Amelia. Their youngest was the one who pushed back the most, the one who attempted to break boundaries.

Amelia and Aaron had always been close, the blip in their relationship when she didn’t recognise him after they had gone into hiding mostly a distant memory. Things were changing now she was a teenager, the usual distance put between child and parent that always hurt, but she knew this was different for Aaron. It reminded him too much of when their daughter, only a baby at the time, shied away from him and acted as if he was a stranger.

Emily schools her features as the door opens, Amelia bursting in, excitement flowing off of her.

“That was so cool,” she exclaims, slumping down onto the couch next to her mother, “I love driving.”

Emily laughs at her daughter’s enthusiasm, “You had fun then?”

“Oh, so much fun!” She replies, “I’m going to go FaceTime my friends, what time is dinner?” She asks, already standing up, her phone in her hand.

“We’re meeting your brothers at 7 pm, so we’ll leave here at 6.30.” Emily answers.

“Oh, maybe I could drive to the restaurant?”

Emily finally looks at her husband and has to stop herself from laughing at the way his eyes widen.

“I think we’ll let your dad drive, honey.”

Amelia is already mostly out of the room, agreeing with just a noise as she disappears. It’s only when her bedroom door upstairs closes that Aaron slips onto the couch next to Emily, his head leaning back.

“That bad, huh?” She asks, no longer hiding her amusement.

“You have no idea.” He says, turning his head to look at her. “She knows no fear, and that, apparently, extends to the rules of the road.”

Emily does laugh at that and she shifts towards him, pressing her lips to his cheek.

“Poor, baby.”

He puts his arm around her, pulling her into his side, and she goes willingly, snuggling up into him.

“I love her so much, sweetheart. I’d go to the end of the earth for her, but I don’t know if I can teach her how to drive.”

Emily places her hand on his leg and runs her thumb back and forth over the material of his pants.

“She can’t be that bad.”

“She asked what the indicator is, 5 minutes before the end of the lesson. We’d been using it for almost an hour.”

Emily hides her smile in his neck. “We all start somewhere love.” She shifts to kiss his cheek. “Are you sure this isn’t all mostly because your little girl is growing up?”

He pokes her in her side, tickling at her ribs. ��No profiling.” He sighs, turning his head to kiss her temple. “Are you sure you can’t teach her?”

She pulls away from him, her eyebrow raised. “Oh no,” she says, smiling at him, “we agreed a long time ago, I do the sex talk, and you teach them how to drive.”

He groans and closes his eyes, his head leaning back against the couch again.

“Your dad warned me about this years ago,” he says, almost as if he isn’t aware he’s talking, “he told me you were a nightmare to teach.”

“He said what?”

___

June 2037

Emily closes the door behind her as she gets home from a coffee date with JJ and Penelope. They’d forced her to go, an attempt to get her out of the house that she was strangely grateful for. The last time she’d seen them had been at Aaron’s funeral, and she hadn’t been able to bring herself to speak to them beyond the usual pleasantries, all of her focus on her children and holding herself together.

“Mom, good timing,” Amelia says, appearing into view, “I was just thinking about dinner.”

She can’t help but smile as she looks at her daughter. It was strange to think Amelia was now older than she had been when she’d met Aaron, then when she’d married him. She didn’t know how it had happened, how the once little girl was now this woman standing in front of her. Her dark hair piled on top of her head, the nose ring she’d had put in as a teenager, the one Aaron hated at the time, still going strong.

“Hi sweetheart,” Emily replies, placing her purse down, “how was work?”

“It was good, I met Jamie for lunch.”

Emily smiles at that, at the flash of something she doesn’t miss across Amelia’s face. She’d been staying here since Aaron was admitted to hospital during the couple of weeks before he died. At first, it was under the pretence that their house was closer to the hospital than her apartment. Then it was so she could help Emily with the funeral. Since then they hadn’t spoken about it. Amelia still here, sleeping in her childhood room, and only popping home to grab some things and briefly see Jamie.

“You don’t have to stay here you know,” Emily says softly, “I’ll be ok.”

Amelia freezes on the spot, and frowns, an expression that was just so Aaron it makes Emily smile. “Mom,-”

“I appreciate it, Mills,” she says, closing the gap between them so she can reach out and hold her daughter’s hand, squeezing it tightly, “I appreciate it so much, but you can’t just put your life on hold for me.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” She says defensively, her eyebrows creasing even deeper.

“Jamie must miss you,” Emily offers up, smiling tightly, “I remember how quiet it seemed around here when you first moved out.”

Amelia sighs and squeezes her mother’s hand. “I just don’t want you to be by yourself.”

Emily smiles at Amelia before hugging her, blowing out a breath as she feels how tightly she holds her back, her fists grabbing at the back of her shirt like she hadn’t in years.

Amelia had always been the loudest of their children. The most outspoken, the one filled with comebacks and sass, witty in a way Aaron had always claimed aged him. It made it easy to forget that she was also the most emotional of the three of them. Always so in tune with the emotions of those around her that she almost felt what others were feeling.

“That’s very sweet of you, love,” Emily says, pulling back from Amelia and smiling at her, “but I’ll be ok.”

Amelia uncurls one of her hands from behind Emily and wipes tears from her cheeks.

“I remember when I was younger I’d always be so jealous that you all remembered what happened with Foyet and I didn’t.” She admits, her lower lip trembling, “ Like I’d missed out on something huge that bonded you all together. But…I never knew what it was like to live without Dad. And now I do and I hate it.”

It tips Emily over the edge, her own grief hitting her again at full force at the sight of her daughter falling apart. She hugs her again as tightly as she can, trying to provide the comfort she doesn’t feel herself. She doesn’t know how long they stand there, locked in a tight embrace in the hallway of what used to be a busy home, but they take the time they need.

“How about,” Emily says, pulling back enough to look at Amelia, gently wiping tears from her face like she hadn’t done since she was little, “we go get enough tacos to last a week, come back here and eat all of them, and fall asleep in front of a movie we’ve seen a thousand times,” she smiles, and Amelia does too, both of them ignoring the shake to them, “and then you can go home tomorrow.”

Amelia laughs and nods, “That sounds perfect.” Before Emily can pull away, and head towards the door, Amelia hugs her again. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too.”

___

January 1999

They’d talked about it. It was something they’d discussed on and off for years. Vague conversations about kids that started as thinly veiled comments in their early days, to more serious discussions as their relationship progressed.

They both wanted children, she knew that. Sometimes she’d catch Aaron staring at her as she took her birth control in the morning, something she had consistently taken since she was 15. Despite that, she was still nervous as she waited for him to get home, her old habit of picking at her thumbnails coming back, her leg bouncing up and down.

She was due a birth control review, the reminder from Joanne’s office on their kitchen counter, and to her, it seemed like the right time, the moment to take the step they had been skirting around for a little while now. She wanted to have a baby with him, to build their family. To be a mother.

“Are you ok, love?”

She jumps and looks up to find him looking at her, his eyebrow creased in concern. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you were home.”

“Clearly,” he quips, sitting next to her on the couch. He kisses her, his palm on her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

She forces a smile at him. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

He tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “Well, you didn’t hear the door open,” he starts, before his hand seeks hers out, bringing it into her eye line, “you’ve torn your cuticles to shreds,” he puts his arm around her and she settles, “and, I’m your husband, I like to think I know you.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Stupid profiling.” Her eyes meet his and he’s looking at her expectantly. She blows out a steady breath. “My birth control review is coming up,” she says, flashing him an unsteady smile, “I got the reminder today. I was thinking…I might not go.”

She watches as he processes what she has said, realisation hitting him within seconds, his expression barely changing, only noticeable to her.

“Oh.”

“I could,” she says quickly, “get another year's worth, but I just thought-”

“Don’t go.” He says, smiling at her, cutting her off before she could spiral any further. She feels warmth spread throughout her chest, happiness threatening to overwhelm her, her smile wide enough to split her face in two.

“Really?” She asks, her voice quiet, afraid if she was too loud she would break this moment between them.

“Really,” he replies, kissing her fiercely, “let’s try for a baby.”

She smiles against his lips, kissing him again, shifting so she was sitting on his lap, her knees on either side of his hips.

“I love you so much,” she says in between kisses, never fully pulling away from him.

“I love you too,” he replies, pulling her impossibly closer, his hands sneaking under her shirt.

“Aaron,” she exclaims, laughing as he lifts the material, her shirt coming over her head, “what are you doing?”

“Making a baby with my wife,” he says as if it was obvious, and she shakes her head at him, undoing his shirt despite her laughter.

“I took the pill this morning, honey,” she replies, groaning slightly as he pulls her further into his lap, “it’s going to take a little time-”

He cuts her off with his lips on hers, his fingers trailing the lining of her bra, he stamps another kiss to her lips before pulling away.

“I know,” he says, kissing her again, “but we can have fun practising.”

She smiles at him, her cheeks aching with it.

“I can’t argue with that.”

___

May 2037

He’s sleeping by the time the doctors let her into his room. They’d stabilised him as much as they could without breaking the DNR signed years ago. Sits next to him, her hand over his, and she blows out a breath and tries to calm herself.

“I was by myself when Mom died.” Emily says to the quietness of the room, the silence threatening to crush her. She threads her fingers through his and pushes hair off of his sleeping face. “You were on your way. I was by myself but I didn’t feel alone. I haven’t felt alone in so long. You’ve always been there,” she wipes a thumb under her eye, the tear she wiped away immediately replaced, “or the kids have. But I feel it now. I feel so alone and you’re still here.”

“Em?”

She looks at him and sees he’s awake, groggy but awake, and she smiles at him.

“Hi honey, how are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he admits, his voice weak, “what happened?”

“A stroke,” she says, unlinking her hand from his to move some of his hair from his forehead, “A small one, according to the doctor, like that makes it better.”

He smiles at her, a glint in his eyes that lets her know he’s in there, that she’s talking to her Aaron. A rarity these days, a precious jewel in amongst all of the confusion and fear there usually was.

“How much did you yell?” He asks, raising his eyebrow.

“Enough.” She replies, smiling at him before they lapse into silence again.

“This next bit is going to be hard.” He says, linking their fingers together. It was something they had done hundreds, thousands, of times throughout their time together. Something automatic. Something she had often done without thinking. A passing show of affection, a quick way to say ‘I love you’ without words. They’d stopped needing to say it so long ago.

She closes her eyes and tries to memorise it. The feel of his wedding band against her skin. The warmth of his hands. The roughness of the callouses he still had on his thumb, even all these years after he retired, as it rubbed back and forth over her wrist. She tries to remember it all, to make sure it’s seared into her memory.

She’d forgotten how it felt to hold his hand once before. It wasn’t something she wanted to lose again, not when she was already losing him.

“I know.” She replies, sniffing as she tries to hold back emotion, shaking her head slightly as if she could get rid of it. As if it was rain on a jacket, easily wiped away. “I love you. So much. Mother always said that I love you too much.” She tries to smile but fails, her chin wobbling with the force of her sadness. “This is the first time I think she may have been right.”

“No, sweetheart. It’s never too much.” He squeezes her hand. “It’s never been too much. I love you, and I don’t regret a single second of all of it.”

She tries to laugh but it comes out as a sob, her spare hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Not even the part where a serial killer forced me and the kids into hiding?”

“Not a second of it.” He repeats, and he smiles at her like he hasn’t in weeks. She sees their life together in it. Everything they’ve survived. All the love they shared. The arguments and the inevitable apologies that followed. The comfort and the tears, the way they had got each other through. Impossibly more in love each day than the last.

She was going to miss it, miss him.

“Me neither.” She says, smiling at him despite her tears. “I’d do it all again.”

They talk until he falls asleep, and she allows herself to act as if this was normal for them. That this wasn’t one good day in amongst so many bad ones.

She tells herself it isn’t the last good day, that they have more time, until it becomes clear that it was.

___

They are alone when it happens. Just the two of them as his ragged breathing comes to a slow stop, her hand tight around his. She feels selfish for how grateful she is that it happened that way, that she’d been afforded their final moments together.

A lifetime of love, and happiness. Bitter arguments and tears. Joy and grief and each other. All coming to a quiet end.

She wouldn’t change a second of it. The pain she feels as her children arrive, the brave face she slides on so easily, was the price she paid for getting to love him for so long.

___

January 1993

He was late.

It was his first day at his new job and everything that could have gone wrong that morning had done so. It felt like everything had been against him since Haley left, like the universe had decided it just wasn’t enough for him to be left by his fiancee just before their wedding.

Aaron turns down yet another hallway that seems to lead to nowhere and he sighs, wondering vaguely to himself how the hell he was supposed to provide security for the people who lived here if he couldn’t even find his new boss's office.

“Are you lost?” A voice says from behind him. He turns around and that's when he sees her, looking at him with her eyebrows raised. She was beautiful, almost ethereal, her dark eyes full of mischief. “Do you need help?”

“I…I need to find Ambassador Prentiss’ office.” He says, cursing himself slightly at the stutter at the start of his sentence. She smiles a little wider, and he wonders if she has this effect on everyone she meets.

“Oh, that’s easy,” she says, walking over and standing next to him, “I tend to just follow the air of judgement and patronisation on the air,” she winks at him, “it smells oddly like Chanel Number 5.” He opens his mouth, unsure what to say and she laughs at him. “It’s down the corridor and to the left, I’ll walk you there.”

“Thank you.” He says, unable to stop himself from smiling at her as they walk together. “How long have you worked here?”

He knows it's a stupid question based on her appearance alone, that anyone wearing sweatpants and a tank top likely wasn’t on the clock, but small talk had never been his thing. He’d always left that part up to Haley.

She laughs at him. “Oh I don’t work here,” she smiles. “I’m Emily, I’m sure you’ll learn all about me soon enough.” They come to a stop outside of an office door and she gestures to it. “Here we are.”

He smiles gratefully at her. “Thank you, Emily.”

“No problem…” She drifts off, looking at him expectantly.

“Agent Hotchner.” He offers, a tight smile on his face, the title still strange to him.

Emily smirks at him. “Your mother called you agent?” She asks, her eyes sparkling and it makes him laugh, something about her leaving him unsettled but wanting more.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Aaron. My name is Aaron.”

“Well, Agent Aaron Hotchner, it’s nice to meet you,” Emily replies, her smile widening. “And if you need anyone to show you around here let me know.”

She goes to walk off, to return to whatever she had been doing when she had taken pity on him in the hallway, and something in him screams at him to stop her. Inexplicably wanting more time in her presence, to get to know more about her.

“Emily,” he says after her, waiting for her to turn back around, her eyes meeting his again, “I’d like that.”

“Ok then, see you tomorrow Agent Hotchner.” She smiles at him, bright and beautiful and he can’t help but wonder if everything was about to change for the better.

“Yeah,” he replies, returning her smile, “see you tomorrow.”

___

“If tomorrow starts without me, don't think we're far apart, for every time you think of me, please know I'm in your heart.” - David Romano

-x-

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soft-for-them · 4 years

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Shrapnel ♡ Mission Impossible x reader

Anon 🐛: Hello! If possible, I’d like to request a platonic IMF team x fem reader, where reader gets injured somehow on a mission and the team tries to help patch her up but she’s extremely self-conscious and keeps refusing to let them remove an item of clothing for better access to the wound or something (eventually giving in, of course). Hope you have a great day! :)

I’m going for the ethan, benji, luther and ilsa team because they are my favourite IMF team so I guess this is set after fall out. Female reader. injury mentioned.

Proof read, edited and remastered on 20.10.2021

The mission was supposed to be a small one but all of the team had gotten injured somehow making the small job a lot harder.

Sure, the gang you and the team were tasked to take down weren’t a threat to the whole wide world like the Syndicate and August Walker, which was your first ever field mission with the IMF, a mission that cemented you as a permanent member of the team. However, now you, Benji and Ilsa stand out of breath and waiting for either Luther to drive up in the get away car or for Ethan to somehow ‘save the day’ like he always seems to do.

The IMF team has successfully defeated the rouge gang but in the process the building behind you in burning up like fireplace from the explosion that was caused moments ago.

Benji and Ethan were closest to the impact of the bomb without being in direct contact with the flames but you had pulled Benji out the way of a window that had shattered from the fire causing a slight pain in your torso.

The both of you have assumed that Ethan had survived like he always does so all you need to do now is wait.

“Hurry up, hurry up.” Benji mutters to himself as Ilsa tries to treat a gash on his arm and the scratches adorned his face. The blonde man winces as she ties his arm up with the remnants of non burnt bits of his jacket.

“You’re lucky that (y/n) pulled you away when she did.” both Ilsa and Benji give you a thankful smile, “You could have been pierced in the gut by some shrapnel or be burnt alive but the fire.”

“I should have stayed at my desk job.” You chuckle at the two agents as Benji starts swatting Ilsa’s hands away from his arm.

“Same here!” Benji jokes for he knows what it’s like to be pulled from your desk job to an action packed agent life.

You laugh some more but not because you find it particularly funny, you do always joke with Benji about stuff like that but you’re not laughing because of that. No, you’re laughing for you feel a stinging pain in your side and you’re trying to hide your pain.

When you had pulled Benji from the explosion you had gotten hit too. Sure, you thought it was just some cuts and lots of inhaling of black smoke but as you hunch down further you realise that the shrapnel might of hit you instead of Benji.

All the adrenaline and the fact that you haven’t looked down at your now bleeding side means that the pain isn’t as bad as it will become.

“(Y/n) are you ok?” the concerned voice of Benji calls out to you, the sweet man’s concern for you making you look up with a small smile.

“I just-“ what do you say to him? Do you lie to them both? Can you even lie to them? “I’m still out of breath from all the running and smoke Benji.”

Your voice is hoarse from the smoke and you’re face looks fine but not convinced by your act Ilsa gets up to check over you.

Thankfully for you she is interrupted by Luther pulling up in a four door green family car one a mother would driver her kid into school.

“Where’s Ethan!?!” he shouts concern in his voice.

A mixture of Benji, Ilsa and you answering is heard, all saying around about the same thing of ‘he got away!’ satisfies the hat wearing agent for now.

Ilsa tries to help you up to the car but you brush her off and make her go to Benji who is wobbling around like a newborn deer. With a prolonged inhale of now clean air you shuffled to the car, opening one of the side doors to clamber into.

Ilsa and Benji take the seats furthers to the back of the six seater car and you flop across the middle seats, leaving Luther on his own in the front of the car.

“Ahhhh!” you exhale with a small scream like sound which gets everyone’s attention on you.

“You’re not ok (L/n)!” Ilsa shouts about to climb over into the middle seats.

“I’m fine my lungs just hurt from the smoke!” technically that’s a half truth but really the pain is from wound trickling blood down your side.

Ilsa is interrupted once more by a small flash of Ethan Hunt running up near the family car windows.

Such a small man can run too fast.

With all your strength you lean up and open the sliding door for Ethan to jump in. The small man catapults himself next to you in the little space you’ve left. His hair is singed by the fire and his face is covered in sweat and ash but he climbs over into the passenger seat next to Luther just fine.

“Of course you survived!” Benji calls out half jokingly half in relief.

The blur of Ethan and Luther talking lulls you into a sleepy state, the pain of your side almost disappearing. However, you’re snapped out of your sleepy trance but the ever so slightly frantic voice of Ilsa.

“Luther drive quicker!” She frantically says as she finally scales over the seat to you.

You’re too out of it to move your legs so the woman basically lifts them up like you’re a child hogging the sofa. With worry she looks at your side which is less dark blur from you coat but more rich purple from the blood imbedding into the fabric.

“Damn, she was hit by the blast hard!” Ilsa sounds panicked as your try to keep your eyes open.

It’s all a blur but you see Benji pass the medical kit to her and you feel Luther picking up speed in the small minivan.

”Why didn’t you tell me?” Ilsa says as she tries to lift up your coat and shirt.

“No.” you push her away, “It isn’t bad.”

“Have you looked at it (y/n)?” Benji asks which you reply with a shake of the head.

“I was- I was runnin-“ you start to disconnect with the world, slurring your words as your eyes begin to close.

“Stay with me (L/n).” Ilsa says as she tries to lift your shirt.

“Nooooo, you’ll see my body.” you whine in your out of it state self, the words turning into nothing as you drift away.

You look over to your dear friend Benji, who you always joke with your blurry eyes seeing a man near to crying.

“Benji. Imma ok, I don’t feel it that much.”

Ilsa tries again to lift your shirt which by any rate will be most blood if you don’t let her lift it soon.

“Ilsa no… I don’t want you to see my body, I hate it…” you gasp.

In any given time you wouldn’t of been so truthful but maybe the lack of blood or the humming feeling of tiredness has turned off you thinking.

“You are beautiful but you will be less beautiful if you bleed to death.” With her normally stoic facade down she starts to plea with you, “Please (y/n), let me help!”

“…Huh, uh, as long as the men in this vehicle look away.” you slur as the pain starts to get slightly worse.

All of the men look away from you; Benji sitting back down in his seat, Ethan fiddling with hidsen gun and Luther looking back to the road.

Ilsa takes your top layers off showing the bit of glass digging out of your side blood making you (colour) skin deep red. You look down to see just how bad the injury is only to feel a huge wave of pain drown you and the urge to pass out.

“Looking at it makes it worse.” Ilsa says as she applies pressure to wound without taking the large bit of glass out.

“We’re almost here!” Luther calls as he magically slides the car under a closing garage door, he carries on driving to a lower level where he stops the car and he immediately gets out to help you along with the rest of the IMF.

“No looking at my bra!” you whine as Luther slides open the door closets to your head, Ilsa making sure you don’t fall backwards.

“We’re looking at that thing in your side (y/n) not you boobs!” Benji jabbers is in a flurry as he tries and help with you.

Ilsa and Luther get you out and lead you to a door, which Benji opens, Ethan not far behind talking to someone on the phone.

“We have an agent who need urgent medical treatment!” he urges as you hobble with Luther and Ilsa inside.

It has now been a month since your injury and the ragged piece of glass than had scared your side in now displayed on your desk, a reminder that you’re lucky that you aren’t dead.

For the last most since then Benji has been acting like an overprotective best friend telling you that you shouldn’t be ashamed of who you are along with some dad jokes sprinkled in to make you smile.

Luther and Ethan have been more concerned about your health and healing but you still got a talking to from the men about how the IMF don’t judge anyone for what they look like. (That conversion was mostly from Ethan and Luther nodding his head in the background.)

You’re still in shock about how much Ilsa had cares for you. She had called you by your first name and she had also called you beautiful, a thing she had never done before that day.

Even now in-between missions as you sit behind a desk you’ll get a short and sweet text from her asking how your are.

You stretch out in you spinny chair with a relieved sigh.

There’s still a long way to go with excepting your body but with all that had happened to you feel more comfortable with yourself and the IMF team.

Edit: Proof reading may still be off because I’m tired, still love Benji and Ilsa.

Old description:

Did i write this right after i got the request? yes, but i don’t know how good this is. it’s too late for all this writing but i did it!

also i want to write an ilsa x plus size reader and/or a benji x plus size reader because i love them both! (i get gay panic for ilsa and i just find benji adorable!)

#mission impossible #mission impossible x reader #ethan hunt x reader #benji dunn x reader #ilsa faust x reader #luther stickell #ilsa faust #benji dunn #ethan hunt #x female reader #x tall reader #x plus size reader #x chubby reader #x poc reader #x petite reader #x ftm reader #tw blood #tw injury

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boredfanwrites · 3 years

Text

OiHina Headcanons #1

Some Brazil/TimeSkip OiHina headcanons that became a little bit of a fic, I'm not sorry:

Oikawa is definitely already operating a what happens in Brazil stays in Brazil mentality before he even runs into Hinata again.

The first time Oikawa sees the tangerine he's playing beach volleyball as Oikawa and the rest of his team take a well earned day off.

Oikawa wouldn't be sure it even was Hinata if not for the way he still managed those freakish jumps on soft sand.

However the first time he speaks to Hinata the two are in a club, both celebrating different things, a few days later.

Hinata spots Oikawa and beams, grabbing a second drink and taking it over to him.

Hinata starts recalling all the things that happened in high school, what he'd learnt and continued to learn, even mentioned a few things about Iwaizumi.

Oikawa smiled, drinking in the praise and the alcohol. And really who gave Hinata the right to look so damn precious.

The first night both are adamant that it's a one night thing, they both have people waiting on them in Japan of course. But they don't lose contact.

Hinata somehow worms his way into the hearts of Oikawa's team and therefore their practices. He claims as much as he loves beach volleyball and how much he's learning from it, he misses the solidity of the court beneath his feet.

Soon enough Hinata starts joining in Oikawa's practice and vice versa, both picking up skills that are beneficial to each of them.

It becomes more at some point, the two start hanging out, showing each other their favourite cafes, shops and parks. Hinata talks about everything and anything, he actually keeps up with everyone back in Japan so Oikawa knows that Iwaizumi is coaching, Kageyama is still playing competitively, Kenma is a very successful gamer.

Oikawa also knows that the Karasuno coach and teacher supervisor got married. Hinata very quickly shut his mouth, covering it and blushing wildly trying to back track. Oikawa laughed and said it didn't bother him, he wouldn't tell, but was also trying to conceal his staring at the flustered boy.

The second time it happened they were both drunk, both sad and both missing their exes. It hadn't been like that first night where the adrenaline and surprise had ruled. This one had be slower, softer, closer. Both of them desperately trying to replace something they hadn't quite lost.

Hinata stays. He sleeps on the sofa, but he stays. He makes Oikawa breakfast in the morning, cup of coffee in hand, saying they needed to talk about this and where it was going.

'I like you, Oikawa. I just need to know whether this is just going to be a thing or not?'

‘I think it could be a thing. A friends with benefits kind of situation, right?’

'Ok, from now until I leave.'

That was another thing. Hinata would be leaving. Oikawa knew he wouldn't stay forever, part of staying in Brazil was to try and find himself outside of his past. He never expected Hinata would stick around. He never expected himself to want Hinata to stick around.

They work out they have around a month and a half before Hinata heads back to Japan and they make the most of it. Sure there's a lot of fooling around, but the pair seem to take the friends part seriously too.

Hinata reveals how scared he'd been of everything in high school. Feeling like the whole team relied on him. Sure he'd built himself up to be like the Little Giant but the pressure that came with it often tried to drown him.

Oikawa admitted the problems he'd had. The reason he'd nearly punched Kageyama in middle school. The stupid knee injury that he still tests the limits of. The panic attacks that still hit him out of nowhere.

By the time Hinata has to return, neither one really want him to leave. Oikawa reminds him it was always supposed to be temporary, Hinata likes to say the friends part will always be permanent.

Neither admit it but they both cry at the airport as Oikawa sends Hinata off with a soft forehead kiss and tight hug.

Time passes, Oikawa is selected for the Argentinian national team. Iwaizumi begs him to come home, but Oikawa isn't finished.

They stop talking for a while, but Hinata fills the space with random anecdotes about his new teammates, about how Kageyama is suffering on the same team as Ushijima. And, when Hinata knows Oikawa is in a good enough mood, updates on Iwaizumi.

There's one day, in a cold November, that Hinata facetimes Oikawa at an unreasonable hour in Japan. Oikawa's just on his way to practice but he accepts the call.

'Why are you awake?'

'I needed to make sure you'd be with people. It's about practice time in Argentina right?'

Oikawa is shocked that Hinata even remembers, and then he realises.

'What do you mean with people?'

'Well, Kags and I made the Japan national team. We also broke up so things haven't been so great.'

'Ok, that's fantastic about making the team though. Can't wait to kick your ass at the olympics.'

Hinata laughs: 'yeah.'

'What?'

'Well, we had our team dinner where we met our coach and his fiancee...it's Iwaizumi-san.'

Oikawa hung up. Tears brimming in his eyes. Hinata was the one to tell him Iwaizumi was engaged. He broke. Didn't show up at practice, claimed mild food poisoning. He just needed a day.

Of course Oikawa didn't really expect Iwa-chan to wait for him forever. They hadn't spoken in a year or so, but he thought Iwaizumi would have told him about his engagement at least.

He shoots off a blunt 'Congratulations' text. Quickly followed by an 'I'll be ok' text to Hinata.

Oikawa really tries to put the engagement out of his mind but the Olympics roll around and of course the first person he bumps into is Iwaizumi.

'I hope you'll be very happy together.'

It's all he says, it's all he allows before running to find his original destination.

Hinata opens the door to a red faced, puffy cheeked Oikawa who's trying his best not to fall apart in the corridor.

They don't talk, Hinata just holds Oikawa close, being the big spoon until he falls asleep. Iwaizumi knocks once, but the cursing out Hinata gives him is enough to scare him away. Hinata may like his coach enough but he liked Oikawa more, he was the priority right now.

Oikawa woke up to Hinata scrolling through his phone, he peeps at the screen seeing pictures of Hinata and Kageyama, obviously taken when they were a couple.

'I was so stupid to think it'd be the same once I came back.'

'We both were. I'm stupider, cause I thought he'd wait forever.'

'Do you still love him?'

'Not like I did, doesn't make it hurt less though. Do you still love Kageyama?'

'I don't think I did before I even arrived back in Japan.'

That was a loaded sentence. Oikawa sat up straight, searching Hinata's face for any kind of sign.

'Once more for old times sake?'

'Does it have to be only once? I'd like to do it a lot, and all the other things that come with it. Like dating, yeah, that, um cuddles too I guess...' Hinata was losing it, Oikawa noted down that he would have to keep making the younger boy flustered.

'I would like that too.'

'Shōyō.'

'Tōru.'

Hinata nodded. They both laugh awkwardly before Oikawa leaves for his actual room, promising to meet him back on the court.

When Japan wins their match Oikawa rushes Hinata, kissing him square on the lips in congratulations. Kageyama frowns as Iwaizumi leads him away from punching Oikawa square in the jaw.

Oikawa moves back to Japan for Hinata. Which says something. He didn't ever think of moving back specifically for Iwaizumi. It's coupled with him retiring from volleyball finally. His knee was really starting to give him trouble a lot more often, much to Hinata's frustration.

Hinata continues playing, and Oikawa finds a job in the fashion industry. As much as he'd liked to have been a model he finds that working as a photoshoot stylist has it's benefits. One of them being seeing a few old friends of his.

The main benefit of course is having time for a relationship. Hinata and he get their own apartment together a year into dating, and it's cosy and homely and everything Oikawa had always wanted. It's warm.

Oikawa did most of the decorating, even though Hinata definitely sneaks a few volleyball posters in. He also snuck in a framed collage of Oikawa's first ever shoot he styled solo. Oikawa announced he loved him that day.

Hinata said I love you first the day that Oikawa announced he was retiring. He'd say he just wanted Oikawa to know, that he didn't expect him to say it back, but Oikawa knew Hinata had been in love with him since Brazil, a part of Oikawa had been in love with Hinata then too.

Oikawa proposes. Much like their first kiss at the Olympics, its four years into their relationship. They'd been speaking about it. Hinata was talking about finally retiring and it was his last competitive match.

His team had won and as their friends and family swarmed the court Oikawa blended in, reaching Hinata and sliding down onto one knee. It was a private moment just for them, the team hiding them from the crowd.

Of course Hinata said yes.

I might do a part two to this of OiHina and their disgustingly domestic married life, haven’t quite decided.

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bored-mumma · 3 years

Text

MASTERLIST

TITLE: The bad guy

CHAPTER NO/ONE SHOT: One shot

WORD COUNT: 1673

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Requested

NOTES/WARNINGS: Swearing. Verbal abuse (tried not doing too much). Manipulation. Toxic relationship. Domestic abuse. Boyfriend is called Chris but isn’t based on any actor. Leave that to your imagination.

scorpionchild81 - Hi - wondering if you would write a Tom Hiddleston x friend reader, how Toms reaction/response to her abusive boyfriend would be - maybe not in a physical way, but more verbally abusive (rude, sniffy remarks/comments and other disrespecting behavior) yes, I have been a victim to this and was stupid enough accepting it for a very long time...

Tom sat on the edge of his bed, slipping off his shoes as he pressed his phone between his ear and shoulder, waiting for your answer.

“Hello.” Tom smiled a little as he heard your voice finally come through.

“Hi,” He replied, “Fancy a takeaway tonight?” Tom heard you shuffling around, a little sigh coming from you.

“No thank you.” Was all you said in a much quieter voice than usual. Tom's face fell slightly, instantly knowing somethings wrong.

“You ok?” He asked

“Always am.” You said, a small amount of sarcasm coming through your tone. “I’ll see you later.” Tom opened his mouth to reply, but you had already hung up the phone.

For the last few weeks, you had seemed completely off with him. Barely taking his calls, never replying to his messages and cancelling the plans you two had already made. Tom knew his best friend though. He knew you wouldn’t tell him what was wrong even if he was on his hands and knees begging you. You were too stubborn for that. So instead, Tom slipped back on his shoes and stood to pull on his jacket. If you weren’t going to tell him what’s wrong, the least he could do was try and make you feel a little better. Besides, he missed you.

Tom knocked on your door with one hand, the other holding a bag with pizza, chocolate and some beer in it. He waited patiently for you to answer but when you didn’t he pulled out his keys - you both have a spare set for the others apartment in case of emergencies. He knocked again before opening the door in case you didn’t hear the first time.

“You know, when someone doesn’t answer, it tends to mean go away.” He heard your voice coming from somewhere in the dark room. Reaching over, he turned on the lamp. You were lying on the sofa, phone in hand, eyes a little red from staring at the screen and wearing some tatty old pyjamas. Tom didn’t say a word. Instead, he walked over, placing the bag on the coffee table and pulled out a beer. Handing it to you, he sat next to you and let out a small sigh.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are we just going to pretend you haven’t been acting very unlike yourself for the past month or so,” Tom said gently, looking over at you. You were yet to make eye contact with him. Instead of replying, you took a sip of your beer. “I can’t promise I can make it better but I can promise I’ll try too.” You looked over at him at last, seeing the concern in his eyes. You contemplated for a moment before speaking.

“You really shouldn’t be here.” You stood, taking the bag of food and hanging it back to Tom. “You should go.” Tom didn’t move, only looked up at you with a frown. “Chris will go ballistic if he finds out your here.” You said with a little more desperation.

“What do you mean go ballistic?” Tom tilted his head, finally getting something out of you.

“I mean he’ll flip Tom!” You held out your hand for Tom to take so you can get him to stand from the sofa and leave, but he wouldn’t take it.

“Talk to me, Y/N,” Tom said softly. You looked around the room, almost as if trying to find anything else to talk about. You bit your tongue slightly, trying to rack your brain with what to say.

“I mean,” You started slowly. “He doesn’t like it when I have men over my house late at night without his permission-”

“You need permission to have dinner with your best friend?”

“When that friend is a man, yes!” Tom shook his head in slight disbelief. “Look, I’m tired of being blamed for stuff constantly by him. It’s just easier if i-”

“Blamed for what?” Tom stood now, feeling his blood start to boil. But before you could reply, you both heard a key in the door turning. Your heart sank, realisation hitting you at how close you and Tom are standing. You quickly jumped back and Tom noticed. Walking in, Chris looked between the two of you, eyes landing on the alcohol sat on the table.

“Having a party are we?” He said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Wish I got an invite.”

“I only had a sip-”

“I didn’t ask.” Chris interrupted you. Tom looked between the two of you, noticing how your aura had changed drastically now. It’s now one filled with worry and like it’s permanently on edge. “Get out.” Chris pointed to Tom, not even trying to hide the look of displeasure on his head. “I thought I made myself clear?” Chris said, turning his attention back to you. “I told you how I feel about this, why would you go against that?” He slowly started to walk towards the two of you. “I told you I don’t like it. I told you seeing you with other men makes me feel like shit, so why would you do it?” You opened your mouth to talk but no words came out. “Does it make you feel good about yourself? Huh? Whoring about? Does it make you feel pretty? Attractive? Well, news flash baby you’re-”

“That’s enough!” Tom snapped at Chris, rage started to edge up into his body as he listened. You had mentioned a few months ago how you had started to see someone called Chris, but he never knew it was this guy. He certainly never knew this was the kind of men you were getting stuck with. He thought it was weird when you didn’t want you boyfriend and best friend to meet, but now he understood. “I think we should go.” Tom turned to you but you were rooted to the spot/

“Yeah, go with your lover.” Chris let out a dry laugh, making shivers go up to your spine. “How insecure does a woman have to be to fuck a new guy every night?” Chris’ voice was getting louder now.

“That’s not true.” You said, voice so small it was barely above a whisper.

“What was that, darling?” Chris said in a mocking tone. “Speak up dear, neither of your boyfriends can hear you.” You opened your mouth to speak again but Tom got there first.

“Jesus Christ, you’re an asshole,” Tom said, more to himself than to Chris. “This is how you treat a lady?”

“No, this is how I treat Y/N. There is no lady in this house.” Tom chewed on his cheek so he wouldn’t start yelling at this absolute prick stood in front of him. Instead, he took off his jacket and handed it to you.

“Put it on, we’re leaving.” He said. You hesitated, but seeing the look on Toms face made you realise he wasn’t going to go home without you. Slipping the jacket on your shoulders, Chris laughed dryly again. “Excuse us,” Tom said, almost mocking Chris with his politeness.

“You’re not leaving me,” Chris boomed. You flinched slightly at his words. Chris had never laid a hand on you and you highly doubt he ever would, but that doesn't mean he couldn’t beat you emotionally. You had tried to reach out before, to try and leave him. But he had threatened to drive his car into a lake with himself trapped inside. You were too deep into this abusive relationship to see how that was a controlling lie to get you to stay. However, in fear of Chris’ safety, you stayed. Now and again you would want to leave, be tempted to reach out to friends and family but Chris would turn again. He would be the kindest of men for a week or so. Would adore you, worship the ground you walk on, buy you beautiful gifts. Of course, once those few weeks were over, back came the abuse. - the name-calling. The picking on your appearance. The constant accusations of cheating. Chris was a master manipulator. He knew how to make you stay with him. But Tom wasn’t falling for any of it. ”You remember what I said right? I’ll do it.” Chris yelled, dangling his car keys in front of you. “I’ll fucking do it Y/N.”

“Walk.” Tom took your wrist gently, making you walk in front of him but so Tom was still stood between you and Chris. “Don’t say anything just walk.”

“You think you can find someone better than me? Guess what, you can’t. You’re a whore-”

“If you come within two miles of my home, I’m calling the police,” Tom said almost too calmly, nearly pushing you out the door and slamming it behind him. He kept his hand on your wrist as he walked you towards his car. No words were exchanged. None were needed.

You slid into the passenger seat, head resting against the window. You felt like you wanted to cry. You felt the heavy feeling in your chest and how your body ached, fighting for so long to just stay strong. You had convinced yourself that Chris will get better. That one day, he’ll be that good boyfriend again. But you were so sick of pretending.

“You deserve better than that,” Tom said softly. You didn’t reply, just stared out the window. The thing with narcissists like Chris, they make themselves seem like the victim. And you were feeling like the bad guy.

Authors note: Obviously you’re not the bad guy but i felt like that since that;s the way narcissists tend to make their victims feel that it would be an appropriate way to end it.

ALSO! If you’re experiencing any type of abuse, please please reach out. Abuse isn’t just physical.

#tom hiddleston #imagine tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston friendship #tom hiddleston angst #requested #abusive #domestic violence #tom hiddleston platonic #tom #hiddleston

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dreamyjoons · 3 years

Text

Last Light ⥋ 04

⥋ Alone was how you preferred it. People came with feelings, feelings get you killed - and death in the new world wasn’t permanent. But not everything is avoidable, and Kim Taehyung is no exception.

Genre/warnings: zombie apocalypse!au. Angst, just lots of emotions, chatacter/bangtan d*ath! Please note!! blood and injury mention. fluff if you have a magnifying glass and squint real good

Word count: 5.9k

A/N: We back- with a heavy one ooop. This one will have death in it, with our beloved boys. Please take this into account when you read! This is nothing personal, purely for fictional purposes. Series materlist under the readmore. Love you all, i hope you still enjoy!

⥋ Chapter 04: grave

Series Materlist

The lights blind you as the car pulls up the dirt track to where you all stand. You stood still rooted to the spot - but the others around you were in pandemonium.

Taehyung had begun staggering down the road before breaking into a full sprint, and Jin had almost let his axe drop to the floor. He was uneasy on his feet, looking somewhere being elated and terrified.

You hover, not knowing if you should be around when they reunited. Should you even stick around? You had met Namjoon before, sure. And Taehyung and Jin seemed to be okay so far. But if there was one thing you had learnt from being in a group before, things are never rosy for long. It might be better for you to not be around. Or at least, you should have your hockey stick on hand.

You’re only halfway to the tent when you hear the vehicle slam on it’s breaks and shouting begins to fill the air.

“Jin! Jin we need help!” You hear an unfamiliar voice, laboured and panicked.

You watch as Jin finally drops his axe and bolts towards the sound of the voice. Taehyung beats him though, a strangled cry leaving him as he rounds the car door.

“Y/N! Can you come help me take care of the stragglers?” You turn to the sound of your name to see Namjoon jumping out of one of the trucks. He leaves the door open as he moves to dispatch the few undead that followed the noise of the engines.

You move forward towards Jin’s tent for your hockey stick when he calls your name, pointing at his axe. It was a long axe, with a well worn handle and an end that you’re sure had seen a lot of use. With a shaky hand you take it, meeting the eyes briefly of the man he runs with.

He was familiar to you. You couldn’t place it, but you had definitely seen that man before. But you couldn't give him too much attention as your eyes are drawn down to what lay in his arms, or more importantly, who.

A man lay there, and he was in a terrible state. His skin was a sickly pale and palid, with blood splatter across his parted lips. He was limp in the arms that held him, his eyes blinking heavily.

Taehyung bursts past you, opening Jin’s tent and ushering the men in. You tear your eyes away, the unmistakable groans floating to meet you. You steel yourself and rush to Namjoon’s side, the pain in your ribs reverberating with each step.

There were five. How they had managed to keep track of the car, you didn’t want to know. With each swing you groan, struggling to focus your attention on the undead in front of you. It takes several goes for you to finally get one to stop moving towards you, your stamina severely depleted. You refused to be deadweight though, dispatching the final staggering body with a choke of pain. Once they were all on the floor, you dropped your arms, letting the axe slip from your grip.

“Come on.” Namjoon says gently, putting a hand on your shoulder before grabbing the dropped weapon.

You let him lead you back towards the fire. You cast your eyes toward Jin’s tent, the light inside casting shadows of the figures moving rapidly inside.

The question of who that was and what happens burns on the tip of your tongue but you keep it to yourself. You stand awkwardly by the fire with Namjoon, listening to the quiet voices from the tent. He shifts constantly, the tension rippling off him in titanic waves as the minutes tick by agonisingly.

Even if you wanted to escape, your stuff was in Jin’s very busy tent. And you wouldn’t make it on your own out there with how much your ribs hurt. It was foolish, but still an option. You don’t know how well this is gonna turn out.

Your ears prick up at the sound of the tent zip opening and closing. Namjoon’s head snaps in it’s direction, deflating slightly when he realises it’s not any news. Over to you both staggers the guy you vaguely registered before but still you could not place.

He was skinny and much shorter than the rest, but he looked the most intimidating. His forehead was pulled into a deep frown, with his hands tucked deep in his hoodie pockets. He was speckled with dark red stains, and you could see the way his hands shake despite how deep he had hidden them.

“How’s Jimin?” Namjoon asks, his voice crackled. The other man merely shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the fire.

So Jimin was the man that was carried in? You looked over the men, your heart in your throat.

You knew all too well what they were going through. Watching your group drop away and knowing there’s nothing you could do about it was an agony beyond measure.With the way the world was, you never got to deal with it. There was always someone else to lose, or lose yourself along the way.

The short man hadn’t acknowledged you yet. Not that you were expecting a warm welcome.

You all stand motionless, trapped in the eternal wait. You don’t know how much time passes, but the darkness slowly begins to slip away as the blue hours of the mornings slips in.

You’re dead on your feet, but nothing can break anyone out of the spell you were stuck under. Your fingertips were like ice, and each breath felt harder than the last. The ticks of the cooling vehicle engines had long since stopped, the trees rustled gently in the breeze, and the quiet hum of constant noise filtered through from the tent.

“Hobi got… I had to…” Namjoon croaks, his eyes stuck to his feet.

The noise broke through your haze, and you turned to look at him. You searched for words, desperate to heal the wound that you knew nothing could fix.

“Don’t. It’s not your fault Joon.” The man whispers, the sound barely audible.

You move and put a hand on his arm, wincing through the pain. He steels himself at your touch, roughly rubbing at his eyes and heaves in a deep breath.

The other man finally snaps his gaze to you, and you’re caught like a deer in headlights. He watches you, mouth agape. His head tilts, and you know he recognises you somehow too.

Before he can speak though, the tent zip flies open again.

“Joon, Yoongi.” Jin calls, his voice flat.

The men pass a silent look to each other before walking to Jin’s tent. You hover, eyes drifting back to the remaining few embers of the fire as you hold your breath.

It’s so quiet. The wind had dropped off and nature had long since stopped thriving in the new world. Sounds drew the dead, even the animals had learnt the hard way.

And the silence meant the words from the group reached your ears.

“Jimin, I’m so sorry. If we didn’t lose Jungkook you would never have been bitten.” You hear Namjoon choke, and you feel the hair on your neck stand up.

Bitten?

You can’t hear his quiet reply, the sound lost to the confines of the tent.

“Jimin? Jimin! Please!” You hear Taehyung wail, and your heart shatters.

The sounds of grief from all of them grow louder, and it threatens to consume you. Your own family, your old group, your past. It was too much. You had to not think about it. You had to move, to feel something else, to not let the grief hold you by the throat and choke you.

You power back to where the walkers lay, and start prodding them with your boot to make sure none would suddenly jump at you. Content with the lack of response, you grab hold of one by the ankles and drag it to a barren outcrop in the grass just off the road. Once the body is in the middle of the patch you drop your hold on it and move back for the others.

The throb in your ribs was something you relished. Something for you to latch on to so you didn’t have to think or feel.

At least it was getting lighter. The sun has started to rise between the trees, the blue of the morning fading into something lighter. Maybe it was around 6AM? You couldn’t tell any more.

You have the second one by the ankles when you hear the tent open. You snap your gaze over to see Taehyung standing with his head tilted back at the sky.

His hair was completely dishevelled, his dark jumper marred by even darker stains that seemed to drip red down his arms. His skin was ghostly, and you could see the track marks down his cheeks even at this distance.

It’s only when his eyes snap to you do you realise that you’re staring. You bite your lip hard and return to your task, tugging harder than necessary. The sudden jerk is too much, and the pain brings tears to your eyes.

You don’t bother stopping it.

Instead you keep dragging the body until it sits roughly on top of the other one. Not until then do you look up at Taehyung.

He turns before you can meet his eyes, storming his way past the tents and through the field until he’s through the treeline.

A pop echoes from the tent, the unmistakable sound of a muffled gunshot. It’s like a punch to the gut.

You push it out and move towards the next body. You work numbly, one step at a time. And the next, and then the next. It’s not until you go back for the last ones do you stop. Namjoon has the last two by the ankle, dragging them to where you had piled the others.

All you can do is watch. Once he’s piled them, he walks and gets hold of the gas can that sits in the bed of one of the trucks, throwing a small amount on the bodies and getting a matchbox from beside the fire.

He strikes the match and throws it, waiting for the pile to start burning before turning away. With your eyes on his back, you heave out a heavy sigh. The feeling of helplessness was as sharp as the burn in your side.

With your heart thumping in your chest you turn back to the blaze, tugging your collar up over your nose to ward off the smell. It’s not until the bodies are just a pile of ashes that you finally bring your eyes away.

You kick some of the dirt in the area at the flames until it finally putters out. The sun was in the sky at this point, the warmth hitting your skin in a way that it felt you hadn't been touched in a long time. It was soft, only mid-morning.

“Y/N, can I have your help please?”

You turn to see Jin, his tee crumpled and bloody. He looked bone tired, no doubt working through the night to try and help Jimin somehow. But they can never be saved, that was a fact of the world now.

With a nod, you kick the last of the dirt and make your way back up the hill to him. He looks even worse the closer you get to him.

“We need to… bury Jimin.”

“I’m so sorry, Jin.”

“He’s just… he’s the first. We’d been together since the beginning. All of us. But with Hoseok dead and probably j=Jungkook too, I just…” He trails, his eyes closed and his chin wobbling.

“What can I do to help?” You offer softly.

“Keep watch whilst we dig. We all wanna do it so we can get it done quick, and Tae…”

“You don’t have to explain. Of course.”

He nods and turns, motioning for you to follow. He hands you his axe once more, and gestures once again as he walks away. You follow for a few minutes until you reach a grassy area on a small hill under a willow tree. It was old, reaching high and wide, with just enough clearance under it’s hanging branches for you to walk beneath.

You can see Namjoon and Yoongi already digging a spot, the grave already shin deep. Jin jumps into the shallow hole with his friends and begins to dig using what looked like a pot lid. It looked like only Namjoon had an actual shovel. Yoongi had a stick that he was breaking the ground with, and would then scoop out the dirt with his hands. It was too much, the rawness of it too hard to bear.

Remembering that Jin once said this was an old camping ground, you begin to scan the area. If this was any decent kind of place, there’d be a small maintenance shed or office. They must have tools somewhere.

“I’ll be right back.” You mumble, taking off before anyone could reply.

You jog back up to where the tents are, scanning the area until you see it - tucked inside the treeline, looking more like it was part of nature than man made.

Jogging towards it, you kick at the door, waiting to see if anything stirred inside. When nothing answered, you got hold of the latch and lifted. It took some wiggling and a good shoulder barge, but finally the door swings open.

You’re met by mostly rust. It seemed to cover everything inside. Dust, too. Idling between rusty lawn mowers and broken sprinkler heads, you finally spot what you were looking for.

Sitting on the wall was another shovel, and a small gardening trowel just below. It’s better than a pot lid or stick, at least. You pull them down gently, unsure of how sturdy the wall they sit on is. You tuck the trowel in your pocket and grip the shovel with your axe. Making sure you shut the door behind you - and making a mental note to raid it properly in future - you hurry back over the men.

“Here.”

You stop in front of them and drop the shovel, as well as fishing out and dropping the trowel too.

“Y/N… Thank you.” Jin whispers, watery eyes meeting yours.

You can’t find words to reply, so you settle for a stiff nod and move to being a look out. You hear the clang of tools but you leave them to it, settling to scan the treeline instead.

It felt too personal to stand there and watch them. In fact, it all felt too personal. You were intruding on a moment that they all had to share. Maybe you should strike out on your own, give them their space. You didn’t want to get caught up in a group again, anyway.

You mentally began running through everything you knew about the area- which really, was nothing. Maybe you could get a map off one of them before you went anywhere? At least a look to get an idea. Or maybe you could find somewhere to hole up for a few weeks until you’re better, or at least able to swing your arm without wanting to collapse in pain. It was doable. Very lonely, but that was something you’d grown accustomed to now.

“Okay, that should be enough.”

You look back over your shoulder and see Namjoon hoisted out of the grave before he turns and holds out a hand for yoongi. He gets a leg up from the bottom, and once out he and Namjoon turn to offer Jin a hand, lifting him from the pit. That choked you, the existence they had wordlessly carved out together.

“We just need to get him now. And Tae, he should be here for this…” Namjoon sighs, eyes glued to the pit.

“I can get Taehyung.” You offer, though you really don’t want to.

He’s grieving, you know that. But the man doesn’t like you at the best of times. You have no idea how he’ll react to you, if you’re even able to find him.

“Thank you.” Yoongi mumbles.

You don’t wait any longer, moving towards the area of trees that you saw Taehyung disappear through hours ago. You twist the axe in your hands as you break through the treeline, high alert rippling through your body.

After only a small amount of walking did you find what Namjoon had set up in the name of defence. Strings, sitting at only about knee height, running around the perimeter of the camping grounds. These are what must be attached to the tins at the top of the camp, with different roped strings for different sections. It was so simple, yet still impressive.

With a careful step up you're over the string and back on your way to finding Taehyung.

The sun was way above you in the sky. It had felt like it had been a week’s worth of days, not just a couple hours. All you ever seemed to do was move on from one tragedy to the next in this new world. You stopped in your tracks, realising you had no idea where you were going.

Where could he be? There seemed to be miles and miles of forest. He could be anywhere by now.

You take a deep breath, close your eyes and strain your hearing for any indication of where he could be. It was hard to pick up any noise over the rustle of the forest. But after a while, a few sounds eked in. The rustle of a small animal foraging somewhere to your right, the faint whine of the leaves as they’re jostled in the wind. And more increasingly, the sound of something splintering and breaking.

With no other leads to find Taehyung, you follow the sound. You grip the axe tighter in your hands, not willing to face the consequences if you’re wrong.

Another loud bang greets you as you draw near, making you falter in your steps. Perching behind a tree, you peer at the source of the sound- only to have relief flood you when you realise it was Taehyung. You were infinitely grateful he hadn’t wandered far in the hours he’d been away.

He had been busy though. Splintered trees and branches cover the forest floor, with big chunks of bark hacked out of the trees that still stood around him. He somehow looked worse than the cargaget that surrounded him.

The jumper he wore was dry, the bloodstains thick across his stomach and chest. The blood that had trickled onto his hands from the clothing had long since dried, red patches surrounding the raw patches of his skin. His hair had a mind of its own, flyaway and messy where he’s been roughly scraping away from his face. Streaks of dirt and mud cover his skin, but his cheeks were clean from the tears that had long since dried.

You take a deep breath. And then another. Then you stand, letting the axe sit a little more loosely in your hands.

“Taehyung?” No response.

“Tae?”

He turns to you but it’s slow, a tightness forming in his shoulders. The look on his face is almost bored as he looks at you quickly, eyes lingering on Jin’s axe in your hand. You steel yourself, your heart beating irregularly as he sizes you up. Maybe the nickname wasn't something for you to use.

“What are you doing here?” He snaps.

“They sent me. It’s time to bury him.” you try to keep your voice even, ignoring the barb in his words.

“What are you, the messenger?”

You don’t reply. That seems to rile him up more.

“I suppose you helped dig my friend’s grave too, right? You’re a regular member of the group now. Maybe you can even replace Jimin!”

“I’m not here to replace anyone. I just came to tell you what your friends said.”

“This has gotta be nice though, right? A nice group to settle yourself in after your lonely existence.” He laughs bitterly, dragging his eyes away to look at his shaking hands.

You bite your lip. You were not gonna rise to it. He’s hurting, you know he is. He wants the fight, he wants to forget the pain and feel something else overtake him. But you weren’t going to be that punching bag. No matter how much he needed it.

“Sure. Just don’t be too long.” The words are as soft as you can make them.

The division inside you rages. You want to call him out - it’s not your fault this has happened, no matter how much he wants to find someone to put the blame on. But you know he’s hurting, and those words are not his own. He may not like you, but he still saved your life. That has to count for something.

You turn away, your heart heavy in your chest when you hear a sudden thud behind you. Turning, you see Taehyung on his knees, jumper pulled off as he stares at the bloody clothing in his hands. His shirt he wore underneath had stained too, the cream colour marked with an ugly patch of claret.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” His voice is thick, emotion in every syllable.

“So am I.” You turn back to face him.

You move to crouch beside him, ignoring the throb in your side. His fingers scrunch the material, as if letting go would mean death.

“Jimin gave this to me.” His voice is so low you barely hear him, the bite from his voice completely gone.

“He’s not gonna live on through a jumper, Taehyung.”

“But I have nothing left of him.”

His words stew in the air for only a few seconds before he breaks. He tucks his face into the clothing as sobs wracked his body, and all you can do is watch. You put a cautious hand on his back, rubbing smoothing circled into the material of his shirt with your thumb.

You let him be. He needed to let it out or he’d be choked forever. Your thumb remained in constant motion, and you made sure to keep checking the surrounding areas. There were going to be no more casualties, not if you can help it.

Slowly his sobs roll out to scratchy heaves, and he rubs at his face with his forearm. He looked like he could sleep for a decade, and god knows he needed it. You take a breath and clear your throat.

“Let's get back. I know some ways that can save your jumper.”

Without hesitation you grab hold of his hand, gently pulling him to his feet. The blood that marred his skin didn’t phase you, you just had to get him back for all their sakes He follows your lead, letting his fingers link with yours. You follow back the way you came, pace slow as he trails behind you, jumper clutched to his chest.

Relief flushes through you as you find the string, being careful to step over it and making sure Taehyung does the same.

Once you’re through the treeline you steer him towards the willow. His fingers flex against yours, and you’re hyper aware of the warmth of his large hand. When the boys are finally in sight you panic, and let go of his hand.

“Almost there.” you say awkwardly.

He doesn’t reply, but you feel him take your hand again. Your step falters slightly, a strange stirring in your chest blocking out everything else. He keeps walking though, making you the one he’s getting pulled along.

Namjoon Jin and Yoongi watch you both approach, each looking between you before turning back.

You see Taehyung stiffen as you both draw closer, so you give his hand a slight squeeze to show that you’re still there for him. Once you’re standing alongside the others, the view down into the grave is all you can see.

At the bottom sits a body shrouded in a black tarp. He looks so tiny down there. You didn’t have to know him to feel the weight of that.

“There are… no words for this. Nothing that will ever, ever make this right. And I know… I know I’m part to blame for this-”

“Namjoon-” Yoongi starts, but Namjoon barrels on.

“But I promise you here Jimin - and Hoseok, and Jungkook - that I will make sure that never happens again. We were friends, but we will remain a family. Goodbye.”

“You brightened everything you did. Teasing me, or singing something I thought I'd long forgotten. I’ll never forget you.” Yoongi nods solemnly, his voice a low gravel as his eyes sit on the mound of dirt behind the grave.

Jin doesn’t speak, his bottom lip caught between his cheeks as he brushes at his eyes with his fingertips.

Taehyung moves to talk, but his words fail him. He draws in a sharp breath, and squeezes your hand tight before he speaks.

“I… thank you, Jimin. I’ve had a life full of light with you. You will always be with me, and we will survive for you.” His voice is barely audible by the end of his sentence, though you know there are volumes more he wants to say. Maybe you should ask about them all later. Keep these men alive in memories.

You move your free hand to clasp his hand that holds yours. A juddered breath ripples from his chest, reminding you to breathe too.

Namjoon moves to the shovel, slowly beginning to push the dirt back into his grave. You watch for a moment, his bloodshot eyes never leaving the tip of the tool.

Taehyung slips from your grip and steps to the edge. He folds the jumper up carefully, before holding it out and letting it drop down to where Jimin lay. His shoulders shake as he looks down, and you watch on helplessly.

You wanted to reach out, to tell him he would be okay. But how could you? You didn’t know how it ever would be.

Instead you stepped back, moving your eyes off his figure and dropping by the pile of dirt. Carefully you begin pushing some of the mound back into the grave, careful not to put your body through any more excessive strain. But you hurt nonetheless.

It didn’t take long when Jin picked up another shovel. The silence was deafening, the soft scrape of the shovel against the gritty soil, and the soft pads of it hitting the tarp below the only sounds. You worked and worked until there was nothing left to move over, just a mound of freshly turned earth and what lay below.

You cast your eyes around the men, helplessness clawing its way through your chest.

Maybe you should stick around a little longer.

You watched as Jin and Namjoon bumped into each other as they moved back up to the camp, barely acknowledging the impact. Yoongi had slunk away, long disappearing into his tent. Taehyung stood under the branches of the willow tree, his eyes fixed on the knots in the bark.

It wouldn’t hurt to help keep them afloat. Just until they can tread water on their own. The resolution took a weight off your shoulders, though you didn’t want to unpack that thought right now.

The rest of the evening is spent helping out where you can. Your body hurt, but you refused to be of no help. You gathered firewood, helped a lifeless Jin prepare food, and silently checked on them as often as you could. Taehyung drifted. He’d sit staring into the flames, and then he’d be suddenly on his feet, listlessly moving down towards the willow again.

There were no words you could offer, nothing you could do to make it right. You just had to help fill in the spaces where the parts of them couldn’t reach. Keep an eye on the horizons, an eye on the fire, an eye on them.

Finally you manage to get them into their tents, telling them to get as much sleep as they can. You know they’ll spend hours laying awake, replaying every second together over in their head, a pressure on their chests so heavy it’s suffocating.

Jin tells you to take his tent once more after giving you some more painkillers. You swallow them gratefully, not bothering to find some water. He was going to stay with Namjoon for the night. They both needed the company, to know the other was still there. Yoongi had been asleep all day, and had got up to keep a silent watch for the night. Taehyung stood at the door of his tent fiddling with the zip, and with nothing else to say, you finally step inside your own private space.

You unroll your sleeping bag and spread it out on the floor of Jin’s tent. You make a mental note to see about getting your own tent. If you were gonna stay, you needed to give Jin his back. And if you didn’t stay… well, you’d have a tent for the road.

You kick off your boots and crawl inside the padding, the night air cold against your skin.

Sleep evaded you, leaving you with nothing but your own thoughts to stew on. Specifically Taehyung, but generally everything else too. There was so much, it felt like anything else would lead you to implosion. How can you see this world through when everything in it causes you so much harm?

The words Taehyung had used against you floated around in your head. Maybe there was some truth to it. Were you trying to get in with this group, and purely for selfish reasons? The last few months had been a bitter sort of agony, one you learnt to stringently ignore every waking moment of the day. Alone was how you preferred it. There was less to worry about: noise, people, supplies. But it was painful. And with physical pain thrown into the mix, almost unimaginable.

And you wouldn’t even delve into the way he held your hand. It had been… so long since you had been touched like that. Starved of it. And despite the way he had treated you in the past, you couldn’t help but feel safe with him? It perplexed you. Those kinds of feeling were not going to be of any help in this world. Write it off and move on, it’s what you had to do.

Your incredibly loud thoughts were punctured by the sound of the tent zipper sliding up. Fear crashed around you as you sat upright, grabbing hold of your hockey stick and brandishing it.The seconds tick by as the teeth of the zip click, and you realise how trapped you were. You didn’t hear any of the cans rattling, had something still gotten through?

Through the gap steps Taehyung, and the air feels like it’s forced out of your lungs as you lower your hands. You collapse back on the floor, your heart thudding in your throat.

“Taehyung?” You murmur once you get your voice back.

“Why have you got your hockey stick?”

You could’ve been undead. Or a looter!” You sit back up, forehead creased as you look at him.

He stands just inside the tent with something behind his back, and he was chewing on his thumbnail. Was that a nervous tick? Why would he be nervous?

“How were you going to beat me when you’re still fully in your sleeping bag?”

“I… look, what do you need? I don’t know where any of Jin’s things are, if that’s what you’re after.”

“Oh, uh, no- i… iwaswonderingificouldsleephere.” The words are so hushed you barely comprehend what he was saying.

“What?”

“I.. uh. I was wondering if I could sleep in here with you. Tonight.” His cheeks are a dark red as he asks, his tired eyes glued to the hockey stick in your hands.

“Okay.” The words are out of your mouth before you can even consider what you’re agreeing to, but Taehyung plows on regardless.

“I get if you don’t want me to! I just feel safe, I guess- wait, what did you say?”

“You can stay here.” You say simply, but he stares at you like you just asked him to tell you the meaning of life. Silence stretches and you shift awkwardly until he finally speaks.

“Why?”

“... because you asked to?”

“No, I mean, why did you agree?” His voice cracks as he asks, and you ponder his words for a minute. Why did you? But when you think about it, it comes back around to one factor that seems to be plaguing your life lately.

“It sucks being alone. Especially at times like this.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” His voice is low, his eyes bright with burning intensity as he meets your gaze.

You say nothing, simply shuffling closer to the edge of the tent. Laying the hockey stick back at your side, you lay back down in your sleeping bag and cuddle up in the little warmth it offered. Taehyung finally moves, zipping up the tent once more and bringing out his sleeping bag from behind his back.

Hiding your smile under the puff of your sleeping bag, you settle on your side, facing the tent wall. You hear him rustle behind you, and the puff of breeze as he flicks out his bed.

You hear him settle in down, and finally the world around you sounds deathly quiet once more. But you hear him breathe, steady and deep.

It was reassuring, something constant for you to focus on. Slowly he seemed to grow restless though, and it isn't until he tosses and turns for the millionth time you roll over and look at him.

You could barely make him out in the darkness, the moonlight hitting the outside of the tent just barely illuminating his silhouette. It was a staggering sight, and you had to focus your attention on his face to stop your mind from fixating.

“About today…”

Oh. That.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, no. I was nasty, but you were still kind. I’m sorry, I didn't mean what I said.”

“Thank you.” You whisper, your blood thrashing in your veins as you study his profile.

“So… goodnight.”

“Night Taehyung.”

“Tae’s okay, you know.” His voice was so quiet, a whisper you could barely hear. It made your stomach knot.

You were finally grateful for the darkness so that he didn’t see the way that affected you. You take a soft breath and exhale as smoothly as you can before smiling, even if he can’t see it. This felt like progress, a light in the middle of an endless night.

“Okay, Tae. Sleep well.”

You hear him sigh deeply, the air around you stilling. Your mind blanks a little as you turn back around, your eyes blearily focused on the tent wall. It was freeing, almost. The thoughts that were plaguing you had frozen replaced with the awareness of him. His breathing evened out, their depth telling you he had fallen asleep almost instantly. You were unsurprised, he’d had one of the worst days imaginable.

Sleep pulled at you quickly, the air prickling with cold but a prevailing sense of safety trickled over you. Soon the world disappeared, a dreamless night ahead of you.

Warmth roused you near the morning, the heat of it pressed tightly against your back. But in your tired state, you merely shuffled closer to it and drifted off, paying no thought about where it could be coming from. You simply allowed the warmth to pull you back into a blank slumber once more.

#bts reader insert #bts x you #bts x reader #bts angst #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung angst #taehyung series #my writing

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